Sundays are strange

Summer                                                                          Woolly Mammoth Moon

Instagram logoAfter talking with Ruth yesterday I created an instagram account. Surprised to see that several people I know already have one. Probably spells doom for the tweener and teenager use of it. They understandably like platforms without their parents or other adults who know them.

I asked Ruth whether she got more guidance from her parents or her friends, “Duh. My friends. I’m more open with them. They know me better.” See above. This is part of my research for developing lesson plans and her response conforms to what I’ve been told about the psychology of kids this age.

Had a dream last night that I got surprisingly big offers on my two submissions. Really, really big offers. Even in my dream I thought, that can’t possibly be true. Still…

Often on Sundays I feel neither here nor there, wanting to relax as if it’s a commandment, but not feeling like it.

20180624_095233I cut down one more dead tree, making two so far of the six. In spite of my workouts the chainsaw feels heavy and I tire quickly. Which means I’m stopping earlier since I won’t use the chainsaw when I’m tired. Too easy to do serious damage. This is odd to me because I cut, limbed and bucked several trees, well over 40, the first two years we lived here. Recovery from both prostate surgery and then knee replacement must have weakened me more than I thought. I’ll do the work in stages that I can handle.

The grandkids were here from Thursday through yesterday evening and it went well. Gabe stayed all day Sunday. Jon and Ruth went to a wedding in Silverthorne later in the day and came back around 8 pm, then all three left for the city.



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