I'm getting to scrub in again. This makes me very happy. I'm rusty and slow, not smooth and assured again, yet. Getting better, though. Making progress, pushing myself as fast as I can, so that I feel strong and capable very soon. I have found the love for my work again. It was gone this last year, more. Had been eroding longer, with occasional days of bright joy that could no longer illuminate my whole job. These past four weeks have been so hopeful, with all the frustrations and exhaustions. I have been tired, putting all my energy into this without stint, doing the prep, paying up front. I will find my sustainable pace in time.
Writing has suffered, but bloggers are all on vacation anyway.
Tomorrow is Pioneer Day here in god's country. There is a parade, but it's always searing hot, and it's not as fun as the year all the pioneers on the floats were in gold lamé, with unintentional rocket symbolism. They've gone slick and trite, and lost the kitsch, sadly. In 1847, they came through a long canyon through mountains, spotted a flat valley that used to be part of the bottom of Lake Bonneville. I am always awestruck seeing the paths taken across huge harsh country by people on foot. The Rocky Mountains are not to be trifled with.
Am thinking of some sort of alphabetical series of essays, or memes. Just to get back in the habit of daily writing.