ELEVEN: the high temperature over the weekend. Eleven glorious degrees! Sunshine you can actually feel! Which would be even more welcome if we didn’t still have a ski holiday coming up. Our town always gets a very late slot in the Sportferien rotation, is unfortunate but there it is. Obviously it’s a weird year for skiing anyway, cancelling this holiday was always an option, but we’ll be going and hopefully skiing and I guess the warm weather will at least make us happy to be taking our meal/rumpunsch breaks on the terrace, indoor seating being off limits as it is. If the snow’s crap, hey, then we just enjoy hanging out in Stoos (one of those little car-free mountaintop villages you can only access by funicular, so, really a lovely place to chill and enjoy the scenery) and I get to not be terrified. All good.
SIX: the number of gins I had with friends on Saturday night. I think. I guess we were making up for lost time?
THREE: the number of random Surprise Gifts I received last week. Utterly delightful, all of them, heartwarming and a bit thrilling, but if bemoaning my handwriting on this blog gets me fountain pens, I am very curious as to what other unexpected consequences my ramblings might have. If I deprecate my cooking, do I get a KitchenAid? Tell you what, I’m really very bad at relaxing, I’ve mentioned this before. Very bad indeed. I bet a personal masseuse would help with that. Or maybe a yacht. …*stares wistfully into the middle distance*
TWO: the loaves of bread baked. One of them with a hangover (hello Sonntagszopf, hello six gins). I am a DOMESTIC FREAKING GODDESS. (Damn. There goes my shot at that KitchenAid.)
ONE: the number of runs undertaken this week. I’ve been an extremely lazy lump for some time now but apparently the nightly “restorative” yoga sessions are doing something besides relaxing me, because when I do proper yoga – or go running – there seems to be a lot more strength in those legs than I’d expected. Anyway I really should go running more often, it does me such good. Not just because I need to go skiing in (oh shit) two weeks, not just because endorphins. Running gives me a very satisfying sense of self-sufficiency. I’m slow, but I feel like my legs can just keep pumping forever. That feeling that I am enough, that my body can do what is needed and just keep carrying me forward… that is pretty damn welcome.
Woolly thoughts (and fuzzy logic) 