Saturday, May 5, 2012

Review: my husband

I'd like to make a brief departure from my 'independence' theme, to sing the praises of the wonderful man whom I share my life with, but rarely appreciate as much as I should.  A review, of my husband.

Life with David is a comforting and fun-filled experience marked by equal measures of silliness, passionate political ranting and thoughtful observations on life, the universe and everything.  The large number of puns may be too much for some tastes, but personally I have to admit to enjoying them as whimsical moments and reminders of childhood which make me believe that David will be a most wonderful and beloved father to any future children.  The constant cuddles and general physical affection may likewise be just too much for some, but leave this wife feeling very loved and cared for; a wife of David will never be left feeling unsure of his feelings, as many a wife is.  Indeed, most of the common complaints against husbands – lack of affection and compliments, lack of obedience, not sharing domestic duties, being uninterested in lengthy conversations – cannot be made of this husband.  If you’re looking for a highly organised and efficiently functioning model, or strict adherence to typical gender roles, then look elsewhere.  But if you want a carefree, stimulating, loving and equal partnership – with a decent salary to boot – then you could not look for better than this husband.

Five stars. :)

Friday, April 20, 2012

Finding my stride

'Pedestrian' is another word that has been sadly maligned in our language. It is used to mean something quite mundane, something so ordinary that it is not worthwhile. Yet in our world to chose to travel by foot is to choose something quite radical.

I have recently been finding my stride, quite literally. I have reinvented myself, and once again become one who walks.

I had always been a walker. From the first time I defied my over-protective mother and took myself on foot to the local corner store, and even earlier, spending many childhood weekends wandering in the bush at my family's farm, entertained by nothing more than walking and daydreaming, I have been addicted to freedom of movement without restraint or assistance. It has always been for me a pastime in itself, not just a means of travel. Whether indulging in angsty music as a teen in a local pocket of bushland, wandering the streets of London in my early 20s, or making my way around the markets and sights of my home-town, my own two feet were the means of changing the scenery. To walk is to deliberately experience life slowly, to experience the passing wonders in real time. Yet it is also to choose a space that is not offered by stationary contemplation. It is as though my mind requires my body to be in motion to allow my thoughts to flow. Sometimes the only possible way to clear my head, find a solution, or fully grasp an artistic inspiration, is to get outside and move. Whether in an urban jungle with strangers rushing past, or a magic forest with only nature for company, when I walk the world becomes nothing but my body and my mind.

Yet in recent years I lost the art of walking. In love with a non-walker, I found no reason to leave the sofa. All the inspiration I needed for my wandering thoughts, for peace and for joy, were lounging in my home. Why seek a change of scenery, when the scene I most desired was settled in one place? But somewhere inside I still considered myself a walker. You could see it in my accoutrements, my choice of shoes, my insistence on a back-pack, my girl-guide worthy set of necessities always with me. I was not prepared to become a lounger forever.

So I began to find my way back. At first I forced myself to walk, in the hope that it would become habit. For the health of my body I decided that the only way to get to work was on foot, and more and more made sure it was the ONLY way. I have coerced my love into joining me too, to wander in our local park, to visit friends and entertainment, insistent that we must not drive. We remain living close to the city and its entertainment districts deliberately, and I have decided that to do so and NOT walk is to waste our proximity, our youth and our freedom. And over time, it has begun to sink in, I have begun to view myself as a walker once more. I have begun to crave the physical movement and the freedom.

I love that walking requires no equipment. I walk in my normal clothes, my jeans or my dresses, whatever I'm in the mood for aesthetically. My personal uniform has always included walkable shoes, my mary-jane docs are just part of my look, as well as the only tools I need to get from one place to another. The city provides regular water-fountains should I stray further than intended and be away for thirsty hours, and my inner compass has always allowed me to find my way home.

I'm so pleased to be a walker once more. It feels like I am truly 'me' again. As I stride my way through my city I feel powerful and independent. And when I get home, bubbling over with inspiration, my love is still there, offering the peace and joy he always has, but now I bring home a little of the outside world and a little more 'me' back to him.

Sunday, January 29, 2012


On the eve of a certain problematic national holiday I encountered some of the opinions with which I still struggle. No doubt such opinions being expressed at this time are inevitable, but to have to listen to them so loudly at work seems unfair. But I am capable of generosity and have decided to understand their reactions rather than maintain my fury. As a shy type incapable of coherent verbal debate I have no other option in any case. :) Would that I could change their views. But with the garbage the media feeds them as 'news', I would have a very uphill battle even if I were the most skilled persuader on the planet. So I have done the one thing I am capable of, and analysed the situation in writing.
I have decided that working with people whose world view boils my blood is a learning exercise. It gives me an insight into the mindset of the channel-7- watching, west-australian-reading, boffin-fearing majority whom I would normally avoid associating with. 'Know thine enemy', as they say.

In any case, MY opinions are now due to be published on on Monday. :)

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Project Camping

Holidays are here!!!

I worked through the quiet Xmas / New Year period, and now, just as school is about the begin again, I am taking my holiday in peace. As of tomorrow we're out of the city, and as of Monday we shall be living in our tent. Two weeks of simple relaxation. Hoorah!

For various reasons I never got to go camping as a child, so I have discovered it as an adult. As a would be self-sufficient type it suits me perfectly. Just pack the car, and off to nature! I love the notion of bring-your-own shelter, of needing no infrastructure or even other humans to survive. And it's good for the soul. When I'm relaxing amongst the trees I start to believe I can live without material things, that the simple life is all I could ever need. Time in nature always restores my batteries... and restores my relationship with hubby. I've said many a time that I think I love him more in the forest. :) It also awakens my creative spirit, so writing implements and a camera are coming with me too. Indeed I hope to update this blog with my own photography when I return.

I am a girl who appreciates luxury, but I don't need it. One of the reasons I cut my own hair and keep it in a style that requires only the occasional wash and brush is this feeling of freedom. Several women have said to me recently they couldn't camp because they can't live without their hair-dryer or shower. To me that sounds like a hideous burden. I'll be spending my time swimming and walking, reading and writing; I just need a sturdy pair of shoes and a hammock.

We might fit in a bit of wine tasting too. But I promise to find a shower before I visit civilisation. :)