I woke up with a low-grade headache and the general blahs, which were a holdover from yesterday. For that reason I took the day off work to rest up for my second covid shot later this afternoon. So far so good. Even went for a 3-mile walk afterward, feeling more energy than this morning. I will feel much better in two weeks when we’re allegedly 95% protected from the virus. For good measure, before the vaccination today, I took another covid test—in case my blahs were related to that, although I doubt it. My biggest enemy now is complacency, seeing as how I’m so over wearing a mask and not being able to do normal things in close proximity to others. I miss museums and fairs and plays and art shows. I know some of these things are going on with limited capacity, but I still don’t feel comfortable being inside with others for long periods of time.
We each finished our puzzles today and started another single one this evening. I decided not to start my own puzzle, which usually consists of tiny pieces of similar color, in favor of working with Hubby on one of his with larger pieces—we’ll be done with it in a week. I like this about Mondays: quiet evening doing our puzzle and listening to a BBC radio play. He often chooses dramas produced in the 1940s or ’50s and always having something to do with the war. Very few woman in any of them and when they do have female roles, they’re minor parts, or the women turn out to be the evil doers. I told Hubby we need to start listening to more diverse stories with female-centric roles, but I suppose the old one are the freebies online.
For a female-centric fix with a strong character, I watched a YouTube video called “Life with Tomato” and “Life with Squash” (not sure about that second title). I dear friend of mine turned me onto this series, featuring a Japanese woman who would put anyone to shame, man and woman alike. This slight young lady appears to live off the land, growing all manner of vegetables and cooking them like a gourmet chef. Not only that, but she builds the fencing and the stone walls, after dragging the logs and stones—and cutting them to size and shape—from the forest to her garden. She makes jellied rice desserts from rice she grows, harvests, and turns into flour. She and Grandma sit down to enjoy these delectable meals, beautifully presented as if at a five-star restaurant. I was mesmerized—if not left feeling like a complete laze-about in comparison. You have to see it to believe it. I want to be this woman when I grow up. Better yet, I want to come live with her and eat this amazing food (except for the fish heads).