Hey y'all!
Granted, it was a dream, and dreams are always a bit fuzzy, but the way I understood it was there was a contest of sorts - some sort of cooking contest, like a chili cookoff or something, but instead of just chili, it was all sorts of foods.
And many different groups had entered it. That’s another thing that was weird - the contestants were organizations, not individuals - like The Red Cross competing against First Presbyterian Church. And my own church had entered, and I had made a casserole, which is yet another edge of the uncanny valley, because I simply would not enter a casserole in such a thing.
But as I’m standing at the table, behind my casserole, I see a board member from the local PFLAG chapter I am part of, and I hear them say that they are on their way to get their entry from me, and then I realize I had entered for them, too - and I had forgotten to make anything.
And then the nonprofit I work for in my day job is setting up their table across the room, and I realize I had committed to make something for them as well, and I notice my supervisor is walking across the room towards me, and I know it’s to pick up the item I had cooked for their entry, and that I had forgotten.
It was then that my brain said, “This is not fun - it’s time to wake up and avoid consequences.”
Yes, it’s a dream, but one need not be a soothsayer to know where this is going - I am way overcommitted.
I like being busy, and I like making an impact on the world, and to exist in this current crisis and NOT be involved in resisting it seems irresponsible. And so, while I have lots of balls in the air, I generally do a good job of keeping them going.
Until something intervenes. Until the routine changes. Until I get sick. So basically, I do a good job juggling until something goes wrong.
Three things have happened this year that have caused me to drop balls:
I have had to do a lot more travel than normal this year - I have only had 2 or 3 weekends at home in the first quarter. Travel always screws up my routine, which means I drop balls.
My wife’s sister is dying of heart failure. It’s a long story, but the short version is that she, like my wife, had a heart transplant, and transplanted hearts have a life expectancy, and she is at the end of her’s, and she does not qualify for another transplant. She lives about 5 hours from us, and as you can imagine, this is a major stressor to everyone involved.
And lastly - I learned last Monday that the project I am working on is ending because of lack of funding, and so at the end of April, I will be unemployed and will lose ⅔ of my income. I think I will be OK - I am talking to some folks about some potential moves, and when that solidifies, I will let you know. But in the meantime, I’m fine, except at 2AM when I wake up and can’t sleep for 4 hours and stare at the ceiling until dawn.
I forget who said it, but during the height of the pandemic, I read that we all drop balls, but some of them are rubber, and bounce, while others are glass, and shatter. The key is to only drop the rubber ones, and to realize that almost all of them are rubber.
So I’m trying to be kind to myself during this period. I hope you can remember to be kind to yourself, too. We’re all going through a lot.
Five Beautiful Things
This short (< 5 minutes) film documents New York artist Robert Janz, whose art medium is water on concrete. He creates ephemeral art that disappears as it dries, reflecting his own ideas around impermanence. This is beautifully shot, as well as a capture of a beautiful soul.
TIL about the bookwheel - a 16th century device that looks a bit like a water wheel, designed to keep 8 books open and accessible at the same time. This is the historical equivalent, I think, of having too many browser tabs open at once. #need
Maybe this is just the romanticism of an outsider, but the British seem to embrace wildlife in a way the US has not. When I was designing my wildlife pond, nearly all the good information was from the UK. In any event, here are the 2025 winners from the British Wildlife Photography Awards. 
