I apologize for the sparse posting, my friends. My veteran readers know that this happens every February.
Every February, I fall into a slump. In many ways, this is the easiest slump in years. The anxiety level remains relatively low. But it’s February, so “relatively low” doesn’t mean very much. The insomnia is much better than usual as well, but it’s February, so “much better than usual” doesn’t mean “fixed.” And with that state of mind and body comes writer’s block. It will clear up soon.
Adrienne is doing wonderfully at school.
The guinea pig is getting older, but she’s still happy and energetic.
Charlie the cat came up to the porch for his can of fish this weekend in a new collar and bell, and I realized he was two-timing me. His real mother must be somewhere on this block. When I peeked out the window later in the day I saw him eating with two other cats, a timid Russian Blue I named Alyoshka and a brash fat ginger cat I named Garfield. I think at least one of them lives under the porch, and we’ve had a winter blessedly free of mice.
Friday, while under my gray anxious February cloud, Adrienne and I had a bit of an adventure. We went out for a grocery shopping expedition after school and drove home the long way, singing along to the radio. I was so relaxed it felt like it wasn’t February anymore. And then, of course, excitement.
We were in the bottleneck part of Oregon Avenue that really should be a one-way street but isn’t, the one where parked cars mean you have to drive on the wrong side and pull over if anyone comes the other way. Along that street came an SUV, barreling at what seemed like twice the limit, straight toward me. He blew right through the stop sign across Woodlawn without even slowing down. I swerved over to the right until I was practically on the grass, thanking God the sidewalks are so old there isn’t really a curb to hit anymore. The SUV blew past me at a speed that would’ve been a bit much on the freeway, within an inch of taking off Sacre Bleu’s side mirror.
I thought I was going to throw up. I yelled some Anglo Saxon words Adrienne graciously pretended not to hear. When I got to the part about “What are you running from, the cops?” I saw the red and blue lights, also speeding toward me. Two black police SUVs blew down the street just a little slower than the white one had, as I remained pulled over on a curb that wasn’t there.
Of course, we had to find out what happened next. We went around the block and back in the direction the SUV was going, towards the main arterial which is risibly named Sunset Boulevard. At the intersection, a grumpy police officer was kicking the remains of a bumper out of the crosswalk. That white SUV had attempted a left turn at a red light in front of the school, and three cars had paid a price for it.
Back home, I got online to warn the Steubenville gossip pipeline. The lady who listens to the police scanner told me he’d fled on foot, and the friend of one of the drivers whose car was smashed said that nobody was hurt and the driver was eventually picked up. He’s got quite the rap sheet.
I can’t even say whether my anxiety was worse after that, but it was different. It’s been different all weekend, and now it’s calming down a bit.
I guess that proves I am a little healthier than I used to be.
And I promise to get back in the saddle with my writing this week!
Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross, The Sorrows and Joys of Mary, and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.
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