Coming Home So Late

Rough draft


The whole year getting to bed early has been a very good thing.  Yesterday I came home late and went to bed around 12am.  I felt tired on the train.  The late night shift workers were all on the train and looked pretty exahusted also.  I hid my head between the seat and the window and went to sleep.  It reminded me of when I would go to bed late in the past and take the train. 

Last night was another one of those late trips home.  I don't bother anymore fighting to prevent these things from happening like letting the day slip away when work is slow and the bank account is empty.  When taking risks at this point in life is the only way.  Holding on to the cold dark winter night before it breaks you in two.

I felt the soreness burning in my back.  The stress from the shift of problems with no fast resolve in mind. Coming home so late has never been more better.  Just like clock work, another cash loan, another early train ride stretched to midnight, and an unpracticed and unplanned opportunity again.  Another risk.  Risk after risk.  How far do you take such a road? 

The next day comes and it feels just right in all the right moments: 7 hours of sleep, a shower, a smile in the morning instead of the unrelaxed frown that comes from a choice of reasons.  The perfect breakfast, cup of coffee, and a hot shower.  Sitting waiting was the most uncomfortable part during the job interview.  The whole store in front of you.  A job applicant who just read the most important questions and prayer for wisdom.

The interview was too much something.  What was it?  Could it have been the pressure of first impressions, a loss for words, or too many words?  The end of the day after all the clammer of ideas is soothed with some television and blogging the urge of unrest pangs the night.  What else is there to do but wait on the Lord.  There is the treadmill, a letter to write, State of the Union to watch, or to continue the risks of job scouring on the web.nly t

In conclusion, there is no conclusion.

Truly He is my Rock and my Salvation! My mighty rock! My salvation!  Do not put vain hope in stolen goods.  Psalms 62

o my strong tower, my refuge, LORD, on my bed I remember you, I sing in the shadow of your wings, Psalms 63

A Chapter in a Weight Loss Journey

It was a late Friday night in north Chicago in early January.  Patty was sure there would be snow on the ground by Christmas yet the snow didn't come.  It was the sound of the fresh coffee brewing in her and her boyfriend Darrels apartmen that stirred up the beginning of an unplanned weekend.  Temperatures were dropping to 20 degrees and mixtures of rain and slush began to fall from a bright gray sky.

The call came in from Tony, Pattys father leaving a message around 4pm that her grandfather had passed away. Patty packed just a pair of sweatpants and a coat and left first thing Saturday morning from Darrels sponge mattress and loud squeaky apartment of steam heaters and old wood floors.  Shuffling through the plastic container of snacks for the 16 hour drive to Houston Texas, Patty felt alert and very serious about what was inside. 

She spotted out some  apples, meat sticks, wheat bagels, and a pound of turkey from the deli.  Good choices of snacks for a long road of sitting in the car.  Then there were the horrendous corn chips.  There were no red grapes.  No vegetables.  This made Patty furious.  She didn't say anything about it to her mom or dad as they kept on eye on the map and one eye on the road.

The gas station stops were the place of sugary and salty snacks.  In Missouri after passing the beautiful Mississippi River Patty noticed sadly that she didn't bring her jump rope.  She wanted to jump rope at the best chances she could get.  She planned to jump rope behind the gas station or along side the car while her dad pumped the gas.

She stayed clear of the toffee bar and the slishies.  The walk through the aisles were frightening as the candy grew more and more colorful and sweeter.  Slowing down through each aisle the potato chips had new shapes and flavors such as mild lime and BBQ spices, and the twisty twirling corn chips were in a shape of a tiny flute with a lot of zest and more powdery cheese flavors to eye on the shelve.

Grabbing the largest bag of pretzels as fast as she could through all the amazing bags of snack chips and chewy and twisty candies Pattys dad said here, look over here."

He handed her a smaller bag of the same pretzels and she felt relieved since it was a good portion sized bag that she battled to find though the main rows of all gas station goodies.  The roads were clear of traffic, and the weather was clear of rain.  The first day of the trip to Houston was