1. Morning walks. Summer is such a strange season for walking. Once it starts to warm up, you have to worry about ticks and then mosquitoes, and you can’t really hike higher up because then you also have to be careful of the rattlesnakes, and you can’t have a lazy morning because if you wait until the sun is all the way up, it’s too dang hot. There are also more people out early so we have to give up having the world mostly to ourselves. And yet, even in the “worst” season, there’s just nothing like an early morning walk with a dog or two — Ringo and I got to take a short walk with Grover and his Kahu this week, so bonus joy for sure.

2. Practice. Sitting on my meditation cushion in my practice room at home, practicing yoga at Red Sage, writing in the morning in front of my HappyLight, and writing, sharing, laughing, and sometimes even crying with my Friday morning writing sangha. 

3. Ringo. I love this time of year because once he blows his winter coat, his stars and spots are more visible and he’s not quite as dark.  Eric has been teasing me that he’s now “my dog.” When he was younger and liked to run and hike and play frisbee and in general be more rowdy, Eric was the cool dad and I was the boring human, but now that he’s gotten older and is the only dog and I’m home more often, he sticks closer to me. We’ve both noticed that now that he’s older, he insists on more affection, giving and getting it but mostly getting. My favorite shift in his behavior is he comes back with me into my office and hangs out with me while I write. In fact, right now he’s sleeping on the floor behind me.

4. Peony season. This was the last week for that, and the last few are currently starting to wilt in a vase on my desk and another in the bathroom. They are just so gorgeous, and each one has been planted in memory of someone I loved and lost — tender and terrible, beautiful and brutal.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. It’s everything I ever wanted and even better than I imagined. I’ve been loving sitting and talking with Eric in the backyard or on the couch now that he’s been home more often.

Bonus joy: fish sandwiches, oranges, strawberries, a big glass of clean cold water, book club, sitting in the shade with my bare feet in the grass, my tall spikey yellow centered white irises from my friend Ann who is no longer here but I’m reminded of her every year when they bloom, therapy and such every other week, being able to do what I can from a distance, naps, listening to podcasts, seeing Chris Fairbanks at The Comedy Fort last week and being able to pick out Chloe’ and Ralf’s laughs in the crowd, other people’s kids and dogs and gardens, delight, poetry and poets, comedy and comedians, libraries and librarians, true crime, writing 1000 words, reading in the morning before I write, a/c, our whole house fan, clean laundry, texting with my brother, sharing reels and memes with Shellie and Kari and Carrie, cancelled plans, reading in bed at night while Ringo and Eric sleep.

1. Morning walks. Eric came with us a bunch this week, which is lovely but also in hindsight wasn’t the best idea since his sprained ankle/foot is still healing and he should probably be resting it more. By Friday it was clear that mosquito season has started — not my favorite. Because of how wet and cool the spring was, there are lots of wildflowers, including my favorite — Rocky Mountain bee plants.

2. Mom. They had to up her meds again this week as her agitation was increasing — trying to get out of bed even though she can’t walk and trying to pull apart her catheter, and it was starting earlier in the day. The more her dementia progresses, the more she’s convinced she needs to be somewhere, needs to get out of bed and go. I really wish she knew and could trust that the place she is and the people who are caring for her really are the best there is and could be completely content there. We are still sending each other selfies. She’s still here and she still remembers us.

3. #1000WordsOfSummer. I did it, completed the challenge — 1000 words a day for 14 days. I’m so grateful to Jamie Attenberg for hosting. I’m so much clearer about “The Book” now, which it turns out is actually six books. Some things I learned:

• The only way to start is to just start, and in related news, the only way to finish is to keep going
• If I sit down and start, it doesn’t really matter how it goes or what I get done, the act of showing up solidifies the habit and its value, and cultivates my confidence
• Knowing other people are doing it “with you” and having a distinct container with a specific goal makes the challenge seem workable, like how much easier it can be to meditate for a full hour with a group at a retreat
• Failing to show up would have been disappointing myself and I didn’t want to do that, no one else was going to care if I did it or not but I would
• There’s a distinct difference between being full and feeling satisfied
• I have been writing and blogging regularly for close to 15 years now, and that means I have a ton of content to sort through and edit, and it is all over the place, which is one thing that had been keeping me from even starting, as it seemed overwhelming
• Because so much of what I write is about my life, what I’ve experienced, and some of it is sad and messy, I was avoiding it because I knew it would be hard, that there would be a lot of feelings, and I was not wrong
• It really doesn’t matter how long it takes as long as you don’t give up
• Trust the process and you just might surprise yourself
• Even if you never finish, you won’t regret trying — but you will regret it if you don’t try

4. Good people. All those who showed up for the “No Kings” rallies yesterday, Eric’s D&D friends and wives who gather to do things other than play D&D, people who love to read, my book club, my Friday morning writing sangha, people at the gym, comedians, podcasters, librarians, those who are part of the ALT National Park Service, people doing what they can to thwart ICE, all those currently helping others in places where there is fire and flood, good Dads, good neighbors, people who love dogs, World Central Kitchen, Doctors Without Borders, people who carry Narcan, the ones who harvest our produce, and YOU, kind and gentle reader — and so many more. 

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. It is so quiet and calm here, so comfortable. It’s my safe place to land and I love it here, with them.

Bonus joy: Sunday morning Pilates, grocery shopping, grapefruit Bubly Water, libraries, poets and poetry, listening to podcasts, the peonies in my garden, bees, the feature in my image folder on my phone that allows me to search an image online so I can identify a flower or tree I don’t know the name of or be sure the spider I am letting live in my bathroom isn’t poisonous, silver, stickers, all the wonderful professional women who are part of Ringo’s care team, yoga at Red Sage, other people’s dogs and kids and gardens, naps, a warm shower, a big glass of cold clean water, the way it smells after it rains, birds at my feeder, the opportunity to start over as many times as necessary, refillable ink pens, clean sheets, the guy who led the “No Kings” march yesterday on horseback holding a huge American flag, how Taco’s parade was so quiet you could hear the wheels of the tanks squeaking as they rolled by, scissors and a glue stick, indoor plumbing, a/c, our whole house fan, decks and porches, house plants, trees, a bag of oranges, potatoes, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.