Blogger keeps asking me if I want to change my template and I'm getting a bit paranoid. Am I boring? Should I reconsider my non challenging navy and grey text? Should I have an annoying massive picture banner? Who knows, but at the moment it's navy all the way. Fuck you "suggestions".
Disclaimer: I may have had a bit of wine to drink.
The Elfling and Monkey left on a jet plane today to spend the school holidays with Grandma and Grandad so Bingley and I are again experiencing the piss easiness that is parenting a single infant child. The exhalation of relief as our beautiful offspring attached themselves to Grandad was audible. We all need a break from each other and I am glad that they will be having a fabulous time at the beach while Bingley and I... work.
Things are still not fantastic. There are things that I still have to retrain myself to think about. But it's better. Ish. Wine helps. As does cheese.
To celebrate the aforementioned PEness of 1 child we went to one of my favourite places in the world this afternoon to purchase cheese and wine and marvel at the way that people embrace the cool shock of mountain air with a lungful of tobacco smoke. It was a clear but misty day. The far-off mountains shadowy and mysterious, the air playful. The clouds were incredible, scalloped like a perfect untouched beach against a surreal blue. I tried several times to point out the strange undulations to Bingley who looked at me indulgently before changing the topic. He's not one to discuss clouds.
It was a scarecrow festival of all things and the bizarre array of stuffed undead tied up by their necks to various street signs and doorways was strangely grotesque. But I loved it anyway. It matched my slightly melancholic, slightly strange, slightly manic mood. The first wattles were out and the honey sweet smell hit the pit of my stomach like an anvil as I trembled a little. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to see them again without visceral memory.
The usual fudge shops were doing a roaring trade and we came home with the obligatory packet that I'm slowly melting in my mouth with the rich red wine that I found that tastes like an odd mix of muscat and shiraz and is probably revolting to everyone but me.
I wished we could stay, but none of the nice accommodation accommodates an infant (even a stupendously cute and well behaved one) so we came home with our loot instead and had a picnic on the lounge room floor after a very hot bath. The Possum loved me being in the bath with him thinking it hilarious to splash me over and over again until my hair was in ringlets from the wet and his eyelashes sparkled with drops.
I still feel discombobulated. There is still something missing, but wine is filling that spot right now. Probably not a good habit to get into, but fuck it tastes good with rum and raisin fudge.
Plus I lost 2kg this week alone and my period was 8 days late, so I totally deserve it.