Chemical Sunday

There is so much happening at once, in so many different veins, I don't know what to post. Should I post about our choral group's holiday concert yesterday, for family and friends? It was a lot of fun and well attended, and my friend Leslie said she couldn't tell when I was faking the high notes, which I didn't do much, only when it counted! And I have a distinct memory this morning of how happy I felt to look out into the audience and see my husband sitting there, singing along, nodding his head and smiling.

Should I write about the Black Lives Matter Millions March in New York City yesterday? It was huge! I wish I'd been there to add my voice and my presence, but I was singing happy holiday songs while it was happening, which I suppose is as good a use of one's voice as any. But really the march was spectacular, and everyone was there, all descriptions of humans. The diverse surge of people stretched for more than a mile and lasted late into the night as people bonded with one another and affirmed our common humanity. Many of my friends attended. Their photos on Instagram this morning are deeply moving.

Should I write about how disgruntled I am feeling this morning, for reasons not quite clear to me. Maybe it's the mess in the kitchen and the fact that no one else seems to feel the need to clear the dishwasher. I think I might just leave that mess there for a while. I don't feel like cleaning up the kitchen in a mood of poisonous resentment. I need to get back to not really caring first. In the scheme of things, this is petty, I know.

Oh wait. My husband is doing the clean up. I think he might have sensed my mood when I walked into the kitchen just now. God, I do love him. He doesn't deserve this crabbiness.

But why this mood? Maybe it's the fact that after losing 50 pounds and keeping it off for many months (though I have been stalled and not losing any more for all those months), I have been creeping back up ever since my trip to Jamaica, and I am now up 8 pounds and I feel somewhat desolate about it. I am committing right here, right now to get back on track, which I am resolved will have to include regular gym visits. The gym is in the basement of my apartment building, for heaven's sake. I don't even need to brave the elements to get there.

I also saw video from the concert yesterday, including the side view of me walking onto the stage, and ooooh boy! I might have lost 50 pounds (now 42) but I sure have a loooooong way to go! Man, that was a depressing image.

Plus my head hurts and my shoulders and all my joints ache this morning. What the fuck is up with me? Life is good. It really is. So why do I feel like crying?

My daughter comes home in two days. And then she and I are traveling to San Francisco together for a work jaunt. She plans to explore the city on her own on the Friday when I am working. She loves exploring new cities on her own. And then we'll stay until Sunday and have some fun together. I am really looking forward to this trip with her even though I first have to get through the dreaded packing and getting myself to the airport.

(Repeat three times. Life is good.)



Photo: Cori Murray