The Good, the Bad, and the Wobby

I had good days and wobbly days this week—but more good!—and the dizziness is finally gone. Tough to get anything done when the world is a carousel. How strong I am each day seems in part to depend on how much sleep I get. Sleeping has been extraordinarily difficult. 

Nina and I have been making good progress on my new poetry book and I still hope to get it all together and ready to submit in September.  She is wonderful to work with.

I am hoping to get into the garden this coming week. I’m sure my garden is overrun. Woody says the herb garden is in tough because of all the weeds but he still managed to pick plenty of thyme, sage, and rosemary for last night’s stew. Fortunately, I started a number of pots on the small front deck as a back-up where we can run right out and pick what’s needed: parsley, oregano, marjoram, basil and my little old bay tree. The rest—lovage, lavender, etc.—are all in there the herb garden somewhere, mostly under the towering sage plants.

We’re eating maincrop and tomatoes from Woody’s garden—so early this year; he picks them when they’re in blush so the creatures don’t get them—many zucchini, pattypan, frying peppers, a few Oriental eggplants (the rabbits love those). Savoy cabbages for the first time in years, too. We canned zucchini relish, something we use year-round on burgers, hotdogs, even with duck, on occasion. Woody will start picking pole beans tomorrow morning from the garden by the road. I should freeze pattypan puree this week. I should also dry catnip of which I have a bountiful crop waiting.

I have been reading my dear friend Kathy Boudin’s book of poems, soon to be published by City Lights. Her son Chesa is supervising the publication. They’re poems she wrote from prison and very moving, direct and honest. I’ll send off a blurb on Monday.

Healthwise, I still hit a wall now and then. I tried to do the personal laundry yesterday.  Putting in laundry to the top-loading washer was fine, but when I had to lean way forward to move wet clothes to the front-loading dryer, I fell forward and Woody has to get me out of the machine and back on my feet. Embarrassing and frightening.

I insist on cooking most nights and I’m enjoying it. Woody is a fine cook and has developed many specialties but I like my own cooking.

It’s been overcast frequently this summer, not just normal clouds but dangerous smoke from forest fires way north in Canada.  I’m sensitive to the fine particulates that are filling our air frequently. I Think of it as Canada’s revenge on Trump’s stupidity.