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enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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The day on which I realized what a load of dryer- lint is the bundle of my regular concerns.

May I apologize to anyone who has been reading this lately?

I ran along the canal tonight, gently. Instead of fighting the resistence from my weakened muscles as I have done of late, I allowed my legs to float and my lungs to function rhythmically.

And when I arrived at the lake I was stopped by the beauty of the park on the other side. In the darkness with the streaky snow clouds overhead and the silhouette of spiky pines it reminded me of the silent woods of the north. So I sat down on the shore and allowed myself to cry. It was so quiet, as if even the ducks had silenced themselves for me.

What I concluded was this: I've been failing, failing, failing lately. The way in which I have been failing is simple: I've been failing to enjoy the perfectly beautiful life that I have. I've just dropped the ball altogether. So when I got up from the bank I allowed my legs to remember how much they like to run. I told myself to tell myself every single day to enjoy my healthy, strong self whilst I am in possession of a healthy, strong self.

The scientist has been good for me. The cracks are letting the light in.

So, again, please accept my apologies for my excess and silliness. I am well. :) So many opportunities lie before me.

(And PS: I don't see any reason to be particularly averse to Bob Dyl@n :). I was, too, extremely gentle in rejecting the scientist's advances Friday night. My preference would be to remain his friend, although that is entirely up to him.)

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My cardigan is about half-way done. The construction is somewhat peculiar as I am knitting it in more or less one piece, from cuff to cuff. The yarn is a luxury wool with a touch of kid mohair, in a deep port red-burgundy. I'll finish it with oversized mother-of-pearl buttons in front, wide bottom cuffs and a thick button band. I seem to have a bit of a thing for post-war women's clothing, but worn with a slight edge (I don't wear pearls and my hair will only ever be incorrigible. ;))

I honestly believe sometimes that pretty sweaters are the things that singlehandedly prevent me from descending into stark raving winter madness. There's just such comfort in the wrapping up of oneself in something one has made by hand.

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12:33 a.m. - 2006-11-13

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