Sometimes, I don’t know when I’m hungry or tired.
Mum always has. I get scratchy. There was one memorable Queenstown holiday as a very little person which I have logged as “the one where I ate all the tomatoes on arrival”.
I’ve been scratchy since – hmm, September 4? (Intermittently of course, as have we all. It certainly was at its worst up until Christmas. Things began to improve markedly after that point.)
Facebook discussions have today included the effect of chronic fatigue. My take on it is we’re all suffering from it so what the hell – go for it.
Exercise helps to trigger sleep. So does just the right small amount of wine, heat, certain other things I shall not name, and the kind of peace you find alone with the world’s best dog on the misty hills above Christchurch.
Yesterday’s run in the clouds (the accidental half marathon) followed by the aftershock that knocked out the power, followed by a few hours out pubbing (first time a stranger has ever bought me a drink because “I think you’re doing a great job” – and nothing more than that, wow!) and I was ready for a big sleep. Found the secret weapon, I think. Nurofen. The shoulder I stuffed in August (seriously ACC, I know we’re skint but I fell on the bugger – please accept my claim!) has not stopped hurting. It’s been waking me at night, but the nurofen last night meant I had enough pain relief to carry me through.
I did wake for the something o’clock aftershock, but then went back to sleep. There was another at something else o’clock – again, back to zzz country.
The alarm went off at 8 for my 9.30 run at McLeans – bliss.
Running buddy Chris & I had grand plans to do another half marathon after last Sunday’s first endeavour. He had a cold, I had run one yesterday. Meet the feebles. The dogs at least ran fluently. I did 11k of interval training, he did a fabulous impression of Thomas the Tank Engine. It was not a pretty sight.
Add to that it was the first time in my whole life since I was perhaps 7 that I left the house without having drunk a cup of coffee. (I know, I know – I started young. Does this really surprise you?) I poured it, into my travel mug. I left it on the bench. I must have been tired. That’s like leaving the house with no shoes on.
Soon I was praying for rain just so I could drink something. The puddles looked tempting as the sky held it together.
McLeans is just beautiful for running, even when you’re sore and tired and parched. The dogs run free, the tracks are lovely – more like this please, much much more.
We quit early after just one lap and he gave me advice as to where I could buy dog food, Pepper nearly being out. He was wrong. I sighed. Turned the other cheek (and the other direction) and discovered a vet open at the top of Cranford Street.
I feed Pepper one of the dog foods you buy at the vets. Her coat is lovely. It’s all about the fat level – she needs what I don’t. What that girl can do to bacon dripping is just extraordinary. Friend in Avoca Valley tells me there is a PAT programme in Auckland – we will have to start it here. Her cuddle instinct is so strong it is a shame to let it go to waste.
And being thoroughly opportunistic, I had her microchipped. I’m not quite sure how old she is, but as a farm dog she didn’t need to be chipped so it’s been one of those things on my to-d0-list – and now it’s done. It didn’t bother her at all, and the best part – due to the earthquake – pets are being done for free, even cats! (Given Zorro’s propensity for shutting herself in other people’s garages it might not be a bad idea. I can hear Fang fleeing just at the writing of the idea.)
Came home, cold and wet. Lit the fire. Texted my friend in Dunedin, laughing, purring, feeling like this cold wet autumn is just a breath away from a beautiful spring. Sat down on the couch for a second – and did the unthinkable.
You need to understand, I do not nap. I cannot nap. Napping are not us. It was only the driving rain and the howling wind that woke me, otherwise I’d still be there.
“You must have needed it,” said Dad who rang about a minute after I awoke. “Must have needed it,” Mum concurred.
It was wonderful. If I hadn’t been cold I would not be blogging now.
Instead, I woke as if to a new day. Cleaned the fridge. Made soup. (The two things are only somewhat linked). Put away my laundry. Tidied my room. Brought in firewood. Handwashed the dishes. Cleaned the kitchen. Wondered why my fridge started hissing after yesterday’s aftershock and what I should do about that. Brought the chemical toilet inside and read the instructions. It hasn’t helped. I need Chris to come home from his father’s (school holidays seem to have arrived a week early) so he can explain to me where the newly delivered sachets go – or else I shall have to find my way through on you tube. I think I’m nearly at a stage where I can cope with that.
Read my UDSIC (Urban Development Strategy Implementation Committee) agenda for tomorrow. Filled in my diary – now done til the end of May. Made my list of things to do for the week. Without the boys here they involve a lot of intensive reading, perhaps filling in forms (I am the world’s worst at filling them in – I pathologically hate doing it), getting my CTV stuff prepped (need to shoot a trailer this week and you can’t do that with bad roots!) and spending time with Pepper, and with friends.
I feel tired, but rested. I’m going to sleep well again tonight. I feel warm, and safe, and secure, and loved. That’s one hell of a good vegetable soup.
I’m on Jim Mora’s the panel on National Radio from 3.45 – 5pm tomorrow (Monday April 18th) – if I remember, I’ll give you the recipe.
But I warn you now. Good soup is easy. Great soup, the kind I made this afternoon, that needs a whole lot of love, peace, serenity and just a pinch of magic. 🙂