I woke up from the sweetest dream-interaction with a very old friend, and now I am floating sleepily into my morning on the currents of that charming blur. It's 30 degrees outside, warmer than it has been, and the next few days are forecast to get into the mid-50s. This afternoon I need to get my Covid and flu shots but I hope I'll feel well enough tomorrow to do some raking in the sunshine. 

The trip up north was easy and sociable. I had the treat of fresh venison steaks for dinner in Wellington; then an early morning drive over the empty gravel roads to a roomful of enthusiastic writers. Even the drive home afterward was simple enough. And it does feel good to know that I'll be home in my own bed every night for the next two weeks.

Today will mostly be editing, plus maybe an errand or so before the shots, and then my writing salon in the evening. I'm kind of dreading these shots: after being sick for a month, I really don't want to undergo a second round of malaise. But at least I'll be able to loll on the couch, not forcing myself into the car for yet another weekend away from home. And at least the malaise will be brief.

I've got a ton to do to prepare for the holiday onslaught of young people. Still, it will be the happiest sort of work: they are the light of my eyes, those darlings.