Surviving Christmas

How much do I love these boots? So much that I am SAVING UP for them (they're not insanely expensive, but they're not cheap). Saving up is a strange concept these days. I didn't have a credit card until my late 20s (funny thing about finishing uni in a recession - no full-time jobs to be had, and back in those days they were much stricter about giving out cards). So before that it really was a matter of saving up for things ... And of course I won't actually be able to wear these boots for another six months because it is Too Darn Hot. So waiting is good.

I told Spouse it can buy me this:

this:

or this:

for Christmas. It politely declined. Apparently it wanted to get me an Hermes cuff, but they don't have the exact one I want in stock (gold with orange enamel). It's the thought that counts. AND I am getting tix to see Madama Butterfly in February, which I'm very excited about.

Christmas is in 10 days. We are hosting 22 people (14 adults, 8 children). Our house is very small, so all festivities will have to take place in the garden (also small, but bigger than any of our rooms). As we've been having insanely bad weather - rain, floods, pestilence - we've taken the cautious step of getting a pop-up marquee. We popped it up for the first time on the weekend and it takes up most of the backyard.

Paving is underway so that there is somewhere to put the buffet table.
Baking has begun. Three batches of shortbread have been despatched. 60 chocolate truffles have been rolled in cocoa. Plans have been made for the building of a gingerbread house, which will probably collapse in the dire humidity. I made caramels (80 of them) for Kid 2's schoolfriends: they looked like this when we'd wrapped them.

I want to live somewhere where I could have eggnog and mulled cider and fondue and enjoy heating up the kitchen with baking. Like New York?

Again, there is controversy around the tree. I begged to be allowed an artificial one - and my wish was granted, but Spouse doesn't like it.

So we got a small living tree as well. Before you know it, I'll be like Martha Stewart and have several Christmas trees in every room of my house ...

In other news, Kid 2 won the school's annual Creativity Award and was so happy it was almost levitating. I managed to miss the ceremony - after eight years of sitting through these terminally boring 'Presentation Days', where every single child in the school gets an award for breathing and there are about six awards with any significance, I bailed on this one. Sod's law, right?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

I honestly have not spent the last few weeks thinking about nothing other than my clothes. The offspring have been on school holidays, which means that I have also been perched up here in Command Central (my studio), working and occasionally looking down at the house and wondering how many hours Phoebe can spend reading Harry Potter without getting bored.

If I hear shouting, I actually walk down to the house and negotiate, but Holden hasn't been around much - he sets off with friends for the nearest skate park every morning (with a bottle of water, money for lunch and his mobile phone) and returns at about 5pm.

Sometimes I wonder whether I have extremely low-maintenance children or I'm just an extremely neglectful mother? In my defence, I did take them horseriding on the weekend. And I do feed them.


And they have done other fun things too, like go to the movies and have sleepovers.

As well as working fitfully, hating my wardrobe and neglecting my children, I have also spent plenty of fun time talking to eletricians and plumbers, and gazing glumly at the house, wondering if it will EVER be finished. It seems unlikely. We had a tiler through on Saturday, who showed me lots of pictures of previous jobs - like the pool area of one house that was larger than our whole block ... I have a funny feeling his quote might be out of our range.

True Romance

For years I have been assiduously collecting pictures from magazines and keeping a file of What My House Will Look Like.

Reality, sadly, is no match for fantasy. In my dream house, I have a big kitchen, with plenty of space for everything, including my rather large antique French oak dining table. In the house over the fence, I barely have room for the necessities. This is what it looks like at the moment.


But I am willing to 'refine' my possessions so that I can have, at the very least, a decent fridge and a decent cooker.


This is my fridge. Apparently it is smarter than some of my ex-boyfriends (and definitely more attractive). It's so clever it needs its own plumbing.

Before I can put the fridge in, however, I must get said plumbing. And a floor.

Just a couple more photos so that I can remind myself - when it's done - what it looked like. This is poor Phoebe's room ...

The Lost Weekend

It was a weekend of house stuff, mostly pulling out dreadful plants that having been growing wild for almost 30 years. On Sunday afternoon we did manage to have a small gathering of sorts - we invited all our current neighbours to come and have a look at the new place and drink a glass of bubbles with us. The picture above is our (haha) 'water view' from the upstairs living room, which has improved slightly since the large daytura (Angel's Trumpet) has now been removed. I must add that the mess at the bottom is the neighbour's backyard, NOT ours!

It was fun, and was the only time on the weekend when I wasn't dressed in ripped denim shorts and a faded, paint-spattered Nanowrimo t-shirt. Obviously enough, things sartorial were far from my mind, although the very warm weather (30 degrees on Sunday) did bring out everybody's summer wardrobes.

I celebrated by donning white jeans - so impractical, which is why they always feel slightly glamorous to me. I noticed when dashing up to the shops for supplies for Sunday afternoon that the maxi dress was EVERYWHERE. I'm still not sure about it. I can see the appeal but I'm not sure it's something I could do ... maybe because I'm too 'petite' (just say SHORT, people!). Or maybe because I'm not great with prints. Hmmm.

Changing Lanes

Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future. - John F. Kennedy

Today [this was written yesterday] is the day I get the keys to the new house. So it seems wonderfully fitting that my daily 'meditation' email was the quote above.

Of course, moving over the back fence is NOT a big deal. I've had much more momentous changes in the past. In fact, I used to be an itchy feet sort of person. Maybe that itself has changed?

Before this house, the longest I'd lived anywhere as an adult was almost four years - and that was our apartment at Bondi, which preceded this place. I think part of it is having kids. The big one is deeply averse to change; the little one is happy wherever you take it, but both of them love our area. We are part of the community, what with school and baseball and soccer and swimming ... and bumping into at least five people you know every time you go out. It's hard to break with that just for the sake of it.

I wonder whether it will change again when the kids leave home and we are empty nesters? Will we move again - I like the idea of a small house or apartment in the city and a small block of land in the country - or will we be SO habit-bound by then that we DIE in the same house!?