Richard away in Ipswch.  The farrier was here until 11.  Have done very little of a constructive nature all day.  Just finished yoga and meditation.  Trying to build up to 15 minutes of meditation - eventually to work up to 20.

The days seem to come and go with frightening rapidity.  Copied the previous post to the blog - wrote it 8 days ago - and have intended to write every day.  By the time I've ridden Balthazar and done morning chores it's 10am and I'm pooped.  Guess I'm not 20 anymore.  Have to stop and sit for awhile, then again I've been up and going since 5:30 so maybe I'm being a little hard on myself.

Truth be told.  I fritter away a lot too.  I'm an expert timewaster - reading Weird News on Huffington Post - or playing games - still  playing games although credit where credit is due - not nearly as much as I used to - also practive French - and writing weekly to my elderly aunt who's in a  home in Canton Ohio hundreds of miles away from family.

I hope I'm wrong and one of her two kids is nearby yet going on past history, I doubt it.  Can't help but pick up clues from previous letters.  She was so painfully grateful when L took her to the Cabin.  Maybe they are loving attentive children and make the effort to stay in touch but somehow I doubt it.  Therefore I've decided to write her once a week.  News, not from Lake Woebegone but from Dry Gully Road.  Perhaps she's non compos mentis now.  I knew she was having cognitive problems after a fall, maybe she's passed away - she's in her 90's - and no one's told me so that I wrote to an empty bed or a wastebasket, but it's still worth the effort.  After a shaky start she flouted husband and husband's brother and remained good friends with Mom.  That means a lot.

Suppose too, I've so little family that keeping touch with those that remain becomes increasingly important. My other aunt doesn't write and the few missives received are so fragmented and full of joy and gratitude that I've written her that she imparts no news at all.  She's a bright and loving spirit but goes off on tangents to her tangents to the degree that not one sentence is completed.  I love her and love her joie de vivre but she exhausts me too.