It’s been a long day.  Not so much physically tiring as mentally draining.  I’ve been staring at excel spreadsheets and word docs all day long.  The upside, I guess is that I won’t have to do any of it this weekend.  Now I’m trying to recharge for another 6 hours at work with a cup of instant coffee and a few minutes to myself with my blog.

It’s been a productive and challenging week despite all the frustrations that seemed to crop up on a daily basis.  I have been remarkably zen about it until today, I like to attribute this to my double session of killer back bends this week but I was starting to show signs of cracking this afternoon.

I am seriously considering a couple of impromptu handstands in the office. I’m sort of dressed for it – aren’t leggings so versatile and all-occasion?  I might hold that thought for another 20 minutes or so and wait for all my day-shift office mates to leave for the day.  It could get very embarrassing otherwise.

Oh yes, new journeys.  I’m officially on the trying to conceive bandwagon.  I was hoping for a more meaningful signal To Start Trying but I popped the last blister on my pill packet this morning and didn’t have any repeats so I guess that is as good a sign as any. 

I really have no idea how long it’s going to take but I’ve done all the right things.  Been through the entire gamut of Blackmores Pink supplements (there’s a folic acid one, a conception one and then there’s the pregnancy and breastfeeding one).  Blackmores – there for every stage of your pregnant life.  I’ve had the blood tests and a 5 minute chat with my GP who didn’t seem to think I was particularly old to be trying for a first baby.  It’s all been so matter of fact, it’s taken the edge off considerably.  What conception anxiety?

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in all my years on this earth, it’s that trying to fall pregnant is a very delicate conversation topic, right up there with religion and views on politics, sex and sexuality (and the 3 come together with alarming frequency) and weight changes (both up and down).  I make it a point never to ask the baby question because the person I do ask will have just had something awful happen or be in the midst of very frustrating and stressful cycles of fertility treatment. 

Ditto with weight.  Looking ‘well’, ‘healthy’, ‘tired’, the words mean different things to different people …  I just don’t go there.

So if I don’t appear chatty or girly when I talk, you know why.  Too many potential mine/mind fields that explode.  I suck at small talk. I’m a needs to know basis kind of person – if someone is ready to talk, they will do so when and if they wish to.

It is now a little later and I’m feeling more human.  Did a few quick yoga moves (an oxymoron perhaps but the situation called for it) and I’ve had my dinner – butter chicken, greens and basmati rice.  There’s something about curry that makes me crave coke zero. 

I have had to make do with Pepsi Max because, for some reason, staff cafeterias all seem to be the province of Pepsi.  Except, it was not Pepsi Max but plain old Full Fat Pepsi.

Oh My.  I’ve just drunk Full Fat Pepsi – real sugar in an artificially carbonated and flavoured beverage, it is all a bit mixed up. The logo is looking rather attractive these days.

And in other crossing the line behaviour, I have bought a stash of chicken pastry concoctions from Lennards.

The challenge to not cook a donna hay recipe and widen my reportoire of cooking inspirations was too much.  I don’t think I helped my cause by choosing to expand my horizons with a copy of Australian Gourmet Traveller.  It never helps when the first recipe you read begins with the line ‘It’s best if you have a wood fired oven on hand….’.  At least I tried.  I have an oven on hand and it is just the ticket for reheating Lennard’s chicken products.

Here’s to the weekend, which starts the moment I jump into the car and drive home.  Will endeavour be less mundane tomorrow.