Can this just be our private moment?  Do I have to publish all of them?

Thank you for today.  Its beautiful.  Once again, everything’s perfect:  the coffee, the sunshine, this chair, this laptop, this jazz.  What are we doing today?  My mind is blank.



Dear Heavenly Father, thank you.  I feel restless.  Hard to describe this combination of feelings.  I already finished Game of Thrones.  So that’s out.  That’s a great ignore-what’s-going-on-inside show.  I needed that last week.  No matter what’s going on in my life, it’s not as bad as white-walkers and dragons blowing up your lawn.  My life is good, thanks.

What should we do today?


Ugh.  I’m mean, yay!


Ok, that nails it.  What would I rather be doing today?  Can I think of anything?  Yes, and no.  I could say that I want to be on a plane to Paris with the love of my life…. But that’s a lie.  Not that that wouldn’t be fun one day, but it’s not what I want now.  I guess I could paint. 

See?  That’s just it.  My life sucks.  I got nothing. I sit here and write.  Day after day.  Same chair, then the couch.  Then the other couch, the one outside.  Just me and Levi.  Well, and you God, you’re here too.  Which is awesome but you are kind of demanding with the I want you to write thing all the time.  In the nicest way.  And I know I asked for this!  I talk to the furniture.  I watch TV like the characters are my friends.  I listen to jazz and pretend I am sitting in a far-off cobblestone café.  Did you know that I built a lawn beach for Levi and I yesterday?  Filled the blue kiddie pool with fresh water and placed it behind the arching sprinkler.  You have to run through the sprinklers to get to the pool.  Hahahahahahah.  This is real!  Like Levi and I standing ankle deep in water staring at each other. 

This is my life.

And he follows me around like I know what I am doing.  First, we stretch in bed and talk about how great today is going to be.  Then we go downstairs together, and I open the door and he runs outside while I make coffee.  Then he comes back in and we listen to jazz together.  I type, and I’ve noticed that he doesn’t like this, so as soon as I start typing, he goes into the kitchen on the cool floor.  Then after a bit I get up to have 2nd cup and he stares at me expectantly while I make his breakfast.  He eats, I type.  Jazz plays.  Then he goes back outside.  This is the start of the inside outside game.  Gosh, I might type til 11:30 or 12.  Then there’s fruit, Ka’Chava, maybe the juicer.  Then a walk.  Then turn on the sprinklers.  He lays in the shade and watches me do this.  So the grass is green. 

Normally I would go to the grocery store.  That’s my entertainment for the day.  But now I have Covid, so instead I lay in the sunshine for a bit and let the Vitamin D nuke me.  But not that much.  It’s 100- degrees out.  I’m on day 5 of Covid and I feel fine.  So that’s why I built the lawn beach.  Because Levi and I are looking for something to do.  Then I talked to 3 people on the phone.  That was exhausting, so I took a nap.  And when I woke I felt great, and actually had an appetite (never lost taste) so I made myself a bean quesadilla with avocado and air fryer kale chips.  Levi had canned Cowboy Cookout, but it’s not his favorite; his favorite is when I make steelhead, that will be tomorrow. 

And that’s when I notice that there are new (to me) episodes of Virgin River and this is exciting because those guys are about my age and they are my friends.  I even had a glass of wine.  Wow, this show is really slow.  Honestly, nothing happens, and that’ fine by me.  The doc’s wife is even more controlling and goofy than she used to be before the accident and Mel never says the right thing at the right time.  Always choosing to withhold, because that’s her personality. I drank a tea mixture of turmeric, cinnamon, and honey and then I went to bed, WITH my teddy bear and the fan on.

Tap. Tap. Tap.  Is this thing on?

Of course at some point in the day I might look at social media—rarely—and when I do I notice that other people talk to people—not the lawn, not the sprinklers…they are showered, dressed and doing something. I used to dream about days like this and now I’m coming out of my skin.  Let’s see:  I searched cruises to Norway and Italy and Croatia.  I bet I could talk my way into free room and board signing up as the on-board life coach.  What kind of complaints would I hear on a foggy boat going through the Fjords?  Maybe I won’t sign up for that.  I registered my house on Home Exchange and got all the way up to the take-photos-of-your-house part and stopped.  Good heavens, lots of work to do to make that happen.  Probably should tackled that when I don’t have Covid.  I thought about updating my resume and applying to jobs in Sweden and Scotland and Copenhagen and Prague.  Don’t ask me why those places, it’s just what came to mind. 

Years ago I fantasized about being right here right now and now all I want to do is run into a burning fire and come out with dragons.  Maybe this writer’s life isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.  You have to be entirely self-motivated & self-generating.  There is a lot of quiet time, which is awesome when you don’t have it and exhausting when there is too much.  I asked for this, and I got it.  Did I think it would be like this?  I am entirely grateful for everything God has done in my life to bring me this moment.  I am a writer.  I always have been.  It’s what gives me joy.  It’s my breath.  So what’s the dealio?  Why am I so itchy?  I literally have everything I need to do this, given so gracefully and perfectly, and I want to pack my bags and get a high paying job running a large company.     

Except all of a sudden, I don’t.  Want to do that.  Ooh ick.  Who would run through the sprinklers with Levi? Who would make him fresh Steelhead caught locally in our beautiful river?  He doesn’t like it overcooked.  Neither do I.  Lemon, pepper and a little less than a dash of salt. 

Camera A: I’m bored out of my mind.

Camera B: Everything is perfect.

I’m going to need a whole lot of gratitude to pull this thing off. 

I think hanging around in one spot for too long doesn’t sit well with me.  Can we mix it up a little?


I’m good with that.

Good Morning God.  9:41 am. 

“Good Boy!