Sabbatical–Sort of

Dear Ones,
I am a wreck.
Yes, the blow of the election first…but now absorbing How It’s Going to Be is really taking its toll…
I ask my Trumpian friends please to pardon this point of view if it offends. I’m happy there are Americans who are truly rejoicing…it’s the right way. The American way. I just don’t happen to be among them.
Of course that was Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday. Friday/Saturday was a whole day lost to the trial run of a tart for special luncheon guests that came to disaster. A WHOLE DAY LOST! It was the pastry…numerous turns and chilling and rolling and the pastry was blah… And then the filling of the tart was horrible… Prepared from the recipe of a venerable cook—no finer–no kidding. I was shocked.
This second blow in one week took its toll.
Then yesterday I forget what happened. Oh yes, I finished a crucial chapter (of the novel). Bill said it was superb, the novel’s highpoint. After the effort of that work, I was in pieces. At four-thirty, went on my one-mile walk, couldn’t make the mile, cut the corner at one-half mile, came home, collapsed. I’d promised Vegetable Soup for supper. I couldn’t do it. Met Cameron coming out of the kitchen with something in his hand. “What’s that?” asks I. “A ham and cheese sandwich,” says he. “You made it for your supper?” “Yes.” “Oh, you wonderful boy, you wonderful boy!” and at 5:30 o’clock, I fell into bed.
Woke up at ten o’clock. Felt better, Bill was ready for bed, went back, fell into a stuporous sleep.
This morning, Bill and I decided that something’s got to give. And the something is this bit of self-indulgence. I cannot write a fine novel AND be a worthy partner to a 94-year-old husband AND meaningfully grandmother a 16-year-old grandson AND care and feed the aforementioned boys plus a 6 year-old female German Shepherd AND keep up with our farflung combined families AND manage an old house AND prosper my mother’s fifty-year-old bonsai AND tend an herb and vegetable garden AND have friends over once in a blue moon AND look after my creaky self (which now involves walking one mile each day, very important, I normally love it) AND create a tad of something interesting for this page once a week…
I just realized that much of the above are fruits of self-indulgence…I am a very lucky broad.
But at this point, these essays are the only aspect of my life that can reasonably be set aside for the time being.
So please check back periodically—likely after the New Year—and see if I’ve returned from my sabbatical.
In the interim, please have yourselves a meaningful Thanksgiving, a joyous Hanukkah, a happy Bodhi Day, a blessed Christmas, a festive Kwanzaa, a Very Happy New Year, and many Happy Birthdays and Anniversaries…
Till then, I remain your faithful, your grateful
Sylvia
P.S. Since I posted this, one thing led to another and as a consequence, my friend who guides me through these tricky pages will be reposting essays I’ve previously published. I will respond to any comments and queries, since they’ll arrive in my email. Thank you for stopping by and God bless…