I sleep in just long enough to feel rested but not like I lost the morning.

Shower. Linen pants. Thin tee. I’ll clean first and get the laundry started. Ginger tea on the stove.

I find a lighter and set the sage, the hawk feather, malas, and the bowl from Jennette on the desk and then sit to meditate.

The smoke is thick. I start in the basement. I waft the smoke into the corners of every room and pray for peace, patience, and the return of good energies.

Another headache pressing against the back of the skull. I try to finish reading the cookbook anyway to distract myself. No, I should just close my eyes.

My miso is still simmering on the stove. I eat a bowl of chili. He’s right: the cinnamon. It's a surprisingly tasty addition. This might be the new chili standard in our home.

Bed and reading. Ginger and lemon tea. So many thoughts.

He’s worried about me.

Chicken Marsala. Pinot Noir for me and Rose for him. Brownies from a box. I promised her that tomorrow we’ll make the salted caramel pavlovas. I’m looking forward to that.

I write up the newsletter and schedule it for the morning. I haven’t written one in so long. I remember I got sick and then I got side-tracked by life. But, as I was telling her on the phone the other day, I feel like what will be best for my sanity is to get back to work. Just work like everything is normal, even though it’s not. To continue to fill my days with new projects and with a focus on the things I love doing instead of fretting everything that isn’t happening. And like he said, if the thing we’re most stressed out about is this house and this move, then we really are doing quite well considering.