Monthly Archives: January 2012

Four Minutes Apart

PS. Like Vespas and Italians.


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Orphan Thoughts

I would like to know how to stop dreaming in what feels like an hour long montage of really disturbing images.  I’d like to dream in the colour the sky goes just before it hails, or maybe a Wes Anderson wallpaper.

Why is seeing nuns in everyday life so fascinating?

How come, even though I don’t have a tv, every Sunday the ghost sound of the Carte Blanche music makes my stomach go wibbly?

Sometimes, when you walk past a young dad with a baby, he talks really loudly and cooingly to it.

My mom is a teacher and last week one of her little boys was run over and killed by a police woman. A police woman.  He was five years old.

I forgot about this story, my brother’s cats are ameezing.

That helpless feeling when a friend is hurting and ‘being there’ is like putting Mercurochrome on a full body burn.  Just not enough.

Twitter.  I don’t get it?! Am I the only one? Retweet, @, hash tag.  I feel like everyone has gone to the party and I’m still trying to decide what to wear.

How to be single and still celebrate Valentine’s Day in a non-cheesy, non-tragic way.  I’m working on it…

Some images that are also orphans here and here.


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Five Things {Friday}

So it’s Saturday, but I reeally wanted to post this Five Things Friday anyway.  Here are five books that changed my life.  From adventuring to another time, celebrating your inner nerd, pre-facebook one sentence stories, sex and the word sorcerer that is Annie Proulx, these five books are the bees knees.

‘Hypnotizing’ is the best word I can think of to describe the way Annie Proulx  weaves a series of words together to form a sentence so rich and beautiful that one, two or even three reads of it finds you uncovering layer upon layer of a world you previously didn’t know yet somehow now pumps through your veins.  Yes, I’m a fan.

My favourite book of hers is actually a collection of short stories called ‘Bad Dirt’, which seems to have disappeared off my bookshelf, sad face.  Do you have it?!

The best thing about the movie?  The green dress.  The best thing about the book?  Everything.  I read it once a year.

This book has been in my family for at least twenty years.  Rediscovering it the other day took  me right back to being an awkward, blushy tween.  I remember paging through it thinking ‘this book is so brave!’  Sorry future kids, I’ll try make sure you don’t have friends over when I whip it out for you to blushingly page through.

Long before status updates or tweeting, Ernst Hemingway wrote the six worded story, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn”.  This little gem of a book is filled with six-worded memoirs.  On first reading of these mini stories I fell in love with the idea of an entire story in a little pocket of a paragraph.  It taught me a whole new way of writing.  Read some of mine here, if you like.

Most people would like to meet presidents or rock stars or Gary Player, I would do almost anything to share a latte with Tina Fey.  And then she wrote a book and my heart was never quite the same.  Buy this book, read this book,  laugh at and with Ms Fey and feel better about every embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.


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Dear Serious Face

Hello Teeny Person.  There seems to be a trend at the moment of writing letters to a younger version of yourself.  I thought I’d jump on board and write one to you, Little Big Dreamer.

First and most importantly, relax!  It’s going to take you years to learn that life is not nearly as scary as you think.  People are much less scary than you think.  Even the scary ones.  Secondly, don’t be so serious all the time.  There is going to be a time when you are thirteen and fart in class and all the boys are going to say it is the worst smell they have ever smelt.  It’s going to seem impossible but don’t cry about it, laugh with them, because if my memory serves, they are right.

Also, when you are of a smoochable age and a boy tries to kiss you at his birthday disco, try not to punch him in the stomach and push him into a bush.  That will end in tears.  His, not yours.

Years after the punch/bush/tears incident you are going to be in a car when it rolls and bounces across the highway.  Yes, like in the movies.  Don’t worry, somehow you come out with a few scratches, a neck brace and an empowering sense of second chance-ness.  Suck the marrow out of that one.

Lastly, love.  Love even though it is going to hurt and suck and be wonderful and terrible and spectacular and make you cry until you’re dehydrated and smile until your cheeks ache and your eyes shine like they know secrets of the ancients.  Just love.

So to recap, Little Big Dreamer, relax, be less serious, suck the marrow out of life and love. Just love.

I think that’s all for now.  Oh, one last thing, jelly shoes are a big, big mistake.

A pinch on the cheek, a pat on the head and a big hug,


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Some Mid-Week Cheerleading

Wednesday, you middle child of a day, you.  Three friends that I ran into today all spoke about how busy, stressed and overworked they were.  Round here we like our buzz like mermaids love skirts.    Fortunately Five Things Friday is two sleeps away.  Yesssssss.

Check out previous FTF’s here :

-Five favourite blogs of all time

-Five things I learnt the hard way

-Five Things (One of them is a UFO conference)

[Image Source Unknown – Holler if you do]

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Single and the City

It started with attempting to do the zip up on the back of my purple dress, it continued with trying to open a new jar of strawberry jam and ended with answering the sales lady who was taking my details that yes, I was Ms and not Mrs.  Oh the journey of clichés single life brings.

And to be honest, dear fellow life liver, it’s different to how I remember.  Or maybe it’s different in your thirties.  Eeuw, ‘in your thirties’, wretched little words.  When your life goes galloping boldly down a specific path (getting married at 24), it seems so clear how things will be in the future when you are older and wiser and have made mini yous.  And then, ahem, life happens.  Loads of it, lived, right before your eyes, right before you can stop it or tell it to give you a minute to tweet it all.

And suddenly, trust me young uns, it really is suddenly, you’re 31.  And single.  In a no man’s land (yes, a no man’s land) of living a grown up life completely selfishly.  For you.  Here’s where it gets tricky…I love it.  This grown up existence of eating loads of sushi whenever and going to the movies at the last minute, sleeping diagonally across the bed and just generally living for myself.  But, how can something you love also sometimes, just sometimes, make you bone crushingly sad?  Sad to not be a mom in her twenties, sad to not be buying the teeny, tiny dresses that dance on the rail at Woolies as I walk past, sad to not be telling stories, or showing pictures of my mini mes and family holidays.   Sad to not be building something, with someone.  To love and be loved.

But then, just as this sadness is about to become a full body tattoo of no return, I see saw back to complete calmness and euphoria that life is exactly as it should be.  That I am so grateful for these unexpected adventures.  That I would only want that life if it was completely right.  That things happen as they will and that Heidi Klum is way over 30 and still a super hot mom.

I don’t really have an answer here.  I’m not sure if I even have a question.  But, I reckon that if I feel like this, as the sheriff in ‘The Walking Dead’ said, “There must be more of us out there”.  Just incase there are, I want to say you are not alone, don’t worry too much about the see-saw, just enjoy the playground.

I took this photo last night when I figured out how to use my camera’s timer.  Rah!

PS.  On running into exes.


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Today just seems like a really good day to post this picture.  Jacqui, Lindsay, Lauren.

And Ryan, Jacqui’s beloved and the taker of this photograph.

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