tatjna (tatjna) wrote,

Boots and cats and boots and cats and... ok I lied about the cats.

Today I'm wearing my knee-high heeled boots. I really like these boots, but they are two years old and the heels are worn down past the rubber. In my usual style, I've kept wearing them. But today, on my walk to work, the zip toggle thingies hooked together, resulting in a rather amusing (for other people) almost-nose-dive, followed by a ping-zooming noise as one of the zip toggle thingies broke and flew off into the wide blue yonder at speed.

What this means is that I'm going boot shopping at lunchtime. Luckily, there seem to be shoe sales on everywhere. What I'm after is a pair that are exactly the same as these ones, but I'd like for the zips to be at the back. Zips on the inside leg make wearing stockings expensive (yeah ok so I have faulty leg action. in horses they call it dishing, and would potentially not breed from me. but i still need boots and want to be able to wear stockings).

I've noticed that the heels that seem to be fashionable right now are either wedges (JUST NO), or stilettos, which aren't really what I'm after either. I'd like a heel with a bit of substance, without looking like a digger driver or a wannabe goth. Wish me luck.

Tommy went home yesterday. This is both a wrench and a relief. It's .. um.. upheaving when he comes to visit because my priorities take a sudden and dramatic reshuffle. This is all good, it's what's supposed to happen. I love my kid and want to make him the priority, especially given the limited and rare nature of his visits. But, making him the priority causes this weird feeling of having forgotten something, let things slide, and such.

It's silly, I know.

I also feel mild guilt about going out on Saturday while he was visiting. Never mind that the event was planned months before his visit was. Never mind that piking on that would be letting a bunch of people down. I reserve the right to beat myself up over things that don't bother anyone else.

My life has become very people-filled. xhile arrived on Monday evening, so there are now 1 1/2 times as many people in our house as before. I am having to think about things like my eating and shopping habits (which are sporadic at best) because xhile is a boy, and boys need to eat regularly. Which means there has to be food. Which isn't always the case in my fridge. It also occurs to me that while using a clothes horse to dry my clothes over the network is fine for just me, there will now be twice as many clothes to dry. Hmm. And our washing line is a waste of space given that Ngaio Gorge gets a grand total of 3 hours' sun a day in winter (that's when the sun's out, by the way).

Golly, am I getting domesticated? Must.Resist! Hehe.

It is very nice, waking up with a warm boy. *nods* Even if morning conversation consists of grunting because nobody's at their shiny best when they just got up. And my morning habit is to sleep till the barest minimum of time is available to get ready, so I'm not really fully awake till I actually get to work.

Thing is, if you're emotionally involved with someone, living in the same room for a few weeks will show them your best and your worst, and if they still want to be involved with you after that, and vice versa, it says something about your suitability for cohabitation, yeah?

In other news, I will be fire spinning outside the Paramount on Saturday night, prior to the circusy thing. I am flattered to be asked. (No, not good enough to be in the show, but playing around outside in a freelance manner is more my style anyway). So my Saturday night looks like this:

Go to Harry Potter with Polly. Rush from there to St James, spin fire, then go in and partay for a bit. Then go to Nuts n Bolts and say hi to people, dance some more and take photos. Probably go back to Paramount after that. You're invited to join me for any of the above activities.

And does anyone know if Reading will let me store my hoop somewhere safe while I'm in the movies? Don't really want to take it into the theatre, because it smells like kerosene.
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