Working through the problems
of the day may have opened my life to new possibilities. When the problem of
the day is that somebody beat your dog in the middle of the night, probably on
your property, that problem needs careful scrutiny.
Sister of my heart, Adrienne
has asked me to move in with her and her husband. My friends tell me I should
go.
Jazz radio and the dogs to
hang around with has become comfortable. I’m usually self-motivating, but since
Kirt died my get up and go is a shadow on the horizon. My focus, lost to the
lazy, hazy days of mourning, only spurts very other something or other.
My free ranging critters
will need regular runs along the beach, if they are to live in small space.
Playing with the dogs, that’s something I no longer do much. Play is good for
the soul. I shall play again.
Darling Dominic, the new boy
in my life, the brilliant Border Collie, took the position at my side. The
other dogs and even the cat accepted him there. Training this love sponge will
be fun. He’s rather willful, so lessons in manners are ongoing.
San Juan holds many options for
entertainment. Live jazz in old San Juan on a sultry summer’s night, sitting
down wind of a spouting fountain, those are the little things I could enjoy.
If I don’t strive for what I
want, it will never happen. Here I’m not striving; I’m treading time.
Leaving the last home I
shared with Kirt is unsettling. I don’t know if I can do it. For now, I’m going
to look at it, as a change of scene short term. This is my home. I’ve never given
up my home easily; not sure if that’s good or bad.
Chicken shit here is going
to put her toes on the beach and in the world. God will take me, when it’s my
time; meanwhile, I need to put on some big girl panties.
No comments:
Post a Comment