tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68999832494500619332011-12-19T22:02:30.274+11:00Marking the significant and not so significant events of my life...Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.comBlogger1311100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-2313253181005449992011-08-21T14:32:00.000+10:002011-08-21T14:32:58.119+10:00

On Friday I came back to reality after spending four creative and relaxing days in Eden, a small coastal town in New South Wales. I had gone there with an artist friend of mine, she to paint and I to write and we had chosen Eden as it is halfway between Melbourne, where I live and Sydney where she lives. It had been awhile since either of us could fully concentrate on our creative sides and it

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-7303782809522875512011-07-27T06:40:00.000+10:002011-07-27T06:40:40.468+10:00

I went to a concert of 60s and 70s music the other night. It was advertised as being a concert made up of the original bands and artists, but there were only a handful of originals there, the rest of the band members were ringins from a different, more modern era. I have a fairly good recollection of music from that time but even my memory didn’t stretch far enough to remember some of the artists

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-54966143131853981292011-07-05T15:07:00.000+10:002011-07-05T15:07:05.604+10:00

As soon as I saw this book on the library shelves I felt some slight apprehension. It is a very thick book and I wondered if I would ever finish it. My uneasiness only worsened when, glancing through the pages, it dawned on me that this was an historical novel and I don’t usually like historical novels. Luckily the story line was set in a period of English history that I don’t mind reading about

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-60938242012734942082011-06-28T19:00:00.000+10:002011-06-28T19:00:39.242+10:00

At this moment in time I would like nothing better than to have no responsibility. I’m tired of being responsible for the household budget and constantly attempting to make ends meet. I’ve had enough of finding budget friendly meals and scrimping and saving on a daily basis. I want to be irresponsible. I want to spend money no matter if I have it or not. I don’t want to pay bills any more. I don

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-14509510748569402482011-06-21T18:34:00.001+10:002011-06-21T18:34:18.425+10:00

Setting a goal is often easy. Focussing on achieving that goal is sometimes difficult and frequently unexciting. No matter how many times one reminds oneself that the outcome will be worth it and reward in itself, the pathway can be steep and lonely with plenty of distractions along the way. I am already a writer. My goal is to become a successful author and hopefully a financially successful

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-12008376872614489652011-06-12T21:42:00.002+10:002011-06-12T21:42:49.406+10:00

When I was school age I read many books – up to six a day. When I was very young I read Enid Blyton’s novels, the Narnia series, Louisa May Alcott’s “Little Women”, “Little Men” and “Jo’s Boy” and many other books with authors and titles I can’t remember. As I grew older I read John Le Carre, Harold Robbins, Daphne Du Maurier, Elizabeth Goudge and many many others. Sometimes I read books more

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-16703922618521826972011-05-27T22:36:00.000+10:002011-05-27T22:36:49.790+10:00

"Why am I as I am? To understand that of any person, his whole life, from Birth must be reviewed. All of our experiences fuse into our personality. Everything that ever happened to us is an ingredient." Malcolm X Although I didn’t enjoy reading “The Finkler Question” (see my last post) it did stir in me, yet again, the desire to find my identity. Not that I ever lost my identity, it didn’t fall

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-49234596135847253792011-05-26T20:10:00.002+10:002011-05-26T20:10:29.273+10:00

I had planned to write this post reviewing this Man Booker Prize winning novel written by Howard Jacobson a few days ago. However it took me this long to finally finish reading the book. I haven’t had to physically make myself plough through a book for awhile now. The last time was when I forced myself to finish Tess of the D’Urbervilles and that took me over a year to read! Thank goodness it

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-88997916977669277902011-05-15T14:11:00.000+10:002011-05-15T14:11:19.219+10:00

So here I sit in front of the computer, supposedly working on my last Linguistics assignment for this semester, in reality writing this blog. I got a fabulous mark for my first Linguistics assignment – 86%, a high distinction. It should spur me on to writing another wonderful essay but I would rather be doing almost anything else. On the bright side my topic is about blogging, so perhaps I can

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-20426969873570047962011-05-05T19:53:00.000+10:002011-05-05T19:53:21.490+10:00

I’ve just realised I haven’t posted anything for awhile and I feel extremely guilty. The last few weeks have simply flown by; I’ve been almost out of breath trying to catch up with life. There’s been work of course, which is just getting busier, my study – I’ve had to hand in two assignments, got one more to do and one exam to take before the end of semester, my once a week volunteer tutoring at

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-24970860933939872982011-04-23T14:29:00.000+10:002011-04-23T14:29:49.801+10:00

Over the Easter break my two youngest boys are visiting their elder brother in Western Australia. They both flew out last night and have arrived safely. Their flights were booked several weeks ago at a time when my youngest son had just commenced his apprenticeship and would have had to return to work next Wednesday, while my middle son could stay until the following Sunday. Since then my

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-47295829679630879892011-04-13T19:08:00.002+10:002011-04-13T19:08:34.902+10:00

This is a question I’ve asked myself at various times over the years and am now asking myself again. Every time I’ve been disappointed in love, the standard response from my family, friends and casual acquaintances has been “Don’t worry, there are plenty more fish in the sea!” But are there really plenty of men around? And, if there are and they are over 40, are they single, heterosexual and in

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-89146152630107654772011-04-08T17:19:00.002+10:002011-04-08T17:19:40.178+10:00

Just when I thought life was cruising along happily, one of those bumps in the road jumped in my way and nearly unseated me. My youngest son declared he was no longer interested in continuing the apprenticeship he had just begun and would instead look at studying something. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no intention of forcing any of my boys to do anything they don’t want to do career wise.

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-54129753805539398962011-04-03T12:03:00.000+10:002011-04-03T12:03:11.305+10:00

This is my last week of being 50 – next Sunday I turn 51. Some people might say I’ve reached the summit and it’s all down here from now on. But I like to think I’m reminiscent of the bear that climbed over the mountain – do you remember him from your childhood? The bear climbed over the mountain, The bear climbed over the mountain, The bear climbed over the mountain and what do you think he saw

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-37431564026712267462011-03-26T19:08:00.000+11:002011-03-26T19:08:18.508+11:00

A couple of nights ago I had a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. While I was dreaming I realised it was a recurring dream, I just can’t remember the last time I dreamt it. In the dream I was an abused wife. My husband would regularly beat me and verbally abuse me. I knew this even though it didn’t actually happen in my dream. Although I knew I should leave my husband, it felt impossible. It was as

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-65460458500659604452011-03-20T12:09:00.000+11:002011-03-20T12:09:34.957+11:00

As I sit and watch the latest news from Libya, Egypt, Bahrain, Yemen and Tunisia there are so many emotions flowing through me, it’s almost impossible to decipher exactly how I feel. On one hand I am supportive of people who feel it necessary to rid themselves of regimes which are violent and discriminatory, on the other I’m overwhelmed by the brutality of it all. I especially feel for the women

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-72176019645234654702011-03-16T15:19:00.000+11:002011-03-16T15:19:10.306+11:00

Today I stayed home from work. I have a cold and it has given me a mushy brain, one blocked nostril, one runny nostril, a sinus headache and a sore throat. I woke up feeling like crap and thought it would be best if I rested at home. I’m not a good patient, especially when I’m the nurse. These are some things I’ve discovered about being at home, sick: 1. Once I’m awake I can’t lie in bed. Even

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-41677921585970697662011-03-13T15:12:00.000+11:002011-03-13T15:12:23.869+11:00

For the last six years I’ve been dateless. Not only have there been no men on my horizon, I wasn’t even looking for any. My last break up was devastating enough to keep me from getting burnt again. I always enjoyed the company of men in many ways but the last few years I’ve been building such thick barriers around myself it’s been difficult to see the world around me, let alone allow anyone to

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-92136407681355202422011-03-10T21:23:00.000+11:002011-03-10T21:23:48.908+11:00

I’ve been thinking of the question of morals and morality. Who sets the morals we follow? Do they change over time? Is there some sort of moral etiquette to follow? Does morality matter much any more? A few weeks ago I was researching my mother’s side of the family who are originally from Russia. Considering the royal family of Russia, the Romanovs, and indeed most of the population of Russia

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-45499050120480451812011-03-04T19:37:00.000+11:002011-03-04T19:37:52.639+11:00

One of the highlights of my recent holiday to Perth was catching up with two of my friends. The three of us have been friends since the beginning of high school and have kept in touch ever since. When we first left school we still spent a lot of time together then, gradually at first, we became involved with husbands and children limiting our own personal time. Eventually I moved interstate and

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-86238645500434352802011-02-23T18:45:00.000+11:002011-02-23T18:45:39.037+11:00

I had a fantastic time in Mandurah. Not only did I get to wander by the water and check out the various markets, but I got to swim in the clear blue ocean and see dolphins! On my second last day there we hired a boat – more of a punt with a cage around it – and we went all around Mandurah in search of dolphins. Many of Mandurah’s houses and apartments are built on canals – think Venice, but

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-61766323033519911242011-02-18T19:38:00.000+11:002011-02-18T19:38:11.430+11:00

So last night my son brought me down to his new home in Mandurah, about an hour south of Perth. It is absolutely beautiful here – right on the beach. There is a boardwalk along the water, heaps of places to eat, drink or just have a coffee. Actually as I was having my morning coffee I saw a dolphin! I tried to take a photo but it was far too quick for me. In the afternoon we went to the beach

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-84925895272963532892011-02-15T00:45:00.000+11:002011-02-15T00:45:24.248+11:00

I’ve come to the conclusion that I really don’t do holidays well at all; at least not the sort of holiday where you sit around and do nothing. Note to my friends, if I offer to do the dishes, I really want to do the dishes because I don’t like sitting around. My holiday did start well. One of my friends picked me up from the airport at midnight – thank goodness for friends like her! We sat up

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-47422044066471616432011-02-07T07:42:00.000+11:002011-02-07T07:42:02.697+11:00

My technology woes continue to stalk me. I don’t know what I did to offend the god of technology, but I’ve obviously done something. Now our Foxtel (equivalent of cable) isn’t working. We can no longer access shows we have recorded nor can we record any more. This is not good. I spent a rather long time on the phone with one of the technicians – to the point where he told me he had spent a long

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-6396721883120179092011-01-30T13:27:00.000+11:002011-01-30T13:27:06.386+11:00

I was torn between writing about my battles with my new phone and new provider or my battles with my youngest son. I chose the new phone because it won’t read this blog! So last week our new mobile phones arrived in the mail. Note to self – we still have to fill out the warranty cards. I had been cajoled into buying a new phone by my youngest son who wanted to get one as well. Actually, he didn

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-59266811231142221762011-01-23T15:51:00.000+11:002011-01-23T15:51:25.332+11:00

It’s been a few weeks now since I started my health kick to lose weight and get fit and I’ve managed to keep on track. I’m pretty proud of myself as I’m not usually known for my staying power. So far I’ve lost 2kgs (about 4½ pounds) and I think I’ve lost a few inches as my clothes seem looser. I thought I’d share my daily routine with you, just in case you are interested. On weekdays my alarm

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-90308604411599918252011-01-16T14:43:00.000+11:002011-01-16T14:43:39.920+11:00

I’ve discovered that parenting and providing for adult children isn’t that easy. I no longer know when they will be home or where they are going. Not that I mind, as I’m happy they have plenty of friends and a busy social life. However, I still have to do the food shopping and prepare meals. Nowadays it’s not unusual for those meals to remain uneaten and, once their refrigerated life has ended,

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-53060122685173805732011-01-08T11:32:00.000+11:002011-01-08T11:32:07.741+11:00

I’ve begun this year by looking after me – my mind, body and spirit. I’ve decided to take 50 as the mid point of my life. Yes, I know that means I expect to live to 100 but, as long as I’m healthy and happy, I can’t see any problem with that goal. Besides 50 is a nice round number. For me it heralds the beginning of middle age and I’m planning a middle age that will be far from boring. I’m

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-11586428520503118322010-12-31T20:25:00.000+11:002010-12-31T20:25:03.303+11:00

There’s only another few hours left in 2010. Is it just me, or has this year whipped by at the speed of light? It seems the older I get, the faster time goes, which is obviously some sort of joke that Father Time plays on us. I find it difficult to look back on this year and find anything that I am absolutely proud of. Sure I passed another four subjects, sure I did a good job at work, sure I

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-68449956939562032282010-12-26T18:55:00.000+11:002010-12-26T18:55:15.187+11:00

It was a quiet one, just the three of us – me and my youngest two sons. I’d bought far too much food, we watched too much TV and too many DVDs and we finished the day by playing cards. The boys liked their presents, I was impressed with mine. We made phone calls to their grandmother, their father, my father and my eldest son. I sent text messages to friends and posted my Christmas message on

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-81234668797478312722010-12-23T10:46:00.000+11:002010-12-23T10:46:04.975+11:00

I cannot believe it has been over a week since I last wrote something here. The time has flown by with little productivity to show for it. Last Friday I finished work for two weeks – I’m half way through the first week and it still doesn’t feel like I’ve had any time off. Although it has been lovely not getting up early for work, I’m still getting up early for other things. I got most of my

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-35406998061713366432010-12-15T20:03:00.002+11:002010-12-15T20:03:19.910+11:00

I’ve discovered that since my boys have grown up into adults, Christmas just doesn’t have the same meaning and sense of fun about it. Most of my Christmas spirit came from hiding presents, trying to wrap them when the boys were in bed and playing Santa on Christmas Eve. I still hide the presents and wrap them in private – its no use waiting till the boys go to bed because they are usually up far

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-44713121946221075112010-12-12T18:30:00.002+11:002010-12-12T18:30:30.276+11:00

I caught a few minutes of the recent interview where Oprah denied she was a lesbian and reiterated that her best friend Gayle was just that – her best friend. I can empathise. I bet most of us can. I have a best friend who also happens to be female. We have known each other for years. She is like the sister I never had and her family has become my extended family. She lives in a different part

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-88869142254272598092010-12-08T20:41:00.002+11:002010-12-08T20:41:33.618+11:00

So Oprah and her “army” have landed in Australia and the media have gone mad. As the people Oprah brought with her to Australia got off the planes, they were bombarded by waiting media waving microphones in their faces and flashing cameras at them. They were instant celebrities. It doesn’t end there. Everywhere they go they are tailed by the media, all desperate to discover their itineraries

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-87671223353593679882010-12-05T14:38:00.002+11:002010-12-05T14:38:38.780+11:00

Susan Jeffers is the author of one of my favorite books “Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway”. It was initially recommended to me by a friend who raved about it and I bought it shortly afterwards. However, it took me awhile to sit down and read it. This book is firstly about finding your fear or fears and uncovering what is behind them, which the author suggests is a fear of being able to handle a

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-85735371642243609902010-11-26T19:38:00.000+11:002010-11-26T19:38:01.205+11:00

Yesterday I received the dreaded letter from the organisers of the short story competition I entered a few months ago. They thanked me for entering, advised me I hadn't won anything and encouraged me to develop my writing. It was just your standard rejection letter. I promised I would post the story here once I knew the results, so here it is: Sparks “I don’t think there were violins,” she

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-54500598530691980632010-11-21T12:02:00.000+11:002010-11-21T12:02:05.659+11:00

Now that spring has finally sprung and I’ve finished study until next year, I can get stuck into spring cleaning. I’m not sure if anyone has ever researched this urge some of us get while we are also fighting off hay fever, but it certainly grips me every year at about the same time the pollen attacks. I started in my bedroom. Out came the clothes I haven’t worn in more than a year. Then I

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-57171971760160354522010-11-13T09:08:00.000+11:002010-11-13T09:08:18.049+11:00

Our family achieved a few milestones this week; there were also some memories and some announcements at work. On Tuesday my youngest son had his final exam for the year and his final school day for life. We have one more function to attend – the annual Awards Night, and he is finished. On the same day and practically at the same time, I sat my final exam for this semester. Tuesday would have

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-36370945631667974392010-11-06T21:22:00.002+11:002010-11-06T21:22:59.059+11:00

So how did I manage to lose 3 kilos (6 pounds) you ask? Well, first you have to know that I love food. I love healthy, tasty food. I love crisp salads, I love spicy food, I love chilli, I love cheeses and I love sweet food. I have no intention of giving up food for some sort of shake or replacement. I also enjoy wine and have no intention of giving that up either. The other thing you have to know

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-86945619661655011292010-11-05T20:03:00.000+11:002010-11-05T20:03:55.633+11:00

My mother’s late onset diabetes haunts my life continually. Not to mention my parent’s high blood pressure and my father’s heart problems. My mother freely admitted that all their conditions could have been controlled and even cured if they had stayed a healthy weight and exercised frequently. She struggled daily with her weight but often lost enthusiasm for healthy food and walking the dog. When

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-80022575825613075102010-10-29T20:50:00.000+11:002010-10-29T20:50:09.136+11:00

So, last Tuesday evening my youngest son and I attended his Valedictory Dinner. As I sat there and listened to what sounded very much like the same speech delivered at my other two sons’ dinners, I realised this would be the last Valedictory Dinner I would attend as a parent. Now the evening itself is not so spectacular that I’m going to miss it for its own sake, but to me it was significant

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-26893763801479301192010-10-23T19:14:00.002+11:002010-10-23T19:14:52.897+11:00

So there I was last night, a Friday night, home alone with no one to pick up or take anywhere, no one to cook for and a bottle of bubbly in the fridge! Heaven! I must admit it was fairly odd though, I waited for that text message asking me to come to some address or the other, but then realised it wouldn’t come, so set out to enjoy myself. The bubbly went down really well. I got some Thai

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-67629480516575385852010-10-16T17:56:00.000+11:002010-10-16T17:56:27.071+11:00

In conversation with a friend last night, over a particularly nice dinner complemented by a couple of glasses of very drinkable wine, the discussion turned to parenting. The two of us, both mothers of three boys each, wondered why our mothers hadn’t told us about the joys of sleepless nights, cracked nipples and fretful babies. In fact, not only had our mothers not told us, but there wasn’t a

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-8058384142321769552010-10-14T21:43:00.002+11:002010-10-14T21:43:26.478+11:00

Yes, it has hit me with a vengeance. Writer’s block. That’s why I haven’t been here for awhile. I couldn’t think of anything to write about. So I spent my evenings lying on the sofa watching bad television and trying to think of what to write. After all my days are fairly monotonous and bordering on being boring. I get up; I wake up my boys, make coffee, make lunches, get dressed and go to

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-10205456234818535892010-10-04T17:06:00.000+11:002010-10-04T17:06:14.008+11:00

I can’t remember how I first found the writings of Florence Scovel Shinn, but I’m so glad I did. It was during one of the blackest times in my life that I found her and she has helped me through many a time since. Florence was born in 1871 in New Jersey. She was educated in Philadelphia and studied to be an artist at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, where she met her husband who was also

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-56867584810933236822010-09-28T17:45:00.000+10:002010-09-28T17:45:17.643+10:00

Last Thursday my youngest son turned 18 and became an adult. All of a sudden I have no children any more, only adult children. It’s a strange feeling. I don’t feel any older than I did the week before last and I certainly don’t feel old enough to have adult children. But there you go. These things sneak up on you and pounce when you are least prepared. Not that I wasn’t prepared. The way my

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-54899419464308266072010-09-22T20:20:00.000+10:002010-09-22T20:20:12.012+10:00

I haven’t disappeared. I’m still here and, more often than not, typing frantically on the keyboard, except I’m not typing my blog. I’ve been spending most of my spare time trying to complete a 2000 word assignment that’s due on Friday. It’s done now – apart from a final grammar and spelling check, so I can once again concentrate on my blog. At the end of this year I will be three and a half

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-72807446843064346502010-09-12T11:19:00.002+10:002010-09-12T11:19:53.384+10:00

At the moment I seem to be inundated with forms to complete and send off. There are insurance forms for my youngest son’s injured shoulder, forms to apply for Medicare cards for my two youngest sons so they can go to the doctor without me, forms to apply for a casual tutoring job I’m interested in and a form to complete if I want to enter a local competition. Oh and an electronic form I have to

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-87695628135661543002010-09-06T17:47:00.002+10:002010-09-06T17:47:59.337+10:00

So, last Friday evening I headed into the city to attend two events at the Melbourne Writers Festival. Both were being held at the same venue, with a one hour break between them, so I thought I would head to the bar during the break as I was on my own and didn’t feel like wandering through the city streets at night. Arriving at the Capitol Theatre a bit early I did a circuit of the foyer before

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-522577361450982832010-09-05T12:20:00.000+10:002010-09-05T12:20:56.847+10:00

The Melbourne Writers Festival is nearing the end and this year I was fortunate enough to attend a few events. My old university had programmed a writer’s talk for alumni, so I thought I’d go and see what it was like. I had only heard of one of the authors and had not read any of their books, but that didn’t deter me. I must admit, driving there I thought I should have been a bit better

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-70116737245588708702010-08-28T21:11:00.000+10:002010-08-28T21:11:34.581+10:00

Yesterday I entered a short story in a local competition. It was the first time I’ve entered a short story competition. Last year I entered a poetry competition but didn’t get anywhere. Stories had to be between 1500 – 3000 in length. I found it almost impossible to get to the 1500 mark! Eventually, after many drafts and much editing I managed to write 1512 words. It is a succinct story with

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-83464026719797109492010-08-24T07:41:00.000+10:002010-08-24T07:41:32.236+10:00

That’s my youngest son, number 31, about to take a mark. He loves football and always has. We let his two older brothers start football when they were 8, but he begged and pleaded so much that we let him start at 6 and he hasn’t missed a season. Last week, at the 18 minute mark of the first quarter, in the last game of the season, my youngest son dislocated his shoulder. It was the same

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-33313810026640842132010-08-15T12:26:00.000+10:002010-08-15T12:26:27.131+10:00

That’s my middle son in the photo about to kick the ball in from the boundary line. He has always been the most patient and least mercurial of my children. I remember him as a kid striving to keep up with his older brother. What he lacked in talent he more than made up with determination and patience. One time he spent hours and hours mastering the art of rollerblading. His determination won

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-12318945649584441132010-08-11T20:24:00.002+10:002010-08-11T20:24:55.615+10:00

When I was a child and a teenager and even a very young adult I didn’t have a care in the world. It was easy to live, love and laugh. I could walk down the road with a swing to my hips, a smile on my lips and the world spread out in front of me to enjoy. I believed in fairies, Santa Claus and angels. Life was so simple then. As a family we weren’t wealthy and my parents never gave me any pocket

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-82763352174949220172010-08-01T11:40:00.000+10:002010-08-01T11:40:18.393+10:00

This has to be the most boring election I’ve lived through so far. No matter where you look the leaders of all parties are dull, colorless and boring. Julia’s red hair is the most vibrant patch in a field of grey conservatism. What happened to the great orators of the past? What happened to the leaders who used words as their friends? The ones whose voices were their instruments of power and

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-72797945142658236762010-07-21T13:26:00.000+10:002010-07-21T13:26:20.393+10:00

I first heard of Maya Angelou on a day I was at home and sick and watching Oprah. From memory Maya read some of her poetry and from that moment I was hooked. Her poem “Phenomenal Woman” from her book And Still I Rise is one of my all time favorites and forever reminds me of just how wonderful women are and how we should all hold our heads high no matter what life throws at us. It didn’t take me

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-5837090328143668652010-07-21T13:22:00.000+10:002010-07-21T13:22:45.151+10:00

Just to update everyone - I met my eldest son's girlfriend and she is very nice! I think we got on well. I found her easy to talk to. She's also intelligent and seems to know what she wants out of life - things that are important to a mother! But the most important thing is that my son looks very happy and that makes me happy. Now, if only my team would have won on Sunday...

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-53127327723037835772010-07-14T20:03:00.000+10:002010-07-14T20:03:09.817+10:00

This weekend I get to meet my eldest son’s girlfriend for the first time. They are coming to the football with me and my youngest son. It’s a bit daunting to meet a girlfriend. I never know what to say or do. If I say the wrong thing I could either embarrass my son or alienate both of them! I get the impression that my boys are often embarrassed by me. I admit I can be a bit eccentric, but I

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-14567272450336015722010-07-11T17:03:00.000+10:002010-07-11T17:03:21.502+10:00

Another new suburb is opening in Melbourne. Its vast former farming lands will stretch the boundaries of our city once more. People slept in their cars over night to be first in line to buy empty blocks, just one more sign of the desperation felt by many who cannot afford housing in our wonderful city. But amazingly, there were also a good percentage of investors queuing up for the new blocks.

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-14065263382093979572010-07-08T20:37:00.000+10:002010-07-08T20:37:45.126+10:00

There are times in my life when I turn to music for healing and there are other times I turn to books. When things got rough for me six and a half years ago I turned to self- help books. OK – don’t click out of here just yet! I know that some of you don’t believe in self- help books and, in some cases, I would agree with you. But for me most of the ones I’ve read have helped in some way. It

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-21596441055577334632010-07-06T18:52:00.000+10:002010-07-06T18:52:25.989+10:00

This is my eldest son doing what he loves best, harness racing. In this shot, taken a few months ago, he had begun to drive the horses while they were training. At the beginning of this year he moved to a country town about an hours drive away to study how to be a Harness Racing driver / trainer. Finally he had followed his heart and found his passion in life. Like many teenager, my eldest son

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-9029177613931075132010-07-02T19:54:00.002+10:002010-07-02T19:54:51.667+10:00

In early 2004, a few months after I was dumped by the man I believed to be my soulmate, as I was beginning to put myself together again, I was gripped by a desire to find out more about strong women. I was living with some friends at the time and my bed was just under their massive bookcase. I spent many days with their vast selection of books. It was almost like having a personal library. One

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-64283955025792897012010-07-01T21:22:00.000+10:002010-07-01T21:22:33.166+10:00

Or rather sorting out the most important passions in my life! There are many things I am passionate about but, in order to put some focus into my blog, I’m going to attempt to narrow them down to a few. I am passionate about my family – close and extended. I love my boys with that ferocious, protective love that mothers know only too well. I’ve tried to bring them up with honesty, integrity

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-48620088789737000852010-06-30T06:21:00.000+10:002010-06-30T06:21:18.679+10:00

As my boys get older – by the end of September they will all be adults, at least in age – they require less and less of my time. I used to think that would be a good thing. I used to look forward to the days that I wouldn’t have to bathe them, dress them, prepare their food, clean up after them and guide their daily movements. I enjoy the extra freedom I have since they started doing most of

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-11795576792712319682010-06-27T14:04:00.002+10:002010-06-27T14:04:44.511+10:00

I love Sundays. On Sundays I can sleep in or read or laze around in my pjs for as long as I like. Of course I don’t, but I could if I wanted to. There is freedom in choice. Sunday mornings mean pancakes and catching up with the news of the world. Pancakes on a Sunday morning have long been a tradition in our house. I’m not sure exactly when this tradition started, but it has certainly continued

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-67540717881369130852010-06-25T20:55:00.000+10:002010-06-25T20:55:13.407+10:00

Australia has a new Prime Minister, Julia Gillard. She is our first female PM and, as far as I can work out, our first red haired PM. Not that the color of her hair matters, nor does her gender. I have mixed feelings about this changing of the guard. It all happened so quickly and so stealthily. I feel bad for our ex PM, Kevin Rudd. It almost seems as if the bullies in the playground decided

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-27791823687201292102010-06-21T19:02:00.000+10:002010-06-21T19:02:04.645+10:00

It’s a sad reflection of the age we live in that parents are now so over protective and so fearful of their children’s safety that their children are growing up scared. It used to be normal and even healthy for kids to walk to school or catch public transport. Now parents are considered negligent if they allow their children to venture out on their own. I remember walking home with my friends

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-6839300708719840732010-06-17T18:43:00.000+10:002010-06-17T18:43:38.438+10:00

Whereabouts in life’s contract did it say middle age would bring with it wrinkled hands, a thickening waistline, weak eye sight, a dislike of noise and a desire stay at home instead of dancing the night away? Who would have known that growing older meant becoming my mother? I even caught myself the other day starting to say “in my day” – oops! How could I? Suddenly technology is looking

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-42338493393233501812010-06-16T19:19:00.002+10:002010-06-16T19:19:49.050+10:00

My expectations for my boys and their schooling have always been high and I’ve usually been disappointed with their results. They are all intelligent and I know they would do well if they just put their minds to it, but all of them found it easier to cruise through school doing just enough work to keep their GPAs above the minimum level. Although, I have to admit that my middle son was able to

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-9865011177974165922010-06-15T17:08:00.000+10:002010-06-15T17:08:45.566+10:00

OK, so I have now alienated a huge percentage of the world’s population who are no doubt glued to their respective television screens, anticipating the next winner of the World Cup. To me soccer is a boring game. It’s a bit like watching a race to the bottom between two raindrops on a window. In the end it takes far too long and you wonder if it was worth it. I know the World Cup is exciting to

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-73816119620426839252010-06-14T19:36:00.002+10:002010-06-14T19:36:42.290+10:00

Yes, I’ve been absent from my writing for awhile and no, there are no excuses. Well, none that holds any water so to speak. Life and all that entails simply took over and I found myself with little time and no energy. It’s been a time for some soul searching and deep thought. Not only for myself but also for my youngest son who is grappling with some difficult emotions and feelings. His

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-10132461843104835612010-05-30T17:13:00.000+10:002010-05-30T17:13:36.956+10:00

Life brings with it many enigmas and puzzles. As long as man has walked this earth there have been conspiracies, plots, secret handshakes, cover ups, misinformation, misguidance and outright lies. There are many mysteries that, given the chance, I would love to know the answers to. Some of the answers I desire would, I’m sure, have earth shattering consequences. Some would be of no use to anyone

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-26150850089110746122010-05-23T15:15:00.000+10:002010-05-23T15:15:38.870+10:00

A friend of mine got me thinking of what my ideal partner would be like, if I could choose to build one from scratch so to speak. Over the past day or so my list of preferred characteristics has been muddling around in my head, so I thought I might just put it down in black and white. My ideal partner is male. He is between 6’4 and 6’8 in height, of athletic build and his arms are perfectly

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-62003022377784668632010-05-19T18:33:00.002+10:002010-05-19T18:33:50.575+10:00

So last night I planned to make a baked beef risotto for dinner. I assembled all the ingredients, chopped onions, fried the beef, threw the other ingredients in, stirred and brought to the boil. The next step would have been to put the lot in a casserole dish and bake in the oven while enjoying a glass of wine and watching the news. That was until I saw the little black floating things. At

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-68868710264588562592010-05-15T20:49:00.000+10:002010-05-15T20:49:05.034+10:00

My youngest son has had a setback, a disappointment. The goal he set himself of playing football again for the school next week won’t be realised. The school has kept him on the injured list, no matter that he hasn’t seen the physiotherapist yet for a clearance. He was devastated by their decision. He lost his motivation. He just wanted to give up. However, since this disappointment, he has

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-28471934369451618102010-05-10T20:18:00.000+10:002010-05-10T20:18:24.337+10:00

Well, Mother’s Day didn’t quite work out the way I had visualised it. In fact it was pretty much as different a day as it could be. The day started at 1.30am when my youngest son stumbled out of bed thrusting his phone toward me. Luckily I was still awake watching reruns of Sex and the City, but even with all my senses working, I still found it difficult to understand the guy on the other end

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-9031079853327661702010-05-02T17:10:00.000+10:002010-05-02T17:10:22.160+10:00

Mother’s Day is a week away and, while I hope you aren’t considering spending too much money on me there are definitely presents I don’t want. I don’t want the latest Susan Boyle CD, nor do I want any CD with classical music, or remixes of love songs. I am 50 not 150. I don’t want any form of potted plant, gardening implement or gnome for the flower beds. Not only do I hate gardening with a

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-13530003438288510362010-04-30T20:59:00.002+10:002010-04-30T20:59:47.165+10:00

The other night I was flicking through the channels and found a rerun of Sex and the City that I had seen before but watched again. There is something ultimately comforting about Sex and the City, something familiar that I totally enjoy. So the episode saw Carrie wondering why she was turning down a date with politician man until Miranda pointed out it was probably the bad break up with Big that

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-16930447366857308632010-04-25T11:26:00.000+10:002010-04-25T11:26:28.271+10:00

Yesterday I went to the annual ladies lunch at my youngest son’s football club. Every year when his club plays a certain other club, the women from both clubs get together at a fundraising lunch. It was my third lunch and they just keep getting better and better. The lunch has grown over the years from a handful of women in the clubhouse to yesterday’s effort which saw around 200 of us in a

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-61110464186049076942010-04-21T20:59:00.002+10:002010-04-21T20:59:54.411+10:00

I am amazed at my youngest son’s attitude. Even with an injured shoulder, with his arm still in a sling, he remains positive. He has continued to stay fit on an exercise bike and constantly asks the rehabilitation expert at the football club for more things to do. Next Tuesday the sling should come off and he will be able to start jogging. He can’t wait. His attitude has just enforced what I

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-26581276798654100252010-04-17T20:28:00.000+10:002010-04-17T20:28:18.508+10:00

So, as I mentioned in my last post, my youngest son dislocated his shoulder at football last week. That’s Australian Rules Football. It was the last practice match before the season started, so he had to miss the first game this week much to his frustration. For those of you who haven’t heard of Australian Rules Football, visit this site: http://www.afl.com.au/ It was a moment that every

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-13248992774731029232010-04-12T12:24:00.000+10:002010-04-12T12:24:30.940+10:00

Well, I had a wonderful birthday weekend. Four of my friends came from different parts of the country and stayed with me. It was amazing having five females in a home that is usually male dominated! They didn’t know each other, but all got on really well. We went out for drinks on Saturday night and some of my Melbourne friends joined us. There was plenty of chatter, laughter and bubbly! I had

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-78599566739919068662010-04-09T06:40:00.002+10:002010-04-09T06:40:44.986+10:00

Over the last week or so I’ve been doing some serious thinking about my bucket list and I’ve come up with the first draft. These are things that I’ve wanted to do for awhile, in some cases for many years. 1) Own my own home 2) Write a financially successful book 3) Write a critically acclaimed book 4) Travel back to USA and retrace my birthplace and the first 10 years of my life, as well as

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-50033388899466716472010-04-03T13:49:00.000+11:002010-04-03T13:49:05.515+11:00

Next week I will be 50. Fifty. No matter which way it’s written it still looks the same. I’m not scared or depressed or anxious about achieving this milestone. Possibly because my anxiety at the moment is being all used up worrying whether I will get my next assignment done and in on time! Actually I feel pretty good. I definitely feel more like a teenager than a middle aged woman. I still

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-84674047680731019992010-03-29T21:25:00.000+11:002010-03-29T21:25:22.559+11:00

What is it with intolerance these days? Here in Melbourne our population is growing beyond all expectation. Someone told me there is the equivalent of a Jumbo jet full of people arriving every week to make Melbourne their home. The city is bursting at its seams; even the ever expanding suburbs are reaching their limits. It would be nonsense to further increase the geographical size of Melbourne.

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-15241580152031839292010-03-23T20:36:00.000+11:002010-03-23T20:36:17.688+11:00

My children would do what I told them to, when I told them to do it. There would be no more “yes, but just wait”, “I will, just hang on”, or “yeah sure, in a minute”. I would ask them to get their dirty laundry out and they would leap out of their seats, run to their room and get it. I would ask them to take out the garbage and I wouldn’t have to wait until the bin started to overflow before it

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-29648006403740494202010-03-22T20:01:00.002+11:002010-03-22T20:01:38.926+11:00

For a very long time in my life I knew every song on the charts. I could name the songs, the singers and their bands and most of the time I knew the lyrics. From about 8 years old music meant the world to me. When I was about 8 or 9 I would go into the barn on our property and, skipping rope in hand, with the handle as a microphone, I would sing “Hey There Georgie Girl” and “Where Have all the

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-90565819095384619242010-03-19T18:25:00.000+11:002010-03-19T18:25:59.341+11:00

Yes, we have been invaded. The little monsters took over the kitchen. I woke up last Sunday to find my kitchen bench turned into a black wriggling mess! We had ants… The traditional Sunday morning pancake making was put on hold as I had a quick shower and raced to the supermarket. I bought ant baits, ant granules and outdoor insect spray. By the time I got home my youngest son was out of bed.

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-13935450818235173472010-03-12T20:00:00.002+11:002010-03-12T20:00:57.251+11:00

The last week and a bit seesawed between the sad and the joyful. It has been an interesting and somewhat challenging time, although as I write, I realise the emotional highs and lows might not be as apparent to the outside world. Firstly, just over a week ago, we found out that one of the players in my youngest son’s football club committed suicide. We didn’t know him well. He played last year

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-57927519369329525572010-03-07T16:48:00.002+11:002010-03-07T16:48:57.824+11:00

There are times, such as now, that I reflect on decisions I’ve made and paths I’ve taken. I question whether the choices I made were the right ones or simply the right ones for that moment in time. Or were they choices that I made based on selfish desires or only on the degree of difficulty they required. Was it easier to make the choices I made than to choose other possibilities? There are

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-12570646540916361692010-03-05T21:56:00.002+11:002010-03-05T21:56:43.364+11:00

I haven’t had time to write anything here for a long time. I seem to have been caught up in the cycle of work, home duties and mother duties – not necessarily in that order. The small amount of time I have to myself, I am sorry to admit I tend to lie in front of the television watching one of my favorite shows. A waste of time yes, but still I enjoy mindless entertainment at times. I’m

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-81176573578841871512010-02-28T12:03:00.000+11:002010-02-28T12:03:33.090+11:00

Last night, as I was attempting to finish “Another Country” by James Baldwin, I knew exactly what I was going to write today. In the quiet small hours of this morning, struggling to keep my eyes open, but determined to read just one more page, one more paragraph and one more line; before the book started to fall out of my hands and I was jerked awake by its movement, I had the words in my head.

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-87285792942872975012010-02-26T21:32:00.000+11:002010-02-26T21:32:12.145+11:00

Tonight I was bringing in the dry laundry by the light of the full moon. My eldest son came home for the weekend with a basketful of dirty laundry. Yes, I could have left him to do it and yes, he would have done it – but sometimes I enjoy helping out. Anyway I only got his washing out after 5pm and then did another load of our clothes. It’s now just after 9pm and his washing is dry. Tonight is

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-16228787598632082122010-02-23T09:54:00.002+11:002010-02-23T09:54:33.495+11:00

I have reached that stage of motherhood where my boys, now young adults, have nearly become human. They can not only look after themselves if they have to, but they can also hold (short) but decent conversations. They have their own opinions on everything from how their school/sports club/workplace should be run, to how the government should deal with violence on our streets. They can voice their

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-27605487834182378602010-02-21T20:26:00.000+11:002010-02-21T20:26:01.834+11:00

Had a great night last night with my friends, despite the fact I’d forgotten I would have to take my youngest son to basketball, so was racing to get ready after the game. There is nothing like trying to change bra straps (from normal to plastic so they can’t be seen under a singlet top) when you are in a hurry. I’m sure bra straps know you are in a hurry and simply refuse to obey! I eventually

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-5556169831914600802010-02-19T18:20:00.001+11:002010-02-19T19:44:47.067+11:00

I wish that were true! However, this weekend will come close because on Saturday night I’m going out with some friends to choose a venue for my 50th birthday drinks in April. The whole concept of turning 50 is a bit surreal. I still feel like a teenager (and I’m sure some people think I still act like one). But I’m willing to embrace the big 5 – 0 in style, so someone has to work out where to

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-12055883433044346642010-02-17T17:06:00.000+11:002010-02-17T17:06:23.427+11:00

Once a week, on a Monday evening, I volunteer one hour or so of my time to teach English to a refugee couple from Iran. I’ve been seeing them since last September. They are my first English students and, before I started, I never quite realised just how challenging it would be! What this hour a week has taught me is how important words, language and communication are. Without a means of making

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-87955639461483569372010-02-14T16:57:00.000+11:002010-02-14T16:57:47.972+11:00

What a fabulous wedding it was! The bride looked absolutely stunning. The groom looked proud and the whole family looked as if they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. First we arrived at the church where the bride arrived in a Hummer limousine, fashionably late. While waiting for her, the Greek musicians and dancers entertained us in the car park. The dancers included the groom and members of both

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-83407601367025401532010-02-13T15:58:00.000+11:002010-02-13T15:58:13.261+11:00

Here are the pics of my new outfit - as promised. My son takes good photos!Except when he tells me there's a bug crawling up my leg... So, now I'm just waiting to go to the reception...

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6899983249450061933.post-24919145327348862292010-02-11T13:28:00.001+11:002010-02-11T13:28:17.958+11:00

Kiki’s comment on my last post made me think about sharing my online dating experiences with you. For years I’ve communicated with people on the internet, first through Yahoo chat rooms, then MSN, then My Space and now Facebook. So I’m not averse to online communication. In fact there are a couple of people I met on Yahoo chat over 10 years ago that I still chat with on Facebook or email. I

Ca88andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17879934869193810319noreply@blogger.com18