Inspiring

Last night we had work Xmas drinks which was fun. But as I had an early start on Saturday morning, I left early. Oh how times have changed since Xmas 2010 when I lived in Bristol and not only did the work Chrissie bash drag on until the wee smalls, it was all levels of seasonal craziness (link here). Holy crap, I must be getting old...
   

But this morning, Shazzy had places to be and people to interview. The Genee Dance Competition has rolled into town and I spent the morning watching ridiculously tall and slim ballet dancers do whatever it is ballet dancers do. And wishing my ancestors had swerved left years ago so I too could have ended up with the cut-glass English accents sported by the Royal Academy of Dance big-wigs who've flown here for the competition.

Later there was trip to Kenepuru Hospital to see the Animator's colleague who, a few weeks ago,  suffered a second stroke. The bloke is only in his mid 30s and to say his life is knackered is to marinate in understatement. If I believed in God, I would be asking about now why he had caused such a thing to happen to such a vibrant, energetic young father. But instead of being angry, as this bloke has every right to be, as we were leaving he said: "Life is sometimes shit, Shazzy, but most of the time it's not. We shouldn't forget that and live as though every day was our last..." For someone lying in a hospital bed, looking down the barrel of years of physio and speech therapy, to be able to say that blew my mind. I cannot think of more inspiring words to live by.   

A welcome sight

The mysterious golden orb returned to the skies above Welly today; we stared at it in the way Amazonian tribesmen no doubt checked out the first car they ever saw.

But it was a welcome return to summer and to celebrate, four women from the hood took their dogs up to the town belt for a gossip (the humans) and socialisation (the woofers). All these women do things that give them time off during the day - ie one owns her own dance school, one is a student, one has just finished a contract and I, of course, work from home on Wednesdays and Fridays. It was fun to be out with our four-legged beloveds in the middle of the day; it almost felt like we were playing hooky.

Hopefully it's the first of many summery jaunts.

   

And we got home to find this in the post - Bristol's first (only?) Christmas card. From the adorable Catherine at Sparkles the Dog. Too, too cute.

How clever is this?

After watching this on telly the other night, I had to pick my eyebrows out of my hairline.

I've always known dogs are brilliant creatures but this is an amazing example of their intelligence and willingness to please. As a long-time supporter of the SPCA (our former beloved woofer Brompton came from the Auckland SPCA where this was filmed) I am thrilled with this latest campaign and hope it brings in the cash.

Regular readers will know I'm not that bothered about Xmas; I'm not religious, don't have rug-rats and am  allergic to family, so for me the season means little more than a couple of weeks off in the sun (don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about having time off from the gulag). We're also not big into presents so every year the Animator and I forgo the crazy commercialism to give the money we'd  normally spend on each other to this incredibly worthwhile charity. I'd urge you to do the same if you can...            

Epic fail

of the Summer of Yes.

After a positive start, the "I shall say yes to every invite that comes my way" policy has stalled at the red light of indifference.

I seem to have lost my mojo down the back of the couch and am too tired/too over it/too afflicted by can't be arsedness to attend one more Christmas party. Being a contractor registered with almost every agency in town = a lot of invites. But this year I find myself saying no to almost all of them.

I would much rather be at home with my two favourite boys. Especially on a day like today when, after a period of glorious sunshine, a riot of nasty weather has been cavorting over Wellington. Thankfully it's one of my two working from home days, so I'm snugly tucked inside with a copious supply of tea, the soothing tones of Pachelbel's Canon and 583 words of a freelance article. My diary tells me I have a meeting this afternoon with a PR woman who wants to pitch some stories but I am sorely tempted to put that off until I feel like engaging with the world. Becoming a hermit does have a certain appeal...

This is what my back garden looked like a few minutes ago. Am hoping the Hound will take one look at the furious precipitation and declare he doesn't need a walk today.

            

A double dose of beauty

Yesterday roses, today the Hound.

Haven't been sleeping well so the words aren't exactly tumbling from my head to the keyboard today. Instead, you shall have these glorious photos from the Your Home & Garden Mag photoshoot of our place a few weeks back.

Nicola, the photographer responsible for these pics, is convinced the Boy Wonder is smiling in the bottom shot. I think she may be right...

What made me happy today

My white roses are out.

Yes, I appreciate how middle aged and middle class that makes me sound but seriously, these roses are a thing of beauty.

Which is possibly why I have pitchers of them all over the house.  

Today

Another Saturday morning, another Your Home & Garden Magazine interview.

This time, it was an old 1950s home tucked high in the Khandallah bush that this artist and her family had breathed life into.

Sadly, I am on deadline for another story so there isn't time to go gadding about in the new vehicle. But opportunity will most certainly be carved out later.