Does life ever feel like the Whack-a-Mole game? It does to me.
Sweep the floor. Whack. Do the dishes. Whack. Someone tracks in dirt. Pop! Sweep the floor again. Whack. Trails everywhere. Pop! Pick up the junk. Whack.
Never are all the moles whacked at the same time, nor do the whacked moles stayed whacked.
Kris invited me--for the first time in 18+ years of knowing him--to go mushroom hunting with him. Our backyard has yielded a few, but our neighbors have acres of woods with rolling ravines. Beautiful.
With their permission, we trekked up and down all those acres, finding only one lonely mushroom. I just enjoyed being in the woods with all the fallen trees and limbs, the leaves and may apples, and the ferns.
The creek that runs through the property is dry right now, but it must be a beautiful sight when we have heavy rain. The property feels like a mini state park.
My grand intentions haven't gotten very far this week. Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully coming after a little sleep tonight, in which lie renewed hopes.
Every single day feels like a new chance, a new opportunity, a new blank slate.
Life is full of hope and goodness.