The Groke
The terrifying Groke, of Tove Jansson's Scandinavian lore, is lurking in the woods on The Range, bringing with it death and destruction to vegetative matter and my toes, alike. 18 degrees last night on The Range. The Farm, according to credible sources, faired tolerably well despite the Groke’s frosty breath upon her neck.
Nearly at the end of my first 2 weeks full time at Digit, doing the accounts. Collection calls are fun! I never would have guessed. A brief and stressful run in with the boss over my wages this week. All part of what is becoming my training in the practical matters of running a business.
Life seems to be filled with practicalities to such an extent that they seem ludicrous. This summer my thoughts have turned again and again to a growing need to build, create, and nurture. I have been filled with dreams of farming, restoring buildings and neglected land, and to finding meaningful place. As much as I love The Cities, there is little here that is meaningful to me. I have made 2 offers this month on property, and will be making a 3rd offer this weekend, if chance is in my favor. My nights are filled with images of Fergusons, Cockshuts, Molines, Fords, and Olivers.
A is in Chicago at a Fair Trade conference Weds through Sunday. "Batching it" is an unsettling break in daily routine that sits poorly with me. I guess I am getting old. I think Mur is depressed, too. Maybe it is the growing darkness, and recognition of defeat by the marauding squirrels.
Nearly at the end of my first 2 weeks full time at Digit, doing the accounts. Collection calls are fun! I never would have guessed. A brief and stressful run in with the boss over my wages this week. All part of what is becoming my training in the practical matters of running a business.
Life seems to be filled with practicalities to such an extent that they seem ludicrous. This summer my thoughts have turned again and again to a growing need to build, create, and nurture. I have been filled with dreams of farming, restoring buildings and neglected land, and to finding meaningful place. As much as I love The Cities, there is little here that is meaningful to me. I have made 2 offers this month on property, and will be making a 3rd offer this weekend, if chance is in my favor. My nights are filled with images of Fergusons, Cockshuts, Molines, Fords, and Olivers.
A is in Chicago at a Fair Trade conference Weds through Sunday. "Batching it" is an unsettling break in daily routine that sits poorly with me. I guess I am getting old. I think Mur is depressed, too. Maybe it is the growing darkness, and recognition of defeat by the marauding squirrels.