Resolutions are bound to fail

 

Allow me to clarify.

 

For me, resolutions are always bound to fail.

 

I say "I'm going to eat only healthy food and do yoga everyday" Bound to fail.

 

I say "I'm going do blah-di-blah that is proper going to make my life perfect! Happy New Year!"

 

Bound to FAIL.

 

Resolutions are harsh and backward-looking, kind of like a passive-aggressive aquaintance who tells you your hair looks so much better now than it did when you were blonde...

 

I prefer goals and plans, and I have a tonne of them. Just thinking about them excites me.When the time is right, I'll probably share a lot of them here.

 

And for now, as always, I just want flowers in my hair!

 

Au revoir 2012, it's been real.

 



Yeah, we call it 'Chritmas'

 

A plan for a fun family Chritmas.

 

Step 1 - come up with a plan. Mexican? Done.

 



 

 Step 2 - Make a big ass piñata, with many debates on geometry, physics and lolly choices.

 

 

Step 3 - Cover the piñata in a bunch of shiny stuff. Oh, and bake a truckload of delicious Mexican food like chimichangas, taco salads, chilli salads and cheesy corn bakes, and make a vat of pineapple infused tequila for daquiris.

 



 

Step 4 - Gather the fam (kids first, of course) and smack the everloving crap outta that bad boy. Hit him with a big stick, and don't stop until he gives up the goods!

 

 

Step 5 - Pool. Lazing. Veuve Clicquot. C.W. Stoneking. Aah.

 

 



 

Step 6 - Catch a Summer cold. Don't actually do this part, it's NOT recommended at all. The sniffling, and the coughing, not so good. But we were joking about this song today, so here it is.

 

Merry belated Chritmas to you and yours. Can you believe it's almost 2013?

 

A verb is a doing word

 

 

Reeling - just a little. Just quietly, on the the inside.

 

Having just devoured The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, I'm detached from reality and adrift in a strange place. It's a place I only ever visit when I finish a very good book. I wouldn't say it's awful, but neither is it entirely pleasant. It's vague and lonely, and the phrases and impressions that struck chords sink in and seem to change my DNA.

 

I don't like the term 'head space', but I'm in a weird one. Do you ever feel this way? As though the book breathes through you even after the words are done?  

 

Ernest Hemingway said 'There is no friend as loyal as a book', and as an inveterate book hound I'd agree, but with this caveat: This book-friend, this loyal pal, may also take your open heart and squash it like a ripe fruit. 

Xmas decorations and I get a little personal

Paper cut garland from Nippykat on Etsy. Pretty, no?

It's December. Today, we make the decorations.

We have what is possibly the most rustic, yet well-intentioned advent 'calendar' EVER. (Made mostly by me) and some beautiful paper chains from the kids. The tree is yet to go up, because it is so hot that any movement that doesn't involve a cold beverage and my mouth makes me want to scream. My eyelashes are sweating, and it's only the second day of Summer.*

(And to get a little personal, I have the red devil in my belly**, so you'd better not even look at me without telling me I'm the empress of the universe or putting chocolates in my mouth or my eyes will shoot you with laserbeams made of bees and female rage. Just saying.)

A close-up of the advent calendar I made. It has lollies in it, so it's OK

*It's 31° in the shade.

**This genius bit of phrasing isn't mine, I stole it from New Girl. If you have a problem with that write it down and put it in your mum's tights.