elainegrey

So, it's noon.

I did a bit of fluffing around on the deck: installing new hooks closer to the eaves for the bird feeders, hoping the new finch feeder would get attention in the new location. I restrung the solar diode twinkly lights to a bit more tidy location and installed the bike mounts. I guess those have been waiting a whole year for my attention...

[We sat on the deck and i got distracted by organizing my lightroom tags. The bike mount pulled out of the wall and the bike knocked into the carpeted cat tower, scaring Greycie Loo. I'm not sure she's going to get inside the cat tower for a long while.]

It's almost 7 pm.

My brain seems to be on an override that seems to block me from worrying about what i have to get done. I spent long moments just gazing at the finches at the feeders, the cats, the flowers while sitting out on the deck. I am able to focus on planning for their visit by looking at the map, but actually preparing -- whether freshening our home or figuring out all the stuff i would have been doing and juggling it -- isn't happening.

I'm happy to note my folks don't seem to expect a great deal of hospitality, and didn't even expect i would be able to take time off. So there isn't pressure. I am planning the road trip to the Pinnacles for us on Wednesday: i've been wanting to visit and there are still positive wildflower reports from the area.

I did have a good chat with Christine this morning about what she has been mourning. I understand now, and it even seems she's moving on from the disappointment.