Inside.

For as much as my thoughts have been awfully inward lately, it feels as if they are now completely wrapped around my skull. There is too much to process in the loss of someone who I admired, was both ageless and far too young to die, and whose loss holds sharply before me a mirror of my own physical failings.

The weekend was a combination of out and home. Saturday spent in the company of the best babe and her wonderful, intelligent, literate and verbal family. Well, except for the baby but I fully expect he will be all of the above given a few years of growing. The company was delightful the dinner was delicious and bunny killing exceptionally diverting.

Sunday the boy decided that he did not really want to go skating. I'm not too suprised it usually happens that if I'm looking forward to something he'd rather stay home. He wanted to play with the neighbor children. In typical fashion they blew him off in the early afternoon with an excuse and weren't home when he tried later. Instead we played a very amusing set of Trouble. The boy took the set 2 - 1 - 0 with me taking one game and hubs none. Other than meals I slacked terribly. I puttered, read and did nothing on my list. I'm mildly annoyed with myself but I just couldn't face the chores.

Today, I won't really have a choice. But I still don't feel much inspiration and there is still so so much thought and emotion to process.