Campestral

Fascinating how the presence of a single word – a word altogether new to me, a word I can’t recall ever having seen written anywhere before just now – can thrill me and change my mood so entirely that I can’t even imagine naming this post what my first impulse was:  The Drop-Off.  Campestral is much prettier, suddenly I’m painting in mental greens and everything is English and brookside and summery and far away from an icy mountain at which I’m flailing about at its bottom.

Day 2 is always hard after a generally good Day 1.  This is why all these business coaches started writing about what happens after you have a great start or launch in your company.  How do you do more better at the same time maintaining and not slipping from where you were? (These are my references these days, sorry, it’s all Blue Ocean Strategy from this point on.)  All of which is compounded by the fact that this whole rig is piloted by me, a girl, a lady who generally forgets to come in out the rain.  I have so much hopes and energy and sometimes there’s just reach way exceeding grasp.  Doesn’t mean it’s not a good idea or a good plan.  I just need a breath to make sure that everything breakable stays on the cart I’m careening around.

I cooked food last night that was good.  I tracked it and was exorbitantly pleased with myself for my organizing and following the materials I’d put together to help me and check, check, check, day 1 in the can, suddenly, I’m going to be slender.  Not precisely?  But close enough.  Then I wake up this morning with a blistering headache and feeling like I’d been running through fields of molasses all night and I come to the kitchen to collect my perfectly portioned brussel sprouts and delicious butternut squash and parmesan ravioli and fuck me if they aren’t sitting there in their containers waiting to be put away like I promised I would last night.  DAMN, I was pissed.  Well, I was as irritated as I get these days about it.  Day 2! The glorious triumph, crushed.  Then, everything felt pear-shaped and slow and if anyone at work cared where I was or wasn’t, it might have
Still, we do some important things.  I called a new dentist and have an appointment in two weeks and I even went so far as to ask to be put on the waitlist.  Bit irritated that I’d have to feel this shittiness while I’m on vacation, but I needed to do something and as my therapist says, this is hard for you, so it’s great when you find the strength to try.  So, yeah, I’m a bit proud of that.
I also had a challenge today to work on an old story.  Still going to try and pull it out if I can.  Only so much in a day, but I’m feeling far more positive now that I’ve eaten and I’m locked down into not eating again until morning – nothing to prowl for.
I need the time back, to write and read and put away dishes, so off I go, but thank you, day 2, for linking me to the future where I’ve done this.  For pushing me out, safe and secure, into the impossible dream.

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