Reboot

So at midnight tonight we get to put the clocks forward a year.  Tomorrow won't really be any different from today but it will *feel* different and that's the point.
Who says they don't believe in psychology obviously doesn't make any resolutions - to be broken within the first week - it's tradition!  Even those who promise not to play resolution roulette (which one will it land on? Congratulations, you got "Lose Weight" *audible groan*)  I know I do.

Twelve Years Ago Today

At just after 2 p.m. my life changed forever.  While the memories might be blighted with the realisation that who I had married would always let me down and the annoyance that I still made excuses for him "because of his upbringing" (which was a big old lie like everything else) there is this shining light.

Because no matter what, I will forever have this and that is worth diamonds and gold:

Happy birthday boys

T'was The Night Before Christmas....

And noms through the house...

With All The Best Intentions

I have been looking in to the world of art journals and the superbly organised and dedicated people who can and do fulfil their little books with alarming regularity.

As this blog testifies it is an evasive talent and one I wish I could capture and so, once again, and now in my 42nd year I tentatively look to achieving similar in both my art and my writing.  One each day, it doesn't seem too far fetched (she says now.)  I do promise myself this every year, especially around now as Christmas is knocking on the door and the year in about to reset to January again.

I need to work on both to improve, the art soothes my soul and I can even, on occasion, quieten the angry spirit that rises on recalling just how I was so easily discouraged and turned away from something that means so much.  Same goes for the writing.

It is a mistake that as a parent I am determined not to make.  Hell, maybe I might end up good at something for once.  I can do this and I want to do more:

It's Been A Heck Of A Year

My favourite month, the month of my birth, my sons' birth, Christmas and all the Yuletide festivities and each year gets a little further away from that magical place.  Yet there is still something about December and the dark days (that suit my mood of late). 

I'd much prefer for a cold, frosty month than the wind and icy rain of today.  The skies are so clear, cerulean blue sharpness.  

I feel sad the boys do not experience a large family Christmas but then again the ones I went to were never that good anyway.  I suppose if invited, they would experience whatever happens at their father's new family home with her family but they don't want to.  Youngest is very particular with what happens and I love that about him.  Eldest pretends he isn't that bothered but truly is.

We have a small family and it has been another year in the washing machine, but when we come out the other side we will still, no matter how much more we have to take, we will still be rich in love.