coffee

Happy Monday

/ smikg / Leave a comment

As wrecked as I now am, ironically from the happiness of the day, I felt it ever so important to share in the joy and express why and how today was a ‘good news day.’

Because you can never have too much positivity.

It all started when I drove in to work, and found a park, in a really busy area where it’s usually really hard to find a spot at that time of morning. Lucky Tick.

I picked up a coffee and got into work before starting time. Soon after I had my yearly performance review with my boss, and was very pleased to hear she was very happy with me. I was appreciated, and they were glad to have me back, even in a part-time role. It’s always nice to hear that you’re wanted and appreciated. Job satisfaction Tick and Tick.

I caught up with a friend, who was now in a serious relationship with the guy she had liked for about 2 years. Hearing of how well things were going for her, made me so happy. I love stories like that. People who are meant to be, ending up together. She thanked me for helping her not lose it over that time, and for helping her ‘persevere.’ Awww shucks. Love and Happiness Tick. Dreams DO come true. You CAN get the guy!

I then got a random phone call from a health care business on my side of town. A former work colleague had put me down as a referee on her resume, and the place she had recently applied to was calling to get the low down on her! Being the fantastic person that she is, it was no problem to speak highly of her, tell them I missed having someone like her around in my current workplace, and that she was a very happy, friendly, talkative, yet hard-working and loyal employee. I messaged her later today, and she said she got the job! She had been looking for so long, and for so long I had wished there was something I could do to help her. And unwittingly, I totally did!

Job and Friend Helping Tick!

Then I happened across a programme at work, pretty much based on the changing face of Australia and how we have become the nation we are today through our people and achievements. I was proud to again be witness to the remarkable feat Cathy Freeman achieved at the Sydney Olympics, when she ran the 400 metre sprint and won, under the intense pressure and scrutiny of the world. Seeing the vision of her excel and succeed, amidst such public and also personal pressure, of being in the position to realise her dreams and became an Olympic champion, was truly motivational and touching. Inspirational Tick.

A horribly bittersweet story came next, of the Australian team that were one of the countries that had partaken in ‘Operation Babylift,’ where in 1975 they tried to rescue babies from orphanages in South Vietnam as a result of the war at that time. Although most of the footage of this event was re-enacted, seeing the images and hearing the stories of the people who fought against terrifying odds to take sick, close to dying children on a plane, crying and scared and set out in cardboard boxes, and nurturing them until they set foot on Australian soil, was truly moving. I struggled with great difficulty to fight the sobs as I watched one scene, of a woman run towards the bus which was taking the Australian team with the orphaned babies to their ready bound-for-Australia plane, begging them to take her child.

Crying, and begging, for them to take her baby. She wanted her baby to be saved, to be safe, in light of the harsh and sad reality that she, her baby’s mother, may never come out of the war alive. She couldn’t come with them. Being a mother, this scene was incredibly hard to watch, and it was only a re-enactment. Albeit a true story, nonetheless.

The happy ending out of it all, is that all the crew and the orphaned babies made it back to Australia alive. In sum, approximately 3000 babies were saved as a result of ‘Operation Babylift.’ And seeing that many of the adopted babies had grown and had families of their own in this great country of ours, made me so happy, made me so bloody proud to be part of a country that was part of such an important humanitarian effort. I am so, so proud to be Australian. Heart-tugging and patriotic TICK, TICK, TICK.

And then on a completely different, and lighter note: I came home and found a save-the-date card had been sent to us for an upcoming wedding of a really old friend of mine. I love weddings, and you know life is good when you have great things to celebrate. Celebration Tick. Milk it when you can.

I shared my ‘good news day’ on facebook, and funnily have had cousins messaging me asking if I’m pregnant again. No, for the record, I’m not. I’m enjoying my red wine too much at the moment to be ready for that again. But it was lovely to hear from people on the other side of town, whether 30 minutes away, 60 minutes away, or on the other side of the world (as occurred when my cousin in Germany messaged me!) Family Tick.

It’s been a great day. It’s been a great Monday. Today has been somewhat of an exceptional example, yet I think the lesson here is that you can find good, no matter how small, in every day.

Helping other makes you happy.

Sharing with others makes you happy.

Being rewarded makes you happy.

I forgot the best part of the day. Laughing with baby girl on the couch, as I blew air into her face, and she exploded wet raspberries onto mine.

Motherly, Tick. 🙂

Life is good. Life is great. Let’s not forget that.

Bring back the school photos

/ smikg / Leave a comment

I was chatting to a work colleague today when I came across an interesting thought. As usually occurs post-coffee consumption.

We were discussing the years that go by way too quickly, and I noted how I seem to be stuck in the year 2001. Every time someone mentions the ’90s, for a brief moment a part of me recollects ‘ahh, just a few years ago.’

Mmmm, nope. Try going on 15 years ago. 2001 coincides with my last year of high school, and for some reason, my head just wants to live in that time.

I mentioned how the start of high school is so drastically different compared to the person you are when you leave at the end of Year 12. There is so much growth and development, so many changes, physically, emotionally and mentally, that occur in those 6 years. And then you leave school, go on to further study or find work, yet those following years are kind of a bit of blur. You get married, and throw in some more unfocused years, where everything just seems to blend into the next.

Thinking of the image I had of each high school year, it hit me: photos. We had photos to mark each year of our school lives, something that abruptly stopped when we entered the real world. That photo wasn’t only a snapshot of the physical (and horribly awkward) changes we were undergoing at the time, but if you recall your school photos, take out the old album and leaf through the pages, you’ll have names, scenarios, moments and feelings come through to you. That one photo represents your entire year, your entire state of being, not just at school, but in this “thing called life” (as Prince says).

We need the school photos to come back.

That’s what’s missing. That’s why the days, weeks, months, years, all blend into one another and follow the other in this indistinct conga line of blur.

Recently, the years don’t seem so blurry, and that’s because they have been punctuated with approximately 5,610 photos of baby girl since her sweet arrival into our world. All those photos of a girl who isn’t even two, paints a strong picture of the time before her birth, her first year with us and these current months as she develops into a vibrant, happy, energetic and beautiful soul.

But I still kinda need the 12 years in between, the ‘missing’ years : from the end of year 12 to actually having her.

A yearly photo will fix all that. Where we can get dressed up in appropriately-themed yearly uniform, don our sporting cheesy smiles and get into position for a pose that when we look back, will tell us all we need to know about that year that was.

How to MAKE it while doing it all

/ smikg / 1 Comment

This is the thing. I’m not aware of any writer out there, any woman out there, who has managed to achieve literary publishing success, while her children are young.

Young. Little. I’m talking 1 + children under the age of, let’s say 4-5.

Because really, when would they have time to do it?

Baby girl is not a baby anymore: she’s a toddler, 18 months to be precise. Life was already busy without her, and now that she’s here, it’s even busier. I’m fortunate in that if left to her own devices, she will nap for about 2 hours a day. This is great. This is unreal. The only thing is, I have so much to do, I don’t know what to do first.

There’s always some kind of cleaning, some kind of food prep or cooking. Today for example, I had phone calls to make. I’ll pay bills online. I always try to squeeze in some writing time though. Like today. I haven’t posted something non-food related for a while, and this post and all the contradictory thoughts that come with it has been stewing in my mind for months. I sit down during her nap, with a coffee, and let the caffeine take me on a journey.

I have so many thoughts about this. There is some way, that I could achieve publishing success, with baby girl, as is. Like, now. But if I were to have another baby, I don’t know where I would find the time. I have this small sliver of opportunity that currently exists during the day. I can, and I do often write at night when she has been put down for the night. But unfortunately on some occasions, I’m just too tired. I’m tired from the day, I’m tired from the constant running around and not stopping. I’m tired of everything.

So instead, I’ll surf the web, or watch something I’ve recorded on Foxtel.

(Tsk tsk tsk).

Two people spring to mind when I think of me as Author (because we all are Authors aren’t we, only no one knows of our impending success yet)… me as Author watching TV.

Stephen King and Jackie Collins.

In Stephen King’s On Writing, he talks about TV being possibly the worst thing to thwart an Author’s efforts to write. He tells us to unplug the thing, and to find places where you can read during the day…standing in queue at the post office for example, or while waiting at the doctor’s office.

Jackie Collins says quite the opposite. In a recent interview, she spoke of how much she enjoyed watching television, and the volume of television she watches. She finds it inspiring and helps her to formulate her stories and give her the inspiration she needs.

I think they’re both right. Stephen King is right, but so is Jackie. You should avoid the TV, just for the sake of not getting sucked into the tedious monotomy of fluff being broadcast to a passive audience, hypnotising the viewers into forgetting about the next 3 possibly useful and effective hours of the night.

But if you’re watching something brilliant, something compelling… well. I find inspiration not just from books, but from movies and television shows. When I watch entertainment on TV, I don’t just stare numbly: I break it down, I analyse. In my mind, when something surprising occurs, I think ‘Oh. See how they did that? It went from A to B and then C was missed and suddenly you were at M and you were like what?! How did they think to create that story?’

So I can’t deny my visual form of entertainment either. I just have to pick carefully because of my limited time.

My foxtel planner is inundated with movies and shows that are yet to be watched. I have DVDS and movies that I’ve bought, and likewise have not had the time to sit down and dedicate myself to it. I feel so bad to sit there, not writing, for approximately 40 mins to 2 hours, when I could be productive and working on my book. I really feel guilty about it, yet I feel like my desire to consume this screen action won’t go away soon either.

I was thinking of the whole theory that Mums don’t have time to make themselves a success while their children were young, when P.D. James died. The night after hearing the shocking news, I googled her and some interesting articles came up on her back story. She had had a very difficult upbringing with her Mother institutionalised due to mental illness while James was still at an impressionable age, and then her string of misfortune continued when her husband developed a severe case of Schizophrenia after returning from the war, resulting in frequent hospitalisation. She found him dead one morning in their home, due to suicide.

She’d had two children with him, and moved in with her in-laws after he died. She worked full time to make ends meet. And you know what she also did?

She would wake up 2 hours before work every day, and write.

I remember the strong emotional feeling I got when I read that. I got very teary in the realisation that she had done, so many years ago, what I’d always known I could do. But I hadn’t.

Basically, in the end, there are no excuses. If you want to write, you will find a way. Like one blogger wrote, you’ll lock yourself in the bathroom away from the toddlers just so you can have 5 minutes of peace and tranquillity and a moment to put your fingers to the keypad. You’ll get up early, you’ll stay up late, or you just won’t sleep much at all.

Didn’t Bon Jovi sing “I’ll sleep when I’m dead?” That sounds about right.

Like another blogger I follow recently posted about, Andrew Toy at Adopting James, he also gets up 2 hours before his work start, in order to get in some writing time.

There are really no excuses.

There will always be things to do. I’m such a planner. I think I organise and plan and think and create more than I can possibly achieve. I love being on the move, being busy, and hate the idea of boredom. So I do it to myself, really. But in the end, do I want to tick off all my jobs on my to-do list, or do I want to say:

“I’m a published writer.”

There is no question there.

And don’t get me wrong, don’t accuse me of procrastinating now. I have been writing my book, the second book in my series in fact. I finished the 1st chapter just the other day, and while I stir up some more creative juices as to what to do in chapter 2, I sit here, and add to my blog, and catch up on stuff, and just generally imagine the possibilities for my characters, for myself, and for life.

Sometimes I think this blog has taken me away from my book writing. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m totally right. But at the end of the day I have to write, and I have to write somewhere… and this kind of outlet, I wouldn’t give up for anything.

So in reference to the above heading… how to make it, while doing it all?

1. Prioritise

2. Decide on your goals, and what is important to you

3. Forget about sleep. It can wait.

Food for thought on writing

/ smikg / Leave a comment

The challenge isn’t in trying to write when your circumstances back you. The challenge isn’t in trying to find the time, the opportunity, the inspiration or the drive, when you’re in the mood.

When your geared up on coffee, had a couple of glasses of red, or sitting by the window on a rainy day, your muse will come. In fact, in those instances, your muse will be waiting for you to jump on the writing train. The words will flow and the ideas will spring to mind faster than your fingers have the time to get them out. This is me, most of the time.

The challenge comes when you don’t have a 1 hour block (or 2, or 3 hours, however you work) to get into a real writing flow. The challenge comes when you’re tired, when you’re sick. When you’re just not feeling like it, when the ideas fail you. The biggest one for me, is when I’m sad. Anger drives me, frustration gets me writing furiously, but sadness…. This is a hard obstacle between me and my writing.

But I remind myself, this separates the real writers from the occasional writers. And I don’t want to be ‘occasional.’ I want to be there, on cue, always, showing up.

Besides, if I rely on the unpredictability of Melbourne weather, those rainy spells only really last for 5 minutes at a time, so yeah.

Write for life.

Things that shit me… #5

/ smikg / Leave a comment

Someone please tell me: what is the deal with the wide inconsistency of coffee cup sizes?

I currently have a takeaway cappuccino on my desk at work. It resembles the size of what I call a medium, yet when I ordered it I had to ask for ‘large.’

Yesterday I ordered from another café, and their version of a medium is actually slightly bigger than the large I’m looking at right now. The size matches what I would call a medium, but how is today’s large coffee smaller?

This shits me. Cafes that only serve regular coffee sizes, shit me. Especially when they border on the ‘small-pathetic-size.’ (Small sizes should not exist in coffee world). Cafes that serve itsy-bitsy coffees, and market them as ‘large,’ shit me.

All you cafes, you shit me. Call a medium, a medium. A large, a large. And call a small, a pansy. That’s it. Simple.

A rose by any other name would not smell as sweet… in this case the coffee still smells good but there’s not enough of it, damn it.

House with a (Boat) view

/ smikg / Leave a comment

Fairfield Park Boathouse & Tea Gardens
Fairfield Park Drive Fairfield

On a gorgeous sunny day in late December, baby girl and I found ourselves heading down a scarily steep path on the way to meet my friends for our fabulous KK Christmas catch-up.

That was the only downhill we encountered that day. Everything else was rad.

If I haven’t already mentioned it, I love Christmas-time, I love catching up with the girls, and I love Summer. And food. And coffee. Combine them all for a truly fabulous mix that coincided with a pretty fantastic view.

2014-12-20 14.54.23

After mine and baby girl’s steep descent towards the Boathouse sitting along a river named Yarra, we were on time and I took the best seat on the reserved table out on the verandah just so, because I could well damn it.

Shortly the rest of the girls joined me, and we started in our food orders.

The Boathouse in Fairfield is set up a little different. Not bad, it just may have been difficult if let’s say we all had bubs with us there. Fortunately for baby girl who got ALL the attention, even the other mother’s there had left their kiddies at home, and fortunately for me, I had people to help me out when it came to ordering. When you order drinks or coffee/tea, you go to the drinks section to pay, and then pick up your drink (which is made fairly quickly); likewise with the food, you go to the grill section, pay and order, and are given a little buzzer that goes off when your food is ready, to let you know you can go and pick it up. I had to feed baby girl fairly soon after arriving so when I went to pick up her food (after the buzzer buzzed) I had to contend with carrying her on one arm (she didn’t want me to leave her) while carrying a tray holding her plate of eggs on toast in the other, outstretched so she wouldn’t reach out and grab it. Fun.

But like I said, I had friends there and they helped with the rest of my ordering. However, if you’re with a bub, make sure you have a spare hand, on hand.

I didn’t get a photo of baby girl’s meal, but fairly basically it was just two fried eggs on two pieces of bread. I was excited as it was the first meal out I’ve ordered for her, and she enjoyed it, even imitating the way I dipped the bread into the yolk for her, and getting herself into it by getting her fingers right into the yolk. Lovely.

However I took a photo of my starting drink which was this:

Purple heaven: A fresh vegetable and fruit juice of carrot, beetroot, celery, ginger and apple

2014-12-20 13.30.43
(Penguin cookie not included with juice!)

Now I don’t usually do juices (look up my tag of coffee on this blog and it’ll start to paint a picture) but I just went ‘yes!’ after reading the description, even though I don’t like celery. Sure enough, it looked amazing and tasted really fresh. Two of my friends also had it, being tempted by the purple colour, however they weren’t big fans. I don’t know, but it appealed to me, even though I could taste the celery. And I don’t like celery! I think I fell in love with the idea of a fresh, healthy juice, and I certainly was buzzing for hours later and felt really energized (nothing to do with my subsequent coffee I guess 😉 )

Now, for lunch. My friend ordered for me (thank God) and the food was already on the table after I came back from changing baby girl. I stupidly ordered this:

Boathouse Beef Burger: relish, aioli, tomato, lettuce, bacon, cheese, with chips

2014-12-20 14.30.46

Now let’s be clear: I wasn’t stupid about the burger. It itself was very wholesome and hearty. No, I was stupid because I ordered like I was born a Mum yesterday. Like seriously, who in their right mind orders a massive burger that they barely manage to manoeuvre with both hands, while their bub sits nearby waiting to be entertained on her high chair? Should I add here that this was the same high chair she fell in earlier? She fell off the freaking high chair! She actually fell off the f^$king high chair, like seriously. And then I order a burger, so that both my hands are full, of burger. Not baby.

So anyway, due to some miracle, baby girl actually was really good while I ate this burger. I totally forgot to take a photo of my meal before I started eating, which explains the above photo. Also, I totally demolished the burger, because

a) I was hungry
b) Baby girl was sitting nearby in high chair she had recently fallen down with (see she didn’t fall out – the WHOLE thing tipped over)
c) I actually couldn’t let go of the burger once I started (see above)
d) I was really hungry

I loved the fact there was plentiful aioli, and the burger tasted really good too. There was lots of bacon, and even after taking out all the fatty strips there was still plenty of fleshy-meat bacon in there (which is great because when I usually remove all the fat there’s one tiny strip left). I took the long toothpick out too early though, and somehow, though I struggled for a good while with sauce all over my hands and mouth, I ate it in a somewhat clean fashion… four napkins later.

Again, if you’re a Mum, don’t be stupid. But it was a great burger. Came with fries, which baby girl also enjoyed. Give me a kid that doesn’t like salted chips.

I really needed a coffee after that hard work of eating the burger, and walking up and down the pathway amongst the tables with baby girl, looking at pigeons, the view, and talking to other lovely diners. It’s hard work. And can you believe it…

2014-12-20 15.04.11

I had my cappuccino warm. I know, I’m still getting over it too. And it was really good, hit the spot.

All in all it was a great outing: from being an eating-out milestone for baby girl, having some much needed girl talk, and doing our exchanging of pressies for Christmas (and this year our group of girlfriends grew as one has recently moved back to Melbourne) – we had plenty to celebrate, and be thankful for. The river view made it all the more wonderfully serene.

Food: 7/10.

Coffee: 8/10.

Ambience: Really relaxed and chilled. It’s hard not to be when you have such a lovely view. Also the order-up-front, pay and pick-up thing they have going gives it more of a casual vibe.

We were seated on the verandah as I mentioned, however there was also an indoor area that was empty – maybe used for night time, or busier times? There was also some outdoor seating right near their grilling station, and we could see another little section further down below, right near the river where there appeared to be a Christmas party happening. All in all, very outdoorsy, very cas.

Staff: Friendly and accommodating. I mean, we only really dealt with them when they cleared the table since we picked up our own food, but the waitress who seated me took a photo of us and that’s always nice when they do it with a smile and take an extra five. 🙂

People: Families, older crowd. The Christmas party was a younger 20-30 something crowd bringing them through. It seems to be a real family, get-together place, and places like that always have a really nice homely feel about them, this one no exception.

Price: I think on the up-side, and I don’t know if it’s because we were in Fairfield, or maybe the location and view that made it that way? Baby girl’s two fried eggs on toast were a tad much, and likewise my coffee of $4.60 was more than I expected, more than in other places anyway. My burger was about on the money of $22.50, but I guess when the food presentation is fairly standard, I have to wonder where the justification of some of those prices comes from? I enjoyed it all though, and would go back again.

Advice: Definitely book if going on the weekend (just so you can get a nice table looking out at the Yarra!) and also because as I got there the waitress immediately asked me if I booked. So maybe it’s a thing. Anyway. And if you have a baby, or child, make sure someone with free hands can assist you, with ordering, paying, picking-up food, and feeding you a burger if need be. Just don’t get the burger if you are alone with child, I beg you.

In a nutshell: Thank you Boathouse, for a most spectacular day. And thank you Melbourne, for the gorgeous weather. Once again you made a 23 degree December day feel like 30 in the shade. Thank you muchly 🙂 

Merry KK.

2014-12-20 15.45.07

Fairfield Park Boathouse & Tea Gardens on Urbanspoon

This is the best bit

/ smikg / 2 Comments

I am so excited.

Giddy.

Happy.

Hopeful.

In delightful anticipation.

I put on Michael Buble’s Christmas album on the way in to work today. (Yes. Yes I did.) In fact I’ve discovered I love the guy more after realising he too, is a Christmas fanatic as am I. I mean, if I had his money/connections/voice, I would also do Christmas specials every year.

How great would it be, to actually have a Christmas special, of your own. Wow.

It is a glorious day. Outside it is still, the sun is shining, and as all great starts to the day, coffee is at my left hand.

Like Summer’s Spring, and Saturday’s Friday, today is also such a day. It is Christmas’ Eve, and tonight I will go home, bake cupcakes for tomorrow, paint my nails a festive red, and enjoy the beautiful sight of all my ready presents all ribboned up under the tree, with the sounds of carolling coming from the TV.

I will sit and relax, and enjoy. And happily anticipate.

Happy Christmas Eve. 🙂

O Come, All Ye Thickened Cream

/ smikg / Leave a comment

I came home from work yesterday, to the beautiful smile of baby girl and the expectant and relieved glances of my parents. They love their bonding times with her when they babysit, but after entertaining baby girl for 11 hours, I know they need to just go home and relax.

I quickly went into the kitchen to drop off my stuff and organise a few things, to find a container of thickened cream sitting on the bench. I touched it, and it was still cold.

I asked my parents about it, and Mum said she’d been walking up and down the street with baby girl when an older woman caught up to her carrying her groceries. She told my Mum she’d bought an extra lot of thickened cream, and offered it to my Mum. In my Mum’s humorous words, she just wanted “to be rid of the woman,” looking after baby girl and all, so she took it.

I could see it definitely hadn’t been opened: it still had that ring part fastened underneath the lid. But still, I said to them “don’t use it.”

My Mum had wanted to see if I in fact wanted it, even though she was going to advise me of the same thing – not to use it. We had a brief to-and-fro about how it’s best to not take things from strangers, and how it’s better not to risk your health than save $2 before I promptly threw the entire thing in the bin.

This however, made me sad. Maybe 20, 30 years ago, you would have trusted the woman walking down the street who offered you an extra item from her grocery bag. You wouldn’t have questioned its authenticity, or her motive. It would have been a thoughtful and kind gesture from a neighbour, a generous and impromptu token absent of any ill intentions or malice.

Instead. Instead we’re living in a world where you could go into a coffee shop to buy your daily caffeine fix in between work, and suddenly be in the middle of a hostage situation, with the eyes of the world fixed intently on the café you are in waiting to see if you’re going to come out alive.

That was the terrible reality of yesterday. A man, a lone wolf, using God’s name to justify his unearthly and inhumane actions to hold many people hostage in a cafe on a beautiful Monday morning in Sydney. I, as many others, was glued to the screen, watching the rolling coverage unfolding in Martin Place live on TV. I kept it on up until midnight, in the meantime thinking of how fortunate I was to be safe and warm, in my home, with Hubbie and baby girl sleeping peacefully upstairs. I knew where they were and they, in their dreams, knew where I was.

I thought of the poor hostages. They were not safe. They were not in their homes. While I was getting ready for bed, they were experiencing anxiety and terror like never before. They were wondering if they were going to ever see their families again. I put myself in their shoes for a moment, and felt the stark horror of their situation. I thought briefly, of how horrible it would be, to wonder if I were ever going to see my husband or daughter again. It made me feel so, so sad, and also so sick. I hoped there was not a Mother being held hostage. Not to say that a Mother was any more worthy than another individual, more underserving of being a hostage, but I could only think that, because I could relate. Someone to separate a Mother from her children… it just breaks my heart.

I went to bed, praying that when I woke up, they would have captured the selfish bastard keeping these innocent people hostage.

As soon as I got up this morning, I got baby girl, and I carried her downstairs. I turned on the TV immediately. I gasped at the headline I saw: “Three dead as siege ends.”

I almost cried. I did, when I heard one of the victims was a Mother, of three young children. The other victim was the café manager, and the third was not a victim. He had brought it all on himself, so that was expected.

How was this incident, any different to any other that had befallen innocent victims? Why was I hurting so much? Why did the thought of going out and doing my weekly grocery shop with baby girl make me feel sick? Why did the thought of finishing up my Christmas shopping this week suddenly seem so insignificant?

There had been fear and terror in other parts of the world. People being held hostage, acts of terrorism, and I can’t believe this word is even in existence in our day and age, but, beheadings. I had felt sadness, and anger, and bewilderment when these things had happened, but not like I experienced today. Was it because it was happening on our front door? Our neighbour, Sydney, being rocked by such tragic events? Was it the simple act of going into a café that threw me? A simple task so known to me, so familiar, a part of my routine while out and about and at work… to think, something you do so, so often, could become the last thing you do. Was it all of these things? The patriotism I felt ran deep. I think to live in Australia, being of such easy-going and friendly nature, all of this just didn’t feel right. This wasn’t meant to happen. It was never meant to happen, anywhere, but here in Aus it felt truly out of place.

I went and I did my grocery shopping. And at the beginning of my trip, I went past the Santa photo set-up where kids line-up excitedly to tell Santa what presents they want this year before smiling happily before the camera.

Instead, I found a primary school choir setting up, their teacher coaching them while Santa ran around passing gifts out to the children watching on the sidelines with their parents. I did my usual bit with baby girl, exclaiming excitedly “look, there’s Santa! Can you see who that is? Wave!” Santa spotted us and a few others as newbies to the scene and came and gave us a gift. I was so happy, watching baby girl receive the present and smile shyly at Santa. Meanwhile the choir started up their rendition of “O Come All Ye Faithful” to photo flashes going off in front of them, Santa continuing her trek through the crowd,
spreading joy with her generosity and also by posing for photos and chatting to people.

I watched the scene, and listened to the school kids (their correct pronouncement of “Sing in Exultation”), getting very teary eyed. While Sydney mourned, here we all were getting into the festive spirit. Santa was in full swing attending to every single child and baby there, carols were in the air, and everyone was smiling and laughing. It was a beautiful sight that I had unexpectedly walked into.

We soon walked off, and I had to pull over to the side and gather myself. I felt like crying my eyes out, sobbing in fact. I was overwhelmed. I was so touched by the display I had come across, and yet was sad for the victims and their grieving families in Sydney. More than anything, I was happy that my faith and hope, though not absent had been wavering, was now fully restored. Australians are a beautiful people, and we have an unwavering, fighting spirit. Terror may try to come here, but anything that tries to shake us will only make us stronger.

I am so proud to live in this lucky country. I am so, so inspired by the genuine reaching out of humanity I have witnessed recently. Yes, there is bad in this world. But there will always be more good. The willingness to keep going and keep up, keeping positive and helping out your fellow human, will always win out.

I hope, that one day soon, we can accept some thickened cream from our neighbours. Just because.

R.I.P. Katrina Dawson and Tori Johnson.

Bittersweet

/ smikg / 1 Comment

Def’n – Bittersweet, adjective (Bee-tuh-sweet): Obtaining a much needed cappuccino fix whilst out shopping, and though the caffeine-flavour being of pleasant qualities, being unable to hold the cup in your hand because it is too damn hot.

Bittersweet. Also a poisonous woody vine.

Sightings of People as Passionate about (Addicted to) Coffee as I am (SOPAPACAIA) Introduction

/ smikg / Leave a comment

Appropriate that I should begin this series whilst in a caffeine-induced state.

And so, fortunately for me on this day, after a frustrating night of restless sleep due to:

– Baby girl crying out intermittently in the middle of the night (don’t blame it on the boogie, blame it on the teeth)
– Random idiots yelling outside on the street at 1am in the morning (go home dicks)
– Being too hot under the covers
– And the garbage collection starting early this morning, followed by my equally early work wake-up call

I have a most delightfully prepared cappuccino situated at my left. All is right in the world again.

There is my intro, let us now begin…