I wish I had more to say or more to write. Some clever words and musings. But nothing. It has been a rough week of battling a sore throat that seems to refuse to want to get better despite medication and enough tea and honey in my system that I'm now sweating the stuff. I swear my armpits smell like chai. Okay, that's just crass. But it's staying in here because, well, I'm tired and slightly annoyed and, frankly, don't care if I am crass or not.Later this week there is a bake sale. Brownies perhaps. Blondies for sure. Or maybe just cookies. Apples keep calling me. I picked up two at the farmer's market yesterday. One is already gone. Along with some celery, potatoes, a bell pepper, and some onion (for the honey home remedy ... yummy. Seriously).
I am surrounded right now by cookbooks (didn't I just complain I didn't have any more to say or write?) and I can't think of one thing to do with them. Actually, I'm surrounded by a number of books I can't lift a finger to flick. This is what happens when a normally active mind and body suddenly has to rest to take care of a throat that isn't getting any better anyway. A week wasted? Perhaps. More time wasted by bitching right now? Most definitely.
Here's a bit of wisdom on this rainy Sunday evening. Blah.
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