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2023-07-12 - 9:17 a.m.
a little bit, and then a little bit more.
boston and back again, a whirlwind visit. my sister hosts our kansas cousin and his beautiful family, our parents, my children, and me. aquarium, waterfront carousel, freedom trail, faneuil hall, each playground along the esplanade. the children never seem to tire. my sister seems happier and more present than i have seen her in years. in a just or fair world, her home would be a community hub, an intellectual salon. instead she is so lonely almost all the time.
* * *
at home, meanwhile, i am anxious. here i am overrun by worthless churning thoughts chasing their tails, these little brain-rotted vermin. i feel as if i am fighting against the place i live, every single day.ill-suited home, ill-suited neighborhood. ill-suited me.
* * *
a lemon from my lemon tree. berries from the backyard bushes and brambles. an egg from the hen of a friend of a friend. a little bit, and then a little bit more.
* * *
reading: japan: the vegetarian cookbook, by nancy singleton hachisu. a beautiful book from phaidon that will surely show every bit of use and wear. i like the low waste recipes using stems and peels, the small plates showcasing a small handful of foraged ingredients. this is a cookbook for reading and dreaming - not, perhaps, a kitchen workhorse. well, what does it hurt to read and dream?
listening to: porcupine tree - open car. for those of us who are lucky enough to live long enough, the music of our youth becomes music for old people.
working on: i admit to myself we no longer entertain, and my extra sets of dishes do not belong in the kitchen. but oh, i am not ready to let them go. i am packing them up and moving them into a storage closet.
in the garden: beans are coming along well, while a jersey devil tomato is warning me early - something is amiss. what a useful little weakling to have in the vegetable patch.
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