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Posts tagged ‘space fantasy’

Reverie

Is not the title of what I’m doing here. That’s the chapter title, as I hope will become clear. I’m … well, we have two more weeks until Mommy gets home, so unless I manage to get my feet under me, it’ll be about three to four weeks until I have anything like a groove back. So to speak. In an effort to bring about just such a shift in my personal condition, I’m pursuing two steps. The first, is more (and more consistent) physical exercise. The other is pursuit of more frequent flow state.
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Pulled In

I’m writing to you from the distant past of yesterday afternoon, when Mrs. Dave was still with us (instead of out gallivanting about the country at Uncle Sam’s request). Before I was required to escort Wee-er Dave to the dreaded Outside, where at least one pumpkin shall be acquired. We may gather more, to properly celebrate the season in a couple of weeks. I can’t see that far into the future, myself. Still waiting for the guy to come fix the black bars on the crystal ball. “Between birth and death” is not a terribly specific timeframe.
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Deeper Trouble

The weather has turned. I’m wearing flannel, and a coat to keep the rain off. The furnace has been turned on. I’m not … entirely … upset about this. I prefer being dry, myself, but I also enjoy the shift in seasons. Mrs. Dave is home this week, though not next, and not for a few after that. Also, there are costumes to plan and make, and school fund-raisers to raise. Basically, I’m heckin’ busy, fren, and I’m not sure when (or really if) that’s going to change.
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Cracks Appear

Mrs. Dave is off traveling again, as of this morning. I’m not entirely thrilled with this, and Wee Dave is distinctly unenthused. Wee-er Dave could not be reached for comment, having disappeared into her classroom to find her best-friend-of-the-week. I expect that bird to come home to roost between retrieval and the Witching Hour. Still, they’re both in school for a good chunk of the day, and I’m well stocked up on mac’n’cheese and whiskey. We’ll split those supplies, though. I don’t need much pasta, after all, and they just can’t hold their liquor.
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Hard Labor

What a week. Not my favorite. Mind your self-care, friends. Make doubly sure you are getting the fiddly bits slotted into the right places so you keel is even. It makes everything less onerous. Perhaps not easy, per se, but much easier than otherwise. Let us say the Wee Horde is adjusting to change, perhaps better than I am.
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Re-Orientation

It’s been a week, and I’m tired. Lots tired. It’s unfair how much more tired I am than last week, and the week before. And the week before that. It’s tired, all the way down. I blame Mrs. Dave, for marrying me, the Wee Horde, for being alive and needing parenting so badly, and the universe. For existing for me to be tired in, mostly. I think that’s reasonable. No? More sleep would be good, and more writing, too.
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Orientation

I’m alive. This last week has been … a challenge. The littles are just now into the swing of full-time school, and I’m trying to figure out my own head space in that. It’s not proving particularly easy, but then, transition never really is. Adding to that, the weather has taken a turn for the unpleasant, and I’d just gotten used to taking a walk every day. I hate walking in the rain. It’s unpleasant, and everything’s gray out, and there’s too much water in the air.
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