2014

I have a few design oriented posts planned or at least floating around in my head but since my heart is definitely in the drivers seat at the moment I decided to do two soulful posts as well; 2014 & 2015.

2015 is more than a resolution since it is not a bullet list of things to achieve but before we get to that; 2014, which explains why. I am writing this post at midnight because I feel the most at night. The gift of feeling is not one that comes with great hours. What got me feeling was understanding love, what it means to me. Love is my 2014. Odd as heck to say of the year your relationship and entire foundation dissolves but let me try to explain..

This year I did lose much. Things some might not even realise or value but to me right up there. Innocence, purity of feeling, belief in the neverending, softness. No matter what, deep down, I always believed in ocean depths and trying. All your heart and never give up. I realise now I stopped feeling my feeling awhile back. I put away pureness, special times and noseys. Hid my hurts behind walls of silence, anger and not asking or even expecting. Stop listening to love or even happy songs when that gifted Roxette power ballads CD always made me cry and then smile. Stop watching movies that made me feel love above self exists, not even Disney. Just stopped.

When everything crumbled, when it was just me, I got up and kept going. Getting on with it was the theme for years and so automatic that I never realised the numbness. The doing was great and what I needed. I needed to have to stand on my own, not just as someones shadow or lesser half. I can haul, drill, shovel and anything else that needs to get done. I will continue to run because I am so proud of it. It helped me to feel achievement, something I never owned before despite achieving quite a few things in my life. Those 21 kms, I did that. I did that in seven months. I will do my power yoga and which each pose and each step closer to calm, I feel I can. I can do this, I can live, I can love. I can be. I am no longer afraid, not of the dark, not of being me, of being vulnerable, of feeling. 'Be practical', 'don't be so vague', 'be realistic'. I am more than that. I have a job, a home, two kids and that means practical and day-focused like you wouldn't believe. Yet that practical aspect is balanced by the feeling. Two halves together complete. Yin and Yang.

And so I found what I had put so far away, I forgot how much I needed it because it's me. My heart, my soul, my feeling. Thousandfold greater, for the all the self I found, all the grit, all the strength, all the confidence, all the pain, all the lost, all the (re)discovery. Someone wished me perseverance and strength for 2015 but for me it is love. It is always love. That is what I thought when my little girl said the moment she saw me this morning 'wow, mama, wat ben je mooi'. It was something I wanted to hear so badly at home and she said if for me in my work-out clothes (though I do think I'm smoking in my gear) and ponytails. The same thing I thought the night before as I carried my kids up the stairs to bed one by one and they hold on tighter so I don't let go. Seriously I have to pry them down inch by inch. I love them more now than when they were born. I don't get love at first sight for newborns. I'm sorry they were gross, covered in goo and stuff and I kept thinking ick they put in on my chest.. But how I love them now. My daughter says spontaneously the most lovely things to me and it reminds of a mug I wish I still had 'your soul is a good one, I see it in your eyes'. She is the most beautiful part of me. The mirror in which I wish to see myself. My son is my innocence, his giggle tickles my heartstrings and when he sings at night 'in de maneschijn' I feel that moon's light and I sing back.

The sense of achievement. The depth of feeling. The joy and pureness of my kids. That is what 2014 was about for me. Love; of self, of others of love itself. Love is now what gets and keeps me going. After everything is said and done, after the dust settles, it is always that for me. And so I do have a few songs that both make me smile (Geronimo) and cry (Superheroes, Say something, Beautiful war) because every love story has mountains as well as a few twists and bends. 2014 is my love story. Guess you can figure out what 2015 is built on? Because 2014 it is just the beginning and my heart is my biggest and most valuable possession. My love is not a burden or too large. That too is a gift and I will give it again wholeheartedly to those who treasure it with theirs.

What was your 2014?

We luv Miffy's house

Christmas week means Christmas break, for adults and kids alike. For us that means a lot of bump on a logness, face stuffing and Christmas movie watching. Don’t forget playing with all the new gifts, including the flipping indoor gym (working on those saltos..) and hide-out. That post is coming soon. 

But to combat the laziness and keep the extra pounds or worse yet kilos to a minimum we did some outings as well. This one was to the Nick Bruna house in Utrecht, who is Nijntje’s/Miffy’s creator. Both my little guy and older girl had a blast and so did I. Of course I picked the day that it snowed..heavily for Dutch standards and so getting there took forever. I was so baked by the time we arrived that I couldn't even remember my bank code to buy the tickets. Luckily there are creditcards. And I remembered the code at the end when the kids picked out, surprisingly handy, things in the giftshop.

It's not a big museum and so probably not work the half a day's travel that we did but even that was fine because no matter how hip and urban you (think) you are as a mom, your bag is still loaded with barbies, dumptrucks, snacks and juiceboxes. Plus I have grade A troopers..who sing the entire way. Did I mention the raging migraine by day's end? But that aside, plus that my car is in worse shape for a tiny parking slip and the fact that Mika's nickname is carry-me boy, it was great. Zoe Isobel gravitated like a magnet to the colouring screen and Mika was conductor for the day as he fell in love with a giant wooden train. We spent most of our time in this room. 

There is also an indoor gym where kids can follow moves being projected and also a more interactive space including a seesaw where Mika promptly got injured (bit lip) but even that never slows my energy balls down. While the other kids went on to the crafting table, mine, my kids plead and beg for more spins in the spinning chairs and pushes on the seesaw. It popped up in my head the outing before and dawned on me today, most people have the common sense to go with multiple adults, especially if you are with multiple kids and especially kids like mine who are typically the most rambunctious of the lot. How did that happen, as a quiet introverted mom? Probably because I love it  and encourage it. But for parents with quieter kids there are also spaces that cater to those needs..needless to say my kids did a beeline around those.

And because I said for Christmas you can eat what you want (never say that to a four year old) we even went through the drive-thru at Mickie D’s, somewhere I never thought I would take my children. Nothing like chicken nuggets and Fristi to round off a nutrition packed week. Heck who cares, it's Christmas! Let the good times roll!

Tablescape

I showed you my Christmas decor here and here. Here is the final Christmas decor post, scouts honour.

This is our table as pictured on Christmas eve, ready and set for Christmas breakfast. The runner is a piece of crafting paper from the kids supplies cupboard, which I near stamped to death with a mix of Christmas themed stamps in glittery silver and after cutting bows to the ends. The letters are clay cut-outs I made with my daughter (my son was totally not into making any recognisable shapes). The letters then got baked and spray-painted metallic silver. That with the existing flower piece I made earlier with some new lighter blooms, the kids funny 'Domoor' cups and my piggy 'Snout' one and we are good to go for a stylish yet fun Christmas mealtime, starting with breakfast.

Breakfast, hopefully brunch, being full-on and a mix of bricks from my childhood and my kids Dutch one. Poffertjes homemade out of my trusty cast-iron pan. Bacon baked in the oven with a brown sugar glaze, scrambled eggs, fresh-baked croissants and my love of the season; eggnog. Being the cook means an early start after days of prep but that is OK. Because both sayings apply ‘If the kids are happy, then mama is happy’ and ‘if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy’. This table makes all happy and stuffed.

And then, then it is time for presents! Including the big surprise! Elves move over, this is Santa’s super-helper busting a Christmas old/new-school move.

Christmas List

I always bust out the old-school Christmas tunes while I busy myself with the last preparations for Christmas day. While my home fills with the scent of cinnamon and spice and the gifts now all finally wrapped and waiting for Zoe Isobel and Mika to rip to shreds I smile. A slightly bittersweet smile because everything changes, evolves and grows and I will be eating turkey for days as Zoe Isobel just iterated a decided "I don't like turkey''.

But more bittersweet for the grown-up things on the list; peace, wounds healed, hearts mended, friendships strengthen and above all love. My grown-up self still believes in never-ending love and that will never change, especially with my home transformed into children's dreams and bursting with all that humanity & soul. Smile bright.

Peace and love, till Christmas morn! Working on that mega breakfast and ditto tablescape as we speak.


P.S. the lyrics are from David Foster and the cheeky little print is a card via Etsy I can't find the maker of but I so understand the draw of another's cookie..

Schedule

Literally the shortest scheduled week ever, because heck it’s Christmas, baby! 

This is the first and only week this year I’m off from work except that one week I did nothing but work on my new place. So time to kick back with my wee ones, lots of finger licking, sugar-high inducing and oh so fattening food and move like sloths under water. So expect one, maybe two posts;

• A view to our Christmas table with that worded DIY I mentioned
• & maybe some pics of a little daytrip I’m planning with the kids

P.S. If my fingers get too itchy I might do a third but no promises because I abhor breaking them! But if I do, it will be about a trip to the fashion district of my ole town Arnhem.

Word to Santa

More Christmas because it’s absolutely my favourite time of the year. This post is less trees and more letters. 

How fun is this banner! I have a colourful one I use for birthdays and now this all black version for a chic holiday twist. You can make whatever words tickle your fancy. I went for an extra hint for the jolly one..a little bribery never hurt any one, right? 

Accompanied by some cool origami style stars and fun postcards and staying with the black and white because I like a bit of graphic too keep Christmas modern and fun. The stars and banner are from  A Little Lovely Company, which is now my go to for decorations and purchased via Winkel van Papier. I see a purchase for Mika's third coming up quick..

And while on the letters cartwheel, I DIY'ed some clay letters with the kids. A bit of spray paint and we have some fun decorations for the Christmas tabletop, but first they need to dry! But I promise to show you Christmas morning, the bestest morning of the year..

(Pre)Designed

I added this to my favourites months ago when I spotted it at Est Magazine, which by the way I adore and look to often. I love modern homes and this one is no exception. The fact that it is pre-designed is also not a novelty. But a modern, minimal, pre-designed home, flawlessly mixing in- and outdoor spaces and which also holds sustainability in mind? Then you have my attention Lubelso homes, especially if you add in the idea of moving from my cold, wet but loved Netherlands to warm, sunny and bright Aussieland. I added some pictures of the single, double and link designs. Click on the link for more.

I love this style of architecture. Loads of glass and open spaces, overhangs, outside and inside flowing, modern and structural. Even the interiors adds. Just check out that door!

21

With a decade more on the clock, this post is not about turning 21. I can’t even remember that day. Crap, I’m old..

But back to the meaning of 21. It’s simply the distance. My distance. 21,12 km to be exact. My last block saw 90 minutes, 12 km total distance and averaging 8 km/hour. A little below my comfort zone. My longest run of the week is always Sunday early morning and last week's was 110 minutes, 16,75 km and 9 km/hour. This week I wanted to finish my six weeks with the scheduled 2 hour run and hopefully 19 km. I woke a half hour later at 6.30 am (Saturday nights off are junk food and dancing like a maniac so I need that extra snore time) peeped out the window, saw the frost and my heart sink almost as low as the outside temperature. To be honest, I am dead nervous every time I run. So nervous I can never keep anything in. That nervousness only disappears when I turn the key in the lock and step outside. 

Then I just go. And I went Sunday, as usual of late with no tunes, no distractions. The sun comes only about an hour in, so just the stillness of the morning. And I ran and ran and ran some more. I ran till the dog-walkers and mountain-bikers came out. I looked at each person I ran towards, smiled and said good morning because I look up now and fear not being unanswered. I ran till the sun came out. I ran till my fingers were so frozen I started clapping, fist bumping, hand waving and anything else I could imagine to try and get some feeling back. Only then did I realise that the numbness went up to the elbow, but more importantly that the first hour had already passed.

I gave up on the digits and just let them be numb. It’s about my legs anyways. I count to six hundred because somehow I can’t keep numbers straight after that. Sometimes I lose track and start the count again and sometimes I don’t realise I’m counting out loud when I need some extra push. The push is all mine. It’s just me. I run against and for me. I get lost when I run, nothing really matters and yet I know I’m not shut-down but attuned. I know my steps, I recalculate my route, I adjust my breathing. Just me and the path, even when I’m on the tracks so muddy they can’t be called paths (note to self not after a winter rain). Funny but just seconds after my phone said ‘congratulations’ and my watch started bleeping there was a double stripe going across the road instead of down the center, exactly like a finish line and I could have stopped and a part of me wanted to but I stop when I can pound my fist against my front door because I’m home. It is door to door and no less. 

And even more importantly I wanted that half a marathon distance. I could smell it, feel it, see it, just at my fingertips, I could almost touch it. I hungered for it. So I count harder, till I see my door and only then will I look at the tracker because time and distance doesn’t matter till I’m done. At my door it was 20,4 km and that was not my goal. The tracker fell off my arm then, so I quickly scooped it up and held it in my arms for that last lap around the block till I reached my door again and saw 21. I’m mostly silent but then I let out a stream of profanity, did a Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins style jump and foot clap in the air thingy and pumped my fist against that blue door. I made it. 2 hours and 12 minutes, 21,12 km and averaging 9,6 km/hour. Nothing else mattered. I fucking made it!

I went in, removed my muddied trainers, sat down and called to see where the kids where because I forgot they were coming later, made a coffee and went up to my room to quietly drink it and maybe take a well-deserved nap at breakfast time. And then came part two..

I sat down, thought gosh "I’m so.." and promptly burst into tears. Hot, heavy, happy, relieved tears. I cried for ages in bed and then in the shower and the rest of the day right up till the moment I fell asleep. Why I started I’m not sure. I was thinking "I’m so happy" and then there is no one here to say that "you’re amazeballs" and finally "that is ok" because this is personal, this is me. Just me. So intimate that I couldn’t bear any contact that day besides my kids, not even for a millisecond, not for the most basic of conversations, not even from behind my screen. My kids are my love but my intimici is me. I now reside in my core, in the very center of my heart and that is somewhere I have never been. But the word that matters most is not the me, it’s the just. I cried because 21 was my release. I didn't know it what it was coming and it caught me completely off guard.

I think in images and feel so very much and so very deeply. Before a run I fold my arms and say two things; thank you and namaste and when I do see and feel my breath rise and fall on a single winter flower drooping from the frost. The saying 'it is a curse and a blessing to feel so very deeply' is me. When I was a teenager and in later college others found me stuck-up because of my quiet and lack of general interaction. And on other levels my withdrawing from physical contact drove the one mad but touch is everything to me, all the other senses combined. I don't interact because I'm stuck-up but because I sense so much and feel so much, all the things below the surface that I'm so easily overloaded by all the things said but more importantly the things I sense. I withdraw from contact because when you hurt me and touch me it burns, if you make me happy it buzzes, if you lift me up it reverberates and when you excite me, well that's fire. I feel energy and that is not an easy but so intense that it must be quite difficult for others to understand. For that reason I pulled back and tried to take all the sharp edges off. I realise now that is the most tiring part of all. To feel but to live those feelings on brakes and toppers is almost unbearable. I am above and below all a feeler. That sense, so often overlooked, is the one that runs straight through me, it is my pulse.

Release? All the images, all the moments, all the feelings of the past whizzed by in my head and left. Everything from the you are not worth effort then or now, to a unremarkable lazy Sunday morning being remarkable because there I was in bed with a family, to my son bungling from my chest sleeping and snoring in the sunshine as I biked with my other two loves on the bike next to me and feeling the sunshine on the inside too, to you will never leave me, to change these things about you or I will leave you, to you’re so anti-social, to freedom tears on the plane ride, to you’re the most unattractive girl ever, to seeing my home-made mother's day card thrown in the thrash that same day, to mom in the ER and dad being questioned by the police while you suck your thumb shaking, to I never wanted you, to wondering why I couldn't find a way to play with the other pre-schoolers and every moment in between. All the moments that were deeply significant to me and that I couldn't place, couldn't understand, couldn't accept, couldn't bear. Release means I don't need to. It just is.

It is. No more, no less. I remember asking my love what was the point of life and his answer was to be happy. I was always searching for mine. For me it became to live. And then to breathe. And now it is to just be. And that gives me peace. I still cry but not for sadness or pain or anything that is has been for awhile, whether on the surface or hidden. I cry because I feel. I was never broken or getting there as quite a few kept saying. Not broken, so not fixed, simply just. Just as it is. Just as I am. 

Just means to live, breathe, be. To accept the past and to rise above it through the present and further. To see not a chapter but an entire book of chapters, chapters one to thirty one, close. Till it hurt and back. To go inwards till you arrive outwards. Till I could see the beauty of now. To just be(gin) a new book. Book two: To just be.. It is neither a blessing or a curse. It is a gift.




P.S. the picture I found here, with an accompanying saying from Buddha.

Lightthink my box

I wrote about my love of the Page Thirty Three cinematic light boxes here. And also about the high price point. So how happy am I with the Seletti lightthink box lamps. They are beautiful wooden boxes with interchangeable faceplates including a blank one and ranging in size and price. Making owning my own worded inspiration that much more obtainable. I love the idea of grouping these together, maybe with the neon letters also from Seletti thrown into the mix. What do you think? I’m thinking a must for under the Christmas tree..and from there to my wall.

 

Schedule

This is a quickie schedule because this week I put fun closer to the top!

• Starting the week with Christmas inspiration of the worded variety.
• Followed by more words, because I do love the written word..
• And finishing off with some pre(designed) homes inspiration...

 Wishing you and myself a good week!

Sexy back

The title is a wee bit misleading because it’s still a reflective post. So no pictures of my, if I do say so myself, rather sexy back.. I tried but the pictures were non-publishable. I make little comments and quips about sexiness but not today. Today I simply state I am sexy! That took me 31 years to not only say but more importantly feel. Feeling is what this post is about. But let me first clarify what the heck that word means… My four year old came home with 'sexy lady' recently and said it meant being naked. Nope, that is not what it means to me. Trust me, I grew up in the tropics and all the layering of winter makes me sad. I’m a free spirit in my skin at home because I’m at home in the skin I’m in. That is the difference, not how much or how little skin I show or how high my heels and I do love a high heel on my stellar stems. If I had a penny for every aren’t you cold with bare legs?

The first time a parent intervened about teasing was kindergarten. Yep I was that kid and I remained that kid all the way to adulthood. The teasing was not only on my looks and personal style but a heck of a lot of it was. Growing up and puberty is hard enough without incessant ridicule. And then there are the more recent comments that I can remember word for word because they came from those who matter. Often deposited as constructive criticism, helpful hints or jokes. The more the word sexy became mine, the more crushing the comments. Two steps forward, one step back and sometimes two or three. If you proudly and happily mention other that you were told your look is confident and strong and that you feel that way more and more and the comment back is ‘yep, a big b***h’ and ‘you know no one can see you in black’ then you either crumple or learn to stand tall. In the end I got up, dusted myself off, shook that shit off and stand tall. And that ladies and gentlemen makes me sexy.

What the word means to me is confidence. It’s what it has always meant to me because besides all the teasing and criticism, confidence was never my personal strength and therefore my wish. Self-criticism and perfectionism makes you tough on yourself, tougher sometimes than others. I always spent time on my appearance often in the ‘fake it till you make it’ stream but this was maybe a bit too contrasting to the inside as too much envisioned confidence seems to invite attacks. There is a good Dutch saying about raising your head above the cornfields. It takes courage.

That new found sexy does not mean negativity doesn’t impact me. Nor does it mean that I never have a bad day. Heck I’m a chick, we have PMS days and granny pants. It just simply means it doesn’t goes further than the surface. I still take pride in my appearance because it will always be one of the ways I express my personality and mood. What changed is that I wear the clothes and not the other way around. If I’m completely honest my body is nothing like it was say six months ago, or even two month ago and that gave me a good push, despite creating new challenges. I started wearing longer, looser sleeves since my chest and arms are now muscular where once there were mountains and I slather oil in the bucket loads in the hopes my skin's elasticity catches back up. It took a good long look to see the beauty as well as the strength. Longer to own than the time needed for the change.The fact that a large part of that physical change comes from sport, which in itself gives me such fulfilment, multiplies the effect, above and beyond any (invented) dressing challenge. 

Then there is so much positive feedback instead of the negative I’m used to, just in the way people respond to me. No one ever says anymore ’I don’t remember you’, it is more the ‘verschijning’. Last week I breezed and skipped through the supermarket after a run, still in work-out clothes, drooping bun but feeling work-out wonderful and several people looked at me like I was secreting love potion no. 9 instead of frozen sweat (seriously it was below zero degrees and I have no winter gear). I wore a dress from the back of the closet that I bought years ago and never wore; fitted on the hips, deep V to the front and backless. No hiding. I rocked that mother including my muscular arms and molehills. I realise how comfortable I am with me, just as I am. With how I look, how I dress, how I act, who I am. There is no sexy without confidence and no confidence without inner comfort and courage and I have them all, whether it’s Hello Kitty Vans, cut-offs, arm baring, work-out gear, crop tops, minis or skyscrapers. Sexy is not flesh, it's what shines from below the skin outwards and upwards. Sexy is so much more than the standard meaning given that word. I feel like the most smoking version of me. That is my sexy, what’s yours?

P.S. the postcards are from Therese Sennerholt.

Wished & gifted

This is decidedly a list of things on my wish list. I'm therefore placing a disclaimer that it's not a general list of things I think would suit a category (for the guys, girls, moms, cooks etc.). It is simply a collection of things that caught and held my magpie eye. For the inexpensive to the unattainable and everything in between.

Logifaces concrete minimalist puzzle because when a game is this pretty I'm might get over my group games phobia. Not one, not two but three fabulous gifts spotted at Dutch Design Year; a do-it-yourself small light gift that is perfect for highlighting other treasures such as the faceted ceramic ring and abstract brass sculpture. By far the spanning the highest price award this grey horsehair trolley that transforms into a handbag from Jannissima for if I ever get to take that luxurious midweek break..

The only bugs I want to see in my kitchen; the insect tea towels from Mae Engelgeer. Two books I spotted at Dutch Design Week; Paris Designers and their Interiors & Northern Delights. A delicately scented body mist with peaches, flowers and musk because I love sliding into bed dreamlike. As the body mist another little gem from &Other Stories in the form of a make-up brush so pretty it calls out to sit on my equally pretty jewellery cupboard. Last but not least a replacement for my headphones who are so busted from six months of work-outs that replacement outside of exercise is inevitable..so why get the prettiest, shiniest of lovelies; The Frends Taylor in rose gold..

Matched

While I'm still procrastinating about clearing out my closet, meaning pushing it further back to Christmas break, I am slowly building a new wardrobe, one that fits. Not only with the look that feels like me but one that simply fits. And pants are hard to get a good fit on and where weight gain or lost is most apparent. But I tried these two while getting some extra winter gear for the kids and loved them first go. Both cropped because that little bit of ankle, especially in winter, gives a bit of sex amongst the sweaters. What can I say, there has to be a wee bit of bring it!

The first look is an evening look, nothing too flash or overt but fitted and striking. All black, textural, with one statement piece of jewellery. Red lippy, swept back messy bun and we're good to go..out. Pants, shoes, top and necklace.

The second look is a look I am appreciating more and more; relaxed. What I love about this one is that the pants are actually really dressy which makes the combo more interesting. I wear them with my Hello Kitty Vans and H&M Studio zipped polo sweater unzipped and love it. This is a more upscale version of that look. Pictured with a pair of grey (or winter black) Nike Rosherun trainers, a bolt cuff and a luscious relaxed fit fine knit in prune with zips that go from side of the waist, over the shoulders, to the neck.

Woodlands

A week later and the hall now has a Christmas feel. You, and by that I mean myself, might not like the icy cold of winter but you have to love the cosy look of this season. Plaids, throws, cushion, candles and all in natural, earthy muted tones. For me all the more reason to make the first stop a warm one.

Mixing some new and old things together, it is all about natural texture with a cool postcard print for a bit of cheek..if I can find it, there will be a sprig of mistletoe above my door. Now I'm off to write Santa asking for the obligatory hottie for under my mistletoe..



Have a great week!

Schedule

First week of December down..Christmas is that much closer. The lights are up in the neighbourhood, which is a gleeful surprise every time my kids sit in the car..but I am as enchanted as they are. Decorations are going up around our home, gifts are being wrapped and hidden. And this week two of the three posts are about my kind of Christmas..

• A peek at some of the decorations with a woodsy feel.
• An idea board for wearing some new pieces a bit differently.
• And a list that I would love for Santa to make come true!

• And last post of the week; bringing sexy back.. a happy, feisty, smiling, smoking Santa's helper!

Signed 

xxx-Santa's helper-xxx

The F's

Thanksgiving was a little over a week ago and is a holiday I have only celebrated once. Of course in the US with turkey, mashed potatoes and cranberries. But that's not what I remember best. What stuck with me was how desperate and upset colleagues were when flights got cancelled due to snow and they might not be able to get home to their families. The warmth of colleagues to make it a good day for us foreigners despite longing to be with their own family. How grateful everyone seemed, how warmth it felt despite the icy temperatures. It's still what I think when I see all the posts about how to..prep a turkey, bake the bird, make the pumpkin pie and decorate the table. So it got me thinking what am I thankful for? 

Okay, some of my favourite F-words are not in here..like food and fashion (hey, get your mind out of the bowl). But seriously these are what matter to me, what I am thankful for and what I strive for. No doubt, it has been a tough year but that those not mean it was not worthwhile.

The fun has been a bit low (actually near non-eistent) but I'm starting to build that in and I do enjoy the fun times I have, no matter how small. Simple joys like going to the Uni campus on a Starbucks run or tex-mexing with the Friday crew. Or just making a batch of popcorn and watching Indiana Jones for the umpteenth time on Friday night. 

Family is core. I think most would agree but if you have ever had to do without, didn't grow from a nest to give you wings and roots then you know. My social butterfly and spicy tamale are the apples of my eye and have a different nest that I had pictured but still a warm, happy and large one and that was my greatest wish for them since before there was a single cell. My big sis who was my rock when I was little and again now, because I was such an awkward outcast and still a late learner. But what I learnt now was not to be so strict. Your family is ever growing and changing. The work-family that helped me when I was in the US, the Friday crew that make me smile and laugh when I forget how. The trainer who lends supports to the steps but also the person stepping. The yogi who never mentions my silent sobs in the meditation but just rests reassuring hands on my shoulders till my sobs become peaceful breaths. Those who offer me ticket home for the holidays, let me do the horribly ugly cry, give me a shoulder to rest on, offer to take me bowling (which I suck majorly at) or simply said they were thinking of me. Not necessarily my family, but those who show what family, what being a friend, what being a person is about. Family implies a certain selflessness, a level of affection and humanity that we sadly don't show enough in this world. When you are less concerned with being considered a good person and more with being one, esp. when hard, uncomfortable, inappropriate they give. Those rushing home for Thanksgiving were not doing so for eating the turkey but because family are the ones who make it worth the trip, whether there is a turkey or gift. Those are the ones that give you roots and wings, no matter if you're old as...

I longed to be free. I remember when I was maybe three of four and had to go back to the baby bed for visiting family, oh how trapped I felt. Even when I was little, no matter how shy and quiet, I had my inner drummer and wanted to go by that beat. I couldn't at the time and for many years after. After college, in work and life I still struggled to play my beat out loud. Everyone has expectations and ideas and I tried to follow what I thought those were above my own. I now follow me, my soul, my beat. My beat is me, sometimes soft, sometimes crazy energetic, sometimes downright wild, sometimes hurt, sometimes pensive but never hidden. That is my freedom; to be myself, to let it beat & to follow that beat..my inner rhythm and boy can I shake my tailfeathers on my beat!

Do what makes you happy? I do what fulfils me. I am busy, making the fun less than desired but I am mostly busy with the things that give me fulfilment. I love baking with the kids, working on this blog, making my home sing and especially whipping my body into a sweaty athletic lather. It's more than happy, it is fulfilment that makes me do it all again the next week. What else keeps you going when there is a cost? If you had to work for fun, they how often would you choose it? What keeps me choosing the things I choose, makes me set my alarm for 6am on weekends, start each day with push-ups and end them with planks is fulfilment; satisfaction and appreciation. I feel fulfilled and that is an amazing feeling. 

Autumn pie; peaches, blueberries & booze

Yes, I remember saying that I was exiting food off the blog but heck we all have to eat, right? I bake alot, mostly for the kids meaning loads of cupcakes and cookies. This week I wanted something a bit more grown-up. Something warming because it is actually kind of cold out and I despise layers so I need that warmth shot when I get in.

I had a batch of rum soaked blueberries in the fridge, a can of peaches in the cupboard and a container of leftover bottle of muscat in the fridge. Combined together and I get a free form rustic peach and blueberry  pie. A super thick, almost cake-like crust, soft caramelised muscat peaches with a boozeberries pick me up. Drizzled with a creamy cinnamon glaze for extra autumnal warm, it’s like summer and autumn's lovechild. Joined by a big glass of fresh mint and lime tea because I love unexpected combo's. , it’s best eaten warm on the couch, under a soft blanket and wearing woolly socks. 

It's now almost too warm..but I have one peach dripping in caramel stashed away for an ice cream treat and the blueberry infused rum will make a great cocktail. Is it weekend yet?