Peeling potatoes to Alison Krauss

Not a bad way to spend part of the evening. Half a bag of brussel sprouts, one parsnip, two carrots, a carton of baby bellas, four small red potatoes, one yellow squash, one red onion, a good slosh of avocado oil, and several "goodies" of the (formerly) white balsamic vinegar that goes back to my Fort Worth days, if not earlier. Some celery seed. Some dill weed. I just realized that (as I did on my maiden roasting voyage) I forgot to salt this. I am so out of the habit of salting that it just does not occur to me, and within reason, it should. I am cooking from scratch much more often, not getting help from mixes, and

Now roasting in an oven near you. Me? I'm taking a little sit-down break before heading back into the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher and to pre-fab as much of tomorrow's lunch as possible. I've got the timer set for 40 minutes and will test the parsnips at that point. Notwithstanding I just washed my hands, they are still vaguely redolent of herbage and vinegar.

I'm a little frustrated at how long it takes to make things from scratch. I spent the entire length of an Alison Krauss CD, and more, on that finicky task. Maybe I will get faster with practice. The parsnip was certainly easier to wrangle than my first one, last week.

I am juggling, juggling, juggling, and trying not to break any plates. Reading more lately than I have in a long time, and learning stuff. Want to keep that. Need to keep up, and vary, my physical activity. Do my church callings. Get enough sleep. Eat properly. Find the right balance of food, rest, activity, and supplements to reduce the inflammation in my body. Shake hands with new vegetables and herbs. Make peace with old ones that I've loathed for years, unless there's a diagnosed allergy. Listen to my body. Listen to the Spirit. Socialize. Cherish my solitude. Earn a living. Plan for retirement. Continue to set my house in order, literally as well as figuratively.

Oye. Y'all, I'm tired. Not depressed, praise be, but down-to-my-toenails (what's left of them) tired. Stick a fork in me. I'm done. (The parsnips might not be, but I am.)