Pillbugs and French Toast.

It's a cold and rainy day. Dreary, even. There's a cold North wind, and this morning when I escaped from a night of haunting dreams, I heard the rat-a-tat of hail against the windowpane. Tiny, like the size of a grain of quinoa. Because in Vermont, that is a valid size reference.

I made myself a giant mug of thick and dark coffee. Sank my head into it, but it didn't help. Even 20 oz of caffeine can't jump-start me today. I decided that every Saturday that I'm home, I will make myself a new and exciting breakfast sandwich. Today's was a Monte Christo.

It was awesome.

I've spent the last week resting, recovering, breathing evenly and with purpose. Knitting. Cleaning. Receiving the love of my friends. But tomorrow, my staycation ends. I go to Boston. From Boston, I go to Virginia. And from Virginia, I come home to start a new job.

My first and second grade teacher was Mrs. Robinson. In general, I found her to be a shrieking harpy of a woman. She'd hug you one minute and then scream in your face the next, with no apparent motivation for either action. Our classroom had huge, vaulted cathedral ceilings, and at the roof she had made a calendar which listed the months in order. Just a line of them. January-August was on the North wall, and Sept-December was on the West wall. To this day, when I think about new beginnings, I think of that calendar: come December, you'd have to twirl around to see January again. There are breaks in time which feel physical. Chapters. Episodes. And at the risk of sounding (totally uncharacteristically, of course...) overly dramatic, I feel like this chapter is ending. New job. New scars. New strength. New center.

All of this is to say: despite my obscenely large mug of coffee, despite my awesome sandwiches, despite the fact that I need to finish packing, and make sure my furry roommate has enough kibble to last her a week, today I just want to curl up like a pillbug. Listen to Joe Meek (see below...). Complete my chrysalis stage. My wings aren't quite strong enough yet.