Autumn falling and catch up

This week marks the official start of autumn here. It's crept up, but there's no denying it. Going barefoot at home in the evenings is no longer an option (I really should replace my uggs that fell apart years ago, but were never replaced, nor needed in L.A.) and the setting sunlight has stopped infiltrating my showers through the bathroom window at face level. Instead, it's been replaced by steam as I crank up the hot water.

I've started eyeing off the gas fireplace, wondering when it will be time to figure the damn thing out and and start using it. Back in my London days, I used to have similar internal dialogues - when is too soon to pop on the central heating? To bring out the scarves? The gloves? The heavier coat? I used to battle through October, too stubborn to concede to the increasing chill, because for some stupid reason I drew a red line under November as being the appropriate time to give in. If I gave in to extra layers and heating sooner, what I would I do when things really got cold?

I wonder if my ego will be as stubborn for this coming Washington winter. I just want to be warm.

The colder change in seasons might be is a depressing bitch, however there are a few things I'm enjoying right now.

New boots

A few weeks ago, I ordered some new rain boots online for myself and the girls. They had grown out of their boots from last winter, and as for me? I don't think I've owned a pair of rain boots since I was a preschooler. I certainly have no memory of ever wearing them, but if ever an occasion calls for it, it's going to be my first autumn and winter in the Pacific Northwest.

I found reasonably priced boots for the girls, but due to my own size 12 (US) feet the same could not be said for me. Cheap rain boots in my size? Nope, I searched but could only find fairly hideous and unflattering styles. I'm vainer than I usually let on, so I'm now the proud new owner of Hunter boots. I'll confess to eyeing them off for a couple of years now. In L.A, they seemed like a frivolous purchase which would only be truly needed from time to time, so I could never justify the cost. I know it'll be a different story here in Seattle and two days ago, I finally got to break them in. I felt pretty stylin', which is a rare feeling for me.

Food 

Cooler temperatures equals an increase in appetite, right? I'm digging the pears that are in season, but sadly they are the healthiest of my cravings and vices right now. There is a Metropolitan Market (kind of like Whole Foods) right near the Faery's new school, and parking there is certainly easier than attempting the nightmare that is anywhere closer to her school... so guess where I park most afternoons for the school run? It's especially convenient for grabbing bread and milk as needed, but also means the temptation for cheeses in all shapes and form (which they are currently spruiking all month long) is right there in my face. I can't resist.

I've also rediscovered the bliss of a baked potato that's been smothered in sour cream and sweet chilli sauce. It's totally the sort of thing I lived off as a poor uni student, and I've only recently found what an easy, filling lunch it is. The bad news is I no longer have access to a gym like I did in Los Angeles, nor have I found a (convenient) yoga class to join. We are heading back to Australia next month for my sister-in-law's wedding, and it's not looking good for my arse.

Leaves 

Of course, I have to mention the autumn leaves. Seattle has an amazing amount of evergreens, and that knowledge makes me feel a little happier about a winter that's not full of depressingly bare trees (I'm looking at you, London)... but for all the firs, spruces, cedars and pines - of which I mostly cannot tell the difference - there are still a lot of maples beginning to blush red, and each night of rain and heavy winds has resulted in beautiful swirly colours on the streets. I have a feeling there's a lot more to come, so I'll have a good excuse to get out my DSLR again. Definitely prettier than L.A. at this time of year.

Crime TV

With the darker evenings, I've become a little hooked on a couple of crime shows. This is a little odd because I've never really been into them before, but J and I stumbled across a remake of a Danish show called The Killing. I suppose the factor that pulled me in initially was that it's set in Seattle. Like many shows, it's not actually filmed here but a few hours away in Vancouver. Nonetheless, it has the Pacific Northwest vibe down pat. The story takes place in October and November, so all the outdoor scenes are chilly and wet. It's gloomy, grey, and the actors get around rain jackets, thick woolly jumpers (pullovers, sweaters, whatever) and heavy coats. It's dark and atmospheric, with a pretty cool female lead detective character - no makeup, hair pulled back, no nonsense. Watching it makes me want to curl up even more, with an endless supply of hot chocolate (or red wine).

Courtesy of BBC America, I've also been drawn into a smaller British whodunnit drama, Broadchurch, and caught up on Luther (which I highly recommend). I'm not even sure why these shows are appealing to me right now, but for now they are scratching the right spot. Next on my list of shows to catch up on is Homeland. Breaking Bad's finale is this Sunday, and I can't even go there - I've invested so much into that series and its characters that I have no idea how I'm going to deal with the inevitable conclusion. It's been a ripper of a ride.

Emily

We're not the only ones in this house feeling the cooler air. After a humid summer, especially with our bedrooms upstairs, Emily The Cat has decided that our bed is once again the place to be overnight. In typical aloof cat style, over the summer she'd deigned our laps too hot for her in the evenings when we were watching TV, but suddenly our laps are back in hot demand. Emily-laptime and crime TV have been going hand-in-hand recently. Don't tell her, but I'm kind of enjoying her furry hotwater-bottleness again.

I haven't linked any of my posts in a long time, so when - after having half-written this post already - I noticed that the first of this week's writing prompts on Mama Kat's Losin' It was to "share something fall related that you did", it seemed the perfect time to join in.

Click HERE for link.

Barefoot Tales Revisited

A year ago, I wrote about feet - my feet, how big they are, and how I love going barefoot (those are my bare toes in the above header). I whinged about my lack of options when it comes to attractive shoes in my size, but since then, I've found a few decent online sites which have a fabulous range of shoes for Amazonians like myself. If any readers have similar issues, my favourite site so far is Barefoot Tess. For the first time in my life, the act of browsing shoes is fun. There are whispered possibilities, and I don't end the search in tears of frustration or anger.

I also wrote about Miss Pie's feet, and my struggle to keep socks or shoes on her eleven-month old feet. She was at that age where she just wanted to pull them off, constantly, and it seemed as though every single person I encountered insisted I hear their advice on how to keep her socks on - tying a string around her ankles was one such gem. I still see that woman in our local supermarket, several times a week, and time has confirmed that she is a total nut job.

These days, Miss Pie is less obsessed with pulling her shoes and socks off. She will, but it's usually only when she's been in her stroller for too long and is bored. She's now twenty-three months old, and capable of using those little hands for far more destructive purposes. Socks? Too obvious. Pulling everything off the shelves along supermarket aisles is much more fun.

Miss Pie also happens to be obsessed with her gumboots. Given the choice, she'd wear them no matter what the weather is doing. Being wise enough to know which battles to pick, I just let her wear 'em... and now we're on the receiving end of comments from strangers who think they're super witty and original: "It's pretty sunny today - don't think there's much chance of rain, HAHAHA!" 

She is über cute in her gumboots, though. And yes, being LA, there are rarely any puddles to be found, but she does her best. Mostly, she just encounters wet patches of concrete from hoses or sprinklers, but in her eyes, they are just as good. She squeals and jumps on these wet patches, expecting a big satisfying splash. To her credit, she's never disappointed when the splash fails to materialise. "OOK! PUDDOO!" An optimist. I love that.

As for the barefoot weather we were having last December, I'm not sure what's happened. 30ºC this time last year? So hard to believe, but I'm clinging to hope that it might happen soon. It's sunny, yes, but cold. Last week brought icy Santa Ana winds which destroyed or uprooted many large trees in our area. These winds apparently registered at Category 1 hurricane speed, so the damage wasn't surprising. We're lucky it wasn't worse.

A year ago, not only did I write about feet, but I posted some pictures too. One, taken when the Faery was only three, and the other of Miss Pie's chubby almost-ready-to-walk foot. Bare and in the sun, taken the same week as the post. Her feet are growing at an alarming rate, and so much bigger now - is she destined to inherit my large feet? Poor thing.

It seems only fitting to wrap this up with a photo I took earlier this week of Miss Pie and I, in the leaf-strewn local park. I think you can tell who is who, but I will add that I'm wearing a new pair of boots, and they make me feel pretty damned groovy.

Nothing barefoot about this.

Linking this with Mama Kat's Writing Prompts - Blast from the Past.

Click here for link

Graceful is not my middle name

I woke up this morning to learn that Blogger had sent my most recent post (and useful comments) somewhere into the cyberspace mystery vault. Where to, I had no idea. The post has since returned, but the comments are still MIA.

In the mean time, I'm sitting here with several throbbing toes. After a rare lovely morning out with both girls (mornings out aren't rare, but mornings out being lovely with no whinging or meltdowns are a rarity), I decided to be naughty and grab a McDonald's lunch for the Faery and I, from the local drive-thru on our way home.

We got home, I unpacked the car, put Miss Pie in her high chair, got the Faery sorted with her McHappy meal, and - quickly, so my waiting Quarter Pounder didn't get too cold - got some yoghurt and chopped banana for Miss Pie. In my haste to get over the safety gate from the kitchen, I'm not sure what happened next.

A clumsy moment. One leg didn't clear it properly and my big foot hooked over the gate, bringing the it down behind me. I stacked it in spectacular style, and several toes on my other foot copped the brunt of my weight whilst somehow getting dragged on the ground as I fell.

The icing on the cake? A plate full of food all over the carpet, which was freshly steam-cleaned just yesterday. A long overdue clean which - miraculously - undid a year's worth of sins that only a preschooler and baby can do to carpet.

The pain. The sight of food strewn across the as-new carpet (the trajectory pattern was most excellent, I have to admit). The pain. More pain. I couldn't move for a good minute, while both girls stared at me in dismay. I am amazed I didn't let all kinds of foul language fly. I was just too dazed, and - the pain!

The Faery watched me for another moment - I'm sure she was holding her breath - and then said, "Wow, Mum! It's lucky you didn't cry, because grown-ups don't cry!"

I thought I was, but it was just my eyes watering. I thought I might be doing a disservice to her by pretending I was okay (impossible, anyway), so I told her it hurt a lot and I wanted to cry, and that it's okay for grown-ups to cry, that everybody cries when they are hurt or feeling very sad, and that's normal.

Then I picked myself up and attempted to make an ice pack. What I learned today is that we need a gel pack in the freezer, because the huge crescent-shaped chunks of ice that the freezer's ice-maker produces are almost impossible to fashion into an ice pack for toes. At this point, the skin at the bottom of my big toenail was gushing blood (again... clean carpet!) and it looked as though I may have even managed to pull the toenail away from its bed. Nice one, and woe is me. My pretty toes! Vanity sucks.

And my Quarter Pounder? It was pretty cold by the time I got to eat it.

Sigh.

That was two hours ago, and I'm still not sure what's going to happen to my toenail. It may be okay. Hard to say. But my middle toe on that same foot? I can't move or bend it. At all. I hadn't even noticed that earlier, what with the pain radiating from my big toe. Awesome.

A little fact about me that I may not have mentioned before is that I am prone to clumsiness. As a kid, my parents called me Calamity Jane, and I never really outgrew this trait.

Graceful is not my middle name.

If something can be tripped over, you bet I'll manage that. My hips and thighs have constant bruises from me bashing into objects. I'm so used to it that I often don't register minor accidents until later at night when I have a shower and find new bruises on me: Hmm... where did that come from?

All I can say is, thank gawd it's Friday. Bring on the wine tonight - it can't come a moment too soon...

Not deep

These are the questions on my mind at the moment. Deep stuff, I know...


1. Why do most shoe stores not stock my size? I'm tall, but hardly a freak of nature. Shoe shopping puts me in a foul mood, especially when dealing with smug ho sale assistants who do their best to imply that I am a freak of nature. Hos.

2. Why do toddlers refuse to sleep a wink on long car trips, yet frequently nod off three minutes before arriving home - even when just coming back from the shops?

3. Why can't I find double cream (or even plain old thick cream) in LA? Why are my only options either watery 'whipping' cream, or sickly sweet processed crap from an aerosol can? Sigh. Even Whole Foods and Trader Joe's have failed me here.

4. How much snot can a toddler produce? Seriously?

5. Why do I find Jon Stewart (from The Daily Show)  strangely attractive?

6. Why can't I be sensible and go to bed at an earlier time each night? Not that 10.30 or 11pm is bad, but I'll never get that nine-hour stretch of sleep I want from a morning lie-in. Not. Going. To happen.

7. Why do small children think that 6.30-7am is a perfectly acceptable time to start the day?

8. Why haven't Ben & Jerry's made an ice cream flavour with whipped cream cheese yet? Just sayin'...


I don't expect anyone to have the answers, but please amuse me with your ideas anyway - that comment box below is waiting especially for you.

Colour and munch

The Easter Bunny has been, and that can only mean one thing.

Spring is well and truly here.

Spring means it's time to paint toenails - my one concession to girliness.

It also happens to be April 25 - Anzac Day - even though we're almost a day behind Australia.

That means it's time for some homemade Anzac biscuits...

Although, any time is a good time for Anzac biscuits.

Yum.

Barefoot Tales

Nothing says 'freedom' to me more than going barefoot does. I love ditching my shoes. I love being able to wiggle my toes. If there was a word for feet suffering from claustrophobia when covered up, then that would describe my feet. During spring, summer, and a good part of autumn, I'm rarely seen in any other footwear than thongs (note the plural - I am not referring to underwear). Okay, so the fact that I have very long feet - necessary to balance my six-foot-plus Amazonian frame, I might add - and therefore, limited options when shoe-shopping, may be a factor at play. Cute shoes in general are a hard thing for me to come by... so cute thongs it is. Besides, I have pretty feet. They may be big, but they're pretty and they're mine. Why hide them?

Our pretty feet from the Faery's perspective, last year.

I'm learning, though, that not everyone shares my views on what's appropriate seasonal footwear. Back in October, one overcast morning, I dared to wear thongs while taking the Faery to her preschool. The school's office manager (a lovely British lady) could barely contain her snorts, "Oh, look at you wearing flip-flops in this weather. You're such an Aussie! Aren't you cold?" It had been drizzling, but it was still a mild morning and would have been at least 20ºC and warming up to more. Apparently, if the calendar says October, then summer footwear is a no-no. It doesn't matter what the weather is actually doing, just make sure you heed the calendar (and for what it's worth, I very much dislike having cold feet and am rather sensible when it starts to get cool - out come the socks and claustrophobic footwear).

It turns out that it's not just my feet that are a subject of concern for people I barely know. Ever since Miss Pie worked out how to pull her socks off, it's been a struggle to keep them on her. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. Unlike me, though, she doesn't give a rat's how cold it is. Putting baby shoes over the socks only delays what is inevitable. Every time I wheel her stroller into the local, heavily air-conditioned supermarket, I receive a dozen tut-tuts from various old biddies, and the same workers who see me every day, yet still feel the need to tell me how cold her feet must be. One even went so far, once, as to tell me I should be - wait for it - tying her socks on with string. Circulation be damned! When I remembered we had an unused stroller boot cover in a closet somewhere (it was never needed for the Faery in Australia), I pulled it out and attached it. The comments stopped overnight. Instant relief.

Miss Pie's chubby eleven-month-old foot, today

This is my first Californian winter, so I don't know what's normal or not, but the last few days have been the warmest for a month or so. Today was a balmy 30ºC, so it was with a sense of glee that I not only whipped off the stroller boot cover, but didn't even bother putting socks on Miss Pie for our daily outing to the local shops - take that, you old biddies! We went for a walk first, and let our feet bathe in some warm sunlight. Looking down and seeing Miss Pie's toes wriggling in the warmth, I felt a glowing satisfaction. There's nothing like the freedom of wriggling your toes, and I wouldn't trade that feeling for all the Manolo Blahniks in the world.