Everyday, I wake up and know that I should be journaling. First thing. However, I end up, brushing my teeth and already my mind is racing. My mind is screaming coffee and so I make my way to the kitchen, hoping, that my friend has already began that process. Sometimes, she has. Other times, not. Either way, the mandatory morning coffee takes precendence over everything else.
Again, I remember that I should be journaling. It helps tap into creativity which I can always utilize. Or, taking the censorship off of my blogging. I should free write but this rarely occurs. The unaccustomed initial thing in the morning would help me let go of some of my inhibitions. Tomorrow, maybe, I will get around to it. I will sleep with the journal next to my pillow, refuse the coffee and attempt three pages of nonsense. I wonder if I could actually accomplish this for a week.
I have a slight cold from my brief stint in Mexico. Typically, my immune system is in good shape. I am healthy, I drink tons of water and sleep a lot. When I returned to the States, I took a brief departure from my normal health regime. Less sleep, more wine and was unable to kick the cold. A massage helped bring everything to the surface and now I am waiting for it to leave. More olive of oregano, garlic and water. No wine for the time being. Sad. Very sad, but necessary.
Last night we had a smorgasborg of leftovers and salad. I feel so domestic and it reminds me of my childhood. My mom or dad would prepare a meal and we would gnaw on the leftovers until they were no more. I remember hating some of their creations and unhappy with this practice. They were relentless and unwilling to change their beliefs. Goulash would be our dinner for up to three nights and no, it didn't get better with age. I think my mom still does this. My sister, Jade, mentioned that her kids found this practice unfair, too. Last summer they spent five weeks with grandma and realized they were not fans of her meal plans.
Still, I have utilized some of this in my domestic bliss. Preparing a meal takes time. I am not interested in throwing out the leftovers after one sit down. Especially if it is awesome. My friends are on the fence with it. For instance, tonight, I am trying to incorporate ground turkey into a pasta dish. Last week, they grilled turkey burgers and my friend said the turkey was awful. In her mind, that is it. She didn't like it, she won't like it, why make something with it? I told her I would doctor it up and see. Her response, I will bring home take-out.
I do not doubt this. However, I am determined to give it a go. Why not? What is there to lose? One meal, perhaps, but I might as well try it out.
Tomorrow, I will begin, again, and hopefully, incorporate the first thing journaling into my routing. Also, hoping that my cold is kicked and that I can seek out wine again. I miss it~