On the Way to Normal

This morning I was awake at a decent hour--before 9 A.M., and that was after sleeping more of the night than previously.  My friends know that I am an insomniac under the best of circumstances, and this kind of travel is far from optimal.  But, I was down the stairs by 9:30, as I wanted to get to the market early, before the crowds arrived.

This morning's purchases

The Saturday market is as I remember it--full of color and movement.  I bought enough produce for salad and to make soup. I felt that old urge to have some of everything; it all looks alluring, but I am determined not to buy more than I need until the next market, on Tuesday.   I splurged on some fennel soaked olives, my very favorite, and on a bunch of bright yellow flowers, so I can have the light of the sun indoors with me always. And the bundle of fresh basil--oh if only you could smell it.

The market was crammed with British tourists, most of whom had no intention of buying a thing.  They just wanted to stop in the middle of the narrow, crowded aisleways and say things like, "I am breaded out!"  Maybe they could stick to the outside walkways so as not to impede those of us who were buying.  Sorry, that's the residual jet lag crankiness talking.

The produce corner of my kitchen counter

I returned home, put away my purchases, tidied the kitchen, scrubbed the sink with newly purchased cleaning products.  The dishwasher is running, and I am ready to vacuum. It's warm and humid; the forecast calls for storms.  I want to take the camera out and get some photos of Gambetta before rain and wind beat the life out of the roses. 

Note the absence of plastic on my campaillette (small loaf of bread)  Take a lesson, Brookings' bakers.

My jet lag is on the way out, I think.  I don't wonder where I am now when I wake up in the middle of the dark night. Yes, life is returning to normal after months of anything but. And I am filled with gratitude.