Getting into...

...the spirits. Oops, i mean getting into the spirit.
My mind starts wandering to all things tinsel somewhere in mid November (any earlier and I tell it to shush). I start writing little mental notes. In my head I see little memos written in glue and sprinkled with glitter. These sparkly little annotations refer to perfect presents, christmas craft and what extravagant decadence I'm going to bake and stuff in my face guiltlessly just because I can hear the faint tinkling of sleigh bells.
It's not just about Christmas, either. To quote The Castle, "it's about the vibe". The weather plays a big part. I go from wondering when that last sandal wearing day was and being unable to fathom any climate other than near freezing then dark at six o'clock, to wondering when that FIRST sandal wearing day was and happily getting about in shorts. There are always frequent arctic Victorian blasts punctuating the gloriousness, but the hope persists that better weather is on the horizon.
Then there's the anticipation. I love a good surprise. I thought everyone did, but not so. I have stumbled upon many a surprise resenting, misery guts in my travels. These folks are those same individuals who give specific instructions about what should be wrapped up under the tree on Christmas morning. They are the folks that cope poorly with any deviation from these instructions and dissolve into misery upon opening a gift with unanticipated contents. They are the lovers of the controlled and generic gift certificate/cash in a card option. I also suspect these people, as children, anxiously hunted down every last hidden gift so as to not be disrupted by any disappointment come Christmas morning. They are the folks for whom Santa became a myth at a very young age. How miserable.
Not I. I went with the whole Santa thing way beyond what my own mind suggested was reasonable. I clung to that mystery for as long as possible. I never attempted to uncover the hidden stash of my parents and the pressies under the tree pre Christmas were always safe with me. Because, isn't that the magic? Isn't that what it's all about?
I haven't changed and I'm still a passionate guardian of Christmas magic. This year I'm reclaiming some of the magic for the gown ups in my house. I've proposed a big person, personalized advent calendar. My husband has agreed, so over the next week or so, he and I are going to put together twenty five happy little bundles, one for each day up until Christmas. A surprise for us both every day, not containing disgusting chocolate and minus the Thomas the Tank picture on the front. Cool, yes?
I'm also plotting the magic I shall sprinkle on the kids. So far I'm thinking some flour Santa footprints, reindeer food and a Christmas elf. Have you seen the latter? Every morning up until Christmas (for maybe a week) the kids have to locate said mischievous pointy eared, red and green clad, chap. Invariably he will be found in some sorry state, tangled in sticky tape or bungee jumping from the light shade. Fun, I say.
Then along our sparkly brick road to Christmas, I shall be setting aside a few beachy bits and piling up some quality holiday reading material, because a year spent without some summery beach time is a sad one indeed.
How is your summer shaping up??



With this seasonally sunny outlook I've taken to slopping around with colour. These are the latest incarnation of my caravan coaster range. What do you think? I'm slowly plodding my way through a new watercolour book I got online a few weeks ago and I'm feeling all at sea with a medium I've used a lot, but never really mastered. I'm having fun, though and learning that it's all about relinquishing control in order to gain some. Tricky.
This weekend sees the rolling around of the Daylesford Makers Market. I'll have a few of these ready along with my other Christmassy bits. I hope you can make it.