•burrow•

Somehow, I've figured out a way to burrow...
...into the chaos and get shit done. Call it muscling down, or carving out time, or powering through--whatever it is, stuff is happening. I have a job. I bicycle. I keep a blog. I spend time with friends. I'm raising a child. I'm living a life.

It's not all awesome. I'm not getting everything done I want. The essays... the kids' cd... the sewing... the early mornings that are constantly sliding through my sleepy fingertips. Oy. However, with the help of fluoxetine (and, I'd like to think, my three-year-old Zen master), I am finally able to push past that ambitious, Virgo-y voice in my head. The "not-good-enough" voice. It's still there, but I'm finally louder. I'm no longer bound to do its stupid bidding before writing, or cooking, or playing with Penn. Yes, the kitchen is a mess. And I shoved that mess aside last week, so I could make granola and french onion soup. At the same time, actually.

It's like this blackberry gin soda I'm drinking: Yes, it would be a better cocktail with lime and fresh blackberries. But it's fine with lemon. And the burnt-blackberry simple syrup I made from some pie-filling I "thawed" last week? It works. I also still managed to make a blackberry pie with figs, in spite of the blackened pot. Not a bad way, overall, to toast the last bit of fruit from last year's forages.

Carve out some time. I may not be on the extreme level that would satisfy my ridiculous standards, but. I am doing it. I'm here.