This is the advice I'm getting, both from my internal voices, and my best friend, who knows me better than anyone on the planet. I've been hit hard in the aftermath of dealing with Elder Kidlet with what my beloved thinks is a touch of Post Traumatic Stress. He's probably right. All I know is I can't sit still and I can't figure out what to do next. My brain is a hamster wheel. Spinning incessantly, lots of useless noise.

I can't do any of the things that bring me joy or comfort right now. At least, not for more than fifteen minutes at a time. I'm ready to jump out of my skin. Beloved thinks naps are in order. Naps, crap t.v., and lots of nothing much but being. This is completely foreign to me. Usually, a down day for me still includes many activities. Being still feels a lot like climbing Everest.

But, I'm going to try because he's making sense to me, and I know I need to honour my bodies need to recover both from the lurgy I seem to have contracted, the sprained foot I blessed myself with, and the weird sense of being completely at odds with myself and the world.

Some of you have said that this is your month to hibernate. I grok that. I'm with you.

Here's to quilt covers, purring cats, books and coffee. :) I'm sure I'll be fine as frog's hair in no time if I give myself what I need right now...time. Time to feel the full impact of what's happened. Time to grieve. Time to be.

No, my oven still isn't plugged in, but a work around has been found. When I want to bake, I can run an extension cord. It isn't a permanent solution but at least I know for sure that I can cook Solstice feast on the 24th, and get baking done before hand, too. This makes me feel a whole lot better. We still have a call in to two electricians hoping one of them shows up at some point today to assure me my stove won't blow up again in the near future.

I grilled a rye and swiss sandwich on the built in griddle yesterday. Heaven.

Last night, my DIL and Sweet Boy dropped by with a surprise for me - a new to me microwave. Sparkling clean, working turntable, perfect size...My DIL is a very thoughtful girl, and though I know they aren't actually married yet, I know they feel like spousal units to one another, and I not only grok that, I approve. They're good for and too each other, and that's really what matters to me. That, and they have their heads on straight with regards to NOT making me a grandparent before I'm fifty. *Phew*

Spent last night snuggling the man and sipping hot whiskey with lemon and honey. We watched crap on T.V. (Survivor!) and a really good movie on HBO - "Something That The Lord Made" with Alan Rickman and Mos Def. If I were not already otherwise taken, I would marry Mos Def in a fucking heartbeat. I'd marry Alan Rickman, for that matter. The two of them together in this most excellent movie was priceless. Darklin bawled all the way through. He's such a softie. <3

Today, I'm cleaning. A lot. Cleaning, organizing, finding places for new things and old. It feels like an appropriate way to greet the Mabon.  Hello, sweet, sunny boy. Here. Have a clean, organized space to occupy. I've also put together the music for the solstice special I'll be uploading today. I need an hour or two of peopleless living room to finish it up (intro, outro, a poetry reading, etc.) but it should go live by sunset. I love doing music specials. I hope those of you that listen love it, too.

Hopefully I do not blow my energy wad. I really want to bake butter tarts at some point today.

Despite all the fubars and snafus, I'm really quite zen. I remembered to meditate yesterday, and I'm doing some work around my home shrine today. It feels good to have caught myself slacking. Better still to have nudged myself in the direction of doing what I know I need to do to maintain my center.

Blessed Solstice to all, and to all longer days and shorter nights.

Deep Peace,

Feithline