Perfectionism and Procrastination

I had a blog about a decade ago, and I loved it. I enjoyed writing and interacting with other people and watching our little community form and start to grow. I had a job I didn't like much at the time and it was such a treat to come home and say what was on my mind and catch up on the minds of my new virtual friends. But as the blog grew so did the pressure. The pressure for it to be perfect. I reached a point where I froze. I stopped. Procrastination took over and I never went back.

A few years ago I started this blog, my little space in the online universe to record my thoughts and musings. It felt nice to blog again, I didn't realise how much I missed it. But the perfectionism came back and I began to worry about the content and putting out perfect posts. And as a result I slowed down, and this blog has only just plodded along quite randomly in between bouts of procrastination.

I wanted to make a bigger commitment and get over this hump. I was exploring other blogs and then it because worse because they all had a theme. When I googled 'blogging tips' it always came back with having a theme for your blog. So I procrastinated over my theme-less blog. After thinking it over I realised my blog theme is me, and just like me, I have many themes in my life. Many interests and passions, some big, some small. I grow restless with repetition and monotonousness and need to drop things and come back to them later. I cannot commit to a theme on this blog. Life is too rich for me to be so specific.

After this I thought about my blog name. I thought it may give the wrong impression, like I am a journalist for a country lifestyle magazine, writing about rural escapes and flooding this space with heart singing landscape images. So I pondered if I should start again. But what name could I pick that would sum up all of my parts.

Rural dreaming is the most perfect name, because while I have so many dreams, they all link to my rural dreams. A comfy house in the country, surrounded by family and friends staying for a handful of days. And we cook using local ingredients and we eat and we drink. And in these dreams I have my most perfect job and lots of fresh air. There is the occasional weekend escape to the coast and the city where I can indulge in my former city girl life. And in all this I still find time for my most favourite pastime of all, daydreaming.

Not Quite As Young

My mid-thirties has just appeared on the horizon and I'll be hitting that iceberg before I know it. I actually forget my age sometimes. People ask me and I have to think about it. It's weird because I still feel early twenties in my head. I have an idea of 30-something and I know I'm not there yet. That woman is polished and sophisticated and I still feel like I'm playing house.

When I look in the mirror, reality wakes me up as I can see I'm no longer 21. I have a few lines forming around my eyes. Sure I have to stand close and almost fall into the looking glass to see them, but they are there. And I have a few on my neglected décolletage so now my moisturiser application has to keep going down my face and neck and all over that area to prevent any further damage.

Speaking of moisturiser, I treated myself to a facial the other day. The beautician gave me a sample of moisturiser to try. It was thick and heavy and the word "Collagen" was all over the marketing material. I remember moisturiser being light and milky, but I'm in a new age bracket now and the worst thing of all is this cake batter works, my skin looks great after using it for a week.

Then there are the little aches and pains. The sore hip from tennis I had to have treatment on. I remember being younger and if something was sore I left it a few days and my body sorted it out for me. Now my body yells louder until I hand money over for someone to fix it.

And my waistline, what a waste! I spent all my time hating my body, wishing I was thinner and obsessing over a couple of kilos. Now I'm obsessing over double digit kilos and I would give anything to be my younger weight plus 10 kilos. I spent all that time covering up when I should have flaunted those Marilyn-esque curves and loved my body exactly how it was.

I remember leaving school and having a list of things I wanted to accomplish before 25, because that was an old age. Only a handful of those items have been ticked. Sometimes I feel I am playing dress ups and waiting until I become a grown up. While I am wiser and more settled now, being 30-something seems like a stretch. Of course I wouldn't go back. I quite enjoy having this freedom and my own place and the ability to do as I choose. And of course I like having a real income and spending that on a few luxuries now and then. Maybe that is what being 30-something is all about. Perhaps we are still twenty something in our heads pretending to play grown ups.

10 Things I Wish I Was Better At

1) Photography.  Take a look around my blog, I take awful pictures. I keep meaning to learn how to take better pictures but it's still on my "To Do" List. The problem is I'm too impatient and not bothered with the knobs on the camera. The camera stays on "Auto" and I click. Job done.

2) Flower Arrangements.  You know how you can buy flowers cheaper and arrange them yourself?  Well I have tried that, and I fail each time. I love fresh flowers but I'm forced to pay extra for someone to make them look nice. And sometimes I even stuff up when I put them in a vase. I need help.

3) Fashion.  My wardrobe consists of jeans with plain tops and skirts with singlets along with a small selections of dresses. I would love to be fashionable, but I can never pull it off. I used to try but always failed - epically. To ensure I don't risk being a fashion tragic I stick to the plain and boring.

4) My Hair.  This is a sore spot but I do have two hair styles; out and straight or pulled back into a ponytail. The girls that can do fashion also have the ability to do great hair and do a vast array of things with it. Again I have tired, and failed. I'm told there are great videos on You Tube to teach me, but if I had time to do that, I think it would be better spent learning how to take photos or flower arranging.

5) Being a Social Butterfly. I am quite social and can put on a good show, when I am surrounded by people I know very well. When it comes to new people I am the shy one arguing with myself in my head about what to say and then beating myself up for what comes out of my mouth. I can manage OK with one on one but in a group situation I struggle and end up being the great listener.

6) Eating Vegetables.  I know they are good for me and they should make up the bulk of my diet, but I was a kid of the 80's. Before food allergies and a focus on real food, we lived on crap and turned our noses up at a plate of vegetables (usually overcooked in the microwave as was the fashion of the time). I would fill up on additive laden chemical concoctions like Frosties and Fruit Loops and biscuits and cakes and muffins. And now, it doesn't matter how many cooking shows I watch I still struggle to eat the good stuff.

7) Home Decorating.  It always feels like something is missing. While I try and aim for a unique style that reflects our personalities, I seem to miss the mark. I want each room to look a little sharper and more polished, I constantly feel that it is not quite done just yet and I don't know how to finish it off.

8) Dancing.  There was a reason I didn't go to many clubs in my younger years, because I cannot dance. I've tried to learn but it was difficult. When I find myself at a wedding I tend to just stick on the outskirts of the dance floor and move my feet from side to side, it's awkward just thinking about it. I would love to be one of those people that rocks the dance floor with everyone looking on admiring, but that will never be me.

9)Travelling.  I don't fly, the few times I have was over 10 years ago, but a phobia set in, I'm not sure how or why. My husband loves flying and trained to be a pilot, so he enjoys watching TV shows like Air Crash Investigations. This does not help, I would like to get on a plane and go travel to Europe but it is always in the future so I don't need to deal with it in the present moment.

10) Dieting.  Some people say if you really want to lose the weight then you will. Others say embrace what you have and love your body. I try and diet and I try to love my body. I really love my curves, just not the two spare tyres around the middle, I wish I could buff those out into a nice small rounded tummy. I know I could try harder but the pull of cheese and wine and butter and dark chocolate and duck fat potatoes must be stronger than the pull to have a smaller waist size.

The Secret Club I Don't Belong To

Small gatherings at desks, phones being exchanged, oohing and ahhing, these are the members of the mother's club.  The secret club at work where I am the only one not a member.  It doesn't bother me that I don't belong, except for the 1% of the time when it does.  I know this sounds like I am about to pour my heart out with a long and painful infertility journey, but there is no story to tell.  It is simply a case that on those rare days it hurts because I feel like I am back at high school being the outsider sitting alone watching packs of girls in throngs of laughter.

It's not that they don't include me, they try, sometimes, but how can I relate?  There are two older women both of whom have recently become grandmothers and they share with the younger mothers the outfits they buy and the videos sent to them of the baby smiling or crawling or making funny noises.  No one shows me.  It's not deliberate, but they gravitate towards other mothers for validation.  I understand and I know I can't provide that.

I listen, I'm good at that.  Every day I listen to their stories about the children and I laugh, but I have nothing to add.  When talk turns to husbands I can hold the office like a grand master story teller, but with children I smile and nod.  I used to show a bit more interest but my total lack of understanding of all things children, baby and pregnancy made it hard.  It's another language, that I don't speak and everyday at some point they switch to their native tongue and I am left smiling.

Sometimes we go to the pub for lunch on Friday's.  One Friday sticks out in my mind.  The entire hour was spent sharing labour and birth stories.  I laughed, I cringed, but I didn't speak.  What could I say?  I left that lunch early, I wanted to be along for a few minutes and remind myself of all the clubs I do belong to.  Even though high school is far behind sometimes those painful memories creep up on me.  But it's ok now because I can hang out with members of the clubs I do belong to, and when I get home I can cuddle into my husband and my boys, my favourite club of them all.

Things I Don't Understand # 127

A printer is a beautiful piece of engineering.  The very clever people that design these machines design them so they fit 500 sheets of paper in the tray.  It is the most perfect fit you can find in an office.  And what a surprise.  The paper people actually package their paper into lovely 500 sheet reams.

So then why, when the printer beeps loudly altering you to the fact that she is in desperate need of paper, do people rip open a new ream and only insert part of that magical 500?  Someone who is eagerly waiting for the rest of their document has gone to the trouble to answer the beep, locate a ream of paper, and open it.  But the effort stops there because their hands only pull out a small sample of paper.  That person then opens the printer tray, dumps the paper in and aggressively shoves the tray back into the machine before pressing the button to resume printing.

I fail to see how putting all 500 sheets into the printer requires more effort than the effort already gone to.  Or is it a question of time?  How much more time will it take to insert 500 sheets of paper instead of say, 78?  I'm not going to conduct an experiment but I would say less than 10 seconds.  Actually less than 5 is probably more accurate.  I'm not sure if it's one person in our office who does this or a few.  Personally I strip the whole 500 out of the packet and carefully lay them in the tray, admiring the satisfaction of the perfect fit.  Is there anyone who can explain the need to break a perfect engineering process?

Thank You

Image by Stuart Rowe Photography

Two words that are music to my ears.  I say those words a lot and I hope they come back to me often.  But they don't.  I know it's not me.  It's just the way people are today.  Self-absorbed.  So focused on themselves there is no room for anyone else and certainly no room for some old-school manners.  People get what they want and move onto the next thing they want without a fleeting thought about the person in front of them.  The person that helped them, served them, worked hard and pushed through "expected timeframe's" for them.  The person that is left standing and wondering why it is so hard for you to acknowledge what they have done.  That person is me.

Some clients are so pushy, so demanding, so greedy.  We tell them up front the process, the timeframes, the steps that need to be taken, but they don't listen; they want what they want right now.  I could be aggressive and take a stand.  But I know which fights to fight and those to let go.  I will never win.  The client's only morph into their toddler self and argue and scream and kick and complain higher up the chain.  So I do what I can, I move things through as fast as possible.  I speak to people and jump queues and ta-dah, in the midst of their grumbling I give them what they want.

Silence.  Nothing.  I sit in my chair and cross it off my list, another one done and then I stare at an empty inbox and a silent phone.  Can't someone just acknowledge the effort I went to?  Why are you so rude to me, so demanding of me, so pushy and aggressive with me?  Why do you speak to me in a way I hope you would never speak to your loved ones, and then in that moment when the money lands in your bank account, can you not just be human?  All I want is for a moment for you to see the world is bigger than your existence in it.  There are so many people standing in front of you, who want you to look us in the eye.  Acknowledge our existence in this world and perhaps if you can spare just a moment longer, utter those two very special words, "Thank You".

Maybe They're Happy

I remember being very young when I was taught the lesson of 'Do not judge a book by it's cover'.  I have always tried to not judge and make assumptions about people I meet and instead allow myself to learn about someone by getting to know them.  Unfortunately not everyone takes this approach, and they make judgements about people straight away.  Unfortunately for me I work with a few people that are very quick to judge.  These same people also like to share that judgement with me, before I even have a chance to see the people they are making the judgements about.

The nature of my work involves people sharing their private information, acknowledging that death is a part of life and, often, unburdening family conflict.  This is difficult to do and for many they don't want to do it alone.  They will bring someone with them, usually a partner, or a friend, or a child.  The work we do is confronting and people don't want to think about it.  Even I don't like to think about it.  It took me a while to be able to switch off and stand back and see that it was just a job.  Sometime back we needed a temporary receptionist as our permanent one was moved into another role.  The person they hired was the most judgemental person I do believe I have come across.  And she is still with us.

She loves to personally come to my desk to alert me to the fact that my appointment has arrived.  And then with her voice lowered, she whispers her assumptions of that client.  I never take notice of her judgements, because I have found that almost 100% of the time she is wrong.  She will tell me a client is difficult and rude, yet when I talk to them I find them easy going and pleasant.  She will tell me a client is wasting our time as they have no money yet they are multimillionaires.  And many times when a husband and wife come in she loves to tell me it is a second marriage and she only wants his money, "after all, she is young enough to be his daughter".

The other day I did have a husband and wife come in, and it was a second marriage, and she was young enough to be his daughter, in fact she was younger than his daughter.  But so what!  After spending an hour with this couple it was clear they were both happy.  To be completely honest I couldn't say whether they were truly in love, but I could say they were both happy with whatever arrangement they had going on.  They both wanted a companion and had found each other, both fulfilling the needs of the other while having their own needs met.  And in a way isn't that part of what marriage is about?  And aren't we all striving for happiness anyway?  At the end of the day, maybe people are happy with what they have going on, and who are we to judge them for their choices and what it takes to make them happy.  Instead it is time to stop analysing the lives of others and to look at our own lives, and do what we need to do in order to ensure our own happiness.

Solitude

I am an introvert.  I used to be bothered by this at lot (which I will save for a later time) but then I came to embrace it.  Hubby is also an introvert.  After big family gatherings we just go home and sit on the couch and put the TV on.  We don't really watch it, but rather escape into our own little worlds.  I love that Hubby is an introvert just like me but, as much as I love him, I still need some time just to myself.  Time in pure solitude.  Of course this is difficult to do, it isn't easy to ask for some solitude. 

Hubby loves to sleep in.  That is his thing, his reward for a long week at work is to sleep in on weekends, as late as he can, or as late as I will let him.  He even enhances the experience by staying up really late on Friday and Saturday nights watching man shows or man movies (you know, guns, blood, lots of heavy vehicles at high speed) just so he can get enjoy an extended sleep in.  On these nights when Hubby sets himself up for the night after a cocktail or two I go to bed early.  Mainly because after a long week at work I am done and exhausted, but also so I can spend some time in the bedroom alone, listening to my music and lying in the middle of the bed with my arms and legs spread out and my head nestled between both pillows.  It is my second perfect time of solitude escaping into my thoughts and dreams and slowly dozing off to sleep.  

On Saturday and Sunday mornings I wake with the sun, refreshed and revitalized and with another few hours of solitude.  My baby Raz is a morning dog, (his brother, much like his father, prefers the sleep in) and he always gets up with me.  Each weekend is the same, into the kitchen to turn the coffee machine on to warm up, then wrap up in a trackie, hoodie and ugg boots and then make the coffee.  With my steaming caffeine hit, I sit in the lounge with Raz on my lap reading a book.  I can sit like that for hours if I have the time.  It is my ideal way to spend the weekend; so quiet and peaceful and I look out into our garden and beyond with the windows open and the crisp air lightly blowing through, the whole neighbourhood is quiet and I sink a little deeper into the armchair feeling very contented with myself and life in general.

These moments of solitude have come to be the highlights of my week, the time I most look forward to, because in these moments I recharge myself with the energy to see me through the week full of clients and colleagues and the weekend full of family and friends.  My perfect moments of solitude clear my head, set my mood and allow me to venture forth creating beautiful memories for the week ahead.

It's Finally Arrived

I have been waiting 9 months for this moment and I feel about a week ago it arrived.  The shift into Autumn finally came about in our little part of the world.  The weekend was wonderful with lots of light drizzly rain, and as I lay back onto our couch with the window open, a crisp breeze floated through and ran across me.  The air was so fresh and cool and alerted me to the fact that we were now truly in Autumn, my favourite time of year.  I almost cried I felt so good. 

This time of year is truly magical.  The light is different, it is softer and in the afternoon everything lights up with a glow, a gentle warm radiation without the harshness of the Summer sun.  There is nothing better than being outside on a Sunny day basking in the warmth of the sun with a light cool breeze occasionally meandering around, that makes you snuggle into your clothes just a little bit more.  

Ah! the snuggling.  Lazy days inside, cuddled up in blankets and devouring good books with a sneaky glass of full bodied red wine in the other hand. And if you are so fortunate, the crackling of an open fire provides perfect background noise. 

For me the most enchanting thing about this time of year is that it takes me back to our wedding.  A perfect Autumn day followed by a late lunch in front of an open fire.  Which of course is the best way to spend these Autumnal Days.  We married in the country.  A place that feels like home everytime we visit.  We always ended up in this country town in the Autumn and one time as we were driving through admiring the red, gold and brown leaves on the trees, I made the suggestion that perhaps we should get married there.  Hubby was sold on the idea once we checked out a 100 year old Guesthouse, we knew we didn't need to look any further.  

While this season has a special place in our hearts, so does that country town.  It feels like home because one day it will be.  It is the only place I have ever been that just feels right deep down.  The one place that makes me think, yes, I could stay here for the rest of my life.  And this season brings back all those wonderful memories, and as I find myself reaching for another layer of clothing, I start to dream about our future and wondering what other wonderful memories are yet to be created.

Change

Someone said to me today that a change is as good as a holiday.  I disagree.  At least with a holiday I can go somewhere new, somewhere I have never been before.  I can go out and discover new things or I can choose to sit back, relax and listen to the ocean while sipping on a cocktail.  A holiday allows me to switch off, to recharge my body and mind and with each passing day the holiday bliss chips away at the old and stagnant and brings the new to the surface.  The creativity creeps back into my mind and ideas seem to flow.  A holiday gives me a new perspective on things, problems vanish and solutions appears and I have the chance to reconnect with Hubby and spend some real time together.

Right now I have none of that.  My hairdresser visited me yesterday.  A week ago I sent her a message, telling her it was time.  I am blonde and with a few exceptions over the years always have been, but every now and then I feel the need to change, to go dark.  I am back to my old job at work after spending 14 months acting in a higher role.  As such I am over qualified and getting bored fast.  Work is stagnant.  At home I feel as if I am going through the motions, the weekdays blend together and aside from Italian classes, Monday to Friday almost feels like groundhog day.  I needed to do something to shake things up.  I thought the best way to do that was to dye my hair a nice chocolate brown.

I sat in front of the mirror and as she began to dry my hair I had a moment.  A slight panic and feeling of anxiety as I realised I was stuck with the dark and in the moment I wanted the blonde back.  I turned my chair around.  I told the hairdresser I didn't want to look in the mirror I wanted it to be a surprise.  But in reality I just needed to take a few deep breathes and think about something else.  Once my hair was dry and I turned around and looked my first reaction was "It isn't dark enough".  My hairdresser explained we could go darker next time but she didn't want to go too dark now so as not to damage the hair.  I am not sure what reaction I was expecting, but I really didn't feel anything about this outward change.  

After she left I kept looking in the mirror, waiting for that moment of "I love this" but it never came.  I realised this morning it isn't about the hair, I do like it, it looks good, it is exactly what I wanted.  But while I may look different, nothing has changed.  Everything is the same.  It seems silly to think changing my hair colour would shake things up, but I suppose in that moment when I made the decision to change, I thought it would.  And then, this evening, my moment came.  I realised why I wanted to go dark.  It wasn't about shaking things up, it was really about hiding and hibernating.  I have begun working on a handful of goals this year and I am just starting to see progress being made.  I wanted to hide away from the world and hibernate.  I didn't want to be noticed, I wanted to continue chipping away, doing what I needed to do, and progressing towards my goals.  Once I have reached these goals, then I want to step forward and shine and be noticed.  And in that moment, that is when I will go back to blonde, back to my old self, only better, fresher, busting with creativity, just like a holiday.

Slow Down

I had some paperwork for a client to sign today.  I sat with him and the papers and handed him a pen.  I told him to sign on each page.  He carefully and thoughtfully signed on each page.  He signature was slow, deliberate, and I found myself starting to get irritated that his signature wasn't quick and fast like mine.  He had just finished the first page when I would have been done by now.  He handed me the first page and I looked down.  He had the most beautiful handwriting, his signature was a piece of art.  I looked over as he signed the next page.  His pen moved across gracefully and he wrote clearly every letter in his name.  It was as if he was typing his name into Word and using a fancy font.  

As I watched him sign each page I became memorised.  The pen was dancing on the paper and I was envious of the detail it recorded.  I wished my own hands could create writing that beautiful.  He handed me the last page and I signed away.  My scribble.  Just a quick flick of the pen, done, next.  It doesn't even look like my name, it doesn't even look like my initials just a scribble my dog could have drawn with a pen in his mouth.  

When I sat back at my desk after he had left I looked at my notes.  There was my messy handwriting all over the page.  My penmanship says one thing about me.  Rushed.  Or maybe the correct word is impatient.  If I make a mistake, misspell a word for example, I just cross it out and write next to it or above it.  I do not have the patience to bother with white out.  I don't have the patience to make it neat either.  Just like school.  Most of the girls had girly handwriting and took the time to put little love hearts in their "i" 's.  Not me.  I wrote too hard and fast my hand would cramp up.  And here I am and nothing has changed.  I type whenever I can because it is less strain on my hand, and it is neater and faster.  And has spellcheck.

My client made me pause and reflect.  He has terminal cancer, not long to go and he still took the time to sign his name with care and attention.  Maybe it is time I did the same.  A reminder to make time each day to step away from this instant world and pause.  Do something with care, with attention, with detail and with pride.  Stop rushing trying to capture everything and do everything, but instead pick out the important bits, and do them well, with patience, to ensure a beautiful result each time. 

The Pause Button

Sleep and I have never been great friends, more like casual aquaintances.  She deceives me with a series of wonderful nights of sleep and just when I think this relationship can be taken to the next level she stops returing my calls, stands me up and goes M.I.A.  But of course it is never her fault, there is always something else to blame, and tonight that would be my mind.  

I find the bext way to spend a public holiday is getting out of the house and catching up with family and friends over a great meal.  Hubby and I drove to Sydney and went out with my mum for an enjoyable lunch where I devoured a plate of mussels and mopped up the sauce with buttery toast.  With a full belly Hubby and I chilled out back home half watching TV, half pottering about.  I was feeling good.  It was time for bed and I thought I would do a little reading.  This year I am all about habits and I am trying to set a good bedtime habit.  Going to bed at the same time and getting into a routine with removing all distractions and slowly winding down.  I did my reading and after 20 minutes turned the light off.  

It was hard, I didn't want to stop reading but I knew I should.  I wanted to get up early and go for a walk, my morning routine habit I am working on.  I rolled over to Hubby and snuggled in close but my mind was going off, ticking over.    I found myself thinking about work and had to remind myself that was not the time or the place to think about work.  My mind obeyed but instead of switching off it starting thinking about other things.  Bits of my past floating by in my head getting faster and faster.

I love listening to the rain.  I have always found rainy days the most perfect days.  I love the rhythm of the rain and the way it make everything clean, fresh, renewed.  The best smell in the world is that of rain, it makes me smile.  I had downloaded a few rain apps on my phone to switch on when I needed to relax and listen to the rain.  The first time I listened I closed my eyes and pictured the future.  I saw myself standing on the undercover wrap-around balcony of our dream house.  Looking out over the countryside watching the rain renew the pastures, pumping life into the cycle and there I would stand listening and breathing in the magical smell.  These thoughts relaxed me instantly and with these pleasant images I would wonder off into sleep.

Tonight as I listened and stood on that veranda, people appeared and stood next to me, talking.  I walked away and they followed.  I couldn't settle and relax and instead was tossing and turning and then the climax occured, where I started thinking about the fact I am not relaxed and not going to sleep and that is the end point.  It just won't happen now.  

I lay there for another ten minutes hoping for the best, but my eyes kept opening and I found I was staring at the shadows in the room for so long they almost started to move.   How I longed for a Pause Button for my overthinking mind.  Just 7-8 hours is all I ask.

I gave up and got up.  And here I am, out on the couch with a trusty Seinfeld DVD on, I need it during these times.  I don't have to think.  Raz joined me, ever loyal to his mum and I just need to wait for sleep to return.  Just enough so I can doze on the couch and wake up long enough to crawl back into bed.  I don't know about my walk tomorrow.  That can be dealt with in the morning.  For now I need to lie here and wait until the thinking slows down enough for me to rest and relax, and for sleep to return once more.

Young Love

I remember when Hubby and I first moved in together.  We were both living with our parents at the time.  I had moved out (and back) several times so I was able to contribute a little to the enormous list of "Things you need when you get your own place".  Hubby was living in a little flat at his parents, so he had a few things to.  Like the bed.  I was back in my single, childhood bed, so it was his Queen that made the journey down.  It was hideous and I hated it.  That first night, it was getting dark and he had just finished setting up the entertainment unit (priorities, priorities) so it was time to move onto the bed.  But there was a piece missing.  A crucial piece which meant we spent that first night sleeping on the mattress on the floor.  I woke up with an asthma attack because apparently that place had never met a Dyson before.  I wonder if Hubby was questioning what he had signed up for.  The bed went up the next day.  It was low to the ground and had this awful aqua blue felt thing that went around the entire bed.  It looked so...... bachelor.  I understand Hubby was, and that at the time many many years ago it was probably quite fashionable, but still.

We went up the road to the Supermarket to do a big shop.  You know the one where you easily spend over $200 just getting everything; food, cleaning products and those random items you think, yes we need that, like a washing up brush.  We discovered they sold bedding.  We picked out a blue sheet set, $19.95, what a bargain.  Back then I didn't care that it was a cotton/polyester blend.  It was affordable, cheap and would do the job, and that was the goal back then.

We didn't have a table and chairs.  His parents came down about a week later with a surprise.  It was an outdoor 4 seater setting.  I set it up inside the house.  It became our dining table for about 6 months.  Everything was so innocent.  We didn't really watch TV.  We would cook in the cockroach infested kitchen.  Simple meals; fry some meat, cook some rice, open a bottle of sauce, voila, dinner.  I would set the outdoor table, we would sit down to dinner, say Grace and turn on Love Song Dedications (radio).  We would eat, and then lean back in our chairs sipping Apple Cider, talking, learning more about each other every day.

That was all our life was, getting to learn about each other and learning to live together.  As soon as we walked in the door all our problems vanished and it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered.  It was all new and exciting and there was this sense that this was it, we had found each other.  I would look across at him during dinner and have this feeling that in 50 years time, I would be sitting down to dinner and looking into the eyes of this man in front of me.  This was love.

Breathe

In - Two - Three and Out - Two - Three.  Time flies when you are busy, and the most tragic thing is I wish I could just pop back onto my blog and say I was caught up with something really exciting and 'noteworthy' but the reality is I have just been stuck in the generally busy-ness of life.  And health appointments.  Was it Round 2 or 3 of Bloods I had done on Saturday?  I am not sure, but I get the results today.  Because hey, when you have one health issue (PCOS) let's just keep digging to uncover more.

So here I am, so early in the morning it is still dark, finding myself drawn back to my blog and wondering just what I have done all this time.  I have Raz at my feet.  He is a morning Pug, but it's good, we hang out together in the morning while Hubby and Mr C snooze for as long as possible.  Every health appointment I have I keep getting told to relax (I wouldn't say life or my job is particularly stressful, just that I tend to be more anxious in general then most) so I now start my days with Morning Yoga.  It sounds so pious doesn't it?  But in reality when you are overweight and highly inflexible all it does it point out that you are just a little more than a few sessions away from achieving optimal health.  After all, trying to do some of the moves with a PCOS belly in the way is challenging and slightly mortifying (thank goodness I only have Raz as my audience).  I do feel slightly better afterwards, if only that my body has woken up a little bit more and seems to have caught up with my racing mind.

I have been quite busy around the house too, I have this great desire to Nest at the moment.  So a lot of time is spent at home cleaning and trying to sort things out.  Ever since we moved here I have had this To Do list.  But I think one of the great joys of house ownership is that there will always be something to do to the house/yard.  And really, if I did get it all done, what would we do on weekends?  So the list has gone and we will just potter about doing what we can when we feel like it.  Besides, unless I happen across tens of thousands dollars in the street, pottering is the cheapest option right now too.  And with only such a short amount of time left when it will be just the two of us, we need to save for our very Childless weekends away in the Hunter Valley, wining and dining.  Like we did a week ago. 

 

This is life right now, busy, but busy is the only auto pilot I have, so it might be time to jump onto YouTube, search yoga and so a quick session before the rest of the house starts to stir.

Hello 3am, Again

Insomnia.  My oldest friend, it is clear to me now that you are back again.  I am hoping you will be going very very soon and I know I am not supposed to talk about you because that will keep you in my mind but maybe discussing our relationship will send you packing.

When did we meet?  As a child I was a bad sleeper and afraid of the dark, but I think it was sometime during High School we really became aquainted.  I remember all those nights lying in bed for hours just waiting to get to sleep.  And then when I finally did, a few hours later you returned.  Up I was and out watching TV waiting for sleep to tap me back on the shoulder.  It was tough.  I really hated you in Year 12 but I was determined not to let you affect me or my grades.

Then there was Uni and you were still hanging around and what about my final year? I was so burned out and you finished it off and broke me.  That was when I met another two friends, Depression and Anxiety.  I remember my Dr asking, was I not sleeping because of the depression or was it the not sleeping that began the depression?  I really do not know how I finished that year and was actually able to graduate.  But I feel you took something from me that year, I felt I lost my passion and drive and I did not get that back for many many years and even now I wonder if I have it all back.

I think we will skip over the rest of my 20s, that isn't a blog post that is a whole book!  And now here we are.  With the house and wedding I understood why you came back and once things settled down I found sleep again.  I enjoyed it so much.  But lately I have been up and now I feel it isn't a few bad nights, it is you again.  I go to sleep so well but then around 3ish, I am up, and my brain starts ticking over and off we go.  So here I sit, glass of milk, not really watching the DVD I have playing on the TV, and surfing the web/playing games on the ipad.  

I know how the rest of the morning will turn out because it is the same every time.  I will crawl back into bed at 5am when I finally start to feel tired.  Then my alarm will go off at 5:45 and I will turn it off and continue sleeping, which means the early morning work out I have been doing will not get done and, fingers crossed, I do it when I get home.  Hubby will then wake me up around 6:30 - 7:00 when I will have a shower and try to wake up.  I will get to work, fortunately I don't have a formal start time but a window of time in which I need to turn up, but I will get there a little later than I planned.  I will then wonder how I arrived, as the car trip feels like a blur.  Around 11am I will hit the wall and then in the afternoon feel the need for bed.  I will come home and collapse on the couch and rest and then the evening will be ruined because I just won't have the energy to do the housework etc that I had planned on doing.  Then we go two ways; you give me the night off and I have a great nights sleep and tomorrow will be a much better day, or you return and I say "Hello 3am, Again."

Thank you

Two small words, and for many so hard to say but for the person on the receiving end it could really make your day.  I work in a very thankless job.  It isn't management or anything like that, it is just the nature of the job, lots of money and lots of emotions for clients.  I have been working quite hard on one particular job and did what I needed to, ahead of time and the clients still complained.  Today it just got to me.  They could have said thank you for the money so far and could you please advise when the rest will be forthcoming? But no, that seems too difficult.

I used to work in a department store when I first left school.  People were harsh but every now and then someone would say thank you and it would melt my heart.  I am sure to them they didn't even give it a second thought.  Sure I was doing my job but it was just nice for someone to notice I was a human being for just a moment.

This morning I did work for a more mature gentleman.  He thanked me and I continued to go out of my way for him.  For the complainers today I am sticking with our standard time frames, I not going to do them any more favours.

I was raised to always say thank you.  I thank my Dr for taking the time to see me and providing me with knowledge, I thank the receptionist when she puts mail in my tray, I thank the woman behind the register at Coles when she give me my bag and I thank my husband when he hands me a glass of water.

Who have you said Thank You to today?

Oops

Dear Blog, 

I didn't mean to disappear for a fortnight, it just kinda happened.  Firstly two weeks ago I had a very busy week with stuff happening after work Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday and then work itself was just a nightmare.  And then this week, well, it was off to Sydney which meant up at 5am after only 4 hours sleep due to tossing and turning all night worrying about not getting up on time and then getting home somewhere around 8-ish?  I don't remember, life has been a blur.  On the plus side though we did get the turf down this weekend, finally and I found a little notebook which I will now scribble out all the blog posts I have had floating around in my head and put them down and remind myself that this year I did promise I was going to be a better blogger.  Which means, even though it is Sunday night I should put Friday's cocktail up, better late than never and there is still a few hours left in this weekend.  

To a much better week starting tomorrow.

xoxo

Dear HB...

I finally cancelled my Home Beautiful subscription yesterday, I had been meaning to do it for a while.  As I flipped through the latest issue at lunch I stopped at the reader letters, and thought I should write a letter to the editor.  I know this letter will never be published so I felt posting it on my blog was appropriate. 

Dear HB,

I just wanted to say that I have cancelled my subscription to your magazine.  I first met you when my Husband and I found ourselves building our new home.  I was seduced by your cover and impressed with your content.  I subscribed that month, knowing that this magazine would fill me with inspiration.  As the issues went by I would flip through the pages and wonder what exactly was different from the last issue.  Don't get me wrong, with each issue I would find something in there to be excited about.  I would think, "Yes, I can see that working in our new home" and I would look down the bottom for the price and think, "Actually, no, I do not have $5,000 to dish out on an armchair that can only be used by one person at a time and as nice as it is, I need to be practical". 

And then of course, the Real 'Homes' section,  month after month, a token house from Sydney, always, and then Melbourne, Queensland and now you do at least one house from overseas.  Always, these homes would be with a late 30s early 40s woman with her kids in the background talking about just how fabulous the expensive cushion was on the expensive couch, which is fine when your Husband is earning $100,00 plus, which he must have been because these stories were always something like: Who lives here?  Angela, an interior designer/stay at home mum/executive and her Husband John, CEO/CFO/Director and their two children, Chloe and Maxwell. 

In the end, HB, it's not you, it's me, for I am simply not your target market.  I do not have white walls, and we don't have space for a butler's pantry, nor is our yard big enough for the token swimming pool with the outdoor kitchen/lounge.  I don't want to fill my house with things from a magazine and end up with a cookie cutter house.  I want to fill my home with pieces that tell a story.  I want to walk around and smile at everything, at the memories and I want people to walk into my home and feel instantly at ease, to feel free to relax and be themselves, and to admire our uniqueness and smile at me and say "Where did you get that?" And I will not respond with this designer or that, I will respond and share with them the intimate details of exactly how we obtained this unique, one of a kind item.  Home Beautiful, it's over.

Linking in with Jacana for Totally Thursday 

Fashion

I have never been trendy, kinda comes with being a nerd.  I don't go along with everyone else, I like to keep it simple.  In fact this blog could be the trendiest thing I am doing.  I am not even on Facebook because frankly I feel if you want to catch up, pick up the telephone.

So for many years I refused to get an iPhone for the simple reason that everyone else has one and I was not going to succumb to this trend, but at the end of last year Hubby and I were complaining for the millionth time about our crappy non iPhone phones that were less than a year old.  So we gave in, we both had brand new iPhone 5s.  Of course, I couldn't be like everyone else, I had to get myself a really funky case to go with it.  So I got this.

The next day the girls at work were coming up to me oohing and ahhing over the CASE.  At the dentist the other day (Part 2 of root canal) I was sitting in the chair (for an hour) listening to music via my iPhone and the dental assistant stopped what she was doing and pointed to my case "Great case, I love it, where did you get that?"  No one actually cares about the fact I have an iPhone, it is all about the case.

And here is my problem.  The case is very chunky, I guess it has to be with all those crystals, which means my phone doesn't work at home, reception here isn't that great, but with all this extra protection on my phone I get nothing.  Hubby has no problems, but I have nothing.  So what do I do?  Leave the case on and bask in my 15 seconds of fashionable glory or ditch the case and go for practicality, which I always choose anyway.  I am leaning towards the fashion, being undisturbed on weekends while I am at home is not a bad thing, and while people continue to comment I will continue to smile and enjoy this fleeting fad.

Linking up with Jacana for Totally Thursday 

Waiting

I am sitting here in my study waiting.  I have the front door open and a few windows and I am waiting for the rain to start.  I can feel it in the air and the sky is grey.  There was a slight preview on the way home and now I am waiting for the the water to come flowing from the sky and for the air to change.  The house is feeling stuffy right now and I want fresh air to run through the house and brighten it up just a little.

I am also waiting for dinner.  I have duck fat potatoes roasting in the oven.  This is my third attempt at them, the first two times just have not worked out, but thanks to Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsey I am hoping I am going to be enjoying them tonight.

So I sit hear waiting.  Hubby is playing the harmonica in another room and I am here catching up on blogs with my mind ticking over as background noise with little reminders of things to do and as I wait I see my list getting longer and longer.  And so often with waiting comes procrastination.  I could start crossing a few things off my list but right now it feels nice to just sit with my meandering thoughts looking out the window.  

The Boys are pottering about, Raz has just walked in and found an envelope that must have fallen behind the cabinet, and he is happily chewing on it and waving it in front of his brother, teasing him, waiting to start a game.  

I long for the day when I can do this all over again but sit out on my wraparound deck and look out onto rolling green hills spotted with livestock.  For now though, my potatoes need checking and bills need to be paid and the wait is over, time to get on with living.