T.

How easily we move through the universe, how often
thoughtlessly, until a muscle contorts, slowing
every inch forward, every twist. Awoke two nights ago
unable to roll over in bed. Could sit straight up
just fine. The clenched muscle affected specific
movements. Today I rejoice in every step.
(Muscle still clenched, but I'm more aware
than I was two days ago, more present to the body
and the air through which it moves.)

-----

I was uninspired to cook dinner last night until
D. at work mentioned that he was making a ginger
cake for his dessert. Just that mention of ginger
set off in me an hour-and-a-half cooking/baking/sauteeing
frenzy: campanelle with cheddar sauce, fire-roasted tomatoes
and diced hot chili's; kale sauteed with a onions, garlic
and a hint of bacon (hint as in 1 tsp. bacon fat [it's
not gonna kill you!]); peeled fresh carrots from Dungeness Farm;
apple sauce (I found Jonagolds at MacPherson's last week
for 59c/pound) and ginger bread. (Why is it called ginger bread?
This was most cake-like.)
The house smelled like a party.
Smelled like happiness.