Tuesday, January 24, 2012
I'm the boss.
I've spent the morning watching Cake Boss and eating cake. Like a boss.
Pretty good way to live I've gotta say.
Pretty good way to live I've gotta say.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The next great adventure.
This afternoon Remy and I were at a birthday party for one of his school friends.
There was a young woman there, dressed as Ariel, the mermaid from the movie The Little Mermaid.
She was all youthful loveliness and light, wearing a tiny and very sheer mermaid dress. She was patient with the kids and even made them balloon animals.
Then she gathered the children around her for story time.
About twenty kids aged three and four years old sat on the floor in front of her with their legs crossed and a look of expectation on their precious cake-stuffed faces.
She opened story time in a breathy voice with "Who likes adventures?", to which every kid but one said "ME!". And that one kid? "I like death", he said loudly.
Without a pause she looked that boy in the eye and said "To the organized mind, death is the next great adventure".
There was a young woman there, dressed as Ariel, the mermaid from the movie The Little Mermaid.
She was all youthful loveliness and light, wearing a tiny and very sheer mermaid dress. She was patient with the kids and even made them balloon animals.
Then she gathered the children around her for story time.
About twenty kids aged three and four years old sat on the floor in front of her with their legs crossed and a look of expectation on their precious cake-stuffed faces.
She opened story time in a breathy voice with "Who likes adventures?", to which every kid but one said "ME!". And that one kid? "I like death", he said loudly.
Without a pause she looked that boy in the eye and said "To the organized mind, death is the next great adventure".
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Lightening man goes to a party!
Remy's BFF turned four on the weekend. We were still lying around in bed late on Saturday morning when I realised that we hadn't bought the birthday boy a gift and we were due at his party in ...ooo, let's see... no time at all.
We chatted about what the BFF likes and Remy came up with the idea of making him a cape with a lightening bolt on it. What a fantastic idea! So we got to work.
Fortunately, there was a bunch of fabric still lying around from the pirate costume I made for Remy's birthday, so we choose a bright, patterned red for the lining (this is the part that contains all of Lightening Man's powers don't cha know?), and this very odd charcoal-coloured suiting material for the outside. (You know, I'm sure that I must have bought that fabric but I have absolutely no memory of what I actually bought it for. And it is nasty stuff! All polyester blend, stretchy, slightly scratchy awfulness, but totally fine for something that will probably get thrashed anyway).
It was at about this point that Remy collapsed into a heap and demanded that he too have a cape with a lightening bolt on it. Of course. It's perfectly reasonable to expect that I could just whip up two capes in a morning. Or something like that.
Boyfriend came to my rescue by fetching me a coffee and taking Remy off to the park. Ah, peace at last.
I cut the two pieces of fabric into my best guess of a symmetrical rectangle. I dug out some green felt and cut out an approximation of a lightening bolt, appliquéd it to the ghastly grey fabric. I sewed the two rectangles together (with some elastic in the top corner), leaving a small gap in the side to be able to turn everything the right way out. Once I had trimmed the corners and straightened things out, I topstitched all the way around, still leaving the gap in the side. I sewed a tunnel for the elastic, pulled the elastic tight and sewed up the opening. Voila! It worked!
All that was left to do was make a button hole and sew the button on. And make a second cape. And make and eat lunch. And get ready for the party. And get to the party on time.
Of course, this was all NO TROUBLE AT ALL and we did all those things smoothly and perfectly and like we do this sort of thing every single Saturday ever.
 |
| Then we trotted over the hill and down to Union Street.... |
 |
| ...jumped on a bus... |
 |
| ...jumped off the bus in North Beach, walked up the hill past Coit tower... |
 |
| ... and the TransAmerica building... |
 |
| ...got a lovely view of the Bay Bridge... |
 |
| ...and arrived at the party right on time! |
We have another birthday party to go to this weekend. We haven't bought a present for that party yet.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
An explosion of cookies.
Check out these bad boys! Yoda cookies ahoy!
Remy and I have been hitting the oven lately - we've never baked so many cookies before. My gym membership is the only thing between me and an early death from cookie overdose.
We popped into the local Williams-Sonoma to pick up a candy thermometer and saw a box of Star Wars cookie cutters. While I was a model of restraint and frugality in the shop, as soon as I got home I got to googling them. I ended up getting them half-price and now these bad boys are ALL MINE!
On the box the cookies are decorated with very fancy pants icing ... which I can't for the life of me work out how to do ... but they look super un-iced anyway.
I used this recipe from Smitten Kitchen - one of my favourite cooking blogs - for Brownie Roll-Out Cookies. I used salted butter, so I halved the amount of salt and I used the amazing dark cooking cocoa from Ghirardelli, a chocolate company here in San Francisco.
Delicious! And guaranteed to totally blow the minds of four-year-old boys.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Don't make me do it!
After months and months and months of telling people that I would be going back to NZ in March 'sometime', I have finally had to bite the bullet and book tickets.
So now I have a definite date for going home.
But NOOOOOO! I don't want to leave! I want to stay in this fabulous, vibrant, exciting city forever. US immigration have other, non-negotiable ideas. Damnit.
So now I have a definite date for going home.
But NOOOOOO! I don't want to leave! I want to stay in this fabulous, vibrant, exciting city forever. US immigration have other, non-negotiable ideas. Damnit.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Sometimes the art is in the detail.
The sun is shining through the window onto my back and into my hair. I'm in another phase of giving up coffee, so I have a latte in my hand. The Picasso exhibition I've been to this morning is still moving in my brain. I want to know more about his life, definitely more about his lovers but it appears that Picasso lived his life in four parts that retail for thirty dollars each.
And that's the trick of the museum shop, isn't it? Capture people when they have been broken open by the creativity of others and convince them they can possess some of the greatness. But why must the greatness be inevitably stamped onto magnets? Or impractically small notepads?
In the same cafe, the young woman across from me is eating her cookie as if she were a gopher - all hunched shoulders, two hands holding her food, big teeth bared, taking tiny nibbles until she has nibbled the unfortunate cookie ragged.
She has dark hair, pulled back from her face, blunt fringe up front. She is self-conscious of her acne; her mother seems conscious of her in her entirety.
The two of them don't talk. As the young woman gets up and walks away she could be mistaken for a woman much older; she is bowed by age though she must be less than twenty.
An elderly couple sits close by too. Their rings are thin slivers of gold; the edges of the rings were soaked up by surrounding skin over the many years of marriage.
A proud grandmother struts past pushing her new granddaughter in a pram. Her daughter, the mother of the baby, half walks, half skips to keep up. Her mother is racing away with the baby; her mother is so happy to be a grandmother at last that she doesn't really care.
I can't sit here any longer. The latte is finished; the little cookie has been eaten. I'm off to happily wander in Golden Gate Park.
And that's the trick of the museum shop, isn't it? Capture people when they have been broken open by the creativity of others and convince them they can possess some of the greatness. But why must the greatness be inevitably stamped onto magnets? Or impractically small notepads?
In the same cafe, the young woman across from me is eating her cookie as if she were a gopher - all hunched shoulders, two hands holding her food, big teeth bared, taking tiny nibbles until she has nibbled the unfortunate cookie ragged.
She has dark hair, pulled back from her face, blunt fringe up front. She is self-conscious of her acne; her mother seems conscious of her in her entirety.
The two of them don't talk. As the young woman gets up and walks away she could be mistaken for a woman much older; she is bowed by age though she must be less than twenty.
An elderly couple sits close by too. Their rings are thin slivers of gold; the edges of the rings were soaked up by surrounding skin over the many years of marriage.
A proud grandmother struts past pushing her new granddaughter in a pram. Her daughter, the mother of the baby, half walks, half skips to keep up. Her mother is racing away with the baby; her mother is so happy to be a grandmother at last that she doesn't really care.
I can't sit here any longer. The latte is finished; the little cookie has been eaten. I'm off to happily wander in Golden Gate Park.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Riding the buses - A field guide on how NOT to be that asshole.
There are ways to ride the buses that leaves everyone with no impression of you whatsoever and there are ways to ride the buses so that people know you are an asshole.
Don't let people know for sure that you are an asshole. Here's how in six easy points.
1. Don't be that asshole who takes his golf clubs on the bus. Because that's just stupid. You want to be the guy who is standing next to the homeless man while you're holding your golf clubs? You want people to push past you and your golf clubs in the aisle? You want people to mutter 'asshole' under their breath? Then sure, take your clubs for a ride on the number 5.
2. Don't be that asshole who takes up two seats because you are reading the paper. Or because you need to rest your sixteen-year-old feet. Or because your bag needs a lie down. Or because you just feel like it. And in related asshole-ness, don't sit in the aisle seat so that someone has to push past you to sit in the window seat.
3. Don't be that asshole who gropes women. It's not legal and it's certainly uncool. Also, if you get punched in the balls or your eyes gouged out, no one is going to help you. They'll just call you an asshole.
4. Don't be that asshole who does stupid stuff. Like using the rails to work on your chin-ups. We're not an audience. We're just trying to get places.
5. Don't be that young asshole who sits while older people stand. One day you'll be old and you'll have to stand on your rickety arthritic hips while some fourteen-year-old asshole sits in a seat. Don't tempt karma.
6. So you're an asshole who likes listening to Bon Jovi really, really loudly? Good on you. And you are welcome to do just that. In the privacy of your own home. Don't inflict your music on other people. And see your doctor for a hearing test. I know you need one.
There's no easy way to sum this up. Let's see... Did I cover everything y'all need to know?
Don't be an asshole.
Check.
We're done here.
Don't let people know for sure that you are an asshole. Here's how in six easy points.
1. Don't be that asshole who takes his golf clubs on the bus. Because that's just stupid. You want to be the guy who is standing next to the homeless man while you're holding your golf clubs? You want people to push past you and your golf clubs in the aisle? You want people to mutter 'asshole' under their breath? Then sure, take your clubs for a ride on the number 5.
2. Don't be that asshole who takes up two seats because you are reading the paper. Or because you need to rest your sixteen-year-old feet. Or because your bag needs a lie down. Or because you just feel like it. And in related asshole-ness, don't sit in the aisle seat so that someone has to push past you to sit in the window seat.
3. Don't be that asshole who gropes women. It's not legal and it's certainly uncool. Also, if you get punched in the balls or your eyes gouged out, no one is going to help you. They'll just call you an asshole.
4. Don't be that asshole who does stupid stuff. Like using the rails to work on your chin-ups. We're not an audience. We're just trying to get places.
5. Don't be that young asshole who sits while older people stand. One day you'll be old and you'll have to stand on your rickety arthritic hips while some fourteen-year-old asshole sits in a seat. Don't tempt karma.
6. So you're an asshole who likes listening to Bon Jovi really, really loudly? Good on you. And you are welcome to do just that. In the privacy of your own home. Don't inflict your music on other people. And see your doctor for a hearing test. I know you need one.
There's no easy way to sum this up. Let's see... Did I cover everything y'all need to know?
Don't be an asshole.
Check.
We're done here.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
How's it going?
I know now that I was quite naive coming to America. I thought that it would be just the same as home, just, you know, more like on the telly. Maybe a little swearier and with a touch more god.
But the crazies in this city seem a little crazier. The people more beautiful, definitely skinnier, probably richer. The diamonds are bigger, the politics more extreme.
Shopping is both cheaper and more expensive. Sitting in this park, I can see the mansion that belongs to Danielle Steele. It takes up a whole city block and has its own carriage entrance. There are houses in the paper for sale for $45 million dollars.
Dog walkers fill the parks. Nannies fill the parks. Women in yoga pants fill Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, small and tasteful boutiques.
Children are treated as little adults, tiny little employers, special snowflakes who can be forgiven anything and who should be given everything. They are on a tight leash; no further away from an adult than a few metres. Strangers are confused when Remy talks to them; kids don't speak to strangers here. The strangers have all been so kind to him, playing along with his superhero games, being good sports when he shoots them.
The food is confusing. The variety of products is astounding. The amount of corn syrup unimaginable and almost impossible to avoid.
People stand for others on the buses. It's more than good manners; there is a strong feeling of community and looking after each other here. Except when they don't, because sometimes they won't. There are signs around the parks telling us all not to befriend the animals because it makes them more aggressive. The animals they are talking about are coyotes. Seriously, coyotes. It's like being in a foreign country sometimes.
But the crazies in this city seem a little crazier. The people more beautiful, definitely skinnier, probably richer. The diamonds are bigger, the politics more extreme.
Shopping is both cheaper and more expensive. Sitting in this park, I can see the mansion that belongs to Danielle Steele. It takes up a whole city block and has its own carriage entrance. There are houses in the paper for sale for $45 million dollars.
Dog walkers fill the parks. Nannies fill the parks. Women in yoga pants fill Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, small and tasteful boutiques.
Children are treated as little adults, tiny little employers, special snowflakes who can be forgiven anything and who should be given everything. They are on a tight leash; no further away from an adult than a few metres. Strangers are confused when Remy talks to them; kids don't speak to strangers here. The strangers have all been so kind to him, playing along with his superhero games, being good sports when he shoots them.
The food is confusing. The variety of products is astounding. The amount of corn syrup unimaginable and almost impossible to avoid.
People stand for others on the buses. It's more than good manners; there is a strong feeling of community and looking after each other here. Except when they don't, because sometimes they won't. There are signs around the parks telling us all not to befriend the animals because it makes them more aggressive. The animals they are talking about are coyotes. Seriously, coyotes. It's like being in a foreign country sometimes.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
While I was out.
I've moved to San Francisco.
Yes, yes I have. Remy is here too of course, and Rees.
It's awesome here. Obviously. It's San Francisco. How could it be anything else?
Yes, yes I have. Remy is here too of course, and Rees.
It's awesome here. Obviously. It's San Francisco. How could it be anything else?
Friday, November 5, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Oh noes. I'm treating this place like it's Facebook.
Here you go folks - 10 updates that very nearly went on Facebook until I reminded myself that going from 104 'friends' to 103 almost killed me and that if I continue spamming people with my life then they will leeeeeeaaaaaave meeeeeeeeee:
10: I regret telling Remy about Santa. Suddenly I realise that Santa gets the credit for the stuff I buy. Eff off Santa - if you want the credit, you buy the bloody presents.
9. I have a new favourite song and when I have a new favourite song I listen to it 73 hundred million times in a row. It's so I can get all the goodness out of it. Boyfriend on the other hand has a new least-favourite-ever-in-his-life song that he has listened to 73 hundred million times...
8. Remy's current career-of-choice - Giraffe. One that eats people.
7. Coming in at close second is stuntman. It's not clear yet if he will be a stuntman who also eats people.
6. Do not follow this link unless you are happy to lose hours (and hours and hours) of your life. And definitely do not look at this one. I warned you.
5.When I was little and had trouble going to sleep my mother would say "Don't worry, we're not going to have fun without you". Now that I am a parent myself, I'd like to point out that my mother is a LIAR.
4. Sewing win! I made a car seat cover. And I only swore ... well, I only swore all the time but maybe if I'd been trying harder not to swear I wouldn't have had the energy to finish the car seat cover?
3. Uh oh... I can feel a NEW FAVOURITE SONG coming on... are you ready boyfriend? Boyfriend? Hello?
2. I was at the dentist and had Remy there with me. Remy asked the dentist if he had to go to school for a long time to become a dentist. His answer? "Not as long as a vet". Comforting.
1. Me: I love you.
Remy: Yeah. Look at this booger.
PS Would you like to listen to an awesome song? Here, try this:
10: I regret telling Remy about Santa. Suddenly I realise that Santa gets the credit for the stuff I buy. Eff off Santa - if you want the credit, you buy the bloody presents.
9. I have a new favourite song and when I have a new favourite song I listen to it 73 hundred million times in a row. It's so I can get all the goodness out of it. Boyfriend on the other hand has a new least-favourite-ever-in-his-life song that he has listened to 73 hundred million times...
8. Remy's current career-of-choice - Giraffe. One that eats people.
7. Coming in at close second is stuntman. It's not clear yet if he will be a stuntman who also eats people.
6. Do not follow this link unless you are happy to lose hours (and hours and hours) of your life. And definitely do not look at this one. I warned you.
5.When I was little and had trouble going to sleep my mother would say "Don't worry, we're not going to have fun without you". Now that I am a parent myself, I'd like to point out that my mother is a LIAR.
4. Sewing win! I made a car seat cover. And I only swore ... well, I only swore all the time but maybe if I'd been trying harder not to swear I wouldn't have had the energy to finish the car seat cover?
3. Uh oh... I can feel a NEW FAVOURITE SONG coming on... are you ready boyfriend? Boyfriend? Hello?
2. I was at the dentist and had Remy there with me. Remy asked the dentist if he had to go to school for a long time to become a dentist. His answer? "Not as long as a vet". Comforting.
1. Me: I love you.
Remy: Yeah. Look at this booger.
PS Would you like to listen to an awesome song? Here, try this:
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Sometimes
some nights are like this
nights when a girl is reading a funny blog
when she remembers
all of a sudden
that it wasn't very long ago
that she was pregnant
with a much loved and longed-for baby
and the baby died
and no matter what she wishes for
her baby is gone.
nights when a girl is reading a funny blog
when she remembers
all of a sudden
that it wasn't very long ago
that she was pregnant
with a much loved and longed-for baby
and the baby died
and no matter what she wishes for
her baby is gone.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
It was a godamned cockroach!
There are things that I am neither physiologically nor psychologically equipped for. This (extensive) list includes:
10. Joining the army. For a start, I hear that yelling back at those blokes who get all up in your business is a no no.
9. Attending events where no alcohol is served.
8. Modelling.
7. Farming.
6. Pest Control.
5. The Olympics. But I swear to god the minute I find a sport that requires absolutely no effort, skill or talent, I'm in there.
4. Optimism.
3. Having the volume on the telly set to an uneven number. What? Of course this is normal. Well, within the bounds of normal. At least I'm not as bad as the flatmate I once had who could only watch the channels that were on prime numbers.
2. Poker face.
1. Finding a cockroach in the iron. See photo for revolting evidence of what happened at my house today:
10. Joining the army. For a start, I hear that yelling back at those blokes who get all up in your business is a no no.
9. Attending events where no alcohol is served.
8. Modelling.
7. Farming.
6. Pest Control.
5. The Olympics. But I swear to god the minute I find a sport that requires absolutely no effort, skill or talent, I'm in there.
4. Optimism.
3. Having the volume on the telly set to an uneven number. What? Of course this is normal. Well, within the bounds of normal. At least I'm not as bad as the flatmate I once had who could only watch the channels that were on prime numbers.
2. Poker face.
1. Finding a cockroach in the iron. See photo for revolting evidence of what happened at my house today:
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Things that almost made it into my Facebook status updates this week
Sometimes my friends have no idea how considerate I am to them. This week alone I managed to (almost) stop myself from spamming them about my life via Facebook*. You, dear blog reader, have not been so lucky.
The 10 things I might have said on Facebook had some pesky sense of control not got in the way:
10. Remy is completely convinced that we do not drink cow's milk, instead we drink human's milk. It makes me picture human milking sheds. This alone is almost enough to turn me from flat whites to espressos.
9. Why was the farmer so specific about not shampooing the lamb? Why did he ban me from making her clothes? Does he give these instructions to everyone who looks after a lamb for him?
8. I don't have an attention span long enough to watch TV anymore. Not even the ads. What's next? That I won't be able to concentrate all the way through a blink?
7. Shut up body. I walked the 500 metres to the dairy. It wasn't a freaking hike up Everest.
6. Motherhood is not a good enough excuse for not showering. Ok, maybe it was when Remy was a screaming infant, but not now that the child is 3.
5. I have watched two rugby games in the past 8 weeks. I am the world's greatest girlfriend.
4. I stormed into the house of the people suspected of burgling my house and yelled at them. The Police have since reassured me that, while they are not the type of crims to stab me while I sleep, I should probably not do it again just in case. Good point Gov.
3. But the farmer didn't mention not painting the lambs hooves with pink nail polish... Megan 1, Farmer 0
2. When I casually mentioned to my mother that I was going to Wellington for the night while Remy had a sleep-over at a friend's house she gasped "But what if he wakes up? Don't do it Megan!" in the exact same tone she would use if I had said that I was leaving Remy with a pack of wolves for a week. In Christchurch. With no emergency survival kit. That woman never wants me to have any fun.
1. Looks like I'll never play Trivial Pursuit ever again. Boyfriend is a doctor and it turns out they have to know stuff. Like, lots of stuff. I'm pretty sure second year of med school must be entirely focused on memorising the cards from the Trivial Pursuit: Genius Edition.
*Is there such a thing as 'a little spamming'? Or is it like being pregnant - either you are or you aren't? If there is such a thing, then I did it. I spammed them a little bit.
The 10 things I might have said on Facebook had some pesky sense of control not got in the way:
10. Remy is completely convinced that we do not drink cow's milk, instead we drink human's milk. It makes me picture human milking sheds. This alone is almost enough to turn me from flat whites to espressos.
9. Why was the farmer so specific about not shampooing the lamb? Why did he ban me from making her clothes? Does he give these instructions to everyone who looks after a lamb for him?
8. I don't have an attention span long enough to watch TV anymore. Not even the ads. What's next? That I won't be able to concentrate all the way through a blink?
7. Shut up body. I walked the 500 metres to the dairy. It wasn't a freaking hike up Everest.
6. Motherhood is not a good enough excuse for not showering. Ok, maybe it was when Remy was a screaming infant, but not now that the child is 3.
5. I have watched two rugby games in the past 8 weeks. I am the world's greatest girlfriend.
4. I stormed into the house of the people suspected of burgling my house and yelled at them. The Police have since reassured me that, while they are not the type of crims to stab me while I sleep, I should probably not do it again just in case. Good point Gov.
3. But the farmer didn't mention not painting the lambs hooves with pink nail polish... Megan 1, Farmer 0
2. When I casually mentioned to my mother that I was going to Wellington for the night while Remy had a sleep-over at a friend's house she gasped "But what if he wakes up? Don't do it Megan!" in the exact same tone she would use if I had said that I was leaving Remy with a pack of wolves for a week. In Christchurch. With no emergency survival kit. That woman never wants me to have any fun.
1. Looks like I'll never play Trivial Pursuit ever again. Boyfriend is a doctor and it turns out they have to know stuff. Like, lots of stuff. I'm pretty sure second year of med school must be entirely focused on memorising the cards from the Trivial Pursuit: Genius Edition.
*Is there such a thing as 'a little spamming'? Or is it like being pregnant - either you are or you aren't? If there is such a thing, then I did it. I spammed them a little bit.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
5ives: The silver lining of unemployment
1. I can write anything I want on my blog and not get fired.
2. When people ask if I'm free for coffee the answer is always Yes, Yes, Yes.
3. Sick days are just like all other days... just with more, um, sickness.
4. It's almost impossible for me to put on weight because I can't afford the junk food required.
5. I get to watch my beautiful boy growing and learning everyday. Awwww.
2. When people ask if I'm free for coffee the answer is always Yes, Yes, Yes.
3. Sick days are just like all other days... just with more, um, sickness.
4. It's almost impossible for me to put on weight because I can't afford the junk food required.
5. I get to watch my beautiful boy growing and learning everyday. Awwww.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
What a difference a day makes
For a while there, I wasn't sure I'd get out of this alive. Things went from bad to worse, and then worse than worse.
All of that has changed. I'm so happy. I have a beautiful son, I'm dating a gorgeous man, and I have the dearest, sweetest, most patient friends and family. I'm a very lucky girl.
I'm so ridiculously happy that I can barely stand my own company.
In upcoming posts:
- Remy is about to turn 3.
- Turning a 5 buck jacket into a million dollars.
- Small town life.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
It's been 2 months since the ripping-a-bandaid-off-at-high-speed ending of my relationship.
Does it hurt in the split second after the bandaid is removed? Because it bloody well hurts in the moments after.
I've been on auto-pilot until today. Just getting on with getting on and thinking of the million ways I could see the silver lining. And then I revisited this post on the blog of the darling, inimitable Sas. And, for only the second time since he left, I cried that cry; the one that leaves my stomach hurting, my face red and swollen, the one that gets the toxic ick out.
But this is good, right? It's good to grieve, to lament the loss of dreams and a whole world. Right?
Does it hurt in the split second after the bandaid is removed? Because it bloody well hurts in the moments after.
I've been on auto-pilot until today. Just getting on with getting on and thinking of the million ways I could see the silver lining. And then I revisited this post on the blog of the darling, inimitable Sas. And, for only the second time since he left, I cried that cry; the one that leaves my stomach hurting, my face red and swollen, the one that gets the toxic ick out.
But this is good, right? It's good to grieve, to lament the loss of dreams and a whole world. Right?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
An oh so cheerie update
Hello again dear people.
I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I'd drop in and say hi. How are you? All ok?
All is well here. Actually, all is great here. Remy and I are having a lovely time together and things are going swimmingly.
There is the possibility of a new (very part-time) job in a pretty wee shop and I seem to be accumulating the most wonderful collection of new friends.
I've been concentrating on what a lucky person I am, and it's definitely helping. I've never been a pollyanna sort, but looking for the positives at a time when things are hard is helping me keep my chin up. And I feel like I am attracting even more luck.
The only thing missing in my life is a computer... but I'm working on that and I can just tell that something good is around the corner.
Megan
xxx
I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I'd drop in and say hi. How are you? All ok?
All is well here. Actually, all is great here. Remy and I are having a lovely time together and things are going swimmingly.
There is the possibility of a new (very part-time) job in a pretty wee shop and I seem to be accumulating the most wonderful collection of new friends.
I've been concentrating on what a lucky person I am, and it's definitely helping. I've never been a pollyanna sort, but looking for the positives at a time when things are hard is helping me keep my chin up. And I feel like I am attracting even more luck.
The only thing missing in my life is a computer... but I'm working on that and I can just tell that something good is around the corner.
Megan
xxx
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