I was up before five this morning and immediately launched into preparing a bean, kale, and squash stew. One sure sign that I feel better is when I start to cook again (I haven't cooked at all during the past week other than to serve as sous-chef on a pot of chicken soup that Frances made). After two hours in the kitchen, though, I was beat and returned to bed.
Mid-morning when I finally rose for the day I returned to the kitchen and cooked some more: stir-fried veggies and tomato bisque. Of course, the fact that I'm cooking is another sure sign that my health is on the mend because--wonder of wonders!--my appetite has returned.
This is the first day in over a week that I sense the old Steph is back in town. I still have some healing to do but the end is in sight.
I practiced T'ai Chi Chih in the basement tonight as the cat prowled her way along the walls. It was wonderfully quiet down there and a nice respite from the main floor where I've spent too many days sleeping, reading, and coughing. Oh, it felt good to bend my joints, breathe deeply, and quiet myself. Besides, I needed a break from too much cooking. (Too much cooking? Oh, perish the thought.)
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