Mayday Mayday...!

The month of May and I have never been mates.  And the minute we click over to this particular four week period, I feel all “Meh. It's May”.

There is just something so final about this fifth month.  There are too many goodbyes, especially this May, which has done it no favours in the popularity stakes.  I’m not a fan of farewelling; I’ll avoid them at all costs if I can.  My job. My colleagues. My idol, Oprah, signing off from her show. Tick, tick, tick… And there is the fact it’s the end of the loveliness of nature by bidding adieu to Autumn. We say goodbye to the greenery; leaves crunch and curl as they fall helplessly from the branches, leaving behind a stark skeleton and a signal for wintry conditions to make their cool descent into our worlds.

This specific May alone, the farewells came thick and fast after I bade a bittersweet goodbye from my place of employment of the past six years.  Even though the decision was made to make life easier for our family, with the husband tackling (literally) an exciting new role, I miss the familiar faces and friendships that blossomed over the years.  Certainly, I do not miss the 2 hour commute each way, and agree I am really ready to take on some own career changes of my own, but there is still sadness at having said goodbye so soon.

And what makes this particular May even worse is that in conjunction with my resignation from the paid working world, we are also ironically farewelling The Oprah Winfrey Show.  Cue tears and tantrums at this cruel coincidence!  What on earth will get me through the day without looking forward to that 1pm Channel Ten timeslot?  Please can someone assure me that they’ll still run repeats, or, even better, adopt some episodes from her new little venture, the OWN Network?

It’s also likely the change in seasons that creeps up on us in May that makes me loathe it so.  The cool crisp air now has a snarly bite to it, and as for the sun… well, it seems to be on some sort of hiatus these past few weeks.  The bright burning ball in the sky has barely been spotted all month; we have had our coldest day of the year so far, record rainfalls have been chronicled and we are on track for our chilliest May in 41 years! Hell, even the snow season started early, so if that doesn’t make you run for your beanie and scarves, then nothing well!

May will now always be coloured with a sense of sadness, the month we were made to farewell my beautiful Nan, and childishly, it being the month that follows my birthday means it rates well below it’s 11 other acquaintances’ in my books.  Yes I have a childhood hang-up with celebrating birthdays. Did someone say Peter Pan?

I know May does have the jewel in the motherhood crown in its corner – Mother’s Day is the “get out of jail chores free” card all day that we Mums love to flaunt this one time each year, PLUS I had a postponed birthday and an unexpected trip to Coffs Harbour to make these sombre weeks roll on by a little faster but still I reserve the right to grumble my way through these four weeks – and quite possibly, four months. In fact, come call for me in September, when the Frangipani’s are back in bloom and the heat begins to infuse the day once more. I’ll be far less irritable (and in direct proportion, warmer!) by then…

An Open Letter to Oprah Winfrey

The credits have just rolled on the last ever Oprah Winfrey Show. They are in harmony with the tears that cascade down my face.

You stood proudly, your arms stretched wide, one final embrace for the world. Your stance, it was almost Christ-like – fitting really, seeing as though you have been a saviour to so many.

Holding aloft my coveted Oprah Show ticket!

For me, your show has been like a best friend the last 18 years of my life; it’s where I’ve turned during any crises, heart open and mind seeking.  And answers always come.

Since becoming a Mother, it’s these types of tales that affect me the most.  They act as a beacon of warning in my life, not unlike a lighthouse, alerting me to the fact I am getting perilously close to crashing into jagged rocks.  Suddenly I have the inspiration to navigate a path to safer, calmer waters once more.

I’ve always treasured Mummy Warrior Monica Jorge, who I first “met” when I was a new (exhausted and rather too sad) Mum, responsible for a 6 week old baby, suffering from sleep deprivation and excruciating side effects from what I’d labelled a traumatic birth experience.  One particularly tough parenting day, whilst looking out at the world with bleak, burdened eyes, I stumbled across this upbeat, optimistic mother, who had endured a labour exceedingly worse than mine could ever be considered, leaving her with significantly limiting disabilities.  Yet she chose to take the path of positivism. 

Monica uttered such a simple statement that I have never forgotten; and instantly my eyes were wide with renewed awareness.

“What good are you to your children if you're miserable?”

My son too deserved a happy Mummy, and it was one of the first steps I took towards shaking off my after childbirth funk I’d fallen into.

Then there was Brenda Slaby, who’s harrowing tale made me realise I need to stop. To breathe. That horrific accidents happen when you try to juggle too many balls in your world.

That miracles can occur, like with the Coble family, who lost their little son and young daughters in a shocking car accident, but are now parents to triplets (you guessed it, a son and two daughters….)

That it is okay if at first you do not succeed  – billionaire authoress JK Rowling did it, dusted herself off and told us, via your platform "It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all”

And finally, that dreams do come true; as you say “luck is preparation meeting opportunity”.  I threw myself on the mercy of the universe, in the hopes of securing the most highly sought after ticket in town in December 2010, and my belief was repaid.  Attending your taping in Sydney, will eternally remain one of the ultimate highlights of my life.  Hearing your wise words, as you told us, off camera, just as the show wrapped, that we really are what we project; what you put out to the world is what you get back, has stayed with me ever since that sun-shiney Sydney morn. And with Bon Jovi’s lyrics ringing in my ears “it’s my life, and it’s now or never, I aint gonna live forever” I walked away a renewed woman. 

Living the dream at Oprah Sydney morning show
 - and yes I am wearing clothes! 

So from one “love letter” to another, Oprah, all that is left to say is that I humbly thank you for the daily re-shaping of my world.  Because of you, I am in tune with the energies of the people around me; I’ve begun to listen to the whispers in my world, and although it’s a long road ahead, dared to begin to believe that I am indeed worthy of the success that awaits.    

This last episode now assumes the coveted mantle of being my most treasured. A eulogy of inspiration, timely reminders and words of wisdom, delivered with tangible grace, as only you can Oprah.  May we all embrace the life that is calling and never forget to validate, to listen, to learn, with our heart open.

Your devoted Oprah Show disciple,

Donna

There's No Place Like Home...

Dorothy sure knew what she was talking about when she clicked those ruby red slippers of hers… Because although I have not lived in the beautiful Middle Boambee Valley in 10 years, it is still the place I will continue to call “Home”.  Having spent the first 19 years of my life ensconced in its tranquil splendour (and, as we fickle youths do, returned for one more 6 month stint 4 years on from that) I was too young - and therefore void of the wisdom to appreciate what we have right before our very eyes - to appreciate the sheer loveliness of this place I grew up in.

My Dad bought this land, 36 acres, back in February 1968, when there were 12 houses in total in this Valley. Almost 45 years on and approximately 2000 people live in its midst. It’s become “the place” to live, with its semi-rural charm, large acreage lots, all nestled in a haven of lush green forestry. Its only 10minutes to beaches, cafes, restaurants, clubs and shops, yet it feels like you live in a rustic, removed paradise.

Nothing beats an early morning walk to get a clear picture of its dazzling, understated beauty.  Dew drops, like glistening diamonds, wink in the early morning sun. A thick blanket of discarded, multihued autumn leaves, like a spectacular deciduous tapestry, fringe the quiet roads.  With nothing but the sounds of your own footsteps slicing through the serenity, as well as the soft chatter of birds, its hard not to become enthralled with Mother Nature’s fine handiwork in this formerly sleepy part of the Coffs Coast.  And as dusk descends, a tangerine sky stretches out above, free from pollution and invasion of tall buildings, like an outstretched set of arms, welcoming you into its fold.  Home.

Distant, yet dazzling, ocean views greet you directly from the front verandah of my parents abode, and a luscious rainforest backdrop curling around from behind, the best of both worlds has descended to this very place.  A dormant volcano looms up from behind, providing the perfectly accessible landmark from air which we quietly acknowledge when flying in. It’s strangely comforting to see.

Middle Boambee is a place too, where traditions are still upheld. My parents, and their elder neighbours who live just below the crest, still partake in an old fashioned act of “showing off their new car”. As Ken points out, 50 years ago, purchasing an automobile was a “big deal”, and the whole neighbourhood would gather to inspect and congratulate you on such an accomplishment.  Now, he acknowledges ruefully, it’s yet another everyday event that is void of ceremony.  And its quaint old fashioned intricacies like this that enhances its charm.  It makes me yearn for my son to grow up in such a rich and rewarding environment of respect.

Of course, if history is anything to go by, it will take him decades to understand its enchanting and unique lifestyle.  Like all surly teens, my siblings and I hated living “so far out of town”.  It was disparagingly referred to as “the sticks”.  Mt high school boyfriend used to mock, whenever he’d come to pick me up, that he’d just have to grab his passport first. We lived about 7 minutes drive from his house.

How life changes though… Coming back here feels like I can breathe again.  All I hold familiar is here.  I jokingly refer to it at times as “rehab”. I get to rebuild my almost bankrupt sleep debt and enjoy the opportunity to catch up with those I hold nearest and dearest in my world. 

If only I could my hands on a pair of those shimmering red magical shoes, then I too would often be caught clicking them.  Because no matter where you live, I can’t help but feel it’s the place where you first began to form your memories and impressions of the world, that will forever bear the humble tag of “home”. 

The Thankful Experiment

Early last month the kindred blogging spirit that Naomi from Seven Cherubs, set us all a little love-in challenge. The mission, should we have chosen to accept it, was to learn the art of thankfulness, and deliver just one small sentence to articulate what it was that has blessed us during the 24 hours of the day. It was a grand way to make those of us who get caught up in the clutter of everyday life to stop a second and think clearly. Things are never so bad after all! And if you can’t find at least one solitary occurrence that has made you smile during a day (and trust me, on April 12 that was a little testing for me!) then you simply are not trying hard enough to appreciate the wonderful world in which we live.


So, without any further ado, welcome to the NappyDaze four weeks of thankfulness. I only wish that it may somehow help you all now look at your own worlds a little differently…

April 10, 2011
Today I’m grateful for a spectacularly sunny autumn playdate with Harrison’s best little Buddy Nate & his lovely mummy Danielle.

April 11, 2011
Thankful that one can actually fast for 12.5 hours, while feeding my eternally hungry child and still not faint!

April 12, 2011
Even though it’s my birthday, and my much longed for plans of personal indulgence were thwarted with a sick child, I’m still very much aware how lucky I am to have so many beautiful family & friends who have acknowledged me today.

April 13, 2011
While I am thankful my son is now the epitome of health again, the small sulky child in me is still lamenting the fact it is no longer my birthday BUT I’m grateful for the husband’s suggestion that I postpone my birthday plans to another day.

April 14, 2011
Time to click those ruby red shoes; there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home… well, my childhood home in this case!

April 15, 2011
Thankful in spades today for a session with a renowned clairvoyant who has showered much needed clarity into my world.

April 16, 2011
A visit with my beautiful, newly pregnant friend, who may be suffering the ails of morning sickness, but in the same breath so thankful to be, after her crippling miscarriage a few months before.

April 17, 2011
Finally a chance to be thankful to belatedly celebrate my birthday, enjoying a wonderful dinner with my parents and in-laws, and even a surprise birthday cake to top it all off!

April 18, 2011
Although sad to be leaving behind the place I’ll always know as “Home”, today I’m thankful for the much needed chance to rest (so grateful to you Mum & Dad!) as well as a overly morning spent with two beautiful school friends.

April 19, 2011
A scary day, resignation handed in; but so thankful that the boss understood my reasons for leaving.

April 20, 2011
It’s a blessing when you can gorge yourself on as much early Easter chocolate as I did today and still manage to not vomit.

April 21, 2011
I suppose I should be thankful for the Doctor putting me on Blood pressure tablets, so that this newly discovered condition can be treated...

April 22, 2011
It is indeed a Good Friday, not only as an important day on the Catholic calendar, but because the Stewarts are coming to stay & play for a few days, YAY!

April 23, 2011
When it comes to my sister, I’ve much to be thankful for; and spending time with her today was just such a treat.

April 24, 2011
Thank Goodness for the Easter Bunny, Lindt, & Cadbury, who are rocking our Easter Sunday and for finding a local babysitter so that theadults could escape the chocolate crazed kids for a few hours of civilised conversation...

April 25, 2011
It’s an easy one to be thankful for today; that we live in freedom because of the brave souls who lost their lives, ensuring that we could enjoy the liberties we have today, and thinking back to 10 years before when I was my turn to make the pilgrimage to Gallipoli.

April 26, 2011
Gratitude today comes in the form of my book club meeting, with a great group of girls (and a new member, a man!), laughter, chatter, gossip – and some in depth discussion on the Franzen novel, Freedom.

April 27, 2011
My last remaining grandparent was celebrating her birthday today, so I was feel blessed she is still with us and able to have a lovely little chat – definitely lifted my surly mood after 3 hours commute to get home from work…!

April 28, 2011
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harrison is in daycare and I have a whole day to do my chores in PEACE!

April 29, 2011
Despite swearing I would not jump on the Royal Wedding Extravganze bandwagon, I was excitedly glued to EVERY minute of the coverage, making me relect on my own very special day years before...

April 30, 2011
God help me, we’ve just gone and signed up for a twelve month gym membership so I ought to start getting grateful about the opportunity to improve my health and wellbeing.


May 1, 2011
Finally the brilliant blue sky has returned and we greet it with a delightful walk along our beach, leaving me feeling grateful to live in such a spectacularly beautiful piece of Australia.

May 2, 2011
Blessings today come in the form of a finished trip down teenage memory lane, after finishing reading the fluffy, but addictive Sweet Valley Confidential.

May 3, 2011
An abundance of thankful love is felt today, after arriving home from a 12hr day to see my first ever published piece written for a gorgeous and glossy children’s magazine!

May 4, 2011
A chance to participate in some Mother’s Day activities at my son’s daycare has made my heart swell this evening.

May 5, 2011
I’m feeling the love today for the wonderful writer that is Alison Tait, who graciously gave of her time, wisdom and experience to this wannabe writer.

May 6, 2011
After almost seven years the clever husband is today signing off from one fabulous job, and is gearing up for a new challenge (even it still means our world revolves around sport!)

May 7, 2011
Sweet blessed relief I finally found myself on the receiving end of a sound night’s sleep, without having to deal with the devil child who so often likes to wake and cry numerous times during the night.

May 8, 2011
Feeling very blessed to be able to spend the morning of Mother’s Day with my own lovely Mummy & my gorgeous big sister (despite the bratty child being a nightmare all day long...)

May 9, 2011
God bless grandparents and their perfectly timed arrival to help us as we plunge into a “new normal” in the Webeck household, could not have survived without them!

May 10, 2011
Being my second last day of work with the PBL Media/Nine Group, I’m looking back on 6 years of working with some wonderful people, and enjoying a divine lunch at Kobe Jones with my two most treasured work colleagues (the only ones remaining since my first day back in 2005!) and gearing up for the big farewell tomorrow...

So, as the last day of the thankful blog rolls around, I cast my mind back in awe at the many small mercies I am grateful for, that otherwise would have been lost in the fug of everyday life. What a wonderful opportunity this has been to make a concerted effort to seek the good, instead of automatically concentrating on the stressful or bad. And while I am realistic enough to know life is not all beer and skittles, once night falls and before I crawl into the cocoon of sleep, I will have taken a small few minutes to reflect on the blessings of the day, no matter how insignificant they may seem. Because as I have now seen firsthand, they don’t take too long to add up and make your life a magical little place to be.

"Do Not Stand At My Grave and Cry; I Am Not There, I Did Not Die"

Cemeteries are peculiar places.  I’m not sure what is more heartbreaking; tombstones in a steady state of disrepair, the crumbled facades of lives no longer celebrated and commemorated, seemingly void of care.  Or maybe it’s the newly minted gravestones, a shining shrine to a newly lost loved ones, or those older final resting places, still tended to with heartbreaking devotion, a sure sign that the devastation of loss is never to be healed.  Whatever the case, the eerie blanket of eternal slumber is apparent, and weighs heavily on you as you descend towards your chosen crypt.

Yesterday marked twelve months ago since we farewelled my much loved Nanna, a warm and wonderful woman who is still dearly missed a year on.  And seeing as though I am “home” this week, I felt it appropriate to pay proper tribute in the way of a little visit to her graveside.

Harrison came along for the trip. To him the whole place was one big never before seen obstacle course playground.  I cringed as he drove his toy cars along the periphery of my Grandparents grave, but as my Mum pointed out Nan would have loved the thought of her 7^th born great grandchild enjoying himself so. Pop, bless him, not nearly as placid as his wife of sixty years, was no doubt moaning about the malarkey going on above (there’s nothing quite like a matchbox car zooming about above you to ruin your eternal rest).

But as much as I wanted to mark this sombre milestone of Nan’s passing, it has made me realise her grave is only really symbolic in the fact it houses a shell. Her spirit moves with me in every step I take. I still talk to her photo, see her ever-smiling face in my mind’s eye, and often try to channel her limitless quantities of patience when dealing with my sometimes unruly toddler. 

I know she is around still; I’ve proof of it.

A month ago I went to see a psychic, who ¾ of the way through the Reading told me my Nan had been with me the entire time that I was in the room. She said she was often with me, helping me, and that she send the birds to show me this.   The very next day a flock of Rosella’s arrived unannounced in my parent’s backyard...

We’d also discussed my son’s sleeping issues, and how I had to clear away the unwanted spirit (whole other story!) from his room. So after a particularly sleepless night there I was, having a little quite chat in my mind to Nan, asking if she’d send me the courage to do this unusual act.  Because although I am quite open-minded there is no denying I am a scaredy cat. I’ve never even watched the movie Ghostbusters for that very reason, and here was I, about to morph into one of them!

Mustering courage, I look outside Harrison’s window and what do I see crouched in a 15cm darkened gap between our two backyard sheds, but a small fluffy grey bird, staring directly at me. 

I jumped, as if scalded.  Never before have I seen a bird in this industrious part of our back yard, nor EVER one of this type.  And it never took its eyes of me once.

So I sprang to action, knowing this was my sign to make the move.  Deciding any room cleanse should also encapsulate an actual spring clean, I made for the vacuum cleaner and dust buster, all the while hoping the little bird wouldn’t be scared off by all the noise coming from outside its perch. 

It did not move. Still it stared straight up at me, silently willing me on.

Feeling like an escapee from a drugged out hippie commune, I commenced chanting my mantra and performed the ceremony as per the great Google Gods had intended.

Now the kicker.  I’d been told I had to be firm with this unwanted friend, so once the room had been sufficiently “smudged”, I set about making a stern statement directed right to it.  Conscious of not becoming amusement fodder for any neighbours in the vicinity who might have been lurking in their own backyards at such a time, I mustered up enough volume and courage to say to the spirit (much like a Big Brother eviction) that it was time to go from this house.

And what do you know, at that very time the words tumbled forth from my mouth, my little fluffy friend suddenly flew past the window.  And has never been seen again.

 So I know I don’t always need a graveside to speak to Nan, or hear her voice. She can take many forms in the world, and be with me always; just as the poem below perfectly articulates.

Nan, nothing stops the ache in our heart when we realise we cant hear your words of wisdom or see that perpetually sunny smile on your face, but we can be assured your embrace and presence can still be felt eternally, from beyond.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush.
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there;
I did not die. (ANON)

How it feels to be FINALLY published....

www.littleonebaby.com.au
www.jasartphotgraphy.com.au

One word.

Awesome!

(I might also add its with a pinch of relief as well…)

Last week a long held dream of mine FINALLY came to fruition. I saw my very own lovingly crafted words in print. In a glossy magazine no less!

Back in August last year, at the exact time that Gisele “I-might-be-beautiful-but-not-very-tactful” Bundchen opened her big bloody mouth to fire poison arrows at the non-breastfeeding fraternity, I vowed I would be silent no more.  Sure, I blogged about it, but it didn’t seem enough.  It lit a blazing fire of indignation within me that I felt could only be quelled if I shared my own personal story in a parenting magazine; to state the case of those of us she seemed to think should be imprisoned for not adhering her narrow minded principles.  Impulsively, I fired off a round of emails to various Editors, begging to have my say on this controversial subject.

And one blessedly said YES!

The upmarket LittleONE Baby parenting bible were, thankfully, happy for me to contribute my own heartfelt tale of breastfeeding trouble. It was no easy feat to be so open about my struggle, and part of you feels like it exposes you as a target for more condemnation. But at the crux of it is the fact it is MY story, and by sharing it I may have also helped someone else in a similar situation to feel much less guilty, and much more empowered to make the correct decision for their sanity, and their baby’s health.

A new chapter has begun in my world, as a result of this media milestone.  I want carry with me always this sense of pride, of passion of finally seeing my name, my story, not only imprinted within the pages of this beautiful parenting magazine, but now also forever embossed in my mind. Of the wonderful, heart-warming and overwhelmingly supportive reaction of my family and friends… Of finally feeling like I have done something worthwhile, for bolstering my courage to continue down this much longed for path. 

Fear has been killing me softly for far too many years. The confidence to put my self at the mercy of the publishing Gods has too long held me back.  But with one story successfully in black and white for the world to see, I feel the self-imposed shackles of diminished faith in myself lessening.  Onward and upward, with vigour and determination I must go, to tackle the next project of seeing again my name in print.  It is, after all, as the great Laurie Oakes recently prophesised, much like a drug, this journalism caper. Now if you will excuse me, I’ll be off trying to line up my next fix…

The Health & Happiness Project

Every now and then, always when you least expect it but when you most need it, an AHA moment sneaks out and smacks you back into the reality you are so eager to avoid. And more often than not it’s thanks to Ms Oprah Winfrey that these moments occur.

Today I find myself a target for this episode on “Know Your Numbers” in 2011, as if it was written with yours truly exactly in mind.  Its focus was on understanding the seriousness of keeping blood pressure under control, the importance of exercise & how to obtain that often AWOL motivation, and controlling clutter in our lives.

These three factors are overwhelming my world at an alarming rate at the moment.  But the good news is, I am listening, my heart is open and I am ready for some tough love, Winfrey Style, to help me clear the cobwebs from my cluttered vision.  

First up, health, and in particular, the sobering statistics on high blood pressure, which many readers will know I am currently at the mercy of.

THANK YOU, Dr Oz for your blunt, but effective message.  Because I finally get how grave this situation is.  That high blood pressure is actually called “the silent killer” for a reason; because we do not take it seriously. That I, even though being given cause for concern, have not been taking it seriously.  Until I heard  Dr Oz speak on this show I have been guilty of being a little blasé about it all. But he does not mince his words.  "If your number is hypertensive, which is 140 over 90 or greater, you are losing about 10 years of life expectancy."   At one stage my number was 155 over 115… Those 10-20 years are something I’d like to have back on my side thanks.  So FINALLY I have the impetus to get a game plan to accomplish this goal.

Which leads me to my management of the situation.   Yes I am on prescribed medication to control it, but the dietary, stress and exercise side of things still need a severe overhaul.

By joining the gym I have made the first small step in the right direction.  But that was the easy part.  Because when it comes to motivation, mine is on par with the popularity of an alive Bin Laden in the Western world.

Exercise Guru Bob Greene gives us the low down on what we need to be successful in this area.  And it’s quite simple: you have to learn how to manage your life and the rest will follow.

1. Have a clear vision of what you want. 
2. Convince yourself that you are deserving. 

3. Identify the biggest barriers holding you back. 
4. Break through the barriers.
5. Put yourself first. 

He makes a pertinent point that leads to a light bulb moment in my mind: "We all have a natural aversion to discomfort and pain, and that's the irony on both exercise and diet. You don't want to give up. There's some discomfort giving up your favourite foods," he says. "If you're doing exercise right, you have a level of discomfort to get results. And we are wired to avoid discomfort and seek pleasure." And that is me to a tee.  I loathe exercise for that reason, because I do not enjoy the pain and ergo, the irritation that comes with it.  I am not sure I have the skills to push through those barriers.  But with the words of Dr Oz ringing in my mind, that I am slicing a decade off my years on this earth, I have no choice but to master this phobia and discomfort.  And by implementing the five issues Greene has listed above I will be on my way.

Just quietly though, I still find number 5 as the biggest obstacle to overcome.   How you do that when you have so many commitments to meet, especially first & foremost when you are a mother I am yet to understand.  Though I also know as a parent I am my child’s role model so if I lead by happy & healthy example that can only be a good thing…

Clutter is something that is killing me slowly too.  Expert Peter Walsh was on hand to walk us through the “everyday clutter” epidemic that most families suffer from.  I despise it, and am sick of living with it, but the task seems too overwhelming to tackle.  I always figure I dont have the time to do it right, so I don’t do it at all. Or, correction – I MAKE DO with a half assed attempt and tell myself I will sort it all out as soon as I am presented with that glorious chasm of glistening free time where nothing else is pressing me for my immediate attention. (Hopefully by 2021 that gap in my calendar will present itself).

One thing that resonated with me the most is that flat open spaces DO NOT also equal storage spaces.  "The moment you give up on a flat surface—whether it's a kitchen table, a countertop, the top of a bedside table or the biggest flat surface of all in your home, the floor—the moment they are not clear, you have given in to clutter," he says. And, oh Lordy, how we fail in this department.  I literally have a “too hard basket” on the end of my kitchen  bench, that all manner of miscellany can be found dumped in.  And it seems to morph and grow the longer it’s left untouched.  And if I don’t get around to sorting through it, suddenly, much like an acne outbreak, another pile starts to fester elsewhere in the house. And all the while my skin crawls at the thought of it yet I never seem to find the required time to sort it out once and for all.

So, there is much to do on this Health & Happiness project, but I must remind myself there is also much to achieve – and more alarmingly, to lose – along the way.

The Power of Nostalgia - Sweet Valley Confidential Book Review

If you were a girl growing up in the 80’s there is a good chance the names Elizabeth & Jessica Wakefield will be more than a little familiar to you.  And if you, like me (and my big sister) were as obsessed with the sun-kissed Californian town of Sweet Valley as we were, then there is a good chance you too danced a jig of utter glee when you heard a new book had been released in this long running franchise.  Ladies & Gentleman (well, not likely many gentlemen, but don’t want to be accused of sexism), I give you Sweet Valley Confidential!

Set 10 years after the gang graduates from high school (which is a little stretch, I’ll admit, as I’m sure it’s been a good 18 years since I devoured a SVH novel), we get to catch up with the (still) aesthetically blessed twins, who are now 27.  And while the story is largely fluffy and lacking any grit, by God it was fun to take this walk down teenage memory lane!  All our favourites are there – Todd Wilkins, Bruce Patman, Lila Fowler, Winston Egbert and of course all the Stepfords Wakefields; in fact my favourite laugh out line comes from Mama Alice – look for it at the end of the family gathering for Grandma’s birthday…  

Without giving anything away that isn’t already covered on the back of the book, this time around we meet a newly hardened, hurt Elizabeth, who moulds herself in more of a mean Jess mould.  It’s, at times, not overly believable, and you do cringe a little at the writing (we’re not all still 14 Ms Pascal), but I wont give anything more away – especially as I’d risk my incurring the wrath of my yet-to-read-but-dying-to-do-so-sister.

Despite the predictability I can still safely say I loved this book.  It was a school reunion of sorts, especially the Epilogue, which does a wonderful job in getting you up to speed with all the SV crew. And what is wrong with an opportunity to indulge in a spot of harmless nostalgia?

So if you loved the Sweet Valley  as much I did in the 80’s and early 90’s, do yourself a favour and grab yourself a copy and a cosy spot to read.  As long as you’re aware you aren’t reading Austen you will lose yourself in a lather of long lost memories and old friends.  All that we await next is a midlife TV show reunion of Degrassi Junior High to see if Spike turned her life around after her teen pregnancy, or perhaps what happened to the beloved Babysitters Club crew of Claudia & co, and my trip down teenage memory lane will be complete. 

Nice Day For A White Wedding...

Well it is sure the week for wedding fever!  And while my own day at playing princess no doubt pales in comparison to the pomp and ceremony of that of Wills & Kate (though we both shared the honour of having a cheeky red haired best man amongst us, if that counts for anything?) watching the wedding has made me nostalgic to reflect on our own special day, some five and a half years before.

To say it had been a long time coming felt like an understatement. 678 days (but hey, who’s counting??) would pass before I would walk down that aisle.  Remember that Green Day ditty “Wake me up when September ends” ?  Well, that was my engagement theme song.  October 1 2005 could not come around quick enough for this excited bride to be!

FINALLY, the “Big Day” cometh at long last, but my God, how rapidly it dissolves into a magical blur of laughter, smiles, and tears of joy!

Everything, EVERY LITTLE THING, was amazing…  From the constant buzz during the build up that my workmates ensured stayed with me as each day crept tantalisingly closer, to the frenzied pre wedding week mixed with much socialising and last minute organising in Coffs Harbour, to the blissful “24 degree, not a cloud in the sky” day itself, I drank in with a thirst, every complete and utter second of it.   I’d promised myself early on in the planning days that I would soak in each moment leading up to and including the wedding – and considering I woke at 2.30am the morning of the magical day and, much like a kid on Christmas Eve, was far too pumped to contemplate more sleep, I managed to squeeze in a full 23 hours period of wedding fever!

It was always going to be an emotional event.  Considering how we came to be a couple (a whole other story for those not in the know), there were tears aplenty.  Every step of the way down the aisle, the strains of Bocelli’s Ave Maria reminding me how blessed I was to have my Dad still with us to escort me proudly to my handsome husband to be.  The speeches, peppered with laughter, love and of course, tears of gratitude.  Our angel, Adam, never far from any of our thoughts, as well as my beloved Pop, who was battling the last ravaging stages of cancer and was too unwell to attend…

I guess the mark of a good wedding is both having a rockin' (and smoking hot!) Bridal Party, as well as an awesome guest list.  The main indication however is how high the final alcohol bill tallies to, and how many people tell you after "you're wedding is the drunkest I've ever been". (Note, QUITE high and QUITE a few!)  I’ll never forget arriving at the Reception only to be told that one beer tap had already been drained dry! 

We had Chief Bridesmaid Shezza channelling Sonia Kruger, filing interviews for our Wedding DVD, Minolski impersonating (& also offering interviews) as the then Victorian Premier Steve Bracks, and of course culminating in them battling each other in a push up competition on the dance floor.

There was Kel was screeching wildly down the greens of the golf course, threatening to toss Cathryn out the other side, Matty trying his hardest to be serious during the Best Man speech, only to accidentally insinuate he’d been there for “EVERY” first, when it came to the happy couple… Groomsman Damo could not be spotted without two bottles of wine in hand, and lets not forget his and other brother Nathan’s infamous little drunken speech on our DVD to round off the evening…

And what is a wedding without a (not so) fitting finale?  Restrictive clothes be damned; the brother in law and best friend’s husband staged a nudie run around the local race course, for the viewing pleasure of those guests last to leave!

What more is there left to say except there could not have been a soul alive that was radiating more happiness than my husband & I on Saturday October 1, 2005?  I have never experienced such a myriad of powerful emotions – ecstatic joy, quivering nerves and uncontrollable excitement, coupled with being so overcome at times that the tears would well up and spill over.  It was always a given that I would cry (I sob watching a sad story on the news for goodness sake!) and the fact I have shed tears at every single wedding I have ever been to meant it was a safe bet the tears would arrive on our own special day.   My Mum said to me that she never once saw me without a massive smile spread across my face, even when there was a haze of tears to contend with… I guess that would be because I was living the day I had dreamt of for so long, I had married my one true love  and everything was utterly, utterly perfect.

If I could turn back the clock, I would in a heartbeat to re-live our spectacular wedding day.  I thought it would be impossible to find someone who honestly did mirror your own soul, but with my lovely husband I have found exactly that.  And while Kate Middleton is lucky to not have to hand back the tiara after her extravaganza is over, I know that at least in my husband’s eyes (and etched into my every memory) I too will remain a princess as well…