WOW! Time flies when you are having a hoot! I have just returned from a 10 day holiday to the incredibly “large” (first word that comes to my mind) New York City! The city that never sleeps, has more bargains than I have had roast dinners, has a sky line that, honestly, took my breath away and this constant buzz, even as you lay in bed at night, you can still feel this ‘buzz’ of pure energy.

Kicked a major goal – I ran around Central Park (not the whole thing), but I gave it a good go. It was particularly cold on this day – but I had packed the right clothing and I did it! It is an amazing park, and if you haven’t been there – you should consider putting this on your bucket list.

Many people have asked the highlight of my trip, and I would have to say, without sounding like a piggy – I think the highlight for me was some of the amazing food that I ate. We went to some really beautiful restaurants, and I indulged in a very selfish way, the most beautiful food I have ever eaten in my life.

With it’s heavy traffic, massive population, emergency sirens, dirty subways, freezing cold temperatures and 2 fun and outgoing girlfriends by my side, I had the time of my life! Thank you NYC!   I WILL BE BACK………(with more money).

As a ‘new age woman’, I take the internet for granted, I take advantage of this incredible technology more often that I would like to admit. Why wouldn’t I? Amongst many things, this technology saves me time and money! Around New York, my friends and I used Google Maps very often, without it, we would have been lost. True story.

We used Google and Trip Advisor to find beautiful restaurants, good shopping, weather conditions for the following day, weather conditions back at home, Skype to see our darling children’s faces and Facebook to stay in our loops of love.

I know many of my parent’s generation are computer savvy. This blog is not about tearing down the generation before mine. Take my Uncle for example, he is incredible on the computer, and loves the fact he is talking to our relatives in UK via Facebook. He loves the fact he can promote his new business via the Internet – he understands the capacity of this incredible gift we all called the “Internet.”

If I look at my Friend List on Facebook, more and more of my parent’s friends are joining up and really enjoying being part of this fantastic, quick and detailed way to ‘stay in touch’.  Last year, I taught my lovely mother-in-law how to use Facebook and drive an I-pad. She is loving her new skills.

Then there is my amazing, fun, caring BUT NOT VERY COMPUTER SAVVY parents! – Tech Savvy Uncle, calls my parents “THE DOTTIES”.

Poor Daddy Dotty rang me at work yesterday in an irate state.  He wanted to go to Noosa to visit Tech Savvy Uncle with Mummy Dotty. Little did he know that when he had so proudly booked the holiday for him and Mummy Dotty via the Internet, he had used a Portuguese website to pay for his flight from Sydney to Noosa and it cost him $890!!!!

Unknowingly, he paid for this journey in Pounds! In Daddy Dotty’s eyes, how could he become involved with a Portuguese travel company? He lives in ‘straylia mate! How could he have paid in pounds? He is only going to ‘friggin’ Noosa to visit Tech Savvy Uncle!

Daddy Dotty was clearly confused and cranky yesterday, and it made me feel a little sad. If people are untrained or have never had use for a computer (no matter what age), life must be difficult at times? Slowly the world is changing, a paperless society?

Is Mummy Dotty the only person on earth, that still has a Bank Book (like the one below)? She has that little piece of history stamped each time she makes a deposit or withdrawal. She goes INSIDE the bank, (how many of you actually go inside the bank?). She lives in fear that the ‘untrusting’  ATM will ‘rip her off’ or steal all her money!! I believe deep down that Mummy Dotty is quite unsure and scared to actually use this technology. For decades, the bank-tellers, yes, they still have bank tellers in banks, have been trying to get the bank books off Mummy Dotty – but she would rather give her left leg or an eye.

Copy of Bank Book!

A small task like paying a bill these days. Mummy Dotty still goes to the post office and makes these payments over the counter – just in-case the computer gets it wrong. She has all her bills delivered by the postman, she puts the cash with the invoice and she goes straight to the post-office. Not a day late!

She gives everyone her email address, but has never ever logged in to see if she has any emails.

It was only about 6 months ago, I bought it to the Dotties attention that they could actually move their ‘laptop’ around the house! That they could put it on their ‘lap’ and unplug it from the power point if they wanted to! Mummy Dotty thought this was a real treat, but still never logged on.

I often show pictures from Facebook or Instagram to Mummy Dotty of our family in the UK, I show her how much the kids have grown and good happy snaps that I do get a lot of enjoyment viewing – she says “OH yes, they are nice, but why do people put all that stuff on there? I am not very interested in what people eat for dinner, its boring.”.

Mum’s probably right in many ways, we expose so much of our lives to everyone (says me who writes a blog and loves a good Facebook posting!) .

So if you are really worried, the two Dotties have just landed in Noosa. They arrived safely and I hope they have a lovely time.

They are quite funny (without even trying) and I love them. We don’t have our parents forever (as many of you know), it’s the memories we make that stay with us for the life time.

Giddy-up and beware of Portuguese travel web-pages!

LB 🙂

So the Christmas rush is over and you have just said good bye to 2014. Did you welcome in a brand new year? Or were you repulsed that you are a year older? Are you making a new start? Will you see 2015 out the way you intend to today? Will you fall of the speeding wagon? I already have.

You’ve gone back to work this week, if you are anything like me, you put on your usual black work pants, and they feel bloody tight! Very bloody tight – right across the bum cheeks! My golly gosh – I looked in the mirror (on tippy toes – this makes me slimmer) and I asked myself:

“Mmmm… have I put on weight or did these pants somehow go through the dryer and shrink a little?”.

It’s January for goodness sakes WOMAN! You haven’t used the dryer. You have put on weight.

Alas! I enjoyed every second of the festive season. The slothing on the lounge, on the beach, in a Café’, in a restaurant, in the back yard or in my pool – I have slothed like a lazy cat in the sun – in every place I could possibly think of! I have eaten sooo…. much crap! I have eaten chocolate, lollies, pizza, bread, bread, bread, ham, chocolate, ham, chocolate and more bloody ham – in fact I reckon if I tilted my head to one side, a piece of ham may fall out of my ear!  I have eaten Lindt balls until I could barely move, and just when I thought I couldn’t stuff in another one – I sure as hell found room for another 1 or 2!

So what was your New Year’s Resolution? Did you make one? I did! I make the same one every year which is to “Worry less about the small stuff” – however, by 2^nd of January, I had already worried myself sick over something petty. I have since realised it is just the way I am programmed, and I don’t think I will ever be any different – it’s a work in progress, I am a work in progress.

Our genetic program plays such a big part of who we are (no scientific break-through here), however, we can override our stubborn tiny genes and make some changes IF the desire is strong enough.

I have always had a day dream that I will become a Gourmet Cook, one of these days I will love cooking, and make some amazing dishes. I have often seen myself with my hair in a loose bun with a pretty pink apron on, waltzing around my pristine white kitchen, smiling and singing as I deliver beautiful meals to my perfectly groomed family.

(HUGE SIGH HERE…………… )

At 40+ years of age this is not happening – I still hate cooking and I still cannot cook very well.

Poor Cecil and our perfect children! If they have to eat another spaghetti bolognaise made by me, they too will tilt their perfect little heads and have spag bol leaking from their ears.

My Mum is not and was not a cook, and for years I have blamed her for not teaching me this basic skill (I blamed her for not getting a cooking gene and then for not passing it on to me). I have faced the fact, it is not Mum’s fault. My common sense has many boundaries, and for an unknown reason, I refuse to want to learn to cook, I have no patience for cooking and I hate being in my kitchen unless, of course, I am eating!

All in all, I have painted a picture like this: I am chubby little lady, who worries and panics far too often. I cannot cook to save the life of myself or my family. Bring on 2015 – with your good genetics, your bad genetics, good meals or bloody dreadful meals, worrying less, cook spaghetti bolognaise less and cheers to beating those tiny little stubborn genes!

Life is good!

Giddy UP!…..

LB 🙂

I am in love with Miranda Fair Westfield Shopping Centre! True story…..

In fact, I get a feeling of absolute happiness and peacefulness when I enter those big sliding doors and my size 7.5 shopper’s feet hit those beautiful pearly, white, glossy and pretty tiles. All my natural instincts become on high alert, I feel so alive. The smell of food, the warm sound of shoppers chatting, the cool air-conditioning on my face and the spectacular lights.  It’s a school day too, I am without my kids and Cecil, there is no such thing as rushing today!

My wide eyes alert very much like a lioness who has lost her favorite baby cub.  I just can’t take in enough information. I hunt the shop windows, with a starving hunter’s instinct to find “Sale”, “Everything Reduced”, “50% of all Sale Items” “Two for the Price of One” or “One Day Sale only”. These loud signs scream at me like Dracula gets called to a grave yard and I, at times, feel a bit like what Shane Warne must feel when he has a mobile phone (debating whether to send an inappropriate text message or not!?).  I like Warnie, cave in and I am lured into shops to spend money on items that make me incredibly happy, completely satisfied and so in touch with that wanna-be/try hard celebrity that lives inside my soul.

I try on these wonderful clothes that are priced way above my depressing legal secretary salary! I feel so happy. Under the Westfield dimmed lights, I can feel and hear that trapped wanna-be/try hard celebrity that lives in my soul, she forcefully instructs me to:

“Spin three times in front of the life size mirror with you prospective purchase”, “pull your stomach in woman”, “stand on your tippy toes”, “pout your lips” “you look good!”, “Mmmmm… you look very good”, “gee you look good”, “this dress is made for you”, “not bad for 41 love and you have had 3 kids, not bad at all!”, “now let’s get a side view”, “pull in your stomach a little more”, “never know what is around the corner? You may get kicked by a donkey and be dead next week! Live for now, just get it! GET IT”.   

I surrender! I surrender! I surrender! – within a weak 10 seconds the dress is on layby! Only because I don’t have the money today – but I will have it in 4 weeks! NOT!

The hunt is finalised and the credit card is bleeding BUT the dress is mine. I am then hit by a sense of guilt! Negative thoughts roll on in:

“That was expensive!”, “I really can’t afford that dress”, “geez, I really need to pay the kids’ school fees this month”, “what about the darn house renovation? we are supposed to be putting a second level on”, “what will my Cecil say?”, “my poor Cecil is still wearing clothes from the 80’s”, “lovely Cecil what is he up to today? He works hard! I better phone him”, “Oh well, I might be dead next week, I might get bitten by a snake or kicked by that wild donkey, who knows? I better get the dress”.

I feel quite down for about 5 minutes after the completion of the hunt! I really need a coffee, I need to sit and I need to check my phone. I waddle on those pearly white tiles to my favorite coffee shop.   I reveal my purse again and buy myself a skim milk cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cake. No food guilt in Westfield today as I looked damn gooooood in that dress (under those dimmed Westfield lights and that Westfield mirror)  and “I might be dead next week, who knows what is around the corner? I could get attacked by bees and die a painful death in my backyard” – so I eat the chocolate cake.

I am then reminded of the time, it is 2.30 pm, have I really been here for 5 hours? Yes I have… caught up in my own little Westfield World – time has no meaning and at times, neither does my money! It is about now that I remember I am NOT a celebrity, “Oh shit.. what am I going to have for dinner tonight!? What am I going to feed them!”, it has been an expensive day!”

Soooo…. I buy a BBQ chook! Only because I can’t be stuffed cooking tonight (again), life is too short.. who knows what is around the corner!!!??

Live in the moment and buy that dress or whatever tickles your fancy!!

Giddy UP and be careful of wild donkeys!

LB 🙂

This week my younger brother (although he does look a lot older than me) posted a picture on Facebook of his beautiful little boy, dressed up as a girl.  He had makeup, a dress, blue eye shadow, lipstick and a wig.  Of course, the person responsible for this was his cheeky older sister!  My little nephew (lets call him Mr T) looked so cute.  Mr T is one in a million.  He is wild, crazy, smart, incredibly funny, says very random comments, has no ‘off’ switch and has a smile that would melt anyone’s heart.

As I looked at this funny photo, I was reminded of my own childhood, and then was quite humored yet disturbed by some childhood memories I had stored – some terrible things I used to do to my poor little brother. For privacy issues let’s call him “Ethel” – you will understand why as the story goes on…

I am almost 3 years older than Ethel, as kids we were like any other average brother and sister.  Good parents, a Dog, a Budgie, a Toyota we called “Terry” and we had huge fights, that involved punching, hitting, pinching, pulling hair and biting (Ethel was a biter).  There were times, however, we were the best of friends, often playing games of “shops”, (I was always the shopkeeper), pool games (I was always “Polo”), BMX rides (I was on a horse), Patridge Family Karaoke (I was Laurie on percussion, Ethel was the young red headed brother, Danny Bonaduce), Young Talent Time Karaoke ( I was Danni, Ethel was Vinnie), hanging with neighbors, cousins and many family shin digs.  All in all, it was a very happy and loving childhood.

We would often go to our Grandparents for the school holidays, where we would spend so much time with our cousins, who were all the same age (although I do look a lot younger than them).  Cousins – some of the best memories of my childhood consist of my cousins.  Even though we don’t see each other much these days, the bond is still there – and the memories never fade, each time we get together, the same stories get told and it’s a time you really get back to your real family ties.

Ethel (at 6 years old) was a lot like Mr T – slightly crazy, often in trouble, wild and allowed his big sister (me) to dress him up as a girl.  I would sternly say to a cute Ethel:

“Simple as this Ethel, if you want to come along with me and the cool cousins, you have to wear Aunty Sadie’s bra with big oranges stuffed in the cups, with her curly black wig, her floral dress, hand bag, high heels and you must call me “Mummy” all day – it doesn’t matter that I am only 9 years old myself, but call me Mummy and we will all call you Ethel!”

Poor Ethel, he was only 6 years old! He did all of the above and went to the city dressed like this. We called him Ethel all day long and he wore oranges strapped to his chest in his over shoulder boulder holder! We made him go into the Women’s Department at “GRACE Bros” and ask the shop assistant where he could buy a bra? Oh the pain….poor Ethel.

Growing up, I was lucky enough to have a horse. I would ride for miles and miles on my horse, and Ethel would often ask if he could come with me. Of course being the awful sister I was, I would say “No Ethel, go away you are not coming with me and my super cool horse friends’.

What is that fake Police Siren I can hear? “Eeee aaawwww eeeeee awwwww” – I would look over my shoulder from upon my high horse and in the distance I could see this miniature gold and black BMX bike with a Police siren attached to the handle bars and blaring. It was poor little Ethel, he had ridden his bike to try and find me on my horse. He would ride that bike for miles, with his little Police siren! I would be NATURALLY so unimpressed, as now I would have to look after him and make sure he could get that bike up all the hills whilst I just sat there on the fat horse!

I am ashamed to let my readers know, that in a rage as a small little girl, instead of pinching or pulling Ethel’s hair, I actually kicked him in his crown jewels, not once BUT twice!  On one occasion Mum had to take him to the hospital as his left testicle twisted….  Oh the shame………poor little Ethel…..

I could write many memories down of my dear little brother and the awful big sister – I truly was. I wasn’t always nice to him, hardly ever actually, but I loved him and was very protective when I had to be.

He was my best little mate, and still is. I tell my own children these and many more stories, and say, one day “Your brother or sister will be your best friend” of course, they don’t believe me.

I am very lucky to have a brother like Ethel. He always helps me, no matter what time of the day.  He is a good bloke.

We still have a many disagreements in life, although I am happy to report that the biting, pinching, hair pulling and the kicks to his nuts have ceased.

Looking again at the picture of my lovely nephew Mr T, I really do think he is getting off lightly!

Love your siblings.

Giddy Up!

LB 🙂

This week my Cecil and I took our three kids to see Katy Perry.  There is only one word that sums up this Pop Star and that is “AWESOME”.  She truly is fantastic and a wonderful role model for children.

Her body curvy and athletic, and her words so encouraging.  She asked the 16,000 person crowd – “Do you love yourself? Yes! Because that always comes first!”.  I watched as many little innocent faces around me, took every word she said with such admiration and love.

She became quite serious at one point in the concert and spoke of a ‘Killer Disease”, automatically we all thought she was going to discuss Ebola, but she then said this awful disease: “Selfie Disease“.  How right she is! If I seen it once, I’ve seen it twice, I’ve seen it 16,000 times – a self absorbed generation of Tech savy humans taking selfies!  Which leads me to the topic this week – SELFIES…..

I can’t believe how popular the “Selfie Pole” is right now? A long pole/stick where you can attach an IPhone to the end.  Snap your pretty self whist you walk, talk, eat, yawn, sneeze, pick your nose or whatever you please – this pole will bring many hours of fun if you, in fact, do suffer from ‘selfie disease’.

It looks like this:

Are we becoming too obsessed with trying to record a moment or a memory, yet, we are actually missing the moment?   We are watching some of life’s biggest events and miracles through a small hand sized frame. Is this how we will recall the memory in years to come? When we are elderly will our memories be recalled through that same small frame.

Although, any parent would agree, when I say I can watch the play back of my babies being born over and over again – each time I am taken back to those very special days.  I also love to watch my wedding DVD, I hate the fact that I don’t look that young anymore – but I do love to watch a young Cecil and I on one of the happiest days of our life. I wonder how many selfies I would have taken on my wedding day or the birth of my children, had the ‘selfie’ have been invented back then (now I am showing my age).

Am I correct? Have you ever captured a moment on your IPhone or taken a cracking selfie that makes you remember what a special day it was for you? Are you a victim of “Selfie Disease“?

I don’t have selfie disease, but many of my friends do.  Many of them know exactly the angle to hold that IPhone camera, then shove a filthy hazy filter over the top to hide even more wrinkles (Yes ladies we know your dirty tricks) you find that angle where the crows feet disappear and your lips look a little fuller and if they don’t – you pout slightly.  You know the angle don’t you? I am not investing in a selfie pole just yet, but I may be putting it on next year’s Christmas list for few!

My aim:  I am trying to get 1,000 selfies with good stories. Could be the birth of a child, your first fun run, with a celebrity, at your wedding, with someone special, somewhere special… there are no limits here.  If I get 1000 selfies, I am going to publish them and make the best coffee table book you have ever seen.  True STORY….!!

Do you want to be part of this? Then tell us…

This “selfie’ is important because ……..???

Send it to:  1000selfies@outlook.com

We here at http://www.dailylifeofbraineo.com are waiting for your selfie! Now get to it!

SNAP SNAP!

Giddy UP….

LB 🙂

This week’s blog has been inspired by my optometrist John H or Mr Cool.  He is a great bloke with a great sense of humor!  Besides my husband, he is the only man I let stare deep into the pupils of my eyes.

This week my husband (for privacy issues, let’s call him “Cecil”) went on his annual “Boy’s Weekend”.  Many years ago it started purely as a weekend away and it usually involved a couple of hours drive up or down the coast.  What is the old true saying?:  ‘Give a man an inch and he will take a mile” – well this “Boy’s Weekend” is now almost a week and involves a plane trip!  It’s all pretty harmless, a few old school mates who swim, surf, play golf and drink a few beers.  Nothing short of a few fart jokes, complaints about lack of intimacy with their wife, lots of swearing, belching, burping and snoring.  Cecil and his mates also tell the same stories over and over again.

I have been married to “Cecil” for 16 years. We met when we were quite young.  It was his funny fart jokes that initially attracted me to him – he had such an attentive audience that night.  I guess I was amused, yet disgusted at this handsome character! Who was this rude, yet hilarious man? Surely not my future husband or the father of my 3 children???   Twenty years on – fart jokes haven’t died. Married Cecil.  Three kids. One dog.

I have learnt many things about being married to Cecil, and by no means am I  an expert in this field.  Here are three certain things I have learnt in MY marriage:

Once a Mummy’s Boy – ALWAYS a Mummy’s Boy!  Accept this fact and move on.  Be warned….don’t try and change this relationship and for God’s sake don’t try and be his Mother!  You are rowing up stream without a paddle here or you may have more chance of winning a kick-boxing competition with one leg! Don’t try and be her.

Make no mistakes here, when Cecil looks at this woman he sees absolutely nothing but an angel figurine, she has a golden halo, pretty white wings and she flies on over when he needs  her, she is usually carrying a lovely casserole or his favorite soup.  His Mummy will always be at your heels, keeping you high on your stumpy smelly little toes.  Like a protective tiger in a famine fueled jungle –  she awaits in the background for you to slip up, so she can slide on in beside him and wipe his little brow with her white handkerchief.

If you married a “Daddy’s Boy”, again, accept the fact that nothing here will change and just move on.  When Cecil looks at his Father he sees nothing but a God-like figurine, a bearded man in a white gown carrying a cross in one hand and a nice cold beer in the other.  His Father will be at your door with the lawn mower, whipper snipper, gurney, dynamic lifter, a free car wash and even a little rub of his tired feet if they are sore.  His Daddy will do any task around your house, just so he can spend some quality time with this fine specimen of a son he produced, then when the tasks at hand are complete, they will sit down together for a beer and a quiet prayer.

I fell in love with a fitness freak lunatic and like the two conditions mentioned above, this condition has no cure, and only gets worse as middle age creeps in. His training regime becomes his world and more serious as his age progresses.  This fitness freak type will push you to the point your life may become lonely and dare I say “BORING”.  On a Friday or Saturday night you often may find yourself sitting on the couch drinking a small glass of red wine because Cecil has gone to bed at 8.00 pm for he must rise at 5.00 am to work his temple of a body.  Poor  patient and understanding you – whilst Cecil clocks miles in the pool, you slowly and regrettably awake the next day to nothing but a stinking, cracking, head banging hangover and 3 hungry children.  Surprisingly, the bottle of red you opened last night is empty.   Surely “You didn’t drink the whole thing on your own??” you ask. What a great party me, myself and I had last  night! Point here, red wine goes down easily when you are partying on your own.

 On the rare occasions Cecil attends a party with me – I get this glare, you too may be familiar with this glare, this means:  

“No more worm! Party is over, I need to get to bed.  It’s 8.30 pm.  We are going home!”

My response: ‘No! I am staying Cecil! One more worm!”

Random Fact: Men have larger brains that women – about 13%, this has absolutely nothing to do with intelligence.  Thank goodness.

Well that is it from me this week.  Sixteen years married and I wouldn’t change my Cecil or his family. I am blessed.

Remember, one glass of red can go a long way!

GIDDY up!

LB 🙂