Every now and again I turn to my camera roll and flick through moments captured in time, and every time I find something new. It’s often raw and unpolished and of nothing terribly, seemingly significant, except maybe to me. And in that one little reflective moment, it all comes back. The hum of the city. The footsteps beside me. The heat. The orange sunset ricocheting off the 9th Avenue buildings. If those streets could talk. The stories they would tell. If we only understood that all we have is moments, strung together, that we bundle up and call a life. Maybe we’d make the most of our moments. Maybe we’d live more, in every moment. Maybe we’d never take a single one for granted, ever again.
I’m sitting up, in bed at hospital, looking at my husband sleeping to my left, and I’m smiling.
My husband’s arms are thrown upwards, escaping the sheets, wrapped around his head. He’s in a deep sleep and his handsome face is full of peace.
It’s the exact same image I was greeted with only half an hour earlier when I went to feed my son.
My beautiful, peaceful, joyful son.
Two days ago, our little man entered the world, and life changed. I’ve never loved anything so much, so quickly, with so much intensity. And, as each hour passes, I can’t believe how much further in love I fall. How much more my heart swells. How much stronger I grow. I’m in awe of him.
A friend sent me a text message tonight and wrote that despite my ability for writing, and my husband’s talent in music, our son was most certainly the best thing we’ve ever produced. And I can’t help but agree.
He’s the product of almost twelve years of love, laughter and friendship. Staring at him, I almost don’t believe he’s real. But then I see my husband’s expression across his face, and I know he is. I see my nephew in him, my brother, myself. And I realise that he’s more than real; he’s ours and we made him.
And I get lost for words. I lose myself in his face.
The best thing we’ve ever produced.
After a huge 2012, I had a much-needed break over Christmas, New Year and the early weeks of January. It was relaxing. Refreshing. Magnificent weather combined with great company, mountains of good food and time to just be. Sit. Read. Watch movies. Nap. Discover. Chat. Explore. Giggle. Wander.
I didn’t open my laptop for about three weeks. I didn’t think about work. I didn’t plan much at all; the day’s planning was usually done over breakfast. And it was a divine way to holiday.
I’ve kicked off 2013 with renewed motivation, purpose and a clear, uncluttered mind. And how could I not, considering what I saw every day? Some of the most gorgeous parts of Victoria, laid bare, ready and waiting to cleanse and inspire.
I love a good weekend.
And for quite a while now, they’re the only kind I’ve been enjoying.
Ever since I decided to shut the laptop and switch the smartphone to silent come Friday night, I’ve enjoyed weekends more than ever.
I’ve discovered that I’m more productive from Monday to Friday after two work free days; I’m more motivated and more refreshed when it’s time to get stuck back into it.
I’ve realised that no matter how much you love something – writing, social media, Internet surfing – that a little break each week results in a much less stressed, more content working week. And so that’s how I treat my weekends, as treats. That I’ve earned. And don’t need to feel guilty about. The biggest thing I’ve learnt is that if you can’t finish your work in five days of the week, you’re either incredibly overloaded or incredibly ineffective.
This weekend started – after morning chats in bed with Kaz – by popping into the Selby Fire Brigade Fair, followed by breakfast at the Kallista Tea Rooms, then some sunshine-filled meandering around our local Belgrave where the End of the Line Festival was in full swing. After ducking off to my new hairdresser for a much needed trim, I spent some time sitting on the deck, reading the papers, soaking in some sunshine. A spontaneous decision to head to the pools resulted in some refreshing splish, splosh, splashing. Then it was back home for a BBQ and creating some tasty Japanese dishes using my Saori Sauces I picked up that morning at End of the Line. Saturday night was spent relaxing, reading, catching up with the in-laws (and catching up on some much needed zzzzzs).
On Sunday, after a French toast and berry compote breakfast feast, Kaz and I headed to Fitzroy to prepare for the All India Radio ‘Red Shadow Landing’ album launch. Kaz has been playing with the band for a few years and their ambient rock music is truly exceptional. And by preparing I mean that Kaz was unpacking the car and setting up for sound check, and I was wandering the streets and window shopping.
I murdered some lunch at The Workers Club whilst chatting with the lovely guys from the band, then enjoyed the gig. That was followed by dinner at Little Creatures Dining Hall with friends, where this small feast was devoured:
And so, a full and fun weekend, that was also relaxing, resulted in these two happy faces:
And I think that says it all.
August. So much rain. Such cold, frosty mornings. Days that go from foggy white to light grey and back to foggy white. But then there are the sunny days. The ones that make your eyes squint. And these days have made the blossoms bloom, the flowers open up, and the grass lose its dew. And that can only mean one thing; spring is in the air.