SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-one: Making soup

 

Thirty-one days, thirty one posts

for the Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Definitely not soup weather

but what would I know, staying inside all day,

not wanting to relinquish my pajamas,

just feeling kind of "off".

So I got out the pot and the cookbook, found the recipe

the one with three stars, inked exuberantly

side notes penciled in--one I'll use, 

the other, ignore.

Potatoes

carrots

onions

diced small.

A lot of chopping ensued.

So much so, that I took a break halfway through

My core not quite healed to withstand being upright

for more than thirty minutes at a time.

Returning to the kitchen counter, I realized

I had forgotten the celery--how?

Gathered a few stalks, chopped them, too.

Potatoes boiling in the microwave, butter melting in the pot.

Onions cooked down first, easier on hubby's sensitive stomach.

Carrots and celery added, stirred, softened.

Throw in Bisquick, paprika, pepper--leave out the cayenne.

Stir, stir, stir.

Chicken broth and water next.

More stirring, waiting for boiling bubbles to appear.

Quick break to sit and breathe.

The kitchen smells so good.

Now boiling--take off the heat!

Stir in half-and-half, the potatoes (now cooked), and

two cups of grated cheddar.

Back on the heat; stir, stir, stir.

Tell hubby soup will be ready in five minutes.

Empty the dishwasher, pull out bowls and spoons.

He's not ready, but I am.

I ladle out my portion, and sit to eat.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty: Silly food rules

 

Thirty-one days, thirty one posts for the 

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I stood in front of the fridge and pantry for a few minutes apiece.  Nothing seemed appetizing for lunch.

"Peanut butter and jelly it is," I said to no one in particular.

Had to be plain white bread, not the fancy country loaf my husband and I like to eat for other meals.  Smooth peanut butter on one slice, raspberry jelly on the other.  Next, the chips...wait, there weren't any corn or tortilla chips in the pantry, only BBQ with ridges.  Nope, won't do.

I walked to my daughter's old bedroom at the other end of the house.  My husband set up shelves there to store extra stuff during the lockdown, and never really got out of the stockpiling habit.  We call it "H-E-B 2", after our favorite grocery store.

Score!  A bag of tortilla chips.  Lunch saved.

When it comes to chip-sandwich combos, it has to be corn-based chips with my pb&j, and potato chips with mayo- or mustard- based sandwiches.  Sometimes the chips end up on the sandwiches themselves.  Do you have any silly food rules?

SOLSC '26 Day Nineteen: Topsy turvy

Thirty-one days,  thirty-one posts. 

Showered and got dressed at four pm today.  Why?  Maybe because I wanted to wear my pajamas for bed again, and knew they needed to be washed after wearing them for eighteen hours straight.  Maybe because I was tired of my hair looking ratty, and knew the only thing to fix it was a good shampoo, conditioner, and curly hair routine.  Maybe because I knew that for the sake of my mental and physical health, I needed to go outside for at least a few minutes, and only "real" clothes would do.

These days seem topsy-turvy.  I'm not sleeping well, which means I'm tired during the day.  I don't seem to gather steam until almost lunch.  I only manage to accomplish one or two adulting tasks before dinner, the simplest chores taking me twice as long. 

It's occurred to me that having a hysterectomy is not unlike having a baby, having done both.  The body is in healing mode, insides rearranging to inhabit newly available space.  Days and nights are mixed up as meeting the needs of both baby and mother come first, all other tasks made subordinate.

Whatever the similarities, it doesn't change the fact that in two-and-a-half weeks, that four thirty alarm will ring again.  It may be time to start inching back toward that schedule.  

SOLSC '26 Day Eighteen: Stepping up on a soapbox

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I pulled up the lab report again, then pulled out my tape measure.  I'm a visual learner...found fifteen inches, matched it up to the zero at the end to make a circle.

A little more than a grapefruit, little less than a cantaloupe.  Either way, my largest fibroid had been taking up quite a bit of abdominal real estate.

****************

When I first got diagnosed, I went down a rabbit hole of internet research.  Figured out what kinds of fibroids I had, what the different treatments were, what the side effects could be.  I was shocked when I read the statistics:  up to eighty percent of women will experience some kind of fibroids, most during their childbearing years.  Eighty percent.

So then I started wondering--why don't we know more about this, especially with numbers so high? Why aren't we screened for them at every annual exam?  Why aren't we talking more about this?   

The answer, of course, is the lack of research on women's health issues.  The algorithm handed me one way to help with that problem today.  I made a small donation to the Foundation for Women's Health, after spending some time reading up on their mission and medical advisory board.  

I can only hope that progress will be made before my daughter faces a situation similar to mine.  After all, there is an eight in ten chance she will...

SOLSC '26 Day Seventeen: DQ for the win!

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts.

Loafed away the morning.  Did some online banking, watched the live broadcast of the Dublin, Ireland St Patrick's Day parade on PBS, and finally put away most of the the Christmas candles, swapping them out for spring-scented ones.

I could have stayed in my pajamas all day (they were green, no danger of being pinched),  but then I had a hankering for ice cream.  A DQ Blizzard, to be exact.

Nothing like a sweet treat to get me moving!  Found a shamrock-patterned pair of Lularoe leggings--which have become my "pants" of choice recovering from the hysterectomy, the waistband reaching Urkle-levels, floating over incisions--and a baggy green sweatshirt.  A shower and some light makeup, and I was ready for the five minute drive to our local DQ, son in tow. 

It was good to be behind the wheel and out and about for the first time in ten days, even if it was just for a quick drive through the neighborhood.  Bonus that we got there for "Happy Hour", and I scored a one dollar corndog along with my Mocha Brownie Blizzard and a Diet Coke.  

Not the healthiest recovery meal, I admit!  But it sure tasted good, sitting on my front porch, enjoying the weather and my treats.

SOLSC '26 Day Sixteen: Shades of green, signs of spring

Thirty-one posts for the Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I've pretty much given up on the thirty-one walks in thirty-one days as a theme for this year's SOLSC.  Today's excuse for not going outside for a walk was a thirty-degree drop in temps, high winds, and forgoing post-surgical pain meds for a day.  Instead, I stayed in my warm fleece jammies and managed to empty the dishwasher and make a home-cooked dinner for the first time in over a week.  I continued reading Project Hail Mary (yes, the new movie).  I napped.

So here are some pictures of the plants in my yard from my time outside on Saturday.  Inspired by arjeha's post on the surprise appearance of spring, I took note of all the different shades of green (and some red) on display before the skies turned cold again.  I hope that wherever you are, there are some signs of spring, with the vernal equinox just four days away.

(Please excuse the sideways photos...)

Photos by Christine Margocs, March 2026

SOLSC '26 Day Fifteen: What we miss--Stepping outside, part two

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

My husband and I took a right at the end of the driveway.  "Just to the end of the block and back," I said, hands holding my sore belly.  Always the pacesetter when we've walked before, this time he followed my lead.

The skies were blue and the temps were just a smidge on the warm side.  We noticed one of the grand old oaks in a neighbor's yard that had been trimmed to half its height, bare thick trunks forming a natural sculpture of sorts, the cuttings still littering the yard.

"Maybe that's what we should do with our tree in the back."  Our old mother oak is dying of oak wilt; I just hate the thought of the tree completely disappearing.

We reached the corner and turned around.  The second house we came to was being painted by the neighbor from the third house.  My husband knew him and said hello. After I was introduced, my husband asked if he was just doing the couple a favor by painting.

"Oh, the owner passed away in October," he said.  "The wife is going to sell the house and move into assisted living.  My partner and I offered to help get the house ready for the market."

After getting over the shock and discussing the circumstances, we said our goodbyes and headed back home, a bit more somber, the blue skies a bit less bright.  The neighborhood is aging, both trees and people.  The weight of that fact is an inescapable reality, whether we are paying attention or not.

SOLSC '26 Day Fourteen: Stepping outside, part one

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It was getting too warm at night to wear flannel nightshirts.  I was tired of them, anyway, having worn nothing but the recent Lands' End purchases since Monday afternoon.  It was time to put on real clothes.

Thank goodness for my Lularoe-wearing era.  A pair of high-waisted leggings skimmed over the steri-strips on my belly; an oversized sweatshirt completed the outfit.  

I put my freshly washed hair in a ponytail, swiped on some concealer, blush, and mascara to look a little more alive for our monthly SoulCollage session via Zoom.  Not that the group would have cared if I showed up a hot mess; we have a more come-as-you-are kind of vibe.

Several hours later, I had two cards in my hand.  As I pondered their messages for me, one point seemed clear--nature heals.  I needed to get some fresh air and sunshine, pronto.

My husband came home from running errands as I was putting on my shoes.  "You're just in time," I said.  "Do you want to go for a walk with me?".

To be continued...  

SoulCollage Card by Chris Margocs, March 2026

SoulCollage Card by Chris Margocs, March 2026

SOLSC '26 Day Thirteen: Preparation steps

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

The days leading up to my surgery were a whirlwind of preparations:  sub plans, picking up medications, washing clothes and bed linens, shopping for ready-made meals, and buying my husband's birthday cards and gifts.

By the time I got around to the last thing on that list, it was at the end of a twelve-hour workday, my last before medical leave.  My husband is hard to shop for as a rule, and I had little to no brain power left to be creative.   

I drove to my local Hallmark and spent a few minutes choosing a couple of heartfelt cards.  The decision fatigue was closing in fast as I wandered the boutique sections, trying to find something, anything that would keep me from having to go somewhere else.

There--fancy pancake mix and syrup.  Something I could make for him when I felt up to it again.

It wasn't much, but at least there were cards and gifts, waiting for him on his birthday this morning.   

SOLSC '26 Day Twelve: Step by step

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Opened the door today, took a breath of fresh air...and didn't make it much farther.  Another restless night, feeling a little shaky, I just wasn't ready to head outdoors yet.  I also still need to figure out what clothes I own that will accommodate incisions placed a bit higher than I anticipated.

I did take a much needed step elsewhere--into the shower!  I had avoided the hassle of taking one while the pain med pump was still in place; the instructions for that scenario included swathing my midsection in plastic wrap, and, well, it just didn't seem like a pleasant process.  Hubby took care of removing that last night, so I was free to shower as usual.  The added bonus of some fancy soap arriving in the mail today (a gift to myself) was like a self-care sign from above.

Washing my face with actual facial cleanser, then lathering up in perfumed soap reminiscent of a sea cove made me feel one more step closer to normal.   

SOLSC '26 Day Eleven: A little stir crazy

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I was really hoping to make it to the front porch today.  But after a rough night of pain with very little sleep, it was another day of walking around the living room and up and down the short hallway.  

The morning started off as the night had been, gray and rainy, but by afternoon the sun was shining.  Through the kitchen window, I watched a squirrel clamber around our old playscape and people enjoying the weather on the hike-and-bike beyond our yard.  Inside, I was wearing a path between my bed, the living room armchair, and the dining room table.

The pain pump is empty, which means my husband gets to help me remove the catheters.  Despite the instruction sheets saying it should be a fairly painless procedure, I'm still a bit nervous about it.  Once it's done, though, I am cleared for normal showering--and a shower may be just the ticket to feeling one step closer to normal.  

SOLSC '26 Day Ten: Mandatory walking

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Well, I survived the yeeting of my reproductive system, as the kids would say.  

Thank God for anesthesiologists.  When mine came to my pre-op bed to go over the details, I told him what I've told every anesthesiologist that's ever worked on me or my children: "You're the most important person in the operating room.  You're the one who's going to make sure I (or they) don't feel a thing and keep breathing, and you're the one who's going to make sure I (or they) wake up afterwards.  This surgery isn't happening without you."  He appreciated the compliment; maybe that's why I don't remember anything after he said he was starting the IV push.  I woke up in the post-op bay, blissfully unaware of what had transpired the two hours before.

I was home by mid-afternoon, with doctor's orders to rest, hydrate, and walk to prevent clotting.  I changed out of my cute jumpsuit into jammies that better accommodated the ball of local pain meds tethered to my body via catheters in two of my six incisions.  Since I like to name medical apparatuses (our daughter's apnea monitor was Monty), I've named the ball Q-bert.  After I took a much-needed nap--time change plus impending surgery did not allow for a good night's sleep beforehand--it was time for me and Q-bert to take a walk.  Still wobbly, my husband stayed by my side for the first few walks between bed, bathroom, and kitchen.

Today, I've managed the walks pretty much on my own.  I slept so heavily last night that I was up at four a.m., fixing myself some protein toaster waffles and my first cup of coffee in over twenty-four hours.  I still feel a little weak, but the hallway in our little house is just long enough for a couple of laps before I need to rest again.  Carrying Q-bert is a little annoying, but I'm thankful for the pain management and the little strapped bag that makes it easier for it to handle.

Been sitting long enough.  Time for another mandatory walk.  Maybe tomorrow, I'll manage going out to the front porch...

SOLSC '26 Day Nine: A letter to my reproductive system

 

I'm taking a detour from my walking theme with this piece, 

which I'm writing the day before it will be posted. 

The reason will be made clear...

Dear Reproductive System,

     Our time together is coming to a close, but I didn't want you to leave without my gratitude and apologies.  We have had a love-hate relationship over the years, but I really thought we'd signed a truce post-menopause.  I guess it was a false assumption on my part, as has now been proven by multiple ultrasounds, CAT scans, an MRI, and detailed labwork.

     But I'm getting ahead of myself here.  Let's revisit our history together, starting from the beginning, way back when I was thirteen.  You were fairly kind to me then, making your monthly presence known without much fanfare.  After listening to my mother's horror stories of floods and pain, I felt lucky to have skipped a generational curse.  

     Fast forward to our first pregnancy.  You did a great job making it happen...and a lousy job finishing the work.  No one gave you permission to just clock out at twenty-six weeks.  I spent the better part of sixty-five days hating you as our firstborn began her life in a neonatal unit.  She survived though, and thrived, so I finally gave you some credit for what you did get done and moved on.

     Then came the second pregnancy.  You had the decency to send some sort of signal to my brain to let me know not to count on this one at all...so thanks for that early RSVP.  Knowing that sometimes it just happens that way, we were still on good terms. 

     Third pregnancy, and I had high hopes.  Twenty-six weeks went by, twenty-seven...we made it to thirty-seven!  No major glitches either, until we got to the delivery room.  You had to throw HELLP syndrome into the mix, making the hospital staff scramble once again, only this time to keep me alive.  After two traumatic births, I promised the nurses that the next time they saw me, it would be to make sure you didn't get the chance to botch a delivery ever again.  I kept that promise a year later, thanks to day surgery and two little plastic clips.

     We had a few minor hiccups after that, but nothing serious.  You gifted me with a blessedly easy and early menopause, maybe to make up for your previous misbehavior.  I thought we would ride off into the eternal sunset together as a complete package.

     But it wasn't to be.  A simple annual physical exam unearthed what you'd been hiding--a grapefruit sized fibroid I've since named Gertie, since she's got me swollen as a five-month pregnancy.  You gave her a couple of walnut-sized cousins, too.  I can't help thinking this is partially my fault, for not showing you more love and appreciation over the years.  After all, you did give me two wonderful children, for which I will always be grateful.  Maybe it's because I've been stifling my creative pursuits and working under stressful conditions; I know both aren't good for our sacral chakra.

     Whatever the cause, it is time to part ways.  I am a little worried about the space left when you are gone, both physically and emotionally.  There are side-effects that I hope will disappear along with you.  And maybe I will learn my lesson and practice a bit more self-love and self-expression. 

     So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye.  It's been real, reproductive system.  Thanks for the memories--Chris  

SOLSC '26 Day Eight: To and from the loo

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Today's walks are brought to you by....

Magnesium Citrate!

Available in a wide variety of flavors--

Cherry!  Lemon!  and Grape!

Affordable, gut-cleansing pre-operative care

recommended by surgeons and gastroenterologists.

Guaranteed to flush you out

and get your steps in

as you rush to the bathroom

multiple times an hour!

Ask your pharmacist today for

Magnesium Citrate,

the drink that gets you going!

(And going, and going...)

SOLSC '26 Day Seven: Walking the aisles

 

Thirty-one walks,  thirty-one posts.

"Come shopping with me,  so you can get your stuff," my husband said. I was in a bad mood, because I couldn't find a gift card I wanted to use at Hallmark; the last thing I wanted to do was go to the grocery store.  I had a library book on hold that needed to be picked up and his birthday cards and gift to buy.  His birthday is on Friday, and there's a good chance I still won't be able to drive then.

"Fine," I said, "but we need to be back by three. I have things to do, the kids are going to a movie, and Dexter shouldn't be left alone."

(Dexter is our granddog; our daughter is visiting for the weekend,  helping me celebrate my birthday and prep a bit for my upcoming surgery.)

So I went to the grocery store. I spent way too much time trying to decide on which feminine hygiene product to buy; it's been twelve years since I had to visit that aisle. A new toothbrush was easier to locate. The body wipes, not so much, but we eventually saw them on a top shelf.  

I hurried through the frozen foods and grabbed the microwave meals I had on the shopping list.  I hardly ever eat those, but I can't see myself cooking this coming week.  A box of brown sugar Pop-Tarts found its way into the cart, a post-op reward.  (Okay, maybe a pre-op treat, too.)

My husband continued shopping for the usual groceries while I headed to the cereal aisle for a couple of high-fiber choices.  Gotta keep things moving after anesthesia and pain meds!  Soup aisle was next, for some more easy meals.  A tray of pre-sliced cheese squares to go with crackers was on my list, too.

I gave my husband the twenty minute warning as we entered the produce section.  By this time, I was feeling overstimulated and exhausted by decision making, so I stayed with the cart and pushed it from aisle to aisle,  zoning out until the fruit and veggies were chosen.

The Universe must have been witnessing my discomfort--my husband spotted a register with only one cart checking out, and they were almost done. We were out of the store and home right at three o'clock.

After all that aisle-walking, I  was tired...and fell asleep sitting up on the couch, Dexter snuggled next to me.

SOLSC '26 Day Six: Seven-thirty p.m.

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It only takes the creation of sub plans for an educator to realize just how much work they really do.  I've spent the better part of the last week preparing to be away from my circulation desk not for a day, but for three weeks. 

A full month, really, with Spring Break thrown into the mix. A month with book orders due, a quarterly snapshot, finances to balance, and two different schedules to juggle. I'm missing a district reading event, my last before I retire.  

To plan for these weeks, I've been working late almost every night. Tonight I finally walked out the door at seven-thirty. Sub plans are made and shared. Negatives are cleared from the finances. The quarterly snapshot is done and in the queue, read-alouds are labeled and next to the reading chair. My desk is cleared...well, somewhat clear.

I've never taken this much time off from work. It felt weird walking out of the library this evening,  knowing that I won't be back until April sixth at the earliest. 

I guess I could consider this a trial run for my retirement. 

SOLSC '26 Day Five: Last trimester

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I walked into my last trimester today.

Okay, maybe I will get lucky and live a few years beyond ninety like most of my grandparents.  But I doubt I 'll hit a hundred and twenty, so let me restate.

I walked into my last full trimester today.

If you've followed this blog from the beginning,  you know its name comes from my mother's untimely passing from ALS.  She didn't make it to her third trimester. As of today, I'm gifted with nine more years than she got to experience life. Nine more years with my husband and children. Nine more years to grow and learn and serve and love. Nine more years of sunrises and sunsets, hugs and kisses, sights and sounds. 

Nine more years of learning who I am and who I want to be. 

Sixty is starting off with some health challenges,  but they are manageable and will be overcome within a month, I hope.

Sixty will be discovering who I am beyond the labels of teacher and school librarian, reigniting my sense of purpose and service in a new work environment. 

Sixty will hopefully remember how to play, even while working.

Sixty will be more careful choosing when and where I expend my time, money, and energy.

Sixty will be taking more walks, and not just from home to car to work to car to home, like today, because Sixty is tired of sixty hour workweek.

Do you think of your life in trimesters? Do you measure by years, or are there different markers?  Which one are you in? What are you looking forward to being and doing in the last trimester of your life?

SOLSC'26 Day Four: Too many tabs

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I work with very kind colleagues,  the kind that ask "How are you doing?" when passing in the hall or through the library. 

My most common answer these past two weeks has been "I have too many tabs open", tapping my head.  They nod in solidarity.  It seems as soon as one task or reminder is completed,  two more replace it.

• Lesson plans
• Sub plans for three weeks
• Pre-op appointments 
• Bills to pay
• Gifts to buy
• Reading contest details
• Pre-op instructions
• T-shirts to decorate
• Financial tasks to wrap up
• Email reminders to schedule
• Morning broadcasts for next week
• Housecleaning to do
• My surgery on Monday
• Stuff to bring home
• Getting my bloodshot eyes looked at
• Whether or not I have time to polish my nails 
• Newsletters to write and schedule 
• And oh, turning sixty tomorrow. 

My walks today at work were around the library and to and from a portable to assist with a math class.  After work, they were in and out of my car and the optometrist's office, grocery store, and birdseed store.  At home, I watered my plants on the front porch and counted six junebugs who obviously didn't see "March" on the calendar, crawling and flailing by our front door.

I thought I could get rid of at least three tabs tonight. I'll have to settle for one or two, and hope to be in bed before eleven pm.

SOLSC '26 Day Three: Worm Moon

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Tonight's walk was a short one: out the front door, around the side of the house, and into the backyard. 

My steps were cautious.  Our yard is anything but level, with swells and divots from burrowing insects and the roots of long-dead-and-gone trees.  Hazardous in daylight, doubly so in the dark.

I paused and looked to the night sky, focusing on the full moon just rising through the trees.

Photo by Christine Margocs,  3.3.26.

Under the light of the Worm Moon, I took several deep, cleansing breaths,  grounding myself and releasing the tension in my jaws and shoulders. I said goodbye to Orion, waiting with his celestial sword across the sky, and headed indoors, back to my to-do list.

SOLSC '26 Day Two: Same walk, different time

 

My theme for SOLSC '26:  Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts

I left work just before five thirty pm.  For a brief moment, I considered making the walk from my library to my car the subject for today's post, but it felt a bit like cheating.  So after I got home, and before I sat down and let the weight of the day glue me to my armchair, I told my son I was going for a short walk and not to lock me out of the house.

I decided to retrace my steps from last night.  The setting sun was still bright enough to make me squint.  A couple of cars drove past me and a neighbor who was painting his garage; neither of us said anything, and I wasn't unhappy about it.  After a day of peopling, I prefer my own quiet bubble.

The sun was warm on my skin as I walked away from my house, but most of the trees were acting like it was still winter, spindly branches displaying old messy nests high against the clear blue sky.  I crossed the street and turned in the direction of my home, feeling a change in the temperature as a cool wind offered the lightest of barriers against my tired body.  A whizzing noise appeared over my left shoulder, and a young teen on a small electric motorcycle sped past me on the street, turning onto the hike-n-bike entrance where motorized vehicles are forbidden.

A man in a wheelchair approached me on his own rolling stroll.  I said hello as we passed each other, breaking my bubble in an effort to show kindness in the face of someone's else's adversity.  My hips decided they were done, and I remembered the ten-hour workday that preceded this walk.  Crossing the street once more, I walked up the driveway, stepped through my front door, and plopped down in the armchair, feeling the heaviness of the day's work, still unfinished.

SOLSC '26 Day One: Habit stacking

 

Here we go again!

Year fourteen of the Slice of Life Story Challenge for me, and I wasn't sure if I could take it on.  This March holds a full docket of events and tasks--

turning sixty (!), 

major surgery, 

ticking off the required boxes to retire,

and looking for my next job.

My current mental load feels like an overfilled mine cart about to spill over and slide back down the tracks.  So how do I jump back into a writing habit that I've ignored for the better part of a year, when I can barely keep up with what needs to be done?

Habit stacking.

My doctor and I agree that I need to get more exercise.  I am now entering the official "use it or lose it" stage of life, and I don't want to be on the losing end of my health.  So I've decided on my theme for this year's SOLSC:

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

My plan is to go for a walk each day, then write about it.  This may work out great, or it may be the most boring SOLSC theme yet.

*********

It's day one, and I was in pajamas until seven p.m. (not unusual for a Sunday).  My husband has been taking after-dinner walks, so I offered to join him, forcing myself to put on joggers and a t-shirt.  I was thankful it was dark and the street was empty.  We talked about the coyotes and foxes that sometimes roam the neighborhood at night.  I mentioned that ringtails had been spotted nearby; I would love to see one of those!  Crossing the street put the waxing moon in full view, the glow competing with the streetlights.

The night was clear, with a breeze that was just slightly on the chilly side.  I smiled at the Christmas lights blinking on a couple of houses; it made me feel a little better about the holiday tablecloth still gracing my dining room.

The front of my hips started complaining, so we crossed back over and headed home.  One walk, one post.