. 9am. I will not hurry through this day.
. I cobble together a breakfast of leftover sausage + pasta tossed with butter. Coffee. I make a grocery list.
. The offerings at the farmer’s market are shifting. Less tomatoes and peaches, more gourds and potatoes. Just another reminder that summer is leaving.
. Okra, sweet potatoes, zucchini, candy onions, feathery flowers.
. The fridge is restocked for the week ahead. This feels good.
. We meet at the gym. I’m glad to be there but I can’t stop yawning and lactic acid is burning everywhere. An app on my phone tells me I should be focusing on gentle exercises this week.
. She leads us off the paved path onto wood chips and dirt. I prefer this route much more.
. Sunday afternoons are for meal prepping. There’s a chicken salad, egg + chili cups, veggies for snacking on, bone broth in the slow cooker.
. “Many people become so obsessed with being “right” about their life that they never end up actually living it.” ~ The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck
. I work my way through more photos from Colorado. This part of the process feels overwhelming and I don’t enjoy it. I consider making a photo book at the end of this. How do professional photographers stay organized???
. The windows are up. There’s the smell of rain. A cool cross-breeze.