It’s 4:38pm on Saturday and I sit at my computer typing this blog post. As has been the case for years, there are two keyboards at this computer. One is a wireless typing keyboard, which sits on the other, a much larger electric piano keyboard. In a moment of inspiration, I have just finished singing an Enya song for my wife. She was surprised that I wanted to sing a song for her. It had been awhile. But she listened from the other room and came in and gave me a hug afterwards, telling me it was a lovely song. Our blue point siamese cat, Sugar, followed her into the room and jumped up onto the other piano keyboard behind me. My wife noted that our cat wants to be part of the action, too.
I feel happily lazy since my workout this morning at the gym. It consisted of twenty-five minutes on the treadmill and thirty-five on the elliptical. On the treadmill, I alternated walking and running, which I have been doing for several weeks after taking off nearly a year from running. I was delighted today to feel more acclimated to running. I think I ran more than I walked!
After my workout, I went to the gym’s front desk and got a free peanut butter chocolate smooth using points I had accrued from my frequent attendance (I often go to the gym six days a week). This was my first gym smoothie, and I enjoyed it as I walked home.
It’s been a tranquil Saturday. I took a nap a bit ago. Before that, I made lunch: brown rice, pan-fried chicken and garlic broccoli. My wife wasn’t hungry at the time and had to leave to do a gig (taking pictures for a children’s play). She is back now and I am happy that she is enjoying the food I made.
I now sit outside on the porch on one of two beaten-up plastic chairs and read a chapter of “Mark Twain,” by Ron Chernow, as the sun goes down and the light grows too dim to read. The street is relatively quiet, but this being Midtown, there are ample signs of human life, folks in cars and folks passing by, individuals like me occupying their private pockets of existence.
It’s about 5:35pm as I sit back at the computer to finish this blog post. Sugar has jumped back up behind me and is scratching at the empty cork bulletin board I had ambitions of using as a planning tool. When Sugar tried to eat the thumbtacks several months ago, I turned the board around and haven’t used it since.
I now retrieve Sugar from her trouble-making perch, sit back down and kiss her nose and mouth repeatedly while she waits patiently for me to give her back her freedom. Soon enough I do.
No complaints here.