Ten.Five Hundred & Twenty-Eight
What’s for breakfast, what’s for breakfast?
I stir the milk and the water and the steel cut oats. I really hope they eat them because these are going to take so long to cook.
He tells me that the elf is hiding in a very tricky spot.
Bright morning sky. I’m beginning to learn the patterns.
I set to work on some things for liberated lines and decide to not beat myself up over how I forgot to do so many things. It’s been so long since we’ve run one plus the distraction and chaotic mess of a major move. Note to self: plan to do less the next time you decide to embark on a major life transition.
Ok. I can take a walk. I need to take a walk. I grab my coat and put on my boots (yes, I think these will be comfortable enough for work) and stick the earbuds in my ears. The sun is bright and the sky is blue and clear. Yellow is really yellow and orange looks like fire. It’s quiet save the intermittent sound of leaf blowers.
I spot more blossoms on the lemon tree and see way too much rotting and rotted fruit on the orange. I promise them that I’ll take care of them but that I just need to get through this season.
Leftover pork tenderloin, baked potatoes, a simple recipe of creamed spinach from Alice Water’s The Art of Simple Food. They tell me that they’ll always eat spinach if it’s made like this.
There is so much to plan.