Obvious Perks With Not Working From Home On This Particular Thursday In August Anno Domini 2011

lunch
the day I marinate myself some tofu and serve it on a bed of roses is yet to come
company
hooked up with best ever Lisch for lunch, the perfect treat
conversation
see above and add a few HAHAHA laughs for full effect
dessert
two Pärlans sea salt toffee (come to mommy, little one)
running
not actually doing it, but talking about it and looking forward to tonight's run
coffee
with said Lisch to Johan's for an after lunch brew, talked football, tennis and marriage
coincidence
bumped into three former colleagues (not at the same time!), one of them very very happy
favourite client
this one has got to be one of the nicest (evah)
noise level
at this moment there are two sevenyearolds, two eightyearolds and a fouryearold at my house (all taken care of by a hunk of a 37-yearold, but still)
bike riding
rode my red devil into town this morning (go legs, go!)
coming home
it's so much better when you've actually been somewhere else during the day

Dear Virginia Woolf

Tonight I'm longing for easy and order and pretty, so I'm looking at these crayons at Anna's sister Katie's. I just want to rest my eyes for a moment and not think about the work that's waiting after I finish this post.

Tomorrow Holy Week continues. In Swedish it's called Silent or Still Week, but so far it's been neither. It hasn't been bad. Just not Silent, Still or very Holy. But maybe I'll get there tomorrow. I hope I will.

Thanks for reading. Especially when I have nothing to say, but still need to claim this space as my own. "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." Not that this is fiction. But one can dream. And it is, very much, a room of one's own.

The Kind Of Mother I Am

Blanka and Wilhelm found their baby journals yesterday (another reason not to clean the house too often: everything looks very interesting and inviting afterwards). And they were delighted at first and not so much after a second when they realised that the books were more or less empty. "But Mommy, why?" Not my favourite words in the world. But what am I supposed to tell them? "You cried so much, blessed child of mine, that my head wasn't properly screwed on for the first six month of your life?" Or "You see, as child number two there really wasn't that much focus on your daily progress, my hands were full, literally speaking." I opted out for the "Hohum, tiddlepom, oh what's that out the window?"

Maybe one day I'll print this blog for them to read instead. A baby book of sorts. With a little editing.