Monday January 4th 2011 wasn’t really just any old Monday. It was the first Monday of the new year, the day we all dragged ourselves back to work after an over indulgent Christmas. The morning was dark and damp, and Mr G and I were tired as we had spent the weekend in London, as part of his Christmas present, watching football and having a romantic weekend away.
We had been married 6 months, and were hoping that we might be blessed with a mini-G anytime soon. We were trying to focus elsewhere, the house, having fun, but deep down we couldn’t wait for it to happen.
As we so often do in the excitement of a fresh new year beginning, that morning Mr G was full of ideas of getting fit and saving money, so he insisted on cycling to the station. ‘You’re mad’ I bantered with him, it…
I’ve had plenty of opportunity this week for several titles during my random thoughts and not so random activity. But first,
“Boomers and Traditionals” – granted, I’ve recently been freed from twenty years in a cubicle, and I declare, I heard these two words used together for the first time last Thursday! I accepted an invitation to and attended the Women’s Conference “Be Bold and Thrive” held on the USC campus. A terrific full day, with women, chatter, brainstorm and ideas, inspiration and bold coffee. My take-away? Boomers & Traditionals, by golly, that’s us. My partner and I – to the “T.”
Sharing a chuckle with you … shaken, not stirred circled around in my thoughts yesterday when we together began our first attempt to “chalk paint” the baker’s rack in our patio. He, of course had gone into the house for something just after I had opened the can of black paint and began to mix it using the pointy base of a burnt out 1.5 foot solar light. (yes, you read that right, the alleged solar light hasn’t sat upright in the sun enough to gain it’s solar vita-D battery charge; it was ugly to boot; and I had no other object with which to stir nearby).
Anyway, the paint was really thick and started as a gorgeous fuschia! (stay with me). Stir, stir. “Self, this is pretty and all, but it’s not turning black.” stir, stir…Hmm. shaken…”maybe I can get him to shake this as certainly there’s some benefit to”…has it really been that long since I’ve painted? “Ah, Bond. James Bond…the phrase had nothing to do with paint.”
Long story short: upon full execution, the paint was olive green, the quaint old can was black; and I judged a book by it’s color.