#1554 Day 56 of getting there: missing out on shit

Sometimes, hard times get harder.

And that sucks.

Like when isolation restrictions lessen, but you still have to remain isolated.

A few choice expletives are more than necessary, but this is a gratitude blog, so we’ll all use our imaginations for that.

But when you can’t be in the company of loved ones, and you know you are missing out, that the rest of the world is catching up…

I had to do the only thing I could today.

Take a walk.

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Clear the head. Breathe in the co2. Stretch the limbs, feel the sunshine on my face, and then run after Hubbie and baby girl as they suddenly got further and further away from me down the street…

And I felt good. I was pushing past my natural limit, I was making those legs ache, I was gearing myself to get the heart pumping more, the lungs taking in more air.

I was feeling lighter.

And then as I passed a large gum tree, with dozens of chattering birds ahead… the unthinkable happened.

Well, not so unthinkable. Definitely thinkable after today.

I felt wetness on my hands. I stopped. Looked at the drops.

Turned down to observe my top…

And realised, I had been marked.

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Bloody $!*% birds.

How eternally optimistic is our culture, when it tells us that something good, can come out of something bad…

Like that good luck comes from something as crap (pun intended) as when a bird unloads its bowels on you?

How hopeful is that?

Hubbie told me how he got bird shit on him as a kid in primary school. All his friends told him he would get good luck that day…

He went home and he waited… and waited… and waited.

And nothing came.

What a load of SHIT.

I like him, am still waiting….

But at least I got my walk. And at the end of the day, this sunset.

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Now that, gives me hope.

#1524 Day 26 of getting there: Mister F

Oh, our poor buddie. Just when we think it’s all going alright.

He just doesn’t seem to get a break.

Or maybe he did get a break, today. Depends on how you look at it all.

Because our cat Mister F, has had urinary issues of some sort for a while now. We took him to the vet today, and though some results came back great (no kidney stones or kidney disease!) we still don’t have an answer for some of his peculiar ailments.

So, it’s a bit of a TO BE CONTINUED.

Tonight, he slept on the rug. All cosied up, his paw over his face like –

“I’m trying to block the whole world out!”

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I hear you buddie. Lately, I hear you BIG TIME.

He didn’t have the best day, but he got to go home… and that’s what we look for around here isn’t it? Positivity? Appreciation?

HOPE. β™₯

#1344 A different festival

It’s that time of year where Mornington puts on a show and has it’s annual Main street festival.

We have gone every year since sea changing… it’s been 3 years in a row.

Today would have been 4… if we had gone.

But I had a more important festival to attend.

The Mornington Peninsula and Frankston Writers and Book Festival.

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Even the trees outside the venue, are MY trees. I love them. I see them all around the Peninsula. They are also the trees my story characters pass by on their way to school each day.

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It was an insightful couple of hours. I had booked into a workshop on ‘publishing.’ And though I got great tips and information on the industry, heard about the pros and cons of traditional versus self-publishing, I still walked away going “huh. I already knew a lot of that.”

It wasn’t that it wasn’t helpful. Just being in the room and sharing a table with other aspiring novelists was HUGELY beneficial. It motivated me in my writing dreams even further, and made me realise how important being a part of a writing community is, in sharing ideas, teaching each other information, and engaging in that writer-ly camaraderie, that feeling we get when we hear the other’s woes and go, ‘Ahh. I feel your pain.’

But the point at which I realised knowing what I already did was to my advantage, was when the workshop teacher, an editor and business owner of her own publishing company said to us –

“Often when I tell people all of this they become discouraged.”

A few people voiced their joking concerns.

“Ahh traditional publishing is too hard.”

“Self publishing is just as trying.”

Me? I was sitting there going… nope.

Been there, done that.Β 

Nothing about that process could scare me. I have been through the scenarios a million times in my head before. Sure there is a lot of luck and perseverance involved in finally getting your work out there and published…

But there is no other way for me. There is no other outlet. There is no alternative option.

Writing is the ONLY WAY.

And can I tell you a secret? Years ago when I used to read up on writing and publishing, the information I got back suggested at ‘if you are lucky enough to get published…’

Whereas nowadays it isΒ “when you get published…”

Either my sources have grown in reputation, maybe it’s the courses I am doing, or maybe I am deciphering the messages differently, as I grow more confident and positive, so too what I read becomes so…?

But I truly believe that to be the case. WHEN.

I got home from my workshop day, and then sat at the computer to do, what else…?

Work on another submission for my online course.

As Elizabeth Gilbert asked in Big Magic, “What is your flavour of shit sandwich?”

Guys, over and over again, I will pick writing. All flavours of shit just to be able to write.

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#1312 Hubbie the gardener

I think it’s lovely that Hubbie loves greenery.

He loves trees, and flowers, and all manner of plants and shrubbery, even grass… and is constantly trying to think up ways to pretty our yard, bring more colour and green leaves in, and also, when all that fails and he has no inspiration, he does the next best thing – he moves the pots around ;););)

He has been working along diligently on our front yard. Even on today, our day off together, he spent a good portion of it digging up grass and making a path along the fence for our new garden bed to go, making holes for new plants and the best part… giving them a positive welcome message as he puts them in the earth.

“Good luck!” He calls out as he pulls the wound-up and compacted plant roots from the plastic tub. “Hope you like it here.”

OMG. It is so darn cute. He does it with every plant. EVERY. ONE.

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He is proud of his progress, and proud of what he is creating… and I couldn’t be prouder either. β™₯β™₯β™₯β™₯

#1302 The best play centre ever for the day

“This is the best play centre ever!”

They are great words to hear from your child, and as much as I adore them, they stem from her inherent positivity… she says stuff like that, A LOT.

It doesn’t take away from the moment. From moments like those, or moments like these:

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Anything to make her happy. Anything to make her smile…

Both achieved today πŸ™‚

 

#1269 Sick Sunset

I am sick.

With a capital S-I-C-K.Β 

The one particular thing good about being struck down with flu symptoms this week is that it’s not… next week.

Birthday week.

Grasping at straws I know. Glass half-full syndrome, I know.

But this sunset. I caught a glimpse of it, and seeing the clouds getting pushed aside by those magnificent and vibrant orange-yellow colours… the 16 year-old in me went – “sick.”

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And judging by my definitions in an earlier post, I thought it was quite funny.

I also thought, “I want to be that orange, that yellow.”

“I want to push through the clouds.”