Less Planning, More Action, One Shoe Donation, And Seen On the Griffith Park Trail.

I'm a hustler, baby. I just want you to know...

So the world has bred its hustlers. The world grows up and gets itself going in a hurry. Faster than a New York minute. I wonder if there's a West Coast equivalent. Slower than a... San Diego minute? Hmmm. Not quite the same.

I was born a planner - I plan for the future, I make To Do Lists, I like to write things down and keep track; stay organized. These days I try not to overplan my weekends, I have a loose idea of the things I need to do, the things I want to do, and the things I could do for the first time. All usually include the decision to take the time to relax. I fight back against my urge to make a To Do List and let the day flow instead.

Thus far the past few weekends have been filled with activity, all of which I did not pencil in on a rigorously filled itinerary.

I know. I surprise myself sometimes, too.

I'm lying in bed. My arms are sore. My quads, calves, and abs are all sore. To the point where laughter hurts. Over the weekend I had a boot camp-style workout with my friend and faced quite the challenge. I definitely underestimated the subsequent inflammation of muscles that soon followed.

Sometimes you cannot just rush the creative process. Would any of Picasso's masterpieces been just as excellent if he had painted under duress or with unabashed haste?

One Shoe Donation.
I realized tonight, as I pulled my car into the garage and grabbed my belongings from the trunk, that I had donated a bag of clothes this morning which included one shoe. One shoe.

I immediately flashback to an episode of Seinfeld (that show is applicable to a plethora of life experiences, btw) where Elaine has a stellar business idea of selling muffin tops. She partners up with a colleague and advises that you have to bake the whole muffin, and then cut off the stumps, the stumps end up in large plastic bags which then go on to be donated to the needy. The staff at the homeless shelter she goes to is indignant, insulted. (Who does she think they are, animals?)

I wonder what sentiment washed over the staff of the thrift store when I donated my bag of belongings today. I am curious if I donate the other shoe, if it will be reunited with its counterpart.

Seen On The Griffith Park Trail.
I have continued my weekend runs at Griffith Park. Take that, you doubting naysayers!

Last week, there was a group of four people and five dogs walking along the trail. All different kinds of dogs - chihuahua, bulldog, lab, St. Bernard. No one was talking, and none of the dogs were barking - they were all just happily walking along the trail on a particularly sunny day - tails were wagging and contentment was emanating.
I smiled to myself and wondered if the four dog owners got together weekly and made it a regular appointment - dog play dates where they walk their dogs together. Adorable.

Today, there was a couple - maybe in their late 30s - walking from their cars from the parking lot. They stopped by picnic tables and some trees, as I continued jogging along a trail nearby. I am pounding the dirt path and when I look up, the couple is kissing under the tree. The man is holding the woman, as if to hold her a little longer, and suddenly I feel like an intruder, imposing on this intimate moment. No one else is around - I am, seemingly, the only one jogging along this section at this particular point in time. Yup - just a regular ol' couple, makin' out - but then, giving it some thought, it was rather endearing. It's this stolen moment, when no one else was around, when they thought no one was looking (well- except me, of course).

Ah, romance.