The joy of paper goods

I bravely braved the hordes of mad shoppers today (entering a store will be an act of bravery between now and February 7th, because Black Friday Week sales will morph into Boxing Month sales which will linger just until it's time to overspend for Valentine's Day) and entered our national We Used To Sell Books But Now We Sell Coffee Mugs And Pashminas store to buy an agenda for the coming year.

Once home I spent a cozy hour with a cup of tea and coloured pens marking in birthdays and anniversaries and other days of note, such as the day a boy gave me a ring and asked me to marry him, and the day our offer for our first home was accepted. 2018 has been a very, very good year and I want to always remember to be grateful for all I've been given.

Aside from the gratitude, though, and the satisfaction in the organizational qualities of  a good calendar (which are not to be dismissed as insignificant), I take complete delight in stationery. Not only did I buy a pretty calendar (which was on sale, so: hoorah!) but also a pen to go with it (because there is a rule in stationery: every new notebook, journal, or agenda, must needs have a new pen to match it) and (because they were on sale too) a set of three magnetic bookmarks.

In the pages of this lovely book is plenty of time marked out for writing, which I'm really itching to do.  I'm keen to find a good prompt-a-day or even prompt-a-week type site or tool.  I'm also looking into options other than Blogger for posting online. In the meantime, I've got my trusty notebooks and freshly sharpened pencils, and I'm good to go. Come on, 2019... I'm ready!

Of the motivation that comes from dinner guests

It's remarkable how the imminent arrival of company brings with it a burst of motivation - and the energy required to act on that motivation - to deal with the last lingering boxes that need to be unpacked; to, for the first time since moving in, vacuum the floors, and eat like a civilized person at the table instead of in front of the tv like a sloth. (My apologies to all sloths worldwide, who, even if they had the option, would probably prefer to eat like a civilized sloth, hanging from a tree instead of in front of a tv watching something entirely banal and lobotomizing.)

It's also remarkable how the fact that the imminent company happens to be the parents of New Husband makes every detail of the meal especially fraught with expectation. The meal must be not only edible but presented just so; the house was fluffed within an inch of its barely-ours self; I had every component of the meal organized and got myself dressed June Cleaver-like, ready to greet our guests at the door looking fresh and calm, giving no sign of the fact that only moments beforehand I was cleaning up the Jackson Pollock episode that resulted from whipping cream in a rogue mixer. The coffee table groaned with nibbles that no one sampled, and the wine rack is now well stocked with 17 different grape varietals.

I really ought, at this point in the recounting, explain that all this fraughtness came solely from my own desire to please our company. New Husband's parents are kind and warm, and have never ever made me feel I had to cook like Nigella Lawson or entertain like Martha Stewart.

There is something really lovely about having guests at your table. The house feels filled up with love and fellowship and joy and that goodness lingers for a long time after. It's as though sharing your abundance (even if it's hotdogs) increases what you started out with. Our beautiful home feels even more special to me now than it did yesterday because we've shared our delight in it with someone else.

I'd like to share one lesson I've learned over the years, concerning preparing for entertaining, or decorating your home in general: twinkle lights go a very long way to making any space feel warm and magical, so if ever you feel yourself at a loss (or just want a pick-me-up)... twinkle lights!!

Of the fun of moving

In my long years of walking this earth, I have accumulated some experience in moving house. I've been through the process of emotionally detaching from what is dear and familiar and looking for a new place to call dear and familiar.

There is a great deal of work involved, physical and mental.  So, so, so many decisions to be made!  By the end of it, I didn't want to have to choose between jam or jelly on my sandwich. That was simply one decision too far.

It's such fun unpacking the boxes, though. Even if it's only been a matter of days since you've seen that colander, it seems a brand new and delightful object. Your ordinary and everyday things take on a different personality in their new space.

The challenge is in finding them again once you've tucked them away in a cupboard.

Oh winter

Even here in Sohoe, winter is an imminent reality. We've had one day of plump flakes falling from the sky, and while they didn't linger on the ground, it was enough to prompt the putting away of cute summer flats and the finding of warm woolies.

There have been changes, here in the Lighthouse. I am nearly one month married, and nearly one month living in The New House, which is located Where the Water Thunders. Both the married and the New House realities have me eagerly awaiting an appropriate time to feather my nest with things sparkly, cozy, and totally hygge. If I didn't have a strong rein on myself, our little home would look like Christmas exploded all over it. Just wait until I find the baking tins... I'll be unstoppable.

Where ever you are, I hope you are safe, warm, dry, and happy.
t.