Artist Unknown

Lorna, I think there IS a “likes” button! At least, it says so when I look at the bottom of the page as I write it. After I “publish” it isn’t there. Go figure. I hate this shit sometimes: being dumb. Feh. On my other blog I managed to turn some titles into direct links, and now I want to do it again, and do you think I can remember how I did it or figure out how?

It’s 1:45 and I’ve worked two hours already. I’ve also talked on the phone to my mom’s best friend for a good half-hour, and written a couple emails that weren’t brief, and put my mom’s old mottoware pottery dishes, unpacked last night, on display in two places (the top of the fridge and the top of the china cabinet), and gone out to feed the dog and cats and take a short stroll to the road and around the yard.

Don’t laugh, but I really do skip and sing like a little girl in pure delight sometimes when I’m out there and this is the real reason why I eschew next-door neighbours and am glad it’s unlikely anyone is driving past a spot where they can see into the yard.

We’ve a house concert to go to in town at 7:30 and must pick The Eldest up at 7 to come along. My sister is coming here or meeting us there, as she’s had to make a last-minute trip two hours north of here to pick up a desperately needed (apparently) part for her husband’s farm machinery. Usually late on Friday afternoons I spend some time at the laundromat and get groceries and do other errands before picking the lad up and coming home for the weekend, but today it would pack in too much, especially if I hope to work another two hours this afternoon. I also need to go for my medicine walk (maybe I’ll bike today), would like to do the dishes, figure out what to eat for supper and get some prep done, and have time to gussy up a little before we have to leave.

Why do I feel under such pressure when it comes to getting things done? I work half-time for god’s sake! Am I unrealistic about how long things take? Maybe that’s it. Because I don’t think I’m particularly ambitious, piling too much on my plate. Am I?

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