Every October, I set time aside to watch the original John Carpenter version of Halloween (and if I happen to catch it on television, Halloween II). It is one of my favorite traditions, and of course I watch it alone at night, in the dark. I'm a big fan of several of his movies, but there is something so exquisitely terrifying for me about Halloween, and I eat it up. Beyond the entertaining terror, the ambiance of that movie strikes all the right chords with me. I know that it was filmed during the summer in California, and that they had to find every single prop autumn leaf they could lay hands on, and scoop them back up to be reused after each scene. Watching those leaves skitter around each shot, hearing them scrape and crunch on the sound effects track gets me in the perfect mood every time. It is possible that those leaves, better than the horror, suspense, or anxiety-producing music, are the real reason that I love that movie. From where I sit right now, I can see hundreds of leaves smeared all over a wet city street, and the scene gives me just the slightest sense of the willies, as if that movie surrounds me right now.
I was almost a thousand miles overdue to get my oil changed by the time I successfully got an appointment at the Ford dealer. (I tried to get one done on time, and when I called the larger shop south of here, I was stuck on hold for about 12 minutes, until I got angry and gave up, and it took me weeks to get back around to calling the closer dealership.) I had to leave my car with them to evaluate whether they had to replace the transmission brain yet again (had this done in 2013, and then they had to "re-teach the brain how to shift gears" last year), so they drove me home to wait to hear that they did have to replace parts again. I needed to go to Rotary and I didn't have a car, so I decided it would be a great idea to test myself and my walking progress that I've been bragging about so much lately. I wore comfortable clothes and sneakers, covered my face in 70 SPF sunscreen, and made sure I had my house key and cell phone to count steps (but no purse to lug around). I left the house around 11:25, and I took off walking. It took me about 45 minutes of hard walking, popping in and out of sun that was much stronger and brighter than I had any business being in. I was exhausted and beet red when I arrived, and my hands were swollen and felt like they would burst. As much of an effort as it was to walk in the sun, I am really glad I took the chance to do this. I mostly took my usual route, but for the first time ever I had time to fully observe details about houses in one of my favorite neighborhoods. The houses I'd already noticed were beautiful were even lovelier with time to study them, and the ones I'd overlooked were really freaking cool too. I kicked around sidewalks covered in golden leaves, I admired fall flowers and berries, I cooed and talked to the chickens in the yard I always watched as I drove past, and saw a murder of crows that covered two neighboring yards. I promised myself I'd take this walk again very soon, before the autumn beauty is gone, on a day I have no deadline, and can take more photos. It was one of the happiest accidents I've had all month, deciding to take that walk rather than getting a friend to give me a ride to Rotary.
As much fun as the walk was, I was relieved when the dealership called me to say my oil change was done, and they could send the shuttle back to pick me up at the church after the meeting, so I could have transportation while I wait for the parts to come in. I may pay for my fun. May, nothing. I can already feel it all over. An early bed is called for this evening. I still say it was worth the price.
No comments:
Post a Comment