I know Zinnia and dogs well enough to know that I will be fully healed from the mysterious virus that brought me down when she stops watching me closely.

Dogs know things, they smell something, and they sense things. I saw this in my hospice work.

Zinnia still stays close, watching my every move. I love her for that. And she’s right. I’m not fully recovered yet, but getting there, a bit closer every day.

Today, I’m going to try the gym again; I’m going to the Mansion to see and help out with the preparations for their first annual picnic, scheduled for tomorrow. They are making 100 cupcakes today in the Memory Care kitchen.

Our first tablets arrive tomorrow, about the same time the new Activities Center is all cleaned up and ready to go.

I hope for a quiet afternoon; I need some head space to think, meditate, and contemplate. I wrote about the idea of Going Home, a lifelong journey.

Sometimes I’m running around so much, taking pictures and writing, etc., that I just don’t have time to think. Today I’m going to take some time to think.

Every battery needs some recharging. I want to sit outside with Zinnia under the apple tree.

And I will take some pictures. And share my thoughts on the blog if I have any good ones.