Wake up early. Go for a walk. Observe the gleam of the new day. Breathe. Thanks be for another one.
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Not the most inspiring photograph, I’ll give you that, but it was like that this evening. Not all that much going on. The steady dip of the ever reddening sunset was enough to keep me occupied. That and the thought of the weekend and the Bureau of Meteorology’s promise of high-30s/low-40s temperatures in coming days.
I know I’m still here, but in my head I’ve packed up my stuff -no qualms whatsoever about storing away all my favourite things (material possessions, who needs ’em?)- and hit the road, or flown the coop, or set sail, for a year off. (The last, metaphorical only. I hardly think so.)
Those who know me will know that the notion of me living out of a backpack is laughable, to say the least. I think I’ve got about six months to work out how I shall do this. But I will do it. I promise (myself).
It occurred to me yesterday that it’s a month to Christmas and therefore just over a month to the new year. How can this be? Time flies, it does, even when you’re not necessarily having fun.
I don’t normally make new year’s resolutions and besides it is still November, therefore, I feel safe in sharing this idea: I will have More Fun in 2013. Somehow.
I don’t expect anyone (you) to understand why I would be thinking about what I’m thinking – but the clue is in the caption, so hover. Suffice to say, I’ve just added another item to my list of Things I Don’t Understand.
And now, it’s like when you get an ear-worm – a song that embeds itself in your head and you find yourself humming it all day, much to your chagrin – because it’s The Spice Girls or something equally embarrassing to admit you know the lyrics to that song! – but the thought(s) won’t go away, and you wonder how it could’ve turned out like this, and you remember things you hadn’t thought about since you were a kid, like the times your aunt used to comb your hair and you sat patiently as she worked her way through the knots, listening to her stories (one of which was about a movie she’d just seen called ‘Alien’ which sounded like the scariest movie ever!) and how you cried when she left Malaysia for a new life in Australia…
If we had known then what we know now about life, about death.
I’m not a Chanel No. 5 fan at all. I guess I’m just not sophisticated enough to like it, but I do love No. 19 very much.
To my uneducated nose, No. 19 Poudre‘s drydown is much warmer, less green than the No. 19 original. I feel a bit more serious when I spritz on the Poudre. I’d go so far as to say that if I had to pick a personality for Poudre, I’d say a she’s a girl who doesn’t do picnics very often. (She likes orchids, though.)
I know, two ‘smell’ posts in a row. I can’t seem to get enough at the moment.