- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing The pings of rain on our metal porch roof renew memories of board games in the Everett living room. The soft yellow glow of a mid-summer fire dry the bathing suits we wore when thunder's deep voice chased us back to our cabin. Now we are huddled in a cabin holding a simplified version of our lives. Big Moose camp subtracts many of the unpleasantries of daily life, leaving just the frame, reinforced by nature, of an upper-middle class existence. In reality, I never really saw myself fitting in at the Waldheim. One can see the strength of operation of my synapses in the creation speed, length, and attitude of my morning pages. Today is slow, methodical, negative. Not surprising after last nights one-too-many-Old Fashions and benadryl. I _did_ love getting back to the great British Baking show as a way of relaxing post-nights. There is _such_ a difference between some anchor sleep and none anchor sleep. I hope last night went well for Leigh.