Sunday, 28 February 2010

To bag or to handbag? To match with shoes or not?

First of all, I have to thank Kaz over at The Truth About Mummy for this tag. And also for her lovely comments on so many of my posts. And for her blog in general, 'cos it cheers me up.

Secondly, I need to be a bit Nancy Mitford about this and tell you two a lot of things about me and bags.

I have lots of them. They are not an item of wardrobe that requires you to fit into a size 12 ever, so there is no stomach crunching fear around buying bags, or bags "not fitting", so over the past 25 years or so I have indulged all of my fashionista tendencies through the buying of bags. Lots of lovely bags, all expensive, all beautiful.

If I am having a shite day, I know that when I get online at night I can go window shopping for bags. And it is nearly better than sex.

My idea of retail heaven is a shop that sells matching bags, shoes, sunglasses and purses. Sound too good to be true? Try Oroton. Or Prada.

My bags and my shoes match. Always. Even on the worst rush of a day. I cannot go out of the house without making sure my shoes and bag match. Sorry.

As a result I have two or three on the go at a time. And I can swap all the stuff that I need into them quickly. So this means there is zero crap lurking at the bottom of my bags, as the bags get swapped over sometimes twice daily, so the crap gets binned daily too.

Do I sound like a princess about all this? I am even cringing at myself.........

BUT, some days, if it is all too hard, I leave the bloody bags hanging on the peg and just lurch out of the house with just a purse, no make up, and flip flops on. So I am not really a princess. Just an echo of one.


Snaps here of the bag I used  last night and today (along with shoes, to illustrate!). If that makes me sound like a dirty stop out it's because I am indeed a dirty stop out: I was on hospital sleepover duty with my Charlie boy last night.



I also had my hairbrush in my bag, but I think I must have left it at the hospital, as it is missing. And my 'phone would normally be in my bag too, but I was using it to take the snaps! (I have no idea what kind of 'phone it is.....a Nokia something.)


Clockwise from top left........

  •  LancĂ´me perfume
  •  Cosmetic bag
  •  Sunglasses
  •  Purse (with a whole load of stuff in here like pens and band aids etc)
  •  Car & house keys
  •  Hydrocortisone cream for Charlie's eczema
  •  Batteries for Charlie's Tag Reader 
  •  Ipod
  •  Woolies nylon shopping bag. (SA now has a ban on all plastic shopping bags...I live in a BYOB state!
And now I think I am supposed to tag other lovely bloggers to expose themselves via their bags............

Kirsty at Coffee, Cake & Sunday
Leanne at Deep Fried Fruit
Katy at Mama Kat
Cherie at The Simple Diary of a Simplifying Mama
Taryn at This is Taryn

Saturday, 27 February 2010

Captain Starlight.....

No school drop offs this morning so I can treat my girls to what Lexie tells me is "the best bekfest I ever had" (apricots and muelsli bars on the couch. Oh my goddess, standards slip pretty quick round here.....)

And the lack of rush means a little blog post.

First of all, thanks for everyones lovely comments and kind wishes for my Charlie boy.

He is, sadly, as crook as. Not only does he have the busted leg in traction to contend with, but now also the "ancillary" issues of thrush, constipation, a flare up of his exema, as well as some beginnings of bedsores. Does the poor child not have enough to deal with, for fucks sake?? (Sorry. Angry Mummy.)

Maybe the bloke upstairs is treating Charlie like I feel he teats me? "Ack, she'll be right, she'll cope. Don't chuck that shite at any of the other feckers, Lucy can cope. Oh look, there's her son, throw some crappola on him too.....he's a strudy little tacker made of stern stuff like his Mummy, he'll be right."

I think I just made God sound like he has an Australian Irish accent. Sorry. But maybe he does? And I know he shares out the grief, and I know there are a whole lot worse things going on in the world, but sometimes in my pity party it feels like I get a bit more than my fair share, just quietly.

Anyway, Charlie had a visit yesterday from Captain Starlight.

In blissfull ignorance, I was not totally au fait with The Starlight Foundation and what they do. But I am now, and it is pretty cool.

I have been, for years, maintaining an ongoing regular donation to the Heart Foundation. But I am organising to make that regualr ongoing donation to the Startlight Foundation instead.

I am no Catriona Rountree, but have a click through to their donation page, maybe?

Charlie was treated to not one but TWO Captain Starlights yesterday and it was the first time he had cracked a laugh for five whole days. For me, that is worth GOLD.

They made him laugh so much that it gurgled up from his tummy and a whole heap of nurses came to see what was happening.

I had to run away and have a little cry because I was so glad that SOMEONE could make him forget his pain for a little while.

So thank you to all those Captain Starlights out there.

I was going to post this last night and just gave up. Too tired. A bowl of cereal and my bed was all I could manage. But a good sleep later and a little more chilled out this morning.


Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Missing my boys

♫ ♫ I’ll be here with open arms
To show you
Where you belong
If you’re missing, come on home ♫♫

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Reverting to type

When stressed, eat.

Old habits die hard.

I cannot be bothered with the diet thing when my Charlie boy is so sick.

I truly do not have time to think about it.

I launch from one hour to the next, juggling girls, drop offs, hospitals, phone calls and husbands. Food is the last thing on my mind.

So when the day finally calms, when I can finally retreat, I realise I am utterly starving. And remember that I can be nurtered by breakfast cereal and full cream milk, as well as maybe a can of Pringles and maybe also a couple of chocolate Brunch bars?

Not good.

Do not want to think about it.

At least I am honest on here.


Blerk to it all.

Although my beautiful friend "Badele" did give me a copy of Hypnodiet by Susan Hepburn when she came to see us at WCH today,so maybe I should just go to bed with that instead of the Pringles. Dunno.

Monday, 22 February 2010

Charlie is poorly.

I have rambled on a fair bit last week 'bout how gorgeous my two girls are.

Todays post is about Charlie.

My boy.

My middle one.

The one that rocks my world.

The one that I love to twenty million and back again.

He is a male mini me. At four, he is just about the cutest thing in my whole wide world.

He is in so much pain.

He is hurting so badly.

He is so scared and so frightened, and so I am, for him.

He is braver than brave about this thing: braver than should be allowed.

Charlie is in the hospital. Flat on his back. In full traction. In so much incredible musle spasming pain right now. He broke his left femur yesterday afternoon. Taking a ride on his sisters new razor scooter, he took a massive tumble.....and has bust his left thigh bone so badly his little leg is swollen to triple the size it should be.

After hours of waiting and x-rays and shunting and being seen and being prodded last night, he was admitted to the Adelaide Women & Chilrens. For at least 3 weeks. Probably 4. Fuck.

I am just home. Lovely (guilty) husband has just tagged me. Lovely husband will be the one tonight to feel totally useless as he tries to alleviate the pain that is ripping down one side of his four year old sons body.

Lovely husband will be the one tonight who holds his son and just cries with him. Their tears will blend. I know that lovely husband would just about sell his soul to the devil if it meant being able to turn back time and fix Charlie and to take away the pain. I tried last night to bargain. I prayed for the first time in a long time.

I just bathed and tucked the girls in. They are confused and missing him and they feel clunky without him. I did not tuck in enough children tonight. Too few sets of toothypegs got brushed. His jammies are still there and redundant. His room is empty of him and I miss him so much.

So if I am not blogging for a while, think of me as we try and feel our way through each day over the next few weeks. To take care of Charlie and just be with him.  And to try and make life as "normal" as we can for the girls. And not lose ourselves to knackeredness in between.

I am sad tonight. Off to bed now, I think, to cry for my little Charlie boy.

Sunday, 21 February 2010

Aunty Nootie

Inspired by Kaz over at The Truth About Mummy, I wanted to share a little Mummy/daughter funny misunderstanding.

The Mummy in question is me, and the daughter concerned is Olivia, my eldest and she turns six, today!

Can I brag, and tell you she is smart and verbose and beautiful?

That so often I gaze at her in utter wonder, this little miracle of mine?

And can I tell you that her maturity and grace and poise & self posession is just amazing and it blows me away?

And that everything she does is to try and make everyone else happy? How does she get that at aged 6?

Can I be so proud to tell you that she is THE coolest chick I know? If I was six, I would SO want to be her best friend. Hell, I am 40, and I want to be her best friend.

And I am so grateful that she had the self confidence and charm & charisma to accept this as her absolute right in the world.

Oh my, Olivia-Pie, I love you stacks.

Anyway, when she was a littler tacker, just before her little brother Charlie was born, she was a fairly demanding and non-walking 16 month old.

After a much needed (by her and me) rest-time one day, she bottom shuffled into the kitchen and started asking me:

"I want Aunty Nootie"


"Aunty Nootie pliz"

"Ummmm, my love, who is Aunty Nootie? Where does she live?"

"Aunty Nootie NOW"

"Darling, I am not sure I know who Aunty Nootie is?"

"Aunty Nootie RIGHT NOW PLIZ"

"Sweetie, where do you know "Aunty Nootie" from?"

As you may gather, the collective frustation levels from both of us are raging fairly high by this stage.

In disgust, she scoots on her bum over to the pantry, opens it, grabs a Tupperware full of Cruskits, and shouts at me:

"Aunty Noooooootie Mummy!"

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Afternoon tea. I get you. Help yourself sweet girl.

To this day, any form of afternoon/after school snack is, of course, called "Aunty Nootie". By everyone. Of course! Good old Aunty Nootie, bless her.

Give me some of your own cute Mummy/Child pearlers?

Saturday Sunday Teamwork

So much going on this weekend.

I tried and tried to get to my computer yesterday to blog, but time just ran out, and by the late evening I was faced with the choice of blogging at one end of the house, without the company of lovely husband, or curling up in front of iView with him and I in bed, together.

Now. I'll be honest, I have chatted about my TV thoughts before. I don't mind the odd bit, especially The Biggest Loser. But it doesn't hold my attention well enough. I never feel it is a "productive" use of my time. Blogging is, TV isn't.

But here's the thing. Teamwork turns my head and turns me on.

Weekends are full on for us. Between swimming and cricket and grandmothers and birthday parties, we need us to work as a team. Some weeks it doesn't work and we both pull at opposing ends of a rope to get our time in first, our needs met regardless, but, most weeks we work so beautifully well at this whole family thing, it is smoother than ice dancing.

We both like a lie in. We both like to exercise alone. We both like time spent away from the kids. We both want a bit of a weekend for ourselves.

So we get that too. Alternate lie-ins where one parent 'deals' with the hum drum of rice bubbles and kid wrangling and bed making. And the supervision of dressing of three small children whilst trying to empty the dishwasher whilst trying to pack swimming bags whilst trying to empty the compost?  You get the drift?

When it works, it works so well and I am so proud of us. I feel like we read each others minds with a smile and the acknowledgement that all this family stuff is only every really this easy and seamless & fun when we do it together. We move, literally, in sync, to get the stuff done that makes us all happy.

We match, we are a team. A formidible team, me and lovely husband. We are impenetrable in our loyalty to each other.

So when it comes to writing blog posts on the concept of a sexy saturday, but I feel I should not leave him alone, he wins: he wins me over. Because I know I have my a simple Sunday to fill the gaps of my blog, because my lovely husband team mate is covering my back...........

Thank you.

Friday, 19 February 2010

Foodie Friday Fat Free!

Ok. We have a birthday coming up. A little someone that requires a birthday tea and of course, a cake.

So we will be baking today. One of my "issues" is that I want to be able to have the kids see me get into the celebration too. I want to warble "Sing Happy Birthday, Blow out the Candles" ♫♫. And then stuff my face with choccy cake too! They all love me to sit at the table getting chocolately crumbs everywhere, all the while singing Peter Combe songs out of tune..........

So this is a recipe we shall bake that suits all of us.

(It is fat free. Once you slap on butter cream icing and a stack of Freckles, I am not so sure.)

In all seriousness, this is a great "recipe renovation" if you need a quick and easy fat free cake to dish up for birthdays and deserts....

Fat Free Chocolate Cake
I cannot really share where this recipe originated from, only that her name was Ana :-(

Get this:

2/3 cup apple puree

1 tsp vanilla essence

¾ cup caster sugar

½ cup self raising flour, sifted

½ tsp baking powder

2 egg whites, beaten

¼ cup cocoa powder, sifted

Then do this:

~ Preheat oven to 180°c.

~ Spray a non-stick baking tin with non-stick cooking spray.

~ Combine all the ingredients in a large mixing bowl, blend well.

~ Pour batter into tin and bake 20-30 minutes until cooked.

~ To test if batter is cooked, insert a toothpick. If it comes out clean, brownie is cooked

~ Remove from oven and let cool for five minutes in tin.

~ Gently remove from tin; place on wire rack and when cool, sprinkle with icing sugar if desired.

~ Serve with low fat yogurt and berries.

OR make cut it into the shape of a big "6", smear it with butter cream and lollies and start humming birthday songs..............

Share with me your best recipe renovation? I really mean that. I love love love "fat arse food made good". So if you have a great recipe for a previously too high in cals or fat food, that you have apapted to make it healthier, let me know?

Thursday, 18 February 2010

blog this: Challenge 32 Summary: Comfort Food

blog this: Challenge 32 Summary: Comfort Food


I entered! And my entry is here!

So if you wanna have a look at all the entries, head over to Blog This and have a read, of all the entries, and vote for your favourite?

I have read them all, and they are all mouthwatering!

Jack Sh*ts Silent Blog Post

Need a quiet giggle? No need for any of that volume or audio jiggery pokery for this one:

Jack Sh*ts Silent Blog Post


Thursdays Child..........

.......really was born on a Thursday.

Olivia, my eldest, was born on a Saturday. Just. So late at night it was nearly a Sunday.

Charlie, my boy, my middle one, was born on a Wednesday.

But Lexie, my youngest, was born on a Thursday, like her Mumma.

My baby girl is three and a half. She is the only one that calls me Mumma. The other two call me Mummy. Always have. One little letter alteration but it makes such a difference?

I asked her this morning why she called me Mumma. She didn't even pause for breath before she said "Because I love you Mumma."

Well Sugar Plum Lexie-Girl Fairy-Cakes Little-Legs Cheeky Tacker Mulvany, I love you too, and this is my love letter to you:

             Lexie, today I love you because:

  • You lick me when you are happy
  • You laugh with your whole body and mind and eyes and heart
  • You are a funky dancer who loves to move it move it ♫♫
  • Your tantrums are epic
  • You have the vocabularly of a teenager. Quite literally. Who else but a teenager or Lexie would dare tell their own Mumma "You are frustratin' me Mumma. Bugger off. Far out you are doin' my 'ead in." (And I am so ashamed yet still mightily impressed that you picked up all of these delightful phrases from me.)
  • You have style. Oh my, you have style. I wish I could carry it off as beautifully as you do. Grunge chick, princess, rock star, fairy, preppy, surfy grommet have the looks all sorted. How do you get that at age three? I am in awe. Hell, I am envious!
  • You love craft. Sticking and pasting bits of stuff onto other bits of stuff is your idea of heaven.
  • You can articulate phrases like "It's my absolute pleasure Mumma" but cannot yet pronounce "Play- Doh" preferring to call it "Play Plato" instead.
  • Your eyelashes are perfection
  • You smell of shortbread
  • You adore your siblings
  • You always save my feelings by telling me that you will "save it for later" with a conspiratorial nod, when you don't fancy what I have cooked for you.
Those are just the reasons I can think of TODAY. I have thousands more.

Mumma xxx
What do you love about your loved ones today?

Wednesday, 17 February 2010

Wednesday Wonder.......

Never mind plain old 'wonder', I am in SHOCK, I tell you!

Utter gobsmacking disbelief type of shock!

In a  good way there such a think as happy shock, I wonder?

So, here's the deal:

Some months ago I was chatting to my lovely husband about.....eeeek......the possibility of my looking into an abdominoplasty. A friend of a friend who is a doctor had told me I was a "perfect candidate" for an abdominoplasty.

He was as keen as mustard, for me. As was my husband.

An abdominoplasty is generally administered to women who have loose tissues after pregnancy. It can also apply for both men and woman who have excess tummy skin after a weight loss program. An abdominoplasty is used to tighten the skin over the stomach. It is the only remedy to remove baggy skin. Baggy skin means the portion of the skin which loses its elasticity. No amount of exercise and nutrition can be used to remove the fat that lines the skin in the abdominal wall.

In our discussions, one of the things that I stated was that I would only consider getting this done as a "reward" for myself once I got to goal weight.

Anyway, it has been an idea that has been hovering around for a while, and today I had my initial "let me find out a little more about this" appointment with a recommended plastic surgeon. (Not a cosmetic surgeon, incidentially. I have picked and chosen a plastics surgeon who is, apparently, the tummy tuck expert.)

I should probably be really honest here and tell you that the main reason I made this appointment is because my lovely husband has reminded me about it enough times for it to be nearly a nag. My main reasons for all previous dragging my heels on this are two fold:

  • I am not at my goal weight yet
  • I am sure we cannot justify the costs involved
So I really went for the fact finding appointment so that I could come home and tell lovely husband:

 "The surgeon says I need to lose another 15kg and it is gonna be too expensive at $15,000"

SO, imagine my happy shock and wonder as I drive home with all these things in my head that the surgeon told me:

"Your abdominal muscles are in great shape for someone who has has three successive pregnancies." (That is when I fell a little bit in love with him.) (And thank you to Lynda who has driven me mad over the past two years with all the work we have done on our abdominals.)

"You have evidently come a long way on your fitness journey to have such a tight core" (And I can feel my heart go all a flutter at this one!)

"You have evidently chosen to lose weight in a sensible and long term fashion to have lost so much so consistently". (By this stage I was weak at the knees in swooning love.)

 I could go on, but I won't. Oh, go on then, maybe one more: the best one:

"You do realise that you have a very slim build?" (By this stage I nearly grabbed the surgeon and stuck my tongue down his throat. I resisted. Just.

(Now, I was reminded recently on Facebook that apparently all surgeons says all this type of stuff to "market" their services to us? Maybe. I am not so sure. And I actually don't care!)

And his cost? This is the best bit: instead of the $15,000 which I had anticipated, only $1000.

Yep, between Medicare and my health fund, the total cost, including a very attractive (not) post operative binding, is $1000. Far out. Quite managable, budget wise.

(I have to point out, that sadly I have a HUGE revolting sagging lose bit of stomach skin that hangs down. My trainer once shook her head in disbelief when I asked her how to tackle the problem, explaining this to me:

"Your age, all those pregnancies and your previous obesity render your skins elasticity pretty much useless. No amount of diet or exercise will shift that Lucy. Sorry"

It is vile & uncomfortable. So yes, I am vain, but it also is quite painful during & after running. Hence my consideration of major abdominal surgery. Eeeeek!)

So. A glass of wine and some discussions on this wonderful discovery tonight, with lovely husband, I think.

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Tackle It Tuesday

I have a lot of shite to "tackle" at the moment. Most of which is a little too hum drum to chat about on here.

BUT, one thing I have been meaning to tackle, out of interest rather than necessity is this:

Phantom Fat. Ummmm. Charming phrase. But sadly a phenomena that kind of sometimes afflicts me.

According to the wonderful Word Spy:

"Body-image experts say it's not uncommon for people, especially women, who have lost a lot of weight to be disappointed to some extent to discover that they still aren't "perfect." The excess fat is gone when they reach their goal weight, but they may have sagging skin, cellulite or a body shape that they still deem undesirable. Some even continue to see themselves as though they are overweight.

Some specialists use the term "phantom fat" to refer to this phenomenon of feeling fat and unacceptable after weight loss.

"People who were formerly overweight often still carry that internal image, perception, with them," says Elayne Daniels, a psychologist in Canton, Mass., who specializes in body-image issues. "They literally feel as if they're in a large body still."
The reason this has come up again, for me, is the TV show The Biggest Loser.

I look at those contestants, specifially the female ones, and cannot see how I weigh less than them.

I'll give you an example:

Daina is currently 88.7kg. I look at her and think her figure is shaping up gorgeously! I am envious! (I currently weigh 87kg. I am not sure how tall she is, but you get my drift.)

Pheobe is currently 97.4kg. Looking good, but with a way to go. She looks how I still feel. But I am a fair bit less?

PLEASE note, I am NOT comparing myself with these women. Of course I get that we are all different and that we carry excess weight differently.

But I am curious, I guess, as to this "condition" which strikes me totally as a mental one?

Will I ever feel slim?


Will I ever have a correct sense of how my body really is? (Good and bad, fat or slim. Because I hate to say it, but at my top end weight of 111kg, I never actually felt obese. Weird.)

Confused about all this?

Yeah, me too. Not whining, just curious.

Thus far, in my Googling, I have not come across a solution. I shall, of course, continue to look for some answers.

In between times, if anyone has any bright ideas on this Phantom Fat bizzo, let me know?

Monday, 15 February 2010

Music Monday

Is it just me, or can your day sometimes just be made so positive, so brimming with optimism, by just a song?

This one really does it for me today.


Ace Of Base - Beautiful Morning

PLEASE, let me know of those songs you love: the ones that just make you feel so positive & they make you grin and make you want to be happy?

Sunday, 14 February 2010

Simple Sunday

Today is going to be a slow day. Sunday's are our slow day. Our simple Sunday.

I get a long awaited "lie in" whilst lovely husband deals with the three littlies.

(In actual fact, I use the time, not to lie in at all, but to go for a long steep and hilly walk with my lovely friend, Adele.)

Either way, it is my favourite day of the week.

Today's simple Sunday is also St Valentines Day.

Now, I have to share with you: this:

The lovely husband and I got together at the end of January 1996. And I was excited: how timely! A new bloke, just in time for Valentines Day! And I happily anticipated which restaurant he might chose to take me to, and I also, obviously, envisaged flowers and chocolates.


On about the 10th of February that year,  I "casually" asked him what we might be doing to celebrate St Valentines Day. He very sweetly turned to me, held both of my hands, and said:

"But I just do not do Valentines Day. It is crass commercialism and just an excuse invented by the greeting card companies to bleed money out of people. I will love you today and every day of every year. I will try and show you how much I love you every day. But can we please just not do Valentines day?"

Oh. Okay then.

So, we don't.

Lovely husband, if you ever read my blog, I hear you.

I do not need a special day to understand that you love me. I do not need a special day to realise how much I, in turn, love you. I do not need a special day to celebrate "us".

I love you shed loads. You are the best husband, with the nicest arse, that I could ever wish for. The best Daddy. I would be, quite simply, bereft without you. After all these years,  you make me smile like no one else can ever do.

And so, on our simple Sunday, I will say this, quite simply: " I love you."

Anyone else out there in Blog land that doesn't "do" Valentines Day?

Saturday, 13 February 2010

Sexy Saturday

Ok, well first of all, I am still hung up on the thought of fresh figs.

I cannot get them out of my head.

There are several reasons for my fig fixation:

  • In ALL of my many childhood homes, the gardens contained fig trees. Which I climbed. To pick, and of course, eat the figs. There is nothing more delicious than scrumping for figs.

  • They are a very sexy fruit. Look at this snap and tell me it is not erotic?

  • They are in season at the moment. I pace around my local streets every morning, and see fig trees in all of the gardens, netted to save themselves from birds, heavy with ripening fig fruit. (I love that I live in an area that, only 30 years ago, was given over to market gardens. And that this vibe of slow food has stuck. And that I cover so many miles on my morning runs to notice. Thank Goddess for that.)

  • My friend has the surname Fico, which means "fig", apparently, in Italian. She used to use "ripe & exotic" as a pick up trick. That is so cool.
So of course, after gathering a stash of figs, my first port of call for a recipe is to Google.

And then I realise that no matter how good all the recipe hits may appear, a salad is the absolute maximum interference that these divine fruit need.

Baked Goat's Cheese & Fig Salad Recipe -

Aside from that, a bowl of figs and a knife would be all I actually need. Actually, it was all I needed. I just ate 6!

Friday, 12 February 2010

Foodie Friday

I know that this whole blog is supposed to be about dieting and fitness and all that palava. And I am doing very well, in general, with the whole "making good food choices" bizzo.

But all I could think of today with regard to blogging was food. Cooking with the kids. (Figs are featuring way way up there too.)

So I thought I would spend some time hunting down a perfect summer salad that involved some sexy figs?

But I also wanted to spend some chilled out time: cooking in our pj's type of time, with my youngest two little tackers: Charlie and Lexie.

But I also wanted to get over to see my beautiful friend Rosanne. She has the calming ability to bring so much peaceful sanity into my world.

As soon as I mentioned the possibility of seeing Rosanne to Charlie his smile turned into a full wattage grin and he said "Maybe at Rosanne's we can do some cooking of some treaty type things?".

Decision made.

And so we did.

We made cheese scones together.

The serene Rosanne and my children baked. Lexie dusted her floury handprints all over the furniture. I poured my heart out to the ever empathetic Rosanne. Charlie measured and stirred and mixed and concentrated and became absorbed in the cooking of a treaty thing.

Just watching them, when I remember to be still and quiet: they all bring me such peace and joy.

Especially, I should say, those cheese scones..........

What little thing brings you joy today?

To comfort and nurture

What is it with some comfort foods? They have the ability to sooth us for a little while, but then the guilt kicks in, and all of the nurturing focus is gone, replaced, for me at any rate, with a sad feeling of addiction.

So, in my constant search for things that will comfort me and nurture me that are NOT carb and fat laden guilt inducing piles of pale food, I am so glad I have been reminded of fresh herbs........

And the actual eating of this particular comfort food is kind of like the icing on the cake: the final stage of the comfort & nurture process. There is a whole load of comforting going on before that!

Let me explain:

My beautiful husband loves me enough to want to make me a herb garden

He encourages me to get the hell out of the house child-free to investigate and purchase herb seedlings

He gently coaxes it all to grow: his pottering is a peaceful thing to watch

The kids water these fledgeling comforters for me, with joy and importance

I feel a little bit of smug smuggedy smugness come upon me when I see the herbs bursting with lush life out of my kichen window

I can spend a happy few hours with my stash of cook books and favourite foodie sites planning herb infused meals for the self imposed gluts of greenery we create

It makes healthy food taste so good

So can you see why herbs are my true comfort food?

What is your favourite herb? Or indeed your favourite comfort food?

This was a Blog This challenge entry, and now it is a part of Life In A Pink Fibro's Weekend Rewind -

Thursday, 11 February 2010

I miss this place today....

.....for no other reason that I am having a sad day, feeling like I am missing some friends, missing the Territorian beat of life.

Missing Loreena, missing Joanie, missing Rick.

Missing the water and the tropical buzz and hum.

Missing that laid back fluidity in my bones.

You know how sometimes you just want to be somewhere else for a while?

Darwin will always be that place for me. Lee Point beach especially. Especially.

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Think Success, Think Slim

One of the many tools in my dieting toolbox is self guided hypnotherapy.

Without a shadow of a doubt, the combined tools of relaxation and mind-re-programming has been vital for me.

Having the hypnotherapy to "fall back on" in terms of motivation and support has been integral for my overall motivation.

This journey of health is a long one for me. Slow and steady. And being able to focus my motivation and my efforts by lying down in the cool of a darkened room at night, listening to self guided relaxation CD's and MP3 tracks continues to be a treat. A very effective treat.

There are, of course, various different hpnotherapists out there. The media have recently "discovered" what they have coined as "hypno-dieting" through the successes of the likes of Lily Allen, who have lost weight through utilising Neuro Linguistic Programming via hypnotherapy.

I feel a little smug, because I have been utilising hypnotherapy for a while. It has helped me sleep, helped me give birth painlessly, enabled me to stop smoking for good.

Obviously I have also utlised hypnotherapy for my weight loss too.

My favourite, in terms of content, voice, message and overall effectiveness is a clear cut winner:

Think Slim

I am not usually in the business of "touting" weight loss products, but I kind of figure that if it genuinely works for me, then credit where credit is due.......
The service and support I have recieved from this organisation has also been quite incredible too. Plus, of course, it is Australian. So, overall, a winner! Below is a newsletter which illustrates some really cool success stories.

Think Success Newsletter

Off to retire now, to the cool of my bedroom to listen to another Think Slim session..........

Music to move it.....

Ages ago I posted about how I had been dragged into the new milenium with an ipod

Now that I am running alone a couple of mornings a week, the whole iPod thing has really come into its own.

And as many of you will realise, eeeek, I am now over 40, so the eighties are, tragically, my era, musically.

At the moment I cannot go past this particular gem:

It is SO SO SO cheesily good!

It gets me literally pounding the streets. And Bonnie Tylers ♫ Holding Out For a Hero ♫ is as good now as it was way back when.

So, if anyone out there has any other top tragic picks to get me moving in the morning, please let know?

Tuesday, 9 February 2010


"Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves"

Ahhh, JM Barrie, I like that quote such a lot. I am not even sure that it is from Peter Pan, but either way, my Dad used to quote it to me on happy days. And when the sun is shining, when life is grand, I cannot help but recall it.

Anyway, the reason for me wittering on about sunshine is twofold.

Firstly it is HOT here in Adelaide......I am literally dripping sweat onto my keyboard.

But, thank goddess for the air con that we put in last winter. Thank you thank you thank you for the blissful chill of our bedrooms. (Couldn't afford to do our retreat as yet, as it is an acre sized room. Maybe next winter. Please. Drip drip!)

And secondly, I am blessed by the lovely Kellyansapansa: I've Got Sunshine ... with another blog award! Thank you Kelly.

Now, I think that I am supposed to tell you all about a whole host of other blogs that spread a little sunshine.

I am not a follower of that many blogs yet, but here are more than a handful that really make me smile: