I am fascinated by other people's stories.

I travel the same route home from the gym almost daily and usually around the same time in the evening. For the past few years I could almost always depend upon seeing a certain slight elderly couple out for a walk, once the evenings stay light. They took their evening stroll together, walking slowly and sometimes holding hands. The old lady is wafer-thin, delicate as a bird and always wore a pretty dress. I was struck by how content they seemed walking together night after night, enjoying their evening together. It was sweet and comforting and made me feel that growing old together is something that people can still do.

So this spring when the evenings began to stay light, I looked for them as I drove home. I saw...her. Walking alone, strolling the same path they always took together. I started crying because really, what else could that mean? He had died and now she walks alone - continuing the tradition they enjoyed together. The crazy person in me wanted to pull over and give her a hug.

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What must that guy have thought to make him laugh in delight at my glee over spotting an auto-train as I drove across the Powhite bridge? I am a nut for the trains and one night driving home I saw a shiny Amtrak Auto-Train instead of the usual freight variety and I got all excited (I'm a geek if you didn't realize it by now) and some guy driving past my car saw me and lit up. Was he amused at my happiness? Did he perhaps also love him some trains? Who the hell knows. It's his story, not mine.

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There's a guy who goes to my gym who I've always thought was a bit creepy. Think Woody Allen in tube socks. He's always there on Saturday mornings sitting on a couch in the lower level watching television or reading the paper. I'm sure he must work out as well, but mostly he just hangs and occasionally stares. Last Saturday he was reading the paper at 8:45am when I arrived and was still there at 10:00am when I came out of my spinning class. That's a damn long rest between sets. I don't hang out at the gym, I do what I need to do and split.

So, is he a lonely bachelor who craves human interaction? Is he a harried father who can't handle the houseful of kids? Perhaps he lives with his crazy elderly mother who hounds him mercilessly so he flees to the gym to get some peace and quiet? My money's on the latter.

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Having got that out of my system I don't have a lot else to talk about. The past weekend was great in a low-key we-got-a-lot-done kinda way. It was the only weekend when neither of us had plans, so we spent part of it getting our vegetable garden started. We finished digging the back plot and now have planted tomato, cucumber, squash, hot and bell peppers, watermelon and cantaloupe. We still have a ton of space so I'm going to pick up more plants later this week to fill it in. I can't wait until we're eating from our own garden.

On Sunday we went on what was originally going to be a simple mountain bike ride and ended up being an epic 3-hour mountain bike extravaganza. It was awesome. We rode a beautiful new section of trail that volunteers have been hard at work creating. It followed the James river on the north bank and was really challenging, as well as offering insanely pretty views of the river and canal. I told Kenny I wanted to go back and bring the camera so we could do a little trail travelogue. I want you guys to see what I see when I go out. I always fear that people think we just dally along on sweet paved trails instead of what we actually do. The end of the ride was a suffer-lap in Forest Hill Park, which I think I've talked about more than once. It separates the girls from the women, that one. The high point was *finally* riding a really sketch hairpin turn that had been freaking me out for weeks. One fear down, 8 million to go.

10 chatty monkeys