I met Tammy and Ginger downtown yesterday for a girls morning out. While we were sitting at Macrina, the sun came out. I didn't know how much I needed that. I wondered aloud to Yancey the other night if I might have a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)--the affliction lots of Puget Sounders get in the middle of winter. You, reader, mostly see my more sprightly self here, but Yancey's expert opinion is that I've been a little down lately. Maybe it's the Haiti earthquake. Or maybe it's that Guantanamo isn't likely to be closed anytime soon, or that 100,000 people in Washington state will lose their Basic Health if the governor's budget passes. It's strange to remember this time a year ago, right after Obama's inauguration, when we were cavalierly throwing around words like "hope" and "change." I still have hope, and I still believe change is possible, but all this dreary gray crap doesn't help.
In the middle of SAD, there are some things that have made me glad this week.
Bellingham. The kids and I had a day with my mom and dad in Bellingham--the blessed Bagelry, Henderson's Books, hanging out in my parents' warm kitchen reading cookbooks and drinking champagne.
Seed packets. Xiao Yu says I can plant them after President's Day. Radishes, spinach, carrots, and red kale. Really? Are we getting that close to spring? I'm ready for some Easter radishes.
Avocados. Can anyone tell me when avocado season is? Wikipedia says their season is now year-round, but they've sure gotten cheaper and better lately. In the morning, I've been squishing them onto toast with olive oil and aleppo pepper. Their beautiful bright green batters SAD up a bit.
New glasses. My old pair was the wrong prescription, and so scratched I could hardly see through them. Thanks to our new insurance through Yancey's job, I am seeing clearly. So thankful.
Living. Yancey and I are going to hear the David Rawlings Machine with John next week. Listening to David and Gillian Welch together is heartbreaking--so deeply sad and lovely at the same time. And he's one hell of a songwriter. This, from the tiny desk concert yesterday: It's not a movie, no private screening/This method acting, I call it living. There's no way around it. We've just got to do it, whether it's gray or sunny; whether we're SAD or glad. It's called living.