Saturday, September 8, 2012
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
I wasn't sure exactly what I would do with it, or how. I just knew that xanga wasn't really doing what it used to...
I thought this was the place, the feel of what I wanted.
But it isn't.
It's calm here. It's... not reflective. I've almost been trying to be something I'm not...
Yes, I think deep, and yes I love my God.
But I'm also loud. And funny. And colourful. And completely self depreciating.
And I do so love to laugh. I love to laugh with people.
I don't think this place invited laughter.
So, for the last couple of days, I've been playing around with templates and new names. I threw a couple around, but settled with one that I think explains things... me...my life... a little better.
So, head on over...the party is now officially begun...
Friday, June 25, 2010
I love it even more when people have no idea what they are selling.
Yes, I'm an opportunist.
I did a quick circuit of a local op-shop on Wednesday while I was there dropping off some stuff, and there, lying out in the open on a table, was a rag doll.
A Kate Finn rag-doll.
In fact, one very similar to this Kate Finn Rag doll.
Please note the price.
I love these dolls. So beautifully and well made. We purchased a doll for Bethany when she went into hospital to have surgery, and we have another on layby for Amy for Christmas. I'll be ordering one to put aside for Cora when she's older.
I don't think I have ever moved so fast, or litterally snatched something off a table at an op-shop before.
I went to the counter, and heard angels sing.
I had another, good quality dolly (who's dress is easily washed) to give to my girls...
For a dollar.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
I remember it blue... mainly because Grover and the Cookie Monster were blue, and the fabric it was made out of had Sesame Street characters all over it.
The first thing that comes to mind, as I recall this old friend, is the way it smelled. I loved the smell. Of course, now I realise that it was the distinct aroma of makeup way past it's use by date, but still it permiates lovely to my nostalgia.
If you had opened my make up bag, and reached inside it, you would have removed your hand all covered over in a pinky-brown film... the sides were coated with it, evidence of missing lids.
Had you been brave enough to use the products in there, you would have had choices between blue and green purlescent eyeshaddows (so beautiful), mini, tester sized lipsticks in coral, (so cute!) purple eyeliner and orange blush. You could have used gluggy nail polish, liquid eyeliner with a brush missing half its bristles, or pressed powder to your face using pads with six different shades clearly visible.
I know now that it was where mum put all her old makeup instead of throwing it out, but I didn't care. I had my own 'war paint'... just like my mummy.
I can only imagine what my mother thought when I came down all "pretty" from my bedroom. I can't remember if she would tell me I was beautiful, or if she said nothing. I know she never told me to wash it off. Mum never curbed my creativity. Never stopped me from being a girly... I was very rarely girly in anything else. I hated to wear pink, loathed having my hair brushed, and could play as hard and rough as a boy.
But I loved my makeup bag.
I am not clear on what happened to the tote full of girlish ideas of pretty. I think it was one of the things that "went missing" when we moved interstate.
Strangely, even now that I have fresh makeup in a glass jar; stuff that smells of new attractiveness and glides on effortlessly, I find I still miss the shades from my girlishness. There is no distinct smell that greets me as I draw it from its place in my bathroom.
No longer do I paint and powder and pretend When I am Big. Now, I conceal and curl and contour, trying to recapture lost youth; a way to find and reclaim the girl with her unchallenged conviction that she is beautiful.
Join me in my meanderings into nostalgia...
Friday, June 18, 2010
I'm ok with it now.
But I've been musing on it. It's a strange age. I'm in a juxtaposition of feeling a bizarre mixture of too old for some things, and not mature enough for others.
I don't feel 30. I still feel 19.
I'm the worship co-ordinator at our church. I'm a mother of six children, and a partner/wife of 13 years. My husband and I own three cars. We pay rent. We have bills. Responsibility.
But I still think it's fun to have sleepovers with girlfriends. I still find farts funny. I'm very rarely serious. Adam and I watch stand up comedians on youtube on a regular basis. I still want to flit all over the globe.
I'm finding it difficult to comprehend that people are actually taking me seriously now. I don't feel that I'm any more mature, really, than I was a decade ago. And yet, I also look at some dreams and yearnings that I have and think that I'm too old for those now. I've wasted time.
Two weekends ago, we had prophets at our church.
Adam and I were blessed to be prophesied over. I bawled.
One of the parts I have been meditating over has been that we (Adam and I) are called to work with Youth. The Lord spoke to me in such a way that He made me realise in my heart, not just my head, that His timing is perfect.
My dreams and yearnings that are still so dear to me, are still God's heart for me. They will happen. I have not wasted years, I have not missed the jump. While I may think that I'm a bit old in years to work with my beloved teenagers, in my heart, I'm still right there with them... but with the added benefit life know-how.
I am not immature... I have a youthful heart.
I am not old... I have a wealth of experience.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Adam and I only discovered this hillarious show this morning, and its premise is that "celebrities were invited to discuss their pet hates and persuade the host to consign them to a fate worse than death in Room 101"
- social media (like, the people who have a twitter, fb, blog(s), myspace, linkedin, jabber blah blah blah)
- Steriotypical Americans (of which we know none. Just so you know.)
The show gives the guests 5 things, but Adam had to go to work.
I don't have many things that I have a total abhorance for, but I think my selections would be (keeping in mind that you need to be able to joke about it, so human trafficking and childhood cancer is out):
- Prosti-tots (you know, the 12 year old little girls dressed like streetwalkers)
- Brussels Sprouts
- Cameron Diaz
What about you? I'd love to see the things that you would cast into the room.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Like, for example, daughter. We say Daw-da. You say Dah-ter
Or, route. We say root, you say r-ow-t.
We call ourselves Ozzies... you mispronounce it Ossies
We Aussies speak in "text" as one of my favourite comedians puts it. A service station is a "servo", car registration is "rego", a barbeque is a "barbie" and so on and so forth.
A few people have asked for a video of me (and Adam) talking. We're working on it. For some reason, our computer has dumped the web-cam, so we have to get a camcorder and a tripod.
Good thing tax time is only a couple of months away.
But we will, I promise.
So... what would you like to hear us say? What about us would you like to know? It could be anything funny, real, stupid, serious, whatever... I'll write it all down and we'll discuss it all for your viewing pleasure and, I'm sure, amusement.
We'll attempt to deliver.
We're really silly though.
Consider youreslves forewarned.