Happily Ever After

Standard

My beloved and I went to a wedding on Friday. I’m not a hug fan of weddings, mostly because I know they are long and I tend to get bored easily because I forget to pay attention. I knew I’d enjoy this particular wedding, mainly because of who would be there (including the stars of the show). So I packed a small dice game and a secret crochet project to ward off boredom (didn’t need them) and my beloved and I got ready. We looked like ladies!

It's not a skirt! Image by The Naughty Corner

It’s not a skirt! Image by The Naughty Corner

So the ceremony was in a park, which was great, however the entire time the beautiful bride was getting out of the car I couldn’t help but notice a dog doing an extended wee on a post just a few metres away. Seriously. This wee went for ages. Anyway I am assuming it is all part of what happens at weddings that are FUN. Because this wedding was indeed FUN. Good music, good people, good food, lots of alcohol. What more could you want?

When we first got there, I saw this sign, which I obeyed:

Aye aye, Cap'n. Image by The Naughty Corner.

Aye aye, Cap’n. Image by The Naughty Corner.

Then the special wedding car arrived. Everyone faced this way for ages. This is when I saw the weeing dog, but I didn’t take a photo of it. Because I am a grown up.

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

The ceremony itself was great. Personalised, funny, to the point, involved lots of people. Then all of a sudden, they’re married! Off to the reception. There was a Photobooth, which meant that there were LOTS of dress up things:

There was also a small bubby. My beloved fell in love, and again we lamented the fact that she is shooting blanks.

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

And of course, there was dancing:

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

Because I forgot to ask before they left for their honeymoon, I can’t show you a picture of the people who got married. Rest assured that they had an awesome wedding, and know that I wish them every happily ever after in the world. I’ve suggested they throw yearly weddings instead of having birthdays, but they weren’t really keen.

Have you been to a wedding? Did you enjoy it?

 

Prevent it.

Standard

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day.

One of my favourite posts I’ve written here on The Naughty Corner is this one. It’s called Stay.

In the 12 months since writing Stay, there have been almost 2500 deaths by suicide in Australia alone.  That is a lot of brothers. Sisters. Uncles. Aunties. Mums. Dads. Strangers, friends, grandparents, enemies, teachers, lawyers, footballers, musicians, real estate agents. The person who usually sits opposite you on the train. The person who sat in your seat on the bus last year. Someone who you didn’t even know twelve months ago.

Gone.

Snuffed out.

Finished.

The thing about suicide is that it’s been thought through. The person who commits suicide has considered it. They’ve looked at their options, and this is what they’ve come up with. This is the only way they could see to fix things, to change things, to get rid of the turmoil they’re living with.

I kind of feel like I wave the suicide awareness flag a lot here in The Naughty Corner. I’m a huge advocate for talking about mental health, and for removing the stigma that is associated with mental illness.

But people are still dying.

I re-read Stay and I stand by what I’ve written there. I wanted to write something different for 2014, but the thing is, Stay is where it’s at. Stay is what I would write, again and again.

Because we need each other, if we are to have any chance at staying.

I also wrote about Robin Williams. I’m sharing the link again, because sadly, heartbreakingly… it’s relevant.

Suicide has a way of infiltrating the life of every single human.

We need to be OK about talking about mental health.

Because we need each other.

People, help the people.

Noted.

Standard

I’m back from a few days with the family. We had a Fathers Day lunch, where Dad was given his present from my sister and I – tickets to the Australian Open. He’s a happy man.

When it came time to leave, I was left unattended for around about two hours. My sister had gone to work and I was waiting for Dad to turn up (he was driving me home). With time to kill, I decided to leave a special present for my sister.

Here are a few photos… there were a lot more than this.

TV. Image by The Naughty Corner

TV. Image by The Naughty Corner

Kettle, with Coffee in the background. Image by The Naughty Corner

Kettle, with Coffee in the background. Image by The Naughty Corner

Toilet. Image by The Naughty Corner

Toilet. Image by The Naughty Corner

Wipe Bum. Image by The Naughty Corner

Wipe Bum. Image by The Naughty Corner

Mugs. Image by The Naughty Corner

Mugs. Image by The Naughty Corner

Needless to say, she is less than thrilled. Every mirror is labelled with her name. Her apple is labelled, as is her coffee, her toilet, the washing machine and more.

When I got home, I discovered that the dog bed had EXPLODED all over the back yard. I told my sister, and she replied with an unfair text, comparing unsupervised dogs with me.

How very rude.

Fathers Day

Standard

I love this song. Check it out:

This weekend, we celebrate Fathers Day here in Australia. I’m very excited because I’m sneaking my way down the freeway to surprise my old boy. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him and I miss him a lot in between times.

But while my head is preoccupied with seeing my dear Dad, I paused this morning when I was reminded of the traditional Fathers Day Stalls that happen in primary schools today.

A friend of mine lost her husband just over 12 months ago.

She’s now raising their beautiful kids on her own, and when she mentioned she had a little fellow who was upset because of the yearly Fathers Day Stall, my heart just ached for her and the kids.

I have nothing to tell her and nothing to suggest for her, because in reality? There’s not a lot that will ease that pain. The kids will grow and learn and change and one day have kids of their own. But every Fathers Day, they’re going to miss their Dad.

And I wish I could change that for them. For everyone who is grieving their way through major life events and moments, simply because of missing loved ones.

But it leads me to consider that if grief is such a universal experience, maybe there’s a way to move through it that embraces that universality of life. A person can never, ever be replaced. But the ability to remember your dad on Fathers Day? That’s something that doesn’t change. The problem is, this is a concept that makes sense to adults.

Kids just want their Dad.

In truth? So do grown ups. But you learn how to lessen the measure of pain by nudging at it with memorial acts and reminiscing. It’s not enough and it never will be, but it reminds you that you’re not all alone.

And maybe that is the universal way of dealing with grief. Speaking about it. Sharing stories and crying together and laughing together. Making moments and traditions that acknowledge the absent heartbeat. Because each word and tear and act signals to another that your grief is still raw. Still real. And that you need a bit of loving.

So, to my friend, I send you and your kids a big smooshy cuddle.

And to my own Dad?

Happy Fathers Day.

Me and my Dad. His moustache is real. image by The Naughty Corner

Me and my Dad. His moustache is real. image by The Naughty Corner

A bit of a think

Standard

I’ve been a bit… missing in the blogosphere lately. It’s really hard to not feel like a massive failure, to be honest. I look at these amazing other bloggers, and see how their pages have more likes, they have more fans, they have paid work coming through… and here I am in Newcastle, living opposite a park with random wandering bulls, writing to a small (but distinguished) audience.

Another example of failuredom that I’m feeling at the moment revolves around a small white dog named Harry. He had a haircut this week and is handsome as all buggery. Here he is:

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but this handsome little lad loves to run in the park. As fast as he absolutely can. And on the weekend, my sister took him running. Oh Harry’s little legs propelled him around the park like a hound possessed. He had a glorious time!

Then my sister had to go back home, and the reality of disappointment hit: Harry’s mummy Kel cannot run. Mummy Kel is still waiting for ankle surgery. Mummy Kel is left feeling somewhat useless when it comes to meeting the athletic needs of a small white dog. My beautiful beloved takes him for a run while I throw the ball for Scouty, which is a really good solution.

But why can’t I do that?

Obviously, because my ankle is screwed.

That’s the thing about failure, I suppose – you never really feel it until you start comparing yourself to other people.

So here’s an approach I’m trying on for size.

I’m glad I am not as hairy as Scouty.

I’m glad I am not as smelly as those vomit flowers that only bloom once a year.

I’m glad I am more useful than the little pockets that some old-school underpants have on them.

At least I’m not a rectal thermometer!

I’m so proud of myself for not deciding to run with Harry and leading us both, at best, under a truck and at worst, through one of the many cow pats that now reside in the park.

Things could be worse.

Do you ever feel this way? How do you snap out of it?

Crappy Cupcakes

Standard

I bought something on eBay recently that I’m not proud of. But before I tell you what it is, let me just say that when you consider all the things it could have been, I did quite well. I mean, I have seen listings for farts in jars, burnt toast and more. So when I handed over $1.50 and purchased a fake poo, I have to say I was able to feel pretty impressed by my own self-censoring.

When I received a parcel in the post today, I did a small happy dance. I thought it was going to be Harry’s Superman doggy coat, but no! It was my plastic poo! And you know what? It couldn’t have come at a better time. Because I had a chocolate cake mix in the cupboard and my beloved was at work. Time for the best prank ever.

Here’s how it played out…

I made the cake into cupcakes, and iced eleven of them in a rather boring way. See if you can spot my special cupcake…

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

If you remember, my beloved had been at work. She finished early but still looked like she’d appreciate a chocolatey treat with her cuppa. So, like the loving girlfriend I am, I plated up.

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

Delectable, yes?

Anyway anyway, I carried my plate of goodness over to my beloved, with my phone ready to snapshot the moment. I think the look on her face says it all…

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

Cost to purchase fake poo: $1.50

Cost of chocolate cake mix: $2.99

The look on my beloved’s face when I serve her a plastic poo on top of a cupcake? PRICELESS!

I can’t wait until she realises I bought two of them…

One of Those

Standard

It’s been one of those days. 

We signed the papers to sell the recently purchased Subaru for scrap metal. It’s funny. I didn’t have it for long, I know – but gosh I feel sad about it. Which makes no sense, I know. I mean, look at it. Dings on every panel. Old. Missing the odd mud guard. 

But I liked my car. I liked the freedom it offered, the independence. I liked that it offered relief after driving the Kia disaster zone for two years, and I liked that it felt like finally, I’d landed on my feet when it came to cars. 

Bye bye, Suby... Image by The Naughty Corner.

Bye bye, Suby… Image by The Naughty Corner.

Today was also the kind of day that offered me the best blog fodder I have had in months. My beloved and I had to take everything out of the Subaru before we abandoned left it at the mechanics, and among the stuff we took out was my forearm crutches. I loaded them into my beloved’s car, and later that day I had reason to go out again. It was while I was getting my bag from the passenger side that it happened. 

My crutch fell into the guttter. 

It would have been hilarious if I wasn’t totally over the day by this point. I would have been so excited about it if I wasn’t standing there, watching gutter water drip over my bag after I put the crutch back into the car. I would have been thrilled if not for the bits of gutter scunge that appeared on my crutch as it dried. 

So, you know. I dealt with these outrageous blows in two ways. 

The first? 

Shared my recent ABC Open offering with The Naughty Corner Facebook page. Here it is for you playing along at home. 

The second? 

Put these one. I fucking love them. I reckon I can deal with most crappy days if I am wearing these babies. 

Image by The Naughty Corner. Socks by The (ex) Flatmate.

Image by The Naughty Corner. Socks by The (ex) Flatmate.

Brighten my day, won’t you? Tell me something awesome that happened to you today! Hit me with your best shot…