I must change my pacing.
Living in a city of about 2,500 at a weekly newspaper is significantly different than what I'm used to.
For instance, I have time to do personal things. But what?
I'll spend more time writing and when my stuff arrives from Indiana, I'll certainly cook more -- hell, a lot. I can't wait to have a grill again for the first time in years and have started a list of the critters I shall offer up to the flames.
Also, I will walk. There's a trail that nearly surrounds lake Hayward and in warmer weather -- which will hit in July -- in should be a lovely evening constitutional. Then maybe I'll do other than lifting items heavier than bratwurst. ("Heavier Than Bratwurst" is the new title of my autobiography.)
I will read, as I've started to get my beloved The New Yorker at my house now. I have books to finish and other books to begin.
I promise I will make strawberry freezer jam this year. I've missed that for years. That means I will make homemade bread, not in a machine but with my own gnarled fingers.
Huh. Sounds like this thing called "a life."
I might have to subscribe to Martha Stewart Living to find out how it's done.
Peace and freezer jam unto all of you my brothers and sisters.