#879 Wiggly World Cup

The Wiggly tradition continued today.

Us BIG kids (sis and I), took the little kids along the beachside for yet another mid-year intimate (1500 kind of ‘intimate’) Wiggles Show. It was amazing as usual, and every time I see this group I just love them more and more.

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The karma they are getting from making so many children and their parents happy… that power will be able to bring peace on earth in the near future.

It is, truly something special.

And although there were new memories made, like baby girl handing her bouquet of flowers to Lachy, and my nephew getting his own special signed card from all of the Wiggles themselves… something else is at the forefront of my mind, a small moment, that is actually a pretty BIG moment, that nonetheless has me feeling super grateful and happy.

It also, like the Wiggles shows we attend so reliably, has to do with tradition, family, and love… but this moment can perhaps only happen every 4 years, and even then it is not guaranteed.

This lack of opportunity and the fact of pure chance, is what trumps the other moments of the day.

I am of course, talking about the World Cup 🙂

I was awake early this morning for yet another nail biter, though I didn’t anticipate it was going to turn out that way. Croatia were playing against England, and they were down 1-0.

From the way they were playing, I honestly didn’t have high hopes. I was feeling under the weather, super tired, and was questioning if I should have a TV in the bedroom rather than only the lounge room, just so I could fall asleep easier after the fact… when Croatia suddenly levelled when they scored a goal.

Immediately, things changed. Fast forward to extra time, and they scored yet another goal, bringing them in front of England.

I lost my mind.

Goals are hard to come by in soccer. I jumped up on the couch, throwing the cushion around, whispering “yes yes yes!” in a high-pitched tone. Hubbie had just joined me for his breakfast before heading off to work, and looked incredulously between my out-of-control display, to the TV, his luck at having walked in on exactly the right moment to see the winning goal.

There were 11 minutes to go. It wasn’t over. But like I said, goals are hard to come by in soccer.

As we sat there, Hubbie and I, staring at the screen in stupefied shock and all of my World Cup dreams realising before me, we heard some movement behind a door.

We stared at the closed door off towards the bedroom side of the house, and then saw as the handle slowly turned, and baby girl stick her head out from behind it.

She had found us. My celebration as quiet as I had tried to be, had woken her. It was super-early for her to be up, but there was no chance in hell I was going to put her back to bed when there was history-making soccer to be watched.

So in true responsible parenting-style… she stayed up with me.

I rugged her up with throws and blankets, she stared at Hubbie at I in a kind of shock at us sitting on the couch and reacting to TV as strongly as we were, so early in the morning… and then as I explained to her that Croatia were winning, and what was going on, and that Mummy didn’t always get up at crazy hours to jump on the couch over a ball on the TV… she relaxed a little, started mucking about a bit more, and took it all in.

And it was then, that I realised.

She is almost 5. This will surely be her first World Cup Soccer memory. Walking in to find Mum and Dad excited and Mum losing her shit on the couch, over one of the countries she resides from.

And that there. What a beautiful memory. And it means so much to me now, as I know what it will mean to her in the future. Because I’ve had those same memories, and I continue to.

As I’ve said it before… the outcome really doesn’t matter… because it’s the memories that WIN over everything ♥♥♥

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Photo by Davor Denkovski on Unsplash

#839 Saturday night friend vibes

The night started off as a catch-up between old friends.

Dinner, antipasto, and a fireplace beside which baby girl could draw.

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Ahh, so soothing for a cold Winter’s night in early June.

And as with old friends, things can change suddenly…

Delightful tea mugs…

To cuddle time between bestie and baby girl…

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To then full-fledged passionate essays about the greatest artists of all time as shown on the YouTube channel!

Shouting! Standing from sheer inability to sit still! Fist bumps! We went from an easy cruise down a scenic coastal road to speeding down a tight and narrow laneway at over 100km an hour!

Success in a night is evident in that the vibe can change from mellow and easy to loud and boisterous, and yet the love, respect and admiration for one another in the room still remains.

It was one of those “we’re leaving now” nights… where we left 3 hours after the first mention.

But coming home late from a great night out, is a problem I am happy to have 🙂 ♥

 

#811 His shoes were made for dancing

He didn’t dance for a LONG time.

This was a big deal. Dancing was Hubbie’s forte. The way he effortlessly and magically glided to the folk music, his feet seemingly floating in the air, arms waving about in focused movement as if conducting the people and arena around him…

The love and passion were so evident on his face when he danced like this. It was pure joy and happiness for the music manifested, and the expression came forth as his body responded to the music, from the beam stretching from cheek to cheek, all the way to his tip-toes.

It’s all about moving on your tip-toes. There is NO OTHER way to do it, he would say.

So I knew then when his Dad died, that he would stay off the dancing for a while.

Because, not doing the things you love, as passionate as you might be about them, is one of the natural processes of grieving. Hell, you don’t want to do barely anything, let alone something that makes you happy, or used to make you happy, when you are so sad.

It was harder in his case to even contemplate dancing… because it had been a great love he and his Dad shared.

Father and Son. The image epitome. Side by side, arms outstretched, touching shoulders, as they moved in perfect unison, in big grand movements, sweeping their arms wide as they turned around, and kicked and jumped and paraded for all to see.

It was the perfect image of familial bliss. And it was.

But after a year of grieving, Hubbie still couldn’t do it. He forced himself here and there, but there was just no love for the act of dancing…

He stopped dancing. Cold turkey. Just, GONE.

It made me so sad. Here was a part of Hubbie that brought him so much joy, and yet he wasn’t doing it anymore, so strong was the loss and unhappiness in his heart.

“Do it for your Dad,” I would suggest gently. “He would be so proud to see you dancing on in his name.”

But my words were empty. The intention was meaningless, because the person behind the meaning, was not here anymore.

This year will mark 5 years from his Dad’s passing. And though there were some small moments over the past year where he danced here, he danced there, with some substance of meaning, a breadth of the passion he used to hold, signifying a subtle change to the Hubbie of old maybe occurring… tonight something happened.

He had the music on before we headed out, and was dancing around the house, “warming up.”

He made sure to have his dancing shoes on.

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And when a suitable song sang out over the dance floor, he took me… and he also took the arm of his Dad’s peer – a close relative and friend of his father’s, a fellow music lover and dancing companion – and he said “you’re coming with me. In place of my Dad.”

WOW.

I was on one side of Hubbie, looking over as the two of them made light of their feet. They danced and jumped around, hopping and skipping, and turning around with grins from ear to ear.

His late father’s peer stood proudly beside Hubbie, honoured he had been chosen to dance in place of such an important and influential person from Hubbie’s life.

And in that moment as I glanced over at the two of them making a scene, causing a dancefloor stir, and galloping around jovially, something in my heart tugged, and I teared up.

There was that smile.

There was the skip in his step.

The lightness of movement had returned.

He was dancing again, full gusto.

My Hubbie, was back ♥♥♥

 

 

#707 Going back in time to Shakespearean days

To write a play that endures time, is one thing.

To write a collection of plays that endures time, is a whole other thing.

To write a collection of plays and sonnets that withstands time and change and all manner of things, is unheard of.

Oh wait, it’s not. William Shakespeare has done it.

Let me reiterate: to write a collection of plays and sonnets that are still celebrated, re-told, adapted and cherished, 402 years after your death, is something to aspire to.

402 years people. Can you even begin to imagine the breadth of this genius?

Doth you protest such excellency?

Ok, so I am no Shakespeare, since he would have written that line soooo much better.

In case you are not aware, William Shakespeare is a literary genius that has transcended time and age and geography and language, with his collection of plays and sonnets, that tell stories of tragedy, drama, comedy, and of course love.

I was immediately enthralled by the news late last year, that a pop-up globe theatre showcasing a selection of Shakespeare’s plays, would be ‘popping up’ as it were, alongside the Sidney Myer music bowl in Melbourne’s Botanic Gardens for a several-month run.

I had been hanging to go there since, but alas time and distance and life were not on my side. It was an effort, a struggle, and a lot of pushing on my part, but finally I got my God damn Shakespeare play day today.

I headed into the city alongside Hubbie and baby girl, and as they ventured off for lunch and park wanderings, I walked the winding path around the Botanic Gardens, until I saw an exciting sight sitting atop the hill just ahead of me.

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The play I watched today was Much Ado About Nothing. I wanted to see this one particularly, because it was re-done in recent years by famed Buffy-Angel-Marvel Universe creator/director Joss Whedon, and despite recent revelations about his ill choices in other areas of his personal life, I still have to give incredible thanks to the guy that brought Angel into my world. Creatively speaking, it is one of the best shows EVER. And if he chose two Buffy/Angel characters to star in a modern-day adaptation of a Shakespeare play, then that play must be pretty damn good.

I haven’t actually watched Whedon’s re-take… but I have read the original play in all of its hysterical glory. And crazily enough, I had even forgotten I had read it, since it was so long ago… I just went into it today, knowing I really really wanted to watch Whedon’s take on it after seeing the theatre guys today. And as I stood there, listening to the characters quick wits, hilarious remarks, and the beginnings of a very twisty-turvy tale, a part of me said “this is familiar… does Shakespeare like presenting such strong-willed females?”

I soon realised, in a similar Shakespearean humour, that I was a fool (as he would say), and I had already read the tale. Duh, Benedict.

A tale of love prevailed over 2 and a half hours, with themes of jealousy, scandal, trickery, but most dominant comedy, keeping us all thoroughly entertained and gasping for air in wonder and laughter.

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But let’s place this all in context shall we? The history of the globe is that the theatre was planned as a one-off project in Auckland, to celebrate the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s death in 2016. Following from two massive seasons, with hundreds of thousands of people flocking to the shows, another pop-up globe was planned for our fair city of Melbourne, and is running up until February 3.

The globe itself is a reconstruction of the second Globe, the theatre that Shakespeare and the company he worked with built in 1614 following a fire that burnt the first Globe a year earlier. Although based on rough proportions of the original, it is slightly smaller than the 1614 Globe, which would have sat 3000 spectators compared to today’s reconstruction.

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Annnnddddd back to today’s play. With the pop-up globe having done its run first in New Zealand, there were native themes dabbled in throughout Much Ado, such as ceremonial mourning and nuptial dances and songs, New Zealand actors, and an amazing Maori routine at the end of the performance that had me, and the rest of the audience, in absolute awe. Such passion and love and dedication was so apparent in the Globe today, however I am sure it was not only reserved for my eyes on this January Sunday.

I had tears of laughter during comedic moments, tears of sadness in truly mournful ones, and tears of pure elevation and extreme gratitude, at the end when watching the performers do their final act and perform for the people in the Globe. They bowed for the audience 3 times, and I could swear the room was going to explode from sheer love at the happy drama that had unfolded over the past couple of hours.

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It was the best thing I had done in a long time, and I was soooo happy I had managed to get over there for the Melbourne season. The first Melbourne season hopefully, as I am keen to watch more of his plays in a replica of the original Globe as many times as I can, as it just added so much to the feel and vibe of the story.

I was a ‘Groundling’ today, a true commoner as would have been the case in 1614, and stood close to the stage seeing everything unfold in utmost clarity. Having said that, the space of the Globe is small, and all seats within provide wonderful vantage points.

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A sole Groundling ticket is approximately $28 including online processing fees, with seated areas going up substantially, however I ended up paying double quite accidentally, since there was an error as I ordered the tickets online, and I ended up with two.

But to have paid $56, for what I saw today? Priceless.

I went home with a little souvenir… a Shakespeare Pop Up Globe tote bag. And you just know what my reading material will be as I walk about town with it…

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Only the best.

 

 

#648 Award and recognition

I have so much going on right now, that driving into work on a Thursday evening whilst on annual leave was not exactly on my list of priority to-dos.

Battling stupid Monash freeway traffic on the way didn’t help either.

But when I got there, I felt a bit better. I lightened up.

Because it’s not every day you reach a 10 year milestone at your place of employment.

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I never, ever thought I would have been there this long. But somehow, here I am. And more so, I enjoy it. I enjoy going in to work, I enjoy the job, the environment, the people, and let’s not forget the perks…

Moreover, they seem to like me. Respect me, and acknowledge me…

What more could you want from a workplace?

(Why am I writing again? Oh that’s right, PASSION).

Maybe most important, is that bolded word in brackets above – because it’s due to my job, and the fact that I am getting paid in one avenue of life, that’s allowed me to pursue another avenue of life where currently (key word) I am not getting compensated.

Tonight I am in a happy place of reminiscing, feeling accomplished, and curious, though content, about the next phase of my life… wherever that may be.

As long as it includes water. That seems to be a recurring theme for me… 😉

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#642 Library sessions no.2

The purpose of today’s library visit was primarily to get another sticker sheet for baby girl in her 1000 books before school reading challenge. She hit the 200 mark a week ago, and so off we went to the library to get some more sheets to fill in.

But then… I hadn’t had caffeine. It was 11:30am, and there WAS NO caffeine coursing through my veins. Also, we had no other plans for the day, other than to just go back home…

“Baby girl, do you want to have a babycino at the library?”

Short pause.

“Babycino, and biscuit?”

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I think it is THE MOST FABULOUS premise that a library should have a café within its walls. I mean, it should almost be a prerequisite in EVERY reading institution. Once we had gotten some more reading challenge sheets, I made our order up at the counter, and soon we were drinking, eating, baby girl was going crazy bringing me all manner of DVDs/books that she absolutely had to borrow, while I went into my most favourite-st of aisles, and managed to find a book about writing that I HAVEN’T browsed through yet.

And I think it is one of the most simple and beautiful luxuries of life, to be sipping on coffee, your child is nearby and happily entertained, and you are reading about a deep personal passion of yours.

Finding the simple things, in the every day 🙂

#517 Some Red with Hubbie

“Red, red wine

Goes to my head…

Makes me forget that I

Still need her so…”

I love a good drop of red. Another Saturday night, another takeaway night, another night cosied up on the couch… and yet all amplified by a couple of decent of glasses to put you in right form.

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I don’t have photos of full glasses, because we drank it all didn’t we? And you know those people who are all “I love the Red wine song!” and they don’t even drink red wine?! Like, who are you?! You can’t proclaim love for something only to straight out deny it! That’s like, a Lion denying the sunshine.

Is that even possible?!?!

That’s my Saturday night red wine intoxicated rant over. And what’s so good about a drop of red, you might ask?

Drinking a good drop of red, with company. The type of company that like the colour of the liquid, is symbolic of all things love, passion and fiery combustion.

“Red, red wine

It’s up to you

All I can do I’ve done

Memories won’t go… memories won’t go.”

Cheers.