My husband Dave and I did indeed have a hot date last week at Sydney Opera House. He spent the day digging the footings for our new carport. I haven't seen him at work for the longest time ... tradies are the hottest guys in the world. (Sorry, suit guys.)
We drove down and I explained to him who Florence was, how her voice made Angels weep. We went out for dinner and talked about the world, internet dramas, writing, kids, our Spirits.
I am so deeply in love with him. Everything old is new again. I'm so proud of the choices he is making, the conclusions he has come to. He realised so much when he was in Mexico .. like how simply life can actually be lived, if he lets it.
He's letting it.
We both are, both ready to go on a whole new journey together. I feel blessed and deeply loved. When Dave and I are on the same page, mountains are moved. I have not felt such love for him since Ye Olde Happy Days of 2007. (Yes, I keep track of my marriage highs and lows.)
I wore my red boots on purpose. Same as that stripy scarf. When I broke down for a whole month last September, many tears were shed straight into that scarf. I grew emotionally attached to it, like its specific purpose in the world was for collecting all my tears. It seemed appropriate to wear it to a Florence concert, she even sang Breaking Down.
... all alone
even when I was a child. I've always known
there was something to be frightened of ... I think I'm breaking down again.
It's a strangely happy, jubilant song. Like, uh-oh - I'm breaking down again. WHOOPSIES.
A highlight of the night was bumping in to fellow-blogger, Mojito Mother herself Caz Makepeace.
I've never really met her properly before, just known her from online. As soon as she walked over I felt comfortable and glad to see her. Not on guard at all. You know when you meet somebody and they just are who they say they are? There's no bullshit or pretense or sniffing each others tails? Just a warmth and honesty, straight away.
I got to personally thank Caz for this post she wrote specifically for me, the other week, about feeling guilty from witnessing poverty in other countries.
It was very cool to see her husband Craig talking to my husband Dave. When they walked off, I said, "See hon? Normal people." (He thinks Computer people are weirdos. He should know .. he's married to one.)
We hadn't been inside the Opera House since the obligatory school excursion all NSW students do when they are eleven.
The concert was amazing, but I must confess.
SOMETIMES I HATE PEOPLE.
I had four hipsters in front of me, each clutching two beers and a champagne. Laughing and talking. Many cigarette breaks. (Sydney, where did all the hipsters come from? WHAT HAPPENED?) There was a toe-tapper sitting next to me, and a lyric-singer behind. I had to come to terms with all of these noisy and thoughtless people or I knew it would ruin the whole concert. I became one with the humanity.
The blonde hipster chick in front of me finished off her friends champagnes, one by one. That was fine - whatever. Drink away. I've had my fair share of drinking and do not begrudge her that. I did begrudge her her neck. It was long, like a giraffe. On top of that neck sat this:
A large head on a long neck is not conducive to concert goers behind you.
At one point, I lost all inhibitions and became just as annoying as everybody else. Used my go-go gadget arm to take this video footage of Florence singing No Light.
I never knew daylight could be so violent.
The best part of my night was walking to our car and talking about something so random and Dave suddenly goes, "You don't have to be sad anymore hon. Ya got me. Always have."
He walked around the car and I literally stopped in my tracks and used my scarf to wipe away my tears.