a dry martini on a windy night

i thought i was just being lazy, then i noticed i had a fever (when a thermometer seems like a fun way to pass the time, wonder). 101.

so i took me back to bed with my roommate's herbal fever blend, and found a playlist on youtube of all the different versions of "fever". the cramps' version wins out. wow. cool. special mentions go to ann margret for most amusing dancy version, ray charles for hottest, and a live version of elvis singing and meeping for most improvement. i think i've run across elvis the way many people first run across the grateful dead: studio-recorded songs are less impressive, seek out the live albums.

or maybe it was the fever?

today i feel host to a sore throat. ahead of me, lying in wait, is the weekly farmers' market trip for household groceries and a major event to be very active ('thon-style active) and supervisory at. i have to admit, i wish i was happily anticipating more of it. i would likely feel that way if the day held only one or two of those things. i have nothing to say to the sore throat i'm not already saying in herbal format.

each of the wild moments and adventures of the past three weeks floats back through my active memory: training a new person at work to prepare for my leaving, taking a solo journey on the train, hiking up a mountain and letting go of a relationship i've held central to my life for more than half of it, roadtripping to a wedding and acting as maiden of honour, engaging in exploration i'd been fearfully ignoring for a few years, leaving my job... and curating an art show before all of that... i see why my immune system might need to reset. better now than at the wedding.

what does love look like? slowing down. focusing. touching the heart of the matter. in this case, my own heart. slowly, with focus, touching my own heart.