I’ve been blogging now for six years here at thecattylife. Prior to this, I was on blogspot, and even dabbled in Xanga in the early 00’s. Wow, that makes me feel old. I’ve always blogged for myself – I say this truthfully, I don’t really write with an audience in mind, I don’t think about SEO here and I certainly don’t propogate my posts through all my social channels. Oh wait, maybe Facebook. And Instagram, but only if there’s a really good photo to go with it.
A couple of weeks ago, my mother-in-law loaded us up with lemons from her tree before she headed off on an overseas sojourn. I’m not really a lemon-buyer in general, I just don’t know what to do with them, but when I become a lemon-receiver, I (a) share the lemon love with friends and (b) pretty much forget about the ones I’m left with.
Every birthday boy deserves a party, even if he doesn’t actually know what the heck is going on. Last Saturday, we celebrated Sam’s 1st birthday (as well as the fact that we’ve survived a whole year ourselves) with beautiful sunshine, friends and family, and lots and lots of deliciousness.
So. I’m officially well into my second week of work. How am I feeling? Lots of people have asked, mostly hesitantly because they just don’t know how I’m going to react. Considering my previous post on motherhood, there’s a real possibility that I might break down hysterically over the demise of my maternity leave.
So how am I, really?
I don’t really make ‘the best’ anything. I make lots of stuff, and mostly it’s good… I think. But the best? Never. Despite being raised by a tiger dad, dare I say I don’t aim for stratospheric awesomeness. I just aim for what makes me happy, and as result I’m not really the best at anything and hence, don’t make the best of anything.
But then. Rocky road.
It’s winter. It’s cold. I’m cold. I looked at my wardrobe the other day and felt utterly uninspired by everything I saw (and trust me, there was lots to see, this is my first world problem). What on earth did I wear last winter? Do you ever get that? At the start of every season I’m baffled as to what I wore last season.
And then I remembered all I wore last winter was stretchy stuff. And that reminded me also that at one point last winter, all I could bear to eat was cookies.