The view from my couch: Renewal with a side of hope.

Technically there are less than two days left of Summer here in Oz, but it doesn't feel it. We have gone from scorching temps in the 40+C's to overcast and stormy, leaving an environment part dry and dead and part oppressively humid. Just enough moisture in the air that the carpet of dead foliage in the yard has started to grow a thin layer of mould. To say it's been foul is an understatement. 

Regular readers know that where I live is normally a beautiful temperate rainforest with a bazillion shades of green. But not at the moment. It is brittle and dry. We live with the constant threat of bush fires and the omnipresent sound of fire-spotting helicopters overhead. It's been a long hot Summer for the whole state and country Victoria has born the brunt of bush fires over the past few months. It seems crazy that in the north of the country my in-laws are once again dealing with mammoth floods and storm cells.

There is a famous Australian poem by Dorothea Mackellar, My Country. I remember reciting throughout primary school and still know it by heart. Even after all these years this time of year and this time of weather always brings to mind the lines:

I love a sunburnt country,

A land of sweeping plains,

Of rugged mountain ranges.

Of droughts and flooding rains.

We are a land of extremes but I love it and I love that no matter what, or how bad it gets, there is always a moment where you know the renewal is beginning. When the worst of Summer is over and you get the first hint of life once more. 

Today as I went to make my morning coffee I looked out the window at my brittle yard. It's depressing given that I am so used to the rich green that is normally there. The air is thick and almost unbearably heavy with unresolved storms that I wish would hurry up and break and bring the blessed relief of rain. The weather and my yard are scarily in sync with my mood. 

 My resilient fushias are nothing but sticks and dead leaves.

The tree ferns which surround the house are more a collection of dead fronds, rather than the beautiful rich green fans which sold me on the house. 

Even my usually hardy lavender is struggling. 

And then I looked over at my dead Oyster Plants....

And there was a small moment of life. 

The first of my Naked Ladies have raised their head. 

A single clean green spike with a head of large, pure white lily heads bobbing in the wind.

Just one.

A bright beacon in my otherwise dead and struggling yard.

The first sign that the worst of Summer may be coming to an end. A sign that maybe, just maybe, I could  feel a little better in the near future, as the heat dissipates and morphs into the more temperate climes of Autumn. That maybe just when you think you can bare no more, there is hope, a promise of better days and endless possibilities. 

Michelle :)

I adore Sarah Blasko. If you don't know her she's a fabulous Australian singer and you should most definitely check her out. I love her cover of Maybe This Time from Cabaret, and it seems appropriate today. Still bummed I couldn't see her when she was live at Hamer Hall with Orchestra Victoria last week

The View From my Couch: Winter Sun.

So tired at the moment. Fatigue has come to bite me big time. Thinking, standing, breathing is all so effortful. The idea of washing my hair or even simply holding a conversation is overwhelming. I guess that's what happens when you heart decides to slow down to the 40s. It seems that puts a bit of a cramp in my style. A heart that goes blah......blah......blah is not all that useful on the energy front.

But today was a lovely Winter's day here in Melbourne. Little spots of sunlight falling through the thick tree canopy in our yard. When it's been so dark and dreary those little spots of light are truly beautiful. The season is changing and slowly the plants are awakening. Little blooms sprinkled all around the yard. I don't even know what these are called, but the little bonnets glow when the small shafts of sunlight fall on them. The smell of the Daphne is everywhere on the breeze at the moment making everything just a little easier.

I've always been drawn to forests and the earth. Maybe it's a Taurean thing, but they have always been my place of peace. Even when I meditate I visualise being in a forest. Lying on the ground looking up at the dappled sunlight trickling through the trees above. The smell of the earth and growing things filling my lungs. And so it is with where I live. On the edge of a temperate rainforest, complete with loamy earth and a multitude of ferns and mountain ash. An explosion of vibrant green and birdsong. Life and peace all rolled into one.

Tired or not, sitting in my backyard listening to the magpies warble and seeing those little spots of light and colour revives the spirit. I need to make an effort to sit outside more often. Just to sit in silence and soak in the life force that is beginning to hum in our garden once more. It may not soothe my body but it certainly soothes my soul.

Simple pleasures are desperately needed when life is so complex and overwhelming.

Michelle :)

The View From My Couch: Sparkles

Today is one of those days that I'm totally exhausted. It's not normal tired. It's a complete bone weary kind of tired, where even lifting my head or typing these couple of lines is exhausting. It's when thinking is too much, and constructing a sentence leaves you needing a recovery nanna nap. It's a kind of exhaustion reserved for the chronically ill. A kind of exhaustion I never knew before Bob reared his ugly head.

The last couple of weeks, hell the last couple of days, have taken a toll. Technology debarkles, Summer heat and the added bonuses of extra non-Bob related injury and illness. Pre-sick I'd be fine. But these days it just saps me dry. I have posts and articles to write, email systems to fix, Dorothy Shoe Project newsletters to send out, and then there's the whole keeping my family running issue. It gets hard sometimes.

Yesterday I admitted that I have become somewhat (okay make that a lot) socially phobic over the last few years. It seems the isolation of chronic illness is not conducive to maintaining those skills, or at least your confidence in them. Especially as the years pass. Now whether or not I am actually shite at social chit chat I'm not sure. My own neurosis says "Hell YES". But it may be like riding a bike and I just need to get out there and do it. There are blogging conferences coming up locally and I am still umming and ahhing about going. Fear of small talk with strangers, or ending up flaked out on a floor are hard to move past. But the beautiful community of the internet stepped forward with words of support and encouragement. And that's what I love about this whole blogging, tweeting, facebooking world of ours. Strangers, people I have never met, may never ever have the chance to meet face-to-face, stepping forward to cheer you on. For no other reason than they care. I'm not sure if I'm going yet, but I know if I do I'll have a cheer squad across the world waving their pom poms and doing the splits, so a neurotic 38-year-old woman can make it through a day of social interaction.

Now I'm lying here flaked out on the couch. Old trackie dacks and t-shirt. Hair unbrushed and shower avoided. The eldest started Yr 12 today so it's my first early school morning since last year. It's going to take me a while to get my body to accept the new program again. Coming on top of a few weeks of extra poor health it may take a little bit longer than usual. I had to laugh though. The youngest (he doesn't start till Monday) came in and asked me a question. He saw me lying on the couch in my old and comfy clothes, rocking a whiter shade of pale, and didn't bat an eyelid at the fact that I was also wearing my Dorothy Shoes. My weirdness has now become normal.

Today I may feel like crap, but the view from my couch definitely makes me smile.

Michelle :)

The more astute of you may have noticed Thor's cameo in between my sparkle clad feet. He has become a permanent, smelly and slobbery, shadow of late. Who needs a bp machine to tell me I'm crap when I have 90kgs of dog whose very proximity is an accurate indicator of my health.

The View From My Couch: Daphne

It's a miserable Winter's day here in Melbourne.  Even loving Winter, there are times when I am simply over our squelching driveway.  When receiving a face full of icy water when the wind catches one of the fern fronds is no longer humourous, or refreshing.  We are in the true heart of Winter.  When the house will no longer truly heat up, and the crispness of the air takes your breath away.  Even our randy and raucous possums are less likely to bash across our icy roof top at night.  Instead, taking their nocturnal frolicking to the warmer realm of our roof space.

I still enjoy the ethereal beauty of the thick fogs that smother sound and shrink the world.  Even yesterday driving home on our windy hills roads and not being able to see the bonnet of the car, was more adventure, than annoyance.  The hills take on an otherworldly beauty in Winter that I would never change.  But wet, chilly days, day after day, and a back yard that is now a bog, does wear on the nerves.

Just as I was ruing the mud that seeped up through my thongs yet again this morning, I caught a whiff of perfume.  Over near our bins, of all places, we have a variegated daphne bush.  It's a resilient little bugger.  It is surrounded by weeds and smelly bins.  It is frequently hit by boxes and bin bags swung by pouting children who feel that bin duty is below them.  It has been chewed on my possums and swallowed by vicious blackberry canes. Yet here, in the midst of this wasteland and a miserable Winter's day, it has flowered.  It's sweet perfume is caught on the wind, and seeps peace into your pours.  It's a smell of my childhood.  Up there with the jonquils and freesias of my grandmother's garden.

Now a little piece sits on top of my cabinet.  The strength of the perfume, incongruous with a bloom so tiny.  Yet the fragrance fills the room.  And I sit in my lounge room, breathing in the sweetness, looking out the window at the mist and damp boughs, and Winter seems wonderful again.

Michelle :)

The View From My Couch: Pampering

I decided to spoil myself recently and buy some lovely Sohum body cream and soaps.  It's the little luxuries that get you through the day.  It was one of 'those' days, so I sent my offspring into the store with instructions, whilst I sat with my head in my lap in the car.  The came back to the car with a big bag and a grin that would impress the Cheshire Cat.  I opened up the bag to find a present, complete with gold ribbon.  They had decided to tell the store assistant it was a present for their mum so she wrapped it up.  They wanted me to have a special gift to unwrap.  I didn't tear up, really I didn't.  It was a bad hayfever day, okay.

Cheers
Michelle :)

The View From My Couch: Tiny Umbrellas.

Well it's been a rather rough couple of weeks on the health front (hence the lack of posting).  Sad that I'm becoming rather sentimental about the 'good old days' of normal Bob symptoms.  But what's a girl to do?  Break out the tiny umbrellas of happiness, that's what.  If I'm going to walk like I just sculled a jug of margaritas, I might as well at least have the mini umbrellas.  And they are so pretty.  So here's to glasses of water, rimmed with salt and a cheery little umbrella on the side.  Though, a little medicinal tequila wouldn't go astray.

The View From My Couch: Healing Places

It's not often I can say this, but I love my GP (General Practitioner) and her medical centre. I know, me giving a doctor a shout out, weird hey? But I do. When I see her it's never a stress. She goes with flow. She listens. She's helpful. And, perhaps most importantly she has a sense of humour.

 (If you have to be sick at least be sick in  a picturesque place. 

It's quiet except for local wildlife, and filled with every hue of green imaginable.  

There are even fish ponds and seats outside.)

Case in point. I rock up on Tuesday for my appointment, green, shaking, just a little wobbly. The counter staff don't bat an eyelid. They just take me out back. Hand me a puke bag and let me lie down in the quiet treatment room. No hassle. No stupid questions. No, how's your mother? My GP walks in laughs and says well "that's not how my patients usually great me" as she spies my legs elegantly shoved up against the window frame. She didn't make a big deal about my shaking as I stood up. She didn't make a big deal when I took an hour and a half to put on my thongs (shoes not butt floss underwear), thanks to uncooperative shaky feet. She gives me the option for lying down in her room but doesn't push the point.

 (It just doesn't feel like the road to a doctor's office)

She's helpful. She knows my case and also asks about my son's current issues. When she orders more tests and scans she gives me a heads up about a possible internal ultrasound because "you want to be mentally prepared when they start waving that thing around down there" (please, please, please let them get what they need from the outside sweep). As she hands me my new set of referrals she says "here's hoping for nothing new to be broken".

To top it all off her name is Cicily, which always makes me think of Northern Exposure.

The centre is in a gorgeous natural setting, and I love the decor.  It's clearly a medical centre but minus the cold clinical feel of 98% of the doctors offices I visit.  If you have to get felt up by strangers, this is my choice of location.

(It's red and Asian inspired, as soon as I walked in I knew it was the right fit)

Now I'm off to the old dark and dingy local hospital to be felt up by yet another stranger.  Fun times.

Cheers

Michelle :)

The View From My Couch: Unexpected Notes.

Sometimes the smallest things can make your day.  This is a note I received from one of my nieces, Lara.  It's so sweet that a 6-year-old would even notice I am sick, let alone take the time to make me a card.  I love it. 

Cheers
Michelle :) 

The View From My Couch: Heels of Happiness

 

At first glance this picture doesn't scream happiness or beauty.  My legs and feet could easily play the part of Jane Doe No.1 on CSI, with their sexy shades of deathly, bloated purple.  But for me it's beautiful. For me it is a reminder that every now and then I can be normal(ish).  Every now and then, I can give Bob the middle finger, and live life on my terms, if only for a few hours.

I recently went to a family wedding.  Those who read my ramblings on Facebook will be aware of my determination to wear heels to the wedding.  It's been four long years since I have been able to wear heels.  When you have Bob standing is not your friend.  Your balance is non-existent.  Even the tiniest heels are akin to walking on stilts. So really, on reflection, deciding to wear heels may not have been the sharpest choice I have made in life.

I practiced for days around my house.  Heels with my pjs.  Heels with my shorts.  Heels when I was sitting down or lying on the floor.  I watched my bloated purple feet squeeze out through the holes in the shoes as I did the elegant zombie shuffle whilst furniture surfing around the house.  I decided that regardless of the risk of snapping an ankle or flashing the bridal party with my undies when I inevitably went arse up, I was wearing heels.  (Thank you to all, including the bride to be, who suggested I wear my best undies, just in case.  Rest assured I grabbed out my 'special occasion' undies just for the day).  Over the next few days I improved from 'unco zombie' to 'drunken celebrity It girl walking down imaginary steps'.   I was proud.

Despite a pulse pressure that dropped down to single digits, days in bed, and visitors, I managed to gussy myself up and put on those heels and head to the wedding.  I managed to find enough chairs and luckily have a husband for whom holding me up is second nature, so I didn't flash my undies to anyone.   I walked/shuffled around the event, with no one else any the wiser to my weirdness.  I may have paid for it big time for the following few days and may not wear heels again for another four years, but I was normal for a few hours and that is precious.  Those mottled, bloated and aching legs and feet, squished into that sexy pair of heels are beautiful to me. 

Cheers
Michelle :)

The view from my couch: Surrounded by furry love.

 

 

Some days the floor is just the best place to be.  Some days I am surrounded by furry, smelly love, whether I want it or not.  On a bad day they are my shadows lying as close as possible.  When I didn't wake up easily one day, I was awoken by a big fawn head on my chest looking intently at my face and a grey speckled muzzle barking two inches from my nose.  When I shower they sit outside the bathroom door, or more disturbingly sit just outside the glass door staring.  Now if only I could sleep so peacefully in a little patch of sunlight. 

Michelle :)

The View From My Couch: The Often Overlooked Healing Power of the Kazoo.

"Kenneth"

This is a photo of  Kenneth Kazoo (named after Kenneth Parcell the psychotically perky NBC page, from 30 Rock) who has travelled all the way from the old U S of A with the sole purpose of making my smile, and he's very good at that job.  Kenneth, as I've named him, arrived on my shores via the delightful Elly Lou at BugginWord who always makes me smile, with her blush worthy posts and comments.  Whose thoughtfulness, noted that not only can he be played lying down but is even MRI friendly.  Though I was a little concerned by the note that mentioned he may also give Jeff an erection. 

Kenneth comes every where with my now and even went to meet The Balloonman.  He shall be coming along on Friday for my angioplasty.  Every time I look at Kenneth he makes me smile.  Every time I try to play him, my ineptitude makes me laugh.  Every time I see him in my handbag nestled next to my puke bag it reminds me that there are some truly lovely people in the world.  Plus he's red.  If that doesn't make him a thing of beauty I don't know what does.

Cheers
Michelle :)

The View From My Couch.

Ever since I was a little girl I've wanted to travel.  For me it was always places like Morocco, Chile and Cambodia that were always high on my list.   I've always wanted to experience the more exotic locations that were so far removed from my normal existence.  I've travelled in Asia, thanks to it's close proximity when we lived in Darwin (Bali was only an hours flight).   From Vietnam which was truly breathtaking and far more diverse than I could ever have expected.  Bali beautifully exotic.  To Singapore, and it's juxtaposition of the ultra modern and the historic.  Each country had it's own charms.

Going off the beaten path was always my preferred choice of travel.  That's where you have the best experiences, and sometimes the most scary.  Having a machine gun trained on our small boat in Vietnam whilst the men on board demanded cash was a tad unnerving.  However, sitting having tea with a family of Dragonfruit farmers in the middle of nowhere, was bliss.  Travelling to other countries opens your eye's to other ways of life, it can be confronting and exhilarating at the same time. 

Now those experiences are unlikely to happen again unless I can get Bob to bugger off somewhere in the future.  My physical world is now reduced to a very, very small space, sometimes no bigger than my couch.  I can't drive far.  I can't walk far.  Some days my backyard seems as remote as the Silk Road I had always planned to walk.   

Part of the joy of travel is photography.  I'm one of those obnoxious people who is not above tying you to a chair, propping your eyes open with matchsticks and forcing you to look at hundreds of photos of my adventures. Unfortunately for me, but not my future viewing victims, my plan to photograph my way through the casbah and beyond is not going to happen.  Time to reinvent and think outside the square once more.

Every day we overlook the beauty that surrounds us.  We seek outside ourselves and our regular environment to find beauty and excitement.  We miss the small stuff.  The little moments that are all the more precious for their simplicity.  There is beauty all around us, if we take the time to notice.  If we take the time to refocus our vision until it naturally seeks out that beauty.

So I have a plan.  It may not be a good plan.  It may verge on mad.  It may be teetering on the edge of 'watching paint dry' levels of boredom.

So what's my plan?  Well thanks for asking.  I plan to find beauty in my immediate vicinity and more importantly take a snap.

I'm calling it "The View From My Couch".  There is beauty out there people and damn it I'm going to find it, even if it kills me.  I'm going to try once or twice a week to post a photo of something that screams beauty to me, or just simply gives me joy. 

So here's the first one.  I took this on the steps at the side of my house.  The flowers are actually a weed, but they are so cute I just can't make myself pull them out.  I love that even something that is supposed to be worthless can still have beauty.

'Lawn Daisies'

Just call me Ansel Adams.

Cheers
Michelle :)

What other musical accompaniment for a blog about photography could there be but, Girls on Film, by Duran Duran.  I still remember giggling at the 'naughty' version, think girls wearing clear plastic undies, whipped cream, and lots of boobs, when I was a child.  I look at it now and think how the hell did they ever get that on TV?