I contemplated tights this morning, for the first time in at least six months. I wore pajama pants and an old jersey of P's around the house last night and felt lovely and cosy. The shoulder seasons are just lovely, really, when they're not particularly wet.
Ma and Pa are off on an overseas jaunt and I'm super jealous, feeling stuck here in the +64. They're visiting the studio we rented in Cairanne, Provence. Not only are they spending spring in the south of France, but I can imagine exactly where and what they'll be doing. Swanning around the ampitheatre in Orange, swilling wine in Chateauneuf du Pape, visiting the boulangerie in the village etc. It's been nearly two years since we were there last; FRANCE I MISS YOU please can I come back soon?
At the moment, they're in the Napa Valley somewhere. Gosh, they deserve it but man alive I am being eaten alive by envy.
Instead, I suspect it will rain through Easter. We're catching up with friends, will probably mooch around the house a bit, stuff our faces with marshmallow eggs. There are worse things we could be doing, I suppose. P was gifted a voucher by his employer for working hard through a particularly stressful time of the year for them, so on Saturday we're trying a new to us restaurant (Sunday Painters, if you're interested.)
I'm starting to go for walks with sister K this weekend, who has signed us up to a 10k run later this year. K's recovering from knee surgery, so we're planning a leisurely training programme to get her back in action. We'll tackle One Tree Hill on Saturday, and I'll try to convince her of the merits of homeownership in the greater Onehunga area. I'd like her to be closer to us. It feels odd living in the same city but being at least a half hour drive apart. That's probably laziness on my part - in London, I'd have thought nothing of catching public transport for 45 minutes or so to see her, but in Auckland I resent it. Partly because I'm not a fan of the part of town she lives in, perhaps? She's looking to buy even further away, but I am the big sister and what are big sisters for but being a bit bossy?
Last weekend we went to Silo's production of Angels in America, as forecast. Wow. I'm still chewing that one over, but general verdict is I really enjoyed it. As an aside, and lest you think this is a cat-free blog post, let me just say that I nearly lost my shit when in the last 30 minutes of 6 hours, the play featured a dead cat, enumerating its nine lives. Well fuck me, I can tell you for real that cats have one life only. I had to laugh - I'd just been thinking how the play was so obviously of it's time (written in the early 90s, set mid 80s) but maintained resonance.