Sunday. Sunny, breezy, warm in the sunshine.
Woke up at 7, just in time for Firefly, Trooper, and Rook to pile into bed with me, so we had a snuggle session until Tali jumped down from on top of the bookshelf by the bed, and everybody departed for the important business of having a snack.
Breakfast was the last half of the unfrozen blueberry muffins, cheese. Lunch will likely be chicken nugget stirfry.
I drank a mug of tea on the deck. This relaxation thing is hard to get a handle on, but — onward.
Today, I need to make up a bag for tomorrow’s boating excursion. I need a hat, sunscreen, rain jacket, sweatshirt? (yeah, probably; weather on the water is tricky), drinking water, snacks. I think that’s it. Pocket stuff will of course be in my pockets. Oh. I should pack a lunch to have before the boat leaves.
Other than that, the to-do includes one’s duty to the cats, a walk, and writing.
It occurs to me that I am just now recovering from my Mad Adventuring in the south and west, which is . . . information. Ten days away; fourteen days to recover.
Balticon, of course, was a huge outpouring of energy, even though I did the bare minimum expected of a GOH. I didn’t go to any parties, or even any panels that I wasn’t on, not out of disrespect or disdain, but because I wanted to credibly dispatch those duties I did have.
Corning, though delightful and stimulating . . . was probably not relaxing. And the incessant rains did nothing to make the drive, which ordinarily would have been at least familiar, restful.
NOTE: This does not mean I had a Terrible Time; I had a good time; there’s a certain energy that’s only gotten by rubbing minds with other people in person. Even Dedicated Old /C/u/r/m/u/d/g/e/o/n/s Introverts know this.
So, that.
How’s everybody doing today?
Glad that you had a good time, unsurprised by the lag in recovery speed. Every time I look in a mirror I feel like I’ve been victimized by a spellcaster who stole my youthful form and left me their worn out shell.
OTOH, I’ve been receiving death notices for classmates for a few years, so I should STFU and be glad that I can still gorge on tacos. (mmmmm, tacos…)
Sending positive waves (a la Oddball) your way!
Sitting around with the sweetie watching the hummingbirds at the feeder. We think we have identified 4 or 5 different birbs: Spot, with on spot on the tail, calm flyer; Flappy, whose tail moves a lot more than anyone else’s; Lunch Counter, takes a rest between sips, extra small, reminds me of Norman Rockwell kid at lunch counter; Arthur “Two Spots” Jackson; and a single ruby-throated we have dubbed Rube Goldbirb. There is maybe also “Snack Counter”, who seemed to rest on top of the feeder instead of the nearby perches, but it’s not clear that isn’t just one of the others exhibiting a new behavior.