As was to be expected, I was a bit under the weather yesterday, and slept badly last night too, which is unfortunate because I'll be teaching all afternoon, but oh well. The class, which had had only four registrants for weeks, suddenly filled to capacity yesterday, so that has entailed a flurry. Nonetheless, I did have a mostly quiet day . . . a walk and grocery shopping before the rain started, and then an afternoon of kitchen projects and reading. I made a fresh batch of preserved lemons, baked a pumpkin-buttermilk pudding, simmered chicken and leek soup, and meanwhile the rain pattered down and a fire crackled in the grate and the cat buried himself in the couch blanket.

Tomorrow I'll hit the road again--my last trip up north before Christmas. And then my days will settle down for a couple of weeks, until the holiday travels begin.

I imagine this is the vaccine cocktail still talking, but I'm feeling a little blue: self-questioning, second-guessing myself, thinking I ought to be a better human being/friend/parent/daughter/artist. The Christmas season, with its weighty past, often encourages this kind of thinking, even without the aid of three vaccines. Also, all of the books I've been reading are filled with lonely people, so blame literature.

My guess is that a few gleams of sunshine and a lungful of November wind will break the mood. Heck, maybe even a shower and clean hair will do the trick. Bodies are susceptible to comfort. At least mine is. And there's a bowl of paperwhites budding on the kitchen counter. There's a jar of shining lemons. How can I stay sad, with such gold?