Thursday, March 28, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Friday was one of those truly wonderful days - Nelle and I walked the trail around Point Lookout Headland, a high, winding path that looks straight down the east side of Stradbroke Island. The water's so blue you wonder what the hell you're doing living in the city, when places like this exist. We could see forever, see the waves rushing to shore, see a pod of 50 or more dolphins surfing below us.
On the beach, later, we'd play in the sand together - building castles and decorating them with shells Nelle collected, one of which distracted her so much she was toppled by a rogue wave. Feet-over-head she went - convinced she would have been pulled straight out to sea ... were it not for Mummy saving her.
|Nelle's rendition of the incident|
Alas, by Saturday morning, I was Google-searching things like:
And I can't be bothered downloading the actual dolphin-in-paradise photos, so you get Instagram instead. The dolphins - and recipes - will have to wait.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
I blame chemo.
It. was. inside. me.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
Play this album. Again, and again, and again.
And if your 5yo daughter won't dance to track 3 with you,
even though she's already in her ballet dress and shoes,
it's all okay. Dance anyway.
Open up a book of poems, like this one. Or short stories, like these.
Rain calls for beautiful writing to dip into, and out of.
Read this blog post, and think about how sometimes
it takes finding out who you're not ... to find out who you are.
Doze, or gaze; ease; lose time.
Rain calls for words with soft 'z' sounds.
Make your all-time favourite cookies, something simple
but with lots of butter. Carry them up to bed with you,
Lace a hot bath with chamomile tea
and imagine you're a spoonful of honey sinking
Open the windows and the doors,
embrace the fact you're going nowhere,
so you let the everywhere in.
Listen to yourself - and if there's melancholy,
or weariness or even the low electric buzz of anticipation,
draw it. Or write it. Or sleep it off.
It's raining anyway.