But beyond keeping track of everything that needed to be done, it really didn't feel like work.
When it all came together, we saw the people that we love best, people that we have known a long time, and a few people that are new in our lives but that we expect to know forever. I'm a non-hugger, but I just kept hugging this weekend.
I miss some places I have lived, their skyscrapers and their curvy hills. I'll go back and see them any chance I can get. But I moved here for the people, and I'm riding on that warm, full feeling I get when we come together and catch up.
It didn't hurt that the grass was a brilliant green, that the trees dressed themselves up in white and magenta blossoms.
I don't know how many times I said this to myself this week, but I'll say it again: I'm glad I live here.
If you are not so fortunate, you may comfort yourself with this soup:
Chicken Tortilla Soup
As for the reading pile, I'm making progress on And There Was Light, by Jacques Lusseyran, (but understandably, given the kind of week I've had, have not finished it yet) and I'm bumping it up to "recommended" status.
He's deep into the French Resistance. What does a Resistance movement do, anyway? you ask. Well, they spread information by stealthily printing and distributing newspapers. They give safe passage to shot-down fliers. And there is no Resistance unless multiple peoples in multiple places are moved upon to act and, in miraculous ways, they find and assist each other.
Which seems to be what the universe is trying to teach me: Join in. Lend your time, means and talents. Let others lend you theirs.