Run, Walk, Run

I've been busy as hell today. Adding actual working to my day to day schedule is, like, impossible, dude. Just trying to keep the kids and animals fed and the house and garden in some remote kind of shape that's just shy of somebody calling the health inspector takes up every minute of my time: imagine how totally time consuming it would be if I did any of it well! And then there's avoiding paperwork, which I spend an awful lot of time doing. Right now my kitchen's a mess (and by mess, I mean I had to dig out a plastic fork to eat my salad for dinner: there isn't a clean one) I need to can - or freeze, or eat, or something besides compost - a metric ton of green beans and, oh god, a million of things to do. Weed the garden, do laundry, force the kids to clean their rooms, get my hair done, get the rug cleaned, organize this party I'm having the first weekend in August, answer my emails and so on. Not to mention work, which I only did 2 and a half hours of today.

However, I did go see my therapist today and he made me go on a walk with him, which scared me at first but turned out to be awesome, if hot. Turns out his office is right in this cool neighborhood with tons of adorable houses and some great gardens. I love my therapist: we have these lengthy intense conversations about all kinds of cool things like quantum mechanics and existentialism and whether faith is a good thing and Qi Gong and changing your world perspective from the inside out and achieving a balance between the intellect, the emotions and the body and chakra colors and Vivaldi's neuroses being cured by Freud on a walk around the lake in Geneva and so on. That's one helluva big lake, as I recall: I can see why Vivaldi was cured. Two quantum walk things: I found a playing card on the sidewalk - the 9 of diamonds. And we saw a sunflower, a volunteer on a weedy bank, so smothered by morning glory vines that it was horizontal instead of vertical, but it was still utterly gorgeous and a perfect, perfect flower. It even had a couple more buds on it, in these crazy unlikely surroundings where it was flourishing despite being swamped and covered by clinging vines. Ha! Do we see the metaphor? Anyway, I wonder what the 9 of diamonds means.

And then I went to see my mother, who has been reminiscing about her childhood and told me all kinds of stuff about her father's family, Dutch from Greenberg, Pennsylvania, and what it was like being a child in the Depression. That was cool and my mom is getting better by leaps and bounds, so it's all good there. I like being busy. It makes everything seem more fun somehow.