P Wording

"Planning" is the P-word which I am most afraid to say out loud these days. "Prayer" and "Piss" remain the more politically charged word, but in my own strictly personals, "Planning" seems to be a sure ticket to Hell. The respected teachers and mentors in my life seemed in unanimous agreement that I have all the aptitudes to make a great Planner and have done well at developing the skill sets attached. Alas, my broken life seems to take eminent joy in dismembering my best laid plans. Construction of the modest building which was to be my aeroponics lab/rooftop garden ending in Breach of Contract robbery is but one of a long string of examples. I didn't plan the project to the full extent of my Bitch of No Return capabilities, but I planned it far enough to feed my P-Word phobia. No, Gnarly Old Dickhead (G.O.D.) I amnae planning again. Just praying. . .

The sleep saturation from the 2 day sleep which commenced before the blood stopped flowing after the nose job of tripping over Mojo Dog in the dark hallway prevented a good night's sleep last night, but I feel reasonably well rested, considering the extent of the injuries. My stamina is holding steady as I clean up and pack for the return to the river region. Part of my road prep ritual is cleaning up the home base so that the end of road trip clutter has plenty of space to land when I return. The sorting gets messy when road clutter mixes with living clutter. I like knowing that the living clutter will be out of the way when I empty my vehicle of dirty laundry, new souvenirs, samples and what not at the end of the road trip.

The return to the River Region isnae really a road trip. Nor is it the closure of leaving a host family and/or volunteer center. I don't have a sensible name for the clean up portion of my current road prep, but. . . Again the pesonification of my stuffy little accountant pops up in my mind's eyes. "Do first. Define later."

Yes, Dapper Dude.

I am feeling reasonably confident that Hubs and I were exploring harmonies from the same sheet of music during this morning's brief conversation. We decided that we would each drive to the ranch property separately, each in our own time. I would arrive packed for the remaining 11 hours of the 14 hour drive back to the river region. I am grateful I will have another two days of healing time before I attempt those remaining hours of driving. He will arrive prepared to establish the foundations for the hives he will place there after the new queen bees arrive in the next week or so. We agreed that I would take charge of inviting the other four grown-ups of the family. Neither of us can easily make room in our truck cabs to accomodate child car seats, so the parental units will need to bring the GKs if they are to participate.

No, Gnarly Old Dickhead, I amnae p-wording again. Just praying. . . Letting you lead the dance. . .