It’s International AIDS day. I should say something profound and inspirational but nothing leaps to mind other than the day reminds us HIV is not ‘beat’ but still around and we musn’t grow weary from attrition. It is the task of the living to make meaningful the ordeals of the dead. I pause on this day to think of patients and friends, past and present, who have/had AIDS/HIV.
1st December is the start of the annual hysteria about Christmas; I’ve done little to nothing in preparation for it. Alas, I am one of those who doesn’t see gift buying and exchange as a pleasure but an anxious task with an ominous headline. This year is it complicated by travel to MI. Do we buy the Christmas prizes there, or ship them ahead of us, or pack them in our luggage? I need to corner Someone to clarify our battle plans.
Yesterday I came home to find all the furniture turned up and onto the beds; Someone did the annual shampooing of the rugs. The house has a clean soapy smell to it – cool too, for the ceiling fans were on to dry things up. We three had to all pile into the guest room bed as the master bedroom was wet. I did something I haven’t done in a long while: I woke at 2AM wide awake and could not go back to sleep. I daresay it is the emotions about the news. I worry my mental health is going to pop a tether in the next four years. There is some comfort I am not alone on this.
Spo-fans may be interested to know I signed up for Twitter. Turns out I already had an account but I forgot about it. I signed on in 2008! I am now getting fustian words via Haggard Hawks tweets and I am pleased as punch.
Twice I have made crockpot Vindaloo (one pork, the other lamb). These turned out OK. I haven’t gotten the recipe down to the type I get at the restaurants. I feel assured to branch out into more Indian cooking soon. This is fun.