With Matthew back to work yesterday, the harsh reality that Christmas is actually over is settling upon us. Sally was quite right when explaining to me that the reason it's called Christmas (pronounced Chriss-miss) is that when it's over, you really miss it! Couldn't have said it better myself.
I'm leaving this wreath up a little longer in the kitchen. It matches my red curtains, and hides some of the gecko poop on the windows.
Afternoon beers have been replaced with juicy, healthy mangoes. Our little mango tree just won't stop producing. I'm now even gladly sharing with the cockatoos. Mama Pig even looks the other way when we throw a few more over-ripe delights into her paddock.
Morning lie-ins have been replaced with the 5am morning news blaring from the radio. Teeth-rattling cycling jaunts and bone-jarring runs are coming back into fashion. I always start the year with more jiggly bits than I finished the previous one. Sign of a great Christmas break I guess.
The weather has fully heated up. Strength-sapping heat that confines everybody indoors for a few hours mid-day.
I'm endeavouring to clean up Sarah and Jessie's bedroom before they return from their beachside vacation. Of course I seem to be spending a great deal of the time sitting on the floor in tears as I flick through old memories and add more items to the growing collection behind her door that need to be packed for school.
My washing machine is on summer break as well. Fortunately I nabbed a small twin tub from under Mum's house and have been coping quite well. In fact I was even passing comment to Matthew over a cold mango yesterday afternoon that it was far quicker than the automatic machine. At that point I hadn't commenced the moutainous pile of jeans and thus wasn't aware that it could only handle two pairs per load.
I would prefer not to see the evidence of how filthy our clothes are. Admittedly this was the last load of some particularly nasty branding jeans. And in news just to hand, my not very old automatic washing machine has been deemed uneconomical to repair. I hadn't realised when it was purchased only five years ago that it was a disposable commodity.
Sally and Wallace are missing their older sisters.
A face-paint find today providing some entertainment.
Sally up first,
channelling her inner cheetah.
Wallace, aiming for an Avatar look,
though lookingly decidely smurf-like.
Tomorrow is the great back-to-school spending spree. Hopefully there'll be no tears in the Big W stationery aisle. Though there have been in the past, and nothing to do with boarding school.