Sunday, December 27, 2015

Christmas.

Lets start first with why I am blogging at 2:45am. I bought a pound of fresh ground coffee yesterday from The Beehive, the smell of which has permeated my house in an oh so wonderful way. The aroma kept waking me up, so at 1am, I got up and made a pot of coffee. This, go with the flow, is part of my, "New Way of Life." I no longer force myself to stay awake until 11:00, then try to sleep 8 hours...I've never been able to sleep 8 hours unless I'm sick. If I'm tired at 7:30, I go to bed then. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I no longer lie there, trying to go back to sleep. I get up and do stuff, and when I start to get tired, I go back to bed. Once I get settled into the new house, I can see these hours being used for art projects. Not holding myself to conventional sleep schedule has been quite freeing.

Christmas morning, Oliver was awake before all of us, marking his entry into being a kid. He will be five next month after all. The rest of the day was spent lounging around the house, eating Christmas cookies and other treats, and NOT cooking the Christmas dinner I had planned. We did take a short walk around the neighborhood...you know...to make room for more cookies.





My table still looks like this, because I have yet to cook Christmas dinner.







Remember my Christmas wish list? Megan bought me the wine glasses and the turkish towels! The glasses are even more beautiful in person.



Brewier gave me a Filofax, something I've wanted since I was a teenager, and a beautiful scarf from Anthropologie.



This journal was my birthday present from Oliver. He saw it months ago, at Barnes and Noble, and was so excited to give it to me. Since he was really, really little, he has said, "Hearts are for Maemae."


Megan gave me this Janet Hill print, because, "It's you mom!" Flamingos, lions, palm trees, little black dress. Yep, I guess it is me.


And Brewier gifted me with a variable heat wood burning tool and a plethora of nibs, for my middle of the night crafting.

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