Junk food

I'm on the run, there's not enough hours in the day. As I wrote earlier this week, this is my MAKE month (BREAK is not even an option); I'm adamant to take the Highlands Herald, and myself, through the frustrating Catch22 glass ceiling I've been blooding my scalp, my cranium against.
I'm finding it difficult to eat properly; I'm sustaining myself on coffee (but good coffee!) and junk food; I haven't invested in my vegetable patch like last year this time. Yet despite all I'm roaring on adrenalin.
And I have to give massive thanks for the support team I have around me, mostly connected only by the spindliest (world wide) web.
I'd be sunk (most of them probably wouldn't even realise it) without them: Adri, Alex, Alwyn, Amos, Angel, Christo, my dad, Gretha, Gustav, Harem, Iris, Lien, Linda, Lyndsay, Louis, Mathe, my mother, Norma, Pat, Oom Piet, Silvia, Trina, Steffen...my humble, happy and loving heart in Jozi (without you..um..well..I don't even want to think about it).
Most of all - yes most of all - I give thanks (with all my heart) to my living, loving and omniscient God. There's no middle man that separates us; I live perpetually in a space of endless miracles...and endless kindness, compassion, forgiveness, love and grace. (He is here, right by my face, right now.)
Tonight, though, I've taken out Charles time. I've pottered in the garden at dusk amongst vengeful mosquitoes; I've labelled keys (have you any idea how satisfying that is?); and right now I'm lying on the couch by an open window listening to crickets. Faith is on my lap, Mika at my feet.
I'm about to run a hot, foam bath and lie reading the remainder of Coehlo's biography. Then its up at 5h30 and at it again.
Good night and good luck (do you remember that movie?).
.
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