Rescheduled my evening meeting into Saturday breakfast. So I am curled up, trying to stay warm, having made an early dinner of a sardine wrap with spicy mustard and onions. Yes, it was good, I can hear your white-person-critiques and I care not a bit.
But the thing is, I do. I am happy to say I do. I am happy to say that I had forgotten how fun it was to delight in someone's way of seeing things and to feel happy and not to feel like you're killing time or you should like this or that and to feel sort of greedy, like there isn't enough time in which to revel. Because I have been setting limits, pulling back reins, always being the one to be too busy or too tired or some other time. I am remembering (it has been years and years, really) what it is too be thrilled that something is constructed exactly thus. I am happy to leave all my talking-myself-intos behind if I am so lucky as to be able to do that.
Teaching again and feeling that perfect place to be feeling about that. Lots of new faces and quite a few familiar ones too. Two readings this semester. One daytime one to read creative non fiction or maybe fiction--I can't tell and a set of readings at night. Both on the same day in February. Strange that, but kind of fun, too.
I've been spring cleaning again. People-cleaning. Donating friendships that don't fit anymore. Or just bagging them up for now. There isn't enough time for all that I need to do and all that really matters to me and just now, I am choosing to imagine that a whole bunch more time will be given out to that which makes my days vibrant, delightful, full of light and color and so much laughter, I actually feel healthier--even on days when I am so sick I can barely speak on the phone and I am taken on winter-hike and suddenly feel better than I have in weeks.