Thursday, January 29, 2015


I like a bit of elbow room when I am wandering around town. My particular, and possibly peculiar, taste runs towards dense, well populated urban centers that are somehow on a day to day basis mysteriously populated like dying rural towns. And so when I go for my morning walk on the river, and it's minus 10 degrees out, and I see maybe two other people on my whole journey, I feel that all is as it should be. When we get to summer, I am avoiding the far too crowded river, and trying to make my way on any obscure route I can find. But when it is 35 degrees out, things get tricky. The path is not crowded, exactly, it's actually pretty empty, but there are enough people around that I run into problems.

Lately what happens is that I merge onto the river path, and even though there is only one person within half a mile, that person is ten feet away from me and heading in the same direction.

I hate this.

So I try to walk very fast to pass this person by. Mysteriously this does not work. The other walker seems to be moseying along without urgency. I, on the other hand, am at a pace just short of a run, and yet I cannot seem to effect our relative positions. Pretty soon my hip starts to hurt. I try to go faster. I start to gain on the moseying person, but at a pace similar to the logic conundrum where one can only ever go half way there, and half of that, but never get there. I cut the distance in half. In half again. In half again. I give up.

So then I slow down. Maybe I can let them zoom off far ahead of me. Oddly this only works a little. I have to go really slow. Some space develops between us, but I feel like I practically have to stop. I am always running late on my walks and it's unsustainable. I return to my brisk pace, and soon I am the same ten paces as ever behind.

I do hate this. But I admit that eventually it ends. My nemesis, by which I merely mean some other random walking person, turns off the route I am traveling. I am alone again. Ah how lovely the city is, crusted with filthy snow, and scattered with broken frozen things. I am too hot for hat or gloves or my coat. My spirit turkey shows up now that I am alone. It's brown. It keeps getting bigger. What do you have for me today spirit turkey?

He doesn't know. Neither do I. But it's probably the communion that matters.


  1. I'm so glad your spirit turkey returned to your blog. I hope it makes further appearances.

    1. I'm glad you're glad and am happy to report (as I am written out ahead a bit) that the spirit turkey(s) make another appearance in the coming week.


If you were wondering, yes, you should comment. Not only does it remind me that I must write in intelligible English because someone is actually reading what I write, but it is also a pleasure for me since I am interested in anything you have to say.

I respond to pretty much every comment. It's like a free personalized blog post!

One last detail: If you are commenting on a post more than two weeks old I have to go in and approve it. It's sort of a spam protection device. Also, rarely, a comment will go to spam on its own. Give either of those a day or two and your comment will show up on the blog.