Quiet – not the same as peace

I’m feeling pretty horrid today. The physical crash has been extreme, and it hurts to sit up. The body understands that the rush is over.

It is quiet here. Quiet is not entirely the same as peaceful, but I’ll take it for today.

I live on a tiny moshav with not many people, very few children. The house is quiet. I’ve been catching up on my music, actually, listening to a bit of Rebbe Soul which I had on audiotape years ago, and finally now have on the computer. Just can’t listen to audiotape any more. My last tape player gave up a few months ago, fortunately after I’d digitized almost all of my audiotapes.

Knitting another dishcloth. My oldest son does the dishes very often, and says we need many and many dishcloths. The dishes are allowed to pile up until they are creeping out of the room, and often dishcloths get lost in among the dirty dishes. Not how I would do it, but since I can barely make it to the kitchen most days, I have to let it go. Nobody has died from food poisoning yet.

I imagine I could/should leave this blog until I actually have something more to say, only, while it may look like it’s over, I’m still waiting to see if the ceasefire holds – if there is more rockets in my near future. So I guess I’ll write something here and there, until I either have a new topic, or the bombs are falling again, or I know I have nothing more to say.

For now, I’m going to give the body a break, and enjoy my Jewish jazz.


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