goodbye Uncle George…


I haven’t written for awhile.

My Uncle George slipped away to the other side to be with his beloved Patricia a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve found it hard to write anything since. I couldn’t even find the words for his family….my cousins. Its all too real, this dying business. Its painful, and its final. I’m much more comfortable with the reality and probability of my own death than I am participating in the mourning of others. Maybe it’s all connected for me and witnessing their pain is like looking into a crystal ball at my own family’s grief. Unbearable.

I would like to write some words of thanks to my Uncle George. We didn’t see much of Pat and George in the past 25 years…its like that sometimes in families, but he gave me some pretty awesome cousins and consciously or not, he encouraged our relationship and I want to thank him for that.

As a little girl one of my clearest memories is of the excitement that a visit from my cousins Sharry and Kris would bring….it was like a visit from the freakin’ royal family! They were always dressed up so pretty with things in their hair and matching jewellery. The only thing I had in my hair back then was a cowlick and a few knots but far from being jealous of their adornments I would knock myself out trying to make them happy and get them to love me as much as I loved them…. of course I haven’t forgotten David, Paul and Lee, but they were younger. And less important to me back then! (note to mum…don’t worry ma I know i wasn’t the hair clip type of kid and i liked my knots…)

As we got older I had more to do with Shaz and Kris and i didn’t have to try so hard to get them to love me back. Our time together as teenagers was a blast. They got to know my peeps, we got to know theirs and a friendship developed that is unlike any other because they are your family, connected by grandparents and christmas’s and childhood secrets and love.

We are still close. I couldn’t imagine my life without Kristen. We can go months without contact but when I see her my heart soars, just like I am that little girl again. I am fortunate enough to have this bond, these very special relationships because of you Uncle George, you and Pat….so I thank you both with all my heart. I’m sure if my memory was more efficient I would be able to dig out some more personal moments in time, but my 5 cousins was more than enough….


On another note entirely…. I very discreetly and without fanfare turned 49 last week.

49….is like almost 50…. (or is it? I feel like there is a dog year between the two…wishful thinking?)

The thing is my BF is 44. Lets just take a moment, because i rolled that out like a Kardashian,  “my Bf is like…” but having spent almost 30 years with someone, I haven’t used the word boyfriend since 1982.

I have a boyfriend. And he is 44. lol. I might have to say that a few times.

5 years doesn’t seem like much of a gap. But 44 is still young, just over 40, and I’m almost yeh we have covered that.

44 yr old men can still pick up 30 somethings….they can even attract the odd 20 something with Daddy issues

So is it time to find me my own cosmetic surgeon? should i be exploring the world of derma fillerupperers, injectable toxins and non surgical surgery? should i be googling  breast augmentation to bring my girls back to life or get onto the latest craze that is labiaplasty – giving  my vagigi a bit of a nip and tuck??? Fucking oooouuuuch!!  (are your legs crossing over right now?)

Not that there is the slightest murmur from BF himself (my ex made more fuss about my aging process  the prick.) But is BF just being polite…. does he have nightmares of waking up to that sunbaked woman from Something About Mary? 

I have managed to divert his attention from my biological age by acting much of the time like a very mature 16 year old, making him feel like the responsible one, the grown up. its not an act, I actually feel younger when I hang out with him… But feeling young is one thing, looking young is quite another – and unlike my behaviour, its completely out of my control.

I can’t look at myself objectively. I don’t know what other people see. I will sometimes look at women of my vintage and do a quick 5 point comparison analysis…(eyes lips hair neck hands)  with normal people wandering around in supermarkets, not celebrities in magazines.. but with all the procedures available (see above) its getting harder to pick my vintage. Often its the way a woman dresses or presents herself that gives her age away…so i do make an effort not to do ‘dowdy’ when selecting my days attire…but does that work? is that enough to disguise the crows feet and laughter lines? Or am i risking going too far in the other direction and have the mutton lamb thing going on?

This is not a subject I have ever been inclined to draw attention to before…who wants to analyse the deterioration of the part of the anatomy that represents who you are? I would prefer to go about my business assuming I haven’t changed at all since 1994. But Im not naive enough to think that by not talking about my degeneration no one else will notice it….so i may as well blog about it.

I’m not afraid of aging. Of course having cancer helps allay that fear – I’m actually more likely to die than get old!! (sorry Ma, I know thats not funny for you) but come on, there has to be an upside to cancer right?? I think it would have become an issue for me had I still been with my ex… his immaturity, combined with his fucking ageless European/ Arabic gene pool meant it was only a matter of time before it was assumed I was his mother and not his wife…

I think the secret to looking and feeling young might be as simple as confidence. Not Kardashian|Kanye kind of selfie obsessed confidence, but the kind that comes from realising that a smile will impress way more than a face lift….. the confidence you get when you feel loved for the person you are on the inside regardless of the deepening of your laughter lines…the confidence you get when you drop the bullshit boring and benign concern with having the approval of people who have no place judging you…the confidence you get when you embrace a glass is half full attitude to life and feel genuine gratitude for your imperfect face….


meet my travelling posse….


So if you’ve been reading you’ll know I’m going to New York yeh? October 13th is take off. Just to update you on the whole shebang, we arrive in LA, go straight  to Vegas for 3 nights of hedonism and debauchery…then we scoot over to Memphis to get our yee-haa on, drive to Nashville then fly to New York….woohoo! i stay in New York for 5 nights until my bro arrives and then its him and I for 3 weeks, finishing up in cancun Mexico…

But what I wanted to tell you about is the group of lovelies who Im spending the first leg of the trip with… my travelling posse….my high school buddies. Its not as you would think…we haven’t all been in each others lives constantly since graduation…far from it. As Ive mentioned, I went straight from an english exam to a labour ward but these girls all lived their 20’s as I imagined I would …getting an education, a career, travelling and meeting interesting people from whom a possible life partner might emerge..A few of the girls have remained in close contact, some of us have connected sporadically over the 30 + years….but we were all great mates at high school and really liked each other…as we do now. This is a quality group of women…I’m still surprised that they hung out with me…Anyway, there is a core group of 7 I believe with a couple of others that have come and gone…not gone gone, just lost contact..

Last time we caught up it turned out that 5 of us were single. Not unusual at our age but kinda fucked really…we somehow diverted from bagging our exes and got talking about travelling… then Trish – the travel agent who works for Qantas threw it out there that she was going to New York in October did anyone want to come!! Well I think I might have actually thrown myself in her pasta. For the first time since I have had reason to have a Bucket List…I was interested in ticking the box that says

you must visit New York before you die…

and I surprised myself (and Trish Im sure) with my manic frenzied like enthusiasm. I mean, travelling overseas is a big deal for me, having only done it a couple of times and while I have known these girls for ever, i haven’t spent more than a lunch with them since….

sure we had sleepovers as teenagers….but I still don’t know how I got accepted into this little clique…they are so much more…refined… well spoken… Intelligent. ..gorgeous. worldly.

There is Trish, Rachel, Janice, Tracey and Heidi & Charlie. allow me to introduce you to them…

Yes Charlie is Heidi’s husband and he is going with 6 chicks…its fitting because Heidi met him when she was like an infant and we were all there when the love began…and its still going. which is exceptional. But Heidi is a keeper, born to love cute as she was at school and just as quick to laugh…..

There is Trish. A real classy lady…very reserved, not an extravert, but has a heart the size of the grand Canyon..a true friend. She has organised everything in her spare time, of which she has little, realising early on that while I was keen to help I was basically good for labelling a couple of manilla folders with  “US TRIP” and not much more. She is simply stunning and amazing and why that knob she was going out with for a hundred years didn’t realise that he was lucky she even looked his way, I really do not know…

Then there is Rachel. Tall, stunning, super brainy, and just so freakin genuine and lovely…exactly the same as she was 30 years ago and has not aged a day…outgoing and audacious.

Tracey, newly husband free Tracey. Kids are of a responsible age now and I feel a little bit of party animal might be lurking just below the surface with this beauty. Im hoping Vegas is where she will let it rip….(if not on the plane trip  over) and if there is anyone Im likely to lose a tooth and get tattoos with it will be this lady.

and then there is Janice. Janice wanted to jazz up our vacation by adding the bloody Boston Marathon to the agenda…Im so very much laughing right now, are you laughing?? I mean she can do it, by all means, Ill drink to her beginning, middle and finish…because thats what i envisage happening on a holiday…drinking. not running..never running. If Im running then someone is chasing me cos I don’t run. walking gets me everywhere I need to go without the sensation of vomit- inducing -lung -exploding-heart-ceasing- breathlessness.. But thats our girl…she represented the team at high school and she’s representing the team now…and she looks a million dollars. In fact I have made a rule that she is not to wear a bikini within a 5 km radius of any of us…Heidi seconded it so its official…thank god its going to be cold.

and yep thats us. And I’m not the slightest bit nervous that it will be anything other than a trip of a lifetime. These girls are smart, savvy, well travelled, sensible (except Janice obviously) and fun so I feel safe, relaxed and excited.

Trish will organise every micro and macro detail like its a G8 convention, Rach will be the queen of doing interesting shit…Tracey will keep us hydrated with bubbly fluids, Janice will prove to us that we too could look 17 at 49 if only we were interested in marathons and you know, moving…Charlie and Heidi will make us sick with their love that stood the test of time, and i will soak it in and up and just be so glad I made it to 5 years.

I ♥ you all x

re posted… a shout out to my amazing friend …

I want to share a story with you. and pay a little ol tribute to a beautiful friend.

Its a true story, not a ‘Once upon a Time’ type of tale but its both a tragic& inspiring story that I often reflect upon…

it involves this gorgeous woman I have known since she was hanging out at my place any chance she got with my brother at about 15 years of age…. Her family was a little more conservative than ours, as was the Adams Family, but all of our friends loved coming over – always lots going on…

this has no relevance to the story , im just painting a picture…

Shelley was always going to have a great life; she was stunning, intelligent, generous, outgoing and she didnt have an enemy in the world. she was also skinny and had great skin…i hated her… well i wanted to, but you couldnt!

Her two great teenage loves were my cousin, and one of my best mates. Both of the fuckers broke her heart… But on she went to marry one of the loveliest guys you could ever meet and they shared great times, almost a happily ever after….

I started chemo in Feb 2010 and in March we had a school reunion… Shelly insisted my brother and I go with her, and even though i had no hair, i was seduced by shell’s enthusiasm…. we had a great time and i believe along with my brother and a select group, she pulled an allnighter….Shell had a 2 year old and a 5 year old so  this was a rare thing….

Shell and bro stayed in touch over the 20 years since school, through shell moving to new york for a time with Stef, returning and starting a unique and successful business, and birthing two too-cute-for-words boys…

Bro loved Stef, said he was exactly the type of man i would go for!! so apparently skinny bitch with the perfect skin married my husband!

So the june after the reunion comes along and I was in cancer world. having just had major surgery in may I was very sick, weak and bedridden & so over myself. everyone was worried about me, it felt like my cancer was the only thing happening….then i got a phone call from my brother that I can still remember clearly and just made my cancer seem like a dose of the mumps….

Shelley’s husband Stef had suffered a brain bleed, while he was home with his two little ones -and was in a induced coma with only a small chance of coming out of it. What the fuck???  This is so wrong….How do these things happen??? Shelley and her two beautiful little boys were facing a life without the most important male in all of their lives and the injustice made me fucking furious… Stef was one of the good men…there were not that many around…

it may have been a little transference of my own emotions but i could not stop crying….it hit me hard. smacked me down. But this is not about me…

My amazing friend had to prepare for the worse while keeping a brave face for E & M -who had witnessed god only knows what when he collapsed- and stay positive and hopeful that this wasn’t a nightmare from which she would never return….so many unknowns. so surreal.

just pause for a second and try to imagine the impact of such an event..

Im going to skip a big chunk because i couldnt do it justice, but ….

Stef lived. Hes a fighter. He was not going to miss out on seeing those boys grow up- but he suffered damage to parts of his brain that would never mend, and so he was no longer the same man shell had married.

A 20 year marriage that was at its core based on respect and a genuine admiration for eachother was the impetus for what developed into a truly awe inspiring living arrangment..

And this is where i start my cheerleading…

i watched (and supported and listened as best i could) as this amazing woman went on to achieve what seemed at least improbable., but likely impossible..

1 protect her offspring like Nala the lioness. nuture them, love them, and allay their fears

2 give Stef the respect, space, support , confidence and time he needed to come to terms with his disability, his new limitations and the road to rehabilitation he had ahead

3 handle the naysayers, the critics, the do gooders and the assholes that show their true colors when others are in crisis

4 stay sane….still have a laugh and eventually forge ahead with her own life

i dont want to give the impression that it was a walk in the park…a ride in the sunshine or a swim in the ocean….i witnessed the pain, the frustration, the heartache, the ripple effect on friends and family. But i also witnessed courage, wine, hard work, patience, vodka shots, humour, grace, gratitude, consolidation, more vodka shots and an abundance of love.

Shelley and I are both living examples of how quickly life as you know it can be tipped on its head and you learn  how little control you have over, well, everything… all we can do is control the way we react.

And Shelley my lovely, you aced it xxx


the fork in the road….

I’ve been spending some time with teenage girls lately. Because they are not my own I am really really enjoying their company…not that i never enjoyed my own two gorgeous  girls but I won’t lie, teenage girls are fucking hard work…my memories are all about hair and hormones…more on that later.

Anyway, it has me reflecting on that time in our life when we just start to think about our future and there’s that realisation that we ourselves might be responsible for how it turns out…

Remember when you had your whole life ahead of you?? When you could literally only imagine what job you would have, who you would ‘marry’, who you would hang out with, how many kids you will have…

How different did your life turn out compared to the imaginings of your teenage self?

Its unlikely that at 16-17 we could  map our plans for the weekend let alone our entire adult life, but i think we have a sense of what lifestyle we will aspire to. I think we know if we are likely to go to uni or not, have a ‘career’ that you work hard at or just a job that pays for the things you want…whether having a family of your own is a priority or whether its just something you will probably do eventually…whether we want to see the world…whether we will most likely follow our parents lifestyle choices or whether we intend to rebel against everything they stand for…so I’m curious about the things that happen to us that change our expected course.

For me it was a fairly simple act of lust that diverted me from my big-life-plan of ‘changing  the gender power  imbalance in this  entire freakin’ patriarchal world ‘ Yes that was my mission….a little grandiose of me of me  I know, but dream big I say. I wasn’t entirely sure how i was to go about it, so a gap year was required to give it some serious contemplation time – a Bachelor of Changing the World was not on offer yet. The gap year extended. Moving out of home became essential and before you can say nicoledonthavesextonightitcouldchangethecourseofyourentirelife I was knocked up! And this was no temporary diversion  like volunteer work in Cambodia or joining the army reserves – no…motherhood lasts like f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Turns out there is nothing more relevant to the gender equality issue than what happens between a couple when a baby comes along unexpectedly. I was living my own thesis. Choosing the life of my first born over allowing his father the freedom to explore his 20’s on his own terms resulted in a lifetime of  compromising the power in my relationship…it tipped the scales so far in his favour I was never really able to balance them up, not with all the feminist rhetoric in the world. I understood this. I took responsibility for this fact. As Oprah would say I owned it. Yes it takes two to create a life but ultimately I made the decision to bring that life to full term and he could either stick around and do a half assed job at committing to it…or consciously walk away from the responsibility. So when he chose the half assed option I was determined to cover his shifts… because it turns out he was exceptionally skilled to do half-assed. In fact i think he put in less than half his ass…sometimes no ass at all.

Back to hair and hormones for a minute. Now i’m sure other things were of significance back in those glorious teenage years…but hair stands out to me. Hair that needed washing, hair that needed tying, hair that needed colouring, hair that wouldn’t grow, hair that grew in places they didn’t want hair, hair that covered every surface of my bathroom and ensuite, hair that blocked my shower drain, hair that got cut to short so “i can’t go to school until it grows back’, hair that could be pulled by big brothers, hair hair bloody hair. And hormones. The mood swings, the periods, mood swings, boys, mood swings, screaming, crying, snapping, whinging, and more mood swings. with the girls only 18 months apart it seemed as if this part of our lives was interminable. But it wasn’t. it ended eventually, or at least morphed into some other dominating force. Spray tanning comes to mind…oh don’t start me…

So what has made me revisit the sliding door moment of my life? I think its because Im living independently for the the first time in 28 years. Im reconnecting with my teenage ambitions and trying to recapture that enthusiasm reserved only for the ignorance of a ‘child’  still attached her Mum.  That vivacity we only have when we haven’t been smacked with the reality of adulthood and all its  unrelenting challenges. Yeh I’ve been smacked  around on a few occasions but its given me a strength and a resilience that you can only have going into your fifth decade of life. I’m a survivor. Of disease, of heartbreak, of separation.  Im still standing. I can be vulnerable and i won’t get eaten alive. I can be weak and I have my people to put me back together. I can even open my heart again without fear that a crushing ball won’t line me up and take another swing. I can continue to love my kids unconditionally and let them live their own lives without fear that I will fail them – because Im not a perfect mum but I willingly and without regret gave  them the best years of my life. I believe I’m now capable of thinking of my wishes and wants without guilt and therefore i don’t have to isolate myself from the ones that still need me through fear of their judgement. I can be a mother, daughter, sister, aunty and nan and still be an independent and worldly woman with outrageously unrealistic ambitions.

I can love my BF and his children and extended family without feeling like I’m betraying an ideal i upheld for my entire adult life of what my family should look like.

I had dreams of changing the world. I thought I had failed my 17 year old self.

But I have only just now realised that i have made the world a better place with the presence of those I raised and their offspring. My daughters are living proof that the gender balance of power can and has been shifted. And so i hand the baton over to them continue to fighting the good fight – go get em’ girls!  IMG_0016

a day in the life….



I’m due to have a scan soon. …a CT scan. a semi regular event on my calendar…this is how it goes…

A week before the appointment i start to get a little moody. Nothing that anyone would pick up on i’m sure, I’m just wound a little tighter and snap a little easier. My son would probably be the only one to notice as he is currently the only one likely to do anything to test me, however it’s unlikely that ” mum, you seem a little tense at the moment, are you due for a scan again…” will come out of his mouth..bless his thoughtless soul..

Anyway, a day or so before the scan my mind wanders to that dark place I work really hard to keep well away from.

The ‘what ifs’ kick in…what if this is the one..the scan that I’ve been dreading, the one that changes my current  state of contentment & happiness…what if its on my lung and they can’t remove it and I have to walk around with R2D2 the oxygen tank, and I scare my grandkids…what if I can’t travel to New York and Ive missed my last opportunity to take off on an aeroplane…what if this is it…the scan that proves the statistics are right.

So the day arrives and I generally don’t tell anyone so no one else has the what ifs. I crank up the music in my car and sing as loud as i can to whatever I’m digging at the moment… i have to fast, you know not eat, so I’m generally fighting my red bull cravings as well as a hunger that you can only have when you are medically deprived of breakfast. My scans are always at the same place, the same old run down looking building that looks like it might have been an asylum in a past life, it just screams bad news lives here!!

I walk to the appropriate building, fall into line behind the sick and the aged, and before I know it – cancer is back in my life. The smell of the place, the design of the waiting room, the other patients, the general vibe of the place all reminds me that i am here because I have a terminal illness that needs checking on. And while I might look happier, healthier, younger, and better dressed I have cancer and I’m no different to the other people in the waiting room.

I take a seat as far away from the old guy sneezing and coughing as i can get- waiting rooms are a hotbed of germs and bacteria- and I start to drink the ‘orange stuff’ that they call cordial but tastes more like liquid ear wax…

An hour later someone tries to pronounce my name and I’m lead to the chair where a catheter of contrast is to be inserted. There will inevitably be a young trainee nurse sent to try to get blood from me as my age and demeanour give them confidence that i will be patient with the three attempts she has. Eventually she defers to one more experienced. i am incredibly polite inspite of the gouging of my veins because thats who I am and i don’t want to make a crappy day worse by bringing a young girl to tears.

Im in loose clothing…i refuse to go the whole way and wear a backless hospital gown, but i am entertained by the old gentleman in front of me who is sans underwear and his gown hasn’t been tied up…an 85 year old ass is always worth a giggle. I am grateful however that the split is not at the front, I don’t know that the 85 yr old pecker
is as amusing..

I listen to snippets of conversation around me, medical jargon about stages of disease, histories of illness, presenting with this…diagnosed with that & the occasional nurse gossiping about her weekend with a Tinder date…

Im finally ready to have my turn, catheter in hand i go to have my fortune read by the most expensive and impersonal clairvoyant my tax dollar can buy. i lay on the bed get my arm in the right position, listen to the instructions of when to hold my breath and when to exhale and 15 min later its over….my abdominal cavity is captured on film and my fate is sealed. For now anyway. Of course its another few days before I get the results so this is really only the half way mark.

I get dressed, I have the needle removed and I have to wait for 15 mins until they are happy that I haven’t had any adverse reaction to the contrast they just squirted through my veins, and then I can leave. Its a long 15 minutes. i think about how for most of my life I didn’t know what the inside of radiology looked like…how i wouldn’t have know what a CT scan was for, how I would have freaked out at the thought of an injection. Now I have given enough blood to satisfy the entire town of Bon Temps.

I go out to reception, give a wink to the poor young chick that bruised my arm and i’m on my way to the closest red bull.

I am particularly skilled at then putting all fear and anxiety away until the day of the results…i’m not letting this disease take any more of my time and emotional energy than absolutely necessary. I’m on my way home where I can be the other Nicole again. the one that has the rest of her life to get busy with.

Dear Adam Goodes – I am not one of them….

Im weighing in…what’s the point of having a blog if I don’t use it to express my opinions right?

I am a footy chick. I come from a long line of die-hard Collingwood supporters and I can proudly admit my love and passion for my team and for the game itself.. at all levels.

However, there is something about being a spectator of our game that encourages some to act in a way that they probably wouldn’t in any other social situation.. You don’t have to behave yourself. You have permission to yell and scream and swear and criticise and drink…without any consideration for the people around you. Its an opportunity for some it would seem, to express their inner ugliness.

Its not rocket science. it happens in many sports in many parts of the world. but its ugly.

As I listened to the discussions and debates on the weekend after the  booing of Adam Goodes in the weeks prior, I’m confronted with the obvious fact that we still have issues of race in this country. it might be just below the surface, but its there..its born from ignorance, and a lack of education regarding our history. I don’t know if everyone who booed Goodes is racist, but I do know they are ignorant. We don’t do a whole lot of booing in our game. Its usually reserved for those who act in an unsportsman like (dirty) manner during a game, and its unlikely to continue beyond that week. So to hear a collective boo …..towards a champion footballer and human being that is Adam Goodes, I’m inspired to ask..what the fuck???

And when certain behaviours are discussed  analysed and debated by the media and  public, we get a snapshot of societal opinions. My concern is that these issues are getting discussed largely by other footballers, or ex footballers, or commentators of the game that wouldn’t get a gig in any other arena of journalism. mainly due to their creative use of the english language. let me give an example…

On a subject as important to our game as the football itself…why would anyone in their right mind want to hear what Jason Akermanis has to say?? Is he an expert on indigenous culture? no. Is he close enough to Adam Goodes to know how he might be thinking? NO…Adam has much better taste in friends.. Is he articulate, thoughtful and intelligent…no no &no. Does he like to be controversial and say the things no one wants to hear? yep…thats his schtick. He doesn’t represent the views of the greater football community…Akermanis in his own words is an ‘individual’ – he speaks only for himself. Yet he was rolled out and given air time on the subject of Adam Goodes…and of course with all the empathy and understanding of a slab of concrete, he was basically calling Goodes a sook.

Booing a football player as opposed to a whole team is a very personal thing in our game. We regard our footballers with reverence, we fall in love with them…listen to Bruce Mackavaney for 5 mins and its like “get a room Bruce”…

I cant even recall the likes of Stephen Milne, a footballer involved in a sexual assault against a young woman, copping the wrath of the spectators to the same degree as Adam Goodes- and he is no Australian of the Year, thats for sure.

So why? Why has a man with the qualities that he has both as football champion and human being, inspired such behaviour?

Adam Goodes is up there with Chris Judd and Garry Ablett. A resume that includes dual  premierships and dual Brownlow medals…four times all Australian. He is the cream of the crop. If you look at that as an achievement by any AFL footballer its massive, but if you look at it as an achievement by an Aboriginal footballer its awe inspiring. He is a leader of his people and a role model to the future generations of indigenous footballers. He is intelligent, speaks beautifully and honestly, has a sense of humour, he’s accessible to the public, and he works tirelessly outside of football trying to improve the opportunities and outcomes for members of his community. He is an Australian of the Year. He is also an ambassador for the White Ribbon charity – raising awareness for the fight against domestic abuse…lets sit on that for a while…consider the generalisations and stereotyping that still exists about Aboriginal men…. consider the negative publicity that many footballers of all codes have received for their treatment of women in the past…

And Adam Goodes in his spare time is fighting to end the abuse of women.

And he was booed…consistently…at a game that is watched by millions...

I could go on about the challenges he would have had to overcome in his lifetime that no privileged white Australian footballer would ever be exposed to – but I think I have made my point.

random insignificant things about me…

I have a big ass bunion on my right foot. its ugly, it aches and it is currently dictating my choice of footwear.

I like politics…. probably because i have an interest in community and social justice…I can remember being very young when i felt anger at the arrogance of every Liberal politician i ever heard speak. However, since my fellow countrymen voted in the worst prime minister we have had to date, i have stopped taking an interest in anything political. I detest our current government with a passion that makes my hair stand on end…I am scared for our future generations as these  ignorant racist and homophobic wealthy white fuckers – yeh that includes you Bronwyn & Julie  – are taking our country back to the 50’s where ignorance reigned and conservatism ruled.

Speaking of wealthy white fuckers…I am 5 degrees of separation from Gina Rinehart.Gina who is friend of Imelda Roche who is mother of Clair Roche who is wife of David Mulham who is a former work colleague of ME!! Its nothing to be excited about, i’d rather be 6 degrees from Charles Manson

I was a straight A student through Primary and High school until about year 10 when i had to do subjects like metalfuckingengineering with Mr Davies and his brill cream hair do…he hated me. I’d never had anyone hate me just because before. it was affronting. But I made sure by the end of that year he had a reason to hate me….it was quite liberating being insolent and obnoxious…and unskilled.

i weighed 7lb 3oz born. so did the husband, and so did all 3 of my babies – no shit!

i was a proud paid up member of the Collingwood Cheer Squad at the age of 14. I had a duffle coat with number 12 ( Dennis Banks)  and I thought i was the shit.  I went on a ‘date’ with one of the cheer squad royals who was called ‘fingers’. who was much older than I and a true knob but he held up the fingers  in the cheer squad…it was very rebellious back then..why did my mum let me go out with someone called fingers??

I lost my best friend in a car accident at 22. We had been besties since kinder. I loved her with all my heart and not a day goes by that i dont wish i could have her back… I remember my bro and my Ma coming to tell me and i was in shock and i acted weird…i wished I had of hugged my brother more cos he loved her as much as i did and he was hurting, but i was only thinking of myself….i will always regret that my big sis protection didn’t  kick in and I let him down.

I was a gun goal shooter in netball. i could get them in from anywhere… out of my wazoo – but I kinda had to because i hated moving…I say this because i now couldnt look less like sport material so its not apparent that I had skills that involved you know a ball and running…

in a time when every second person is suffering from an anxiety disorder of some kind, i think i have an anxiety deficit disorder…i don’t seem to get nervous or anxious or even mildly concerned really about anything…maybe when  you already have an illness that can kill you anytime it likes, everything else is kinda not worth sweating over? but i think I’ve always been the same…

I was thrown into surgical menopause after my cancer surgery and my ovaries – those little baby producing gonads – turned on me and got themselves all disease ridden and had to be expunged pronto. I still suffer from hot flushes…and random fits of night sweats…its crazy man.

I have a fear of heights. Acrophobia. Its the type of fear that includes a strong compulsion to jump, or even worse push somebody. Don’t ever piss me off on a bridge…Im just sayin’..

At the end of August it will be 5 years of living with cancer…but if i can live with my ex for 28 years- then cancer should be a walk in the park…




I’m wondering…its 2015… why are people still getting married???

With all that we know about the high probability of it not lasting beyond the first 7 years, why are we still

doing it? And not only are we still doing it, but we are doing it with stylists and planners and we are doing it in far off destinations….

I might go out on a limb and say that the wedding may have become the reason for the marriage…

Do couples spend as much time discussing  how their life together might look as they do the seating plans and menu choices??

Of course this is only my opinion – and i risk offending – but when is it ok to drag your loved ones across a freakin’ ocean and put them into debt so you can live some Bold and The Beautiful fantasy of saying ‘I do’ on a beach in Bali??  Selfish much…

” Surprise Helen I have chosen you to be my maid of honour – it will cost you $4670 plus your make up and a spray tan”…

um, thanks.

But back to the WHY?

People first started getting married consentually in this country in the 1850s and 60s.

When the english first settled here late 1700s to mid 1800s male convicts were only given permission to “take a convict woman’ as a reward for good behavior.

Back then it was easy to stay with the same person for life…we were lucky to live to 34……what with child birth like russian roulette and some black death thing coming and going…

Back then we were the PROPERTY of our husbands…a woman HAD to get married or she would find herself  begging on the streets, or working in the local brothel..

And men had to marry so they had someone legally obligated to have sex with them.

Also breeding was big back then what with all the chores that needed to be done, all those extra little workers were handy…

This is not necessary anymore. We are worth a little more than the goat the duck and the bag of spuds our fathers may have thrown in to seal the deal…

While men are still fairly fucking useless without us, much has improved for us gals since 1860.

When in Australian history exactly did marriage get so tied up in the bible? Well from my brief attempt to go back through the history books its not clear but I’m guessing  when Europeans starting settling here..believing it to be a religiously sanctified – unbreakable -union between a man and a woman only – that requires a church and a priest. and not words but vows like ‘i do’ and ‘i will’ and ‘ thou shalt’ …even if your’e sick or poor or worse -for better or worse- worse than what…better than who??? This is so evidently set up for failure…who wants to hang out forever with a sick poor person? who will possibly get worse? til death parts you…?

The capitalists among us have taken it as an opportunity to exploit  our obsession with all things ‘love’ by creating a billion dollar industry…so it becomes less about the coupling of two and more about the reception for 200….

Tv shows  like The Bachelor…. and A Farmer needs a (hand on the farm) Bride  make a mockery of the institution – Mr Abbott and his posse of conservative God fearers should be more concerned about that than about Dave marrying Steve..

Im  seriously baffled though…with all the opportunities afforded us in 2015, a smorgasboard of life choices – one of them being INDEPENDENCE and as a result  WEALTH – why are young women still dieting themselves into a white Vera Wang and giving up their birth name?

Sure, i get that when you first fall in love,  you really believe that he is the one, your soulmate. but you know that cant last right?

We are women and they are men…. think about that for a second or 2…

We have ovaries and vaginas and they have penises and an over developed ego

We are emotional beings and they are rational beings…

Rational doesn’t understand emotional…and emotional often wants to take a sharp instrument to rational…

The biological differences dictate our  personality differences…our hormones impact our brain..that major  organ some of us use for thinking.

For example …i dont know about you but i have never woken up with a raging erection that just had to be dealt with..

I’ve woken up TO a raging erection that had to be dealt with…vastly different experiences…

I need to be in ‘the mood’ and he just needs to ‘wake up?’  I need to be woooed, he just needs to see a boob…I need to be respected…he just needs to climax…vastly different…

Its all lusty fun and games when you are starting out, but wait til he’s tapping you on the shoulder one night after footy training and youve spent the week with sick kids and you finally get them both to sleep and he takes the kid free moment as an invitation to throw a leg over… how can he for one second think you can go from a whingy snotty chucky pooing baby’s mum to the sex bomb who wants to fuck his brains out??? how do they get that so wrong?

We are wired differently people..rational/emotional…

But you can’t blame him entirely. he just wants things to be the same as they used to be.

No one told him that when he put a ring on it the sex would slowly dry up until one day he feels like hes sexually assaulting you if he even leans in for a kiss…his primal urges havent changed, so what has? Well for starters in the abundant early days i got dinner and a movie before sex….

You have to work really really hard not to let all these changes and misunderstandings fester into ongoing resentment.

When it comes so naturally to think of yourself and your own well being, its a huge ask to suddenly have to consider another person or people with every decision you make, and every action you take….i dont know that we have the same incentive to hang in through the tough times. I dont even know that we should have to. We have techology now..the big wide world and all it has to offer is literally at our fingertips..we have apps that tell us what single men & women live in a 10 km radius…hows that for options..

Something else that needs to change….the sharing of beds…

When did it become necessary to cohabit in every freakn square inch of the home…the snoring…the bed hogging… the abnormal farting… the early morning ‘hello’…sometimes just having to listen to him breathe is too much interaction…

The alternative?

Maybe we should just sign a legal contract when we decide to have children….and just revisit the contract every few years until we no longer wish to renew it. It could outline some simple expectations, cover a few non negotiables, the usual t’s and c’s…it can be adjusted overtime to include things like whose job or career takes often mummy needs her alone time.

It doesn’t require a stylist, or a bank loan, or a a blessing or a best man…just a lawyer, and a few close friends to have a celebratory drink.

What it does take is some thought about what you want your partnership to be…a discussion about how you will respect eachothers differences.

And an amicable, mutually beneficial exit plan….

*please note that i am very aware Im speaking from a privelaged white female perspective and that our  original Australians managed to co habit without too much trouble for 40,000 years before we made a mess of things.

please leave me a comment or join the conversation….

what happened to ‘dating’??


These were the good ol’ days when it came to marriage don’t you think???

So uncomplicated. you turn 18, mum and dad cant afford you, your’e sick of sleeping with one of your bed wetting sisters in the bottom bunk and sharing the horse and carriage with your jerk of a brother so you trot off to the local barn dance and pick a hubby. the one with the moves…

and you live happily ever after with your 9 kids not even considering equality or compatibilty.

But along comes the bloody womens movement, and bloody technology and be damned if we havent landed ourselves in the most arduous man hunting era in history….

Can you believe how things have changed in the dating world?? i dont even know that the word dating can be used.

Technology has advanced at the speed of light but our emotional IQ and social practices are yet to catch up….

The initial idea of online dating has its merits, I can so see the attraction of doing all the finding, flirting, compatability checking and seducing from your lounge room in your trackies and mockies without doing make up or brushing teeth…man does that sound good to me…it may even be enough to just do this forever, ditch them when they want to actually meet you and move on to another….for those with an actual sex drive a visit to may be needed.. but im thinking that just like an overseas holiday…isnt the anticipation of a date always more satisfying than the date itself? and you cant get dumped or rejected…I think im on to something people…

of course it doesnt actually get you a man…..

TINDER, plentyoffish (POF), ZOOSK, Skout, happn,CouugarLife….

these are phone apps loosely marketed as ‘dating services’. and they clearly fill a hole (parden the pun) in the dating market ..but is this our future????


Are our grandchildren doomed to hear stories of how Nan (username; kimmyvongullible who likes skinnydipping and HarlyDavidsons) and Pa (dougiebiggusdikus who likes long walks on the beach and romantic movies) hooked up on ‘Skout’ cos Pa preferred getting stoned on the weekends instead of going out so he looked for the closest available woman on his iphone????? is that our future?

And the profiles. Oh the profiles…

The outdated or photoshopped pics taken with a pitbull dog or an AK47…the contrived profiles full of adjectives plucked from a thesaurus that describes either the perfect man or a potential serial killer – because honesty and creativity seem to be as antiquated as dating.

From my…lets call it research…i have deduced that the group most advantaged by this new regime are lazy 20 something ‘boys’.

they are not ready for a relationship but have a caveman carnal need for sex..they wanked their way through their teens so that will no longer suffice.

they are dealing with 20 something woman who are now the proud inheritants of equality and need to be woooooed before putting out…and possibly respected afterwards. these chicks prefer relationships to casual one night stands….

so these poor immature hedonistic young men are left with no other option…

And of course all the Peter Pan’s of the world…bored husbands, 30 and 40 somethings who are just putting themselves back ou there again after what seems like a lifetime of monogamy so they want to try everything and everyone without having to care about those damn ‘feelings & emotions’ that fucked up their marriages…

And what happened to house parties????

…friends of friends meeting friends of other friends, dancing to music that doesn’t make your fillings vibrate, buying a slab for $40 instead of paying $16 for a vodka shot…smoking a joint in the back yard and having a laugh instead of popping an E and wanting to lick peoples faces…crashing and pashing on a couch or a bit of carpet instead of freezing your ass off and falling off your heels fighting for a cab at 3am in King st.

Given that the divorce rate is so high and marriage is like IKEA furniture, we are all vulnerable and should all be taking a special interest in this topic…

Unless you are lucky enough to have mr-should-have-been-with-him-my-whole- fall through your roof or knock on your door as i did!

I say lucky but if you knew how the preceding 12months played out you would say that it was more like karma than luck. He saved me from having to invent a username, photoshop my high school photo and pretend to be interested in long walks on the beach in the rain with his dog and an AK47….

let me know what you think….

welcome to my new site

Thank you for finding me in my new skin at my new home…

Im really getting cocky with my website building skills…i’m currently mastering WordPress.

So lets see where was I…

I’m so over this weather…why did my great grandparents choose Melbourne to settle down in? A little bit of patience and some research and surely they could have discovered northern New South Wales??

This need for the sun on my face has inspired me to add Cancun to my itinerary- a little bit of Mexico on the way home. This is what they promise me….
 The colour of that water….I can’t wait to be blogging with a margarita in one hand and a quesadilla in the other…I might  have to brush up on my Spanish….how do i say more tequila..mucho tequila-o…?

So much has been happening over here at get-your-shit-together central. My holiday is only 6 pay fortnights away so Ihave some planning and budgeting to do. The building I have my little shop in is being auctioned in September so I need to re house myself before I go away… My usual strategy of waiting until the last possible nano moment before I do stuff might not be the best way to go on this one so I’m going to try this thing that people keep talking about…planning ahead? Look up ‘planning’ on Pinterest – um wow! this is going to be fun..there’s lists and calendars and post it notes…i love an excuse to use post it notes…

So now that i’ve dipped my toe in the ocean that is blogging, and I like it, I’ve been informed that I need to have a direction. Again this has not been a practice of mine thus far – goals, directions, plans – I’m more incline towards spontanaeity and living in the now…but i would like to see where i could go if I implemented a few of the ‘practices of successful people’. However I need your input people…I need some feedback and a bit of commentary so Im not flying blind out there. Just a few words of encouragement or criticism or encouragement. i mean I’m happy to tap away at these keys every time a random thought comes into my head but is that going to sustain y’all? Keep you coming back?

And apparently now that I have a few people reading I have to stop painting my son as i do. I’m completely misrepresenting him…he said. what kind of mum does that…he said. can i use your car to pick up a few things…he said.