She sits on her little cane chair reading.
Her little legs aren’t long enough and her feet swing back and forth, back and forth. Apart from her feet, she is still. Engrossed and fascinated by her book.
It is minutes before she reaches to turn the page. And she does it slowly, carefully, delicately.
I can hear her breathing. In and out. In and out. Soft breath’s.
Breath’s full of significance.
Signs of life.
As necessary as mine.
As necessary for my life as my own breath.
This is a little project I have been working on for a little while (obviously!). I stumbled across these amazing little things called ‘cabochons” and fell madly in love with them. They are sweet and delicate and gorgeous. I wanted to do something with them and earrings seemed the best option. The little cabochons’ are mostly West German and nearly always vintage. How lovely they are.
I have been able to source really good quality surgical steel earring posts without nickel ie. won’t bother those of us with sensitive ears! The cabochons themselves are from a couple of lovely suppliers in the States who keep sending me gorgeous vintage glass and vintage cabochons for me to sigh and swoon over. I adore them and have started wearing earrings again for the first time in about 8 years.
Honestly, it’s a bit daunting. I’ve never done anything like this before and therefore it is really an in experiment in the unknown. But you don’t know unless you try. So in the spirit of experimentation, check ‘sigh’ out here, and let me know what you think. x
This is what I am listening to at the moment – lots!
It is fun and dramatic (like lots of Italians I know!)
It can be found here.
I started Italian language classes last night and quickly became aware of how bad I am at learning new languages. I know what I am hearing but have a hard time verbalizing it. Despite feeling overwhelmed and ill-equipped; I loved the class. Our teacher was amazing and brilliant (he can speak Italian, French, Spanish, Arabic, Latin and I’m pretty sure Ancient Greek!). He had us captured from the very first moment he started talking, congratulating us on our pursuit to be bilingual (perhaps that’s a tad overstating it in my case!) and encouraging us to immerse ourselves in the language and culture. Last night we concentrated on the ‘rules’ of Italian language which suited me down to the ground. Now that I know some of the tricks of the trade it will be easier (I hope).
Isn’t it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity. Vaclav Havel
And perhaps in accepting the absurdity of it all we find truth in the simple things, grace in the naive and hope in the mundane.
I finally found the website for the gorgeous tapas/wine bar with found in Adelaide.
The Apothecary 1878
Great food, lovely atmosphere and campari and soda’s for me! If you are ever in Adelaide….
These gorgeous little prints are from here . I love them. So do the girls.
Things have been a little quiet here, that is because we have been away. Hubby and I went to watch the Tour Down Under in Adelaide (cycling race). It was exciting and so much fun. We had a lovely time away, it was the first time we had ever left the girls, making it slightly unnerving, but awfully liberating! To eat at a restaurant and not hurry! – the joy of the simple things! And while the cycling was undoubtedly the highlight, the tapas restaurant we discovered deserves a mention for its spectacular food, delicious wine and lovely atmosphere.
I, as have many others, have wondered why-oh-why I am so interested in Pro-Cycling. And no – it is not the lycra!
On the last day of the Tour Down Under, in our excitement, we read the times wrong and arrived at our designated spot 4.5 hours before the race. Oops. I had a good book and some lovely people next to me to chat to (who arrived before we did and were cracking open their 2nd bottle of wine at 11.30am!), and I had lots of time to think about this whole cycling thing. I’m sure if I was so delve into my psyche I would discover some hidden meaning to it all but I’d rather not and really I think it is quite simple. Pro-cyclists are brilliant. They are intelligent, strategic, reliant on their teams and elite. I love their dedication and their pursuit of excellence.
In a cycling team there is a definite understanding and appreciation for everyone’s role or ‘job’. There are sprinters, and climbers and lead out men and domestique’s. They need each other. It is a team sport. But my favourite member on any team is the ‘domestique’. That’s the guy who grabs food for everyone and rides through the peloton distributing it. It’s the guy who will stay with you and bring you back into the peloton if you lag behind. They are the work horses, the indispensables, the servants. And damn good cyclists at that.
There is also the other reason – hubby loves it. And I love having a shared interest. While his love of cycling spills over to actually getting on a bike for 5, 6, 7 hours at a time and mine extends to only watching for 5, 6, 7 hours at a time, it is nice to have something that we love and talk about (besides the girls).