Colour me loving my life

Today I am having one of those moments where I am just sitting back and enjoying my life. A long weekend will do that to you because how fast does that short week go? Yay! But more importantly, I am loving my simple, happy {busy} life.

Earlier this week I mentioned my overwhelm. It has been very present but I am sitting with it :: processing it :: letting it work itself out :: getting comfortable with it :: working out how to manage it :: moving on from it. I haven’t got all the answers yet but I am feeling closer to finding them. Perhaps my resilience is strong or perhaps I am just doing a bit of this…

Yep. Probably that.

But really, in the whole scheme of things I am doing well. I am feeling more in control…whatever that means. I am feeling something that is good and more importantly I am not feeling my anxiety. That makes for a good week in my book.

This week I am all about loving:

1. A long weekend : My long weekend was just delightful. I am so aware of how lucky we are to be able to do little expeditions like this one to the big smoke. Despite sharing a hotel with five other people in a small space, we were all good.

Begging for a tram ride!

An excellent Allpress long black at Jack Horner

Game face ON at the Zoo. Anyone else have a parenting face?

2. Catching up with friends : My goodness gracious good friends are good for the soul aren’t they? So many goods. Muchas goodness.

Here I am with the Style & Shenanigans posse trying desperately to stay stylish in amongst the shenanigans!

3. My topsy turvy frustrating, loving, little slice of crazy : my family drive me nuts on a daily basis but at the end of that busy chaotic messy day, they are who I want to hug.

Yup. Yours too?

So tell me how your week was? And your long weekend? I hope it has been a great one x

 

 

Colour me loving school holidays, a single page + sockettes

Welcome to my first Colour me loving!

Each Friday I’ll share the things that I am loving that week. Sometimes there will be several things and other times, perhaps only one. It will vary from feelings to events to things that I really like.

It is kind of a gratitude list I guess. Perhaps it is a reverse bucket list where I just take a moment to appreciate all the radness that I already have in my life instead of lusting after what I don’t. Other times it will be completely materialistic.

So here goes…

1. School holidays : Long enough to relish the lack of routine, short enough not to get too cranky with the kids and the mess and the relentless snacking. I won’t miss the ‘Gracie and Mommy Show’ though. That YouTube abomination is enough to make you want to stick pins in your eyes. And that Stampy guy from the Minecraft videos. [Insert horrified emoji here.] And judging by the photos, I clearly like taking the kids out for coffee and lying on the couch!

         

2. Being on the same page : Even with the lack of routine, the Baker and I are on the same page. It really feels awesome. You can read more about what I mean here. And this is how we literally stay that way. You can buy yours from Kikki-K or just use a regular piece of paper. I like pretty things. We also invite each other to every single appointment that might affect the other so our phones beep and it stops that, “I really need you at home tonight” panic conversation.

3. Sockettes : Normally these things send me into a spin on account of the forty bazillion times a day I need to adjust them. Then I discovered these ones that not only look funky but freaking work. Huzzah! Grab a pair here and thank me later.

Rollies + Gorman footsies = Happy Anna!

So tell me, what have you been loving this week?

Colour me in tight jeans

This summer has been a bit pants on the weather front. Sure there has been some nice days but there has been a lot of super not nice days. Cold days in fact. Like 19 degrees in summer. WTF?

When I turned 40 in September last year, the spring weather turned on a fine 18 degree day and we were all sunglasses and look at this sunshine.

But on a 19 degree day in January, I am thinking about wearing jeans. Jeans in January suck because jeans in January are usually tight. Jeans that were not that tight before Christmas. Boo to you calories and your jean tightening ways.

Immediately after squishing the zip up on one of my jean wearing days I sunk into a state of miserable. My first response was that my self esteem and my happiness are 100% connected. Having said that, at the height of my anxiety I was at my skinniest in years and I still felt awful. So then what is it bout a tight pair of jeans that has forced me into a state of mild melancholy?

Reality.

The reality is that whilst I have been chomping down on rad salads, I’ve also been knocking back booze at an impressive rate. Plus potato crisps, dips, chocolate, cake, bread…whoa. I would stay stop but clearly I don’t know how to either. Talk about not taking my own medicine.

Reality bites hard, doesn’t it? What a bummer.

But I am not quite ready to be spurred into action. I wonder why.

Perhaps I need the slow time and the extra calories that comes with the holidays.

Perhaps I need the lack of disciplined exercise although I am walking several kilometres each day and planking and doing some Pilates work.

Perhaps my body is crying out for it to stop for a while.

Doubt it. I suspect my body is crying out for my digestive system to be given a break. It’s saying, “Yo Anna, lay off those calories would you and chuck down a green smoothie girl!”

Yup, THAT is what it is saying.

I’ll get back into the swing of things. Perhaps today is a particularly bad day in terms of feeling blergh. Tiredness and the lack of routine of the school holidays are a dangerous combination sometimes. And in the blink of an eye I’ll be craving it again when our over stuffed schedules explode between now and Easter.

But now, salads.

DAY FOURTEEN : roast chook | mesclun | red onion | red + yellow cherry tomatoes | nectarines | goats cheese | basil | {balsamic, honey + olive oil dressing}

DAY FIFTEEN : iceberg | mango | prawns cooked in garlic + red chilli | parsley | guacamole {avocado, yellow cherry tomatoes + lime juice}

DAY SIXTEEN : mesclun | roast chook warmed in coconut oil | 7 grain wholewheat sourdough croutons | yellow cherry tomatoes | avocado | goats cheese | {basil, lime juice + olive oil dressing}

DAY SEVENTEEN : chickpeas | red onion | cherry tomatoes | spinach | parsley | feta slash fetta | olive oil

DAY EIGHTEEN : shredded midi cos lettuce | cucumber | parmesan | {mint, lemon juice + olive oil dressing}

DAY NINETEEN : quinoa | black chia seeds | toasted pistachios | mint | parsley | preserved lemon | lemon juice | olive oil

By the way, aside from asking who stole summer I’d also like to know, who stole January?

Colour me feta slash fetta

Welcome to #fetaorfettagate

There’s been a bit of debate about whether fetta slash feta has one t or two.

According to I Give You The Verbs, feta means to slice. Then Kimba Likes explained that the Greeks use one t and the Italians use two.

I asked, what about the Danish version and what if it is crumbled? We haven’t even discussed the Persian version.

Either way fetta slash feta had been featuring highly on my salads. As have giant home grown lettuces.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about some things I’d like to do in 2015. I don’t set resolutions so these are kinda bucket list items. I wonder if I will do any of them.

In no particular order, among the intentions that I set here, I’d like to learn to surf. I don’t know why, it just looks like fun.

I’d also like to run a half marathon. This does not look like fun. I will attempt it this year with the River’s Gift crew. The Baker is joining me but he is thinking about running a marathon because, crazy. Anyone else keen?

And I’d like to learn an instrument. I am completely tone deaf so it could prove interesting. I would love to learn the drums but I suspect it will be something more accessible like the piano or guitar. I am hoping to pick up all the cool chicks. Oh, wait…

And you know what, if I don’t do any of them then that is okay too.

DAY SEVEN SALAD ONE : this guest salad is from the gorgeous Style & Shenanigans who collected her brood and visited us on the Bellarine | hopefully next time will be a longer stay | italian pasta salad | pasta | green beans | prosciutto | red onion | basil | {mustard, lemon + mayonnaise dressing}

DAY SEVEN SALAD TWO : giant home grown lettuce | baby cucumber | avocado | shaved parmesan | toasted pine nuts

DAY EIGHT SALAD ONE : greek yoghurt | strawberries | raspberries | blackberries | blueberries | coconut chips

DAY EIGHT SALAD TWO : chargrilled zucchini ribbons | quinoa | red chilli | parsley | toasted pine nuts | goat’s cheese

DAY NINE : broccolini | red + yellow cherry tomatoes | rye sourdough crumbs from La Madre Bakery | feta slash fetta

DAY TEN : home grown salad greens | fennel | haloumi | pomegranate | 100 % spelt sourdough croutons from La Madre Bakery | fennel fronds | snow pea sprouts | {yoghurt, anchovy, garlic, lemon juice + lemon rind dressing}

DAY ELEVEN : rocket | spinach | broccolini | quinoa | avocado | peas | feta slash fetta | {pistachio pesto dressing}

{this was made by my lovely friend Georgie who you can follow on instagram @lifestyle_thermomix }

{recipe link here}

DAY TWELVE : roasted cauliflower with sumac | pomegranate | toasted almonds | mint leaves | feta slash fetta

DAY THIRTEEN : the snack salad | strawberries | raspberries | blackberries | blueberries | honey + cinnamon roasted almonds for a touch of #saladwanker | mint leaves

So there you have it. Intentions wrapped up in non-resolutions charading as bucket list items. Salads galore. And #fetaorfettagate

How do you spell feta slash fetta?

Colour me a salad summer-y

You like that play on words huh? Summary. Summer-y.

Sometimes I outdo myself. Amazing literary skills right there. Stay tuned for more of that folks…there is plenty of dagginess behind these pages.

It seems that this salad thing is quite popular. This makes me happy. As does eating salad. So here is the week that was in salad eating…

You can check out my DAY ONE salads here.

DAY TWO : chickpeas {‘marinated’ in garlic, olive oil, lemon juice + chopped parsley} | shaved parmesan | baby spinach

{This recipe was featured in Marie Claire’s Off the Shelf by Donna Hay}

I am not a massive fan of chickpeas but this is a winner. And it tastes even better the next day.

DAY THREE: chicken breasts cooked in coconut oil | vermicelli rice noodles | carrots | snow peas | mint | {dressing of fish sauce, lime juice, honey + chilli}

To make this even easier, I should have used a barbecued chook and then the only cooking would have been to boil the kettle for the noodles!

DAY FOUR : iceberg lettuce cut into wedges | {dressing of feta, greek yoghurt, lemon juice + olive oil} | chopped chives

{This recipe was taken from a delicious magazine, published in February 2013}

I needed to add a little water to the dressing as the feta I used was quite thick. It would have made the dressing a little runnier.

DAY FIVE SALAD ONE : breakfast salad | rocket | Christmas ham | scrambled egg with pesto | coffee

DAY FIVE SALAD TWO : wombok cabbage | radish | peas | mint | parmesan | red chilli | lime juice | olive oil

DAY SIX : roasted sweet potato | bacon | pine nuts | {buttermilk, lime juice + parsley dressing} | rocket | watercress

So there is week one with a plethora of healthy eating for you. There is a definite correlation for me with self esteem and diet. I have been gobbling some ace salads but a fair few beers and sweet treats too. My aim in the next week is to curb the sugar cravings and refocus back on my gut health. Expect to see some fermented vegetables soon!

What salad adventures have you been getting up to?

Colour me in glittered pox

Such are the ebbs and flows of my efforts to be an amazing mother, the last school holidays saw me break out glitter. Normally this just makes me break out in a sweat and a swear fest at the stupidity of such a ridiculous craft. Kids and glitter equal me losing my foshizzle so it surprised me the most when I was the one that got it out of the cupboard.

I wonder if it was the break in the monotony of Rainbow Looms which pretty much consisted of me picking approximately 4,000 of the little fuckers off the floor each day. Eating dinner around the construction of a purse in the shape of a panda made glitter infinitely more appealing. So out it came and so did the delight on the big girls faces. I doubt I could have done glitter and the one fanged monkey so I waited until he was locked in his cage, er, cot.

The thing was that the kids loved it. And perhaps me just a little bit. Okay a lot.

Getting your craft on is good for the soul. I’m not talking a sin forgiving, walk through the pearly gates soul cleanse here but it is a bit of fun and helps you to be in the moment. You cannot craft and expect to get other chores done. No siree, it does not work that way. There was glitter from here to kingdom come when I was on watch so I imagine that the kids would be shitting glitter if I left them unsupervised.

So we made these cute jars for the kids to put their crap in and you know where it all went wrong? They came inside.

Glitter outside is a bitch but glitter inside is enough to make you lose your foshizzle one hundred times over. Presently the girls’ bedside tables are like a glitter graveyard for little gold flecks who didn’t get enough glue in the first place.

Then just when you think you are getting rid of the stuff it multiplies like some weird gremlin in H2O. With my shitty shoulder injury, vacuuming is as fun as sticking needles in my eyeballs. All I seem to vacuum up now, besides long blonde hair and looms, is fucking glitter. And I wondered when the fuck did my life get to the stage where I am seriously considering buying one of those robot vacuums so I can just sit on my arse whilst the glitter gets stuck in that thing instead?

But one afternoon I sat down, after vacuuming again, and observed the glitter. It was different to the glitter that I had used with the kids. Had my glitter changed? Then I saw the culprit.

A cute pair of leopard print ballet flats that the princess got gifted for her last birthday, with details of GLITTER. And because she hardly ever takes them off there is still glitter all over the house. Even when she got the chickenpox before Easter, she wore her glittery shoes. She is kind enough to take them off to have a bath or go to bed or when I completely lose my foshizzle over the four billion gold flecks in my house.

But isn’t glitter a delightful thing? Pretty and shiny and just full of happiness? To my girls it is. They would sleep in it if they could. They would most definitely bathe in it and they would totally use glitter all day on top of the robot vacuum that we don’t have. Okay, the robot vacuum is me.

The girls would just use it all the time, with reckless abandon. They would dust it everywhere because they have the most amazing ability to live in the present, without regard for consequences. And if the consequence of glitter is vacuuming then perhaps I just need to chill the fuck out.

When I feel grey, I talk about needing to have time with it to be able to see the rainbow. Perhaps the glitter came the other way around for us. I have been showered in glitter because now the house is covered in chickenpox. Strike rate at present is 75% despite vaccination. Chickenpox is as impressive as glitter for getting all over your kids. Calamine lotion on the other hand is a bitch to get on to pox in hair. Yes, chickenpox in her scalp. They are everywhere. The glitter and the fucking chickenpox.

Right now I am wondering what the colour is for glitter and chickenpox. It waivers somewhere between pink – creativity + well, because it is lovely to grey – moody + just not feeling right (woe me, yeah?). But it is neither. It is blue – calm + mindful.

It is blue because I am in the moment. I am present. And with this comes mindfulness. Glorious mindfulness.

So here is how I currently feel.

Dear Glitter and Chickenpox,

I will take you for a short time but then you may leave again. You have taught me that I can be present. Mindful, I can be.

Thank you and please fuck off.

Yours sincerely in glorious blue,

Anna x

 

 

Colour me worried

When I was working nearly full time, I used to dread the school holidays. How on earth would I keep up my lightening pace? Who would look after the kids? How would I get everything done?

The question I never asked myself was, why don’t I take a break and slow down with them?

So for a long time, the school holidays were a pain in the arse. Two weeks of inconvenience.

Then a little while back, I had the best school holidays. I relished in not having to sprint from the school gates, to the netball court, to the swimming pool, to the supermarket, to homework, to cooking dinner. I stayed in my pyjamas until the afternoon and showered at school pick up time. I didn’t do play dates or art classes or sleep overs or anything. I just stopped to be with the kids. It was fabulous.

I began to enjoy school holidays once more. Although, as hard as I try, I really struggle with the mess that comes with it. Go with the flow, enjoy the chaos, people say. Honestly, it does my fucking head in.

Right now, half way through the holidays, I am exhausted and quite frankly, over it. The five year old princess had chicken pox but because I told her she had the ‘non-itchy’ version (there is no such thing) and thanks to her immunisation, it has been a mild case. We have just had to stay inside a lot more than we would like but thankfully the loom band craze has kept us occupied.

But one of my children is troubling me. Really worrying me. She is sad and struggling with some big head issues at the moment. The cabin fever of the past week has only exacerbated the tension. She is angry, I am exhausted and it is all a really shitty, tough situation. Plus I am hormonal which just adds more poo to the shit.

I think by nature I am a worrier. It is obvious with my anxiety but I always see what might happen and struggle to live in the moment. Sometimes I can, and I do it well. I love it and relish in it. But it is not something that comes naturally to me.

What comes naturally is worrying about things. If this happens, then that might happen. It is a complete head fuck. Like your brain has a word disco going on in it and you’re stuck on the chair on the side whilst all the girls are dancing. Although the disco feels more like a rave with its laser beam, doof doof, shape chucking messiness. A bad trip that you didn’t mean to take.

Whilst I bumble around in my messy head, the school holidays seem doubly hard. More mess, more negotiation, more snack producing, more demanding, more whinging, more exhaustion and more of just, everything. Instead of less stress, I feel much more stress. And with more stress, for me, comes more worry.

I am hoping that by writing through my worries, I will be able to manage them better. So here goes.

I am worried that she will take a long time to clear her head and that the damage that she has done will define her future.

I am worried that my one fanged monkey will never learn to speak properly. His word wall will remain a colourful distraction as his tongue works out how to pronounce nearly everything.

I am worried that I parent one child too positively and one child too negatively. I think I parent them differently and I don’t know how to change this. My wall goes up when my defences get low and my worries get too much.

I am worried that my stoopid hormonal issues (that are driving me bat shit crazy) will never be resolved. That I am resigned to giant swollen boobs for 14 days each cycle and the side effect that this has on my mood and stress levels. And my worry levels, I guess.

I am worried that I will never let go of the worry. I have all the tools at my disposal but like some weird security blanket I hold on to them and wallow for a while.

I am sure that some of my worries will dissipate once my hormones rebalance (which will happen this week). And I am sure that I can keep working hard on dealing with the moment, not the mess. As for the exhaustion, a few early nights should help that.

But I wonder if I can ever let go of the worry. I am not sure if I can as think I need some of them. I need to be able to worry. My worries compel me to action. So perhaps worrying is a good thing?

But with that need comes a responsibility to manage your worries. And perhaps this is what is missing right now. A lack of management.

My bumbling head of words is a little clearer from writing this post but there is a lot more letter sorting to be done before some of these worries disappear. I do hope my head empties soon.

My disco rave of words in my head are coloured grey. I am moody + not quite right. But I think there is also a little green in there – clarity + understanding.

Green + grey is still a bit messy in my mind. But my worries will help me understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colour me a dark sky

I have finally found my happy place.

It is not a new place nor has it always been a happy place. But right now, I feel it is happy once more.

You see, this place hasn’t always been a great place for me. It was where I hit the wall. I decided several months ago that I needed to love it again. I was determined to be optimistic.

I wonder how much of this change in my love for Ocean Grove has been the result of time. Or excellent management. Or mindfulness. Or good nutrition. Perhaps it is a combination of all of the things. It also has a lot to do with the luxury of time. No school routines, no rushing, no classes or homework or readers or nightly dinner stress. The vibe is different. January is different. January is lovely once more.

It hasn’t all been perfect though.

There have been days when my need for order is so strong that the beds have to be made. This usually involves me barking orders and conditions. And if the truth be known, it is not just the beds. It is swept floors, washing on the line, a tidy kitchen and a long list of other inconsequential household chores.

My need for control is so fierce that I feel myself yelling at the kids for being wet from the pool and walking inside the house. I mean, how dare they, it is the middle of summer and they’ve been swimming in the pool.

I feel shame, guilt, anger, frustration and embarrassment.

I have apologised to my eldest so many times this month. The irony is that she is easily the most helpful and enthusiastic of my four children, partly due to her age and partly due to her beautiful disposition. I have been crabby with her about not helping me get ready in the morning, because naturally I presume every eight year old will want to help get her two year old brother dressed. I have been crabby about the way she chews with her mouth open and I berate her about her poor table manners. That desire to be perfect is still just under the surface.

I have to keep pushing it away. Letting it go. LET IT GO. For look at this beautiful person with so much love for me. My heart bursts. And that cheeky one toothed monkey with her? Well, he’s pretty cute too.

The other side of this is that we have spent a lot of time together. Most of this is really truly lovely but there is part of me that resents the continual snack producing, fruit cutting, nappy changing, bum wiping, laundry, food preparation and sibling negotiation that comes with school holidays. I have definitely slowed down but there is still that element of ‘same shit, different location.’

I am always edgier at the end of the school holidays. I start to crave some quiet head space and look forward to heading back to work. Today this is really, really strong. I have articles to file, stories to compose and blogs to write. But then my bones and heart ache because this time next week I will be sitting alone at home and more than likely desperate for a hug with my babies. I will miss them. I will miss our slow paced holiday life.

There are two things I have not done nearly enough of this summer, read: any, and that is exercise and mindfulness. It is now proving fatal for me. My head is filling up faster than I am able to empty it. My body is sluggish because I don’t get enough endorphins from diving through the middle of a wave, as awesome as it is. But these are easy to change. Tomorrow morning, I will get up and walk. And in a moment, I will find myself five minutes of peace and practice mindfulness. I will re-calibrate over the next week and soon I will be feeling great again.

But this weekend, it is about being in the moment. It will be about finding my happy place underneath a dark sky. To be able to part the dark clouds that are fogging my vision and enjoy time with my happy people. I can choose to be grey – moody + just not feeling right. Or I can choose to be green – with clarity + understanding.

Either way, spending time finding and enjoying my happy place? What a genuinely beautiful thought that is.

Colour me January

I have spent many Januarys hating January. What a stupid place to be. But I put myself there.

Many, many moons ago I used to row and January was land training month. That meant gym session after weights session after bike session after ergo session.

Then during my uni days it was all about making money so you could afford to buy beers for the next year.

In London, I would be broke after Christmas and it was freezing. And so dark. Like 3.30 in the afternoon dark.

A couple of Januarys ago, I had all of this time in front of me and I was so stressed. I couldn’t work out how to stop. How to slow down. How to take stock.

I would run around the house each morning yelling like a mad woman. I would be making sure all the beds were made and the wet towels were off the floor and putting conditions on EVERYTHING.

“We can’t go for a walk up the street until this and this and this and this is done.”

I’d make the lists so long that once we got everything done, we were all exhausted. The baby would then fall asleep and we’d all sit around waiting for him to wake up. I wouldn’t let the kids play properly because I didn’t want the house messed up again and it was just a shitty, viscous cycle. They were miserable and I was miserable but hey, my house was fucking spotless so it was a terrific day. Or at least I thought that was what defined a terrific day because an orderly house means an orderly mind right? Wrong. With a capital fucking W. Underlined.

This January, my kids have eaten dinner in their pyjamas because they still haven’t gotten out of them from that morning. We’ve hung out with friends, fired up the pizza oven, pottered around and just stayed still. We have had the luxury of time and a slow pace and just a lovely sense of being. Of taking stock.

But it took way more than one January for me to learn this. In fact it took a couple of Januarys and all the other months in between. I am still no expert in stillness, but I am able to stop so much better now.

My house is still tidy. It is me. It is something I can’t completely change. I am much better at #lettingshitgo though so it is helpful to know that the world doesn’t fall apart when a bed doesn’t get made. Or a dishwasher doesn’t get unpacked. Yes, I know. I am stunned too.

But January is a great time to be slow. It lends itself to it. It has a feel to it that other months don’t have. And now for me, personally, it is time for making resolutions. These are fluid, dynamic intentions of mine and not set in stone. Things will change, like I will change and that is okay. Some are fitness goals, others are health goals and many are personal and family goals. But as the journey is often more important than the destination then I am looking forward to seeing how things unravel.

I have started out on a terrific note with #jansaladaday and I feel like it is setting me up for an even healthier 2014. Have you joined in?

I have been playing it in my head how to manage my declaration of a Year of Friendships. How to see people and be organised and be calm. Something will give but I hope it is my clean house and not me.

I will not allow guilt to enter my head in 2014. It can fuck right off. I have held enough guilt for the entire world in my body for so many years but I am done with guilt now. It is no longer my friend.

But most of all, I will try to be in the moment. To be calm and present. And to love January again. For with a view like the one above to look at each morning, then how could I be anything but yellow – full of happiness + optimism?

I am going to Colour me a New Year. What are you saying hello to right now?

Colour me learning optimism

I look at this image from the beach at Ocean Grove in Victoria and I have mixed feelings. There are some fabulous memories here but it was also the place I lived when I hit the wall. It is where I started my recovery. The streets upon which I injured my foot.

I need to learn to look at this beautiful place full of happy memories for our family and push away the sad memories. It is not always as simple as that though.

Despite all my learnings, I had an awful weekend just recently. Hormones plus exhaustion are not a good combination. I was edgy, angry and panicky. I was rude, spiteful and generally very unpleasant. I didn’t recognise my warning signs at all. I didn’t meditate. I didn’t get enough sleep. I didn’t communicate how I was feeling so I was pissed off that no one understood me.

Then I just went to bed to sleep it all off. A new day equals a new beginning right?

So this morning when I woke, the sky was blue. I decided right there that today was going to be a good day. Then I walked outside and I took a moment to take in the neighbour’s magnificent magnolia tree. It is spectacularly breathtaking.

Mindful on Monday. What a perfect start to the week. A week that will be full of happiness. It will be happy because I will make it so. I am optimistic.

And just like I will work hard this week to make it a happy one, Ocean Grove  does not have to equal anxiety. Or a panic attack. Ocean Grove can equal optimism, hope and happiness.

Who wouldn’t want to be there? Clearly my girls want to be there so I need to be with them. In the moment.

This summer, I’ll be saying hello beach and goodbye memories. I have learnt so much but now I want Ocean Grove to be a happy place. My happy place, perhaps.