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St. Stephen

Last week I got an email from Aunt M in Seattle.  Apparently, she noticed that I hadn’t posted anything in a while, and since I recently had surgery, she had grown worried that my lack of blogging might be due to something distressing, rather than just being busy and the fatigue of recovery.  So she thought she’d check.  It was very sweet.  I replied at once so that she wouldn’t worry, and then looked at my blog and realized that it really had been a while since I’d put anything up.  I resolved instantly to fix that.  But, you know, life got in the way, and then Christmas happened, and it was another week before I finally got around to actually typing something out.  Regardless, I offer this blog post as positive proof that I am still alive and pretty much well.  In case any of you were worried.  And all.

Truthfully, it really has just been being busy and the fatigue of recovery that has kept me from posting.  Going back to work full time last week thoroughly kicked my butt.  I’m still working at hauling my energy level up from the depths, as it sulks and whines and tries to make dashes back into total slothfulness.  At the end of the day, forming coherent sentences, much less an entire blog post, is too much to hope for.  But little by little I’m making it through.  I get so frustrated when I can’t do everything I think I really ought to do, but the truth is that I am regaining more of my strength and energy every day.

One of the complicating factors has been that, about a week before my surgery (right in time for Thanksgiving), I lost my appetite.  I just don’t really want to eat anything anymore.  I get hungry, and I know that I will feel better if I eat something, but nothing looks good, or seems worth the effort to cook it.  No matter what I eat, my stomach doesn’t like it much, so it’s a Catch 22 anyway.  The only things that seem to sooth my irritable digestion are the most ridiculously bland foods out there: very plain soup with noodles, cornmeal mush, bread spread with Greek yoghurt, toast and broth.  It reminds me of antique cookbooks with their pages of food for invalids: beef tea, tapioca concoctions, and eggs prepared a dozen different fiddly ways.  But even those foods take effort to make, so most of the time I don’t.  On the plus side, I’m now fitting comfortably into a pair of jeans that I set aside two months ago to be made into a skirt because they were far too small.  On the negative, I suspect that my energy levels would improve quite a bit if I were eating normal meals.  So my stomach and I are entering into negotiations on the topic of cottage cheese and crackers, and may achieve a detente soon.

In the meantime, we have been enjoying a rather quiet family Christmas.  Everyone is a bit worn out after the exertions of Thanksgiving, so it’s been nice to take it a little easy.  I’ve gotten some lovely presents (including my very own DVD of The Great Race from Lucy and The Auteur, which was wonderful), and given a few as well.  The main Family Gift Giving won’t be until this weekend.  My big present this year is a felt doll for Fleur, the same pattern as the one I made for Honey last year.  The doll itself is done, but the dress needs a little more ornamentation to be really ready.  I have a few more presents to make, but there’s plenty of time to make them.  It’s all been very laid back and low-stress, most nontraditional!  But maybe we’ll start a new tradition.

In the meantime, we haven’t any snow, but it is the Feast of Stephen, and it’s plenty cold, so it’s time to sing about our favorite charitable King with heat-producing footprints: