Starting writing today a little early. Just 3:30 PM. David and Cassandra are outside cleaning up the glass shattered on the driveway from the ill-fated effort to move the glass desk into new service.
David suffered a little shock and a small cut for his troubles, but fortunately no further casualties save for the top of the desk.
My body is jittery, possibly residual pains from the healing ankle, or maybe something to do with nerve pain from the lower back. Hard to say. A couple of ibuprofen will hopefully help with the swelling of the foot, but seem to have done little by way of easing the general malaise.
The blue sky, soft baby blue is flecked with hints of white moisture, and down to the horizon where the gold and grey blend in hues of purple. Twilight has set, lockdown begins tomorrow, the freeways tonight a bustling Sunday evening.
I just spent some time in conversation with Nova. Her current challenges continue to destabilize her sense of footing inviting a few kind words of reminder. She is resilient, creative, intelligent, and when she puts her foot down, stable.
I slept well again. Vanessa arrived shortly after my rising. Getting up was smooth enough…
The sunset really does look like watercolor right now, deep blue transitions quickly to a pale white before meeting the dark purple and oranges of the hazy horizon…
I took a breakfast smoothie outside. It was earlier than I expected and the warming sun was still low and flecking the garden with cool shadows. It was a bit of a dance to keep warm enough, but I managed.
I made a comment to Vanessa about cases of infection in Australia today (low double digits) in contrast to our own US numbers – something on the order of 2200 dead yesterday. “What’s wrong with us!?” She asked in earnest.
We spent the next 20 minutes discussing the nature of the collective American psyche, it’s refined unrootedness, and our probable paths forward.
Finally I gave up, the morning cool was just too cunning for me, time to retreat indoors.
I completed the weekly review process, emptied my inbox of crypto related news, read a little from my archive of articles which have seen nothing but neglect for some months now, and further liberated myself to a little correspondence as well. It felt like stealing a little domesticity in the midst of this otherwise rather stormy journey.
One article had to do with universal property, another, the data sleuths who mind the mundane in plain sight for hidden dangers. The former spoke to and nurtured my ongoing inquiry into “where to from here,” the latter I was just reading in hopes I might find some clue to a better hack for spreadsheet intelligence. Little wins in both cases…
I managed to call aunt Ann who has been on my mind for some weeks, catching her just in a moment of wondering if now might be a good time to call me. We caught up for about 30 minutes, each glad to hear the other sounding well, contemplated the possibility of the traditional birthday visit which she and my uncle Robert have been undertaking with some regularity of late, and reflected some on the family dynamics surfaced on my father’s recent illness.
I cleared my correspondence inbox a little further, not empty yet, spoke a bit with Elisa, just checking in. Which brings us around to David and Cassandra coming in the front door to move a little more energy of furniture and hardware into new service in this close community.
The potential care partner interviewee who was out of town last week on vacation and was expected for a call today never materialized. Not surprising these days, but disappointing nonetheless.
Tomorrow is Pearl Harbor day, also the birthday of a couple of souls dear to me. It is further the birthday, in a little corner of the world, of a community and social development movement that is, to my knowledge, the best expression of human democracy that we on this globe have seen yet.
“We build the road, and the road builds us…” Or, put another way, “to the awakening of all through the sharing of labor.” I wonder, does Universal Property foster a sense of embodied universal stewardship? Am I, after all, my brother’s keeper?
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…