The weirdest thing, well one of the weird things about this little detour is that I felt fabulous. That’s the odd thing often about this cancer thing. If it’s caught early enough there are no symptoms. No visible, palpable, anythings. Now I feel like a sick person. Not only because I have been cut, pricked, prodded, put under too many times, scanned, ummed and ahhhed over. But because I keep getting asked if I’m ok, because I look grey. Funny how when someone asks you that, you instantly feel grey. Feel sick. Feel like a cancer patient. It’s kinda what I meant with that pink rant too. If you are surrounded by sadness you become sad. Well not today. Today it’s friday. And I’m going to lunch. To celebrate life and vigilance. Hopefully my red lips hide the grey.

three hundred and fifty nine



8 January. I always comment on how we are surrounded by girls on my side of the family. I am grateful for the wonderful energy these gorgeous girls bring into our world. Today I felt the gentle, intense, wise, vibrant energy keenly especially with three more angels joining in. All who’ve so obviously been here before. Oh and Badger being the always welcome token male of course.

three hundred and six

16 November. I am grateful for a distracting girls night out. A welcome distraction because B and I decided to walk away from the house purchase due to an impasse on various issues. So I am grateful for a fun end to a not fun day. For meeting new friends and getting to know old friends better. For sharing and for perspective. And for gratitude at being reminded once again how blessed I am.


It might be the yucky headachy low feeling I get after my zoladex implant thats making me feel a little sad today. But I don’t think it is. That just makes me grumpy.  The sadness I think is what I’ve felt amongst the immense joy at Jem’s performance as Alice this weekend. Sadness that our family wasn’t there. I suddenly felt so damn far away again. It’s moments like this that piss me off. Albeit momentarily, then acceptance and yes, sadness takes over. I’ve made peace with it, I understand our reality, I am grateful for so much of it, but shit, sometimes I just want to cry. For me, for B, for my girls, for our family. For all the moments we are all missing out on. Moments like these are never to be repeated, can never be captured and would have been lovely to share with those who we matter to. I am sorry that I didn’t make more of a fuss about it with my friends here, to be our surrogate family. I’m understanding more and more that that is what eases the pain. A little.

one hundred and seventy two


The best kind of dinners are the ones you don’t have to think about, plan, shop for or cook. The best kind of phone calls are the ones you receive from your teenage daughter whilst you are still at lunch at 4pm telling you her and her friend are shopping for dinner and will be cooking too. I am grateful for unexpected phone calls, unusually selfless gestures and spontaneous treats. But next time, I’m not offering to wash up. I should have just left it at thank you.

one hundred and sixty

23 June There is always something to be involved in here, whether a 20km walk for breast cancer, a theatre offering, a triathlon, a food festival, a jazz festival, a literary offering, a surfing festival, a debate, a degustation dinner. And then some.  I am grateful for where we live, for all it offers, for the wonderful selfless people that the world depends upon, for friends who make getting up at 5am in the dark fun. And for a reason to have champers at 10am.