It's All Over

It All Over— it is a sad title to start any blog or story isn’t it? On a whole we don’t like sad things, they make us feel uncomfortable, spoil our day generally putting a dampener on all around us.

But be that as it may be Christmas is all over for another year. Was that a sigh of relief I heard? I think if we all were to answer honestly we would say that Christmas is probably one of the most stressful times of the year.

Please don’t misunderstand me here. Capt. Corsair and I and the two spitfires had a lovely time; for the first time since the boys were born we spent Christmas Day together at the farm— by ourselves, no rellies. It was awesome! Not that we are against family Christmas gatherings however they are tiring and this Christmas we enjoyed our own company.Sometimes I think we need to take time out and enjoy our family without the fuss and fooster of a celebratory Christmas dinner complete with hot lunch and the inevitable hot tempers as well.Our Lord told us to “ Be quiet and know that I am lord” Amongst the media push to spend spend and spend again, our minds are full of thoughts of have we got the right gift for everyone and did I get enough food?We forget the real reason we celebrate Christmas anyway. We don’t have time to think of it. The presents to be got and wrapped, cooking to be done places to go, people to see— when all our bodies want is to STOP and chill out. 

Try it one year, everything seems to come easier. I am not saying problems don’t happen— they do, but it seems that you are able to handle them better, without the frustration. I wish I had learnt this secret sooner!!

The Eye of the Storm

Yesterday afternoon Captain Corsair and JB and I experienced our own personal storm. We knew things weren’t going to be good when the weight of the storm turned around and came back on the farm from the south. Never a good thing! Rolls of loud resounding thunder rumbled round us followed in turn by the ear-splitting crack of lightning that sounded as if it was in the next room. OK, by this time we had battened down all hatches that can be in an eighty year old farm house and waited for the onslaught. Outside in the paddocks stood our summer crop of sorghum and corn. Tiny little plants just beginning to flourish. And to the south- an ominously green sky was bearing down on us.

A disaster of any proportion in devastating. I have lived on this farm for twenty two years now, and I had never seen crops stripped as these were. Golf ball sized jagged hail stones don’t mess about. Oh, it was all over in fifteen minutes, but it caused the same heartache as the twenty year drought before it had. A years salary and weeks of blood sweat and tears torn to shreds. It made me think of the various disasters that have happened over that last few years, of the losses that people have suffered and will continue to suffer. We lost only a season’s crop, but for those who lost a home or family member the devastation must be as a searing pain, one that can’t be fixed by replanting a crop. As hard as the lesson is to take, I believe that we don’t really understand the lose of others until we experience loss ourselves.

New Boardies, a Surfboard and the Meaning of Friendship

Gods word tells us to be still and know that I am Lord. There is an old saying ' take time to smell the roses'. Have you ever just sat and quietly contemplated all that is around you? Do you have a special place , a favourite chair, maybe a peaceful part of the garden where you can be quiet and take stock of life?
A few years ago Captain Corsair bought me a garden chair and it is here I gravitate on a still day to read, write or just think. However quite often when I go and sit on my chair I am joined by the Captain, a bevy of cats and the inevitable dog or two, then to top it off sons Top Gun and JB usually add to the mix. There were times that I resented this intrusion to my time of peace. Selfish huh?
This morning was such a time. I had just settled down comfortably on my chair when Captain Corsair sits down beside me, followed by his undisciplined hound that seems all big feet and lolling tongue. No sooner had we organised the seating arrangements than Top Gun bounds out of the house doing an impressive impersonation of John Cleese( long legs going everywhere)wearing a pair of bright orange and yellow board shorts and sporting his new reflective sunglasses--and not much else.
" Like the new boardies mum?' his eyebrows shot up in question.
' Mmmm, bright!' I replied.
He then went on to tell me that he and his two mates had by some means (I refrained from asking how) come by an old surfboard. The new boardies were to compliment the second-hand surfboard. I asked him how three guys were going to make use of one surfboard, especially living approximately 300 kms
from the nearest beach. His reply may have been somewhat naive but on hindsight his simplistic solution to the problem, is one that should perhaps be adopted more often.
' We're friends Mum we will share.'
Out of the mouths of babes?

Long Live Fairytales

When you were little did you enjoy fairytales? Did you let your imagination run wild and join the characters in the story. Did you, like me wish that you could stay in fairyland forever. I think every writer enjoyed fairyland and at one stage or another dreamed of following a white rabbit down a hole or being the most beautiful princess in the world who is rescued and married to the most handsome prince in the world. Of course everything ends 'happily ever after' and the conflict is always conquered, after all good will win out. But as writers we know that real life is very different to that. Fairytales like nursery rhymes, in many cases had quite bizarre even horrific double meanings that were pertinent to the time of writing. Telling a tale is just like that, a mixture of events that thrown into the cauldron to brew together tell the story of someone's journey through life.
Writers of all genres can learn from the fairytales of old, for they not only involved a fantasy world but their writers drew from a world of reality to spin their tales. The fairy tale gave a name and a reason to characters that the average person didn't understand; a reclusive old woman who picked herbs became a witch, a very tall man a giant, a small mischievous child a sprite,and so on. 
Next time you read a book, write a story or tell a tale, bear in  mind that the characters events, and places arn't really that different to the fairy tales of yesteryear,

High Aspirations

This morning No.3 son aka Top Gun came to me an d very seriously declared that he had matured over night and one of the things that he wanted to do before he was 30 ( he is now 18) was to climb Mt Everest. Being the ever encouraging mother I nodded and smiled saying ' That sounds nice dear' . It was only later this evening when I sat down to rethink the happenings of the day that I considered Top Gun's statement. High Aspirations! Most of us have them, how manny of us carry them though? It then occurred to me that Top Gun's aspiration could be correlated to my own writing life. 

What do we each aspire to do as a writer? Do we write for our own pleasure or because to put our thoughts on paper helps clear our mind.  Are we happy just to see people we know and care for enjoy our work? Or perhaps we blog because we have an innate need to talk to someone or record memories for future generations? Perhaps we dream that one day we will have a work in print, even more that it'll become a best seller. 

What ever our aspirations whatever field we take, I think Top Gun hit it bang on when he announced that he was going for the top. As adults we can shake our heads and comment cynically  ' He has a lot to learn' as so he has, but then maybe we can learn a little from our young novice like to aim high in life.

Culture and Etiquette part 2 or froth or no froth

Captain Corsair(my husband) and I were sitting enjoying our morning cup of coffee when the Captain glanced up at me with a white frothy moustache and asked my opinion on the depth of crema on a 'good' cappuccino. I really didn't know the  answer to his question so I played suitably dumb (not a difficult thing, I have found and ladies quite handy when dealing with the captain). Now let me explain; the Captain bless his p&q's fancies himself quite a barista and each morning and evening we indulge in an espresso, made with love by the Captain. This morning Captain Corsair stated that in his opinion, the mark of a 'good' coffee was the depth of creamy froth the barista managed to create. He liked to be able to eat his coffee with a spoon. As I have said I remained mute on the subject but it got me thinking. Although I like cappuccinos occasionally, my coffee of choice is a tall black-I like to savour the  aroma and enjoy the tastes of the different coffees. It occurred to me that the art of coffee making is much like that of marriage or any other task we undertake for that matter. It also pointed out how graphically different men and women are in their approach to these tasks.
     As I sat eye-balling my morning coffee and considering the vast differences between men and women, and I thought that when it all boils down life is really a froth or no froth situation isn't it?

Culture and Etiquette

Tonight my husband and I have a date to watch the DVD version of Dr Zhivago. I am really fortunate that as a small child I was raised by parents who encouraged me to enter the world of culture and art. I am not referring to which knife and fork to use with which meal( however this was undoubtedly part of the teaching) no I refer to Theatre, musicals, ballet, live performances, art, singing and the list continues. This encouragement makes me what I am today- a writer. I love the plots the intrigue the characters that formulate a story. When I watch a movie, see a play, read a book I find myself breaking down the story into its various sub-plots. I analyse each character and reinventing them or deleting them altogether.
Imagine Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, without the white rabbit! 
Tomorrow my husband and I are going to see Dr Zhivago being perfumed on the stage in Brisbane. It will be interesting to see if Boris Pasternak's book is very different to the stage show. I'll let you know.

Teenagers-learn to love them

Teenagers, they are unique. In any generation they are a species known only unto themselves. Their whole lifestyle is different to any other phase of maturity. It is during this awkward time of volatile hormonal changes that young people decide what attitudes and beliefs to call their own, what moral standing (if any) they will adapt or create, who of their acquaintances are worthy of becoming friends. It is during this pubescent period that they discover sex with all it's complexities. Only as one generation passes into another, these complexities seem to multiply. This is an era of choice, it doesn't matter about such restrictions as moral value or even religious value. In this teenagers world those things are of secondary worth(if any worth at all). 
How sad is it that the majority of our young people have a second language--profanity. Old fashioned word?Sure it is, but there is none better I could describe the words that I hear our high school kids churning out. That brings me to my next point. Although these kids are the adults of tomorrow what they learn today is what they put into practice tomorrow; and who are their teachers? Us, parents caregivers, school teachers, doctors, ministers chaplains and the list goes on. So instead of complaining about today's teenagers-- learn to love them.

Defining the difference between Crime Writer and Criminal.`

````Hello again! Calling all writers of crime, thrillers, mystery, and police procedural in fact at one stage or another every writer touches however briefly on some form of crime, so calling all writers. I give you a hypothetical situation: you are watching a re-run of Wire in the Blood for the umpteenth time and it get to the part where the cops raid the perps home and find amongst other incriminating paraphernalia a bookcase chockablock full of titles such as 'The Profile of a Serial Killer' or ' How Best to Dispose of a Rotting Corpse' or the murderer's choice ' The Life and Times of Ted Bundy'. Do you ever experience a twinge that could be misinterpreted as guilt by association? Does the contents of this criminal's bookcase remind you of the contents of your own? Ouch!
Okay lets view this pragmatically. Truth is whether we are writing non- fiction or fiction we rely a lot on reality, we research constantly, bringing ourselves up to date with and making ourselves aware of any incident or set of circumstances that might pertain to what ever we are writing at the moment. In a crime writers life that involves researching crime. Ditto! 

Easter... anyone?

''It's Easter once more. My youngest son said to me the other day, that the magic had gone out of Easter. It was just another day. Sadly I wondered when his boyish enthusiasum had waned and then I reasoned that at 17 he had other things to occupy his thoughts. That made me think of our heavenly Father and how sad he must feel when we loose the wonder and mystique of the real reason that we celebrate Easter. How He must cringe when He sees us wilfully forgetting that his son died a horrific death that we might be forgiven our sins, of which there are plenty.
Take some time this Easter to stop, kiss a friend, hug a child, smell the flowers, offer a lift, give some encouragement,just be there when you're needed, tell your husband/wife that you love them.
Love one another as Christ loved you"

Late Night Blogging -ain't it grand

Hello All! It''s 1.50am here in Eden and I am sitting in my little part of heaven - my office, with a tall cup of black coffee, my trusty lap-top and the twins(my two rag-doll cats) curled up together on the day bed. Now I ask you what more could a writer ask for? Only one problem, here I am blogging and I should be writing. My muse is getting quite irate, however I point out to her that there are only 24 hours in the day and until some bright spark comes up with a way of extending that allotted timespan,  I , a mere mortal have to work with-in the present confines.
As I sit here happily blogging away I wonder how many other mad bloggers are simultaneously tapping furiously away at their keyboards, and I wonder what passes through their minds. Why do they blog? What are they're expectations. I mean obviously we don't just sit here mindlessly tapping away with no means to an end-or do we?Care to share your reason for blogging? 
Tune into my next blog and I will share mine. Have to go now - coffee's cold!

I like to meet people- do you?

Hi everyone! I am new to this do please bear with me. This whole blogging thing is like starting school for the first time at the ripe old age of forty-plus plus. Yeah I am experiencing everything that a new student feels. Scared out of my brain, not sure that I am doing the correct thing, worried that I'll not use the proper etiquette and that is just a few insecurities.
Other than these issues I like to meet people and I think this is a really great way to do it. So with this in mind I begin my first real blog- hey who knows I may reach Justin Beeber status.