Bad, bad day.
So, what did I do to cool off? De-perculate. De-stress. De-compose.
I went for a walk in "Da Hood." Yep. "Da Hood." That's what I fondly call my neighborhood.
With my metal shopping cart in tow (just in case I needed to make any stress related purchases along the way), I left my loft, wearing my two different colored flip flops, my favorite purple yoga pants with the Chinese symbols for luck, and a mustered smile.
First, I walked by my bank - Wells Fargo on Spring. Linda, the manager opened the door when she saw me walking and yelled out, "Hi, Nancy, how you doing?" "Okay, I said. "Did you deposit that million dollars into my account yet?" "Not yet, Nancy, but we're working on it." She laughed, then gave me a big grin.
Further down the block, I saw Mario sitting behind the concierge desk at the Spring Arts Tower. "Hey, Mario, have you seen Deborah (our friend, the artist) lately?" I yelled out. "No, she hasn't been around for at least a week. But how you doing? "Good," I lied. Small talk works to ease the pain.
Then, I walked on over to Weeneez. The hot dog place at Fifth and Spring with the great art that my friend Julie Rico runs. I didn't know Julie before I moved downtown, but we've become friends - and I often stop in to say "hi." She's got a great smile and heart. On this visit, my metal cart got suck in the door - and while we were shooting the breeze - she un-stuck me. Julie, had a good day. She sold a lot of hot dogs. I was happy for her. I didn't tell her about my day - but knowing about hers helped me feel better.
After I left Julie's, I walked past the mini-post office. I got "the wave" from Loretta. She stood behind the counter in her blue postal outfit.
Later on, I ran into Harry on Seventh. I don't know much about him, I believe he pretty much lives on the street. He moves around a lot with his guitar. Strumming the tunes in his head. Protecting the few possessions he has. One day, awhile ago, he told me his name. Ever, since, he's become "Hi Harry, life treating you good?" And he always answers me, "No complaints, Nancy, none whatsoever."
No complaints. Harry has no complaints. He also has - no shoes on his feet. Probably a sleeping bag at most to put his head on. And, maybe a meal a day.
And now you know why I walk in "Da Hood." No matter, how crappy my day. How upset I am, or sad. I have made many friends in "my community" who brighten my soul by the very nature of theirs.
It's a family here. Looking out for one another, in more ways than one.