Foggy Morn

I woke this morning to feelings of dread, trying to coax myself back to the nether world of sleep. It didn't work. The only reward of that effort was the tightening of muscles which I knew would only get tighter for further effort down that line. I flashed back to scenes from the 20 odd years I watched ES ply the same tactic with volcanic results. By the time he graduated to official High School drop out, I felt like I could time his explosive wake-ups by watching the twitching of his young muscles as he worked to render them inactive. Two decades later, I really don't want to sit through another re-run of that, no matter how much Hubs wants me on the job. 37 year old muscles are not as dynamic as teenaged muscles, but more than sufficient to errupt. I shook off the flashback and peeked out of the tent to see a fog over the camp. I love blaming things on the weather. I'm not tripping. The weather made me do ^it^.

The tug of war between the guilt tugs, missing the GK's and continuing on with my current attempts to develop new potentials continues. The aches of missing my grandchildren were quickly hit with my certainty that the current family dynamics will not nurture a sustainable relationship with them, anyway. My best hopes for that lay in developing the new potentials. I have zero faith that the current dynamics will get us there. I still can't think of their mother without feeling like the Monster-in-law. I either let her enjoy ES's privelidge of giving orders between naps or. . . God I hate the thought of another 20 years of supervising Nap Central. More is NOT merrier in the Nap House, especially not while chasing after pre-schoolers in between rounds of the busy Hubs going off about the situation before he rushes off to his next scheduled event.

The weather forecast is predicting rain tomorrow to last through Friday. It looks like gentle summer rains but the problems of packing a wet camp don't need much rain to present themselves. The current moderate fog is plenty of moisture to nurture that problem set. My current thought is to wait a few hours to see if the fog clears off enough to allow the camp to dry out for packing before the rain hits. If not, I might go visit the campground hosts to see if we can bend the two week rule far enough to wait out the rain before packing this weekend. They are an easy-to-talk-to couple who, at worst, will say, "No" nicely. The problems of packing a wet camp are far from the meanest problem set I have tackled in my life.

I have been able to get as far as random explorations and internet searches toward that next step of finding interim housing to serve as a base camp for a more detailed scouting of the area, but the intellectual paralysis has continued setting in before I can take action. Insufficient data. . . Am I scouting for a family business, a lone divorcee or something between the extremes? What I find depends on what I am looking for. Kinda like those hard numbers Hubs believes will facilitate the dialogue with the co-owner blockade on the farm project. Those numbers vary with the plan. Family members who cannae speak amicably with one another don't stand a snowball's chance in hell of working through the unpredictable kinks of an extended project.

The most recurring thought I have had in recent days is of renting a room in one of the motels I spotted near the 12-step community center in Paducah. There were multiple choices of the old variety with outside entrances for every room. That style is disappearing fast enough that I might have to make my peace with the creepy hallways of the contemporary closed in hotel designs that have taken over the market, but for now I will patronize the last of the old whenever I can.

Still sorting. . . God please guide my steps through this day.