three hundred and thirty two

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12 December. As much as I dreaded my op I have to admit I was quite looking forward to the enforced bed rest. A bit messed up, I know. And it was a perfect overnight stay, drifting in and out of sleep due to the anaesthetic and a wonderful concoction of painkillers, reading a trashy romance novel, thanks Mel, and being waited on hand and foot.  But despite this sad indictment on my life, I am beyond grateful to be home. And for the smile. You just gotta love teenagers.

three hundred and twenty eight

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8 December. Our new neighbours have lots of christmas lights. And an inflatable Father Christmas. I love our Christmas tree with its singular bird. And lights. Not that we felt the need to keep up. At all. But I am grateful for the giggle our perfectly paltry offering gave us.

three hundred and twenty two

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We found my wig today. I put it on and Kate said take it off it’s horrid. Much the same response they both had when I first bought it. Which was one of the reasons I never wore it. Probably the worst purchase I have ever made. And not because of the wig (and it was horrid but it was the closest we could get, even after being styled to my old hair) but the fact that I had to shop for one.  Bizarre and awful. I know the wigs made many feel whole again, for me it just underlined the fact that I wasn’t. Weird but I felt like I stood out more when I wore it than when I was bald. My mistake was trying to be me. I wish I had had the courage at the time to be mad, go blonde, go blue, go black. I just didn’t feel fun I guess. Today I am grateful for the fun we had with it. And that I never wore it.

 

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two hundred and seventy nine

 

20 October. I am grateful that even though we know we are searching for something that doesn’t exist, we are having fun doing it. A lakeside pause, a mad moment of lets just effing buy the rambling lake house with far too many bedrooms and lovely vine covered patios for long long lunches. I am grateful for the mad fleeting moment in which I imagine myself being the floaty free stylish and abundantly and effortlessly able mi casa es su casa serene mama of the Lake House. Yeah right.