Hey guys, ladies, friends, avid readers, mystery lurkers,
The time has come for a change. I've moved this bloggernaut once before and I'm about to do it again.
This time, the fun won't stop *withered look* No, actually, that's very unrealistic of me to set that kind of high bar for myself. No, more's the point, I had a very eventful past 24 hours. And I'm not meaning for it to sound like it was anything about me. But rather, what I have witnessed, experienced and gone through alongside someone I hold very dear has made me realise: it's time for a very big change. I'm not instigating it, it's already begun. But I do have to shift some things in the physical for things to keep unfolding and moving forward.
I haven't seen so clearly since the day Ella died (and ensuing months) how very selfish we/people can be. We get caught up in trivialities and daily bickering and ... just bullshit! Wake up and stop thinking of yourself and your perceived grievances!! Are they really that important that you want to waste your energy and time and life on them??
I regret and am ashamed to say, I lost that feeling. The one that lifted me (and Steve) up and out of the gunk you see and hear on a daily basis. The pettiness of our society. Gradually, it slipped away from me though as I joined back in with the mainstream of society. The "me me me", "more more more" sect. Well ok, to be fair to myself, not quite as much as I did before - actually, possibly I have been stuck somewhere between these two realities and that as much as anything is probably contributing to my uneasiness with caving to "popular opinion", etc. etc.
But I've been given a very hefty shake by the hands of the universe overnight and spent most of the night up and working with someone because of it. That Ella! Dooooh, she is a hard task master. But oh so beautiful. And I have a renewed reminder of all that is important. And it is NOT what we think it is half the time. It's not whether our eggs are over-easy or our toast is too brown or our homes are not neat "enough", whether he is talking to her or she to him or them to everybody. Just stop hounding and debating and move it along!
So! I digress.
It's time to make this blog private. Give it an overhaul. Stop writing like someone's reading over my shoulder. And really start getting honest, as time and energy permits. The book needs it, my writing needs it, this has become my "journal" and there are things I have to write out, get down, document and timeline that I have simply either hesitated or abstained from doing due to awareness of the potential global audience. This is not being responsible and as I get more and more called in to service (gawd, I don't even fully know what that means, but that it is happening), I can't be flippant about it anymore. At least if I have a known audience, the one that's been with me and behind me since I started this cyber part of the journey in 2005, I will be sure I have done what I needed to do to shut most of the distraction out.
Here's the deal: you will need to send me your email address if you want to keep reading my blog.
Now, sure, anybody reading is welcome to do this! Your emails won't be sent on to some marketing scam, there's no catch, promise *nothing up this sleeve, nothing in my hat* I just need your addy to activate an invitation for you to read and Voilé! The drivel shall continue to unfold magically.
I am also moving blog addresses, which means this one won't even be here for much longer. I'm ever so sorry to make it all a bit elusive but anyone with an online community knows sometimes these things must be done - so get me your addresses quickly. I really must keep pressing on with the new one.
Spit spot! Shine your shoes, comb your hair, scrub your cheeks!
Send an email to me here with your email address:
blogger.blogparty2 (at) gmail.com
Or you can use any of my usual private email addies if you have one of those. Catch you on the flipside, friends. This is Blogdiddly's last post.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Interesting tips and facts
Did you know that on average, I get a visit from Spain once a month? I know! Totally!
Of course, Ella's site gets far more action and eyes than this humble little blog. And why not, I say. Hell, she has return visitors, which is kind of amazing (to us). So there's no doubting the good work going on there. And good ol' stats tell us who's visiting and when. And where from. China! Lima, Peru! Croatia! Someone from Bahrain even found Ella's pages once. I feel like she's our little worldly traveller... well, I know she is. It's a given. But it's just astounding how much her site has become useful to people. Makes me burst with joy. Such a shame people closer to home (and to us) don't see her place in the world and amongst people. They can't even mention her to us. Still, if I just remember that hundreds of people a month are finding out about her and her journey, then perhaps it won't be so sore to know that the incapability of some others is going to prevent them from knowing us fully. Ever. And I will just continue to let them go with love, because they have no place in my life if she has no obvious, open place in theirs.
Now, my blog isn't nearly as worldly. And I am just a tad dubious about Google's geography skills. For instance, Perth is apparently somewhat further to the west. In the blue ocean. And I know for a fact that there is no Salmat in the middle of South Australia - I used to work there... not in South Australia... I meant at Salmat. But no, Google's map continues to insist that they have an office in the outback.
But yeah. It's kind of annoying when you'd rather Google Maps be more specific.
You know what's more annoying? Having ABBA's "Nina pretty ballerina" stuck in my head. All f*@*!ng morning. Except of course, I'm swapping Nina for (Miss) Mena. Because I can.
Of course, Ella's site gets far more action and eyes than this humble little blog. And why not, I say. Hell, she has return visitors, which is kind of amazing (to us). So there's no doubting the good work going on there. And good ol' stats tell us who's visiting and when. And where from. China! Lima, Peru! Croatia! Someone from Bahrain even found Ella's pages once. I feel like she's our little worldly traveller... well, I know she is. It's a given. But it's just astounding how much her site has become useful to people. Makes me burst with joy. Such a shame people closer to home (and to us) don't see her place in the world and amongst people. They can't even mention her to us. Still, if I just remember that hundreds of people a month are finding out about her and her journey, then perhaps it won't be so sore to know that the incapability of some others is going to prevent them from knowing us fully. Ever. And I will just continue to let them go with love, because they have no place in my life if she has no obvious, open place in theirs.
Now, my blog isn't nearly as worldly. And I am just a tad dubious about Google's geography skills. For instance, Perth is apparently somewhat further to the west. In the blue ocean. And I know for a fact that there is no Salmat in the middle of South Australia - I used to work there... not in South Australia... I meant at Salmat. But no, Google's map continues to insist that they have an office in the outback.
But yeah. It's kind of annoying when you'd rather Google Maps be more specific.
You know what's more annoying? Having ABBA's "Nina pretty ballerina" stuck in my head. All f*@*!ng morning. Except of course, I'm swapping Nina for (Miss) Mena. Because I can.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Friend
This chair was never scary-lookin' to me as a wide-eyed three year old. It was my very own special chair.
I loved it so much I've kept it all these years. And now, the LGBB seems unperturbed by it too . . . although now, I do find the characters quite disturbing. They have very grotesque faces and black noses. What's with all that? Did they get frostbite??
Still, something is appealing and timeless about them obviously, as it continues to enthrall the next generation (or maybe it's just a genetic thing I've passed on). Tell me... are YOU scared of my chair?
The LGBB is so enamoured that she put her feet up on it. Anything that's good or fun or given the Lolly Seal of Approval is deemed thus with the stomping of her feet upon it. Avocado on toast = feet on plate, kicking it. A page-turner of a book (like, say, Five Little Ducks) = foot-stomp-worthy. A kiddy chair with two "Friend" on it? Well, it's very difficult to get your feet up on something when the surface is about half a foot higher than your seated bum. But she did it. For two very precarious seconds (it's a hard position to maintain).
And while I was scrambling for the camera to take a stealthy photo - which I was too slow to get - the LGBB decided she was, in fact, so taken and so comfortable with her new Friend chair that she offered it the ultimate in seals of approval.
She took a dump in its presence.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Stab more, please
Lolly's latest: "more...... pleeeeeease".
There is a very obvious pause in between these numerous two-word sentences that are popping up like weeds over the past several weeks. This one became audible yesterday and since then, it's been very very difficult not to give her whatever she's wanting more of please, simply because she's asking for it. It's just the latest catch phrase, kinda like Bart the "I-Didn't-Do-It" Kid. We get that. But she also really does want more. Sometimes.
And tonight, trying to feed herself (rather successfully in the end) with her fork and using the mumm/daddy patented "stab stab stab" technique so she doesn't forget the easy way to pick up food using the otherwise useless utensil, we caught on film the most delightfully ladylike request. As she punctured the life out of her pasta.
"Stab. More. Please." Ever so politely.
There is a very obvious pause in between these numerous two-word sentences that are popping up like weeds over the past several weeks. This one became audible yesterday and since then, it's been very very difficult not to give her whatever she's wanting more of please, simply because she's asking for it. It's just the latest catch phrase, kinda like Bart the "I-Didn't-Do-It" Kid. We get that. But she also really does want more. Sometimes.
And tonight, trying to feed herself (rather successfully in the end) with her fork and using the mumm/daddy patented "stab stab stab" technique so she doesn't forget the easy way to pick up food using the otherwise useless utensil, we caught on film the most delightfully ladylike request. As she punctured the life out of her pasta.
"Stab. More. Please." Ever so politely.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Position Vacant:
I think I need to split myself into three or hire someone who can either play with the LGBB all day, or clean and paint an entire house on her own, or stay and pack an old house on her own. Oh.. or keep meeting business deadlines. That's four. I need to split myself into four.
Firstly, let me just thank you for your well wishes and enquiries here and in the emails I received. I appreciate it so much. Hug moment *pause for effect* Ok! Moving on.
Has it really been four days since the auction? Oh help. It feels like four months and four minutes at the same time. Mentally, I've already moved in to the new place and starting investing in our future memories there, I'm committed to it. I feel a bit like a cheater. I come home to the pretty, dolled-up, modern and hip place after kicking around with the filthy dirty new house floosy. And she's twice my age.
Where do I start? Auction Day went thus:
• My day started with the dubious visit to the local hospy. And that saga, while not ending for the girl herself as soon as we left and came home, was drawn to a close as I tucked her snugly into her own bed for her day kip. So the first distraction from the auction was sealed.
• As many files as I could squeeze into the remainder of the afternoon for my client were the trifecta in the day unwittingly designed to make me watch the hands so I wasn't caught up with what was going on beneath the surface.
And honestly, at about 5pm, I noticed that I kind of just ... moved out of my headspace. I got taken somewhere mentally, I think, by my minders (the kind you can't see, you know those ones? Some call them guides, and with good reason I suppose). I had that much going on anyway that by the time it got to "Be Zen" o'clock, I wouldn't have been able to do it had a peaceful feeling of blissful anticipation/spectator not taken over.
I dressed, did my hair real purdy (straightened, if you don't mind *hair flick*) and kissed goodbye Lol's lovely babysitters, her nominated "in case of emergency, you're IT!" guardians - who were stoked at being bestowed with the request last Christmas, bless them. Steve and I stepped out arm in arm and it felt like we were going to the wedding of our coming-of-age home. As if it was the house that was growing up, moving on and getting on with its life.
Bizarre, really, that analogy. Especially when you factor in that we were ushered to the front of the 300-seat conference room at the local swanky golf club. We really did feel like the parents of the blushing bride then.
Sitting there, making small talk with a somewhat overly-amorous estate agent with the most mesmerisingly perfect, straight, white (fake?) teeth (which I don't recommend - the small talk, not the teeth - unless you really have your fake laugh down pat), I was still up and outta there. I sat feeling just slightly numb to it all. Reasoning in my mind that, whatever, we were literally going to a better place. It was necessary. And it had had to be done - the speed with which this selling/buying business all came about is not lost on me; if I had any conscious hand in it, I tell you I would be sitting here now blogging about "the gorgeous li'l house that got away because I was too shitscared to go for it".
I was sitting on my new front porch today. All I could see were trees. The massive maple in our front yard, the native bush dotted with homes on the steep hill just beyond. Right there. As if you could reach out and touch it. And I thought, like so many other times in my life, how bloody lucky are we? Right now, as I type this back at the old place, I feel like a sitting duck here. People say "But the bowl of a court is good! Nice and quiet." And I'm here to retort that you don't feel terribly restful when every house faces yours and not only that but the street (and so oncoming traffic) sees your house first and only as they meander down to the bottom.
But I digress. Back to the auction.
Right before it started, Steve nudged me and pointed out the window. There sat the tiniest, most panicked-looking baby bunny. Staring in at these huge monsters all prettied up and sitting on chairs. It was an omen. A good one. And then we were off. The first two houses seemed to go in a flash. We were fourth on the program. But right when our agent came and knelt in close, telling us the third place had sold prior and we were next, up sprang the images on the screen. There it was. Everything. Our bedroom, the living room, the photos of Ella all there in the background* Bidding was fast paced. We held each others' hands for strength. It seems we've done that so many times in our lives together up til now. But this was somehow so different. Yes, it was emotional (and my heart did begin to pound, cheeks growing flush with emotion, as I let the words form in my brain consciously now: "Shit, it's not ours anymore, it's not ours"). But it was a strange kind of wonderful emotion. It was just a touch of melancholy mixed in with huge excitement and anticipation. We weren't just heading to a new home. We had bought ourselves a new lifestyle. And we really have.
• The hammer fell just over our reserve. Our dreamland "we're fooling ourselves" ideal figure was a mere sniff away. So we are very pleased. We're not going to be so well off that we are silly with our renovations. But suffice to say, we will be kissing our mortgage goodbye much sooner than had we stayed here, even with increasing real estate prices. This place would have plateaued sooner or later. And staying here, not making the jump to a new home and going further into debt (for that is what we always expected we would do, never the opposite - didn't enter our consideration that our first home could see us quite in this position) netted us a handy increase in value just in these past two years. So that's a nice buffer.
• The people who bought the place are lovely. Have I mentioned them? I can't remember, do forgive me if I have. An elderly, ailing couple who have already moved in in their minds (well, the wife has at least), so much so that I feel rather silly for still being here in her house! I am sooo relieved. This more than anything - the love I know they have for what we've created here - means so much more to me than any dollar value anyone was willing to put on it. They will care for our fish, the garden is in great hands.... it's all just very positive and leaves me choked up knowing how well they will continue to nurture what magic has begun here.
So. Onward and upward as they say.
Tomorrow, I'm bracing for round 1 with the undefeated champions of "State The Obvious 1977-current" *gravelly sigh* Urgh. Yes. We will have every crack and foundation quiver pointed out to us. As if it's helpful. Don't get me wrong. I love that people care. Care enough about us and about what we've purchased, to make these observations. But really, when we're talking old, we're talking cracks. We're talking door jambs that don't quite line up with sides of walls, we're talking things not square.... we're talking.... CHARACTER!! The place screams it already. And I know that as I clean and polish and buff her into her former glory (does that sound okay? Sounds a little bit sexewal and I didn't mean it to *pursing lips piously*), she's going to reveal lots of little strange and odd blemishes. I don't expect the house to be perfect. But we don't want perfect! We want unique. We want place/chance of a lifetime.
And I think we got it.
Photos in coming days! Oh! You should see the mastery of a paint job on the fireplace for starters. What a difference a bit of spit and polish makes.
* Nobody except me knows that when I "dressed" the house for show, I put subtle little touches near each photo of Ella - a tealight candle and the photo of us from our engagement party next to the sleeping photo of her on our dining room buffet; the book 'Mothers & Daughters' that was given to me by a fabulous girl I met on *cough*another website*cough* and which I placed "just so" in front of another photo of her and also the first photo of us with the LGBB in another frame; the set of three photos in the kitchen of Ella pulling sweet facial expressions, the rose quartz angel that was given to me by Peace Space "from Ella" on the day of her memorial standing in quiet repose beside it. They were all there and my chest puffed with pride that I was able to acknowledge her in my own private way with no one any the wiser. It was important to me somehow, with so many strangers teeming in and out over the weeks, that this constant not be broken.
Firstly, let me just thank you for your well wishes and enquiries here and in the emails I received. I appreciate it so much. Hug moment *pause for effect* Ok! Moving on.
Has it really been four days since the auction? Oh help. It feels like four months and four minutes at the same time. Mentally, I've already moved in to the new place and starting investing in our future memories there, I'm committed to it. I feel a bit like a cheater. I come home to the pretty, dolled-up, modern and hip place after kicking around with the filthy dirty new house floosy. And she's twice my age.
Where do I start? Auction Day went thus:
• My day started with the dubious visit to the local hospy. And that saga, while not ending for the girl herself as soon as we left and came home, was drawn to a close as I tucked her snugly into her own bed for her day kip. So the first distraction from the auction was sealed.
• As many files as I could squeeze into the remainder of the afternoon for my client were the trifecta in the day unwittingly designed to make me watch the hands so I wasn't caught up with what was going on beneath the surface.
And honestly, at about 5pm, I noticed that I kind of just ... moved out of my headspace. I got taken somewhere mentally, I think, by my minders (the kind you can't see, you know those ones? Some call them guides, and with good reason I suppose). I had that much going on anyway that by the time it got to "Be Zen" o'clock, I wouldn't have been able to do it had a peaceful feeling of blissful anticipation/spectator not taken over.
I dressed, did my hair real purdy (straightened, if you don't mind *hair flick*) and kissed goodbye Lol's lovely babysitters, her nominated "in case of emergency, you're IT!" guardians - who were stoked at being bestowed with the request last Christmas, bless them. Steve and I stepped out arm in arm and it felt like we were going to the wedding of our coming-of-age home. As if it was the house that was growing up, moving on and getting on with its life.
Bizarre, really, that analogy. Especially when you factor in that we were ushered to the front of the 300-seat conference room at the local swanky golf club. We really did feel like the parents of the blushing bride then.
Sitting there, making small talk with a somewhat overly-amorous estate agent with the most mesmerisingly perfect, straight, white (fake?) teeth (which I don't recommend - the small talk, not the teeth - unless you really have your fake laugh down pat), I was still up and outta there. I sat feeling just slightly numb to it all. Reasoning in my mind that, whatever, we were literally going to a better place. It was necessary. And it had had to be done - the speed with which this selling/buying business all came about is not lost on me; if I had any conscious hand in it, I tell you I would be sitting here now blogging about "the gorgeous li'l house that got away because I was too shitscared to go for it".
I was sitting on my new front porch today. All I could see were trees. The massive maple in our front yard, the native bush dotted with homes on the steep hill just beyond. Right there. As if you could reach out and touch it. And I thought, like so many other times in my life, how bloody lucky are we? Right now, as I type this back at the old place, I feel like a sitting duck here. People say "But the bowl of a court is good! Nice and quiet." And I'm here to retort that you don't feel terribly restful when every house faces yours and not only that but the street (and so oncoming traffic) sees your house first and only as they meander down to the bottom.
But I digress. Back to the auction.
Right before it started, Steve nudged me and pointed out the window. There sat the tiniest, most panicked-looking baby bunny. Staring in at these huge monsters all prettied up and sitting on chairs. It was an omen. A good one. And then we were off. The first two houses seemed to go in a flash. We were fourth on the program. But right when our agent came and knelt in close, telling us the third place had sold prior and we were next, up sprang the images on the screen. There it was. Everything. Our bedroom, the living room, the photos of Ella all there in the background* Bidding was fast paced. We held each others' hands for strength. It seems we've done that so many times in our lives together up til now. But this was somehow so different. Yes, it was emotional (and my heart did begin to pound, cheeks growing flush with emotion, as I let the words form in my brain consciously now: "Shit, it's not ours anymore, it's not ours"). But it was a strange kind of wonderful emotion. It was just a touch of melancholy mixed in with huge excitement and anticipation. We weren't just heading to a new home. We had bought ourselves a new lifestyle. And we really have.
• The hammer fell just over our reserve. Our dreamland "we're fooling ourselves" ideal figure was a mere sniff away. So we are very pleased. We're not going to be so well off that we are silly with our renovations. But suffice to say, we will be kissing our mortgage goodbye much sooner than had we stayed here, even with increasing real estate prices. This place would have plateaued sooner or later. And staying here, not making the jump to a new home and going further into debt (for that is what we always expected we would do, never the opposite - didn't enter our consideration that our first home could see us quite in this position) netted us a handy increase in value just in these past two years. So that's a nice buffer.
• The people who bought the place are lovely. Have I mentioned them? I can't remember, do forgive me if I have. An elderly, ailing couple who have already moved in in their minds (well, the wife has at least), so much so that I feel rather silly for still being here in her house! I am sooo relieved. This more than anything - the love I know they have for what we've created here - means so much more to me than any dollar value anyone was willing to put on it. They will care for our fish, the garden is in great hands.... it's all just very positive and leaves me choked up knowing how well they will continue to nurture what magic has begun here.
So. Onward and upward as they say.
Tomorrow, I'm bracing for round 1 with the undefeated champions of "State The Obvious 1977-current" *gravelly sigh* Urgh. Yes. We will have every crack and foundation quiver pointed out to us. As if it's helpful. Don't get me wrong. I love that people care. Care enough about us and about what we've purchased, to make these observations. But really, when we're talking old, we're talking cracks. We're talking door jambs that don't quite line up with sides of walls, we're talking things not square.... we're talking.... CHARACTER!! The place screams it already. And I know that as I clean and polish and buff her into her former glory (does that sound okay? Sounds a little bit sexewal and I didn't mean it to *pursing lips piously*), she's going to reveal lots of little strange and odd blemishes. I don't expect the house to be perfect. But we don't want perfect! We want unique. We want place/chance of a lifetime.
And I think we got it.
Photos in coming days! Oh! You should see the mastery of a paint job on the fireplace for starters. What a difference a bit of spit and polish makes.
* Nobody except me knows that when I "dressed" the house for show, I put subtle little touches near each photo of Ella - a tealight candle and the photo of us from our engagement party next to the sleeping photo of her on our dining room buffet; the book 'Mothers & Daughters' that was given to me by a fabulous girl I met on *cough*another website*cough* and which I placed "just so" in front of another photo of her and also the first photo of us with the LGBB in another frame; the set of three photos in the kitchen of Ella pulling sweet facial expressions, the rose quartz angel that was given to me by Peace Space "from Ella" on the day of her memorial standing in quiet repose beside it. They were all there and my chest puffed with pride that I was able to acknowledge her in my own private way with no one any the wiser. It was important to me somehow, with so many strangers teeming in and out over the weeks, that this constant not be broken.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Single mothers, I tip my cap at you
How the hell you would do this on your own with no break, I do not know.
The LGBB and I spent the morning at the local A&E hospital department. To add to her current list of woes, a rash appeared overnight. Steve asked if I wanted him to go, I said no. I stuck it out for just two hours. That's all I managed before calling for backup. The screams and hair-pulls and desperation and general inability to calm Lolly down, interspersed with moments of lulling her into a catatonic state with a broken record version (because I can only remember one verse) of the gorgeous Morningtown Ride, was apparently all I was cut out for on the back of three days solid of her angst. I finished Justine's back catalogue in the first half hour. I'd run out of tricks. And I felt pretty damn useless.
We were sent away with only the reassurance that "it's nothing dangerous". Great. Thanks. It doesn't help us make her feel comfortable, does it? A dear friend and I have deduced it's most likely roseola and I'm taking her tomorrow to the homoeopath. She's slightly perkier this afternoon. But only just. Currently, we're dozing in our fold-out couch watching Countdown reruns on VH1 (at's my girl).
I know it's a moot point, but on a day when I was hoping we'd all be well rested, stressed only about the pending proceedings this evening, I find myself desperate for Steve to get home.
I absolutely take my hat off to parents going it on their own. More than one child and I am even more in awe.
The LGBB and I spent the morning at the local A&E hospital department. To add to her current list of woes, a rash appeared overnight. Steve asked if I wanted him to go, I said no. I stuck it out for just two hours. That's all I managed before calling for backup. The screams and hair-pulls and desperation and general inability to calm Lolly down, interspersed with moments of lulling her into a catatonic state with a broken record version (because I can only remember one verse) of the gorgeous Morningtown Ride, was apparently all I was cut out for on the back of three days solid of her angst. I finished Justine's back catalogue in the first half hour. I'd run out of tricks. And I felt pretty damn useless.
We were sent away with only the reassurance that "it's nothing dangerous". Great. Thanks. It doesn't help us make her feel comfortable, does it? A dear friend and I have deduced it's most likely roseola and I'm taking her tomorrow to the homoeopath. She's slightly perkier this afternoon. But only just. Currently, we're dozing in our fold-out couch watching Countdown reruns on VH1 (at's my girl).
I know it's a moot point, but on a day when I was hoping we'd all be well rested, stressed only about the pending proceedings this evening, I find myself desperate for Steve to get home.
I absolutely take my hat off to parents going it on their own. More than one child and I am even more in awe.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sitting duck
Well, T- one more sleep and counting. The auction is tomorrow night.
I'm ... meh ... either way about it now. Although mind you, I say that as I sit here hoping I catch some sleep without tossing and turning too much tonight.
All I am visualising right now is lashings of new wall colours. We're planning on creating several inviting, rich spaces. There's pear colours involved. And putty. And perhaps a bit of coffee. The dark roast kind (you knew there had to be).
I'm also really looking forward to the walking/bike track exercise opportunities. We took a walk around there last night and were half way to the library before we even noticed. So that will be a breeze - on cooler days, that is. Here, where we are now, I feel like half a dozen houses are watching me as I shift my sizeable rear end up the hill. It's always been a tad unfair that to get out of our front door and go anywhere, you can only go in one direction: up. A short and not too sharp little hill. But a hill nonetheless, an unavoidable one. With any kind of *cough*babyweightandastackofitstill*cough* to get off, I don't often feel like parading up the street, "Hellooooo, here I am, off to kid myself that a short walk will make a difference."
Of course, it would. And I wouldn't feel quite so sluggish if I did get the chance to get out there every day. But I've let it - and me bum - slide for now. We're moving to within ten minutes' walking distance of the local hut-hut-hut torture stairs (right up the vertical face of a steep hill) which every local fitness buff or wannabe knows about. So I figure, I'll go and get all Jillian and Bob on my own ass. There's time enough for all that.
Right now, I'm juggling ensuring the LGBB gets through her latest "stage" (it's a bit of incisors meets gums meets mental growth spurt meets humid hot weather and it's all timed perfectly). Whatever happens tomorrow night, we'll always have our budding accountant to secure our little nest egg. The LGBB started counting today. To five. Like this:
*purposeful pointed deliberate and slow finger, pointing to anything it makes contact with*
"Teaow (2)" *carpet*
"Teaow" *Scraps the dog*
"Teaow" *her drink cup*
"Teaow" *Scraps again*
"Teaow!!" *ta da! Her own leg*
Hey, I just think she's great because she counted to five - or so I assume because she pointed to five things. She could have meant to count to ten. Hmmm. Will have to check her out on that.
I'm ... meh ... either way about it now. Although mind you, I say that as I sit here hoping I catch some sleep without tossing and turning too much tonight.
All I am visualising right now is lashings of new wall colours. We're planning on creating several inviting, rich spaces. There's pear colours involved. And putty. And perhaps a bit of coffee. The dark roast kind (you knew there had to be).
I'm also really looking forward to the walking/bike track exercise opportunities. We took a walk around there last night and were half way to the library before we even noticed. So that will be a breeze - on cooler days, that is. Here, where we are now, I feel like half a dozen houses are watching me as I shift my sizeable rear end up the hill. It's always been a tad unfair that to get out of our front door and go anywhere, you can only go in one direction: up. A short and not too sharp little hill. But a hill nonetheless, an unavoidable one. With any kind of *cough*babyweightandastackofitstill*cough* to get off, I don't often feel like parading up the street, "Hellooooo, here I am, off to kid myself that a short walk will make a difference."
Of course, it would. And I wouldn't feel quite so sluggish if I did get the chance to get out there every day. But I've let it - and me bum - slide for now. We're moving to within ten minutes' walking distance of the local hut-hut-hut torture stairs (right up the vertical face of a steep hill) which every local fitness buff or wannabe knows about. So I figure, I'll go and get all Jillian and Bob on my own ass. There's time enough for all that.
Right now, I'm juggling ensuring the LGBB gets through her latest "stage" (it's a bit of incisors meets gums meets mental growth spurt meets humid hot weather and it's all timed perfectly). Whatever happens tomorrow night, we'll always have our budding accountant to secure our little nest egg. The LGBB started counting today. To five. Like this:
*purposeful pointed deliberate and slow finger, pointing to anything it makes contact with*
"Teaow (2)" *carpet*
"Teaow" *Scraps the dog*
"Teaow" *her drink cup*
"Teaow" *Scraps again*
"Teaow!!" *ta da! Her own leg*
Hey, I just think she's great because she counted to five - or so I assume because she pointed to five things. She could have meant to count to ten. Hmmm. Will have to check her out on that.
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