Dip.

Some weeks just seem to be more uphill than others. Or maybe it's months. Either way, I seem to have been mired in lethargy just lately. I can't remember the last time I picked up my camera, there are myriad computer magazines lying pristine in their untouchedness, and I find myself looking for any excuse at all not to leave the house.

Depression is a strange thing. I seem to veer from fired-up and enthusiastic about life, to feeling the need to hunker down and conserve every last drop of energy. For what exactly I'm not sure. Projects that I started so keenly suddenly seem like an awful lot of effort. I find myself concentrating on one thing (currently ironing) and attacking that with gusto, as if to prove to myself that I'm functioning, that I haven't given up. The fact that I'm doing that to the exclusion of anything else at all beyond the bare necessities can't be good. I found myself ironing a dishcloth this morning. This is not a good sign.

I have to go out today. I have promised a friend that she can take her pick from some of the dresses that no longer fit Kid-at-the-Bottom-of-the-Heap. This means finding those dresses (and potentially ironing them) and going to her house. I have a deadline. But the mere fact I'm sitting here typing this means that I am pushing back against it, as if leaving it to the last minute is the only way I can make myself go.

And there's something else that doesn't make sense to me. This week, I'm taking my three camping. I have agreed that Biggest Kid can bring a pal. So there's me, and four kids, off on an adventure. Why is it that this doesn't faze me in the least, but I can barely bring myself to go and post a letter? The big things, the complicated things, the grand gestures, all seem eminently do-able. The minutiae of daily life on the other hand serve only to grind away at my confidence. Bah. Perhaps it's just the rain. Perhaps if the sun would just make an appearance occasionally I'd feel better. Nobody feels good with perma-soaked trouser hems.

More new beginnings

The Man I Married has a new job. I've known that this was in the offing for a while now, but it has been one of those hush-hush, don't tell the troops, TOP SECRET with a code name affairs because the company he used to work for was being sold and until the various lawyers had done bickering and offering and counter-offering and tying things up in scarlett ribbon and hacking away at contracts and reveiws, and legalese and all the rest of it, nobody was allowed to say a word. The last dot on the last "i" was placed late Thursday night and announcements made in press releases to global but limited-interest publications to much hooraying all round.

So we've celebrated with some champagne and the purchase of a new family car, but really it's pretty much business as usual. The Man I Married will still be working a silly number of hours each week, if not more stupid than before, there will still be three kidlets to supervise, love, feed, discipline, clothe and ferry around and Mother will still be driving me nuts. Plus ca change and all that.

Diet wise, my good friend Harridan's plan for a 40 Day Challenge has been a huge success. Not because I've succeeded in sticking to it exactly, although I haven't veered totally off course, but because it gave me the impetus and structure that a lazy-arsed person like me needs. I do much better when I have something to strive for, and being a competitive soul, I like the idea of a challenge, even if it's only really with myself!! Competitive but lazy - how's that for messed up?!

Baby Steps

I have a lovely friend, whom I don't really see often enough these days, so it felt like it was meant to be when we bumped into each other last week and realised we were both free yesterday to meet for coffee. There's a rather good coffee shop at one of the local farms so we agreed to meet there at 10am. As I headed onwards with my list of chores for the day, it occurred to me that I could walk there - it must be a couple of miles from my house, and two, two-mile walks with a coffee or three in between would be a good way of getting back into walking. But no. When my pal heard this she decided that we'd be better off taking her dog for a tramp in the hills instead. And she was right. It was fun and much less expensive in these crunched times.

We took it easy, to cater for my extreme lack of fitness. It seemed to suit Em okay, but her dog was straining a bit - I suspect that Em, with her youth and slim figure to support her, normally runs this route, and that she was slowing things down for my benefit. I was working quite hard though - the sweat pouring off my brow was disguised by the constant rain which at least had a slight cooling effect. She rewarded me for my efforts with a coffee in her house at the end of the walk while I steamed up her kitchen.