This past week I’ve been walking each day from one to two miles, depending on my endurance and how much my ankles hate me. I’ve been outside, and it has been strangely cool for what is normally a sweltering, sticky July in hotbox east Texas. The skies have been overcast, but not too gray, and I’ve bravely stretched out socks – I can never find women’s running socks for my size 11 boats – and tied on my Pumas, locked the house door behind me, and tackled the neighborhood pavement.
I have even rocked an awesome pseudo-fanny pack.
It has felt so good to be outside and to accomplish. Then I get home. Today, I just couldn’t do it. Today, I have sat in my dark house all day. As I write this, the only light I see is through my front door, the half circle window at the top, where I can see the first bits of blue sky in days; just enough through the green tree top that lets me know it is sunny outside. I can’t decide what is worse, staying inside indefinitely or going outside only to come back to this dark place again.
I have been putting this neighbor entry off for a long time – at least a month. It seems that as I meet more of my neighbors, their lives become personal and blogging about the relationships that form is intrusive in a way.
How would you feel if you knew your neighbor was blogging about recently meeting you? I have to ask myself this a lot now it seems.
I haven’t done anything super uncomfortable to spur growth in my neighbor-meeting mission. While I’ve had more in-depth conversations with my diagonal neighbor, and met new neighbors that moved in behind us – like quite literally less-than-six-inches-behind-our-house — and down the street, all encounters were initiated by my husband. I could write about what we talked about, but I do get an icky feeling like I’m sharing too much now…not much future for this blog then, I guess…
I can still write about the fun we have on our block. I want to do another “big event” to bring our neighbors together…anyone have any ideas?