We forgot the SD card adapater so you'll have to imagine the punchline

- Do you think we need to pack warm clothes?

- Nah, it's pretty much always hot this time of year in Sydney.

- What about umbrellas and raincoats?

- No, I don't think so, it never rains any more.

[picture of 2 children in grandma-sized raincoats, in pouring rain, outside our holiday cabin at the beach]

Nothing to say

So, yeah, hello. Sorry I haven't been around lately. I keep coming here, knowing I should write something, but then I just stare blankly and cannot think of a single interesting thing to say.

I mean, I could tell you that Téo is having almost daily meltdowns, like he's the one who's 2 instead of Lukan, only ... what more is there to say than that? It's a part of my life, a part that is wearying, yes, but doesn't get to me like it used to. I just put him in bed, where he falls asleep and then wakes up in a much better mood.

I could tell you we put up a Christmas tree. Just like a good many other people lately, most of you included I imagine.

I could tell you that our babysitter - the 5th since we moved to the village - quit with 4 days notice. But then you might think there's something wrong with us that we have such a high turnover. (Really, it's not us, it's them! Every time!)

I could tell you that with being on my own for 25 evenings (and a good many nights) since November 1, I feel like I've become a bit of a recluse. But that makes me even less interesting.

I could tell you that on the one hand, I never want to hear "Love love me do" ever again, but on the other it's so sweet when my kids sing it over and over in the car, but you really have to hear it for yourself.

I could tell you that the briefing paper I wrote for a major organization, the project that was stressing me out, was well received at an international conference, and may be turned into an actual publication from that organization. But that seems like boasting.

I could tell you I made a kind of advent calendar, spent hours crafting a tree and birds and hedgehogs and nests out of pine branches and leaves and seeds collected from the village forest, with trapdoors to hide chocolate in, one for each day that we are here in December. But then I'd have to admit that each night, without fail, I forget to actually put any chocolate in the next day's hiding place (I didn't dare put all the chocolate out at once) which kind of ruins the intended magic.

This minutiae is my life, but it doesn't make a good story.