going too fast

Something that hasn’t yet gotten all the way better as I recover from this concussion is my ability to multi-task. One thing that happens now, that I consider a big improvement, is I notice when things are going too fast and I (usually) have the forethought to pause.

If I look at social media and I’m hit with the #metoo conversations, I might need to do some emotional work not to lapse into the darkness of being a survivor of sexual abuse/assault/harassment. That requires brain space. Then, if a friend texts and I reply = more brain. Add to that the tea kettle is about to squeal and I’ve got to get to work asap before a conference call and I get the overwhelmed sense that everything is going too fast. Continue reading

addendum to my last post (post-concussion syndrome continues)

Feeling so much better, related to my concussion, as I reported in yesterday’s post, today I undertook what in the past would have been a joyful adventure of creation (and $ savings): meal planning and cooking for the week. It took longer than it would have in the past, but, I planned meals for the next week and a half, and I started some of the cooking. Continue reading

still blog-floundering, what’s up with me lately

My friend Paula says we should just blog our hearts out (my paraphrasing, with great liberties). I used to write lots and lots and post it on here. But, that was before the days of “everyone has facebook.” I’m still not sure what I want to do here, though I know I want to lean less on facebook. Continue reading

Senator Collins, please vote no on the tax bill

Passing time after dropping off my daughters at their afternoon writing groups, waiting until the end-of-class celebration, I decided to stop in to Senator Collins’ office.

It’s super-easy to drop in and write a little note. There’s a form to fill out in the waiting room and the guy at reception was friendly. Continue reading

potayto potahto

Tonight I went out into the back hall, our cold storage area, and filled a basket with potatoes from this past summer’s garden.

We revel in the pleasure of eating food we’ve grown as we pull things from the back hall or the freezer. We feel connected to the earth knowing we are eating all that loving labor (much of the labor done by my parents, I’ll freely admit). I wish everyone could feel that way. Continue reading