Rhythms

Though we had a couple of breakfasty breads -- muffins, the walnut raisin bread from Weaver Street -- I had to go ahead and have my Monday cereal to kick off the week if only to get into work week mode. 

I am in a weird place with my rhythms now, my cycle of exercise, sleep, eating, reading and watching which form the core of my week. On the one hand, they are serving me well and have gotten me through the challenging time of this first act of Mary's health crisis, such as it is. On the other, they feel a little constraining, I sense that it is summertime and I really do need to break out a little bit.

Which is to say I need to actually sit down with my calendar and figure out when I and we are going to get in some travel: to Seattle and Juneau, to the Northeast, to Ann Arbor to see Kate, something I've never done but we've been talking about for decades. I just need to do it or Labor Day is going to roll around and I'll still be sitting here on this couch every morning. 

BTW -- I'm sure there are those amongst you have may have thought "this is exactly why I shouldn't read blogs like this. Who gives a flying fuck about what he has for breakfast?" An entirely legitimate point. But of course as I have said before, this blog isn't really for you, it's for me, and in this case the choice of breakfast food is naught but a symptom or facet of the ongoing effort to maintain energy and equilibrium. Our young men and women have given their lives in foreign lands for centuries now to keep you free to not read my blog. Exercise it if you so choose.