Monday is a hard day for me. If you’re like me, you’ve spent a bit of your weekend planning the to do list for the week. And if you’re like me, your list is a loooonnnnngggggg one – too long.
So come Monday morning, I hit the ground running. My self talk is all “I’ll do this first, then on the way to do this thing, I’ll pick up that thing and drop off two other things, and then I’ll get to work to start my 8hr day of to do things there”… No wonder I fall in a heap by mid afternoon!
Just to make things super interesting – and ramp up the difficulty by a factor of 2.5 – throughout, I chide myself that I’m not quick enough, finishing enough, creating enough, impressing enough. And because I’ve spent the day berating me, I go home – late – as a failure.
How did I get this screwed up? Maybe a realistic plan to move towards my goals (whilst still helping everyone else with there’s)? No?
Monday’s should become my ease-in day, my take my time day, my baby steps day. And not just a hell day to get through to the other side.
Downtime. That’s what Sunday’s were invented for. I’d like to say this is what my Sunday was like today, but no. It was filled with the chores I don’t get to during the week commuting to and from work, or the hectic errand filled time that is called Saturday.
Sundays are becoming endangered. There’s a risk of it not being a day of rest, but a day of catch up with every other bloody thing that hasn’t got done. Worse still, Sundays are being spent inside my head – mulling over what happened the day before and/or planning all the stuff to do on the dreaded Monday that follows.
I need to reclaim my Sunday. Say ‘no’ to everyone and do the want to do’s, not the have to do’s. Who’s with me?
One of the many things my mum has taught me is a love of handmade things. It doesn’t matter how “professional” they are in their execution, the only thing that matters is it’s made with love by someone thinking of gifting a piece of their time/love/skill/supplies to another.
To this end, Mum thought a funny gift for Christmas one year was some material, needles and thread for me to learn how to embroider. Hilarious woman 🙂
So one day a month, I go with my mum to her group afternoon session of crafty ladies. We sit and stitch (lots of different types of needlecraft) and I listen. The women are amazing. All full lives of families, friends, travels, work and most importantly, they talk about their plans for the future. I love listening to them. They make me laugh, they help me learn and I always have a better sense of perspective for my life when I leave.
It’s from here that the shots are called and the menu is planned, prepared and distributed to the guests. It’s important to remove yourself and sit back to consider the options. Who’s best with who and who’s not getting along with the others. Planning time. It’s very important – particularly when this place is more like a spa resort than a chook house, really.
Whoever said looking after chooks was easy has never done it. “Just chuck out some feed and collect the eggs”… as if!
Chooks need military precision! They need routine. And if they don’t get, by God, they’ll let you know about it. This is the mudmap I do when looking after Dad’s chooks. Do I overthink things? Probably. But what if one naughty hen pecks another and that one flies into the next pen with some others it’s not meant to mix with? Disaster! The boys have names, ‘cos they’re easier to distinguish. The girls in age groups for now.
I haven’t seen any wedgetail eagles around here for a few years. I believe they develop several nesting sites and rotate around them over their lives. Usually, we’ll see them in flight, waaaaay up high circling – but today was a lovely “welcome to country” from the couple.
As I drove in, over one grid, hang a right, through the boggy patch and straight on over the gravelly bit. The track veers right and down/up a couple-a hills before the last chicane down to the house.
And there they were. Sitting low on a tree’s branches – maybe they’d just fed? Unless you’ve seen them, you have no idea how friggin HUGE they are. And beautiful, just beautiful.
I turned off the engine, grabbed the camera and walked up slowly. The lady moved off to a tree further away and the man followed. They were not concerned, but sat on the far side of the next tree trunk so they could play hidey –go-seek with me.
I took it slow but knew they’d move again. Girl first, boy second. Big wings beating, but not going up at all. They flew at level over to another copse of trees. I blew my camera battery entirely – and then when unpacking – realized I’ve forgotten my charger! Typical. One battery to last a week. This will be tricky – but I’ll go for a walk up to the old nest to see if they are any signs of recent renovations. Wish me luck.
I walked past these windows quite a few times before I saw the detail added to them. My lesson – a little more focus in the here and now and I would see the kind of depth I’m craving to find in my boring daily humdrum.
There are a million gifts of beauty for us all. Made and left where we might find them if we open our eyes. How many pieces of wonder do you walk past each day?
7:00 Great walking. A bit of slipping in the mud. A careful eye on the uneven ground in front. A thud from a low hanging branch. A bit of laughing. A leach caught before it’s dastardly act. A dramatic re-enactment of it’s woeful attempt to do evil. More laughing. Silence at the waterfall. A bit of sweat and puffing on the walk back up.
8:00 Terrific start to the day.
What an absolute shit of a day. For some inexplicable reason, there’s a lot of tension in the air, ‘cos everyone around me is sounding off, arcing up, pointing fingers and NOT LISTENING to each other. If they could all just shut up for 5 seconds, and think about why the person they are arguing at is saying what they’re saying, and not keep repeating what they think as if it’s not being understood, then my life would be much easier.
I hate conflict. I can talk a good fight but that doesn’t mean I like them. I don’t like hearing harsh words, I actually physically flinch when it’s around me. My body language never lies. It makes me sad to see people choose sides and not give the benefit of the doubt to each other. Prejudgement and holier than thou certainty by people who don’t actually know the facts gives me the complete irits. Who the hell do they think they are anyway?
Three different adults today have disappointed me…and I won’t forget it, but I’m going to work very hard on letting this nonsense wash over and around me. Not through me. My nerves can’t take.
Oh I do love a red carpet. It’s where the fabulous meets the notorious with some star power razzle dazzle in the mix. Fashion shows are about the clothes, red carpets are more about the horse wearing them.
This year’s Academy Awards was a little disappointing – with nothing really blowing me away. The ladies definitely brought the colour this year, with no real standout theme. I suppose white was the most popular, but it’s difficult to “pick a winner” when the looks range from girly-flutter through to hard edged couture.
The best dressed women are the ones most comfortable in their skin. Who dress for their shape and know this is them. I find little attractive about the ones trussed up to project something they are truly not. Young things dressing too old (bless them). Old things dressing young (thanks for the laughs!).
This Oscars was the wrong person in the wrong dress. I think they should have a swap meet and ‘do-over”.
Is it too much to ask for real estate agents to update their online listings? Is it? I went to 7 open houses today – 2 of them were already Under Contract – but no element of the listing advised that. I could have gone to other houses I’d actually have a chance at buying at these times instead. To add insult to injury, one house I drove past for a stickybeak on the way to another had a SOLD sign up. FFS!
My earbuds save me on a daily basis. They shield me from unwanted conversations. They help me get under the loud phone conversations, deep and meaningfuls and total dross blabbed all over my bus. They help me sidestep and zigzag the slow walkers and meandering finger pointers out shopping.
They are my cloak of invisibility. My tardis to some of the best and most fantastic day dreams I have. I love my earbuds. Because they give me the one thing that helps me get through the day – music.
Sometimes I surprise myself. I am the most UN-pink, UN-girly-girl, UN-glittery woman you will ever meet. So when I’m drawn to something so unlike myself, it makes me take a step forward to figure out why.
These lovely cards by Deb at Bella Paperie are gorgeous. I think they are beautiful. I spent three hours of tape, glue and glitter with a group of people happy to have a go. In doing a craft class, you place your trust in the teacher. There’s no risk of failure because the ‘recipe’ already works. You get told what to do so you don’t need to think (much!). And most importantly – NO-ONE SEES THE ORIGINAL.
It’s nice to do something out of your comfort zone. Dive in and see why it’s never taken your fancy before. I’m still not really into the whole pink thing, but I might allow myself to like more bling. 🙂
I hate Sunday nights. They remind me how much time I didn’t use to get stuff done on the weekend. And by ‘stuff’, I mean the things I want to do, not have to do.
I imagine everyone else is the same – chores, cleaning, for me – house hunting… Catching up with friends is getting pushed more and more down the list as non-essential. Sunday nights are also when the headache that will be my constant companion until usually Tuesday evening begins.
And yet, I have hope. That there’s light at the end of the tunnel, my home will come, I’ll get to see people I actually like, spend more time with the family, crafting, cooking, gardening – and not fitting it in between hanging out the third and fourth loads of laundry.
I believe in the pendulum swinging…and it’s coming back to centre. It is.
Very very tired of looking for a home. It’s an effort to look, choose, schedule, and get to open houses each weekend…assuming they actually have inspections. These days it’s by appointment mostly – 10 times the work for agents and a royal pain in the whatsit for me. So many calls and emails to see if you can schedule a look through. How the hell do you sell a house if you won’t let people view it? FFS!
Aussies aren’t the only country that bbq meat for an easier meal – but we hang our hat on the practice. We hold dear our outdoor lifestyle so fervently that we give ourselves a special day to use it.
En masse, we throw some snags, onion slices and steak on the grill, rustle up some salads and slap it all between the sides of a hamburger roll liberally smothered in tomato sauce (NB: not ketchup). We play some games in the backyard – usually scratch cricket – so that everyone, no matter the age or ability, can have a hit, run, catch or bowl. If you’re very lucky, you have a dog on your side as a ring-in fielder.
Some Aussies have a pool to cool off in, some are near the ocean, but we play, we eat, we play some more and we cool down however we can. The point is we do it together. We stop all the running around, the “have to do’s” that get in the way and we make the effort to spend the day together, talking, laughing, eating and drinking.
The Australia Day public holiday has such a different feeling to it than the Christmas holiday. Less emphasis on presents and the need to give everyone something meaningful or “good”. Less tradition to adhere to on what to eat, how to eat, how to spend the day. Australia Day is easy-going. It’s the day we spend being how we think we are. Relaxed. Connecting. Having a laugh. Enjoying the moment. No worries.
I know that this day holds historical echoes that are unpleasant and that some find upsetting because it feels unresolved and unacknowledged. Regardless of the day you get to do it, joining your loved ones together with a no fuss, no baggage, no bullshit event – just to catch up and relax – is a gift I hope you receive too.
Ooh, I’m a sucker for ribbon. I can remember sitting at my Nanna’s table learning how to make crepe paper rose bouquets. I must have been about 9 years old. My Mum does every kinda material craft, and me? I’m a beginner at more craft types than you can poke a stick at with too little time to practice them all… Oh, and I am sucker for ribbon.