Saving Money, Thanks to Creepy Flirty Guy

Very busy weeks ahead, graduations, a 5K, cross-country travel, and yet another attempt to summit Mt. Everest. And a book to finish on top of all that! I am also getting into prime walking form by regularly walking Rufus. (Yes, I do do that anyway, but now there's more motivation.) We were walking to buy a celebratory greeting card today, and I told myself that if I found a good card, I would reward myself with a refreshing iced mocha from Starbucks. HOWEVER, upon walking by said Starbucks on the way to the card shop, I saw that Creepy Flirty Guy was there. That made my decision easy. There would be no iced mocha for me, no lounging by the Starbucks table for Rufus. I went straight to the card shop to get my celebratory card, and then Rufus and I headed straight home. As I was practicing my super-fast, 5K power walk, I reflected . . . I wonder how much money Creepy Flirty Guy has saved me over the years. I wonder if the economy would be better if there were more creepy flirty guys. Maybe I'll write to Obama.

Walking in Sin City, Travel Stories

https://www.revlonrunwalk.com/la/secure/teamwebpage.cfm?pid=46773 This is the team page for my friends and I who will be walking in memory of one special lady. Donations to our team are most welcome. I do feel entirely up to the challenge of walking, even power-walking, this 5k, as I have been power-walking through Las Vegas for the past few days. Mr. M went to a trade show, and the plan was for me to lay by the pool and read. Easier said than done. The hotel's main pool blasts hip-hop at an ear-splitting, headache-inducing volume. So I walked, almost ran, to the 25th story adult only pool, called Tranquility. For some reason, I thought I might find some peace and quiet there. Not so. The music was just as loud, but, in my opinion, a more pleasing genre. By this time, I had remembered that I keep earplugs in my purse (don't ask), so the music wasn't deafening, and I was able to read. That was the first day, the day I discovered the relatively tranquil pool after miles of wandering around the hotel. Having found a place where I could read and think in peace (that was the whole reason I went), I went there first thing in the morning on day 2. I read and thought, thought and read, until lunch. I had a quick bite in town, and returned to the Tranquility pool. Soon after settling in my lounge chair, a very drunk and/or high young man sat next to me and started to mumble. He had apparently been stabbed in the side, and had blood all over his arm, too. So some men came to clean him up and bandage his wounds in the bathroom. I took the opportunity to move to a chair on the other side of the pool. The newly-bandaged man sat down again, mumbling at other people, and Hotel Security soon showed up. The drunken man pleaded to be left in peace, and then lept over the plyglass surrounding the pool. He came down to the ground again, this time angry, and again tried to fling himself over the ledge. He clung to the glass, 25 stories above ground, holding on with only one hand. The rest of his body dangled. He was again forced to the ground and tackled while the Security handcuffed him. Day 3 at the pool WAS relatively tranquil, anyone who had witnessed the previous day's events still in shock.
The city is a weary one. I realize now that I dared not smile for those three days. No one there can be trusted. It is tiring to always have to watch your back, and to power-walk to lunch, trying to avoid the drunks and drug addicts. I observed that, at any given time, many of the people on the street will be buzzed, drunk, perverted and/or high. You can't let your guard down for a minute.
I did talk to a nice lady on the bus. She asked me if I lived in Las Vegas. I let out a grateful sigh and said, "no." "It's too crazy here in the big city. The pace is relentless. I couldn't live here." "Where do you live?", she asked. "L.A."

Family Dynamics

I'm reading the biography of Florence Nightingale (fascinating!), and the author goes into a lot of detail on Miss Nightingale's extended family. Large families of that time and place often ran in circles with other large families of the same social standing, and the families intermarried, and their children married into the same group of family and friends. I marvel at the great contrast there is today, with smaller and more independent family units. (I make exception for certain readers of mine who could colonize a small island with just their family members.)

How I Learned to Ride a Bike

I stubbornly refused to allow myself to be taught how to ride a bike until I was 13. My dad, a well known professional motorcycle racer, tried everything to try and convince me to let him teach me. He told me all the kids were doing it. Did I really want to be the only teenager that couldn't ride a bike? He told me it would be good for my love life. What if some cute boy asked me to go for a bike ride? I eventually gave in, and my dad loaded my mom's old Schwinn in the truck, and he took me to a small airport to teach me to ride. In a big, empty lot, he held onto the back of the seat while I cautiously and fearfully got on the bike. He helped me balance. That was enough of an accomplishment for me, but my dad insisted that I move the bike in a forward motion. The plan was that he would be there, holding onto the back of my seat to make sure I didn't do anything that would result in my demise. So I began to move slowly in a forward direction . . . and then I began to move faster. I turned to tell my dad I was enjoying this, and I saw his face . . . on the other side of the parking lot. I swerved, and I fell. I thought he was holding me! Looking back, I guess I didn't need to be held-I just needed a push. Maybe that's just a story about learning to ride a bike, or maybe it's an analogy for my whole life. Maybe I'll never know what I can do on my own until someone forces me to try.

As Is The One, So Is The Other.

Last week was a week of friends. I went to see a wonderful friend of mine and her growing family, and I had a mac n' cheese and movie party (Pretty In Pink) with 6 girlfriends, and a friend and her baby boy came over at the end of the week. Next week, I will see my cousin and her husband, and then later, we'll have our friends over for a movie/reunion (Brian Regan Stand-Up.) In the midst of this socializing, I want to have an intimate relationship with God. The time spent with my friends is very good, and helps to grow my relationship with God, and set the standard. There is a direct correlation between one's relationship with the people around him, and his relationship to God. I can't enjoy a deep or intimate relationship with God if all the other relationships in my life are shallow and superficial. If I want to know God's heart, then I need to really know the people around me, know what makes them happy and sad, scared and calm. Jesus says we will recognize those who love God by their fruit; by the characteristics of their lives. Do they love and show kindness towards those around them? Church attendance and bookshelves full of theological literature are irrelevant when it comes to Christianity. The fruit a person produces will betray their heart. You'll see the nature of their relationship to God in the way they treat others. God Himself says that we can't love him if we don't love others. (1 John 4:20.)

This Backwards and Upside-Down World

I drove across town today to see a friend's beautiful new baby. There was the normal traffic, with the normal bumper stickers. After seeing so many depictions of women with horns and tails, and boys peeing on __________ (fill in the blank), and license plate holders that say "0 to bitch in 30 seconds" and other slogans boasting about the drivers' vices, I thought about how backwards it all is. When did being arrogant and irreverent become honorable? Why are people now boasting about the things they should be ashamed of? I don't want to be mean, and, really, I try to avoid people who are. I don't understand why so many seem to think being mean and nasty and apathetic about everything is a good thing.