Well, this morning I didn't think my Gary Larson fix (I told you about him last week-he's the wacky cartoonist whose work greets me the first thing each morning in a page-a-day calendar that my daughter gave me) was very funny. But last Saturday's was one of those that keep me coming back for more. It was a picture of a couple of young boys, dressed in cowboy outfits and sitting on funny-looking ponies, and a third boy, also in cowboy clothes, standing with his hand over his mouth, as if to say "Oops," with his pony smashed up against a tree like an accordion. The caption said, "What are you gonna tell your dad, Chuck?" I don't know if you'll agree, but to me it was really funny. It revved up my engine for walking.

I hit the road, on foot, at 5:51 a.m., temperature 38 degrees. As I got on Cerrillos Road from Don Diego, the traffic was pretty quiet. As usual, I was gawking at the different businesses along Cerrillos Road. Walking by Auto Body Express, which is owned by Fred Imus, who is the brother of Don Imus, a well-known New York radio disk jockey, I thought about how these brothers hadn't made the news lately. There for a while they were in continual hot water with the press. The first flap followed some remarks one of them made concerning a small town in northern New Mexico. The next was over a ranch near Santa Fe, which Don Imus wanted to buy for the use of underprivileged kids from the big cities. A problem with water rights created the uproar. Anyway, I thought the ranch idea for the kids was a good idea. I really don't know about the water-rights issue.

Not far past Auto Body Express is a building housing Open Hands, a charitable organization that runs a thrift store. Walking by, I was reminded of a true funny story told by my mom, Ernie Evans. Some of the funniest things happen to her. Some time back, a friend of hers, representing Open Hands, asked my mother if she had any clothes that she might want to donate to the store. After a great deal of thought, my mother decided to give a new blouse she had purchased but never worn, because she decided she didn't like it after all. About a year later she went over to Open Hands because the same friend had told her that some beautiful things had been donated, and perhaps my mother would find something she liked. Well, you can see it coming. Looking around the store, my mom ran into the blouse she had donated. Yep, that's right-she fell in love with it all over again. And yes, she repurchased it. Now that's what I call really helping out the cause-not just once but twice!

As always, my mind went over a lot more things as I kept walking. But I still managed to circle the federal building, in a clockwise direction, and get all the way back to the French Pastry Shop in La Fonda within 35 minutes of leaving home. Because I had been behaving for quite a while (meaning I had not stopped there for coffee and a pastry, which no doubt puts back all the calories I just walked off), I decided it was time to give myself a treat. My choice this morning was a peach pastry-and boy, was it ever good! Savoring it and my coffee, I decided to include this stop more often. The problem is not telling my wife, who is my conscience in matters such as this. In the future when I stop and eat, I guess I'll stay away from home until Linda has gone to work, in hopes that by the time she gets back in the evening she will forget to ask the dreaded question.

The stop in the French Pastry Shop was short and sweet. But as I headed uphill toward home, I realized all over again why I really should just stick to the coffee. Maybe next week.

Until my next report, have a good week.

Stan