So so many things

There are so many things I've been wanting to say - mostly thank you so much for saying lovely things about our khallila (little darling) Z and her photo. I want so much more from that little face, but I know the hankering doesn't do me (or her) any good. "I love you just the way you are, my darling" - I guess that is the bit of parenting that I still aspire to - loving without being pushy, without wanting more.

Last week things kind of overtook me - more media around the sentence being handed down, then my step-daughter gave me a cold, and now that I'm feeling on the way to human again, there is an enormous pile of exam marking to be done. Mrph. But there are good things in there too, like finally deciding how we're going to spend christmas and new year and having to rush crazily to book ferries and accommodation, and pleasantly dithering over where I'll plant new little vegie seedlings, lovingly germinated from seed by my best friend. And, as always, a good amount of standing in the front garden staring at the full moon and one particular star, and getting weepy all over the pomegranate bush.

The sage flowers are finished, and the succulents are making pink plastic-looking blooms. This little cactus-y plant has a history - it came to us from the house around the corner, where six grown-up siblings were having a garage sale of their 92-year-old mother's house, where they'd grown up. We'd bought some furniture and pots and it was the end of the day, so they insisted on giving us all the left over plants. Their mother has dementia, and is now in a home, hopefully with some good plants around her.



El Prima is away on a work trip, and without her here to harangue me to bed, I'm aimless, pottering until far too late. After all my false hope of last month's TTC efforts, this month was decidedly low key - I was half surly about the whole process and the twisting effect it has on our hearts. So it was mainly grim determination, rather than hope, this month, and my body rewarded my cynicism with a 24-day cycle - sparing me the agonising over faux-symptoms and whether or not to test that those last days usually entail. Which means I'm booking another flight to Sydney...

This paper-thin year is nearly done. I had been sulkily refusing to acknowledge the existence of 2011 (what kind of ridiculous futuristic concept is that!) but we're heading steadily towards it regardless of my sulking. Please let it surprise me in a good way.