I really struggled coming up with a clever introduction for this post today. Normally something stands out for me – a talking point will reveal itself to which I can construct humorous and anecdotal sentences out of. For example, on Saturday I found myself in the city with soul-sister Shari and she had something in her eye so preceded to accidentally pull out her some of her eyelashes which left quite a large section of her bottom eye-lid sans-lashes. Yes, that is hilarious, however as much as I would like to, I cannot craft an entire post on my bald-eyed soulmate. Today though, I have come up short, so that introduction will simply have to do.
I was all set to have an active weekend. I was all set to relieve myself of feelings of grossness and ugliness by powerwalking my way around the bay both Saturday and Sunday. It didn’t happen. On either of the days. On no days this weekend did I walk or do anything remotely resembling exercise. Shari and I were all set to walk on Saturday morning – we met in the car park where the bay walk starts and as soon as we went to set off, the wind picked up and the rain started falling. Sure, we could have powered on through and contracted pneumonia but neither of us are about that life so instead, we went to brunch.
I had prosciutto. She had bacon. It was everything.
I cannot tell you the last time that I went out for brunch, on the weekend, with a girlfriend. For the last million years I have worked every weekend, not been able to even sit down for breakfast and have had no real girlfriends to go with. Brunch, I discovered, is bloody delightful! We drank coffee and ate everything (obviously) and then slowly made our way back to her apartment. From there, we faced the blisteringly cold wind and waited patiently for a bus to take us into this city – which is where the whole eyelash fiasco started. Again, I cannot stress how long it has been that I have simply taken myself into the city to browse and meander the day away. We eventually found ourselves in The Strand where we sat down for tea and cake. TEA AND CAKE PEOPLE. Have I ever been a tea and cake lady? Negative. Never. And yet, just like this whole ‘brunch’ thing that I have heard is so popular, tea and cake is now a thing that I love.
Later that night, after baking cupcakes that looked freaking adorable for Mother’s Day, Man and I went out for pizza and a movie. Now, neither of us are cinema aficionados - both of us much prefer enjoying a movie from the comfort of the lounge, legs entwined and preferably a whiskey in-hand – but we had a really fun night. We ate pizza which was the real highlight for me and lost ourselves in the Marvel universe and laughed and held hands and broke one of the chairs and we just were.
And then Sunday, Mother’s Day, was spent in the company of Man's family - the most beautiful family I have ever heard of, come across, or had the absolute privilege of knowing. Man and I waited patiently out the front of my apartment for Shari to arrive in her Uber, went to the shops to buy an orchid for Mother of Man and managed to witness a gorgeous display of White Guy is a Rude Fuck to a Woman in the Cashier Line. It really was a charming way to start off Mother’s Day. Fucking douche bag. Enroute to Man’s place, we went through a drive-through Kripsy Kreme (YES PEOPLE, THIS IS AN ACTUAL THING THAT I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT AND HAVE BEEN MISSING OUT ON) because Man and Shari gave me an absolute mouthful about the fact that I had never had a warm Krispy Kreme straight off the conveyor belt. So of course, Man bought twenty-four. And of course, he was right, a fresh Krispy Kreme is what dreams and love and life are made of – of that I am now sure.
The day was spent grazing on cheese and eating meat from a coal BBQ that Man manned, and meeting his gorgeous dog who is quite possibly the most beautiful creature on this earth (second to my one-eyed demon cat thing), and laughing and talking and all of the things you are meant to enjoy and be grateful for on Mother’s Day. The day passed happily, more doughnuts and cupcakes were consumed and naturally as soon as I hopped in the car to head home I burst into tears of happiness and love and overwhelm for the sheer adoration I felt for Man and his family and Woofy. It really was is if everything that has happened in the recent past culminated yesterday afternoon in the most beautiful way; I felt held, and warm and nurtured in the company of humans that I am honoured and proud to now call my family.
Waking up to a the start of a fresh week this morning, I felt a range of things: fuck I don’t want to get out of bed, please don’t get out of bed Man, I should really get up and go for a walk, I really need a coffee, you are going to be late for work again Man. Mainly though, I felt peace. The weather is absolutely perfect for time spent and shared on the lounge, I am settled in my new role, I belong somewhere, and I am completely in love with someone and all that he is about. And Shari, I am also in love with Shari even with her misplaced body hair.
And tonight? Well it is still morning as I write this and the wind is blowing a fucking gale outside and it’s cold and I have a tea and my scarf is wrapped around my legs. It is still morning and already I cannot wait to drench myself in the hottest shower my poor skin can handle, getting into my tights (which I also plan on sleeping in as a ruse to make sure I get up and go for a goddamn walk tomorrow morning), wrapping myself in the doona on the lounge and watching Harry Potter as I mouth along the entire script with an over-inflated sense of pride.
It has dawned on me though that on a weekend where all I wanted to do was exercise and jumpstart a nice, new exercise regime, I was instead plied with pizza and carbs and doughnuts (which Man knows for a fact that I cannot resist) and prosciutto and brunch and cake. It turned out to be the anti-weekend that I had planned and hoped for.