It’s amazing what a difference the sun makes. Even though it’s still in the 40s outside, the sun is out and it feels like spring. I went for a run at lunch and came back feeling exhilarated and energized. Everyone on the sidewalks was smiling, either because of the sun or because today is opening day at Fenway. I’m all for baseball happiness, but my fingers are crossed that the T won’t be a madhouse for rush hour.
Months ago I talked about signing up for a pottery class…and I did. I made a few things that have been given to friends and while they are far from perfect, they were an improvement on what I made in pottery 10 years ago, so hey—progress! I’m in the second week of my second term and am trying to think about what I want to make this time. I’m really enjoying making things to give to people. Any requests?
There was this episode of Friends a million years ago in which Monica is trying to get over Richard and she decides to make a whole lot of jam. “Jam is my plan,” she says. Well, I’ve decided that gardening will be my plan for the spring and summer. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the efforts of our extremely domestic and industrious neighbors, or weighed down with the obligation to water water water the stupid garden, I’m looking forward to buying plants I like, making the garden look nice, and having a hands-on project where I can see the progress on a daily basis. This past Sunday I bought two lilac trees that I'll put in the ground tomorrow. Peonies! Ranunculus! Whee! I’m sure there’s something larger to the pottery and the gardening—-molding from the clay, as it were, or planting new life with my hands-- but right now I am loving the mindless creative part of these activities. Beats hibernating on the couch or sitting at Bloc 11 watching all the babies go by.
Scully went back to the vet today to get her teeth cleaned, but they couldn’t do the cleaning because she apparently has a heart murmur and an elevated white blood cell count. The vet thinks it’s thyroid-related and he did some blood tests that are being sent out. But oh my god, I am freaking out. I know she’s a cat, not a person, but she can’t not be ok. I’ve had her for almost 10 years and she is like a part of me. A loud, white, furry part whose absence would be crushing.