No. 8 is No. 1

No. 8 by John Lawson
8 Whiteman Street Southbank

We had left home on time to dine at No.8 pre-Valentine’s Day that Saturday night. Feb 14 falling on a Sunday that year, we decided to do a V-Day dinner the night before, because Saturday night – why of course.

The only problem was, there was traffic. Being all outskirts-of-the-city savvy, I thought we could sneak off the freeway through Docklands and towards Crown, but there was an event that night, making the traffic through the docked suburb a nightmare. It held us right back, and even as we tried to make our way in as quick as we could, taking multiple detours due to the event, every time we tried to get closer to Crown – you couldn’t turn left into there, while here, you couldn’t do a hook turn. I wanted to scream in frustration. I very nearly came to screaming point when I received a phone call 15 minutes after we were scheduled to arrive, from the restaurant’s staff, asking where we were. I politely, through gritted teeth said we were stuck in traffic. We were close. I had booked days earlier, and we had been booked into the 6:15-8:15 session, yet I did not realise how strict they were with their ‘sessions.’ The lady informed me it was fine, but we would still be booked in ‘til only 8:15, despite arriving later.

Basically, she was telling me they would kick us out prior our 2 hour pre-booked stay.

We were seriously pissed driving over for the next 5 minutes.

But, we were dressed nicely, it was Saturday night, and it was a comfortably warm night too. We pushed it to the back of our minds and went forward.

We were half an hour late when we walked in. Considering we had just received a phone call, the door girl took a while to find our booking. When we were finally brought to our table, I was a bit disappointed.

It had nothing to do with the surrounds. They were elegant though arty, not offensive to the eye at all. But when I had booked I had been told we would have outdoor seating overlooking the Yarra, and also, a high chair. We were inside, with no high chair.

Sigh. Another speed bump. We flagged a waitress and queried the lack of outdoors and child-seating. She said she would find out.

The ‘talker’ arrived. She explained that because there were bookings from weeks ago, versus my booking of a few days ago, the older bookings were given priority. And, a high chair was on its way. Apparently shared between restaurants. Okay then.

Clunky oversized child seat arrived. Yay.

2016-02-13-20-06-43

After settling in, I was happy to observe that even though we were inside, in a poshy restaurant, it was fairly loud. And soon after that, we received menus, and were introduced to our waiter for the night, who I shall refer to as ‘Louie.’

Louie, because he reminded me of a younger, less dorky, tad cuter, Louie Theroux. We ordered drinks with Louie, and as I perused the drinks menu I noticed most of the glasses were between $15-20 a glass. I ordered a 2015 Yarra Valley Rose – ‘Crudo’ by Luke Lambert,  Hubbie had a Crown Lager, and we also received some complimentary bread with butter, that was exceptionally moorish, but only complimentary as far as the fact that everything else was jacked up in price to compensate.

2016-02-13-19-05-252016-02-13-19-11-16

Soon after, we started receiving our meals.

First baby girl got her Fish and Chips

2016-02-13-19-17-59

Hubbie received his Porterhouse steak with baked onions

2016-02-13-19-39-56

I received the Chicken breast, with broccolini and mashed potato and jus

2016-02-13-19-40-08

While we all had a go at the side of asparagus

2016-02-13-19-40-01

Now before I continue, my meal descriptions would be far ‘fancier’ if I had found the original menu online. Not only is it seasonal, but sadly the restaurant is no more! I think it is Crown’s constant philosophy to keep updating their restaurants and keeping things fresh and new, no matter if they are popular… Anyway, just imagine the above with the addition of words like ‘jus,’ ‘garden dressing’ and ‘crumb crust.’ The photos show you anyway.

Although it looked quite simple, baby girl’s meal had her rubbing her tummy after most bites! That was a good sign. When offered chips and something else, it’s often hard to get her to eat the ‘something else,’ but in this case she did have quite a few pieces of the fish, picking up the chunks with her hands and feeding herself! What?! I didn’t have to beg her? And a lovely fish it was, delicately grilled pieces, which I was very happy about, since there is so much batter on offer for toddlers at restaurants, it becomes a bit boring. Not to mention unhealthy.

We were hoping she would have the asparagus, but it had a certain dressing that I can’t recall which left her opting out. We ate it instead with our meals, it was different, salty, but enjoyable.

Hubbie said his medium to well steak was grilled perfectly. In fact, his meal was amazing, perfect. Woah. Butcher approval? That’s a good sign. I also, LOVED my meal, in particular the crispy chicken with the jus… it was a tender, wholesome, comforting chicken, and until I ate that one I never realised I could be so damn pleased with chicken. The best word I can use to describe it would be ‘homely.’ I don’t know, it’s like the stuff that reminds you of home and your Mum’s cooking on a Winter’s night. Only this one was super-amazeballs.

Then there was the mash, and the crusty stuff on the mash – extra heartiness added there. We just couldn’t stop commenting about how good it was, and we only had positive things to say. There was one negative with the whole dinner experience, but it didn’t come anywhere from the food, the service or the restaurant itself… we actually could not eat together. Baby girl was extra fidgety, and did not want to stay in her high chair (it did look quite ugly) a moment longer beyond her meal being finished. So it meant that I walked with her and showed her the Chinese New Year display outside while Hubbie ate, then we did tag team and he went out with her while I ate solo. So, as far as Valentine’s Day was concerned, there was not much ‘connecting’ there.

2016-02-13-20-43-22

We had one of those moments: “What’s the point of going out?” But then Louie told me we were raising a fine girl, so I guess that counts for something right? Oh Louie.

That’s how it is peeps. It ain’t easy with a kid.

After I finished my main and Louie came to take our plates, he asked if we wanted to see the dessert menu. Personally, I really did, but I knew the time – it was after 8, meaning our time was almost up. I politely queried him, aware of the few empty tables around, fairly sure of the response.

He went away to check which I hadn’t expected, but upon return said there was no issue. Of course 🙂 It was interesting to note as we waited for the desserts, that the lamps on the wall came on at the same time, giving the room a romantic and atmospheric feel, and it was then I saw the time: 8:15. Coincidence? It was all very timely and appropriate, but that kind of attention to detail, I liked.

We managed to rope baby girl back in with promises of dessert after we ordered, and received this:

Dark chocolate ganache with berries and sorbet

2016-02-13-20-25-36

And a Panna cotta with fruit and celery granite

2016-02-13-20-25-53

Ha ha! I thankfully remembered the detail of the ‘celery granite,’ as that was my dessert. I loved it. It was cold and refreshing, light and creamy, and considering I’m not a celery fan, this granite did not taste at all like it, thankfully. It was frosty and cool, I really enjoyed the flavour. It was in cold contrast to Hubbie’s dessert – also good, but so intense with the chocolate. Hubbie was personally like “I’m paying how much for that?” He thought it was overpriced for the quantity of what he received, but I reminded him it was the presentation, attention to detail and the restaurant. That’s just how it was.

We asked for the bill soon after – and then it was definitely time to go!

2016-02-13-20-52-47

Food: 9/10. The quality was fantastic, yet if there was slightly more on the plate, especially in reference to the dark chocolate ganache, the score would have hit the top. Exceptional food and presentation.

Coffee: N/A.

Ambience: Calm, though loud which I did not expect. It had us feeling more comfortable because we didn’t feel like we had to whisper like in a library. It was a fine dining restaurant, with simple, modern and classy surroundings, and that cool, relaxed vibe followed through.

People: Poshy. Don’t be mistaken. Generally the age ranged from mid-30s to up, but that suggests that there were many people in their 30s, which there weren’t, as there were older couples and groups abounding. There was one family who had a baby, but this baby was in a pram… there were no other toddlers I could see! There was a hen’s party near us, who provided some of the loud laughter, which I very much appreciated.

Staff: I realised as soon as the ‘talker’ had left at the beginning of our experience there, that it was their intention that no one leave unhappy. It was impossible. They would not allow it. And too right with the price being asked…

The staff were exceptionally professional. They were friendly too, with Louie talking to baby girl a bit and even another female waitress smiling at her each time she walked by.

I particularly loved Louie’s narration on our food as he brought it over, almost like he was trying to sell it to us once again… “and here is your beautiful chicken… your fine asparagus.”

LOL. Very poshy here.

Price: A very healthy $192. 3 mains, a side dish, 2 desserts, and 3 alcoholic drinks. Not bad for a less than 2 hour stay. I have to add again though, that the food was amazing, as was the service… but still $192 is expensive. You don’t leave the restaurant feeling you may pop out of your clothes the way you think you might for that price, but again, it’s the type of restaurant.

Advice: Firstly, book. It’s a rule at Crown, stated on their website. If you’re really fussy and want outdoor seating, perhaps book over a week in advance so that you can almost guarantee an outdoor seat, overlooking the Yarra, and watching the passers-by, pass by.

2016-02-13-20-51-04

In a nutshell: This is a beautiful restaurant that I would like to go back to, however it’s not something that, at this stage of our lives, I can see happening easily. When you’re forking out that kind of money, you want to be able to enjoy the experience sitting across from your partner, Valentine’s Day Eve and all. So perhaps, unless you have a kid that sits there and does nothing (so really that applies to no parents), I’d suggest making your way over when you have left them with the grandparents. It’s just easier, as you do want to experience the surroundings and food and service in all of its finest…

And even with that being said, we still wouldn’t frequent the restaurant often, just because of the $$$ price tags. Like the chocolate ganache that is served sparingly, so should you too enjoy this restaurant in the same way (unless of course you are majorly cashed up, and in that case would you mind joining us on our food adventures? :))

So, I will come back… soon… one day… maybe when baby girl is 8. Yeah that sounds about right.

Afterword

As already mentioned, this restaurant has sadly permanently closed! Unlike the last food review I posted on the horribly appropriate failed Lygon street restaurant we had the displeasure to visit, I strongly believe this restaurant would have only seen its demise due to Crown’s ever-changing restaurant image.

If you see the name John Lawson anywhere, EVER, do not fear. Great food, is here.

Also, this should serve me right for waiting 11 months to post my review. (Waiting suggests I’ve been staring at my laptop thinking of what to write for that entire time.

Huh. If only life were that boring. NEVER).

 

Cancelling Plans

You’re either a person who cancels, or a person who commits and comes through with your pre-spoken words… right? Well, that’s how I saw it for a LONG time. People who cancelled plans, cancelled appointments, made last-minute changes, and didn’t come through on what they had promised were all part of one big category for me – the unreliable and scatterbrained ones were the ‘cancellers.’

It was awfully inefficient to cancel on someone. I didn’t really notice how much it bugged me, but every so often when a fellow friend would say “sorry, my kid is sick,” or a meeting was stuffed up on the other end, or someone arrived at my house an hour past the expected time while I twiddled my thumbs staring at the clock, it kind of grated on my nerves. I mean, I was a Mum. I had a child. I worked, I kept the house (somewhat) clean and in a state of organised mess. I cooked. I saw my parents. I wrote as much as I damn well could. I shopped a fair bit, with caffeine inserted in the blank spaces in-between. So if I could get my shit together and not cancel on someone, and always come through on what I had promised somebody, well what was their excuse?

I wouldn’t get upset or anything. You know the normal “no, that’s ok!” response you do when someone is profusely apologising to you, smiling through your teeth. That’s ok, I love my plans being turned upside down. Mums LOVE unpredictability, it reminds them of how fun it is to have a toddler. (No really, I’m being sarcastic). I’d move on, a bit peeved, but I’d move on. I was not a canceller. I was efficient, and despite some of the hardest of times, I tried my damn-dest to succeed at following through on my plans. You know that quote from Jerry Maguire, where the father of the sports kid that Jerry is chasing to represent, says to Jerry “My word is stronger than oak!” (Before completely doing a 180 on him in a following scene and proving that his word was actually more flimsy like tissue paper). Well that was me. My word was oak. Strong and solid, like the first scene, not the second.

Cancelling isn’t only annoying when plans don’t go ahead… it’s an inconvenience. I am so busy, and not only that, I’m in a regular routine especially with a toddler in tow who also depends heavily on it, that it takes much effort and faith to just schedule time in for someone, and then to have that person go ahead and make other plans last second. Even if they are sick, a little part of me is thinking ‘hypochondriac… toughen up.’

A little while back, (not my last cold but a previous cold) all of a sudden, out of the blue, I got sick. Not runny nose, sore throat, sneezing like Snow White’s dwarf sick. I woke up and vomited. And then vomited. And vomited. And not much was being kept down. I had camomile tea, I had black coffee, and I had plain bread. And I still vomited. It was like the deepest depths of my stomach were being unearthed to unseen archaeologists digging away at it, throwing up bits of food as they went.

And what happened? I became the ‘canceller.’

I hated it. I called one person to cancel an appointment I’d had for baby girl. It was literally an hour before I had to go, and I cancelled on her, practically last second. Then the following day, when I was still getting over my stomach heaving, and getting used to that constant feeling of intense nausea, I had a friend message me:

“Still good for lunch today?”

Crap. We were meant to be meeting for lunch at work, and here I was at home, feeling sorry for myself on the couch.

Toughen up, hypochondriac.

Oh God, not another one. With remorse I messaged her back telling her I was sick and was actually at home. She replied this:

“Oh sweetheart. That’s terrible. Hope you feel better soon.”

She went on to say what other days suited her for a lunch date, but those first few lines stayed in my head. What she had written had shocked me. They shocked me, because I had felt them to be genuine. For all I know she could have been doing the typical “oh no! That’s ok!” line I used to do, but I didn’t believe it to be so. This felt real, and all I remember thinking is ‘She cares about me, more than our plans.’

That realisation really hit me. I had been so concerned about life and things running to schedule, that I’d forgotten that life often throws us things and puts us off track. It can sometimes take a while to jump back on. But with the help and support of loved ones, it’s often done faster than if you have people jeering you from the sidelines calling you a hypochondriac. I was also touched by how Hubbie took over and did everything for baby girl and I in those days that I was incapacitated. Hypochondriac, I know. But I’m always doing EVERYTHING, so for me to just lie there and whisper repeatedly “I can’t,” he knew something serious was up. He came through for us all and had me saying “thank you” like a very broken record.

I had a great opportunity to test my new found realisation of ‘shit happens, people matter more than plans’ discovery very soon after. The following night, Hubbie grew increasingly ill and took to the couch complaining of nausea, 3 hours before we were meant to go out for my bestie’s birthday. He had caught what I’d had.

Now the old me, would have been a little shitty. The old me would have been like ‘are you sure you’re sick? Come on, put on this shirt.’ The old me would have been upset at the sight of Hubbie lying on the couch while I imagined all my friends together at a rooftop bar. The old me would have been, slightly resentful, just at the situation, and how shit the timing was.

Bu I’d had a few days to think. Going through my head were these thoughts:

1. Remember, people are more important than plans.

2. Hubbie looked after me days ago.

3. He’s only sick because he caught what I had.

I was soon running off to the pharmacy for late night medications and messaging bestie a ‘sorry’ message on the way.

Being sick had taught me many things.

We’re all human.

Shit happens.

People are more important.

Don’t lose sight of that.

I used to fight against reality, pretend to be superhuman, and get upset when other people didn’t try to be a superhero too. But, we aren’t in an episode of Angel (unfortunately). I can’t stay up fighting demons all night and then expect to be cheery the next day and ready to tackle my Mum duties with a hop, skip and a jump.

Don’t get me wrong, I won’t become a ‘canceller’ over this, and I will be slightly wary whenever anyone changes plans on me… but I will be softer about it, and when I say “no, that’s ok,” I might just half mean it.

Turn towards this Bakery

Turners Bakehouse Eatery
107 Schotters Road Mernda

We decided to head out to Turners Bakehouse Eatery for breakfast one Sunday in mid-January. We had ventured there before, pre-blogging days and when baby girl was still learning about her tastebuds. Now, she would have a meal of her own. And a babycino to boot.

Turners is a boutique bakery originally established in 1892, and recently restored after being closed since the 1940s. It’s a beautiful and quaint building, reminiscent of a working farm house back in the day. It sits on a residential street just past the Fire Station but before the Church. That in itself paints a pretty picture right there.

It was the start of a hot Summer’s day, but sitting underneath the tall trees out in the yard of the café, it was perfect. There is seating inside, though it always looks so squashed to me, that I think even if we went there in Winter I would rather rug up and be amongst the plants and birdlife.

2016-01-17 10.16.53

And there were birds alright. The cockys were flying overhead and squawking from perched branches on trees above us. The surroundings felt rural, yet being a short distance from other neighbouring, more built-up suburbs, it was only a stone’s throw away.

2016-01-17 10.16.45

2016-01-17 10.17.03

2016-01-17 10.20.47

I had ordered the Eggs Florentine – Poached eggs served on toasted ciabatta, with wilted spinach and hollandaise sauce

2016-01-17 10.29.01

Hubbie got the French Toast – Bakehouse brioche, topped with whipped mascarpone, berry compote, pistachio crumb

2016-01-17 10.28.54

While baby girl got a Cheese Toasty

2016-01-17 10.28.40

All our meals looked great, even baby girl’s simple melted cheese on bread. She seemed to enjoy it, as did we, eating her leftovers.

The hollandaise sauce on my meal was of the perfect quantity, and not swimming in it like other poached egg meals I’ve had. It can be so overwhelming when you have eggs dripping in hollandaise. Thankfully this was not. The first poached egg I had was perfectly runny, while the second one had a stronger formed yolk. Lucky I had the runny one first, since I had been craving poached eggs for a while. And the bread was light, not hard, which I was grateful for. There’s nothing worse than slicing your gums against too-tough bread because the crust is super-sharp/over-toasted.

Hubbie enjoyed his meal, saying it was just enough for him… well maybe he could have done with a tad more. But he wasn’t left with that over-full feeling he usually gets when he orders meals like a ‘Big Breakfast.’

Funnily enough, I had felt like I had had the big breakfast! I couldn’t eat for hours after that meal, as I just felt so bloated and heavy. Maybe it had nothing at all to do with the meal, and just the way I processed it that day. I don’t understand it, I’ve had eggs Florentine before… just this time it really weighed me down, to the point that when I did eat at 3pm, it was 2 minute noodles from the pantry. I just couldn’t fathom anything more.

I know, I know – a food blogger to eat 2 minute noodles? That’s blasphemous. However I am a time-poor Mum, and I need emergency food for ‘in case’ situations, which this was…)

After our meals we got some coffees: latte, cappuccino and babycino

2016-01-17 10.22.30

2016-01-17 10.40.27

2016-01-17 10.38.27

I found my cap exceptionally strong, yet it was still smooth, so I enjoyed it.

The rest of the morning there was spent looking at the watering can fountain (and advising baby girl repeatedly not to touch!), wandering the yard a bit, and waving to fellow breakfast-goers – oh that’s right, that was baby girl, not us. It was actually a perfect morning, so warm, so peaceful, yet there were plenty of families around so we felt right at home. The best way to feel on a lazy Sunday morning.

2016-01-17 10.53.04

Food: 7.5/10. Filling.

Coffee: 8/10.  Strong, smooth.

Ambience: Really peaceful, I loved it. There were a few people out in the yard that day but everyone was in Sunday mode and just chill-axing. Trees, birds squawking, sun shining… it really was ideal.

Staff: All of the waitresses were very friendly, and our waitress was very kid-savvy which was great. She was genuinely friendly and good with our princess.

People: Generally families, but there were a few duos, and people without children arriving in groups to brunch away.

Price: $49 for the lot, which I considered a bargain for what we got and what we experienced.

Advice: Sit outside. Maybe buy one of their famous loaves of sourdough bread to take home (something I’m yet to do and reading their website I’m sorry that I didn’t!). It’s made in their traditional wood-fired Scotch oven, built way back in the 1890s (!) while their sourdough bread is made with a natural, long-fermenting yeast that not only tastes amazing but is good for you too. Man, I’m going there tomorrow since we’re currently out of bread!

In a nutshell: It’s a fabulous find up in the North that is well worth the venture, not just for the serenity, the service or their famous breads, but just because it’s a little piece of history that has been restored, and that alone should inspire you to Turn around and check it out…

Turners Bakehouse Eatery Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

Shameless self-promotion

Hey You. Yes, YOU.

In case you, or anyone else didn’t realise, that little sidebar on the right of this screen running alongside my blog posts, that refers to a ‘carcrashgratitude’? That’s my other blog.

It all happened when I had a car crash you see. Aptly named, I know. Because from that deeply stressful incident, I decided to try my hand at posting a different item of gratitude per day for the rest of my life. If you want to read the full story, it can be found here.

Huge task, right? You got it. I’ve currently completed 127 days of attitude. I know there will undoubtedly be tough times ahead (as much as I am a glass half-full gal I know this), but I hope that no matter what happens I can still find some piece of hope or happiness in that particular hard day to share. Not just for me, but for you too. Because everyone can do this. If you look hard enough, sometimes in the tightest of corners or stupidest of places, you can find it.

I find a lot of gratitude in food. I find gratitude in my closest such as baby girl, hubbie and my family. Sometimes just a cold walk will make me happy, and you can’t forget coffee. My love. Yes, coffee definitely gets a mention.

I write about frivolous things. I write about deeply personal things, like my recent #127 post. I take photos and share those that I love. And of course the weather, writing and parenting is another big contender on my site.

I love the challenge to write about things in a different and novel fashion every time. There will undoubtedly be days where I don’t have anything new I am grateful for that I haven’t already posted about. The challenge is to find the countless ways in which I can express gratitude to one particular thing, take coffee for instance (of course I would use that as an example again). I’ve mentioned it several times on my gratitude blog already, and I will probably mention it 100 more, finding different avenues of appreciation for it.

I know this site only presents one side of things. Some people get pissed off when others are happy. I’m not saying I’m not bored, depressed, shitty or cranky with people EVER. I mean hello, I’m human! I have a Things that shit me tag on this site for that very function for when I have to blah! and purge everything out. I need the balance.

But I also know that gratitude is very powerful. It’s nice to count the ways you can be grateful, and I promise you, when you start, you won’t believe how good your life actually is.

Don’t you want to know how good your life really is? Yes YOU! I’m talking to YOU.

Come on, have a go. It won’t hurt. I promise.

carcrashgratitude.wordpress.com

(I may end there as I think I have exhausted my use of links for self-promotion…)

I’m sorry…

I’ve noticed a change in me lately. It’s come as a result of being self-aware of some of my ongoing words and actions, words and actions that have upset me very much.

I’m overly apologetic.

And I’m sorry for it.

I became quite aware of it, a couple of weeks ago while at work. I was in the company of some new people, and when the mention of my footy team came up, and how I supported it, I brushed it off.

You see, the old SmikG would have just told you that I barrack for a team that you either love, or you hate. If you are from Melbourne, or follow the AFL in any way, you would be lead into knowing who I follow without me saying anything more.

But today, I tell you bang smack in your face, that I am a proud supporter of the Collingwood Magpies.

I always have been. But as I said above, like their colours, you are either white for them, or black against them. Because of the sheep mentality of many AFL fans, where they think it is cool to collectively hate on the most popular team of the AFL, people jump on this unfair bandwagon and throw shit at the club and it’s supporters, only because they feel threatened. It’s easy to hate on another team, instead of focusing on the strength (or lack of, which is where the insecurity comes from) of your own team.

Ok, rant over. But you get my point. Because of this constant negative attention, and because I was in the midst of some new people, I dismissed my devotion to the club, saying that I hadn’t been into the AFL so much this year, and was not following the matches as much as in previous years.

Which was true. I was so busy with other things in life that I genuinely wasn’t watching many games. But the main point, was that I was apologetic for my devotion to them. And I was avoiding the ugly head that would undoubtedly rear in light of my devotion. Sure enough, a snarky comment followed from one said newbie: “don’t bother following them this year, they’re not going anywhere (near the top of the ladder).”

I went home later that day, and told the following story to Hubbie. I was teary. Not for Collingwood. Whatever. You can’t make everyone love you, or the choices you make, or the things you follow, or what you’re passionate about, right?

I was upset at myself. I recalled the story to him, telling him I was upset that I was avoiding the point of who I followed. I also recalled the story, of a little encounter that happened YEARS ago, but nevertheless an encounter that had stuck in my head, because I guess I hadn’t understood it at the time. We had been at an engagement party, and a girl we were speaking to at our table, asked me what my star sign was. And I, the proud Lioness that I am, responded with a silly shrug and said “Leo.”

Hubbie jumped on this indecision immediately. “Why do you say it like that? Like it’s bad?”

I tried to explain it away, by saying “oh, you know how Leos sometimes get a bad rap for being full on…”

I was apologising, for being born in August. I was apologising, for having the best damn star sign there is. I was apologising, for being me.

I recounted all this to Hubbie and said I was shitty with myself. It was not good enough. I was letting myself down.

I think it all leads to insecurity and wanting to constantly please people. Not wanting to upset people. Not wanting to make others mad. Not wanting to say and do anything that might make someone cranky with me. I’m a people pleaser, and yet I’m also sensitive, which means I know how it feels to be hurt easily… therefore I don’t want to be the one that hurts others.

It goes right down to the smallest things. Not speaking up because I might offend someone, when really all I would probably say is to set a fact straight, like telling the  barista they got my coffee wrong. I say sorry, when I walk into a person who I didn’t see… they also didn’t see me, and they weren’t sorry, so why should I be?

Someone saying sorry to me for getting in my way… and then I’ll say sorry back, because they’re sorry! Even justifying, is something I am DONE with.

“I just work 2 days a week.”

“I just did the grocery shopping.”

“I just wanted to get you something for your birthday.”

NO. It should be more like this:

“I work 2 days a week, because the other days are spent raising a small human.”

“I did the grocery shopping and it was a task while I wrangled a climbing, running, easily bored toddler with me the whole time, but I did it, and I did it successfully with minimal yelling and threats.”

“I wanted to get you this gift because I think you’re great, but so I am, because who else would remember to give you a present 3 months after the fact, and not be embarrassed it’s delay?”

You know what, I don’t even have to justify. To over-compensate my words. Just removing the ‘just’ in the first example is enough. But I’m trying to show something here. I’m trying to show that due to my need to people-please, and my inner insecurities, I tend to apologise, a lot. Some of it came from me. And not laying blame, but I can’t deny that A LOT of it came from being in the close company of the greatest narcissist I know. Even that sounds like a compliment, and I definitely don’t wanna hand her any of those and inflate her ego even more. But being forced into hearing about this person’s life difficulties, their high-maintenance ideals and life choices, their constant negative battles, their obsession with how good they are and how our earth rotates around htem, affected me in such a profound and deep way, that I swore vehemently that I would never, ever be like her. Not one bit. Not at all. Not ever.

Self-awareness was the key to my awakening. I have always been aware of my weakness, but when I had to apologise for liking the ‘Pies, I was so mad. I swear. A footy team woke me up to my inner dealings, and I decided that I should never have to be sorry for anything in my life. Nor should anyone ever be. We all have our personal thoughts, emotions, likes and dislikes, and ways of being, and these are the things that make us unique. They make us who we are.

I wanted to be like the people I looked up to. I wanted to be an unapologetic bitch like Madonna, and actually live her words to one of my many favourite songs of hers

“And I’m not sorry.

It’s human nature.”

It so is.

Recently, I’ve been making changes. It’s been a subconscious process, but because I’m making little positive changes to what I normally would have done, I am really noticing them in my day to day activities. Yesterday, when we sat down for coffee, I asked the waiters to clean the table from the previous customers there. Normally I would have dealt with it as is, not wanting to trouble the waiters or appear difficult.

Today, I called the I.T. department at work due to a computer fault. Normally I would have waited for someone else to call up when they came across it – I would have shirked the responsibility of it. But I called, and while I did I also asked for a replacement keyboard, because my current one had dodgy keys.

People now pass me, and if they get in my way and say sorry, I just nod.

I’m not endorsing being rude, or making people move mountains for you while you sit back, filing your claws. I’m talking about voicing your opinion, being YOU, and if you do that while being nice and giving a smile, as I did with all of the above, people will actually want to help you. You won’t be putting them out with your request. They’ll be glad to help you, because of your sincerity.

But, backtrack. Quite accidentally, I got my first opportunity about a week ago, with that person who had told me to give up on Collingwood this season. We were at work, and while making small conversation she asked me “who do you follow? have I asked you this?”

And with a smile, I said “the Pies.” A warm, self-assured smile. I had come full circle, and I was glad to have redeemed my self-worth and self-esteem. She didn’t know it, but I achieved a lot that day. I’m still learning, and I’m still travelling… but like the Leonine Collingwood supporter I am, the only direction is up.

I’m sorry… that it took me this long. But I’m not sorry anymore.

images1

(not my pic, and I’m totally not sorry either… unless this is yours and then thank you so much 🙂

 

 

The ‘Truth’ in my head

Let’s start the New Year with some enlightenment and self-awareness.

True Rules, as coined by Gretchen Rubin in The Happiness Project, is what she calls a collection of principles, to help make decisions and set priorities in your life. Defined by you, they work for you, which is why they are true; and they are used time and time again, which is why they become rules. I’ve outlined some of mine below. Although many of them are perhaps more like life reminders than rules to live by, there are many I hold dear to me that blur the lines between advice and rule, and so I’ve decided to include them all.

  • If you have the opportunity, always choose going out over staying home. When you’re at work later and sad you’re not at home doing your own thing, at least you’ll be satisfied with the happy memories you made on your time off, where you utilised your time well.
  • Where one door closes, another one opens.
  • There’s a reason for everything.
  • Treat others how you would like to be treated. And if they don’t treat you right (even if they’re older) fuck them off.
  • TV eats your time. TV can wait.
  • Home-cooked food is best.
  • You won’t get this day again/Absorb the moment you’re in/Take Note.
  • You’re only young once – so buy that dress/those shoes/show some leg, cleavage, ass (respectfully if you can – and if you can’t, just flaunt it).
  • Writing is more important than cleaning/tidying/washing/sorting/insert house activity (excluding home cooking, see above – not to say the cooking is more important than the reading, but to eat well refuels our energy stores and better prepares us to tackle our tasks and passions – so it is a necessity). Which is why I am never on top of any housework, but we are always satisfied and content in our tummies if nothing else.
  • Reading and Writing FIRST (Facebook and The Bold and the Beautiful sometimes win when I’m tired – I’m human).
  • Don’t get too hungry.
  • Always skim the edges and top of hot soup (many debates over how Hubbie cannot eat hot soup properly over this one).
  • But first, coffee.
  • Try to make everyone happy.
  • If a great song comes on while you’re in a clothing store, chances are you should buy something there.
  • If it’s not meant to be now, that means something better is waiting.
  • Life goes up; life goes down. Then repeats.

Some of my regular thoughts aren’t necessarily true, or constructive for a happier life. For example, making everyone happy is almost always a death sentence – I should be trying to do that for myself. And I don’t always find something I want to buy when a great song comes on in a shop I love, leaving me feeling unsatisfied when I walk out empty-handed. I don’t always get to put writing first, which leaves me feeling frustrated most of the time, and I don’t always find a ‘reason’ as to why things are the way they are. Sometimes I’m left wondering for a while, a very long, long while.

And yet, these are the things we think and feel in our day-to-day lives, whether they are true for us every time, or helpful for us to think, we still think them, out of habit, out of experience, which makes becoming aware of them all the more important. If we can pinpoint any troubling repetitive thoughts that aren’t conducive to our way of life, we can try to make things better, and us happier in the process.

Not letting myself go hungry is a good thing, and makes sure my energy stores are usually on the up especially with the demands of life as a Mother/Wife/Daughter/Sister/Friend/Butler/Driver/Cook/Whoever else can you think of?

Heading out when faced with the other possibility of staying at home, means I am filled with happy memories, and now for example as Hubbie is at work and baby girl is asleep for her afternoon nap, I can recall our lovely breakfast we had at a nearby café yesterday morning, where the sun was shining, baby girl was content, and the food and coffee were great. That is a memory worth remembering, rather than the usual butter-and-vegemite toast Sundays.

And thoughts like ‘something better is waiting,’ and ‘life has its ups and downs,’ puts me in a conscious and balanced state, aware of the force of yin and yang. Knowing that life is a rollercoaster we are riding, with occasional things to jump out and scare us, with others to delight and surprise us, keeps me on my toes, and grateful for the joyous moments I receive. Additionally, if I don’t get my turn immediately on that rollercoaster, I tell myself ‘My time will come. Everyone gets a shot.’

What are some of your True Rules? What goes through your mind when making decisions and setting priorities in your day-to-day life?

Bill in the hand, Bird in the Sand

Birdie Num Nums
745 Nicholson Street Carlton North

The annual KK Christmas catch-up, originally girly but now inundated with littlies, was the reason for our get together at this Nicholson Street eatery one cool yet sunny Saturday morning.

Knowing it was in Carlton North, and the street it was on, parking was always going to be an issue. Fortunately, there were loads of car spaces (not so much available ones) in the block behind Birdie Num Nums, so after a bit of concerted driving we found ourselves a 2-hour park.

It’s a funky, airy café upon entry. High ceilings, quite spacious, with a kind of minimalist industrial feel. And some birdcages hanging from the ceilings thrown in too, of course. I wasn’t too concerned with the interior – the courtyard was what I was finding myself terrified about, and it had even been mentioned on a sign at the front of the café, heightening my sense of trepidation even more.

We walked through the indoor section, past the kitchen and toilets, to the tables surrounding the –

DUM DA DUM DUM.

Sandpit.

This bloody sandpit had been the primary motivator in our decision for going there. There were five of us girls, and between us, 4 kiddies. KK wasn’t what it used to be anymore: there was no more gossip about who did what and when by then; we didn’t all sit hunched over the table in deep discussion and D&Ms about life and our reason’s for being on this earth; and we didn’t stay seated at the table for the full duration with only a toilet break to freshen and reapply some gloss.

No. Now our banter about random events and everyday life was often interrupted with “baby girl! Stop that! – What were you saying about that colleague?” The topic of kids heavily dominated our conversation, even those of us who had none spoke of their nieces/nephews/kids in the fam and just about everything relating to kids possible. “How do you get your girl to brush her teeth?” “Have you heard him saying fuck? He says fuck now.” “Baby girl blow a kiss – good girl!” And it was impossible to stay seated for more than 15 minutes at a time, as we got up to clean our kids/assist them/stop them crying/starting a fighting/losing their shit at a toy, even those without kids were often reeled in and made to follow them around (ahem, my daughter). There was no rest for ANYBODY.

But, it was as we had always dreamed. This was the stuff we had spoken about in high school – catching up, and our kids playing together. It was awesome that it was now reality.

So, naturally, having so many kiddies to reign in, one of the girls mentioned this sandpit place she had been to. Their website even says the sandpit is great to keep the kids amused while the parents can sit back and have a break.

You know, that’s fine and all… it just occurred to me days before the actual KK catch-up: ‘How do you consider cleaning sand off of kids after-the-fact, a break?’

Cleaning sand? Is this most annoying and irritating of cleaning tasks, off of kids out of all things, considered a break? Are you kidding me? The mere thought of getting rid of all that crap, even if you had the most blissful uninterrupted two hours of your life while your child ground down sand into every crevice of their body, rubbing it deep into their hair and rolling around in it like a pig in mud, that my friends would surely diminish any happiness I had previously felt. No, knowing that after your amazing coffee-time, you had to scrub and clean and rinse, and still find sand in your child days and many baths later, no, there could be NO happiness there.

This was the dread I was feeling as we ventured into the outdoor area.

Back to Birdie’s. There were quite a few outdoor tables and options in the large yard, some with umbrellas, and this was good since we had failed to remember to reserve a table for our large lot. Fortunately we sat down straight away, within easy access right next to the sandpit (yay).

Soon we ordered, and the kids meals arrived first.

Baby girl got the Pikelets, maple syrup (on the side) & fruit

2015-12-12 11.28.16

The meal didn’t look spectacular, but she did love the pikelets, in particular the seasonal watermelon that was present, so kudos for that. Soon after the rest of us received our meals, and we fit it in in amongst the ripped paper and cards and new-found goodies from our Christmas exchange, to the background sound of baby girl’s squeals of delight at the sight of MORE food arriving for us.

I ordered the Portobello Caps – baked Portobello mushrooms, wilted spinach, poached eggs, cheeses and a drizzle of truffle oil, served on sourdough toast

2015-12-12 11.33.21

With a cappuccino.

2015-12-12 11.18.05

Lucky I actually took a photo of the menu, because I was sure I was getting many mushrooms, rather than the singular large one that was on my plate. Despite the menu saying Portobello mushrooms, I didn’t mind, I realise it may have been a seasonal thing where they didn’t have a particular menu item available. All in all it was a good meal, the eggs were poached well with a lovely runny yolk, but nothing was really wow. I guess with the garlic flavour atop the mushroom, that was strong in itself and the rest of the meal was fairly bland in flavour to compensate. I still ate it all as I was really hungry, but it just wasn’t spectacular.

To top it off, I had mistakenly ordered my cappuccino at the same time – my bad. It was just easier doing it all at once rather than later. However when I did sip my coffee, a tad after receiving it, it was unusually lukewarm, which makes me think it wasn’t hot at all on arrival. This was a bit disappointing because with the (lack of) speed at which I drink coffee with baby girl besides me, it ends up being quite cool. This day, my cappuccino was had cold. Damn.

Nothing was that ordinary though that a bad time was had, and again, we had the best company to compensate for any shortcomings brought on by food, drink or otherwise. The service was great and we had one lovely lady take a photo of the group of us – lovely until she denied us to pay separately up at the counter when we were paying our bill. We had first been told by another waitress that they usually don’t split bills on the weekends, but that it may be possible if they weren’t busy. Considering the entire courtyard area had emptied out in the last 20 minutes prior to our departure, bar one other group, we thought we could definitely get by with a split bill. However when the photo-taking lady told one of us she couldn’t put our bills through individually, we then had to stand there at the front counter, with prams and bags and kids milling around, and take up one end of an empty table as we tried to work out what we owed, in doing so heavily inhabiting the front part of the shop for the next 5 minutes. Lady, I realise it’s against policy to split bills on weekends. But 1) you weren’t busy, 2) instead of getting us out quicker we turned the interior into a fiasco as we tried to work out what we each had to pay, and 3) we left with bad feelings. Tsk tsk tsk. I don’t think it’s worth it from an owner’s perspective, don’t you?

However, I did leave feeling rather accomplished. Right after our arrival there, baby girl had touched a toy near the sandpit, and had immediately come to me with hand outstretched – she didn’t like the sand on her hands. Bless. Thank you Lord. She is most definitely my daughter. She didn’t go into the sandpit the entire time, nor did she play with overly sandy toys (tee hee hee).

Food: 6.5/10. Okay, but I expected more.

Coffee: 6.5/10. It wasn’t delivered hot, and it wasn’t my preferred coffee bean flavour.

Ambience: It was very cas in the courtyard, what with the colourful chairs and sandpit and toys occupying all spaces.

People: Lots and lots of families out back. Inside they seemed quieter, and there were much fewer kids. The courtyard is THE family hang out.

Staff: They were lovely, and we were happy right up until bill time…

Price: My orders tallied up to just under $30, which I think is spot on for this kind of eatery in Carlton North.

Advice: You might need to search for parking behind the café. Give yourself extra time to do this especially on weekends. Bring money too, because like one friend of mine, you’ll be shitty when you realise you can’t pay by card in your denied split bill. The courtyard is the place to go for families and kid playdates, but as my friend well acquainted with sandpits says – “the less layers the better!” Just beware.

In a nutshell: If you don’t mind your child getting covered in filth as you sip your lukewarm coffee, then this is the place for you. I didn’t mind it, and seeing as baby girl didn’t bathe herself in the grainy stuff, I feel okay about going back. However there were a few downers, and so with that in mind it may take me a while to forget these Birdies – I mean boo boos – and consciously decide to venture back.

2015-12-12 11.06.25-2

Birdie Num Nums Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

A Year of Happiness

the_happiness_project_hero2

GRETCHEN RUBIN – The Happiness Project

“A happiness project was no magic charm.”

The above eye-opener comes in July from Gretchen Rubin, over half-way into the author’s year-long project into happiness – how to get it, how to be it, and everything else associated with making your face turn into an upward curve.

It’s actually taken me way too long to write this review. I kept reading other books, and failed to update my notes on all my read books, making me fall way behind on my reviewing. I can’t give an explanation other than to say I was lazy/uninspired, and in relation to this particular book felt it much too hard due to the vast and confusing landscape of ‘happiness project.’

I purchased this book at the end of 2013, a limited edition one that was sold through the beautiful stationary store kikki.K. It came at a time in my life when there had been a huge amount of upheaval. I was in the store shopping for Christmas presents with an almost 4 month-old baby girl, following a year that had involved a major and distressing death in the immediate family, with then the subsequent birth of our daughter. With all the ups and downs, it was hard to imagine us ever being normal again. I was hopeful, as a glass-half-full gal always is – but it was so hard to envisage us living life to the full the way we used to. A book on happiness sparked my curiosity, and besides, I was always drawn to self-help type books. We can all improve ourselves.

I was soon to discover that Rubin had divided the various paths to happiness (as she felt them to be), into 12 areas, and would allow herself to focus on one major aspect, with its various subdividing offshoots, each month. I thought, being so close to January, that I would go along on the project with her as she had done, and decided to read the chapters month by month, in so doing my own kind of year-long project analysis of my life. I wanted to take my time and think these concepts through.

This is the book I read during the span of 2014.

This was a project into happiness, but what I loved was that it gave an insight into human nature, the way we are as society, and gave me a good sense of who I really was via the questions it posed. The book was set up in 12 areas of happiness building – for example March was “Aim Higher!” with the ‘Work’ tag associated with it, and some of the goals she had outlined for that month were “enjoy the fun of failure,” “enjoy now” and “launch a blog.”  (We’ll come back to that one later).

At first it seemed a little confusing, and as a novice into this field also somewhat bewildering. In her initial research into happiness, she discovered the personal principles that would help her to stay on track during her project, which also coincidentally turned out to be 12, which she called her ‘commandments.’ Then there were the ‘secrets of adulthood,’ the goofy things she had learnt over the years, and her ‘resolutions chart’ would help to keep her on track as she checked herself and her goals against it, month by month. All of this made me feel like the whole thing was awfully complicated and too-thought-out. I mean, if you want to be happy, identify the problem, figure out the solution, do the research, and go. I guess there wouldn’t have been much of a book if she had taken a simplistic approach, and also, I do empathise with the need for lists and ticking off items, as all avid-organisers and OCDers can attest to. But this was going to be one of many baffling (and awfully irritating) things about Rubin that bugged me.

Rubin’s sentiment for starting the project rang true for me. She didn’t think she was necessarily unhappy, but she did feel as if she should be happier and more appreciative of the life she led, following her lightbulb moment one day with the profound question “Is this really it?” singing out in the background.

From the get go, I immediately started to learn things and discover ways that would make my life easier, in turn making me happier. Organisation was key to happiness, with the obvious revelation that outer order does bring inner peace. This helped me to understand why I do always need to clean or sort before I start a project, because I feel scattered by things that are around and distracting me. I took on board two of her suggestions: the ‘one-minute rule’ and the ‘evening tidy up.’ The first one refers to tasks that should not be delayed if they can be done in less than one minute, and the latter is as it says, helping to give you a more relaxed and serene start to the following day, when all your crap is organised. This especially helps with kids I think, and it really made me realise that a lot of the jobs we often put off can be done quickly, when we can identify how long it will take to do it and then just do it. Take my current example of changing flat batteries in baby girl’s toys. All I really need to do is get her toys, turn them over, find out what kinds of batteries are required, go to the battery drawer and change them. That’s it. It won’t even take 5 minutes. Yet the act of putting it off will make this job seem like the hardest one yet, just by the fact of constantly delaying it.

Realistically though, we have to understand that some things will never be ticked off, and they will either be ongoing jobs or things that will create more jobs for us to do. This reminded me of an entry I read many, many years ago in Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff by Richard Carlson, where he said (and at the time it blew my world) that our ‘Inbox’ will never be empty. We’re constantly trying to get everything done, but it’s just not possible. Understanding and accepting this is one of the key things to calming down and stressing less.

I got many other ideas from Rubin, such as the ‘6 second hug,’ a hug that for that minimum time is enough to produce mood-boosting chemicals to promote bonding; having a simple thing like a candle in your office can give you a sense of peace and help you to work smarter; and when she wrote about creating traditions in the family to foster love, I couldn’t help but think of all the singing and dancing that we do with one another, as well as our special family ‘eskimo kisses’ where Hubbie, baby girl and I rub noses with one another.

In particular, one of her goals actually set me on my own journey, as just as she started her own blog in March, so too did I follow a couple of months later – bringing me to where I am today! For that I am utterly grateful for her ideas. She had come across to writing from originally clerking, and so I felt it was encouraging to me, since where she is, writing full-time, is where I want to go.

Writing related, she mentioned a self-publishing website where she was able to create a book out of the journal she kept of her daughters first 18 months. This definitely spiked my interest as I too have kept lengthy journals of the exact same thing, and also I would love to have a hard copy of my first blog which is still being (un)read out there in cyber space, as memory of my life and writings when I first started out in the blog forum.

There were so many nuggets of life and happiness wisdom that it was hard to keep up. Things like:

“Experts says that denying bad feelings intensifies them; acknowledging bad feelings allows good feelings to return.”

“Happy people don’t need to have fun… the absence of feeling bad isn’t enough to make you happy; you must strive to find sources of feeling good.”

You can gain happiness from tasks that actually don’t make you happy in the process: my recurring ones are writing and throwing parties. That was a puzzling, yet true, revelation. Also, there was the ‘arrival fallacy’ which is the assumption that when you arrive at a certain destination you’ll feel happy. What makes you happier though, is the anticipation of it (something I think often about and have touched on here). Usually reaching significant goals gives you more challenges and work (i.e. the ‘Inbox’ is never empty!) which is why it’s so important to take pleasure in the atmosphere of growth. That is the fun part.

The most challenging tasks, give you the most sense of reward and accomplishment. Harder, therefore = happier. Last year when I made up all the invitations for baby girl’s christening from scratch, little did I realise how much running around, work and preparation would be required. But when I finished the lot, boy was I proud of myself.

One of my ‘woah’ moments came when I read about the fear of failure. She said that to succeed more, we had to acknowledge that we would fail more. She calls it the ‘fun of failure’ to help counteract the dread she feels. But my favourite quote was when she referred to a friend of hers, who always says whenever crisis strikes

“this is the fun part!”

Kind of like yelling “plot twist!” when something in your life doesn’t go to plan. I LOVE IT.

However, I also discovered questions that I really didn’t find an answer to. For example, she spoke about a controversial topic – does money create happiness? Can more of it, really make you happier? This was very dependent on your experiences, and also how much you had in relation to people around you. I realised in reading that chapter that I love buying coffee out, and eating out (Food Reviews anyone?) and yet I didn’t get an answer as to why that might be. Did it make me feel good, knowing that I could buy food and drink? Was it the fact I didn’t have to make it myself? I’m still pondering that one.

And just as I couldn’t discover why I love to eat and drink out so much, so too did I struggle to work out the character behind Rubin. At first it was slightly unnerving to read her accounts of ALL the books she read on a regular basis. Early into the book she recounted at list 20 titles just on one page. Being an aspiring author, this made me totally jelly. Then with all the ongoing references to an endless amount of books and quotes, I couldn’t help but think that she planned the book really well, or just retained a stupid amount of information that I never could. For her sake, and being the organised being she is, I hope it is the former.

My love/hate with Gretchen had begun.

There were other moments that made me feel inefficient. She talked about reading a lot, as any author would, and one of her goals one month was to ‘read at whim,’ where she noted about a zillion different writers and topics. I remember thinking ‘she has two girls, right? And one of them is a year old? And she does this how?’

She wanted to read, so much more than she usually did, even though her main work centred around it… and yet she wanted more time to pursue her passions, she wanted to read more for enjoyment.

I found one explanation as to how she finds all that time to read when she said:

“We had plenty of money to do what we wanted.”

But I wanted to reach through the book and slap her when I read this, when she was taking on the challenge of writing an entire novel in the month of September:

“Writing the novel was a lot of work, but I had less trouble squeezing the writing into my day than I’d expected. Of course I had it easier than most people, since I was already a full-time writer, but even so, I had to scrimp on time otherwise spent reading newspaper and magazines, meeting people for coffee, reading for fun, or generally putting around. My blog posts became noticeably shorter.”

Did she want writers around the world to unite against her? Don’t rub salt into time-poor writers’ wounds, Gretchen.

However, my frustration with her reached boiling point when I discovered from page 255 onwards, that not only does Rubin have qualities very like a person in my life who infuriates me, but she was actually her. This was a rude shock and made me question how I could continue reading a book from someone who I didn’t have any time for in my life, let alone let them teach me about being happy. Pffft.

In this section she spoke of her realisation of interrupting others, pushing her opinions onto friends in the example of forcing clutter clearing onto them (gosh she sounds like a delight), as well as a party of other very unfavourable qualities: she was a topper – “You think you had a crazy morning, let me tell you about my morning;” she was a deflator – “You liked that movie? I thought it was kind of boring;” and she was belligerent, looking for ways to contradict what people said.

When she went on to say that her first instinct was to argue with people when a statement was made, I made the following colourful note:

‘Yes! That’s her! Why argue? Go and argue with yourself over how you’re a fucking moron. (Did she write this in secret?)’

I started to, through my new-found anger towards Rubin and resurgence of hatred towards that person in my life, discover snippets of happiness-inducing tasks in the book that could help me on my own path, and help me in dealing with my frustration at infuriating people such as this. The following two quotes made me feel better about myself, as I pondered and focused instead on my own private insecurities, and why people like Rubin and others made me angry the way that it did. Insight can be a wonderful thing.

“Enthusiasm is a form of social courage.”

“It is easy to be heavy; hard to be light. We nonjoyous types suck energy and cheer from the joyous ones: we rely on them to buoy us with their good spirit and to cushion our agitation and anxiety. At the same time, because of a dark element in human nature, we’re sometimes provoked to try to shake the enthusiastic, cheery folk out of their fog of illusion – to make them see that the play was stupid, the money was wasted, the meeting was pointless. Instead of shielding their joy, we blast it. Why is this? I have no idea. But that impulse is there.”

Critical people appear smarter, and gain superiority from their know-it-all attitudes – but there is nothing superior about putting another person down, no matter what form it comes in.

And then, Rubin was giving me advice. Rubin, so similar in character to that person in my life, was giving me advice on how to deal with a person, like her! She spoke of rumination, which was dwelling on slights, unpleasant encounters and sad events, which led to bad feelings and often depression for women particularly as they were more likely to ruminate. This discovery rang true for me, as often following a troubling encounter with someone (that person), a solo drive in to work, alone with my head, can be absolute hell. But the idea of an ‘area of refuge’ which she invented to avoid her tendency to brood, sounded like a brilliant idea. She decides to think of one of Churchill’s speeches, or something funny her husband has done. Although I haven’t had a proper think about how to implement this, it’s certainly a life-task I will be coming back to. It’s like I was meant to read it.

In accepting Rubin’s help, I actually came to realise there were things about her that I liked. For example, she admitted to her faults (and wrote about them for all to critique), something not many people could easily do. She was human, getting upset at her husband and children for everyday things, and had to accept defeat the way many people did, giving up on one of her goals, a gratitude notebook, because it started to feel forced.

Finally, one final thing tied us together and made me much more sympathetic towards her. Her crap handwriting. I too suffer from shithandwritingisis, and it was refreshing to learn she couldn’t write lyrical prose for 45 minutes in a beautiful journal every day, because she wouldn’t be able to read it afterwards! Ahh, kindred spirit.

And, after all that, there was this:

“I love writing, reading, research, note taking, analysis, and criticism….”

This only confirmed to me that I was doing, what I was meant to be doing. In my free time, it’s all about books, notes, reviews, writing… This is where I am meant to be. This is where I am happy.

Although some of the above were tasks I could implement into my everyday life, there were other passages I read, those kind of insane life-changing lightbulb ‘Aha!’ moments that left me with goosebumps I would never forget the feel of.

She told the story of a man who would take his sons out because they would wake early every morning and his wife wanted to sleep in. They gave up trying to convince them to go back to sleep, so the man let his wife sleep and took them out, he got coffee and then watched them play in the park before returning home for breakfast. Rubin said these days, the couple slept late, but the man’s memories of those days with his young boys are the clearest and happiest of that period.

Excuse me while I cry.

Following that story came the highly appropriate quote, and also one of her ‘splendid truths:’

“The days are long, but the years are short.”

This quote quite literally gives me chills. It has become one of my favourite sayings, and a bittersweet reminder of parenthood. It puts everything into perspective, at a time of my life when there are difficult days, when things feel so hard, when I just wish certain stages were over. It reminds me that nothing lasts forever, and only to look back on the last two and a half years to realise that. It’s a scary thought, and a hopeful one too. It puts me where I’m meant to be most importantly, which is in the present.

A second profound insight interestingly came from a reader on her blog, who wrote:

“One day – I was about 34 years old – it dawned on me: I can DO ANYTHING I want, but I can’t DO EVERYTHING I want. Life-changing.”

Hell yeah. We can’t do it all, though in the name of positive thinking, we should be able to. Just another thing to think about, and to remember to do things that make you happy, rather than trying to do everything, just because we can. Focus on those things that make you smile. I’m sitting her typing at my laptop while baby girl naps, but when I re-read this, I’ll feel good about my writing efforts (remember, greater challenge, greater reward).

There was I poem I also came across that struck a particular cord with me, and thank God I googled it before re-posting it on facebook. It was an 18th century epitaph, those things you find on gravestones:

“Remember, friends, as you pass by,

As you are now so once was I.

As I am now, so you must be.

Prepare yourself to follow me.”

It is actually quite eerie, and yet when I first read it I found it to mean something else entirely. In line with my negative take on the saying ‘every dog has its day,’ I felt like it was a promise to those, that their day will come, that they will have hardships, and especially my friends without kids: ‘You will see how hard it is one day too.’ I don’t know why I am compelled to think like this, and why for a glass hall-full gal I am thinking on the negative side when it comes to this dog saying. I know that parenthood is hard, and I know that there are many out there, who like I was before kids, just don’t get it. I think, as weird as it sounds, I feel it’s comforting that I won’t be the only one in life with troubles and dramas. Sounds ridiculous, I know, as if no one has issues. We all do. But knowing you’re not alone, and other people will follow in your steps and have your problems, just as you will follow in other people’s steps and have their problems, makes me feel like we’re in this thing together.

“As you are now so once was I.”

I think whether you’re brimming with happiness and bouncing off of rainbows, or whether you’re staring at that second bottle of vodka with deep desire, we can ALL use this book. Sure, one can argue ‘Why the need to read about being happy, just BE happy!’ And I agree. There were many parts of the book when I just found the whole project a tad complicated, and her second ‘splendid truth:’

“One of the best ways to make myself happy is to make other people happy.

One of the best ways to make other people happy is to be happy myself.”

was a bit of a chicken/egg scenario and rattled my brain as I tried to logically work out which should come first and how they affect one another. But at the end of the day, as long as you can eat both the chicken and the egg, we don’t need to work anything out. Just as we don’t need to think too much about happiness – just be it. And if all that fails, fake it ‘til you make it and as Rubin says and does

“Act the way I want to feel.”

It doesn’t have to be so technical, but then again, whatever works for YOU. Rubin had her splendid truths, her commandments, and that helped her in her happiness project. At the end of the book she supplies additional info and tips on how to better your life and even start your own happiness project, just as she started her own book club too (something I seriously pondered, and still ponder today).

Rubin gave me a lot of inspiration, confirmed for me I was on the right path, and gave me lots of nifty tips and tricks, as well as self-learning, and that is a lot more than other books can say. She vowed to stop reading books she didn’t enjoy, and I too realised that I shouldn’t feel the need to read short stories or stories of sadness/loneliness/woe, no matter how acclaimed they are or how well they’re written. I thought in depth about my ‘True Rules,’ a term she coined for a collection of principles developed over time that help you to make decisions and set priorities. Where one of hers was “When making a choice about what to do, choose work,” I soon discovered one of mine were “There’s a reason for everything.”* And when a reader on her blog listed all the groups and clubs they had joined that year and all the amazing experiences that had come out of that choice, I couldn’t help but think with awe ‘Imagine all the friends and experiences you’ll miss out on by not doing anything?’

The Happiness Project is a must-read for all. Even if you don’t like Gretchen (as I can surely relate to, at times), you will love the ideas and insight into YOU that come out of this book. It’s a helpful guide to come back to time and time again.

As my sauce-splattered kikki.K wash cloth says:

2015-12-21 16.35.01

Too right.

Please let me know your thoughts on The Happiness Project in the comments below, I would love to discuss with you.

(*True Rules coming up in a later post).

I’m sorry I told off your child…

… but, actually, I’m not.

Baby girl is usually in the trolley as I whiz around our local shopping centre doing the weekly grocery shop.  I stopped at Baker’s Delight, and my precious girl stood obediently beside me as I waited in the long line, occasionally pointing to the endless sweet and savoury treats showcased behind the glass before us.

Another young girl, at least 2 years older than my one, was nearby with You. She looked really sweet and innocent, holding no malice at all, only cheekiness and curiosity as is so prevalent and totally necessary at that young age. She spotted my girl and, as all older kids are, became besotted with the image of a younger child to ‘play’ with.

At first she came and stood really close, almost eye to eye with my baby girl. This is really confronting, and I can understand why baby girl gets freaked out by a total stranger doing this, albeit it being a young girl such as she. But I understood Your girl’s intention, her amusement, her willingness to play, and I said “it’s ok honey, she just wants to play.”

You continued chatting away to the woman selling bread behind the counter.

I was next and soon ordering my own bread, plus a bit of a snack to keep us going on our seemingly never-ending mammoth shopping trip that day. As I started ordering, I became aware of baby girl crying out in protest, gripping my legs and standing behind me, while the other girl jumped out at her, playing a kind of peek-a-boo, at the same time doing a kind of scary/wobbly face at her to see her reaction. I looked down at them, trying to settle baby girl, looking up to listen to the young girl as she responded to my question about bread, while also peeking a glimpse to see if You would say anything and stop your girl, who was only having fun, from making My Girl, upset.

You and the bread lady laughed and I heard you comment that your girl was playing, while my baby girl was getting upset. It was a flippant and light-hearted comment, and just like that your conversation moved on.

My baby girl was getting distressed by your girl’s playing. You obviously don’t know to what extent, but only I could feel her grabbing at my legs and trying to avoid your girl as she jumped out and around at her, again and again. As I waited for my bread, growing increasingly frustrated, I knew what I had to do, in the presence of YOUR lack of doing.

Your girl pulled a really scary face at my baby girl again as well as a bit of a “roar”-ing sound, and I’m sorry, but you think of how it feels for a big kid to do that to a little kid. You picture a 6 year-old doing that to your child – is that considered bullying? At the very least, it’s not fair.

“Excuse me, can you please stop doing that to my daughter, she’s getting upset.”

My tone came out short, brisk and firm. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let frustration rule me; perhaps I should have taken a deep breath and thought ‘this is someone’s daughter’ before I let the young girl know how I felt; perhaps I should have started with ‘Sweetie,’ and used more “please’s’ and really sugared up the request with ‘I know you’re playing honey but my girl is a bit upset, do you mind not doing that?’

But all I could think of was how You, had laughed off my girl getting upset from Yours. You didn’t stop your child. So naturally, it fell within my jurisdiction.

Your girl heard my tone, and immediately withdrew and went close to you. I know you heard. You went silent, paid and then walked off with your daughter. The girl serving me heard. I reckon a few people around us heard. And I know you were upset. You were upset that someone you hadn’t known had told off your daughter.

But don’t be upset with me. Be embarrassed, as I hope you were, that you didn’t do anything about your girl sooner.

And yes, it was slightly awkward as we crossed paths 20 minutes later, both of us with our girls buying fruit and vegetables. It was totally in your right to confront me, even though you didn’t.

But you know what? I know I told off your girl, and that was perhaps inappropriate. But as you should know, I am the Mummy Lion… and no one messes with my cub.

 

Uma Thurman as ‘The Bride’ in Kill Bill: Vol. 1

“It was not my intention to do this in front of you. For that I’m sorry. But you can take my word for it, your mother had it comin’. When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I’ll be waiting.”

 

Spring on over to (glorious!) Panton’s

Panton Hill Vineyard and Winery
145 Manuka Road Panton Hill

Visiting a winery had been an event-in-waiting for over three years. Before we had fallen pregnant with baby girl, I had been desperate to go to one and quite honestly, get nicely plastered before officially getting off the alcohol wagon for my lonngggg stop-over to responsible-parentsville. We had managed to stop at one, but it hadn’t really fulfilled my winery desires: there had not been a menu available on the day we visited, and though we sampled some wines and did take a bottle home, I had really wanted the full winery experience: food, wine, sitting in the splendid sunshine, ALL OF IT.

I’m an elephant, and I don’t forget. These unfulfilled experiences stay in my mind until the mother-fuckers are ticked off my anal to-do-in-life list.

I don’t even know how we came to the idea though – I think it went something like ‘this Sunday is going to be super awesome weather/this Sunday we are free/what can we do on such a nice day/let’s eat out…. Winery!’

Yes something like that.

So, on the first super amazing Spring Day of September, we headed over to Panton Hill Vineyard and Winery to make my winery dreams come true.

Why Panton’s? Honestly, I was looking at wineries close to our vicinity of town. This one was a 30 minute drive, and compared with wineries of similar distance as well as neighbouring town wineries, this one had a menu on weekends and looked really lovely. The website mentioned something about blending Australian and European surrounds, and I immediately went ‘ding! sold.’

I called them on a Thursday to see if I had to book in advance (if you go somewhere with your child and you don’t book beforehand, you’re uber-confident as well as playing roulette with some gangster Murphy’s Law fairies) and when no one answered I left a message revealing our Sunday intentions.

That night I got a call back, advising that yes, we needed to book, especially as it was going to be a gloriously sunny day. The lady I spoke to was lovely and booked us for 1pm.

Come amazing Sunday lunch, and here Hubbie, baby girl and I are, driving through Eltham and then Diamond Creek, via winding roads and greenery in all directions to finally make our way to a gravel-y, slow, long, driveway leading to Panton’s. The first car park we came across was full, but Hubbie spotted a sign alluding to more spaces behind the building, and so he followed it to find it was so.

After walking into one of the buildings, where there was a private party at one end, and wine tastings up the other, there followed a bit of confusion. There were two nearby buildings, one opposite the one we were in, and one further along the trail, but those two I didn’t see people coming in and out of. Then there was the outside seated area besides this building, with some shaded tables and some next to unopen umbrellas. I had booked for 1pm, but where was the person to seat us? Not to come across all high-brow with my demand of being seated, but as I had been told we were required to book, with the time of 1pm given, it was almost expected that there would be a little reserved sign on a table somewhere with someone waiting to say “Hi Smikg, your table awaits.”

Nope.

I patiently waited behind a couple tasting wines to ask the older gentleman (he appeared to be the only one representing the property around) that we had arrived for lunch and didn’t know where to sit. He said “wherever you like,” and proceeded to point out all the areas we could sit. We headed outside, because we’d just come out of Winter and all.

Here too we hung out for a while. We soon realised there were numbers on other tables (the kind you get when you order so when you sit down the wait staff can find you), but again, no wait staff.

Wait! No, then they appeared. We managed to somewhat successfully flag one young lad down who informed us, once we’d explained our situation (we want food and drink please give it to us) that we were to order and pay inside the building with the gentleman who had been handing out wine tastings. Apparently there was a menu there. Alright then, and back I went. I felt a bit like a see-saw by this stage, but the sun was too damn bright to darken my mood.

I ordered some food and drink, before Hubbie went in to do the same while I now did the babysitting duties, making sure baby girl didn’t throw too many rocks into the nearby fountain and what not. She was having a ball, and usually distractions while we’re out and about, especially when dining, are heavily appreciated, however picking up rocks and throwing them into a pool of water, didn’t seem like it would be heavily appreciated by others. So containing her insane excitement at the task was not-so-fun.

But there was a dog! This was very exciting for baby girl, but we couldn’t let her just wander after it and grab at it, and at the same time, though this sweet dog did seem very hungry, sitting at our feet (and everyone else’s) hoping to be fed, its name tag informed us ‘do not feed the dog!’ Ok then.

We also had the issue of the sun. I know, I know us Melburnians, we whinge all the time “it’s too hot, it’s too cold, it’s too windy, it’s too still now I can’t breathe, it’s just too normal can we have all 4 seasons in one day again?” Anyway, yes we were rapt it was an amazingly beautiful day, and I knew so many people who were out and about and planning so many extraordinary things for this fine Spring day. It was the first one in a LONG time, which my facebook feed also gave testament too at the sheer volume of out-and-about posts that featured that day from almost EVERYONE. However, it was still, it was hot, and sitting under the sun without sunscreen (not used to the fear of not-being white yet so early into Spring) was intense, and then of course, was our sweet baby girl, who we protect like a magpie protects its young swooping down on unsuspecting passersby who hold no intention of malice, just because they are near this time of year. Her precious skin is not for the sun. Our umbrella though, seemed very hard to manoeuver, and it was only when a certain lady came out that I went ‘ahhhh.’

Boss lady. Because she was, it was so damn apparent.

She immediately came to us, knowing we needed it lifted without even asking. She moved through the tables, checking on people, getting things, talking to the suddenly present waiters about what to do. And then we had shade.

And then not long after that, food too:

2015-09-13 13.49.53

2015-09-13 13.50.20

We had gotten a few things to share, along with a VB for Hubbie and a glass of Verdelho for me. The menu was primarily pizza, and even the specials that day included lamb on a pizza. It was a fairly casual menu, but still, I didn’t care. There was food, there was alcohol, and there was sun.

We shared the Potato pizza, Classico pizza and Cheese and Spinach Burek. What I had found humorous was when I had asked the man how large the burek was, and he proceeded to give me hand configurations adding that a Turkish man on premises made it. Dude, I know what burek is, my family makes it. That’s like describing to Willy Wonka what chocolate is. And his pronunciation of it was gold. He and his missus may have had accents, but that didn’t allow for the correct pronounciation of it. (Say bu-rek. Pronounce bu, not drawn-out ‘boo,’ but a short ‘bu,’ followed by ‘rek,’ rhyming with ‘neck,’ but the r is short as well, the r Europeans sound out, a bit of a rolling r. Anyway).

I now know that that ‘dude’ goes by the name of Teunis and boss lady, his wife, by Dorothy. I’m not psychic, their website says so. He may not know his burek, but he sure as hell knows his land, and his wine, having purchased that block of land in the ‘70s, transforming it single-handedly into what it is today. When you see the property, you know what an incredible achievement that is. I have such respect for individuals who turn nothing into something unique and spectacular, and Panton Winery sure fits that bill.

The classico pizza had salami, tomatoes, olives and cheese, with the addition of chilli. Hubbie, who had the majority of this one, said he couldn’t really taste the chilli, but still, he ate it all. I had most of the potato pizza, and its combination of rosemary, potatoes, Spanish onion and cheese is always a winner. We all shared the burek which was not served as a loaf as previously indicated (!) but cut up into tiny pieces, all the better as we all nibbled on it and easily fed baby girl pieces too. There were some marinated olives and mushrooms on the side too, and together we finished it all.

Hubbie thought it was fairly standard, however I loved it. Yes the menu was basic, but for me it was more the experience of the setting, wine and food together. Also what was perhaps slightly affecting him was baby girl’s inability to sit down and listen. We did the usual taking turns eating while the other watched her, and when it was my turn to keep her busy while he ate, she and I walked around the grounds while I took some photos of the surrounding bushlands, vineyard, and the picturesque buildings.

2015-09-13 14.20.31

2015-09-13 14.20.59

2015-09-13 14.22.35

2015-09-13 14.22.23

2015-09-13 14.23.49

2015-09-13 14.24.45

2015-09-13 14.19.55

2015-09-13 14.24.59

2015-09-13 14.25.17

2015-09-13 14.20.03

It was getting peaking hot, and with it baby girl’s irritability was cranking up a notch. Getting tired, we didn’t want to push her, but before we left, there was just one thing left to do.

Hubbie watched her while I disappeared here for 20 minutes.

2015-09-13 14.24.37

At first Teunis was meant to give me some wine options, but he got busy and Dorothy stepped in. I had 6 wine taste testings, some red, some white, while two of them I tried decanted. She was asking me if I could taste the difference between the decanted and the standard, and you know, I could, but also, by then we were onto the 5th taste test and it all tasted fine by then. Then she tried to sell me a decanter, and that tipsy side of me was loose, very loose, and very easily persuaded, and Dorothy probably knows to try to sell the decanter on the 5th taste-testing rather than the first, but for some reason this narration kicks in when I start drinking, and the narrator was telling me ‘you know you’re well on your way, don’t just buy something for the sake of it.’

Fortunately for me, the narrator in my mind won out again and I didn’t make a flimsy purchase. I know her decanters were cheaper, but I think I’ll wait and buy a pretty one. Loved the tutorial on why you decanter though, it was very informative.

Anyway, from all of that I walked out with this

2015-09-13 15.42.59

All smiling into the sunlight and whispering to Hubbie as I approached “I just had 6 wine tastings and I’m drunk.”

Yep. Life of a Mum.

We left after that, relieved that baby girl was falling asleep in the car, with sweet memories of rolling hills and wine and mispronounced burek.

Food: 7/10. Yes it was a standard menu, but points for the fresh ingredients (I assume the rosemary we were picking from the shrub with baby girl was used for my potato pizza – but shhh!)

Coffee: N/A. We were really close to ordering it, but Hubbie just couldn’t take the heat (weak) and baby girl’s cheeky antics anymore so we thought we best not to push our stay.

Ambience: Very relaxed. Beautiful. Serene. Amazing surrounds. The buildings, reminiscent of something you may see in Tuscany, transport you to another place and make you feel like you are far, far away, rather than just 30 minutes from home.

People: I was surprised and relieved that we weren’t the only ones with cheeky toddlers. A big family was there, mostly though there were couples and older couples. Also that big party inside the wine-tasting building that was going through the bottles (and so they should).

Staff: I hate to say based on our lovely experience, but kind of not present at first. I put this down not to unwillingness to work or help the guests, but rather the demands placed on them by the people visiting and superb weather. Meaning, they were understaffed. Otherwise they seemed ok, but didn’t hang around to talk. Both owners were chatty, but due to the volume of people they also seemed rushed.

Price: We spent under $60 (and that wasn’t including my approximately $30 bottle of pinot noir), that included the two pizzas and burek all for $15 each, and then there was my white wine and Hubbie’s beer at about $6 each. Perhaps, a bit overpriced for pizza, but I get it, you’re paying for the surrounds, as well as the wine-tastings (how else are they going to justify giving each person 6 different wine-tastings?)

Advice: Go on a gloriously sunny day (have I said gloriously enough in this post yet?!), on the weekend, so you can enjoy both wine and food. Pay and order in the building where all the wines are lined up, and then sit ‘wherever you like.’ And just, enjoy 🙂

In a nutshell: I would definitely come back to this place. Taking baby girl with us, I’d probably go when we have other friends and their kids with us so she could play with them, rather than with the water fountain. Or I could even go as a brunch/lunch option when just meeting up with the girls only. It’s the right place for a relaxing gasbag. And a coffee too, must do that next time I’m there.

They have the right ingredients of setting, scenery, wine and food, but a little work needs to go into welcoming the guests and setting them up properly on arrival so they’re not left wandering the grounds, hungry and thirsty. All in all, an amazing find that I can’t wait to revisit.

To-do-in-life List:

Visit winery and drink and eat on sunny day.
Kiss in the rain.
Watch the sunrise come up while watching from a peak/hill.
See the Aurora Borealis.
See Madonna in concert – soon.
Get published.

Panton Hill Winery Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato