Just moseying along ...

 

Lately I have been having an ongoing conversation with a good friend about running and jumping. And... there was also a brief mentioning of flittering through one's day.  You know – I am going to run down town or run to the grocery store.  Or -- I am going to jump out of bed or jump into the shower -- or flitter from one thing to another. Neither of us has run or jumped for a very long time, although it seems we still flitter a bit now and then.  The thing is, I cannot remember the last time I ran  -- unless it was after a toddler about 13 years ago (they are amazingly fast for having such short little legs), and as far jumping – vague memories for sure.  Come to think of it though as far as jumping goes -- I do remember an unfortunate and pitifully clumsy attempt to clear a hurdle in high school. I got stuck half way over and ended up tipping the whole thing over and picking gravel out of my knees. Never an athlete… never pretended to be. I chalk that up to an inherited klutz factor. I am comfortable with that. It is, however, sort of comforting to think that flittering is still within the realm of possibility and I do that well. At least that involves moving from place to place. Movement is a good thing.

Anyway – the whole running/jumping thing makes me think of Hopscotch days and polished saddle shoes and Keds.  You remember – the days when people used their brains and counted change back.  I still do that, by the way.  And – I distinctly remember my Dad teaching me how and that such a process was important.  He also taught me that two quarters are of the same value as one fifty-cent piece and…  how to tie shoes. Next to learning how to type – I have always found those lessons to be of major importance.  Then again -- there is knowing how to hem using a blind stitch. I learned that skill in a college dorm from one of my suitemates.  But I digress…

After careful thought about my movements throughout a variety of days with a variety of activities, I have decided that the best descriptor of my movement of late is that I mosey.  Isn’t there something soft and comforting about that word?  It implies never rushing – sort of a less stressful way of moving through one’s day than that of flittering.  I mosey in general… most all the time.  I mosey along…  yep. Perhaps moseying is one of the best parts of being my age.  I am totally comfortable with that too.