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 twenty eight

CrossProcessed Photo


8 December. Our new neighbours have lots of christmas lights. And an inflatable Father Christmas. I love our Christmas tree with its singular bird. And lights. Not that we felt the need to keep up. At all. But I am grateful for the giggle our perfectly paltry offering gave us.


I am trying not to be self absorbed. Surrounded by all the beauty here we all do pale by comparison. But I have become obsessed with my face. The bugger with beautiful photography is you can’t escape yourself. The reality of you. And especially with B. Always with a camera, a lingering loving camera. Not so much. I look, and try as I might to focus on the entire shot, my gaze finally settles on me and how I look.  Everyone does it, and lies if they say they don’t. And then invariably never mind how gorgeous the view is if we look crap, the shot is deleted. I see it with my girls too. A gorgeous pic of Queenstown, but the first thing they look at is themselves. Okay, I admit, it is more a girl thing but still. I so wish I could lead by example but oh my word, my face has suddenly collapsed. It feels like it happened the past month. I have become completely obsessed by it. By the lines and furrows down the side of my mouth. Those ones that make you look like a puppet. I’m suddenly a little bit less dismissive of major intervention. Growing old gracefully, accepting the beauty of age and wisdom and experience etched in deep grooves on your face? Sounds wonderful and noble and true and no doubt I will get there because ultimately I do believe it. But right now there is nothing beautiful about seeing my granny’s mouth on my face. Especially when I feel twenty nine. Max. Shit. So, whilst surrounded by heaven, I have become a little obsessed by my face. Damn photography. I was loving the illusion. Less so Kate and Jem tickling my wattle. Very funny girls. Leave mom alone, she’s having a moment.

two hundred and twelve

Arienne and I had a giggle as we glimpsed ourselves in the future. These two wonderful women were having a delightfully animated discussion punctuated with peals of laughter on the grass verge next to main beach today. Just like we were. The one had a bun, the other lovely curly hair, just like we do. They were as delightful in reality as I imagined them to be. And loved that I wanted to photograph them.  I am grateful for the wonderful reminder that no matter your age or your story, there is always beauty in a moment shared with a friend.

one hundred and eighty four


I think, in fact I know the girls are getting a tad irritated with me constantly whipping out my iphone to capture a moment I’m grateful for.This morning was just such a moment. And I’m grateful for it, because we were all in hysterics, with much screaming. I overheard the girls having a wonderful sharing moment in their bathroom, with Kate regaling Jem with some teenage drama (then she said he said I said etc etc). I was grateful for such a wonderful sisterly bonding moment that I knew at any point could revert to the more common sisterly squabbling that I thought I’d capture it. As I gently pushed open the bathroom door, iphone at the ready to take a shot, the girls squealed in horror and closed the door on me. I of course pushed back on it and Kate and I ended up having this pathetic weak from giggling door pushing thing. I gave up and they locked the door on me. I stood quietly outside the door holding in my giggles. Their curiosity eventually got the better of them and Jem quietly opened the door. You can imagine the squeals and screams at them finding me quietly waiting there. In fact, I think they called me creepy. And weird. I am truly grateful for a really fun start to our day.

one hundred and forty nine

I got my favourite jacket back today. The jacket I left in a cab on friday night.  I found delicious cut up prepared raw butternut today. The kind you just pop into the oven, like from home. With the emphasis on peeled and cut up. I bought a juicer and Jem and I made our first ever green juice, the reason I bought the juicer. Spinach leaves, kale, celery, cucumber, apple, ice. Delicious. Even Kate said so. And she refused to try it at first because  something so healthy and full of greens must be yuck. I made roast chicken for dinner with homemade gravy that I caught Jem slurping up like soup. To reward myself for my healthy green juice, I indulged in half a slab of the most delicious organic milk chocolate in the whole entire world, which I have a friend to thank for. I said goodnight to Kate as I do every night but tonight it dissolved into a giggle fest. I am grateful for the little things today. The little indulgences that for a moment made my heart sing. And especially because I noticed.

forty one

Being the mom of a gorgeous teenage girl is quite challenging. I imagine being the daughter of a control freak mom must be quite challenging too. We have some very funny moments. Some very emotional moments. Some quite volatile moments. Those moments where I’m not sure who the adult is anymore. Which is why I am very grateful we talk and giggle and share. A  near perfect moment today, the beach, a flat white from Hard Cafe and a girly chat with Kate.


I  am grateful for Jem’s kindness today. She was the only one in my family who didn’t snort or giggle or do a mock tennis match sports commentary at seeing my excitement at receiving my first ever trophy today.  So what if it was just for being the 2011 ladies singles champion of the monday ladies group. I bloody love it.


Honestly, that’s what Kate did when she read my first post.  Not a derisive snort, but one that precedes giggles and outright laughter.  My newly formalised fragile sense of self took one huge knock.  It got worse.  Cute.  She says. You are so serious, it’s cute. Then she checked out my ‘about’ and then post ‘one’.  Ohhhhh, you’re posting about what you’re grateful for.  Boring was implied tonally.  I thought I had made that clear in my ramblings.  Obviously not.  So now you know. Then she moved on, leaving her mother in tatters.  Just for a moment.  Stuff it.  I decided to tell her how much I love her instead.  I am grateful for my beautiful daughter.  I am grateful for the fact that she loves me.  I stalked her tumblr and found this.  And she doesn’t realise it yet, but she’s cute and serious too.