Another Day of Rest

Some days

are working days.

Some days are playing days.

And some days are resting days.

Today was a resting day.  Sometimes my body just... won't.  Last night, I woke a dozen times or so in pain.  Who knows why.  By morning, I knew I wouldn't be able to drive, so Guy shuttled Ellie to seminary and back, and took care of Grandpa before leaving for work.  Bless him.

Resting days are hard when you have things to do, and don't want to rest.  The mind gets busy running on hamster wheels; loops of thought with no resolution, that of course never get you anywhere.  To-Do lists nag.  Children seem lazier as you notice each time they stop their tasks (since you have none of your own).  Dust bunnies dance, dirty dishes taunt, and laundry lingers.

Tomorrow will not be a resting day...

7:30 am - Seminary pickup in Jackson
8:30 am - home to fix Grandpa's Breakfast, pack everyone's food for the day
11:00 am - shopping back in Jackson
12:00 pm - drop off handmade jewelry at gallery in Sutter Creek (yay!)
1:00 pm - meet with our homeschool charter supervisor in Plymouth
3:00 pm - back to Jackson for piano lessons
3:30 pm - head to Fiddletown (back out past Plymouth) for Jonah's reading lesson
5:30 pm - back to Jackson for a presidency meeting
7:00 pm - Young Women's activity
9:00 pm - clean the church

'Prob'ly a good thing today was a resting day.
Looks like Thursday may end up being one, too.



(The view from my favorite resting spot)

It Ain't Just a River in Egypt, Baby

I have been exploring the vast waters of denial lately. 

 It feels good sometimes to pretend things aren't the way they really are,
just for a bit.  

It can take the sting out of reality.

(Hey, shut up, I'm not hurting anyone.)

(Yes, yes you are right.  Therapy might be a good idea.)

This month I couldn't bring myself to clutter up my lovely blank calender.  

For a whole week I left the squares empty.  On purpose.  It was kind of a pain looking in my day planner for our daily to-dos, (um, you see, in the olden days, just after the invention of organized youth sports, people began writing things down in bulky calender books that they lugged around with them everywhere.  You couldn't make a call, play a game, or browse the web with it.  Yep, I still live in 1992)

It just felt so tantalizing - the thought of having a whole month
with nothing we had to do. 

It wasn't true.

Reality has settled in.

My calender now looks like it got in a fight with a dictionary and lost.

It was nice while it lasted.