#1422 ‘Twas the ‘second’ night before Christmas…

What? She must have her dates wrong you say.

No siree.

It really is the night before Christmas… for those of Orthodox faith.

It’s an interesting thing to celebrate two Christmases throughout your life. It’s a privilege now awarded to baby girl as she joins in the doubled up of festivities.

Growing up, although the primary Christmas we celebrated was on the traditional Westernised date of December 25th, due to my Mum’s background and heritage we were always aware of at the very least, if we weren’t helping our relatives celebrate the Orthodox Christmas day of January 7th.

Seeing as Hubbie’s family is also of Orthodox faith, this acknowledgement and acceptance has grown and continued. All of my life, family and friends around me have celebrated this day… I have been to countless Christmas parties and participated in token Orthodox traditions, drank and ate and been merry on this holiest of days.

Which nationalities celebrate this day you might ask? Well there are Macedonians, Serbians, Polish, Russian, and Greek, to name a few…

I think it’s important to respect and value other traditions, even those that we may not be privy to or understand in the fullest.

Just as living in Australia, I believe that Australian customs should be respected and appreciated by all those who choose to call this country their home, so too do I believe the reverse should be norm: Aussies should respect the traditions and heritage of those with customs and holidays from far off our shores.

Including a different Christmas.

Sometimes I hear a bit of ignorance. One side might discount the other, calling theirs the ‘real Christmas.’

I think this is a bit sad. I don’t think we should be arguing over religion and politics and trying to up our own stance by discounting the other.

Why can’t we all respect each other’s traditions while still enjoying our own?

THIS GOES BOTH WAYS.

Baby girl went to bed tonight excited. She was asking if Santa would come again… I told her he only makes one stop a year, but that there would still be PRESENTS.

We did the majority of presents on the Westernised Christmas day, but I have an inkling she will get something. ๐Ÿ˜‰

A second Christmas for a kid? That’s like a second birthday!

She, and we, are fortunate to have double the Christmases, every year. โ™ฅ

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Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

 

#1374 Us 4, like old times

Today we found ourselves in a place, a space, a set up, that we haven’t been in for a while… and yet it was something that we used to live and breathe.

And eat. As it was concerning the old kitchen table.

Not my kitchen table… but my parents’ old kitchen table.

It was me, my sister, and my parents. And we sat down to eat in exactly the same spots we used to all those years ago.

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๐Ÿ˜ฏ

Wow. This is a big deal. We go to my parents’ house a fair bit, and even sis and I will find ourselves there at the same time too… but it will usually be with the rest of the fam. Hubbies. Kids. And we never sit at the small round table when there are 9 of us.

But today, only 4. The original clan;) I had to take a snapshot of the moment.

It wasn’t the only flashback in time though… When we were headed out later, sis and I in the back seat of Mum’s car as she drove, Dad in passenger… she stepped on the gas, HARD, as she reversed flew down their long narrow drive.

Sis and I turned to each other with looks of surprise on our faces before I burst out laughing.

Oh Mum. How could I forget your insane driving?

Memories. โค๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ‘งโ€๐Ÿ‘ง

๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿš˜

 

#1346 Cuddling Mister F

This is my cat, Mister F.

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Baby girl will argue that he is her cat and he loves her more, but lets face it, if it weren’t for me being a cat person…

We wouldn’t even have a cat right now.

In the picture above, Mister F is being Tarzan, balancing the fence and weaving between the giant leaves of our neighbours fig tree.

He is hilariously clumsy. Moments before I snapped this photo he almost slipped off the fence – like, you are a cat. If you can’t balance on a fence, no one can!

I love his awkwardness. Amazingly what I am loving about him lately is his coat… rather, the cuddly coat.

Hubbie calls it his leather jacket. So black and shiny and smooth. He’s a medium hair so a fair bit of fur still finds its way wafting through our home… which I can’t stand, since I’m the one that cleans it.

But he’s sooo soft. Like today when he wandered into a room he wasn’t meant to go into, I scooped him up flat like a pancake (the way I used to do with my old cat) and hugged him against my chest as I carried him downstairs.

And Mister F? He was totally cool about being a pancake. He looked around curiously as I held him close to me in a hug, and didn’t try to escape even once.ย 

He lets us get away with almost anything… don’t feel sorry for him though… He has a butcher as an owner.

Sardines for dinner? His favourite โค๐Ÿ˜ป

#1339 Why I love to garden

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I asked myself this very question this afternoon, as I sat crouched over our flower bed, pulling out weeds at random and picking at those pesky sort that just wouldn’t come out so easily…

Why did I love it?

I certainly never had any real affinity to it growing up. Sure my parents backyard was a beautiful haven to relax, think, have d&ms and read… but it never went further than that.

The maintenance of it all was beyond me. Unthinkable. Not because I despised it… rather because I never truly considered it.

Until we got our own home. This home to be honest. In our old place we made the front and rear gardens to be as lowmaintenance as possible. A couple of yakkas here, a palm tree and a shrub there, throw in a whole lot of pebbles to thwart weed growth… TA-DA!

Done.

Maybe it’s because we are at a place where we see ourselves growing and building our ideal house and lifestyle. Maybe I’m finally at an age where I can appreciate and have a bit more time for these outdoor leisurely practices.

Maybe I am more like my parents than I ever imagined.

OR… maybe it is that all of my indoor work, sitting at my computer both writing and writhing, needs to be balanced somehow, somewhat, and that can only be done outside tending to nature…

Yep. Even the weeds.

I find it so therapeutic, ripping them out. Honestly, sometimes I question if I have gone mad.

But I think where I have really gone, is to Nature.ย 

#1260 Sipak tea

I had a lovely moment tonight while sipping some herbal tea…

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Sipak tea, that is.

“What the hell is sipak?” you may ask.

Well firstly, it’s pronounced with a ‘sh,’ so” shi-pak” instead of “si-pak.”

And the ‘pak’ is not at all like “pack,” instead like “puck.”

So it is shi-puck.

It’s a rosehip tea. As much as I rely on coffee daily and enjoy it to no end, I am also a firm tea lover. They both have their place, rightly so. I love having a million and one teas in my pantry, regardless of whether I drink them daily, weekly, monthly, or even, yearly.

So when I finished my old sipak tea packet several months ago, I realised with dismay that the local supermarkets just couldn’t cut it.

They had all these non-European brands of ‘rosehip’ tea (eye roll)… and I just wanted to go back to my roots.

My Croatian roots. I wanted to get the bloody Croatian tea with the Cro writing and branding and only drink that one damn it.

SIPAK TEA.

I asked my Mum not long ago to get me some from her local supermarket, as they have a wide and varied selection of European specialty foods…

Today when we visited my parents, 3 packets were waiting for me. 3!

I took out my mug tonight and made myself a cuppa. It’s still rosehip but with added hibiscus flower. I tell you, I never noticed the hibiscus before, either it is new or it was never made prominent on the old packets, but it still tasted the SAME.

And it was only while sipping it that I realised the mug, cherished as it was, had come from my Mum, too.

My Mum giving me a great Mum mug. And now, traditional caj.

Talk about full circle… or should I say, puni krug. ๐Ÿ˜‰

โ™ฅโ™ฅโ™ฅโ™ฅ

#1189 Pizza with family

What is better than spending time with family?

What is better than celebrating a loved one’s birthday?

What is better, than all of the above… with pizza?

Why, ALL OF THE ABOVE but with pizza from your childhood.

Pizza from the hood.

Pizza that the Maria’s and Mario’s drove across suburbs for…. ๐Ÿš—๐Ÿš๐Ÿš˜๐Ÿš™

Gino’s Pizza.

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Ahh. Still pretty decent. Sitting around a table chomping on pizza like we used to as teens, with loved ones on a Saturday night, is a pretty great place to be.

๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ•

 

#1142 The plan B writing course

Following rejection, it is vital to make yourself another plan.

It keeps you focused. Out of a state of funk. And it helps when it is an online course, therefore there are no maximum quotas of 2 people to fill up the room (not resentful much?!)

Today my online writing course started and I excitedly jumped aboard the introduction ship…

But, what to write?

What I wanted was to just write this:

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Well it was the truth. In a plain and simple nutshell. Scaling it back to basics, keeping it real… that was it. But they wanted to know more. Like where I lived, what I did, what I wanted to get out of this…

I answered some of the default questions…

F&*k it. I’ll post it for you. If you’d like to know my brief writing history background… then happy reading ๐Ÿ™‚

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