Thursday, December 10

"Oh dear," she sighed.



Last night Tim and I had dinner at our favorite little place. It's the type of place we go back to over and over. We each have our favorites on the menu and the staff applauds when we try something new. Which isn't often. You couldn't tear me from my favorites with a crowbar. It's a cozy, warm little place and we went home to a cozy, warm movie, afghans, draped pets and cozy, warm camomile tea. Note the cozy warmth.
But today was cold! Blustery, windy: all three wrapped together and thrown at me in a big blinding blue skied-day with a stiff breeze hard enough to cause a whimper.
It turned out to be that kind of day which starts out with the best of intentions. Calming, organized and thoughtful plans which slowly wind up (or unwind) for reasons unknown and unplumbed into frazzled, non-finished, yearning, grasping, grumpy mindsets and not a lot of peace. Hmmm.

I can only keep trying. (tremulous smile)

"I don't know what I'm trying to do," said Tuppence. "That's the awkward part of it. One doesn't know ever, exactly, what one wants to do. Oh dear," she sighed.

"Really," said her husband, "I should have thought that that was not at all characteristic of you. The trouble with you has always been that you knew much too well what you do want to do."
I did make my first fennel lunch, ever. And I am presently puttering around in the studio.
We'll see where things go from here. 

What measures do you take to meet your "unwinding" days?