Unpicked all the stitches I made at the last embroidery club session, because I really didn’t like working with this fabric. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to use the fabric for anything, but I want to reuse the thread for a new attempt.

I forgot to book a time for the annual car inspection and got a very firm and official letter informing me that the car was now banned from driving. It would have been nice to get a letter a week before the deadline, but then again, why would they. Anyway, I booked the first available time (7 o’clock the next morning) and here I am.

Different place than last time. This one had comfy seats and a coffee machine (not that I cared about that) and was fully protected from the weather, rather nicer than the cheap plastic chair in a cold space at the last place.

All green this time.

I went to see Liljevalchs’s spring art salon together with Adrian and Ingrid.

I’ve always moved through the rooms in a counter-clockwise direction, because that’s the direction that’s straight forward from the entrance. That’s put the room with the under-eighteens’ works as the first one. Ingrid and Adrian confidently steered us in the opposite direction, because that was obviously the right way to go in their mind. It does actually make more sense this way, because now we started in a spacious hall of eye-catching sculptures and large paintings.

The works at the salon are all for sale, at a price set by the artist. Some, I think, price them so as to be almost sure that they won’t sell. Others are very affordable. Some look expensive to me but then turn out to have been sold nevertheless. (There’s a board in one of the rooms with sticker dots marking what’s been sold and what hasn’t.)

One of glass sculptures above, which I rather liked, had been sold for a sweet 95,000 SEK.

This one-metre sculpture of a submarine was made of metal and wood, and had been aged underwater for three years, according to the label. (Nils Lagergren, “Belgravia”.)

I wonder how this work of neon tubes and black paint on the wall was even presented to the jury, and how it can have been transported here. (Josefin Eklund, “Mysterious goats and geometric heads”.)

There were of course not just weird sculptures but also paintings of all kinds. I liked this pair of very realistic but dreamy views of a spring forest. (Mats Nörle, “Ekbacken om våren”.)

Ingrid taught me about underpainting, and how it is often done in red or orange. (Anna-Christina Eriksson, “Picnic With a Red Cadillac”.)

I’m always curious about textile works – there’s almost always some embroidery and textile sculpture, sometimes weaving or crochet or knitting. The embroidery works usually tend to be concrete depictions of people or stories, which, yeah, I know other people like, but it’s not my thing. This year I liked this Sami-inspired piece of embroidery on tulle. (Yvonne Larsson, “Blodsband”.) There were, in general, quite a lot of Sami-themed works.

This piece was pleasing in its geometric simplicity. It looked like embroidery at first, but was acrylic paint on fabric. (Juanma Gonzalez, “Död ved ger nytt liv _ ad#07”.)

There were several intricate, lifelike bronze sculptures, including these coltsfoot flowers. (Vera Burkhalter Zornat, “Tussilago”.)

Finally, someone had painted a view of the exact same pillars of the Årstabron bridge that I photographed yesterday.

I am making active efforts to meet new friends.

I’m an introvert but, it turns out, not a hermit. With no more husband and now mostly just one child every other week, I feel a need for more company. And more outside impulses: it’s not just talking to someone that I miss, but going to places I wouldn’t think of going on my own, trying new things.

My colleagues are fun but I don’t know that I’d want to spend even more time with them. My childhood friends are far away. I’ve grown apart from most of my friends from my student days and don’t feel that I have much in common with them. My hobbies are such that I only meet retired ladies, and I really don’t feel that I’m one of them. I don’t want clones of myself, but there needs to be some common ground for me to enjoy someone’s company.

Now I’ve joined an online friend network-ish site – not a dating site but just a place to meet people – and had two great “friend dates” today. Fika with one, and a long walk with another. We tried a new café, and walked along paths that I’ve never walked before, and had great conversations.

The plan for the walk was agreed a week ago, and even yesterday the forecast for today was “partly cloudy” and around 7 degrees. What we got was windy, overcast, and with intermittent sleet. We looked at the sky, looked at each other, considered cancelling, but went ahead anyway.

At one point we passed a small sauna next to a pier, and there were four brave people on their way into the water for bathing. Not running from the sauna into the water and back out again, but leisurely walking towards the water or even just standing around in their swimsuits. Meanwhile I was wearing four layers of clothing.

The photo is a view of Årsta bridge between Södermalm and Årsta. I wonder what the graffiti painters have stood on for painting those designs. Canoes? Ice?

Easter Sunday, with all its traditions. None of the traditions can be changed at all. Which is a bit boring, but I’m OK with that. Who knows how many more Easter celebrations I will have before Ingrid goes off and starts her own traditions.

Things that can be varied: What kinds of herring to serve. What topping to use to decorate the devilled eggs. What design to paint on the eggs. What pattern to use for piping the merengue on the pie.

I ordered new summer tyres for the car about a week ago. Got a delivery the day before yesterday – of three out of four tyres. Now it’ll be at least another week before I have the full set. Annoying.

Two pairs of gift socks all done and ready to be given away.

I briefly considered making standard toes on these (maybe they will think these look weird) but there is just no world where a symmetrical sock toe will fit someone’s feet better than a more foot-shaped one. Even if their toes are at a different angle or their second toe is longer than their big toe, or whatever odd shape they may have, I am absolutely certain that they will be closer to this than to an equilateral triangle.

We decorated Easter eggs at work, and ate Easter-themed fika. I also got a giant (on my scale) Easter egg with candy that I have no idea what to do with. This is my Active Solution-themed egg.

View from Traneberg bridge. The high point of my morning bike commute, literally and metaphorically.

The temperature was a couple of degrees below freezing this morning, and that’s the limit of my clothes and equipment for cycling. It was just a bit too cold for the first 20 minutes or so, especially for my fingers, until I got to Brommaplan and into the sun.

After literal years of practice, how can I still struggle to start a workout session? None of the arguments seem to bite and the body just resists it.

I know it will be fun once I have started. I know it will feel good when I’m finished. I know it is good for me. I know I can do it.

And still I have to push myself to do it.

Looking back, there has been progress. It is actually easier than it used to be. I no longer need to tell myself that I’m allowed to not finish, and I no longer convince myself by picking the shortest videos.

What works? The usual stuff. Committing in advance. (Twice a week, on the weekdays when I work from home, at lunchtime.) Not allowing myself to think about it. (I said I was going to do it, so there’s nothing more to it.) Removing all obstacles and smoothing the way. (Paid subscription, with plenty of videos I’ve tagged as favourites. Gym clothes and equipment in easy reach.)

I am envious of the people who go to the gym with a spring in their step and who look forward to it.