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Right Now

I think love heart sunglasses should be mandatory in all states and territories. As should rainbow painted toenails and afternoon naps. But honestly, the thought of going into politics is just so exhausting and you guys, I’ve got a hundred and one problems, mostly stemming from trying to you know, like, live well.  Preparing for the televised great debate is just not feasible right now.

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But we’re moving on from that and saluting Friday with the confetti it deserves.

Happy Friday, loves!

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On Fridays, the Red Tent is a magical petrol station where the fuel is like V but with less jittery-ness and more zen. We fill up on Friday with good stuff from around the webosphere, plus I post a random assortment of photos with no common thread but for the fact that they make me happy. See photo below.

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Fridays are my Loving Right Now meditation, drawing my eyes to my small happies, and turning me thankful. I highly recommend the exercise. Drop what you’re doing and ask yourself What Am I Loving About Right Now? Even better (but harder) is asking yourself the same question in a moment of total unravelling, like when your kid throws item after after from your grocery cart while the other one screams bloody murder in the middle of the canned fish aisle. The more you look though, the more you find, which is a relief as much as it is empowering – to understand that you get to decide how good or how bad things are going to be.

And right now….

I’m loving the joy this little car is bringing the kids, and therefore us, and how well my girl is forgoing authority and ownership over it.

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She understands it’s Billy’s and she asks him if she can have a turn, and she gets genuine joy not just from riding it herself, but from pushing Billy in it and making sure he’s having fun, too. She was destined to be a big sister, this one. It’s a role she thrives in. Makes me insanely happy.

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I’m loving rainbow toenails, and opening mini nail salons in the middle of our loungeroom.

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I’m loving the colour of his hair. The soft auburn against his ocean blue eyes. Swoon.

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I’m loving beach sunsets down at the pier, when the tide is out just enough that little pools of water gather in patches of sand. We get away with calling them rock pools, and I feel all coastal.

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I’m loving wispy, breezy hair. Always my undoing, wispy hair.

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I’m loving watching them play together, Ella muttering things like, “Okay Billy, you have a little turn, okay? Just quickly. Then it’s all finished, okay? Yeah? Good. There you go.” And Billy sitting there, watching her and playing along like he’s been invited to front row seats of the best concert ever.

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Witnessing their relationship unfolding almost gives me the strength to want another sibling for them to love. Almost.

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I’m loving the rare but welcomed experience of enjoyed cooking. Before kids, I used to love cooking and menu planning and the ritual of preparing food. Now, dishing out three meals a day and then facing the clean up which follows is more chore than fun, but every now and again, the kids entertain themselves and I potter in the kitchen with a new recipe and sip wine as I go. Because evenings like these are rare, I savour them even more.

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I’m loving age three. (Well, almost-three.) Our home is slowly turning into a mini-school, her curiosity to make and draw and craft is like the stage I’ve been secretly waiting for. Valentine hearts now adorn our lounge room and I suspect I was a primary school teacher in a past life.

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I’m loving the love between grandparents and their grandchildren. What a safe, soft place a loving grandparent provides. Look at Billy’s face. Transfixed.

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I’m loving how happy he gets when he stands on his own – this shy pride pouring from his eyes, and then the way his face crinkles over itself into a full sized, mouth-open grin when we cheer like crazy. He claps, too, cos’ he knows he done good.

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I’m loving little legs looking teenager-y.  I get glimpses into who she will be and what our bond might be like and grow to the older she gets and it makes me excited.

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And on and on and on and on the list can go. We’ll stop here because my gush-o-meter is one gush away from becoming annoying.

Some goodness from the web this week – things that made me better.

Brene’ Brown’s animation on blame. It’s funny and it hits home without being preachy.

This little post I saw on a friend’s Facebook page:

Some people say life is hard. It is not.

Some people say it’s easy. It is not.

Some say it’s lonely, tricky, or a test. It is not.

Life is only a reflection, of whatever you say.

What say you?
The Universe

This little photojournalism New York Times slideshow of couples who have been together for over 50 years, and the things they have said about love. Super sweet.

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And this you guys. THIS.

Australia’s oldest man knits mini-sweaters for injured penguins.

I cannot even.

This story alone almost redeems entirely all that is bad in the world.

One-hundred-and-nine-year-old Alfred “Alfie” Date is Australia’s oldest man but don’t expect that to slow him down. He is a man on a mission and what an admirable mission it is. He is knitting tiny sweaters for little Phillip Island penguins injured by an oil spill.

Alfie, who lives in a retirement home on the New South Wales Central Coast, was asked to help because of his 80 years of knitting experience. It was a favour he could not refused. A self-taught knitter, Alfie was inspired to learn the craft in 1932 when he wanted to make a jumper for his newborn nephew. Now decades later, Alfie’s nimble fingers are once again at work. He, along with hundreds of others, were responding to a plea for donated jumpers by the Phillip Island Penguin Foundation.

Although the jumpers are adorable, they aren’t a fashion statement but necessary to prevent penguins from licking and swallowing the oil. The sweaters would also keep them warm as the oiled feathers would stick together, allowing cold water to get to the penguins inner layers.

Despite holding the title of Australia’s oldest man, Alfie made sure his jumpers were up to scratch.

“I like to make it without mistakes and I don’t excuse myself for doing it. But I think there is an excuse for a person who’s gone beyond the normal span of life,” he said.

The Phillip Island Penguin Foundation officially labelled Alfie their “most senior little penguin jumper knitter” and want to thank everyone for their efforts. The centre currently has plenty of penguin jumpers and needs no more donations. 

THERE EXIST PENGUIN JUMPER KNITTERS. I am in love with the world again.

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Ending with a Friday Photo Dump – my Instagram Small Happies (theredtent on Instagram if you want to follow the feed).

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Thanks for hashtagging your Instagram moments with #smallhappies – my phone’s screenshot button is playing up so I can’t feature them today, but I’ll sort it out and post them next week.

That’s all for today, folks. Happy Friday!

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