A charmed life

There are so many things I am grateful for. My family, my home, my friends, the food in my fridge, my health. So many things that so many people would love to have and don't. I've always felt over the last few years, that something beyond my control, lent itself towards helping me along, what it is, I dont know. Luck? A guardian angel? whatever it is, it has always had to come up against my worries and fears-and we're talking fear of gigantic proportions (even if I didn't have anything to fear, my internal bully would think up a reason for me to be scared witless anyway)

The voice of Mr Fear tends to be at its loudest in the following situations.

1. Painting. There are people way better than you at doing it
2. Blogging. Nobody wants to read what you have to say. Stop being so selfish.
3. Expressing an opinion. Stop thinking you know everything. Nobody wants to hear it.
4. Being a mother. You can't do it alone. You're weak. Quit complaining.
5. Dreaming of being an artist. Don't even get me started on this one.

There you have it. That is the voice of Mr Fear and I have had to listen to its vitriol for years. and I mean years. It reached its peak during my first year of motherhood. That was a really tough time for me, because it distorted my own strengths, my perception of the world around me. It covered my real needs and the ability to articulate those needs, with a thick layer of vile neediness. No amount of tea and heart to hearts could have got me out of that. I ran to others with the mess of my emotions, followed by the mess of trying to fix myself better again, fix relationships that I knew deep down could never be fixed again. All the while Mr Fear chuckles at my feeble attempts to rise above it all. For the 6809845th time. It did it's job of creating an almighty mess. It did it's job very well.
Hey, Fear, Are you done with me now???

Deep breath. That was not easy to write. But I wrote it.
Hey I actually wrote it.
Was that Miss Long-Haired Book Reading Goddess whispering to me just then??
I wish her voice could be louder, stronger. Kick Mr Fear in the balls!

I think she wants to tell me something. I can't hear her very well. What was that?


Paint.
Blog.
Express those opinions.
Be the best mother.
Dream.

Don't stop. Don't be afraid. Do it.

Mr fear has outstayed its welcome in this little charmed life of mine.

The long-haired book-reading goddess

Last year it was crochet, papier mache, dolls and wanting to meet more mamas. The year before that it was writing, poetry, and learning to be more sociable.

This year it's all about instilling healthier habits into my life. Habits that make sense for me. Ideas that don't make me feel crap, instead, they make me feel like I'm fulfilling a more authentic version of me.
Introducing the long haired book reading goddess! Well,my new name is open to modification. But for now, this fits me just fine.

So this year, I have managed to stick to a fewer number of projects, let go of some unhealthy thoughts and feelings, and learnt to really enjoy what's RIGHT for me because the real failure for me is holding on to things without doing anything to make it better. More constructive to let another person do a better job of it.
What I've stuck to
Pilates. I am feeling the burn and the burn feels goooood.
Blogging. Just have to tell myself to keep at it.
Reading. Exchanging books with friends, and ordered a few from Amazon.
Painting. Just completed a small watercolour as a gift for a friend.
Self work. I know it sounds cheesy, but through one of my closest friends, I've done a lot of soul searching and worked my way to a better understanding of how I relate to others.
Waking up Early. The ONLY way I can do most of the above. Or I sleep and do none of it. I think I made the right choice.

And heres what I've said farewell to
Crochet. Lost that cozy feeling. It went as soon as I realised how insanely old it made me feel.
Short hair. I had this sudden urge earlier in the year to go for the chop. I thought it would somehow bring out a more refined sophisticated, up to date version of me. But now I know,that would have been a version of somebody else. Not me. I was born to be a completely unsophisticated goddess with crazy long hair.
Being so damn introverted. I love this side of myself because I think my quiet natured self allows me to be more thoughtful, creative, and sensitive to beauty, love, happy things. But I've also realised that there is a side to it that just doesn't help me at all. And I don't want to identify with that anymore. It has made me make very bad decisions, lose friendships, and increase self loathing. The worst thing about it though is that it's prevented me from having more love for myself and for others. Not a good thing, no matter who you are.

There you go. lots of deep and meaningful stuff here. But that's who I am.
I'm a deep and meaningful goddess.
Long haired to boot.

There comes a time to start

Starting things is what I do best. Knowing the best time to start is what I do worst. Like getting enthusiastic about Pilates a week before discovering I was pregnant, buying art materials whilst moving into and renovating a house, painting a mural in Isaacs old bedroom, only to move out and painting over it, six months later.
The bad timing worked in our favour when we moved out. It looked terrible; me returning to my full time schedule at work, all three of us sleeping on a mattress, on the floor of Antonios old bedroom whilst waiting for our house to be ready. We ended up staying six weeks rather than the very optimistic five days.
But in the end, we couldn't have done it at a better time. And we are happier for taking that risk, of not waiting for the right time, as so many people often do.
I've learnt that there is a time, and there just isn't a time, there are things that need careful planning and things that don't, and it's taken me a while to discover what goes in what.

The Go Slowly List

1. Pilates.
I've started doing pilates three times a week. It's not to lose weight in mind, as I am already skinny. I just want to work on my strength and general well being.

2. Portuguese
I came up with a great way to practice. I speak a little everyday with one of my colleagues at work. It is tricky getting some Portuguese in, considering I am an English teacher in a school where speaking Portuguese is severely restricted, but I try to keep it discreet. I'm also doing the same with my husband, speaking to him when Isaac isn't around as I want to make sure my son only hears me speaking in English.
I feel like an Portuguese secret agent!

3. Minimalist skin and haircare routine

I've gone back to the joys of growing my hair long and strong again. That means fewer times using shampoo, lots of coconut oil to keep it in good condition and waiting very patiently to get it looking like it used to, LONG! Ive been using coconut oil for my skin moisturiser too. No more Clinique products. My skin has been a lot better since doing this

4. No T.V

Now that the weathers getting better, I feel I'm less tempted to switch on the T.V to keep Isaac occupied for short periods at a time. Instead, I've been listening to podcasts with him or going out into the garden. I rarely watch the box these days which I'm really happy about. There is just nothing more frustrating to me than to sit in front of it whilst thinking about all the better things I could be doing.

5. Drawing

Last night I had a look at some art blogs from my favourites and the fire in my heart just lit up again. I got all my art materials out and began drawing again. No objectives, no pressure. Just enjoying the return of this feeling which I haven't had in a long time. Hurrahh!! I have finally started!

Sifting through past blog posts like old photos

I forget how much I shared on this blog and how much of it is not as bad as I was telling myself.
I initially went into the archives to purge them of awful memories, bad writing, strange art work and odd Youtube videos. I was set on this mission but as I started reading my verbal attempts to understand the world around me and my feeble place in it, I started having a change of heart.
I actually don't think any of it is that bad. I don't know why I slam my efforts sometimes, maybe its just years of brainwashing myself into thinking I could not be very good at much. But there is a lot of good I did and a lot of good I would still love to continue doing. I know I just need to reestablish that personal drive again, to write here, because I do still want to keep writing. I guess i need to exorcise myself of the fear to return here because there is a fear. The fear of hurting somebody, the fear of looking like a know-it-all, the fear of being ridiculed, the fear of loneliness, because blogging, just like painting, is a very lonely experience for me and I've avoided these two activities because they embody moments and memories of loneliness at their peak.
But I'm pretty sure, in fact I'm positive, that all this fear I'm carrying around, is a figment of my rather wandering imagination. I'm afraid of myself. Maybe I'm afraid of what I can truly be capable of. Maybe I'm afraid of what I know I could lose by following my dreams.
This is a start though.

What counts and what doesn't.

If it weren't for some of my wonderful students.
If it wasn't for my baby and his little hands tugging at my earlobes.
If it weren't for my husband's efforts to make me laugh.
If it weren't for my best friends efforts to make me laugh even harder.
If it wasn't for our cleaner who comes once a week and spends more time singing to my baby in Romanian than actually cleaning
If it weren't for all of these things.

I don't really think I could manage. No way.
Just goes to show. Not being a people person doesn't mean I don't need anyone. Everybody does. The difference between the few in the picture and the majority that aren't? The few know you better than the rest. Sometimes even more than you'd like. They'll be there for the long haul.
Live well.
Have fun.
Just don't lean on people who can't be there for you after the party's over. How do you figure that out? The ones who care are usually the ones helping you clear up long after everybody else have upped and left. That's when you know. That's when you also know, particularly in the case when nobody stays behind, which can happen,that you are your own closest ally too.
Which is why I shouldn't forget this very important point.
If it weren't for me, just plain old me, keeping pretty much true to myself, I really wouldn't be as happy as I am today.

Solitude

I've always struggled with solitude. I've not known how to benefit from it without letting it overwhelm me. There are two sides to solitude. It isolates you and makes you difficult to reach. You keep to yourself for long periods of time and people start forgetting to call in once in a while. But it can also give you the environment needed to rest, to tend to things with care and attention, and to retreat from the daily demands of work and family. Since I'm a little on the quiet side, I've noticed that Im sensitive to solitude on both ends. It means that I can really enjoy solitude fully, but I tend to feel the isolation of it after long spells. I guess that explains the struggle really. I look for ways out when I've spent too much time in. But this all starts with me wanting time in, first and foremost.
Perhaps its not a struggle at all. It's just a case of knowing which side of me wants to be alone most. The reading writing thinking in me, or the sad and lonely in me. Solitude in small doses for the latter, and an abundance for the former.

Thats a view from outside our home. That's the best visual definition of solitude I could come up with.

The Invisible Book

It's invisible because it's in my head.
It's in my head because the dirty dishes and laundry folding are outside my head.
My invisible book has a lovely front cover, contents, bad photo of the author on the back. ISBN code. Even a couple of bad reviews about it online.
But you can't read it. Because it's invisible.
That's not the only thing invisible in my head. I also have an invisible etsy shop of all my papier mache bowls, pendants, art prints, crocheted brooches.
I have an invisible illustrated collection of my poetry.
I have an art exhibition of all my collages and mixed media pieces. But guess what? It's invisible.

I am on the verge of becoming invisible myself if I don't learn how to turn away from the very visible reality of chores, bills, worries, distractions, stressed out for not having time, then feeling guilty for having time,then feeling guilty again for not using that time constructively, and then waking up the next day with lots more guilt for whatever comes to mind. Fun fun fun.

It's more than just a kick up the rear end, I need. It's the fact that I have a book with bad reviews, a shop with things that perhaps three people might like, and all sorts of other wierd and wonderful things taking up residence in my body, and whether or not this is okay by me.

It clearly isn't.
I'm going to open that awful etsy shop and write a book that nobody wants to read.And make Isaac laugh by dancing to Blondie on VH1.
(I do the latter already)
After all, if I can write a blog for this long, then I know i can give it a shot.
I just have to stop convincing myself that my day to day life won't fall apart just because i have a pen and paper in front of me. And accept that I will never be able to get dressed nicely either.

Back to work next week. Eek.
But I have a feeling this will suddenly make that invisible book in my head feel alot heavier. Along with everything else up there.
I'll have no option but to get them out.

Will keep you posted on my very random burst of motivation.

Heres a picture of Mr Giant Cheeks.

Have a lovely day!

I-m still here

My computer appears to have a language settings bug, so excuse the absence of punctuation. I-m determined to write a post before yet another reason not to. And a misbehaving computer isn-t the only reason. Theres the lack of inspiration to write, the mental space taken towards gearing up for work next week. Then there-s Isaac. Of course. He loves daylight. So much so that he doesn-t like napping much, except on the odd occasion. Like today. So my blogging has basically become dependant on the odd occasion that my baby puts his head down for a few minutes, and the odd occasion that i-m not thinking about handwashing carrot puree off my tops, calculating how much we-re gonna be paying our nanny, and Isaacs spectacular bowel movements.

But despite the lack of time spent here in cyberspace, I still feel productive, quietly working away in certain areas of my life, one at a time. Accepting that things can-t be fixed overnight.

Back in January i made alot of plans. I stared eagerly at the fresh blank pages of my newly aquired journals. I followed through for most of the month. February though, seems to have slipped through my fingers. I think its because its such a short month. And also for me, even shorter because I see its end coinciding with the last day of my maternity leave.

i need to see how I will incorporate my work schedule into last months enthusiasm to fulfill objectives, have more clarity, and create opportunities for myself and my little family.

Last month was also about stamping down old anxieties surrounding my life here in Portugal. The loneliness, the lack of confidence, the fear. I want to really focus on the positives of being here.

Thats as much as I can think of writing right now. Last months enthusiasm may show up in the coming months. I know it will.

He-s woken up.

Have a lovely weekend. A happy Carnival and Valentines day to all!

This is where I need to be

That has been my personal mantra these days. This is where I need to be, this is where I need to be, this is where i need to be....

Sitting here, sleeping baby in my arms, typing with one hand,looking down at his face every now and then,thinking about my sister.She's coming over from London for three days. Reading a few blogs here and there.

Or, I could paint a different picture entirely.

I'm sitting here, my arse hurts from sitting on a cold hard chair, I've got pins and needles in my arms because of a baby that refuses to nap in his cot and is the size of a pygmy elephant. I should have eaten lunch by now so I'm starving, instead I'm just sitting here, waiting for the right moment, to get up and get on with stuff that i have to do before my sister comes.

I'm happy with the way the first picture turned out.

It is no fun being miserable, on a day that looks miserable. So I'm just going to accept things as they are.
Because this is exactly where I need to be. Even if it means resorting to eating the arms of this chair for lunch.
This is where I need to be. And when I think about things in this way,something inside me slows down.
That can't be a bad thing at all.

In spite of it all

I like living here.The beauty of Lisbon didn't hit me at first. I had to search for it myself. It all depends on the time of day, the season, whether or not there's yet another monstrosity of a shopping centre being built within walking distance from it, how much dog poop I have to dodge to the point where I look like I'm walking on nails and of course with me, how much I let living away from London, my home, get to me.
And for a while, living away from London really did get to me. The Portuguese healthcare system made sure that I let it get to me. The lack of local services, the lack of community, the lack of neighbourly friendliness let it get to me.
But i'm responsible for all of this too.

I teach English, yet I am the worlds worst language student ever. I have not made any effort to learn Portuguese. A few half hearted attempts maybe, but I've never stuck with it. If I did, I wouldn't have felt so frustrated about being here. I can pin the blame on my job and my English speaking Portuguese husband and my English speaking Portuguese friends, but I shouldn't. It all came down to me, and me not wanting to do anything about it.

With abit of planning, I could have got out and about more, perhaps frequented my local coffee shop more often, said hello to the neighbours instead of avoiding eye contact. I could have built more bridges for better relationships with people in my community. But I didn't. Instead I just moaned about the dog poop outside our front door and the never ending circles round the block every weeknight to try and find a parking space.

I could have taken driving lessons. Period. Having a car would have helped me get around, felt more independent.

I sense I'm being hard on myself. Talk about writing to get things back ON my chest. A major detour from the positive here.
I'm going to make a sharp turn to my right. To what is RIGHT for me.

I'm letting go of the last few months and the heaviness of it, gently. Putting it away without destroying it. Because it's still important to me. Like a big chest of old letters from a previous life. It's still a part of me. I just can't keep lugging it around thats all. I want to feel light again.

So I'm giving myself a new pair of eyes. Look at things differently. To take the digital dust off these photos and discover a new reason for wanting to be here. To appreciate the Portuguese way of doing things. The language,the culture, the lifestyle, the habits. And just the fact that I have a lovely home here.

Im trying to be more of a planner this year. I want to have my ideas laid out in front of me so that I can not only see what I need to do clearly, but remember what they are (because I always have so many ideas in mind) and why I want to do them in the first place.

Perhaps, as part of my creative-making plans for the year, I could also incorporate learning Portuguese somewhere. Learning a language is a creative challenge isn't it?

Not quite sure how creative driving lessons are. Worth a try though!

Look into my eyes, look into my eyes

Three,two,one....Your'e back in the room.

It was twelve hours of 'Operation Diaper Rash Control'.The poor fella was not in a good mood at all whatsoever. It was one of my worst days alone with him.
Makes me wonder really. There will be more episodes like these in store for me, in a future inextricably tied to parenting. How do my personal objectives factor into this lifelong commitment? I felt so guilty whilst writing yesterday evening, after getting him to sleep finally. It just didn't feel right. Am I not supposed to be sitting in a rocking chair, in a white dressing gown, by his bed with a candle in a silver candle holder, flickering in the dark, watching over him?
Sorry, got carried away with the Victorian imagery there.
I just felt I had to be by his side. It was our fault for not being more scrupulent with the diaper cream. He was suffering from our laziness. I wasn't proud of myself for making my otherwise cheerful bubba, a not so cheerful Mr Magoo. Nothing consoled him, not even when I pulled out the box of flashing colours.
Television.
Thankfully today, as I'm writing this, he has happily settled himself to sleep with a fist in his mouth.

I've written 700 words! But I won't reveal about what just yet. It's still very very early days on my novel writing attempt.
Still at work with my papier mache. I've made a wonky turquoise coloured plate. Hopefully, I'll get it done tonight.

My positive attitude is tinted by anxiety because I'll be going back to work soon. I don't know how I'll be able to keep up with the creative work. I fear that I may get a big slap in the face by the reality of this.
I guess it's all about accepting certain things. Without giving up altogether.

Wishing you a lovely weekend.

btw, for the few lovely lovelies that stop by and leave a comment from time to time, I've had to start moderating my comments because of a recent onslaught of Chinese spam.
I know. It's ridiculous isn't it? There is a very tragic individual out there who goes out of their way to start a blog, just so they can spam me in another language.

Now you know why. I still like getting comments so do stop by everynow and then.

Have a lovely weekend!

The writeist in me.

I like writing. I like art. Why not do both for the rest of my life? I might not be brilliant at it. But I can practice towards brilliance. And I am a geek who is eager to learn. Always have done.
For years I've felt inadequate for not having one sole interest, pursuit or dream in mind. You hear about kids wanting to be a ballerina or a doctor or a fireman. i wasn't one of those kids. I didn't know what I wanted to do. So I tried abit of everything really, hoping that maybe one of them would stand out and grab my attention. What I'm starting to realise now, is that I was pushing away the writeist in me because 1. I didn't think I qualified for it 2. I thought it was too geekified of me to want to be one 3. It didn't look great next to the doctors and scientists in my family, all of whom were showered with praise whilst I withered in the background 4. I thought I was not disciplined enough and 5. I was scared by the amount of solitude involved. I was an intense introvert growing up. Solitude was not what the doctor prescribed for me. This dream of mine had the very real possibility of making me depressed. I sure as hell didn't want that.
So I dabbled with the idea of being a teacher, a librarian, a social worker, a counsellor, a shop manager. Anything to curb the writeist dream. I guess looking back it was the healthy thing to do at the time. Dreams need to have a solid foundation. They need to have the back up of a confident driver. I wasn't confident. And I didn't know how to drive. I would have crumbled under the pressure to live the dream when I clearly wasn't ready for it. I made half hearted attempts to test the writeist in me once in a while but I often fell at the first hurdle. I wasn't passionate enough. I didn't have that magic spark that you need when you want to achieve something in life. And the more half hearted attempts I made, the further away I got to being ready for it.
So it's only now, at the age of 29, at home,with a baby babbling and cooing in the background, that I'm setting out some goals, towards a dream that FINALLY NOW,I feel ready for. To write, to paint, to make. To perhaps earn a few bob or two out of it. To be a proud geek.

Eid Mubarak

I'm not sure if I have ever mentioned this before, but I was born and raised a muslim alongside my four siblings. I didn't have the easiest time with it, what with being born in London and seeing how different my family was to those of my friends. I grew up under alot of traditional rules of behaviour, a combination of cultural and religious practice. On top of it my mother was very keen to enforce a frugal way of life. So that is, as you can imagine, a hell of alot for a 14 year-old whose life existed around wanting to have friends and fit in. I never had birthday parties, never went to the cinema, never wore jeans, never went out at night. Saturdays were spent studying the Koranic scriptures, visiting random family relatives, staying at home with my siblings and reading books from the local library. I never brought friends round because at the time, the area where we were growing up, racism and zenophobia pervaded the air with nasty comments and anti-social behaviour by groups of teenagers in the area. So my parents stuck to socialising with people from within the asian community because it just felt more comfortable and welcoming, and in a way , they probably felt like it was better all round to stay on their own turf, so to speak. Obviously, I went to a school that didn't allow such selective segregation, which of course, was great, so I had friends from all sorts of backgrounds. But as soon as the school day ended, I was back into the world that my friends were not allowed to penetrate. Alot of it because of their parents conservative attitudes, but also because of my familys decision to not be more inclusive. I wasn't strong enough at the time to be truly proud of my upbringing and had no clue that perhaps my friends would have liked to have been included in this other part of my life. So, out of my own insecurities, I found myself literally leading a double life. By not merging one into the other, i thought I was avoiding potential disaster. It just seemed like the right thing to do, for my family to not know too much about who I hung out with, what I really wanted to do with my life (be an artist, travel, not have an arranged marriage) and for my friends to not know too much about how I was brought up (not wearing the traditional clothes when I was around them, not inviting them to my house etc). The day I moved out to go to university, I cooked a traditional meal, went to my tiny student hall bedroom and ate with my right hand, some rice with lentils and vegetables. I was 19 and didnt know how to use a knife and fork because every meal that I had eaten up until that day had always been with my right hand. But because I had lead this double life for so long, I just couldnt bring myself to show this.
Ten years on, I've gone back to that lonely image of myself sitting on my bed, eating alone and I think to myself now, NEVER AGAIN am I going to keep that side of me a secret. And so I didn't. I didnt have an arranged marriage, but I had a muslim wedding. I kept Antonio out of my parents life for several years. Now i make it a point to make sure they speak to each other over the phone, and let bygones be by gones. I cook traditional food alot more and share recipes with friends. And I plan on making sure that this baby has not only a loving upbringing but a colourful one too, filled with stories about his great grandmother who to this day has never taken one step outside her village in Bangladesh, about Antonios grandfather who was a professional basketball player in the mid forties, about summers spent on Portuguese beaches, and on the otherside of the world looking out at the endless paddy fields near my mothers village. I want my little man to experience two vastly different worlds, seemingly impossible to bring together, but brought together nonetheless, down to the simple act of love between two people. There will be Christmas presents shared between him and his Portuguese cousins, and the celebration of Eid with his Bengali cousins. This will be my gift to him.
It's Eid today. I'm not with my family as much as I would like to be, but I'm wishing them well as I write this. The difference between this year and last year is that for the first time, Im talking more about it with my friends, with Antonios family and to those who have made it to the end of this very long post!

On the day a baby is born, muslim parents say a special prayer, whispered into the ear of their newborn, which protects them from harm. I may not be the most religious person in the world, but I think this is such a beautiful gesture and I am very proud to have been brought up surrounded by these intricate, delicate gestures of faith.
So I wish you all a very Happy Eid, regardless of your background. I hope that you have a lovely peaceful day with your family and friends and more importantly, that you are being kind to yourself in the best way you know how. Share something about yourself that you haven't shared before. Let people get to know you better. That's the biggest lesson I am taking from today.

Here are a few photos of that muslim wedding I fought to have. Who was the person telling me not to do it? It was me. I was my own worst enemy at the time, listening to the voice that kept saying it wasn't the right thing to do because Antonio wouldn't be accepted and it would be too difficult to do such a thing. I'm glad I didn't listen because seeing my parents meet my husband for the first time, was the happiest day of my life.

Baby might not have popped out yet

but I have given birth to the planner in me. Yes, that's right. Khairun is going start planning her creative routine and no amount of dirty dishes and an empty fridge is going to distract her from this mission. Perhaps it was the Carte d'or chocolate chip icecream with fresh raspberries that I ate last night. Upon revealing this to him, Mr T has confiscated all my icecream for fear that I may give birth to a giant Mars Bar on speed and not our wonderfully gorgeous superboy. And he explained this very passionatly to me whilst licking out the last remaining remnants of heaven from the tub. Torture.
Anyway, heres a list of what I am going to be up to. At least until the baby arrives by which point I'm pretty sure my planning euphoria will boil down to sleep deprived survival techniques.

So here it is. The big plan

1. I'm going to do this. I'm all alone at home with my sewing machine. No excuses this time. I will follow the main pattern but give it a Khairun twist.
Update: I made the doll! I. MADE. THIS. DOLL. I'm so chuffed with myself that I could do a little pregnancy dance. I could but I probably won't.


2. Try to make Flickr like me. Put up all my artwork there, the good the bad and the pants. So far, I have a measly two.
3. Take a self-styled Etsy shop business course. I've even got my own notebook for it. Here it is.



4. Keep updating my blog. Which is what I am doing now so there's one thing on the list I'm doing.

5. Make more quiche for friends because it makes them happy. Did my first one today with the help of a friend's recipe.

6. Save my garden from looking like Death Valley. And currently it is.

7. Take baths. Have massages. Finish reading this. And relax God damn it!


Back to the doll making. BYE!

I took a long hard look

at my blog and I decided that it really needed a tidy up. I've heard that during late pregnancy, women have an uncontrollable need to clean, arrange, colour coordinate and label-anything to feel a sense of order and serenity. Well, in my case that same hormonal desire,whilst certainly running havoc in my ovaries, hasn't exactly pushed me towards a mega cleaning marathon. But it has given me enough highs to plough through my favourites and jazz up my blog. And boy, did it take a long time or what. Updating links, adding new categories, reading up on other blogs for inspiration. All done during my peak nesting times. Though blogging might not help stock up on nappies, or get me thinking on the necessity for a room themometre or a baby wipe warmer,it does keep me grounded in all the sky high emotions of having a baby. And it makes me happy too, in the mere knowing of what it is that makes me happy, what keeps me ticking, if that makes sense. I have said to myself time and time again, that I would like to open an online shop. A part of me kept stalling on it because of lack of time to produce more work, lack of inspiration, lack of confidence, and lack of knowledge in making my work into a business of some sort. This is my mind talking here. And a talking mind is a huge obstacle to overcome. Having a baby might just be the key in making me a stronger person to just do it. Or not. Either way, I've still just got to do it. And I will take advantage of the time I have to be at home now to do it. Wish me luck!




In the meantime, here is a picture of food. What a surprise eh? Last nights attempt at eating small portions failed miserably when friends of ours decided not to bring just one giant quiche, but two. Plus a salad with my very own special dressing, and all of it eaten up on our balcony. My way of enjoying the last handful of summer evenings.
After all that food I felt I needed to be airlifted by helicopter afterwards. I have to control my eating!

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...

Look at my delicious cake. Professionally photographed too!

There has been a cloud hanging over us at work these last few weeks. Unprecedented changes has led to a general sense of doom and gloom. Cake. Just what the doctor ordered. Chocolate raspberry pavlova. Not as pretty as Nigellas, mine collapsed as soon as i took it out of the oven, but it went down a treat! I have made this a couple of times already and it makes people smile. That makes me smile too.

Alright alright, here's what it really looked like, run over by a lorry it seems.

Huge would be the operative word

And here I am feeling like i have a watermelon strapped to my stomach. That dress happens to be the most comfortable thing I have worn since I started expanding in all directions. I have had to finally scour my way through the infamous maternity wear departments across much of Portugal. Shame we dont have GAP here. Ive heard great things about their line for mamas to be. The dress was from H&M so the pricetag was well within my budget.



I had a great week off, spending it at the beach (that viewpoint from under the sun umbrella was mine for quite a number of relaxing days) collecting rocks and then painting on them, like a cavewoman. I also used my pocket watercolour set to do some sketches whilst I was there, alfresco style. I felt like abit of an artisan, totally absorbed, blocking out the world around me except the sound of the waves and the gentle seabreeze. It was an interesting exercise in general too since I was out of my normal studio surroundings and learning instead to take my creativity outside. Something that can be both awkward yet exhilarating at the same time. It felt pretty good.

I managed to finish a couple of watercolour pieces too, one of which I will give away this month as a print. I will write about it tomorrow. In the meantime, have a look at this blog by my friend Natalie. She's a young artist living in London and is about to launch her etsy shop . Her work ranges from some lovely mixed media work to intricate jewelry design. I wish you lots of luck in your new venture Nats!

Drifting along

like a feather. Well not quite, but the weather today has been absolutely wonderful. We couldn't take the stifling heat in Lisbon so we legged it to our little house by the sea. Bought myself a book on yoga and an encyclopedia on mythology. Making the most of my pocket watercolour set too. Right now I can't show you any pics until we head back to Lisbon on Sunday (left my usb cable at home). But I thought I would post something about my day regardless.

I will be giving away one of my watercolour pieces this month. Spreading the love! More information on this when I get back from my hazy lazy break. Until then, cheerio!

latest cause for concern: Lindt orange dark chocolate

Today we bought our baby stroller! A very momentous occasion indeed if I don't say so myself. I've had to restrain myself from wanting to take it for a test run around the neighbourhood but Mr T, quite rightly, informed me that I would look mentally unstable if I did that. So I've had to make do with practicing how fast I can fold it up ( about 7 seconds..woohoo!) It's not one of those stroillers you need a driving licence for, no aerodynamic lightweight NASA certified poop-proof smugness about it. It didn't put a humungous dent in our bank balance either. A year and a half of saving (which meant downgrading on my shampoo and conditioner, using the same mascara for 15 years and giving up, once and for all, those lame reasons for a 'quick pop' into Mango)all going towards the miniature version of me and Antonio. Almost sounds like a freak science accident, set to escape the laboratories in September and invade our world in drool and poop and and a cute little sailor outfit (Mr T doesn't know about the latter of course. That would just finish him off for sure)

On a completely different subject to which I was'nt clever enough to link well to, over at Sofia Barão's blog, she is doing a fabulous giveaway of one of her charming necklaces. She's Portuguese and lives in Paris where she works as an artist. Her work ranges from some beautiful abstract paintings, sublime photography and pretty jewelry. I'm not in the slightest bit jealous at all... WHERES MY CHOCOLATE!!!! Just go to the link above and take part. I certainly have. :)

Planning ahead...

I have been meaning to post my first water colour piece but I don't have access to my laptop right now. So no shifty camera work for today.
Lots of inspiring things fluttering about in my head (not to mention Mr Watermelon. He's doing cartwheels in response to my recent indulgence in carrot cake, and other things that would make my doctor tut tut rather alot). I am trying to figure out a way of having a few prints of my work sorted for friends and family, squeezing in lots of reading on starting an Etsy shop, and exciting conversations with friends who want to change the world.Or at least their own world. It's great having supportive people around you and none more so than your very own friends. I can't wait to get cracking on a few more pieces, start planning the wall painting in the nursery and finish my crochet baby blankets.
If there is anybody who can give me advice on making art prints I would be oh so grateful, whether I should get it done with a home printer, at a printer shop or an online service, as well as the best choice of paper, do let me know. Thankyou!

Will post those images soon, including a bonus belly pic!
Enjoy the rest of the weekend!