On Small Joys
“For you mummy!” T will say as she comes back from her walk, once again, with an offering of flowers she’s picked for me. Last Sunday, it was a hydrangea pictured above. I put it in a used tin can of sweet corn and it’s now sitting on my kitchen window. Seeing it there makes me smile and my heart is full.
I’ve mentioned it on twitter, I’m about to go self-hosted and move from wordpress.com to wordpress.org. A friend of mine recommend a good-affordable host, so I’m going with them. But I’m not a techie you see. I don’t know anything about htmls, they actually give me a headache, a bit like numbers 😉 But I’m rolling my sleeves on this one and hope for the best and that I don’t mess it up and lose all my files. Not doing it yet though, I’m still mustering the courage to do it and no, I’m not being melodramatic. I’m genuinely nervous about doing it on my own, in spite friends and family telling me, it’s really not that difficult.
This doesn’t mean though that I’m going to suddenly go all gung ho on my blog. As much as I would like to be active just like the others (I’ve read so many blogging goals post for this year). But the thing is, blogging has always been something I like doing, it’s my “me” time. That’s probably why going all serious about it is a big turn-off for me. I’ve been blogging on and more than fifteen years already, mostly as an anonymous blogger, I still am, well sort of, but I like it this way. I love the blogging community. I’m friends with a lot of lovely bloggers online and I love it. But attending conferences and being “out there” isn’t my thing. Maybe I should add at the moment, things may change, you’ll never know right? The only blogging goal I have is to try to write more when I can.
Like blogging, I’ve been really slow about consuming my book pile. Before T, I was a voracious reader. As a child, it was my escape. Perhaps, “escape” isn’t the right word to use, because I had a fairly happy childhood. But I loved immersing myself in a book and it looks like little T is the same. Before the Christmas break, I purchased some really beautiful books with the Folio Society. The illustrations are just pure art with vibrant colours, each scene jumping at you and the characters become alive. Most of the books I ordered were classic Russian authors like Pushkin pictured below. It’s a collection of short stories called “The Queen of Spades”. I am loving every page.
When the books arrived, I opened them with care, ran my hands through the pages and inhaled each book, as if I was cooking a meal and was checking the aroma. It was good. It smelled good and looked really handsome, some of them even had their own slip-case. It wasn’t surprising that when Folio books sent me an alert that they were on sale, I ordered another one of Pushkin’s book, Onegin. I can’t wait. This is becoming an expensive vice. I ought to control myself. I’m lucky my husband shares the same passion, if not, I’d be in trouble.
On Journal Writing
I’m still struggling on that one. Yesterday, I wrote my first entry. And it was a few paltry lines. Pathetic – really. I ought to write more. But it’s been a struggle the past five years. I wonder why. Surely it’s not because of motherhood? But I will persevere. Journal writing is important to me. I want to be able to do it, like I used to – instinctively. I want my voice back.
Do you have a vice?
Do you feel the need to curb it?