Skimming an article about the urgency for carbon-pricing over coffee.
Unloading clean dishes, reading Ada Twist again, overseeing arpeggios and etudes, untangling earbuds.
Making an online pledge to the new pediatric mental health hospital, compiling cheese and crackers and cucumber slices and salami for second breakfast.
Folding other people's clean clothes, reading a few chapters of my own.
Mailing a thank you note to the organizers of last week's Planned Parenthood event.
Walking the boys to the ballpark, lounging in the hammock, looking for hope in the clouds.
Looking for science to tell me the world is not coming to an end.
A knotted skein, really, all of it. The snacks, the checks, the walks, the words.
Ruminating circumstances completely out of my control, standing up for humanity in my own very small ways.
Protecting the past, preserving my sanity.
In doing my best to get behind a few life-positive causes outside my immediate plea, I did not do a single thing to heighten awareness of Batten disease today.
Meanwhile, since he tired of the cat costume, Hank's been wearing nothing but undies and several mardi gras necklaces, plastic beads wrapped together in a mess that won't let go.
And I think that might be what I feel most like, a mess that won't let go.
I recently learned that alpaca mamas-to-be can literally pause their pregnancy and delay delivery if there's too much stress in the environment. I think you should be able to pause Hank, Tollie, Tucker, one of your neighbors, and life-demands in general -- at will. And transport yourself to a tranquil spot where messes let go. xoxoxo
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