Early Saturday morning I had to take Teen Angel downtown near the river to work at the bakery. The twenty minute drive across the county was quiet as the sun climbed silently upward, tugging people out of bed and into the sticky heat. Taking a cue from my pastor’s most recent sermon, I made an effort to pay attention to the little things during the drive, taking in the accessories that dressed up the morning. As I pulled away from the bakery I turned the corner and drove past our riverfront for a look at the water as people often do, and I found more than I expected in my town on a sleepy Saturday morning.
Apparently, the river is an early riser, even on the weekend, pushing and slapping around with glittery energy.
And moving the fisherman who had long been at work by the time I stepped on the shore.
They buzzed and glided among the waves, wrapping up their business in the humid cloudy air, and I soaked up their sounds as I walked along the riverbank.The humming of the motors.
And the swearing that sometimes accompanies failed attempts to drive the boat back onto the trailer. 
The splashing dogs that retrieve a driftwood stick for as long as their master will throw it.
The far away toots of tugs and barges moving farther up river where the barge companies dot the bank. 
And quiet to my left.
Except for the small splashes of a child sticking her feet in the cold water. 
The floodwall that wraps around our riverfront partially hid the treasure of our performing arts center: 
which sits on the other side of the concrete and beckoned me to climb the hill to see what was on the other side.
There the city trolley was already clanking around its downtown route.
Past the colorful murals that cover the floodwall. 
And tell my town’s history.And lo and behold, Teen Angel came puttering down the cobblestone street on her way to take bread and cookies to the farmer’s market.
Cars were sliding into parking spots on the shady Market Square.
Bringing groggy customers to the bakery and the coffee shop for frittatas and scones and lattes. And gossip.I walked around the riverfront and downtown for about thirty minutes, taking a really good look at the little things. And I marveled at how often I forget that small doesn’t mean quiet. And that big is in the eye of the beholder because my town is big. Big in spirit and in character. I like it. I like it a lot. This is my town.
It was near the city's downtown flood wall, and with the sleepy sunshine creeping above the Ohio River, it was beautiful. I picked up my race packet, pinned on my number and stretched. I last raced two weeks ago and was embarrassed at my horrible performance. A third of the way into the race, I was huffing and puffing and kicking myself for prepping so poorly. I staggered across the finish line determined to get my butt back on the wagon. My goal for yesterday's race was to shave off five minutes and get my pace back to where it should be. In other words, quit piddling around and sweat. I did. I didn't place yesterday, but my time was MUCH better than last time, and I will probably be in the top 5 of women in my age category when all the times are posted. I felt really good about the run, and had a good time. I saw several people I know. Here was my friend and neighbor M. crossing the finish line. She 's the one in the blue shirt.
She races in the 60-69 age category, and I love that she's out there gettin' it. She placed second on her division. Yea M.! One of my favorite parts of any race day is the youth race. Kids under fourteen do a one mile race, and they are sooo cute. 
Since her spelling has gone to hell in a hand basket lately, she calls these "Frosty Flackers" on her grocery list. We laugh about that every week. That and the vanille Assure. And can you believe how much toilet paper costs these days? Gee whiz. Get it? Whizz? Sorry.
And you know what? It was pretty good. I had the salmon, and it was mighty tasty as Papa T. says. By the time we finished dinner, I was dying for my pajamas, a cold glass of iced tea, and my recliner. And that's exactly what we did, went home and got in the recliner. I was in bed by 10:10pm and wasn't even upset that I couldn't stay awake to see what Saturday Night Live was doing about the presidential election this week. And ya' know what? That's pretty much a typical Saturday for me, running too much and fighting to stay awake past 10 o'clock. Oh, how things have changed since I was 21 years old. 
