This life...

Sometimes I love what I do, the workshops, the coaching, the amazing people I meet. Sometimes I get such a buzz from the interaction of teaching or coaching. Sometimes I am in awe of the resilience of the human spirit, in fact I'm always in awe of that. But just sometimes it breaks my heart. Like today. Today I met two women, one young with a young family who spends her time caring for two children with disabilities, she searches and researches their illness in the hope that she can make a difference while they're still young. She's exhausted and she cried when she told me she just wants them to have a normal life. The other woman, middle aged and working hard at reclaiming her spirit told me that 26 years ago her 12 year old daughter was murdered. They never found her body so she has never had a funeral, a memorial or any kind of closure. As well as living with the guilt that any parent would have over such a thing, she also lives with the fact that others blamed her. She cried too. So did I. I am still crying. As a parent I can only imagine the kind of grief these women live with. And yet they go on, they continue to live and operate in the world, surprisingly devoid of self pity. No self pity, no anger, no bitterness just an overwhelming sadness.

I look at my life and my two healthy children and think what the fuck have I got to complain about. Seriously what? Because sometimes I do complain... and bitch.... and whine. We live in a self absorbed society and really, for a lot of us, even in our worst moments, it's nothing compared to what others live with.

It makes me grateful for my life, especially this...

Sunset from my window

This was the view tonight. Nice.

Oops, has it been that long...?

It has been a while hasn't it? I have no excuse except that I've been busy, I don't actually like being busy and this particular episode of busy-ness produced good and bad. Two good things - I passed an assessment that I was anxious about - got 91% too, yay me. The second thing - I got a new coaching client.

Bad results of the busy-ness? I'm tired. I'm a bit cranky. I didn't blog.


More bad news (depending on your perspective) I'm not going to blog much today. So just to keep things fascinating I'm going to show you something. M, beloved sister, reminded me of this so here it is....



I want this car.







That's all...just sayin'


This will get better, I promise. Hang in there.

Blue squid

I've been reading blogs. Lots of them. Especially the ones written by crafty people who make beautiful things out of fabric, wool and egg cartons (ok, there was nothing made out of egg cartons). I've become particularly addicted to this one. This has had a duel effect on me, first it made me green with envy and desperate to 'create' something. Then it made me feel inadequate. I'm not being hard on myself or immodest here when I say I'm just not good at stuff like that. My Mum taught me to knit...about 326 times. She would leave me to create and a few days later I'd pick up the needles and say 'how does this go again?'. I can't tell you the number of times I've been taught to cast on and cast off, must be millions. I would not be able to do it now if my life depended on it (sorry M).

I have a sewing machine, I've made a couple of things on it including a bolero jacket that I wore to my wedding. I knew it was crap when my sister's mother-in-law asked me if my dress was home made (it wasn't, just the jacket was) so I said no and she replied 'oh it looks home made' - I know she meant the jacket and I marvel at her tact.

Many years ago my Mum was on a crocheting binge (she could do everything that woman) and she went through a phase of making these cute little crocheted (how do you spell that?) bookmarks. They were pretty, she taught me and I made about 30 of them. Mine were crap so I tried a crochet blanket. It was crap too, kind of resembled a demented blue squid.

So while inside me there lurks a talented, creative, crafty genius (a bit like the meditating yogi - see below) I just cannot drag her sorry arse to the surface. However, it has not deterred me. I have added to my list of new things for 2007 (along with the vegan thing - going well thanks for asking - and finishing my degree) to try some crafty stuff. So watch this space for photos of demented squid and similar abominations.

Gosh I'm excited.

Back to the salt mine

This week I went back to work after a long break. I have to qualify that by 'this week' I mean yesterday and today. You see, I have changed my working hours and now only have to drag myself into the sweat shop two days a week. What a weird experience that has been. The week is half over before I even have to show up, by the end of day one I'm half way through my working week and here I am on Thursday night sitting here in that weekend (translates - happy hour and chocolate) frame of mind. I love it.

Sure the down side is that for some reason, beyond my comprehension, they are now only actually paying me for two days work...what gives? My manager, ever the genius, knowledgably stated today that I was now 'at home more than I was work' (you can see why they put him in charge, mind like a steel trap). I think the he was suprised by the big cheery grin I gave him when I said 'yeah I know...cool huh?' I can never understand why some bosses seem surprised if you give them a hint that spending your days at work is not actually something you'd do given the option (and a large sum of money). That's probably why I was such a popular and yet not wholly committed manager myself. About 50 or 60 years ago in a previous life before children I was a manager, several times actually. I think it's something that is rather quaintly called a 'career'. I used to have one. I spent a lot of time 'careering' (towards what I'd rather not say). The problem was I didn't want to be at work any more than my staff did. It doesn't bode well for departmental productivity when it's the manager saying 'I know, lets say we're sick and just go to the pub'. My staff liked me though...a lot.

So anyway, I'm back at work and really happy with the whole two days thing. The only thing better would be 'no days' and I'm working on that one. But I have to go now, it's the weekend for me and a glass of wine, a bar of chocolate and a Midsomer Murder await.