I did a calculation on the leave I've taken over the past couple of years and it came out at three weeks.
One week was planned time off work and the other two were in lieu of overtime. When I crunched the numbers - while waiting for a coffee last week and pondering why I was so very tired (could I have COVID-19) - I deduced the lethargy was because in 20 months I'd had one planned week of leave. Wowsers.

Sure, I've had a day here and there to make up overtime worked but it's not the same as dedicated time to rest and recuperate. Neither's the forced staycation of COVID-19 restrictions. It's been wonderful to bookend the day with cups of tea, a potter in the garden, a walk or after-work swim, but there are still email notifications and to-do lists and priorities, projects and team members to guide through change and challenges.

With Christmas looming I found myself wishing I'd booked a couple of weeks leave. It'll be fine, the beach is a short drive away and you already live in a holiday destination, I told myself. Others need the leave more, I said. It'll be so much quieter than last year, I convinced. Others have had a much worse year, I chastised. But here I am, grateful for a handful of public holidays and ready to add a second week to a week booked for the end of February.

In the meantime, I'm still reading and making where I can, but I'll be wrapping up the writing of a blog. Like so many before me, I've made the decision to log off from this little space.

What was once a creative outlet for a busy working parent, with a supportive community of similarly time-poor creatives, home cooks, gardeners, knitters op shoppers and lovers of vintage feels now like a chore of digital marketing, channel plans and content schedules - none of which I did anyway. I've moved to the places other bloggers moved to and you'll still find me on Instagram (probably never on Tik Tok) and the blog will remain archived here: I can't bear to kill it off entirely and you never know, I may come back to it one day.

If you've stopped by, read a blog post or two, commented even, thank you. Without you the blog would never have been anything but a digital diary. For me it's been that and so much more.

To wrap up the year, and the blog, here's what I did in December.

I WENT TO... the beach, the ocean pool and nearby national parks. Thank goodness for all that lovely open space.

I OP SHOPPED... not at all. I can't even recall being in one this month.

I READ... Helena Fox's debut young adult novel How It Feels To Float. Don't let the YA genre put you off. This story captures the weight of grief and sharp light of hope that can carry one through. I also read Kate Grenville's The Lieutenant, following the story of Dawes, imagined by Grenville and based on the shards of what we know and Grenville has meticulously researched. If you've read A Room Made of Leaves, or have it on your summer reading list, this is the perfect companion read.

I MADE... apricot curd, apricot jam, poached apricots, poached plums, plum sauce, pavlovas, lemon curd, ricciarelli: all the Christmas gift-giving goodies.

We don't have air-conditioning and I am not going to lie, the heatwave conditions of the last weekend saw me waver.

We added ceiling fans to our modest home in the 2000s thinking 'yeah, that'll do it', and mostly it did except for the odd sweaty day broken by a southerly buster. But cue 2019 and 2020 and what we know is the science is being borne out, and it's freakin' hot. 

So, what do you do if you live without an air-conditioner and you're looking at working from home through a hot summer, you head to the beach, a lot, and here's where my snapshot of things I've done this month kicks off. I hope you're staying cool and hydrated.

I WENT TO... the beach and ocean baths all month. It's become a new weekend and after-work habit to dive under salty, clean water and wash away the heat, the work of the day and stretch limbs that have spent hours bent over a keyboard. We've lived here almost 20 years and it's only in the past few that this habit's made it's way into our days.

I OP SHOPPED... I've been picking up spare T-shirts, shorts and dresses for the grandkidlets who will come and stay through summer. It's good to have spares when tubs of water, loaded water pistols and evenings watering the garden turn into a nudie run through a spray otherwise meant for zucchinis, tomatoes and cucumbers. 

I READ... Meg Mason's Sorrow and Bliss. It is everything people say about it. It's beautiful, sad, funny, whimsical, fraught and crazy. If anything, it wraps up a little too quickly and neatly. I also read The Mother Fault, for which I'll offer a warning: if you don't wish to know how much worse it could get beyond natural disasters and a global pandemic, keep it off your holiday reading list. It's fictional, but the best dystopian fiction always rolls a little too close to what's plausible, if not possible.

I MADE... sweet iced tea, which will evolve over the summer to become sweet iced chai with the addition of cinnamon, cloves and maybe star anise. I'm also going through cook books to find ways to use what will be a glut of zucchinis. Bread and butter pickles, made to Stephanie Alexander's simple recipe, have been the go-to.

Photo by Mourad Saadi on Unsplash

Sometimes, the most ordinary looking thing, like a rocky path, can be the most extraordinary. 

September's been a slow month. A month of staying close to home, switching soups and toasties for snags and homegrown salads. 

There were forays into the bush to see how the rock orchids had got on this year and to marvel at the spring wildflowers. There was an impromptu, after-work fish and chips on the beach. There's been a shaking out of short sleeves from clothes hangers not touched for months. It's been a slow month of watching things emerge from winter hibernation, from lockdowns and the fuzz and fizz of an uncertain world.

I WENT TO... Thirroul, on the NSW Coal Coast for a solo weekend of walking, writing, browsing and a lovely morning tea with a friend and her family.

If you're visiting, I recommend Blackbird for breakfast and Shahi Aroma for a dinner. The latter drew me in on the fragrant smell alone. 

My friend put me onto Wombat: a great place for a treasure hunt. Collins Booksellers Thirroul is an old-style small bookseller. I haven't bought a book in ages and it was an absolute indulgence to be in this one. Noel and Gladys and the upmarket Vinnies boutique are also well worth a browse.

I stayed in this airbnb, walking distance to the village and beach and perfect for a solo traveller or couple. 

I OP SHOPPED... I had a good dig around the Woonona Salvos store while I was away. It's a good op shop to put on your list. I brought home Italian-made leather brogues and a leather belt for cinching in those Covid kilos. 

I READ... something akin to the fiction I pick up when swapping books in AirBnBs and hotels. Necessary People, by Anna Pitoniak fit the bill for a quick plane, train or bus read without the plane, train or bus. Robin Sloan's Sourdough was a more considered choice. It's not, as the name would suggest, a guide to the 2020 quarantine cooking fad, but rather a cheeky blend of science fiction, romance, mystery and magic and tree-change fiction that fits the moment despite the fact it was written some years back.

I MADE... Nothing new, though I have an idea to make a couple of skirts as a work-from-home option through spring and summer.

Is it too soon to start thinking about Christmas? I don't think so. I have family interstate and we're resigned to the fact no one will be travelling for Christmas and summer catch-ups.