underneath the bridge

There's a foot bridge/bike path at the end of my block, which, for automobiles, is a dead end. The street ends in a bulbous little cul de sac, beyond that is the foot/bicycle bridge, which spans over a creek. We get a lot of foot traffic, but not a lot of cars. At all hours of the night, people walk by, I assume from downtown, and disperse through out the neighborhood. It's kind of the back door to the area. The people who are in the know, know.

As a result, there are no shortage of sounds, mostly human, that occur through out the night. There is also no shortage of transient folks, as they live under the bridge adn make their way over to the church around the corner that has a soup kitchen or food line or something.

It keeps things interesting, or at least it should. Not much interesting has happened since I've moved here, and right now, it's very quiet. A couple weeks ago, I thought I heard gun shots. Then, I was sure I heard gunshots because they were followed by an army of sirens. It sounded like it was all coming from the other side of the creek, though. Still, to be on the safe side, I locked all the doors and pulled down the shades. I won't be anyone's hostage.

Tonight I made my famous pot roast and was again pleased with the results. My roommate was able to fashion the juice left in the pot into gravy, which I think will be poured over mashed potatos tomorrow. I'm happy that I finally have my appetite back after my recent stomach malfunction, but all the fasting did cause me to drop five pounds. I'd really like to keep it off and lose more, mostly because it'd be something to do. I'm kind of bored with myself. The only problem is eating is one of the great joys of my daily life. I don't need to be more miserable.