I bought myself some clothes and accessories on line these last couple of weeks. Just some swingy-hide-the-gunt long tops, some leggings, which I fully intend to wear as pants, a pair of ankle boots and a couple of rings and necklaces. Such events are very rare indeed and these new purchases will likely go the way of old, worn steadfastly day in and day out as a uniform until desperation requires another round of purchases. I do not buy clothes or accessories “just because”, ever.
The rings were cheap and cheerful, even the delicious black resin disc from Elk. They feel heavy on my fingers, making we want to swing my hands around when I talk even more than usual. In a few short days I’ve developed a new ritual of putting them on, flicking my fingers here and there, then trying to type with them on, only to fail, removing them, then starting the process all over again. See also: not sane.
The weather has turned here with the days abruptly shorter and a biting wind. I’ve wondered why my allergies have been off the charts until it dawned on me that the scarves and jacket I’ve pulled from the cupboard are merely dust strung together with a few threads. Still, I’m typing this wearing one of my new tops, my chunky yellow ring (on and off it goes) and the most outrageously warm possum wool scarf gifted to me by M. Gas prices are set to increase by up to 25% this winter so there shall be a lot of scarf wearing and doona shawls.
We had two rounds of rugby this weekend, Grover insisted on wearing his mouthguard even though he lost his two front teeth the night before and the morning of his game. It feels like the end of early childhood here with those baby teeth gone. We’re well and truly in the subsector of society called “getting the kids through school” now. He still wants me to lie with him when he’s going to sleep and while many a night it shits me to tears I force myself to remember this time will soon be over.
Last week featured a gathering of some of us from the blogging old days. There was so much laughter but also confiding and confessions. Since we got together we’ve shared some photos from years ago which have simultaneously made us wistful and horrified at the swiftness with which time passes. Those ladies know me inside and out. Their love and concern for me through periods of hardship and heartache has meant so so much to me and our stupidly infrequent get togethers fuels my soul.
Last night I admitted defeat and made dinner using a store-bought jar of a curry sauce. Every single child ate it. All of them. Ate all parts of it. The cursor is blinking at me as I try to find something to say about that.