Christmas: A reflection

The Christmas tree still stands now solemnly sparkling as it no longer protects gifts waiting to be opened. The dishwasher is full to capacity as the soap suds claw away at the remnants of plates piled with too much food and glasses that were topped up one too many times. Stockings hang empty and limp. The Christmas Cake is now crumbs. There are nibbles still out on the dining room table awaiting peckish appetites—though all the Scorched Almonds have somehow found their way into my stomach. Bellys are bloated and filled to the brim with regrets of having that second helping—there are no regrets of having multiple helpings of Ambrosia however. Feet rest on coffee tables, mouths are open catching flies and eyelids are shut tight while snores echo through the dialogue of the movie Mum got for Christmas. It’s Boxing Day evening. Christmas has been and gone. Only the leftovers are leftover.

It’s everywhere!

It’s 11pm. I’m home alone. Snuggled into my clean sheets. City sounds ease me to sleep. The Wellington wind bullies my windows. I jolt in fright. The wind is abnormally strong tonight. A cold wave creeps beneath my duvet and spoons my back. I shiver.
My eyelids close in Morse code flutters.
I think I see the night light in the hall brighten.
I’m wide awake now. I catch my heart in my throat.
I hear the shower head in the bathroom drip. Dribble. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Grabbing life by the (Bliss) Balls

Balls are great.
They come in all shapes and sizes. They’re smooth and rough, sweet and salty and soft but chewy all at the same time. Balls are full of nutty goodness. There’s nothing like nibbling on a ball or just popping it in whole and letting it melt in your mouth. They’re such a treat. I’ve been loving balls lately and have had a lot of fun with them. And not to brag but I think my balls are pretty top notch.
Wait…
I forgot to put Bliss at the start of all this didn’t I?
Oops.
My bad ;P

Coffee, Queens and Culture

Mum’s on the train back home, I’ve changed into comfier clothes, perched myself with coffee in hand at my desk and am ready to report back on my fab day.

For Mum’s birthday in April I brought her (us) tickets to the Royal New Zealand Ballet’s production of Romeo and Juliet… in August. So she’s been waiting a few months for her prezzy. Luckily patience is a virtue she exercises regularly from organising three boys (Brother, Dad and I) after all these years. But finally the day had come and I met her the morning of, both in our glad rags, at the Wellington Train Station. From there the, what has become annual, excursion in search of culture began.

Adulting—is this it?

Peter Pan was onto something. Flying away from adult responsibility to have adventures with his mates. His only care was ensuring he didn’t die via the hook—but that was a minor detail. Damn! Where’s Peter Pan nowadays? I should hit him up. See if he’s recruiting Lost Boys. Or another fairy.

So hey everyone. He lives! Yes, I’m still here… in case you were wondering. You probably weren’t but I know at least one person has missed these—ta Mum 😛 I’ve been MIA for a few months now. Quite a few months. Like nearly a year. Eeek. How terribly neglectful of me. So I apologise. I don’t really have an excuse… other than… I’ve been adulting.

Hello, it’s me

I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet read.
K, so it hasn’t been years since I’ve posted but it sure as hell feels like it.
How’ve you been anyway? Good I hope. Me? Mate, I’m tired. Life has really picked up the past couple of weeks. Being busy is good. It keeps the mind forever occupied but sheesh! When will it end? I don’t know about the rest of you but this past fortnight has left me absolutely knackered. So much so that my eyelids are getting heavier and heavier as I write this. I’m lounging on the couch, resting my feet up on one arm and leaning back on the other, and I feel if I was to wriggle down a bit further I could easily fall asleep right here. But I shan’t. And still, I so need to sleep! But will I have a much needed early night? Well, Botched is on tonight so probably not.

If the answer is Sunday, what is the question?

New Zealand celebrates Father’s Day annually on the first Sunday of September.
The nation’s department stores stock up with various ‘dad’ themed gift ideas: cars, tools, alcohol, sports, business attire paraphernalia. Which is all yet another reminder of society’s strict gender beliefs. But that’s another subject for another time. Father’s Day is today and this post is not an attack on society but a special shout out to the king of our castle. My dad.

My body, my temple. Part Three: Next

This is the conclusion of a three-part series on my recent weight-loss transformation experience—that sounds ridiculously glorified and narcissistic but it’s a story I want to share and I think now’s as good a time as any to share it.
Each part was broken down into a particular tense: past, present, future. They were titled Then, Now and Next.
Let us conclude.

Next.

In my previous post I ended by saying that you’ve got to acknowledge the past in order to prepare for the future. It was very easy for me to say that. But the reality of thinking about the version of myself that I was before this lifestyle change is hard. I say that reflecting on how far I’ve come is great, and it is; don’t get me wrong, but the fact that I lived how I lived and ate what I ate for so long prior to all this annoys me.  I wish I’d started working on bettering myself a hell of a lot earlier. Like I’ve said before, I feel I sabotaged myself. I missed out on a lot because I didn’t have the motivation to change. I chose the easy option and lived in ignorance while waiting for a miracle.

My body, my temple. Part Two: Now

This is the second of a three-part series on my recent weight-loss transformation experience—that sounds ridiculously glorified and narcissistic but it’s a story I want to share and I think now’s as good a time as any to share it.
Each part will be broken down into a particular tense: past, present, future. They are titled Then, Now and Next.
Let us continue.

Now.

My ‘transformation’, as it has been commonly referred to, started in 2015 and began as all good things do: with a glass of wine. Well actually, without the glass of wine. Without wine all together. I began by doing Dry July. Sans alcohol. I’ve always been fond of a glass or 10 and often rewarded myself with some form of beverage after a day at work. But I learnt that alcohol equates to empty calories. So I banked them instead and sailed through the month without having any bottles to recycle. Dry July was my test run to see if I could break routine. And it worked. So I mustered up the courage to cut out one of the best things known to man-kind.