Wishing you all a merry, happy, wonderful Christmas.
With love from Johanna, Nathan, Posie and Rupert.
Wishing you all a merry, happy, wonderful Christmas.
With love from Johanna, Nathan, Posie and Rupert.
I am mad about Christmas. Everything takes on special meaning – “we’re eating Christmas cookies and drinking Christmas eggnog from our Christmas mugs, while looking at Christmas lights on Christmas Eve!” I also like to watch Christmas movies non-stop from the first of December (and that’s if I can control myself enough to not start earlier).
Strangely enough, I couldn’t have picked a more polar opposite husband, though he’s coming around. Every year when we buy yet more decorations, he always says that it’s because I love it so much… but with all the little comments here and there about how magical everything looks, I think he secretly loves it too. Maybe not the racing around the countryside to visit 1231872139 family members though, but I don’t think that’s ever going to change.
He does put up with my endless Christmas movie marathon though, so I think I picked a winner. Sometimes it almost feels like he enjoys them too! Here are my favourites that I love to watch at this time of year, in no particular order:
The Muppets Christmas Carol
The best! I have loved this movie since we had it on VHS as kids and would watch it non-stop for the whole month of December. Michael Caine is perfectly Scrooge-y (“if he became a flavour you could bet he would be sour!”) and the songs are extremely catchy. I think it’s a huge missed opportunity though to not have an aged-up Belle at the family Christmas at the end so that Scrooge has another chance with her. Even though it’s highly unlikely that she would have stayed unmarried in those days.
It seems that everybody has a problem with this movie, but if you can get past all that and enjoy it for the silly, daggy, sometimes sexist, very British movie that it is, it’s good! The director actually hates that people think of it as a Christmas movie, because it’s meant to be about love instead. Then why have the whole plot revolve around Christmas then? Definitely a Christmas movie.
The Santa Clause
Quintessentially 90s – psychiatry is a big point in this, which is kind of telling as it was a huge preoccupation in that era. I was watching this the other day with Nathan, and it kind of shocked me that despite little niggling arguments, Scott and his ex-wife actually have a pretty good, respectful co-parenting relationship, which is nice to see. I have an issue with this though – if Santa puts presents under the trees, why do none of the parents believe in Santa? How do they rationalize these presents that they didn’t buy magically appearing under the tree? Or do they just assume every year that the other parent bought the gifts? Or we could be massively overthinking this. Just watch it.
Miracle on 34th Street
But which one? The old Natalie Wood one, or the new Mara Wilson one? They both have their charms. I think the modern one is more entertaining, but Natalie Wood is such a star. The newer one always makes me cry when everybody is cheering in the streets, and when Santa talks to the little deaf girl. I would also gladly sell Nathan and the dogs for a chance to live in the catalogue house.
The Nightmare Before Christmas
Again – a movie that everybody thinks is a Christmas movie, but the director said it’s actually for Halloween! Which may be reasonable, because there are very, very few Halloween movies. But you can’t have a scene like ‘What’s This?’ and then say it has nothing to do with Christmas.
The Family Stone
Another one that makes me cry. Sarah Jessica Parker gets on my nerves a lot, but she actually really suits her character here – it’s okay that she’s unlikable, because she eventually finds somebody who likes her regardless. The boyfriend swapping is a little odd, and the ‘normal’ argument at the dinner table is excruciating, but I guess this is how real families work.
Not technically a Christmas movie at all, but Christmas happens! And anything with snow and tartan and evergreen trees is always going to feel like Christmas. Again, Laurie with the “I’ll take any one of the sisters, don’t mind which one” thing is a bit weird, and has felt stranger as I’ve gotten older, but it’s still heartwarming. You will cry over Beth though, even if Claire Danes is the queen of ugly crying.
Sleepless in Seattle
Again, not really a Christmas movie at all. It starts at Christmas though, so it kind of counts. This is another movie that has seemed stranger as I got older – so, Annie stalks a man she heard on the radio, emotionally cheats on her fiancé, turns up where a stranger lives just to stare at him, but it’s all okay because they are happy in the end. It is creepy, to be honest. But the movie itself is so comforting and romantic, definitely feels like Christmas.
And the absolute best… Gremlins
So a Christmas movie! Nathan and I have watched this several years in a row on Christmas Eve, because it’s always time for Gremlins. Bonus points if you watch Gremlins 2, which has nothing to do with Christmas.
A Mom for Christmas
This one doesn’t even have a gif, because even though it appears to be a cult favourite among people I know, it seems to be almost entirely absent on the internet. Olivia Newton John is a mannequin brought to life when a girl wishes she had a mother for Christmas… and she is a total nutcase. I don’t think I will ever be convinced that Olivia Newton John isn’t some kind of alien, along with John Farnham and Delta Goodrem.
It’s a Wonderful Life
Jingle All the Way
Not on the list:
The Christmas Prince. Sorry, not sorry!
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! I finally got the tree up today – it’s not completely done, and I could have done with an extra couple hundred lights, but it has seriously taken seven hours so far and a break is well overdue.
Here is December, inspired by Pip Lincolne‘s lists:
Making : a huge mess of boxes, bubble wrap and tissue paper, that all has to be cleared away before it can really feel like Christmas
Cooking : nothing at all this week – living on delivered meals, frosty fruits and actual fruits
Drinking : small batch gin that was filtered through Christmas puddings – oh! it’s sold out… maybe get some next year!
Reading : about to start the Belle Gibson exposé by Beau Donelly
Trawling : the internet and catalogues for a couple of last minute gifts
Wanting : my hair colorist to believe me that when I say red, I mean red
Looking : longingly at inflatable pools, seeing as Nathan said we are not getting one this summer… boo
Deciding : how we should be charitable this Christmas… all the animals in Bali affected by the volcano have been on my mind a lot lately
Wishing : for a few things – some for Christmas, some for later
Enjoying : did you know they make Redskins ice cream? It’s a bizarre texture – kind of crumbly like Dippin’ Dots
Waiting : for this multi-day head-and-neck-ache to finally subside
Liking : a dress that I bought last week – a high-low dress covered in pale blue iridescent sequins, exactly like Ariel’s coming-out-of-the-water dress in The Little Mermaid
Wondering : whether a really good massage could sort out this headache…
Loving : our new rug and how it blocks out so much noise from the street – the dogs are not barking at all, they are just laying around asleep on the rug and it’s blissful
Pondering : how people could ever have babies and think “yep, this baby looks like a Trevor/Gavin/Dwayne”
Listening : to my ever-evolving Christmas playlist, pruning and adding to it as I go
Considering : a ski trip next year, maybe
Buying : we just spent a stupid amount of money on swanky new memory foam pillows, and I thought… not flashy cars, not concert tickets, not designer clothes – this is what we will spend money on in our old age?
Watching : Miracle on 34th Street – not watching A Christmas Prince, because the half that I saw was awful
Hoping : that all goes well with the sides of smoked salmon I ordered to be delivered from Tasmania this week – never ordered fish from interstate before!
Marvelling : at how I can get jalapeno poppers and mozzarella sticks to be delivered to my house in less than half an hour, and recognizing what a dangerous idea this is
Cringing : at the fact that I accidentally left a container full of petrol (for the mower) sitting on the front verandah on the weekend – anybody could have very easily walked by and opportunistically set my house on fire
Needing : to figure out whether we should rent a storage unit after Christmas – we don’t have a garage, and between bikes, Christmas stuff, extra furniture, ski clothes, camping gear… I don’t think we can go much longer trying to store all this stuff in the house
Questioning : what happened to the Sodder children (if you feel like going down a conspiracy theory wormhole)
Wearing : short shorts and flip flops
Noticing : the way that people routinely behave, with clarity, and I’m not about to forget it
Knowing : that I picked a good dress to wear for Christmas Day – loads of room for all the eating we’ll be doing
Thinking : a bit ahead of myself to NYE and what I’m going to pick as resolutions
Admiring : one of my favourite blogger’s (Faux Fuchsia) Christmas tree photos
Getting : philosophical about the year we’ve had, what we’ve achieved, what we could do better, and what we have to look forward to
Bookmarking : Martha Stewart’s recipe for porchetta and salsa verde
Disliking : receiving Christmas cards addressed to Mr and Mrs N Gili – my surname has not changed, but even worse, I hate it that he is afforded a first initial and I am not, it’s beyond aggravating
Opening : half a billion individually wrapped glass ornaments today, bubble wrap everywhere!
Closing : shop this week – I have rejigged my writing schedule so I get a few days off, so that I can devote some serious time to getting this house in order
Feeling : like all the tendons and muscles in my neck are taut rubber bands
Hearing : practically no peeps at all from these dogs – peace and quiet for once!
Celebrating : Christmas as a whole holiday season, not just a day
Pretending : I’m not crying at every Christmas movie right now, that I didn’t cry at the Myer Christmas windows, that the real reason I didn’t want to go to the Christmas display at Crown was because I would cry…
Embracing : all things Christmas (can’t you tell?)
You know those days when you get the mean reds?
The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
No. The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
— Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Anxiety is high right now. There are a few concrete reasons that I can pinpoint that are filling me with dread, but those few things seems to have grown tentacles that stretch into the most unlikely places. Places that don’t even exist or are so far out of my universe that you would think they would never affect me, but here I am. And suddenly I am crying over:
My great-great-great-grandmother who died in a workhouse when she was my age.
Rosemary Kennedy, who had the same birthday as me, and everybody in the world who ever suffered an ice-pick lobotomy.
Visions of Posie and Rupert being ripped out of my arms by a tsunami.
Being a ghost and perceiving my own mangled body on the ground after being in a plane crash, surrounded by artifacts of my existence.
Something terrible happening to Nathan and me suffocating to death because there’s no longer enough will in my body to even make my lungs work without him in the world.
I don’t have the best anxiety strategies, other than to pop a pill and try to focus on something else. But sometimes I can’t even do that, because anxiety can smother your concentration and enjoyment, leaving you frozen. I’m sure a little anxiety is probably good for you, but this is a giant waste. Of time, energy, tears, effort. Doesn’t it realize I have better things to do with my life?
I’m making little rituals of distraction. Drinking pots of different types of oolong tea. Listening to a lot of music that I’ve never heard before. Watering the garden every night and witnessing it come alive again after the heat. Taking one-on-one time with each of the dogs to stroke their velvet ears and tell them stories about what excellent dogs they are. I’m not sure if any of this helps, but it does help kill time, and one thing is certain – anxiety can’t last forever, I just have to wait it out.
Drinking tea together that we collected during our travels.
Daydreaming about which room we should put a second AC unit in, but secretly enjoying nights of laying around in our underwear in front of the fan complaining about how hot it is.
Watching shows with me like Counting On or Call the Midwife, even though they are the last things he’d choose for himself. Likewise when he gets me to watch Paranormal Alien Investigation Cover-Up Conspiracy Cops, or whatever it is.
Calmly accepting that I refuse to use weedkiller in the garden, even though it means a lot more work for both of us.
Never getting mad when I let the dogs have a tiny taste of every food I eat, even if it’s expensive caviar or sashimi or something.
Adhering to his silly rules about sock pairing – they are all grey and exactly the same except for a tiny strip on the toe that can be red, blue or green, which nobody would ever see, but apparently it makes all the difference.
Scratching each other’s backs at the exact spot that we can’t reach ourselves.
Putting up with (and ultimately enjoying, even if he won’t admit it) the way I like to do Christmas.
Eating sour warheads because it amuses him so much to watch the faces I pull.
Kitchen hugs, couch hugs, car hugs, garden hugs, bed hugs, just got out of the shower and only wearing a towel hugs.
Watching him play with the darling dogs and always wanting them to live their best lives.
No judgment from either of us if it turns into a tortilla-chips-and-salsa-for-dinner kind of night. No judgment from him on my coke zero addiction either.
Reading through the cards and letters he’s given me over the years – he says he’s not a writer, but those are some of the sweetest things I’ve ever read.
Speculating on ridiculous hypotheticals, like what names we would pick if we had quadruplets, or how much money we could make if we started a truffle farm, or what airline a publisher would make me fly if I went on a book tour.
Patiently teaching him things to say in Chinese for our next big trip, knowing that he’ll probably forget them by tomorrow.
Hunting down my favourite milk-flavoured bun from BreadTop and bringing it home on a plane, all the way from Sydney.
The roses are out and they are bloomin’ marvelous (I had to, I’m sorry) – I’m not sure what we did right, but it’s a good year for them. I’m calling our house Rose Cottage, I’m even going to have a little plaque made up and everything. Every house deserves a name.
I’m writing a novel about a house and a garden right now. I’ve only just started – I’m at that point where you stand at the foot of the mountain and look up, trying to figure out how many steps you’ll have to take, how many hours you’ll have to endure above the death zone, how many fingers and toes you’ll lose to frostbite. But you start, you climb, you keep going, and little by little, it happens. I want this manuscript done and polished by the end of July next year. Wish me luck! Or better, wish me persistence!
I’m also counting down the days until our new living room rug arrives, after the shipment was delayed by months, twice. These darling dogs of mine are going to be the death of me. Every car in the street, every pedestrian, every jangling cat bell, sometimes even the snapping of a twig or the shock of me getting up from the sofa too quickly… all these things send P+R into hysterics roughly 3-4 times per hour, sometimes much more. They leap all over the pappasan chair and bark their little brains out. With floorboards and no rug, the sound bounces around the room and transforms into something piercing and horrific. We are extremely lucky to have neighbours who are either very tolerant or very deaf, as both sides have told me that they barely hear a peep from us.
Aside from that:
I went to see MTC’s The Father with the father (mine) last week, and it was devastatingly good. Emphasis on the devastating bit. John Bell gave the best stage acting I have ever seen, and I cried. Some of the audience reactions were a bit off though – the play was about dementia, and Dad’s theory is that a lot of the audience are in an age category where all this stuff is frighteningly relevant for them, and their laughter might have been a function of their discomfort. Maybe.
I wore new shoes that night and ended up with horrendous blisters on my little toes. Still sore, still glowing red like little old fashioned Christmas lights. I did get to eat xiao long bao at Din Tai Fung before the theatre though – soup-filled dumplings that pop when pierced with your chopstick, which is a very icky thought when juxtaposed with my tales of toe blisters.
I’ve spent the best part of this week convinced that we had a mouse in the house, but now I’m having doubts. I saw a shadow move quickly across the hearth of the fireplace, but apart from that, there has been absolutely no evidence of anything. Now I’m wondering whether it was a mouse at all, or maybe a moth, or maybe it really was just a shadow cast along the floor from the sun shining in the window. We set traps and they haven’t been touched. I still won’t walk barefoot at nighttime or leave my slippers on the floor though.
My tomato plants are going splendidly, my cucumbers have shriveled and returned to the soil from whence they came. I’m not sure whether to try again, but the idea of making jars of my own dill pickles is calling to me. What else should I grow in my summer garden, once I rip all the broad beans out? I could just do an entire garden bed of basil, but how much pesto can one girl humanly eat*?
Nathan and I were meant to have a romantic weekend away in Sydney, which didn’t end up happening (he went by himself on a duty mission to visit a family member who needed some heavy duty cheering up). He is bringing me back a cheesecake from Uncle Tetsu though! I knew there was a reason I married him. Other than his winning smile, devastatingly handsome looks, and worthiness as a Scrabble opponent.
* If we’re talking about this girl, the answer is: probably more than you could imagine. When I was in third grade, we did a science project where we had to list the main foods in our diet and where they fit on the food pyramid. I had an argument with the teacher who told me that pesto was a fat, when I assured him that it was made mostly out of basil, so it counted as a vegetable therefore you should be eating heaps of it. But really, we all know that homemade pesto transcends the food pyramid altogether and should better be considered something like mana of the gods.
I’m doing some writing prompts by Ann Dee Ellis – eight minutes, unprompted and unrehearsed. Here’s today’s effort – decisions.
We didn’t really have a plan when we got Posie, but by the time she turned one, I had come to the realization that she needed a friend. I was already her friend, but I couldn’t be there all the time, and we worried about the idea that she had nobody to romp around with and indulge her inner dogginess. She was so communicative with us in surprisingly human ways, we didn’t want her to lose her ability to relate to other dogs altogether.
So we decided to get her a dog, and this time, we were going to do the right thing and adopt. We searched around until we found Rupert – free to a good home in the classifieds. I had to seriously beg to take him on. His previous owners were convinced that he just could not be homed with another dog because of fighting. What we later found out was that he’d had an owner before those ones, who had thrown him in an overgrown junkyard backyard with a bunch of muscular bully-type dogs. Rupert is such a teddy bear, it’s no wonder he felt threatened. Anyway, I convinced them in the end, we drove to Leongatha and took him home with us.
Things were rough for months. Posie was absolutely bereft, and acted like we had broken her heart. She kept hiding and staring at us, wondering when he was going to go home. They had their little turf wars, and Rupert made a habit of escaping for a while. We didn’t realize it could get worse, but it did. He started peeing on the furniture as soon as we left the house. Not the leg of the sofa, but actually soaking the whole cushion, or our bed, or his bed. A few trips to the dog psychologist got these things more or less under control, but it was not a fun time.
So many times, I went back and forth on our decision. I cared a lot about Rupert in those early months, but I certainly didn’t like him. I resented the havoc he’d brought into our lives and the unhappiness he’d caused Posie. I wondered if we would ever be able to sit on furniture without feeling if it was wet first, if Posie would ever be happy again. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to come out of his shell for months, so we still had no idea of his personality – he was a stranger to us, and it was very hard to love him at first. That’s what is so difficult about decisions… they can be right and wrong, at different times, for various reasons. There is nothing you can choose that doesn’t run a risk of regret, and sometimes arriving at a state of graceful acceptance about the whole thing can be slippery and elusive. But I suppose you have to make a lot of careful considerations, but ultimately jump off into the unknown and hope for the best.
Seven years later, I don’t have a single doubt about the decision to bring him into our family. He’s still having turf wars with Posie, but it’s so sweet to see how they rely on each other so much, especially when being reunited after the brief times they are separated. He has grown into the most excellent dog with a little bit of nurturing and I’m so grateful that we got lucky enough to have him.
The first time I ever felt like a Very Serious Writer, when Mum bought me a blue marble-covered notebook for my writing, with a hologram fairy sticker on the front.
The quietness of the time I was too sick to go to school for months, the restfulness of just reading and drawing and listening to music and walking every day, the hilariousness of everybody thinking I’d had a secret baby when I finally went back to school.
Sarah and I taking a whole set of real china with lukewarm tea and biscuits, and squeezing ourselves into the tiny, wooded gap between the fence and her tennis court to have a tea party when we were probably far too old for tea parties.
Seeing Nathan at the end of the aisle waiting for me; seeing him tear up as he read his vows to me.
The first moment when Posie actually showed that she loved me, when she ran to me and wanted to be picked up after being scared by a cat, after ten long months of acting like I was holding her hostage.
The time that my uncle tried to convince me that I wouldn’t like oysters, but I certainly did.
When I worked at Myer in the city, and I would go downstairs to the food court to buy lunch for me and the Big Issue seller called Chris who had four children and a wife that left him after he was in an accident and had an acquired brain injury.
A watch that Dad got me – jaunty green metal on a leather band, with a little black cat in the middle and a mouse that ran around in a circle instead of a second hand.
When my psychologist, who I hadn’t seen in years, called me one night out of the blue to tell me that he’d been to Easter Island and that I should go too one day.
The first dollar I made from writing, then the first hundred, then the first thousand.
I was in a park to take a big family photo for my grandparents, with my long hair and my pink fluffy dress, and a little girl came up to me and asked if I was a fairy – I said yes, of course.
Stealing a kiss behind a tree when Nathan was meant to be going to a concert and his friends were waiting for him, back when we were each other’s happy secret.
Seeing my parents’ faces when they saw me in a cap and gown at my graduation ceremony.
The time I spent last year in Tokyo and Taiwan, the time in my life when I have felt most free.
Zooming down the summit at Falls Creek with my sister like total pros until we both had cataclysmic crashes a couple of metres apart in a patch of trees, and laughing so hard at how we looked like such disasters that people actually stopped to try to help us.
All of my times in Ubud at my favourite hotel, where I always have nothing to do except sleep, swim, eat, read and think as much as I want or of nothing at all.
When Rupert stole lamb chops from our dinner plates on his first night with us, totally shameless.
Accidentally calling my teacher “Mum” when I was in my first year of school.
Taking a sip from the teapot at my mother’s tea party when I was tiny, scalding the inside and outside of my mouth, and then lying about having put a domino in my mouth and that it must have been poisonous or something.
Letting myself be naïve enough to be sucked into an elaborate fantasy constructed by a couple of nasty girls at school.
The woman that rammed my ankles with her pram and told me to “fucking move” when I was browsing the shelves at Borders on Christmas Eve.
Dragging my baby sister around on the living room carpet while she laughed and laughed, until we discovered the gigantic carpet burn on the back of her head.
Seeing myself in the mirror for the first time after my nose had been ripped to pieces; the fat, smug middle-aged man in the waiting room who smiled at me while I was in shock and covered in blood, saying, “I guess you won’t be pretty anymore”.
When I accidentally sucked up a nest of baby mice in the vacuum cleaner, didn’t realise and put it away without emptying it, only to discover the rotting chopped up baby mouse soup in the barrel the next time we tried to use it.
Waking up, walking down the hallway in a tank top and underwear, realizing that two huge men had broken into my kitchen – trying to rationalize for a second that they must be Nathan’s friends or something, before my instincts kicked in and I screamed bloody murder and chased them out into the street.
The time that my vision started flickering in my right eye and I couldn’t figure out why, until I went to the mirror and saw a huge moth attached to my fringe, beating its wings against my eyelid and cheek.
That drunk snake of a girl at a post-show party who was much taller than me, and when I hugged her goodbye, she leaned over my shoulder and tried to kiss Nathan on the lips.
Letting myself be slandered and losing people who I thought were my friends, because I was determined to be ‘classy’ by keeping my mouth shut and not defending myself by telling the truth because that person had made me feel like nobody would believe me.
Severe turbulence on a long flight across a wide ocean, bad enough that my orange juice spilled everywhere, bad enough that people screamed and cried each time we dropped.
When Rupert had come home from intensive care with bandages all over his head from muscle biopsies, still too sick to even walk or eat properly, Nathan was away in Canberra, and I was too terrified to sleep in case he died during the night.
When we had come to Australia on a holiday and were staying in a cabin somewhere, and I lost the gold and sapphire signet ring that my aunt bought for me, and never found it.
Going alone to a random man’s hotel room when I was sixteen years old and being shocked when he tried to kiss me, because I really did believe that he just wanted to show me his new jazz records.
Waking up during anaesthetic, in the operating room but before they had started, asking “is it over?”, seeing panicked eyes and quickly being knocked out again.
When I lifted my new, tiny puppy in the air and her head narrowly missed the spinning overhead fan.
It’s our two month anniversary! (Not that such a thing actually exists, but it’s fun.. 🙂 )
Life has been a little bit quiet lately, full of all sorts of boring grown-up responsibilities and obligations. But it’s about to start getting fun again – it’s almost summer, so many exciting things happening over the next few months.
Here is November, inspired by Pip Lincolne‘s lists:
Making : progress with deep cleaning the house
Cooking : spaghetti cacio y pepe (it was awful, do not recommend – there is just something about Australian cheese that means that European or American recipes containing it rarely work out, or I’m just a bad cook)
Drinking : milk
Reading : still stuck on the book that I’m not really into – it’s blocking me, it needs to be abandoned
Trawling : still looking for furniture, but it has to be the right furniture
Wanting : the neighbourhood possums to leave my magnolia alone
Looking : at dream houses and big semi-rural blocks of land
Deciding : to wear my glasses more often
Wishing : I hadn’t let things like speaking Chinese and playing the piano fall out of practice
Enjoying : playing Stardew Valley on my laptop, propped up in bed, while eating zooper doopers
Waiting : for all my roses to bloom
Liking : hail and thunderstorms
Wondering : what the next year will hold, now that everything is up in the air
Loving : Magda Szubanski in that new show Sisters – it’s really cool to see her play somebody so unlike herself, yet it’s so believable
Pondering : why so many companies have to send tiny products in such huge boxes with so much packaging
Listening : to Puccini and Swan Lake, extremely loudly
Considering : going for a walk, but the sky has been pretty black most of the week so far
Buying : flat rate postage satchels, so we can (via ebay) find new homes for some of our stuff
Watching : bad documentaries about the British royals, though it’s kind of disappointing these days because everything is so tightly controlled, so there is no real gossip, not like the Diana/Fergie days
Hoping : that certain things work out exactly as I’ve been told they will
Marvelling : at the most brilliant wedding present ever that Nathan commissioned for me – it’s so wonderful, when it is printed and framed, I’ll share what it is
Cringing : at the fact that I uploaded a ton of wedding photos to facebook, and they all compressed horribly and look bad – now I have to decide whether to resize them all and upload again, or just leave them
Needing : less carbs in my life
Questioning : why a certain duchess is being lauded as “a hit in the fashion stakes” for seriously wearing a completely unremarkable tracksuit
Wearing : ugg boots, strangely enough – we’re in a cold snap
Noticing : that Rupert’s having some appetite issues lately, and being really afraid of what it might mean
Knowing : that I want my hair to grow even longer, but worrying that it might have hit terminal length, because it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere right now
Thinking : I need a new curling iron, and it’s so hard wading through product reviews and then finding out that the product isn’t available in Australia
Admiring : people who are conscientious enough to have real indoor plants in their houses rather than just pretending with plastic ones
Getting : nervous about a flight I have to take in a few weeks – it’s from Avalon, so it’s a smaller plane, which I hate
Bookmarking : a lot of articles about raising backyard chickens – I am determined to be the proud mother of three silkies by this time next year
Disliking : the constant noise of neighbourhood cats jumping around on the tin roof
Opening : literal wardrobe doors and actually going through things, rather than just shutting the door on an avalanche of stuff
Closing : figurative doors on relationships that are just a big ol’ drain
Feeling : a bit shaky right now, a bit stressed
Hearing : from old friends and looking forward to catching up soon
Celebrating : two months!
Pretending : that the shower floor tiles aren’t so cracked that I feel like I’m going to fall through the floor every time I get in
Embracing : the time of year, and that it’s almost time to decorate for Christmas