Today, I am not at our retreat.
Today, I will brew coffee, catch up on the news, jump in the shower, wake the kids, brush little girl's hair, make the bed, load the crockpot, fix school lunches, shoo kids out the door, empty the dishwasher, take the dog to the park, peel apples and bake a pie, sweep the floor, wash and fold a few loads of laundry, dial some work calls, vacuum the carpets, take out the trash, scrub a toilet or two, check on the ancestors, send a birthday card, descend on the supermarket, visit the dry cleaner, scarf down some lunch, sneak in some Christmas shopping, gas up the car, nag the phone company, drive carpool, drag a kid to the doctor, patronize a second grocer, buy and wrap a party gift, help with homework, cook and serve dinner, clean up the kitchen, pack for the weekend, hit the gym. And whatever else I forgot. Hopefully find some time to write. If I'm very lucky, to read.
Tomorrow, I'll be at our retreat.
I will eat, and sleep, and read, and write. And write, and write, and write.