Water! And a new faucet that’s been in a box for four years, too complicated for me to install myself. I’m very grateful today for Plumber Chet who showed up promptly afternoon, after texting ahead, and was just as kind in person as he was on the phone. The first thing I did after he left was take an indulgent hot shower. I am usually pretty mindful in the shower, not so much about the amount of water because it goes out to the birch tree, but mindful of the sensations of the shower. Today I felt every single drop that hit my body, which practically sang in gratitude.

I’m grateful for growing into the mindfulness skills I’ve been learning and teaching. The equanimity lived inside me during this minor inconvenience; furthermore, I actually felt grateful for the challenge. They say most of our growth comes during the hard times, which I hope isn’t true (since, you know, spoiled white girl), and that we should be grateful for even the difficulties in life for that reason. Water rationing this weekend brought that alive for me: It was an opportunity to practice equanimity and patience for my own situation, and compassion for people who don’t have ready access to running water or potable water. The UN reports that nearly a quarter of humans globally don’t have drinking water on premises, and almost half lack safely managed sanitation. There are 2.2 million Americans who still don’t have running water in their homes, and there’s a human rights nonprofit working to close that water gap. This really puts rationing water for a few days into perspective; it’s also good practice for a future in which climate chaos will inevitably lead to water shortages. I’m grateful for the internal and external support through a stressful weekend.

One big accomplishment this weekend was The Fried Fish Sandwich. I’ve been wanting to make one for awhile, and finally had all the elements in place. It was Friday’s planned lunch, and the fish was mostly thawed when the water mini-crisis occurred. I put it in the fridge because I couldn’t deal with the mess it would make right then amid all the uncertainty. (Paradoxically, the minute my water use was curtailed, I wanted nothing more than to wash dishes and do laundry.) The next day, I had jugs and occasional tap water and so I tackled the complex lunch. First, I made coleslaw. I half-filled the Fry Baby with peanut oil, whisked egg with a little water, and mixed a flour, cornmeal, and panko bread crumb to dredge the fish. After patting dry the grouper filet, I then prepared the bun: mayo, ketchup, lettuce, tomato, red onion, pickle.

It was a tall one! But it held together remarkably well. It was a great opportunity to recognize the truth of dukkha, or dissatisfaction. It was delicious; and yet, the crust was a little too crunchy – next time, just flour and panko. It was a little too tall. I forgot to squeeze lemon. I wished I’d made tartar sauce. See how we can find dissatisfaction in even the finest moments? Life is hard enough, especially now. I’m practicing noticing these nagging little dissatisfactions so that I can shrug them off and turn my attention to the satisfying aspects of my life. As for the big dissatisfactions, the only thing that’s gonna turn my attention from them is a massive blue wave come November. (And not the one that’s threatening the west coast. How are we just now hearing about this?)

To keep my mind off the fact that I couldn’t repot houseplants or wash sheets, I stayed focused on the drapery project. The top third of the final panel is laid out, and I’ve resolved the dilemma of the rest of the empty space. I realized last week that birds, reptiles, insects, fish, and frogs are well represented in the panels, but I had not included a single mammal. Inspiration struck: a jaguar! So I hunted down some photographs and made a composite pattern from two. She’ll be standing on a fallen tree. I can’t wait to see how she turns out!

And Sunday there was a basic BLT with cheese for lunch, with one of the Sunfired Flare tomatoes from the garden. I wasn’t optimistic about this variety at first. I planted two, and the first one to flower only set a handful of tomatoes. The second one grew lush and tall but didn’t even flower until mid-August. But then it delivered a couple dozen modest-sized fruits, all of which I picked over the weekend because they were splitting from all the rain. They’ll ripen over the next few weeks. I’m grateful for the abundant water that flowed freely all summer through my hoses to nourish the garden through the extreme drought.