Sunday, September 30, 2012

The Summer of the Dress





As the days become longer, and the sun shines warmer and brighter, my mind turns towards the impending Summer.

Each season has its own beauty, of course.

Autumn is aflame with the majestic reds and golds of falling leaves.
Winter is the romance of a misty haze and the sound of rain falling on roof tops while we snuggle cosily in our warm beds.
Frivolous Spring makes us giddy with delight, fragrant blossoms fill the air and the earth, once again, is reborn.

Then there is Summer.
Long, hot, beautiful Summer.

Summer is...

Frolicking at the beach!




Sweet delicious cherries and juicy watermelons.

Lazy siestas sleeping under a shady tree.

The chirping of crickets and cicadas, our lullaby for hot, Summer nights.

Icy poles and ice creams.
(Pistachio gelati for me).

Squirting the children with the garden hose as they squeal with delight, then running for my life as they chase me with buckets of water. (Of course, I let them catch me!).


Glorious sunsets.
Sultry cocktails.
Isn't it romantic?

Stillness.
Serenity.

And the dresses.
I love Summer dresses.
Summer dresses teamed with espadrilles.

I can't wait to unravel the heavy layers of Winter and pop into a frock.

I love the gentle feeling of a cooling breeze as it swirls about my bare legs, it's like my dress is dancing.

A summer dress makes me feel like Sophia Loren, Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor.

All woman.

Girly and twirly.


Fitted in all the right places.


My curves, long hidden, come out to play.


Summer has a rhythm that I just can't wait to dance to. 


Are you looking forward to Summer?

What's your favourite Season?



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Friday, September 21, 2012

In Search of 'Kefi': Lost and Found


I like to think of myself as, generally, quite a Happy Soul.
At my best, I feel joyous, exultant, buoyant, radiant.
At my worst, I am merely content, (but ALWAYS grateful).

I do get the Blues occasionally (ok, well monthly, if you know what I mean) but when I am Swimming in the Depths of Sad Waters, I know that this will (eventually) pass.

But for me, Life is all about the Pursuit of Happiness.

The Greeks have a term for this Happiness that lives inside us: this Joyful Spirit, this Passion for Life, this 'Joie de Vivre'.
The Greeks call it 'kefi'.
And as a proud Grecian Goddess myself, kefi pulsates through my body and my DNA like a passionate, rhythmic dance.



For Greeks, kefi is found in the sparkle of our eyes, the cheekiness of our smiles, the warmth of our embrace, the abundance of our feasts,  the heartiness of our laugher, the generosity of our hospitality, the gusto of our voices in song, the passion in our dance. Kefi celebrates the joy of being alive.

This morning my kefi was quashed because of one sad little daughter in our house.
There is a saying that goes (with which I wholeheartedly agree ):
"A Mother is only as Happy as her Un-Happiest Child".
And it was very true this morning.
When my children are truly unhappy, it guts me and torments me. It's the most wretched feeling in the world.
Upset and defiant, there was nothing I could do to soothe her troubled mind (stubborness is a trait she gets from her father, I might add, just quietly). It saddened me to leave her at school this morning, red eyed and with quivering lips.

When child is sad, mother is sadder.

I got home and my kefi plummeted. I had no joy.
Not even Pinterest, nor chocolate, nor offers of a massage by Mr WhoaMamma could settle my troubled heart. I could not rest until I knew my child was okay.

I looked at the time and grabbed my keys. It was time for  recess.
"I'm off!" I shouted to Le Husband. "Just want to check that Little Miss C is okay".
"I'll join you", said my partner in crime and off we went, Mr & Mrs WhoaMamma, arm in arm, to the school grounds to spy on our offspring.

And there they were. Our twins. Laughing and playing amongst their friends, screeching with joy.
We were spotted and towards us they ran, embracing our legs, breathless with delight.
"What are you doing here?" they queried.
"Oh, Daddy and I were just having a coffee nearby and on our way home we thought we'd just pop in and say 'hello'. So.... 'hello'!"
Miss C looked at me with a Knowingness and hugged me extra tight.
"Thank you, Mamma. I'm happy now!" and with that the bell rang and off they skipped back to class.

I may not be able to solve the world's problems but I'll sure as heck be there for my kidlets in any way I can.

The sun shone and the birds tweeted extra sweetly.
I 'high-fived' Mr WhoaMamma and gave him a cheeky wink.
I could contain myself no longer.
Arms outstretched, fingers clicking, a quick kick of the left foot followed by a quick kick of the right, I joyously slapped my ankle.

My kefi was back.

OPA!

And now... a musical expresson of kefi, kitschy Greek-cinema style. Enjoy!
(From the film My Daughter the Socialist (1966) starring Aliki Vougiouklaki)


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What gives you 'kefi'?

Saturday, September 15, 2012

The Haunting Words of Mr F


Artwork by Katie Daisy


I awoke, determined.

I often make promises to myself, many I have failed to keep.

Changes needed to be made.

My intentions are (mostly!) good and pure, in this one and only precious life we have.

While half of me is grounded in the domestic drudgery of cleaning, cooking, shopping, organising things for school, entertaining kiddies and le Husband and just trying to catch up on stuff, the other half of me is soaring in the clouds, dreaming of adventures and Pretty Little Things to create.

I have a special little shelf in my cupboard for my 'When I Have Time...' projects.
Beautiful fabrics, golden threads, bamboo handles, glass beads, earring backings, embossed paper, silk ribbons, watercolours, vintage flowers, nuggets of turquoise, Yiayia's unfinished embroideries. My collection has been sitting there patiently for about 6 1/2 years, since the day my first borns came into this world. My Box of Pretty Things is awaiting the moment I latch onto the Runaway Horse of Creative Inspiration when it hits, holding tightly on its reigns, galloping and yee-haaa-ing with joyous glee instead of shrugging my shoulders and waving glumly as it passes me by, yet again.

My heart cries out as I scrub another crusty pasta pot:

"Oh Spirit of Creativity! Do not abandon me!
We will be together! We will create!
I promise! I'll Try!"

The words of my 4th Grade Teacher, Mr F come back to haunt me. 
Mr F was tall and dandy. He had a head shaped like an egg, bald and shiny on top. 
He had round black-rimmed spectacles and wore pinstriped pants that made him look as tall as a tower. To these pants he would attach silver bicycle clips near his ankles so that his trousers would not get caught up as his long, spindly legs powered his bicycle to school.

Mr F was very Proper. He relished in the Queen's English and rolled his R's when he spoke: (Rrrrrrrodney! Please stop harrrrrassing that poorrrrrr girrrrrrl and rrrreturrrn to yourrrrr seat prrrromptly!). He was very theatrical and was in his element when conducting our music lessons. We would sit on the floor as he took position at the schools piano, under a portrait of HRH Queen Elizebeth II, resplendant in her puffy yellow gown and majestic crown. 

"Zippedy Doo Dah! Zippedy Ay!
My Oh My What A Wonderful Day!
Plenty of Sunshine Heading My Way!
Zippedy Doo Dah! Zippedy Ay!"

His energetic fingers would thump away at the piano keys, like an octopus flailing it's tentacles. Mr F would bob up and down, the piano stool squeaking threateningly. It was a wonder he never broke it or fell off it.

It was the night of parent/teacher interviews and my parents took their places on the little squeaky wooden chairs positioned in front of Mr F's desk. I sat meekly behind them.
"Well!", exclaimed Mr F, "What can I say about Jessica? She is a puuuuuuuuuurre delight!
A's in writing, A's in mathematics, she loves herrrrr arrrrrrrt and parrrrrticipates most joyously in ourrrrr musical prrrresentations".
"Therrrrre is one thing, I could add, howeverrrr....." 
He leaned in closer. His change of position set his spectacles ablaze reflecting the light of the classroom. He looked almost Supernatural.
"She is a most fabulous student, but...... I have neverrrrr seen herrrr trrrrrry....."

I have mulled over those words all my life.

Was this good or bad?

Things would just naturally click in my mind while I was at school.
A quiet achiever.
I loved reading and I loved writing stories. Maths just seemed to work in my head.
My grades were always high (except for Physical Education, but that's another blog post. You'll get your chapter, Mr S).
If I could achieve things without trying, wasn't that a good thing?

" I have never seen her try...."

Mr F was right.
Many things in my life seem to have happened effortlessly.
Whether it's been willing it with all my heart and soul or putting it out to the universe, things just seem to fall into place. But not always. 

In some instances I have tried and failed badly. I have fought hard. I have tried to make relationships work, putting all my heart and soul in them but to no avail. What more could I do? What more could I give? It wasn't meant to be. And in hindsight that was a good thing, the best thing. For I was not being honoured or respected or cherished. Those lessons made me stronger and wiser.

The biggest battle in my life at the moment is balancing the needs of my family against the needs of My Self. Family inadvertently always wins. But maybe I should rephrase that.

It's not about Winning and Losing.

This is about Winning and Winning.

My first pledge is Not To Give Up.

Even as I type, my children are fighting, spilling milk, shredding tissue paper all over my loungeroom floor, my husband is shooing the cat off the kitchen bench, my sister is asking me to drive her somewhere, I have 5 baskets of washing waiting for me in the laundry, the fridge is practically empty, I have no idea what I'm going to cook for dinner, my grandmothers want me to come to visit, I still haven't done our taxes, the plants in my garden are withering, I'm wondering what's going on in Facebook Land, my floors are crunchy, I'm still in my pyjamas, and I do believe I'm due a toilet break.

But look here, Mr F!
I am trying!
I am perservering!
It would be so easy for me to succumb to my Haus Frau Guilt, get off this laptop and tend to Life's Messes like I usually do. Deny my passions, deny my Right to Write.
But I'm not, am I?

Right now, I choose me.
I choose to ride my Creativity Dragon and release these humble little words.
I have created a Blog Post!

And do you know what, Haus Frau Guilt?
I have picked up my Yiayia's unfinished embroidery and I am doing a little section EVERY DAY.
Little by little.
Each little strand I weave makes my heart smile bigger and bigger and bigger.
And next week I am going to make some earrings.
Dangly ones, with gold and turquoise.
And the week after that, a handbag with bamboo handles that I will fill with treasures and carry proudly around with me when I go to the shops to buy more fabric softener and cat food.

I am going to Keep On Going.

And as long as I keep on going,  I am Winning.


What happens when you 'try' in Life?
What would you like to 'try'?
Are you afraid of failing? Or succeeding?



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Sunday, September 9, 2012

Oh, Happy Day!



Today we celebrated darling Le Husband's birthday.
(Happy Birthday, agapi!)

We had yummy pancakes for breakfast followed by scrumptious chocolate birthday cake topped with choc icing, candy sprinkles and fresh strawberries (to make it healthy, obviously!)


Waiting for Daddy.
I whipped up a quick batch of spinach, ricotta and feta rolls in the oven for lunch 
and we decided to eat them in the park. 
The sun was shining.
It was a glorious day.

The girls delighted in the swings...

Squeeeeeee!

Higher, Mamma, higher!

Darling Birthday Boy and I delighted in them.


Ssshhhhh! Do not disturb blissfully content child...

Oh, Happy Day indeed!

What made you happy today?


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