I write like a jazz musician would play, waiting for the notes to tell me where to go next. I used to write raw; there was blood in-between the lines. Now it is not so much a tragedy as improv.
Christmas is an event that happens without my taking much notice of it. Grief has said its blessing over my work and allowed me to move on, incorporating the emotions into the paragraphs.
Today I decided I had better start doing more exercises to stay even nominally fit. So I got down on the floor and stretched and then did some Tai Chi. I ran up and down the stairs twice and then I sat back down. Whew.
My weight is where I would like it to be. An egg and half an orange for lunch. Tonight I am making chili.
This is not a news flash, but at some point I will leave the blog. As long as I am keeping on keeping on, I would greatly appreciate a Christmas Donation. If you have already contributed, please ignore this!
Rob and I will overeat on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and then we will be happy to wave it goodbye.
And thank you for your support!