Saturday #18

The self-portrait I took earlier this week mysteriously disappeared from my computer. Here is a metaphor of my weekend instead.

When I woke up this morning, I felt as exhausted and achy and hammered as I did after each of my marathons. My pedometer registered 23000 steps yesterday--and that doesn't include 90 minutes of Ashtanga yoga in the count.

Yesterday was Ben's Senior Prom.

I have hundreds of photos to edit, dozens of candles to put away, several yards of fabric to reroll, a few bags of garbage to discard, a couple of stories to tell, and one unworn, crisply pressed linen tunic hanging on my bathroom cupboard.

In all of the craziness that is involved with preparing a formal dinner for eighteen, I never returned to my room to change into the nice clothes I was planning to wear during dinner. I don't think anyone noticed. I didn't remember until I saw it still waiting there this afternoon.

It was a magical weekend.

Edited pictures and stories next week.