The most wonderful time of the year!

I've been a little quiet of late. Externally anyway. Lots of mind chatter but 

too busy getting my life in order to reflect and write. 

Two of my favourite things.

House sold. House packed up. House locked up. Favourite rose transplanted. Lights out. 

End of chapter.

I drove past the "cutest little house in Yarraville" last night and even though I 

felt a certain sadness, I did okay.

I think the fact that the new owners arrived on the day of settlement 1 hour before they were due to arrive and had a very severe and extended dig at me in the dying moments - most likely helped somewhat.

There I was - cleaning their house, for them, and was on the receiving end of a barrage of abuse. 'YOU shouldn't be here. YOU don't own this house anymore. WE own this house. You should be out. THIS house should have been cleaned a week ago!'

Well. After the initial shock subsided ..

Never have a go at a woman with a vacuum cleaner in one hand and a bottle of spray and wipe in the other. Particularly when she has an erratic thyroid!

The pointer finger came out. DO. NOT. EVEN. START. I said to hysterical lady and whiney man. DO. NOT. EVEN. START.  God is there anything worse than a whiney man. 

And so I gathered up my cleaning products, calmly dropped from a theatrical height - all of them, into the bin and walked around MY little house one last time. It was interesting that as I did this only the 
saddest and most heartbreaking of memories came to mind. 

A little while ago someone I have ongoing respect for told me to 'trust your gut'.

I have tried but it hasn't worked very well.

Until it suddenly dawned on me that maybe my gut was not in good enough condition to trust!

Maybe all the stress cortisol is playing havoc with me! Maybe it's my low iron!

This year I reached the Medicare Safety Net. First time ever. So I was up for anything the tax payer would cover. I put my serious hospital aversion on hold and reaped the reward. 

Last week I had to have an iron infusion because I have no iron!

Well that was interesting.

My doctor said how are you managing to get out of bed?

I said because I have to. When you have to push on you have to push on.

She said I might feel a little flu like over the weekend.

Well I didn't feel flu like. I woke up at midnight with pains in the chest, hot sweats, dizziness and nausea. I won't lie. It was very very scary. I thought okay well this is probably it. 

But 3 days later here I am. 

But in that moment lying on the floor overcome with dizziness I decided it was time.The perfect time.

I am going on a Health Retreat. Alone. 

Time for me to get my own house in order.

I am very excited though somewhat nervous at the same time.

Two weeks to calm my mind and repair my gut so once again I can trust it's instincts. Time to power off the laptop, iPad and iPhone. 

Bliss. I think. No alcohol, no gluten. Yes no alcohol. At this time of year! Oh God. Bliss. I think.

I went to see Oprah last week. I know - many people have asked me why?
But spending my 20's and 30's as a shift worker and filling in the daytime hours I feel we are closely acquainted, me and the big O. It wasn't everything I had hoped for but one thing I did come away with was her little chat about doing everything with intent. It did call out to me.

So that is want I am doing. From the 27th December to the 10th January I will be doing this retreat - with intent.

I am looking forward to the New Year. The building works of my new shack right next door to my current shack is now well under way. Major dirt dust and noise. I am loving it! 
It is exciting to witness day by day the progress.











I wish every little one of you near and far a very happy Christmas. I think of you more than you would know. 
And I hope that the New Year is shiny and bright. 
With love and intent.

It's fine sweetheart, everything is fine ..

And so, I am no longer the owner of the cutest little house in Yarraville. And even though settlement is not until early December I guess you could say I am homeless until my new shack is completed in October 2016.

At least the excavators have arrived and it's all on.
But it is a little scary to say the least.
But not quite as scary as Auction day. I don't think I knew the meaning of the word mental exhaustion until that day. Hopes were high and support from family and friends was overwhelming. 



More than a few contracts had been handed out and the bidders 'were out there'.  In fact 84 people in the street. 
I should have held a sausage sizzle.




The night before the auction my friend Gigi told me to write on a piece of paper the amount of money I was hoping the house would sell for, and sleep with it under my pillow. I wasn't really sure if it was meant to be a "Dear God" letter but erring on the side of caution, mine was. I couldn't really stop at just a certain figure so I also asked God to watch over all my loved ones, named and unnamed on that scrap of paper.  In the middle of the night I woke up and realised the letter was missing so I had to turn on the light and scurry around under the bed looking for it! I wasn't prepared to tempt fate. So safely back under the pillow it went. 



And so it started. 
But not one bid.
Which didn't have me concerned in the first 5 minutes or so. 
Maybe it was the 2 glasses of red I downed at 11:30 am that took the edge off.
But 10 minutes later when there was still not one single bid the nerves began to set in.
And it was just awful. I was on the phone to my family in Qld who kept asking if any bids yet? To which I had to keep replying .. no .. any .. no .. any .. no ..
Heartbreaking.
We were all feeling more that a little unsettled.

And so the auctioneer declared the property about to passed in when one little voice piped up. A lone wolf who hadn't even inspected the property until that day. A youngish guy. As nervous as all get out. The bid was laughable, the property was passed in and the bidder was invited in to negotiate, as is oft the way. My lovely agent worked some magic, and trust me, I don't believe I have ever used the word 'lovely' before 'agent' in my lifetime, unless we are talking James Bond, but eventually an acceptable sale price was agreed on. 

Our school archivist is dying. 
Jena. 
She seems to have accepted it with more grace than we have.
Prior to last week the last time I saw her was around June. Of course we didn't know then that would be the last time we would see her so it was business as usual.
Jena is a non drinking non swearing Methodist. Who is offended by nothing. Which is just as well as around our lunch table there are no subjects left unexplored. 
Conversation is robust but we always make up before the bell tolls!

We have remained in touch with Jena through letters and cards and phone calls etc. but due to her weakened immune state and the fact that we have all had terrible coughs and colds, visits have been very few.
Last week the lunch door opened and there was Jena. The words 'shock of my life' probably sum it up as best as any.
Thin, fragile and wearing a beanie, but there she was. 
Same happy smile and bright blue eyes.
And so we rallied. For Jena. 
Jena had always regaled us with stories of her interesting life. 
And that day she continued to do so. 
Maybe she felt the need to get them out while she still could. 
Being an archivist Jena's home was likened to a museum. The day she visited she bought in little bits and pieces that she wanted Firbank to have. She loved Firbank.


One piece was an antique metronome. 
It was her grandparents, a French piece and it is quite exquisite. 
As a child banging away at the piano I was always mesmerized by the metronome, and when I woke up at 3:00 am this morning listening to my wall clock tick tock I couldn't help but think of that metronome.
It is smaller than the more common variety. A little like Jena.



As she tired quite rapidly the time came for us to say our goodbyes. This time it wasn't business as usual. I walked her out to her car and try as hard as I could to remain brave I became a little emotional. Why hide how you feel anyway. 
For what purpose?
I gave her a very long hug and all she said was 'it's fine sweetheart - everything is fine'. 

The afternoon of the auction I came back to Brighton around 5:00 pm. I made a cup of tea and lay down on my bed. I was absolutely and utterly wrecked. 
I was crunching numbers in my head until I fell asleep. When I woke up at 7:00 pm it was dark and I was SO exhausted I could barely move. I hadn't even taken my boots off!

Yarraville sold for around $50k less than what I had hoped for. I was feeling very flat about that. The thought of having to have a mortgage again after not having had a mortgage for such a long time evoked sadness.
When I listed the cutest little house in Yarraville on the market there were very few houses for sale. Maybe that was why I felt so positive. But by the weekend of the auction the numbers for sale had grown significantly and the prices were all around what I was hoping for. But most of these houses had been newly renovated and the cutest little house in Yarraville hadn't been. And even though it was cosy and comfortable and extremely livable - location was the major selling point.
Slowly I came to accept that my lovely agent really had worked very hard to fetch me a very good price. And as I went over and over and over this in my mind, I managed to drag myself out of bed, boots and all, boil an egg, boil the kettle and feel a little more at peace with the outcome and acceptance for the future. 
I guess this is how Jena must feel.
I made a promise to Jena that as long as I was at school she would always be present around our lunch table. It is a promise I know we will keep.
"It's fine sweetheart - everything is fine". 

That little metronome will be the beat of Jena's heart long after she has gone.
I have kept the letter I penned that night before the auction. To remind me that what will be will be.
It's in my bedside table. 

And if you are reading this blog you can be fairly certain your name appears on that heartfelt letter.

Life is sometimes not what we hope for but the beat goes on.

And never forget that sometimes it is a lovely thing when your heart manages to skip a little beat along the way!

Jena passed away peacefully the day after I wrote this blog. 
Her best friend was holding her hand.

Renewal

I have discovered the Thai Massage Parlour. 
There are not many parts of me that aren't currently aching.
It's this bitterly cold winter we are experiencing, my coldest ever since moving to Melbourne in 1996. It's miserable. We have a permanent car park at Cabrini Hospital because we are all dropping off like flies. Runny nosed, coughing and spluttering, dizzy, aching old flies. 
And that is WITH the flu vaccination. Les Miserables. 
That's us.



I don't go there very often but I very much like this little place in Church Street. It's very clean and the ladies are very sweet and very efficient. The only down side is that you can't claim it back on your Health Insurance .. but after only receiving $68 back from BUPA with my Top Cover after my Carpal Tunnel Surgery (which cost around 3K) my expectations are no longer very high.

Massage. I always battle with it a little. A complete stranger in a lightly lit room caressing your almost naked body with their strong oily hands. This place is particularly interesting - as you don't actually see which of the masseuses has worked on you until the chop chop chop chop chop chop chop big ending. Ta Da!

My little home is on the market. The cutest little house in the Village. 
Well I like to think so. 
Emotions are high and I am struggling with letting go. So many happy memories and so many sad ones. But my very first home nonetheless.
I think I have a stomach ulcer. 
That's how anxious I am.



http://www.realestate.com.au/property-house-vic-yarraville-120333193




Last week in the midst of my lurgy - tired, aching and emotional I visited the massage parlour. Cocooned on the warmth of the table in the lightly fragranced room I put my head through the hole on the bed and looked at the bamboo bowl on the floor beneath brimming with pebbles and pretty flowers.
The soothing massage began and before too long I was wondering how many tears, apart from my own had that strategically placed bamboo bowl collected. 





Spring will be here soon - a time for renewal. And that is exactly what I am going through.
After paying my $500 excess for my Carpal Tunnel surgery I have decided I need to get my money's worth!
Who would have thought that I, with a lifelong fear of hospitals would willingly sign up to go another round. Well I did. And I have. Not even I have managed to get my head around this concept yet!
After my Mum's diagnosis with Bowel Cancer 2 years past I was advised to have a routine colonoscopy.
Yep. OK. Sure. No worries. Roger that. Not!
But when several of my colleagues and friends spoke of how gorgeous the gastroenterologist was, well I thought I better go see for myself! Well he was lovely, but let's not forgot the Anaesthetist! Phoar!

I won't go on about how ghastly the lead up was, I am sure everyone knows that, but I will say how enjoyable that little stay in hospital was. Everyone was so kind, it didn't smell hospitally, everyone knew someone who knew someone, almost a social occasion! I had a beautiful sleep with no tossing and turning (at least that I know about!), the drip in my hand didn't hurt or bruise, and I came out of it with a clean bill of the bowel - plus lunch! How reassuring.




So buoyed by this experience I am NOT stopping there.
The 50,000 km overhaul has begun. The list is being checked off. Gosh until you even make a list you have no idea how many girly bits there are that require maintenance. Blimey.
That $500 excess will be money well spent.

I went to have my chronically aching shoulder x-rayed. 
It has ached for 8 years

now. Without reprieve. The Chinese would say from the load I have carried. The Physiotherapist would say because I need to just sit up straight! The Chinese are so polite! While I was sitting in the waiting room of my new favourite place, Cabrini Hospital, busily diverting my attention by playing on my iPad in case I saw something yukky, the nurse came out and called Mr James. I thought she said Ms James so up I jumped. But then I realised she said Mr James and I thought - with a sense of wonder really - that had my Dad lived, Mr James, he would be this elderly man walking towards the nurse right now. 
It will be 37 years tomorrow since we said goodbye to him. 08/08/78
That was indeed another cold winter. I found it very poignant that the last place I saw him alive was in a hospital - which created so much fear throughout my life, and yet here I now was, with another Mr James and feeling very much at peace. 
Renewal.

The Real Estate Agent called me this afternoon. He asked me how I was feeling. I told him the truth - overwhelmed with anxiety. He said don't be worried. 'We' are tracking quite nicely. He said if he's not worried then I shouldn't be worried either.
But I am.
I am no different to anyone else. I want the best price for the cutest little house in Yarraville so I can continue with my renewal.
Without debt. A big ask I know.
But I really want this. I'm putting it out there.
Maybe Dad can help me.

I lost quite a few tears into that pretty bowl under the massage bed that day and I am sure in the next few weeks I'll lose a whole lot more.
The overwhelming sense of being touched, the sadness of the past and the hope for the future. 
If that is what renewal takes, then I am up for it. 
Here's to warmer days to come.
And maybe just around the corner.

A little bruised ..

Today I learnt about Snipping Tool.
It's included in Windows 7.
I can't believe I didn't know about this before.
It has changed my life completely.



I hope my Hand Surgeon has a good Snipping Tool next Tuesday or this might well be my last blog.

It's all on. I'm off to the hospital. And I am very frightened even though I am pretending not to be.

In fact - I am very very very frightened but at least it has given us something to get through the lunch hour with, that's after we have finished perusing the Death Notices. 
Just in case an old Grammarian has fallen off her perch sans Will and last testament.
I have insisted that my gang live this little adventure with me.
We have a food roster drawn up for when I will be one handed. 


Though in reality I am more worried about my hair than my stomach.
Last week was great fun - a team building exercise filling out the pre-admission booklet!
Considering the number of pre-existing conditions I have it was surprising that most of the boxes were ticked 'NO'.

They wanted to know if I took Fish Oil?
Fish Oil for God's sake. Well I do, and ginger and tumeric -  but I was so offended at their lack of interest in my more serious ailments that I ticked NO!

I have a daughter now. And it's so wonderful. She arrived in January.
A legacy of the Christmas Lunch we think?
Which none of us can remember very much about. 
My colleague is her father we think .. we aren't completely sure .. and the agreement is that his boyfriend isn't to find out .. but we just LOVE her to pieces.
Out of the blue - she just appeared in the office next to me and I tell you that child has not given me one minute of trouble since the day she arrived.
God I just love being a mother. If they send her back to the UK after her working visa expires I just don't know how Daddy and I will cope.
That's if I come out of the anaesthetic.

I had my nails painted blue. I never in my life thought I would have my nails painted blue. I thought it would look cheap and tawdry - but I thought well it's now or never. 
And I have to say - I am loving my blue nails! When I woke up the first morning I did get a little bit of a fright though, given that we had all been jabbed with the tetanus, whooping cough and diptheria needle the day before.
I thought strike a light my nails have turned blue.
But I have to remove it before the big day. I guess so they can see if my nails really are turning blue?




They didn't ask me on the pre-admission booklet whether my immunisations were up to date.
And they didn't ask me if I had a battered heart either.
Which was probably lucky because I would just have had to insert my own box labelled 'totally'.



Yep. I met another seemingly nice bloke. Really really nice.  
I was told to go with my gut. So I did.
But sadly it didn't help.
He said he was falling in love with me. 
He told me all sorts of lovely things. 
He spoke of a tentative future. 
And ever ever so cautiously I allowed myself to be taken in. 
I leapt off the precipice.



But a few weeks later the arms that caught me were gone.
He wanted to have a relationship with me but he didn't want romance. Gosh.
If there was a question on the pre-admission booklet 'do you suffer from confusion?', I would have to tick 'overwhelmingly'.
Oh well.

So I bought an apartment.
Yep. That's what I did.
Walked down Bay Street - handed over my Visa and bought an apartment.
Off the plan. Due for completion in October 2016.
My friend said 'Holy Crap - most girls just get a haircut'.
Do you suffer from delirium?  Occcasionally - tick!
It's not my first impulsive real estate purchase. In fact it's my fourth. 
And they all ended well. 
It right next door to the Pineapple Shack. I'm planning a Year 7 excursion to help me with the move ...
And even though I never dreamt I would be a rate payer in beautiful Brighton the realisation has hit me now of the consequences of handing over that Visa.
I could use a little more anaesthetic. Stat.

So here I am.
It's all over now.
It was quite exciting really in hindsight.
And I only fainted once. 
And it wasn't even in the hospital.
I was at home. At 3am. Phew!
As the anaesthetic wore off,  the pain set in and in and in. Gosh it really did.
I have to say that the staff at the Glenferrie Private Hospital are wonderful.
Generous with their care.
Though the anaesthetist and I had a few words. He was quite bossy.
He said he wouldn't give me a general anaesthetic.



I said I wanted one.
He said no.
I said yes. I said I don't want to feel, see or hear anything.
He said you won't feel or see anything.
I said what about hearing.
He said maybe.
I said NO. I do not want to hear ANYTHING.
He said but we don't want you still asleep tonight.
I said that didn't matter it would be fine. No feel. No see. No hear.

So finally after a 1 and 3/4 hours snooze - into the theatre they wheeled me. 
Into the holding bay and there I lay. There was a dead spider on the roof. 
I thought I hope this is not the last memory I ever have.
A lovely nurse with pretty pink lipstick and turquoise glasses took care of me.
I said to her, I hope you are the first person I see when I wake up. 
The bossy anaesthetist came and stuck a plug in the good hand.
The surgeon came and drew all over me.

Then they wheeled me under the lights and I wriggled onto the table. Gee it was hard.
Then bossy anaesthetist injected me with something and the bright lights dimmed.


And then I woke up and there she was. Pretty pink lips and turquoise glasses.
And a lovely smile welcoming me back.




After a little while they took me back to the ward. They gave me a cup of tea and some sandwiches. They weren't very nice but as they were all being so caring I told them they were lovely.
Dr Bossy advised me of pain killers and anti-inflammataries but to be honest I don't think I paid enough attention. Hence the 03:00 faint.
Oh well.


My hand is still very sore. 
A different sore than prior to surgery but sore nonetheless.
I am not sure if my love line or my life line has been altered. Haven't had too close a look at the forming scar.
It was kind of nice being on sick leave but not really being sick. And no driving. That was nice too.
Sleeping in, coffee, lunch, nails, movies, sleeping again.
But it's also good to be back at school.
It's good to see my daughter and get a great big hug everyday and all my pals.




And bring back all the tupperware that they all so generously fed with me with!
Who knew I was among so many Nigella's.
I will always be grateful.
And grateful also for the vacuuming. Very.







Today a parcel of dead rats was delivered to school and signed for. For Biology. 
The parcel is now missing.
I haven't stopped laughing all afternoon at all the theories.
And there I was - concerned about a dead spider.
But I won't be eating chicken around here anytime soon!

Time for a new project. One that involves no pain.
Decorating an outdoor space sounds lovely.

Carpal Tunnel of Love

I've decided to be very clinical about life this month.

So. I have to get my hand chopped open. There will be blood and veins and nerves and sinew and skin and all sorts of yukky things. It is all going to be so disgusting that I have to start thinking like this now as part of the psyching up process. I have an image of the operation as my screen saver.

And if I accidentally come to during the procedure I don't want any surprises.
I want to know exactly what to expect.
When the day finally comes I will be mentally prepared.

My friend who also requires something chopped open suggested we try for a 'two for one' offer. 
I told her that would be very nice as long as we don't have to share the anaesthetic. 
Bugger that.

I have started practicing doing everything with my left hand. 
I need to practice a little harder I think.
And I am very worried about the abrupt halt it will bring to my great swimming comeback. 
I have tried to kick up the lane with a kick board -  with one arm in the air wrapped in glad wrap.
Well that was embarrassing. 
I need to practice a little harder I think. 

The hair thing has gotten me completely rattled.
I'm good with the throw your head down and blow with enthusiam.
But it's the coming up that's abit messy.
I think it's all going to be abit of a one sided affair. 

My colleagues offered to take good care of me - as long as it only involved food hampers. Stew. 
But even that was quickly rescinded when it was discovered it could well be holiday time. 
My lovely neighbour, my partner in surveillance crime offered to look after me, cook for me.
Until he suddenly remembered he 'had to go to Thailand' sometime around then. I told him I was dumping him.
This conversation raised a few eyebrows in the lift.
My boss offered to take me in. She's a mother. She'd take good care of me.
If she wasn't going to be in Hong Kong. She has limited availability.

And of course my Mum, who is already worrying about this little of life's adventure is desperate to book her flight yesterday. I don't even have a date yet. Or still?
I did have a date but he literally disappeared into thin air. FIFO?
Mum feels since she made the initial diagnosis of Carpal Tunnel she needs to be there to see the process through.

My Doctor sent me to a Neurologist to do the nerve testing. I paid him $400 and he told me I had severe Carpal Tunnel. 
I said I know - my Mum told me that and made me tea and a quilt gratis.
The day I opened the door between the hallway and reception and got the most excruciating electric shock up my arm kind of confirmed it also.
That caused a small frisson of interest to the potential parents waiting in reception.
The Principal's Assistant is a screamer.



The one thing I AM really looking forward to is discussing with the Surgeon (not while he's chopping me open mind you - he needs to concentrate) is whether he can do a little freshening up of my Love Line. If he can find it.
I'm worried that with the loss of circulation and all those electrical interferences that all those beautiful heartfelt feelings I use to have for all sorts of things have faded away.

Happy Valentine's Day. 
With or without love. 
I can't wait to be able to feel again.
In the end only kindness matters.





I love this song.

Hands

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_R552UFoXaA

On reflection .. "for best"

1st February 2015

I do think that one week after your birthday is always a good time for a little reflection.

Last Sunday was my birthday. 
I leapt out of bed with my usual enthusiasm. Lies don't count in the week following your birthday. (I just made that up.)
Let's be honest. I just lay there for a while trying to conjure up a warm crusty buttery croissant - and a steaming hot coffee. God if I could find a bloke who would bring me a warm buttery croissant and a steaming hot coffee every Sunday morning he would be a very very very happy bloke. Very.

But I am a dreamer. 
Always have been, always will be.






Speaking of blokes, if you whiled away a few bored moments reading my Christmas blog you will recall my reflections on the whole ghastly RSVP business. It wasn't for me. But encouraged by my lovely cousin and his lovely lady and several other friends of high integrity I decided to give it one last shot.
To my immense surprise I found a very nice man. A Pilot. A Captain. He seemed to have a lovely outlook on life. He seemed fun and he seemed clever and he seemed decent. And he seemed quite taken with me. We spoke of when we could meet - and our stars were aligned. He sent me pictures of himself from here and from there, around Australia and the globe and I believed he was genuine. 
I truly did. And I guess I still do.
I was nervously excited. And I don't think I was imagining that he was keen.
So I waited for him to confirm the time and place.
And nothing.
Waited a little longer.
Still a big fat nothing.
Still waiting.
And still a great big fat bloody nothing.

I'm under no illusions that there was a much shinier star than I out there in his galaxy but the anonymity of RSVP does not mean that feelings don't figure into the equation.
It was all very confusing and so very hurtful.

But maybe I just wanted him to be someone he's not.
On reflection maybe God has no immediate plans for me.

(Two days later after writing this blog - all is forgiven.
Said Captain seems to have re-aligned his co-ordinates and who knows where this flight plan may take us. I am ever so cautiously excited.

One week later .. There was no flight plan, and on reflection there most likely was never going to be one. I'm almost as numb as my carpal tunnel hand and fingers. Silly silly me.)

To be honest I was actually wide awake the night the calendar slipped over to January 25. (seriously pondering whether I should get up and make a cup of tea - oh God I have become my Nanna) 
I was actually woken up by my family calling from the home land to wish me a Happy Birthday. 


Which was very nice. Had it happened an hour later. 
So up I got, popped on the kettle and read for a little while. I completed all the important 'admin'  for the day like reading junk emails, replying to text messages, checking Facebook for new Nutribullet recipes and making a few winning moves on Words with Friends. 

To be honest again, my heart's a little lost to playing Words since they told me at Christmas 'Santa' was not a word.

I decided to take myself down to Church Street for a birthday coffee and a very small birthday flutter.
And that was when it all began. Like not there one minute and there the next.
I thought I felt a twinge but I wasn't quite sure?
It started getting stiffer and stiffer and stiffer and stiffer.
It wasn't the first time this had happened to me but it has been quite a while.
If you have ever experienced it you will know what I mean.
I was starting to feel a little shaky.
Having lived this scenario before I sensed what was about to come.
Back into bed I very gingerly hopped.
And come it did.



Then I started to panic.
Because my lovely colleagues had rallied for my birthday and we were due to rendezvous in 6 hours for a rowdy night of Paella and Mojitos in Bay Street.
And to add insult to injury I had the cutest new frock, a new heart necklace, new lipstick and most thrillingly - new eyelashes!
It wasn't great.
My poor tender back - it began to sieze up.
And sieze up it did.

Since January 1st I have been back in the pool.
Almost every day, I have swum swum swum.
I have been so committed.
And it's been superb.
The school pool. After hours. 
The only perk in having the master key trust me.
It's luxury. 8 lanes to choose from. 
A little oasis of white lined heaven.
The only condition is that for O H & S you are not allowed to swim alone.
So I conned and cajoled my little pal Patsy to swim with me.
On the 1st of January Patsy did not enjoy swimming. Not at all. 


Unlike me she is not at home in the wet. 
The first day she did 5 laps to my 20.
And she didn't have that euphoric glow!
However - as of two days ago she is now doing 23 laps to my 35.
Words cannot even begin to explain how proud I am of her and her new found love of the water. 
On reflection we are both glowing.

When I was a little girl my Grandad taught swimming. 
He was a powerful swimmer. Both in the surf and the pool.
I actually don't remember learning to swim. 
I think I just woke up one day and breathing bi-laterally off I went.
He used to teach swimming in many places, all advertised in the local 'rag' as it was known in those days.
'Mr Daley's Swimming Classes'.
Mooloolaba River on such and such a day.
Buderim Pool on such and such a day.
Tuckers Creek on such and such a day.

My Nanna (the one I am fast becoming) used to sit on the beach chair with the ice cream container collecting the fees. I think it was like 20 cents per hour, maybe less for two children. I can't remember exactly, clearly it was more for the love of swimming than to pay the bills.
As a small aside - my Grandad bought my Nanna a cup of tea in bed every single morning of their lives where possible. They were married for 62 years.
My brother does the same for his wife. Some lessons are easily learnt.
Even the smallest gesture of kindness is a reflection of love.

Of all the places Grandad taught swimming Tuckers Creek was my favourite. Tuckers Creek is a tributary of the Mooloolaba River. 
In the 60's and 70's it was just that. A creek. 
Now it is a 'canal' with luxury homes on both sides.
It was wide enough to swim from one side to the other but not as wide as the river, where little arms could get 'puffed' half way across! 
Grandad was unconventional in his teaching methods.
Prior to retirement he was an auto electrician for General Motors Holden. 
He had access to the inner tubes of old car tyres.
Kind of like having the master key I guess.
When these are semi inflated they are the perfect size to fit around the middle of little bellies, unencumbered, enabling the dog paddling arms and the kicking - or as Grandad would always say "to get that outboard motor working".

On reflection hundreds and hundreds of very lucky Queensland children and indeed the interstate holiday makers were taught to swim by Mr Daley in the river and the creek - no O H & S Act required.
On further reflection of the more painful kind, I wonder if over the past month I have burnt out my own outboard motor? 

Last Friday I took myself off to the Day Spa. 
Thank you to my family for stumping up for that!
I had never been to the Day Spa before 
(although vanity prevails and my own

bathroom virtually IS a day spa and I don't care what anyone says!).
I was scrubbed and polished and exfoliated and waxed and oiled and clipped and painted and Lord knows what else, it was so delicious I was in a blissful state of semi-unconsciousness.
The young lady kept asking me if I was alright. 
I just kept replying "lovely."
To which she responded, "Awesome". 
I wonder when the word 'awesome' will be done with.
I'm growing a little weary of it.
She was a sweet girl but lamented her oily olive skin.
Thirty five years ago I too lamented my oily olive skin.
I shared with her the words of wisdom given to me back then  - In many years to come you will be forever thankful for your oily olive skin.
On reflection indeed I am.

She had very strong hands. She applied quite a lot of pressure to my lower back which when she asked if I was alright I replied "lovely", to which she replied "awesome".
On reflection it might not have been so "awesome".

So with a heavy heart I sent a text message to the gang to cancel the Paella Party. They offered to bring the party to me. 
But I was not even up for that. I was very sad and there were many tears. 
Even sadder was of the two cards I had received at that time, one had a princess kissing a frog on the front and the other one was best wishes from my Chiropractor. I spent the rest of the day in bed wishing either were with me.
On reflection it was kinda funny!

Hello Monday morning and mobility was slightly restored.
Happy Australia Day us!
We all rallied once more.
The most exquisite of yesterday's cake and icey cold bubbles on the balcony of the Pineapple Shack.
The new frock, the new heart necklace, the new lipstick and the new eyelashes all came out to play. Albeit very tenderly.

My entire life I have been blessed with wonderful friends.
And I am indeed blessed that my latest gang have a penchant for French Champagne! How lucky am I?
And let me tell you - a couple of glasses of Billecart-Salmon and sorry what back pain?
Speaking of lucky - my lovely boss the Principessa gave me a lovely handbag and in it for good luck she tossed an old Halfpenny she had found among her personal treasures. And no lie (even though it still is the week after my birthday when lies don't count) IT WAS A 1962 coin! Entirely unplanned! How auspicious! 


For my 21st birthday I was given a beautiful dinner set along with all sorts of eclectic coloured glasses that just seem to make everything taste just that little bit more indulgent! That dinner set has travelled with me the entire length of the east coast of Australia and the majority of time it was kept "for best".
Last year it came out and though a little faded with a few chips "for best" is now every single day. In the 32 years I have had that dinner set I have only ever lost two of the precious pieces.



On reflection I think that could also be true of my life.


I had a wonderful birthday.
Because birthday's are not just for the day. They are for the day after and they are for a lifetime. To look back and to bravely look forward with grace and hope.
And sometimes even though it is very challenging and certainly grinds you down, to remember that every day is to bring out the "for best". 

I have found this hillbilly version of 'Forever Young' and I love it and I hope you do too.

I hope YOU bring out your "for best" birthday this year.
On reflection, with love.






https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaPEe4EwTEU