Love It

I swear, and I probably swear too much, but some times, some words I really and deeply mean it.  And this is one of those words and times where I swear through gritted teeth. Grief is a two faced, low life bitch.  The definition of a bitch in the dictionary is a malicious, spiteful, overbearing woman.  Malicious - nasty, cruel, harsh and intending to do harm. Spiteful -  cutting, straight to the heart kind of meanness.  Overbearing - oppressive, arrogant and masterful.  But why a woman?  Why not call it a man?  Because women give birth to new life and so does grief if we treat her right. You think you have dealt with her, put her in her place and finished with her til she rears her ugly head with a new death or new crisis in your world. But no, she's also sneaky & underhand!  She likes to sit quietly next to you on the couch at night.  Sometimes she's well mannered and let's you watch your programs, take part in conversation and get on with life. She will whisper du

Redevelopment sounds like such a big deal doesn't it? THIRTEEN  MILLION DOLLARS sounds like such a big amount of money doesn't it? What does a small community expect of the two phrases worked together into a lovely press announcement by a Government Department?  They expect a big deal and a big benefit.  To quote one of my husband's famous, and slightly Shiraz fuelled speeches many years ago, they want everything to be Bigger & Better! But what does Bigger & Better look like in bricks and mortar? How does the community get to decide how that looks and what they want? How do you get more than a coat of paint and a new pot plant for your hard effort and dollars? The first step is to include community members from day one of the process.  I'm deliberately not using the word consumer here.  Consumers and Community can be very different beasts for the corporate and government worlds to deal with.  I'll explain. A Consumer Representative is when you

Three years ago, this is how I looked.  I knew I was fat! Blind Freddie could see that.  This suit was a size 22 and only fitted due to it having an elastic waistband. Nobody said anything. I'm sure if I smoked someone would have said "Give those things up they are killing you", and I'm equally sure if I drank someone would have said "You've had enough". They are the obvious drugs, the obvious addictions. Food isn't!  Everybody eats, everybody loves food.  So, it's OK not to say anything. Partly that's because fat people are perceived as weak, so you don't say anything to hurt their feelings.  You don't even use the word fat! Over the years I used to groan when someone said "Oh you're looking well!"  To me, Well equalled Fat.  Maybe they did think I was looking well, or maybe they just didn't want to screech "Oh My God You are Huge!" Either way, people were nice.  They loved being around becau

I remember when I was 18 getting the news that my cousin in Slovakia had had a child. I hadn't met my cousin face to face then, but being an only child with two younger cousins in Australia that I saw only rarely it was exciting. I raced down to the toy shop in Kalgoorlie and bought a giant Panda. It took two post bags and a lot of tape to put together, and cost me more to post than I paid for the toy to send it to this little girl born in a far away land. I sent gifts, remembered her birthday, and then 9 years later her brother arrived. I had a son only weeks before, and I could follow this boys progress with my own sons. I received photos regularly from their grandfather, father and uncle, and felt like I was a part of it all. With great excitement I met them when they were quite little, and it was only an afternoon, but so good to see them. We could not communicate well, their English was not good, my Slovak probably worse, but I loved every minute. My next trip

Part of this amazing trip has been the unexpected, the unplanned, but the destinations that we have been meant to go to. Mauthausen was one. This is one of the many concentration camps that existed during World War 2. Lots of people, I knoe, have been to Auschwitz, because dare I say it, it is on the tourist run.  We have not done the tourist run. I'm it sure why people go to these places, each has their own reasons. Whether to feel something, to be a bit of a site see-er or because they have a connection. For me, it was the connection, for Mike too.  My Dads big brother spent a long time there. Thankfully  he survived, flourished, and we will spend time with him this trip. I expected the place to feel sad, to almost feel the pain of those who suffered and died there. The atrocities committed there are beyond belief. The suffering, the indignity, the dehumanisation, the sheer brutality. When someone says they are going through hell. I would eish them to go, to see and to unde

A few of the choice moments of life in a Motorhome for the uninitiated. Privacy. There is none, as a married couple with decades of experience this isn't a huge issue. But!  We sit at the front to drive. We swap regularly, so when I drive, he fiddles, photographs and reprograms the screen on the dash. We lovingly call her Nav Bitch. She yells at us for going to fast, for not turning at the right spots, she's s bitch. But we love her, and we need her. When Mike drives, I sew. I'm working on a new quilt called Posh Psls.  9 x 9" blocks of simple stitchers that will form the basis of a quilt. Keeps me happy and not bored.   Behind the big driving seats is the table, and s seat. This is planning station, work station, dining room, and part wardrobe. Next to that is a single chair. Wardrobe, storage for all manner of bits. Then the door, which is also the rubbish bin, the tea towel holder, and sometimes clothesline. We multi task like a demon. The kitchen is about

If we go back far enough, I am certain we can meet ourselves. Mike and I have been told before that we have known each other in a former life. Whether you believe in such things or not is rather irrelevant, this is our story, and we firmly believe it. Yesterday just set it in stone. We drove to a tiny village, Gredzice in a farming district outside of Warsaw the home of Stanislaus Kaminski, Mikes great great great grandfather. He left his little village and family to go to England to start a new life way back in the 1870's. His father Andrzej and the rest of the family stayed. When Mike woke yesterday, he had the song "I write your name" going through his head. Not a Taylor .seift fan, but he worked out that there was a reason for it. Well in this tiny town as we drove around, a huge water tank in the back yard of a house with a huge green sign on it. On the sign in huge White letters was written "MICHAL". Do you think someone was expecting him? I'm d

OK, the song was one night in Moscow, but who's going to argue? Shall we start with one night in Germany? Can't tell you exactly where, as we don't know either. Dubai airport was a bit of  a special place, we ate at the First Class Emirates lounge which was very flash. Then landed in Frankfurt. We were met by Herr Onder who drove us out to Friedberg where we collected our as yet unnamed motor home. Tiny. Cute. Functional.  And I'm very grateful for having lost 63kg as I CAN climb the ladder up to the bed without looking like Greenpeace should be called immediately. First night, Mike drove out about 100km, and we found our first truck stop. Bit daggy, lots of graffiti, loads of trucks, but it was safe, and not at all Wolf Creek German style.  We stopped in Bad Hersfeld and I managrd with some point and shoot shopping method to buy 2 sausages, 2 rolls, and 2 croissants. Along with the CWA style groceries I had packed in my suitcase, we were set. Next day, with each