An old lady and an ugly wedding dress - at sunrise

I come from a long line of hard-working blue-collar people who think getting up at 6:00 a.m. is sleeping in. I remember more than one instance as a teenager when my dad or grandpa woke me up to ask if I "planned to sleep all day." It was 6:45 a.m. As an adult, I moved three time zones west, which made matters dramatically worse - six years later I still get calls at 7:00 a.m. and they sound surprised that I'm irritated. For better or worse, this is why I'm able to drag myself out of bed for sunrise walks, as I did today.

There are only a handful of reasons why people in my neighborhood are out and about that early in the day:

• They're going to or coming from some job I'm glad I don't have


• They're exercising themselves and/or their pets


• They're homeless and bored, crazy, or scavenging


• They're doing the walk of shame*

But for the most part, things are pretty quiet at this time. Today it reminded me why getting up that early is kind of appealing. But it also left something to be desired in the area of interesting encounters. Luckily, I was able to make a few observations:

1. I'm getting old. I know this because I no longer pretend like I'm not power walking when I pass a hot guy. Also, I don't bother to brush my hair or even wash my face before I leave.

2. Dry cleaners always showcase hideous clothes in their front windows. Why? I passed by one place that had a big sign that said: "We tailor wedding dresses." And it had the oldest, ugliest dress-rag I've ever seen, proudly displayed in the window. It probably wouldn't stop me from getting my pants hemmed there. But it stands to reason that their business could significantly improve if they exercised some good taste. Just a thought.



*For those who aren't familiar with this concept, the walk of shame is when you drink too much the night before, usually on a week night, and shack up with someone (who probably isn't exactly a prize). Early in the morning, you sneak out, looking a fright (possibly minus a sock, shoe, or some other hastily abandoned possession), and head for home. My favorite variety is the day-after-Halloween walk of shame, where you're forced to search for your car or, god forbid, wait for a cab while dressed as a now very haggard-looking sexy Sarah Palin or whatever costume you'd worn out.