"You don't have to fill ice cube trays to the top!" exclaimed a dear friend in a phone call to me a few years ago. The excited revelation came after we had both been married and out of home for several years. "Kirsten, you don't have to fill ice cubes to the top. You can … Continue reading “You don’t have to fill ice cube trays to the top!” On traditions and habits…and how they might do with a revisit.
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On sporadic shorthand and compassion; Or, on a decade without Joanie.
There are several things that I love about this photo. It's a list of quotes and sayings that Joan collected & compiled. Let me tell you why I love it. The pad is full. Every page. Back and front.It's one of many that she filled over her life.She didn't discriminate in her wisdom; there's quotes … Continue reading On sporadic shorthand and compassion; Or, on a decade without Joanie.
“Can you give me the specifics?” Or, when analogies fail.
There is NOTHING more specific than a four year old. I have learned quite quickly that if my daughter wants toast, I’d better ask her how she wants it cut, because cut into squares is of course not the same as triangles. It’s a completely different meal. There is a right way to fold a … Continue reading “Can you give me the specifics?” Or, when analogies fail.
What if I’m not special? The myth of individuality
(on creativity & contribution, Part 1) Mt Crawford Forest, Adelaide Hills My new favourite place is the Mt Crawford Forest. My family and I ‘discovered’ it during the recent lockdown and consequently found ourselves returning there every few days: It’s a beautiful place, stuff your Narnia-dreams are made of. Closed to traffic, it was so … Continue reading What if I’m not special? The myth of individuality
“Sorry that I’ve haven’t been too happy recently”; On 20 years without Dad.
Lance Neville Gladigau. Circa 197-Awesome I have a very specific memory of my Dad just a few weeks before he died in 2000. He and I were home alone, and he was working in his office. I can easily picture him in that room: surrounded by timber panelling, in a desk he made himself, made … Continue reading “Sorry that I’ve haven’t been too happy recently”; On 20 years without Dad.
On collective grief & confession; the lament.
Solomon’s Room. 445am. It’s 445am and Solomon is feeding. He’s not settling. Which is fine. I mean I’d prefer to be asleep, of course. But it's ok. I’ll sit here longer and feed. I’ve got nowhere else to be. I can sit here longer and rock on my chair. I’ve started reading The Handmaid’s Tale. … Continue reading On collective grief & confession; the lament.
On choosing laundry tiles and anxiety attacks
About 18 months ago my husband and I were in the latter stages of our house build. After 2 years we were finally coming up to the point that for many is an exciting stage: bathrooms & wet areas. Unfortunately for me however, this is a nightmare scenario. Bathrooms mean fixtures. Sinks. Toilets. And the … Continue reading On choosing laundry tiles and anxiety attacks
Allowing the Ferment: Or, what Kombucha has annoyingly taught me about the process of reflection
Kombucha. What a millennial marketing dream. "Look guys, here’s a drink that is homemade and environmentally conscious and healthy but also feel free to buy it from us and feel so much better than everyone else when you drink it." Many of you will know Kombucha devotees who preach about its benefits to everyone and … Continue reading Allowing the Ferment: Or, what Kombucha has annoyingly taught me about the process of reflection
Can you advocate for me?
So you've had an illness for some weeks now. Maybe it's a cough, maybe it's a headache that just won't go away no matter how many pills you pop, maybe it's your kid who has had 17 ear infections in the past year. So you go to the doctor, perhaps again. You can't get into … Continue reading Can you advocate for me?
Police Never Die, or What Boney M Taught Me About Christmas
So here's a Christmas story for you. Growing up, every year we would pick up our highly anticipated real Christmas tree from our local church and put it on the roof of our mini, then my dad would carefully arrange the tree in an old oil can with piece of bricks to stabilise it. We … Continue reading Police Never Die, or What Boney M Taught Me About Christmas
Better With Pockets 