Musing

We seem to be madly busy and I am frankly overwhelmed, though a lot of the crucial stuff is hurry up and wait. My main mission is to find enough right size black grapes (like, 200lbs) for the weekend. I leave messages. I wait. Soon I will pester.

We had a delightful but long day in Santa Cruz yesterday, bouncing around an impossible manicured golf course in one of those buggies, filming for the National Kidney Foundation. Stefan was hit by a golf ball, hard enough for the skin to come away from his arm and bleed. The perpetrator was a nephrologist! I am so sorry, I was practicing, he said. Practice more, I said. Good thing I keep butterfly sutures in my handbag.

To keep my mind contented in the small hours I have been working out a way to make outside cushions reversible, safe that it will be after all this mayhem. I have also been musing on my concept of god as a child, when my prayers were constructed like contracts as if I though god would wriggle out of anything if he could. A marked lack of trust and heart-centeredness on my part.

Insomnia has been an issue lately you might gather. Not a bad one, I lie contentedly listening to the birds and smelling the sea, watching the dawn come.