Beyond the Edge of Adventure

My aim this year has been to read more, among other things. There's something gloriously delicious about curling up with a fat book and turning the pages as one's eyes devour the words that form lively pictures in one's head! My favourite author, besides God of course - the original and best author of everything! - is Jane Austen. I've read all her novels many times, so it was time to branch out a bit and grow my brain a little further. I'm starting with the Bronte sisters - Emily first. Her only novel is Wuthering Heights . I've only read about one-third of the novel and I have a list of words that were completely foreign to me. Laconic, for example. Penetralium. Lachrymose. Evincing. Physiognomy. It was amazing to have to research prose! Sadly, I've found it hard to get through the novel, so I turned to a TV series . I do this occasionally to help me understand the plot better. That in turn makes the novel easier to read. Previously, I've watch

After therapy, my thoughts, as usual, churned away. In a healthy way, that is. Without knowing how I came to the conclusion or why, I knew that it was time to revisit the past and make peace with it. It was time to face my father again. The powerful fear of seeing him again needed to be defused and neutralised. I hadn't seen him for 18 years. The last time I saw him, I couldn't look at him. I was 16 years old and he was meant to take my brother and I for a few hours for a meal and catch up. I didn't want to go. I sat in the back seat of our Tarago, wearing my jeans and ugg boots and just shook my head when he asked me if I wanted to go. He wasn't a loving father or husband. He wasn't abusive as such towards me, but he had some creepy tendencies. As an intuitive teen, I was very, very sensitive to his behaviour. I never thought I would see him again - even to have a go at him about the divorce - I honestly didn't care. But I had to face the fear of seeing h

I flex my hands nervously as I step forward. The spiderweb closes in ahead and is strung back and forth across the tunnel in the middle, not just the outsides. My palms are sweaty and hot.   Walking forward, I start to duck and lean through the sticky mess. It brushes precariously to my arms, legs and head as I work my way through. In a few minutes, I am covered in it and moving forward becomes harder and harder.    Panicked, I struggle forward haphazardly. I shove my arms out and frantically push away the web as I try to drag my body through. It's hard. My heart is beating fiendishly in my ears.   I start shoving forward with my right shoulder, my body now mostly covered in the sticky muck from the spiderweb. My breath is coming out in sobs. Tears are falling from my eyes, but they aren't touching my skin - they're falling on the spiderweb stuck to my face.   I'm about ready to give up. I am hardly making any progress. It's hopeless. My

I was born into this space. I like it. The dim light on the dark walls provides amusement. I can see shapes and characters around me as I grow. The drip, drip, drip of fresh mineral water trickles past me and I lick it off the soft ground. I know that there are minerals in it. It’s healthy. It’s good. Occasionally, there’s a puzzling breeze through my space. It smells different to what I’m used to. The smell is dry and fresh and……interesting. I sniff it eagerly. But when it goes away, I prefer my space. I was born into it. I like it. I like the dark comfort and the soft, dark shapes that keep me company. I find one day that I can’t stand up in my space. I’ve grown. I have to bend my head sideways to get around. The breeze whispers past me that day, enticing me. I put my head down and slurp greedily at the soft trench that wends through my space, savouring the deep minerally taste. Sated, I lie down and enjoy watching the shapes dance on the walls in the murk. That’s when t

So, with our new Prime Minister being sworn in yesterday, I thought it was high time that I step up to the plate and take a swing at explaining why I'm a conservative voter. If you're left-leaning and you're reading this - remember, it's your choice to read my post. Don't claim to be offended by my views. OK? I was raised in a home with both parents clearly and decisively conservative. They called Bob Hawke 'Pieface' *snicker* and definitely did not like Paul Keating (sadly, there were no immature names for him, they just didn't like him). They were most definitely and decidedly not 'green'. I have always been interested in politics. We didn't talk about it much at home - just an occasional tirade against Mr Hawke or Mr Keating. I loved going to Canberra on my Grade 7 excursion and learning all about parliament. I was enthralled with the debates about debt, policies and polls. I even took an elective in my teaching degree on Australian P

Frozen veggies, bigger cuddles with the baby, more productive housework time, more understanding for the breadwinner, bought biscuits, speed-lunch-making are all part of my life now. I'm a 'working' mum. Before, I cooked only fresh vegetables. Now, I understand the convenience and not-too-dissimilar vitamin and mineral content of frozen vegetables. How utterly blissful to rip open a pack of veggies, bung it on the stove and serve! No chopping! Before, I had baby-overload. My body was permanently frozen in a lopsided, baby-holding posture! Now, I love coming home to my baby and my little ones that I haven't seen for a few hours. I miss them. It's a relief. Before, I'd procrastinate about what housework job to do first. Now, I have to get it done in a certain amount of time - so it gets done. Who would have thunk it? Before, I was definitely tired from having a newborn, but once the baby started sleeping through the night I would often say I was tired

Yikes. Been a while since my last post that wasn't a book review! Things have been absolutely crazy lately. My husband finally, finally sat Final Panel for his course last week and PASSED.....but still has more on-road work to do. So this means more time spent in Brisbane, which is going to be interesting with MY NEW JOB!!!! and all. I went away with my MOPS friends in August to the MOPS Conference which was brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. It was on the Sunshine Coast, so we all lapped up the sunshine and the beautiful BEACH - I even ducked in for a quick swim! It was so awesome to get to know my friends better. I'm really finding out how important it is to have good friends! Here's a pic my friend Rach took (not when I was heading in for a swim)......it was a beautiful day! I've been up to my ears in snot, panadol, vitamin C, cold washers, used tissues and tears the past week - all of us have had the flu or a nasty cold. We're on the mend, but it was

So, I finally, finally read Jodi Picoult's 'My Sister's Keeper'. I really enjoyed reading about all the different characters. I found the change in narrators by chapter a little difficult at first, but once I got used to it I was OK. The characters were likeable and flawed but believable. I found that I liked all of them in their own way. Jodi Picoult's writing style is easy to read, but not simplistic. She keeps a good pace moving through the plot and of course, there are some heart-wrenching issues that she deals with very well, not belabouring the trauma nor understating it. I wasn't sure that I'd enjoy it - I don't like books that end on a sad or depressing note and this story didn't appear to be one that could end in any positive way, but it did and I did enjoy it. Next stop will be the movie!

So, I have just viewed this video of last night's episode of Q&A. And you, of course, knowing how much of a fan I am of Kevin Rudd will know that I have a response to what I've just seen! Let me start off by sharing my initial reaction to the video. Kevin Rudd comes across as arrogant and self-assured of his own ignorance. Brisbane Pastor Matt Prater is Daniel in the den of hungry and vicious lions. Q&A is well-known for it's ignorant Christian-bashing, so for Pastor Matt Prater to ask a question on the show is something that I believe should be praised. It's easy to voice your opinion with others who agree with you. It takes courage to face up to those whom you know will disagree passionately. Now, to refute Mr Rudd's inaccurate and rather repetitive claims about homosexuality and SSM (Same-Sex Marriage). Mr Rudd claimed that homosexuals and lesbians are born that way. The evidence that people are born gay is wafer-thin. There are numerous studies that

I'm a disgustingly fast reader. I was reading Enid Blyton at age 6 and Carolyn Keene at age 9. I am absorbed by good narratives, often feeling connected to the fate of the characters and so my primary aim, of course, is to find out what happens to them in the end. If the narrative is good enough, I re-read it and absorb details that I miss the first time around. I started reading Redeeming Love on Sunday night - and finished it last night. That's a bit quicker than my normal pace, because a) I had the time to read, b) I enjoyed reading the novel and c) I wanted to finish it and post this review! So don't think I've given this novel a thorough reading. I mean, I read it - but not the delicate details. I didn't absorb all the romance and nuances completely. Redeeming Love enthralled and absorbed me. The writing style is emphatic, defined and moves at a good pace, yet is romantic and soft too. The plot is from the Bible, so it's a re-telling, really. It'

Oh, alright. I'll admit it. I'm a book snob. OK? I open the pages of every book I pick up to borrow or buy - if it makes it past my 'Title/Title Illustration/Author' filter, that is - and check the font size. If the font is too big, I put it back straight away. If it's small, difficult to read with lots of long words - I'm in. I love complex reading, big words and twisting plots. One of my favourite things to do is curl up in a warm, sunny spot with a book. Narratives absorb me. I find it very difficult to close the book, switch out the light and go to sleep. Just one more chapter.......one more....... Generally, I'm open to reading pretty much any genre. My favourites are period classics (Jane Austen) or action/detective novels (Robert Ludlum and Clive Cussler). I'm open to biographies, adventure, detective or action genres. I'll give anything a go. There is, however, one genre I have snobbed. Romance. Christian Romance, to be more pre

What's it like in a mental health facility? Strange, in a word. The ward is like an uncomfortable union of a hospital and a budget motel. When I went for my initial screen to see if I needed to be admitted to the AMHU (Acute Mental Health Unit), the Mental Health Nurse said it was lovely and she would be OK with her family staying there. Maybe it was me, but I wouldn't send my family there. This is based solely on my experience with the bathroom. There were no taps. To turn a tap on, I had to wave my hand in front of a little black screen embedded in a white light-switch plate on the wall behind the tap. The same for the shower. There were no little bits that could be taken off and used for cutting yourself. The shower head was a sort of rounded pyramid shape that protruded off the wall about 4cm. It was about as high as my collar bone. This is an important detail, by the way. Then there was the bench, which for some reason unbeknownst to me, was placed on the wall in