And the leaves on the trees are light yellow amongst the dark green. Winter will be here shortly. The problem is that it lasts so long. My inner voice just asked me what I expected, after all, this is Alaska.

Colder today, but sunny. I thought for sure that I’d be home in time to get a horse out, but no. I ended up spending time with Cathy, the BLBP artist in residence. She got to the hotel late. We got work done, which is often the case.

I did get to working on the back room today. I set up the boxes for next year’s Alaska State Fair books. Tomorrow, Pete, after getting hay, is going to take the boxes back to their original spots. We’ll fill them with books. The fair will then be over for us. To which I say, “good riddance.” I suspect that had it been longer I could have kept on going. What saved me is the fact that I adhered to a good working routine the entire three weeks and did not deviate from it

I pause, wondering what to say next. Tomorrow I will continue work on the back room and gather together the books going to Maine. Saturday, I will go to Wasilla for an event. Sunday I will work on the paper I am co-authoring with Skye. Monday we are going to Anchorage and I’m getting my hearing aids fixed. We have a BLBP board meeting in the evening.

That’s what’s coming up in the next few days. I continue to wonder, in the evenings how I’ll get through the next day. I seem to wake up with a smidgeon of energy, which is enough for me to touch bases with. I also immerse myself in whatever it is I am doing, so that I stop thinking about how little energy I have. In a manner of speaking, I pick myself up by my bootstraps and watch as the salt flows southward.

One of these days I am going to collapse. I just hope that I don’t hit the floor hard. And I hope that there is someone to pick me up.

My feet hurt, and of course I’m missing front teeth, which doesn’t make me feel any better about my situation. It’s hard because I remove them to eat and then after put them back in. I’m a snacker, so this is doubly hard. I am aware that I look just awful; in fact, like an old crone. Are there any young crones out there?

As I’m typing, I’m realizing just how tired I am. Once again, I am going off on mental tangents. I have not had a chance to talk about losing my acuity with anyone out there. But it is going. I can’t hold thoughts any longer.

I picked up a pedometer—Kid’s Kupboard swag. I should have kept the directions because I can’t operate it. But I am racking up the miles.

Next: 242. 9/11/26: Refusing to Traipse down Memory Lane