My first week of my newly advanced age could have gone better. Spent that first week wobbly, perhaps orthostatic. My daughter came from Oakland for my birthday and Passover, which is always a treat, though with a few elements of strain woven into an overwhelming fabric of pride. I could not do treadmill. Pesach preparation took its toll. I committed myself to submitting two decent articles to editors, both promptly rejected. Missed my only OLLI session of the semester, partly from logistics of Passover and daughter visit, partly from fatigue, partly from marginal interest. My nurtured indoor starter plants all fizzled when I put them out into the sunshine. I even stopped keeping a daily list of projects I planned to do each day. Tough week. Not cheerful.
But the cycles of nature go on. Next birthday less than another year away with prospects for recapturing the path to fulfillment, if not pleasure. I still have the articles to revise for another purpose. Returned to the treadmill and my full goal intensity after the week's layoff. Pesach on autopilot mostly. Daily list back in action. I can buy vegetable starters from the local nursery. Still not restored to cheerful, but not despondent either. Probably emerging from a week's languis
hing.
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