tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22505039044834975612024-03-14T09:01:40.551+01:00What Would Leo Do?When in doubt, turn to Mr McGarry.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.comBlogger535125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-59033175436007653972015-03-11T10:16:00.001+01:002015-04-15T11:07:34.632+02:00And Then We Were Five<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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She came in late November 2012 and we were ready, boy were we ever ready. I think I had been ready for 38 years. She was tiny and red, bright bright red, and they placed her in her father's arms and whisked them both away and I was left on my own, and very thankful it wasn't my first time on that particular table. "I think I just had a baby" I wrote my friends a couple of hours later, when Jesper came running with a report and my phone. "She's perfect and excellent and doing great" he said, and I cried a little and the tears rolled down my temples and landed safely in my ears. And after hours and hours and hours they rolled me and my bed and the water in my ears up to neo and finally put her in my arms. And then we were five. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-5827426776760765222013-11-05T17:06:00.004+01:002014-01-27T10:43:51.362+01:00Double Digits<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Now that you're ten there's a whole new world that is yours and yours alone. For the first time, I think, there are moments when we don't know exactly where you are, and the freedom works wonders for us all. You ride your bike to school and come home by yourself, remembering to call me on the way sometimes, but mostly not. And we grow, both you and I.<br />
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Now that you're ten there are calls from teachers who think you talk too much and work too little, and we talk again and again about school and respect and attitude and hard work. And when you fall asleep and all the frustration and anger and disappointment that you've suffered in the day washes away, then we look at you and stroke the sweaty hair from your forehead and say to each other the understatement of a lifetime: Yeah, he's alright.<br />
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God, we're so proud of you.<br />
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Now that you're ten you still like us to read to you at night and sometimes we get frustrated and tell you to do it yourself, that we need to focus on the little ones, that you're big enough and go to bed already. And sometimes there are tears and we are all so tired, so tired.<br />
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Now that you're ten you're a big brother in a way that I thought was only for movies and Hallmark cards. And you know it too, how your love for this tiny new person in our life is more than you ever knew. How you held her for the first time and almost couldn't breathe, couldn't move, how you bowed your head over her tiny face, silent. After all my worries about rocking your boat forever. <br />
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God, I'm so proud of you.<br />
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Now that you're ten friends matter, but you still go your own way a lot, thinking your own thoughts. You still want to be a marine biologist when you grow up, though just someone who plays the computer all day would be great too. Mom, is that a job? Yes, my love, it is. <br />
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Now that you're ten you still don't like vegetables.<br />
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Now that you're ten you can read and write and have had your first cavity. You like to be hugged, as long as noone from school is looking, and if I'm really really good you'll rub my shoulders for five minutes. You like to be outdoors once you're there, you like to explore and pretend to be all kinds of things. You have a club with some girls in your class where you pretend to be wolves and write a magazine about how to best catch raindeer and other good hunting advice (for wolves). Your favourite book is Wolf Brothers by Michelle Paver. Your favourite gift this morning was a Wii (that was in fact your only gift), you have been begging for it for months (years?). You have asked for fried chicken and chocolate for dinner and your dad is preparing it right now. Now that you're ten you are even more you, even more... more.<br />
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Now that you're ten, I look at you and sometimes catch a glimpse of myself somewhere around the mouth or over your forehead, something, somewhere. And the person you are and the people you came from and the one you'll be one day are all there together, like a really lovely cocktail party going on and on and on. And I look at your dad and I look at myself and I think MAN, we did good.</div>
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God, we're so proud of you. </div>
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-7195124796003414882012-11-23T14:01:00.001+01:002012-11-23T14:02:47.285+01:00Hello Friday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's getting close over here. Days are no longer filled with to-do's and must-have's, but rather with a little bit of this and a little bit of that and of me sitting down, breathing heavily and not accomplishing much. It's as it should be, I think. I'm tired, but better than I have been. I'm huge, and getting bigger by the minute. And there's something wrong with my right hand, so I can't really type. But all is well. And that is something.<br />
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Today we're making gingerbread after school. And I've pulled out a few of our favourite Christmas books. There will be leftovers for dinner and a fire and some sitting together, and quite possibly some crying (B) and teasing (W) and losing one's temper (me) – since we are all handling this imminent change in our lifes a little differently at the moment – but we'll be here. And J will come home from work, and no matter the state he finds his loved ones in, the house will smell like Christmas. And that's good enough. So here's to gingerbread and Friday nights and being together. Yes, that is something. </div>
Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-61429549717963345412012-11-01T12:00:00.002+01:002012-11-01T12:06:23.388+01:0035 Weeks And Three Days Not That I'm Counting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The children have the week off. It's Fall Break (Autumn Leave?) and they've been spending a couple of days down in Midsomer with my parents. Feeding the sheep, building robots, making pizza, playing with axes, that sort of thing. I'm so grateful to have parents who are brilliant grandparents. Yay Mom! Yay Dad! You are welt klasse, top notch, la crème de la crème.<br />
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Up here things are moving slowly, but moving. We have a new car (new to us, that is, not New) and I'm trying my best learning how to park it without causing too much damage. W's birthday's coming up so there are two celebrations planned for this weekend. Saturday night his friends are coming over for burgers and ice cream (per request) and Sunday it's the family gathering. Looking forward to both and getting ready by staying in bed. I've learned my lesson from last week.<br />
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The baby is moving around like a crazy squirrel, but seem to have decided to stay on it's head from now on. I still find apple juice, ginger ale and oranges to be the Best Thing Ever, and have this positively medieval urge to bake things. Still haven't acted on this (very strong) impulse, but I find myself daydreaming about it. God, I'm such a cave woman at the moment. I've gained at least 20 kg, that's what, 40 lbs? No, 44 lbs. So yes, that is the reason I'm only giving you belly shots at the moment. My face, as my darling girl put it the other day, looks funny. Then she fondly stroke my bottom and with a happy smile exclaimed "Oh, this is also SO much bigger!"<br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-54840672213852941602012-10-25T22:09:00.001+02:002012-10-25T22:09:43.300+02:00Totally Unrelated Photo But At Least I'm Posting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yesterday I met a dear friend for lunch. And coffee. And there might have been a pre-lunch coffee with another dear friend as well, since I was already in town, with lipstick, wearing clothes and all. These things are not supposed to happen. I'm not on sick leave to do pleasant things and enjoy myself, I know I know I know. And so I was punished thoroughly afterwards and through the night and all of today and probably will be tomorrow as well. So, yes, I got the message. Am not well, should not pretend to be. But oh, how sweet it was to not be in bed! To fake normalcy! If only for a couple of hours. And oh, how I've been paying the price for my audacity. But yes, lesson learned. Will not happen again. Bedridden it is. Bedridden with an extra sideorder of guilt and not a lipstick in sight. Oh joy. </div>
Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-83150996178820877042012-10-23T22:15:00.001+02:002012-10-23T22:15:25.084+02:00SE03E05<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've learned my lesson the hard way (yes, I did once give away that Omar of The Wire got shot, before it was public knowledge, and man were you angry with me), so will not share any clues this time in either words or photos. Can I just say that the episode above is killing me right now? You who have seen it will know why. You who haven't, download away. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-38647088705387160902012-10-22T21:26:00.001+02:002012-10-22T21:27:09.182+02:00Monday Monday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I listened to a podcast the other day, where a man who had lost two of his three sons talked about the blessings of boring, ordinary days. How one of his friends had said "If I knew I only had twelve more months with my child, I'd stop working and spend every waking moment at her side." And this man in the podcast explained how he and his wife had felt differently, how the normal and the mundane helped them through the darkest hours, days and years. How going to work, making lunch, taking the bus, tucking the boys in at night, helped them and gave them a little rest in between the pain, the frustration and the paralyzing grief. The blessings of ordinary days.<br />
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And sometimes when we end up in the kitchen, all of us doing our different things but sitting there together, doing them side by side, sometimes when I look beyond the piles of laundry and the homework and the early mornings and the painful nights when there's no chocolate left, not even in the secret stash, then sometimes I catch a glimpse of it and it's the strongest and prettiest thing I've seen. The blessings of our ordinary days. You say boring? I say bring it. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-53159893858339618692012-10-18T14:16:00.004+02:002012-10-19T22:06:17.061+02:00Extraordinary Ordinary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thanks to a midwife and doctor who have seen me pregnant before, a supportive family and the Swedish healthcare system (I LOVE YOU ALL), I'm now on sick leave. I stopped working a couple of weeks ago and fill my days with a mix of pain, nesting, nausea and happiness. It never ceases to amaze me that I live in a place where I can do this without putting my family at risk. We're not going to end up on the street just because I can't work. I know our system isn't perfect, what system is, but the way Sweden takes care of its mothers-to-be gives me hope. We might be doing a whole lot of things wrong, but this, this we're doing just right.<br />
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So our days pass a little differently than usual, but then again, they have been for the last seven months or so. 2012 will be definitely be named The Year Of Pregnancy in our book. Just as 2003 was. And the bigger part of 2006. It's just how I work (or rather, my body). I still find it nothing short of amazing that there are women, most women actually, who go about being pregnant like it's no biggie. Happy, many of them, and bigger around the waist. But apart from that... business as usual. Amazing. No throwing up? At all? No hospital, no IV lines, no nothing? Yes, amazing. But I digress, I was going to tell you about our days. The extraordinary ordinariness of our days.<br />
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Oh, but I can't! Sorry. Turns out it's time to pick B up from pre-school. Yes, well, ok, sorry about that. Will be back. </div>
Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-33474031338911662592012-10-17T13:13:00.000+02:002012-10-19T22:05:24.943+02:00Sleep Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thanks for asking. I slept like a baby last night. (A tired baby, not the crying kind.) Your support was overwhelming. Many thanks for kind texts, e-mails and Instagram cheers. It's so very good to have company. </div>
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-445142511461983122012-10-17T08:00:00.000+02:002012-10-17T08:00:07.446+02:00True Colours<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I love this season. I love how undemanding it is. How I'm allowed to stay indoors and not be sociable unless I want to. How I can dress in clothes that are warm and actually comfortable. I know, I sound like an hermit dressed in blankets. But really, there's something so forgiving about fall. We lower our expectations and relax a little. No need for everything to be perfect, as in summer or at Christmas. No need for filling the days with big and important things. We're just muddling through. Lighting a fire at night, falling asleep too early, drinking our tea, doing what needs to be done, but not that much more. And it is oh, so good. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-14752074139018813972012-10-16T13:23:00.001+02:002012-10-16T13:24:17.735+02:00I Realize There Are People Out There Who Do This A Lot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I didn't sleep last night. It's like my body and brain are battling each other for existence and neither of them is very happy with the other. I lie there, wide awake, like a stranded whale, wheezing and huffing and puffing. I try to roll over to the other side and it's almost impossible. And then my brain wakes up and starts being annoying. Really annoying. Here are a couple of things I pondered between 2 and 3 a.m.<br />
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My son's homework<br />
Head lice<br />
Our plastic Christmas tree (did J threw it out?)<br />
The fact that I'm not reading anything I like at the moment<br />
Cereal<br />
Child birth (all kinds)<br />
Mushrooms<br />
Head lice again<br />
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At 3.20 a.m. I went downstairs, had some cereal and Instagrammed a couple of hours away. I was bored to the point of tears. Insomnia. Such a totally useless state of mind. I realize I'm spoiled with sleep. It's usually one of my super powers. I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, anyhow. So this is... weird. Weird and temporay. And my heart goes out to the many who battle this on a daily (nightly) basis. God, you must be so tired. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-26970938866879615652012-10-03T21:02:00.000+02:002012-10-03T21:27:04.580+02:00On Our Minds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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W worries a bit about the new baby. B is all excitement, but then she doesn't know better, as her big brother put it. He does. He worries that the baby is going to take Blanka's place and then she'll take his and there won't be anything left for him. No attention, nothing. "Since I'm so big that noone's going to look after me or anything." He'll be nine in November. My very big heart. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-90312205901554810502012-10-02T21:54:00.002+02:002012-10-02T21:58:02.615+02:00With Many A Winding Turn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I stayed upstairs for a while, listening to my mother and the children in the kitchen. Doing cross stitches and building lego dragons, talking about dinner and school and who had done what to whom and why. And it was so comforting, so soothing to hear their voices, that I fell asleep right there and then. Fifteen minutes well spent.<br />
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Tomorrow I'll try to get back on track camera wise and show you something that's a little more current than summery roads. But what a good road that was. Warm, dusty, empty. Empty but for me, wearing a wet bikini and a summer dress, riding a borrowed bike and scaring the cows with my laughter. A good road and a good summer.<br />
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But we can talk about that later. Thanks for reading. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-27771473579706764422012-10-01T13:15:00.000+02:002012-10-01T13:15:19.294+02:00So Here's What Happened<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I started throwing up. As I do. When pregnant.<br />
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And I couldn't stop. As I can't. When pregnant. And so I threw up for eleven weeks and after that I was in no shape to either talk, walk or blog. <br />
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I'm now 32 weeks and larger than life and a big mess of feelings, hunger, nausea, back pain and guilt. As of today I'm no longer working and it makes me feel both relieved and a little anxious. Like I'm cheating. Like I'm supposed to be able to handle this. Being pregnant, taking care of my family, making money, writing great stuff. But I can't. It doesn't work for me. So that's it. I'm taking the money making and the writing out of the equation and hopefully that will help with the other parts. The guilt, well, I'll be working on that.<br />
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But it feels good to be back here. I haven't visited this place in months and I don't know what will happen now. Will anyone read this? Is anyone still here? To tell you the truth, Blogger's made so many changes since I last posted anything that I don't even know if I can still manage this thing. But I'll try. And I'll be back tomorrow. Hope to see you then. <br />
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Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-13706350490168468432012-04-04T13:57:00.004+02:002012-04-04T14:05:14.864+02:00Still Here<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CPugnXuVunsK6fx7VW_7iRGC7nPdDOZ4QL-QbpfY8Cz-ZewD_05kAWcOOzMdG31PE_nU_lcYpx1d9xopKvQtQ57UHehbxAPjRuBbQumDWeABFj5qwshbNmvUz5ME3Qr1ZHkCth8vQnmP/w540/IMG_5666.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CPugnXuVunsK6fx7VW_7iRGC7nPdDOZ4QL-QbpfY8Cz-ZewD_05kAWcOOzMdG31PE_nU_lcYpx1d9xopKvQtQ57UHehbxAPjRuBbQumDWeABFj5qwshbNmvUz5ME3Qr1ZHkCth8vQnmP/w540/IMG_5666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727513763047645922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmmgq2qLjJGmcVnxHkUpf1js7lr8FREB8KKOal05Rpj-vf0U4L3LLtHTW-PBQtJmsOXnrRrZnvkq6hBZbFt_XVsFf25Oexxh96-sd0RrVqDqAQSyNrcK1teSKLJmDXVb_3BO8dnRC33a3/w540/IMG_5660.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmmgq2qLjJGmcVnxHkUpf1js7lr8FREB8KKOal05Rpj-vf0U4L3LLtHTW-PBQtJmsOXnrRrZnvkq6hBZbFt_XVsFf25Oexxh96-sd0RrVqDqAQSyNrcK1teSKLJmDXVb_3BO8dnRC33a3/w540/IMG_5660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727513754015453922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdOLdplcBAyXUMp-FE2XRKr-MQ5qVTpMF_w2yrWg383WUULReAWMxKMMedtp6niDeYPDJmTTllW0feUcTKDAaecqztxvpCUI19mrwWyw9304xenf2D3nzMoIcuILsQ1brHeneDms7NfqG/w540/IMG_5669.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdOLdplcBAyXUMp-FE2XRKr-MQ5qVTpMF_w2yrWg383WUULReAWMxKMMedtp6niDeYPDJmTTllW0feUcTKDAaecqztxvpCUI19mrwWyw9304xenf2D3nzMoIcuILsQ1brHeneDms7NfqG/w540/IMG_5669.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727513774048980114" border="0" /></a><br />Sorry about the double posting, dear Instagrammers.<br />I just wanted to say that I'm still here.<br />So hello, again.<br />Before you know it, this place will be sparkly and new and I'll be back to regular posting and regular everything. I can't wait.<br />Until then, I hope spring is treating you fine. We had snow last week and it's colder than I can ever remember (but I think I say that every year). The sun's working double shifts though, so there's hope.<br />And Sunday is my birthday. And Easter Sunday, of course.<br />Can't wait for that either.<br />So I'll see you soon. Thanks for coming.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-46902222751653365962012-03-23T21:27:00.005+01:002012-03-23T21:47:33.136+01:00Bonus: Love And Support From Great Britain<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuA2wLUpvB6-3LCf4kjqvk4JK0anpb-pd_y3r1a5gcDz9KG1330ngHiWnQkp6REwE7ZFr55E18BLF5JUPFh1sOU5Z0wS5sMAn-oLlWd3JbD1XRfJ_NJcJgoAsxFL_zmYlFzAF1sY1G7Y7D/w540/IMG_5611.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuA2wLUpvB6-3LCf4kjqvk4JK0anpb-pd_y3r1a5gcDz9KG1330ngHiWnQkp6REwE7ZFr55E18BLF5JUPFh1sOU5Z0wS5sMAn-oLlWd3JbD1XRfJ_NJcJgoAsxFL_zmYlFzAF1sY1G7Y7D/w540/IMG_5611.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723192483605117714" border="0" /></a><br />Yes. I am an only child. This we've had reason to establish before. So I will indulge in this without further ado and share the pure joy of having Lovely Readers with you, lovely readers:<br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><em>Aw come on it's not Ugly as in Avert Your Gaze Or Have Your Eyesight Forever Impaired. It may not be what you'd like right now, but the design fairy will happen along sometime and grant your wish - (es) if the wind is favourable. (Sorry it isn't me). I think it's like going into the home of a good friend. OK the hall carpet maybe ain't so pretty, walls could do with a bit of something but hey, when you get by that the house is groaning with good stuff. The fire is lit, the cooker is belting out something fabulous and the good friend greets you with a mug of the best coffee ever. Relax, we'll wear a blindfold till you finish the decorating. (Sent with good intentions - not implying your carpet sucks) x</em></span></div> <div><em></em> </div> <div><em><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Best wishes</span></em></div> <div><em><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Shona Pinkshoes<br /><br /></span></em>Dear Pinkshoes, consider the fire lit.<br /></div>Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-88323104670192553912012-03-23T20:37:00.003+01:002012-03-23T20:50:47.109+01:00Hello Friday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kRpiFj5KG-OzpY1vgFmzJOhrmfvDzOU8UNCVqgvmltaK2kIRzg6oCNt-mo3-9jhMm0u37wlfkBb3gr-PEWMBgtAtT-6K6zE1RV0zRpCka39f3afgsbvEegnllLSWya0R0ZRzJ_GoVw0h/w540/IMG_5623.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kRpiFj5KG-OzpY1vgFmzJOhrmfvDzOU8UNCVqgvmltaK2kIRzg6oCNt-mo3-9jhMm0u37wlfkBb3gr-PEWMBgtAtT-6K6zE1RV0zRpCka39f3afgsbvEegnllLSWya0R0ZRzJ_GoVw0h/w540/IMG_5623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723179231423270258" border="0" /></a><br />You came this week with light.<br />Harsh, unforgiving, white light.<br />Revealing all-light, no holding back-light.<br />Finding every line under my eyes, every dirty fingerprint on the kitchen windows, every dark hair resting on the white stairs, everything.<br />Dear Friday.<br />You came this week with light.<br />Shine on.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-3280904453688119942012-03-22T09:43:00.005+01:002012-03-22T10:07:44.956+01:00Confession Time Or The Ugly Truth Or Bonfire Of The Vanities<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcY0UnmbB8A2fbrayoqXhEDXGijGvmKSfAado7rKRzOAVkuIlmk9xVCLCDIO5zXZ1P1ppAXJnGs2aZipeJdB2u1zMa1_-ECjNr60xQIDeHkP5z45179XR9tvEF5gsw-vTYEF8VH0AfW5HS/w540/IMG_5439.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcY0UnmbB8A2fbrayoqXhEDXGijGvmKSfAado7rKRzOAVkuIlmk9xVCLCDIO5zXZ1P1ppAXJnGs2aZipeJdB2u1zMa1_-ECjNr60xQIDeHkP5z45179XR9tvEF5gsw-vTYEF8VH0AfW5HS/w540/IMG_5439.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722639563228594498" border="0" /></a><br />So, here we go, confession time:<br />The reason I'm not here anymore?<br />It's so ugly.<br />It's so ugly I can't stand it. I know, I know, I know. It's never been very pretty and it's not a design blog and why should it even matter and bla bla bla but it does. It really does.<br />I have things to say and stories to tell, but I find myself dreading the ugliness of this place and avoiding it pretty much at all cost.<br />And that's just a crying shame.<br />Because this place has been beautiful and important (well, to me) in oh so many ways and I really shouldn't discard it just because it doesn't <span style="font-style: italic;">look</span> good anymore. How vain and superficial am I? (Oh, lots, it seems.)<br />You see, everytime I enter this space and see the ugly heading I just cringe and look away. And we can't have that anymore. This is the only writing I do without getting paid and I'd hate to let it go. I need to be here, I think.<br />So.<br />Starting today I'm on a mission to find someone who can help me transform this space into something that looks more like home. A clever designer with an hour or two to spare and a mission to create a heading that feels just right.<br />And.<br />Until I do find that person and the right idea and the right feeling and all, I'll go back to regular posting just to show that I'm not all about looks. You know, in case you'd gotten me all wrong or summat (sorry, saw Jamie Oliver last night, can't help myself). So there's that. That's that. That's it. That's all. Thanks for your fantastic patience, if you're still there.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-49317295025980343582012-03-12T15:17:00.004+01:002012-03-12T15:22:05.362+01:00Rue St Honoré<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoIAZFLtXrT4_NQ4F3K7HRJo_07E8yxd7C-Jy8Uy-G0mhlY9odmw5cU0DFCcoZ3WULyEXCOLTpOXR52L7E1KIFPlCxkY-xRh83HtHx-uAKJKX7HonOiJDJ0OUA8dAN_8u6K7CavXBXFxZ/w540/IMG_5376.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoIAZFLtXrT4_NQ4F3K7HRJo_07E8yxd7C-Jy8Uy-G0mhlY9odmw5cU0DFCcoZ3WULyEXCOLTpOXR52L7E1KIFPlCxkY-xRh83HtHx-uAKJKX7HonOiJDJ0OUA8dAN_8u6K7CavXBXFxZ/w540/IMG_5376.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719014785238061058" border="0" /></a><br />I'm thinking of posting everything we ate and drank in Paris. Would you like that? Really awful photos too, like this one, with too much or too little light and no filters and no nothing. Keeping it real. Whaddyasay? 'Cause, let's face it, Paris to me is always gonna be more about the coffee than about the Louvre.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-80583565991732021612012-03-12T13:26:00.003+01:002012-03-12T13:36:49.514+01:00I Believe In The Kindness Of Neighbours<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmozWc6n3535NNOxNslNaR1J2QaDkEeZZd5PZvj6xvdbNIek7mlncGAegOpvLo0X_Ib5CHKTvg5s8lk_24JInGI6YRz_BbgDi3ZZyai83RuF_WEFKMCQclH1PIOZIDK2F4JKKPPmp_EeuL/w540/IMG_5555.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmozWc6n3535NNOxNslNaR1J2QaDkEeZZd5PZvj6xvdbNIek7mlncGAegOpvLo0X_Ib5CHKTvg5s8lk_24JInGI6YRz_BbgDi3ZZyai83RuF_WEFKMCQclH1PIOZIDK2F4JKKPPmp_EeuL/w540/IMG_5555.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718986411961925858" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8xTafv2dYUnLoinHDYefkK_48zmNn_uPC8UEbJXGiKE79sly-f-Q3U9whg0MurZswCSPAZOETxDXMDjuVTAb9lNKjyFktLqHlq1eDrVQXbQvw5sRIt6OdLiHLI4uE4lumAeLggYsAR2t/w540/IMG_5556.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8xTafv2dYUnLoinHDYefkK_48zmNn_uPC8UEbJXGiKE79sly-f-Q3U9whg0MurZswCSPAZOETxDXMDjuVTAb9lNKjyFktLqHlq1eDrVQXbQvw5sRIt6OdLiHLI4uE4lumAeLggYsAR2t/w540/IMG_5556.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718986414941221586" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4bRTpakERV_50kZpgO8e3THwGA6g1y-eQUKA8pobbQJiGSne7fHh-ZIpps2uPsA5VIKPOT7AkzOxM2uzLzTrCVjia0PyA1Lmc-9ClFNAjE6HYgKg7AbJN_Op9_6sArN13QeAFwEnaDaN/w540/IMG_5557.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4bRTpakERV_50kZpgO8e3THwGA6g1y-eQUKA8pobbQJiGSne7fHh-ZIpps2uPsA5VIKPOT7AkzOxM2uzLzTrCVjia0PyA1Lmc-9ClFNAjE6HYgKg7AbJN_Op9_6sArN13QeAFwEnaDaN/w540/IMG_5557.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718986426331354082" border="0" /></a><br />I can't sew. The only sew I know is the "Sew - a needle pulling threeeaaad" from you know what-movie. Not the real deal. It makes me sweat and ache and swear and pant like a dog running a marathon. Annette on the other hand is calm, cool and collected and knows her way around the machine. So I begged. That's what I do, I beg and bribe. And she threw caution to the wind and helped me sew a new cover for the kitchen sofa, asking nothing in return. I gave her coffee and lasagna (I'm not a total monster), but apart from that I think I was mostly in her way. It was like having a blue wizard in the house. Wiz, wiz, wiz and all of a sudden there was spring in the kitchen. Thank you, Annette. I owe you.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-48820988602078054102012-03-12T13:13:00.005+01:002012-03-12T13:26:36.398+01:00Five Weeks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaR1pQ2LlxyxSVX7n-Kwl7KZogJprvT5gEA4NMK6HOd_ETSf-YLNxLwcKc3Sk3t3UbE-vP31HQUPgJV1-OSKwxs8Gmik_Tdbv-NHH7qfpZPJJkb_AbNzWIEynzNa7tFOSms60vnmEEYV0x/w540/IMG_5559.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaR1pQ2LlxyxSVX7n-Kwl7KZogJprvT5gEA4NMK6HOd_ETSf-YLNxLwcKc3Sk3t3UbE-vP31HQUPgJV1-OSKwxs8Gmik_Tdbv-NHH7qfpZPJJkb_AbNzWIEynzNa7tFOSms60vnmEEYV0x/w540/IMG_5559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718982851381968754" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerhzdcuDyqyltwhwmR0Onb9gqkDl0Xca6pb0UVeRLmWYO02YaxkaZDb9bFIpWWfqeXawXDhaOrZligK9vvXEYXACJoqVoxPzu0TVJ-lWwf5u4tNqj-zhEfAGYbur1C8uUs6EJNRJYx__S/w540/IMG_5095.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerhzdcuDyqyltwhwmR0Onb9gqkDl0Xca6pb0UVeRLmWYO02YaxkaZDb9bFIpWWfqeXawXDhaOrZligK9vvXEYXACJoqVoxPzu0TVJ-lWwf5u4tNqj-zhEfAGYbur1C8uUs6EJNRJYx__S/w540/IMG_5095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718982846581694626" border="0" /></a><br />The brown photo on top is from today, from now, two minutes ago. The white and sparkly one from February 3rd, five weeks ago. Imagine if I had changed that much in five weeks. What would you see? Who would I be?<br />But I haven't. I'm the same.<br />The same same same.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-22080739627852994702012-03-05T12:02:00.004+01:002012-03-05T12:44:12.209+01:00I Have Plans<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxgpby_o5uyx0YVWL-sz-ZYoW-hHSQJ1myUMy8PoBNqmQaQvOQVqsEvmNF12JbRamVtyMg0FLdbc4zbsIALiaufAN4pcxf4Z-5wuAdRIvybT3aEXx4ercbiuoYBzKrHetN20Dee0ShbVQ/w540/IMG_3416.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxgpby_o5uyx0YVWL-sz-ZYoW-hHSQJ1myUMy8PoBNqmQaQvOQVqsEvmNF12JbRamVtyMg0FLdbc4zbsIALiaufAN4pcxf4Z-5wuAdRIvybT3aEXx4ercbiuoYBzKrHetN20Dee0ShbVQ/w540/IMG_3416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716366808913380994" border="0" /></a><br />It's getting rude. This non-blogging thing I've got going.<br />I'm sorry. I'll be better! I promise! I will!<br />Thanks for asking, though.<br />We are all well.<br />And I have plans for this space.<br />Plans that somehow make it hard to sit down and write.<br />But all of these excuses really are no excuses at all.<br />So.<br />I shall return.<br />New and improved.<br />Thank you for your patience.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Photo from Porthleven this summer. The one day it didn't rain. </span>Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-33799898236706164962012-02-20T22:07:00.005+01:002012-02-20T22:33:20.930+01:00Let The Sun Shine In (On Expensive Porkers)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4h6bH4EweBNVe7F6Bzl3TwR8WFtzHjs6RjrodV5kWOhebPdaiXY6QJKCz4HJcayO7dd-yxnYH5Nk2h74BQP2HWhkr-dPVCGQTsk5X667ObIE1xC_rZE-NOGXi_M5SXIqdpkttzsCiTpF0/w540/IMG_3513.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4h6bH4EweBNVe7F6Bzl3TwR8WFtzHjs6RjrodV5kWOhebPdaiXY6QJKCz4HJcayO7dd-yxnYH5Nk2h74BQP2HWhkr-dPVCGQTsk5X667ObIE1xC_rZE-NOGXi_M5SXIqdpkttzsCiTpF0/w540/IMG_3513.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711327618165485506" border="0" /></a><br />This is what our summer hols (when in Rome etc) looked like.<br />Beautiful. Enchanting. Exciting. Cold. British.<br />We're hoping for something warm and sunny this year.<br />You know, a little less interesting. More predictable.<br />Something summer-y.<br />Though the kids adapted well to rule Britannia.<br />They're still hooked on British sausages, which are a little hard to find over here.<br />"This is very expensive food", Wilhelm informed his friend over the lamb & rosemary Cumberlands this evening.<br />"Really?", Noah answered with interest and had some more.<br />I'm hoping for sun this summer.<br />Sun and very expensive food.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-16512138269269159662012-02-19T21:32:00.003+01:002012-02-19T21:43:47.182+01:00Friday Night Lights<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_b_o2Bt36grjfFhdALU0BaJwNofN7hxIJ8Y1OHW0_6h8oRurEDrcc8VUtbymMMz2UwIdeD73cJ5Z2QoqpUkliEQaLWEPf_zPlQNaqtvXPUu7jPGV61nBBA4K8Sw5ewjKBK3VuRxPTycwq/w540/IMG_0238.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_b_o2Bt36grjfFhdALU0BaJwNofN7hxIJ8Y1OHW0_6h8oRurEDrcc8VUtbymMMz2UwIdeD73cJ5Z2QoqpUkliEQaLWEPf_zPlQNaqtvXPUu7jPGV61nBBA4K8Sw5ewjKBK3VuRxPTycwq/w540/IMG_0238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710947614143595938" border="0" /></a><br />My father picked us up at the train station.<br />He drove us home to Midsomer in snow and mist and teased me about being amazed by the beauty.<br />He's a city boy himself, but his four (six?) years as a permanent resident in the village gives him the right (he feels) to laugh at my constant oh's and ah's. I'm ok with that. I'm still better than him at finding mushrooms.<br />Though mom is by far the best forager, but that's stating the obvious.<br />Forager, you lovely word you.<br />It was a good weekend.<br />Sun and snow and sheep and food and sleep.<br />And now it's good to be back home.<br />Fire burning, tea and love by my side.<br />I hope you've had a good one too.<br />Especially you, miss ElizaHennessey.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250503904483497561.post-5285446642862219872012-02-07T13:19:00.003+01:002012-02-07T13:25:11.835+01:00Light<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgka_8B4qkN0NH8oLa9bM2WAJFJFYRAUcFuGW_rrqoBFiyJMmuKTyiaCV50UhccCkSBpVU8YZrB9JKKCrOU88HE6TeljBP3XU7CxGOWZLNlZH2D00-MRiM_d5jL1w83-whuFZGSvznWRnvC/w540/IMG_5062.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgka_8B4qkN0NH8oLa9bM2WAJFJFYRAUcFuGW_rrqoBFiyJMmuKTyiaCV50UhccCkSBpVU8YZrB9JKKCrOU88HE6TeljBP3XU7CxGOWZLNlZH2D00-MRiM_d5jL1w83-whuFZGSvznWRnvC/w540/IMG_5062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706367449047781266" border="0" /></a><br />It's quite a treat when you haven't seen it for a while.Anna Anderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00634420357625395484noreply@blogger.com3