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Journaling has had some frustrations over the past few days. On the phone, i have a client i used on the plane. Apparently the "save as draft" function sort of works automatically, but not as automatically as i'd like: i lost the notes of my experience flying over the northern extremes of Lake Powell and looking into the distance and seeing Monument Valley: i was overwhelmed with an emotion i can't characterize: desire, nostalgia, a sense of recognition and self?
Last night, with the phone signal barely enough to connect to Christine, our fragmented voices bouncing back and forth across the continent, i missed her terribly.
And i haven't really journaled, which i know is really bad for my mental health. The Friday night to Saturday morning sleep was not as good a sleep as i'd like, time zones and phone alarms confused, drugged with beer from the plane, and reading late in bed. I didn't have a quiet time yesterday morning, as i was asleep until 9 eastern, and the visiting began soon after i was rousted.
I was too frustrated last night, no signal in the bedroom I was in, and read to local midnight. This morning i was sluggish, and find myself trying to journal while my mother chats at me from the kitchen.
--==∞==--
There are a number of moving boxes in the closet of the guest room: my things, apparently, and i am invited to go through them. The boxes have been packed up roughly twenty years, they have definite signs of various pests -- i imagine the creepy Florida cockroaches eating paper. Something has been eating various bits of pages. Some trips i've unloaded toys and photographed them, leaving them here for the nephews and nieces. This trip i went through two boxes of books and a small box of stuff from college graduation. I found my stamp collection, which is not particularly impressive, but it is something i entertained myself with for hours growing up. I'm asking mom to ship those and a few books (my Latin text!) back to me, and distributed the rest of the books to family for give away. My nephew seemed to find this unpacking of books terribly exciting.
--==∞==--
We had lunch in the nearby town of Pittsboro at S & T Soda Shoppe -- a vintage store environment with very generous ice cream. We walked around a bit looking at antiques (with guitar lessons, mandolins and banjos for sale, and Mandolin Orange's CDs for sale), handcrafted tables, gazing in at the woodwrights school, a arts and crafts gallery, and...
Must go eat.
Last night, with the phone signal barely enough to connect to Christine, our fragmented voices bouncing back and forth across the continent, i missed her terribly.
And i haven't really journaled, which i know is really bad for my mental health. The Friday night to Saturday morning sleep was not as good a sleep as i'd like, time zones and phone alarms confused, drugged with beer from the plane, and reading late in bed. I didn't have a quiet time yesterday morning, as i was asleep until 9 eastern, and the visiting began soon after i was rousted.
I was too frustrated last night, no signal in the bedroom I was in, and read to local midnight. This morning i was sluggish, and find myself trying to journal while my mother chats at me from the kitchen.
--==∞==--
There are a number of moving boxes in the closet of the guest room: my things, apparently, and i am invited to go through them. The boxes have been packed up roughly twenty years, they have definite signs of various pests -- i imagine the creepy Florida cockroaches eating paper. Something has been eating various bits of pages. Some trips i've unloaded toys and photographed them, leaving them here for the nephews and nieces. This trip i went through two boxes of books and a small box of stuff from college graduation. I found my stamp collection, which is not particularly impressive, but it is something i entertained myself with for hours growing up. I'm asking mom to ship those and a few books (my Latin text!) back to me, and distributed the rest of the books to family for give away. My nephew seemed to find this unpacking of books terribly exciting.
--==∞==--
We had lunch in the nearby town of Pittsboro at S & T Soda Shoppe -- a vintage store environment with very generous ice cream. We walked around a bit looking at antiques (with guitar lessons, mandolins and banjos for sale, and Mandolin Orange's CDs for sale), handcrafted tables, gazing in at the woodwrights school, a arts and crafts gallery, and...
Must go eat.
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