I am trying to relax and have as much down time as I can these holidays.
So it kinda comes as perfect timing that we bought baby girl a Nintendo Switch for Christmas.
This was a BIG present, for her, and us. But we came to reason that a) she was old enough, b) she wanted it and outright asked for it, and c) we might be home a lot more over the next few months/year, so I want her to have something to keep her busy for when she’s bored!
Today she got to play it for the first time after we set it up. She was so happy, jumping on the couch and squealing with glee as she took her character around the maps in Mario Kart. After a while she said to me “can you play with me?”
You bet I did! I didn’t need any arm twisting. I love a good game as much as the next person, and though I’m not a child, those days where I played my sister’s hand-me-down Commodore 64, my bro-in-law’s Sega, the Gameboy my cousin passed down to me, or the Nintendo 64 I bought myself at Cash Converters, those days of gaming in front of the screen feel really close in memory, even though they are far away in years!
I used to love it, and today, I loved it!
We sat next to each other, playing competitively. Laughing as we threw things at each other, overtook one another, and raced through the finish line. When we were done with the 4 maps of the race, she asked for another round… and even though I had stuff to do, I agreed! 🤦♀️ I can see how one gets sucked into this kind of thing, and I dare say that won’t be the last time I say yes, giving a royal ‘stuff you’ to my chores!
I totally lost… one game out of all of them I won, but she won overall. I was so cranky, I was like “that’s it, I’m shitty, not playing again.”
Guess what happened tonight?
We were playing again! 🤣
Taking advantage of these laid-back, mother-daughter game sesh’s while I can…
So instead, I’ll focus on the memories. Of my uncle.
I’ll start with a recent memory, even one that I’m pretty sure was shared today in church. My uncle was telling me at a family gathering not too long ago, about some of the family history. Not only does this kind of stuff fascinate me, as he is my Mum’s brother, but I find it amusing how each sibling often has their own version of events.
They are all true, of course! But still, their own take on it.
And I was eagerly listening to what he was telling me, and I can tell you honestly that I can’t remember what it was, but I remember one thing CLEARLY.
He was saying how he was the third born child in their family, but the first son. A huge grin spread across his face. This made him happy, proud, giddy like a child. I smiled with him, his worth and self-esteem at this fact so apparent, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment. In a fairly patriarchal time, having a son was something revered strongly, just because well, having a boy, as well as the obvious fact that they carry on the family name, so it was clear this was spoken about, celebrated even.
He was certainly happy about it.
***
He was always happy, actually. He’d usually start talking to me, with a bit of a straight statement, that immediately turned into a joke, and honestly the second sentence in he’d be laughing, me joining in.
***
Hubbie got along with my uncle too. Hubbie told him countless times that he was the best dancer, told me too, and anyone that would listen… he was light on his feet, fast, and moved so easily, that he was able to dance to traditional folk music like no other. It truly was a joy to witness, a special thing to be in the presence of. To this day Hubbie is adamant, no one in my family is as good a dancer as he, with his grand-daughter a close second… of course, it runs in the blood. I imagine him dancing up there, ripping it up and having a ball.
***
But my fondest memory, isn’t really a specific memory, it’s a collection of them. Because as a teen growing up, my parents along with all of my aunties and uncles, would get together and play cards, A LOT.
It was always the women against the men. So my Mum and her two sister-in-laws, along with my Dad and his two brother-in-laws. I would be home… chilling in my bedroom, listening to music, watching a movie… and they would be carrying on like nothing else on a Saturday night. Can you imagine, six 60 year-old somethings making noise like there were 30 in the house? There would be laughter from the winning teams. Angry outbursts from the losing teams! There was banging on tables as they went “Na!” and slammed their cards down in a ‘take that!’ move. And after they had all had their fill, sometimes a few games, sometimes eight, they would keep talking, eating, drinking coffee, way into the wee hours of the morning.
I really loved them being there. It made me happy. Seeing my parents happy, made me happy. Seeing my uncles and aunties happy, made me happy. Seeing them all together, having fun, laughing, getting cross at each other, accusing each other of cheating (😮😬😆) and making memories, is one of my best memories of them all. Because they had each other. They were having a ball, with none other than their very own family. I realised even at that young age, how special it was, and thought often, too often actually, how lucky they all were. They were all present, they were all there. They were each other’s peers, sharing all their happiness, troubles, all stories.
When I was younger I would sit with them, counting my Mums cards. When I was older, I would wonder into the kitchen sometimes at midnight, and they’d be there in the next room, playing cards. Sometimes they would acknowledge me, sometimes they’d stare seriously at their set of cards, as if the state of the world depended on it. Other times I would go to sleep, and they’d whisper loudly as they passed my bedroom, leaving the house at 1:30am.
This memory has nothing to do with me. But I was witness to it, and seeing the love around that table, hearing what transpired, the good, and the incredibly funny… I will never forget it. It was the best time. For all of us.
You can’t choose who your family are, but you can choose who you spend your time with. And they chose each other, time and time again.
Rest in peace Ujo. I don’t think I can look at a set of cards or hear a kolo, without thinking of you fondly.
Hubbie and I were on our way to brunch after school drop-off this morning.
He made a toilet stop in the local shopping centre, and I decided to wait for him in a clothes shop.
Not even 30 seconds in there, and the song changed…
To what I am about to present to you!
Oh man, it took me to my teenage years. I didn’t know whether to feel ancient, knowing the song was at least 20 years old, or to be super happy that I was hearing this song that gave me all the high school feels. 😉🤩
I didn’t find any clothes, but I made sure I walked around the shop REALLY slowly. 🤣
It is a really dance-y tune. I encourage you to put it up and bop along. Add it to your Saturday night mix.
A part of me feels like I’m not allowed to write about my uncle, because I had only spent two periods of my life with him.
But today, having learned of his passing, I feel a tremendous amount of sadness for my Mum’s family, while also realising that I am more than qualified to speak about him, because he inhabited some of the most meaningful and memorable parts of my life.
When I was 13 I travelled with my parents overseas. Being a fresh teenager, the thought of meeting family that I hadn’t met before was not exactly thrilling stuff.
And yet those 3 months ended up being the best of my life.
Our home base was at my uncle and aunty’s house, and so we would return there often for days at a time, sometimes weeks, in between our travels around Croatia and the neighbouring countries where our relatives lived.
I remember how much he and my Dad seemed to click. Both fond of drinking the hard stuff at 40%, they loved their grapes, their gardens, and their gadgets. Both natural handymen. It was never too early to ‘cheers,’ and they were often caught having a good ol’ chat.
I remember the garden, the vines above providing ample cover as good as a ceiling. I remember the swing there too, and the kittens that crawled along the roof of these vines, and how I looked up at them.
I remember the ‘bunker’ at the bottom of the house, and I remember the random spa-type apparatus that sat on top of the garage! Me and one of my cousins sat in the empty pool as it were, on a hot Summer’s day.
I remember them taking us out to ice cream in the main centre. I remember us walking the streets, and them telling us where the bombs had fallen, showing us the concrete scars they had left on the road. They showed us where their son had gone to high school and proudly pointed out the court he played basketball in.
I remember more vividly the second time I visited my uncle and aunty, because it was more recent… it was when Hubbie and I were on our honeymoon.
Although it wasn’t yesterday, the memories are far fresher. I had the opportunity to spend time with them, now as an adult, out of the wings of my parents, 12 years on. Hubbie and I sat with them. There was still the bunker, the 40% alcohol, and the cherished garden. And of course, the cats.
I think he had a soft spot for cats.
On the few days we were in town, he kindly played tourist guide, driving us around to see other family members. We saw his favourite fishing hole, and he spoke fondly of his own family, and of his memories with them.
I often found myself staring at him and being amazed at the likeness between him and his son.
But what I remember most, is the day he took us to the train station, as we set to depart from Croatia.
We waved goodbye, and I said we would see him again one day. I watched as he turned, his head bobbing down in a sign of resignation as he walked away.
But that day never came.
I think of all of this, and I send so much love out to my family tonight.
I hope they too hold their own special memories of him that they’re replaying in their minds.
It’s just another sombre reminder that we must grasp each and every day with all our might and all our love.
That is moccasins to you, my English speaking friends. 😉
Do not show me an ugg boot. Do you know what I say when I see an ugg boot?
Ugh.
Get it? The ugg is named aptly, because it is DAMN UGLY. Only once in my whole life have we had ugg boots in our house, and that was because baby girl got them as a gift when she was a baby, and even then when I put them on her, Hubbie stirred me forever and a day because he knows I don’t like ugg boots.
I think they pass on a baby. I mean, everything looks cute on a baby.
But, ugh. Pass on the UGG-LY boots, please.
Moccasins, ALL THE WAY.
From as long as I can remember, these things have been on my feet all year round. A couple of months around summer, I live in thong-type cushiony slippers… but these things, these moccasins, spell one thing.
HOME. 🏡
I wore them all through my childhood and teenage years, and really they remind me of my childhood home, of my parents, of keeping feet warm and protected through everything.
I mean, why would you wear basic slippers when it’s cold? There is no proper support, or protection, or warmth… they can so easily slip off.
Actually, slippers are a hazard.
Moccasins fit snugly around your foot, providing cushions of love and goodness to keep those toes toasty, all day long.
(And yes, I know ugg-ly boot lovers will argue that their boots do the same, but the fact that you have to pull them off makes them so inconvenient, and did I mention, ugly? 🤣)
I got a new pair today at the local Wednesday market, because I wore my old ones to the ground to the point that there was literally no cushioning left in the moccasins!
There has been a lot of working from home and home-schooling over the past year, so they have been in high demand. 😁
But, ahhh. A new pair of moccasins. To set me up for the cold months ahead…
I met one of my closest friend’s little baby today, and ooooh!
He is just the sweetest thing 😍
I am such a sap nowadays. I walked into her place and immediately welled up and nearly cried, at the sight of him sleeping in the corner, mittens on and arms up, oblivious to the world around him.
In several months, our entire girls group will have littlies with them.
My high school group of girls. We’ve known each other now for 2 decades, some of us going back even longer.
It’s the stuff of dreams. We used to talk about this in high school. All of us still being friends and catching up together, and having our kids together too… making them be friends with each other, you know, all that starry-eyed optimistic talk you have about how the future will be.
To know that soon ALL of us will have a littlie around the table when we meet up… well it’s just darn amazing.
There’s nothing quite like holding a newborn. Everything else just melts away.
Can’t stop grinning. He is absolutely precious. 💖💖
I’ve been listening to Bryan Adams suddenly, out of nowhere, and I can’t stop.
Maybe it’s the weather. The warmth has dissipated, leaving in its wake cold, windy, grey days.
Things feel slower. Sleepier. I feel like chilling, playing love songs on repeat.
Which is kinda what I’ve been doing. 😉
To be honest, it’s not quite all of a sudden. It all started after I was listening to one of my favourite songs “O Sole Mio” last week. And then when I looked it up on YouTube, I came upon the most weirdest of versions.
It was a duet, featuring Pavarotti… and Bryan Adams.
BRYAN ADAMS? I couldn’t believe the caption, until I watched it and listened to it with my own ears.
Now, at first, I was very slightly offended. Was this a joke? I have no problems with Bryan Adams at all. I think he’s great.
But, this song was made for the operatic tone. We don’t need no husky, raspy voices here. Bryan Adams, you may not apply for this job. And yet there he was. Singing alongside this famous Italian, the Pav looking at him all amused, perhaps like it was some kind of joke, or dare, or perhaps more realistically, a TV special or charity show?
In fact it was neither. Rather it was for Pavarotti’s 59th birthday in Modena, Italy, and he surely thought he’d get a kick out of it or something. Look it up, and see his deeply amused smile as he watches Bryan attempt this song designed only for a tenor. Just watch.
And then, something happened. After I got used to the wildly different voice and version, his voice started repeating in my head.
BRYAN ADAMS STARTED REPEATING IN MY HEAD.
I could hear the strain, even and mesaured, but not deep, as he sang “Ma n’atu sole cchiù bello, oi ne'”
(Otherwise known as line five)
I was actually starting to like it.
🤦♀️
And with that… his other songs started repeating in my head.
Because of that, I’ve been playing various renditions and versions of his songs…
Summer of ’69.
Heaven.
Let’s Make a Night to Remember.
Please Forgive Me.
And last, but definitely not least, and most certainly my favourite song of his of ALL TIME:
Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?
(With special subtitles :))
I have loved this song since it came out when I was a young teen. I LOVE IT. And the love just keeps on growing in our household, because every time Hubbie comes home from work, he hears this guy…
I have a whole collection of stuff I suddenly inherited (i.e. it was ceremoniously dumped here after my parents suddenly sold their house – or you could say I just failed to take it with me since I moved out of there 11 years ago 😬) that I’ve been slowly going through and checking out, for the past week or so.
There is a throw pile. Old bags, lots of school paperwork, dozens of plastic coin change bags (remember those?)
There is a donate pile. Think a glass chess set that I bought my Dad for a birthday, I think, which he never used… why did that end up with me again?
There is a maybe pile. Like these glass/photograph coasters, or that dancing sunflower with the saxophone that used to work on battery, but is struggling now…
There is a ‘whoops this isn’t mine better check with sis/parents’ pile. VHS tapes, some kind of charger?
Then there is the KEEP pile.
OMG, the keep pile. Loads and loads and loads and loads of PAPER STUFF.
Of course.
Old diaries. School work. Reports. Assignments. I have so much, and I still have one big bag of folders to go through.
What kinds of memories have I found?
All my work payslips pre-2007. ALL OF THEM.
All my high school reports.
The letter my Jeans West Work Experience manager wrote back to my teacher when I was in year 10… “she learnt to apply herself in the time given, but she was a bit shy.”
Ha ha, so me.
Uni assignments, oooh, I’ve loved these. I have a script for a 5 minute film called Doggy Day that I wrote and planned myself. I have an interview I did on my Dad on his life and immigration to Australia which I got good marks for. An article about the RSPCA that I should have sought further help on to get publication, judging by my uni teacher’s comment in the notes. Damn, should have chased that one up.
And so many textual analyses of books and film, oh my goodness.
High school diaries and notes with Hubbie’s name written over them. 😍💖
Psychology, Philosophy, and Ancient History handouts.
My old work pass.
I opened one of my old diaries at whim, to see what day I’d end up on. One entry had me in 1999, 16 years old, where I had met with one of my oldest friends at our local milkbar and we’d ended up walking to the house of our primary school friend who we didn’t see much anymore.
I wrote how we had sat in her bedroom, it had been a bit weird at first but then we’d relaxed and it had turned into the good ol’ days and all the memories we shared.
My 16 year-old self wrote how it was weird, a bit sad, that someone we used to be so close to about five years earlier, we didn’t see much of at all anymore, and our conversations had turned to pleasantries and reminiscing of the past, rather than the stuff you typically share with your closest friends – “Did you hear what happened to her?” “Did you hear about the party last Friday?” – type thing.
And I observed in this diary, and wondered, if the friends I had then in high school, whether we would be like that one day, exchanging pleasantries and talking about the past as the only thing we could hold onto.
In 6 years time, would we be a bit awkward like that too?
I smiled. SmikG NOW smiled.
I smiled as I read, wanting to jump into the pages of my old diary and grab 16 year-old SmikG, grabbing her by the shoulders to shake her excitedly and tell her –
“Guess what? You stay friends with them ALL! A couple of them drop off, sure, but you’ll come to realise they weren’t real friends anyway!
Your true friends are still friends… not 6 years later, but even 21 years later!”
And 16 year-old me, would undoubtedly have gone –
“😲😲😲”
And asked immediately –
“Who aren’t I friends with anymore?”
And this SmikG would have shook her head with a cluck cluck cluck and said.
“Dear girl… I think you already know.”
💖💖
I’ve had so much fun going back in time, and it’s made me realise how much I’ve changed, but also, how much I am still exactly the same.
Still passionate about the written word, still writing stories, still experimenting in different forms, and still wondering about the future and life in general…
I wonder what SmikG 10 years from now would say to me now…
My childhood home was SOLD. Yep, the place where I was brought home as an infant, lived all through my childhood, to teenage years, adulthood, and was even led out of the house, parents side by side as they escorted me to the wedding cars for my nuptials with Hubbie…
That house, went under the hammer.
It’s momentous for all of us, but mostly, our parents. Mum and Dad have lived there for 40 years, so this is a huge change, but also one that was imminent, and something that is great to have happened now, when it did.
Being with my parents, my sister, and baby girl, all of us sharing in that special moment… it was mixed emotions, but it was EXCITING.
The excitement continued when I headed over to help celebrate a dear friend’s baby shower.
Oh wow. Can I just say, other than my immediate family, I have not seen people for like, ALL YEAR! Ok, so maybe not all year, but most of the people in that room I haven’t actually seen in 2020. Like, things have been cancelled, postponed, practically all birthdays were thrown out the window this year, so those we would have seen even a handful of times, we’ve seen NO ONE, at all.
But it was special. It was wonderful. It was exhilarating while also being oddly relaxing. Eating, drinking, sharing conversation, and enjoying each other’s company…
My God, I miss being social. It’s great to be back. And when it’s for great things, like
Moving… or
Growing…
I will happily oblige to help all the people celebrate.
I’ve spent the last few months, both covid and life induced, getting re-acquainted with old loves.
Old TV shows. Old friends.
Just recently, something dropped on Netflix.
Sure, I have the ENTIRE DVD BOX SET at home.
But with our DVD player playing up, I kinda have to depend on Netflix for going back in time…
Today, feeling sorely and under the weather, I happily lapped up Dawson’s and friends!
That is, Dawson, Joey, Pacey and Jen. But I bet you knew that, because I bet you’ve watched it too, right?
I don’t know if this is just a ‘me’ thing, a ‘SmikG’ thing, but I watch and read things, and am usually casually without much effort, heavily critiquing and analysing the plot/characters/conflicts/dramas etc.
(You too? 🙄🤣)
So while I was happily enjoying the walk down memory lane tonight with Season 1 ep 1…
I was noticing the strong teenage themes already present in Scene 1.
Scene 2 grabs you when, well a seeming ‘monster’ grabs Joey from her sunning position on the deck, and pulls her into the water.
And there within the first few scenes, we know that Joey is secretly crushing on Dawson, he’s crushing on Jen, Jen has some weird thing going on at her grandma’s along with her mysterious past, and Pacey has set his sights on some new older woman in town who turns out to be his teacher…
And throw in some coming-of-age themes, lots of sex talk (cue Dawson walking in on his parents doing it on the coffee table) and suspicions of extra-martial affairs, and you have a hell of a lot of drama and conflicting intentions happening there!
Welcome to my film school. This all happens so naturally in my head.
Not taking notes. Really I’m not…
Anyway, I love these guys. And I’m excited about getting back to my creek roots.
carcrashgratitude 