Back when I was funny

Oh holy moly, this takes me back. I'm trying desperately to concentrate on writing. Truly, I am. In my (so far unfulfilling) search for what I am looking for, I found this old post (and I've reposted it below). Oh, how I remember the days....

If there is one word you must NEVER say around the LGBB, it is ....

Skips.

Skips are biscuits. Apparently (just ask her). I want her to get the word wrong for as long as possible, it's that adorable.

It is the most uttered word on a daily basis. So much so that a "skip ban" has been placed on her until the afternoons - mind you, "skips" are actually vegetable chips (the poor poppet, I am so nasty, she's never even been introduced to a milk arrowroot yet). Still, she woofs her artsy-fartsy pansy skips like they're triple-decker chocomochafudge-a-licious gold.

There was a moment a couple of weeks back where she knew she'd pushed it too far. I laid down the letter of the Skip Law. Since then, instead of directly asking, imploring, pleading and then begging (my leg), she has decided to take the bigger-person approach; she'll sit back, look around then casually enquire with hands in the shrug position, "Skips? Where skips gone?" Pause for an answer and for effect and then you hear, "I don' know where skips' gone." See? She's not asking or nagging for it is beneath her (yeah, right). She's simply calling her skips. "Oh, skiiiips? Where you gorn?" She's good. Going to definitely have to get up earlier and earlier as she gets older, just to collect my wits about me.

And when you look at her quizzically, after you can no longer avoid that steel-blue - rather, The Blue Steel?, as mastered by her dad inadvertently and evidenced in any existing photo of him to date - glare, you can be assured that she will square you up and repeat again.

"Skips."

If you then try and tilt your head on the side with a puzzled expression, she'll press on. Perhaps you're not understanding her. She'll say it slowww-er. And more clearly so you can fulfil her request.

"Bisskips."

Oh! Bisskips. How silly of me. I thought you said skips.

Today, I feel like....

Stacey Kent and a warm blanket, curled up on the couch, lappy at the ready.

About to start writing about the IVF part of our story. Faaaark, when will it end! Writing this thing has, so far, felt like it's taken longer than it did to actually live it! And our take-home baby was six years in the making..... Hnnnnnngh.

But today? Today I have resolve and strength and determination. Steve and the LGBB have gone down to the (soggy, grey, rainy) beach to visit his parents for the day. The house is silent. Except for Ms Kent and her companions in my "Book Music" folder in iTunes.

Crank it up, Stacey! Let's get a-writin'......


(by the way, any of you out there still nursing that chapter I gave you? Any chance of having it by Monday, pretty please?? Thank you, dear ones)

Little dark cloud

I'm looking out the window and a little dark cloud is zooming along, somewhere much lower down in the atmosphere to the loftier, sedate white clouds that are drifting almost imperceptibly in the opposite direction.

I am the little dark cloud today. I'm trundling along in some other direction, but, man, am I making progress!

There is also a new post up at the private blog, if anyone's interested in taking a squizz. It's Part 2 in a ... two-parter. Well, fancy that, then!

Right. Time for another cuppa. And have a good weekend, all. I'll be back next week with photos of a frog pond that the LGBB and I whipped up yesterday, on a whim. So sweet.

New post

Over on the Energenetics blog. If you're interested in keeping up with that string of my bow :)

Can't get it out of my head

In my mind, I have a soundtrack to the book.


Do you do that? Are there ever moments in your life when you realise "Hey! A really good song for *right now* would be Pinball Wizard" or some other such song out of left field, but one that is perfectly fitting? Granted, at that moment, you'd want to be getting a high score on an old school pinball machine, sure.

Anyway, I'll get to my point. I can't get this song out of my head today. If you haven't heard it (or heard of Alan Parsons Project).... for shame on you! Go get acquainted. Immedjately, ploise. For now, here's this (with lyrics posted below). I am really in the zone iwth this song and it makes me giddy and breathless. It is such a beautiful, profound song to me so I thought I would share it, in case it's exactly what any of you need to hear right now (whenever you may read this). And you can bet I'll be crying by the end of this song, if I allow myself to listen to the end:

Time, flowing like a river
Time, beckoning me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river
To the sea

Goodbye my love, Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love, The tide waits for me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it's gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Goodbye my friends, Maybe forever
Goodbye my friends, The stars wait for me
Who knows where we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it's gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Tweet-Tweet

Quite a bit longer than a tweet, this one.... There is a new post up at the private blog. And it's a bit of a doozy too, just quietly.

Bit o' housekeeping:

Have had several people tell me new posts on the private blog don't come up in their readers. Huh? I know. They've made it a bit hard, haven't they? *angry eyes at blogger... although, it is a free service soooo... y'know* I think that's a private blog thang, peeps, sorry. What I have done, with the 10 email addresses I'm allowed, is set up an auto email to go out to those of you who I know generally don't check in on this blog here... the rest of you who do check in here at each post and are also viewing the private one will, I trust, find your way over there if/when you're so inclined.

Hope that is a good arrangement for everyone? Let me know if you got an email about the private blog post and DON'T want any more! :) Someone else will no doubt want your spot.

Request for a chapter read and comments

Anyone who's interested in reading a very short chapter of the book, could you contact me? (Comment here or email is best)

I have something of a pivotal chapter here and would really appreciate some feedback. As it's longer than one of the usual excerpts I've put up here occasionally, I thought it best/easier to just send it to a few of you, rather than post it up on the blog. That and, as a rather important turning-point chapter, it wouldn't be a good idea to leave it wide open to the www now, would it? ;)

I have no idea what sort of response I am going to receive, so can't say how many I will send out. I would need you to read and comment by the end of this coming week (Friday 30th July).

Well, ummm.... so.... thanks in advance! *cap in hand* 


Email:  kirrily(at) geneticfactor(dot) com, or if you have an email address of mine already, feel free to use that. Ta.

I'm thinking of starting a Facebook group

But I can't decide which I have more of a passion for. Which would you join? (you're allowed multiple answers if you can't decide either)

1. Ok, a bit over the wet weather and non-stop mud now
2. If you meow one more time for food, CAT, after I have just fed you, my slipper will be up your clacker
3. *sing it with me* Sixty-four, Sixty-four, Sixty-four Zoo Lane
4. Hot chocolate with marshmallows makes me happy
5. Can't I just wipe the kitchen benches in peace?
6. Is it so wrong to have a crush on Jimmy Giggle?
7. What about Hoot, then?
8. If I indicate to come into your lane, I expect you to let me in, not close up the huge gap
9. If you indicate to come into my lane, I'll let you in because I'm a courteous driver
10. I will do no more than mutter "After you, but of course" under my breath when you PUSH into my lane with only a split second warning
11. Why oh why must I finish the packet if I open it?
12. Confession: I have a secret love for building Lego and push the kid out of the way to finish it on my own
13. Citizens against tight salsa dip lids on jars
14. I want self-cleaning windows
15. Empty toilet rolls in my house mysteriously accumulate on the bathroom counter but I'm the only one apparently who sees them
16. I am addicted to boiling my kettle without pouring the drink - latest tally = 10:1 boils to pours
17. Little tiny robins in my garden make my day
18. It was fun at first, but if I don't get Boggis, Bunce and Bean out of my head soon, I will rip my ear canals out


Am I missing any? Surely I am. Have any of these already been done? Do you think I could get 1 million followers for #13? (I do)

Panning for gold

When the foul, biting, stinging stench of cat piss hits my nose as soon as I enter the laundry, I know it's time to clear out the kitty litter tray.

I don gloves, face mask, a plastic bag and the pooper-scooper (shaped like a cat with a square-cleft lip and holding it by its tail-handle). Okay, so maybe not the mask. I'm naw tha' bright to think of that.

I get down in a position that's part sprinter on the blocks / part fight-or-flight reflex ready. And in I go. Digging around with this little slot-bottomed shovel, breathing shallowly into my nose with such little breaths that only the top teensy portion of my lung function is utilised, I go as fast - but as painstakingly - as I can without working up too much of a sweat because that will just create the need for deeper intake into the nose/lungs. And when that inevitably does happen, because it's taking so bloody long to snag and bag every bit of offending cat excrement, the threat of breathing in that awful odour gives way to the need to... stay upright and not pass out through self-induced asphyxiation.

Tabitha uses a cat litter that is sand-like in texture. It clumps when exposed to any moisture/faecal matter, as illustrated hygienically on the box by sparkling-fresh blue droplets that are meant to represent the disgusting, battery-eating acid that is my cat's (everyone's cat/s') pee. I fall for it. I buy the box every time. It's meant to last "monnnnnnths and months", says the woman at the counter of the pet/farm produce store. Whacko! I say. Bonus for me that I won't have to fork out another $25 anytime soon. I feel like I should just line the cat's tray with $5 notes and be done with it. It'd be cheaper and I could just strain it off our nation's plastic-coated money. But with a guarantee like that - lasts for monnnnnnnths - I take the box home.

Well. We're only three months in. I am almost out of this magical ever-lasting piss-soaking medium. I don't know if it's my cat or my pedantic cleaning of her tray that is causing the level to go down so fast. I mean, I do what the instructions say: I take a scoop, shake it, pan for turd-gold and let the small cat litter particles sieve back in to the tray, tip the remaining cat craps in the rubbish bag. Step and repeat. When I come across clumps (of pee), in the bag they go as well. Except..... I think she's a *hushed tones, uttered behind a coy hand* heavy wetter. I don't mean to embarrass her, but the dear is not the most gentile cat I've ever come across.

Case in point:

• She is a guts-guzzler. She would eat and eat and eat if I let her and is already overweight - somehow - even though I only give her the prescribed can a day (and no dry food, not since this debacle)
• She nuzzles her face so far into her food while she's devouring it that, if she turns and looks at you when she's mid-dinner, her entire face is covered in slobbery cat meal. Like a toddler gnawing at a vegemite sandwich.
• She talks while she's eating. With her mouth full, no less. It's actually deliciously cute. If she hears anyone come in, she has to greet them, stuffing her face or no.
• She belches. She actually, audibly burps in appreciation after a meal.
• She's also been overheard to let fluffy off the chain as she jumps up to perch on the back of chairs/couches around the place. Have you EVER in your life heard a cat fart?? I ask you...
• Her *aherm* aim in the tray is not so great. She's a bit daft when it comes to perching over the porcelain (or in her case, the plastic lip) - I have come in to find bits dangling down the outside. And those are the days, if you were a fly on the wall (a very, very happy fly in the presence of all that shit), you would see me wail to the heavens, "Why do you hate me so?" with a sob.

So the cat is a bit too free with her flotsam. I think you get the picture.

Now cue me, pint-sized scooper in hand, watery eyes, screaming lungs, trying to dig out only the most used bits of this kitty litter. At the bottom of the tray, it's literally the consistency of wet sand at the point where the thinnest part of the waves slide up the beach and get absorbed in to the ground. You know that reeeeally sodden, really hard to dig part? The part that, if you skimped a bit too much on the beach utensils and bought a flimsy set of diggers and buckets, will shatter your spade into shards of brittle plastic if you try to dig even the uppermost layer off and into the bucket. And it's so very leaden with moisture (cat-piss moisture, in my case) that it will also make the bucket break in your fingers when you try to lift it to overturn it to make the turrets on top of your masterpiece.

Given that the bottom of the tray also has, above it, the loosened particles, I have to be very careful how I go about this business because, on more than one heavy-handed exasperating occasion, I have rushed it, gone in for the dig too deep and flicked the loose stuff, sending a spray of soggy cat wee bits all over the laundry floor. Joy! More cleaning for moi.

I have said it to Steve and I shall maintain......


Hell hath no fury like the cat litter tray.

In which I issue a formal public apology

It is time I admitted something I've known for a couple of months now.

The LGBB is in love with DJ Lance Rock. Despite expressing my extreme displeasure with the show in 2008, I actually even find myself rather comforted by it. Perhaps it is because Lol isn't using it as her sole source of vocabulary learning - otherwise, she'd be asking me for something eat like this: "I want it in my belly, my belly, my be-lly. Food. In my belly. MUMMY, IN MY TUMMY!" and so forth - but something in me has softened towards the somewhat ridiculous repetition and condescending tone of DJ Lance Rock (whom I still cannot warm to).

However, Lolly is firmly enraptured. How can I deny it when she smiles at the quirky cartoon fillers and the little segues showing the kids riding various bright and colourful modes of transport? Laughs out loud at the animated robots? Has a look of utter glee on her face for the entire half hour? Says, without fail at the start of the show when DJ Lance walks across the white screen, "I like yer shooooooooooes", with a rhythm you could set a metronome by. Because she does it the same way. Every day.

So. I guess all that is left now is for me to ask all those who knew the magic of the show and read that original post of mine, ranting at the awfulness of Yo Gabba Gabba, to please line up with trousers dropped so I can pucker up and kiss butt.

A storm in a mix-master

Caused by cupcakes. Apparently.

I'm very cross! Why are cupcakes deemed so unsafe to hand out at kindy that they have a blanket ban on the things?

I know, I know.... food allergies. Possibility of unsafe/unhygienic food practices in the home kitchen spells potential liability for the centre it was handed out in.

But how is it that the LGBB's party on Saturday was made up almost entirely of children from the same two government run child care places - who miss out on the home baked efforts of their friends' mothers when their respective birthdays come around - willingly and freely gobble down a home made, carseat slingshot cake and nobody thinks twice about it? Is it a case of these centres circumventing any ounce of responsibility/liability, have there really been cases of parents holding a centre to blame after becoming sick or having some reaction from a baked good? If a parent wants to stand with their feeble little home-baked offerings in Tupperware at the door, giving leaving parents the option of taking one or not for their child, is it not between the parents?? It's not like I was going to hold everyone hostage in the room until they folded and took a delicate little muffin, now, was it?

This is an open-shut case of the system gone mad, to me. Bureaucracy gone troppo. I just don't understand why we can't even have the option to offer, and decide. That's almost akin to someone telling you how to raise your child and what's best for them.

Ah, well. Sucks to be them. They miss out on my white choc-iced mini cupcakes, look at them in that photo up there, tinted in shades of pinks, yellows and greens. But I'm sad that they unwittingly take the fun out of birthdays for kids, who just want to share a bit of lurve with their buddies.

Do you have the same reg's at your child care places? Have you ever marvelled, as you stood at a birthday party with the very same kids, how the parents are okay with letting kids eat your party food if it's on your property? Has it ever occurred to you that it's these places making the rules that start instilling the fear into us at such a very tender age? (the kids' age, not the parents')

Common uses for oils

Seeing as quite a few of you got in touch with me regarding the post about essential oils for children, I just thought I'd mention there's now a practical uses guide for essential oils posted up here.

Enjoy your day, wherever you are!

(Side note: My little LGBB has been struck down by a strange cold/bug and is shaping up to spend her second day in bed sleeping it off! Yesterday she slept for 5 hours straight through the day. Poor kid, hasn't had the desire to even look at her new presents let alone play with them, and came in to our bed at 4.30am... and there she stays, still sleeping now after 8am)

The Big Reveal

There were two unveilings today at the LGBB's party.

First, we had her outfit to render all other outfits inferior. Weren't her father and I sucked in with that one, when we discovered, on her "Ta-dahhhh" moment in the kitchen after dressing herself, that she had merely thrown on the same (very most favourite one of all) get-up she had been living in this entire past week.

Dressed by "Ebolie" [ok, so that one's an in-joke, for her dresser's name is actually spelled with an 'n' not an 'l' - my girlfriend sends us boxes of clothes each year, a very humbling, generous and gracious gesture, she is Lolly's style guru now, apparently, which also helps our hip pocket AND keeps a connection between our girls: Lolly just looooves to wear anything that was once "Ebolie's"].

So, we get in to the car, buckle the LGBB in. And Steve has a brain-wave:  he'll sit in the back next to her, put the back of the front passenger seat down and rest it there like it's on a table. Good idea, says I.

In gets Steve. In I get. Can you just push the front seat back towards me a little, so I can reach the tray and hold onto it, he requests.  Sure! No problem, I say. And I reach for the closest handle on the seat..... which releases the backrest like a catapult, hurling the tray and the top-heavy cake into his lap.

*****BREAK IN TRANSMISSION:  TOO MANY EXPLETIVES IN POST******

Oh, it wasn't so bad. Nobody noticed. We only maimed a couple of fairies - maiming by mortar - by impaling their wings into the wall of the toadstool, their pathetic little fairy legs dangling at right angles.  Honestly, if I wasn't so shaken (mostly with fury that I had been so dumb) I would have taken you all a photo so you could laugh. I knew you'd care like that. But I couldn't think of anything but where the skewer (which was holding the two bits together) had ended up - if it had pierced Steve in the chest, I hoped to God none of the icing had been stuck to his top. That would have been tragic to bear witness to.

I had to calm my good self down then, for not only was I driving but the dear little LGBB could be heard repeating rather shocked and panic-stricken, "My cake! My cake! My house cake!"  As we had been loading her and it into the car, she had been saying joyfully, "I love this house." She was full to bursting about it. And then we tried to slingshot it out the back window but her father had been sitting in the way. He is a good catch, that Steve - of cake, I mean.... mostly - and he saved it. The guy saved the day, I tell you now, because otherwise, my makeup would have run down my neck with the amount of tears I would have cried.

As it was, I did cry. With relief. As we drove along, the tears turned to hysterical laughter. You get that, living with me. I'm a bit volatile with my weather patterns, some days.

"I don't think that I could take it

'cause it took so long to bake it...."

Anyway, the day went off without any more hitches. Lolly had a wow of a time, truly gorgeous to watch her and her friends enjoying a respectable round of mini golf.

I adore each of her friends and their parents are really lovely people as well, all of them. It makes me feel happy, particularly so that she is so enamoured, individually, with each of her little friends. I pondered occasionally today what it will be like for her, for them all, next year. Which friendships will not be able to remain? Who will she no longer see? I am going to have to keep a watchful eye on the girls and boys who are influential, in a positive way, during these, her formative years. There are already a couple of stand-out, stellar families we have vowed to stay in touch with and it is working so far. It is the girls' connection that endures, despite only seeing these friends a couple of times a year - one of these girls is Lolly's self-professed "best best BEST friend" and their love for each other is gorgeous.

Lolly managed a game of air hockey with her uncle. Only problem with that was, my little bro forgot he was playing a 4 year-old and kept automatically defending his goal space so she couldn't get a look-in and THEN, adding insult to injury, he kept accidentally scoring goals!

A nail-biting 0:0 tie breaker.

Photo evidence: Why you should never let your brother play a game of air hockey with your kid -

Oh! Sorry, Lolly, I forgot you're 30 years my junior  

*smacks forehead after puck goes sailing in the goal...again*

A little private smile from my poppet

I'm doing a bit of a 4-year retrospective of Lolly in the next few days on the private blog - a few videos, a few photos from back in the day... So make sure you go check it out! Or email me if you haven't already received an invite and would like to view the new blog.

And as always, despite the new haul of toys, her old pals Scraps and Bun were there in the car waiting to be told all about the day.

Tonight, the LGBB has gone to bed with a few of her new friends: a meowing, moving cat (strangely, its name is also Tabby); a Hello Kitty figurine; a dancing ribbon; and an Aussie Rules football. Let the games begin!

A hint of mystery

Having asked the LGBB a few times today what she's wearing to her party tomorrow, she's been very close-lipped which perturbs me somewhat. Normally, she has a think, might even put a finger to her cheek in careful thinking pose.

But this afternoon, all I got was a sideways glance and a pause before she cryptically stated, "...You'll see."

Tonight after her bath, Steve went the casual route and asked her if she had thought about what she was going to wear to her party. To him she gave a similar reply:  "You'll have to wait and see."

I'm a bit nervous about what she has in mind. I couldn't be bothered with a wardrobe-related incident in the morning! We're going to be too busy organising transport of lolly bags, Lolly herself and the cake to the party venue (mini golf for 14 of her close and personal friends...... it was a minimum 10 kids deal, so we invited 14 - 12 of whom did not need to decline our invitation, not even a one, as had been my expectation.... plus 2 more I forgot about til this week and had to hurriedly invite, and even THEY were available! Is no one busy anymore?! This is going to hurt the wallet a little....).

She is a dastardly one, that cheeky little Lolly Gobble Bliss Bomb.

Bit of new-blog housekeeping

It's been brought to my attention that some of you might not be seeing new posts (for the private blog) in your readers. I don't know what to suggest, unless you unfollow that blog then follow again? There are new posts over there.

Perhaps I will just do a little heads-up post here each time I post there, I know there are others who run various blogs who do it that way.

Thoughts? And anyone know a way to resolve the issue of a private blog's new posts not appearing in one's reader, other than re-following?

I'll be back.  With cake photos!!  (ground floor is complete, now for second storey....)

Party Time, Excellent!

Somehow, four years have zoomed by me and our little Lolly is turning a year older next week.

The obligatory girl's birthday toadstool cake has been requested (since about December last year), so I am heading out to the shops today to stock up on lollies for the decorations.

Anyone made this cake and have any tips? Any do's or don'ts not listed in the recipe book? I must say, I find it hard to believe I will end up with something that looks as good as their photo, from following the instructions. I dunno..... I'm sceptical. And I'm no fan of those heart shaped candies, aren't those the ones that chip your teeth if you try and bite them? (I'm a biter, not a sucker, same as Lol, so I can imagine her hacking away at one and I can't do it to her - I plan to use chocolate coins for the path instead)

Obligatory four-year retrospective to come, on the other blog *taps nose*

And for good effect, let's all just take a reminder look at what the LGBB will be doing to assist the process: Here

Just a reminder

Looky here, kids

Hey, lovely people of the wider world!

Am slowly getting there.  Note: if you are one of the 40-odd people who have already gone over to the new blog, this post is going to seem familiar, but somehow.... different *whooooooo!* All's I can say is, I'm sorry to dick you around.

Aherm. Here's the honest-injin last-time-I'll-change-it plan:

I have decided to keep Sunny Side Up.... the old girl is going to remain as she is, I've decided after MUCH deliberation and gnashing of teeth and consulting of trusted friends' opinions. If you have already left a comment about wanting to be invited to read my new private blog, YOU'RE ON! I just need email addresses.... [scratching head and despairing at the technology of it all].

Despite all the shuffling and setting up, I am quite enjoying this. And I feel better for the energy shift already!

Here's what's new:

• There is a new blog, separate from this one, called Energenetics - a mode to healing. This will be where I post those spiritual, other-worldly, practical tools and totems things. It's just a better, neater way to archive things (bit like a reference library) for those of you who have expressed an interest in learning more. Exciting, really, and I hope to see you following posts there if you are moved to do so :)

• There is a second new blog, The Long Tweet, which is now my private blog - please email me your email address (if you haven't already) to be added so you can log in and read there! This will probably change a bit, I'll be more open (what the!? you didn't think it was possible, did you?) because I've been finding lately there have been things I want to say but can't say them, purely for privacy reasons. So I can now! Over there!

• After lots of thought, I have decided Sunny Side Up shall still exist and will look exactly the same as you remember, for the most part. How could I remove it after such wailing!?  Who knew it held such a place in your hearts??? I am humbled. Truly.
So it will remain here as my 'public, personal blog face', with two huge changes: I will not be making the same candid LGBB or 'Steve' posts here (that I can envisage) and will instead be doing that on the private blog. Plus, over time I will be whittling this blog down to the bare essentials, that is, I will be removing certain posts - probably quite a lot of them. This is going to be a slow process that will take a backseat to my various other writing and work projects, so they will remain where they are for the time being.

• Finally, I need to let you know that eventually, the blog address (URL) of Sunny Side Up will change *Kenny Craig hands* - Look into my eyes, my eyes, my eyes, not around the eyes... annnnnd, you're under. I will now attempt to do a switch-a-roony on this here awful awful terrible embarrassing blog address didyabringyablogalong.blogspot.com and will be moving it to my new domain. OMG. I cannot believe I about to say this.... kirrilywhatman.com. There. I did it. Phew! I feel like I'm at a Privacy Anonymous meeting and I just passed the first step. I said my name to the (very crowded) room.

So, once I have sorted out my bloody DNS server rigmarole (I can only seem to add one name server!?!?!?! WHAAAAT? And I know I'm in BIG trouble because not even geek-Steve knows how to help me so I am going to have to call Tech Support on this one (not you, Bloggertropolis geek-Steve, I mean my husband geek-Steve..... although, come to think of it, have you any suggestions??).

In keeping with my new say-my-name program, I now also have a Twitter account. A few of you are already following, so I guess that makes you my sponsors. Or something.  So, even if I don't do an actual post on here as often as I used to, you can see what random shite I can come up with my thoughts in under 140 characters. What's with that?!?  That was put there to stop people like ME treating Twitter like another blog.  Short and sweet, people! They want me to be SHORT and SWEET. [Geddit? GEDDIT?? Actually, TBH, I cannot believe that twitter user name was just sitting there! Like a little pot of gold... heh!] Cannot promise I'll deliver. On either count.

Don't forget to follow me if you have a Twitter account!

My dear friend, Blog

I think it's time, lovey. I really think it's time.

My head has been in a different space to you for some months now. Sure, I've paid you attention lately but .... you and I know, my heart's not in it. Not really. Not like it used to be.

Now, don't go getting weepy on me. We've had five fantabulous years. You have given me some of the sweetest, purest, most honest love and support I could have ever dared hope to find in this big www-orld. I have a sentimental place in my heart for you. I have adoooooored sharing the parts of my life on here that have tickled me, saddened me, angered me. But Bloggy - and this is so hard to say - I'm bored. And I think you're bored of me, too. Let's just admit it.

I have other things I need to do. There are other ways I need to share my energy now. I don't have a need to divulge here anymore, because the book project has recently been adequately filling that need. If I seem distracted here, it's because.... I am. I realise it may come as a shock to you, you thought I would always be here. I thought I would, too. But I see now, it had to end sometime.

If I go places - any place - with this book, it has to have a home. And I also... it pains me so greatly to say.... I just cannot have you sitting here, out in the wide open, if and when I do get it published. I'm just not comfortable with that. So, though I'm undecided, the curtain may not only be drawn, but I might have to .... er, put you to nigh-nigh's as well. Now, now, now. Don't be alarmed. I WILL still be around. In one form or another.

I am actually rather excited to get started on not one, but TWO new blogs. Real proper, got-their-own-.com blogs, no less. An energetics work one and a book one. I see that the way the world is working, in terms of authors establishing themselves and creating interest/desire and so forth, is via the blogging (and Facebook/Twitter) medium. I can't very well see myself running you as well as putting so much effort into one about the book. But I also do still very much want to keep in touch with the many wonderful, dear-hearted people I have come to know, sometimes even rely on for witty encouragement or opinions. And so I will combine a little bit of the feel of you with a fresh new direction on a semi-personal blog, but ultimately a useful, practical one.

To be honest with you, Bloggy, I have been soul searching for the longest time about whether it's necessary of me to keep banging on here. I think my recent uncertainty on you, where I unashamedly gnawed my own foot off with paranoia was just my conscience shaking me up and saying, "Dude. Let it go now. It's time."

I needed you. I truly did. And who knows, I may live to regret letting you go, I may come running back here, tail between my legs, with everything all gone to shit. But I have to try. And I won't know unless I do a clean break with you.

Goodbye, dear friend, Blog. I have loved you so.

-------------------------------------------

To all my readers - only such a very few of you who are reading lately these days, which is telling in itself of my need to close this down - I have dearly loved this journey.

Some of you have been with me from the very start, back when I was unsure I would have enough to say to last a month. That was in September 2005. Five years, several miscarriages and not one, but TWO starring beauties (our two girls, Ellanor and Lolly) later, here I am. Relatively unscathed and deeply grateful to you for sharing it all with me. YOU GUYS have been the meaning of world peace to me. Sappy as it sounds, it's bloody true. To think I have the modern-day version of pen pals from all over the world, keen to share an interest, simply by literally just Being Me, is so very humbling.

But it is time consuming in its need to keep whetting your collective appetite! And when I think of what I want to be doing with my time, when I'm hanging in here almost solely for the sake of staying connected with you all..... well, the solution seems simple to me, really. A bit like Henry Higgins when he sings - "I've grown accustomed" to your 'faces'. For I truly have.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to her face.
She almost makes the day begin.
I've grown accustomed to the tune
That she whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
Her ups, her downs
Are second nature to me now,
Like breathing out and breathing in.

I was serenely independent
And content before we met.
Surely I could always be that way again - and yet,
I've grown accustomed to her look,
Accustomed to her voice,
Accustomed to her face.

Promise I won't leave you hanging too long. I am going to go away now, work on my book, be with my family, wait out the lake around my house that won't dry up so we can finish the decking and garden (I never did show you how the house is looking now - which is, of course, fab!). And just as importantly, I need time to polish my manuscript, keep my energies balanced, contribute to Earth Healing and begin the two new blogs to keep you abreast of my directions with both these "lines of work" I have been trying to ineffectively juggle as well as maintain some form of contact here.

So it's time - a little overdue, in fact - for me to cut this blog loose. I DO HOPE ever so much that you will follow me on either or both the new blogs..... uh, once I've made them, that is. I will come and update here with links when they are up and running.

Until then, I hope to keep track of you on your blogs and, as always, would dearly love to hear from you via here or email, if I can be of assistance in any way ;) Don't be strangers!

But before I stop here, I do have one huge favour to ask you to weigh in on. And that is,
tell me what you want to see on a new blog. More importantly, how would you like this one to remain? Would it offend terribly if I took this blog down completely? Would you like to see some of the groups of posts (labels) kept in some form or another on the other blog/s? Have your say. After all, this has been your space, too.

I can't promise there will be any more kiddy updates (in fact, though it pains me, there probably won't be anything personal like that - but maybe there's an opportunity for a private blog for that down the track, she is starting school in 2012 after all! I'll need an outlet, surely, by then!), but I do hope you will still recognise my 'voice'. Daggy as it is.

Love to all. Peace out, peeps.




Late edit: Guys, I won't be deleting anything, rest assured *taps nose* I am too much of a magpie-hoarder for that to ever happen! So that's not what I meant. But any personal blog I leave public, I hope you understand, will have to be quite filtered - all family stuff removed, the book and the esoteric/energy work (basically, the Universe and Colour Energy Healing and Animal Totem labels) will be redirected to two different places. I envisage I will continue with something along the lines of this blog but will be making it private (you'd all be welcome to view it!). That way, I will be protecting my family and myself, personally, and will no longer feel like I'm torn in three different directions. My purpose, posts and focus in every space will all be clearer. Does that sound okay?

The cottonwoods are whispering

When I couldn't get to sleep, when the monsters were close, when the room was too dark, when I hadn't had enough attention for the day.... my mother used to stay (or return) by my bedside and stroke my hair and sing to me.

In her true inimitable style, she sang pitch perfect and, if she got a bung note (usually as a result from trying to sing softly, so not able to properly hold the tune), she'd do over. Something I noticed at the time but didn't mind, being 6 or 7 as I was. But something I now remember and empathize with her, realising how strict she was on herself to be perfect. She didn't have to strive so hard. She was already perfect to me, 'faults' and all.

Her two standards - songs of the time, I suppose - were Tammy (sung by Debbie Reynolds, from the movie) and something about having a "Penny In My Pocket, gonna find a love that's true" (though I don't know its name). And I adored them both. My mother sang them so dreamily, caught up in the romanticism of them as much as she was trying to woo me into slumber and sounding for all the world like she was drifting off on a cloud herself.

Added to the charm of "Tammy" being sung to me to lull me to sleep, was the fact that we had a cat called Tammy when I was very little. She was bitten by a snake when I was three and died, most tragically for my tiny comprehension, peacefully under our car after going there to lay down and quit. I was inconsolable for ages and "Tammy" subsequently made me cry for a number of years.

I can't quite imagine I would get the same effect if I sang a Miley Cirus or Britney Spears standard to the LGBB. So I have stayed with a variation on Tammy, replacing that name with the name of our cat: Tabby.

And boy, has Lolly fallen for it!

In Tammy, she is singing about a boy (of course), true to 1950's Hollywood form. In my version, we are singing about Tabby being in love. Granted, it could possibly seem a little strange to be singing about wishing for the attentions of a cat, who herself appears to be in love with some other. But Lol seems neither to care nor notice. And it makes the song so sweet, when I hear her singing it around the house during the day absent-mindedly, seeing that it's been imprinted on her impressionable little brain.

Better that than some other gangsta-rap number. Right? You with me?

I hear the cottonwoods whisperin' above,
"Tabby ... Tabby ...
Tabby's in love"
The ole hooty-owl
hooty-hoos to the dove,
"Tabby ... Tabby ...
Tabby's in love".

Does my Tabby feel
What I feel
When she comes near?
My heart beats so joyfully,
You'd think that she could hear.

Wish I knew if she knew
What I'm dreamin' of
Tabby ... Tabby ... Tabby's in love.

Whippoorwill, whippoorwill, you and I know
Tabby ... Tabby ... can't let her go
The breeze from the bayou keeps murmuring low:
"Tabby ... Tabby ...
you love her so".

When the night is warm,
Safe and warm,
I long for her charms
She'd purr like a violin
If she were in my arms.

Wish I knew if she knew
What I'm dreaming of
Tabby ... Tabby ...
Tabby's in love

Essential oils

If you were expecting a discussion by me of the back catalogue of Midnight Oil's body of work, you'll be sorely disappointed. If, however, you were hoping I was going to talk about essential oils and their uses for, specifically this time, children.... sit right down and grab a cuppa! You've come to the right blog.

By the skin of my teeth this Monday, for the first time in ever so long, here is a post along the vein of my old dusty concept my Monday Mandala theme. Though this time, I am looking at just a few of the many essential oils to be found on the market.

Specifically, I am going to give snippets (below) of how you may use certain oils - and blends - to assist a child through certain challenging or difficult situations or transitions. I cannot express highly enough just how comforting I find it to place oil in a burner, knowing that the subtle properties of the mix I have chosen is helping to create a certain atmosphere, whether that be placid, healing, energising, soul searching... whatever. There are many uses for oils, only some of which I have researched below from my work books.

I just felt the need today, in particular, to do this for the children. There have been a few cases I've been involved with in various forms this past week or few, that I thought it might be pertinent to put here, as a place marker of sorts and a post of reference for anyone coming across it in future.

It could be very useful to build up a little collection of these amazing supportive tools over time - a good essential oil is not cheap, bear in mind - and perhaps start with those that you intuitively have a connection with. There are so many ways they can be helpful. I hope over time, I get the time to continue to share these snippets. Hmmmmm.... I'm starting to sense a blog dedicated to these other modalities coming on..... *wink*

And you know I'm going to have to sign over now with the old cliché.....

Oils Ain't Oils (hyuk hyuk hyuk)

Essential Oils - Uses for children

ROSEWOOD - Mix ROSEWOOD Oil with Oil of JASMINE for a sublime mix for children who are experiencing the trauma of not making lasting friendships. This very fine Oil will help the child see their own worth so strengthening their inner resolve not to dissipate their energies by giving their inner power away to others.
Children experiencing difficulties learning would benefit by burning a mix of ANISEED and ROSEWOOD.

ROSE OTTO - Children benefit greatly from the healing properties of Oil of ROSE OTTO. It calms them and helps them feel more comfortable in their bodies. It is especially useful when children are irritable after being in crowds.

ROMAN CHAMOMILE - helps to free one from following a life of expectations and to find a life where the guidance of the Higher Self leads one to discover their radiance within. (Apart from shock) nothing dissipates and depletes energy more than a being who stops following the heart in order to please others. ROMAN CHAMOMILE is a wonderful Oil for children, especially if mixed with ROSE OTTO, to help them begin to formulate their own bank of inner worth instead of trying to please others for a gauge of who they are.

YLANG YLANG - Burn YLANG YLANG with Oils of GENET and ORANGE for those who are working through the pain of changing friendships groups. It is very important to support a child’s energy matrix at such a time, particularly during puberty as the chakra can become depleted, especially around the heart space. Essence energy is also recommended. Use a flower or gem essence to do with feeling unable to cope with change or loss of identity, as this would be useful to the young person.

EUCALYPTUS - this oil works very well in the room of a child who has ceased to have hope. The signature of EUCALYPTUS is hope, but hope in a very specific sense. It is the kind of hope that flows to a loving heart. It is not the oil for a negative person who doesn't have hope. It is for the being usually connected to universal love, who is experiencing a temporary lapse of hope in their life. In its very essence, it works on the endocrine system to strengthen the heart space and the thyroid gland, to retain and maintain resonance.

ROSEMARY - What a gift this oil brings the being who suffers from a feeling of being suffocated by circumstances, or feels that their true Self is being swallowed up by the expectations of others. The Oil of ROSEMARY expands the frequency of the heart and throat chakras to allow the being to express, in Truth, how they feel thus freeing them from the destructive pattern of going along with others to the detriment of their spiritual growth. ROSEMARY is very good for children who are experiencing these feelings within their school situation. This Oil is very kind to children.

Oil of LAVENDER - is very good to burn for children who are feeling unhappy at school as it will assist the clearing of feeling bound and suffocated by authority and or peer group pressure. It will assist a being to concentrate on the Self and strengthen inner resolve to be in their Truth. If bullying by authority or peers is an issue, add oils of LEMON and TANGERINE. LAVENDER is very good to burn in children’s rooms after a ‘whole house’ healing. It nurtures the heart and stimulates the seventh and eighth chakras for a child.

GERANIUM - In regards to place, burn Oil of GERANIUM in an oil burner for children with phobias and fear of the dark or of unknown things. It is beneficial to use GERANIUM Oil before sleeping as it works best when the body is at rest, relaxing or meditating.

TANGERINE - Many troubled minds can be soothed by the energy of TANGERINE. Many beings run here and there, looking for things to do to make themselves feel better. Oil of TANGERINE will soothe this agitation so that these beings may stop and find the time to look within and discover the joy and contentment of their essence.
Anyone with butterflies in the stomach will also benefit from the burning of Oil of TANGERINE.
Burn Oil of TANGERINE for children, in particular, when they are fearful or very nervous about any challenges that they are facing.
Oil of TANGERINE is also very good to burn when the young female begins her process of menstruation. It will assist the energetic transition that can often cause confusion at this time. Add a little Oil of LEMON if the young one feels an agitation of Spirit due to the passing of her childhood. This reluctance to move onward to the next step of a life can often be a carry-over from times past when leaving childhood brought pain and suffering. So, if this lifetime transition can be smoother by clearing the way energetically for the next step, a great healing will occur for the child, as this progression into pubescence can be a time when the child within and the joy within are neglected. Sometimes they may be so neglected that retrieval of this wondrous energy is most difficult. The child stops playing and enjoying life and having fun, and then turns into the adult who doesn’t play and doesn’t have fun in their life, perhaps in their whole life, perhaps for lifetimes.

With thanks and full credit to Peace Space and
Lee Baxter, "Healing Botanicals: Plant energies to heal person and place"
(Creek Publications, Bendigo 2003)

Got questions or comments? Please feel free to email me (or leave a comment), I love to hear how these work for you~

Honestly, now

If someone said to you, "I got to know my daughter before she was conceived".... how would you react? What is your initial gut-response?

While I have experienced that amazing way to have a relationship, it's like I want proof myself that it all actually happened - all I have are my memories and the blessed fact that I shared much of our conversations with people around me (I discussed this with Steve, with a few family members and so forth while I was going through it, thankfully, so it's not all new to them). And you know what? I was hanging out for the day when Ella would be old enough so I could ask her if she had any recollection of it all. She was so bloody in-tune with her ESP, I thought surely she'd be able to spin me out! As it turns out, I have Lolly who is touched by a similar brush to her sister, but wouldn't you know it, she remained the purse-lipped poker player the ENTIRE pregnancy and well into her first year. Now, of course, she has proven, in her own unique and innocent way, her abilities - she is guarded as a mystic where I think Ella is so much more accessible and open and perhaps why I had such different relationships with both the girls as I carried them.

Sometimes, I feel like I haven't taken any steps at all - even though, of course, I know I have - for I still shy away from "admitting" this part of my story with Ellanor. Our way of communicating is written plainly, and discussed frankly, in the book. But when I think about the wider world out there, and of telling anyone in it what I went through (communicating with Ella before she was even a speck of material matter), I honestly feel like folding my laptop slowly and stepping away from the entire project.

I am afraid of people not "believing" me. Can you believe it??!! After all this time, I am still afraid of this. More personal work to do. Obviously. And here I was, thinking editing was my major concern!

I watched The Lovely Bones, finally, the other night. I had read the book about three years ago and knew I would have to brace myself to see the movie, because so much of the way that little girl lives alongside her family is so, so achingly familiar. It's confronting to watch it, in live action, so plainly illustrated on film.... and how can it be, that this story-teller, Alice Sebold, could know so much about how I gathered Ellanor's existence to be? Around us, but unable to be seen or heard? But then, sometimes I have heard her - since her death - just not as often as before she was born. Because now, I suppose, our relationship is so changed. Before, she was this unrealised entity. A funny, bold, graceful, ideology of love and joy. Now, she is first and foremost my daughter - not quite so freeing, that relationship, for I wanted for the longest time to hold on tight to the memory of her in her tiny baby body - and our work/unity together has been affected and effected by her death and my growth.

Hahhhhhhh. I dunno. Sometimes, I just don't know if I can hold up to the disbelieving wider world. This blog is one thing, one comparatively miniscule audience. "Out there", I feel protective of what I know. On the other hand, and ultimately, though, I am not honouring all she has shown me if I don't keep going.

Can't I stop now? I want my blankie and intravenous thick hot chocolates and a big comfy armchair while I decide.

To edit or not to edit: There is no question

Let me just say, firstly, I am in love with the notion of blogging all over again.

I am also currently cursing the "Error 404" gods in the sky, who took it upon themselves to strike right when I hit "publish", after I had written out thoughtful replies to each invaluable commenter of my last post. Honest! Please accept a collective thank you, in lieu of spending another 20 minutes that I can't spare, with a child coming in and checking on me every couple of minutes as it is...

The next best thing is a post in response, I supposed. So here 'tis.

You know what you have collectively helped me realise? There is no point not having my father read my manuscript prior to any sort of printing - even if he reads it after the fact, it won't take away the chance of disappointment, which is actually (childishly, in many respects) all I am trying to avoid. I think the unpolished jewel might be something he feels he can actually constructively help me with. For let's not forget, here is a man who has had no choice but to stand by (beside) and watch my life fall to pieces while his own heart shattered and slowly mended itself. Perhaps, as a grandparent, the pain is doubly difficult because you are watching your child lose their child. God, how indescribably hard that must have been.

So here we have a healing opportunity as well as a most productive, useful one for Dad. Nobody knows how long they have with anyone in this life. And after his major health scare last year, he has been somewhat slower and more tired all of a sudden. It's as if I have this chance to spend time with him - we worked together once, a few years ago, when I designed and put together a book to commemorate the 50 year anniversary of his high school graduating class in 2005 - and sweep out any of the darkened corners of this enormous life-changing event we both experienced (from such different perspectives but with the same loved ones at the centre of it).

I want my work to be heavily scrutinized, it is in serious need of a raze when I finish. There is no avoiding the paces any editor is going to put me through. On sleeping on this for a night, and coming back to these thought-provoking, supportive comments, I'm finding myself rather getting used to the idea as being a mighty good one - when I really think about it, I'm unsure I would be able to take the initial nitty-gritty suggestions or critique of an editor who wasn't involved at ground zero. This is something I had not even contemplated until today! My main desire is to avoid more work, get it out the door, get the monkey off my back. But I know, also, that to rush the end, when I've already spent so many years on it, would be detrimental and disastrous to the finished product.

What's more, what other editor will I be able to pay in Bassett's Licorice Allsorts, dark choc-coated ginger, assorted shortbreads and fine brewed coffee?

Mind you, he could always say no. And in that case.... problem (sort of) solved!

I'm going to ask him to take it on. As a job. With his critical eye. For, surely, he cannot help but read it as a father as well. I mean, nobody, who has a heart, will be able to read the book and not occasionally ponder this happening to their own child, so the only difference is.... it has already happened to his. (See? Look at this mess of a last sentence: I need an editor!!!)

And now, I must go and see the LGBB's high score on her Strawberry Shortcake game. Her life apparently depends on it.

When your father is an editor and you're writing a book

For over three years now, I have been writing my story about Ellanor. For over 15 years, my father has been an editor in his 'spare' time - he is actually a doctor of civil engineering by trade, acts as adjunct associate professor to one of the largest universities in the country and somewhere in there, he also manages to volunteer as an advocate for aged/special needs members of the community (which involves various mediation duties between families and courts/councils and so forth).

Would it surprise you to learn he has not read one word of my book?

Despite offering his very capable assistance, I've not taken him up on it. I think I'm scared, for a number of reasons. First, I know it would represent a heck of a lot of work (for me and for him) - he is a fine-tooth comber - and second, I'm obviously too worried it won't impress him.

As if a child who had a very well educated, studious, highly expectant father wasn't going to be concerned enough about making him proud already, now I find myself in this ideal position to call on the services of an extraordinary editor. But I cannot do it!

I have given Dad my synopsis to play with - it's the single page book 'summary' that you send as, basically, an introductory cover letter (the pitch, if you will) along with your chosen chapters as a submission to publishers and/or agents.

Getting the synopsis just right is probably THE most important thing to me at the moment. I sent it around to a few friends, only a couple of whom have had the time to provide feedback. They were as thoroughly impressed by it as I had hoped they would be. But Dad.... Dad has given me something to think about in every second sentence. This sort of advice is amazing to have at my disposal, I am a lucky girl.

But something in me is holding back from giving him a teaser chapter from the actual manuscript. It may be that I don't want him to read something that has not yet been edited (by an editor) - even my own editor, when I mentioned my father does it for a partial living, groaned and said, "Oh my GOD, the pressure!" and although I thought she meant the pressure on her, she was referring to the pressure that I must be feeling.... uh, hell YEAH!, tell me about it! It may also be partly that, as I mentioned before, when or if Dad were to get his hands on this to edit it, he would find so many technical no-no's that it would make enormous work for me, which would be detrimental to me finishing the book at this point.

Mostly, though, I really wish for my father that he can read this from beginning to end, forgive me any slip-ups (and believe me, he would find PLENTY, even if it had been edited professionally) and just feel the story. Hear me. And understand the journey we have been on.

My Dad remains one of my greatest supporters, though his role is quite peripheral, especially now he is in his latter years. I only hope I can be clear enough with him what it is I need him to do when he reads it. I was so sure that the first time I wanted him to read it was when it was in book-bound form (yes, I am heavily entertaining that fantasy now!). But now, I am not so certain. I regard his input and his intelligence so highly. I also realise that part of his intention with my work would be to ensure I, as his offspring, am producing something so close to perfect that it may as well be.

My manuscript is FAAAAAAAR from that point of perfection. I have only just become 'okay' with that, after being told for the countless time, "SHUDDUP! YOU WRITE VERY WELL! OKAY?!? ENOUGH!!!" by several who know great writing when they read it (ie. I have only been able to accept their validation of my writing because they are in the business or run a writing course or are published themselves, etc.)

The question is, though, can my own voice stand up to such heavy-handed, albeit enthusiastic and loving, editing in my story by my father? I have to be sure, in my own head, first, before I welcome him in any further to what my writing world has been these past three years.

I think the synopsis is far enough for now. I am already awestruck how he has opened it up and reflected back to me, pretty much, what I was thinking, even going so far as picking up on one of the questions I pose (to myself), stating it seemed less like the original "core" moral question I had really asked myself and more like a simple question I had thrown in for good measure. He was bang on the money! And I had not even mentioned the deeper question, assuming what I was questioning, rhetorically, was the "core". He had gleaned, from my words, the internal doubts I had been mulling over about that very question - I'm shocked to realise that what I was doubting, and how I felt internally as I wrote it when I was slightly unsure of the question's relevance, is so apparent to the astute reader.

So he knows what he's on about. He obviously has my best interests at heart. Why, then, am I so afraid to let him "addit"? (Don't worry about replying with an answer to this, also a rhetorical... oh, unless you know why! Then, do spill! With many thanks...)