25 November, 2010

Thankful feelings.

As it's Thanksgiving, I feel that I should make the traditional list of the things in my life for which I'm most grateful...

1. I have a great life, and that's down entirely to Himself. I didn't make the right choices when I was younger, treated school as a joke, bounced from job to job for years, thought "savings" was a nonsense word... you get my gist. Himself did it all the right way, put himself through university and started saving to emigrate to Australia, wisely chose to reallocate that fund to buy Yours Truly a seriously nice engagement ring (yes, yes, Himself, I can see you rolling your eyes from here, and please return your left eyebrow to its resting position!), got a great job, kept saving, went freelance, kept saving, and now we have a beautiful house in which to throw parties and have houseguests. *grin* He's smart, funny, dependable, and let's face it gals, he's pretty hot. So, I'm thankful for Himself.

2. I finally have a job that I actively enjoy. It keeps me busy, and not just with making endless cups of tea. I'm given a remarkable degree of freedom to just get on with things that need doing, and I get to do this job with a load of people I really like. It provides a degree of security that I sorely need in my life, and for this, I am thankful.

3. I have a great family. My sisters, grandmother, mother, othermother, aunts and cousin are the most fabulous bunch of women I could imagine getting to call "mine". They are beautiful, intelligent, kind, generous, and funny, and I love them indiscriminately. For all of them, I am thankful.

4. See below. 'Nuff said.

So, for all of you celebrating today, have a happy Thanksgiving! Think of me as I'm thinking of you. x

22 November, 2010

Stupid hormones.

I wrote this on Friday, and for honesty's sake (and because I actually find it pretty funny, especially because the EXACT same thing happened to mi madre in the same circumstances) I'm posting it now.

"I'm sitting in my soon-to-be sewing room in a plaid shirt and jeans, tools spread around me, in tears. I miss my Granddaddy. He should be here, helping me put this desk together. He should have been here to help us pick the neighbourhood in which to settle, and to call when the offer was accepted on the one house that most mirrors the one he built my grandmother and that I grew up in.

I'm sad, and I'm angry. I'm angry at myself for moving away and missing the last four years of his life. I'm angry that my situation in the UK kept me from seeing him when he decided to stop taking the pills that were keeping him alive, and I'm angry that the same situation kept me from being at his funeral. I'm sad that he died before he could walk me down the aisle, and that he'll never see his grandchildren (which is most aggravated by the fact that my sewing room is still decorated with the baby wallpaper from the little boy who lived in this house before we bought it), and that my friends and family in the UK will never know him.

I'm angry at myself because I still haven't managed to force myself to visit his grave.

He's the only daddy I've ever had. He taught me how to use the tools spread around me, most often by letting me use them incorrectly the first time and then when I turned to him in utter frustration by saying "well, you won't do it that way again, now will you?" He loved me unconditionally, even when my temper and impatience had me saying horrible things to him. His sense of humour became my sense of humour, to the chagrin of those around me now (except the BFG, who would have delighted in all that was Granddaddy).

I talk about him all the time. I still think in my head "I need to call Granddaddy" at the most random moments. Passing the hot dog van outside of the hardware store, when my "hot biscuit" bush blooms, seeing a Smart car in the street, and most recently, putting together this damnable desk. Then, it hits me that I can't, and that I'll never be able to again.

I miss him so much, it hurts. So I sit here, my eyes so full of tears I can barely see the screen, and hope that some day the hormones will fade enough for me to be able to put flat pack together without bawling my eyes out."

18 November, 2010

House of Gabs, Mach II.

Mr. and Mrs. Gabs have relocated to Uxbridge!

That's right, boys and girls, we've acquired a real home. Not a rented room, not even a rented several rooms. We now own a terraced house with three bedrooms! I say three bedrooms... the smallest of the three has been immediately allocated to yours truly and my burgeoning supply of fabrics and craft materials. Finally, "gabymade" will have a permanent base from which to lovingly fashion pretties for sale on Etsy. Believe you me, you'll hear about it when we go live.

So, the house. Not even half a mile from the station, the walk from the city centre takes you past a ridiculously beautiful medieval church and down a charmingly reallocated parade of shops (think white plaster with black wood frames, which can be fairly amusing when it's a sex shop currently in residence) and through a park, complete with its own river and aquatic avians. The local swan mafia makes rather a lot of noise making sure everyone knows they're in charge, while the mallard family content themselves with a simple "good morning" on my way to work. Wednesday morning I saw what I swear was a heron. Heaven.

The house itself is directly on the edge of the park, a la the G-Mimi's house when I was growing up. Open the front door, on the other side of the street is nothing but wide open green spaces, it's fab. We have the aforementioned three bedroom-shaped spaces, as well as a front room, kitchen, and conservatory plus the expected bath-and-a-half (untold luxury!). It's all in very good nick, if not exactly decorationally my taste, but that's easily fixed. The garden is very well kept, and boasts walled beds on either side of a lovely green lawn as well as a wooden deck, and at the end of the garden rests my very own greenhouse and a garage that's just begging me to get out the spraypaint for messy projects (of which the first is already planned, of course).

For some reason, blogspot isn't loving my picture uploads, so I'm afraid you'll have to check facebook for the additional visuals. However, rest assured that the journey across is worth it, I've been ... prolific ... in my snapping habits.

Anyway, we're settling. Unpacking can suck, but the joy of it is that the house is so much larger than what we're used to, it's easy to find places for everything. We're having our housewarming party on Saturday, happily coinciding with Thanksgiving, so have ordered a frankly disgusting amount of food to cook for our various guests. Replete shall be the word of the day. Bring on the visitors!