sleepy house

Johnny woke at some godforsaken hour - like 4:00 am - and never really slept well after that, so he climbed out of bed around 6:30. I lingered under the covers due to tossing and turning last night - I finally upped the "feisty pill." It went better than I expected though still feisty. Yeast toxins are not a passive bunch.



The morning was gray and rainy. A sleepy haze pitched a tent on our land. I burned the pumpkin spice soy candle ~ a perfect, soft autumn scent. I had a Steven Delopoulos song - "Do What You're Gonna Do" - running through my head (it seemed to fit the mood):

Buried eyes of blue
she's burning in the same game.
And I'm just sitting here writing,
typing through these walls,
but that last note's trying
and soon she faded.
The crosses call your blame, that's all.
And fire starts refining
and the saints come marching down your hall.

Do what you're gonna do
and call me when it's over.

Wake the sleeping groom
and call him by the same name.
Dusty books and old glass walls,
your clouds of advertising.
Where'd you go
to sell your homemade canyon?
Because I believe in flying,
I believe in the wisdom sky.
You can brush me off
but I'd be lying.

Do what you're gonna do
and call me when it's over,
'cause I've got the coffee waiting.
Do what you're gonna do
and call me when it's over.

And as you fade
and sorrow's hinds
and drown the colors of the land,
the clouds forgive its thirsty sand,
send rain upon its way.

And what was gone
I thought was mine,
the earth will spin a billion times,
and I alone with my guitar
and hope you find your way.

Buried eyes of blue
she's burning in the same game.

I ate breakfast near my laptop in the living room, catching up on blog-reading. Johnny chose the breakfast nook and flipped through the latest west elm catalog.

After breakfast, refilling my coffee cup, slants of sunlight covered the floor and cheer filled my soul. I just function better in daylight hours with abundant sun. I was planning to iron a tablecloth for our well-used, scratched table, but Milo decided it made for good napping.



He hopped down to eat; I picked him up afterward. I said, "Do you remember how tiny you were when [our friend] Amy found you under her shed? You chirped like a bird. We named you 'Milo' on the way home. The vet told us you chirped nonstop because you were so hungry. We fed you, but you tried to tell us, 'More!' God made you, Milo, and how you've grown."

So I talk to our cats. Johnny does, too. So what. We're rather fond of both felines.

I've also been thinking: though I don't always feel lively, there's often a sweetness to this trial. Seems funny to write it, but it's true. Sometimes I'll do the dishes or laundry or whatever, then feel fatigued knowing I need to rest. And so I take the couch, admire the weather, listen to the wind chime, pick up a book, and all the while feel God's presence here. I confess it's taken me awhile to notice, but I'm thankful to be in on the secret which is not really a secret ~ no matter our lot, in bliss or pain, He's always near; never far.

Now it's time to pick up this book and catch up on the reading. I need to write that review and select a name for the giveaway, don't I?