So I’m thinking the potential of that extra 24 hours we get this year could be magnificent.
What if we could all plan to make it worth something extra – not just another workday (cos Feb 29 falls on a Monday) but a day we achieve one discrete but amazing project for the common good.
Something to ponder…
#oneextraday #liveyourbestday #best24hours
I will be kind.
I will be gentle.
I will be honest.
I will allow myself to have fun.
Not three days ago I was standing in the house Shakespeare was born in. I walked the streets of Stratford Upon Avon all day under skies threatening to rain. I went to his daughters house where I ate from a mulberry tree over 150 years old, grown from a cutting from her fathers garden.
Not two weeks before that, I was watching Benedict Cumberbatch deliver an epic Hamlet. His Hamlet (I hope). I’ve only just written up my journal from that performance, but won’t write it here. I don’t know how to summarise those 12 pages and as the show is still in preview and tweaks are ongoing, it doesn’t serve any purpose.
And now, first day in America, I wander through Central Park to rest the senses and happen upon a line of people waiting for free tickets to the very last performance of the Public Theatre’s Shakespeare in the Park season – Cymbeline. I’m on holidays, so what’s an hour or two standing in the queue to me? The people around were lovely and chatty and once they knew I was here for the first time, they were full of recommendations for the creative arts they encouraged me to see or do before leaving. I loved that and am very grateful.
It was a lovely walk back up to the Delacorte Theatre (in the middle of Central Park) for the 8pm start. Just on sunset. Gosh the cast have some fun with this. The opportunity to play multiple roles – or indeed the one role pretending to be another one – was seized with both hands. Terrific pace, playing to the crowd in the best tradition of Shakespeare and those voices! God the company can sing.
If you’re ever in New York – and they are playing at the Delacorte – I’d encourage you to queue for the tickets. It’s sponsored by donations, so all 1800 seats are free. By the people. For the people.
A late finish would normally have little old me a bit nervous about a walk back to the hotel – but check out my body guards. Never safer 🙂
Shakespeare wrote some of the most extraordinary lines that – even 399 years after his death – we can say off by heart. The truest of them all for me, especially this trip seems to be, that “all the world’s a stage”. I seem to find my way amongst those who love him wherever I’ve gone.
Sometimes traveling on your own can be lonely. I can miss the sound of voices conversing with me. But if I hang out in a tourist spot for a few hours, hearing the banal drivvle that some call conversation cures me of that quite quickly.
Traveling solo is practically permission to focus on what people are actually saying to each other AND I get to guess the reasons why. How parents talk to their children. How lovers – old and young – talk to each other. The passive aggression. The controlling superiority. The waspish snap of judgement. The indifference.
And then like a light in the midst – a dad and his son walk through the throng holding hands. He’s pointing out what there is and why it comes to be here and they learn something new together. Smiling. Awesome.
Give me deep conversations. The ones with meaning, not glib opinion. The debates and connections, not the trivia and shallow observations. I want the stories of living a life, not the tasks and to do lists. And to hell with those speaking to hear their own voices. They seem to be everywhere. I imagine them talking in movies – pointing out something that no one else can possibly miss because it’s 40foot tall in front of us all.
You can keep the endless roundabouts of two people agreeing with each other – fine tuning their identical points of view with an insignificant nuance. What do they end up with? It’s boring and pointless. They haven’t solved the problems of the world, but they certainly look pleased with themselves.
People watching and listening – now I can spend hours doing that.
Yes it is 🙂
Life. Life takes you on twists and turns. When once you had time, something sweeps you up and takes you away…
So here we are. Some 3 years on since my last post, the urge to write has come back to me. I have stories to tell, ideas to discuss, and fun to have. I’ve met some cool and amazing people and learnt a low. So, shall we?
It’s a thing here in Australia that sports clubs and community associations host sausage sizzles at polling booths. It’s a cheeky barbecue to raise some much needed funds. I’m sure it happens in other countries, but it’s a tradition down under.
The sausage of democracy is your reward for exercising your responsibility as a citizen. You cast your vote to help decide who runs the rules around here. Then you buy a snag.
It costs a paltry $2 – and you get optional onion (it’s not an option though, lets face it – eat the onion) and your choice of sauce for free.
But think on the true cost of it.
Generations of the poor rising up against the rich to have fair representation.
Decades of fight from women prepared to chain themselves up for their right to be heard when even their husbands wouldn’t countenance their point of view held any value.
The centuries of being dismissed by a white majority refusing the basic respect and dignity to even be counted as a human being.
You can keep your fancy Michelin star menus. The humble sausage of democracy is the most expensive meal you’ll ever taste.
I’m off for my Sausage of Democracy at my local voting location. I never look forward to running the gauntlet of pamphlet pushers and assorted delusional manipulators that stretch from the carpark to the booths. I swear some of the zealots think their Jedi mind tricks will work on me. As if. You can’t kid a cynic, Sweetie.
Just as a general shot across the bow, I publish my daily horoscope. Take it how you will.
Aries horoscope for Jan, 31, 2015
You may be feeling the need to get something off your chest, perhaps to tell someone what you think of them. This could be cathartic, Aries, if you go about it in the right way. If your goal is to repair a relationship or to stand up for yourself, then you need to be clear and also compassionate in the delivery of your message. If you are angry, hostile, or resentful, your words will only be met with defensiveness. If you reach out with the goal of a positive outcome, you can have a positive impact.
Copyright (c) The DailyHoroscope by FortunesFoundry
2014 was a bit of a struggle. It sucked a little personally and it sucked a lot for people I know. I think it would be good to have a visual reminder of what holds my family and friends together when the tough times come around.
A friend of mine has been doing this forever – and I’ve finally got around to stealing it. Here’s her way to celebrate your wins and hold on to what’s truly important.
Every good time – anything you celebrate – grab a momento and write the date/occasion, where it happened and if you have room – who was there. It doesn’t really matter what it is – napkin, card of some sort, Polaroid photo or in my case starting Christmas, a cork from a champagne bottle. You can mix and match – or drink champers all year 🙂 Place each momento into a glass jar/bowl/vase or even novelty oversized martini glass so you can SEE IT – that’s the key.
When times are tough, you’re missing loved ones or your worries take over, you can pick out a good time and smile.
Imagine my surprise at learning that you were in my hospital last week. You actually got on the train from Paris to come here to Liège! It’s a pity you didn’t call me ahead of the visit – we could have had a cup of coffee. Or you could have beeped me to say hi once you got here. But I guess that actually being face to face with someone is not your style. Come to think of it, it never really has been, has it? You did fire me via email!
Imagine my surprise to learn that despite having heard nothing from you or your boss since being fired, YOU ACTUALLY CAME TO MY HOSPITAL BECAUSE OF ME. You made an appointment with the Dean of my medical faculty, to speak about me. Then travelled 2 1/2 hours . . . for me. I’d be flattered if…
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At Bibliothèque Méjanes in Aix-en-Provence, France you will find an 894-page book from 1692 dedicated entirely to color. One A. Boogert is credited as the author to this fascinating manual written in Dutch. According to Erik Kwakkel, Boogert describes how to make watercolor paints; explaining how to mix colors and change their tone by…
This. Absolutely this. And I’m an Aussie. I will miss KP’s swagger and his bloody good cricket.
Let me take you back nine years. To that lovely summer of cricket. The reclaiming of the Ashes after 18 and a half years of ritual humiliation. To the last test match played on terrestrial TV. Do you remember, as I do, being in an office and knowing when a wicket fell when somewhere across the open plan someone had a quicker internet connection. We had a TV room, and plenty of us sneaked out for 10 or 15 minutes to watch what was happening. As each wicket fell people were working out that equation of runs v time. How much did we need to make the game safe? How many would the Aussies be able to chase in 50 overs, 40 overs, 30 overs? Were you like me and saying “bloody Australia, why can’t they lay down and die? We NEED this!!!”
Then remember the aftermath. Remember the Freddie…
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I suffer from anxiety: I do not hide from it and I am honest about it. That does not make it any easier to live with! Of late, I will concede, I have on occasion let my anxiety get the better of me. I forgot the very simple strategy to dealing with anxiety that I have been using for the last 3 and a half years and was letting my anxiety, for want of a better term, win.
I did not even realise it was happening. That is a the scariest thing. After a couple of weeks feeling off I sat back and reflected on what I was doing differently and then discovered that I had not been going through my anxiety minimisation ritual / strategy. Now that I am back using this ritual I thought I would share it.
So, here is my strategy for dealing with anxiety or an…
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I’ve been realising how little I actually speak to other people when it’s up to me. Today I spoke small talk to two shop assistants – pleasant enough. But when I think about it, that’s the first time I’ve said anything to anyone since Saturday. Four days without speaking. I’ve communicated a heap – on twitter, farcebook, instagram, texting etc. I’ve written two long letters – yes, with pen and paper! – full of love and longing, but I haven’t spoken out aloud with or to someone else. I have sung a little, but that’s just me normally around the house and I never sing around other people. Is that weird?
Wicked vans are your cheapie rentals for backpackers to self drive around Australia. They pride themselves on being outrageous and edgy with their graffiti like paint jobs. More and more, the slogans they are painted with are misogynistic and offensive. One couple decided to repaint their van…And it’s brilliant.
Last night saw the end of the 2014 Super Rugby season for the Queensland Reds. In a season where the membership of the Reds hit 55,000 (obviously this number includes single / three game memberships) it is strange to be writing a post about improving the fan’s experience. However, having attended all but one home game this year: the matters I intend to raise are things that have been floating through my mind all year.
Whilst the Reds are to be applauded for their obviously excellent membership drive this year, in the context of a poorly coached and under performing team going onto the field, here are 5 things they or the QRU must improve on to improve the fan’s experience AND keep all those members coming through the door:
1. Stop playing music / chants in the middle of play
I have never experienced this at any other Australian…
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Bets are on for the Ipswich race day today.
The biggest sporting event in Australia today is not a game a soccer or rugby: it is the Ipswich Cup. The jewel of the winter carnival coming from the Ipswich Race Course just a stones throw from my childhood home, this is one of the greatest days on the sporting calendar.
I have been to many an excellent day of racing at Ipswich on Cup day and whilst it is always a difficult day for the punter there is always, also, some value to be found.
My brother-in-law has a theory when it comes to races on Ipswich Cup Day: just back any horse with Jim Byrne on its back. Normally I laugh off this theory but, as you will see from my tips, I have a feeling it is going to be a big day for Byrne at Ipswich.
Race 1: Number 9 La Tikka Rosa
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Moriarty indeed 🙂
The winter carnival continues at Eagle Farm this weekend with Stradbroke Handicap Day. Here are my tips for another of the great days on the Australian racing calendar:
- Race 4:Adebisi (2) (e/w)
- Race 6: Brazen Beau (1)
- Race 8:Knoydart (10) (e/w)
- Race 9:Moriarty (1)
- Please gamble responsibly.
- All care is taken with these tips however, obviously, no responsiblity for losses incurred.
It’s been a while since I wrote anything, either on here or in my journal. Which is a bit nuts. My journal let’s me mull things over and get it all out of my head until it makes some sense, so to stop that goes to show how muddled I’m feeling. I’ve had an early stage skin cancer removed from my lower leg and it’s not healing at all well. So now I’m house bound and going nuts with doubts and worries. I’m concerned about using up all my sick leave (whilst acknowledging how lucky I am to have a job that lets me ‘earn’ sick leave entitlements). I worry that I’ll need it for something really serious in the unforeseeable future. I am mentally bashing myself up for not ‘doing more’ while I have my leg in the air. Not writing. Not reading. Not improving. Not earning. Not cleaning. Not learning. Not working. Not. Not. Not. I actually sat here today kicking myself along with rewards – if I sit still for two hours, I can surely water the plants. While I sit for a few more hours, I can compare home and content insurance to see if I can make a saving somewhere. I got $50 off. So that’s a win, right? It’s a little bit scary how consumed by the negative and how foggy I’m getting. I thought I’d have more resilience than this. Doing nothing is not my forte. I have to have a plan. I have to have something to do. As the great man says…
It’s been a big week – spending hours battling the annoying with an especially high volume of stupid, so today I’m making it all about me.
As reward for surviving this week without putting anyone in a headlock – and in preparation for a weekend of hard yakka in the yard, today I am:
– buying a coffee and avocado toast for late brekkie – this is a luxury!
– spending my lunch hour in an art store, then buying something lovely for lunch – double luxury
– shopping after work for some nice foods for the long weekend (which besides gardening, will be spent bbqing, cricketing and sleeping ‘cos Australia Day)
What a rebel. Does everyone else live a life that includes little rewards all the time and it’s just me being mean to me? I don’t seem to do the nice things often. I don’t spend money wantonly ‘cos need it for a rainy day – don’t waste a lunch hour wandering ‘cos errands to run etc. I think most people have a list of “needs to do” and we never set it aside to do the nice things. I know for me it’s a case of “I’ll do the nice things when I’ve finished the “. And that sucks. When I was a kid I thought being a grown up meant I could do what I want when I want. And it is, but I still don’t do it. Maybe I’m the stupid one, but not today.
27 April 1997 – South Africa’s Freedom Day – and 3 years since Mandela had won the Presidency. A small group of us travelling overland through Africa took the day trip out to Robben Island. A bus met us at the jetty and we drove around the island first. We went to the quarry where the prisoners dug a schoolroom and taught each other to read. A quick stop at the old car painted with a welcome message to the All Blacks rugby team. Past the house Robert Subukwe was kept in by an act of parliament – 6 years longer than his sentence.
And then to the prison to get out and walk. The island had been handed over to the Department of Arts, Culture, Science and Technology and they had invited back prisoners to work as guides. Our group was guided around by Lionel – who had served 7 years here as a prisoner.
In flicking through my journal from that day, he had so many stories to tell us. About their punishments for “offences”, having to pay for study, receiving one censored letter every 6 months and so on. He took us to Mandela’s cell – and we all took turns looking into the smallest of spaces – trying to imagine it holding for so long the man who was now President.
The one thing that stays strongest with me from that day was the last building we stopped in inside the prison complex.
One room where the prisoners spent their time talking. This is the place Lionel got emotional. He said the wardens had made a mistake by allowing them to be together – that the government should have split them up.
He said that it was in this room where they put their ideals into practice. In D Section – with prisoners from different backgrounds/political ideologies/races/education levels and so on – was where they learnt tolerance and their humanity could shine through. In this room they lived a micro-version of what they all hoped and dreamed for outside the prison walls.
Strange, isn’t it? The place the government sent Mandela to punish and break him, was the place where he triumphed.
You know that feeling of something missing in your life/an emptiness of real purpose that the day to day chore-fest doesn’t seem to answer? I’ve never heard it explained like this before and it makes sense.
Everyone is busy, and there never seems to be enough time in the day to do what you want to do, let alone need to do. Still most people I know spread themselves thinner to put some time and energy into “their Calcutta” – and some even spread themselves across a few causes. This is why.
What I need is a retreat, fully catered, in a 5-star resort complete with free bar and complimentary massages, that is designed to support me in ripping out recipes from all my cooking magazines.
I need emotional encouragement to tear out pages and choose which side of the page to display. I need professional advice on whether to scan and print, or keep everything electronic. And what about indexes/contents pages? What about them!?!?
I need examples of organisation systems – display folders sorted by season, by magazine title, by ingredient… I need counselling through all these life-impacting decisions. Because they’ll live with me for the rest of my life.
Basically, I need someone else to do all this for me – is there a consultant I can buy for a week?
I distinctly remember parking the car this morning, putting my hair up, taking off my rings to put on some handcream, putting on my sunnies, then grabbing my bags, locking the car and heading off to work.
Nothing felt ‘wrong’ to me throughout the day – which goes to show I’m mental/tired/distracted/dim/getting old/only human…
Got back to my car at 6pm – and there on the floor next to the driver’s door are my two rings. I spent the drive home repeating “I cannot believe that…I CANNOT believe that”. I’m very grateful they were still there. And I’ll never forget them like that again*.
Nice and quiet here today. I love this suburb. Lots of people out walking but all for the same reason – enjoying a peaceful morning. It’s overcast and grey and there is a bit of drizzle around… the garden is giggling.
I’m old school when it comes to roses. If it doesn’t smell like a rose, I don’t see the point. Mr Lincoln, Freesia, Gold Bunny, Honey Dijon, Double Delight are some of my roses that all have a strong fragrance.
I break my own rule when it comes to my favourite rose. It’s called Julia’s Rose. It buds up a deep brown colour and when it opens it fades to the colour of parchment. My parents had it growing in the garden I grew up with and although it doesn’t have a scent, I love it because of its unusual colour. Parchment. What a delicious word to describe a flower. This is my favourite rose.
An interesting list – I have a few of these and have in mind a BIG clean out in the coming weeks.
This is an interesting (and short) read via Mashable giving three ideas on managing your time (and the things/people) who impact on it. Although, not sure about the deferring the daughter’s whereabouts to someone else, the idea of what my time is worth vs who should do my to do list is food for thought.
What a shame the weekend is only two days long. Saturdays for errands and some chores. Sunday for the rest of the chores and as much of the good stuff you can cram into a few hours. Add in at least one catch up with family and/or friends and the time for doing hobbies is seriously compromised.
There needs to be a third day. A day of unwinding from the chores and the errands. A day for a movie. A day for some art. A day for reading, while lying on the lawn in the dappled shade filtered by a tree. A day to nibble from a small plate of antipasto and sup on some fruity wine. But instead, we have to go to work. It just doesn’t seem right, does it?
How much does the inability to get to sleep suck? Heaps! It sucks heaps. It’s nearly 1:30 and I have to be up in 4 and a half hours to go to work. My mind isn’t whirring. No big to-do list being compiled as I lie here. Just me asking myself why I’m not sleeping? Stupid. Now I’m getting angry and my jaw is clenching. Teeth grinding and a headache will be the morning result. Sigh. Something is going to have to give and it will be something other than me. It’s gonna be a long week.
There’s something a little disconcerting when the line at Bunnings warehouse is longer for a $2 sausage sizzle than it is to buy a badge or a wristband from our boys in uniform. The fact the armed services need to raise money to support the health and wellbeing of returned soldiers is insulting enough.
I love this site – it’s a drop of the bigger picture every time I see it. When your life seems consumed with spinning your wheels doing all the “haves to do” – a reminder of the important stuff is a gift.
“Every page was once a blank page, just as every word that appears on it now was not always there, but instead reflects the final result of countless large and small deliberations. All the elements of good writing depend on the writer’s skill in choosing one word instead of another. And what grabs and keeps our interest has everything to do with those choices.”
There are some extraordinary people who have spent their lives fighting for the preservation of the natural world – Dian Fossey, Ron and Valerie Taylor, Steve Irwin, Rick O’Barry, the Cousteau family, Trevor Long and David Suzuki, to name a few.
They have a lot in common. Tenacity. Drive. Determination. An ability to gather supporters around them – who either volunteer or work alongside them or fund their efforts. An ability to make enemies – dangerous ones at that when it comes to the “business” of poaching. They inspire the rest of us – particularly children. It’s a rare person indeed who has earned the respect and holds the attention of teenagers.
Standing tall amongst them is Sir David Attenborough.
One month after heart surgery to fit a pace maker, Sir David made good on his promised tour to Australia. An evening spent listening to him speak about his life – prompted by questions from Ray Martin. How he got into the role we love him for, what are his favourite moments, what was scary, how has the work of nature documentaries developed and improved over the years. So much to hear about and only 2 hours to hear it in.
Some lovely stories, stunning footage and an audience rapt to listen to it all. I spent the evening next to my nephew, who didn’t miss a word – and who didn’t miss his Xbox either. To see and hear a living legend was a treat well worth the money, time and the late bedtime on a school night.
1 – Go into the kitchen to make a coffee – nespresso machine needs more water
2 – Filter water tap is behind the trays drying from last nights cooking
3 – Go to put away trays – realise they don’t sit well in the cupboard
4 – get out old dish-rack saved for such an occasion
5 – go into garage and hacksaw the dish-rack into two pieces – take off jumper as get hot
6 – set up trays in half of dish-rack to sit better in the cupboard
7 – set up bread boards in other cupboard using other half of sawed dish-rack
8 – go back to garage to clean up
9 – go into bedroom to put jumper away – see dirt tracked over the rug
10 – got to kitchen to get hand roller to run over the rug to save getting out the vacuum
11 – realise didn’t feed the fish yet – Artie and Sith doing cartwheels when I walked past
12 – feed Artie and Sith
13 – put back hand roller in kitchen drawer
14 – fill up water tank for nespresso
15 – make coffee
I can go months without reading novels. There are times when work is so much “input” that when I get home I can’t face concentrating on yet another thing. It hurts my head.
For the first time this year, I’ve felt like reading and I’ve gone back to one of my all time favourites – Patrick O’Brian’s brilliant series about the life of Captain Jack Aubrey and his particular friend Doctor Stephen Maturin. I love period fiction and this is one of the very best. There are twenty books in the series – with snippets taken from a few of them to make up the movie “Master and Commander” starring Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany as the lead characters. I still think they should do another one – do you hear me there, Russ?!
There’s something magic about delving into another world described in such a way that the times and the people become familiar, comfortable and safe. I’m with them every step of the way, I laugh at their jokes and fear for their lives.
I can’t imagine not being able to read. It seems like every new film released prompts another round of the old book vs movie conversation. And more and more, I’m finding acquaintances that have never read the books modern films are based on – or even heard of the original film a modern one is “remaking”. Considering the popularity of recent films like the Life of Pi, Les Miserables and The Great Gatsby, it’s a shock that some have never come across the written story first, and don’t seem prompted to read the book afterwards either. Movies show a story, sure, but to hear it fully you have to go back to the original storyteller and sit at their table.
Even if I only reread the books I’ve loved – I’d have enough to keep me going for years. It makes me sad there are kids out there that may never get the thrill of sitting quietly, for hours on end, alone and thoroughly absorbed in the tale of another time, place and people they’ll never meet otherwise.
Is there anything worse than being awake when you want to be asleep – need to be asleep? Every tick of the clock means a second less time before I have to be up in the morning. It’s already the morning here – a quarter to 2 to be exact and all I can manage is the weary thought that with each passing minute staring at the ceiling, that’s a minute more demanding the day is going to be.
No sleep for Renie and no idea what keeps me awake this time. The house creaks and snaps – the same as usual. The cars are muffled as they growl past – as always. The odd bird calls for the other. I am sleepy but I can’t get comfortable. It’d be easier to deal with if I knew what was bugging me. I could write it all outside so my inside could drift. There. That’ll do. I’ll count ships on the sea – sheep have never done it for me.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? Emergency medical services are directing members of the public with flu symptoms to go to a GP before presenting to them this winter. Ahh – no. I’ve I’m that crook, I’m going to the nearest hosptial. No matter how fluey I have been, no GP has ever done anything for me except for saying “keep doing what you’re doing and come back in 5 days if you still feel unwell”…and then charge me $70 for the advice.
What do GP’s think adults “soldier on” with for weeks before finally going to them?!!!? Most people I know self medicate with everything they can get – herbals concoctions, over the counter flu tablets, cough mixtures, lemon tea – you name it. Anything that helps us hold it all together. When we are finally run down enough to admit defeat and may be in need of a medical certificate to “prove” you’re sick and not off work surfing, the docs I’ve had do very little. In fact, it’s rare to even stick out your tongue and say ahh. These days, my ‘examinations’ are more short form Q and A with the obligatory print out of a generic brochure.
My life is apparently in one of those “holding patterns” at the moment. It’s rare to hit a patch where every aspect of life is being delayed – work, home, health, hobbies, everything. But that’s what I’ve got. Yay, karma. Times like these frustrate the hell out of me. I want things done when I want them done. I’m happy to pay for them to be done when and how I want them. (It’s why I put up with a sucky workplace). But all these plans depend on other people getting around to it. The realisation that I can’t do this because …forms have gone missing; noone answers their phone; information isn’t forthcoming; systems are not configured so that they work correctly; the whole is not completed with the sum of the parts provided with the instructions; or my personal favourite – bickering childishness – he said, she said. Arghhhhhhhh!
Don’t get me wrong, I can procrastinate along with the best of them. I am slow and methodical in doing things. I don’t move quickly – needing to research each part of an entire project before beginning the first step. But when I’m ready to go, when the plans, small window of time, my money and a sliver of opportunity is there – aligned – and someone else yells “WHOA!” I could take their head off with a cricket bat. Truly.
There’s got to be a way to shift something. Get someone else moving. All I need is for one element to move in a forward direction and I’m sure, Pied Piper-like, the rest would follow to see where it’s going. It makes such a difference to my attitude and outlook to have something moving. I need a positive perspective to get me through my day, but it’s difficult to muster one when it seems that everything is stalled.
In the past I’ve driven myself into the ground trying to insert a plug of dynamite under immovable objects. It only ends up giving me migraine. So I am trialling taking a deep breath in and lowering my shoulders while I breathe out. It seems all I can do is keep chipping away at the things I can do myself. It doesn’t get anyone shifting any quicker, but it certainly lowers my blood pressure.
You have to go the extra mile to celebrate a birthday. You just have to. It’s the best opportunity to have a group of people all working towards the one goal – to make the birthday boy or girl smile and laugh. Special – that’s how they should feel. Special.
This was the epic-birthday-cake-from-left-field-can’t-beat-it-OMG-extravaganza we got for my Mum. She certainly wasn’t expecting it. Pastry, custard, toffee and sugar sweet flowers all in little packages. A dessert and cake in one. Brilliant.
Happy birthday, Mum. Love you.
Met a lifelong friend for a long overdue catch up this evening over dinner. In fact it’s the first time we’ve met up since before Christmas – one of those “life gets in the way” type deals.
You know the drill – how’s the family, mutual friends, what’s been happening, how’s work. It doesn’t take long to get to the crux of it all though. Amazing how similar we’re feeling given the different lives we lead. Both realizing the way it is at the moment isn’t sustainable health wise. Both realizing no one’s going to look after us if we don’t prioritise it. Both needing reading glasses – god, were getting old! 🙂
Best bit? Cracking up. I haven’t laughed like that in a while. Chuckled after figuring out who the hell Bob is, talking through how we’d like to say what we really think at work – HA!, and best of all, a new call sign. No more singing along with sooky songs while sozzled, just a text saying “Where’s my fkn neck?” and we know to come running. You see? The crux. Hilarious.
Who knew it was this simple?
All these years I’ve had a looooooonnng list of things to do in my head, each and every day. I try to do a little of each one (if not all of them) and when I run out of time or fall in a heap cranky and sore, I’d tell myself how rubbish I am.
All I had to do was focus on one thing a day. And do it. Easy. Two days and two sets of drawers in my craft room. Beads now have a place to live and I feel able to actually do some craft.