First, the boots that I wanted that were way too expensive that then went on sale that I ordered that then went out of stock even though I'd already ordered them that then went on sale in a different colour that I ordered again, have actually arrived! And they fit, and they're lovely, and the second colour was nicer than the first anyway, so in the end I totally win. (I'm throwing out a pair of old boots, so don't worry, I'm still at 43.)
Then the miserable wet weather we've been having finally broke. I walked to work this morning through sparkling frost and pale winter sun and felt like it was shining just for me.
Then when I got here, I was handed my first payslip in what feels like forever (unpaid sabbaticals are wonderful in theory, until you have to buy Christmas presents). I think I finally understand how that kid felt when he got a note from Maurice Sendak: I loved that payslip so much I nearly ate it.
Then this afternoon, I have a post up on A Practical Wedding, which is always something of an honour. This week they're discussing the joys of navigating the festive season as a married couple, and Meg herself actually asked me to write something for it (I think she just likes Scottish people, or something?). I may have saved her email in my 'Exciting' folder, but I couldn't possibly confirm. You can read my post here, if you're so inclined.
And THEN, on Saturday, Blonde Bridesmaid is getting married! I think I'm more excited about her wedding than I was about my own at this stage. Back then, I was busy juggling families and solving problems and oscillating between "HOLY SHIT I'M GETTING MARRIED!" and "WHAT IF PEOPLE DON'T LIKE MY CENTREPIECES?!" It turns out that bridesmaids don't need to worry about any of that nonsense. All I need to worry about is how I'm going to fit a pair of thermal long johns under my dress without the bride noticing (forecast is sunny and cold cold cold) and making sure the lovely Lillian and Leonard catch my best side.
If that's the worst I need to worry about this week, then I think I'm doing pretty well.
*Frantically grasps every wooden thing within arm's reach*
So tell me, how's your week going?
Image by David Sims for American Vogue, May 2010
Fin's a new book person. He loves the smell of them, the shiny spines in well-ordered rows. He could spend several happy hours browsing the shelves of a good bookshop and never get bored. Second-hand things - books, clothes, anything textile - give him the willies.
I, on the other hand, am more of an old book person. I find new books sterile, their scent vaguely chemical. I'll take a library over a bookshop any day of the week. For me, nothing beats the weight of an old book in my hands, heavy with dust and nostalgia. Whose hands have turned these pages? Where were they sitting, what were they wearing? What did they think?
I have a particular soft spot for etiquette and self-help books of the past; I just find them incredibly charming, with their crazy titles and ridiculous advice and rampant sexism. It's so easy to laugh, now.
For some reason, my Nana's worn and beloved copy of The Bride's Book caught my eye this week. One meandering, time-killing internet search led to another, when suddenly I hit vintage marriage etiquette book jackpot on etsy. What, like you've never hit vintage marriage etiquette book jackpot? Weirdo.
(Can we just take a moment to appreciate the amazing nom de plume on the bottom right?
I find the quotation marks deeply fascinating. My theory is it's really a man.)
So now I'm wondering how many vintage marriage etiquette books a girl can justify purchasing. And whether that number is more or less than the number of books on increasingly obscure aspects of World War I currently sitting, unread, at Fin's end of the bookshelf. I think I've got some catching up to do.
Are you a new book person, or an old book person? A really special new book can still get me excited; I just cracked the spine on my (brand new! hardback!) copy of Days of Blood and Starlight and I'm already well and truly sunk.
And while we're on the topic of books, are there any I should be putting on my Christmas list? You lot strike me as the people to ask.
All images from Eager for Word on etsy. You might also have noticed I've stopped linking to Amazon. That's because Amazon is evil, and Hive is the best idea ever.
That's right. Our little ball of fluff (okay fine, our half-bald skinny bag of bones) turned three. And in a strange quirk of timing, she came to live with us on her second birthday, so the date also marked our one-year anniversary of becoming dog owners.
Of course I had to make her a hat.
In many ways, Smidgen isn't an easy dog to own. Given how ridiculously inexperienced Fin and I are (neither of us has ever had a dog in the family before), it's kind of crazy to think they even gave her to us in the first place. Her timid, cautious nature made her a rubbish racer, and led to her being put up for adoption - yay for us! But it also left her completely unprepared for life as a pet in the big bad world, filled with people, buses, televisions, HOOVERS OMG IT'S SO SCARY OUT HERE!!!
She's still shy around everyone apart from us and a select, Smidgen-approved few. She's wary of strange dogs. If she does decide she wants to play, the only game she knows is Let's All Chase Smidgen Round And Round And Not Be Able To Catch Her For Twenty Minutes, which I'm not sure is that much fun for the other dogs. She's a terrible moocher, she has no respect for personal space, she's kind of weird-looking if we're honest, and she doesn't even wipe her feet on the mat when she comes in from walks, the rude bitch.
But that, of course, is only half the truth. Okay, so we can't go out for dinner on a whim, but frankly I'll take a long, happy walk on a crisp day over an overpriced burger. And if an overpriced burger is the only thing that will do, well, fortunately I know a place that keeps a stash of doggy treats behind the bar.
Smidgen is sweet, joyful, affectionate and for some unknown reason she absolutely loves the pants off me and Fin. Her desires are simple: somewhere comfy to snooze, something tasty to eat, and the people she loves cuddled up beside her. She's a constant reminder to value the everyday and be grateful for small pleasures. Who doesn't want to be reminded of that?
PLUS. Not only does she let me put stupid hats on her and take pictures, she is so chilled about it that she falls asleep. With the hat still on.
If that isn't the cutest thing ever then I'd like to know what is.
Happy birthday, Smidger McGidger. We love the pants off you, too.
