Ravens, mushrooms, writing, time

Go Ravens! I only watched parts of the game and in passing, but still, go almost-hometeam! Did y'all see the hilarious Onion headline: "Superdome lights return as all 53 49ers are lying motionless on ground. Whereabouts of Ray Lewis unknown." That cracked.me.up! I wanted to feel more engaged with the game, but for no good reason, and the Sunday Times was lounging obviously on the table, sections spread invitingly, just wishing someone would pick it up and happily read away (although honestly, most of the news is so bleak). I made some spectacularly average quesadillas -even individually browning all these mushrooms- which were so totally insignificant that I felt glad I'd used my stomach space on a large hunk of warm baguette at the market a few hours earlier instead. Then, Sunday Styles, Week In Review, Front Section and I went to bed. It was a fine choice.

browned mushrooms

I'd spent part of the day rather miffed to be honest. I had planned and looked forward to an activity and was irritated when the instructor didn't show: seriously frustrating to say the least. I sometimes wish I didn't feel so protective of my time, but I do: I'm like a territorial wild animal mother guarding her young. I don't get much time that's just for me; even when I'm home alone for a few hours each day, I spend at least half of that cleaning and/or doing something for T, the boys and the pets because to be sure, that stuff's not going to do itself. So it feels critical that if I put everything in place so that I can carve out these niches of space, I want to be able to count on them. I need to be able to count on them. They're lights in days that seem tinged dark by endless to-dos and very real I-needs.

And with that, I'm off to pick up Mr. O. We have a very important bubble gum purchasing date on the horizon!