I keep thinking I should write a thing here. It's not that I don't want to write or lack the energy. It's just been a busy few days. I feel thoughtful and full of progress, but also barely articulate and I'm writing the worst structured sentences.
The weekend was not as restful as it might have been. I had an old friend staying with me, and while it was good to see her, she mostly wanted to talk about people who we knew who had died, and my friends Jill and Jaime, whom she wanted badly to discuss, having never got the full story on that measure, and her being still a mutual friend. I felt a little feverish by the end. I didn't really sleep Sunday night, and I'm still playing catch up.
I am trying so hard to be not a fuck up anymore.
Anemones from the farmer's market. I don't like how perfect they are; they look fake. But you know I like the purpley blue.
Yesterday was nice, with the rain. I went for a long run in it and then had a hot shower.
I do love the Piney river in the spring. Took Rach out this weekend. Ten miles of the trail runs along an old train line, so it's cut into a cliff at points, and Sven kept looking sideways at the rockface. Camping trip before last, I climbed up a cliff into a little cave in one of our favorite sites, and he came along. He must have thought it was pretty fun, because before long, on our hike he was racing up straight vertical walls, sliding down on the shale and slate wastes. It was so cool to see him putting the pieces together, remembering, figuring it out and applying what he'd learned. He's right at that age where he's gaining confidence and trying things out. He thinks he's pretty unstoppable, and I have to agree: I have seen his zoom butt.
I stayed up too late last night, too. I should really just go to bed now, or at least curl up and look at a book or something.
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