I’m waiting till 6:30 to go for my run so that we can stop at New Seasons on the way home to pick up tomatoes and avocados. Maybe cheese.
The sky is absolutely clear overhead—faintly aqua to pale gold around the edges with strands of pink clouds east of the city. Windows wide open. My coffee within reach. Gary reading news on his phone in the other room.
I literally plan to write about beach combing every single day I am on the beach and then I am distracted. I have superstitions (if I touch a stone, I should take it or stack it.) and good luck finding agates and a front yard nearly paved with my finds. We also attended an event this week and reconnected with dear friends, including one I was worried about. All good!
I’m not sure what I meant to write today. There have been several ideas, none of which made it to this page before becoming sidetracked. We have been exploring, balancing our checkbook, and spending almost half the week in Portland. Sunrises. Pedicures (not mine). Travel (not me either).
IMPERFECT PATIENCE 