Spring finally springing and, therefore, Great Drying Out.
Some of the vegetable and flower seeds we planted sprouting.
More new to me Chalet School books on the way and the delight of giving someone else’s treasured copies a new home.
Planning some reorganisation in our home.
Just over two months until it is holiday time.
It is most unseasonal, but this song sums up how I’ve felt since about 12 noon yesterday, minus the Jesus stuff. It might be a bit hypocritical to turn to a religious ditty for a practicing atheist like myself, but sometimes it’s the way to go. I had to turn to Wikipedia for a translation of sorts of the first verse, but it does sum up our feelings pretty well.
Our hearts’ joy
lies in the manger;
And it shines like the sun
in the mother’s lap.
Following this funding tracker and reading the stories that go with it.
Following Louise on the tweet machine.
Seeing a local repeal group outside our village shopping centre yesterday. Next time, we’ll bring chocolate.
Our parents confirming they trust women and will vote accordingly.
The posters that encourage everyone to trust me and everyone else in Ireland who can get pregnant.
It’s not too long to go until we finally get to vote the eighth amendment out of our constitution for good. I was delighted to hear about the launch of Together for Yes, the civil society campaign for repeal.
I’ve pinched myself sometimes that this is happening. It feels like the first march we went on five years ago was only yesterday but also something from another era. I’m hopeful, but realistic. The campaign needs money and we’re going to give it some.
I am looking forward to 26 May, and dreading it. I’ve had some moment of panic and elation. I really hope here and now is the time.
Spring has sprung(ish).
Finishing more new books since January this year than I read during the whole of 2017.
The second half of the last season of Mad Men finally appearing on Netflix.
Completing fun weekend projects together, especially the tortuous process that is replacing a seal on a washing machine.
Using up the last of my Christmas dried fruit. A new recipe for fruit cake worked out well.
Via Reading My Tea Leaves I found this reassuring article about how there is nothing wrong with most people’s homes. We moved to our current home two years ago and apart from having every wall painted, buying a new double oven and replacing the gross carpets in all of the bedrooms with inexpensive wood laminate flooring, we haven’t done any renovations.
During the months long lull between having our offer accepted and actually getting the keys of our home, we made vague plans to knock down a wall, perhaps to extend into the large garden a bit and replace the kitchen. None of which we’ve ever come to a firm decision on.
I went to the Ikea kitchen planning service some months ago but never followed it up. A couple of friends have done major renovations and I’ve had new kitchen envy but not enough to spur me to action. I’ve read the article on Curbed a few times now and I’ve felt myself nodding along with much of the sentiment.
Our house is fine. It’s warm and cosy and large enough for us. There’s room for everything we have, with space left over. The layout works fine, and there’s nothing wrong with the kitchen or bathrooms. We can live within our means here and the neighbourhood is pleasantly quiet and suburban.
If something major needs replacing, we will deal with that. Right now, though, I think I’d rather know we have enough money in the bank to have a holiday and go out for dinner rather than worrying about paying for a new kitchen. Our house is an orchid on our budget.
Apparently limbo in Catholic theology means being on the edge of hell.
I don’t believe in the limbo that the Catholic theology used to teach. I don’t believe in hell either, or heaven for that matter.
But being in limbo can feel like you’re on the edge of something. Especially in Ireland, in April 2018 when there are posters telling you women are killers if they access healthcare.