Month: December 2017

Happy Christmas lovely readers!

Hi there my beloved festive folk (and not so festive too)! Don’t know about you but I’m ready to slip away from the Christmas mayhem to a quiet Bora Bora beach with a pile of books and a sweet wait-staff sporting crisp white attire, a large palm frond and crystal flutes brimming with Champagne. Instead I’m heading to Hay.

Where the hell is Hay I hear you ask? Well it’s a small rural NSW town wrapped around a critical service station somewhere between Dubbo and Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide. They do a damn fine nosh at that there servo. Just ask the Truckies and Grey Nomads!

It’s also the place where my Mamma resides. Where my siblings unite from said cities to wrap that Mamma in love and laughter. Perhaps a little bubble wrap too when she indulges in a wee glass of Baileys. Fairy lights, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, that famous Xmas pudding of hers, sparkling white wine, 40 decree temps…and family…in all its dysfunctional glory.

Enjoy your own family gatherings this Christmas lovely readers. Or that solitary beach retreat. Just don’t post pictures of those brightly coloured toenails against an azure blue ocean backdrop on Instagram for I may just be inclined to disown you. Happy Christmas!

Sparking F**king Joy here…

Hey there lovely readers, recently a girlfriend hung out at my place while a swarm of folk descended on hers to embark on a total spring clean. Now inspired by her fresh canvas she’s planning on having a monumental de-clutter. Good for her I said for there’s nothing better than an ‘out with the old and in with the new’ to start a new year.  Then I remembered my own attempts…aaargh! Of course I had taken to the blog to share my angst. Here’s a repost:

 Twelve months ago I embarked on an attempt to declutter my home and my heart. The urge always strikes when I’m desperate for change, for a new beginning. Conversations of late indicate a whole raft of you are also in need of a mental and physical purge. Well read on, giggle and possibly be inspired as I re-share the robust argument my head and heart had while acting on that aspiration…

‘My book will help you transform your home into a permanently clear and clutter-free space’ claimed Marie Kondo. Your book will transform my brain into a permanently traumatised cluster-f**k’ I retort.

I’ve been standing in my wardrobe holding items of clothing one by one, asking my heart IMG_9825‘Does this spark joy in your life?‘ while my head’s responding ‘You paid good money for that girlfriend so it damn well better!’ I’m already exhausted, and I haven’t even started perfecting the art of folding the remnants into sweet little ‘stand-ups’ for easy viewing yet. I need fortification. Pouring a glass of red while cranking up my fave Spotify playlist, I gave myself a stern pep talk – you’ve got this girl! 

Marie Kondo’s ‘The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up’ has so far seen crates of excess clothing, kitchenware, and office detritus make it’s way to charities, recycle depots and the brilliant folk at ‘Dressed for Success’. Pretty pleased with myself for according to Kondo, ‘The KonMare way of curating your space to represent what’s important to you will clear your mind and make you much happier’. Wait? Curated space, yes. Clear mind? Nope! Still traumatised.

I turn to Sarah Knight’s ‘Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F**k’ a beautiful parody of Marie Kondo’s work. Self-help with an edge. Seems that wasting my time worrying about giving away that item I paid good money forIMG_9826 is taking up a whole damn raft of mental energy I could be using elsewhere. Taking her advice, I put said energy to good use by curating the content in the ‘F**k Barn’ that constitutes my brain.

Yep! I’ve now scripted polite ways of letting you know I no longer give a F**k – about your fund-raising requests or your incredible kale chip recipe or your horrible boss. Nope. I may just give one about your theory on John Snow’s resurrection, but definitely no F**ks given on your passion for Kardashians or the volume of Instagram followers you might have. Nein. Non.  Nada. Not a single one.

Sooo…am I concerned about that Gollum-like voice in my head whispering ‘nobody will like you‘? Nope. No F**ks given there either. As the subtitle states, this book’s a primer on “how to stop spending time you don’t have doing things you don’t want to do with people you don’t like”. Sorry-not-sorry Gollum. I’ve now prioritised the F**ks I do have to give – and I’m giving them to the people and things that matter most, direct from the sofa in my zen-like clutter free home.

In need of a declutter yourself? Both books a damn fine starter kit.

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