12-15-23

Emma’s birthday.  My little girt.  8.  Not sure how….. feeling sick and the covid brain and it’s near impossible to concentrate this morning.  Got a latte, hoping that helps.  Went to be impressively early, and that too helps.

Opening meeting in 9 minutes.

Running everything like an MSP.  The writing, my personal life, money and business.  Cold down here, so I turned on the space heater.  Then felt those covid heat spells, turned off.  Now chilled again.  How I’m getting through today I don’t know.  Just stay in the chair and keep head above water, I tell myself.

09:15.. taking everything head-on.  Caffeine starting to work.  Thinking about my daughter, her smile and her voice over the ridiculously short call last night.

…..

10:41

Catching up on MSP tickets, have 3 personal for myself on my grid for the day.  Keeping myself distracted with movement and tasks and hunger for the BDT idea.  Designing a new practice, with everything.  IDEA = start at high elevation then zoom in.  Then zoom out again.  For whole perspective.

Out and about, keeping distance.  Destiny and the stories, whomever is reading… how is the writer seen.  Desk, decluttered.  Attacking receipts from trip later today or tonight.  More espresso so I’m writing as Sal did, hurried and hungry.  Scribbling like a madman.  Need more stories.. how the Nurse and I met, how my sister became a winemaker, how the Nurse became a Nurse, how Mom was and is still always there for me and my sister (Dad too…), how Dad became a pilot when literally every odd was piled and staring at and against him.

Story Uncle Stevie, to whom I haven’t spoken in a while, months actually, telling me about the time he wanted to go do something with Dad and was told no, he had to study, Dad, for a pilot review or check-ride, or something.