I feel like my feet barely touch the ground these days. It is Monday, and then it is Sunday again, with barely enough time to catch my breath, or even to feel tired. I like it.

Friday was Daffodil Day, and I've been saying it for years, but this time I rang someone and then stood for an hour and a half on the corner of Manners and Victoria with a dorky neon yellow bib on and a basket of plastic flowers collecting for the Cancer Society. Apart from the crazy guy that took a shine to me, commenting on how happy I seemed before proceeding to almost sit in my lap while he babbled incoherently about pink pigs or something, until I became concerned enough to skip off with the full bucket of money and replace it for an empty one, I quite enjoyed the experience. I liked how humbling it was, to witness people's generosity, to wonder if cancer had effected them. And of course there was the element of connect with mum, knowing she'd like me doing it, and also when I donned the bib, my first thought was, well, if she could cope with losing her hair....

I'm quarter of the way through about seven different books at the moment, none of them managing to overcome my gold fish attention span or suitably engage me enough to stop me from closing my eyes at the rare moments I come to a halt for long enough to open the cover. But Laurie lent me The Lovely Bones, and I am quite enamoured with it. I spent the first three chapters or so trembling, the depiction of the young girl being raped and murdered was horrendous, mostly in that it was from her perspective, her thoughts as she endured it. But I am taken with the author's idea of heaven, of our dead loved ones being able to look down upon those of us who are still earth-bound, hear our thoughts and witness our most intimate moments as we grieve for them. Sometimes I feel that. In the same way I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, I can sense her basking in my happiness, or just as I'll slide beneath my duvet to escape the cold, sometimes when I'm on my own and anxious, I can feel myself slip inside her embrace, and I am safe. It is an ever-present solace, one that I wouldn't possess if I was able to simply dial a number and hear her voice on the other end. And for that awareness I am thankful.

I spent Friday night in hysterics with B & J, they really are the most comedic and cute couple and make me feel less cynical about the institution of marriage. Spent last night with the boy, who manages to make me feel both completely at ease and completely terrified at the same time.

Yes, crazy guy at Manners Mall, you're right. I am happy.

Oh - that's a Tui. They have the most beautifully seductive singing voices.