The weather has turned strange, alternating between sunny 70-degree warmth that brings forth tree buds and birdsong, and damp 45-degree gray that drops a shroud over everyone.
I get an email yesterday from a woman who is willing to foster Chunky. I almost don't want to call her - not because we don't want a foster home for her, but because I know I'll miss the way she runs down the driveway to meet my car every time I come home.
There is so much happening every day, and as the events pass I tell myself, "I should write about that." But the thought happens as I drive from one thing to the next. I need to let some sense of quality go, I think. It will be better to record it, to get it down, than to feel the press of perfectionism grinding it out of existence. So.. I hope this short and simple entry is the beginning of that.