I woke up precisely when the alarm went off. Ready to go. Awake. There are sometimes differences in how you wake up. Sometimes you’re awake, alert to the hum of the universe. Sometimes you can go right back to some deep stage of nocturnal coma without an effort.

Lately I’ve discovered a manner of waking up, fully aware of all of the works of poetry and physics man has devised and deciphered, my brain alert with the knowledge of all of it — at least that it exists, not that I have the capacity to retain it or understand it all, mind you. But, then, I turn over and go right back to sleep. All of that heft and conscious living going on in my brain and then, suddenly, it’s two hours later. Two hours later than you’d intended.

Nothing to it. You just roll over and close your eyes, but not too tightly.

Saw the neighbors. Feed the deer. Talked with a sweet old lady who is about to move. Her house goes on the market tomorrow. She has mixed feelings about it all. The neighborhood will miss her dearly. She’s one of the pillars, one of the stalwarts, a founding member of the officially unofficial neighborhood watch.

She told me today that when she started working they were so hard-pressed for teachers that they were putting people with two years of classroom experience into schools. She had colleagues that taught all day and then went to night school to complete their degree. This was the 1970s, and a decade or so into a population boom. There are a lot of stories in there, you can just tell.

Anyway, there’s not much else here, because I spent most of the day just staring at a screen, willing things to come into existence. Not a lot of luck on that front, unfortunately.

Nothing to that, either. You just sit there and wait, again, with your eyes not too tightly closed.

Here’s a little clump of weedy grass that found its way through the cement, and is enjoying some rain drops.

Mild gray day. Breezy. The sort of day that comes with its own charms, and as such deserves our attention. The sort we all need to be able to take in at the drop of a hat.

And instead of doing that, I spent it getting not enough work done.

Well, that’s why we have tomorrow. There will be something to that, surely.

I’ll need a redo for today. Just haven’t been feeling it in any way. Everybody’s due a lull now and again. And the time is now. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again anytime soon.

We tried to enjoy a bike ride yesterday, but before the neighborhood was even behind us. The storm that missed us was still throwing lightning in our direction. So we turned around at the next little neighborhood and headed for home. There’s a little incline involved in that final stretch of road that takes us back to our neighborhood. So I huffed and puffed and pretended like I was making a big attack in a bike race. And I won the pretend race that wasn’t a race.

This week, I got serious enough about course prep that I made a To Do list for the new class I’m designing. There were 11 items on the list. And now seven of those things have been crossed off the list. Three of those other four things will be done once the course begins. Which means I’m one item calling it complete. Except for the endless nitpicking I’ll do in the next three or four weeks. All of which is great, since classes start in two-and-a-half weeks.

And so I must only write two more classes, the ones that go at the beginning of the term, the presentation on the why and the first talk on the how. Which is tomorrow. And Saturday, if necessary. But hopefully not because all of the notes are assembled. Now I just have to make a bunch of slides.

And I must also make amends with the kittehs, who have once again reminded me that I have once again overlooked their contribution to the site. Theirs is, after all, the most popular element of the place.

Poseidon is keeping a close eye on the deer out there beneath the apple tree. I can never decide if he wants to chase them or invite them in.

Maybe he wants to invite them in so he can chase them.

I slid open the window and they sprinted away at the sound. Sorry, Poe.

Phoebe, for her part, could not be bothered. Naps on the landing are not to be disturbed.

So the cats, as you can see, are doing just great, thanks. They just need more pets.

You know those baskets of peaches? Tonight’s haul was filled to overflowing. Now I have to go back and eat a dozen or so. Just trying to keep apace …

One fall class Canvas shell is now set. Two to go. I created the second one today and will get into it tomorrow, or this weekend, or both. And then, next week, I’ll start on the third class. It’ll be a question of taking four pages of notes and a bunch of other ideas into something fruitful. Three-and-a-half weeks to go.

The kittehs don’t mind. I don’t know that they think about things that far out, because their lives are pretty good. It’s just meeting each part of the day’s routine — mostly about where to nap, or how to get their pets. They do, at times, think about the fullness of a week. Some nights offer different parts of their larger routines. And then there are the inconveniences, like when they get their nails trimmed. And when I forget about adding them here. So let’s get you caught up.

Phoebe is making good use of the afternoon sun for her beauty shots on the landing. There’s a certain portion of the day when the sun shines just above the large window, and the light is diffused by the side of the house.

We don’t have a cat spot lined up for the golden hour, come to think of it. Maybe I can remedy that.

None of this bothers Poseidon, who is very concerned about his evening lap time. He has his routine. He waits, sometimes patiently, for dinner to be over. And then my lovely bride has to sit lengthwise across the sofa. The cat will not accept her sitting normally, for he needs to stretch out.

Unless he needs to curl up. Which he also requires the full length of her legs, for some reason.

When I came downstairs for dinner, and laptime, tonight, I looked out that big window and saw this little family out under the apple trees. They’ll get their share. Maybe they’ll save some for us this year.

Already I’ve shooed these deer off from the peach tree. Any moment now I’ll be out there grabbing fruit. Whatever the deer leave us, anyway.