A journalist observes life in the far north.
NPR chatters on the radio. Lucky sleeps. I hear chickens clucking in their cage in the garage. Hot coffee sits beside me. I’m alone.
I like this part of the day. It’s peaceful.
I get on Facebook and check what my friends around the world are up to.
I polish the stone on the island in the kitchen, which is strange because there are toys on the floor and dishes in the sink but I always feel like my house is clean if that one counter top is clean.
I try to figure out what I am wearing to work in case it demands that I shave my legs. It’s Friday so I can wear jeans.
I am expected to write about the anniversary of the moon landing today. I nearly had to go to the military base to write about soldiers returning from the war zone but my boss changed his mind.
Yesterday, I made a blueberry upside down cake and the whole thing is already gone, partly owing to play group, which was at our place, and partly owing to Alec’s and my sweet tooth last night.
It’s a good thing I don’t own a scale or I would have weighed myself a half dozen times to check the consequences of cake over-consumption.
Below is a picture from play group along with other recent shots.