What Truth I Have

Here are my truths tonight:

*I chose the Trebuchet font just because its name sounds French.

* My dinner fell apart tonight--literally.  I should have read my own salmon patty recipe.  Or added an egg when I found less mayonnaise in the jar than I remembered.  Also, the corn salad with feta and walnuts that I planned to photograph and rave to you about seemed dry somehow.  And my pie crust was tough.  How did that happen?

*I'm as tired tonight as I usually am on Thursday.  And it's only Monday.  And I rested well all weekend.  Where is the logic? 

*A catering bid was rejected.  Back to the drawing board, less than two weeks from service. Now I have to meet and redraft plans tomorrow instead of puttering about peacefully at home, keeping dirt and disorder at bay.  Keeping dirt and disorder at bay is very important to me.

*My neck crinkles when I turn my head.  What does that mean?

*It's time to get ready for bed, and my son hasn't made it in yet.  No mother relaxes under that circumstance.  Oh, and I haven't seen him for two weeks. I kept looking out the window while I was washing the (seemingly endless--I almost shoved them into the dishwasher until I remembered how many can't go in there anyway) dishes. Long expectancy is tiring.

Apparently it's one of the days to bag it, ditch it, give it up, turn in.  Just go to bed and start over tomorrow.

Here's another truth:  It all gets better eventually.  Always.  That's enough to rest on.

Bonne nuit.