Life Quest (and other stuff)

Happiness can come in many different forms. It does not need to be complicated. It is okay (and often needed) to find joy in the most simplistic of places. Like hitting every one of the 338 notes in the medium level for bass of Rock band on the iPhone, for the song All the small things by Blink 182 . I did that this morning. A flawless groove. It can be something that simple that sets the tone for the rest of the day. Something that simple that make problems seem dim. Something that simple can show you that you have not crossed to the dark side, that life still holds hope. Quite fitting that the song is called All the small things , don't you think.

I have no business attempting any recipe that does not have a picture. The reason for this is that I do not have the ability to follow a recipe. I usually have every intention to follow it, but somehow I always end up putting my own twist on things. If there is a picture, I at least have an idea what I'm working towards, and can fake it at the end. This is why I should not own the book: Mastering the art of French cooking , but as I am sure so many other soft hearted movie goers did, after leaving the cinema watching Julie and Julia, I found myself in a bookstore, with a (thankfully) cheaper reprint for release with the movie. (It's all marketing baby.) So, at this very minute, there is an approximation of Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck's Boeuf Bourguignon in our oven. "Do you you know what Boeuf Bourguignon is?" My husband asked somewhat patronisingly when announced it being on the dinner menu. "Some form of beef stew?" I said/as

May you have a blessed Christmas, filled with hope, joy and love. And if you are traveling, please do so safely.

I don't have much to say today. Well I do, but saying it will dilute what I really want to say, which is: Thank you. Thank you to hubbie's mom and brother for getting up at 2 in the morning to come assist us where our car broke down last night. Thank you to the police that stopped and asked if we where all right. Thank you for taking hubbie to the petrol station to see if he could get help there. And thanks for bringing him back. Thank you to the traffic department who stopped behind us and alerted traffic when the car trouble escalated and we ended up with no electric power (i.e. no lights) while the rain poured down. Thanks to those same traffic cops for staying with us and who in the end had to push start hubbie's mom's car (don't ask), after the tow truck has already left with our car and my hubbie. And thanks to my 1 year old little boy, who behave so well in the chaos that surrounded us. Thank you to you all. You made what could have been a horrible night, bea

Sadly, I am not referring to the profound “letting go” of moving on with your life or saying goodbye to the past. Well, I’m kinda talking about saying goodbye to the past. But mostly I am talking about presents. Hubbie and I have completed about 96% of the Christmas shopping. But, while doing wrapping and scribbling names on the wrapping (I find cards a bit of a waste) I was thinking about presents of the past. (Cute little play on words hey – presents of the past…) Anyway. I also thought about teasing my friend about the fact that the last gift I gave her is still in its packaging. I told her she won’t be getting anything for Christmas unless she at least takes it out, preferably plug it in. The thing is, I feel a little guilty about that joke. You see, Hubbie gave me a gift last Christmas that I haven’t used. I have held it in my hands, opened and closed it, was very excited, decided to give some thought to the perfect use, and then mostly forgot about it. I guess the conclusion I ha

Some days are better than others. Today started out rather innocently, then one phone call later and the Christmas spirit was kicked right out of me. I think that makes this day one of the “less better” ones. Strange thing is, other than feeling highly disappointed in myself and the other involved party, that phone call counts for very little outside my world. Actually, that call made no difference to your world at all. Weird how from a different point of view a “big thing” can mean a “small thing” or a “no-thing”. Life continues, and so does this quest. But for now, it will continue from under this rock.

I am not particularly sentimental. When my dad died three years ago and I was asked if there was anything of his I would like, I couldn’t think of anything. A couple of months ago I borrowed my dad’s binoculars from my mom. For a little while I thought: Ha, I found it! Something to remember my dad by. This thought passed when I realised that I could buy binoculars better suited to my needs. It’s not that I don’t like stuff. I love stuff. Someone just doesn’t live on for me in stuff. So if our house was burning and my hubbie and kiddo (and cats) were safe, what would I grab? My handbag so that I have my ID and bank card. Next probably my computer tower (for the files), screen and keyboard etc. can easily be replaced, so they stay behind. If I get round to putting important docs like wills and insurance details etc. in a convenient place, I’d probably grab those too. Not romantic I know, but, I should already be wearing my wedding ring, so that counts right? But tonight was a little diff

I was watching TV last night. A programme on weight loss. Now, as you may have figured out by now, I am indeed of the female persuasion, so me watching weight loss TV should come as no surprise. Just about (if not) every woman I know have some form of (ridiculous) fascination with weight loss. Myself included. From the couch, half asleep, head propped up on my leg, my hubbie gave his two cents worth: “I know why he overeats. It’s because of the emotional scarring his parents caused when they gave him that name.” Tact is not always a requirement, especially when talking ‘bout someone on TV we are highly unlikely to meet. I also recently read an article about a company offering a “meaning of name” service, making sure that the name you choose for your child does not have some dreadful meaning in some obscure language. Personally I think we should stop worrying about the meaning and choose a name we like, one that our kids hopefully won’t be laughed at too often for (never is too close t

(Counting today.) With the countdown to Christmas getting closer to zero, my hubbie and I fell into the world of present shopping yesterday. If you are thinking: they left it a bit late, you would be wrong. In my world, any Christmas shopping happening more than three days before thee day can be considered as early. Both of us love giving presents, and usually armed with lists and lists (I love lists) we venture into the shops doing our best to find a present that says something about the person. As we understand them at least. As we go down the list, considering interests and hobbies, likes and dislikes, and trying to keep in mind reactions to previous gifts, we easily can spend a whole day wondering from shop to shop, making notes of candidate gifts. Over a coffee, or beer (well cider for me as I don’t like beer) we will then discuss the merits of the gifts, and then (after the coffee) return to the shops to make the purchases. (Now that I think of it, I don’t like coffee either, but

One of my favourite Google pastimes is to look up the definitions of words. Sometimes you think you know a word, but you may have learnt it from context, or heard it from someone who didn't really know either. Then, one day, you use a word with great confidence, just to be sneered at by a whole array of individuals. Not fun. This is where the ability to type in - define: word - is so wonderfully useful. True I can't do this successfully amidst an intellectual repartee, but useful none the less. Not so when it comes to me. Type in define: me and you get things about a state in New England, somebody's first (or was it third) album, a reference to a letter from the Greek alphabet, but absolutely nothing (and I mean nothing) about me. Guess I'll have to figure this out for myself.

So I guess I could have waited a week or three and started this blog on thè day: January the first. But why if December 8 was as good a day as any other? And let's face it: if I can't start a blog on December 8 (or 9, or 10) and stick to it, what difference will January 1 make to my ability to persevere? Absolutely nothing. This is why, who knows how many new years ago, I decided that new year's resolutions are a big, fat waste of time. Now if I want to do something - I do it. Is my success rate any higher? Can't tell, didn't keep count. But it does mean that I don't have to wait a week or three to go on any of my little quests. And if I fail? Well, since I don't have to wait for January 1 to come round again, I can try again the very next day. Or any other day.

So you decide to start a blog, you fill in your name, type in your email address and choose a password. Then it gets to one seemingly simple line: The name of your blog. You’re stumped (or at least I was). What do you call this damn thing you decided to do? You can’t leave it blank. A blog with a blank name might as well not get started. You think about what you wanna write. Everything. Nothing. Something in between? You try to be clever, insightful, funny – maybe provocative. Then, after 10 to 100 minutes of just staring at a blank line, you type: Life Quest (and other stuff). Coz let’s face it: everything is about this silly little life we live. And some other stuff.

So here I am starting my second blog. The first, started in April, is on a parenting site and evolves around my little boy. I started writing about our adventures , partly because I was told to ("you'll forget when he did new things and you'll want to know later") and partly because I thought it would be fun. I was right, it was fun. What I didn't know at the time though was about the other bloggers. Reading about their ups and downs, highs and even "highers", I realised that I was part of a community. Something bigger than just little old me. So why a second blog then? Too much space on the internet. And I have every intention to help fill it.