if there's one thing I can never confess

This morning I had a psychiatrist appointment at 9, and this time I didn't forget. I went. That was fine. I don't like my psychiatrist. Today he was insensitive and super rushed. I was in and out in 15 minutes. Also, the room we were in had no privacy--one of the doors was a curtain, and someone was in the next room making copies, I could hear--if they wanted to, they could have listened to every single word I said.

Then we went to the farmers market. We bought tomatoes, nectarines, a plum, no pesticides eggplant, some yellow squash. Oh, and two melons for Erik. It was good to get out.

Then I baked some cornbread. I tried using honey instead of maple syrup for my sweetener, and it turned out great.

Also, we made seitan again. This time we halved the soy sauce and doubled the garlic and ginger. Tastes perfect to me--Erik would like it a little saltier.

I've been reading Cat's Eye by Margaret Attwood, which is fabulous, as well as zines--today I read White Elephants #2, and I'm in the middle of Loserdom #18, which is sent to me by someone in Ireland--somehow, we got on one another's mailing lists years ago.

For a couple days the high was 99 degrees here, but today's high is 93. I just ate some nice blueberries. I'm scared of going to worship tomorrow because I'm scared of being cornered by bookstore boss about my quitting or whatever Swami discussed with him. So I don't think I'll go. My women peeps are all at a weekend retreat that I chose not to attend. I keep feeling like I need one more sentence--maybe this will do.