I leave on a work trip tomorrow morning. So that means I had to start packing my suitcase. So of course before that I had to fold all the laundry and then marathon purge and clean out my closet that took me until 10pm last night to get done.

Someone may be feeling apprehensive about this trip around here and dragging her feet.

Maybe it’s the corgi?

I guess we’ll never know.

Sigh. I wondered how I would do with 3 nights without the girls on this work trip… and then both girls had sleepovers last night. And that trial run went okay. The Universe is like Johnny on the spot with this shit lately, I tell you what. Ask and ye shall receive has been very much manifesting in a “wonder about something and immediately get it handed to you” kind of way lately.

In my evening to myself, I cleaned up, did some writing, took a bath, did a hair mask, moisturized, painted my toes, did a face mask, took my vitamins… like this whole fucking regime of things. And the entire time I was just bemused in a “people do this shit like everyday. You’re supposed to moisturize EVERY day” kind of way. Wow have I never been doing any of that regularly before!

A few waves of sadness hit me that this lonely little existence is my life right now. It all feels so pulled in and small. Those waves passed fairly quickly though, back to the calmness I’m kinda baseline at these days. It’s much more peace than the numbness of the summer, so that’s good.

And again. This feels temporary. Like a stage I just have to go through. This peaceful, lonely flitting. “Tending” seems to be the word. tending to myself and the garden and the house and the children. It is a stage I go through and I’m trying to make the most of it, even though I don’t know what that is yet, exactly. Or whats on the other side of it.

I drift about, trying not to do it like a Victorian ghost, is all. Is all.

It’s all very much like this:

So I hope that properly conveys it- not exactly happy, but rest assured it is not unhappy either.

My therapist and I have a couple of benchmarks she helped me identify on if my mood is taking a downturn (or edging that way) because I was telling her my propensity to grit my teeth and push on through makes identifying when I’m struggling difficult… until it passes. And THEN I go- oh shit, maybe everything was hard there for a while because I was sad? What a concept!

The things that give me the best daily check is if feeding the dogs feels like a big task/chore. All I have to do is pick up two bowls, fill with dry food, mix in a pouch of some wet food, shoo Asher away who moves in like a barracuda to take a bite of the wet food, and then put it down for the dogs. THAT’S IT. And yet that is the best check in I have- and it’s been such a great tool. By this measurement I have been doing fine since halfway through January… what a relief. And such a nice thing to have- a quick little litmus test for the day.

I’ll take it.

Oh! And I didn’t write about it before, but Birdie is back from the breeders- so it’s back to a two dog house, which is fine now. She had her “most successful” breeding yet as the breeder finally realized she was just not comfortable enough to submit to breeding fully (I’m sorry- what?) and so the lady put a bunch of other corgis in there with them to make them more comfortable and Birdie finally “got comfortable.” So, yes- you’re reading that right- my corgi wasn’t a frigid bitch this whole time… she was just an exhibitionist waiting for her audience.

I do NOT think this was information I needed or wanted or really even know what to do with.

But, since Birdie’s been back home she’s puked in the morning a few times and seems much lower in energy… so fingers crossed that this go round took and we have corgi puppies in the future. That seems like it’d both be a huge amount of work and a balm for the soul though, you know? Bunch of corgi puppies? Bouncing around?

Also a balm for the bank account.

I’ll spay her afterwards- because who knows how much breeding would cost next time to have to coordinate a full out corgi swinger party to facilitate her being “comfortable enough.”

I’m trying not to clutch my pearls about the whole thing, I swear.

In the garden- with no pictures for you today because it’s raining again- the roses I pruned back a couple of weeks ago are flushing back out. New growth abounds. This last week we’ve had mist and rain and mud (my poor comforter and screw these damn cats)- bad for my floors and linens, but so good for the garden. A couple of hard frosts though too, so the snapdragons I’ve been meticulously tending in the front are looking pretty mushy. Fingers crossed they perk up.

Did you know snapdragons are super deer resistant? They totally look like they wouldn’t be- but they are. As are daffodils and larkspur and nicotinia and zinnias. So, should I care enough, the front totally could look like a cottage garden. Maybe I’ll do it. Maybe. I already do have the snapdragons in and the larkspur seeds have been sown for a while now. Flowers are also a balm for the soul. So maybe I’ll lean into it again.

Right now the only thing blooming are the geraniums- which I had to bring in to get out of the really low freeze we had.

But at least there is something blooming.

Those are also deer resistant around here.

I have to change those curtains- in the background of that picture. I actually do still like them, but they have a few holes in them they somehow picked up in the wash and are frayed and stained and just… past their prime. Which is okay, like I’m not in a rush and they are clean and they still serve their purpose and I’m okay with them. But it is time for a change and they are past their prime.

I am capable of all this change and change and change- and the small things are just indicators of the bigger changes I also am rolling with. And sure- that’s waxing too poetic about curtains… but it also is making me feel very not Miss Havisham, you know? So I’ll get some new curtains and repaint the bedroom and I renovated the bathroom and life has not and will not stop, not if I have anything to god damn do with it.

… or at least I say to myself through absolute gritted teeth, as I flit around my empty house doing my nails on a Saturday night.

Whatever. I know it’s like this.

And somehow it’s a good thing.