Monthly Archives: May 2016
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Bounce, Bounce, Bounce.
Weddings Are Best When… – RRSAHM
Weddings Are Best When…
An alcoholic howdy do to you all,
First off, I must confess, I am bloody hungover. As my constant readers will know, I don’t drink. But I went to a wedding last night. Two Tia Maria and cokes, one cowboy shot and two vodka and lemon squashes absolutely shattered me. I would have had another shot but the bar policy was no shots after 10pm (C’mon, barkeep, I just left my husband and kids in the hotel room and it’s only quarter past…). Never, ever again.
But I had an awesome time. All in all, a very relaxed, cheerful, good time affair (as most bogan weddings are).
So here’s my list. Because.. well… I like lists.
Wedding Are Best When…
* Things are colorful. Bridesmaids in a rainbow of colours and table decos to match make for bright and cheerful all round, no matter the venue.
*The ceremony is short, sweet and simple. Especially if you’re all standing, in the great, sun-burny, mozzie infested Aussie outdoors or, heaven forbid, in a church. Catholics need not apply.
*The speeches are short, sweet and tasteful. Without mentions of toilets seats, ex partners, or family feuds. Tears are appropriate, but only for the bride, and only so much as she does not run her mascara. Beware of drunken idiots grabbing the mike.
*The DJ suffers Repressed Clown Syndrome. And is prepared to don a green wig and do the Funky Chicken with all the guests under the age of 13, over the age of 65, or anyone between those ages with a bellyful of grog.
*People dance. Not just the oldies, and not just the littlies, and not just the chicks wearing mini skirts dancing a circle. Weddings and primary school discos are the only times you can get groovy to the Macarena, Hey Mickey and the Grease MegaMedley.
*People drink. Including the oldies.Not enough to get messy, vomit or get their staunch on, but enough to talk to people they normally wouldn’t, laugh at stupid things, and take their shoes off by 11pm. If you’re really lucky, someone will react the aforementioned Grease MegaMedley, complete with ‘Travolta does childbirth’ face.
No One Likes….
*Bubble skirts on bridesmaids. ‘Nuff said.
*Stupid people calling out stupid things during equally stupid speeches. Shut up, groom’s brother. I don’t care how many drinks you’ve scabbed from the bar by pretending they were for the bridal party- you shush now. I can’t hear the brides pissed uncle reading the list of ‘Rules For Marriage’ he printed off a forwarded email after removing most of the vulgarities.
*Brides with ciggies. *Ahem* *Cough (in that icky smokers way)*. Yep, that me in the piccie. I’m a classy broad.
*The Bowlo courtesy bus as the getaway car. And the farewell is the bride pulling open the door to the smoker’s balcony and screeching “Honey, fucking hurry up. The last courtesy bus is about the leave”. (Yep, unfortunately, I’m quite serious about that one).
Previous post: FlogYaBlog Friday and Project Monday.
Next post: 26 Years Without ‘My Norm’
Muse Wars- Challenge Four – RRSAHM
Muse Wars- Challenge Four
OK peoples,
It’s short story time again- check out the deal-io here.
The Ghost
There was a ghost who wandered the streets of the city at night.
She hadn’t always been a ghost. Once, her name had been Therese.
Now, she drifts through the city streets, unknown and almost unseen. People catch a glimpse of her, now and then, but ask them hours later what they had seen and they wouldn’t quite recall. They would know they had seen something, but the details were a blur…
The ghost liked the smell of the city at night. Not exactly pleasent, but comfortable. The gritty smell of dirt and tar and trains. The resonating odours of a mingle of foods. The smell of people, too many people in such a concentrated space. And at night, especially on a Saturday night, the smell of humanity was magnified and added to. Urine. Vomit. The occasional waft of tobacco or pot. The yeasty smell of beer. The pockets of cheap perfume and overdone aftershave.
The ghost slipped through the scents. Intoxicated.
She fed on the pulse of the city at night, humanity at it’s hedonistic peak. Pumping music and laughter, people unconsciously walking to deep bass beats. She liked the groups of men, the gaggles of women, talking, laughing, kissing, being alive, testing their vitality. She bore witness to the passing parade of souls.
It made her feel alive too.
The lights dazzled her. The neon’s, the constantly changing traffic lights. No stars, not in the city at nighttime.
The ghost is tired. She has had enough, supping at milk of human energy. It is overwhelming, even now, after doing it for so long.
She returns to her bed. A few tattered blankets, plastic bags with possessions carefully stashed out of sight.
She breathes an audible sigh of relief, as she does every time she returns to find her bags of goods in tact. There is not much there, but what she does have is precious.
She settles her blankets, wraps herself in them, not removing the layers of clothes, the gloves that keep her warm. It is the middle of winter, and she is wearing everything she owns.
Her name, once, was Therese. She holds the thought as she drifts into sleep.
Leave a Comment
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
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March 18, 2010 at 2:25 pm -
Yet another great story, I love that all of us take slightly different directions. Can't wait till you set Challenge 5.
- March 17, 2010 at 1:41 pm
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very good
- March 16, 2010 at 1:15 pm
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Love your work, Lorigirl! Keep 'em coming!
And I agree with YankeeLori, that line reminded of breastfeeding.=)
- March 16, 2010 at 12:19 pm
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This is really good. "Supping at milk of human energy" Wow. Reminds me of breast feeding. Seriously, I loved this!
BTW – no can-do on your cat. This is what hubby said in response to your comment:
Aussie-Lori: Forget it! Your cat is from Australia! We wouldn't be able to understand anything it says!
heh heh. Me hubby's funny.
- March 16, 2010 at 11:59 am
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I like. xx
Previous post: When I grow up, I wanna be Lara Bingle.
Next post: Dim Sum the House Cat
Muse Wars- Challenge Four – RRSAHM
Muse Wars- Challenge Four
OK peoples,
It’s short story time again- check out the deal-io here.
The Ghost
There was a ghost who wandered the streets of the city at night.
She hadn’t always been a ghost. Once, her name had been Therese.
Now, she drifts through the city streets, unknown and almost unseen. People catch a glimpse of her, now and then, but ask them hours later what they had seen and they wouldn’t quite recall. They would know they had seen something, but the details were a blur…
The ghost liked the smell of the city at night. Not exactly pleasent, but comfortable. The gritty smell of dirt and tar and trains. The resonating odours of a mingle of foods. The smell of people, too many people in such a concentrated space. And at night, especially on a Saturday night, the smell of humanity was magnified and added to. Urine. Vomit. The occasional waft of tobacco or pot. The yeasty smell of beer. The pockets of cheap perfume and overdone aftershave.
The ghost slipped through the scents. Intoxicated.
She fed on the pulse of the city at night, humanity at it’s hedonistic peak. Pumping music and laughter, people unconsciously walking to deep bass beats. She liked the groups of men, the gaggles of women, talking, laughing, kissing, being alive, testing their vitality. She bore witness to the passing parade of souls.
It made her feel alive too.
The lights dazzled her. The neon’s, the constantly changing traffic lights. No stars, not in the city at nighttime.
The ghost is tired. She has had enough, supping at milk of human energy. It is overwhelming, even now, after doing it for so long.
She returns to her bed. A few tattered blankets, plastic bags with possessions carefully stashed out of sight.
She breathes an audible sigh of relief, as she does every time she returns to find her bags of goods in tact. There is not much there, but what she does have is precious.
She settles her blankets, wraps herself in them, not removing the layers of clothes, the gloves that keep her warm. It is the middle of winter, and she is wearing everything she owns.
Her name, once, was Therese. She holds the thought as she drifts into sleep.
Leave a Comment
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
- March 18, 2010 at 2:25 pm
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Yet another great story, I love that all of us take slightly different directions. Can't wait till you set Challenge 5.
- March 17, 2010 at 1:41 pm
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very good
- March 16, 2010 at 1:15 pm
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Love your work, Lorigirl! Keep 'em coming!
And I agree with YankeeLori, that line reminded of breastfeeding.=)
- March 16, 2010 at 12:19 pm
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This is really good. "Supping at milk of human energy" Wow. Reminds me of breast feeding. Seriously, I loved this!
BTW – no can-do on your cat. This is what hubby said in response to your comment:
Aussie-Lori: Forget it! Your cat is from Australia! We wouldn't be able to understand anything it says!
heh heh. Me hubby's funny.
- March 16, 2010 at 11:59 am
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I like. xx
Previous post: When I grow up, I wanna be Lara Bingle.
Next post: Dim Sum the House Cat
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: So… now what?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Food on the Un-Foodie Blog.
Sedation – RRSAHM
Sedation
I have an hour until I pick my children up again.
Excuse me while the toddler in me has a screaming temper tantrum, because I don’t want to, I am tired and sick of it and this is unfair.
(Life isn’t fair, Lori, isn’t that what my mum used to say?)
Having a break is lovely. But it makes going back even harder.
Plugging on. Moving on. Getting up every day and getting dressed and doing it- life. No matter how hard it is.
When all I want to do is sleep and eat chocolate and cry a little bit.
I don’t feel sorry for myself very often.. like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but gets you nowhere. It’s not my style to wallow.
But tonight I am very, very sorry for myself. this is fucking unfair and why does everyone get a normal life and I have to struggle on with this?
I don’t want to play anymore.
So many times, those four days when Tony was in the ICU, I turned to my best friend and said “They may need to sedate me soon. That’s OK, that’s fine, tell them to knock me out… I’m looking forward to it.”
Because I always felt on the verge on becoming hysterical, the verge of my fractured mind absolutley cracking and screaming out all the horror inside.
I still feel like that, sometimes. Like tonight. I don’t want to go back to life, back to my kids, back to being lonely and constantly swimming amongst my own murky thoughts.
Sedate me. Someone. Please.
Leave a Comment
{ 24 comments… read them below or add one }
- August 5, 2011 at 4:05 pm
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I wonder why I don't get to have a normal life either.
It's not fair and it's fucked up.
When those pills get handed out, I'm gonna put my hand out.
- August 2, 2011 at 10:30 pm
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It's good to have all of these emotions – to feel!
Sleep, eat chocolate and cry… Why the hell not!You are not alone! Although it may appear different from the outside many of us are facing similar everyday struggles, not "normal" lives at all!
Stay strong!
- August 2, 2011 at 5:29 am
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No words that haven't been spoken… just hugs and a nudge forward… (((hugs)))
- August 1, 2011 at 8:15 pm
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I'm sure you'll feel a bit better about it once you're hugging those babies. One step at a time Lori.
- August 1, 2011 at 6:36 pm
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The aftermath of something you've looked forward to can be harsh beyond words. Bottoming out is a big way is hard to avoid. I feel for you Lori, one step at a time, dont look too far ahead, it'll just make you dizzy x
- August 1, 2011 at 4:28 pm
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The come down after a big event is torture. The mundane seems a little bleaker than it did before, at least for a little while.
Just keep swimming, Dory, and keep Twitter on
x - August 2, 2011 at 12:18 am
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I totally get the "it's all over- back to reality" feeling. Nothing but HUGs…
- August 1, 2011 at 11:11 am
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Lori since you gave me your bracelet, which I haven't taken off, I feel you in my heart. I wish we could have spent some tiime chatting and I know you feel terribly alone and I do wish I could do something useful for you.
You are so real, honest and have great eyemakeup:) & were such a giggle at Blogopolis. I know its hard, really hard, you know nothing about me but i want to say the crappy black cloud does slowly too damn slowly eventualy passes away. It never completely leaves but the healing does take a fair amount of time.
If you ever wanna talk dm me .
BIg hugs Nx - August 1, 2011 at 10:57 am
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My catch-cry sometimes is… 'Stop the world, I wanna get off'… Must have been the weekend for it.
I just want to be 80 already and looking back, not 40 looking ahead. Im too tired to make all the decisions that need to be made in the next 40 years. I just want it done already.
Ok.. So end of pity party for us, hunni? Its no fun here either. Shall we leave now? - August 1, 2011 at 10:39 am
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Oh I know so badly exactly what you mean. Even though I havent had to go through what you have, I feel like this all the time. I don't want to go back, don't want to do this anymore. JUst wish I could go to sleep for a long time and not have to deal with it all. I understand you completely 150%
- August 1, 2011 at 9:35 am
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Hope you had a good first night back, and your children went to bed with no struggles (is that even possible??) xx
- August 1, 2011 at 6:43 am
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Oh Lori. I'm sorry. It totally sucks and is completely unfair. I don't know how you are carrying on every day – but somehow you are, and I know that you can keep on – it's going to get better. You are amazing. Just keep on keeping on. You are super mama. xoxoxox sending lots of love.
- August 1, 2011 at 4:29 am
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I wish I had a normal life, sigh. Hugs to you!!
- August 1, 2011 at 4:22 am
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*HUGS*
- August 1, 2011 at 2:11 am
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Hugs….just lots of hugs.
- July 31, 2011 at 11:05 pm
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Lots of hugs:)
- July 31, 2011 at 10:48 pm
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So tough to face reality, Lori, but face it we must. x
- July 31, 2011 at 10:47 pm
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You are in my thoughts and prayers today.
- July 31, 2011 at 9:37 pm
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Being with young children is relentless. Being with young children alone is tiringly relentless. Being a single mum for the reasons you are can only add to it in ways I cannot possibly begin to understand. It seems natural to dread diving back in. The water is cold but once you get moving it gets easier. Grow you childcare support network big and strong so you can keep getting out of the pool to dry off and warm up xxxxxx
- July 31, 2011 at 8:44 pm
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Sending much love Lori x
- July 31, 2011 at 8:33 pm
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So hard to do but I love this quote…
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. ~Kenji Miyazawa
- July 31, 2011 at 8:27 pm
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It is one of those most awfully cruel realities. "The Return".
You looked so tired going up those stairs when I said goodbye, Lori. I have to admit to thinking for a split second how marvellous it would be to whisk you away (my car was right there), extent the respite for you a bit longer…. but then, that's madness and I just sound like a raving nutter. xxxxx Go gently, mate. It is such a crash back to reality, I can only imagine (but I can TOTALLY relate… I said a similar thing, more than once, about wanting to be knocked out "til this is all over"…. but the horror realisation is, it never is, we just find a different way through it). - July 31, 2011 at 8:19 pm
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Oh, I'm glad you had such a wonderful time away. Sending some hugs to you Miss Lori!
- July 31, 2011 at 8:17 pm
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Oh Lori. Sending you a big hug and much love. One day at a time hon, one day at a time. xxxx
Previous post: Melbourne, Part Four- The Reason I’m Actually Here.
Next post: Run, Run, As Fast As You Can….
Lori vs Jellybeans. – RRSAHM
Lori vs Jellybeans.
Once upon a time, pregnant with my first child, I remember telling my husband that I wished I’d had professional photos taken of myself before I fell pregnant. It was pure, unadulterated vanity and I’m happy to stand by that. It was for the simple fact that I wanted to immortalize my body as it was, before kids, passionately believing that I’d never ever look that good again.
By the forces of sloppy mismanagement and sheer good luck, I was wrong. I actually probably look better now than I did before I had babies. And I’m much more confident.
Besides all that, I have a much greater appreciation for photos now than I ever have Before. The older my children get, the smaller the cache of photos I have of them with their dad appears.
Anyway. Throw that healthy vanity together when a new revere for digital memories, and I find myself with an idea lurking. A good problogger always needs an enticing headshot.
So here’s my new one.
Welcome to Lori vs Jellybeans, a retro photo shoot with a difference.
I love it when I find people who are happy and inspired to run with pretty much any crazy idea. These people and I, we understand each other. So when I contacted uGook Photography on the recommendation of a friend and they didn’t even bat an eyelid at my proposal of bringing ten kilos of jellybeans with me to fling around their studio, I knew I had found my photographers.
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| Number One |
In a way that’s completely not like me at all, it was the morning of the shoot that I realized I hadn’t thought to bribe, guilt or coerce one of my mates to come with me for moral support. And considering the fact that I was soon going to be all dressed up and attempting not to feel like a dick while I did all my best Megan Gale poses, that seemed like a serious oversight on my behalf.
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| Number Two |
I shouldn’t have been so worried. Husband and wife Nick and Gabi from uGook were so lovely and funny and have obviously done this a thousand times– it literally took me ten minutes before all that ‘My arms are one hundred feet long!’ self consciousness disappeared. They specialise in all sorts of stuff including retro, vintage and boudoir photography.
And as you can see, the hair and make up were to die for.
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| Number Three |
The studio was so warm and comfy I even stripped off for undie shots… I know. While I bought my own jellybeans, all other props and costumes were from the huge selection- a Kylie Showgirl style feather head dress and a pool table for Underbelly style glamour- on site at the uGook studio.
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| Heh- no number here… this one is not going on the header. Nice try. |
The uGookers plied my confidence with champers, coffee and food (other than jellybeans, which really weren’t fit for consumption following their starring role), and organized the hair and make up. I even had a digital copy of my photos via Dropbox within twenty four hours.
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| Number Four |
And I had just so much fun. The four hour shoot was wrapped up way before I got bored. I bubbled my way home and through the next couple of days, reaching fever pitch once I had copies of the shots to show off to just about every one.
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| e=”text-align: center;”>Number Five |
As well as immortalizing how freaking awesome I am so, thirty years from now, I can ignore my grandchildren rolling their eyes while I make them look at mah’ albums again; the whole objective of this shoot was to redesign the RRSAHM header. But with all the photos being so awesome, and me being on the inside of this blog looking out… it’s too difficult to choose.
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| Number Six |
So, my jellybeans– I need your help. The shots above are numbered, one to seven. Which is your favorite? Which would work best up there at the top of the page?
Which shot would best fill this space here…?
Thanks for your input my lovely ones. I’ll have the official verdict– and the new header– up and looking bright and shiny very, very soon.
Leave a Comment
{ 68 comments… read them below or add one }
- September 15, 2012 at 3:18 am
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Number 1!
- September 13, 2012 at 9:19 am
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#5 great pics…or #6
- September 13, 2012 at 9:09 am
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I LOVE number 6.
- September 12, 2012 at 12:49 pm
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Number one, number one, number one!!
- September 12, 2012 at 9:18 am
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number 3!
- September 12, 2012 at 12:54 am
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3, without a doubt!
- September 11, 2012 at 7:36 pm
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OMG you look amazing! What a fun shoot, pick any they are all great!
- September 11, 2012 at 1:47 pm
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Number 2 and 6!!
- September 11, 2012 at 12:40 pm
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6 definitely.
It would work really well with the jar full, then you pouring, then you holding the full vase
- September 11, 2012 at 8:43 am
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#1, but they are all gorgeous!! Thanks for sharing!
- September 11, 2012 at 8:13 am
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Love your work Lori! My vote is for number 4
- September 11, 2012 at 7:59 am
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I love number 6!
- September 11, 2012 at 6:11 am
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Oh my gosh! That headshot is to DIE for! You are gorgeous!
I vote for #1 as the other shot in the header, though I'd reshape the spot for it slightly, to better fit a horizontal shape. I think the mix of vertical and horizontal shots that would result in gives a perfect balance to the header, as well as the fact that I think #1 has your most natural smile and genuine joy in your eyes.
On the other hand, with this set of awesomeness, there's no way to go wrong!
- September 11, 2012 at 4:35 am
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3 or 4.
- September 11, 2012 at 3:57 am
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I like 1 2 4, oh hell, I like them all and am absolutely no help. I think 2 is my favorite.
- September 11, 2012 at 3:22 am
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#6
xoxox
Beca - September 11, 2012 at 1:45 am
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#6 is my first vote.
#4 is my backup vote.
You are absolutely stunning and you can tell by the twinkle in your eye just how much fun this photo shoot was!
- September 11, 2012 at 12:15 am
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the thing I don't like about 6 is that you can't see your legs!
- September 11, 2012 at 12:12 am
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1 or 5!
- September 11, 2012 at 12:11 am
- September 10, 2012 at 11:56 pm
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Number 6 for the win! You are gorgeous!
- September 10, 2012 at 11:27 pm
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Oh I love them all! you are so gorgeous! I say either 4 or 6!
- September 10, 2012 at 11:23 pm
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I love number 6. They're all awesome so I see the dilemma, but 6 stands out to me! Luv Jac @CommonChaosChronicle xox
- September 10, 2012 at 10:41 pm
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Stunning photos Lori. Definitely number 1 for me, although I don't think you should discount the b&w; shots – you look foxy!
- September 10, 2012 at 10:24 pm
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Number 6.
Looks like you had fun, awesome pics! ::) - September 10, 2012 at 10:01 pm
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Fantastic photos Lori! I think number 5 or 6
- September 10, 2012 at 10:00 pm
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#6 would look best in that space. All the others are great but when you look at them to fit in to the space, #6 is the best suited.
- September 10, 2012 at 9:57 pm
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OMG, you are gorgeous, Lori, you really are. I love all the pics, but I vote for photograph #2!
Crystal
- September 10, 2012 at 9:39 pm
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All gorgeous and fun, but number 4 is my fave…
- September 10, 2012 at 9:27 pm
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4!!!! You look fab! <3
- September 10, 2012 at 9:13 pm
- September 10, 2012 at 9:12 pm
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No 4 , they are all good great ,so they rotate maybe
- September 10, 2012 at 8:01 pm
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number 4. it was that or #2, but you already have a headshot.
- September 10, 2012 at 7:47 pm
- September 10, 2012 at 7:32 pm
- September 10, 2012 at 6:48 pm
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I love number 5!
- September 10, 2012 at 5:19 pm
- September 10, 2012 at 5:02 pm
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I love number 6 most! Awesome shots Lori!
- September 10, 2012 at 4:02 pm
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I like number 6 too!!
- September 10, 2012 at 3:37 pm
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Gorgeous pics! I love number 4 for that space.
- September 10, 2012 at 2:28 pm
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I love them all, especially the boudoir ones. You can't even tell you're in your undies!
For your header I really love #1 but I think #6 would be PERFECT. Seriously. It's different but fun and inviting. - September 10, 2012 at 2:28 pm
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Number 6 or number 1! (Dude, those pictures of you with the phone, especially the full length one on the left – so amazing). What a grin! It really looked like you were happy and having a great time. So lovely to see.
- September 10, 2012 at 2:16 pm
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Number 1 – but I really like the one with the glass jar, but it's not an option
- September 11, 2012 at 12:03 am
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#1!
- September 10, 2012 at 1:40 pm
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So awesome!! I love 1 or 3
- September 10, 2012 at 1:27 pm
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Number 1 – I like the angle and the connection to the eyes.
In other news – HAWT photos girl! - September 10, 2012 at 12:42 pm
- September 10, 2012 at 12:33 pm
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omg Lori you look beautiful, stunning and amazing!
I vote for 1 or 3 or 4. - September 10, 2012 at 12:33 pm
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#1 from me. But in all of them, you look fab dahling!
- September 10, 2012 at 12:29 pm
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I like number 6
- September 10, 2012 at 11:32 am
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Beaauuttiful! All of the above just made my already fabulous evening even better. I vote for #1 or #5.
- September 10, 2012 at 11:18 am
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I LOVE number 6!!! But 4 comes a close second
fantastic piccies! - September 10, 2012 at 11:16 am
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OMG how gorgeous do you look!
I'll vote #1 too
Glad to see you smiling PS where did u get the awesome stockings from?
- September 10, 2012 at 10:57 am
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I like number 4 best…
… but they're all great.
You can't go wrong really, whichever wins.
SO glad you got to do this for yourself.
I'm sure Tony's smiling about it too.
- September 10, 2012 at 10:18 am
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Number 1!!
Go you!!! - September 10, 2012 at 10:11 am
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Love them all, but think 4 is my fave! Xx
- September 10, 2012 at 9:59 am
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Number 6.
And what a fun photoshoot that looked like! - September 10, 2012 at 9:50 am
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Def number one! I have to say it looks like you had so much fun
- September 10, 2012 at 9:30 am
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My vote goes to number 1 too…although my absolute favourite is the full length shot of you on the phone! Very glamourous indeed….
- September 10, 2012 at 8:55 am
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I LOVE these! You look gorgeous!
- September 10, 2012 at 8:55 am
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Number 1! It's stunning and you look really happy.
I've just stumbled across your blog for the first time. I started by laughing at some of your more recent posts… then sobbed my way through your older posts. Your blog documents one hell of a journey. I really admire your strength and I love the way you write. It's raw – all of it – the sad and the funny. You're inspiring. xx
- September 10, 2012 at 8:50 am
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AWESOME PHOTOS! I vote picture number one for the header, you look super happy and comfy and colourful in it.
- September 10, 2012 at 8:49 am
- September 10, 2012 at 8:48 am
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WOW!! Gorgeous! Looks like you had heaps of fun
- September 10, 2012 at 8:43 am
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I like number 1 or 4.
They all look fab though, must have been so much fun to be the centre of attention.
- September 10, 2012 at 8:32 am
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Eheheheh It must have been really fun to make!
- September 10, 2012 at 10:52 am
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No help at all shall I be! I love them all and for a header can't seem to narrow down any further than down 2, 5, or 6… You are smashingly gorgeous…with a great set o' gams!
- September 10, 2012 at 9:54 am
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Number 6! This is so cute Lori. Wonderful stuff. Takes a lot to make me smile on a Monday Morning – respect xx
Previous post: The Laws of Attraction
Next post: Emotion Phobic
Internet Dating 109- First Do No Harm. – RRSAHM
Internet Dating 109- First Do No Harm.
Reality’s stupid.
Some things, some people, they are just better at a distance. Up close, things come swirling to the surface that just weren’t there before.
For those of you follow closely, that’s what happened here. But it happened in a way that was quite OK… there was no painful conversation, just a ceasing of phone calls as much on his part as mine.
It makes me see things, though. It’s as if that awful fever was simply to burn off bad ideas, burn off wishful thinking and romantic expectation.
I’m not ready for this, for anything like it, and it’s only my insecurities that are making me think it’s a good idea, that are convincing me that romance is something I need.
I am the female version of a real life Jerry Macguire… I just cannot be alone. I never have been. From the time I was roughly fifteen years old, it’s been boyfriend to boyfriend, partner to partner… trying to find someone who loved me, who thought I was not only acceptable but glorious.
Meeting Tony, finding that stability, it was such a blessed relief, no more pressure, no more pushing, running, feeling that desperate hole in the centre of my chest where my solar plexus leaks into my soul; telling myself that I was not quite pretty, funny, or complete enough, that there would always be something wrong and ugly about me.
Having a family, a man, a husband.. all that proved that snickering, bickering voice wrong. There was only the slightest regret that the exhilaration of finding someone new was not something I would feel again. But having lost my man the way I did, that voice is back.
But it’s just a voice. It took me twelve months to realise that; and please don’t say “I told you so”, because I know some of you did tell me so, and those who didn’t probably thought about it… I don’t really want another man. I just want Tony back. That will probably fade, eventually, in time. Maybe. We’ll wait and see. Until then, I’m not ready for a relationship, and to imagine I am is more than wishful thinking… it’s potentially hurtful to others. I am a sucking black hole of need, and it’s useless and selfish to expect someone else to fill that. I can handle the loneliness. I was lucky to have what I had, and I am lucky to have the two beautiful people I’ve got, the sparkles in a muddied tragic relationship.
It’s time to step back.
First do no harm.
Surely I’ve done enough already.
Leave a Comment
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
- December 16, 2011 at 9:10 am
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Lots of love to you gorgeous. Enjoy a special sparkly Christmas with your precious ones <3
- December 16, 2011 at 2:28 am
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Do what feels right at the time and if it doesn't work out learn from your mistake. We all make mistakes, we are all human and fallible. Like you said in your previous post…
"Loving stuff, even if you lose it… it's what makes life sweet."
Wise words from a wise woman – NEVER forget that!
- December 15, 2011 at 11:51 pm
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Honey, all I'll say is don't make rules. You might be ready…you might not. Just…live. And it will come as it comes. Don't run from it, but don't obsess over it either. I feel in my heart that when things are meant to happen, they do…whether you want them to or not sometimes.
You are beautiful. Keep holding up that middle finger and just be YOU. - December 15, 2011 at 10:33 pm
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You never know unless you try – if a step back is what you need – then so be it, you'll be even better prepared when you attempt to test those waters again.
Lots of love to you. - December 15, 2011 at 7:29 pm
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There, now. That's what the grumpy old lady was talking about.
I'm so glad there was no harm.
You're on track Lori, and the distance you have come these past months tells me you are growing into a wonderful, wise woman.
Listen to Miss Pink and let love come to you.
When you're ready.
Mrs. C - December 15, 2011 at 2:53 pm
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You rock Lori (;
Definitely put it down as an experience that progressed you in the right direction.
Hopefully know harm was caused and the most important thing is to know that you are well worthy of someone's attention, ready or not, you are a star!
Love yourself! You are a good person and have lots of warmth and love.
I'm proud of u for knowing yourself so well now and knowing when to step back, rather than going through the endless cycle of pain.
Life is full of ever turning wheels, some good, some bad and other's a bit of both, the first step is to realise that you are stuck in the wheel and to hop out and make a change, you have done exactly that. Your on the road to success…….. Much love From Me (;xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx - December 14, 2011 at 7:40 pm
- December 14, 2011 at 4:38 pm
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People who have been through a lot less are a lot more needy than you.
You know what? Maybe you will never be less needy, it just takes that time to find a guy who can handle that.You're the only person who can decide if you're ready, and what you're ready for. You needed to do this for yourself.
I'm a firm believer on letting love come to you. It never seems to arrive when you're looking for it, but when you stop and start to enjoy your own moments it usually turns up xx
- December 14, 2011 at 1:07 pm
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So you're not ready yet? So be it. And, happily, you've arrived at that conclusion by yourself, without having it shoved down your throat by everybody else first.
Go easy, baby steps, all that stuff… xxoo
- December 14, 2011 at 12:56 pm
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Funny, after my online dating mishap I came to the same conclusion (which may have been obvious to others).
Go easy on yourself. There's no handbook for this. You're figuring it out as you go along.
- December 14, 2011 at 8:28 pm
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"… First do no harm. Surely I've done enough already."
My first reaction was "hey, where did that come from?" I hope you don't mean that you've caused enough harm?? (I have the unenviable ability to see things very differently to most folks) Do no harm to yourself first; have the strength, the will, the power, the peace, whatever you want to call it, to now protect the kidlets. All you can do is take each day as it comes, do the best with what you have, who you are & start over again tomorrow. (I hope this makes sense??? Delete it if it doesn't) You ARE succeeding, one step, one day at a time (X) - December 14, 2011 at 8:54 am
- December 14, 2011 at 8:42 am
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It's such a good idea.
Step back.
Reach that 1 year mark.
Discover who you are all over again. Enjoy it.Peace.
- December 14, 2011 at 8:38 am
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Mark it up as an experience. You tested the waters and discovered that your not ready to jump in just yet.
Don't give yourself such a hard time Lori. You're human. To want to be loved, cared, cuddled, caressed is perfectly normal. Especially when you have two small people that you give of yourself 24/7.
Have no expectations – that way you don't end up disappointed, and more often then not, end up very pleasently surprised.
Be kind to yourself. You are deserving. x
Previous post: The Christmas Kitten
The Washing Fairy – RRSAHM
The Washing Fairy
Another post from the Before… I thought something light was needed after yesterday, no…?
***
Dirt is good,
As we know, here is the Purple House I go all FlyLady style and wash at least once a day, every day. I have to, remember? It’s part of the Minimum Code of HouseKeeping Conduct. Every second day, I wash twice a day, to accommodate the load of very pretty, stinky cloth nappies (diapers, whatever) that have accumulated in the pile.
Erm.. not this kind of washing Fairy, thanks anyway RetroToGo.
And I’m big on sunshine. The dryer very rarely gets a workout, everything goes out on the clothesline. The totally crap clothesline that is not a huge, efficient Hills Hoist but rather one of those stupid pull-out-from-the-wall lines that only just fits one load of washing, plus one load of diapers (nappies, whatever).
To add to that, because our backyard is a shrine to rampant consumerism, with it’s spa, outdoor setting, barbecue, sandpit and so on and so forth; the only conceivable place for the clotheslines to go is in the three metre wide space between two two-story houses. It’s in shade for more than half the day. In winter, my clothesline actually grows moss on the cement underneath it.
Bitchin’.
And still, I persist with the cloth whatever (nappies,diapers). It’s the sense of smug satisfaction that I get whenever I bring in a clean, shiny, pretty, fresh, smellin’ o’ sunshine load that keeps me going on.
Whatever.
That is totally not the point of this post.
I’m here to find out- am I the only lucky SAHM who is blessed with a Washing Fairy?
She doesn’t do the washing- I imagine it would be far too heavy, for a fairy, and the ammonia fumes from the nappy bucket would clear knock her out. Besides that, as we know, housework fairies are lazy. I still haven’t heard from my Cleaning Fairy. Bitch.
What the Washing Fairy does do, is leave me little surprises. Don’t get her confused with the WashBasket Troll, who puts tissues and *ahem* packets of cigarettes in the pockets of clothes, to be run through the wash and cause a great big mess.
The Washing Fairy leaves monetary rewards for a job well done.
It’s been a while since she visited. I was actually thinking she’d run off with cleaning fairy. But, lo and behold, just the other day I went to (totally awesomeness brand new front loading) washing machine (which I would highly recommend, because, as I said, it’s totally awesomeness) and- huzzah!
The Washing Fairy has been!!
And what’s even better, is the Man knows not of her existence. Nobody tell him. I’m fairly sure this Washing Fairy pilfers his cash to reward my work, not having gainful employment of her own. But that will be our little secret.
OK? OK.
Washing Fairy, you are rock and roll. Don’t ever leave.
Leave a Comment
{ 20 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 13, 2011 at 9:14 pm
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Man, that bitch never comes to see me!
- April 13, 2011 at 8:07 pm
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oh noes!! you are a money launderer!
Ha ha.
I love the sunshiny fresh smell of line dried clothes too, and getting into a bed made with freshly washed and dried sheets is heaven! - April 12, 2011 at 8:59 pm
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Mine's a tight-arse! Only coins, and hardly ever.
- April 12, 2011 at 8:17 pm
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I love the washing fairy. She is paying for my girls weekend away and spa treatments next month!
I have a money box next to the washing machine and the Workaholic never empties his pockets. I get notes and coins. I use those tin boxes that you can't open except by ruining it (no stealing from the stash) and have a strict personal rule that this money from the washing fairy goes into the money box. It's just for my personal treats… - April 12, 2011 at 7:08 pm
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Gotta love plastic money!
And that ammonia smell smacks in the face every.single.time. – you'd think I'd have learned by now! - April 12, 2011 at 5:54 pm
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This was the real reason to introduce plastic money. It was to transform one of the washing trolls into a beautiful fairy!
- April 12, 2011 at 1:39 pm
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i once found $90 in the washing machine, did i give back to the hubby? Nope, i snaffled it. gotta love the washing fairy.
- April 12, 2011 at 11:23 am
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WOW my washing fairy only leaves $2 coins at the most, you must have rich fairy indeed. xxx
- April 12, 2011 at 9:13 am
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Ha! Love it
- April 12, 2011 at 8:54 am
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Oh how bizarre, we were only talking about this on Sunday! My washing fairy leaves me with boring things like Melissa, cars & occasionally toys.
- April 12, 2011 at 8:47 am
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Well bugger. I don't have one of those. I only have the wash basket troll. Who leaves me tissues, bits of paper, toy cars, an occasional shoe (SAMUEL!!!!), and once or twice, my mobile phone…
- April 12, 2011 at 8:40 am
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Damn! Mine only leaves me coins.
- April 12, 2011 at 8:20 am
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Now that's the benefit of waterproof money! We aren't that advanced yet and I have to carefully unravel a ball of paper and hope it has the Queen on it, then dry it out very carefully. For a colonial y'all very advanced
- April 12, 2011 at 8:15 am
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LOL-I sometimes get tips like that. And then there are times I get a lot more dangerous tip in my washer.
Hope it's okay to put the link in here-think you might appreciate it.
http://www.newdaynewlesson.com/?p=3101 - April 12, 2011 at 8:14 am
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I love when that happens!!! Yay for the washing fairy!
- April 12, 2011 at 8:07 am
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Visits from the Washing Fairy make me very happy.
- April 12, 2011 at 1:45 pm
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I wish I had a washing fairy. My hubby is a stingey bastard, so the minute I say I am doing the washing, he cleans out his pockets. Probably a good thing since the papers in his pocket could make a nasty mess, but it also means no money for me.
Not to mention he never has cash on him, anyway.
*sigh* - April 12, 2011 at 11:45 am
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This is too cool, like kakka mine only leaves coins.
- April 12, 2011 at 9:25 am
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The dryer fairy presented me with a $50 once, and nothing since. Bastard!
- April 12, 2011 at 8:43 am
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Oh wow, my fairy only leaves me coins. I thinks she forgets she's been promoted from tooth fairy!
Previous post: The Quiet Room.
Next post: Riding The Sympathy Train.
2010 – RRSAHM
2010
Auld lang syne (I freaking hate that song),
Well, Blog Floggers, this is the very last FlogYoBlog Friday for it’s inaugral year, anni dominni 2010. Or something. Started by HRH MummyTime quite a few months ago now, FlogYoBlog Friday has grown from relatively modest beginnings to a massive linky list of like-minded bloggers.
Then MummyTime passed FlogYoBlog onto RRSAHM. And the whole thing went to crap from there.
Seriously, though, if you are new here, you can check out all the technical instructions here. And welcome. FlogYoBlog is the biggest non-specific Aussie blog hop- you can link up anything you like. The linky list is populated with a cast of truly awesome bloggers. The only rule anyone pays any attention to is to spread the love. (That’d be Rule Number Five, for those of you playing at home.)
And, yeeeeeessss, I know it’s New Years Eve. Happy New Years!! I will be home by 9pm tonight. Like the total loser responsible parent I am. And I’m running FlogYoBlog Friday for all of you who are doing the same.
And, that’s it. It’s been a good year, yes? 2011 will be even better, I guess. I have just one piece of advice for you. I learnt it the hard way on Wednesday. No matter how much your ex-boyfriend may look like Bear Grylls, and how much Man vs Wild you’ve been watching on YouTube, do not call fore mentioned ex-boyfriend. It will only end badly. In tears. With you feeling like you’re 15 years old again. Prick.
The Rules.
- Follow my blog, the Random Ramblings of a SAHM. I never seem to get to reading all the links here. But believe me, I try. Not that any of this is my idea anyway- FYBF is MummyTime’s brainbaby. I stole it.
- Grab the bubbly button and post it on your sidebar.
- Link your First Name and/or Blog Name and URL of your post or blog.
- Add a short description (max of 125 chars). It could be a description of yourself, your blog or a teaser to your latest post. .
- Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger (Be nice and spread the love).
- The list will be open for linkyers on Fridays (and for the foreigners Friday as well).
- A new and fresh link list will open every Friday. And you will have to link up AGAIN. The previous link list does not carry over to the following week.
- And lastly, have lotsa fun. I mean it. If I detect anyone not totally loving the awesomeness, I will bump you off the linky list. (Joking) (Kinda).
- Ripping off my stuff- including these rules- makes baby Jesus cry. if you are doing your own blog hop, please write your own rules. You know who you are.
{ 13 comments }
I wrote this post quite a while ago. It’s been sitting in my drafts folder ever since…
With physical pain, I am an animal.
You’ve seen this image before. You may not even know where, but it’s there, in the back of your mind. A dog, convulsing in agony, frenzied, pleading eyes rolled back, filled with the most basic elements of deep pain, and a desperate need for relief. Clawing. Snapping. Tearing at the hands that attempt to comfort them.
This is me.
My nan had to euthanize her dog not long ago. Her baby, her best mate. A friendly, fat and pleasant dog, who reminded me of a chubby toddler, full of bounce and eager to please.
He didn’t snap. Didn’t lash out. Not once. Not even when the cancer honeycombed his tiny hip bone, causing it to snap as my grandmother gently lifted him off the bed. He yelped, winced in pain, but did not sink his teeth into her flesh.
It was simply not in his nature; placid creature that he was.
Pain, it causes my facade to crack and crumble, to rot on it’s disciplined foundations. It shows the true landscape of my soul. I am not happy, not funny or kind, there is no optimism in me.
I am that first dog.
The rabid one.
The bitch.
Biting the hands that feeds me.
It’s not pretty.
Reeling, biting, gasping, contorting in pain. Yelling, snapping, behaving explicitly savage toward those who attempt to bring me comfort.
A lesson in empathy. A test of strength. The litmus test for future trials of the psychical nature, of a body that heals slowly and is aging quickly. A warning that I may need to be stronger than this, both physically and in character, to brace for future darkness.
Physical pain, it brings out the worst in me.
{ 6 comments }
On nom,
I don’t know exactly how I’ve missed this phenomenon. It seems I’m a little slow on the uptake. RRSAHM- Six months behind the cool kids. Or something. It happens a lot. Remember when I finally discovered Old Spice guy, quite a while after the rest of the interwebs? Yuhuh? Well, it has happened again.
Introducing, my new tv-man-crush…. Bear Grylls. You know- the guy who eats the head off live snakes from Man vs Wild.
*Ahem*.
Disclaimer- I saw this show for the very first time last night. Bear was eating the frozen, raw brains of a raw, frozen squirrel. In the snow, obviously.
Now, I’ve heard a lot about Man vs Wild, from various trendy trend setters who watch SBS and know what the go is. All the cool shoes are on SBS people- South Park, MythBusters, Man vs Wild. But for all I’d heard about it, I was expecting Bear to be… well.. old. A bit like Alby Mangel.
No one told me he was a spunk. A manly, useful, rugged, mountain climbing, snake eating, possibly-smelly-but-in-that-good-manly-way spunk.
*Sigh*.
The reason no one has told me this, I fear, is because the only person who thinks Bear Grylls is a total spunk is…. me. Highly possible. So, I’m going to totally rip off Mummy Mayhem, just this once, and do a poll…..
Hot…? ( He’d be good in a Holocaust, and could totally take care of you and keep you warm and I imagine he would be really good in bed).
or Not…? (He… erm…. eats some really strange things. And has been known to drink his own urine. But I’m sure we can ignore that.. right?)
Now, in the interest of integrity and all that good crap, I feel it’s only fair to let you all know that my mate Emma believes I only find Bear so devastatingly attractive because he is the spitting image- bar the accent- of the very First Guy I Ever Fell In Love With. I was tempted to pinch a photo from this guy’s FaceBook and put it up here for comparison, but decided that was probably not a good idea in this day and age of rampant litigation.
Whatever. What Emma says is true- Bear and the First Guy I Ever Fell In Love With are very, very much alike. Which makes the need for a poll even more pertinent. Or something.
Tell me, jellybeans…
Bear Grylls- Hot, or Not?
{ 26 comments }
December 2009 – RRSAHM
December 2009
Yep, I know how ironic this is- I’m contributing to the current hysteria- but I am so over hearing about Tiger Woods. Yep, the man is an idiot. He has cheated on his wife repeatedly, and if he were my husband… well, I’d like to say I’d castrate him, but we all know that in reality I am a total doormat.
Anyway, this morning on Sunrise (that quality piece of programming), they interrupted themselves to go to breaking news- a reporter, live outside the hospital where Tiger’s MIL was just being released, with a clean bill of health. This is breaking news, worth a live feed? Not even him, but his MIL?? Ridiculous.
To the media of the world- lay off. Not for him- he deserves what he gets- but for his wife and kid. She must be humiliated enough without his indiscretions becoming breaking news. What a rotten situation to be in.
And on a side note- the Tiger Mistress Count is currently at eleven. Eleven. Where did this guy find time to play golf amongst all that anyway?
{ 0 comments }
Because I am clearly going insane. I’m hosting not one but two parties tomorrow. One in the morning, for my mum’s group, and one in the afternoon for ds‘s birthday :shakeshead: Very bad organisation and planning skills there, Lori…
Admittedly, the morning one is at a park and pretty much sorted- a bring a plate deal. But having 30 people here tomorrow afternoon for a bbq to celebrate one tired toddlers birthday might not be fun.
I actually thought I’d be really into doing parties for the kids, seeing as it used to be my job and all. But tbh it all just seems like a whole lot of effort when I’m so bloody exhausted. And then there is only three weeks till Xmas, and a lot of shopping left to do. Oh dear. Wish me luck.
And thanks to everyone who actually read my last entry, I didn’t think anyone would.
On a totally different topic, I’m in love with digital television. My brother recently alerted me to the existence of Channel Go (channel 99 for those not in the know), and it is brilliant. Episodes of Frasier, South Park, the Flintstones and the Jetsons, and sitcoms galore. I’m in heaven. The tv hasn’t been switched over in days- with the exception of Deal or No Deal for ds, who loves it for some reason, can even do the “No Deal” sign (further proof that the child watches too much tv)
Anyhoos, I’m off to bed. Nighty night all.
{ 0 comments }
Hi all,
OK, so here ’tis- my first ever blog entry. Tbh, I should be in bed like dh and the kids but I’ve been menaing to start blogging for ages so I’ve chosen to seize the moment and just get one started. Maybe I’ll actually write in it if i start one. But maybe not. Don’t blame me if I only do one entry… blame my terrible tendency toward procrastination.
So, what do i write about? just anything, huh? My name is Lori, I’m 28, have two kids under two (for another week or so, at least) and very little time for any kind of life. In my life before kids, I had an awesome job working as a kid’s entertainer, first doing parties, then at the kid’s hospital, and before that I did three quarters of a social work degree. I suffered from terrible PND, bordering on pyschosis, after my ds was born, and am on medication for it again now after dd‘s birth- but it’s working and i feel pretty good. I’m doing better at this ‘two under two’ thing than I thought I would be- it’s not as difficult as i thought it would be.
I prefer summer to winter, dogs to cats, Vegemite to peanut butter, Billy Connelly over Jerry Seinfeild, tea over coffee and cake over chocolate. I’m a bookworm, perfectionist, clean freak.
So that’s me. Thanks for reading (if anyone has). I’m off to bed. If I’m feeling really motivated, I’ll do some more blogging soon.
{ 1 comment }
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Washed Away.
Internet Archive Wayback Machine
Angry. – RRSAHM
Angry.
In my less zen, peaceful moments, I am so fucking angry. It’s the reverse of the guilt. If I don’t feel guilty, that’s means it’s his fault, not mine. And that makes me so pissed at him I could scream.
Which, of course, makes me feel guilty again. Because he was my husband and I should have helped, should have done something, surely, anything… and God knows I loved him. And hating him, for what he did, doesn’t sit well with any of that.
But, fuck. Some days I hate him so much I can barely breath from the ugly pressure of it on my chest.
Some days, I really hope he’s not at peace. That was given to me as a reason, a few times, for why I had to do this, or do that- so Tony can rest in peace. What the hell? Why? Does I look like I’m a peace, or my kids, or his family? Why does he deserve to be at peace, when we’re not, and he’s the one who started all this?
I hope he’s floating, somewhere in limbo, watching us fight and cry and mourn and weep, and kicking himself for being so freaking stupid and selfish in the first place.
He’ll find his peace soon enough, when we start to find some too, I think. But then he gets an eternity of peace, while we get to live with the fucked-up-ed-ness of this forever.
And, again, that just makes me feel worse. the guilt of wishing that on someone I loved eats at me, corrodes the pleasantness that still shimmers in my soul. Which, again, makes me angrier- how could he do this to me, to us, to everyone?
And all that anger and guilt, it just adds up to more pain. And I wonder how much the levels would change, had he died of an accident, a heart attack.. would the pain be worse, but the guilt be less? Would I still be angry at him, or would I have to focus it somewhere else? Would I just feel more guilty, for feeling angry at him, when that really wouldn’t have been his fault?
It’s coming to a point, within me, where my brain is slowly starting to meld to the fact that this has really happened, and that he’s gone.
It’s starting to sink in that he’s dead. As spiritual as want to be, as respectful as you can be- dead is dead. He’s not feeling anything anymore, emotional, physical or otherwise. And I can’t keep living as if he can.
I can’t keep living with this guilt.
Eventually, I have to let it go.
Because, as they say, if wishes were fishes, there’s be no need for fisherman.
And all the wishing in the world is never going to bring Tony back.
As sad as it is… what he thinks, what he feels, isn’t important anymore. Because it just doesn’t exist.
So I’ll be angry, without guilt.
It’s not going to change how much I loved him, once.
But it might just allow to me to let go, enough, to be content again. Even just a little bit.
I’ll settle for that.
Leave a Comment
{ 26 comments… read them below or add one }
- May 7, 2011 at 8:41 pm
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I typed out a reply earlier today, but the site jammed up, so I'll just say I think it's essential you feel this guilts, as it will lead you to healing. That doesn't take away your love from him.
Did you ever get angry before he died? But you still loved him, right? You were just angry at what he did. And so it is with this, but on a much shittier scale. I would be off-my-tits-angry if it were me.
- May 7, 2011 at 4:23 pm
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Funnily enough i'd just posted something with the same title. I do think your anger, hurt, guilt, rage, pain will be a much magnified version of mine, and that it will take longer, and be more difficult to find true peace. But you will get there Lori. You have already come such a long way.
x
- May 7, 2011 at 7:55 am
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I'm glad you're angry at Tony.
I've been angry at him for quite some time – and I have never met either of you.
Anger is a 'normal' part of grieving… so is guilt.
You're doing just fine. Better than fine. Much, much better… xxx - May 7, 2011 at 5:49 am
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As I expected, everyone has shared some awesome thoughts here. There really is nothing more to add except my thoughts are with you and your beautiful children and I hope one day your knight in shining armour comes and sweeps you off your feet.
Hugs xxx
- May 7, 2011 at 12:49 am
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Oh you poor dear, I'm so sorry. You have every right to be angry, and don't worry about him resting in peace. If you're not in peace then I'm sure he's not either.
- May 7, 2011 at 8:55 am
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Understand the feelings of guilt, but it was not your fault. You did not do it. x
- May 6, 2011 at 9:16 pm
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Every different emotion you feel is completely normal and right. It's just the way of things. Your last half dozen sentences especially, tell me your heading in the right direction through this.
- May 6, 2011 at 9:07 pm
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Your honesty is so absolutely amazing. It's incredibly brave of you to put your feelings out there – all of them.
I think you've got to let it out and let it go – you're right. The anger and the guilt – it's got to move its' way out of you so you can start to move on. Though I can't even imagine how incredibly difficult it is.
My thoughts are with you – hang in there. - May 6, 2011 at 6:22 pm
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I always think/say "if wishes were horses, beggars would ride" I think if wishes were fishes is from the same rhyme. Sometimes I think Anger is a very healthy emotion, it is ok be angry but it makes me angry when someone tells me it is ok to be angry, who the hell are they to say that…think I'm just saying "still here" x
- May 6, 2011 at 5:01 pm
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You are feeling exactly as you ought to because it is *your* life and there is no right or wrong.
Also, I am sure you have come across the seven stages of grief. I don't believe that a person progresses though the stages in order or in an orderly way but anger is in there and you are entitled to have a healthy greif that includes anger. As to who it is directed towards…..it has to go somewhere and Tony chose this for you and your children. I'd feel fucking agry with him too.
- May 6, 2011 at 3:16 pm
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Well, hon, you're just going to have to stop being both guilty AND angry and start being over-the-moon! Well done on winning the Best Australian Blogs, Lori. Your writing stands alone. x
- May 6, 2011 at 3:09 pm
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Fair enough Lori, you are entitled to be angry. But guilt isn't going to help you get over this tragedy. You can't blame yourself for Tony's actions. No matter what was going on at the time, you didn't put the rope around his neck. I hope this journey of recovery gets easier for you and your children soon.
- May 6, 2011 at 2:28 pm
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If its any consolation I'd be mega pissed off angry as well. And I think you have every right to be. Who in a million years would ask to be in this situation. You did not and yet here you are. Enough reason to me majorly pissed.
Much love as always to you xx
- May 6, 2011 at 2:03 pm
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Anger is necessary for healing. I like the "different rooms in hell" analogy. So you're angry at him. You have to be angry at something. It it wasn't him, it would be something or someone else. Just feel what you feel. Your body and soul know the path to healing and peace and they are leading you there.
So much love, from me to you, across the miles. xoxo
- May 6, 2011 at 2:00 pm
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One of the wisest things ever said to me was said by my preacher. I told her I was mad at God for taking my friend Josh away. She said that was OK. God's big, and tough, and He can take it. And if you get over being mad? He'll still be there.
Be mad at Tony. Go ahead. It's not like he cares anymore. He can absorb all your anger- and then, when you're done, the memories of the good times will still be there.
- May 6, 2011 at 1:40 pm
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You cannot have love if you don't have hate. It's like you wouldn't know what good was if you didn't have bad. <3
- May 6, 2011 at 1:38 pm
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My best friend from university lost her partner to cystic fibrosis when we were in our 20s (15 years ago now). I asked her this question just recently, and she said she did not feel anger towards her partner but an incredible amount towards disease, God, fate, and (most of all) incompetent and uncaring medical professionals.
In my case, my brother died when I was 10 of a long-term illness. I was filled with anger and aggression for a long time, but it was focused on the doctors who did not save him, and, unfairly, on my father, who my 10-year-old self perceived as being insufficiently moved by his death. I wasn't angry at my brother himself, but I was angry *for* him, if that makes sense.
I'm not sure, but maybe anger is a necessary part of grief – it just gets focused differently as circumstances allow? I don't know, but I'm guessing that it makes it much harder having that anger mixed up with the loss and guilt and love focused on the dead person themselves.
- May 6, 2011 at 1:26 pm
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Speaking as a widow who lost her husband in an accident…
I'm not angry at my husband – he was a passenger in a car where both occupants were instantly killed. He couldn't have done anything.
I'm kinda angry at the driver. but not ANGRY angry.
But I am MEGA ANGRY at God. Screamingly, hate-burningly so. and I love God but I now spew hate-filled diatribes at him where once I would have prayed. and that makes me feel guilty .. because, you know, the loving God thing.
…. it's all really just different rooms in hell.
Maybe we should get an intercom? - May 6, 2011 at 1:24 pm
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This is my first time here, Lori, and I really feel for you.
It feels strange telling this to a stranger, but I'm going to do so in the hope that it helps, even a little.
When I was a teenager, I came very close to committing suicide. Enough said.
The point is that I had all the loving family around me that anyone could wish for, but there was something inside me that was wrong.
It's not anything that anyone else can fix.
And now, older & hopefully wiser, I totally believe that suicide is a very selfish act.
You have every right to feel angry.
Just remember that what you feel now doesn't in any way negate what you felt in the past.
My heart goes out to you, and I'm sending you healing thoughts
- May 6, 2011 at 1:01 pm
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You are a beautiful, passionate & inspiring. It's ok to feel like you do.
Sending you a vitual bottle of red and a GIANT hug. - May 6, 2011 at 12:57 pm
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you do need to let it go – the guilt but there is no time frame for that to happen.
it is only when you let the guilt go, that you will feel you're able to move [freely] on, past this, to take those tentative first steps towards your new life, the life that is now yours stretcing ahead of you.
but time is endless and only when you feel completely ready will those steps forward present themselves to you.
as always sending you love & light.
~x~
- May 6, 2011 at 12:52 pm
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I'm sure when Tony was alive there were times, in arguments probably, where you hated him at that moment but overall still loved him. It's ok, you can be both at the same time. I hope that over time, preferably soon, that the love & peacefulness takes over from the angriness (it so is a word).
- May 6, 2011 at 9:45 pm
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Every time I imagine what it must be like to be the survivor of a loved one's suicide, anger is the first emotion that comes to mind. It seems only normal to me, considering the selfishness and deliberate hurtfulness of the act.
You have nothing to feel guilty about as far as I'm concerned. You've said before that you didn't help Tony because he wouldn't allow you to. I know from painful personal experience that if you're to have any hope of helping someone – REALLY helping them – then they have a job to do. They have to take down the walls and show you just how dark their night has gotten. From what you've said here on your blog, Tony didn't do that. And like what one of your commenters above said, even if he had, you may not have been able to help him: mental illness is just that, an illness, and just like we can't save everyone with cancer, we can't necessarily save everyone with deep psychological issues.
It. Is. Fucked. And so completely, cruelly unfair.
HUG!!!! I'm continually thinking of and praying for you and the kids. I really, really do hope, from the bottom of my heart, that things get better for you all, I really do.
- May 6, 2011 at 8:24 pm
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Anger is good. It's part of the healing process. It needs to be directed to someone as well. I'm sure at one point you were hell angry at the doctors, nurses or that arrogant wanker from the ICU. Tony did something that hurt you, your kids and himself – why shouldn't you be angry? I'd be angry too. It doesn't mean you love him any less.
- May 6, 2011 at 4:03 pm
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I don't have any advice but I'm reading and I'm thinking of you and sending my love as always ♥
- May 6, 2011 at 3:03 pm
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Dear Lori,
Your honesty is fucking awesome and refreshing. To hell with being PC — you are real and raw. You keep speaking your truth, and I will keep being moved and effected by your story and your naked prose.
Love from another fan,
Liz
Previous post: Stuff I Think I Know For Sure.
Next post: Mother’s Day.
Start with ABC. – RRSAHM
Start with ABC.
This weekend, the 19th March, I’m speaking at the first ever Aussie Bloggers Conference.
I’m being sponsored by the awesome people at Bamboo Village, who were on to RRSAHM Before. And I love them, eternally, for that. Please, go check out their bamboolicious stuff, it’s beautiful.
I’m a crowd sourced Key Note Speaker, reading out loud a blog post of mine- ironically, The Black Dog.
I’m also a panelist on the My Blog, My Story panel.
I am fucking terrified.
But I’m doing it.
When I was preparing questions to prompt me for the My Blog, My Story panel, the one that kept popping into my mind was “What made you decide to continue blogging?”.
It sat so wrong with me. But I wrote it down anyway. Because if I were someone else, reading my blog… that’s what I’d be asking.
Why? Why to begin with? And certainly why did I keep going, after it all blew up in my face, and this blog became a focused reason for the people I know In Real Life to hate me?
In the last nine and half weeks, I’ve asked myself, quite a few times “Is this where I stop? Is this the point to give it up?”.
I didn’t want to do that, leave the blogging world that means so much to me in a hysterical, burning ball of ugly, disjointed posts. And I certainly wasn’t giving this place up just because it made people uncomfortable, or it made them angry.
People would have been uncomfortable with me, and angry in my direction, anyway. At least here, I have a platform to speak. To state my point of view. To talk and be real… to not let the silence surrounding this suffocate me.
The first night, the first post I did… I didn’t make a conscious choice, there, to continue blogging or not. I wasn’t blogging, when I wrote that post- I was begging for prayer and healing thoughts. I believe in both of those things… I believe that enough people, thinking the same thought, can effect the world.
That night… I don’t remember much of it. I left the hospital at about 7pm, left Tony in the ICU, stabilised. And returned to a friends house….
As I said, I don’t remember much. I remember the horror of it, feeling like I would explode. The ugly of it, the bite that came with every thought.
And I remember blogging, writing, tears streaming down my face. Calling to the people who were my friends, to help me, to bear this with me.
And that’s what I got. A murmur that became a crowd that became a heartbeat of support. Comments, emails, posts… money raised. Enough money raised to pay out one of our cars. Enough money to buffer us, so i didn’t have to think and stress about how I would pay the electricity bill, when I couldn’t even remember to brush my teeth.
And love… unconditional, supportive love. From you lot. This blog, it kept me going in my darkest bits, when I felt all alone, when I couldn’t breath from the pain.. I came here.
I’ve mentioned before, the afternoon this happened… I lost everything. Everything about me. Wife Lori, Mum Lori… the one thing I kept was Blogging Lori. Writing Lori. The part of me that loves to string words together so they bump into one another and overlap; to share and over share the goings on of my once normal, mundane little world…
I didn’t lose that. And my community, here, I didn’t lose that.
They were the only things, especially in the first six weeks, that provided me with any self esteem. The only things that made me feel worth something again.
And the Bloggers Conference… when Tony died, there was nothing certain in my future. Nothing except that date. The 19th March. It was so far away. It was so important, to me. If I could make it, till then, till the Conference..
Then maybe I could make it.
And, dammit, I have.
I’ve deliberated over what Tony would have thought about this, many a time, especially when I’ve been accused of making him turn in his not-so-literal grave. At the beginning, before that Ugly post, I was positive he would have wanted me to go the Conference, no matter what… he knew how important it was to me.
And he was so proud of me.
I think it comes down to that. He probably wouldn’t have liked that post that I wrote, because he would have been damn ashamed of what he’d done. fair call. But he would copped it, like a man, cause that’s the kind of bloke he was.
And he was always proud of me, for telling the truth. For writing the way I did. For putting myself out there. he was always proud of me, for that.
And I know- I’ve known, since he died- that he will be there with me, on Saturday. Every scary, overwhelming step of the way. (People, too many people, too much noise, people brushing against me.. it’s all too much at the moment. Forgive me if, occasionally, I run away for a bit. I’ll be back).
And he’d want me to meet my friends.
Because he knew, how important you are all to me. My ‘imaginary friends’ he called you, but he knew each one of you,. and your blogs, and trials and tribulations. he loved this world that I was part of, that I was so good at…
He was proud of me. And I know he’d be proud of you lot too. For being awesome. For giving me continual love and support. For helping his family in a thousand ways, when a lot of the people in his Real Life did not (didn’t he always say he had no one, not one true friend except me that loved him for him..?)
He’d be proud of you lot. And so, so thankful.
And I am, too.
So.. in case I forget, or get tongue tied, or there is just too much to say… that’s what I mean, when I speak at the Bloggers Conference.
I love you all.
You are truly awesome.
And then’s nothing more to it than that.
Leave a Comment
{ 49 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 8, 2011 at 9:43 am
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You're amazing.
- March 21, 2011 at 9:09 pm
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that was beautiful!
good luck chicky! i wish i was there! - March 20, 2011 at 11:44 am
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So wishing I could be there to give you both a hug and a standing ovation. Hope that the weekend is an absolute blessing to your soul.
- March 19, 2011 at 2:38 am
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Another one in the standing ovation saying you're fycking awesome!!
- March 18, 2011 at 10:45 pm
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You are awesome Lori.. 'Nuff said
- March 18, 2011 at 6:39 pm
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I hope you have a great time, and I'm sure if you need to take a moment for yourself at any time, as many times as you need to, all the lovely attendants will understand. I won't be going this year, but I wish everyone the loveliest time
- March 18, 2011 at 1:51 pm
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You'll rock it Lori!
- March 18, 2011 at 12:49 pm
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I 'm so glad for you that you are going, and glad for you that your blogging community has helped you through. It sounds like it has been quite an isolating ride at times.
Have fun, enjoy it, have lots of lovely dinners with new/old people….smile and laugh, and cry just as much as you need to. I'm sure there will be plenty of those hugs you've been needing too!!
- March 18, 2011 at 12:44 pm
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You will do awesome!!!!
- March 18, 2011 at 10:34 am
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Awesome post Lori.
Good luck at the conference. I am sure that you will be an awesome panelist. I hope you make lots of good memories.
- March 18, 2011 at 10:05 am
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So jealous! I wish I could go too! You need to come to Canada! Ya know, REALLY conquer that fear of flying
Tony would be SO proud of you. Hell, we're immensely proud of you, and many of us don't even know you in Real Life. He'd be more than proud. He'd be thrilled.
Remember what you said in your "Speak" post? Something about how you were proud of yourself for simply speaking from your heart and speaking the truth.
You'll be amazing, as always. You're my hero.
Sending good luck your way this time
xo Marianna - March 18, 2011 at 9:00 pm
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That was beautiful Lori be proud of yourself take a deep breath and talk to your friends
- March 18, 2011 at 8:39 am
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There'll be a room full of friends with you on Saturday, from my GOFA who will be up there with you, to me in the back tow. We are no less real than anyone you've met face to face. Looking forward to hearing you read.
- March 18, 2011 at 7:19 am
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I wish I could be there too! But I have great faith in your fabulosity. I will be cheering you from here xxx
- March 18, 2011 at 5:40 am
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I wish that I could be there, but Canada is awfully far away. You are going to knock their socks off! You totally rock! I can't wait to hear all about it!
- March 18, 2011 at 2:19 am
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You go girl – I hope you rock their socks. I know you will
Have a great rtip and I hope you are awash in a sea of love and support.
Wish I could be there to cheer for you. - March 18, 2011 at 1:56 am
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I wish I could be there, but California is pretty far from there.
- March 17, 2011 at 11:55 pm
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Good luck for Saturday, you are very brave and I am sure you will be awesome
- March 17, 2011 at 11:10 pm
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I wish I could be there. Savour every moment. You'll be awesome.
- March 17, 2011 at 11:02 pm
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Lori – you go girl……I wish I was going to be at the conference to listen to you speak……you already have the respect of us, your readers……I am in awe of how you have been able to get your words together when your world has fallen apart. Best of luck – we are there with you in spirit – I reckon there will be tears all round and hugs aplenty if they are not too overwhelming for you. xx
- March 17, 2011 at 10:24 pm
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I wish with all my might I was going to the conference, just so I could listen to you speak. But I am sending all the love and hugs I can muster to wish you good luck!! And thank your lucky stars I won't be there in person, because you really don't need an ugly crier in the room – trust me!! xxxxxxxx
- March 17, 2011 at 10:17 pm
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Go for it Lori! You'll be amazing. You have an incredible and rare talent of touching people's hearts with your honesty and brilliant writing. Enjoy it! This is YOUR day – thoroughly deserved xxx
- March 17, 2011 at 9:25 pm
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Oh tears. You touched my heart with that one.
But i won't be at the conference I hope we can still catch up soon-ish? When you're ready? Just a coffee and a hug? It's up to you ok, i won't badger, but i've wanted to reach out to you so much since even in the before. I'm just incredibly shy and yes even you scare me! Lol. - March 17, 2011 at 9:04 pm
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Congratulations, I'm sure Tony will be very very proud of you and you should be too. I can imagine that it's quite a scary thought, even just being so many people there, but you'll be fine, deep breath and maybe even try and enjoy it. Be thinking of you x
- March 17, 2011 at 9:00 pm
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Love right back to you Lori. I am so glad I will hear you speak. And I think you are right, he would be so proud of you. And you know what, when your kids are grown and they look back through their mummy's life After, they will be so very proud of you too. xxxx
- March 18, 2011 at 7:47 am
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That brought tears to my eyes. Good on you for still going. And good on you for knowing he would be proud of you. Don't let annyone tell you to stop being who you are.
xx - March 17, 2011 at 8:25 pm
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You know something, your words are blessing others out here. It is a blessing to read your story. It is sad and hard that you have had to grow through this in life. But your words are blessing many. Thankyou Lori xo
- March 17, 2011 at 8:11 pm
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OMG, how bad is my spelling tonight (sorry about that)
- March 17, 2011 at 8:10 pm
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Good luck this weekend, Ithik you will do great! Youve inspited many people and I for one have become more honest in my own blogging (even went so far as linking my new blog to my fluffy craft blog
I have you to thank for giving me the courage to finally do it. Muchlove and strength to you Lori
- March 17, 2011 at 7:34 pm
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That's great Lori, so great you'll be going. I think every single one of us is proud of you.
Gayle - March 17, 2011 at 7:32 pm
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Can't wait to see you again lovely. You'll do fine. You will have a room full of people buoying you, and if you break down and cry, remember to look up because wefbe with you, holding you high. I'm bringing tissues.
- March 17, 2011 at 7:31 pm
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I'm wishing you all the good luck i can muster. I wont be there to hear you speak, but i'm sure you'll do amazingly well…
- March 17, 2011 at 7:30 pm
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There's a quote that reminds me of you and this particular leg of your life's journey. It is: "Stay the course, light a star, change the world wherever you are."
You're changing the world, Lori.
- March 17, 2011 at 7:23 pm
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I only found your blog a few weeks ago, but I'd love to hear you talk at the conference, makes me wish I was going. Nothing but the highest respect for what you write. I hope the conference is a great experience for you.
- March 17, 2011 at 7:13 pm
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How great it will be to do it. You do write well, it flows, it is easy to read. I don't see words I see the pictures of what you are describing. It would be awesome to hear you read. I wonder if they record it. What I like is your conviction that blogging these experiences has been good for you. There have been times I have worried that it wasn't helping. I am so happy to be wrong! I'm looking forward to the post conference post already. Sending lots of love as ever xxx
- March 17, 2011 at 6:42 pm
- March 17, 2011 at 6:28 pm
- March 17, 2011 at 6:22 pm
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That is so so cool that you have been given this opportunity, I'm so happy for you and I so wish I could be there to hear you
- March 17, 2011 at 6:02 pm
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Beautifully said. I can't wait to meet you and hear you speak. That sea of faces out there will be full of support and love for you. x
- March 17, 2011 at 5:28 pm
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Lori, I'm just one of the hundreds who have been here in the background the last 9.5 weeks. We'll be in that room on Saturday supporting you too. I'm looking forward to meeting you.
- March 17, 2011 at 4:59 pm
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Wow. Rock the fuck ON Lori. You are amazing. I am tempted to jump in my car and drive up there and gatecrash, just so I can be there for your standing ovation.
Sarah xxx
- March 17, 2011 at 4:39 pm
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I wouldn't be surprised if you got a standing ovation after your talk. For someone to go through what you have, and then be able to speak publicly so soon after such a rough patch in your life, is a feat many wouldn't conquer. You have shown unbelievable strength and courage in this time, and I am pretty sure that all your followers will agree, even though you don't feel that yourself. Just remember to breathe and take your time. Pause if you need to. I wish I was going to the conference, but sadly I am not. Wishing you the best of Luck.
Penny
- March 17, 2011 at 4:35 pm
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Cannot wait to finally meet you in real life so that we stop being "imaginary" and juggle the "real". xx
- March 17, 2011 at 4:24 pm
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You'll go well.. You may cry, but you'll rock them.
- March 17, 2011 at 4:20 pm
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Congratulations. Thanks for being so honest with all your fabulous posts! Good luck, knock em dead
- March 17, 2011 at 8:25 pm
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I love you too poppet x
- March 17, 2011 at 5:22 pm
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I'd be standing, along with the rest of them, cheering while the tears run down my face.
You GO, girl. - March 17, 2011 at 4:57 pm
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Oh Lori, you get me everytime. Your writing is just so wonderful, you are so wonderful. I can't wait to give you a big hug on Saturday night … maybe grope you abit too?
- March 17, 2011 at 4:27 pm
Previous post: That Bloody Dog.
Next post: Plan B
The Second Child – RRSAHM
The Second Child
Heyall,
I’m guest posting over at Early Childhood Resources today about my second child- the beautiful Princess Bump. Isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen…?
Come on over and read all about her.
Leave a Comment
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
- August 31, 2010 at 7:54 pm
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She is cute, that's for sure.
- August 31, 2010 at 7:01 am
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That is the most awesome-est birth mark I'd ever seen…LOL
- August 31, 2010 at 4:16 am
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Off to check it out!
- August 30, 2010 at 5:21 pm
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cluck cluck cluck cluck…….xx
- August 30, 2010 at 1:35 pm
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Good to give the second child some attention. They like that
- August 30, 2010 at 12:55 pm
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Yes. Very sweet
- August 30, 2010 at 12:46 pm
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Ohhhhhhh uterus calling! She is BEAUTIFUL
- August 30, 2010 at 9:47 am
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I'm on my way–and yes she is beautiful!
Previous post: FlogYoBlog Friday and What Lori Did To Her New Car.
Next post: Down To Earth
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Possible Indicators That You Have PMS And Everyone Should Clear Out and Go To Hell
The Black Dog Ride – RRSAHM
The Black Dog Ride
Last weekend, on Sunday the 29th, I got really lucky and tagged along on the first NSW Black Dog Ride. Someone tweets to me about the BDR ages ago, and when they sent out emails announcing the run I, in turn, tweeted it to my followers… some of whom happen to be truly awesome people and amazing In Real Life mates of mine.
I’ve talked about the Bear and the Pixie before– they managed to pack and move pretty much my entire house full of stuff, on two weeks notice; and transported me, my kids and our dog to Paradise with minimal fuss, and minimal help from me. Let’s face it– helping someone move is a pain in the arse at the best of times. And at a time when I couldn’t even remember to shower every day, the Bear simply made things easy– hired a truck (and drove it), and rang me every few days to ensure I was on track and getting prepared.
The Bear happened to catch my tweet about the BDR, and, having a bike as big as his heart, he volunteered to have me ride pillion.
And, of course, Winston the black dog was coming too. (In case you’re wondering, all the info on Winston– the Black Dog Ride mascot– and the Ride itself is here. It’s not so much about raising funds– although that’s a lovely flow on effect– but more about raising awareness of depression and suicide prevention. The point is to get people talking… hundreds of bikes flowing past you, with or without a Winston stuck on their windscreen… that’ll do it.)
I managed to only be half an hour late to Pixie and Bear’s house in North Sydney. From there we geared up– helmet, gloves, pants and the hottest jacket, I’ve ever seen supplied by Pixie. Boots courtesy of Auntie Mickey. Various layers of thermal undergarments thanks to last year’s road trip to Melbourne.
And wow, did I need those thermals. Even on a perfectly cloudless morning it is freezing on a bike. And, having only slept about two ours the night before, I didn’t dare close my eyes with the warmth of the sun on my face for even a second… it’s quite likely I could have fallen asleep, and then off the back of the bike. Which really would have messed with the cool biker chick image I had going on.
Pulling into the carpark at Bateau Bay RSL was an experience in itself. Every person– and at least one real live dog (you’ll have to wait for the vlog on Monday to check him out, sorry)– was wearing leathers, and most of those leathers were black.
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| Unashamedly stolen from Mr Hollingworth’s IG feed- a much better shot than I took. |
And, gleaming in the morning sunshine, were bikes. Hundreds upon hundreds of bikes. Chrome and polish and rubber and horsepower, the occasional gunning of an engine.
Fuck yeah.
That gorgeous gleaming sunshine lasted ten whole more minutes before, ominously, great grey thunderheads begun to shuffle on over the mountains in the distance. People walked around calling “Wet weather gear on!” and debating their choices… heading off right now to beat the rain, miss the verbal rider briefing and be ahead of the pack; or chance fate with the clouds.
Because fate just absolutely adores me, we went with that option.
It only took another five minutes… those big stormclouds roll in amazingly fast when you’ve got your back turned. Instructions were called hastily to the faithful standing in the growing gloom.
And then every man, woman and- of course- dog rode out into spitting, cold rain; huge clouds chasing at their very tails.
I’m cold and uncomfortable for a bit, but those sensations barely even penetrate past the thrill. I’m having too much fun; I’m enjoying feeling excited- the actual physical symptoms of it, a rush and drop of my stomach- rather than the dry knowledge that I should be excited, attempting to emulate that through attitude- for the first time in months; I’m too fascinated in my surroundings; too immersed in this sub–culture with its own language and hand signals and ethics that I didn’t really know existed, and would be so lovely; until just now.
Besides… the clouds piling up like that, chasing you for everything you’ve got and threatening to overwhelm everything; riding on despite the cold drops of sharp rain being spat at your front, or back, or from the very road underneath you… that’s so beautifully fucking symbolic, how could I argue with it?
***
Firstly– Pixie, darling… really, between the cars and the bike and the fines and…. you are some kind of saint, and a far more tolerant women than I ever will be.
Seriously though, to the Bear and the Pixie– thank you, thank you, thank you. You can’t imagine how much this meant to me, for more reasons that I can write about right now– along with being just about the most fun you can have while clothed, it actually felt like doing something– something real. Something practical. A bit like donating blood felt when I was studying social work… there are only so many pats on the back you can hand out before you need to give people something of substance, something tangible, something valuable. This was real life, instead of the internet
… this was solid instead of shifting.
The route the Bear and I rode on Sunday, North Sydney to Singleton return, coming back down the gloriously eccentric Putty’s Road– more in Monday’s vlog about that place, too– took eight hours and over six hundred kilometers, which is about 370 miles (so they tell me). I remarked, not long after I almost fall asleep– that the Bear’s BlackBird is like a (very, very fast moving) comfortable lounge chair. And it is. And my hips, calves and thighs were still so sore I almost leapt into Pixie’s arms in relief when we pulled into the garage, and the next day I can barely walk. I feel drained, physically tired in a way I don’t think I’ve experienced since the last time I gave birth.
And, finally, after months of half–living and feeling numb almost all the time– bar those irrational peaks and troughs that I can’t seem to get a grip on– I feel alive again. The very word, alive, it pops and fizzles on my tongue like sorbet sherbet, lemon and lime and tangy citrus.
Was that a one-off, a byproduct of an adrenaline rush I haven’t had in years? I used to love riding pillion in my early twenties, dating boys for that reason, not exclusively but as a deciding factor; and I wasn’t sure if the rush I remembered from ten years ago was a real physical sensation or simply the result of heady defiance, of being dangerous back when life was safe?
I don’t know, and I put the question casually to the Bear on one of those leg–stretcher breaks that we take more frequently as the clouds roll back out to the coast and the scrubby surrounds are slowly licked with amber sunset light. It’s addictive, he says– a rush that’s relaxing. And he’s right– I’m reminded of that bizarre upside down inertia when I think of the closeted space your head is in, insulated from the noise and the wind by a thick helmet; in comparison to your kneecap being just inches from bitumen that’s moving… well… let’s say no faster than one hundred k’s an hour. Of course. That would be illegal.
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| And more thanks to Pixie- this time for the photo. |
It’s impossible to be disconnected when you’re on a bike, says the Bear, and I’m not sure why, but he’s right. It forces your connect, being so fast and vulnerable and having to temper the feeling that you’re bullet proof. You connect with the air, the temperature, the road, the sway of the bike, your feet on the pegs, your eyes on the road. There is no other option if you want to stay alive and without bits of gravel embedded under flesh. The deep muscle ache that set in for the last half hour of the trip took me surprise- it hadn’t felt like hard work at all.
And, dammit, if that’s all it takes, a few hours on a bike navigating windy roads and feeling quick and free… if that’s all I need to feel alive again on a regular, reliable basis… then maybe it’s time to cross the last thing off that list. Before I draw up a new one.
I’m seriously thinking about it. And the Bear is unashamedly encouraging me.
I’ll keep you posted.
Video log of the Black Dog Ride coming Monday via this here blog and the RRSAHMYouTube channel… Stay tuned.
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{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
- May 22, 2012 at 3:46 pm
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So happy to read this Lori …
- May 4, 2012 at 11:45 pm
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Dammit I nearly could've met you and given you a real-life hug….but we had bike trouble and didn't get far from home before having to turn back
So glad you had a great time, maybe you might look into one of those "Women on Wheels" or whatever they are? Have fun with it! - May 4, 2012 at 2:32 am
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Sounds fabulous – I'm jealous
- May 4, 2012 at 1:04 am
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Please do it. I used to ride with my ex on his bike and that is the last thing that I miss so badly. I wish I had a friend/cousin/anyone that I knew just to take a 1 hour ride anywhere…I have a moto license, just not a bike. Oh how I miss it… I encourage you to get yours!
- May 3, 2012 at 4:37 pm
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I really like your haircut. I just cut my hair really short too.
- May 3, 2012 at 2:50 pm
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This post made me smile for you – you sound so confident and relaxed, whereas the only experience I've ever had on a motorbike resulted in hysterical screaming (me) and exasperated eye rolling (my poor cousin). Well done you x
- May 3, 2012 at 1:39 pm
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What a great experience! I'm glad you did it. Yay for Bear and Pixie – what lovely peeps.
- May 3, 2012 at 11:26 pm
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Wow that post rocked me as it has woken your brain & body up to love, live and experience. LIVING. Once More…I felt that all through those words —Lori is LIViNG !!! Happy for you xxxx
- May 3, 2012 at 1:18 pm
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awesome!
- May 3, 2012 at 12:50 pm
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I met you on this Sunday Lori (lady with the White Blackbird & orange cap)and it was a pleasure after reading your blog that the Bear had pointed me to.
Love, if feeling free on a bike makes you feel "alive" then do it. I did it @ 40 and it has been one of the best life decisions I've ever made. The riding community as you discovered is vast in terms of the people you meet. So join the community, feel the universe around you, take in the taste & aroma of our beautiful country.
Hope to see you on a road sometime soon.
- May 3, 2012 at 9:52 am
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I'm so happy for you:)
- May 3, 2012 at 9:30 am
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Sorry my beautiful home town didnt put on better weather for you! We drove past all the bikes and wondered what was on – and then had to make a mad dash home to escape the rain!
So happy to hear the blood is back coursing through your veins x
- May 3, 2012 at 9:26 am
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My friend did this a while back – not a Black Dog Ride, as we don't have those in Canada (which we totally should!), but rode motorcycles – and this totally sounds like what she described when she was on the bike.
I love the "up" energy I feel running through this post, and as for getting your motorcycle license? I say GO FOR IT, GIRL!!!
Crystal
Previous post: People Are Stupid.
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F*ck Christmas. – RRSAHM
F*ck Christmas.
Sometimes, for all my self awareness and ability to look things in the face… avoidance is the only way to cope.
I don’t even realize I’m avoiding Christmas until it’s right on top of me, suffocating me with it’s false pretense of family and happy. The Road Trip helped immensely– rushing around at a hundred clicks an hour is fantastic for ignoring whatever happens to be bothering you. Our Christmas tree goes up on our return, half–heartedly and just one week before Christmas Day, and I begin stripping it down again on Boxing Day. For every decoration I remove, I feel lighter– thank God this over, thank God I survived, thank God it happened before I realized it hurt so badly.
’Wrap presents’ has been top of my to–do list for the last month, and every day I’ve found myself some reason not to do it, some reason to put it off for another day. And again, while I tell myself it’s a matter of not having time, always a lack of precious time; I know that’s a lie. But not until its done and over. Not until I’ve cleared the boxes of a years worth of piled up gifts.
I think that part may finally be over now, too– I won’t have to repeat that process, exactly, ever again. The last of the stock of presents that Tony bought for our kids before he died have been wrapped and unwrapped again, added to the pile of listless stuff that people begin collecting in early childhood and very few of us ever give up completely.
I wrap two toy Ferraris and a packet of Thomas flash cards, all purchased by Tony and put away by me, for when our son was older. Never, ever imagining that Tony would not be here to give to him.
It takes me until the night of the 23rd to begin wrapping, and I’m fifteen minutes in before I realize that I have a three storey wooden dollhouse to assemble… sh*t. It takes me an hour just to get the frame together, and I cry and curse sole parenting and my husband and my life in general. Then something clicks– a screw slides into place where before it just kept threading itself– and the rest of the flat–packed panels shunt together smoothly. It’s 5am by the time I’m finished, and I write sleep off for the night.
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| Dollhouse. May we never speak of it again. |
I wonder, later that night, if that’s my subconscious practicing guerrilla warfare on my cotton–wool wrapped psyche. I am so tired from my all night Elfing, I sleep right through Christmas dinner at my Mum’s. I wake for long enough to drive home; to bath, book and bed my kids; play Santa. I even remember to leave out an empty glass of milk and a plat of cookie crumbs– the poor reindeer got nothing, though, I’m sad to say. Then I crash again; a deep, warm slumber plucked straight from a year or so ago. I wake again at six am, still tired and bleary–eyed but conscious enough to construct gifts, referee sibling fisticuffs and point out those cookie crumbs. The kidlets way–layed with new gifts and DVD’s and a definitive parental–enforced absence of elf–delivered sugar; I return to my comatose state on the lounge.
My children are picked up by their maternal grandmother Christmas afternoon. It’s the first time in six years I’ve spent any kind of time by myself on Christmas Day. I’m sad for all of five minutes. Then the delusional satisfaction of a long, hot, uninterrupted shower washes that sadness, and most of the guilt, away; and I thoroughly enjoy the quiet stillness of my house.
Christmas dinner at my my mum’s is quiet and low key– Christmas Day would have been my Gran’s 81st birthday, and it’s strange to feel the absence of a birthday cake on Xmas Day. I miss the ritual of slipping her a second present, wrapped in birthday paper, with a card attached– a tradition I’d begun for myself ten years earlier, when she told me how awful it was as a child, being born on Christmas Day and only ever getting one present for both, where everyone else got two gifts a year.
I return home early and sleep again on the lounge, reading longform articles on my phone until I can no longer keep my eyes open. I wake twelve hours later, my mind swirling with strange half dreams where I mend the lingering loose ends in my life, attend to things I should be doing. It takes me an hour or two to wake completely and when I do it’s with another light relief– Christmas is over. I feel as though I’ve run a huge stretch through waist deep water, flailing in big strokes with my arms to get as much of this behind me as quickly as possible, eyes shut tight for most of the way, only opening them when it’s desperately necessary to adjust my course.
It’s over. But I feel like sh*t. I haven’t taken a single photograph. We did not do Carols by Candlelight, or Santa photos… I even forgot a carrot for Rudolph. I am that mother– the one who hates Lego because it’s too much effort. The one who sleeps through most of Christmas Day. The one with a lopsided, half hearted Xmas tree without a single string of blinking lights. The one who doesn’t bother attaching all those tiny stickers that come with every toy, all the printed line markings and shop signs and other details– why they can’t just put the bloody things on in the factory is beyond me.
I hate being the mother who just survives, instead of the one who does all the right things, the one who makes every single Christmas with her kids one to enjoy. After all, there is not that many of these Christmases left, with my children tiny and still very much in belief of the fat man with the red suit and the warm white gloves and big, bushy beard.
But, really… f*ck it. It’s the second Christmas in a row where, against the screaming centre of my mind’s better judgment, I have not been committed to the local psych hospital. That’s something.
And I think I can take stock of what I have done– right now, there’s two little children watching cartoons on the lounge. Both of them are happy, both of them still believe. They have been screaming at each other all afternoon– that, if nothing else, tells me they are as normal as children come. And, against all odds, sitting in our playroom right now there’s a three storey, pastel–decored little girl’s dream house I constructed all by myself, like a lonely elf the night before Christmas. Because Santa promised my Bump a dollhouse for Christmas Day. And, come high water or sleep deprivation, adult temper tantrums or 4am; she got one.
None of that is much at all, really; compared to most peo
ple’s celebrations- compared to my own past festivities- it’s nothing consequential. But it will do, for now. Christmas number two of the Strange Unpurple After is over… and all of us survived.
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- December 31, 2012 at 9:20 pm
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I have been thinking of you these past few days, I just remembered that soon, it will be two years for you. I hope you're ok.
You are strong and a loving mum. You did good, as you wrote, your children are happy.
I have a very small family and this year we volunteered at a community Christmas, giving a Christmas day to the less fortunate. It was really lovely.
Lots of love x - December 31, 2012 at 5:13 pm
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I think you are doing a wonderful job. I was fortunate to have my husband at home this Christmas. He is in the military and gone most holidays. I completely understand how hard it is to get everything ready for the kids in the morning. I feel for you completely. This was the first time in many years that I was able to sit and watch him create Santa for our kids instead of making the magic by myself. I wish you were not on your own. I wish so many things were different. I have been following you for quite a while and I love what you write, because even though I have not lost a spouse I feel a kindred spirit in you. The loneliness is overpowering sometimes. I hope you don't take that the wrong way. Thank you for writing such honest thoughts. I know so many of us appreciate it and thank you for it. This very public journey takes a lot of courage and I think so many of us wish we had the guts to take it on.
- December 30, 2012 at 2:40 pm
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I came to read this post, simply off the title alone. I'd seen it on another blogger's page, and thought to myself, "Sounds like someone else is right where I was a few weeks ago."
Then I read it. Next, I was ashamed. I didn't want Christmas this year because I was missing my grandmother, and the gatherings at her home. I didn't want to fight the crowds to pick out gifts, so I put it off as long as possible.
I read why you said f*ck this holiday, and I realized that what I'm going through is not near as bad as it seems. I cried, plain and simple, for the loss of a husband of a woman I've never met, nor heard of until today. - December 29, 2012 at 9:36 pm
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You're the mum who does the very best that she can, and then does a little more. You have amazing strength but I am sure it will get easier in time xx
- December 29, 2012 at 12:44 pm
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http://alwayshh6.blogspot.com/2012/12/26-acts.html
Please read my post and comment on there if you're in! I want to spread a little happiness….God knows the world needs it!
- December 28, 2012 at 6:04 pm
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You did good. Your kids have a brilliant, strong mum. I can't even begin to imagine how tough it is to keep it together. Electronic hugs.
- December 27, 2012 at 12:11 pm
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I am so fucking proud of you. *hugs*
- December 27, 2012 at 3:57 am
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"… the one who does all the right things, the one who makes every single Christmas with her kids one to enjoy."
You do know that the "perfect" mum doesn't exist, right? Not one of us feels adequate. - December 27, 2012 at 12:36 am
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You are a good mum. I check in with you every now and then and I was wondering how you were going. I hate Christmas as well for a different bunch of reasons but go thru the motions. You did well Lorie, who says that you need to do all the crap. Every year the build up to Christmas gets longer and the reality never lives up to the hype.thank fuck it's over! Xx Lisa
Previous post: An Air-Gasm.
Next post: New Year’s Eve. 2012.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Washed Away.
A Reddit Intervention. – RRSAHM
A Reddit Intervention.
I have an unhealthy relationship with Reddit. I’d like to say it’s symbiotic and co-dependent… but it’s not. I love Reddit. Reddit does not love me.
If you’ve never been on Reddit before, this post is certainly not encouraging you to start. In fact, I’d strongly advise you didn’t. There is no time-sucking interweb pastime like the Reddit vortex. It’s both tantalizing and brain-numbing, informative and stupid.
First off, a disclaimer of sorts- the Reddit interface is ugly as sin. It looks bland and repetitive and confusing. If you stare at it for long enough, something in the primordial recesses of your brain will click. And you will begin the never-ending spiral of clicking things that just does not seem to stop.
Reddit- The front page of the internet.
Reddit is primarily a link sharing site- it holds very little content of it’s own. The idea is to share links that you find interesting, and people up-vote or down-vote them. The content with the most up-votes swims to the visible top of the list of links. Content that is down-voted is buried. In theory, that means content on Reddit is curated by the community, and only the best of it ends up on the Reddit front page- the front page of the Internet itself, as they like to say.
Reddit is divided into subReddits that cater to about a million different interests, and dictate where links to content should be posted. Again, no content is held by Reddit itself- even things like images and gifs are hosted off-site, mostly on Imgur, and only the link itself submitted. The most popular subReddits, like r/Funny, r/WTF and r/AdviceAnimals (the absolute meme capital of cyberspace) are the default categories of Reddit- every new user is automatically subscribed to their content. If you hit Reddit without being signed into your account, it’s these defaults that automatically make up front page content.
The beauty of Reddit is that, once you are a registered user with an account, you can unsubscribe to the default categories (which I did immediately with r/Atheism– there’s only so much gratuitous religion-hate I can stand) and subscribe to the ones that interest you (personally, I’d recommend r/FacePalm and r/LongReads). Using some kind of complex algorithm (or something), Reddit filters the most popular links from all the categories you’re subscribed to into your front page. For all intents and purposes, you choose the content you want to see, and the user-base votes on the best of that content.
And that’s the best of Reddit- the most awesome content on the web generally comes from there. The funny meme or bizarre picture you saw on FaceBook this morning…? Chances are that it first showed up on Reddit. Yesterday.
The worst of Reddit is… well… pretty bad. It’s developed a reputation for being misogynistic which is, sadly, true. It’s also got a bad rep for operating around the very centre of the hive mind. Also true. Unpopular opinions are at the mercy of Reddit’s up-vote/down-vote system, and most of them are down-voted to oblivion. Mark Twain said that when you find yourself on the side of popular opinion, it’s time to stop and reflect. The problem is that with Reddit’s default settings, unpopular opinions- those with five or more down-votes- become essentially invisible. Which leaves little to reflect on (unless you want to actually, ya know, think for yourself. Which I’m not sure is encouraged).
It may also be Mark Twain who said that memes are in-jokes for people who have no friends. The longer you spend on Reddit, the more references and in-jokes you understand. It makes you feel like part of the crowd. The derpy, loser crowd without enough Real Life friends.
Reddit is entirely what you make of it. For some people, that’s a front page full of the most depraved porn you can find.
For me, it’s an endless vortex of interesting articles, amazing photos, and stupid jokes. Whole days can be wasted on there. It’s the ultimate site for blissful time-wasting and rampant procrastination.
This has to stop. The Most Amazing Man In The Universe is thoroughly sick of hearing me say “Oh, I already saw that on Reddit!”, or variably, “I read this thing on Reddit…”. He tells me he is a ‘Reddit widow’. I tell him that’s better than being a real widow.
Clearly, I need some kind of intervention.
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{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
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July 9, 2013 at 11:13 pm -
I can’t deal with the Reddit interface, but I do have a secret love affair with Imgur. It’s a ritual for me to view the day’s front page after the kids are asleep. I love it, as long as I don’t read the comments because then my eyes roll so much they might actually leave my head. Also, I’m not so much into the cat pictures.
PS – you said Derpy!! Lolz!
xx
Mrs BC recently posted…Sweet Dreams!
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July 10, 2013 at 12:04 pm -
Herpy derp derp :p
Lori Dwyer recently posted…A Good Place To Start.
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July 9, 2013 at 1:47 am -
Love me some Reddit, only problem is I end up having approximately 748 tabs open which usually crashes my browser
- July 10, 2013 at 1:06 pm
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Same- or having all these tabs open with no idea of what the title was. Then I get confused…
Lori Dwyer recently posted…A Good Place To Start.
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July 8, 2013 at 5:57 pm -
The app is pretty good. Oh wait… I’m not supposed to be supporting your habit am I … Ummm errrrr carry on…
- July 10, 2013 at 1:07 pm
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Oooh which app? I have Bacon Reader but don’t use it a lot… because I’m trying to quit. Obviously :p
Lori Dwyer recently posted…A Good Place To Start.
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July 8, 2013 at 5:51 pm -
Look at it this way… at least you’re addicted to something that is a mind altering drug…. or is it?
MC x
- July 8, 2013 at 5:52 pm
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my computer is dumb… delete delete delete!!!
- July 10, 2013 at 12:05 pm
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It *totally* is!! :p
Lori Dwyer recently posted…A Good Place To Start.
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July 8, 2013 at 4:24 pm -
I’ve skimmed Reddit, but you are so right when you say the interface is ugly as hell- it makes it hard to get into in the first place. BUT, if you can wade through the gross and the porn and the dumb-asses, there is gold to be found there. Sometimes.
It’s just that whole feeling of, oh another time-waster. As if I don’t have enough things sucking my time away!
A friend of mine was all like, “Oh, you need to get into Pinterest! Pinterest is the best.” And I’m thinking, “I don’t have time for another social media pursuit. I’m at my limit, I’d have to drop one off if I was to add another…”
Whoa, Molly recently posted…Oh, that endless brain-noise- July 10, 2013 at 12:06 pm
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I get this weird kind of anxiety every damn time I hear of a new social media. I’m still not on Pinterest. And Vine freaks me f*ck out…. :p
Lori Dwyer recently posted…A Good Place To Start.
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Previous post: My Baby, Growing Up.
Next post: Moving.
Parenting By The Book – RRSAHM
Parenting By The Book
And another one… seems I can’t stay on my own blog. I’m guest posting over at Little People Books right now. Come check it out.
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Previous post: Mummy did a bad, bad thing.
Next post: Post It Notes For Famous People.
July 2013 – RRSAHM
July 2013
Finding a house to rent in Melbourne turned out to be much easier than anticipated. Which is great, but also… well, it’s pushed my timeline forward by a least a week or two.
After the filling out of many forms, and providing enough documentation for someone to steal my identity, the Most Amazing Man in The Universe and I were approved for a house on our very first try.
Which is awesome. And terrifying. And awesome…. and terrifying. (I’m still not sure which. Both at once, perhaps). The reality of what I’m about to do has suddenly kicked in. I’m kind of dumbstruck by the massiveness of the task ahead.
I’m nowhere near organised enough to do this kind of thing. I’m not sure my kids, nor myself, are prepared for having the people we love living so far away.
I keep reminding myself… this is an adventure. We will be fine.
We have to be. Hopefully, we’re moving on August 24th. That’s just 24 short days away.
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Houses develop their own particular scent. Every house has a smell to it, pleasant or not. The structure of the house itself is only partly responsible for the scent it takes on. Most of the smell belongs to the house’s occupants.
When I was little my auntie’s house always smelled divine. Heavy and comforting and slightly cloying, it smelt like cinnamon and sandalwood, and kitschy 80′s washed hessian wall-hangings.
As a general rule, you don’t smell your own house. You’re there to often. But I’ve been away from my house for two or three day stretches often enough in the last six months to come to a somewhat shameful realisation.
My house smells a little bit like ‘crazy cat lady’.
That’s not very cool.
To be honest, we’re not going to be here much longer, anyway. It seems we’re moving to Melbourne very, very soon (more on that tomorrow). Scented candles seem to be a very useful temporary solution. Cue the Air Wick Black Edition Multicolour Candle.
And this candle is right up there with lava lamps in terms of ‘trippy’. It actually kaleidoscopes through different colours. Check out the five second video here.
It’s certainly a conversation piece. It’s been a source of fascination to me and everyone else who visited the TinyTrainHouse in the last week or so. How does it work…? How far down would it burn? How the hell does it work?
We got experimental. After exposing the candle to various light and heat sources, we determined it was heat activated. But that still didn’t really solve the mystery.
Not knowing how things work frustrates me. I’m sure I could have Googled the answer. But that didn’t seem like nearly as much fun as pulling the candle apart and finding out for myself.
So. Step one, which was surprisingly easy- removing the candle from it’s black glass jar.
Step two. Cut the candle in half.
And that was as far as we needed to go, really before the answer to one of life’s biggest questions was revealed. How does the color change candle work…?
Two wicks- a normal candle wick, and a wick coated in thicker wax that appears to be the heat sensor. Three light globes in the base of the candle- one red, one green, one blue, that light up in patterns to produce different colours.
Mystery, solved. Just call me Daphne. Or, slightly more realistically, Velma.
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I tell my kids we’re moving to Melbourne. They react accordingly, as you would expect children to do. Between the two of them, they pinwheel through every emotion you could possibly associate with this kind of change.
The general consensus is not what I expected. The Chop is thoroughly excited, almost anxious in his anticipation. He’s entranced at the idea of living so close to the city. He is obsessed with the concept that trams drive right there on the street with the cars!!!
He works out his worries, one at a time. Will the cat come with us? Will we take everything in our house? Will he go to swimming lessons in Melbourne? (Yes; kind of; and probably, yes). To the Chop this is the ultimate adventure and he can’t wait to start a new school and meet new people.
The Bump, however, is timid and fretful. She will miss her daycare, she tells me. She will miss her friends. She doesn’t want to leave our ‘little house‘.
I’d predicted all of this, of course… It’s just that I thought it would be the other way around. That the Chop would be reluctant to leave, and the bubbly Bump ready for a new adventure in a whole new place.
Turns out, I don’t know my children as well as I thought.
I wonder how often that happens. I’m guessing it will happen more and more as my kids grow up. Their mother, walking around, sure that she understands what’s going on in their complex little minds, when she actually has no idea what they’re thinking.
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'the speeches should be short, sweet and tasteful'(and preferably at the start of the night before everyone is drunk and rowdy) I second that notion.
Glad you enjoyed the wedding and finding the energy to blog while still hungover definitley makes you worthy of some kudos.
Glad you enjoyed yourself!
Thanks for the tips too – I shall add them to my wedding planning spreadsheet :o)
OMG, that is hilarious!
Glad you had a good time…hangovers are just proof of that!
Great post.