Its been a while between posts. The will to blog has been elusive over the last few weeks. It turns out that happiness and contentment are not great blog fodder. I know myself, I get a little weary of reading over everyone's fabulous A game on the interwebs, to the point where I had to cut myself off from reading Che and Fidel completely. She is gorgeous, but there is only so much gorgeousness a girl can take.
So, I'll just say that the last few weeks have been fun. We've been to art exhibitions and a party, we boarded the PFunk mothership with George Clinton at the concert at MONA last weekend and stayed overnight in Hobart and had a hotel buffet breakfast (kid's highlight). We've worked really hard and spent some really nice time together, us Smiths.
Tassie is going off at the moment, Ten Days on the Island (our bi-annual arts festival) is on and there is art, theatre and music in every Tasmanian nook and cranny. Even Dame Kiri is on tonight in ol' Launny town!
There is a dynamic vibe going on the island and in Smith-life in general and it's just so good.
And, 12 years ago today, for the first time, I commenced the long journey of labour. Two days later after many hours of mono tonal wailing (the luthier, or 'the man who has seen too much' as he referred to himself post-babies, said he knew that something was finally happening when I changed pitch, hitting a higher note of course) our wonderful J- boy arrived. That's right, my eldest son is turning 12. We are so close to having a bona fide teen in the house, I don't know what to say, except ...
Holy shitballs, Batman!