Nice then

nice

Do you ever have one of those days when someone asks you, “How was your day?” and you reply “Nice, it was a nice day.” and you really can’t recall why it was nice, or how it was nice, but it was nice, and then it dawns on you that it was actually the absence of any form of irritation that made it nice?

Well, yesterday was like that.

 

good, better, best

I am not saying I did, positively, but there is a strong possibility that I may have indulged to the extreme limits of  gastronomic delight.

This was my birthday lunch,

Australians call them prawns, not shrimp. Shrimp are teeny tiny, well, shrimp.

Australians call them prawns, not shrimp. Shrimp are teeny tiny, well, shrimp.

and this was my birthday dinner.

seafood chowder, cooked by the best chef - me!

seafood chowder, cooked by the best chef – me!

Followed by the last slice of birthday chocolate cake and vanilla greek yoghurt.

Tick for  the daily omega 3!

Today I am off to the city to for a sleep over (until Thursday) with Petite Fille. I have booked in-home massages for Daughter1 and self on Thursday morning too.

The first week of the rest of my life is looking better than good – the best!

Project The Best is Yet to Come; or maybe I just need to sleep a little longer

best is yet to come

 If I wanted to make the rest of my life, the best of my life; how exactly am I to go about achieving that? I don’t think it means I need to take up extreme sports, or even to create some detailed and intense bucket list of things to do. I have neither the energy nor the inclination for a midlife crisis entailing anything so mundane as an affair or running off to gaze at my navel in some Asian country, nor to buy an abandoned villa in the south of France (so yesterday’s jaunt, dahling). Truthfully, any concept of a list is not going to make it the “best” of anything for me. Give me a list and I am going to do one of two things.

 

One, I might become a rabid overachiever by not only ticking everything off the list in a day and a half, but take it to a level higher. Learn to bake a soufflé? I would have to attempt to not only bake that soufflé but have it look like something out of a Nigella Lawson photo shoot and then wonder why I didn’t have national recognition in though I live in the backwards of a small Village and no one knows me. Plus I never follow recipes.

 

Or the more likely alternative, that after an over excited sleepless night of fantastic and original ideas zinging around inside my brain, the next morning would see my energy and confidence falter, crippled by a massive dose of procrastination and Project The Best is Yet to Come would die an early and hasty death. Struck through the heart and left to bleed out beside my pajamas on the bathroom floor

 

I would have to have special notebook to record my thoughts, plans and actions and countless joyous moments too, and that would need at least two visits to a number of stationary and bookshops to find that just right notebook, with the cover that spoke to me and represented my project before I could even start to contemplate in anyway the start of anything so momentous as living the rest of my life?

 

Do I even know what I want the rest of my life to be like? Where is my starting point?

I live in an area that means I am in commune with the land, the seasons and nature. Okay, sometimes that nature is snakes, but isn’t that a metaphor for life in general? How many of us have not encountered a human reptile at least once in our lives? So, got my call to country smugly in the right column.

 

My family is my centre and my anchor. I have the gift of being a grandparent now, three adult children plus two of their partners whom I love and adore. That doesn’t mean that there is one partner of a child I don’t adore he just hasn’t found one yet. (leaving home might help, but we won’t go there) Also, a partner who makes me wonder about my chances of holding onto my sanity on a daily basis, but a man who allows me to be me, a not always easy person to live with, and a man who always has my back, even when I wish he didn’t. That is not two men by the way, it is one man, though if he doesn’t shed a few kilograms soon he may be mistaken for two men

 

Job Front. I would retire in a blink of an eye if we could only afford it. The reality is that I will probably be working until the new retirement age of 67. Lucky me. Lucky though that I love the people I work with, I have a degree of autonomy and I have the joy of working in the field that I always wanted to work in – librarianship and teaching. Few other people have the reward of knowing that every day they get the joy of knowing that they are helping someone become the person that they want to become. Priceless. So unless something drastic happens, such as a leadership change (better the devil you know) I don’t see any reason to change that

 

So, how to make the rest of my life, the best of my life? Sixty four million dollar question! I am open to suggestion. I may need to nap on it and get back to both you and I, or maybe I won’t if the procrastination sets in, or the “too hard basket” shows up at the door.

What are you doing to make the rest of your life, the best of your life? Do tell.

 

 

not a difficult blessing to count at all!

Today was a family perfect day. We met Daughter1, Mr Boy and Petite Fille for lunch before returning back to our house so that Petite Fille could have an afternoon nap while we devoured birthday cake (or maybe that should be pre-birthday cake as my birthday is not until Monday).

D1 was experimenting with eggless cake recipes as Petite Fille has an egg allergy, and also used dextrose instead of sugar as they try to be sugar free (Mr Boy is more committed to this than Daughter1). I have to happily admit that her efforts were delicious.

IMG_0489

Petite Fille put up a few protests before settling for her nap, and when she cried, Augie Dog stood at the door and whined, and once barked in agitation at her distress. Once she settled he did too. She slept for over two hours before waking for a bowl of strawberries and a walk around the garden with Grandma (me!).

My Dad would always take the babies and toddlers for walks around their suburban garden each visit, and now I get the joy of following in his footsteps. It is amazing how many times I catch myself doing something with Petite Fille that I know my parents did with my children.

Maybe in this every changing world, there really are some things that stay the same – the love of a grandparent and a grandchild. I would like to believe so anyway.

What a weekend it was, it was a weekend indeed.

ladies lunch

Saturday was lunch with two friends, a ladies who lunch occasion. This time around they ordered wine, but I had to order mineral water as I was driving into the city afterwards. One has had a traumatic few weeks, with her father lingering at death’s door, and her only child, a daughter, springing her wedding on her parents with only four hours notice and thinking there might not be any shock and repercussions.

Friend is seeing a counsellor to help with her current issues, but I think a few hours with FD and a sharing of some my life’s craziness, which resulted in much laughter for all, saw her was seeing things with a little more perspective. I hope so anyway.

city visit

Then it was on to the city and a sleep over play date with Petite Fille. Her parents went on a date night dinner while I babysat. Petite Fille slept through the whole evening and so had no idea that she had been abandoned to Grandma’s mercies. In the morning we sat on the floor and played and played and played. In fact she loves to play so much one of her first words was “play”.

There was one special moment that I hope I never forget, even when the dementia sets in. I was pushing Petite Fille in her swing on the back deck and her mother brought out bubble mix and blew bubbles, so that as Petite Fille swung through the air she swung through clouds of bubbles. Her pure joy in the moment was such a gift to share.

That is as good as it ever could be, and how good it was!

bubbles