Folsom

30 More Minutes

Beep, beep, beep … WHAM!

(Wait 5 minutes, Repeat 3 times)

Good thing the clock is set for 15 minutes ahead, bad that I remember this daily, thus defeating the purpose.

Ugh, hello 5:30am, we meet again.

O, what I wouldn’t do to spend just 30 more minutes wrapped up in the wonderful world of down feathers and Egyptian cotton – just 10 more? No, today is the day. Spring is here and so is my thrice weekly morning run routine.

After a dramatic peeling back of the covers and two feet plunged down to the cold floor below, I am up. Fearing my ability to procrastinate might rear its ugly head; I laid out clothes (ok, a matching outfit) last night. In mere minutes I had managed to morph into something out of a jazzercise video, minus the neon pink

Sucking down a few sips of water, I opened the door …

**chills – none of which came from the 45-degree weather**

Had I seriously contemplated trading any amount of additional sleep to miss this beautiful sunrise?!

I strolled down the long desolate driveway to the street, never once looking down. The colors were vivid, the air was fresh and the silence was calming. Crossing the street I took to the trail with a deep breath and long stride. Then, just before the start of mile 3, I hit the pause button on the iPod and stopped, looked up and couldn’t help but think again about what I would have missed if I had taken those 30 additional minutes.

I hope you all join me in an effort to use the snooze button less and less each morning.

Somebody Call 911…

Part one of the Labor Day weekend roller coaster.

Riding the “it’s 5 o’clock” somewhere high that can only be truly cherished on the front side of a 3-day holiday weekend, I drove home and nestled in for a much needed power snooze.

Then there were sirens.  Incessant, sirens. Wow, they sounded close. I never hear them that vividly, hmmm…..time to look out the window.

WHAT?!

I caught the tail end glimpse of what looked to be a ladder truck.  Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I threw open the closet door and slung on a pair of flippy-flops; I must investigate.  Yes, I am one of those. I enjoy immersing myself in anything and everything that seems to be other peoples business.

Out the door I scurried, leaving Mr.O starring in bewilderment.

Looking around I noticed other tenants emerging as well. As I walked through the parking lot, following the migration of people, I looked up and caught my first glimpse. *Gasp*

Billowing black smoke; raging neon flames leaped into the air.

The apartment complex was on fire!

Standing and starring was all I could do.  Neighbors gathered in a row alongside the road frozen in disbelief.  No one moved for nearly 30 minutes, only the sounds of crackling wood and pressurized water slapping against the buildings could be deciphered in the distance.

While the emergency crews responded with amazing speed and accuracy, the damage had been done.  In just over a half an hour one entire building had disappeared and another severely damaged.

This was as close as I have come to having my personal safety and property utterly destroyed.  The sense of loss I felt for those affected was rivaled only by my internal need to be grateful that I was not among them.

Close, very close, but not among them.

Returning to my apartment I scooped up Oliver and called all my family to let them know I was alright.

Having weathered the first dip of the roller coaster weekend, I showered and headed out for an evening of dinner and drinks with friends.  The events of this evening were only to get better, but that deserves its own post.

Suburban Schlep Mobile

Living in Midtown Sacramento spoiled me just a little bit.  Whenever I chose to leave my quaint (sounds better than minutely sized) apartment, I had several options for how to mill about town.

  • On foot.  However, my unrequited podiatric love for ridiculously high heels often thwarted this, and sneakers did not properly accessorize the majority of my ensembles.
  • My bicycle – Yes, I like to get my Lance Armstrong on once in awhile. However, having to haul the over-sized mountain bike up and down a stair case resembling the Notre Dame locker room proved too great an endeavor for a group of less than 4 people.
  • TAXI! However, yellow isn’t a good color for me and let’s be real…$/mile really can add up and eat away at the cocktail fund!
  • Hitch a ride.  However, my friends who could have come and picked me up don’t seem to suffer from the 3 items listed above.

Now, I told you that, to tell you this:

I moved to Folsom 6 weeks ago, L-O-V-E it! However, my North East migration into suburbia has seemingly caused me to further develop a new mode of transportation; a 2004 Honda Accord.  I have officially dubbed it my “Suburban Schlep Mobile”.

Gone are the restaurants, grocery stores, vintage boutiques and questionable dive bars within a 1 mile radius of my Midtown abode. I live in the land of the foreign luxury SUV commute and 50 mph speed limits.  Crosswalks are now intersections.   One way only signs have been replaced with merging lane arrows.  Parking is free, not $.25/12 minutes. $3/gallon gasoline is pumped into tanks like it was going out of style; I used to fill up nearly once a month!

While I occasionally muster the energy to complete the 1 mile saunter down to Old Folsom for the Thursday night street fair or Sunday morning Farmers’ Market, that’s about as far as the self-reliant transportation goes.  How am I supposed to simultaneously reduce my carbon footprint and buy dog food if the closest pet store is 8.6 miles away (that’s not round trip mileage either)? The ultimate irony/tragedy…. I have to drive to the gym!

The known facts that I have no sense of direction, lack an internal compass and get lost going around the corner are not my sole complaints for having to turn to vehicular means of mobility.  I also find it utterly appalling that Mr. O shows no contempt for the “Suburban Schlep Mobile”.  Quite contrarily, he seems to overtly embrace it; mounting his front paws securely on the center console while whimpering his requests for rolled down windows, open sunroof and the wind blown look.

Am I imagining this?! Thirty minutes to get across town?!

My investigation continues into alternate routes and mediums, till then….I am happily green light hunting in the 95630!