My February revision class is now full, wait list only. It is such a relief to me that people sign up for these things quickly. Hawking my wares is not my favorite thing to do. And now, with that chore done, I can turn my attention to this busy short week. I'm still beetling away at an editing project. I need to apply for a grant today and send Teresa some materials for our Monson reunion class in January. In the wings, I've got a friend's ms to format, another friend's ms to blurb, my high school class to prep. And last night my mother-in-law asked me to make a dessert for Thursday, so I've got that to figure out as well. Probably there are other things on the list I wrote out yesterday, but my brain isn't quite awake enough to remember them yet.

Anyway, Monday. I'll go for a walk this morning, and I'll try to marshal my internal forces into some version of attention. I gave myself a bit of practice on Sunday, which was more of a work day than collapse-on-the-couch Saturday was. I did some research for my upcoming class with Teresa, and I packaged up my last batches of dried herbs for the year, and I raked a few leaves. I made a good dinner: a spicy Portuguese-style fish stew alongside a salad of minced fennel and greens. None of this was strenuous, but it was practice for being strenuous.

I'm still harvesting lettuce from the garden, which pleases me. And the kale is hanging in, of course, and some of the herbs. But mostly the season is over. I've got carrots and fennel stored in the refrigerator, lots of dried herbs in the cupboards, a freezer full of wild mushrooms, kale, tomato sauce. The little homestead came through for me, but I know it's glad to have a few months off, a chance to sleep under leaves and snow.

Last night I had my first dream visitation from Ray. He was attending his own funeral, of course, which was being held in a strange cavernous room, and he looked great, slim with all of his curly hair. I was supposed to play the violin, but one of my pegs snapped off so I spent the entire dream begging people for a violin peg, which no one had and why would they. Still, despite the dream's anxious undertones, I was happy to see him. Every moment together is precious, even when my own brain is making the whole thing up.