There's only one word to describe the weather here today in Kansas City ... perfect. It's a gorgeous fall day with temps in the 50s, a slight breeze and brilliant sunshine that makes the yellow leaves on the trees glisten against the royal blue sky above them. Perfect. Just a perfect weather day in KC. I simply love the fall ... hands down, it's my favorite time of the year, and yes, I know I've written those words a gazillion times before, but it's true, true, true ... I love the fall. I woke up early this morning and stood shivering on the sidewalk as I waited for Julie and Ollie to do their business, and I gazed at the stars that dotted the blackness of the heavens. "Look at that clear sky, doggies," I said aloud to my hounds ... "It's going to be a beautiful fall day today, eh?" We came back inside and as Jules and Oliver scarfed down their food, I wrapped myself in a blanket and stood listening to the silence that was broken only by the crunching sounds as my dogs gobbled down their breakfast. "This house didn't used to be this quiet, pups," I said. "It sure didn't used to be so quiet here at all."
I sat on the couch and read for a little while, then showered and went to meet a friend for breakfast. It was nice to sit across the table from my friend and chat for a couple of hours ... those are the kinds of things I miss so very much ... just sitting with a friend over a meal and chatting about little things and big things and all things in between. When we parted with a hug and the promise to get together on a more regular basis, I went on a quest for some snow boots ... uggghhh ... shopping. I really do detest shopping unless I'm looking for suspenders or Converse or bow ties ... well, duh, right? But ... if I intend to make a wintertime trip to Canada to see my little C.J. and Matt and Becca, I must have snow boots ... high, warm, comfortable snow boots because it snows like a million inches up there. I actually got lucky and found a pair of Columbia boots that are rated to -32 degrees at the first store I went to, and as a bonus, they were on sale for $39. Next was a visit to the doctor and a stop at the grocery store and back home to my oh-so-quiet house.
After eating a late lunch and playing with Julie for a while, I decided to change into an old pair of jeans and take Ollie for a walk. I hadn't worn this particular pair of jeans in a long time ... probably since last winter, in fact, as they are my favorite wintertime walking jeans. I noticed when I pulled them on that they were considerably loser around my waist than they were last year, and I told myself to be sure and grab a belt before I set out for the trail. But, as often happens with me these days, I got distracted when I was searching for my old favorite walking hoodie and completely forgot about the belt until Ollie and I had been walking for about a half-hour. You know how pants, especially jeans, tend to loosen up as you wear them for a while? Well, trust me, they loosen up a lot more when you're walking out on the trail next to a busy road ... must be something about the combination of walking, cooler weather and being out in public that makes it happen, but trust me, it's the truth.
I walk at a pretty good clip, so Ollie and I were a good distance away from home when I realized that I had a pants problem. Perhaps I was so deep in thought that I just didn't notice how many times I had pulled my pants up by then, but all of a sudden I thought, "What the heck is going on with my stupid pants? They keep sliding down ... what the heck is going on? My pants are going to fall off right out here on the trail in front of God and everybody." And almost as soon as that thought entered my mind, another totally rational one jumped in next to it. "Now that I think about it, God's seen me without pants a ton of times." I know, I know, friends ... believe me I know ... the places my mind goes sometimes scares the living daylights out of me. Thinking that possibly I hadn't buttoned or zipped my jeans, I locked Ollie's leash in place and stuck it between my knees so that both my hands were free to pull up my hoodie and check the status of my pants. I was more than a bit worried when I saw that everything was buttoned and zipped as it should be, and I'm not sure how long I stood there holding up my sagging jeans trying to decide just how I was going to manage to walk back home clutching both my pants and Ollie's leash at the same time.
Obviously, since I'm typing this post, I figured out a way to get home with being arrested for indecent exposure ... but it was the longest hour-long walk home ever. Yep, you read that right ... it took me twice as long to walk back home because I was super paranoid that I was going to lose my pants out on the trail in front of God and everybody. Now that I think about it ... God's seen me without ... oh, never mind. I kept switching Ollie's leash from hand to hand as I tugged my pants up first on one side and then the other ... one side would stay up for a bit while the other started to sag and then I'd pull up the sagging side and the other side would ... well, you get the picture ... it was a flipping long walk home.
When Ollie and I finally trudged slowly into the garage, another thought pounded into my brain ... and no, it had nothing at all to do with how many times God has seen me without pants. See here's the thing ... it took me twice as long to walk exactly the same distance back home as I walked when I left the house. Why? Because I wasn't paying attention to my sagging pants on the first half of my walk ... I was deep in thought about much bigger things than my pants. I was thinking about a chat I had with a friend who stopped by my office yesterday, about some things my friend said this morning, about things my life-saving head doctor has been talking with me about, about my conversation with Meghann and Barrett last night, about what some of the students said to me after I spoke on Thursday evening, about the words Brad said as we ate dinner together, about C.J. calling last night to tell me she pooped in the potty ... hey, back off ... it's a big deal when you're not even two years old yet. While the first part of my walk was spent thinking about others, the second half was spent instead thinking about myself ... thoughts of worrying that my pants were going to fall off ... thoughts of how embarrassed I would be if that happened. My main focus and concern was what would happen to me or what I would do if I couldn't keep my pants up. My long ... really, really, really long ... walk home was made so much longer and more difficult because I was consumed with thoughts about me and my drooping pants. I can honestly say that I didn't give one thought to anyone else during that hour-long walk home ... all I thought about was me, me, me.
You know what I think, friends? I think I need to lose my pants more often if that's what it takes to make me care and think more about others than myself ... yep, I surely do.
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