Busy

My aunt died unexpectedly Monday night (in Edinburgh), to the extent that the death of someone with a diagnosis of terminal metastatic cancer is unexpected. But since she'd been given 6-12 months, and died in 3 weeks, unexpected. The women in my family are all about the practicality and no fuss, including the arrangements of their deaths. I wasn't especially close to my aunt, but she was a person I understood deeply - I am not so dissimilar - and she was the best communicator of her generation. Her death leaves a family gap that I imagine I will in part fill. I'm glad she held off her own death until after my grandmother's. I'm deeply sad for her husband.

For the record

The household subscribes to: Vogue, The New Yorker, Gourmet (gift, but requested, but I think I'll stop after this year), Parents Magazine (gift, useful only for very pretty pictures of children and page with cute/"embarassing" things kids said), MacWorld (mr. flea is a sucker for telemarketers; we won't be renewing), Reader's Digest (my father-in-law sent it to us, I think for free).

Harvest: 1 better boy, 2 zucchini

Evenings

I knew I wasn't going to like Andrew Solomon's The Noonday Demon when he wrote that depression is worst in the mornings. I am never depressed in the mornings, or rather, I am at my least depressed in the mornings, when depressed.

Evenings, on the other hand, even when not depressed I am melancholy and restless in the evenings. Another day ended, wasted, scrambled through, on the constant rush to tomorrow, and what for, ultimately? Like that.