Highlights: Dog food production yielded 5 weeks + worth of inventory, even though that required running to get more meat due to my oversight when shopping a few days ago. It's not hard to do, but it's easiest done in bulk. Once a month (every 6 weeks) is enough. The weekly JZC meeting was brief and productive. Blending a couple of roasts was a surprise hit, and it gave me insight into alternative approaches for the next roast. An outdoor rug popped up on Craigslist, free, and close by. I jumped on it, brought it home, and put it in place as envisioned. The rug brings the patio together, Dude. On the way back with the carpet, I witnessed a Mini Cooper pull out into oncoming traffic and get struck by a gardening truck. They did their best to stop, and phone calls were already underway. I checked my dashcam footage at home and did not capture the actual impact. The mini was clearly at fault. It was a short-sighted move on their part. I wrote more for chapter two, but it is still foundational. Jen's mother's Day gift arrived, and I was able to intercept and hide it. Lauren confirmed coming back on Sunday morning with her and staying until Monday afternoon. This will be a nice day for Jen. It will be a nice day for all of us, as is every day with her.
Insights: It takes a lot of effort to stop living in the past or future. And on that rare occasion I achieve doing so, it's exhilarating, and fleeting. Just the act of writing this is peppered with the pulling of my attention away from the act, away from the intention of documenting this present thought about the present moment, and instead, wondering as I move the stylus across the page, who might read this. Will it resonate as aspirational or as self-indulgent? It's neither, yet both. For example, Mother's Day is Sunday, and my kids have made significant efforts to be present and expressive to Jennifer for all she has been and done for them. Given how this scenario would have been Linda's worst nightmare (right behind dying from a brain tumor, of course), it's a delicate path to navigate. The optimist in me, so much so that I really want to say "the realist in me", wants to believe Linda would be delighted for them to have the love, encouragement, and support Jen so freely gives. Why must it have ever been a competition? What more might anyone want for their children than what they have received? And would anybody want less out of resentment and spite? Even knowing they were dying? There's an awful lot to unpack in that chapter, and a lot to learn from, too.