Unpack. Rest. Repeat.

 For part of this afternoon, I sat in my father's recliner knitting and listening (simultaneously) to Briton's latest podcast episode and Tap chewing on a beef rib bone.  It was nice.

This came during a break from unpacking another box.  There are many things I'd like to share with people, but don't want it to turn into, "Have mercy, Kim.  We don't care about the baby shoes or the copies of "Rolling Stone" or the game you loved when you were 8."

Too bad!

Yoda candy dispenser.  (With hearth Yoda visible over my thumb.)

Sam Elliott "The Golden Compass" figure.  I don't have a lot of action figures, but the ones I do have are prime.

Report

 Therapy Day.  If any of you are, or have been, in therapy, you know that some sessions are better, deeper, more solid than others.  Today was a deep and solid session, and one I need to carry with me.

'Tis to Laugh

This afternoon, I was sorting through my nail polish, throwing away ones that had thickened.  It meant fewer bottles, and I thought, I can put these in something smaller --- maybe a box.  "I wonder if I've got one."  

Boxes, boxes everywhere, and none are small enough.

Most of the boxes are in the kitchen, but I have to be careful where I put them.  Riley has grown accustomed to a certain route through the kitchen, and new boxes have to be placed outside of it.

Theobald

Sometimes, you go to the Humane Society thinking maybe there's a kitten for you there.  Except you find one you feel would be better for your daughter.

Happy birthday #5, Theo.  Enjoy your wet food.

Also --- show of hands: how many of us had crushes on Richard Chamberlain at some point?  Sad news to wake up to today.

It Was Good, Too

 Posting food pictures has never been my thing.  How many times can people look at my peanut butter and honey sandwiches?  Today, though, I made one skillet ramen, and I'm kinda proud.

Boxing Days

 I am culling.  There are dozens of boxes in the garage that are holding things that I decided to save, but didn't need in the house anymore.  When my mother died, I was positively overwhelmed with how much stuff there was to go through.  I don't want my children to go through that, so packing up when I can seemed a good thing to do. 

Now, though, I'm sorting through those to decrease their number, and there are boxes EVERYWHERE here.  Boxes that have been emptied, boxes that are partially filled with things to keep, boxes for things to be donated (each place has its own box), boxes of things that might be sellable, boxes that may wind up being broken down but won't be because I might need them yet.  The house is an absolute war zone right now, but I am finding good stuff.

Me with BF and erstwhile roommate Lisa, when she came in for a weekend.

This also provides proof that my hair was once not white.

My two Britons confabbing over pizza.

Hannah's senior portrait session included Rupert:

Over and over I've marveled at how photogenic she has always been, but props to Rupert, too.

Worst Case Scenario

This week has been hellish.  Headaches.  On the endlessly-despicable-Sackler-family's 1-to-10 pain scale, I was at a 9 for three days, and flew past 10 periodically.  Ice packs, Zok, heat wraps, focused breathing*, prayer**, massages with the little handheld things. .  .

Therefore, there has been lots of lying around.  ("Prostrating migraines" are a thing.)  Activities that take the least amount of motion have been on the menu.  One day, I watched --- well, listened to --- police bodycam videos on YouTube.  Which leads me to these:

What's the fastest you've ever driven?  (116 for me.)

Should ketchup be kept in the refrigerator or a cabinet?  (I have heard that commercial FAR TOO often.  Still, refrigerator in this house.)

Hope and trust that you are all well.

*She typed sarcastically.

**Perhaps less sarcasm here.