any farmers want a wife?

Lately I'm starting to think that I might have been the victim of some kind of reality TV stunt. It's sort of a cross between Farmer Wants a Wife and Wife Swap except it's void of any romance or children (thank god)... We should also throw a little bit of Jersey Shore into the mix just for some debauchery.

I had everything... and by everything I don't mean a good job, a good car and a good relationship, because I had none of those things, but sometimes, actually, I'm going to bet that most of the time, those first three things have nothing to do with being happy.

I had my perfect life, I had a beautiful room in a beautiful house where me and my dog could run free, I had a job that had the most amazing waterside walk en-route, I had the most incredible friends who loved going on big adventures, and I was happy...

And then it happened, the phone call, the dream job offer, the beginning of what I thought would mean me finally growing up, except that it meant moving back in with my mother.

So now I get up for work in the morning, roll off my sofa bed, stumble dazedly past my mother doing her 6am stretches and into the shower where I contemplate the mundanity that will be my day. It's cold in the country and despite having grown up in this town I feel like an alien, and as I sit here sipping my skinny-mug-o-chino I can't help but think that this was a trick. That I packed up my life and moved home for something that never really existed in the first place... but I keep getting told I have a job for life.

And it sounds like a court ruling.


(L)

under your skin

I remember sun-kissed summers. Reading magazines while I wriggled my toes in the scorching sand and flipping over only when I got too hot. I remember hopping down to the water when my skin and tongue alike prickled and yearned for the cooling kiss of the water.

We'd trek home with sand in our knickers, plunge ourselves into cold showers and then lie defeated under the fan and wait for the burning to fade away with the day light. We couldn't sleep on your backs for days.

Our house smelled of after-sun lotion and lemonade.

Then comes the peeling. One day you're tanned and the next day you scratch your back and realise it's begun. You try to moisturise, desperate to keep the skin as part of your body but it's too late, it's beyond repair. You have to wear a t-shirt to cover your peeling shoulders despite the hot weather and the pleas for a singlet from your under arms. But there's no hiding the peeling that's begun on your nose.

And this is what I think of when people talk about skins, long hot summer days and the resulting sunburn and peeling of sheets of skin. It's not a pretty site.

But these are.

    

        

I love these, they don't bulk out your phone but they do look mighty cool. Skins are like thicker screen protectors but with much more interesting patterns. You can download matching wallpaper and they're much easier to put on then those fiddly sheets of plastic that always get bubbles.


Now I just have to decide which one to buy.

gelaskins.com

(L)

i kneed you!

I'm in love.

There is a happiness in my life and instead of being the lonely heart inside my chest it is a pair of hearts on my knees.

These little hearts can traipse around the world with me from country to city and still bring a smile to my dial. I will never have a lonely heart now that it has two new friends to sit on my knees and discuss the weather, politics and of course, romance.

The three little hearts will be best friends and I hope that it's a love that never wears thin.

The best leggings for a lovely winter

(L)

roll up! roll up!

Today I've been inspired. I will pack my socks and jocks into my suitcase and head for the hills, I will run away and I will join the circus. I don't care how far I have to walk, or how many nights I'll spend sleeping under the cover of an old bush tree, I will find a travelling troop and follow them from town to town.

The circus will accept me into its fold, with caring but rough arms placed around my shoulders. I will be  wrangled into the warmth of the Big Tops wind breaking walls. The acrobats will fly from the ceiling on colorful ribbons and scoop me up, flinging me into the air. As I go tumbling towards the bouncy roof of the tent I am sure I will soon be plummeting into the shiny hard wood floor, but I am happy in this precise moment, when I feel as though I am flying, not falling.

A group of rowdy looking boys dressed in colourful cloths cheer me on from the ground, while hairy ladies and slick looking men break character and smile jovially towards me as they go about their tasks. I see them and I know that I have made my way home.

It will be a boho, chai tent, fire loving, clownless kind of circus that only exists in my dreams.

But that's exactly where I'm going to find it!






Thanks Peter Alexander for your run-away-to-the-circus inspiring new collection! And for making my circus joining dreams come true, and very comfortably too I'm sure!


(L)

flutter byes

There's a little butterfly at my desk today, he's keeping me company.

He saw that I was lonely as he fluttered by my office, he was smelling flowers and twirling in the sun and gave it all up to pop in and say hello. He has traffic lights on his wings and love in his antennas and as he flies around my desk I'm reminded of cold mountain breezes and long lazy days in front of the fire.

He and my eyes are a dancing a dance. It's the Charleston Box-step and my eyes know all the moves. 

(L)

winters blews

My boots trudge along the crunchy ice laden grass as I make my way to the top of the hill. My coat blocks me from the coldest winds but my nose is an Eskimo explorer and has no shelter.
Every now and then the wind blows and small speckles of frozen water crash against my face as I burrow deeper down into my scarf.

This is winter.

This is Armidale.

For the majority of an Armidale winter you cannot feel your fingers or toes. Maybe they have run off somewhere warmer; to sun bake on a Hawaiian beach or sip cocktails at a Balinese bar. This can make walking and texting rather tricky.

You must layer. My layers are calculated. Socks, tights, socks, pants, singlet (tucked into tights) undershirt (tucked into pants) shirt, cardigan, jumper, scarf, coat, gloves, beanie. Sometimes you don't see your legs for weeks and weeks, as they have been burried under cotton. When eventually they do brave the cold and pop out they will be much hairier than your expected (the kinds of things that scare small children in the night) and you will tuck them safely away, back into their cottony home. Keep them warm and keep them safe from those who wouldn't understand.

Drink tea, read near a fire, cuddle your puppy dog... these are the things you must do if you want to survive it.




(L) 

I still miss...

My peep show dreams.