Monday, July 10, 2006

carpe, carpe, carpe
What a fantastic weekend that was! I could write about Friday coming home to find a letter from a close friend I haven’t heard from for a while or following through on my new resolution and getting all the chores done on Friday night to ensure I had two completely free days. I could write about the joy of waking up at first light on Saturday, reading the paper and starting the day with a sense of calm, or a lovely barbeque with friends and their children in a garden (in, of all places, Croydon) or the lovely weather, or a trip to IKEA to buy a planter for the kitchen windowsill (now full of herbs – chives, basil and parsley). I could write about how the cloud of work stress and insomnia that brought Saturday to a close was burnt away by the sun over the Chiltern countryside as I walked nine miles through the fields and woods with a couple of friends. Or the satisfaction of finding on my return home that the work project had only just arrived in my inbox and that it was right not to sacrifice my day to waiting for the press release to come back from signoff. There were patches of shade, when I felt groggy and there was rain in the air; before getting to Marylebone for our picnic walk I had wanted to turn around and go back to bed. I could write about the lovely tabbouleh I made for the picnic or the wardorf-themed coleslaw with apple and celery added to the mix and a hint of smoked garlic, or the bean salad I made for the barbeque, or the way, as the only Aussie male at the barbeque, TA stood cooking for everyone. Or the possible job offer that he got while we were there. I could write about the satisfaction of turning out the light on Sunday night with that VIP press release sent to the wire, my legs heavy from so much walking, my lungs aired out, my skin just a little wind and sun tightened, my heart light, my head empty of thoughts. Bliss. I could write about this morning – dancing around the kitchen for the fun of it. Or about how TA thinks we should get another planter and fill it with mint to make tea with. I could write about my route march into the office this morning – the satisfaction of really walking full pelt through a beautiful day. Or TA’s comment “I want what you’ve got!” as he watched me wiggle to my inner soundtrack.
But really, what strikes me as amazing is the way that the light seems to eat into the shadows these days whereas before, no matter how bright the torch, the shadows would encroach and as soon as I had passed the bright spot I’d feel crushed by the monotony of the dark. Not today. Today I am already plotting little joys – lunch in the park, fabulous salads for dinner tonight, window shopping, writing letters – and big ones for when the next weekend rolls around.

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