The girl knows how to blow me away with the things she comes out with.
When I collected the LGBB today from occasional care, she was her usual chipper self. Quiet in the car, satisfied with a drink and a little chocolate egg... in keeping with the season she knows nought about except a "silly bunny who keeps dropping eggs in the garden." Sweet.
We got home, I dealt with an insurance quote assessor (the saga continues) while the LGBB did some mazes from her maze book - she's totally into them at the moment.
When I came back inside, I headed for the kitchen to begin cleaning it. It's been a busy week. Productive but busy. Today, I finally completed work on a big website. The client is ecstatic. So am I! Now I can invoice them and upload the thing.
On a more esoteric note, at the same time I am working on something else with a particularly testing energy. It's challenging. But ultimately, so in tune with what I know I need to be doing, to balance my very grounded physical work with websites, design and computer stuff. Over the past few days, I have been intensive with my work in this other realm. That's all I want to say about that (sorry for the vagueness!).
Anyway, there have been times in Lolly's short life where I have been visibly busier. I have been tested. I have been sore and sick and sorry for myself. And still working. But she has never said to me what she said today. It was a very rewarding confirmation, in a twofold sense, both of the insight I was given about the LGBB and the special nature of our kinship, and also the "assignment" (as a light worker) I have always trusted I was working towards but was for some reason as yet unrealised (despite many confirmations along the way from people I have helped, in various manners - from assisting a couple to find their children, who were born to another biological mother but ultimately found their way to these intended parents, to other lesser affiliated souls, requesting help, whom I have never laid eyes on but for whom I get little healing messages/instructions that always prove true...). I can thank/blame my upbringing, I think, that I am so oblivious to the signs that seem obvious to so many others - it's still a blinding wonder to me that I can do this and overwhelmingly humbling because of the personal nature of these circumstances.
But this is the first time I have assisted someone quite in this way before. And it is being led by something other than me, consciously, yet I know what I have to do. Kind of like reading a recipe and knowing, from that, what ingredients to put in, but then the head chef will come along and taste test and suggest another herb or a little more of "this or that".... The head chef, in this instance, is the higher guidance of both/either myself and/or the other person. I just do what I'm instructed in that instance.
So the LGBB, all of a sudden tired of her maze tracing, says rather sympathetically to me as I come back inside, "You working hard today. Mummy did lots of work."
"Yes I did," I said to her, almost distracted to the point of even noticing her intonation. She persisted and left her book, coming over to me with arms outstretched, looking drawn and tired. "Mummy worked hard. That makes me sleepy." And she really was.
I was told a long while ago that my children - both Ellanor and Lolly - were the other two sides of my working triangle. The sifters, lifters and finders of the redundant mess surrounding the world on the astral level, in our little corner of the world and what we've been enlisted and joined together to do at this time.
Of course when I am pulled to assist, in a universal sense, she is going to be affected. We are intrinsically, somehow inexplicably, linked in this manner. Even as a baby, she would be listless and drawn and tired during times when I was learning/working the most on this etheric level.
Only now, though, am I beginning to really live it. See it. Integrate what I have been studying. Most amazing to me at this time, this week, are the points of connection I am making between females, mothers, violation, fertility, the father line... it just keeps coming and coming. The symmetry around me at the moment, even with reconnecting with my old love and his affinity with cats and also some of the things he was explaining as having had happened to him over the past twenty years and the connections I've privately made with the work I am currently doing (on a group conscious level), is making me feel very small - a speck in the universe's history - and that, in turn, keeps me grounded and mindful of my egoic ways (which cannot get in the way of my work). It's also making me go "Wow, wow... WOW!"
It will forever be humbling, for it involves such deeply personal healing work with and for others.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I need to drink more. Or less.
Because I found this slightly disturbing, yet very funny. And I haven't even TOUCHED any alcohol.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Her Dog Play Dough
Luckily for me, "bloody dog" muttered under my breath sounds for all the world to the LGBB like Play Dough.
So now, she is conditioned to say, "Tsk-tsk, Play Dough" while shaking her head whenever Jazz takes it upon herself to mimic a canine version of a wailing woman (seriously, you've gotta hear the performance to believe me - our neighbours have asked on more than one occasion who the "whinger" is.... lucky for me, they don't ask Steve or he'd probably be likely to thumb in my direction...).
I must say, though, Play Dough is probably a rather accurate description of the contents of said dog's brain.
So now, she is conditioned to say, "Tsk-tsk, Play Dough" while shaking her head whenever Jazz takes it upon herself to mimic a canine version of a wailing woman (seriously, you've gotta hear the performance to believe me - our neighbours have asked on more than one occasion who the "whinger" is.... lucky for me, they don't ask Steve or he'd probably be likely to thumb in my direction...).
I must say, though, Play Dough is probably a rather accurate description of the contents of said dog's brain.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Full of it
I'm so full of ideas and trains of thought for my book again at the moment. Blessedly, that girl of ours has come right on back in again, cloaking me with this familiar feeling of knowing who she is, knowing what we observed, putting me in that space in time..... But this time, for the very first time since having and losing Ellanor (hey, could that be a good title for the book??!! "Having And Losing Ellanor".... hmmmm) - anyway - for the first time, I am truly out the other side. Away from the (as one of my dear mentors, Neri, puts them) "nar-ne-nar's" - those thoughts that nag and gnaw and, well, "nar-ne-nar" at you when you are unconsciously aware you are letting them!
I've been holding a lot of energy these past six months on a project that I thought would never ever end. It has been tremendously arduous learning, whilst being the recipient of a huge swathe of channelled work that I was enlisted to edit and make coherent in the form of a whopping 4-part manual. It's now available for study by the students who have already done the Peace Space mode to healing, which is a heal-the-healer type journey through the 13 colour ray spectrum - a study that journeys the student, basically, through 13 layers of human perception and enables them to intuitively understand and recognise their potential in any given situation and at any level they find themselves. Further to this, the student will have had to delve into the masters' colours (a deeper/greater level of learning and responsibility, towards the self and in turn, turning that into service for humanity), of which there are currently... gawd, I can't remember, I've lost count.
So as I have come out of this bottleneck of busyness and expanded back into my slightly less pressurized juggle of family life and work (I have no idea how I managed to keep the business afloat while I did that, as it literally squeezed every ounce of free time out of me and I would grab at opportunities to post a blog entry or go to the shops for groceries like a mad woman out on good behaviour). As I have done this ease back to relative normalcy, I've had more time to think more freely as well. And this is where whole scenes for the book have begun downloading into my brain once again.
I now carry around a notebook of tiny proportions, in which I jot every little grab and plot teaser that I am given. For too long, I have been assuming those things would come back to me, if I woke in the middle of the night with SUCH a blaringly good insight that I knew I couldn't POSSIBLY forget it by morning.... and, invariably, I have lost a great many of those amazing trains of thought, simply because I didn't write them down, even in part, to go back to and expand on. It is a great disservice of me to the eventual reader(s) of this book, that I do this and not follow the thoughts through onto paper to capture them.
One of the main things that came out, only at the start of this month, that I will be building on (somewhere, somehow, don't know yet) is one of the main conclusions I reached, probably about 2 years after Ellanor died.
In some respects, regarding the writing, I feel like I am starting again. But in others, I do still have faith and trust that it has happened this way for a very good cause. And I am beginning to see that, had I rushed to the finish line with my intended manuscript, where I was 12 months ago heading towards the final chapter with great gusto and so certain I knew what the last quarter of the book would contain, I would never have had the learning under my belt that I have just been gifted, through holding what I have done in the first part of 2010.
I can see now that I still have much work to do and I will be going back through the book, before it ever reaches a publisher's desk, and weaving in a lot of the hindsight understandings I've been given. For without them, this would be a somewhat rubber-necker's delight. And I would never want Ella's (and Steve's and my) story to be reduced to that.
I've been holding a lot of energy these past six months on a project that I thought would never ever end. It has been tremendously arduous learning, whilst being the recipient of a huge swathe of channelled work that I was enlisted to edit and make coherent in the form of a whopping 4-part manual. It's now available for study by the students who have already done the Peace Space mode to healing, which is a heal-the-healer type journey through the 13 colour ray spectrum - a study that journeys the student, basically, through 13 layers of human perception and enables them to intuitively understand and recognise their potential in any given situation and at any level they find themselves. Further to this, the student will have had to delve into the masters' colours (a deeper/greater level of learning and responsibility, towards the self and in turn, turning that into service for humanity), of which there are currently... gawd, I can't remember, I've lost count.
So as I have come out of this bottleneck of busyness and expanded back into my slightly less pressurized juggle of family life and work (I have no idea how I managed to keep the business afloat while I did that, as it literally squeezed every ounce of free time out of me and I would grab at opportunities to post a blog entry or go to the shops for groceries like a mad woman out on good behaviour). As I have done this ease back to relative normalcy, I've had more time to think more freely as well. And this is where whole scenes for the book have begun downloading into my brain once again.
I now carry around a notebook of tiny proportions, in which I jot every little grab and plot teaser that I am given. For too long, I have been assuming those things would come back to me, if I woke in the middle of the night with SUCH a blaringly good insight that I knew I couldn't POSSIBLY forget it by morning.... and, invariably, I have lost a great many of those amazing trains of thought, simply because I didn't write them down, even in part, to go back to and expand on. It is a great disservice of me to the eventual reader(s) of this book, that I do this and not follow the thoughts through onto paper to capture them.
One of the main things that came out, only at the start of this month, that I will be building on (somewhere, somehow, don't know yet) is one of the main conclusions I reached, probably about 2 years after Ellanor died.
Letting go is not giving up (or in)
In some respects, regarding the writing, I feel like I am starting again. But in others, I do still have faith and trust that it has happened this way for a very good cause. And I am beginning to see that, had I rushed to the finish line with my intended manuscript, where I was 12 months ago heading towards the final chapter with great gusto and so certain I knew what the last quarter of the book would contain, I would never have had the learning under my belt that I have just been gifted, through holding what I have done in the first part of 2010.
I can see now that I still have much work to do and I will be going back through the book, before it ever reaches a publisher's desk, and weaving in a lot of the hindsight understandings I've been given. For without them, this would be a somewhat rubber-necker's delight. And I would never want Ella's (and Steve's and my) story to be reduced to that.
Quote of the week
I'm reading a book at the moment, a quick-flick with lots of healthy reinforcements in it. It's called "Passion@Work" by Shivani and I thoroughly recommend it.
One of the quotes in there that I read while I was heading in on the train to the city for brunch on the weekend with a girlfriend *dreamy blissful carefree sigh* has stayed with me into this week, so I thought I'd better share it here.
Enjoy your weekend, peeps xx
One of the quotes in there that I read while I was heading in on the train to the city for brunch on the weekend with a girlfriend *dreamy blissful carefree sigh* has stayed with me into this week, so I thought I'd better share it here.
And isn't that so true, really? A little reminder I thought might be useful."At the end of your life, you will realise that nothing you have done matters - only who you have been while you have done it."Neale Donald Walsch (Conversations With God)
Enjoy your weekend, peeps xx
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
And her parents are named He-Man and She-Ra
[oh, yeah, and I SO have that seriously vacant stare and killer waxed arched-brow thing happening too... and the flowing red cape. And Steve looks exactly like that, if he puts on his blonde Warwick Capper wig]Tonight going to bed, the conversation between father and daughter was thus:
He: Daddy's going to pick up his new car tomorrow!
She: *after some frowning and careful deliberation* Is your new car heavy?
He: Yes.
She: *decided furrow in her brow* Mummy might help you lift it then.
You know, I really love it that HE is now getting paid back. He's been so smart-arse literal with me about all those things I've said over the years, off the cuff. It's just lucky for her she's so darn cute and innocent or he'd try and out-do her. I can see them both in years to come, the literary to and fro between them like some cunning game of mind-chess until one of them fries a wire over it and calls Game Off.
Eh. Whatever wears them out and keeps them from turning it on me, right?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Well, what better name for a Light worker's cat!?
We inherited a cat tonight. Completely out of the blue.
She's the ex-pet of a new acquaintance's husband's cousin... got that?... who moved overseas a month ago. The new home hasn't worked out - and we're not saying this one will yet either, not until next weekend after this trial run is over - so we have taken her in.
Once we get to know her a bit more, I'll introduce her a bit further. But for now, about all there is to know is that she is a 5 or 6 year old black cat named Tabitha. A very fitting name for this household, if you ask me and Lolly! We've been calling her Tabby and realising it sounds utterly ridiculous to be calling a black cat 'Tabby'. So we're trying 'Tabsy' on as well and it's fitting more comfortably for us all so far.
The LGBB is enamoured. She loves cats, as does Steve. When Tabitha was due to arrive (it was literally, "Can you take this cat?" "Ummmm.....ooooo...kay?" "GREAT! I'll bring her round after work, in about an hour!"), Lolly stood out on the porch calling her "TAAAABBEEEE!" like they were already firm friends. And tonight, before she went to bed, she insisted on putting a letter she had written "to Tabby" next to her cat cage in the laundry, "so she knows it's a lovely home here." Lolly's words, not mine. I'm still waiting to see how the dogs are going to appreciate this addition to the hierarchy. It may all be over by this weekend if the kitty litter hits the fan.
I must say, though, that initial impressions are that apparently, this cat needs this family. Or perhaps, this family now requires this particular cat.
I will also be looking up the Cat animal wisdom, you can be sure, and I'll post it here once I dig it out. This all happened so very fast, and truth be told, I'm not really a cat person [what, the two dogs and nary a mention of cats in the five years I've been blogging didn't give that one away already?]. But something about this story made me say Yes before I even thought about it. I find that very often, the easiest decisions to be made (and ultimately, the right ones) happen that way.
Add to this the recollection of a very curious 'vision' of a close friend at the end of last year - that she could see a black cat wandering around a house where I was doing my healing/consulting work from. And.... just a big "hmmmm" from me to that one. Plans are currently in the works to finish off part B of our extension, whereby the garage is built and my home office/consulting room behind it. Yes. That'd be the consulting room I never thought I'd actually see built and had always waved off the suggestion that I'd be doing this anywhere, let alone from home, on a legitimate, formal basis because "there's nowhere for me to set up properly." Ah... aherm. Famous last words.
More later.
She's the ex-pet of a new acquaintance's husband's cousin... got that?... who moved overseas a month ago. The new home hasn't worked out - and we're not saying this one will yet either, not until next weekend after this trial run is over - so we have taken her in.
Once we get to know her a bit more, I'll introduce her a bit further. But for now, about all there is to know is that she is a 5 or 6 year old black cat named Tabitha. A very fitting name for this household, if you ask me and Lolly! We've been calling her Tabby and realising it sounds utterly ridiculous to be calling a black cat 'Tabby'. So we're trying 'Tabsy' on as well and it's fitting more comfortably for us all so far.
The LGBB is enamoured. She loves cats, as does Steve. When Tabitha was due to arrive (it was literally, "Can you take this cat?" "Ummmm.....ooooo...kay?" "GREAT! I'll bring her round after work, in about an hour!"), Lolly stood out on the porch calling her "TAAAABBEEEE!" like they were already firm friends. And tonight, before she went to bed, she insisted on putting a letter she had written "to Tabby" next to her cat cage in the laundry, "so she knows it's a lovely home here." Lolly's words, not mine. I'm still waiting to see how the dogs are going to appreciate this addition to the hierarchy. It may all be over by this weekend if the kitty litter hits the fan.
I must say, though, that initial impressions are that apparently, this cat needs this family. Or perhaps, this family now requires this particular cat.
I will also be looking up the Cat animal wisdom, you can be sure, and I'll post it here once I dig it out. This all happened so very fast, and truth be told, I'm not really a cat person [what, the two dogs and nary a mention of cats in the five years I've been blogging didn't give that one away already?]. But something about this story made me say Yes before I even thought about it. I find that very often, the easiest decisions to be made (and ultimately, the right ones) happen that way.
Add to this the recollection of a very curious 'vision' of a close friend at the end of last year - that she could see a black cat wandering around a house where I was doing my healing/consulting work from. And.... just a big "hmmmm" from me to that one. Plans are currently in the works to finish off part B of our extension, whereby the garage is built and my home office/consulting room behind it. Yes. That'd be the consulting room I never thought I'd actually see built and had always waved off the suggestion that I'd be doing this anywhere, let alone from home, on a legitimate, formal basis because "there's nowhere for me to set up properly." Ah... aherm. Famous last words.
More later.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Bathroom heckler
Her: Whatchoo doing, Dad?
Him: *obviously indisposed, on the porcelain throne* I'm in the toilet, can you wait for me out there please?
Her: Orright, I wait here on the bed.
*moments pass while Lolly strums her fingers on her lap as she sits on our bed*
Her: I don't hear any plops or wees. Are you finished? I think you're finished.
Him: I'm just fine, thank you. I think I can let you know when I've finished.
Tough crowd.
Him: *obviously indisposed, on the porcelain throne* I'm in the toilet, can you wait for me out there please?
Her: Orright, I wait here on the bed.
*moments pass while Lolly strums her fingers on her lap as she sits on our bed*
Her: I don't hear any plops or wees. Are you finished? I think you're finished.
Him: I'm just fine, thank you. I think I can let you know when I've finished.
Tough crowd.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Who is Nokia kidding?
When I use my "intelligent" text, my intuitive speller, my whatever you want to call it (the feature that guesses what you're typing on your phone when you're sending a text), I think Nokia knows damn well that when I hit "7448", I am spelling out "SHIT".
Not SHIV, Nokia.
Nobody has a SHIV day. Nobody doesn't give a SHIV.
Who do they think they are preventing from sending a "rude word" to? Don't they know there are lots of frustrated adults out there needing to type "shit" in a hurry!????
They are just wasting 18 more seconds of my day by making me have to turn off the spell intuition to hit the 7 four times, then the 4 twice, then another time for the 'i'... you get my drift.
Pains in the ass! GAHD..dsdhfhkl;sdaf;jjfhhlggggnnnnngggh *struggles, with closed fists clenched around phone's neck*
Not SHIV, Nokia.
Nobody has a SHIV day. Nobody doesn't give a SHIV.
Who do they think they are preventing from sending a "rude word" to? Don't they know there are lots of frustrated adults out there needing to type "shit" in a hurry!????
They are just wasting 18 more seconds of my day by making me have to turn off the spell intuition to hit the 7 four times, then the 4 twice, then another time for the 'i'... you get my drift.
Pains in the ass! GAHD..dsdhfhkl;sdaf;jjfhhlggggnnnnngggh *struggles, with closed fists clenched around phone's neck*
Friday, March 19, 2010
My little beanstalk
I measured the LGBB last in January on the 22nd. She was 106cm then.
After a rather harrowing week (and especially weekend) which was spent mostly in tears - I was too tired to cry any so they were all hers this time - I decided to measure Lolly again on Sunday just gone.
When will I learn that gnashing of teeth and days-full of tears and wretchedness are NOT the "new her"?
The kid has grown 4cm in two months! She now stands at 110cm. Gahhhhd. I feel like I'm never going to put two and two together when it's happening and only realise things that are happening for her physiologically in hindsight.
And just.... thank God I am saving for her wardrobe already.
Sorry: just had to edit this post to show you this post that came up in the widget. Remember? Oh my sides...
After a rather harrowing week (and especially weekend) which was spent mostly in tears - I was too tired to cry any so they were all hers this time - I decided to measure Lolly again on Sunday just gone.
When will I learn that gnashing of teeth and days-full of tears and wretchedness are NOT the "new her"?
The kid has grown 4cm in two months! She now stands at 110cm. Gahhhhd. I feel like I'm never going to put two and two together when it's happening and only realise things that are happening for her physiologically in hindsight.
And just.... thank God I am saving for her wardrobe already.
Sorry: just had to edit this post to show you this post that came up in the widget. Remember? Oh my sides...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Song choice: Have you found yours?
I had a disturbing dream last night. And it wasn't just because I was singing - heartfelt - and people were listening. No, no. Far worse than that, I was .... ostracized for it.
One person in particular (and it was a real person in my life, someone who has been a figure of fracture to me - an energy that made no effort to hide her disdain of me when she and I were acquainted, years ago) got up and eyeballed me as she sneered, "THAT sounds ridiculous," before laughing callously, her breath hitting my face.
I was shaken. But not as much as I have been in the past. I recognised this figure for what she represents to me, now, in my waking life: the naysayer. The one who uses belittling and a self-assumed role of authority and power over those they deem weaker, when really, it is all done out of fear of what they don't know or won't uncover for themselves. I've been around the traps long enough now to see that those who do the biggest name-calling and have the highest and mightiest of judgemental horses are those who have the farthest to fall. All of which, of course, is both in their power to change and my power to not engage with (leaving them to go on their merry way, whatever that way is).
So here I was, the memory of her breath in my face, having belted out the Song Of My Life. I could make out the fuzzy heads of the crowd behind her. It was as if I had a spotlight on me, calling all my beliefs into question - that kind of light that hides no flaws, it is an unforgiving but ultimately truth-finding light - and her face was so close I could see the outline of the tiny hairs on her face [heh-heh, she had facial hair....]. I tried to speak up to defend myself and found the words didn't come out.
I woke up instantly and was a bit miffed I hadn't had a chance to say what I had been thinking, which was along the lines of, "Well I think it sounded good and it's the song I chose. You don't have to like my song, or the way I sing. But this is how I sing and I wouldn't change it even if I could."
But then I realised... I didn't actually have to make those points to that person, that representation of all the naysayers I've met in my life and all the rest I haven't met or probably won't even find out about (let's face it, if you write to a blog, your potential audience is going to be vast and often fleeting).
They always bang on about "song choice" on those Idol shows. That this is the most crucial part (well, that and a good voice helps). But I would say, quite a lot more important than this is, not being afraid to sing it.
It reminds me so much of that gorgeous movie, Happy Feet, much of which I really didn't like at first - I was so adamant to despise Nicole Kidman's Norma Jean to Hugh Jackman's Memphis. But despite myself, this one message stood out to me so much that it kicked me in the gut. Or, wait.. that could have been Lolly, for I was eight months' pregnant with her at the time. Funnily enough, we used to call her Happy Feet when she was a baby because she would jig up a storm, usually on the change table. And my biggest wish for her to come out of that time was that she be willing and able enough in her life to find her song.
So, I hope whatever you're doing in your life, this moment, that you are standing by your Song Choice - your life path - and really singing it. With loads of heart and a shitload of conviction. If you're not.... could it be that you have not yet truly found your song? And if not,
What are you waiting for??!!
One person in particular (and it was a real person in my life, someone who has been a figure of fracture to me - an energy that made no effort to hide her disdain of me when she and I were acquainted, years ago) got up and eyeballed me as she sneered, "THAT sounds ridiculous," before laughing callously, her breath hitting my face.
I was shaken. But not as much as I have been in the past. I recognised this figure for what she represents to me, now, in my waking life: the naysayer. The one who uses belittling and a self-assumed role of authority and power over those they deem weaker, when really, it is all done out of fear of what they don't know or won't uncover for themselves. I've been around the traps long enough now to see that those who do the biggest name-calling and have the highest and mightiest of judgemental horses are those who have the farthest to fall. All of which, of course, is both in their power to change and my power to not engage with (leaving them to go on their merry way, whatever that way is).
So here I was, the memory of her breath in my face, having belted out the Song Of My Life. I could make out the fuzzy heads of the crowd behind her. It was as if I had a spotlight on me, calling all my beliefs into question - that kind of light that hides no flaws, it is an unforgiving but ultimately truth-finding light - and her face was so close I could see the outline of the tiny hairs on her face [heh-heh, she had facial hair....]. I tried to speak up to defend myself and found the words didn't come out.
I woke up instantly and was a bit miffed I hadn't had a chance to say what I had been thinking, which was along the lines of, "Well I think it sounded good and it's the song I chose. You don't have to like my song, or the way I sing. But this is how I sing and I wouldn't change it even if I could."
But then I realised... I didn't actually have to make those points to that person, that representation of all the naysayers I've met in my life and all the rest I haven't met or probably won't even find out about (let's face it, if you write to a blog, your potential audience is going to be vast and often fleeting).
They always bang on about "song choice" on those Idol shows. That this is the most crucial part (well, that and a good voice helps). But I would say, quite a lot more important than this is, not being afraid to sing it.
It reminds me so much of that gorgeous movie, Happy Feet, much of which I really didn't like at first - I was so adamant to despise Nicole Kidman's Norma Jean to Hugh Jackman's Memphis. But despite myself, this one message stood out to me so much that it kicked me in the gut. Or, wait.. that could have been Lolly, for I was eight months' pregnant with her at the time. Funnily enough, we used to call her Happy Feet when she was a baby because she would jig up a storm, usually on the change table. And my biggest wish for her to come out of that time was that she be willing and able enough in her life to find her song.
So, I hope whatever you're doing in your life, this moment, that you are standing by your Song Choice - your life path - and really singing it. With loads of heart and a shitload of conviction. If you're not.... could it be that you have not yet truly found your song? And if not,
What are you waiting for??!!
SOUP-er Mamaaa
I collect empty boxes. They are great for sticking bits of stuff to. And painting. No end of fun can be had with clagging some scraps of fabric to the side of a Nutri-Grain ("Daddy Cereal") box. Lolly enjoys pasting and painting them too..... Hey. How did you THINK I spent my day when I said I was working hard?
Henyway, so I collect all these empty boxes. Sometimes we use them here at home. But more often than not, I "donate" them to Lolly's kindy or occasional care centre. Painstakingly making sure I've removed hazards (like the serrated teeth on the cling wrap boxes and so forth). Ensuring I don't collect soy milk containers or egg cartons or anything else that may ignite an awful food allergy reaction.
Then I bundle them in the car, with the LGBB sitting amongst them like she's built a box city, and I take them with us to her occasional care day. The relief of getting them out of the house is quite surprising. I love getting rid of them, it feels good to both be useful and recycle them AND get my kitchen and cupboards clear once I've done a clean-out from the build-up. I feel like I've really achieved something! Two-fold! I'm a superhero of house cleaning! *hands on hips HO-HO!*
Then, when I go and pick the LGBB up, she always, always, ALWAYS tells me excitedly, "I did some painting!" or "I did some sticking!" or some other such crafty way with some sort of adhesive.
Annnnnnd.... you know what I'm going to say, don't you? I bundle her back in the car with, guaranteed, at least 50% if not all of those damn sky-scraper sized boxes back again at the end of the day, now adorned with half-dry paint and glue and bits of glitter n' shit falling off in my car so I have to carefully stack them and cart them all back home. And THEN display them around the house for days so we can all rejoice in their glory and splendour.
Ah, the joys. I have to laugh. *sob* And then do a resigned face like this:
(this one's for you, Sparkl-o-Matic)
Henyway, so I collect all these empty boxes. Sometimes we use them here at home. But more often than not, I "donate" them to Lolly's kindy or occasional care centre. Painstakingly making sure I've removed hazards (like the serrated teeth on the cling wrap boxes and so forth). Ensuring I don't collect soy milk containers or egg cartons or anything else that may ignite an awful food allergy reaction.
Then I bundle them in the car, with the LGBB sitting amongst them like she's built a box city, and I take them with us to her occasional care day. The relief of getting them out of the house is quite surprising. I love getting rid of them, it feels good to both be useful and recycle them AND get my kitchen and cupboards clear once I've done a clean-out from the build-up. I feel like I've really achieved something! Two-fold! I'm a superhero of house cleaning! *hands on hips HO-HO!*
Then, when I go and pick the LGBB up, she always, always, ALWAYS tells me excitedly, "I did some painting!" or "I did some sticking!" or some other such crafty way with some sort of adhesive.
Annnnnnd.... you know what I'm going to say, don't you? I bundle her back in the car with, guaranteed, at least 50% if not all of those damn sky-scraper sized boxes back again at the end of the day, now adorned with half-dry paint and glue and bits of glitter n' shit falling off in my car so I have to carefully stack them and cart them all back home. And THEN display them around the house for days so we can all rejoice in their glory and splendour.
Ah, the joys. I have to laugh. *sob* And then do a resigned face like this:
(this one's for you, Sparkl-o-Matic)Tuesday, March 16, 2010
My new crush
I love this. Love it, love it, love it. I think I laugh more than the LGBB each morning when it comes on. Timmy's just so CUTE. Not to mention his little preschool buddies - especially that kitten ("Mee-YEW").
Mind you..... Steve and I have been known to watch more than one ep of Shaun the Sheep once she's gone to bed of an evening. Come ON, how could you not giggle at that show?
I'm sorry, I realise I should "get a life" outside of Toddler World. But this is one honest injin show that just fills me to the brim. Possibly a lot to do with the joy and smiles my child gets out of it. Annnd just a little bit self-indulgent for myself as well. It's just so safe and innocent, yet cheeky and mischievous at the same time.
Have you seen it? (channel 2, 8.15 weekdays)
Mind you..... Steve and I have been known to watch more than one ep of Shaun the Sheep once she's gone to bed of an evening. Come ON, how could you not giggle at that show?
I'm sorry, I realise I should "get a life" outside of Toddler World. But this is one honest injin show that just fills me to the brim. Possibly a lot to do with the joy and smiles my child gets out of it. Annnd just a little bit self-indulgent for myself as well. It's just so safe and innocent, yet cheeky and mischievous at the same time.
Have you seen it? (channel 2, 8.15 weekdays)
Monday, March 15, 2010
Random stuff I wanna know
1. Where has my sweet little girl gone?
2. Why has she been replaced by a scary.... no wait, I know the answer to that one: it's a little of Column A (teething those blasted 6 year-old molars that are taking their agonisingly long bog-damn time coming through, the poor poor darlin') and a little of Column B (general narkiness leading into that gorgeous, feisty Being known as The 4 Year-Old Miss... that's normal, right? *grabs onto the nearest reader-parent/gp/carer of a young girl desperately for reassurance*)
3. HOW did hailstones the size of tennis balls miss Ella's cherub?! (and thank god they did, just quietly, because various neighbours have lost garden ornaments)
4. Why did it take me a couple of decades to look up the words to Stayin' Alive, seeing as I love the movie and the song so much, to realise that I'd been singing the chorus wrong all these years? Imagine my dismay to discover I had been belting out "Phyllis says he's breakin' and everybody's shakin' Stayin' alive, stayin' alive". When really, it's "Feel the city breakin'..."
5. Who the f@^* is Phyllis?
6. Why did I have the presence of mind to ask the 'oosband to thlap the thunthcreen on my shoulders but... uh.... didn't put any on my arms? Owwwch. And double ouch. See, we went to the beach on the weekend for a couple of nights, prearranged with friends (it took me the whole two days to relax from our past week of fiasco's and then it was time to head back home to see if the roof was still on), and I think I was just so intent on getting the LGBB's lily-white skin covered that I forgot my own - oh, yes, she gets the delicate English rose (read: easily burned and never, ever tanned) complexion from me. I even have Steve's honking great sunscreen-laden finger imprints there in white, on top of the raging red sunburn on both arms. What a dufus.
7. How is it that no matter what I do, I can't get the awful chin hairs to need plucking at the same time? I swear... that day I was catching the train to school and I saw the elderly woman shaving - yes, full on, shaving with a disposable razor on a moving, morning commuter train - over in the corner, I never realised that one day I would be stroking the hairs on my chinny-chin chin like some wise old Fu Man Chu myself. Fark.
8. Where did my reading time go? It's permanently vanished, into the never-never.
9. Come to think of it.... where has my PATIENCE gone?
10. AND my sense of yumour? They've all gone! Over the hill and far a-way....
2. Why has she been replaced by a scary.... no wait, I know the answer to that one: it's a little of Column A (teething those blasted 6 year-old molars that are taking their agonisingly long bog-damn time coming through, the poor poor darlin') and a little of Column B (general narkiness leading into that gorgeous, feisty Being known as The 4 Year-Old Miss... that's normal, right? *grabs onto the nearest reader-parent/gp/carer of a young girl desperately for reassurance*)
3. HOW did hailstones the size of tennis balls miss Ella's cherub?! (and thank god they did, just quietly, because various neighbours have lost garden ornaments)
4. Why did it take me a couple of decades to look up the words to Stayin' Alive, seeing as I love the movie and the song so much, to realise that I'd been singing the chorus wrong all these years? Imagine my dismay to discover I had been belting out "Phyllis says he's breakin' and everybody's shakin' Stayin' alive, stayin' alive". When really, it's "Feel the city breakin'..."
5. Who the f@^* is Phyllis?
6. Why did I have the presence of mind to ask the 'oosband to thlap the thunthcreen on my shoulders but... uh.... didn't put any on my arms? Owwwch. And double ouch. See, we went to the beach on the weekend for a couple of nights, prearranged with friends (it took me the whole two days to relax from our past week of fiasco's and then it was time to head back home to see if the roof was still on), and I think I was just so intent on getting the LGBB's lily-white skin covered that I forgot my own - oh, yes, she gets the delicate English rose (read: easily burned and never, ever tanned) complexion from me. I even have Steve's honking great sunscreen-laden finger imprints there in white, on top of the raging red sunburn on both arms. What a dufus.
7. How is it that no matter what I do, I can't get the awful chin hairs to need plucking at the same time? I swear... that day I was catching the train to school and I saw the elderly woman shaving - yes, full on, shaving with a disposable razor on a moving, morning commuter train - over in the corner, I never realised that one day I would be stroking the hairs on my chinny-chin chin like some wise old Fu Man Chu myself. Fark.
8. Where did my reading time go? It's permanently vanished, into the never-never.
9. Come to think of it.... where has my PATIENCE gone?
10. AND my sense of yumour? They've all gone! Over the hill and far a-way....
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Now I'm no expert...
...but I'm guessing that sickeningly loud cracking noises emanating from one's ceiling/cornice area are NOT anything to laugh about, considering the amount of water that got in the roof and onto the ceiling this past weekend.
Add to that a bowed ceiling now in the kitchen that you swore wasn't there a couple of days ago AND a new damp patch appearing in a different corner of your bedroom alongside a cracked cornice...... and uh, I'm feeling rather like a sitting duck here.
Jumping at every shadow I see this week. I seem to be waiting for a groaning, giving way. I sooooo don't have the time or nerves for this! Not right now!
Please bear with me. We seem to be having the dwelling equivalent of major technical difficulties. Consider this the white noise or test pattern you are possibly about to receive from my blog for a while, as I have no further pre-scheduled posts. But lots I wish I had the time and energy to say!
More soon...
Add to that a bowed ceiling now in the kitchen that you swore wasn't there a couple of days ago AND a new damp patch appearing in a different corner of your bedroom alongside a cracked cornice...... and uh, I'm feeling rather like a sitting duck here.
Jumping at every shadow I see this week. I seem to be waiting for a groaning, giving way. I sooooo don't have the time or nerves for this! Not right now!
Please bear with me. We seem to be having the dwelling equivalent of major technical difficulties. Consider this the white noise or test pattern you are possibly about to receive from my blog for a while, as I have no further pre-scheduled posts. But lots I wish I had the time and energy to say!
More soon...
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And then we find another leak. And another. AND ANOTHER.
So, yes. Hmmm. Along with the shrapnel that is now many of our old roof tiles, our old gutters aren't up to code, people. They are just not coping with the amount of rain.
We have water damage on the ceiling in the bedroom, ensuite, hallway, the kitchen, laundry aaaaand.... actually, I think that's it. No, wait. There's a door that has a slow drip so undoubtedly, there's water damage happening there, too.
Here is the snapshot I've just taken of the BOM weather radar as at 8:20pm. Lolly calls it the Raindar. I'm with her. Oops, and there goes the CFA siren again. Poor bastards are earning their measly moula this weekend :( I feel like baking them a batch of cracking muffins (NO, Tanya, not crack muffins, dear!... Cracking good muffins) and taking them up there to the station.Water is dribbling down a couple of the walls. Inside. We have a tarp over our roof, strategically erected by Steve today with the help of his Dad and a neighbour. There is literally nothing else we can do.
We collected 5 litres of rain water from one light fixture - read that again: a light fixture!!! - in the kitchen yesterday, in under 2 hours. The laundry ceiling now has bubbling in it in a patch that had already received water damage from yesterday's downpour and it is bowing and sagging slightly. I daren't look. I can't anymore! Am exhausted from rain. But oh... isn't it good for the garden....
It is hellishly heavy rain again now. And the next few days, I have these automatic blog posts set up. So... I could be looking like I'm posting when, really, I'm bobbing down the storm water drain on a hastily whittled life raft made out of the remnants of my house made of sticks, with Steve and the LGBB singing "Row, row, row yer boat" because they are the ever optimists, always out for a lark.
And I'll be the one moping, sodden, at the front.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Hailstorms, wheelie bins and... ZOEY! NOOOO!
(scroll down for a bit of video)
You know, it's not every day you're startled by a fireman doing that slow, almost movie-cliché walk through your home, flashing a strong torch through your house. But that's the surprise the LGBB and I got of our lives earlier today after they came inside to inspect our house for damage. It was honestly like watching a show on the telly. Except it was our house he was in and we were walking towards each other.
You know when sometimes you kind of play down something because you're pretty sure it just MUST be you over-exaggerating? But then you see it or hear it from a professional or someone with some nouse and it's not until then that you go "Oh.... oh, holy crap.... yeah, I guess that is pretty bad/dangerous. Okay, yep, we'll take that help, thanks for the gesture." The firey has called the SES for us. We're going to be waiting hours. But it's the thought that counts *playful fist on chin*
The fire brigade were doing slow laps of the neighbourhood, helping out their community and stopping to inspect at the most tarp-laden or crowd-gathered places. I had been down the "extension end" (solid as a rock, it is, and thank goodness) with Lolly, checking for any signs of water damage - there were none - and this firey must have been ushered inside by Steve, who at this point was concerned we might have a caved-in roof soon if this rain didn't stop. There was no way at that point to assess the damage of this "Act Of God".
An enormous, vicious and expensive storm swept Melbourne this afternoon.
Steve and the LGBB were on their way (in the dark and brooding weather) to have a dip in the local pool when this huge storm cloud dumped baseball and golfball size hail stones on them. In my little car!
About 2:30pm on Saturday afternoon
Having no idea what exactly was about to happen, I was working at the kitchen bench at the time. It got dark all of a sudden. Dark even for this old weatherboard [yes, yes, very funny, I mean the house, not me].
"Huh, strange looking cloud," I says to myself as put down the camera and continue working. Then the phone rang and it was Steve.
"Not to alarm you or anything, buuuuut..." and he told me what was going on, about five minutes' drive up the road, where he and Lol had been forced to pull over and take cover under a large tree. I have no idea how, but my Renault would end up with not even a scratch on it, let alone a dint. 'Assmy grrrl.
"Golf ball hailstones, you're exaggerating," I said, chortling. And then.... the first one hit the kitchen window as I was staring out of it at the eery light moving across the neighbour's backyard. "HOLY FARK! Either the kid next door has a reeeeally good pitch for a 14 month-old or they're coming!"
What followed was a noise so deafening I cowered at floor level with the two dogs, who luckily just happened to be inside - a rare treat for them. I had to hang up from Steve, it was impossible for us to hear each other. He had said to me that the LGBB was okay, not too alarmed. He was obviously doing a good job at allaying any concern about the noise in the car.
Meanwhile, back at the house, I could hear a neighbour screaming, I could hear glass smashing and the sound of the hailstones hitting the weatherboards was sickening. As if the Heavens themselves were belligerantly piffing these things at our houses with such hatred.
The force of Mother Nature again humbled me today.
Inside, I heard the sound of water running not more than five minutes after the pelting started. I had the presence of mind to grab the video camera (I was thinking Steve would NEVER believe me) and because it was so dark and I was scared of being electrocuted as there were obviously leaks in the roof, all you can hear is something that sounds like someone running a bath. Except it was just inside my front door. And too close to the wall for me to place a bucket under. I tried to trace the flow and realised it was streaming in from everywhere, around a lovely old leadlight window in our entrance, and I could hear more very fast-running water inside the wall. Gahhh!!! I raced to get towels and buckets and when I opened the laundry door, I saw a huge puddle of water careening its way across the floor in there, apparently coming from yet another leak somewhere behind the adjoining kitchen-laundry wall! Ah, the joys of living in an old circa 1940's house.
So back to the front door, I hastily dabbed at the wall, which began to bulge - the plaster shall have to be replaced, for sure - and mused, trying to compute it, that I was inside my own house but had rainwater splashing in my face. Water was everywhere. Just... everywhere. And then I saw the external hard drive. You know, the backup drive? The one you grab on your way out the front door In Case Of Emergency Evacuation? Yuh-huh, that one. It was being weed on by the heavens. I let out an expletive and dashed over to the kitchen bench, placing it safely there. Feeling quite hopeless after a few minutes, with sodden bath sheets being flung out the front door so I didn't damage the floor any more than it may already have been, I heard another (now familiar) sound. More water! This time from the kitchen.
I dumped what I was holding and raced back over and there, raining down inside straight onto the kitchen bench were another THREE leaks. These ones coming out at light fitting points. And one very suspicious-looking water stain appearing on the ceiling. My laptop, Steve's iPhone, the camera and yep, you guessed it, the already sodden hard drive, all in the line of the coursing water. All appear to have escaped damage, though (except we haven't attempted to test the drive, we'll wait for a couple of days before turning it on... I reeeeally don't like the chances....)
It was all rather hopeless. We lost our beautiful stain glass window in the ensuite, it smashed from one end of the bathroom to the other, with telltale little puddles of brown muddy mush where melted "golf balls" met their ultimate fate on the floor. The LGBB and Steve, having arrived home after a very slow drive - during which Steve also had to dodge bobbing wheelie bins as they floated across busy intersections at him from the shopping centre - held torches for me while I painstakingly swept up shards of glass. The toothbrushes and anything else on the countertop were binned, there was no taking any chances, not with this fine glass.
In the wake of the fast storm, the street rallied together beautifully - as they have done regularly already in the two years we have been living here - and we all pitched in at each others' places, tarping over severely broken windows, corking and covering roofs (like ours, with so many cracked tiles it instantly created a bit of an issewe indoors) and also just sharing stories and debriefing. It reminded me so much of Black Saturday. Before I knew it, we had three blokes I've never met, hoiking themselves up onto our steeply pitched and dangerous tiled old roof, fixing it as much as they could until the SES can arrive (they're yet to come, we may not see them til daylight, we may not see them at all). We are apparently expecting more downpours tomorrow and everybody was keen to ensure we would all avoid any further inside damage, though I hope sincerely that there will be no more damaging and dangerous hail.
But we are safe. Lolly is passed out in her bed, grossly offended that I threw out her Zoey toothbrush and exhausted from reassuring her take-everywhere buddies, Scraps and Bun, that it was okay, they could uncover their ears now... awwwww. The street, while looking like a war zone, is also safe.
Steve's car, on the other hand..... well, it bore the brunt and the passing front wreaked havoc on his paint work and windscreen, which has cracked from top to bottom and has six bullet-like holes in it. The entire body (and of course the roof) is as pock-marked as an adolescent teen.
Big mop ups going on here this weekend. And just when I thought I already had enough work on.....
Watch my big "guard dog" leap to reassure me she'll protect me *a-HERM* and when you see the quick flash of vid of the leadlight window, that water noise you hear was inside!
You know, it's not every day you're startled by a fireman doing that slow, almost movie-cliché walk through your home, flashing a strong torch through your house. But that's the surprise the LGBB and I got of our lives earlier today after they came inside to inspect our house for damage. It was honestly like watching a show on the telly. Except it was our house he was in and we were walking towards each other.
You know when sometimes you kind of play down something because you're pretty sure it just MUST be you over-exaggerating? But then you see it or hear it from a professional or someone with some nouse and it's not until then that you go "Oh.... oh, holy crap.... yeah, I guess that is pretty bad/dangerous. Okay, yep, we'll take that help, thanks for the gesture." The firey has called the SES for us. We're going to be waiting hours. But it's the thought that counts *playful fist on chin*
The fire brigade were doing slow laps of the neighbourhood, helping out their community and stopping to inspect at the most tarp-laden or crowd-gathered places. I had been down the "extension end" (solid as a rock, it is, and thank goodness) with Lolly, checking for any signs of water damage - there were none - and this firey must have been ushered inside by Steve, who at this point was concerned we might have a caved-in roof soon if this rain didn't stop. There was no way at that point to assess the damage of this "Act Of God".
An enormous, vicious and expensive storm swept Melbourne this afternoon.
Steve and the LGBB were on their way (in the dark and brooding weather) to have a dip in the local pool when this huge storm cloud dumped baseball and golfball size hail stones on them. In my little car!
About 2:30pm on Saturday afternoonHaving no idea what exactly was about to happen, I was working at the kitchen bench at the time. It got dark all of a sudden. Dark even for this old weatherboard [yes, yes, very funny, I mean the house, not me].
"Huh, strange looking cloud," I says to myself as put down the camera and continue working. Then the phone rang and it was Steve.
"Not to alarm you or anything, buuuuut..." and he told me what was going on, about five minutes' drive up the road, where he and Lol had been forced to pull over and take cover under a large tree. I have no idea how, but my Renault would end up with not even a scratch on it, let alone a dint. 'Assmy grrrl.
"Golf ball hailstones, you're exaggerating," I said, chortling. And then.... the first one hit the kitchen window as I was staring out of it at the eery light moving across the neighbour's backyard. "HOLY FARK! Either the kid next door has a reeeeally good pitch for a 14 month-old or they're coming!"
What followed was a noise so deafening I cowered at floor level with the two dogs, who luckily just happened to be inside - a rare treat for them. I had to hang up from Steve, it was impossible for us to hear each other. He had said to me that the LGBB was okay, not too alarmed. He was obviously doing a good job at allaying any concern about the noise in the car.
Meanwhile, back at the house, I could hear a neighbour screaming, I could hear glass smashing and the sound of the hailstones hitting the weatherboards was sickening. As if the Heavens themselves were belligerantly piffing these things at our houses with such hatred.
The force of Mother Nature again humbled me today.
Inside, I heard the sound of water running not more than five minutes after the pelting started. I had the presence of mind to grab the video camera (I was thinking Steve would NEVER believe me) and because it was so dark and I was scared of being electrocuted as there were obviously leaks in the roof, all you can hear is something that sounds like someone running a bath. Except it was just inside my front door. And too close to the wall for me to place a bucket under. I tried to trace the flow and realised it was streaming in from everywhere, around a lovely old leadlight window in our entrance, and I could hear more very fast-running water inside the wall. Gahhh!!! I raced to get towels and buckets and when I opened the laundry door, I saw a huge puddle of water careening its way across the floor in there, apparently coming from yet another leak somewhere behind the adjoining kitchen-laundry wall! Ah, the joys of living in an old circa 1940's house.
So back to the front door, I hastily dabbed at the wall, which began to bulge - the plaster shall have to be replaced, for sure - and mused, trying to compute it, that I was inside my own house but had rainwater splashing in my face. Water was everywhere. Just... everywhere. And then I saw the external hard drive. You know, the backup drive? The one you grab on your way out the front door In Case Of Emergency Evacuation? Yuh-huh, that one. It was being weed on by the heavens. I let out an expletive and dashed over to the kitchen bench, placing it safely there. Feeling quite hopeless after a few minutes, with sodden bath sheets being flung out the front door so I didn't damage the floor any more than it may already have been, I heard another (now familiar) sound. More water! This time from the kitchen.
I dumped what I was holding and raced back over and there, raining down inside straight onto the kitchen bench were another THREE leaks. These ones coming out at light fitting points. And one very suspicious-looking water stain appearing on the ceiling. My laptop, Steve's iPhone, the camera and yep, you guessed it, the already sodden hard drive, all in the line of the coursing water. All appear to have escaped damage, though (except we haven't attempted to test the drive, we'll wait for a couple of days before turning it on... I reeeeally don't like the chances....)
It was all rather hopeless. We lost our beautiful stain glass window in the ensuite, it smashed from one end of the bathroom to the other, with telltale little puddles of brown muddy mush where melted "golf balls" met their ultimate fate on the floor. The LGBB and Steve, having arrived home after a very slow drive - during which Steve also had to dodge bobbing wheelie bins as they floated across busy intersections at him from the shopping centre - held torches for me while I painstakingly swept up shards of glass. The toothbrushes and anything else on the countertop were binned, there was no taking any chances, not with this fine glass.
In the wake of the fast storm, the street rallied together beautifully - as they have done regularly already in the two years we have been living here - and we all pitched in at each others' places, tarping over severely broken windows, corking and covering roofs (like ours, with so many cracked tiles it instantly created a bit of an issewe indoors) and also just sharing stories and debriefing. It reminded me so much of Black Saturday. Before I knew it, we had three blokes I've never met, hoiking themselves up onto our steeply pitched and dangerous tiled old roof, fixing it as much as they could until the SES can arrive (they're yet to come, we may not see them til daylight, we may not see them at all). We are apparently expecting more downpours tomorrow and everybody was keen to ensure we would all avoid any further inside damage, though I hope sincerely that there will be no more damaging and dangerous hail.
But we are safe. Lolly is passed out in her bed, grossly offended that I threw out her Zoey toothbrush and exhausted from reassuring her take-everywhere buddies, Scraps and Bun, that it was okay, they could uncover their ears now... awwwww. The street, while looking like a war zone, is also safe.
Steve's car, on the other hand..... well, it bore the brunt and the passing front wreaked havoc on his paint work and windscreen, which has cracked from top to bottom and has six bullet-like holes in it. The entire body (and of course the roof) is as pock-marked as an adolescent teen.
Big mop ups going on here this weekend. And just when I thought I already had enough work on.....
Watch my big "guard dog" leap to reassure me she'll protect me *a-HERM* and when you see the quick flash of vid of the leadlight window, that water noise you hear was inside!
Hailstorm from Lolly Lovers on Vimeo.
My search is over!
I finally found them. The curtains that are going in the LGBB's new room!
Now, this is no easy feat. The girl has gone from All-Pink-No-Compromises to... well, exactly the same obsession but just swap the "pink" with "purple". Kind of tricky when you've been painting and decorating a new room (complete with green walls).
So here was her room a few weeks ago, Steve is still using it as his cutting room at the moment so it looks like a bombsite now - can you believe, we were HALF a measly box short of finishing the whole 63sqm of bamboo timber flooring. Half a box!! And they were out of stock! So that has held just about everything up. We now have the box. Steve is doing the last of his cutting this weekend. And then, the finishing touches are ready to go in Lolly's room before we can get carpet laid and then.... she's IN! Five months she's been sleeping in our lounge room. She has done remarkably well (although since about halfway through, she has been beside herself with fear about the fireplace - who can blame her, really - and other shapes and things that go "Bump" in the night in there).
Her bedroom window view, lucky girl
(the sun - and the glorious full moon! - rises over that ridge)
Now, this is no easy feat. The girl has gone from All-Pink-No-Compromises to... well, exactly the same obsession but just swap the "pink" with "purple". Kind of tricky when you've been painting and decorating a new room (complete with green walls).
So here was her room a few weeks ago, Steve is still using it as his cutting room at the moment so it looks like a bombsite now - can you believe, we were HALF a measly box short of finishing the whole 63sqm of bamboo timber flooring. Half a box!! And they were out of stock! So that has held just about everything up. We now have the box. Steve is doing the last of his cutting this weekend. And then, the finishing touches are ready to go in Lolly's room before we can get carpet laid and then.... she's IN! Five months she's been sleeping in our lounge room. She has done remarkably well (although since about halfway through, she has been beside herself with fear about the fireplace - who can blame her, really - and other shapes and things that go "Bump" in the night in there).
Her bedroom window view, lucky girl(the sun - and the glorious full moon! - rises over that ridge)
I looked everywhere for some plain white curtains. The closest I came (complete with child-strength blockout) was a $100 eyelet curtain - just one! For $100!
So then, I found this really lovely plain jacquard tab top curtain on Ebay. Excellent drop (I'm going to put them right at the top, near the ceiling) and a Buy-Now price of just $35. After visiting Spotlight last week with the LGBB, we came away with some blockout for $20-something, a really cute set of sheer purple (of course) sequin curtains to jazzy up the window a bit and I also found Lolly's decoration of choice: Butterflies. I am going to snip off the wire and hand stitch these somewhere so they can be easily removed for washing. The photo doesn't do the big one nearly enough justice. It is an exquisitely delicate, dusty pink with glittery edges that sparkle in any light source. To finish the curtain off, I also bought 1.5m of the cutest, funky, girly ribbon - white with pink and purple "squashed" squares - which I am going to sew on near the bottom. Some curtain weights for added effect when hanging and.... voilé! The entire lot cost just under $90.
AND I get to have some fun too and bring out my sewing machine!
AND I get to have some fun too and bring out my sewing machine!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
End of an era
Well, I just farewelled Lolly's first, last and only pram to its new owner - a happy Ebay winner.
And I am feeling rather forlorn! Despite the fact that we no longer need the pram - and there are no prospective hand-me-down recipients likely to join our family anytime soon - and it's crazy for us to keep it, I dunno. I feel.... sad about it!
It was the pram I used to (finally) take my newborn Lol to the shops, where I would go to "practice" being a "new mum" amongst other new mums and pretend I felt normal, when inside, I felt strange, bereft, exilharated, fatigued to the point of self-combustion in those early sleep deprived, heady days.
It came on our first outing as a family together (to our fave restaurant, to have breakfast like we'd always done, yet now we were in the strange other-world... we were now parents, again, but with a child to show for it, to take out and prove our journey).
I look now at these photos of this time and they belie the turmoil I was in, emotionally. And, aside from all that, look how MASSIVE that newborn dummy looks in her gob! Soooo funny because they really are such tiny dummies.
The pram was there, too, when I captured the LGBB's first ever hand clap!
It was there when we took her on our first family holiday - we drove 11 hours to our quiet central NSW coast destination and the LGBB was an absolute champ. And so, of course, was the pram, ever faithful and giving me the much-needed crutch I required, let alone her, so far from home.
See here? Her little friend is pointing and saying, "I want THAT praaaam, WAHHH!"
When my kid brother got married in 2007, Lolly characteristically slept through the entire ceremony, having already lapped up the pre-wedding audience goo's and gah's at her baby blues in the divine little matching flowergirl dress. So she didn't do her job... but she was there, orright? In the pram. Snug and comfy.
One of my favourite ever photos of our Lolly Gobble Bliss Bomb
And I am feeling rather forlorn! Despite the fact that we no longer need the pram - and there are no prospective hand-me-down recipients likely to join our family anytime soon - and it's crazy for us to keep it, I dunno. I feel.... sad about it!
It was the pram I used to (finally) take my newborn Lol to the shops, where I would go to "practice" being a "new mum" amongst other new mums and pretend I felt normal, when inside, I felt strange, bereft, exilharated, fatigued to the point of self-combustion in those early sleep deprived, heady days.
It came on our first outing as a family together (to our fave restaurant, to have breakfast like we'd always done, yet now we were in the strange other-world... we were now parents, again, but with a child to show for it, to take out and prove our journey).
I look now at these photos of this time and they belie the turmoil I was in, emotionally. And, aside from all that, look how MASSIVE that newborn dummy looks in her gob! Soooo funny because they really are such tiny dummies.
The pram was there, too, when I captured the LGBB's first ever hand clap!It was there when we took her on our first family holiday - we drove 11 hours to our quiet central NSW coast destination and the LGBB was an absolute champ. And so, of course, was the pram, ever faithful and giving me the much-needed crutch I required, let alone her, so far from home.
See here? Her little friend is pointing and saying, "I want THAT praaaam, WAHHH!"
When my kid brother got married in 2007, Lolly characteristically slept through the entire ceremony, having already lapped up the pre-wedding audience goo's and gah's at her baby blues in the divine little matching flowergirl dress. So she didn't do her job... but she was there, orright? In the pram. Snug and comfy.
One of my favourite ever photos of our Lolly Gobble Bliss BombThis pram has done all the usual. It's been on picnics (and check this quick link out too, just for a giggle at a dumb dog)...
...caught a train or two...
...and generally been there often when a good time has been had by us as a little fam.
I guess it's no wonder I am so emotional about saying goodbye to what this little piece of our history, of Lolly's history, has meant to us.
And to think, when my mother's group and my friends were complaining about their prams and buying their second, or their third, my trusty little Ebay win for the princely sum of $139 has just kept serving and serving and serving. Easy to wheel around, fits through any tight space, and cute to boot. Ah! I will miss it.
...caught a train or two...
...and generally been there often when a good time has been had by us as a little fam.
I guess it's no wonder I am so emotional about saying goodbye to what this little piece of our history, of Lolly's history, has meant to us.
And to think, when my mother's group and my friends were complaining about their prams and buying their second, or their third, my trusty little Ebay win for the princely sum of $139 has just kept serving and serving and serving. Easy to wheel around, fits through any tight space, and cute to boot. Ah! I will miss it.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
It's only me
Have you ever noticed how many people say, "It's just me" or "It's only me" when they phone you or leave a message on your voicemail?
I hadn't realised how often people say this until I just cleared ten messages off my machine. And only one person said, "Oh hi, it's Mary..." The rest were a rather dazzling succession of callers who announced themselves in this fashion.
Do you get that? Or do you say it? I think I do when I call and have to leave a message! "Hi, it's only me..."
What does it mean? Is it because the caller thinks the person they've phoned is hiding from someone? Telemarketers perhaps? Or the bank manager who asked ten days ago for them to drop in the form they requested in order to process the mortgage details so that... oh. Wait, that could just be me. But yeah. Apart from that, who are these people so fearful of receiving calls that we have to start with "Hello, only me..."?
Or is it that we are so self-deprecating that we don't put enough value on ourselves that the person is wanting to receive our call?
Shouldn't it be "HEY! You are soo-oo-oooooo lucky, my friend, because.... it's ME!" Hmmm, don't think I'll be announcing myself like that anytime soon. But feel free to try it on your friends! Tell me how many hang-ups you get.
I hadn't realised how often people say this until I just cleared ten messages off my machine. And only one person said, "Oh hi, it's Mary..." The rest were a rather dazzling succession of callers who announced themselves in this fashion.
Do you get that? Or do you say it? I think I do when I call and have to leave a message! "Hi, it's only me..."
What does it mean? Is it because the caller thinks the person they've phoned is hiding from someone? Telemarketers perhaps? Or the bank manager who asked ten days ago for them to drop in the form they requested in order to process the mortgage details so that... oh. Wait, that could just be me. But yeah. Apart from that, who are these people so fearful of receiving calls that we have to start with "Hello, only me..."?
Or is it that we are so self-deprecating that we don't put enough value on ourselves that the person is wanting to receive our call?
Shouldn't it be "HEY! You are soo-oo-oooooo lucky, my friend, because.... it's ME!" Hmmm, don't think I'll be announcing myself like that anytime soon. But feel free to try it on your friends! Tell me how many hang-ups you get.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The Reader's Digest blog
Lately, I have had so much to blog about! So many discoveries I want to discuss. But look at my posts. You can probably see, if you're a seasoned reader here, that I have a lot going on, just by the very surface-nature of my writing. I tend to write very short, off-the-cuff posts when my creativity is being yanked in another direction. I also still have 2-3 website/design projects on the go at any one time, which has been the case since about October last year - it creates a drain on my reserves that I have to allow space for so that the well doesn't run dry (also need a bit o' creativity in reserve to come up with new and exciting ways to glue stuff to other stuff, for the LGBB, who is a craftoholic - how she loves glitter, torn paper, egg cartons and glue!).
Personally (well, I guess it is fast becoming 'professionally'), I am in a phase of learning just SO much right now. I'm understanding more than I ever have about spiritual lore vs spiritual 'law' (and all that pertains to both these things). Learning about our individual roles in perpetuating these disillusioned truths we hold (truths about ourselves, our friends, our loved ones, our neighbours, different communities, entire races - animal, vegetable and mineral). Helping to uncover theories about the close relationship between our psyche, our spirit and our soul and what/who really runs the show, which further perpetuates how we live our lives and, in turn, how that then contributes to the Earth's destruction, en masse. And these all run in to just so many other things that I find it difficult to even succinctly raise them here.
I'm also feeling the pull from a young miss who is constantly willing me to strive for a better way of life (and for me, that is nothing to do with how I look, what size I am, what I own, what I have, what I wear or eat or drive). Simply by her existence and her presence in my life, I am reminded to really look at what is my truth/natural original self as opposed to that which has been taught and imprinted on me throughout my life, in order that future generations of our family line do not repeat these outmoded, rather spiritually barbaric ways. The LGBB teaches me part of the way in how she needs to be raised and guided, but the rest of it is my reponsibility to... well, get responsible!
And so with all these things combined, I feel not so much a nagging but a gnawing. Constantly willing me to pull my socks up and remind myself of another way that does not involve anger, or idleness - in the form of escapism, using things like alcohol, internet surfing, tv, etc. - and actually opens up vast pockets of space in time in which I can fully reconnect with who I truly am, which in turn helps me cope and compartmentalise and sweep out dusty, dark corners of my existence. Today, I am steeped in trying to understand about reliances on the Father being related to an addiction/reliance on Father Time. Ho boy, what a sit up and take notice lesson this one is!
So, speaking of which, I have to go! Things to do, souls and Higher Selves to connect with, yada yada.... Please do bear with me, I'm just very pushed for time (as are we all, I know). But I'm in a phase of finding a new balance - I'm not trying to find it, it's finding me, and I am actually very grateful to the grounding nature of the Energenetics work I am editing and involved in (Energenetics = basically, the study of the energy behind our genetic coding and "what makes us tick" and, most importantly, how to heal family lines/ties and relationships, but on a purely energetic level - it starts with the Self and ends with the Self... an incredibly humbling process to integrate and realise).
Personally (well, I guess it is fast becoming 'professionally'), I am in a phase of learning just SO much right now. I'm understanding more than I ever have about spiritual lore vs spiritual 'law' (and all that pertains to both these things). Learning about our individual roles in perpetuating these disillusioned truths we hold (truths about ourselves, our friends, our loved ones, our neighbours, different communities, entire races - animal, vegetable and mineral). Helping to uncover theories about the close relationship between our psyche, our spirit and our soul and what/who really runs the show, which further perpetuates how we live our lives and, in turn, how that then contributes to the Earth's destruction, en masse. And these all run in to just so many other things that I find it difficult to even succinctly raise them here.
I'm also feeling the pull from a young miss who is constantly willing me to strive for a better way of life (and for me, that is nothing to do with how I look, what size I am, what I own, what I have, what I wear or eat or drive). Simply by her existence and her presence in my life, I am reminded to really look at what is my truth/natural original self as opposed to that which has been taught and imprinted on me throughout my life, in order that future generations of our family line do not repeat these outmoded, rather spiritually barbaric ways. The LGBB teaches me part of the way in how she needs to be raised and guided, but the rest of it is my reponsibility to... well, get responsible!
And so with all these things combined, I feel not so much a nagging but a gnawing. Constantly willing me to pull my socks up and remind myself of another way that does not involve anger, or idleness - in the form of escapism, using things like alcohol, internet surfing, tv, etc. - and actually opens up vast pockets of space in time in which I can fully reconnect with who I truly am, which in turn helps me cope and compartmentalise and sweep out dusty, dark corners of my existence. Today, I am steeped in trying to understand about reliances on the Father being related to an addiction/reliance on Father Time. Ho boy, what a sit up and take notice lesson this one is!
So, speaking of which, I have to go! Things to do, souls and Higher Selves to connect with, yada yada.... Please do bear with me, I'm just very pushed for time (as are we all, I know). But I'm in a phase of finding a new balance - I'm not trying to find it, it's finding me, and I am actually very grateful to the grounding nature of the Energenetics work I am editing and involved in (Energenetics = basically, the study of the energy behind our genetic coding and "what makes us tick" and, most importantly, how to heal family lines/ties and relationships, but on a purely energetic level - it starts with the Self and ends with the Self... an incredibly humbling process to integrate and realise).
Can it beee that it was all so simple then?
Oh, how I am loving ('scuse me for banging on) this Linkwithin widget now it's actually working on my blog!
If you didn't ever read/see this post I did a while back (and you want to know a bit more about cosmopolitan Melbourne's daggy past before her apparent "makeover" sometime in the past 10-20 years), I urge you to go read about our very own international-style play park. I still guffaw when I see those old commercials.
And how can I gleefully delight in the trip down memory lane without bringing your attention to this - a much needed mummy-time-out, by the looks of it. Mind you, that mama doll's coffee would be so icy cold by the time she actually managed to enjoy a sip of it, what with the running around and herding and negotiating and wiping and consoling she's probably had to do whilst in the middle of drinking the mammoth thing.
Ah, the memories.
If you didn't ever read/see this post I did a while back (and you want to know a bit more about cosmopolitan Melbourne's daggy past before her apparent "makeover" sometime in the past 10-20 years), I urge you to go read about our very own international-style play park. I still guffaw when I see those old commercials.
And how can I gleefully delight in the trip down memory lane without bringing your attention to this - a much needed mummy-time-out, by the looks of it. Mind you, that mama doll's coffee would be so icy cold by the time she actually managed to enjoy a sip of it, what with the running around and herding and negotiating and wiping and consoling she's probably had to do whilst in the middle of drinking the mammoth thing.
Ah, the memories.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The only bookstore I don't want to be stocked in
I'm sure many of you think by now that my book is a mythical concoction of my own imagination. I'm beginning to think it's as real as a unicorn myself.
I haven't written anything (insofar as the book goes, anyway) for months. This story and I have been on quite the learning journey together and I now know the way it works - it sits and waits, patiently, while I go and ground myself in more of my true reality, learning and healing and gathering as I go. I know it is part of the magic that will eventually be woven into this story, if only I have the eye on the end "prize" and trust that the long-drawn-out method the writing has turned out to be will lead to a journey that becomes useful to others, not just in terms of the actual events, but in the process of how I kept my head above water (and how I took breaths when I was under the water as well!).
Anyway. All this is a long winded way of me saying........ WHEN it's finished and ONCE I get it published (somehow, some way), all's I can say is, I would really rather not be associated with this bookstore:
I haven't written anything (insofar as the book goes, anyway) for months. This story and I have been on quite the learning journey together and I now know the way it works - it sits and waits, patiently, while I go and ground myself in more of my true reality, learning and healing and gathering as I go. I know it is part of the magic that will eventually be woven into this story, if only I have the eye on the end "prize" and trust that the long-drawn-out method the writing has turned out to be will lead to a journey that becomes useful to others, not just in terms of the actual events, but in the process of how I kept my head above water (and how I took breaths when I was under the water as well!).
Anyway. All this is a long winded way of me saying........ WHEN it's finished and ONCE I get it published (somehow, some way), all's I can say is, I would really rather not be associated with this bookstore:
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