Weekend Coffee Share: Furniture Is Annoying

If we were having coffee, I’d say that houses are bigger when they are empty. Furniture is annoying.  Unless we’re talking bookcases or my giant bed.

And we’re not talking about my bed. This is a family blog.  Apparently.

Anyway.  Coffee.  My favourite coffee is medium.  In strength and temperature.  And if I leave it hanging around a few hours, DO NOT MOVE IT.  I’m not finished.  I’ve just been distracted by my kid or a book.

Or I just might be taking a break  to dance in my seat, belt out a song lyric or yell, ‘Fuck! There’s too much furniture in this house.’

But I’m done now.  Back to coffee.  It’s hazelnut.  Or mint.  But the mint depends on when I brush my teeth.

Moving on.

If we were having coffee, I’d say I owe you a letter.  How about L?  Ls are nice.

If we were having coffee, in this house, right now.

You’d see Isla running around.  She does that now.  My feelings on this are so big and mixed that perhaps we should discuss them over a drink that isn’t coffee.

You’d see I’m surrounded by books.   Still and always.  There’s also box that once contained a box of pumpkin poptart-type things.  Thanks, Emily.  I owe you a letter.

Anyway.  These poptart-type-things are delicious, and I’ve already hidden them from my aforementioned kid.  Because mothers should keep something for themselves.  Apparently.

Well.  I was thinking more along the lines of a new laptop.  But breakfast food will do.  For now.  Because bacon.  Or something.

If we were having coffee I’d say I miss you, and I have read that book, and I still miss you.

If we were having coffee, you’d know that Neil just set off the fire alarm frying that aforementioned bacon.

If we were having coffee, I’d say I wanted to start a games night, and a cards night and a book group.

I’d say we should open that bookshop/coffeeshop/artsy place.  Or perhaps hang two shingles in the same place.

If we were having coffee I’d say,’ But enough about me, what about you?’

The link-up for Weekend Coffee Share can be found at: Part-Time Monster.


A New View

And so, I’m sitting in the office.  My desk is somewhere between Isla’s crib and one of the bookcases.  I kinda like that.  Symbolism.  Or something.

We moved up here with more than 17 boxes of books.  Yesterday was spent emptying them into the bookcases.

In the old flat, I knew them so well, I almost didn’t see them.  Favourites and doorstops, old schoolbooks I can’t part with.

Those have been moved to the loft.

What I’m looking at now are books I’ve dipped into and others I haven’t started.  There’s also some notebooks, a rolled up penguin poster, our wedding invitation, and one of those colouring books for adults.  Which I haven’t started.

Yet.  And for someone who has essentially moved back in with her parents, with her husband and their one year-old, in the same week as PMS, I’m surprised I haven’t had to break out my new coloured pencils.  Y’know, to etch bad words on my desk. I mean, to colour.

In other news, we have local library cards.  Like I have any business reading a book that isn’t in this house already.  But we have library cards.  Because I don’t feel at home anywhere until I can go somewhere and get free books with clear covers on their covers.

We left the building with a book on stargazing, because we can do that now.  Also two books for me and one for Isla.  She got a sticker, too.  I might have put the sticker on her forehead as we walked to the car.  Because that’s the kind of mother I am.

Isla seems to like me.  This morning, she head-butted me.  That’s how she shows appreciation.  Next week, we’ll work on blowing kisses.

And I’ll be working on sitting at this desk, looking out that window, writing more words.  And perhaps colouring.

The bird on the window is a decal. My timing is good, but not that good.
The bird on the window is a decal. My timing is good, but not that good.


And so, the bookcases are up and my desk has my computer on it.  And I have a library card.  After a move, what finally makes you feel at home?

I Should Be Writing

And so, I’m sitting here in the kitchen. Today’s the first day out of the box for my computer, Truman Bubbles. If you look beyond the monitor, out the giant window, there’s trees. And thistle.

On our first morning here, last Monday, we were serenaded by sheep. We’re not in Edinburgh any more.

Isla’s been running up and down the hallway pushing her new walker thing. I’ve already removed the musical panel.

The TV is obscured by other boxes. However, I’ve only managed to finish one of the books I brought up with me for the first week here.

There’s been a lot of listening to music on my phone while parked between Isla and the boxes. I keep thinking I should be writing. When we were packing up the other place, I kept a notebook out, specifically for these days of flux. But I don’t know where it is now.

Neil’s been making trips with the moving van and drove up for good on Tuesday. He missed a midnight picnic and I missed him. I’ve also missed our coffee machine.

I’ve learned a few things about myself this past week.

1. I apologise way too much.

b. I can no longer drink instant coffee.

I won’t apologise for the coffee thing. See, this is me working on things.

In other news, when I find that notebook, I’m going to fill it up. I’m going to read through the books in my currently reading box. I’m going to have races with Isla down the hallway. She’ll always win, it’s a single-track road.

Last night, Neil and I went out to look at the stars. Because you can see them up here. When we spotted a shooting star, Neil said he made a wish.

I did, too.

Fresh Ink

Hi, my name’s (still, always) Lorna.  I used to write here.  And then I posted a bunch of photos of my kid.  Just so you’re not disappointed, here is a recent favourite:


I made that.  Her name’s (still, always) Isla. She is now a year old.  She likes to eat watermelon and wet-wipes.

She likes to read.  When she rips the pages from my library books, I trade her for something she can destroy.  Like the phone-bill.

She likes to dance, and she laughs at me when I sing.

Her first shoes are purple.  And last Saturday, she ran to her Daddy in bare feet.

Sometimes, she sleeps.  And I like to watch her when she does.  It’s allowed, I’m her mother.

In other news, the three of us are moving to Skye.  Isla and I heading up this Sunday so Neil can pack the rest of the flat without vehicles in the way. My thoughts about leaving Edinburgh change every five minutes, but I’m looking forward to being back on the right side of the Highland line.

We’ll be sharing a house, a giant garden and a trampoline with my Dad and Anne.

We’ll be trading our living-room view of the bus-stop for, well, something better than buses.

We’re trading in the market downstairs and (trying to) grow our own food and brew our own beer.

As for me, I plan to write more, seriously.

Let’s start with a story.

Isla’s a pretty good sleeper.  So, Neil and I still, y’know, talk.

A few nights ago, he says, ‘I hope you write more in Skye.  Stuff that isn’t the blog.’

‘More?  I still write.  Remember that thing with the thing…?’

And I think back to something I printed out three years ago.  Shit.  I mean it wasn’t that bad, but yeah.  It happened three years ago.

And so, I’ll be writing more in Skye.  And blogging more.  About living up there with my husband, my kid and some parental units.  There’ll be beer.  And Poker.

And fresh ink in the printer.





What Will The Next 20 Minutes Bring?

In an attempt to revamp/reramp this blog, I’ll be participating in Writing 101. Hello!

This is my 20 minute free-write. Honest.

Isla is down for her afternoon power-nap. So I thought I’d write. 9 months ago, I thought I’d use her naps to write more often. In truth, she naps and I wait for her to wake up. Or I look at her. I look at her and wait for her to wake up. There is a lot of looking at her. I’m still not over that part.

The part where this amazing and beautiful, funny and strong-willed child came from me, by way of a seven hour first date, five and a bit years ago.

So yes, there’s a lot of looking at her. I think I actually marvel at her. Several times a day. She just takes my glasses off my face and laughs at me. Her way of saying, ‘Get over it, Ma.’ But I won’t. Ever.

Our days are now filled with lots of orange food and annoying toy jingles that I hear in my sleep. She waddles around in her walker, plays with the remote controls and pushes all her parents buttons. Already.

For the record, we don’t mind.

Before Neil goes to work, he makes me a coffee that goes really far back on the table, so Isla doesn’t get to it first. Becoming a mother has taught me to drink really fast. No more three-hour litres of coffee.

Isla is my caffeine. No, really. I’ve emerged from the new baby foggy fatigue. I think it’s because Isla gets bored every ten minutes she isn’t sleeping. She likes to listen to music while I wear her sunglasses. She likes to eat books.

I have more help around the house, but I like solo baby-wrangling, too. I put on an audio book for some hands-free reading. And I look at her.

Last week, while I was looking at her, she pointed at me and said ‘Mama!’

I might have marvelled again.

This happens a lot around here this days.  My kid!
This happens a lot around here these days. My kid!