Bloody love Christmas.
The tree is up – the eight week old kitten takes it down every night, so I can relive the joy of putting it up every day of December.
Some presents are wrapped, others are booked via Amazon. Micheal Buble is belting out of the Alexa, and all is well with the world.
I’ve even been to my first Christmas bash!
It was belting, and ABBA themed.
Still as dry as a camel in the Sahara, 11 months now, so no Christmas fizz for me, and in all honesty the lack of alcohol almost makes for more fun. Mainly because as the festive spirit takes hold of everyone, they become sober entertainment. This weekend I watched some similar middle aged women cut some shapes on the dance floor after a bottle or two.
Don’t get me wrong. Whilst I mocked them happily from the sidelines. I still eventually joined in – turns out, I don’t need a glass of wine inside me to dance like my mother.
From the dating world….
As December starts, I find myself back in the single camp.
For any avid readers, you will remember reference to male socks in my laundry basket over the summer.
The only underwear you will find in the basket now, is my comfy M&S big knickers and my gym socks.
After 41 years I am coming to accept that relationships are not something I excel at, and I dislike washing other peoples clothes.
I have brushed with the dating market, although there are more crazies on it than in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. Already one man has offered to show me his tackle…. Not convinced he meant his fishing bits.
I declined, at the time I was watching Naked Attraction – and had seen enough knobs that day.
(As a side point – Naked Attraction – what the actual hell? Where has female pubic hair gone? Everyone seems to have an eight year old looking vagina? – even in Winter….)
If that is what fellas expect nowadays, I may be dying alone.
I’ll take that.
Point of this post?
None whatsoever, I’ve not blogged for a while and my fingers were twitching. My life is going rather well, which means blogging disasters to write about is harder to come by.
CrossFit still dominates, won a competition lately – that was epic. Lifting still makes me light up like a rainbow and cardio is becoming more agreeable the longer I stay away from wine. The people are amazing, it feels good to be in a community.
Some of the younger few have started to call me Momma.
Distressing, as in my head, I imagine they barely notice my age….
Good job I train with my friend, who is older still….
Kids are well, I have one month left of not having teenagers in the house, although the threat of them is very current. Doors are slammed more than closed, mugs disappear at an alarming rate and hormones are clearly on a buy one get one free offer in tween town – we have more than our fair share.
December is going to be spent nestled in hot chocolate, hiding an elf no one really believes in, but we all want to eek the magic out a big longer, and singing Christmas songs as loudly as we can.
And more Christmas do’s – because dancing makes me happy.