I Was Just About To

get sucked into Netflix and realized, I hadn't blogged this morning, which takes precedence. Cigarettes, coffee, and finding the dog come first, but...

I woke to no dog in the bed. Maxwell doesn't do that very often, and it usually signals a change in bowel habits. But not this morning. Maybe I was kicking rather hard, or talking in my sleep. Either way, I found him asleep on the couch. He is now in his usual position, butt resting against my leg, snoring softly, ears up. The cats got canned unicorn last night, but hunt this morning all the same. When the kitten was here, they got canned elk meat all the time. They miss her for that reason.

This is Minkins, the cat no one ever sees, eating his dried antelope. He is in the 'cat room.' Or, as visitors know it, my library/dining room.

I have picked up another follower, and would love to hear from some of my Russian friends...

Some mornings I wonder why anyone reads, and then I know...look! Someone crazier than me awake at this hour, some other coffee drinking, nature loving, cat/dog fanatic...

Mary, the Mother goddess, comes to swim today. It will be a lovely day for it. I may join them, instead of just looking on from the rocking chair. How many times has a mother goddess swam for you?

I do have a busy week, but today looks, hopefully, like a day to swim. Cross your fingers and toes on that one. I did do some binge eating last night, an orange and cranberry cake, but I have settled back into my routine of AA meetings, talks with my sponsor, medications, and doing homework for therapy group. I love my routine.

I need to wander outside for a moment. There is no sign of the super moon, as the skies are cloudy. The air is warm and still, this morning, and a lone bird sings. Minkins, the cat no one sees, has wandered in for some light refreshment and hovers over the keyboard and the useful fingers playing with it. Max snores deeply under his blanket.

In my mind, I walk toward the gold and green field behind the Old House. Sometimes, in my dreams, someone gives the Old House back to me. I still feel the relief of homecoming when I wake. Practically, I could not have kept the house. It was simply too big for one person. But my fields, and my decks! The early morning sunshine and air! I long to be there again, and know I can't.

More birds sing as dawn approaches. I know I should sleep, but feel I cannot. The pull of the field still calls me. Maybe I'll dream...