When Life Imitates Art

I’m reading Sunrise on the Reaping, and in theory book, a train porter just brought in a tray of sandwiches, each one “loaded with a day’s wages of meat—fresh ham or roast beef or chicken cut thin and piled high.” The point of this passage is to show the constant calculus of poverty and the food insecurity it creates, part of the fabric of control that inequality weaves around the second-class citizens of the districts. 

But as I read the line, it hit me that this isn’t too far-fetched just now. 

Happy Labor Day.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Update of the Week

The Road to Mordor:

4.5 miles from Bag End. Cross the water over a plank bridge.

 

Out the window:
Up on the rooftop terrace, the pre-autumnal air whispered by, carrying moonlit secrets. 

I love this time of year.

On my smile:
Pinball league is back. 

On my Kindle: 
Absolutely nothing right now, despite having a ton of new titles that interest me. It’s been a long summer getting acclimated to the cognitive load at work.  

On the Roku:
Still more nothing. It is quite peaceful, actually.

On the menu:
The first delicata squash arrived, a sign that the season is turning. There were onions, too. I’ve been eating lighter fare most days, but the shift in the weather has me craving heartier fare. It’s starting to feel a lot like Shepherd’s Pie weather. Or at least a hearty soup.

On my To Do List:
More sound-dampening tiles

In the Crock Pot:
I have a beef roast that’s starting to call my name.

On the needle:
Not so much knitting going on lately.

On the wire
I'm enjoying my mild bout of technology fasting. It's liberating.

No words needed:

Lesson learned the past few days:

Wednesday is Rest Day

On my mind:
Flowers, because flowers.

Off the page:
“True happiness occurs only when you find the problems you enjoy having and enjoy solving. —Mark Manson

Into the Mystic

 

So yesterday I was writing about Demography of Families, strolling along at cruising altitude, when my brain broke. Honestly, it felt like a whole new injury -- eyes twitching, tongue spasms, vision dimming, dizziness, while nine yards. I set my notes aside and faceplates onto my bed with my eyes closed until the spasms stopped. I was a wreck. Clearly I was done thinking for the day. I ran a bath and meditated, letting my mind spin until it could rest finally. In the process, I got two cranky emails from Vivian's dad (wrote a reply to one and drafted a reply to the other; it can wait).

 

Today I was still wobbly, but I wrote the rest of the paper in small bites, with rest periods in between. I'm wiped out and emotion (crying jags were never my thing, but here we are in TBI land. Water is boiling for tea? Let's have a good cry! Opened the refrigerator, did you? Cry some more.🤷)

I dropped a note to my neurologist in case she wants to see me before our next appointment in November. Resting now. Watching Away on Netflix because I love Hilary Swank. (O look, astronauts! Grab a tissue!)

❣️