Merry half-way-there!

Back in Canada, the town I was from would celebrate “Christmas in June”. It was amazing. Everyone would go to the lake front and if you owned a boat, you would deck it out with as much Christmas stuff as you could – lights, Christmas trees, Santa’s, Christmas music, all in 35°C heat. At night all the boats would light up and twinkle on the water and it would be magical and lovely. Just for the hell of it.

There’s nothing like that here in Ireland, so fiance and I started our own tradition. 

Every Christmas fiance’s mom makes us a whopper Christmas pudding, so I’ve started saving a chunk of it for our ‘Christmas in June’. We celebrate by having a slab of pudding with a dollop of brandy butter which will knock you into next week. Fiance adores Christmas pudding, and nearly burst with excitement when I reminded him ‘Christmas in June’ was today. It’s something silly, but I love our tradition.

p.s. Due to the vast amounts of alcohol in it, Christmas pudding lasts forever. If anything, it gets better with age. 

Where’s your head at?

If you have your moments {or days} when you doubt everything you do, then this vlog by the wonderful My Girl Thursday and Love Elycia about self doubt and blogging is a mental investment worth watching. The points they raise aren’t necessarily restricted to bloggers, but anyone who has their own space, be it internet or not, and have their moments when they question everything they do. Hell, I have those moments regularly. 
Check it out, from some top class Canadian bacon –

Thrifty things – Canada clock

This is our cringey yet kitschy-fabulous Canadian clock. To call it thrifted is a bit of a stretch, but it’s a second hand find none-the-less. 
{Enter dream sequence…} a couple of years ago when we lived on the outskirts of Dublin, our neighbour’s mom found this clock on top of their kitchen cupboard. They weren’t too impressed by the overwhelming tack of it, so our neighbour’s son suggested handing it over to my broseph, since we were the Canadians in town. And there it sat. In my brothers room on his couch. For ages. Until I got fed up, took it from him, cleaned it, lovingly stuffed it with batteries and fully appreciated it in all it’s kitschy glory.
I’m not sure of the hands-holding-the-holy-bible and 1993 significance, but it’s got  just the right amount of awfully awesome so it’s staying, gleefully hanging in our bedroom for the time being, reminding me of home. In a weird way.