Gin Sour

This is Caleb on Thursday at Mount MacKay. Today he is sick, vomiting repeatedly, his skin grey. He is almost a teenager. I just realized that when my mother was the age that I am now, I was sixteen; or, the other way around, when I was sixteen, my mother was merely the age that I am now. It seems like only a few years ago.

We are watching the scene in Star Wars where Annakin becomes Darth Vader. Sad pregnant Padme is dead. Shadow is kneading the blanket, the laptop, my knee. She is either annoyingly affectionate or scarily violent, this cat - she has no in-between moods.

So, between vomiting episodes today I made a Gin Sour, which also contains a raw egg white, not too bad shaken with lemon and gin and orange juice - a little like Caesar salad. For supper I had scrambled egg yokes (had to use up the second half of those eggs) and avocado and arugula salad and rice pudding, while Caleb nibbled on a rice cake.

I am trapped in my wreck of a house, the sky darkening, wind bending the trees.

I hope we are all well for Las Vegas, and I hope the outdoor pools are open.

I suspect I need to supplement zinc - or start eating oysters.