Gotta love those Peak Experiences

In late April I went to Brisbane to see a concert. Not just any concert. It was more of a pilgrimage come to think of it. You know how sometimes there is a band or a song or solo artist that seems to speak to you? You listen to them/it and you feel the lyrics in your gut, your heart, your soul. The words inspire you to be better. The music makes you want to move your body. Even if the lyrics are dead serious, the music still makes you feel uplifted or energized. 

I was introduced to this artist well into his music career. I was in a happy place. Mabel Lake. A couple hours north of Kelowna, B.C. at my brother's cottage. The cottage is a TV free zone, other than a collection of movie DVDs, there is no cable or TV antenna. There is no phone line. If you want to connect to the world, you have to walk (or drive) to the marina store. I tell you all of this to explain why music is an important part of the vibe there. It is an eclectic collection of old and new. The first time I visited the family (the fun part of my family according to my daughter), we sat around the big kitchen table the first night, playing cards, board games, consuming a few bevvies (natch) and my bro put on a CD I had never heard before.

With all the chatter and shenanigans going on around me, the music, playing moderately loud, immediately resonated with me. I asked who it was. My bro looked at me incredulously. You've never heard Michael Franti? I had not. I found myself actually needing to move my body. I was glad when I was able to rotate out of the game we were playing and found myself in the kitchen dancing as though it was the only thing in the world to do. Without question, this was the beginning of my love affair with this music. A little bit reggae, a little bit hip hop, a little bit folk, a little bit rock. Just a great combination of meaningful lyrics (he is a poet too) and the kind of dance beat I gravitate toward.

They only had one of his CDs. Yell Fire. It became the anthem at the cottage over the next couple of  years. A Mable Lake weekend could not officially start until Michael Franti blasted out from the stereo. That, and a cold beer. We listened to it in the morning. We took it out on the boat and blasted it in the middle of the lake (no wonder we could not catch a fish). We cranked it up at cocktail hour. Then once more for good measure after dinner when the games would commence. No one tired of it. So, the last time I was at the lake, we all agreed that if he was ever performing anywhere near, we would have to go see him. When I heard he was going to be in Brisbane, I was stoked, but sad that the whole gang would not be able to go. It was going to be up to me to represent the family. 

I hooked up with Steve's niece who lives there and the two of us set off to see the concert. An odd couple in many ways as I am twice her age, but somehow, even that made sense. She was not as familiar with his music, but was open, and that is all you really need to be. I was not sure what to expect. The venue was smallish and intimate. The Tivoli, an old theatre, was exactly the type of space for him and the crowd. Standing only. A bar. It was more club-like and the atmosphere was perfect for what was about to happen. The warm up band was, not surprisingly, very capable of holding their own. Nahko and Medicine for the People came out rocking. In no time at all the room was buzzing. They were the perfect pre-cursor to the  main event. 

What took place next was like something I had never experienced at a concert in my life. Within seconds everyone was moving. Hands up, bouncing, jumping, singing along. The entire crowd seemed, dare I say it...as one. It was the most overwhelming feeling of unity. We all loved his music, his energy was contagious. The air was thick with positivity. Everyone was smiling. Every soul in that room was on the same page. It felt like the kind of collective energy that could move mountains. Had we all drank the same Kool-aid? If we had, I did not care. I wanted it to last forever. He was like some kind of happy messiah working his way through the crowd, dancing, singing, hugging people. We all wanted a piece of him. I touched him a couple times in passing, his sweat-soaked t-shirt against my palm, a sticky moist souvenir I wanted to take home. Maybe his DNA would infuse me somehow. Who would not want to catch whatever it is he has?

At the end of the 'party", my young friend turned to me and said, "Wow, I have never been to a concert like that before. What just happened there?" We were both smiling, soaked with sweat, energized after about 2 hours of non-stop dancing and a little bit stunned. It was like we had all just experienced a significant shift. And it felt like love. 

One great big musical orgasm.

The power of art.

Wow.

From Where I Sit

Shiny silvery patchwork bark

covers the tall gum

A coat of understated elegance

Foxtail and ponytail fronds

Swaying, swishing, softly

before a cloudless cerulean sky

Momentary glance one

The poolside fence

a perch, a lookout

The Kookaburra first

Doves and Topknots follow

trying out the king's throne

Dew shimmers

Momentary glance two

Agave sculptures twice

mirrored in the pool

Three eucalyptus leaves

drift by, canoes without paddles

Rainbow Lorakeets disrupt the quiet

They leave, silence returns

Momentary glance three

Vermillion nastursiums

punch and pop their fiery heads

above their mock lily pad leaves

Screaming their bold colours

Unafraid to be eaten.

Courageous souls.

Momentary glance four

Two swooping cockatoos

sulphur-crested, chasing each other?

Following each other? 

Perfomance art? Excitement!

King Kookaburra is back

In the old gumtree, like the song says

This is where life happens

Outside my window

away from screens

and desks

Time to dress and join it

Morning, 

from where I sit.

Don't wait for the Bottom

Human nature is a funny thing. Lately I have been giving a lot of thought to the notion of change and how difficult it is for most of us and that in most cases it takes some sort of a crisis in our lives to catapult us into a new way of living. Even the smallest changes seem to require some catalyst.

And so, those of us who adhere to the glass half full philosophy in life, view crisis as a good thing. It can be the only thing sometimes that creates or rather forces change upon us. This requires living consciously and being able to interpret the crisis into a positive rather than dwell upon it as a negative event in our lives. Don't get me wrong. I am not diminishing the pain of life altering events. Death. Divorce. Illness. Not at all. What I am saying is I think it is crucial we don't let these things bury us. 

This leads me to wondering why, when we know that things like death are inevitable, do we wait until the last possible moment to forge ahead and do what we know we have to do. Are we such an apathetic species that we think it is OK to just sit around and wait for things to happen? Clearly we know that if we want things to change, it requires full participation. We don't wake up one morning, step out of bed and walk into a new life. 

No, instead we hem and haw and analyze and fret and research and hope and pray and maybe even wait for divine intervention depending on the change that needs to take place. Maybe a pill for instant weight loss or an aid for smoking cessation, or a tonic that replaces drugs or alcohol will turn up at the local pharmacy and suddenly your problems with addiction will vanish in the blink of an eye. But as we know, this is not about to happen any time soon, as much as we wish it would. 

What does present itself more often than not however is the crisis. The rock bottom moment. The last straw. Call it what you like. It will eventually come unless you wake up and nip it in the bud. Oh sure, there are some folks that abuse their health their entire lives and we look at them and wonder why they are not dead yet. You all know one. The smoker who lives to 100. The morbidly obese gal who needs a dozen pallbearers to carry her casket to the cemetery at 90. Keith Richards, for gawd's sake. There are those who manage to beat the odds. But in reality, not many. We read about those human miracles because they are just that. Miracles. We find it fascinating. How could a human being endure such abuse and stay alive? It gives us a little justification for our own smaller abuses.

Just as often we read about the health nut who croaks at 47. That allows us to sit back and say, "Yeah, it's a crapshoot alright. You never know when your number is up." And that is often true as well. We all know someone who led a pristine lifestyle and never smoked or drank or did drugs or gained an ounce after their wedding and we watched while Cancer came down and swooped them up before their time. That one scares us. We need a reason. If they were doing everything right, how did that happen? That leads us to wonder if we should even bother trying to eat right and exercise and avoid toxic life choices. But what else can we do? Live a life of reckless abandon and take our chances? Would that even feel good? Sure, the idea of stuffing your face with chocolate cake and ice cream everyday has a certain appeal, but the reality is, after a few days you would feel like crap. Eventually you likely would experience a health crisis and then the time you did have left would be of miserable quality and not worth living anyway.

I just read about another musician the other day - Avril Lavigne's ex husband - Deryck Whibley of Sum 41 fame, a young man who nearly drank himself to death and now, having hit his rock bottom, claims he will get better and start to write music again. His doctor told him if he has one more drink he will  likely die. If that is not incentive to quit the self abuse, well, nothing can save him. Which leads me to wonder if doctors don't need to be more aggressive with their advice to their patients. I have a bit of an issue with that. Most of them are afraid to present the cold hard facts to their patients in my experience. Case in point. At a doctor's appointment years ago after I had gained a lot of weight, I had a glance at my chart when the doctor left the examination room for a minute to get something and I read the description of me. I saw the word 'obese". I knew I was overweight. No question. But, obese? That really had an impact on me. Seems my BMI had crept over 30 and that is the definition of obese. The doctor never said a word to me about my weight. Did she think she would insult me? Why would she keep that information to herself? It would have been a good kick in my fat ass to do something about it. Had I not read that, I might never have taken the steps I took to lose the weight. That word scared the shit out of me. Maybe they wait until the diagnosis is "morbidly obese, or super obese". Those are the next stages. That was my rock bottom. And the battle rages on. 

Once again, I have allowed some of it to creep back on. There is a price to pay for my gap year of indulgence. I have had a headache for two days now as I withdraw from caffeine, sugar and wine. Time for a break from all three. One thing I have learned. I don't ever want to hit rock bottom again. 

This time I don't need a health crisis to motivate me. 

Seems I have evolved a bit.

The Road to Perfection is Long and Winding

Sitting here sipping an organic latte and feeling all is right in my world. I love these moments. My daughter is still here and she is still slumbering just down the hall - her presence a comfort to me. I love the early mornings here. The birds are my alarm and the cooler temps are so welcome and interestingly uplifting my mood and energy levels. In addition to these simple pleasures, the salad garden I planted about 3 weeks ago is starting to flourish and for the last two  mornings I have been able to harvest some soft fresh arugula and spinach leaves to have on my breakfast sandwich.

That's right. A breakfast sandwich. Two slices of toasted Helga's Sunflower and Red Quinoa bread (gluten-free of course!), smashed avocado, my baby garden greens, one sliced free range organic hard boiled egg, freshly ground pink Himalayan salt, cracked pepper and a few freshly picked basil leaves. I could eat this for any meal really - but is is a great breakfast or lunch.

I think back to my childhood breakfasts of  a slice of white toast with butter and jam or a bowl of some sugar coated cereal and shudder now. Not surprisingly, as a child, I was plagued  with ear infections and throat maladies and colds. All that sugar was depleting my immune system. We knew nothing about that back then. Just like we knew nothing about the dangers of smoking and I did that for a time as well. I have become a firm believer in the connection between nutrition and health. My own brother has reversed his lymphoma by going Vegan. 

However, I digress. Back to my breakfast. Not only is every bite delicious, but I swear I can feel myself get healthier with each swallow of this nutritious powerhouse. It just occurred to me that I could add some fresh tomato slices as well. Maybe tomorrow. My tomato harvest was not as abundant as I had hoped but there were a couple to pick each day, albeit on the small side. It was my first attempt in many years to grow my own tomatoes and between the unfamiliar climate and soil conditions, I suppose I should not be too self-critical.  At least I succeeded in keeping them alive and they actually produced some fruits! 

Knowing where my food has been grown and more importantly HOW it has been grown is becoming more and more important to me. I barely need to give my own veggies a rinse to knock off the dust and sometimes I just stand in the garden and give a tomato a rub on my sleeve and eat it standing in the sun knowing it is free of pesticides. I find myself in the grocery store observing all the flawless produce wondering how it ended up so unblemished.  I try to buy organic as much as possible, especially apples, as they are notoriously heavily sprayed for commercial consumption. The adage that an apple a day may keep the doctor away may be true for apples that are not doused in toxins, but sadly, the majority are.

It is a journey of healthy living that I have been on for many years now and I am far from perfecting the ideal. Old habits are hard to break. I do still indulge in less than healthy foods from time to time. I kid myself with organic potato chips and organic dark chocolate, justifying my indulgences with the fact they are what I call "healthy junk food". And for all intents and purposes, they are, but they are still unnecessary calories in the end. And then of course there is wine. More empty calories. The thought of giving it up crosses my mind constantly. So far, it remains a thought. Seems the road to perfection is paved with Golden Chardonnay coloured bricks lined with Burgundy and Merlot houses with Pink Chablis shutters. 

Maybe if and when I ever reach the great and powerful wizard he will tell me I was meant to enjoy that road and I will be able to assure him I did.

.....hmmm, maybe organic wine is the answer. ;-)

A Poem for the first of May

The first of May seemed like a perfect day to share this poem by Mary Oliver . For all my friends and family in the northern hemisphere longing for warmer days, this speaks to the truth of nature and how it is always there for us, waiting. Oblivious to our personal perils.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes, 

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

— Mary Oliver, from her poetry collection, Dream Work

Love-40 or 40-Love?

After a 2 week lay off from tennis (minor wrist injury), I was back on the courts this morning and it always amazes me how much I have missed it when I am back at it. I could write an entire blog about the benefits of tennis. Wait. That is what I am doing. OK, no, I won't go getting all preachy on you here, but if ever there was a sport that encompasses everything from cardio to balance to stretching to precision to social interaction, this is it.

And it is fun to boot. I could go so far as to say that tennis has been such a joy in my life that when I find myself absent from it for some reason for any length of time, I get a bit grumpy. It can restore my chi like nothing else. The fresh air (excluding indoor winter tennis of course), the sunshine, the competition, the feeling of absolute focus and the social - did I mention the social? Every time I have made a major move in my life, tennis has introduced me to people and put me on the fast track to getting to know my new community. It encompasses all ages, both sexes and people from all walks of life.

Now, where was I going with this? Oh yes. So, this morning, as I joined the ladies at 6:30 am for our weekly round robin doubles play, I clearly had a wee advantage as the morning was coolish for these tropics dwellers and they found it had a bit of a negative effect on their usual game. I, on the other hand was in my element. It was exactly the weather conditions that suited my game. Sun just coming up, dew on the ground, about 16 degrees - woo hoo! 

I came on fairly strong compared to the others and really felt like this was going to be a winning day for me and whomever I partnered with in any given set. I was on. Passing shots down the line. Overhead slams. Perfectly placed lobs. I could do no wrong. But, like golf, it is only a matter of time before one is humbled. 

There I was at the net, set and ready to execute the perfect backhand overhead volley - sure to be a winner, when of course, it landed about 3 inches outside the line. Ugh! My opponent was relieved to see the unforced error and I turned to her and said, "Well, that just takes the cocky right out of ya, eh?" I  laughed at myself as we never take anything too serious out there and she turned around and said, "I like that expression. I think I will use it sometime." As I had just made it up off the cuff, it got me to thinking that it was pretty good and could apply to just about any situation where cockiness trumps humility.

It is easy to get caught up in our wins in life. When we are on a real roll with work or sport or success in any area, cockiness can creep in and it is not pretty.  We have all been there I am sure. Like when you are really succeeding with diet and exercise for instance. You are losing weight, toning your abs, people are commenting on how amazing you look and you are only too happy to share your secrets and success story. Feeling in charge, in control, cocky as hell. But then the inevitable strikes. Something knocks you off track. You get injured or you take a holiday and you can't seem to get back into your routine when you get home and before you know it, you step on the scale and it has gone up. Hmmm, not so cocky now. 

No, just human. That is when you have to eat a little humble pie and start again. I know there are folks out there who manage to maintain their bodies and lifestyles 24/7 and I am in awe of them. Have you checked out people like Rich Roll? Google him. But he did not start out so perfect, so at least he gives us hope. Hope that there is still time to find perfect balance in our mind, body and spirit.

In the meantime, stay humble and be conscious of when it is time to kick the cocky to the curb.

What is your Motivation?

Misplaced value. That is the problem with the world. 

As far as I can tell, what this state of mind does to everyone is leave them spiritually depleted. Yes, that is correct. Spiritually depleted. So then, what happens, is most people spend most of their time trying to fill the gaping hole in their lives with things that will never fill it. 

Shopping. Drugs. Booze. Food. Addictions. Obsessions. 

It spans all economic categories and classes.

No amount of money or power or food or sex or things are capable of sustaining the fullness of this hole for long. It may temporarily make you think you are happy and fulfilled, but eventually the day comes when it no longer suffices. You look at those shiny expensive cars, or jewels or shoes and realize they are meaningless. Or you realize your addiction to substances is merely a mask that keeps you in denial and eventually your health becomes so compromised you actually have to stop before you kill yourself and take a look at the core reason inside of you that is causing all the pain you are so desperately trying to avoid.

What are you afraid of? If it is true that we are only motivated by fear or love, then does it not follow that in order to love yourself, you have to face your fears? And from where I sit, I see a lot of fear. I don't think I know a single person who is not afraid of something. Often it is the primary motivating factor in one's life and THAT is the problem. 

The fear is usually of loss. Loss of status. Loss of reputation. Loss of income. Loss of approval. Loss of time. Taken a step further, being judged for those losses. How many people do you actually know that can say they really don't care what anyone else thinks? Sure, as we get older, we tend to care less and less. But in reality, we still care. We want to go to our graves leaving behind some snippet of dignity. She was a wonderful mother. He was an awesome father. She worked diligently for the underprivileged. He devoted all his free time to coaching disabled kids. They created grass roots charitable organizations wherever they lived. 

Wait a second. None of those tributes had anything to do with how much they owned or how they looked. So, why then, do most people spend so much time and money on the acquisition of material possessions and lotions and potions and surgeries to change their bodies? Will their gravestones say things like, "She spent her lifetime perfecting her nose." or "He never had less than 16 cars in his garage at anytime." 

It is a crime. It is a crime that so much time and effort is wasted on such trivialities when millions of people on our planet are struggling to survive without food or shelter or health care. The reason comes down to misplaced values. We all need to reconsider what we value. What is truly important? Get creative. Do one small thing each day that helps someone. Even if that someone is yourself. Be kinder to yourself. Smile at a stranger. 

Stop and ask yourself if you are being motivated by fear or love and choose love.

Live consciously. 

Start today.

I am going to start by actually posting this blog. These are thoughts I have all the time but until now, I have been afraid to publish them in case I was judged. Judged for being some kind of crazy peace advocate or hippie or new age do-gooder. I imagine eyes will roll and some people will scoff at my naive notions or shake their heads and say. "Oh boy, Deb has really lost it now!" "she is nuts if she thinks she can save the world." 

I heard a quote once that went something like this..."If not now, then when. If not me, than who?"  

I reckon I have about 30 years or so left on this planet. If the first 56 years are any indication, I know one thing for sure - it goes fast and time is-a-wasting. 

Time to really live "me to we". 

Some musical inspiration....Turn it up and feel it!

Turn off the noise and turn up the music!

Lunar eclipses. Cardinal Grand Crosses. The changing world. Climate Change. GMO food. Fukushima cover-up. Jews having to register. Missing jets. Citizen revolts.

Don't eat wheat. Don't eat meat. Don't eat dairy. Don't eat processed. Don't drink alcohol. Don't do this. Don't do that.

Fuck. No wonder I can't relax. Or sleep some nights.

Makes you just want to turn it all off - right? 

Then you  have your own personal shit to deal with. Family shit. Relationship shit. Work shit. Health shit. 

Then comes all the advice.

Do yoga. Meditate. Eat raw. Volunteer. Forgive. Live in the moment.  

It is sooooo tiresome. All of it. 

Or, you can  do what I did. Sell all your shit. Pack light. (it's hard in this world of consumerism gone crazy). Move to the other side of the world. Rent. Don't own. Plant some herbs and veggies. Walk. Ride a bike. Live simply. Make love. Swim. Fish. Paint. Write. Wear hippie dresses. Listen to music that moves you.  Stop watching TV. Travel. Spend more time in nature. Let go of toxic relationships. Accept imperfection and a few extra pounds from red wine and aged cheese. 

Follow your heart. 

Breathe. 

Live.

Enjoy this piece of music from Van Morrison...Celtic Excavation, from Poetic Champions Compose...one of my favourite albums of all time. Turn up the volume.

News to Me!

Just when you think you have heard it all, along comes a new word or thing that you have never seen or heard before to remind you that life is a never-ending journey of discovery. In the last couple of days I have been presented with 3 of these. One is a word, or rather set of words and the other two are things. 

I will start with the things. Until three days ago, I had never heard of Dukkah (where have I been?) and the other is a Pobblebonk ( a frog). When the rain started three days ago, a strange sound began out near the pool in the evening after dinner. It was clearly a new sound I had not heard before and some sort of wildlife that was incessant and sure to keep me up in the night. I googled Queensland frog and toad sounds and within minutes had identified the little noisemaker as a Pobblebonk frog. A "red-thighed" Pobblebonk to be completely accurate. 

We set off to the corner of the pool deck where the sound was emanating from with a flashlight in hopes of spotting this little pond hopper and although we heard his voice a few more times, we did not manage to find him as he was clever enough to  stay put wherever he was hiding amongst the mulch and rocks in the garden bed and all we got for our efforts was damp from the drizzle. I had to make do with the photos on the internet to visualize him/her with each throaty cry. The next day I missed him being fished out of the pool as I was not around for his rescue and it was reported to me that it looked as though he had been swimming for some time and was pretty tuckered out. He was set free to continue to regale the hood with his song for another night.

So, I found it odd that last night at Flickerfest...Australia's travelling short film festival, his name came up again. This time however, in a far more poignant fashion. The 11 minute film, Vote Yes, directed by Nick Waterman of Australia was a brilliant story set in 1967 when citizens were to vote on the Referendum on Aboriginal Rights. In an emotional plea to participate in the voting the young Aboriginal maid in a well-to-do white household reminds her employer that in this country, everything is counted - "people, cows, sheep, cars, televisions...just about everything but Aborigines and Pobblebonks". The impact of her statement was so heartwrenching and now I knew as I sat in the Brolga Theatre watching this powerful short film, that the Pobblebonk had appeared the night before in my yard for a reason.  

The other word that I mentioned earlier - Dukkah - came about as an invitation. As I sipped a glass of pre-show Chardy and scanned the crowd for a familiar face, a woman about a metre away from me was doing the same thing. Her gaze met mine and it was as if we both knew we were in the same boat. She approached me instantly and said she was looking for some work colleagues she expected to be there and I told her I was looking for some of my tennis ladies - neither of us were having much luck.  I noted immediately that she did not have an Australian accent and was pretty sure she was German and I was right. She was from Munich. Of course, it was inevitable that a woman from Munich and a woman from Toronto would have to share their stories as to how the hell they both ended up in a small town like Maryborough. We were instant friends.

And, so now, I have been invited to her house on Friday night for a Dukkah Party. Maybe I am the last person on earth to have never heard of Dukkah, but in case any of you out there are unenlightened too, it is an Egyptian dip.(see description below) I  have since googled it and it sounds delicious and apparently there are many versions of it and according to my new friend, all the rage. Who knew? Anything with nuts and seeds and spices and oil is right up my alley...I can  make a meal of that sort of thing. Now I just need to figure out what kind of wine will pair nicely with it and pick up a bottle to take.

The new word(s), which have by now gone pretty viral, are "conscious uncoupling". Thank you very much Gwyneth and Chris for giving us a fresh approach to ending a marriage. So glad you two are consciously uncoupling rather than dumping each other. It is so much more meaningful and zen. It almost sounds like it could be trend-setting. And whom other, than the rich and famous, to redefine divorce? It is surely the new emotionless, less painful approach. One day you wake up and turn to your partner and instead of saying, I want a divorce and all the agony and pain associated with those words...you take a sip of your morning coffee, look up over your glasses and stop reading the paper long enough to utter the words, "Darling, I have been thinking we really should consciously uncouple. Be a dear and pencil that in, would you? Let's tell the kids tonight after dinner."

Just like Namaste is the new "see ya later". 

It just sounds so easy and peaceful. 

If only.

Dukkah is an Egyptian dry mix of roasted nuts, seeds and spices finely blended together. Traditionally dukkah is eaten by dipping fresh Egyptian bread first into olive oil and then into the nut mixture, but it also serves as a versatile seasoning in Egyptian cooking.

I think I am a Closet Pluviophile

Aaaahhh! Deep breath in...and again...and again. Be it ever so sweet, the smell of rain! It is finally raining. Or should I say showering. Hopefully showering that will turn into a good solid downpour. It is not only needed to moisten the parched land, but I think in many ways, it is needed for us personally too. 

I have found the incessant drought conditions difficult some days on my spirit. The relentless heat and dry earth under my feet have felt like some sort of punishment. You dare not walk barefoot on the dried and greenless lawns. The grass that remains is hard and coarse and sharp bits can feel like little organic daggers between your toes. The constant vigilance required to stay on top of watering your garden (carefully-one plant at a time) has become tedious. My rainwater tank has sat empty for weeks.  The one time it was fed from the last short rain only resulted in enough to supply me with a few days of cautiously doled out watering cans before it slowed to a trickle. 

It has been rare in my life to ever have to give much thought to water consumption. I recall one summer in Vancouver (believe it or not) where water restrictions were in place after a dry spell and the reservoirs were low. Occasionally a long hot heat wave in Ontario would present similar warnings, but nothing like what I see happening here in Queensland. My new awareness of how precious water is has led me to see it very differently. Any bad habits I once had like letting the faucet run while brushing my teeth, or hosing down the sidewalks or driveways of various homes, or running the washer or dishwasher with less than full loads are part of the past for me now.

In rural areas here, where people live on tank water (rain water), it is far worse. Even your dirty dish water gets re-used in the garden. Long soaks in the tub are a luxury few can afford. Not a drop is wasted. You never know when the next rain is coming, and in the case of this past season...it never came. There was one remote town that ran out of water completely. The whole town. No water. Think about that. Think about the impact of that! Cattle have had to be killed or let starve to death. Something that is taken very much for granted in countries like Canada, is a precious commodity here.

We become so complacent when everything comes easy. It's not like I was unaware that there were many places in the world that suffered from drought. However, it is one thing to know something intellectually but quite another to  actually experience it first hand. 

It has been a good lesson for me. Although I did not personally suffer any direct hardship as a result of this drought, I have a very broadened awareness and new perspective of our collective wastefulness and I for one intend on proceeding with caution for the rest of my life. 

As I wrote that last sentence, the deluge began. There are 4 Honeyeaters taking shelter on the top of my lattice under the patio roof and they are singing and chirping and shaking their dampened feathers in what I can only assume is the most joyful dance they have done in some time! I can see the rain filling my tank! Puddles are forming on the lawn! Steve's Land-cruiser is getting a much needed wash! Ha! The sound of the rain on the patio roof is deafening! It is spilling over the gutters that are unable to hold the volume! I have never been so happy to see it rain!

I just may be a pluviophile  after all! (Look it up! LOL)

Soulful Colouring

“Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do. Make good art.” 

― Neil Gaiman, Make Good Art

Sitting poolside just a few minutes ago, I sat, eyes closed, water beading off my body, the warm air evaporating the cooling effect of the dip I had just taken and it occurred to me in a mild epiphany sort of way that what I had wished for had come true.

One year ago at this time I was just days away from quitting my soul sucking job. I had crazily put my hand on the same burner for a second time in 3 years and had learned a tough lesson about myself. I recall day after agonizing day showing up and wasting my time, hours and hours of my very precious life working for an employer that cared nothing about their employees and only about the bottom  line.  The job before that was the same.  My talents were only appreciated when they translated into big profits for them. My take was a pittance compared to their greedy grabs. I had become so disillusioned. 

I recall dreaming and longing for a different life. There had to be something more. Something more fulfilling. Something more spiritually nurturing than being surrounded by this kind of pressure. The constant performance anxiety. The unrealistic goal setting. The "shark tank" mentality. The competition. This was not me. Not that I was not capable. Oh no, I could swim in that tank as well as the rest of them. The difference was, I had no real desire to swim with the sharks. I wanted to swim by myself. In my own tank. Free to make my own decisions and set my own goals and work on my own schedule.  

It made me want to escape to a desert island. I even read a book about a woman who did exactly that (turns out it is not as wonderful as you would like to believe, but that is a whole other blog). So I looked at my finances and asked myself what would a year off do to me in the long run? I asked what real difference it would make to my future if I took a year off? Let's face it, we could all be dead tomorrow and what good would my retirement savings be to me then? My daughter was fine. My house was sold. The truth was, nothing was stopping me other than the voice of the status quo that says you have to do things this way or that. Have to? Have to? Says who? No, the truth is, no one can make you do anything you do not want to do, and for most people, that is when fear steps in. And make no mistake, fear is a biggie. 

Someone once said there are only really two motivating factors in life - fear and love. And when you really think about it, that is it. Once I got past the irrational fear (and most fear is irrational), I was able to take the leap. So now here I am, not quite a desert island, but in many ways even better (indoor plumbing and all), and I am not sitting on a street corner begging for coins. Imagine that!  

I am looking out the window from my desk here at birds and palm trees and blue sky and writing this blog. Yesterday I finished a piece of art I was working on. A princess parrot on canvas. It turned out good enough to hang in a private part of the house (the bedroom) and it felt good to be creative for the sake of creativity. Nothing more. Nothing less. I am thinking of doing a few more pastel drawings. I heard some advice from Dr. Wayne Dyer about looking back on  your childhood and remembering what you really loved doing as it was a clue to your soul's purpose as an adult. I tried to zero in on something that I really loved doing and as simple as it may sound, I actually really loved to colour. Simple crayons and colouring books could amuse me for hours. Working with the pastels reminded me of that. I think I may have evolved a bit beyond that level of expertise since then, but the feeling I had while I did it was very similar. That feeling of being totally immersed in something. Deeply focused. Going to a place where nothing distracts you. There is a feeling of completeness in those moments. There is no stress. No anxiety. Just a peaceful calm. Surely this is a place we are meant to spend more time. How could it be otherwise?

I often visit this place when I am writing as well. Or decorating. Or gardening. Any or all of these activities are art. Whether the end result is ever seen, or gets purchased, or wins a prize, matters not. What matters is that when you feel this type of immersion, nothing else enters. So I go there more often now. And that is my desert island. 

My "insular Tahiti" Dr. Dyer.

March Meeting Fantasy

There wasn't a moment to spare. It was going to take some scrambling and quick thinking but she was determined to complete the mission.

She was fuelled by the thrill and spontaneity of it all. She imagined each of their faces as the couriers delivered their envelopes one by one. She had not told a soul. The moment to share had presented itself this morning like an epiphany to her.  This was the sort of thing people like Oprah or Richard Branson or Bill Gates probably did all the time. Not her. It had taken her a few days to let it all sink in, but now she had a plan. It was always the way she had envisioned it. Crazy. Spontaneous. Wildly fun.

Her peeps in Canada were freezing in the most brutal winter in years. A Polar Vortex they kept calling it. How had she been lucky enough to miss it? Not just a week of it. Or a fortnight. The whole bloody thing. Someone had been smiling down on her in the winter of 2014 and she wanted to share her good fortune. 

She watched as the email trail began. There was one woman down. Her much loved friend Rae was down for the count with a bad flu. She could not host the monthly Book Club meeting. Who could take over? Who could rescue the March meeting? The replies were coming one by one. Negative. Nope. Sorry, no can do. It was looking grim. The girls needed a place to gather the first Thursday of every month. It was like a religion to them. It was their monthly fix of connection and female bonding and wine...yes, don't forget the wine. It had to happen. 

Think. Think. Think, thought Deb, reminding herself of a scene from a long forgotten Winnie the Pooh movie her precious Emma had watched as a small child. It should have hit her instantly, just as the winning lottery numbers did when she read them on her computer screen a few days earlier. It had taken her a few days to let the news settle in her brain. She was rich. Richer than rich. It was one of Australia's largest jackpots, and it was hers now. 

She got in her new car, a modest little Mitsubishi Lancer and as she backed out the driveway, she realized she could drive any kind of car she wanted now. Perhaps she would donate this one to someone needy. It was like new. Less than 3000 kms. She shook her head to banish that thought for now and headed directly to the travel agent. For the entire five minute drive to town her head was full of imaginings. She saw each beloved member of her book club in her mind as they opened their couriered envelope.

First Jan. The front door closed to the cold while she busied herself in her open kitchen whipping up some warm and nutritious comfort food for the evening meal. Wiping her hands on a tea towel while she walked to the door to see who was there. A blast of Arctic air entering her cozy warm entryway while she quickly signed for her letter. She could barely see the delivery guy's face as he had a scarf wrapped around the lower half. With her lyrical voice she wished him luck as he mumbled something and carefully navigated the steps down and back to his truck. Closing the door behind him, she wondered why Qantas Airlines would be delivering something. Her hands needed another wipe and she needed her reading glasses. There they are, she said aloud as she retrieved them from the small bookcase near the kitchen island. She had been using them earlier to look for a recipe in one of her many culinary volumes. She slipped the paperwork out of the packet and as she took it in, she let out a hoot, picked up her cell phone and called Bruce. You won't believe this she said into the phone......

Carla was next on the delivery route. She was sitting at her desk, a throw around her shoulders, writing. She was always writing these days it seemed. She was finding it difficult to keep warm. Even with the heat cranked up, -30 was in evidence. This drafty old house she thought to herself. The loud gong of the doorbell startled her and she took her throw with her, knowing that as soon as she opened the door, the icy air would hit her hard. She invited the UPS man inside the foyer so she could sign for her letter. He stepped inside, apologized for bringing in the snow and she exchanged some empathetic small talk about his job and how the cold must be making his life miserable these days and then let him out and quickly shut the door behind him taking note of the snow and ice build up on the steps and making a mental note to deal with it in the morning. It was late afternoon and it would be dark shortly. She was not expecting anyone else today. It could wait. Her glasses had fogged coming back in from the cold entry and it took a moment to see the Qantas logo. Hmmm, she thought. This is odd. She carefully peeled the plastic envelope open and as the content slowly revealed itself to her, a wide smile spread across her face. She could almost feel the warm tropical air as she headed back to her desk and started to make arrangements with her family. I am soooo out of here she thought, and she started to call Sylvia to share her news.

The UPS guy, meanwhile was getting back in his truck and although the next stop read Strath Ave., he decided to jump ahead to the Sunnylea address instead as he had noticed a bit of a fender bender at the corner of Prince Edward and King Georges and he wanted to avoid it. He reached for the next one in the pile. Kim. His back tires skidded on the ice as he pulled away and cut up to Bloor St. It took him what seemed forever to make a left onto Bloor, but finally he was away and turning right up Prince Edward. 

He stopped in front, double parked as the snow banks made it almost impossible to find a spot. Kim had been sitting on the sofa in the living room window, trying to finish up this month's book and was finding it hard to focus as her daughter was practicing for her piano lesson the next day. The dog started barking as the UPS guy approached with her mail. Shush. Shush. Between the dog and the tedious scales on the piano, she thought, after she answered the door, she was going to retreat to another room to read.  Normally she might have engaged in some sort of witty banter with the delivery man, but it was just too damn cold and she signed and dispatched him hurriedly. Brrrrr, she shivered as she came back in and stood by the fireplace where a few embers were still glowing. As she started to read what was inside, she laughed out loud! That crazy Deb. Then she said, well, looks like we won't have to sell cookies after all as her daughter looked at her with a "what the hell are you talking about mom?" look. I have to pack she told her...I'm heading down under for Thursday's book club meeting! As she headed upstairs her daughter followed her, a million and one questions firing at her all the way....

The house with the red door by the looks of it he thought. It was getting dusky, but the red door still stood out. There were no cars in the drive, so he took advantage and pulled in. The walk had not been shoveled. He suspected there was no one home. He rang the bell and waited. He rang it again. He started to fill out a pick up post-it note when the door opened. Susan? No, said the sweet young voice. I am her daughter. Can you sign for her? Sure. Of course. She scribbled her signature on the screen and took the envelope from him. She closed the door behind her and looked at it. It was stiff from the cold and looked important. She walked over to her phone and checked the world clock. Mom was in Europe. Still up I bet, she thought and called her right away. Should I open it, she asked when Susan asked her what it was. Of course, go ahead, tell me what it says. 

She read it out slowly. "I am hosting this Thursday. A copy of your e-ticket is enclosed. A limo pick up time will follow. Pack light. It's hot. Don't worry if you have not read the book. See you Thursday morning in Brisbane. Can't wait! Love, Deb xo"

Well. Looks like I will have to postpone Paris, she replied. Call your brothers and tell them I won't be home this weekend after all. Sorry honey, I know you were looking forward to all of us being at your skating competition Saturday, but just this once, I am going to have to miss it. Let's schedule something else when I get back. Don't worry mom, go for it! We will be fine. As she hung up the phone she paused to think how lucky she was to have such great kids. Besides, she could get a ton of work done on the long flight.....

As the UPS guy looked at his schedule and realized he had 4 more stops to make before quitting time, his annoyance was hastily dismissed in his mind when he repeated what he always did at times like this. "At least I am not Tom Hanks in Castaway." He would say that three times in a row like a little mantra. It always placated him. He headed to Bloor West Village.

Donna saw him coming up her steps. She was running around like a mad woman looking for her other glove that must have dropped on her way in a few moments earlier. She had exactly 10 minutes to grab some of the boys things and head back out if she was going to catch the beginning of her eldest son's game.  She could not remember a time when she was not in motion like this. She cherished her vacations for this very reason. She allowed her mind to drift to Baja, one of their favourite getaways. She made a mental note to look on line later at some possible tropical destinations for their next holiday.  She needed one. She wondered what was being delivered. Her husband called just as she opened the door, telling her his last appointment was turning into a dental emergency and he would meet her at the game albeit somewhat late and she was half listening to him as she was signing for the envelope. She watched with dismay as snow blew all over the floor as they stood there. Closing the door and mouthing good bye as she was still talking to her husband, she grabbed a kitchen towel and threw it on the snow that was melting on the hardwood floor. Grrrrrr....winter!

She turned her focus to the envelope. Qantas Airlines. Huh? It took her a moment to absorb the note. No. Really? OMG! She is serious. She wasn't sure if she could pull it off. Sooo much to reschedule. Then she realized, this was a once in a lifetime event...and thought of the time she missed the Vegas trip and made up her mind right then and there. Hell Yeah! I'm going she said to the dog, the only one listening, his head tilted and his ears perked up. She looked down at her precious pup and said, How would you like some Kangaroo Jerky in a half joking manner before she realized she meant it...

After knocking and ringing on Rae's door three times, he turned to leave when the door opened just a crack and a woman in a thick terry bathrobe peeked out the small crack of an opening, a tissue held to her nose and said in a hoarse voice, wait, don't go, I am home. He looked back over his shoulder, still protected under the porch roof from the snow and wind and he could see clearly she was not feeling well. Maybe whatever is in the envelope will make her feel better he thought...or worse, you never know with mail.  He was glad he was wearing gloves as she handed the stylus back to him after signing. He had a thing about germs. She apologized between coughs and closed the door and retreated to her sofa. There was a fire burning in the hearth and she had been trying to read but was dozing more than reading. 

This flu had really knocked her on her ass. She felt bad she had to cancel hosting book club this month, but there was no way she was up to the task. The delivery had aroused her curiosity despite how lousy she felt. She read the note. She read it again. NO BLOODY WAY! Both of her boys were home and heard her shout from their rooms. Mom? You OK? Oh, I am MORE than OK she tried to shout but her swollen throat prevented her from reaching the volume she intended. Come on down here she said as loudly as she could. Bring that bottle of Vitamin C with you.  They both descended the stairs, her youngest holding the vitamin bottle. He handed it to her and said, Wassup Mum? She ignored the annoying term and said, I need to get well really quick, as she shook 4 tablets out of the bottle and downed them with the water she had been sipping on. I am going to Australia on Wednesday. The boys looked at each other. Clearly their mother was hallucinating. Yeah, right mom, and we are going to Timbuktu and they chuckled between themselves.

She folded the note into a paper airplane and flew it over to them as they headed into the kitchen looking for a snack. She watched as they read it together and then she said, Who is laughing now, hehe? There was a PS. on her note that read: Even if you are still not feeling well, get on the damn plane and sleep it off girlfriend!  She suddenly felt better. Funny that.

The next envelope read - Dr. Deb. Once again, he had to double park. The snow plows had failed the city miserably this winter. But, it really was hard to keep up, so he did not get too angry. Dr. Deb answered the door herself. The kids were all out of the house. One at dance class, one at a friends and the other at school still. Her husband was out too. It was a rare moment alone in her house in fact. Unless you count the pet snake. But he was generally pretty quiet. She motioned for him to step inside as the wind had picked up and the snow was swirling around in a little cloud around him on the porch. A sculpture on the mantel caught his eye as he was a bit of a hobbyist sculptor himself and he made a comment. Nice piece he said and he glanced toward it. It rarely went unnoticed and it was special to her and she thanked him and wondered if she should share the story of how she acquired it with him, but decided she wanted to relish the short time she had left before everyone started to arrive home and left it at that.

You a medical doctor? he inquired. No, she said, but did not enlighten him. She smiled widely and said good night and drive safe and he left wondering about the doctor lady with the cool sculpture, concocting his own version of her life in his mind as he drove off. Dr. Deb walked down the narrow hallway to the kitchen where there was brighter light and curiously opened the envelope. Smiling, she picked up her phone and called her office. Her assistant was still there working late. I am afraid we are going to have to make some changes to the  meeting schedules this week. And see if you can get a deadline extension on that report. Her assistant was somewhat flustered as this was highly unusual, and asked her what was going on.

Knowing the time difference, she replied, my book club meeting just got moved up to Wednesday and it is going to be a particularly lengthy meeting, not to mention, in a very distant location. As incredible as this may seem, I am going to Australia for a few days. She was still holding the note as she talked on the phone and skipped down to her PS. It read, BTW Dr. Deb, I have a bike here in my garage with your name written on it...miles of countryside to explore at your leisure - get down here girl!

Her assistant laughed and said, Well, you best get packing matey! Good on ya! She hung up the phone and looked out past the frosted panes and thought how lovely it would be to feel warm again. 

He had left the last one labelled Caroline for his final delivery of the day as it was closest to The Queensway and his route back to the depot. He was slowing on her street to read the house numbers and noticed the car ahead of him pulling up and into the same house. If he was lucky, it would be her and he would make this quick. He stopped behind her and called out to her as she started to get out of her car. Caroline? She turned to look at him, the wind smacking her face bitterly. She held her hand up to shield her cheeks and said, yes? She walked toward him and he to her and they did a very quick exchange of signature and pleasantries in the cold and now dark light.  The streetlight just enough lumination for them to see what they were doing. She did not read the envelope return address until she got inside and took off her boots and coat.

This bloody winter is exhausting me she thought to herself. I can't wait for St. Kitts. The familiar Qantas logo alerted her to something out of the ordinary right away. What could this be she wondered. She was still in the hallway and started walking toward the big round table in the kitchen where she tossed her purse on a chair and called out to the kids to see who was home. She got two replies, one male, one female and knowing everyone was home and safe and warm, she decided to make a cup of tea before opening the letter. Her hands were still cold from the exchange out front. 

She threw a tea bag in a mug while the kettle boiled and decided to open it straight away. Her face lit up as she realized what was about to happen and she shouted for the kids to come down to share her plans. As she told them she was going to Australia for this weeks book club, they whinged a bit about how unfair it was that they could not go, but the reality was, they were very happy for her and after the year she had been through, knew it was a wonderful surprise and much deserved gift. Her biggest challenge would be getting the time off from teaching, but surely they would not expect her to pass up such an opportunity. She would make it work. Life is short and she knew that all too well. 

In the  meantime, another UPS driver was delivering an envelope further west on a different route. She pulled up in front of the Markland Woods address wondering if she should pull into the wide driveway, but opted to stay on the street so she could make the loop around the circle easier when leaving. She walked up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the bell and waited for Lenore to answer the door. Coming!, she heard a female voice shout from the kitchen. Lenore had been busy preparing dinner and the music was so loud it was a miracle she heard the bell at all. She had taken to dancing in her kitchen lately in between slicing and dicing. 

She turned down the volume and headed to the foyer. She opened the door and the UPS gal, reluctant to step inside, finally succumbed as Lenore insisted she come in out of the cold. Oh! What could this be she said out loud. The UPS gal sort of shrugged her shoulders and gave Lenore a half smile. Don't know she said. But I like your butterflies. She nodded toward the beautiful butterflies suspended in glass on the wall. Oh, those! Yes, I love them too! She signed the screen and thanked her, noticing her name on her badge on her coat. Thank you Judy! Be careful out there. Good night.

Lenore knew as soon as she saw the logo. She shrieked with glee! She opened it and did a cursory reading, then grabbed her phone and FB messaged Deb in Australia. You are INSANE! Deb messaged back. Yup! Lenore messaged back. See you Thursday! She went directly to her computer and started changing her flight so she could stop in Vancouver on the way home to see her daughter. The boys would have to fend for themselves for a few days. She was not missing this meeting!

The final envelope was a bit more of a challenge. But not impossible. They were docked outside of Charleston, N.C. Deb had done some sleuthing to find out exactly where and as Trish sat sipping her morning latte on the deck, she noticed a delivery man heading toward their sailboat. She wondered if he was heading to their slip. He was pausing at each boat to read the names and slip numbers. He stopped at theirs. You Trish? he inquired.  She stood up and held her hand above her brow to stop the sun from her eyes. Yes, I am Trish. Delivery for you then. He walked over to the side of the boat as it bobbed gently against the rubber bumpers and handed her an envelope. He then passed her the stylus to sign as he held the little device steady for her. 

He walked away down the dock and she giggled as he almost lost his balance. No sea legs she thought. She went back to her cup and sat down, putting her feet up on the seat, her legs outstretched. Relaxed. Life was good. Her captain had gone into town for some supplies and she was alone. She had just finished Skyping with the kids and they were both OK. She was really enjoying Charleston and all the great adventures to other ports on the coast. As she started to read the note, a smile broke out, then more of a giggle. Well, she thought, never a dull moment. She opened her FB app and messaged Deb. I am totally in! See you Thursday! 

When Deb got the call from UPS telling her all of the envelopes had been delivered, she let out a yelp and a WOO HOO so loud she wondered if the neighbours might think something was wrong. 

She could hardly wait to greet all her old mates at the airport. 

OK ladies...back to reality. Hope it warms up soon for you. Miss you all. 
Decomama xo

If you can't Stand the Heat.....

One of the pre-move worries that nagged at me last fall was wondering if I would be able to cope with the heat of tropical Queensland. Most people I shared this with likely thought I was mad to worry about that above all else, but for me it was a biggie. I don't fare well in any extreme temperature, hot or cold. I had grown to hate winter in Canada for that reason alone. So it came as no surprise to me that it would concern me to be facing the other end of the weather spectrum down under.

In Canada it is a matter of course to expect air conditioning in the summer months just about everywhere you go. Whether it be a shopping centre or a restaurant or the house next door. I imagined that if Canadians felt a need for a/c in summer, surely a semi-tropical Australian state would consider a/c mandatory. A necessity. Not a luxury. Turns out I am wrong. (yes, yes, I am from time to time - Ha!) What has come as a real shocker to me is that not only is it considered a luxury, it seemingly is considered wasteful or something that most folks only resort to when things get completely unbearable. In fact, I would go so far as to say it has been my observation that the longer you can hold off turning on these evil devices, the brighter and shinier your badge of honour becomes.

These Queenslanders are some kind of tough. Initially I caved to switching on at the least hint of temperatures above 27 or the slightest inkling of humidity, but as time has passed, I find myself becoming more acclimatized to the heat and after the heat wave that gripped us the first two weeks of January with temperatures soaring into the 40's, now I find anything between 27-32 quite pleasant and as long as the ceiling fans are rotating and the windows are open, I can tolerate going without...with the exception of the car a/c of course.

That is a necessity for me and although there are some who would poo poo me here, that is the one place I am holding firm to my creature comforts.  Along with a tolerance for the heat, I have found the population in general far more tolerant to other discomforts as well. Perhaps I am more of a princess than I thought, but I cannot walk barefoot on the grass here (too crunchy, ouch, ouch), and I am not ever going to pick up a gecko, although I have become more used to seeing them everywhere, and I am NEVER going to hold a snake in my bare hands.

At first I wondered if it was just the people I knew or was meeting or if it was just about the cost of the electricity. I have come to the conclusion that it can be any number of these reasons, but I have seen as many well off home-owners as more budget-minded types resist the urge to "spoil" themselves with such luxury. It seems to be more of a mind-set. Who can tough it out? As though they have a reputation to uphold. The evidence is everywhere. Department stores, hardware stores, big box stores all carry stacks and stacks of fans. Desk fans, table fans, pedestal fans, ceiling fans. Cheap fans. Expensive fans. Remote control fans. Fans at every price point. A fan for every nook and cranny. Mountains of them. Best to just blow all this hot air around rather than cool it down and feel too comfortable. A/C is for wusses. Pussies. Canadian princesses.

No self-respecting, XXXX drinking, croc whisperer, roo-bar wielding old mate in these parts needs the manufactured cooling air produced by such a modern day contraption whether they can afford it or not. There was an internet joke being circulated a while back about the Scot and the Irishman and the Aussie sitting around the campfire telling tales of how tough they were. I forget the specifics of the stories the Scot and the Irishman told, but when it was time for the Aussie to share a story of bravado, he did not say a word, he just stood up, walked over to the fire, unzipped his pants and proceeded to stir the fire with his penis. 

I laughed so hard when I heard that joke. But like most jokes, there is always a smidgen of truth behind the tale. No question, they can take the heat and so can many of the women. My next door neighbour, a fairly weathered widow of about 75 is a case in point. She is a very nice woman, exactly the kind of neighbour you like - quiet, responsible, neat. I mentioned how happy I was that the house we are renting has A/C and she glanced over her shoulder away from the fence where we stood having a gab and motioned her head toward her own luxury possession protruding from the side of her house, a look of disdain on her face and said, "yeah, me too, but I never use it." 

Now I imagine every time I turn mine on, she is shaking her head and snickering about that coddled Canuck next door that can't take the heat.

And she'd be right. :)

Farewell Goanna Downs

Sadly, my trial run of country living is about to end for a spell after this week. The owners of Goanna Downs are returning from their holiday and our house sitting gig will be over when they get home.  We will be back in town by Saturday night.

I did not know what to expect when we moved to this temporary home.  I had never spent this much time in a rural setting in my life and it seemed the perfect opportunity to test myself since the place we will eventually be living is only 2.2 kms up the road. We don't have quite the spread - 5 acres vs 270, but the surrounds are very similar and the road to town is the same one we have been driving these past three weeks. We are surrounded by neighbouring sugar cane fields and bush in the same way. The same King Parrots and kangaroos and wallabies and goannas and other wildlife will be present as will the starry nights and balmy evening breezes.

I will likely even still hear the distant moans of cows and the early morning wake-up call of the kookaburras, so although the plot of land we will inhabit is smaller, it is just as serene and peaceful as this larger piece of paradise we have had the good fortune to enjoy here.  As the gardens and land around the house were not mine to tend as we stayed here, I had to resist the urge to get my hands dirty the way I would were it mine. I have missed gardening these last few years since I left my house and I am eager to create a new garden and home in this vastly different climate and landscape.

See ya Decomama :(

Goanna Downs has given me a chance to observe the conditions and the type of trees and plantings I can expect here.  The owners here have had 25 years or more turning this block of land into their much cherished home and their personality and experience shines through in every aspect of this warm and inviting landscape. Being here just long enough to start to get a feel for this area and the daily patterns of light and weather and the comings and goings of the local farmers has given me a taste of things to come.

Today we went into town for the Thursday market and I found myself closely observing the various stalls and the people running them. Many of them are farmers and rural dwellers themselves and it got me thinking of the various small cottage industries I might eventually develop myself.  There are so many things I could turn into a modest income even with our small (in comparison) plot of land.  Organic gardening will top my list and I did notice an absence of that at the market.  I could do year round herbs and then add other veggies as the season dictates.  I could do a specialty "Canadian" offering...Maple Syrup flavoured goodies and butter tarts perhaps? There is only one other woman there with baked sweet goods and one with breads so the competition is not too severe.  

The possibilities really do seem endless and the interesting thing to me about it all is that with the drive to make oodles of money no longer part of the equation, it can just be more about offering something for sale that is unique and different that would allow me to become a part of this small community and get to know the locals.  I found myself stopping to chat with some of the vendors today as I have started to get to know some of them and it was such a lovely feeling asking them about their wares and listening while they explained the features and benefits of their products.

  One such vendor was the owner of Essentially Avocado who makes her own skin creams and lotions from her own avocado orchard, pressing her own avocado oil and only uses other natural ingredients in the mix.  She rubbed some on the back of my hand with her weathered fingers and as I spoke to her and sensed her passion for her creations and looked at the sincerity in her eyes, I loved how she was clearly passionate about what she was offering. She was a simple woman, hard working, her skin care products an off shoot of her avocado and mango farm. She was also selling mangoes (which I sampled and cannot get enough of these days) and she told me that the avocados would be ready for picking at the end of February, early March - something else I am really looking forward to with great anticipation.

After living in a large city for so long, it is easy to forget that there are so many people out in the world just eking out a living in these ways.  They may not be getting rich from their sales each week at the local markets, but the trade off of country living seems to be enough. 

I am fairly convinced it will be enough for me too.

(Oh, and by the way ladies...that cream she rubbed on the back of my hand 4 hours ago is still leaving my skin supple...she may be on to something with her avocado oil!) 

Green Demons in the Dark of Night

Remember when you were a kid and you used to think there were monsters under your bed? Maybe you still do even as an adult. I have also considered toilets a possible source for monster habitats and over the years have always made sure I took a good look in toilet bowls all over the world before use. We have all heard crazy stories about snakes and other creatures making their way into these little porcelain ponds, so, in my mind, it is better to err on the side of caution, especially if you are faced with using an out house or port-a-potty. 

So, now that I have enlightened you with my private behaviour upon entering the water closets of the world, allow me to share my story...a true story...a recent story...less than 12 hours ago in fact. Sit back, relax, and allow me to regale you with my 3 AM tale of TERROR!

Yes, that's right...TERROR!  For those of you with weak hearts or sensitive tummies, you may want to stop reading now. OK, OK, it's not that frightening...but that is all relative of course and depends on your level of tolerance of all things creepy and crawly.

It was a hot and muggy night at Goanna Downs. The ceiling fan, the only comfort as I lay naked atop the cool cotton sheets. Half asleep, a bit tossy and turny, I felt the familiar call from my bladder in the middle of the night. The one that just won't go away no matter how much you try to ignore it...the call that does not exist when you are young and your bladder behaves like a camel. Nowadays it just cannot make it through the night. I know if I do not get up, it will nag and nag until I do, so finally, I give in. 

If there is enough filtered moonlight, I will forgo turning on lights so as to try and maintain as little awakening as possible, but last night, the clouds were shadowing whatever light was emitting from the January new moon and I had to flick the switch on. I took my customary glance into the vitreous China bowl and saw nothing too unfamiliar. I did note a wee bit of debris that might have gotten left behind from the previous flush...as is fairly standard out here in the bush with the low water pressure and septic system. I did hesitate and wonder if I should take a closer look, but it seemed innocuous and hence, proceeded to sit on the throne to pee.

Just as I began to release my pent up urine, the HORROR began! Something touched the back of my thigh, just where it meets my tiny bottom (OK, not so tiny), and that's when the SHREAKING began! OMG! OMG! AAAAAAAAHHHHH! There is something in the toilet! I jumped off the seat faster than my Kiegel reflex's ability to stop the flow and now not only did I have to deal with a monster in the toilet, I had to deal with the slippery puddle on the polished slate flooring as I fled to the safety of my bedroom screaming to be rescued from the demon of the dark night. What? What? What is it darlin? Now the fear had really kicked in and my voice is all shaky and crackly and I tell him there is something in the toilet and now I think I am going to start crying like a 4 year old and he, being the brave hero he is, jumps out of bed to slay the dragon in the toilet with all the bravado and machismo I have come to expect of him.

I am now busy mopping up my mess and he is calling me to come and see...so I peek around the corner and lo and behold, the creature that was just moments earlier sliding his slippery body against mine is sitting on the edge of the seat, clearly now claiming the throne as his own. All that was missing from this scene was the crown upon his bright green head and buggy eyes. You little bastard I thought. How dare you invade my private spaces. Get RID of him I am shouting now. Catch him! Catch him! He was a slippery devil and he slid out of my dragon slayer's  hand once, but not twice and was delivered out the back door into the night post haste.

I calmed down and hit the shower for obvious reasons and once I dried off, I came back to bed and knew that this 3 am wake-up call was going to keep me from re-entering the Land of Nod for a good while. We both laid awake now, and as the entire event was replayed in my mind and our play by play description of what had just happened started to settle in, my trauma turned to hilarity. How could an Australian Green Tree Frog scare me half to death? It even occurred to me that I may have scared him half to death as I may have actually given him a bit of a shower...one he will never forget either!

And so, another adventure in my new life as Lisa Douglas comes to an end.

Ribbit! 

Call me Lisa Douglas

No sooner have I booted up my computer and sat down to write this blog, I can hear a loud croaking sound coming from the dining room fireplace. What the hell is that?, I think to myself and I get up and pad down the hallway to investigate the sound. It grows louder as I approach and seems to be coming from somewhere to the left of the hearth but I am not sure and so rather than find myself having to confront some large slimy reptile, I turn back and try to ignore the racket it is making. Maybe if I just pretend and hope it is actually outside the fireplace wall, I can relax.

Call me bloody Lisa Douglas. It is not far off. And right now, my Oliver (who is actually more like Mick Dundee) is not home to rescue me from what is surely a killer frog with a croak that loud. Is there a such thing?, I actually wonder to myself. I suppose if it were to ambush me in the hallway by jumping near me it could be considered a death threat as I would surely have a heart attack if any bit of it's slimy body scathed past my skin.  It has quieted down now for which I am grateful.

I am living in Green Acres. No joke. Spiders as big as my palm, geckos surprising me when I least expect it, the moan of cows in the paddock, cane toads as big as small rats, skinks (there is a new one for ya) that are apparently snake food which means snakes are surely hovering in the grass and I am on constant alert for any slithering around me as I walk across the lawn. I have not come face to fork-tongued face with one yet, but I am ready.

Just a few short months ago, the closest I ever came to a snake was in the handbag department at Holt Renfrew and the hardest part about that was swallowing the price tags. My, my, how life has changed.  I have since learned that if I do get bitten by a snake, I am to apply pressure to the wound, then wrap above and below it with a tensor bandage or some facsimile. If I am faced with an angry farm dog, I am supposed to face it, not run from it, and if I ever encounter a wild boar or pig, I am to climb a tree...they are not very good climbers apparently. 

Now, armed with all this new found knowledge, I feel prepared for anything. Yeah, right! I have however braved whacking and killing a March fly with my bare hand...better than being bitten I concluded and I now acknowledge that gecko poops are something that commonly appear on the kitchen windowsill in the  morning and sometimes even in your clean dishes in the cupboard, so I never use any plate or bowl without examining it first and giving it a cursory wipe just in case. 

Country living is new to me. And country living in the semi-tropics is even newer. The other day as I stood at the kitchen sink, a large goanna slowly made his way across the drive along the Bromeliad garden log edging. Just a few minutes ago, as I poured myself a glass of ice cold green tea, a spectacular Australian King Parrot did a low fly by past the kitchen window and across the front yard, a blaze of red and green so vivid against the overcast sky and drought burnished lawn, it took my breath away. It is as though there is a price to pay for the moments of awe.

Like yesterday when the mercury rose to 38 degrees and I wondered if I could stand it any longer. But, a drive to the ocean and a frolic in the waves at Rainbow Beach for some relief created a similar contrast. A cold seaside outdoor shower awaited as we scurried across the hot sand and again found something pleasurable to extinguish the heat and wash away the drying coating of salt on our skin.

This is Australia. A land of harsh contrasts. Not unlike my own personal contrasts. City gal to country gal. Holt Renfrew to Big W. (don't ask!) Dry cleaners to clotheslines. High heels to wellies. CBC to ABC...not all that different!  

There is one difference between me and Lisa Douglas though. I don't really long for Park Avenue, or Bloor Street or Rodeo Drive or The Magnificent Mile or any of those streets any more.  

You don't need designer clothes or shoes or handbags here. 

Just balls. And I am working on growing a set of those. 

Got one of these Kangaroo Scrotum pouches for Christmas! 

Fair Dinkum!

Try finding one of these beauties at Holts!