NaRoWriMo 2020: 11/01/20

Well, hello there! Long time, no see. Happy Dia de Los Muertos, my friends!

And a happy NaNoWriMo (that’s short for National Novel Writing Month, for you non-writing peeps peeping this piece), as well!

To get myself back into the swing of things and out of this creative funk I’ve found myself in over the last few months, I’ve snatched the term and switched it up—November shall be the National Ramble On Writing Month, or NaRoWriMo here in the house of Bubbles and Chaos.

If you’ve spent any time with me here, you’ll know what to expect with a Ramble On post (and honestly, I’d think it’d be pretty self-explanatory by the title, buuuuuut you never know…).

If you’re new here, well, just be prepared for a bunch of all-over-the-map blah blah spouted by yours truly. You’ll either love it or hate it. As the Rent reference goes, take me baby, or leave me.

So, let’s get on with it, shall we?

Today

K and I took our ever-adventurous wagon walk about the neighborhood. Good times. Pretty scenery, fresh air, exercise. Gotta love it.

Because she has a particular habit of saying, “Fuck these shoes,” in the fashion of throwing them overboard while we’re on-the-go (I use a resistance band to strap myself to the wagon to pull her, as per advised by a local resident nurse who saw me pulling her in traditional fashion one day and stopped us to express concern over fucking up my shoulders later on in life; it’s genius, really. Great core workout, too), I’d already taken off her shoes and socks and put them in the storage compartment.

Well.

Unbeknownst to me (until I received a phone call from The Husband), she’d snuck into the storage and chucked them anywho, along with my favorite flannel (a gift from my grandmother—it belonged to my grandfather). Seems a gentleman in the neighborhood saw them, picked them up, and delivered them to the house. So sweet. From the sounds of it, it’s likely the God guy.

No, not that God guy. LOL Dude rides a bike around and I often see him out on both the wagon walks and on my solo jogs. He usually greets me with something like, “Hey, you know what’s good?… JESUS!” or “You know what’s up? God!” He makes me smile. Nice dude. I’ll have to keep an eye out for him to thank him. I really wouldn’t have wanted to make a shoe run tonight to replace the Paw Patrols (side note: I’d really like someone to design some Doom Patrol Paw Patrol sneakers—they’d be WAY cooler and I’d sport the fuck out of those kicks!).

And I absolutely would’ve been shattered to have lost the flannel. It, a few of the bandanas I sport on my noggin here and there, and the gramophone record player and records are all I have to remember him by in the physical sense. It means a lot to me.

Yeah, I think I need to buy dude a coffee or something. Silly me, I was just thinking to myself today that there were no such things as heroes. They find you at the most unexpected times.

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