catchmyfancy: (mine?)
I have Goldfish Syndrome: attention span = NO.

By dint of great mental effort, managed to assemble a 6th birthday present for the adorable Miss Beatrice - she wanted coloured pencils.  I obliged with four different sorts, wrote or stickered her name on each one; tied then in bundles, each with a pale pink ribbon and put them in a pink-and-purple-with-lovehearts-rainbows-and-bloody-hell-butterflies pencil case with some other random pink/purple stationary and hair clips thrown in (girly-girlness requirements thus achieved).  Total cost: about $18.  Total auntie awesomeness points=infinity (she has inherited  the Stationery=wants=gets=stars-in-eyes gene, it is too cute).

Also managed to remember to post birthday card to father.  It had the most awful pun about the lesser of two weevils, so of course it was perfect for the man who can actually stop a family dinner in full flight (especially OUR family) cold with the horror of his puns.  So far his gold-standard effort, upon watching his first infant granddaughter be passed around like a parcel was to remark that she was a "lap-tot". 

(Sorry)

(No really, we're very sorry.  we can't take him anywhere.)

Kindilan came over and we went to one of those factory outlet places, and it re-melted my just-barely-reconstituted brain (*sigh*).  Got a present for the pregnant manager's new baby-to-be and a birthday present for Miss Josephine (which is in June so I had a smug moment); but otherwise: NO.

We came back and painted our nails: Kindi went for green; I have a fetching shimmery purple. 

I made garlic mashed potato for dinner (well, garlic, seed mustard, salt, pepper, herbs, mozzarella cheese and butter mashed potato, but that takes too long to type).

Also invited two sets of peeps to dinner next week.  Kindi made me watch Jamie Oliver's latest online and I think I want to try doing these 30-minute meals.  Apparently the crew gets to eat it after he's prepared each meal - only fair after having to film it methinks!



catchmyfancy: Classical-style painting of the three graces or muses, naked, each holding an apple in her outstretched hand. (graces)
I've completely lost track.

We now approach the "very short and banal posts" part of the program, because:

(a) Alexandra is letting her nails grow and that makes typing trickier; but they do grow out very nicely and the multi-coloured polish is so preeetty
(b) I've slipped a little into the Eternal Now where all moments are part of the Moment That Is.  It's nice.

Anyway, today is working on the house a little more.  I have to go shopping and do a re-stock, including dishwashing liquid, because apparently that becomes an issue when you start doing dishes regularly WHO KNEW.

Finally!

Jan. 3rd, 2011 08:31 pm
catchmyfancy: cupcakes with swirls of raspberry cream and a raspberry topping each one (cupcakes)
I've fully decelerated from December. 

The hours in a day still trickle past slowly, but I have lost that frantic undercurrent of: I have to BE somewhere, THERE IS SOMETHING I SHOULD BE DOING.

And Tom the Accompanist rang me today and we will start  with a little Wagner on Thursday (ie, don't want to unwind too far that the spring loses all of its sproing).

catchmyfancy: (talk of cake)
So yes I attacked the couch and put everything out to be washed and aired.

But then I spent a couple of hours learning how to create a mood theme for the blog, seeing as I'd given it a new theme, the interestingly titled "lettuce" - and had far too much fun working out how to match up the piccies to the relevant moods.

The rest of the house is still at DEFCON 5.  The couch covers are no doubt fading under the summer sun.  But Jayne with the "cunning" hat on will never not be funny.
catchmyfancy: Classical-style painting of the three graces or muses, naked, each holding an apple in her outstretched hand. (graces)
I just Had a Moment and de-covered (dis-covered?) all the couch cushions. 

They fought back; but against someone used to wrangling Non-clue-compliant students, foam inserts never really had a chance.

The inserts are currently outside blinking in the sunlight; hopefully at the very edge of hearing there will be countless micro-screams as the dust-mites perish.

The cushion covers are in the washing machine turning the water a colour I SINCERELY hope is dark-blue-dye-runoff (I think they'll get twice through, actually).

The couch itself is about to be vacuumed and then sponged down.  The only thing left is to determine with what shall it be sponged.  Hmmm.  I'm tempted to go old-school and make some fresh rosemary infusion.
catchmyfancy: (happy sun smiley cupcake)
At our Yewni we observe this not infrequently: the gentle and silent subversion of what's supposed to happen (rules and regs and Offishull Traditions and suchlike); and what people actually do, given a certain amount of choice about the matter (or as we like to politely call it: custom-and-practice).

My darling friend Ingrid and I started a little new year's eve tradition some years ago: we go to whoever has the most appropriate house for the weather (stinking hot=Ingrid's as she has awesome egg nitioning; other weather=my house as I do NOT) and/or circumstances (poor Ingy has a broken ankle at present); and we have an evening of pleasing only ourselves.

ie we drink as much or as little as we like; we stay up to midnight or we go to sleep at 10:30pm; we watch DVDs or chat (slurringly or otherwise); and then the next day we drag our hungover selves to brunch and a movie (movie choice is usually "let's see something GOOD"; one year I asked for Twilight so I would not have to read the wretched book my then-cancer-riddled-and-to-be-indulged-at-all-costs friend Elley had pressed upon me and Ingrid still hasn't forgiven me; *sigh*.  This year it was The King's Speech.  WHY HAVEN'T YOU SEEN THIS MOVIE YET?  GO SEE IT.  COLIN FIRTH HAS BEEN HOLDING OUT ON US, HE IS AN ACTING GOD AND HE AND GEOFFREY RUSH ARE MAGIC TOGETHER.  *ahem*)

This year, there were actually seven of us (well, nine if you count two ankle-biters, later spirited off home) and Ingrid had won a turkey in a raffle, and so she determined that we would have roast turkey with all the trimmings; which is something indeed to determine when you have a broken ankle that refuses to heal.  So we put it all together with Ingrid as the Sergeant-Major and us as her willing adjutants and had a wonderful dinner.

Over dinner it emerged that for almost all of us (barring Tim and Janet and their cute little sproglets) this was actually our celebratory Christmas dinner.  We had all dutifully done the family thing: gone to Christmas day (and/or Christmas eve and/or Boxing Day) and it was a Good Thing to have done.....but we had all felt slightly...constrained. 

Also, these were not the people we actually wanted.  I love my parents and siblings and nieces, but I felt like I'd been shoved abruptly into their midst, and that they were exercising some kind of claim for primacy in my loyalties that was not entirely their right, not anymore.

The people I wanted I rang on Christmas night and there was that little note of longing in their voices too, for something less either/or.   But it was unvoiced until last night; and it was such a relief to be able to say it.

So there's the thing one should be doing (rejoicing as one skips back into the family fold); and then there's the thing one actually does (modified rapture with the blood family; full happiness with the lovely friend-family).

It's possible that this is my single 2011 resolution: pay more attention to the naturally-evolving custom-and-practice - especially if it makes me happy; and a lot LOT less to the "I should" programming. 
catchmyfancy: (foxtrot.uniform.charlie.kilo)
I went to Ingrid's house last night and drank several bucketloads of alcohol, including vodka and my beloved Bailey's (not together - or at least I drank them separately - they got contentious later....and I now understand why Christopher Brookmyre dubbed the Bailey's "that sickly Irish alcoholic phlegm". oooo.)

Consequently, spent most of today being Overly Susceptible to things like sudden movement, standing upright, bright lights, loud noises, the mere mention of food and the cruel requirement to be anywhere other than dozing on the shaze longew with a dampened cloth upon one's forehead.

So of course we ended up going to not one, but two shopping centres; which were of course full of all of the above.  Plus Ingrid and Kindilan wearing affectionately mocking smiles (at best) and openly mocking me (at worst).

Managed to pull myself together to thoroughly enjoy Sherlock Holmes, which rollicks along and is ten different types of fun, and even had Shit Blowing Up in a Satisfactorily Victorian Way.  But this was the one bright spot of a very delicate day.

I've always wondered why people will attempt Advanced Alcoholic Poisoning and thus wreck themselves for the New Year, but now I've figured it out: after today 2010 can only improve.

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