Today was a blessedly restful shabbos: shul, lunch at shul, reading, a walk by Viele Lake. Someone had painted, beautifully, in black, one small word at a time, spaced by many yards from the next---
I am sure there are other words I have not yet discovered. I found them heartening, and received them in the spirit of shabbos.
The cats joined me for dinner. They both believe that whatever I am eating, from my plate on the table, is better than what I have put in their own bowls---even if I put portions of the same thing I am eating in those bowls, along with some cat food. Evidently it tastes better off my plate. (I think of this as the feline version of The Frog Prince: "Oh, but I want to eat off your little plate, and sleep in your little bed...")
When shabbos ended I sighed and went on line, and spent the rest of the evening reading, writing, signing...
I don't know if I can survive four years of this. The song "Waiting for the Miracle" worms its way in my head.
I have decided that tomorrow morning, after calling the family, I will walk. And then I will place the print-outs, at last, back on the desk, and invest the first few hours of the day in my own work. It may nourish and bolster my energies for the time I will later spend signing the daily petitions, making calls, and writing letters to congressmen.
Oh---and I will turn 68.
I wish us all a good week, and a few good surprises among the rest.