Or I could listen to Mary Lambert's Ribcage over and over again

I got Simone Giertz's Everyday Calendar way back when and never started it because of course I didn't.  I couldn't figure out the right thing to do and I didn't want to pick the wrong one.  But once more unto, et cetera,  if I want to change my habits I have to start by picking a habit to change and then attempting to change it.  Meditation, walking, stitching, reading, cooking, cleaning all seem fraught with peril.  I was doing pretty well on daily Duolingo and Kahn Academy classes for a while, but it turns out one of those things that depression makes a little bit of a struggle is forward momentum or seeing the worth in things that make me happy or feel better.  But maybe I can write for 5 minutes a day?  Not anything more than journaling, I don't have a book in me that I'm aware of.  But my brain is better at doing its thing when I at least try to put some order into it.

We walked around Wrights Pond again today, lately it's been our go-to walk, since it's a nice length (2 miles) and directly around the corner from us.  And it's a pond and the dogs are delighted.  There are two eagle scout bridges on the path and every so often they make me think oddly of Lesson (since that was his eagle scout project as well), and some of that decade of muck and I wonder where he is or how he's doing and then I remember that what I actually want is for him to miss me, and that's unknowable and bad for me.    
 

For fucks sake, omnia, don't go down a facebook hole of your exes, there are more than enough scabs to pick at without comparing your worst days the way other people present their best days on social media.   I wonder what that would be like, what would I do to put a best foot forward?  Amateur shots of the Fells, lots of dog pictures and the occasional cooking/baking success (or wryly presented but ambitious failure), some cross stitch projects but even in my imagination I'd feel compelled to say something self-negating about the differences between art and craft, between cooking and following a recipe, and it seems bent to feel compelled to disparage myself in my own imaginary world of trying to craft a life that looks shiny from the outside.  
 

I don't do much many weekends, I save the things I need to do for the rest of the week when the boys are working.  (dishes, breaking down recycling, testing ways to back cross stitch projects so I can give the one I finished as a gift, cooking, baking). I realize the history of the idea of a weekend is complicated and also sort of pretend, but weekends also feel like make-believe when it's not a matter of when I'm working or not, but when the people I orbit are.  And it's never enough leisure or enough activity, I always feel like I wasted time but also wasn't very good at relaxing, and I realize that I'm not so much opting out of capitalism as resting on Light's successes, but I'm not sure what to do next, and the duality I've been presented with for most of my life is children or career, and at this point, I've picked neither but opting out tastes different than opting into something else and so I suspect I'll just keep glossing myself as a failure, which is super-fun.  
 

These days I think the only way I'm going to manage to post is if I give up on having even the barest hint of thematic consistency or denouement.  So, instead of that I'm just going to trail off.