happy happy happy happy happy anniversary

Chris and I have been married 17 years today.

Gosh we look young in this photo.  Chris' hair!  My waist! No wrinkles!

I have a theory.  It is called the "windscreen theory".  Just like when you drive and you look THROUGH the windscreen past all the bugs and cracks and smears of slime to the road ahead - a person's face is like a windscreen,  You look THROUGH what they look like to the road ahead, to how they treat others and what shines beneath.  Sometimes I even forget what people look like, and only when I take a step back do you realise how they have changed - because you are concentrating on the person inside.  That's how is is with your husband of I think.  I don't see the cracks and the smears - I see the one I love.

He has been a wonderful husband - loyal, caring, dashingly handsome.  He is a good leader and makes wonderful curry.

He helps me to fly with my ideas and projects and puts a healthy dose of realism into some of my more farfetched schemes.

It's interesting in couples how they end up working as a team.  Often one person does the money more than the other (Chris).  Or thinks up the crazy ideas (me).  Or considers decisions carefully (Chris).  Or impulsively gets a puppy (me).  Or does things at the last minute (Chris).  Or is prepared two weeks ahead of time like a girly swot (me).  It's good how that works out. 




He follows Christ and cherishes our family.  He fixes things and quietly makes awesome stuff happen.  'Ask Chris Pine' is a phrase used by many many people.

He is an excellent father putting his girls high up and parenting them with grace and truth.

This journey is long.  And I am glad, blessed and grateful he is by my side.

Because he is also very silly like me.

It's not you, it's me

So I have been going to group training sessions at the gym three days a week now for about six months. We have a little group that meets with a trainer early in the morning, it doesn't cost any more than my gym membership. We do sit ups and push ups and step ups and pull ups and knee ups, and we trash talk the trainer like only a group of middle aged women in the early morning can. He makes us run fast on the treadmill when he gets tired of our conversations about bodily functions, children and general exercise trash talk.

But on Wednesday he said 'this is my last session with you - the gym wants me to do personal training instead of take this group'.

We were shocked. We had to verbally process this several times, and than go through all the break up phrases we knew. I had to sing Taylor Swift's new song to him - weeee will never ever get back together - until he made me run fast on the treadmill so I couldn't sing.

I felt hurt and betrayed. We had an exercise relationship. He knew how fast we could go and how much we could lift before we threw medicine balls at him in protest. And it is a gift to be encouraging and supportive of grumpy women in the morning.

So I will have to move on and make start at another group training session. Embrace the change. Grump grump grump. I was getting good at running. I was actually slightly enjoying exercising and reaching goals.

Maybe I will take up hip hop dancing instead.

Hairbands

No matter how many packets of hairbands I buy once they enter my house they seem to disappear like smoke in an afternoon breeze. The good black ones that is. The old non stretchy ones seem to lurk around fooling you into thinking you have hairbands, but do not actually hold any hair in place.

Every morning there is a Race To The Good Hair Band. The girls keep finding my secret hairband hiding place and using then losing the good hairbands. Three girls in the house means a high attrition of hairbands.

So this morning when I had one really good hairband, black and strong, and I needed to do a ponytail for work in unwashed hair, and then I accidentally flicked it into the open toilet while I was doing my hair - what would you do?

What would you do when the only good hairband in the house is in the toilet?

.............

when at a party

This afternoon we had a lovely afternoon at the 40th birthday party of one of my uni friends.  The weather was lovely, the food delicious and my children relatively well behaved. 

But what does an extrovert like me do at a party when you only know the host, and you don't want to hang around her ALL afternoon because it looks a bit needy?

I decided to:
- sit close to a group of people and laugh at the right bits in the conversation
- help bring out the food and arrange it on the table
- chat with the three year olds about chickens in the back of the garden for a while
- engage the elderly aunts and uncles in conversation by asking about their hobbies - had a long conversation about match stick modelling, model train sets, quilt making and how to make pastry well
- do all the washing up for the party - in which I finally made a couple of friends and we talk for the rest of the afternoon.  My host's lovely aunt told me all about her time in Papua New Guinea, and some other guests and I realised we had a connection long ago.

It made me realise about what it may feel like to be new again at a big gathering, like church, and how important it is to be friendly.  No-one my age really made the effort this afternoon to say 'hi' - they all had their own friends.  It was the older relatives who were kind and initiated conversations with me.  I had to work quite hard to feel part of the party.

So tomorrow at church I will make sure I say hi to at least five people I don't know.  A smile can go a long way to making someone feel welcome and wanted, and actual engagement in conversation an even longer way.

mickey story chapter fourteen

I have a small friend called Mickey. He is cheeky and often single minded about certain topics.  I have not written about him in a while, but he continues to amaze and amuse me with his mind.  I cannot wait to see what he does with his life. It will be a surprise.

This is a story from last week as retold to me by his mother last night.

Mickey's great grandad passed away a week ago.  And while they were at the after funeral afternoon tea a kind auntie decided to amuse all the small boys gallooting around the sombre gathering by taking them outside to look for lorikeet feathers.  Lorikeets and other native birds were very plentiful at the house, and the auntie thought this would be a pleasant activity for young boys.

Unfortunately, even though there were several eagle eyed young lads searching the underbrush, no lorikeet feathers were found.  However, the kind auntie found a dead lorikeet resting peacefully under a tree.  Cradling it gently in a serviette she gave a short speech about how the lorikeet was resting peacefully now, probably mindful of the several family members and funeral guests inside the house.  She asked the boys what she should do with it, thinking they may have a short backyard bird buriel.

Mickey, task focused and eyes on the job, replied 'Pluck its feathers'.

He saw a mother-lode of lorikeet feathers.  The auntie did not know quite what to say.

As I said, Mickey can be single-minded.

not just one lorikeet feather here...

at what point

do you give up on a car and start looking for a newer one?

Is it when the starter motor fails on the way home from high school interviews?
Or when the air conditioning (a necessity in Brisbane in my view) still does not work after hundreds of dollars spent on it?
Or when the brakes fail when you are driving off the off ramp from the Gateway Motorway and you nearly run up the back of a ute?
Or when bits of the car start dropping off onto the driveway?
Or when the gears start crunching between two and three?

Or is it when you balance your chocolate milk on the handbrake because there is no cup holder and it spills when you turn the corner and it dribbles right into the electric switches that open the back windows so the windows don't open anymore and your dog gets frustrated that it can't put it's head out of the window and drools into your ear when you drive to pick up the kids?

I realize people in the world, in my city, in my neighborhood have bigger problems than old cars.

But I have been trawling car websites today looking at used cars. So much choice. And you get so emotionally attached to cars. I feel like I want to break up with our car but I haven't got the guts yet.

I definitely think we need a newer younger model though. With a cup holder.