If my life in the highlands was a book...
c'mon kids you know this game
It would possibly be set in mournful russia, think crime and punishment (but less of both of those things), not because I'm feeling grim but just because then I could write a lot about cold fingers and being a student, and jumpers with holes in them and drinking strong tea. Nicely self indulgant. Of course I'd have to shag some landlady's daughter and have heated political arguments with some uptight cravat wearing aristocrat. But neither of those things sound altogether bad.

Or maybe my life could be written / lived as a jeanette winterson novella. Which would mean more dress ups and gondolas and giants and ocean journeys. Could a gondola be woven in to a mountain story? It would be suitably dreamy and disjoint, artfully fragmented, artfully whole. I would be let off the hook with having a plot or ending, it could spiral and loop.

you?

"Suburbia: where they tear out the trees and then name streets after
them"

Oops I forgot to eat fruit.
And other such revelations tonight. Here's one for you: slippers that let your toes out will let your toes get cold. This is an example of experiential learning, I have my toes sticking out now as we speak. Happy full moon for yesterday (actually early this morning). Did anyone howl? Dog I was living with and will be living with again actually howls. Not at the moon but at sirens or other dogs howling. Was really strange the first time I saw it - ooh oooh ooh - with her little snout up in the air and her mouth in an óh'. Just like a cartoon.

Still. Very. Cold. And not even winter yet can you believe it?? Thursday night last week, I felt like the princess and the pea but upside down - 3 quilts and a very robust blanket. Bloody hell, how did I not get suffocated by bed linen in the night?? Eurovision last night, did anyone indulge? Some very random outfits and equally random songs - goes without saying. Good though, even if the voting takes longer than the last federal election. Fashion trends according to EV05: HOT Long long curly hair, lip gloss that your hair can get stuck in (I already have that!!), the leather pant, the kettle drum, the gold sequin toga dress, NOT: heidi plaits, jeans, the ugg boot, the thermal underwear. Huh! What would they know.

Cornjulio! It's cold here!
Remember that scene from beavis and butthead go to America where they're on the plane? I am strangely reminding myself of that as we speak as it is BLODDY FREEZING and I am wearing two perfectly good yet completely seperate outfits superimposed just for warmth (nightie and slippers! hiking gear!). This includes a hooded fleece with the hood up - ears covered, nose and mouth covered by the fleece, so ever breath heats up the entire ensemble. House sitting catty is under the quilt. No small victory after my ongoing struggle through the night to stop him from from doing just that. only because I'd put fresh white flanelette sheets on and didn't want cat hair all over them, not yet. Mind you I knew he'd get under eventually. I just emailed in an essay, weeks and weeks late but so exciting nonetheless. My house sit house has kids (not at the moment, they took them with them). Am experiencing strange clucky response to all the ítsy bitsy shoesies and funny little animal toys, which i don't normally do. I think I'm premenstrual (or is that my biological clock ticking?) I'll know for sure if I start crying over ABC documentaries - oh hang on, I do that anyway.

Wishes and kisses...
Visions of health and recovery to your unwell pal mermaidgrrl, and bucketloads of fortitude to you guys for being her support team. Safe travels to knight rider who is off market shopping w mr micool in northern climes. Congrats Aunty B for getting a date picked for your adventure. Visions of inspiration for tedious groupwork mango mitzu. And yah to me for getting another contract up here - mountains for at least another 3 months. Donations of beanies and mittens gratefully accepted knitting types :)

napolean lipgloss on to help me slide up to my deadline smoothly and instead a small green bug flies into it and is stuck there. It died. Chatting to the waiter at lunch who sat very close to the boundary but just this side of being interested in girls (just my type), just interested enough to give me hope, but just out of reach enough to make it interesting. Until i later realised that pesto on sandwhiches is an occupational health hazard for the flirtateous. He had the hair (masses of dreadlocks), eyes (2, both nice), accent trifector. Noice. very noice. At least I only had pestocomplications, and the bug-studded lipgloss situation had been sorted by then.What a strange day.

Oh dear. Do you all remember that feeling after you send a text or an email to a newly (internally) declared prospective (or 'potenital' to adapt BTVS parlance). The 'I might just check my email again' game. Actually you may not remember it, for some of you coupled types it will have been a while. Just conjure that feeling of knowing it is silly and doing it anyway. I am an idiot (yes I am an idiot and I don't care!) - that kind of thing. There is a little lurch as you send the thing, a lurch and an escape - free, my words are free, watch them float away to have whatever effect they may have. Off they fly, they're on their own now, not my responsibility!
And when you do get a response, there is that little smile you get before you even open it to read the words. Like a neatly wrapped present that is full of promise. You look at it all shiny waiting for you to open and discover and digest it. And then you surreptitiously reread it. Not too often. Just a few, carefully impulsive, discrete times. And a few more. And then you feel silly and stop.