I think I am busier now than when I worked full time. Then, I had a job I went to from 8-4:00 and I didn't do all this running around. All of it is good and most of it is fun. Being able to spend so much time with Easton as he grows from babyhood has been a wonderful gift and I'm so grateful. Friday, I had these things to do: something at 9, 10, 11, 2:30, 4:30. Whew.
I'm obsessed with the news, too, and I can't apologize for that. The world is a different place than I thought it was two years ago and I am afraid. I have to check every morning to see if we have entered into a war with another nuclear power. I have to watch as the person who lives in the WH switches quickly from talking about white supremacy to shilling for his winery. He is unhinged.
I'm going to apply for a PT job at one of the places where I volunteer. It's a lovely place to work, it's very flexible, and I would get to hang out with artistic type folks. Speaking of...Regis was at the dog park the other day and this dude said, "If dogs get a lot of vaccinations, do they get artistic like kids do?" Wow. How to answer that.
We had friends over for dinner last night. Regis was mortified at the quality of his ribs but I think the problem is that we bought St. Louis style instead of babyback. Ah, well. When I offered to send some ribs home with them, there was a moment of awkward silence while they thought of a reason to say no. There's a clue.
I can tell I'm getting back to my blogging habit. I spend a lot of time during the day composing mentally and I'm watchful for things that might be blog worthy. I read yesterday that an author said being a novelist ruins you for living in the moment because you are constantly thinking of how to write about whatever is happening. Not equating myself to a famous novelist, of course. Eye roll.
Moving on into the day. Going to write a letter of interest and a resume for my new job prospect.