Last night, before a darkened roomful of masqued and be-costumed heaving bodies, sweaty and drunk and sparkle-laden revellers -- after the bare-tittied midnight cake-burst-Neil-snog, but before the ukulele solo -- Amanda Palmer, wearing a corset she bought from a girl in the audience for the promise of a snog, told us she didn't believe in making New Year's Resolutions.
"They're for lazy people," she said, after singing us a song about working out she's exactly the person she wants to be, right now.

I get it.

I have no New Year's Resolutions this year. I mean, it's not something I'm in the habit of doing anyway. Last year, I had one (buy no clothes for a whole year) but that was more of a challenge really. A challenge I successfully completed -- more or less -- as Amanda burst out of that cake last night. Or, more accurately, about four and a half minutes earlier, as her husband, Neil Gaiman, finished reading a poem about the effects of drinking whiskey on artistic endeavour as it relates to writing.

But, challenges aside, I see nothing that needs changing in my life.

No. No, that's not true. The Tower reversed has not turned up in my spread for some time now. No resistance to change, here. I'm happy -- more than happy, I encourage -- for things to grow and evolve. But there's nothing bad, nothing wrong, nothing that needs a stern lashing of willpower and resolve.

Things are good. Great. In just over two weeks, I'll start my new job. For the first time, I have a job not just because it's there, or just because I can do it, but because I chose it. Something that I believe in, that is changing the world for the better, not causing harm, however indirectly.

I am saving; I see the goal ahead of me, although a few years down the track, yet. A house, built by my hands and his, with a fireplace, and bookshelves, turkey rugs and patchwork curtains, a big kitchen and an even bigger dining table to have you all over for tea. With a garden all around, with oh-so-much food and chickens and neighbours and you.

Sometimes, I see this so clearly, I could knock on the front door.

But here and now, in this wonderful, quirky, home-ish house, I am deliriously content. My garden, as they say, is cranking. The pumpkins are beginning to swell, and I ate the very first beans off the vine for my dinner tonight. And if the basil never really grew, and only one capsicum plant survived and the eggplants never are going to flourish, so what? I have more tomatoes than I'll ever know what to do with, and more on the way; I get more zucchinis morning and night and there is really nothing like cucumber sliced fresh off the vine. Slowly, slowly, we remove more packaging from our shelves and less and less processed food comes into my kitchen and I am satisfied.

And I am happily, sickeningly, heart-burstingly, ribcage-tighteningly, breath-catchingly in love. His smile still gives me butterflies, his mind engages mine, and best of all, we just fit together effortlessly. Being with Dom is simultaneously both the easiest and most rewarding thing in my life. Our life together is everything I hoped for while I waited.

So, life is pretty fucking awesome right now.

But, still I say: I welcome growth, and I welcome change, even as fear flutters in my belly as I type those words, I welcome it.
(all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well)

Still, there are some things I'd like to do. Not resolutions, but wishes. I'd like to write more, and I'd like to make more balance in my life to have the time to write more. There's a novel (at least one) still sitting in my head, waiting to be ink on paper.

And I'd like to perform again. I felt that strongly last night. And not just to perform, but to build a show, craft it, fill it with weird beautiful carnie creatures. Last night, there was a big-haired, skull-shouldered, horse-headed, pegasus-winged, gyrating hipped vampire male anti-burlesque act to Lost Boys Cry Little Sister. I want to touch that again.

Last night, Neil said some beautiful words. His wish for us all this year is that we might make some mistakes. Mistakes are beautiful things, he said, because to make mistakes means you're trying something new. And a mistake means you're doing something, and it's important to do.

I hope this year I make mistakes, and I birth new things, that I am bold and that I evolve, and that I do and that, even if I feel that flutter of fear, I greet the Tower, the Wheel and the World with open arms.

Happy New Year!

Sundays.

It’s become the routine at our place that Sundays are a bit of a ‘tidy-up’ day. And I know it might be daggy, but I really enjoy it. Saturdays are often for getting all of my uni work out of the way, and then a little bit of socialising, and after the bustle of the week, Sundays are just for being around the home, putting some time and energy into the space, and just going slow.

Today, we had a lovely long sleep in, after going out for dinner with friends, and then to see one of my very favourite performers, Mikelangelo, at a wonderful, intimate venue in South Melbourne last night.

Then, I made us fresh orange juice from the abundance of oranges we received in our veggie box this week, followed by an old breakfast favourite of mine: tomato and onion on toast, with some fresh herbs, spring onions and sprouts from the garden.

And then it was getting stuck into the clean! We have a house inspection later this week, so it was a little more vigorous than usual. And it was such a glorious sunny day outside – such a welcome break from a relentless winter – that it was a struggle to stay indoors long enough to get everything done. As it was, I kept going outside every half an hour to just soak up the sunshine.

Another great thing about this warm weekend is that I finally get to wear the ‘summer socks’ I made last Easter and then haven’t had a chance to wear because it’s been too cold. They're 'yoga socks' designed to keep your feet and ankles warm and your toes and heels free for yoga and pilates poses.

But I've found another practical use for them. The perfect combination: thongs AND warm feet!

Then we had a Transition Darebin meeting at a local café. I almost didn’t want to go – I really didn’t want to be indoors. But as usual, it was so inspiring and motivating to hear about everyone’s projects and ideas, so I’m glad I went.

And now I’m home again, pulling the washing in off the line, potting out a few plants and just settling in, preparing for the week ahead. Enjoying the clean and tidy house. How was your Sunday?

Around the Farm (Or, in our case, the Yard)

After seeing this on my mum's new blog, I've decided to join in with Farmama on her 'Around the Farm' posts. Every Thursday, Sara from Farmama posts a series of photos of the week's happenings on the farm. Now, I have a suburban backyard, not a farm, but I thought I'd share what's happening around as we develop our little urban renter's croft.

This is our new back yard, in all it's undeveloped glory. When we're done with it, it'll be a fantastic food producing garden!

This is one of the glorious, large veggie beds we've inherited...

And this is the other. Clearly, I need to dig some weeds out, fix some retaining walls and get planting!

The great big awesome compost system needs a little lovin'...

Our back fence and behind the compost is overrun with this noxious weed. I don't know what it is, but I know its hard to kill! Here Dom gives it a what-for.

All my herbs, chillies and strawberries rescued from our courtyard at the previous place, waiting patiently to be transplanted into our (forthcoming) kitchen garden. The chamomile especially is lovin' its new location.

The last month and a half have been a bit crazy round here. First there was the move, and cleaning up around the old place, including dismantling some rather nice garden beds we'd installed there and trucking the railway sleepers and soil over here. We were happy enough to leave them for the next tenants, but apparently the landlord was unimpressed that we'd had the initiative to better the courtyard. Clearly, she's not interested in creating community and sustainability. But never mind! Despite the hard slog (which, I'll admit was almost completely undertaken by Dom as I toiled on my uni assignments), having the materials here for a new kitchen garden is pretty good (and this time, we've gotten express permission from the landlord to install it, so we don't have to move it again when we go!)

After the move, I was pretty overwhelmed with uni assignments for a few weeks. Thank goodness that's over and, after spending a weekend or two interviewing potential new housemates (and welcoming the wonderful Alice into our home), I now have some time to put into projects around the place. Like getting the garden really crankin', and finishing off some dying projects. Ah, its good to be on (uni) holidays!

Walking the Path

I am so excited. Tomorrow I return to uni for the year and my new working arrangements commence. As from tomorrow, my work hours will be less, and I’ve taken on one more uni subject a semester. Even though I’ll be earning less money (and I wasn’t earning that much to begin with...) this balance feels better. From now on, I’ll be a publishing student who supports herself by working in childcare, not a childcare worker who studies publishing in her spare time. It’s a small distinction, I know, but an important one.

It feels like my new year is starting now, and these last two months have been a sort of holding pattern – necessary to recharge and regroup and save a little cash, but not the year proper.

This week, there is also a Transition Darebin meeting happening. At this meeting, I’ll be talking to members of the ex-initiating group about the role I am to play. I’ve volunteered myself – for better or for worse – for the role of media officer. I figure it’ll be a way to use my new found publishing and communications skills for sustainability and community, and it might even look good on my resume...

I’ve also joined the ‘Clothing and Materials Working Group’ (better name yet to come) working with some other people around ethical and sustainable clothing and crafts.

In a way, this week feels like a microcosm of the rest of the year to come – shifting focus from the dominance of a career that doesn’t quite make my heart sing, to all the things I really do want: books and how to make them, and sustainable living. It feels so exciting and I feel the presence and power of it.

I was at a talk today at the Thornbury theatre, Women of Letters. Six women wrote a letter to their ‘turning point’ and read them out aloud to us. One awkwardly beautiful woman told us her turning point came to her as an epiphany one listless, leisurely afternoon in a long line of listless, leisurely afternoons. It was something I’ve heard many times before, but there was something about the immediacy of this young woman standing before me that really made it resonate this time; she could have been me, so her story could have been mine. ‘Find your passion and stick to it,’ she said. ‘Walk that path, even when it’s hard,’ and she tattooed a compass on her wrist to remind her.

I have no compass tattooed on my wrist, but I can feel it pulling me in the right direction. I know my passions now, better each day. And I’m walking the path.