Bad Day, Good Day

No matter what kind of day you might have had it can't be as bad as the person that ended up in the Murrayhill Lake. Of all days not to have my camera with me it had to be today. A red Jeep, model unknown, altercate, (fancy for smashed into) with another vehicle sending the Jeep into the Lake at the corner of Scholls and Murray Blvd.  By the time I got back the only reminder of the accident was a crushed, bike only sign and that really had me thinking of what is important.

We rush about, yes if a car ended up in the lake someone was rushing, never really stopping to take in our surroundings. There is beauty all around, yet we can't wait to get "THERE"? Where the hell is there? Why is "it" so important that we end up in a lake in the early morning hours. Travel anywhere and you see it, cars trying to get three feet further than the next guy. Tailgating, illegal lane changes, using the turn lane as a passing lane you name it, it's happening everyday on every road in every community. To what end? So you can get to work, stress yourself to point of having a coronary at a young age? Not worth it.

I took a walk last night and felt the cool rays of a full moon. Anyone else see it? It was fantastic, ethereal, wanted to howl at it and bare my fangs. Probably won't see another one till Spring, so it was important to catch this cosmic event we take for granted. I may never see another one, you may not, who knows, don't pass it up. Don't pass up walking at lunch instead of sitting at your desk trying to get that three extra feet in front of the person at the next desk. I walk by a fitness club and people are jockeying for a parking spot closest to the door. Shouldn't they be parking furthest away? Maybe if they parked way, way, away they wouldn't need a membership at all.

I drove buy two guys, around my age, chopping wood. A huge pile of wood, right off Murray, I can't think of anything more satisfying than chopping wood. A little further down on Hart there is a house where a stone wall is being built. Not fake, plaster stones, real stones. It is the lost art of wall building without cement or mortar. Fitting pieces together to form a strong, beautiful and functional piece of art. Take that Nike, my damn shoes are falling apart. The smell of wet stone or freshly chopped wood has got to be better than corporate stress.

I don't know if my walks have done any good towards my ultimate goal of shedding a few pounds, but I do know that I am enjoying the streets of Beaverton just a little more these days. My pants haven't budged and now I am cheating by carrying a few batteries for my camera in my pocket. But maybe someday soon I shall have to cinch up my belt while I keep an eye out for flying Jeeps.