The chair Lucinda sat in...
Imagine, if you will, the difficulties of explaining to your eleven year old daughter that a stranger who you met on the internet is coming over to visit. She is appalled and outraged, even after I explain that Lucinda and I have been corresponding over a number of years, that I know her real name and occupation and that truly, she is a bona fide all round good person. And also, that she, Posy, is absolutely right to be shocked at my behaviour, and that she, Posy, must never, never talk to strangers on the internet, well, not before the age of 44, anyway.
There was an uneasy detente that lasted until about three seconds after Posy met Lucinda. Lucinda is petite, elegant, and (currently) has hair the colour of maple leaves in the Autumn. She is also irresistible to children, and Posy is now her number one fan. I'm not sure if it was the presents ("All second-hand, I promise, had a clean out at home, LOOK, in a reusable canvas bag even!"), or the fact that she keeps no less than four lipsticks in her handbag, or that she glows with enthusiasm about every topic she embarks on, or that she knows how to effortlessly engage children in conversation, but Posy was hooked.
And how lovely to be able to chat to someone whose words I have been reading for years. I am hoping to catch up with Lucinda again at the end of her holiday. Honestly, she is a force of nature, whizzing around our little island with all the verve and energy I so clearly lack. She will return having seen more of Tasmania than I have. I am trying to get her to up sticks and move here, a strategy I try out on everyone I like. It is a cunning plan to avoid having to travel anywhere else, and fill Tasmania to the brim with all my favourite people. Currently I am tempting her with our low, low house prices..
This morning, my own babies left to travel for a week with their dad. If you have never stood at an airport window and watched your babies fly away, don't worry, you will one day, and it is an awful, heart-dropping moment, even if they are only going for a week. However, an hour later they arrived safely at their destination, and I have only to endure the agonies of knowing they are driving interstate, and flying again, before I have (most of) my chicks back under my wing again. Do you ever have the urge to roll up your children in cotton-wool and pop them into a nice, safe little box at the back of the wardrobe where nothing bad can ever happen to them? I do, and must sternly resist it. They shall go out into the world and make terrible mistakes and do crazy risky things and follow their stars wherever that may lead them.. and I shan't do a thing to stop them. It's just terrifying, this parenting gig, isn't it?
Meanwhile, I am home alone. I must admit, nagging anxiety re the children apart, I have had the most wonderfully relaxing day:
This was my afternoon nap.
Soon I am going to take everything out of the fridge and decide how to eat it all up this week. I have not done the grocery shopping this week, because I need to eat everything that I bought at the market on the weekend, forgetting that I would be home alone. So, lots of vegies. And some rice. I am thinking of cooking up a large vegetarian curry and eating it all week. Just think, no cooking for days...
Now, Lucinda was complaining that none of the (two? Three?) photos of me on the blog look anything like me. Well, I can't help it if I change into a completely different person in photos. It may be my supernatural powers. Anyway, this morning I tried taking photos of myself, which was actually quite difficult. It turns out I have short arms. These are the ones that looked the least insane, and something like what I see in the mirror (to explain my difficulty, I don't own a smart phone, so am using my actual camera, and cannot see what I am photographing. Highly entertaining for the dog):
This is sort-of-normal-me
This is the disbelieving look I give the children when they tell me they have vaccuumed their rooms, and also the face I make after fifteen or so attempts at taking my own photo, only five of which contain all of my face.
Updated to add: Lucinda's version of our blind date is hilarious, and very lovely and complimentary. I especially liked this sentence: "And so much for her not liking shopping – she had on a lovely dress, sandals and toes nails painted to match her sandals. "
Dress (the one above) - 5 years old at least, from Target. Sandals - hand-me-downs from Rosy, whose feet obligingly grew two sizes bigger than mine. Toenails - painted by Posy, who did indeed choose from among her fifty nail polishes to match my only pair of coloured sandals (pink, for the record).