Another cool and cloudy day on the horizon--though, believe it or not, we actually could use some rain. Things have dried out a lot since our last round of downpours. A little rain today and tonight would set the garden up nicely for the hot weather that's forecast to roll in later this week.

I've been waiting for another editing project to appear, so my work responsibilities have been scatty so far this week. Mostly I've been catching up on various reading projects--working my way through Patricia Smith's Unshuttered, starting Cecile Wajsbrot's Nevermore, finishing Maria Zoccala's Helen of Troy, 1993, and plowing into Annie Proulx's Barkskins. The stack on the coffee table is high.

Today will be more of the same, plus errands, plus weeding, mowing, and pruning, if the rain allows. I always feel sheepish about these blips of off-time, as if I should be doing "real" work rather than my own work, and I wish I didn't have to constantly wrestle with my own clear awareness that I am not wasting time. But such is the power of the past. At least I'm not giving in to those lies.