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Sunday, December 13, 2015

Half way through December

November disappeared in a swamp of disinterest (that being said, Thanksgiving was nice)  and December is scrambling by as I try try try to hold up my end of the holiday season. Dance recital, check. Christmas shopping, check. Decorating, check.

My wished for lentil soup is warming in the microwave as I type, some of the leavings of the mornings juice dancing about between and admongst the little green lentils; the fiber of the beets, carrots and greens blended into submission along with the caramelized onions and all of the left over cauliflower making a thick and wholesome stoup. A quick taste test confirms the resulting dish will be rich and satisfying once a bit of salt and a lot of fresh ground pepper has been added.

The wished for storm is a catastrophe of dead leaves and mud as the wind  and rain wreak havoc in the branches of the winter trees before landing on dirt instead of grass, in much part due to the continuing drought. Not that one can think much of the drought today as the water pours down and down and down making my trek to the green waste bin most uninviting and the idea of snuggling in front of a fire most desirable. Maybe later, collecting dry wood is also not high on my agenda for the day. Having already juiced, made soup, and folded the laundry from yesterday I am feeling more like a nap than another task.

I should mention that I am eight weeks out from hand surgery and, well, recovering. A trip to PT Friday was most enlightening as I have been doing my stretching and massaging entirely wrong. I anticipate a quicker recovery now that I have what I hope to be the correct data for such.

Work  goes on, same challenges, more growth. I really don't want to talk about it. I am grateful to have a job, to be able to earn my keep, and I am looking forward to a new roof being installed sometime rather sooner than later; like maybe after this current storm blows through.

Enough. It feels good to type, but empty in a weird sort of way, as though I should be typing something lasting rather than ephemeral.

Time to stir the soup.

ps  The doctor says a year before I should push my hand against a bow. I wish this could be a goal - lose weight, get strong, start hiking, and at the end pick up my bow to shoot. I wish.