Whew! We got this bad boy up just in time for Christmas.

Oh Christmas Tree

I'm taking part in this Christmas ornament swap. Because going back to work* after 18 months at home with a kid who still wakes in the night was not enough to fill in my days.

I've started which, frankly, IS A FREAKING MIRACLE, but that's about all. I made one piece (only 29 more pieces to go... did I mention that I designed the most time consuming ornament EVER?) and had to open a bottle of wine**.

Blimey. I'm such an eeyore somedays. So, for those of you who are still reading after my grizzling, here's the silver lining - I can expect some precious, handmade ornaments for my Christmas tree this year. Yay to that.

*Yes, I have a new, full-time job. I've been meaning to write about it but, for one reason or another, I haven't. It's also one of those jobs where it's best not to talk to the interweb about it. Most excitingly, it means that Jules is now a full-time dad/house husband. It's like I've landed in feminist heaven. He even has my tea ready for me at 6. Still working on him greeting me at the door with my pipe and slippers. I'm going to make that a stretch goal in his performance review this year. Am I still blathering on about this? It appears I am.

**Jules, if you're reading this, please keep calm. I went for the moderately priced stuff i the cellar.

Remy and Sidney: how one dog was too good natured for his own good

 

On our holiday down south Remy and Sidney, the farm dog, fell totally in love with each other. Remy would pull Sidney's lips up almost over his eyes, yank his ears, chew his fur, and Sidney would give him a goofy look as if to say 'I don't know what you are or why you're doing this, but I want more'.

 

30 is a bunch of roses

 

I got back to Wellington on my birthday. My 30th to be exact. Yesterday I was filling out a survey and, at the end, they asked me to tick the age bracket I belonged to. Sweet jesus it took some effort to tear myself away from 25-29 and into 30-34.

I also had a most alarming dream about needing botox because, like the doctor in the dream explained, that's what I have to do now I'm 30. Blerdy botox won't be visiting these shores anytime soon.

My darling, darling boy Jules invited friends around for a spot of afternoon tea and bubbles and it was dandy. I was in bed by 8.30. Obviously all the excitement was just a bit too much.

Remy and my holiday down south was good fun once again. There was lots of sleeping and eating and a little thrifting. I picked up an amazing Liberty print shirt dress with a gored skirt and a self-fabric belt. I also scored myself a wee something that still makes my heart race when I see it - a full-length, dark chocolate coloured leather jacket, circa 1940 in mint condition for $10. Yep, 10 bucks. As you'd expect of the 40s, it has the most wonderful shaping at the waist, and lovely panels at the back that make the whole jacket fit perfectly. Ahhhh, so good.

Parenthetically, I'm watching The Way We Were (you know, Barbara Striesand and Robert Redford, oh and that song "MEMORIES, lalaLAlalalalala, something something something, of the way we were") and while the story so far isn't grabbing me, those frocks are. So pretty.

In no time at all we'll be living in South Canterbury. The list of things I have to do and the people I want to see before we go is so long that my nerves are getting jangled. I'm not quite sure why, but I find it too hard to write about the move. Maybe I'll just stay quiet about it for a while, just until I'm more comfortable writing about it.