A Spectacular Performance -Weekend Coffee Share: November 29.

This week, you’re invited on a virtual cafe crawl as we catch the train from Woy Woy to Sydney. Have breakfast in Glebe then drive two hour’s North via the Sydney Harbour Bridge to the Hunter Valley and then back down to Parramatta in Western Sydney and back home again. I assure you with this grueling schedule, you will require every single coffee and no doubt a few nature stops along the way.

The last week has been truly incredible.

Before we get onto my daughter’s performance at School Spectacular, I just wanted to touch on a bit of a shadow which hung over things last week.

You see, my daughter was concerned about being caught up in a terrorist attack while she was in Sydney. Of course, being a kid, she didn’t express her concerns so succinctly. She simply asked where she could buy herself her own armour after seeing Police with bullet-proof vests on TV. I had a chat with her about it all, advising her on a few things she could do if she was in an emergency, which I outlined in this post: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/11/25/a-conversation-no-parent-should-have/

I have to admit that even though I knew the chances of her getting caught up in a terrorist attack were very unlikely, there was that remote possibility and there’s definitely that sense that trouble’s brewing at the moment but we don’t have that crystal ball.

Anyway, off she went and on Friday morning, I caught the train down to Sydney with our son and the rest of the local kids. It was only a four carriage train and it was packed, mostly with kids. As we were about to head over the Hawkesbury River Bridge, the lady next to me turns to me and says: “The guy next to me asked me to mind his bags while he went to the toilet but he hasn’t come back and he’s been awhile. I’ve got to get off. I can’t remember what he looked like. He might have been tanned but what does a terrorist look like anyway?”

Now, let me just put you right into my shoes. Here I am on a train packed with school kids including my son, my friends’ kids, friends of friends kids and the teachers who are like family to me and suddenly I’m in charge of potentially deadly situation. I’ve heard the announcement countless times while waiting on train platforms. If you see unattended luggage, please report it to station staff. This was exactly what they were talking about. At the same time, I looked at the large bag of Christmas presents, all beautifully wrapped in Christmas paper, wondering how they could possibly blow anyone up? How could Christmas presents ever be considered dangerous, even deadly? I noticed the intercom for the guard nearby and gave him 10 minutes to return. I was hoping that he’d been eating plenty of fibre and it wasn’t going to be a legitimate (but very extended) call of nature and I’d just caused pointless stress.

This was a lot to take onboard, especially after my chat with my daughter. I certainly didn’t expect to be thrown in the dead end like this. It was all supposed to be over-active imagination and now I’d somehow become embroiled in a plot, which was way too big for this little black duck.

Illustrator Sarah Davis

Of course, the fact that I’d been to a three hour writing workshop with Australian Illustrator, Sarah Davies the day before, didn’t do much to appease my imagination. Suddenly, I’d become the reluctant hero but what if I made a mistake? It was a huge responsibility!!

Fortunately, the man returned and calm was restored. I could get back to reading my book. I was in the Quiet Carriage while the kids were in what could only be described as “the loud carriages”.

This was the second false alarm I’ve had recently. You might recall that the day before the Paris attacks, we had four Army Black Hawk helicopters flying just above the rooftops of our quiet beach-side town. They were circling around doing lap after lap after lap and while I wasn’t thinking about terrorists, having a very dangerous criminal on the loose wasn’t desirable either. But…that was also a false alarm.

However, we made it to Sydney rather uneventfully in the end and I was able to meet up with Miss before her grand performance.

 

Miss Spectacular

Our daughter performed with her school choir at School Spectacular, an absolutely huge extravaganza held at the Sydney Entertainment Centre. They were part of a huge mass choir, a sea of white shirts made up of 1500 kids singing 30 songs and doing actions. They did 4 performances over two days and had a pretty intensive rehearsal schedule as well. I am surprised any of them were still upright by the end.

Finale- School Spectacular, Sydney Entertainment Centre.

As we live in Greater Sydney and about 90 minutes away, Miss ended up staying across the road for almost a week with her friend’s grandmother. They were staying nearby 53 levels above the ground with the most incredible views of Sydney. She was so blessed and having her there made things so much easier for me with juggling transport.

Here I am enjoying the view from where Miss was staying.

While Miss was living the high life, I booked Geoff and I into the cheapest accommodation I could find which wasn’t above a pub. It wasn’t too bad but when we checked it out on Google Earth, we did notice some kind of Chinese massage parlor next door and Mum did warn me to make sure Geoff didn’t disappear during the night. The place had a pretty dodgy metal fire escape out the back and while comfortable,could well have been the sort of place a fugitive would hide out. Needless to say, there were no views from our hotel room. Indeed, I’m not even sure there was a window.

Hotel Carpark.

Saturday morning, we headed off to Glebe for breakfast. We had intended to have breakfast at Glebe Markets, where I used to hang out several lifetimes ago but we couldn’t find parking and after weaving out way through a series of dead end and one way streets, we found ourselves sitting at the first cafe we could find on St Johns Road and refueled with coffees, an almond croissant and omelette.

Rebel Red Shoes.

I should also point out that I was wearing really dodgy shoes and could barely walk. After breaking my foot last December, I’ve virtually spent the year in joggers but as we were going to my cousin’s wedding, I just couldn’t resist wearing my fave red shoes. They have wedge heels and being flat on the bottom, I can sort of walk in them but it’s definitely a case of “Ricketty Ro” and much of the time, I have to hold onto Geoff’s arm for dear life.

While I have nothing approaching a shoe fetish and wear sensible shoes almost all the time, sometimes I just want to step out there and feel a bit pretty, elegant, frivolous and NOT a matron or person living with  disability. Be myself. If you haven’t worked out the obvious by now. I am not a sensible person so why should I wear sensible shoes?

Driving Across the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

 

Moving right along, we’re having our next coffee in Kurri Kurri in the Hunter Valley. Kurri Kurri is a coal-mining town on the gateway into the Hunter Valley, one of Australia’s most famous wine-producing regions. Like many regional towns looking to put themselves on the tourist map, the town has rebadged itself as “The Town of Murals”. Fifty murals, each with a hidden kookaburra, have been painted around town: http://www.kurrikurri.com/kurri-kurri-murals-project/

More Coffee…Kurri Kurri Tourist Information Centre.

After over compensating for Sydney traffic congestion, we arrived at Kurri Kurri 2 hours before the wedding. Needing another caffeine hit (make that a strong one, please!) we stopped off at the Visitor’s Information Centre for great coffee and Caramel Slice before driving our town checking out the murals.

Red Bus Mural, Kurri Kurri.

Next stop, was my cousin’s wedding. This was so exciting that my trigger-happy camera finger went into overdrive and I’m surprised I haven’t developed some form of RSI. The wedding and reception were beautifully intimate and included personal wishes from the groom’s grandparents, which just added a certain magic.

We drove home last night and had my uncle to stay. Made him pancakes for breakfast and must’ve totally exhausted myself as I didn’t photograph his visit at all.

Drove down to Sydney to pick up the kids and head off to the Muscular Dystrophy NSW Annual Christmas Party, which is so generously put on by the staff at the Commonwealth Bank in Parramatta. This is a real extravaganza and the kids loved playing on the slot car rack and enjoyed the arrival of Santa and their presents. I was particularly thrilled to meet up with other members…friends I’ve made at an Adventure Camp I’ve attended. This is my community.

Mister with Santa

Right now, I’m ready to hang up my red shoes. “There’s no place like home” and a deep sleep!

I hope you’ve enjoyed our coffee and I look forward to topping up the caffeine levels when I pop over your way.

This has been part of the Weekend Coffee Share. Here’s the linky: http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=585846

Love & Best wishes,

Rowena

PS Bilbo and Lady have made an an appearance at the Weekly Pet Share November Round-up. It’s a great post! https://hopethehappyhugger.wordpress.com/2015/11/30/weekly-pet-share-november-round-up/

A Conversation No Parent Should Have.

Last night, I had a conversation with my nine year old daughter which no parent should ever need to have. We talked about what to do in the event of a terrorist attack.

I didn’t instigate this conversation but I didn’t shut it down either.

My daughter is performing at a large event in a capital city and Australia is on a high terrorist alert. While a terrorist attack at her performance is unlikely, it’s not impossible. In the past, our geographical isolation  has protected us from global conflicts. However, isolation can so longer save our precious country from what happens “over there”. It has already happened here more than once and a former work colleague of mine was among the hostages in the Sydney Siege this time last year. So, I know first hand that these things can happen to you or someone you love.

While this awareness could turn you into a victim, being a Scouting family,  my thoughts were for her to “Be Prepared”. That this isn’t a time to stick our heads in the sand…especially when she has concerns.

Our daughter simply asked Daddy where she could buy a suit of armor. He told her that you couldn’t buy them and that he thought they were illegal. I’m not sure if he said any more but I decided to follow up her question. Given events in Paris and, as much as I have minimized exposure to the news, I knew what she was really saying. She is afraid of a terrorist attack.

When I was her age, a notorious murderer broke out of jail and I was terrified. In my mind, he was heading straight to our place and I was locking the windows and barring the doors. My Dad reassured me, talking about the likelihood of him turning up at our place, a tactic he has often used since and is a classic approach to reducing anxiety. He also told me that he would protect me and knowing that my Dad was some kind of super hero, I believed him. Of course, he didn’t turn up and Dad retained his incredible super powers.

If we were dealing with the same kind of threat, I would give my kids much the same kind of advice. I’d also tell them that our dog, Bilbo, would fight to the death to save us. We all know that while he looks cute and fluffy, he knows how to be ferocious and would die for us.  No questions asked. He’s a dog!

Our Philosophical Dog walking along beside the tide. He doesn’t like getting wet paws.

However, these terrorists aren’t operating by the old, conventional rules. These days, having a simple cup of coffee or going to a football match or a concert, can be life threatening. These terrorists are striking at the ordinary, which means that your average Jo(e) needs to be prepared.

Obviously, a writer-poet without any military training, is definitely no expert on surviving a terrorist attack. However, I read how people survived inside the Bataclan Theatre and have also had my dose of TV to add to the mix.

This was my advice:

1. Try to stay calm and think. Keep breathing.
2. Find the exits. If you are close to an exit, try to get out. Getting out safely is your best option.
3. Hide. Try hiding under your seat.
4. Pretend your dead.
5. When you’re outside, find the Police.

I forgot to mention about listening to her teacher. We know her really well. Of course, she would look after our children like her own but under exceptional circumstances, Miss might just have to do the bolt.

My daughter exudes such joie de vivre dancing at the beach. She shouldn’t have to think about shadows!

While the chances of her being caught up in  a terrorist attack are slim, talking about what to do in an emergency is a good idea. That’s why we have things like fire drills and we just can’t assume that we will be with our child in an emergency. Or, that we won’t get separated in the chaos, like an Australian father and his 12 year old son in the Bataclan Theatre.

Indeed, the day of the Paris Attacks, we had a severe hailstorm here. I had just ducked out for a few minutes and while I was gone, the hail smashed through a section of roof. Rain was pouring in and we had to get the State Emergency Service out to put up a tarpaulin. We’ve been living in this house for 14 years and I’m pretty sure it’s the first hailstorm we’ve ever had. So, the unexpected can happen in all different shapes and sizes and a few survival skills go along way. That, in addition to book knowledge, we all need life skills. We need to know how to get through a crisis. How to save ourselves.

For my daughter, too, knowledge also means being empowered. She has some skills. She has some ideas about what to do and how to respond. So, instead of going into a panic, she can be level-headed and perhaps even help others in all sorts of emergencies.

So, I’ve now come round to thinking that this is the sort of conversation all parents need to have with their kids. Not just about terrorism but about how to respond in an emergency. Children might be young but they’re incredibly resourceful and being small can be quite an advantage. Being good at hide & seek could even save their life.

Being prepared isn’t giving in to worry. Instead of weakness, you’re actually coming from a position of strength.

If you have ever read the words of La Marseillaise, fighting the good fight is what it’s all about. We don’t lie back and let the bastards win.

▶ 5:21

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4K1q9Ntcr5g

 

Take care and and I feel we are all particularly conscious of just how precious our loved ones and our communities are and I continue to pray for some kind of resolution and a new beginning.

Our Family 2014- Byron Bay Lighthouse, Australia.

I would be interested to know your thoughts. We really do live in a new world where the old rules no longer apply. Now, the anticipated target could indeed be the exception. While this doesn’t make sense, this is our new reality.

xx Rowena

 

This is How the World Responded to the Terrorism in Paris on Friday

It It IItIt

Kindness Blog

A Global, united response to the 13th November 2015 Paris attacks.

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Australia

 

Sydney.

Photo by Daniel Munoz.

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Brazil

 

The Planalto Palace in Brasilia lit in the colors of the French flag.

Photo by Ueslei Marcelino.

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Canada

 

Outside the French Embassy in Ottawa.

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China

 

The Oriental Pearl TV tower is lit in the colors of the French flag.

Photo by Aly Song in Shanghai.

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Egypt

 

A projection onto an ancient pyramid at Giza.

Photo by Amr Dalsh.

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England

 

Outside the French Embassy in London.

Photo by Suzanne Plunkett.

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Germany

 

Outside the French Embassy in Berlin.

Photo by Suzanne Plunkett.

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India

 

Colors of the French flag on Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, Mumbai. (The location of a terrorist attack in 2008)

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Israel

 

At a ceremony in Tel Aviv.

Photo by Baz Ratner.

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Kuwait

 

Kuwait…

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Finding balance…

Could education help prevent terrorism? This post has some great insights and quotes xx Rowena

Time for my thoughts...

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

— Nelson Mandela

As I sit here, thinking about what to write for my Sunday post this week – on Saturday, for a change because I’m unable to give any thought at all to my fictional NaNo world right now, I, who usually have no problem with words at all, am very nearly stumped. It’s not that the words aren’t here, in my head, it’s just that they don’t seem to be finding their way onto paper in any form that makes sense.

So out of the word soup that is filling my head, I need to manage to write both this blog post, and…

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In which I tell you how your religion works

If you’re interested in a solid mental workout relating the Syrian Refuge Crisis, you should check this out xx Rowena

Welcome to infinitefreetime dot com

I am not a Christian.  That fact has probably been perfectly clear for a very long time; it doesn’t take a whole lot of reading around here to figure it out.

What may be less clear to non long-time visitors: Chances are I know way more about Christianity than you do.  Is that a guarantee?  No, not at all.  But most of you don’t have a Master’s degree in Biblical studies.  I do.  And I got it from one of the best divinity schools in the country.  So chances are I know more about Christianity and Western religion in general than you do.

I’ve been thinking about Jesus a lot in the last few days.  Maybe I should go full wanker here and call him Yeshua, or something, to rid him of some of the cruft that’s accumulated over the past 2000 years, but the point is I’ve spent a…

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The Wisdom of Gratitude? #1000speak

Don’t talk to me about gratitude and being thankful for adversity. That worn out line about “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” has worn painfully thin with me.

Not that I’m one to complain. Of course not, I’m thankful. Always sunny side-up no matter what!

 

The kids and I taken during my 7 week stint in hospital 2007. Mister was 3.5 and Miss was 18 months old.

I personally don’t see any reason to be grateful that my life has been hanging in the balance for the last 9 years and that my daughter has spent every single day of her life with a mother living on the brink of death…sometimes more imminently than others. My son was 2, so things for him weren’t much better. When I was hospitalised for 7 weeks when they were small, my son stopped cutting, writing and developed acute anxiety…just even driving on a bumpy road: “slow down, Mummy”.  When I was in hospital and he looked at me through his huge brown eyes and blond curls and asked “Mummy better?” a knife plunged straight through my heart. We didn’t know if, when or how I was going to get better. So, I said nothing.

I didn’t feel any gratitude at all. I was angry. Actually, angry doesn’t cut it. Enraged. So incredibly sad I could have drowned in my own tears and yet as I fought so hard to save my life, the pain was so intense and I just wanted to die. I know that mightn’t make a lot of sense but who does in a crisis?

So often, I’ve felt like I’m being swept away by the tide and yet I’m still standing.

You hear parents talk about the loss of a child and the unfathomable grief. How a parent is meant to die before their child. However, that doesn’t include the parent dying, at least in my book, when your precious children are still babies and Mummy isn’t even perceived as a separate being but part of themselves. It doesn’t mean children growing up without any memories of Mummy at all and just a bunch of photographs and other people’s words.

That is absolute, pure anguish.

It goes way beyond the disappointment I felt not being able to kick the football to my then 2 year old son or my heartbreak when I was too weak to get out of my chair after breastfeeding our daughter to sleep and my husband would carry her into her cot. Or, when we all had our day time naps and I couldn’t immediately jump out of bed to comfort my crying child because my muscles were literally being eaten away. I couldn’t move.

This all culminated in a horrendous fall at home when I was lying face down on the concrete unable to get up at all and my daughter was screaming, my son was somewhere and my husband was working in the Sydney CBD two hours away. The muscles I needed to get up off the floor had atrophied or wasted away. I can’t describe what it feels like when your very own home becomes a life-threatening battlefield.

However, while I wasn’t grateful at the time, I’m grateful now.

I am very grateful that after months of medical tests and misdiagnosis that my uncle, a dermatologist, finally worked out what was wrong when he saw me at my cousin’s wedding and rang me afterwards and booked the necessary tests. I was hospitalised for 7 weeks 2 days later. I was so sick that he told me to have complete rest. My muscles were breaking down and I can’t quite remember whether all this placed me at risk of a heart attack or what but I was very, very ill…diagnosed with a very rare neuro-muscular auto-immune disease called dermatomyositis.

My uncle literally saved my life.

Secondly, while my diagnosis was nasty and I was told there was a risk I had cancer and I’d be on prednisone for a very long time, I had treatment. This wasn’t a death sentence, although my case was severe and also quite resistant to treatment.

However, as much as the dermatomyositis was resistant to treatment, my medical team has been eternally persistent. I have a rheumatologist. lung specialist and a gastroenterologist who work together to fight this disease. I’ve had transfusions of Immunoglobulin or IVIG for 5 years every 3 weeks. As the disease started to cause inflammation and fibrosis in my lungs, they blasted it with chemo. They have metaphorically held my hand when the disease has flared and things have looked exceptionally grim and they re-jigged my treatment, asked our questions and simply been there for us and done their best. Right through, they’ve known I had young kids and what it would mean to lose their mum and they’ve given our fight their all.

Another reason I was particularly angry when I was diagnosed with dermatomyositis was that this was my second, exceptionally rare life-threatening disease and I wasn’t even 40. I’d been diagnosed with hydrocephalus when I was 25, which may have been caused by a very difficult birth and I’d had brain surgery to insert a VP shunt. I’d lost a couple of years recovering from that at a point in my life when i was supposed to be fun…not thinking about dying.

However, my neurologist has always been equally supportive. I wasn’t alone.

A family photo with Bilbo as a pup Mother’s Day, 2007.

Speaking about not being alone, my family has been incredible. Not always perfect or handled things the way I would or would have liked but they’ve stood by me. My mother has put in an incredible effort with helping with our kids, supported by my Dad and brother as has Geoff’s sister and her husband. Friends have helped with minding the kids, lifts, talking them through some difficult moods and providing meals and encouragement. Churches have prayed for us and simply cared. We had support of Muscular Dystrophy NSW and the Myositis Association as well as local support agencies. Scouts has provided the kids with a space that’s fun and physically challenging away from the stress at home and this extra layer of community support and love is helping them to overcome adversity and feel strong in themselves. That they can stand on their own two feet. That they’ll be okay.

I consciously give thanks for each and every extra year I have because I already feel like I’ve exceeded my quota and that I’m well into extra time. Moreover, I’m doing pretty well at the moment.

Our Family 2014- Byron Bay Lighthouse, Australia. The shadow is omnipresent but the darker the shadow, the brighter the light.

Just the fact that I’m still breathing is such a reason to give thanks but I’m not just breathing. I’m able to bring up my children. Be a wife to my husband, even if I am a liability. I can be a daughter to my parents and a somewhat active member of our local community…especially through photographing events. I also have what has become a very rare gift…time. I have always been very career focused and I haven’t been able to work since I had chemo 2 years ago. That would have destroyed the old me but now, in addition to my family, I have my blog, my writing, photography and so much more. All of this being very much proof that even when your world totally blows up and you feel totally decimated, you can salvage good things from the ashes and have so much to give thanks for.

So, even though I still live with dermatomyositis and am down to 59% lung capacity and live with incredibly uncertainty, I am still here.

The reason I am still here is due to medical research, science and my doctors. That even though there isn’t a cure for dermatomyositis, there is TREATMENT. Not just something that will give me an extra few months, and really little more than a delaying tactic…a matter of buying a little more, very precious time. I’ve been living with this for 9 years.

So while I am being thankful for the medical research which has kept me alive, I’d also ask you to think about those who currently don’t have effective treatment options and where funding for medical research is so desperately needed.

A friend of mine was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease a few years ago and was given 2-3 years to live and thank goodness is still with us. How I long to give her that magic pill which would instantly make for better, or at least, stop that disease in its tracks. The same with Muscular Dystrophy. These disease are both savage and while there have been improvements, so much more needs to be done and these diseases are so debilitating. Muscular Dystrophy also affects young people. They are the most courageous, inspirational young people I know but they are still young and treatment would make such a difference both for them and their families.

My son blew me away when he made a heart with his hands. His hands and arms were caked in green paint and I doctored the photo to produce this.

Another point of gratitude, last but not least, I am grateful for God’s guiding hand through all of this. My relationship with God hasn’t been easy through all of this. I have all the questions so many people also going through adversity have asked: “Why me?”, “Why does a loving God allow or perhaps even caused such suffering?”, “Why doesn’t he just pick us up and out of the road of disaster?” These questions are not easy to answer and I don’t believe there is one size fits all solution either. That God speaks to each of us differently, personally in a voice and message we can understand. I remember waking up one morning in hospital feeling so betrayed by God…absolutely rejected. It was like God focused all his wrath on little old me and pointed the almighty finger and ZAP…I was fried. However, it was a bit freaky for in the midst of my tirade with God, I heard this voice: “If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for you!”.

At least, I wasn’t being crucified. Things were looking up!

I’ve heard people with disabilties of chronic health issues say that they wouldn’t change their situation. That it’s part of who they are. However, I would do anything to get rid of the dermatomyositis and live without it’s omnipresent shadow.

In the meantime, I am grateful for all the love, encouragement and support I’ve had along the road. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Love & best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

 

 

Iced Coffee + Heat Wave …Weekend Coffee Share.

If we were having coffee today, you’d be asking for extra ice with your iced coffee or tea. You’d even thank me for pouring ice down your back or offering an ice-filled bath!

Indeed, temperatures shot up to 43° C or 109.4° F and it was so hot, that my eyes actually burned. Desperately seeking relief, I evacuated to an air-conditioned oasis…printing photos out at K-mart. It was my husband’s birthday and due to the heat, I put off making a cake and we went out for dinner to an air-conditioned venue. While we have air-conditioning at home, we don’t like the financial aftershock. Much better to use someone else’s!

Happy Birthday, Geoff!

So, how are you? How was your week?

If we were having coffee, I’d have to tell you that I’m feeling better this week. That’s not to say that I’m fine but at least, I’m not feeling shell-shocked anymore after last week’s damaging hailstorm and events in Paris https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/11/15/weekend-coffee-share-paris-and-the-week-that-was/.

You might enjoy reading I post I wrote about recovering from the storm, especially after the physical damage has been fixed but the emotional scars remain: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/11/17/recovery-after-the-storm/.

I also really enjoyed this post from Diana at Part-Time Monster who had a very “interesting” bath during a storm: http://parttimemonster.com/2015/11/18/how-to-take-a-bath-when-its-storming-in-20-easy-ish-steps/

A week after the Paris attacks, I’m not quite sure what’s what. Stories about the survivors and the dead, have been truly chilling. I felt such empathy for the victims. I celebrated my 22nd birthday in Paris and been in their shoes walking those streets. Hung out in Parisian cafes drinking cafe cremes. I felt numb. Yet, Monday morning still came around again and the routine started up again without me. I had to really slap myself. Reality check. It really annoys, even grieves me, that life callously moves forward without so much as a glance over its shoulder. Doesn’t shed a tear.

However, if we’re not to remain victims and if we’re going to be prepared for the inevitable terrorist attacks to come, lying face down in the mud isn’t an option. Indeed, the Parisians took to the streets singing “La Marseillaise“. They’re not going to sit back and let the terrorists win!

By the way, I just thought I’d Google to words of that and it’s no wonder the Parisians are singing it with such gusto. It’s more than just a national anthem. It’s a call to arms: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Marseillaise 

With the horrors of last week, I completely forgot to mention our good news. Our daughter has been accepted into what’s known as an Opportunity Class for her last 2 years of Primary school. These classes are for high achieving students and they need to sit an entry test. It’s going to be quite a commute but she’s really keen to go.

For all of you taking part in Nano, how are you going?

Although I’m not doing it, all the talk of word counts has got me going.  Although storm damage to the office stonkered progress on the Book Project, I participated in a flash fiction challenge at Carrot Ranch writing about the incredible connection of holding hands https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/11/17/flash-fiction-11th-nov-2015/

I’ve also completely  re-written a manuscript for a kid’s book I wrote about 5 years ago and am really pleased with the results. The original was way too long and this version is well under 1000 words. It’s currently “stewing”, allows all those creative juices to penetrate the page and mature.

However, I must also confess that I have a lot of “stews” experiencing total neglect and it wouldn’t surprise me if the dogs have even eaten a few. Leaving stew unattended around here is a very risky business. Indeed, we’ve lost a couple of meat pies lately.

I’ve taken the dogs for a few beach walks this week.

Moving forward to next week, Monday morning I’m getting stuck back into the book project. I’m aiming for Monday because, as everyone knows, everything starts on a Monday…diets, exercise. No more pressing the snooze button on more fronts than I’d dare to mention!

Little Miss in front of our Morris Minor.

Next week, Miss will be performing in a huge, multi-school choir as part of School Spectacular to be held at the Sydney Entertainment Centre. It’s a huge deal to be a part of this and so exciting. I don’t even know if we’ll even be able to spot her on stage but it’s an opportunity of a lifetime. We’ll definitely be needing our binoculars.

Happy Birthday Daddy/Geoff!

If we were having coffee, I would also tell you that today was my husband’s birthday. He’s been away at a conference for work this week and it’s been great to have him back. His main present has been a memory book. Both Geoff’s parents had passed away before we were married and so the children have never met their grandparents but are very close to my parents so I wanted to even things up a bit. This is one of those store-bought pre-printed books with headings and spaces for memories and photographs. Rather than having it all written out and finished, I’ve made a pretty good start and plan to get Geoff and his sisters to contribute. This is one instance where you really do need to know what you’re writing about.

I’ve taken the dogs for a few beach walks this week.

It’s now Saturday and thank goodness the heat has eased and we’ve had a blessed cool change. Rain is threatening and there are strong winds, roaring like  a rough surf. Took the dogs for a walk along the beach today and chatted with a friend. Needed that.

I hope that you’ve all had a good week and that somehow your faith in humanity has somehow been restored. That there have been some uplifting moments as we as a global community try to live with the lurking shadows of terrorism and try to reach some kind of solution.That will no doubt be requiring some kind of super-strength cup of coffee but we need to have faith and we need to keep trying. Never give up!

Meanwhile, our prayers go out to those affected by terrorist attacks in Mali yesterday.

Go on check out the other coffee share posts over on Diana’s Blog Part-Time Monster and join the linky yourself!

Love & God Bless!

xx Rowena

 

 

 

 

Refrigerated Australian!

It was so hot today that my son sought relief from the heat by cooling off inside the refrigerator! It made a comic alternative to the usual scenario of the teenager raiding the fridge, fueling what seems like one continuous growth spurt.

The forecast tomorrow is for 42 degrees celsius. That’s the sort of heat which surely must fry an egg on the footpath. Indeed, tomorrow we might just give it a go…all in the name of “investigative journalism” ie blogging.

How’s the weather going over your way? Seems we’re mostly either frying and burnt or starting to freeze. I’ve seen a few snow scenes starting to appear. Would love to see some links to all sorts of landscapes in the comments. This could be quite a laugh.

Of course, Paris is still on my mind and I’m sort of following the updates, I don’t like having the news on a lot around the kids and they’ve each had a day off this week. I am also concerned about hearing about more attacks and I treading a bit carefully at the moment. How about you?

Anyway, had a laugh finding my son and in the fridge, Seems like a good idea!

Take care!

xx Rowena

Great Book for Writers…NaNo or Not

This a note to self and a recommendation to chase this book up. Thanks Sarah for spreading the word. Sounds like her husband deserves a blogging award for being a supportive partner. xx Rowena

Lemon Shark

I’ve never written a book review on here before.

And I’m not going to.

I will say that this book is made of awesome.

I’m late to the party. I should have posted about No Plot? No Problem! in October before all you nutty NaNos took on the completely insane challenge of finishing a book in thirty days.

But I’m here now. Because I am having a problem. A writing problem. (I’ll post more about that later.)

So I was searching my bookshelves for some inspiration when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a marvelous book sat unread for two years! And in November, to boot. Before I write another word, let me say I have never participated in NaNoWriMo. And. Yet.

This is a stupendously marvelous writing book. Yup. It’s all that and a bag of chips.

Oh, no! Not (another) book about writing.

Well, technically, it…

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Holding Hands: Flash Fiction 11th Nov, 2015

Today, I’ve joined in a weekly flash fiction challenge with Charli Mills from Carrot Ranch http://carrotranch.com/

The prompt for November 11, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about a place of comfort that is a refuge. Have fun with it, like a pillow fight between best friends at a slumber party or newlyweds in search of the perfect mattress. Or you can go dark and write about unusual comforts, like a bad habit or a padded cell. Play with the idea of comfort and refuge.

Respond by November 17, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation. Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

 

“Mum, it’s time,” whispered a familiar voice.

Yet, Margaret couldn’t bear to let him go. Not yet! There wasn’t much left of Jack but she could still hold his hand.

Now, as their entire lives had shrunk into this infernal hospital room, holding Jack’s hand was it. All they had left.

She was meant to go first. He was the strong one.

That was before the heart attack… the dreadful resuscitation. Such a mistake but had given them more time.

Now, it was her turn to hold his hand.

Yet, when she returned from the toilet, he was gone.

xx Rowena