Just get on with it. Get on.
Meeting a friend for lunch at noon and that will be good. He's a special one, this friend, and I mean that in all of the good ways, one of the best people I've ever known and precious and he's kind.
It will be so good to see him.
I stole this picture off of FB.
Lily is playing dress-up with her daughter, putting her in all of the clothes that she bought for her but which she's never worn. Maggie looks to be enjoying it, doesn't she? My grandchildren seem to be the most easy-going people. Well, mostly. Yesterday when I took Gibson to the bathroom at the restaurant (I think this is now part of the ritual) he said, "Thank you for taking me to poop, Mer."
I mean...that's just sweet.
I have plenty to do today from filling out passport documents to cleaning the hen house. The garden needs so much work. Time for those blighted tomatoes to come out, also the cucumbers. Beans need picking. I should clear it, clear it, clear it, mulch it good, all in wait for winter's greens.
All of that and all of everything I should do to just keep moving and not sit for long enough to feel the worm and here's the thing about anxiety- it makes you feel as if something is incredibly horribly terribly awfully hideously wrong and about to happen, is happening, every second.
It's not just my gut that has a worm in it but every rose and every apple, every bite and every breath.
It always ends, it always does.
And I look at that picture of Magnolia June and I feel better and it's all going to be okay. And if not okay, bearable, and with no small measure of joy.