When everything just falls into place...

It's funny the way things just fall into place sometimes.

I have often found that things happen in my life as if by chance. Via a collection of incidents, I often reach my destination as if it was predetermined, as if it was meant to be. If I stay awake to the world around me and listen to the signs, life goes more smoothly and the pieces all seem to fall naturally into place. The destination is inevitable.

Such is my path towards the teachings of "The Artist's Way".

The book of which I am talking is all about stimulating creativity.
It is a 12 week program that is followed a chapter a week.
It has 2 non-negotiable requirements.

1. Every morning complete 3 pages of writing. First thing. Find a place you won't be disturbed and write. Write anything. The clock ticking, work, family, music, sounds, what awaits in the day ahead, anything that comes to mind. Clear all the useless thoughts from your mind and in doing so, clear the way for more freedom in your thoughts (and thus creativity).

2. Each week set aside a couple of hours for an 'artist date'. This date is with your 'artist within' and is to be done alone - a solitary outing without distraction from company. It is to intended to stimulate the senses - taste, sound, sight etc. The date can be anything from going to a gallery, a concert, a movie, a festival, or walking in the garden.

In addition, there are weekly exercises to complete. It does speak of a God, though to me, it is more about the human spirit and inner strength rather than any of the world's religions.

Over a year ago now, I was loaned the book by a friend and quickly become absorbed. It seems I was not alone. As I explored the internet, I found that 'The Artist's Way' has a huge following and an equally big reputation.

For quite a few weeks I was driven by it, I bought my own copy and was rising every morning at 5am to complete my morning pages. In addition I was doing all the exercises and taking myself on my weekly artist dates. As I worked through the early exercises, there was an amazing momentum building around me. I was writing without restraint and my mind was alert to new ideas. It was an exciting time for me.

And then somehow, life, an especially crazy phase at work, and eventually pure mental exhaustion took over and, almost as quickly as it had entered my life, it vanished. But not completely...

A few weeks back, I stumbled across a blog of a woman who works in the creativity field in Melbourne and is interested in doing the program with a group - to act as a support network. Although it is in the early planning stages, I have already told her of my interest. And then, over my week-end away, The Artist's Way was part of our philosophy discussions.

All the signs are pointing in one direction, and it seems, once again, as if the destination is inevitable. It is time to begin again, to commit to the entire 12 weeks and to make a start. If I want to be more creative, it goes without saying, I have to live my life more creatively. It seems a good place to start afresh.

Philosophy week-end...

Off again for the week-end with the under 40's group from my philosophy school. The group is called the acorn group - funny given my blog "One Little Acorn".

With less than a month to go before I turn 40, I think this will be my last chance to join them. I enjoyed it last time. It was a great escape and very relaxing. I imagine there will be a few surprises in store... Along with meditation, some entertaining discussions and all in good company.

At 10pm Friday night, it is cold, raining and blowing a gale outside and I am hoping by morning the weather will improve and the sun will stay with us for the week-end.

Have a good week-end all. Enjoy!

Flashback Friday

Well - this week's flashback friday left me stumped. I don't have any pics of me with any pets. I did have a couple of budgies and a couple of fish. And a cat. One day I will have pets again, but my flat is barely big enough for the two of us, let alone a menagerie of pets. One day... one day...

In the meantime I will just have to dream...

The "Three Strikes and You're Out" rule...

I work with a couple of single women and we often talk of the trials and tribulations of the single woman. It came up at work again just last week, and I told them about my rule... and it made me laugh and I thought I would share it share it on my blog...

Last year (pre Malcolm) I was wondering just what this 'dating game' was all about. Single at the age of 38, I was wondering how I was meant to meet a man. It seems everyone had advice, though the best advice I got, was from a long time friend who said if I wanted to meet someone I had to advertise. Now she didn't mean the personals (though this wasn't off the list of possibilities) no, what she meant was, if I wanted to meet someone, I had to get 'out there'. The best way to do that was to tell all your friends and family you wanted to meet someone, and let them know what you were (or were not) looking for. Network basically. Sounds simple yeah?

Well, I did as she advised and told all my family and friends to set me up with any eligible (and suitable) men and added my only criteria. 1. He had to be taller than me, and 2. No alcoholics. It seemed a pretty fair and reasonable request.

I decided I had to keep an open mind, and was going to be more successful with fewer restrictions. Regardless of an open mind however, I had a rule. Three strikes and you're out... This could fit any form, but it allowed for a few minor hiccups. And so, having made my announcement, friends and family came through with the 'goods' (or should I say, the goods, the bads and the uglies!)

This is how my first blind date went last year...

24th May 2006
And so it has come to this...
A friend from work says "I have found you a blind date and he's perfect for you"
Another "Keep your expectations low and you won't be disappointed"
And another "You have nothing to lose"

My friend was excited. Convinced. She had found me my 'perfect man'. So I called him. We talked briefly and it was decided. Or rather, what was decided was it was all up to me - where to meet, what to do...

And so with a major case of the nerves, I finally decided and it was arranged. I arrived, on a cold Saturday morning at Max Brenners (chocolate cafe extrodinaire) at QV in the city, and I waited. I was early. Just. I hate being late. I don't like having to wait and I hate making others wait for me. So, I grabbed a seat and I waited.

My fingers tapped. Late late late. Not good. Being late was definitely strike one.

This was a blind date, a meeting had been arranged and it is rude enough not to be on time. It was ruder still not to call until after the arranged meeting time. 5 minutes after we were meant to meet he called, and he arrived 20 minutes later.

Honestly. I understand nerves. Even the clammy palms. Really I do. (Let's face it, he had sat on a tram for 30 minutes and given himself time to think). I did understand. I was nervous too.

He was late. His palms were sweaty. I bought the drinks and that was only Strike 1.

Funnily enough, the 'date' went reasonably well. Given we didn't know each other and the situation was foreign to us both. He was nice. Yes NICE. Conversation was easy and we chatted and drank and wandered and talked. And at the end we both agreed it would be NICE to catch up again. Sometime.

"So" I can hear you saying "he was obviously nice, and the date went well and that's only one strike. And you agreed to meet again. So, what's the problem?"
Oh yeah - there's more.

His email address was written down and (after trying a number of combinations) I finally got through. It was 2 days before a reply. Busy over Easter, he suggests we catch up the week-end after. Sounds good. I replied via SMS. Later, when I received no reply, I sent an email. It rebounded. Twice "Email account full". Aye aye aye!

And so the week-end approached and I heard nothing and so, after a frantic week at work, and thinking maybe he didn't get my SMS, I got home at 6.30 on the Saturday night and I decided to call him.

"Not a good time" he says. He was about to go out ... and ... here comes strike 2 ... "It was arranged before I got your SMS"

Oh. He did get my SMS, but sent no reply. Hmmm. Not good.

"Can I call you tomorrow?" he asks. "Sure" I say.
And very quickly here comes strike 3. Are you ready?
I know it's gripping stuff...
Sunday. No call as arranged.
... and there you have it strike 3 and you're out.

What's in a name...

I have grabbed an idea from Linny at
"Mundane Ramblings" ... something silly and fun... here goes

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)
Alvin Mini
2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fav ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)
Jaffa Monte Carlo
3. YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)
J-EDW
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Pink Elephant
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Claire Maffra
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)
Edwja
7. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink put "The")
The Purple Fizz
8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
George William
9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne, favorite candy)
Allure Turkish Delight
10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother's & father's middle names )
Joan John
11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)
Clarke Calcutta
12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower)
Summer Bluebell
13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)
Blueberry Shirtie
14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree),
Oats Frangipani
15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour")
The Creative Tornado Tour

Give it a go!

Sunday Wonderings...

I often sit at my computer at this time on a Sunday evening and wonder at where the week-end has gone... Wonder how I managed to get to Sunday night and feel as if I have achieved little. I look at the list of things I needed (or wanted) to do and realise I cannot cross off anything! It makes me feel like I have wasted two 'free' days and the list is a harsh reminder that I have to go back to work the next morning having missed my best opportunity to catch up on a few things...

This Sunday night, I am happy to say it has been a productive (if somewhat tiring) week-end.

I have...
Caught up with friends for dinner
Updated my blog and commented on a few others...
Done a bit of (my) birthday shopping (with some success)
Organised a venue for my 40th birthday party...
Started to design the invite...
Made a list of people who I will invite...
Painted 2 windows...
Sanded a door... and stained it...
Painted the area outside my back door...
Watched a couple of movies...
Read a little...
Ate a lot...
Listened to a couple of my favourite CDs...
Thought of lots of things I still need and want to do...
Started another list.

My hands are speckled with paint, my hair has a couple of new colours where I managed to bump up against wet surfaces, my back is sore and my nails will never be the same again.

And although each job has invariably added another to the list, I feel good.

What I miss about London #1

There are many things I miss about London.

It was my home for nearly 8 years and was the place I spent the majority of my 20's. There are many things I miss. Friends. The sights. The history. The seasons. The beautiful architecture. The easy lifestyle. Perhaps it is my youth I miss the most.

It is at this time of year, as my garden breaks out in pockets of bright orange and pink and the scent of fresia's magically fills the air, that I am reminded of the beauty of London that I have left behind.

Springtime is my favourite time of year in London. The winter is cold and grey and daylight hours are short. I would leave for work in the morning when it was still dark, and watch the grey light fade entirely from the sky around 3pm. On the whole it was a depressing time of year. Certainly there were winter pleasures - an open fire, a warm pub, the lazy walks to riverside cafes - but I was always glad to see the signs of it's departure.

In early May, the signs began. A few brave daffodils, slowly receding hours of darkness, and clear sharp mornings with frosty grounds were how it began. And then, almost overnight, it burst forth. The daffodils spread in huge panels of yellow through parks and along local streets, birds returned with a shrill song of morning greetings and in the woodlands, bluebells mingled in the dappled sunshine. It was truly beautiful. Magnolias sprung open and bare branches gave way to bright fresh shades of green. Within days, colour had returned to London's monotone pallette.

Moods lifted, smiles returned, life began again...

Flashback Friday

It was a bad hair day.
It was later than 1985, but I love this photo - it makes me laugh every time I see it - and it was the perfect shot for Flashback Friday this week.

I was in the Sahara desert. I did an overland trip across Africa when I was 21, and this was our fourth month on the road. It was hot. It was dusty. Needless to say, there were few showers, and even fewer during the Sahara crossing. A Dutchman also on the trip, always managed to remain well groomed - to this day, I don't know how he did it. I was the other end of the scale. I barely looked in a mirror for the entire trip, and to be honest, I didn't much care. I could never quite understand Ronald and his obsession with cleanliness, and no doubt he didn't understand me either!

On the day of this shot, we had been travelling the entire day in hot, dry and extremely dusty conditions. I had been leaning out of the side of the truck, wide eyed and entranced by the view. It was sand and dune or flat open ground, all the way to the distant watery horizon. Sometimes there were large outcrops of rock which we explored during breaks in the drive. When we got bogged, we would all climb down off the truck, lift sand mats from the side of the truck and push them under the wheels so the truck could grip. Often we would jog along side and place them in a continual trail, one after another, until we were clear.

Regularly the truck would stop so we could stretch and have a drink of water, and we would splash cold water on my faces to cool down. Eventually, late in the afternoon, I was told to take a look in the mirror and was astounded to find a stranger looking back. Layers of dust and water coated my face! I scruffed my hair a little, looked again and laughed - white eyes and shining teeth. It was a photo opportunity not to be missed.

The Sahara took me by surprise. I was expecting sand dune after sand dune and a long, slow and boring journey. It was basic. There were no road-side diners. No conveniences. There were no trees. It was us and the elements. It was hot beyond belief during the day and freezing at night. And yet we were rewarded with unexpected beauty. Rewarded with the adventure of the crossing. Rewarded with classic views and surprising variation. Rewarded with dark skies filled with bright stars. It was an amazing place. Totally beautiful.

Me? Not so beautiful...

Ask and the universe shall provide...

A story about white feathers...

Many years ago now, when I was working and living in London, there was a woman who was coming to London to hold a seminar that I wanted to attend. Her name was Denise Linn. Denise is an international lecturer, healer, and author who teaches about the benefits of working with subtle energies, feng shui, and space clearing.

OK, go with me here, I can already hear groaning from some people. Keep an open mind...

She teaches from wisdom she has learned from Native Americans as well as from other native cultures around the world and is a widely acclaimed speaker. Nowadays she has written 14 books, covering areas which may or may not be of interest to you from Feng Shui to Sacred Spaces. In any case, I really wanted to go and see (hear) her speak. The sessions were unsurprisingly rather pricey. And so, whilst I wanted to go - a lot - I couldn't really justify the cost.

Part of her marketing said if white feathers started to appear in your life, then it was a 'sign' you were meant to attend. I am pretty open minded about these things, however I am also of the belief there are a lot charlatans out there. Unfortunately there are also a lot of gullible people who follow blindly without questioning and this sort of ploy could well be looked upon as a bit of a gimmick (or at worst a scam). I was a little bit cynical, never the less, I decided to keep an open mind and be more awake to any signs that might come my way.

Over the course of the next few weeks I did find white feathers entered my life. Or perhaps I was just more aware of them! Of course they were in the park around areas where birds gathered and of course they were around areas where there was open air eating and birds picked their way through spared crumbs. It was, I decided, an excellent marketing tool... I was not an easy convert.

The day I walked to the bus stop and a white feather drifted down from the sky and landed in my hand, it did seem a little out of the ordinary, and yet I remained unconvinced. The week-end before the talk, I sat in my front room arguing within my head as to whether I should just 'bite the bullet', pay the money and go along to the seminar. Finally I decided I needed a stronger sign, something more conclusive.

I asked that white feathers come to me in the form of a pattern. That would be the only way I would be persuaded. And then I went for a walk.

My partner and I walked to Chiswick House and gardens. This heritage house is beautiful and set in a 65-acre estate in West London and it was a local favourite on a Sunday afternoon. I did not speak of my 'request'. We talked as we wandered along and enjoyed the fresh air and quiet escape from the busy streets. Not far from where we planned to stop for a drink in the garden cafe, I looked down to the edge of the path and there, delicately arranged, were 5 single white feathers set out like the spokes of a wheel. Seriously. It took my breath away. There was no question. White feathers. Just as I had asked. Amazing.

Needless to say I attended the seminar and was impressed by what I heard. Denise was indeed an interesting person to hear speak. She had a certain calm and belief I admired. I couldn't tell you the details now (it was nearly 20 years ago and the details have faded somewhat) but I do remember her words touched me at the time. White feathers still remind me of that magical moment.

Funny how things happen...

I love a good coincidence and so it seems does Angela. Just yesterday she wrote about coincidences and asked if anyone else had a story to tell. What a coincidence! Funnily enough I have had this post in draft mode for a while now, with that very same title. And so, now I feel it is time I get it finished and hit the publish button...

Some time ago, I wrote a post called "Today is the 23rd of August...". It was all about my (still) impending 40th Birthday and getting old. I had 12 comments. Amongst them was a comment from a fellow blogger who (coincidentally) happened to share my birthday. OK OK, so there are no doubt many people sharing October 23rd as the best birthday on the calendar, but "Just Run" is from the other side of the planet and she just happened to be one of my blog visitors who had dropped by in the past! Ha! Well, I think it pretty amazing!

Then, just last week-end, I visited "Meet me at Mikes" a shop in Bridge Road, Richmond. This store is chock a block full of crafty and retro items. It generally requires a number of laps to ensure most things are viewed at least once. 'Mikes' sells for, and is a supporter of the local crafting community in Melbourne. Their window displays are always a treat and step through their door and it's impossible not to find something that appeals. I went there especially to buy a girlfriend a baby gift, however as it turned out, what I was after was sold out. And so it was, with empty hands and my purse yet unopened, I spied a sweet little handmade owl.

I had previously seen them on 'Kwoozy's' blog and so recognised them instantly. They are so soft and all handmade and I couldn't resist. I made my decision and having had a good chat while paying, it wasn't too long before I was heading back down Bridge Road toward home, with the owl inside a transparent plastic bag.

I had seen a shop on the way to Mikes that I wanted to visit, but it was closed at the time. On the way back it was open so we dropped in there too. It turns out, one of the girls serving recognised the owl and commented that she had done a 'swap' with Kwoozy in exchange for a sausage dog she had made. Her blogging name was Boobook and she had been to my blog too! She also knew my friend Angela from Sew Your Own and Three Buttons.

Just one small coincidence after another. Small world.

Flashback Friday

Say Cheese every-one! One two three - Cheeeeese!

Well, what can I say, this is about as cheesy as it gets. I am the one in the front with the big teethy grin! My brothers are the cool dudes in the front row with the Hawaiian shirts.

I remember this being taken. It was Christmas and we were all at my Grandparent's home in the country. They lived in a huge place with extensive gardens that were surrounded on three sides by a forest of pines and Australian natives. It was a magical place to explore and as children we (younger kids) imagined the Adaams Family lived next door.

The Christmas in question was not too hot and no doubt we were all suffering from bellies tight with roast turkey and double helpings of Christmas pudding! The grandchildren had all been gathered for one of the last group shots of us all together before age and other commitments moved us in different directions.

It is a funny pic and the reason it strikes me as funny is that if you didn't know us (and most of you will not) you would match us all into incorrect family groups. The similarities between me and my cousin are striking in comparison to those between my brothers and myself. Needless to say, I reckon I got the pick of the bunch with my two older brothers and I think Mum and Dad would say the same. Gotta be happy with that!

I also love the 70's frizzy hairdos of my far trendier cousins at the back.

These bloggers love Flashback Friday too, take a look... Flashback Friday... are you in?
Angela at Three Buttons
Emma at Lovely Button
Whitney at At Whit's End
Hannah at Summer Pickles
Shula at Poppalina
Claire at Ethel Loves Fred
Fiona at Dragonfly Crafts

It may be the sugar talking...

Tonight I went out for dinner with a couple of friends from work.
You know the sort of place. Brightly coloured formica tables, rough wooden floors, chirpy waiting staff and good (overly generous) portions. The meal was good. It was more than enough.

The lemon meringue pie was not my idea. There is no denying it, it looked great. High peaks of softly curled meringue with a pale lemon filling. And of course it came in a portion sized more for a small family than a single person. It also came with three spoons. Well, I could hardly say no, could I? And so now I am in sugar buzz heaven. Feeling rather sick if the truth be known, but on a lemon meringue, pie induced, sugar BUZZ none the less!

I returned home about an hour ago and Mal arrived a little later carrying what can only be described as the auction win of my dreams. There is a local auction house that I rarely enter where the staff are (as Mal accurately observed) "Not exactly customer focused". I would probably describe them as rude and inattentive. They continue to chat, when they are aware you are waiting to ask them a question, and when they eventually do acknowledge you, they can barely mutter an answer before returning to their more affluent looking buyers. I have never bought anything from them before as I generally find they sell more high-end antiques, not the more rustic type that I find more interesting and attractive, and besides I find their snobby attitude pretentious.

In any case, last week-end, having had a lazy morning over a cafe breakfast and a wander up Bridge Road, we took a last minute detour to see what might be on offer. I am currently in the market for a shelving unit of pigeon holes. I don't want modern. What I want is old (and preferably inexpensive), something with a bit of character. It's a combination which is rare, but I am sure it exists. These things often take some time to acquire.

I love boxes. I like the unusual. I am a stationery junkie. I have countless pens and bottles of inks. In my collection I have a desk bell which came from an old hotel in India. When I returned from London I sent 16 tea cartons before me, packed with 'treasures' I found in week-end car boot sales. Much of this I have sold in garage sales. Much of it I still have packed away waiting for more space.

Despite all the clutter this collection may suggest, I do love being organised. I have a wooden filing cabinet and an old wooden set of filing drawers, and I have finally acquired a bookshelf which is already packed with books and cds and more boxes of all shapes and sizes. I do not like piles of mess everywhere. It completely agitates me. Pigeon holes are the perfect solution.

Combine my wish for pigeon hole shelving with a rather small flat that has no more space for such furniture and it's hard to imagine finding quite what I was looking for. And I didn't. In some ways I found something even better. As we wandered through the auction house, I spied a set of desktop pigeon holes. Solid oak. 24 small holes. The whole thing about 50cm high and 70cm wide. Perfect. And it was sitting in that auction house, just waiting for me to walk in. Seriously.

And so, a bit of umming and ahhhing, followed by an absentee bid and yesterday I get a call to tell me I had 'won'. Mal picked it up for me this morning, and now, it sits beside me on my desk, bringing me joy.

Seriously, these are the things that make my day go from groundhog to extraordinary. Nothing major. No promotion. No street parade. No lottery win. Nothing so grand. But a win all the same. Of course it may be the sugar talking, but today has worked out just fine fine fine.

Flashback Friday

I posted a wedding pic a while ago (before the themes were started)... So I am repeating it and adding another from the same day. Here I was at my cousin's wedding all dressed up as her flowergirl. That's me (in lime green) with the two bridesmaids. I don't remember it much except to say my dress was a bit tight - especially around the sleeves! That dress is still hanging up in a wardrobe in my parents home. It is SO tiny!

I remember the wide brimmed hats of the bridesmaids. It was a warm summers day and the sun filtered through the trees...



Here's me and my Mum (with the gorgeous hair). I remember that skirt - it was purples and pinks and oranges. Very 70's.

These bloggers love Flashback Friday too, take a look... Flashback Friday... are you in?
Angela at Three Buttons
Emma at Lovely Button
Whitney at At Whit's End
Hannah at Summer Pickles
Shula at Poppalina
Claire at Ethel Loves Fred
Fiona at Dragonfly Crafts

Angela at Three Buttons has asked me to propose the theme for next week (I have changed my mind a dozen times already so here goes...) So let me suggest "Say Cheese". Those cheesy pics with smile filling faces. Or the grimaces of forced family group shots at Christmas... with your brother giving you rabbit ears... That sort of thing.

Happy Flashback Friday!

Well of positivity...

Given that I am busy at work and unable to complete my current post, I am going to repeat something I spoke of yesterday. Consider it a friendly reminder...

It is a link that I suggest you visit. The Well of Positivity is a sponsored link by Mount Franklin. Every time you add a positive thought to the well, they donate $1 to the National Breast Cancer Foundation of Australia. It is a good cause. It is an easy thing to do. It only takes a moment... go on... give it a go!

What I was saying, until I was rudely interrupted...

Sometimes, when I start writing, I know exactly what I am going to write. My hands seemingly twitch over the keyboard and words flood easily from my mind onto the page. There are days when there is no hesitation and the pages fill effortlessly.

Then there are days the words struggle to move from thought to paper (or keyboard). Where it just doesn't come together and the post is added to the other drafts waiting to be tweaked or relegated to the trash. It can be a hit and miss process.

And then there are the interruptions. At work, people come and question me (at the most inopportune moments) and my train of thought can be lost forever. When approached before work hours, when people come and ask me if it's OK to ask a question... I find this even more annoying. Of course, during work hours I can hardly complain, and yet in my mind I often curse and wish them all gone.

When I am at home, Mal, the cooking, the TV, a good book, sleep (and going to bed at a reasonable hour) and the telephone, can all disturb my train of thought. It is not that difficult to distract me.

More often than not, I can blame no-one but myself. As far as distractions ans interruptions are concerned, the worst culprit of all is me.

This morning when I sat down to write (and wrote the post called Press delete on negativity) I had something very specific to write about. I was going to write about being positive. The roots of such a post lay in an email that had landed in my inbox just this morning. Alas. Something interrupted my plans and I went down another path entirely. It seems the interruptions from outside influences are of little consequence when my mind manages to drift away all by itself.

I stand by this morning's post, but my true intentions were totally discarded and I still want to share the contents of this email.

It is a link that I suggest you visit. The Well of Positivity is a sponsored link by Mount Franklin. Every time you add a positive thought to the well, they donate $1 to the National Breast Cancer Foundation of Australia. It is a good cause. It is an easy thing to do. It only takes a moment... go on... give it a go!

Press delete on negativity

There are emails I receive that I trash without hesitation. Yes people, I'm talking of the emails that threaten bad luck if you don't send them on to your entire contact list. It is the modern day equivalent of the objectionable chain mail of the 70's. And yet it is worse than even that. These are sent en masse. There is no consideration for the receipient. No effort required. The forward button is pressed with little or no thought. It is cyber pollution. So stop it.

For those of you who continue to send them to me, be warned, it stops here. I will not be subject to threats of misfortune or bad luck in love, based on the words of some internet geek with nothing better to do than add to the email trail that bombards us daily. Enough is enough.

It's time to stop forwarding fickle generic messages of love and prosperity if the immediate follow up is guaranteed poverty and despair.

"I love you, you enrich my life with your beauty and compassion, but if you don't send this to 200 of your nearest and dearest within two minutes of receiving this email, death and destruction to you...
... Love your good buddy!"

Hmmmm. Good buddy huh? This would be my next door neighbour who was my 'friend' when the adults were in sight and who used to throw stink bombs over the fence as I went to the local shop to buy my bag of mixed lollies! Good buddy my ass!

SO. By all means send the message of positivity and motivation, but before you press send, highlight those 'forward or else' messages and delete them. Make a stand and let your friends and family know they are loved, without the threats.

Having received this new happier, less threatening version, I may even respond with an email that mentions your name and asks specifically about how life is going right now. I may even ask about your family and friends and how the kids are going, or your latest travel plans. As a friend, these things are important to me!

Have a nice day.

Beautiful Springtime...

I love Springtime. The days are bright and sharp and hold the promise of warmer days without being stifling hot. The fresia's are just starting to come up and their sweet scent fills the air.

Spring has sprung...