Jack playing his game and going back and forth with his friends, the language getting a bit antagonistic and I tell him to be nice. He changes his tone, and I look at the time. The whole day ahead.. planning outing(s), think just one. Pack a lunch to Bodega Bay, then head back for Henry’s nap, if he doesn’t take one in the car.
Putting together a new book while walking on California Street yesterday, all in my head. Smaller pieces, book not that long. Interpretation of life, mine, and just life principally. Observations with kids and my reaction to their actions, my parents, Uncle Stevie, friends here in Sonoma County, the wine industry. All of it.
Henry playing on the loft floor with his toys, forging conversations and enjoying himself to a point where nothing exists other than what he’s doing. I need to get to that state. With my writing and business ideas. I will, be weekend’s end. I promise. I have to. It’s time.
Little espresso left. Can smell the cinnamon and its insistence, my favorite smell I’m pretty sure. Like a divine sensory smell sent for me and me only.
Budget. Ugh. Why.