Sunday, February 23, 2014

Breathing

Sunday afternoon at Brewer's Bay

Georgie (the eleven year old) started his own business this week and made over $30 on his first day with these elastic bangle things - so we've been able to retire and enjoy life once again. See above photo.

Just kidding. Sadly.

Anyway Georgie's already expanding into new ranges, marketing material and a crash course in Profit & Loss accounts. Boy, are we becoming the archetypal immigrant family, or wot?

Made by George: "Brilliant Bands & Bracelets" Inc

The rest of the week was spent doing the usual although we did chuck in a few good decisions and we also had a couple of small but significant breaks.  The pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel is turning into a dull glow. I even slept through the night for 2 consecutive days, unheard of for the past 6 months.

We've also been thinking about plans for the Summer and all the impending changes with boys going off to school and the like. It feels a bit like the tow rope kicking in when waterskiing or getting towed in a car: A greater force out in front which starts pulling one upright and forward, if that makes sense? Exciting but also a bit scary.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

A Valentine's Postscript


It's another late night cooking/baking marathon. Tyler has gone off to bed, exhausted after a long day. I'm  feeling strong after a quiet but productive day yesterday at home catching my breath, so can step in.

I probably should have done this post last Friday, when it was all hearts and chocolates, but Valentine's Day is really big here on the island, and the bakery was slammed.  A Good Thing.

Like any couple, we spend our fair amount of time squabbling and sniping. We can sometimes go for days in chilly silence, righteously ignoring each other, pushing the odd button and lobbying the occasional grenade. We usually get bored with the effort it requires, and revert to being chums - and now partners in business.

Tyler is endlessly even-tempered and patient. I'm high-energy and neurotic. Tyler loves Science Fiction & Fantasy (both of which I loathe) bad-ass rock music (I prefer dance and other popular stuff) pies and pizzas. I'd rather have a chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc anyday than eat (Tyler doesn't drink) and I deeply distrust Martial Arts, Goths and anything with tattoos.We're very different people.

As a partner however, he is just wonderful. I could never wish for more (and I'm not given to open displays of emotion, unless it's menopausal rage). He literally is always there for me - ceaselessly kind and practical, willing to take one (two, ten, thirty) for the team, when ever necessary.

We've also seemed to have worked out the relay-race-working-together-thing together, too. Maybe it's just our age. Wisdom ascending Passion. Although we bicker constantly we both seem to have an intuitive idea of the others limits. I honestly do not think we could be doing all of this now - and believe me it's hard -  without our partnership.

If Valentine's is about declaring love, I'm in.





Monday, February 17, 2014

Whose a lucky boy then?






Sometimes you just have to put all the crap behind you and just say "wow".

James had the incredible opportunity of being one of the youth racers to be part of the glamorous RC44 class Virgin Gorda Classic on their final day of fleet racing. He was part of the Synergy Russian team, and was put to work both as a co-grinder and even got a quick spot at the helm. His normal crew position of tactician would probably have been a bit too challenging, given that these are professional racers including Russell Coutts.


It's worth watching the video if you have a few minutes, just to see why it's all worth it.

We get so blase about it all, but he's a lucky boy, eh?






Tuesday, February 11, 2014

A Bruising Week

Despite the fact that my second record album that I ever bought as a human being was John McLaughlin & the Mahavishnu Orchestra (how precocious is that?) I am most assiduously not a Hippy. I am very much a Post Modern Child, who went to suburban punk parties in ripped bin liners, and metaphorically spat on the latter.

However, I do believe that The Universe was trying to tell me something last week.

The Cult of Busy, I've decided, is a state of mind. I'm always insanely busy. I cannot breathe sometimes I'm so busy. I forget to eat and wake up at 2am in the morning worrying about children's lunch boxes and phone bills and bank accounts and the state of the garage.

Last week I managed - in one day - to fall down our challenging spiral stair case and slide the car into a ditch. Both things are imminently possible and avoided each day. The checklists of 'little survivals' (found the keys/had enough petrol to get into town/remembered a birthday) are maybe the things that get one through the day. Things seem to go downhill when the sum of the parts fractures.

Such was my day last Thursday. The Universe Got Me. I fractured for a day, stayed at home and tried to re-group. I didn't get out of my pyjama's, ate an entire box of Ferrer Rocher chocolates, finished my book, ignored the house and didn't switch on the computer. I was quite happy by the time everyone else got home.

It's been such a challenging few years, but we all know we're almost 'there'. The kids are craving normality, I'm craving the hairdresser and Tyler is craving more sleep. I'm hoping, in true-Hippy speak, that we've just seen that really dark patch just before the dawn.

This week has already been better.