Realizing dreams
I was wandering and pondering on Wednesday afternoon. Hot outside. Like that’s any surprise, it is the summer. I snuck into an apartment pool for a dip, then I detoured around the creek and joined a couple of guys swimming, one who was swimming with his dogs.
One of the dogs rushed at me, then backed off, not really being too ferocious, but just trying to see if I was threatened. Looked like mongrel, from a good keeper. Her brother was learning that he could swim all the way across the creek with the owner’s coaching, “good boy, good boy.”
“Don’t worry about her, she’s just testing. She never minds me. Well, she does sometimes, but other times, she doesn’t seem to pay any attention to me.”
I wasn’t disturbed in the least because, as an animal person, I can sense fear, just like they can. (Not really but I’ve found being still usually disarms a dog – and most of the dogs at the creek are well-behaved in general.)
“So sometimes she does what you say and other times, she doesn’t? You said it was female right? Just like a woman. Glad I’m not bitter.”
It did evoke a laugh.
But that wasn’t the point, just a little side trip to wandering and pondering.
I was doing a personal assessment of my current mental state. Barely got the rent paid, still have the electric bill to pay, and the cable, and the cell phone. Problems, problems. Get to work this weekend, that’s good.
Then my thoughts detoured into my luggage. Riding the train, a couple of weeks ago, I used my handy, already-packed, computer carry-all. But this coming weekend, I’m packing an honest-to-goodness backpack. Not a big one, still qualifies as an under-seat size for airlines. Just about right for computer, printer, toiletries and change of clothes, in Texas, in the summer. Perfect for a quick jaunt to San Antonio. (Remember the Alamo. Yee-haw.)
After I graduated college, I wanted to travel around Texas. Wanted to get paid for it. I didn’t wind up with what I thought my dream job should be, but I’ve gotten to see portions of Texas that not many people see. Plus, seeing Texas through the eyes of hundreds of clients makes it a little bit more unique.
The best part? The trip’s not over yet. Not even halfway there. One of the places I lived when I was in college backed up to a rail line. One AM in the morning, most near every night, a big freighter rolled through, leaning on the whistle, rattling the windows in that building. I was just glad I didn’t live on the end. Kind of comforting. Between romantic literature, historical material, and family influences, I kept having vague dreams about riding the rails. Not a chance of that happening, not these days. It’s flat out too dangerous.
Part of the Wednesday’s meander took me from Barton Spring Road, up the train tracks – the path around the miniature golf place, and south down the right-of-way to the first street that crosses the rail line. It was close to five in the afternoon, and the long, green tunnel of the tracks was a much better pedestrian route than any sidewalk. It’s possible to hear the roadway, it’s just not visible.
Just about the time I got Mary Street (or Elizabeth, I don’t recall, some name), a huge freighter chugged on by. I was watching to see if there were any folks “riding the rails,” but alas, I couldn’t detect bodies crouched between rail cars. I looked down at the ballast I’d been walking on, pretty sharp rocks. I know that the train has an almost 90 degree turn on the other side of the river, so a long one like that has to start slowing down. But the prospects of jumping off a moving rail car at 20 or 20 miles an hour doesn’t strike me as alluring.
However, looking at what I’ll be doing, riding a train, I’m excited.
And, it gets better, too.
As long as I working my mind over problems, positions and possibilities, I realized I could, after I get off the train, swing right on by the creek for a quick swim – just, like, on the way home.
Two, three days ago, I wrapped up a horoscope column, feeling like I’d done some injustice to the one or two signs. Wednesday afternoon, I finished up another, but I didn’t have that same sense of failure, not one sign was incomplete. It all fits.
One of the biggest tragedies on Wednesday? 31 flavors ice cream. – instead of Amy’s. I mean, if that’s the worst that’s going to happen to me, life can’t be all that bad.
But how that happened is perhaps, best saved for another time, as it involved Italian food, a Gemini, a Pisces, and a trip through a dollar store that cost me some money, but not much – they had rubbing alcohol, and that’s something I need to prevent swimmer’s ear.
