August 15th

Tropical island, surrounded by azure waters.  Check.

Blue skies, white sand, palm trees.  Check.

Warm air and cool breezes.  Check.

 

Smoke-free resort.  Check.

Room ten metres across sand to the water.  Check.

Gorgeous, friendly staff meeting your every need.  Check.

 

And I'm not exaggerating that last part.  Within minutes of our arrival, complimentary fruit punch consumed, we were in our room and out of our Melbournian cold-weather clothes and into bathers and a sarong.  Down on the sand, on sun loungers, under a beach canopy, book in hand.  Along comes a member of staff with tall glasses of lime water, asking if we're thirsty...  an hour later another staff member strolls along with fruit kebabs, asking if we're nibblish...  Our every desire is met without us even having to get our toes sandy.  Chilled glasses of bubbly delivered... we were after all, celebrating *smile*.  Celebrating four days of doing not much at all.

We wanted to venture to the store, to stock up on essentials... fruit, wine, chocolate - that kind of thing.  (Oh, and we needed scissors for our yarn-crafting, because ours were confiscated at the airport - d'oh!)  We wander down to reception.. "Oh, we can take you anywhere you want.  And when you're done at the store, just ask them to call us to come get you.  You won't need your money, just ask the store to charge back to the room.  Yes, anywhere on the island will do this for you.  Except the post office." We exchange glances and smile.  This could get dangerous.

We discover later, the charge back and pick up service is exclusive to the Beach Club.  I found this out because after we paid for our groceries and left the store, I remembered we needed to call for a pick up.  Except I couldn't remember the name of our accommodation.  It felt utterly odd to be doing so, but I waited back in the queue and said "um, can I please ask you to arrange a pick up for us?"  She said "Yes, you're staying at the Beach Club Resort, are you?"

"YES!" (whew!) "That's the one!"

Marvelous!

Lying on the beach today, I had more than a few "am I really here?" moments.

This exact moment in time - a guest at an attentive resort, lying on the sand, waves crashing in my ear, sun warming me from the inside out - is a manifestation years in the making.  Whenever I would think of my ultimate holiday, my ultimate dream to wallow away the hours replenishing my soul, it would always be exactly this.  This manifestation began in my teens.  I never knew how it would happen - I do not come from wealthy means, nor did I ever seek to obtain a high-rolling career - I just imagined myself there.  Here.  And while this isn't the first tropical island getaway I've enjoyed, today came close to the fantasy I always imagined.

What is it with women and weddings.... we just luff, huh?

Ben and I got philosophical today (the intoxication of environment and bubbles tends to bring it out in me), pondering the richness of our day.  We talked about why we weren't putting the money into our mortgage, to reach our goal of financial freedom sooner.  Surely that makes better financial sense, than frittering dollars away on a beach holiday (when in just a few months we will be walking distance to a beach enabling us to wallow in the sunshine much like we are here...)?  

And for me, it came down to this:  I imagine the time immediately after death to be just like it is in the movies.  A conscious recollection of your life so far lived.  I do not live in fear of my own death, at all.  Much in all as I'd love to be immortal (the places I'd travel to, the languages I'd learn, the things I'd discover - oh!), I'm not.  But what I would really lament, is expiring early, being faced with that conscious recollection of my life thus far and being disappointed that I had delayed pleasure.  Delayed the things in life that bring me so much happiness.  I would be really sad about that.  Because I could not go back.  I couldn't ask for one more week.  

How many people start ticking off their bucket lists only once they get that diagnosis of terminal illness?  How many people have even *written* a bucket list, at all?!  Why wait.  I don't believe in an eternal kingdom, where all the good stuff happens after you die.  Cos to me that just sounds like life is merely a waiting room and living is no more than treading water.  And I don't believe that I am a human being striving for spirituality.  No.  Of my spiritual embodiment I am sure of.  I very much see myself as a spiritual being here in this life to have a human experience.  And if I die ten minutes from now, I want to sit down with a bottle of latest vintage Oyster Bay sauvingnon blanc and laugh and cry reliving the fabulous experiences that have made up my life so far.  Because it's been wonderful.

July 27th

"Mum, I wanna watch a (DVD) show."

"Sorry, love.  No."

"But I really want to.  Pleeeease?

 "Goose, my answer is no."

"Oh!  PahLEASE!  Dad lets me."

"And that's what happens at Dad's house.  In this house, it's not okay with me.  Sorry."

Five minutes later, after I had finished putting away the groceries, I find this:

She sees me taking a picture... "Come help me, Mum.  I'm painting a turtle shell and it's going to take me AAAAAGES without help."  "Sure, love *smile*.  I'd love to."

In other news, look what I found today!

The second image showing a size comparison with our cutlery.

Granted, there's only one of each in a set, but it's not plastic and it's a great size for wee hands!  Why doesn't anyone sell a child sized cutlery set??  (Or if they do, why haven't I found it yet?!)  In most households, there's at least the same number of children as adults, if not moreso.  Why must we buy individual knives, forks and spoons (with the copious packaging that comes with the necessity of buying individual sets)?  Do manufacturers think children only eat once a day?  Or that parents do dishes after every meal (or every day for that matter??!!)?  

My child has been using a knife and fork since the age of two and her hands will most likely be ready for adult size and weight cutlery by the time she's ten or so I imagine.  So that's eight years of using what exactly?  This particular issue has been a bugbear of mine for years. So anyway, I was most pleased with my find (thanks Aldi!), even if I did have to purchase two, with all the wasteful and unnecessary packaging.

July 26th

Today, I am grateful for the creative, artistic and passionate pursuits of women I admire.

Meet Taylor and Felicia (and their babies).

Taylor is a gift for my niece, my sister's child, who came earthside six years ago today.  And Felicia is for Lucy's fifth birthday in September.  It's apparently quite extraordinary for freckles to appear on the palms of hands or soles of feet.  My niece and my child both share an extraordinary attribute.  They both have a freckle on their right palm - in exactly the same spot.  My sister and I don't share this biological mark - it's utterly unique to our girl children.

My gorgeous niece.  Happy birthday, darling xx

So I have chosen to stitch matching birth marks on the right palms of Felicia and Taylor, to honour the unique and beautiful marks of these gorgeous girls.  This I did tonight, in the company of my crafty women-folk.  I spoke to my niece tonight via Skype, to wish her happy birthday and to explain my gift was late, but it was most certainly coming (in a really big box!).  I'm not sure how much of her reaction was excitement of the coming gift, or excitement of her impending night, camping in a sleeping bag, in a tent, on the floor of her bedroom, with her brother *smile*.  Bless.

I think these dolls are amazing.  To share with the girl children in my life, the normalcy of vaginal birth and breastfeeding, through play with their dolls.  Sure beats the pointy-high-heeled-toes off Barbie, any day!

July 25th

We're not long home from an evening out together.

A Northern Indian buffet at our local Indian restaurant followed by a few hours of pool and bowling.

We had a marvelous time.  And you know, the thing I think that makes it that much more enjoyable, is both our ability to disconnect from ego and play without competitiveness.  I'm quite choosy about who I *play* with.  The intensive energy of someone intent on winning (and often it's just competitiveness with themselves, not even with the people they are with) makes me quite uncomfortable.  It takes the fun out of play for me.  It takes the enjoyment out of the company for me.  So when I'm around that kind of energy, I end up having a really bad time.

It stems mostly I imagine, from the societal belief that failure is the ultimate in doom.  Whereas my view on failure is the wonderfully clear demonstration of how not to do it next time.  Ben and I share similar views in this arena, predominantly in business and personal endeavours.  But as occasions such as tonight (and others like it previously) show, in traditionally competitive sports too.

This evening I am grateful to have a partner to play with, where play is just that - play.