After teaching a quick, but difficult, summer session, working on a project, and then traveling to Oregon (twice) and Las Vegas, I’m finally back home and feeling out of sorts. Traveling and running around is hard on me. I thrive on a routine.
My visited home this time were necessary and good, but always leave me torn between my family and my own life outside of them, outside of Oregon. I wish I would launch headfirst into writing. I have a creative project that’s been stewing for awhile now, but I just don’t feel like it. Instead, I’ve been tinkering, resting, taking it easy. Tonight I made my first batch of pesto with basil that I’ve grown on my porch this summer. It was delicious.
Also, my car is giving me trouble again. A parking lot mishap coupled with an (occasional) problem starting the car has discouraged me. I mean, it runs, but I never know when it’s going to take ten minutes to start. I’ve got some reading material in the back of the car just in case I need to wait. I was hoping to get 200,000 miles out of this car. I’ve already had it for 10 years. But, I’m feeling discouraged. I need to take it to the shop, and that means spending too many hours on the internet at the nearby McDonalds while I wait. So, I’ve been ignoring it and walking everywhere instead.
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