I Am The Frog

I assume we all know the apologue about the frog and hot water. A frog dropped in boiling water jumps out. A frog sitting in cold water that is slowly heated eventually boils to death. This is what I mean when I say I am the frog.

I got a pacemaker on August 19th; it was desperately needed, and I probably should have started the process sooner than I did. Have I mentioned that I am also a master of denial? You can trust me to not realize I am in hot water until I am about to be submerged.

Needless to say I am still here and I am feeling rather cheerful. I don’t yet know where I am going with this blog but for now I shall share three things from the last week.

Twice-blooming rhododendron, Marshy Point’s Humdinger, has opened for its fall season.

Despite the heat dome, I am getting small bouts of garden work in, mostly in the early mornings. Although much is overgrown, I see the foundations of the work done previously are mostly intact. This gives me hope.

I’ve also been working on various things around the house. I refreshed, reorganized, and sorted through the spice cabinets. Yes, I have a large collection of spice. Yes, I use most of them, although there are about six jars that have been placed in spice purgatory, on a “use it or lose it” list. Even that sounds fun as it means I will have to cook, and playing in the kitchen is one of my favorite things.

Speaking of cooking, I made a large batch of chicken congee and froze it in individual portions. I usually eat eggs in the morning, but sometimes a warm bowl of porridge is just what I want. It seems my idea of porridge has changed. I loved cream of wheat as a child, but now I know I cannot eat that. Somehow I’ve discovered I love congee more than I love oatmeal. Perhaps it just suits my preference for something savory over something sweet. Not that I don’t occasionally make questionable choices, after all, or have occasional sweet cravings. I did have a slice of chocolate cake for breakfast last week.,

I feel no need to increase my social activities. In fact I need to shut the door on the world more. Gardens and eggs and piles of fabric and yarn. Does that leave anything to write about?

I don’t know.