Activity: Puttering inside and outside of the house.
Weight: Forgot to step on the scale. (Let's not let this become a habit).
Book: Half Earth by E. O. Wilson.
A quick trip to Chico to see some patients, and then back up to the Mud Hut to enjoy the sunny day. The dogs, of course, wanted a hike, but I was having too much fun puttering to head on out. Puttering, meaning, starting a project, get distracted, move on to another project, get distracted, start another project, get distracted, and so on.
I carried wood, started to clean out the shed, reorganized the kindling pile, raked the back of the house, swept the living room and bedroom floors, washed tons of piled up dishes, tackled the "junk" closet where everything gets thrown that is too special to throw away but not special enough to keep; I worked on the picnic table, reorganized the garbage, listened to stacks of CD's to see if they had skips or not; I finally took the awning down from the deck that should have been removed months ago; I cleaned the deck; I reorganized book shelves---coming up with a "books-to-be-read pile".
In short, a day of puttering. I come from a long line of Putterers. My dad was a putterer. My grandpa was a putterer. And today, I figured out that I am one too. It's in my genes.
Oh, the joy of puttering! Nesting. Hopefully, a sign of Spring.
And while working on one of the projects, I watched a speech given by Edward Wilson at Berkeley regarding the book I am reading right now. If you have an hour to spare (who does?), it's an interesting presentation by a legendary biologist.