After intermittently complaining about chest pains for most of my adult life, I finally looked sick enough the first Saturday in April to convince someone that I needed to be seen. The Emergency Department wasn't impressed--and doctors literally said that to me--until a blood test came back "not negative" and showed some damage had been done when I reported being nauseous, dizzy, and light-headed. Long story short (if only because I don't want to have to relive that weekend), it's probably something called a microvascular dysfunction. More angina (chest pains) than heart attack, but it can definitely take the wind out of you.
Since then, I've been binging on the eye- and mind-candy I've been trying to get away from since the end of last year: lots of Instagram, lots of Netflix. It also took me, no joke, about five weeks to be able to crack open a Donna Leon mystery (or anything else), but so far I don't have the same kind of voracious appetite to read that I used to.
The episode forced me to come to terms with the things I really want to do. I want to blog about food, both recipes that my family can eat and my thoughts on food justice. I want to talk about fitness. I want to document my gardening. I want to talk about tidying. I want to be more fun--but I also want to be more serious when the need arises (like now). In other words, prepare for this space to reflect me as a fully fleshed individual, and not just someone who writes about writing.
But speaking of writing, yes, I still am! I'm over 110,000 words into this epic and people, I'm not even halfway through. I'm overwhelmed with what I put in front of myself, I'm terrified about all of the work I'll need to do to make sure everything is pulled together, and I'm still really excited. So, you know, same as every other project!
That's all for now. Until later, please enjoy the roses from my community garden. (Gosh, what a difference a little bit of deadheading last year made...)