April 22nd: Vicki Mayk
April 22, 2025
It is the 112th day of the year.
The 16th Tuesday of 2025
The 34th day of spring
There are 59 days left until summer. (But who is counting?)
Earth Day
7:15 a.m.
The sound of someone whistling calls me awake. It’s just another weird alarm on my iPhone. It’s the cue for Riot, my 14-pound Miniature Schnauzer, to rouse from sleep on the cushion at the foot of the bed and make her way up to me. She yawns, her small tongue curling like a tiny pink ribbon as her mouth opens wide. She circles three times and snuggles against my side. The alarm was set 15 minutes ahead of my real waking time to allow for this ritual. While I wake up, Riot is a warm, soft presence under my hand. I listen to her soft, regular breathing, stroke her salt-and-pepper coat – alternately smooth and rough – until another alarm goes off, a louder, more insistent tone.
7:30-9:15 a.m.
Morning routine is a stream of consciousness, one activity and image blending into another as I get ready. I have an early appointment at physical therapy, so there’s no wasted minute. NPR goes on immediately. Washing face. Brushing teeth. Jumping into a t-shirt and leggings. Lacing up the sneakers. In between, I turn on the Keurig so it’s ready when I select the coffee pod—Jamaican Me Crazy is today’s choice – and make a cup. Riot knows the drill. She stays in the bedroom until she hears me pick up her bowl. The kibble clanks like pennies as it hits the metal dish. She tap dances in anticipation of food.
NPR Informs me: It’s Earth Day! The lead story is about More trouble for Pete Hegseth. The voice of Quil Lawrence fills me in on the latest about the defense secretary.
I nurse my coffee for a few minutes before heading out the door for Riot’s morning walk. It’s a short one because of my appointment. At the last minute I remember to give the dog her heartworm medication before leaving.
Note from Riot the dog: She really takes her sweet time feeding me, then cuts short my walk. Hmph. She’s lucky I love her.
In the car, more NPR. “Andor Part 2” in the Star Wars series – a favorite – is starting tonight.
9:30 a.m.
The tiny parking lot at physical therapy isn’t full but the angle required to park a car in limited space requires nearly as much exertion as the workout coming up. Something went haywire with my hip and right leg almost a year ago and I’m still working on it. I’ve learned firsthand the wisdom of the cliché “use it or lose it.” Stationary bike. Stretching. Exercise with three-pound leg weights. It would be boring except for the entertainment provided by the young PT assistants who, at 10 a.m., are already debating what they’ll order for lunch. Regular wings or boneless wings. “I want regular wings: I feel like going feral,” the Lady Gaga look alike says as she manually stretches my hamstrings. She has “Easter egg” nails – a manicure that boasts a different pastel on every finger. Someone talks about ordering onion rings. The head physical therapist ponders getting a sub and fries. They’re making me hungry. The hour passes. Back in the car I open my car’s sunroof on the way to the pack and ship place to mail my stepdaughter’s birthday gift. Cool air and sunlight streams in, bathing the car in spring. Listening to Nina Simone on Spotify, a voice smoky and cool
What the hell, kids!
Just as I’m about to pull into the UPS Store, two kids walk into the spot where cars pull in off the street. Waving them away, I pull in. I’m in and out quickly, heading home with a stop along the way for cold brew and a chicken salad sandwich. Zummo’s, a coffee shop that is a staple in Scranton, PA, is near my apartment.
1:30 p.m.
Dog treats in pocket. Light jacket on. Keys and cell phone in jacket pocket. Red leash on small grey and white dog. Time for a walk into the bright sun. On our way out the door, Riot and I run into Tom. He’s the supervisor on all the projects happening here. I live in one of the first two buildings that transformed the 134-year-old Scranton Lace Factory into Lace Village – apartments, townhouses, shops. Tom is overseeing the transformation. He’s one of Riot’s favorite people, so she has to get her head scratches before we begin our half-mile stroll around the property, past the community garden, the townhouses under construction, past the pickle ball court. No other dogs in sight at mid-day afternoon. Riot walks, nose to the ground, exploring the scents. She picks up her head and a huge, dried leaf is stuck to her tiny beard.
Note from Riot the dog: I wish this human would just let me sniff instead of rushing me. Does she really think that the only reason to come outside is to use the facilities for an outdoor bathroom? It smells like spring and the grass has the aroma of a bunch of other dogs out here! The huge German Shepherd that terrorizes me was here not long ago.
3 p.m.
I want to take a nap – but that’s not happening on a weekday afternoon. Emails to answer. I’m writing a story for a university website and I also must interview a teacher for a different story for a different university. Time for a cup of tea: the robust one. PG Tips. Perks me up right away. I look up from the computer and realize that Riot has been piling toys at my feet. I pick up the little pink elephant on top of the pile and toss it across the room. I take a break from writing every few sentences to toss it again after she brings it back.
On to a Zoom. No one ever looks like you expect them to look. My interview subject oversees professional development for a school district. She’s just returned from Hawaii and is fighting jetlag. It’s a short conversation.
Listening to music: Jazz
Note from Riot the dog: This music puts me right to sleep. I think she does this on purpose. Zzzzzzzzzz
7 p.m.
Once a month the awesome female minister from the church I occasionally attend leads an online meditation session. (She’s cooler than cool.) It’s not solely religious: She’s trained in mindfulness meditation. Tonight we take off our shoes and do a grounding exercise, feeling our feet in contact with the floor. Later a walking meditation. It feels like all my stress flows out of the soles of my feet into the earth.
Note from Riot the dog: Mom is on another Zoom but did something weird: she took her shoes off and is walking around the room while the lady on the computer is telling her to feel the earth through her feet. Humans are the strangest.
In a mindful moment, I pause to look at the beautiful sunset out my window.
8 p.m.
I put off starting Andor, the Star Wars show, in favor of continuing The Pitt on HBO. Intense. Amazing storytelling. Binged three episodes and need a break from that level of intensity. It’s about an emergency room and there was an incredibly graphic segment about a burn victim and another that showed a birth. I start re-runs of a favorite old show to decompress.
Note from Riot the dog: Mom watches about six episodes of the show Brooklyn Nine-Nine. She won’t tell you, but she does this more often than she likes to admit.
10 p.m.
Far off music and the hum of traffic outside my open window. I’m texting with my best friend of 40-plus years, my college roommate. She lives in Chicago and we talk by text virtually every day. She’s worked for the Arc of Illinois as an advocate for people with disabilities. Today she was at a state convention where the talk was all about the possible cuts to Medicaid that will impact the disabled if they come to fruition.
I do all the pre-bed things – which also means taking Riot out one more time. (Note from Riot: Why is she always in a hurry?) Once I’m in bed, I dial up some soothing music on my phone and turn out the lights. In the darkness, I reach out to touch Riot. My hand rests on the warm softness of her fur as I drift off.
Vicki Mayk is a writer, editor, and teacher based in Scranton, PA, whose work has appeared in the Brevity Blog, Cleaver, Hippocampus, Literary Mama, The Manifest-Station, Bending Genres, the anthology Air and others.Her narrative nonfiction book, Growing Up on the Gridiron: Football, Friendship and the Tragic Life of Owen Thomas, was published by Beacon Press. She teaches nonfiction writing workshops and co-leads an annual writing retreat at the Jersey shore. She spends most of her spare time with her Miniature Schnauzer, Riot. Catch up with her at https://vickimayk.com/