Pulling out the slow cooker for the first time in months, which meant coming home to dinner even though I was out all afternoon.
An unexpected extra 45 minutes before I had to leave the house today.
The red bricks on the front of our house in the September sunshine.
New to me Chalet School books arriving in the post.
Two gym sessions down this week, and another planned for Friday.
Catching up with two friends I don’t get to see half as much as I’d like.
Catching up on all the post holiday jobs and still having time to relax.
A fully stocked winedrobe, with bottles from three years’ worth of holidays to enjoy.
Our bed. Our bed. Our bed.
Catching up with friends and not waking up exhausted because I was sensible (for once).
Planning for the future, in big and small ways.
Today I had brunch at Sophie’s, a restaurant in the Dean Hotel. A friend had booked it for a long overdue catch up and it was an excellent choice. There aren’t many places in Dublin with rooftops views, so it was lovely to eat in a place where we could enjoy the view. The food was delicious, and even though the table was only available for an hour and a half we didn’t feel rushed. In fact, we ended up snagging a table outside and availing of the sunshine and chatting over a bottle of prosecco. It had been a long time since the three of us had met so we had a lot to catch up on. I will definitely be back, for food and drinks, as it was good value for money and a nice central spot.
Having a half day off work and being able to dine out for a birthday midweek (which never happens when I’m in work).
Going for my fitness assessment update in the gym and finding out I’ve lost five and a quarter inches. New gym shoes here I come.
The anticipation of a busy weekend of meeting old friends and new ones. I’m never out on a Friday and Saturday night. I think I’ll be having an early night on Sunday.
An empty laundry basket thanks to the sunshine and juggling of clothes inside and out.
Trying something new and a little scary and finding out its actually fun and exciting.
I met a friend for lunch in Bear today. It’s my second visit, the first being the last time we ate there some months ago. I’m being thoughtful about my food choices these days so I had a chicken salad and stuck to water. I’m not sure I’d have enjoyed my salad without the chicken (which I had as an optional extra). It was a large portion and wouldn’t have been as interesting without the meat. I’m a carnivore, but I love salads. This one was nice, but a little bland. I’m also not terribly keen on the high stools and tables but the atmosphere is really pleasant for lunch. And a nice hour catching up with a friend is always a recipe for enjoying yourself.
In The Agony and the Extasy, the women of Sex and the City ruminate on being single in their 30s. Well, I turned 35 yesterday and thankfully it was much better than turning 25 a decade ago. I’m not single. I’m far more secure in my opinions and choices, I’m in a completely different job and I’ve gained and lost friends.
I’m not quite sure when you’re supposed to feel like a grown up. I’m trying to remember if I felt like a grown up on my 25th birthday. I remember wearing a black dress and going to a nightclub that didn’t survive the recession. I probably wondering if I was ever going to meet Mr. Right. I remember feeling a little frustrated that many of the people I’d been in college a couple of years earlier were doing a lot better than me in the career stakes. I wasn’t in a particularly challenging job and I don’t think I had a huge amount of interest in it.
I remember going home alone, and I remember feeling down about that. I remember wondering why other people seemed to meet love interests with relative ease and I remember wondering if I was going to be like Carrie Bradshaw, wanting to admit I was lonely but still feeling a bit pathetic on my 35th birthday. I remember thinking life was passing me by, in some ways, and I could be doing a lot more with my time.
I probably wouldn’t listen to my older, and somewhat wiser self, but I’d tell myself to calm down and stop worrying so much. This is advice I could probably give my 45 year old self too, in fairness, in ten years’ time. I’d tell 25 year old me to stop stressing over the choices other people make-some of them make moderately good choices, others have veered widely off course and no one is as happy as you seem to think they are, all the time anyway.
I’d tell myself to be a little more ruthless when necessary and little kinder when you know it’s the better choice. I’d tell myself to enjoy eating whatever you like, because you won’t be able to do that forever. I’d tell myself to listen to the Sunscreen song, and heed the lines about friendships a little more. I’d tell myself that things will work out just fine, and while your definition of ‘fine’ might change, you’ll know that it is fine when you find what it is you weren’t sure you were looking for.
I stayed in that job so long.
I said that crazy shit.
I was so afraid of the ‘afterwards’ when it was the best part.
I worried so much.
I felt so guilty.
I put up with him.
I didn’t know how much better it would get.
I didn’t stay in touch because I missed you.
I was such a doormat.