Today is my afternoon at The Met, drinking wine and eating goat cheese with toasted bread. I normally spend this time writing, and usually get 3-4 posts done, but I’m still not ‘feeling the love’ in that department. I’ve spent my time reading blogs, IM’ing Bryan, and generally just goofing around on the internet. It’s a bit of fresh air, actually, to just sit here and not accomplish anything.
I’m in a funk today, grieving over the situation with Scout, and wondering how it will all turn out. I know now, how I grieve. When Gordy was dying of cancer I was ignorant to what was happening until it was over. But I am aware now that my functionality shuts down, I’m tired all the time, and I want nothing more than to take a hot bath and go to bed early. Knowing this about myself, I continue to plow through the day, being as efficient as I can manage. But as soon as the kids are in bed I am too spent to start in on my usual evening activities.
And so it continues here, on my afternoon off. I cannot focus on any significant writing, but instead I chat with the gal behind the counter who knows I like pinot, and I tinker around on the internet, and I think about Ruthie asking about every dog she sees in a picture: Is that Scout, mama?
I am happy about my life. I am grateful for what I have. I love the people I know. But I am sad about my dog.