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Our (Non) Christmas

28 December, 2015 by Vicki Leave a Comment

Plate of Christmas cookies and a glass of milk, with an envelope on which is written

It seems we were bad. :-(

Christmas Eve

The dread of the preceding weeks had finally built its way up to a crescendo. On Thursday morning, Christmas Eve, we braced our shoulders and flung ourselves head first (no, not really) into the madding Christmas crowds at the local shops.

I hate crowds. *glower*

Shopping (eventually) complete, we arrived home, ate brekkie and I set to work prepping food for Christmas Day. We had to bring food to two separate family gatherings. I mostly had to make salads and dips, plus crudités and zucchini chips and spiced nuts — basically the finger food.

The potato salad was to take the most time. Boil the spuds, steam the eggs, make the mayonnaise, fry the bacon, chop the spuds, chop the eggs, chop the bacon, chop the chives and spring onions. It was a bit of a marathon and my back was giving me some grief (a day of babysitting the heffalump grandson does that to me, and we’d had him the day before) and it took me a few hours to get done everything I needed to get done that day.

Well, nearly everything. I still had to make one of the dips, and then the next day assemble the potato salad and other salads. But all was pretty much under control. Whew.

Then, with cunning and stealth, it attacked — slow but invincible.

“Uh-oh,” I said to Dohn. “I’m feeling uncomfortable. Maybe it’s heartburn?” After about half an hour or so of discomfort, I headed to the kitchen to get some apple cider vinegar in case it was heartburn, though I wasn’t convinced as it was lower down than heartburn tended to be. Then, before I even had a chance to pour the ACV, I knew for sure it was not. I made my way quick smart to the bathroom.

The Bug had made its move — and move it did.

That was that as far as the day’s prep was concerned. The final dip would just have to be crammed into the next morning’s prep. It couldn’t be helped. I felt, in a word, bleugh.

I lay on the bed, not wanting my computer(!), not wanting food(!!), not wanting bubbles(!!!) but wanting to feel better more than a little, as day drifted into evening and evening drifted into night. It was all the same to me.

And then it was Christmas

At some point in the night, The Bug had felled Dohn too. So by morning there we were, two sad souls, feeling crook together. At this point it was The Bug: 2, Us: 0.

“Merry Christmas,” we greeted each other, with somewhat more irony than joy.

After some discussion, but not much as it was really a no-brainer, we decided we must stay home that day and not subject other family members to The Bug that had laid us low. And it did lay us low! We spent Christmas Day in bed feeling quite pitiful. Still no computer, no food and no bubbles. On Christmas Day! So many firsts. Always trying something new, that’s me. Hah.

In the evening, I thought of my family celebrating at my daughter’s house but felt too ill to wish I was there, although I hoped they were all having a good time. I did, however, have fleeting thoughts for my Mum’s pavlova. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but I do adore my Mum’s pav. I have been known to “order” it as a birthday cake in the past. It’s sooooooo good. And therefore it was sooooooo tragic! *sniffle*

But the food…!

So, that was our Christmas. Dohn was better by yesterday, evening the score a little, and I am also better today. Such a relief! (Take THAT, The Bug! You lose!) But now we have to face all the food. Oh, my. So much wasted food. We couldn’t give it away (in case it was contaminated with The Bug) and haven’t been up to eating it ourselves. And oh, how I love my potato salad! I don’t get to eat it normally, as hubby isn’t fond of it. Such a waste — of both money and the food itself. When I think of all the better uses both could have been put to, I could weep. And all that stress and prep for nothing!

But that’s life.

(Belated) Christmas wishes!

I truly hope your Christmas was better than ours. Despite the tardiness of the message, I sincerely wish you all the blessings of the season. Merry Christmas everyone!

Filed Under: Food, Life Tagged With: Christmas, food

Birthdays

9 September, 2015 by Vicki Leave a Comment

Today I celebrate my husband Dohn’s birthday.

I say “I”, because he is only participating in the celebrations under sufferance. (Or so he says. :-) ) Despite this being a “-ty” birthday, and therefore a “big one”, he has refused any fuss. I was allowed to make him his favourite Almond Puff Pancakes for breakfast, and his mother was allowed to take us out for coffee and cake this afternoon. He even permitted me to take him out for dinner at Nunzio’s, a fabulous new Italian restaurant in Fremantle.

It’s been quiet, but he’s had a good day, which is the main thing.

In the wake of our — er — “discussions” about how we would celebrate his birthday (he most emphatically did not want a party, or even to go out with family), I started to consider the nature of birthdays in general.

Those major milestones in particular, that end-of-decade punctuation we apply with deliberate, dreadful regularity throughout the span of a person’s life, can be somewhat confronting. I mean, forty sounds so much older than thirty-nine. Fifty sounds so much older than forty-nine. And sixty? Heaven forbid.

One wonders, should we even continue to keep count?

Yet, incomprehensible as attaining such an age may have seemed to us when we were kids and even as younger adults, we all aspire to reach these very milestones, every single one of them. After all, the alternative holds even less appeal.

On birthdays, we do what we can to make those whose birthday it is feel special. We’re so happy about their very existence! And in that sense it’s as much about us as it is about them. We want to express how glad we are. When we pare it down, birthdays are the anniversary of the day on which a person was born, a celebration of the fact they are alive. We make it a point to note the passing of each year because we are thankful for every one of them, and we think it a worthwhile exercise to stop and mark the day by openly acknowledging our gratitude for them.

I can’t help feeling that birthdays are probably more important to mothers than to anyone else. Other than the birthday child (whatever their current age), mothers have by far the most intimate experience of the actual birth. It’s the mother and her baby that endure the physical trauma and the emotional upheaval that accompany it. But the mother, unlike her child, actually remembers the occasion, usually with vivid clarity. On my kids’ birthdays, I celebrate their lives but I also recall their individual births, each unique to the them and to me. Each was a momentous and miraculous occasion and truly worth celebrating every year — in fact, every day!

I know, because she told me, that Dohn’s mother remembers his birth like it was yesterday. I know, because it was in her card to him, that she is grateful for every year of his lifetime. Birthdays are an extra-special special occasion for mothers.

The perspective of the child is quite different of course, but I also want to celebrate the births and lives of my parents, who gave me my own life. And I want to similarly honour every single person who is important to me. Their lives matter, and birthdays are the traditional, accepted occasion for me to articulate what I already know and hope they do too, which is how very glad I am that they are alive.

While we don’t theoretically need a special occasion for this, the reality is often that birthdays provide a useful prompt, especially when we have been drowning in the stresses of everyday life.

I feel so badly for those who don’t have anyone to celebrate their special day with them, even when they don’t themselves appear to mind. While my hubby, and my Dad too, for that matter, would prefer not to make a fuss on birthdays, I know they both do appreciate that others care. Those of us with family and friends to care about, who care for us too, are truly fortunate.

So birthdays, I feel, are very much about gratitude for life, and for family and friends, and give us an occasion on which to make a particular point of showing it.

I want to celebrate! What do you think?

Filed Under: Life, Vapour

I love Perth

1 September, 2015 by Vicki Leave a Comment

I love Perth.

Scarborough Beach. In summer, we like to go for a dip before the day gets too hot.

Far North Queensland was very beautiful, too, of course, albeit in a very different way.

Millaa Millaa, from the McHugh Lookout.

But Perth’s beauty is special to me, because Perth is home.

Life in FNQ had its challenges. Nothing to do with the place, or the people — both were wonderful. But certain circumstances made things very difficult at times. That, however, doesn’t stop me from being grateful for the many wonderful experiences that arose from living in the region. I barely knew where it was before we moved there, and I am pretty sure I would never have visited of my own accord. I was to discover it’s an amazing place, and we made some amazing friends. So I’m grateful for that.

But I’m also grateful to be home.

Over a year later, not unsurprisingly, a few things have changed. We moved, and moved again. We are now ensconced in a pleasant apartment a hop, skip and a jump from the Swan River, south of the city. I’m a North of the River gal, but soon learned my way around and we’ve settled in pretty well. When things become dreary within these walls, as things inevitably do regardless of how pleasant the surrounds, it is a simple matter to don my sneakers and my camera, or hop on my sexy Dutch bike, Mathilde, and head down to the river for a breath of fresh air and a reviving vista.

Mathilde at Applecross Jetty, looking across to the city of Perth on one of my rides along the Swan River.

We can also take our evening meals to any number of vantage spots within easy distance, and watch the sun set.

Sunset at Trigg Beach.

The city of Perth at dusk, from Kings Park.

We travelled to Singapore and spent a happy few days being tourists, with a little business thrown in. What a wonderful place! We absolutely loved it (mmmmm food!) and had the time of our lives. (After, of course, our honeymoon in Papua New Guinea, which was just The Best.)

Selfie taken in a cable car descending to Sentosa Island which can be seen behind me.

Selfie on the cable car to Sentosa, Singapore.

One of the highlights of the year has been my graduation from my year-long Health Coaching course at the Institute for Integrative Nutrition (IIN) in May. This course was absolutely amazing in terms of personal development, not to mention learning how to be a Health Coach of course. It was also wonderful in terms of meeting so many other like-minded people, both online and in real life. This extends not just to fellow students and graduates, but to clients as well. I really enjoy the company of others, but I tend to be a solitary soul. In health coaching, the planets have aligned to bring something very special and rewarding into my life.

And, I became a grandmother. One of the things for which I’m most grateful is to have been around for my daughter, throughout her pregnancy and afterwards. And, of course, to be able to see my grandson Anthony, who at just three months old has already grown and developed at an incredible speed. It’s such a joy to watch him grow into a real little person with his own special personality.

My grandson Anthony at 12 weeks, smiling at his grandfather off-camera.

My grandson, Anthony.

Of course it’s amazing to be around the rest of my family, too. My two boys have grown into wonderful young men, and it’s definitely a blessing to be near my parents again. Yet, I think I will always have that adventurous itch, that yearning for extraordinary experiences. But this is still a time of healing after the rough time I had in FNQ and, for now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

I love Perth.

Filed Under: Life Tagged With: Perth, western australia

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