Despite all that good stuff going on, I've been at rather a low ebb (nope, the UTI didn't help, and grateful as I am for the antibiotics, they're wreaking their own havoc). There has been some inertia, I will admit, some cocooning, even an instance or two of going near-fetal under blankets, clutching pillows, not sleeping but no motion other than blinking the tears away. . . . And in a gruesome offering of pathetic fallacy, the skies have been manifesting their own leaden emotions, their tears soaking everything below . . . oh, it's gloomy, folks. . . .
Movement usually helps, in these cases, to shift mood, and sometimes if I can tuck into a row or two of knitting, get some momentum going however mechanically, I feel myself grudgingly becoming invested in the world again. Those stitches were beyond me today, but I knew I needed something to coax me to a happier place, and luckily, I'd recently set out my Travel Journals, ready to start recording flight, rail, and lodging information.
Half an hour later, I was feeling much better, thanks to some planning and daydreaming about December in Italy (our housekeeping and childcare services have been requested, and we're very happy to oblige -- although it's going to be a bit odd being away from home at Christmas for the first time in over 43 years). Besides the imaginary jump forward into an Italian winter, my cheer was also lured out of hiding by the kinaesthetic and sensory charms of writing with a variety of nibs and ink colours. I'm trying not to jump too far down the fountain pen rabbit hole (four pens there -- and two are just dip pens -- and only four colours), but I will admit that some minutes of our few hours in Zurich may be earmarked for pen-and-ink shopping. . . . If you have a favourite pen shop or Papeterie to recommend, I'm listening. . . . (In Paris, of course, there is the splendid Mélodies Graphiques, which I will also be sure to visit.)
More details will emerge here over the next few weeks, but so far, on either side of a four-week baby-sitting gig, I've sorted a few days in Paris -- Christmas windows! again! -- and some wonderful train journeys. Have any of you ever ridden the Bernina Express? I've also assigned myself some solo travel, just to keep those muscles exercised. . . .