Well, not exactly silence. I am, after all, writing words which (unless you read out loud) are sounding in your mind.
But “silence” applies, at least in my small world. Oh, there are sounds: the little shhhhhh of the space heater fan that’s warming my feet and legs and the rather ferocious March roar of the wind outside the open window (even though, yes, it’s actually April. It’s lion-like out there today). Then there’s the soft ticking of the keyboard as I type, and the susurrus of snores from the beasties on the bed, enjoying a nice Sunday snooze.
But there’s no shattery blare of noise and yackety-yakking from the television. No one is blasting industrial-techo-rock on the stereo. Still, I wouldn’t mind a little music; just something soft and melodic. Background, to stimulate creativity. Perhaps something classical. Mozart would fit this quiet spring Sunday, with its lowering, tonal gray sky and blustering wind that smells of rainstorms. There will be more snow in the mountains above us tonight and tomorrow, but nothing more than sideways rain here. The rapid change in the weather and the barometric pressure has made my hands and wrists cranky, but I’m fighting back with tramadol and my Spidey gloves. No complaints.
I like silence. I like the soft peace of it.
As I did my morning ablutions I noticed that my face is ruddier than usual. In fact, I have an elongated triangle of redness on my skin below my eyes, right at the crest of each cheek. I looked at them, blinking. Triangular-shaped. Is that a butterfly rash? Ack! Lupus!
Then I caught hold of myself, reining in my too-vivid imagination. Nooo, silly wabbit. It’s a little sunburn. You’ve spent a goodly number of hours in the garden these last few days, soaking up the bright, cool spring sunshine. And were you mindful? Did you rub your SPF-50 sunscreen into your skin? No and no. I wore a hat and sunglasses and sleeves to my elbows, and jeans, but that was the most I did to protect my pale Scandahoovian skin from UV rays.
Of course I got a little sunburned. Pale skin plus rheuma meds make a girl look ruddy.
Nevertheless, back at my computer I googled “lupus symptoms” and looked at photos of the telltale butterfly rash that’s one of the disease’s trademarks. Heh. I don’t have lupus. But I do read too much.
Matt is marinating a big, 3-inch-thick tri-tip steak in the ‘fridge; it’s his favorite meal, so that’s what our Sunday evening supper will be, all broiled up medium-rare and sizzling. I’ve been trying to think of something to go with it, since I’m feeling chef-ish today. A salad, sure. But also something hearty and vegetable-y that I can disguise as not-good-for-you, since he religiously avoids foods that have vitamins or fiber in them, and I know he won’t eat any salad. It makes me smile that even though my daughter and her young man are adults, I’m still searching for ways to trick them into eating nutritious foods. When Cary was a little slip of a girl, I’d add a tin of mixed vegetables to her Kraft macaroni and cheese. She barely noticed …
Wow. I just thought of what I’ll make to go with that tri-tip!
Here’s hoping you all have a lovely, pain-free, quiet and enjoyable Sunday, filled with laughter and rest before the workweek begins. Namasté.