A quietly violent morning

Written last night:

Early this morning (about 6:45), Zing and I were walking alone on the street one block over, called Capitol Mall; This is a boulevard of a dozen or so blocks, connecting the Capitol Building at one end and a yellow bridge over the Sacramento River at the other. Shops and offices line the way. On weekdays it is busy, but nothing was happening there this morning. Or so I thought.

In front of a bank was a bench — a rarity around here —  so I sat down and let Zing’s leash go out far. He spotted a larger yellow dog across the street with a young woman in running clothes holding the leash.  Not too far behind her a man was slowly riding a bike. I didn’t take much notice. But then the young woman crossed the mall, turned and purposefully walked her dog by Zing and me. Naturally, Zing went out to greet them. I got up and went over to say Hi. “He’s following me!” the young woman said. Her eyes were both relieved and frantic, and her pain was out of place on this fresh Saturday. So Zing and I walked (strolled) along with her, and it turns out we had things in common, lots to talk about. She was shocked by her encounter, and so was I. So I drove her home and she in turn offered to help me with moving; we’ll probably meet for coffee or lunch next week. What a sad, quietly violent way to meet my first Sacramento friend!

When I got home (home!), I continued unpacking. Progress is visible, but only if you look around the mess. Later in the afternoon Patrick and Steph helped me so much. I don’t know which part I liked best — they drove me to Best Buy so I could order appliances (The same refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher that Clark and I first selected for our remodeled Tallahassee kitchen). Soon my Sacramento kitchen will be complete; funny how appliances can ground a person. Then we three had dinner outside at a casual midtown restaurant. After that, Steph drove us past well-kept parks and houses near midtown, so I can get acquainted with my new home, Sacramento. I like it. 

Love,
K