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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I am arriving.

A-lora.

I don't even know if that's how it's spelled.

Perhaps it's "Allora." (It's "al'lora.)

It's one of my favourite things. I would marry an Italian just for the cuteness of it. But then again, I would probably marry an Italian for less. They say it in place of "Alors," naturally, and I can't think of the equivalent in English except maybe "So..." or "Well..." (but more typically "Uh..")

Al'lora...

I managed to get through today without digging down. To all appearances, and even to myself, I was OK. I was chipper.

Am still walking the edge of the forest though.

I permitted myself to chill out and slow down at work, however - perambulate through my travail, if you will - and that was OK. I always feel guilty when I do that, but today I went through some "spare" code that I had written and found a surprise. I had written EIGHTY NINE pages of spare code on a model that I've never been required to create. That's what happens when you stay at work at least an hour late every day.

So I told myself - I TOLD MYSELF - that I ought not to feel guilty for being a bit lazy today.

Well, it's sort of working.

I went to art class tonight. That was not overly exciting, but it was reasonably pleasant. The class was small and it was all older ladies. They were all talking about hot flashes.

Honestly, I didn't know whether to listen or to turn away. Frankly, I'm usually interested in the future, but in this case I was kind of thinking, "Hey - I'm not even through my fertility window yet. Let's save something for later."

One thing that was funny was that the art teacher mentioned having a similar class that had one guy in it. They were having a similar conversation and eventually the guy broke his silence from the corner with an "I CAN'T believe this."

I suppose that it must not be unfamiliar to married men though. So many women it strikes me likely just talk even if the man isn't particularly engaged by the subject. I'm sure that my mother does that with my stepfather, as he silently flicks channels on the tv.

Anyhow. Al'lora.

So that's it. I'm learning to control my disappointment when nothing happens. Nothing happened today. I was tired. I had bad hair. I worked a bit. I went to class. I went grocery shopping. It's cold. They've already put the boards up for the skating rink in the park behind the community centre (depressing!), so snow is certainly due shortly. Actually, snow is always due shortly in November. Quite soon I'll have to wear a warmer coat. I've put in a bid on a waterproof second pair of winter boots on ebay. (I bought cozy, cozy cozy fur-lined leather ones last year, only those cannot be worn on slushy days (only the -40 days).

And life goes on.

Tomorrow is a holiday. Remembrance Day. I *might* try to make it down to the war memorial. Charles and Cam!lla are in town. Not that I want to see them. (Sorry to say this, dear Brits, but I STILL cannot get the tampon thing out of my memory. :)) It would be rather funny, however, and my grannies would be pleased. When I was a little girl I was taken to see the Queen Mother twice in Toronto, and was 3m from the Queen herself one year. So...we do these things, we colonials. Will be a big crowd tomorrow.

Well, THIS is a ramble.

I hope that something exciting happens tomorrow. I hope that tomorrow a new door opens. My granny always said, "One door closes and another one opens." I have to believe that.

XO

10:32 p.m. - 2009-11-10

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