Too few fingers

Why, yes.

I woke up at 5:30 today. By 6:30, I had decided it was time to make soup. So I went to the kitchen and started chopping stuff up. Two bowls: hard longer-cooking things like carrots and squash and apples; and softer things like zucchini and mushrooms and corn. Cans of beans and tomatoes. Un-chicken broth. Onions and peppers. I make it up as I go.

So I was going until I hit the squash, and it was all brown in the inside. And I need squash, because it’s like the potato when you don’t eat potatoes. I decided to go to the farmer’s market. Then I realized that they wouldn’t have squash at the farmer’s market, but I decided to go anyway, because the farmer’s market rules. And what else are you going to do at 7am on a Saturday? There’s coffee and walking and the farmer’s market. Which is exactly what I did.

At the farmer’s market, I bought no produce at all. There were lots of fresh vegetables, but all the fruit looked like it came off Dole trucks. That was fine, though. I looked at the clothes and artwork and embroidery and flowers. I talked to some girls about Hindu art. I watched a guy in a funny leather hat playing the banjo. I ate a scone. I watched a local news station taping a segment about garden decoration, featuring products by one of my clients. I bought jewelry. I’m not a big jewelry-wearer, but I’m a sucker for unique things. There was a booth selling antique Indian enamel rings. I fell in love. Another one had a million silver rings. Some women were excited over these spinning rings; I said, ‘Hey! I have one of those!’ and showed them. I told them I loved it because I play with my rings all the time. The vendor said, ‘Oh, those are called worry rings!’ All of a sudden, I realized how vastly appropriate I was that I had it.

The problem now is that I now have more rings than fingers. This is a dilemma, indeed.

After the farmer’s market, I went to Whole Foods for the vegan grain meat I eat on a sammich every single day I’m at work, and Emergen-C. Because, for the love of god, I have a cold again. I’m not the slightest bit happy about it. However, I refuse to let it slow me down, because I’ve found that if you keep moving and ignore it, it will sit quietly in the background and not bother you much, at least until it gets on toward evening and your head fills up like a mucous-balloon.

Since I can be reasonable when forced to, I do allow myself to take a day off from the gym when my greatly-reduced lung capacity threatens to render me unconscious if I work out too hard. Believe me, I learned that the hard way. I am not yet to that point, though, so today I walked six miles. I wanted to do 9, but I’m feeling as if that would likely kill me right now.

On the first three of those miles, I ran into four girls who were also doing the Breast Cancer 3-day. I high-fived them, because they are my comrades. The second half occurred this afternoon, after I passed out in my bed, gasping for air. I forced myself up and out of the house, and it was good for me. Then I had to stop at the store to buy two boxes of Kleenex. I’m wondering now it that’ll be enough to last the night.

Actually, I’m wondering if I’m even going to last the night. I’m going to go lay down now.

Jenni