I did write up a week 2 (December 10 to 17) report card (C+) but got side tracked, and never returned to look it over closely. (Believe it or not I do try and edit my writing!) But, then I did say focus was one of the things I needed to work on.
Last week I had a physical and emotional crash; I spent one day in bed; just crawling out long enough to change a load of laundry. No street clothes; no rosacea routine; no funky jewelry.
Most of my exercise came from mall-crawling with my sister-in-law; should have worn a pedometer and racing stripes to keep up with her (and she has chronic pain issues!) She shopped; I dropped. She helped the economy; I carried the shopping bags.
No chapters, or outlines materialized for my mystery novel, but then that’s no mystery: I’m museless these days; missed more blog carnival due dates that I made.
And, if St. Anthony is going to help me find my way, he better make larger, more legible signposts cause I can’t read the ones he’s put up so far. 
The highlight of 17 – 22 December was a trip to the big city to visit the butterfly conservatory. Hot, humid air alive with colo(u)r 
on wing: electric blues; neon greens; day-glo oranges. The migration of flocks from ceiling to floor, to fruit and flower, to arm and head. (Yes, if you stood still, a butterfly or two might alight on you. On woman, wearing Victoria Secrets perfume was particularly attractive to a group of orange butterflies.) The hot house alive with pulsating colo(u)r and fluttering fancies. Moments of sheer
bliss with pain and troubles fade into the ferns and skylight palms.
More mall-crawling (more like running) with my sister-in-law; her long strides, my shorter, tinier ones pumping to keep up and keep her in sight. Pace so intent and intense that I twice missed a chance to do my ritual coin toss into the fountain. We slowed down long enough, once, to put money in the Sally Ann kettle. Weaving through the throbbing throngs of holiday shoppers, pulsating mass of movement and stutter steps – windows to peer in, delights to anticipate, and 
shop, shop, shop. I’ll be glad when mall season is over, and our trips are to Italian delis and discount designer clothing store chains.
Getting ahead of myself, but made quiche for the 1st time in 4 years (used to be 1 of my specialties): swiss, cheddar, and romano cheese, sautéed mushrooms and green onions layered in a crust of just butter and flour with a pinch of salt and sugar(worked into coarse sand size pieces, chilled, then pressed into a 9 inch pie plate (glass), bottom pricked with fork and baked for 10 minutes), Pour over eggs mixed with light cream, salt, pepper and tabasco. Bake at 350 for about an hour. High cholesterol be dammed: this is good!
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or drug store in my little town, I walk past a statue of St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things. I often wonder if he is also the patron saint of lost people or people who have lost their way)
