Friday, February 26, 2016


Ever since my granddaughter was born, I have become incapable of doing nothing. Even when I am not spending time with her, I believe I should be productive in some fashion -- a feeling I haven't had since I was employed.

But I am reconsidering my position on this right now. Let's start with this weekend: if I have two days before me, maybe I should take one of them, pack in all that must be done by virtue of the fact that we live on a planet that spins and a day turns into night and then night into a day and then, with the other day -- do nothing?

Or, better yet, go adventuring with Ed?

When it became clear that tomorrow's weather will be superb, I floated the idea to Ed that we should seize it and head out.

We talked about it over breakfast...

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... and neither of us put forth a plan that grabbed the other, leading Ed to finally say -- think of something, or else we'll wind up getting some more chickens, or worse -- a goat!

He is correct. We tend to live dangerously in that way.

But if we are to go exploring tomorrow (as if we haven't checked out every path available to the public for miles and miles!) then today must be chock full of tasks that must be done.  Groceries. Bills. And yes, taxes, so that I would stop receiving cajoling messages from Turbo Tax begging me to take them on as a partner in that annual ritual of filling out forms you never really fully embrace or understand. Good bye trusty pencil and eraser, hello clicking your way through the dark hell hole that is the land of tax regulations.

And so you get (almost) no photos. I sat at the kitchen table and admired the cheepers for parading by the farmhouse on a rather cool day...

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... but I didn't go out, didn't do yard work, didn't look for emergent greens -- I just worked.

(Wait -- all is not lost!  Can I interest you in some kitchen table flowers?)

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Now, let's see if tomorrow will bring us a pleasant walk, or, in the alternative -- a goat.