Men at Work, speak my language.

This is how I would describe a tall, strong, sturdy, well-built man.

6 ft 4, full of muscle.

Overthinking is often a sign that your intuition is trying to warn you, of something, but it cannot point a finger, yet.

My overthinking process was always right.

The brain / body / soul picks up the danger when it alarms you; but it cannot name it.

Brains are strange little nighttime screenwriters.

One month, psychological horror; the next month, “what if everyone behaved normally for once?”

Human beings invented “joking questions” specifically to survive emotional vulnerability without exploding into dust like Victorian poets.

You don’t learn a country from “Best Hidden Beaches in somewhere.”
You learn it from someone complaining about council rates while fixing a fence in the rain.

That’s anthropology.

You understand a country faster through what people argue about.

Who would have thought that the French have a cake called croquembouche, made of lots of cream puffs stacked together? It’s basically a tower of cream puffs. And why should Oceania have that, but not here?!

I love the months of December, January, February, and March. I also love November—if it’s somewhere truly cold, like Maine or Canada, or up in the far reaches of Europe around the Baltics, Caucasus, or anywhere with a spirit like the Balkans. Cold air calms my head. It soothes my nerves, and—more importantly—it makes my brain work better. My cheeks turn redder, my face looks lively again, flushed as if I’ve put on makeup; the pale of my skin fills with colour.

I don’t like summer here. I don’t like spring or autumn either. My face gets puffy. I gain weight. You have no idea how hard it was to bring my weight down. Feeling agile in warm weather is almost impossible for me. I get dizzy constantly, my vision goes off, and all I want is to put ice on my head and sleep.

Sea water is good—sure—but we’re not very close to it. I like cold water. Places like Baja California, San Diego, or Hawaii make sense to me only if you go for a week or two every couple of months: swim, cleanse your body in the sea, refresh your skin, enjoy the sun, eat well—and then return home to a cool climate.

We haven’t been to Peru yet, so I don’t know what it’s like. Maybe it’s wonderfully cool. It doesn’t matter that it’s on the equator. What matters is good sun—and cold air.

Another joy of living in cold places like New England, the UK, Argentina, the Baltics, or Canada’s East and West Coasts is that you can actually see the seasons change. And more importantly, you can spend much longer walking outside in nothing more than a light shirt and thin trousers.

The ponds freeze over. River water turns wild at first, then grows quieter, because everything freezes. Sparrows sing less—but still, once or twice a day, they do sing. Everything goes silent. And the mind finally settles.

I’m not a heat person. I like warmth only for romantic trips or work travel. I’ve just started going out in minus five degrees Celsius wearing a T-shirt and light trousers. Yes, it’s cold—but it’s delicious. Afterwards I come home, take a hot shower, put on some cream, and everything is fine.

Even my husband is starting to like cold weather. He says it keeps his brain more alert. Maybe it’s time, in a while, to move north again. Somewhere cosy and lovely in New England. Or further north in California. And then travel—to warm places and cold places around the world.

It’s fun, isn’t it?!

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

A famous quote by the ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu.

Found this on a tissue box we purchased a while ago.

Today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chips wrapper.