Now is not the time for me to drown my sorrows in writing a children's hockey SF series. This afternoon: probably also not the time. But really, if you want a thing done right....
2. In addition to the recipes linked on Sunday, my mom and I made these and these on Monday. Now all in the freezer for later use. Yay, later use! We were mighty.
3. So far today I have not fallen into the dishwasher or over my desk from a seated position. That makes it an improvement on yesterday in that regard, at least. Still: how ignominious. And of my new additional PT exercises, let us say very little except: aaagh aaaagh aaaagh blech.
4. One of the things that's reasonably good about being in my sixth month of vertigo PT is that I've established a few standard coping mechanisms that actually work. I was always a person who had a standard breakfast to eat if nothing else presented itself, because while I am a morning person, thinking with low blood sugar is not one of my gifts. Now I have a standard lunch if nothing else presents itself as well. Things quite often do present themselves. But if nothing looks like food and eating sounds like a bad idea, I don't have to think about it at length, I just throw together a large salad and some hazelnuts and go on with my day.
And now there are the first of the cherry tomatoes from the garden ripe. So very fine. So very much better than supermarket tomatoes, even from good grocery stores, even in season.
5. I am greatly worried about several of you for various reasons: job, health, familial, and so on down the list of major reasons to worry about people. I am finding sorting the mail pretty depressing, since it's increasingly composed of: 1) offers for extremely dodgy financial propositions through supposedly reputable institutions, in hopes that we are financially desperate; 2) pleas for money from truly reputable charities, on the explicit grounds that nobody else seems to have any; and 3) notices from elected representatives detailing how they are vigorously opposing many of my political values and doing a shoddy and half-assed job of supporting the rest. I've read several people writing about the journals they were reading from 1913 and early 1914, or from early 1929, marveling at how oblivious the people writing these journals seemed to be. I'm not oblivious. I just don't have anything incisive and fascinating to say about the things that are appalling me, and I don't think anybody who's in unpleasant circumstances right now is going to benefit from me declaiming general social gloom on my lj. They might not benefit from my goofy notions of shopping for others, my recipes, or my fondness for tomatoes, either, but it's unlikely to create a cycle of increasing woe, that I can see.
If you are plunged into despair by hearing about my tomatoes, do let me know.