Bate Out

Yesterday the Everest of Banking, Library-ing, mailouts, and a grocery dabble (my curbside pickup is on strike) took place. Along with bed-changing, showering and dishwashing.

I didn't count the spoons.

The library had what they called a "soft opening". The librarians were behind plexi-glass but encouraged shelf browsing. I didn't. It was all I could do to pick up the three books they had on hold for me. But delighted I am with these as I was running a little low on my stockpile and that creates panic and you don't want to be around that.

I managed to cruise a little island inside the grocery store which had those display items of non-matchy things. Like grapes beside beef-rolls and lemon meringue pie beside spinach dip. All of which I bought as I felt like I was on death's door and couldn't move beyond this island of ill-matched goods. So yes, now I have a large thingie of cabbage rolls too and a chicken pot pie for a family of farmers and assorted little cheeses and oh 8 Portuguese rolls.

But I'll stretch the magnificent melange out into a semblance of kinda sorta meals.

I was sitting on the only bench outside the checkout area when a friend tinged and said she was in the grocery store and did I need....?

She came wandering out in surprise and told me I looked like death warmed up. Just what I wanted to hear.

So I got home, finally. A sad, trudging, and deathlike carapace of a human. Only to hear news that an old friend in Ontario had died after 3 years of awful and relentless cancer.

So I did what you would do, crawled into bed and stayed there. Thinking of times past and grieving and then thinking reach out to some younger people. Which I did. And they sent me pictures of completed projects and flowers.

But I'm still bate out as I type. Bate out? An Irish expression. Finished. Can't lift the pinky for a cuppa.

But hell, yes, we march on.

Amuse-Bouche
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