Photo by Corradox
Today I made a conscious effort to change some of how I do things rather than fixate on what I do and be all crabby about not doing enough, being disciplined, etc. (my usual state). I tried to focus my morning journal pages rather than letting them descend into the negative and pointless. I wrote several post cards and even a few letters to friends. I sorted a pile on my desk which included an unopened letter from which I learned that a friend’s mother had died back in March. Which led to another letter to that friend to offer condolences and explain my belated response to her news. I ate protein for a late breakfast (broccoli and leek quiche that I threw together last night—love those whole wheat frozen crusts at New Seasons) which meant I was then able to easily do the power walk to/from the grocery, the pharmacy (needed my Vitamin D supplements after learning about my deficiency on Wednesday) and Winston’s to check in on their remodeling project.
Then back to find two boxes tucked into the privet underneath the mailbox. Bamboo and a money tree—feng shui housewarming/good luck gifts from L.m one of my oldest friends from back in the Plymouth, Pennsylvania days. I unpacked them both. The bamboo looks super on the oak sideboard in the living room and the money tree in its funky vase found a perfect home in the teal-and-yellow bathroom. This led to writing another note of thanks to L. for this unexpected, thougtful gift. Then I called a friend and gabbed with her while I weeded and scraped moss from the bricks that line the pathways in the garden that is our backyard. After that? Some newspaper skimming and KMHD 89.1 FM, the Portland jazz station tuned in on the radio.
I did not write today, above and beyond those journal pages and letters
I did not read much (yet) above and beyond the newspaper. I ate two healthy meals (so far) then exercised. I unloaded and loaded a dishwaser. I stopped at the dry cleaner on MLK and the post office on Killingsworth. I read an article in the New York Times about our neighborhood here in Portland, and the attempts of the Restorative Listening Project to get folks to talk about race relations and gentrification.
I am not up at Last Thursday on Alberta Street this evening because I am weary of the social chitchat just as the sun starts to set. Part of me wishes I had more pep to make the scene, whatever that means these days. When I was younger…that is what I start to think. But that is not me anymore. I am now this person who prefers solitude and quiet and lots of uninterrupted, peaceful stretches in my day. This slow-settling evening quiet time here alone with the cats, inside this lovely home after watering the New Guinea impatiens and dumping weeds into the yard waste container in the garage. A person contemplating ordering a pizza because I now live in the city adn they deliver wonder of wonders. Glad to have landed, to be able to feather our nest.