july bakes

My sister turned a year older last week--so in celebration, I whipped up a batch of cupcakes. (I kind of owed her these: they were a long time coming).

Earl Grey Cupcakes w/ Lemon Buttercream Frosting.

My life doesn't revolve around cake, really... (I'm working on it).

little boxes

I sometimes think I have a problem holding onto things. Lately I am battered by memories of things I just wish I had appreciated at the time. The typewriter my Dad gave me (which I traded in for a Word Processor--I wish I was kidding). The bicycle I never quite rode. The phone I have had for a few years and am now, so desperate, to trade up. I know my memories do not exist in these things. They do not exist in the plastic exteriors or in the little, tiny machines that turn them so seamlessly. Rather, these memories exist in my heart--a heart I will (hopefully) never (need to) trade in. But losing these things--well, it worries me. They act as staples to moments I will never get back.

And that, right there, is a pausing thought.

this is thanks

D'you know what I love?

Days with Dad.

We spent the morning researching his family tree--tracing lines and lines of lineage and matching dates to repetitive names. And in the afternoon--in the warm, warm sun and teasing breeze--we took a walk. It was nice to see him look at our street with a renewed interest and respect, where the still quiet fuelled our content.

He is such a brilliant, brilliant man. I could not be luckier--or, for that matter, more grateful for days like today.

that really woofs the cake

While I was not dancing in Alice's Wonderland on Friday, my (what feels like very) older* brother was celebrating his birthday.

Beforehand, though, I did a little baking--attempting to fashion a dog** out of a four-layered cake.

And, you know, it's three days on and nobody's cut it yet--and I'm not sure whether I should be thrilled or offended...

*He's thirty-one, in case you were wondering. I decided candles--let alone that many--were a little too cruel.

**I even matched the cake to the breed of his dog--her name is Gracie!

i'd like to, please

Hope #14.

Make my children their own stuffed animals.

Because these things simply couldn't be any cuter. And neither could an animal---or a doll---sewn by my own hands---missed stitches and all. They'd each have a name and a set of clothes and a personality. And they would be treasured and squeezed and a huge part of bed-time stories---you know, those impromptu ones: the ones not from a book?

They would also be cordially invited to every single tea-party.

(I'd Like To, Please posts are inspired by this beautiful blog---Someday Hopes---and the above image of Fox Jr (who really, really is very beautiful) is from here).

the fish who gave the bird a wing

I came across this print the other day.

And it reminded me of a book we have, somewhere on a shelf, somewhere in a room in this, my family home.

My sister wrote it when she was about six---a present for me, her newborn sister---about a little fish and a little bird who swap fins and wings and live the life of the other.

Even back then, my sister was talented. And I am oh-so-very glad that the memory of this illustrated book is back.

What a lovely print this is---and the many more that Etsy artist, Geninne does. Visit her shop here.

weekend

Sunday evenings are always the days I really, really understand why I am still living at home. A Sunday roast---followed by fruit crumble, really really good fruit crumble---is one of the best essay distractions around. I sometimes feel sorry for my future-children, though. I will never be able to perfect a roast like my mum can.

Nor will I ever get over the hilarity of power-cuts---especially when your father is using a walking-frame, you are puppy-sitting and the only really useful thing you can find in the dark is a glow-stick.

...

But the essay is done.

friday finds...

Today ended with me bumping into someone I have not seen for a very long time and with a few too many garbled sentences. And yet it was comfortable and it was refreshing (refreshing to see he has grown up well) and it made a boring afternoon a little bit better.

Here are some things I think worth sharing. (Although it's been quite a week of that...)

Some alternative movie posters which I think are very, very clever.

I have been thinking a lot about him lately, and I think this is an interesting way for him to be re-invented.

Was Nabokov right about butterflies?

What a lovely idea!

I am so sad that I only just uncovered this. I wish I could have taken part.

What are you doing this weekend?

I am writing an essay---although "trying" is probably a better verb to describe my attempts.* Staying in will also give me a chance to spend time with family---with my brother (and girlfriend, and puppy) who I did not get to see last weekend and my dad who is slowly recovering---it is wonderful to have him home!

Whatever you are doing, I hope it's lovely.

*My inability to turn off my wireless will probably result in a few more posts over Saturday and Sunday---I hope you don't mind.

on christmas

I love Christmas.

Yesterday my (all-above-the-age-of-twenty) family and I spent the day in our pyjamas. We gave, we received, we relaxed. Then we giggled at a tipsy game of Balderdash and curled into bed.

I was unable to spend it, in physicality, with my love, but knowing that I am spending this, a third Christmas, with him is wonderful enough. (Having said that, I will always, always look forward to the day when we spend it together, becoming the tying ribbon between two families.)

My family and I have never had a Boxing Day tradition, so today I will spend it tidying the bedroom I have lately neglected. I have new Penguin postcards I want to stick on my wall and books I need to arrange; I have a doll's house I need to place by the wall (thank-you, my love, for the part of a girl's childhood I never received) and clothes, un-ironed, I need to put away. They don't feel like the most festive of tasks, but today, I really couldn't be happier doing them.

These few days are made up of contentment and happiness--and yet there is a swirl of emotion (of reflection, nostalgia and of not taking things for granted) that is dancing, delicately, upon the surface.

(Christmas could not be Christmas without cake. Home-made, iced by hand).

I sure hope you have had a wonderful Christmas wherever you are and throughout whatever pursuits are filling your days.