Missing wedding guests.

When my daughter was married a few weeks ago, my thoughts for awhile went to those loved ones who were missing from this beautiful occasion. People who should have been there, people who loved Lauren. 

My father adored Lauren, his first Grandchild. The day she was born you could not wipe the smile off his face as he looked down at the little pink bundle in his arms. When she was a toddler he would carry chocolates around in his pocket, not unlike the Pied Piper. He would take her to The Entrance to see the pelicans , and buy her ice cream. He would sing her out of tune songs and read her stories. He would tell her way out absurdities which made her constantly laugh out loud. At Christmas he would make her wear crazy party hats. He watched her graduate from high school and saw her finish university. Dad met Ryan and gave his nod of approval. He is not here to see his beloved Granddaughter marry. The Granddaughter who would hold his hand as she jumped waves at the beach and who he would lay on the sand for hours building sand castles. Lauren, Pa Pa would have been so proud of you on your wedding day.

Elizabeth was my best friend, my partner in crime. She made me laugh. She truly got me. We worked together in the bank . We learnt we were pregnant over a bundle of $20 notes. I was so sure she was having a boy that I stole the girls name she had chosen. A very uncool thing to do. We walked the rocky road of new babies together. Breastfeeding over “Days of our Lives”. Her home became my home and vice versa. When we were old and widowed we had planned to buy town houses next door to each other to live out the rest of our days. Her son Matthew and Lauren became firm friends. Elizabeth watched Lauren grow up. We laughed about Lauren and Matthew marrying. Agreeing and joking that it could never happen as she was Catholic and I Anglican. When I was neurotic, which was quite often, she empathised. When we felt the world hated us, we realised that it didn’t matter, we had each other.

Whenever there was a federal election we would have dinner together and discuss the outcome. Often ending with Matthew and Lauren arguing, both having strong political views. I miss those dinners. We sat and cried over Princess Diana’s funeral. When I visited Diana’s grave I thought of Elizabeth. She would have enjoyed the fact I visited Althorpe. 

She never laughed at my absurd behaviours. As our children grew and we returned to work , we saw less of each other. Our connection was always there. Often I would be thinking about her and the phone would ring. It would be Elizabeth. We would pick up where we left off when we saw each other, and always we would laugh, always. Matthew took Lauren to his Year 10 formal, they will always be good friends. Matthew was at Lauren’s wedding. Elizabeth should have been there too. To share the love and excitement. I wanted her there. I miss my friend. She was the only person to truly understand me and my complexities. 

These two important people were missing from Lauren’s wedding to Ryan. In spirit they were partying with us. Participating in the day that was shared with all that we love and cherish. I’m sure my Dad would have wanted to give a speech at the wedding. He loved speeches. Elizabeth would have cried along with me.

We assume all too often that loved ones are going to be around to celebrate milestone events in our lives. It is not until they are not around that we realise the non-permanence of their presence in our lives. Always be mindful and grateful for the gift of loving people in our lives.

A NEW PET.....PERHAPS....

Love them or hate them, this blog is about my love affair with snakes. Snakes in my opinion have been given an unfair rap, and all because Eve was a temptress. Seriously, i'm glad the snake whispered sweet nothings into Eves ear. Life would be pretty boring if she hadn't.

Is it because snakes are poisonous that they are so feared? Or maybe because they are carnivorous and quietly sneak up behind you. I find their cool, elongated bodies and beady black eyes rather mesmerising.The seductive slide of their body as they creep silently across the ground reminds me of a super model walking the catwalk. Confident, powerful and beautiful. Exuding an air of grace and sophistication.

Snakes in movies and literature have always been portrayed as insidious vessels of evil. Damn you Adam and Eve! Nagini in Harry Potter, Kaa in the Jungle Book and even Mara in Doctor Who perpetuates an evil persona. Maybe it is the ice cold blood running through their veins that have them depicted as devious monsters. I know a lot of warm blooded animals who create havoc and terror amongst the population. But I digress. When a person says one thing and means another he is said to be speaking with a forked tongue. I've never seen a dishonest snake. In fact what you see is what you get . A snake will only attack if threatened.

Sexual innuendos is also a cross that the poor snake must bear. How often do you hear of a penis being referred to as a trouser snake. Yes a snake is phallic in appearance and has a slippery, sliding demeanor, well maybe this comparison should be taken in its stride and accepted as a  compliment.

I want a pet snake (hear that Wayne Renshaw)I want to look in its beady little eyes. Have its cool shimmering body wrap itself around me and hug the life out of me. Like Salma Hayek in "Till Dusk till Dawn."If not I will have to continue my love affair with snakes from afar.

Brainwashed by McDonalds, it has happened to us all..

I have come to the conclusion that McDonalds is a cult. Their brainwashing machine begins at an early age. The large, bright, colourful "M" hypnotising young impressionable eyes, to the promise of a toy when you buy their meals sealing the deal. Instantaneously, on viewing the yellow 'M", children's eyes glaze over and the monotone words "take me to McDonalds" keep being repeated until parents cave under pressure. A funny clown to make the kids laugh and brainwash them a little more about how much fun a burger can be to eat,  and McDonalds have the followers swarming into their store. Personally, I think that Ronald McDonald is one of the scariest characters ever to walk this earth. His huge red mouth could consume a small child in one knash of his teeth.

McDonalds is available in almost every country in the world. There are very few places you can travel and not view the golden arches. A global triumph on McDonalds part. In Thailand, a statue of Ronald McDonald, the voice of the company, stands tall at the door with his hands together, as if in prayer. I know this is actually to provide a Thai greeting to the customer, but five thousand years from now when he is dug up by archeologists, he may be seen as a religious icon of our times. His non-biodegradable body surviving the decomposition process. Millions of happy meal toys will also be dug up, disciples of Ronald McDonald. Hail the messiah "Ronald McDonald" and all his tiny minions. Hamburglar the devil incarnate, his life turned around by the good influence of Ronald McDonald. His eternal soul saved to visit that large fast food palace in the sky.

I am as guilty as the rest of the population , through sheer exhaustion and desperation I too have been brainwashed into taking my children to McDonalds and selling my soul for an hours peace. How much peace was needed is seen in the number of Mchappy meal toys I found when cleaning out the spare room.Sending the children off to the playground with a pig fat ice-cream whilst I had a cup of coffee and read the paper was heaven on earth. All I can say is (the devil) sorry Ronald McDonald made me do it....

PHILIP SEYMOUR HOFFMAN : COMPASSION OR CONDEMNATION

Another celebrity has passed away from a drug overdose. Should we feel sorry for a man found with 50 bags of heroin in his apartment? Should we feel compassion for a man who has left for his children the legacy of the last known comments made about their father was that he died with a needle hanging from his arm?

As the media are delving into the archives to find every last picture and every crumb of information on Philip Seymour Hoffman's life so they can dissect all aspects of his 46 years, a family is left grieving. Did they notice the direction he was heading? Was his drug taking such a big part of his life that his behaviour while "high" was the norm? I am perplexed a man of his intelligence and means did not attempt to clean up his life, if not for himself but for those he loved and who loved him. He had the wealth to overcome his addiction, which proves to me he didn't want to fight the demon. I know, I know, I should walk in anothers shoes before making judgement, but there is help out there if you so seek, especially if you are wealthy.

The saddest part of this story is Philip Seymour Hoffman is not only going to be remembered for his brilliance as an actor, it is going to  be remembered that he died with a needle in his arm.

MY DREAM FOR AUSTRALIA

I have a dream that our children will be able to walk the streets of our cities without fear of alcohol fueled violence.

I have a dream that people who perpetuate heinous crimes are locked away forever , so that they cannot repeat these despicable acts.

I have a dream Australians will welcome people from war torn countries and allow them to become the valuable members of our society that they deserve to be, instead of locking them away in detention centres.

I have a dream where in Australia two people who love each other can be married , irrespective of their sex. Love is not discrimitary . Love can conquer all.

I have a dream of a world where we are all kinder to ourselves, and each and every one of us love our bodies and minds for what they are. A treasure trove of beauty and knowledge.

BEING ANOREXIC

This blog is one I thought seriously about before posting. I wasn't sure if I wanted it put out there. I decided though, being anorexic was not something to be ashamed of, it was and always will be a part of me. I was 18 when I developed anorexia and had just left home. Anorexia was only just being acknowledged and taken seriously as a disease. This is my account of having anorexia and learning to live with it over time.


 MY LIFE AS AN ANOREXIC

The euphoria that I felt after I had not eaten for several hours overwhelmed me. I refused to succumb to the hunger pains. My brain told me I must eat. Everything I felt was so surreal that I had difficulty separating fact from fiction. I was such a control freak that when I was unable to control my body weight, I was sent over the edge. My sole ambition in life was to be forever thin. The admiration I received from others with every kilogram I lost pushed me to pursue continual weight loss.

I felt a perpetual need to keep losing weight, to not do so was equal to failure. I was in my own mind, pathetic. While there were millions of people starving around the world, I saw my world crumbling because I had put on a kilo!  Only a fellow anorexic could understand the calamity of gaining so much as a gram of weight. Only a fellow anorexic would feel the joy of getting through the day eating only an apple.

Devising ways to avoid eating meals becomes a way of life for an anorexic. Eating out at restaurants and visiting friends becomes a constant nightmare. Fooling people into thinking that you have eaten is a talent only serious anorexics master. An anorexic can go for years without being discovered.

This was my life as an eighteen year old. Being an anorexic is similar to being an alcoholic. there is no cure. A person who is anorexic has to want to follow a road to recovery. They do not want to be kicked along by well meaning people. These people think they know who you are, what you feel, but they have not even glimpsed the complex make-up of an anorexics mind.

Psychologists categorise anorexics. They believe anorexics are high achievers who are pushed by their parents to achieve perfection.  My parents had never made me feel the need to be perfect. I was just an average girl, who, as an overweight child, was continually chided and teased by other children for being fat. Instead of living life as a misfit, I decided to conform to society’s ideals. So I dieted. This was the beginning of my trip down the road to destruction. Each kilo I lost was greeted with a pat on the back from others. This adulation gave me a sense of satisfaction and worthiness.

The anorexic mentality is always within easy reach. As I said before, there is no cure for anorexia, just careful management to keep it in line. It has been many years since being thin was the most important thing in my life. To this day my brain calculates calories. I still get an adrenaline rush every time I lose a kilo. I was lucky, maturity set in. The responsibility of having children has prevented me from falling back into the anorexic routine of missing meals and sticking my finger down my throat to make myself vomit. I still feel guilty when I eat foods high in calories. The days that show a weight gain on the scales are the days I act as if I have a personality disorder. I am irritable and hard to get along with on these days. Seeing protruding bones when I look in mirror would still give me a buzz. Anorexia will always be present within me. It will always be a part of my psyche.

OBITUARY TO A FAMILY FRIEND... R.I.P RED LASER

Last night someone stole our car. It was an old car, 22 years old. The paint was weathered, the radio didn't work and if you wanted to stay cool in summer you would wind down the windows. Oh, that's right you couldn't do that either as the window handles had fallen off.

My fondness for this car was its history. We reduced the size of our car when we thought we would not be having more children. Within four weeks of going into debt to purchase our brand new SMALL car, we were to find out we were expecting twins.  We made many trips to Sydney for pre natal tests in this car. To this day the smell of a new car reminds me of this time. We drove to the hospital on the morning of the twins birth in our lovely car, the anticipation and excitement we felt by far underestimated how much our life was about to change. A week later we drove home with trepidation and two precious little people in the back seat. Three small bodies huddled lovingly together in the back seat of that car for many a kilometre and many a year.

The laser has taken us to places far, far away over the years. It drove the grand prix circuit on the Gold Coast on our first big holiday with the twins. During  our 18 months in Melbourne it made many trips back to Wollongong to relieve the home sickness of family members. I don't think a GPS was needed, it drove on auto pilot.

The lasers camping expeditions are legendary. Having no trailer we had to squeeze all our camping gear into its petite interior. It seemed to be a bottomless pit. Nicknamed "The Tardis" for its appearance of being small on the outside and huge on the inside, every oriface was filled with camping gear. I travelled with my knees digging into my chin, food at my feet on more than one occasion.. When we arrived at our camp site and opened the doors, every item in the car jumped out and sprung into place.

The laser turned over 300,000km on the clock recently with the same engine it was born with. It is a shame the same could not be said of its exterior. Between my driving ( "I had a tumour") and Tims inexperience, nearly all exterior panels had been replaced at some stage of its long life. It held no grudges and never complained, I could drive around for days with the petrol gauge on empty and would never run out of petrol. It loved us just as we loved it.

Maybe I romanticise this little red car, but there is no doubt in my mind that this car had a heart. We bought two of our babies home from hospital in it. Those babies grew up and learnt to drive in it and subsequently went for their driving tests, comfortable in the seat of an old friend. In recent years it has hit a deer, lost its bumper bar doing 100km an hour on the freeway and run up the back of a Camry. It is now time for it to rest.

It is fitting that "The Tardis" went out with a bang. Written off after being used as a getaway car in a robbery. R.I.P oh red one. You will be missed, and always remember: Red cars go Faster...........