Hotch-potch of a holiday post

So many things, so little time to say and do them.

Is this the way of the world? It’s certainly the way of my world at the moment. Let’s see, what do I have here in my grab bag of thoughts… In no order:

• School holidays have begun. Why must a fucktonne of work always ALWAYS coincide with the LGBB being home from school (or, last year, kinder)?

• Steve’s second line of business has ramped up. He is barely here – although, physically, we are only missing out on him one weekend day and one night per week, when he rolls in around midnight with that natural high he gets from working…. it’s all zero’s and one’s with him – because he is working hard on a new project that is as exciting as it is taxing. But if he and his fellow collaborators pull this off, we will be shortening the years on our mortgage. And for that I am truly thankful.

• Currently awaiting some sobering test results for a beloved close family member. There’s nothing I can do at the moment – I can’t grieve, I can’t be shocked, I can’t cry, I can’t entertain the possibility of a false alarm. Not yet. But indicators so far are that it’s one of the nasty cancers. And I’ve already lost two aunts, plus a number of family claimed by the Big C before I was born. I’m not exactly kicking my heels up at the thought of having to watch someone I care deeply for going through chemo and all the rest.

• I’m in the final stages of rolling out a project I’ve been working on. I nearly wet my pants with nerves when I presented the design last week, it’s always such a nerve-wracking meeting for me – showing the client what their money has paid me for.

• Design is so personal and a tricky thing to gauge sometimes when you have little to go on… think of the saying “How long’s a piece of string?” and then imagine how hard it can be to come up with a look that will be on target so those who are paying for your services are at least convinced they’ve made the right decision going with you. There’s nowhere to hide when you’re a sole trader – I can’t blame Terry in the Art Department. I AM the Art Department.

• They loved it. I nearly wet myself with relief.

• My pelvic floor is not what it used to be.

• Four days into the school holidays, I am still mulling over the LGBB’s first semester. It’s been a tad bumpy, socially speaking, for her and for me. I’m not used to feeling exposed, not one for standing and conversing with people for very long. I don’t “do” small talk. I do deep and meaningful talk. I listen well. I hear what they’re covering up underneath the chit-chat. And I feel uncomfortable about what I sense. I can feel things/thoughts directed towards me – it’s not paranoia – and have to work hard to clear and protect both myself and the other individual/s when that happens. It’s little wonder I struggled to the last day of school feeling like I had been hit by a truck.

• Next semester will be better. I have my protection in place. I have ordered my thoughts. I will be more responsible. And I will not be dragged into it again. The blinkers are off.

And in the biggest news, Steve booked flights for the LGBB and myself to Japan! At the end of Term 3, we are jetting off for two weeks to stay with my brother (who I’m unlikely to see much of) and my ever-so-lovely sister inlaw and their two girls. We’re going shopping. We’re going for walks. We’re going to see Japan at a non-tourist level. Lolly is bursting with excitement and I am thrilled to give her this opportunity to experience an entirely different non-Western culture. They are already making excited plans about where to accommodate us. I have a fair feeling I’ll be on the couch. The girls will want Lolly in with them. I wish them the best of luck with that (getting sleep, that is). The LGBB was overheard yesterday telling her neighbour and friend, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Yays?” came the cute reply from the four year-old lad.
“Well, I’m actually going to Japanese in October. It’s a different land,” she told him with authority. “And I’m going to see Hello Kitty Land.”
“Oh!” he answered, in much the same disinterested manner, I’m sure, as his mum when she’s interjecting his chatter with various attempts at making interested-sounding responses.

 

So there you have it. I hear the sound of a whip cracking. Better get back to it….

 

 

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