RemembeRED - Cleaned Out For Christmas

This year, I think my name might be showing up on a friend's 'Clean Out List'. I think it is coming to a time when she has moved on and will move in different circles and those circles may not include me.

This year has been a SHOCKER - for both of us. Hers has been epic in the relationship side of life and mine has been epic in state of mind and a life throwing curve-balls kind of way. It is a real shame that we have both had such hard years, it would have been better had we taken turns, but life didn't give us that option.

When I rank our woes, hers far outweigh mine. She has had to look at a complete lifestyle change. Her life will never be the same again. My year in comparison has just been messy, lots of ups and downs, but my base line has always been pretty good. I have been fighting to maintain equilibrium, and this has been hard in its own way.

I don't want to lose this friend. I really don't. She has been a friend for a really long time, around twelve years. We are similar enough that we can talk deeply about things, and different enough that we can still find things to talk about. We have held each other's babies, camped together and talked for way too long on the phone.

But, this year, there have been some things we haven't always seen eye to eye on. We have misinterpreted each other. I have said some things that she wasn't ready for and vice versa. It has been a tough road for our friendship. 

I really hope that her 'Clean Out List' does not have my name on it. It wouldn't surprise me if it is though, some things do come to an end. I just hope this is not one of those things.

I am linking up with Write on Edge for RemembeRED...

Think of a time that you “cleaned house.” Consider the subtext—we’re not writing about Windex here. We’re writing about relationships. Or feelings. Or a captured moment in time.

Consider how dialogue and body language bring the moment to life for the reader.

And let’s shoot for around 300 words.

See you for the link-up on Tuesday!

RemembeRED - Old Photos

Well, this isn't a favourite photo of mine, but my oh my, do I remember these times.... My mother loved this photo of me, she had it hanging in her photo gallery for years, I wonder why she liked it so much? I should ask her sometime.

Sitting in the bush on a hot Saturday afternoon was not something I really wanted to do. I wanted to be home where I could just watch television or listen to music in my room. I hated having to wear trainers and long socks, I worried about ticks and snakes and goannas and dirt in general. I did not like having to go without showers and I just wanted a clean place to sit. I do remember being thankful that there were no boys around, it was good to have a break from that angst.


We were taken on a drive on the back of a ute around the property we were camping on. There were old mines all over the property and we were encouraged to go in some of the shafts to look around. I didn't particularly like the feeling of being under earth in the middle of the bush, of course the younger girls screamed and cried and worried about Bunyips.


I was 16 at the time. I was not good at being 16. My skin was bad, my teeth were bad, I hated my body and I wished I had never cut my hair. I was neither smart nor dumb. I was neither pretty nor ugly. I was neither popular nor unpopular. I was in the middle, average, no ripples.


I wish I could reach into this photo and tell this self-conscious girl that she is going to be okay. That she will find her way in time, that life gets better. I would tell her that life is what you make it, that life is more than the sum of parts; bad skin, bad teeth, big bottom - they are not the sum of who that girl is. I would tell this girl to travel, to learn and to dream. I wish I could tell her those things. I wish someone had....

Everyone has a favorite photo of themself, whether it’s a childhood snapshot, a professional graduation or wedding photograph, or a close-up taken amongst friends.

Some say a photograph steals the soul. This week, show us yours: take us into the moment that photograph was taken. Show us who you were then and what the photograph means–in 300 words.

RemembeRED - Peaceful Places

Peaceful Places...

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Alone at last. This happens so infrequently these days. Today, I am alone unexpectedly and it is like a cool repreive on a white hot day. It is like finding myself on a boat punting down a stream where willow trees lean in to meet and mingle in the middle. I am wearing a white linen dress and I am holding a parasol trimmed in lace, nibbling figs and pistachios, lying back and letting my fingers glide through the cool water. 


As I look up I see the sun playing peek-a-boo through the canopy of trees and birds clamber to catch their very own sun ray. The only sound is the lapping water on the sides of the boat and the swoosh of the oars as I am paddled down the stream.


I don't know where the boat is going, I don't know how long we will be travelling for, I don't know what I shall eat or what I shall drink. All I know is that at this moment, there is peace. There is time enough to worry about plans and eating and drinking. For now, not having a plan is a delight in itself.

This week, as we enter one of the busiest times of year, I say we take a lesson from these second graders and write about a (real) place that makes us feel peaceful.

Where is your quiet place? What does it look like? What happens there?

Word limit is 200. Come back on Tuesday to link up!

RemembeRED - Pivotal Conversations

I guess I have been a bit obsessed with my relationship with Mr Cool lately... We are fast approaching our 15th Wedding anniversary and it has me reflecting about all sorts of things. It seemed fitting to use this conversation.... 

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Pre-Proposals....

Mr Cool and I were enjoying living in the same city again, being at the same university was icing on the cake. It was a heady time of seeing each other a lot more and our seeing our relationship growing stronger and stronger.


"Wow, look at that! They have emerald rings on sale at the jeweller!" I really didn't mean to say it out loud, but perhaps I was testing whether Mr Cool was serious about recent talks about getting engaged.


"I think we need to sit down for a bit," Mr Cool seemed serious and quiet. "I need to ask you something. I want to look at rings with you, but I need to know something first."


My head began racing, my heart started thumping. On the one hand, I was so excited that Mr Cool was about to ask me to marry him, but on the other, I didn't want to be asked in a shopping centre!


He took both my hands in his. "Now, listen carefully. I do want to marry you, but I need to know that if I ask you to marry me, which I am NOT, will you say yes?" 


"Oh my goodness, are you asking me to marry you! Oh my goodness!"


"No, you aren't listening. I am not asking you to marry me. I am asking that IF I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"


I am not sure of my actual response, it may not have even been actual words, but we then made our way back to the jeweller and selected a ring. I really wanted an emerald ring. Emeralds are my birth stone and I just loved that they were not diamonds {in the 1990s being different was important}. 


I look at my ring often. It is not encrusted with diamonds. It is quite simple. It is exactly what I wanted. If I had the choice of all the rings in Tiffany's or the one Mr Cool bought me on that day, I would still choose mine. 



Recreate a pivotal conversation with us this week. Remember, this is memoir.You can only record what was actually said. Save the bon mots and imagined snappy retorts for fiction.  Let’s shoot for 300 words.

RemembeRED - Doomed Weddings

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This year has seen 1-2-3-4 marriages crumble around us. Mr Cool and I feel as if we are the last ones standing in a room once filled with married couples. It has been heartbreaking. I wonder if I had been at these weddings would I have seen the signs that it was doomed to fail? I really don't think so. I really don't think people sign up for marriage to see it end in a bitter, hurtful, regretful swan dive of sorrow.

I love weddings. I love the dresses and the flowers and everyone craning their necks to see the lovely bride. I love that I think back to my own wedding where I married the man I loved. When I go to weddings, I go armed with a handkerchief, mascara and a huge bag of well wishes. I pray that the marriage is a great one, not just a good one. I pray that the couple will be happy and that they have talked A LOT before walking down the aisle. I hope and hope that they can muddle their way to a happily ever after. Because, although weddings are lovely, they are really just the beginning. 

I  knew nothing of Mr Cool when we stood before our families exchanging vows - I knew NOTHING - nothing at all. Even though we had dated for around 4 years, I didn't know he preferred McCleans to Colgate, that he didn't really like mashed potatoes and that he took months and months to finish reading a novel. I look back now and wonder what on earth our parents were thinking of to allow us to get married at twenty and a heartbeat. 

Mr Cool and I have been married for nearly 15 years now. We feel we have a successful marriage. We talk all the time. Love each other to bits. Crave each other's company. Make each other laugh. Respect each other totally. Care for each other's dreams delicately. Love our children endlessly. We love to do life together and share every happy and crappy moment. 

So, I wonder if anyone at our wedding all those years ago, sitting in the congregation, thought that our marriage was doomed to fail? If so, I am excited to say that they were wrong! Given what we have been through this year, we know that what we have is well worth fighting for. 'Til death do us part.

I have linked up with 'Write On Edge' for RemembeRED... 

RemembeRED - Cooking with Oma

I am linking up again with RemembeRED and Write on Edge.... 

Take me back…whether to a month ago or decades ago.

Share with me a special recipe, but don’t just list out ingredients.

Take me there…in 500 words or less.

Come back on Tuesday, November 1st to link up.

I was raised in a Dutch household. My parents both immigrated as tweens and met and married on Australian soil. Growing up we ate meat pies, enjoyed the beach and said 'G'day' to each other, we thought we were true blue Aussies. But, we were not. I used to get liverwurst sandwiches in my lunch box, we celebrated Sinterklaas on December 5th and enjoyed talking loudly and eating a lot. It would appear that being Dutch was far more than a geographical point of reference.


As a child, my 'Little Oma' {grandmother} lived next door, my 'Big Oma' lived interstate. There were lots of advantages to having an Oma living right next door; lollies by the fistful, salted licorice on the dressing table and a good place to avoid my mum and her long list of chores to do.

On Saturdays, my Oma liked to bake, in case someone visited on a Sunday after church. She was famous for her Boterkoek which is a Dutch buttery shortbread kind of cake. I was often called upon to help her make it. I loved the chance to cook with her. 


Boterkoek is a simple cake, but these are often the best don't you think? We would melt the butter and mix in sugar, flour, almond essence and eggs. We would check that the dough was soft but not crumbly and moist but not greasy. The perfect dough was soft and golden and smelt amazing. We always had to try a little piece of it to make sure it was sweet enough. 


I loved the fluted pan she used to bake the Boterkoek in, it made the prettiest slices of cake I had ever seen. When we had pressed the dough into the pan, we would take blanched almonds and press them into the dough snugly in the scallop of each of the flutes so that each slice would get a delicious roasted nut. Once the egg glaze was smeared on, the cake was placed into the oven and it was time for a cup of tea. This is when Oma would sit in her chair and sigh heavily, take a few sips of tea and then presently fall asleep. Leaving me, all of 10 years old, to wash the dishes and smell the exact moment the delicious cake was ready.


I don't remember my Oma having all that many visitors, but the Boterkoek always ran out. This could explain why she wasn't actually all that 'Little' for a 'Little Oma'.


I wish I knew what happened to that fluted pie tray. I like to think that someone in our family still uses it. I have a different baking tray of my Oma's though. I am told she actually brought it with her when she travelled the many miles by boat from Holland to Australia. It is pressed steel. It has a great pattern on it and is black from years and years of faithful service to our family line. I am honoured to have it. When I use it to bake biscuits that I make with my girls I am proud to be passing on the legacy of baking to another generation. 

RemembeRED - Autumn Where You Are

Crisp apples, plucked from the orchard, and brilliant leaves blending into the sunset along the horizon mean autumn has arrived in Michigan.

If you’re in one of the areas of the country still sweltering in summer-like temperatures, perhaps George Eliot can help bring some autumnal memories to the surface:

Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive
autumns. ~George Eliot

For you, what does autumn evoke?

Show us in 300 words or less; come back to link-up on Tuesday, October 18th!

I live in Australia. We are now all excited about Spring and the impending Summer. I decided to take some poetic license and contrast Spring and Autumn intertwined with a human element. I hope that this is okay?!

I am Spring. You are Autumn.

While I am here, you are there. I am in Spring, you are in Autumn. The same spinning world, but we live poles apart. New life is abounding here, but life gathers into itself where you are. I dream of heavy headed flowers bobbing on a cool breeze, you dream of glowing woodfires and curling up inside.

Life is the same for us all but each one is unique. One thing in your hemisphere means another in mine. When I sleep dreams of the sea, you are awake battling waves. When I am spinning and weaving in the sun, your dreams are dew covered gossamer threads.


The same sun that leaves you cold, warms me up. The same moon burning bright for you, leaves me darkened. I sometimes wish we could swap, you could have my life for a day, you could know what I know for a day and vice versa. I wonder if that would mean we understood each other better, or would it harden our hearts to know what we have not shared? Life can be so cruel, so kind, so ugly, so beautiful.


Everything comes in its own time. Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring. Times for fun, reflection, rest and renewing. What a shame they are opposites for us. When I am having fun, you are resting. When I want reflection, you want renewing. When you are resting, I am having fun. Never the two shall meet. 

One day we may be on the same page you and I. One day you might understand the other side of this tale. But for now I want new growth and you, you want to rehash the old. Thrashing over and over the lies and the stories and the changed perspectives. Thrashing. Thrashing. Thrashing.

Autumn and Spring. Spring and Autum. You and me. Me and You.






So, what do you think? I don't normally write like this, it feels a bit exposing.... Hmmm, I am more comfortable with handbags and shoes!

RemembeRED - To Blog Or Not To Blog

In “On Writing” Stephen King wrote, “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.”

Write a memoir post – first-person and true – inspired by that statement.

Word limit is 300.

I decided last week that I was going to stop blogging. That I was done. That there were far better things to do with my precious time. I mean, really, the world would continue to turn, wars would continue to wage, people would get on with their lives without BBeingCool. Really, they would. I decided that that was that. Time to move on to something else. 


And then I remembered the first blog post I spat out into the blogosphere. I wanted to discover and learn about life and fashion and family. I wanted to find a way to be B without being pigeonholed into a box that said, 'Stay at Home Mum' or 'Mother of Three'. I wanted to be a box that said, 'B Being Cool' - that sounded catchy. 


Staring at the white screen, cursor flashing, wondering what I might say that could be of any use to anyone was and is, petrifying. I wrote about twenty posts before I published the first one. Hitting the 'Publish Post' button was and is, one of the most exhilarating and frightening and free-ing things I have done. 


I have struggled at times to think of things to write about. That blinking curser mocks me. I am not exposed to all that many cool things like; galleries, designer clothes, book signings or celebrity spotting. My life at the moment is limited to what I can do whilst keeping three poppets and a cute husband alive and mostly happy*. But, my life is still cool. 


I have learnt so much since this blogging journey began. I have met some amazing people. I have taken some risks. I have discovered that I love to write. I really love it. I may as well continue to write. I may as well continue to blog.


So.... my decision to stop blogging was short lived. It is so great being part of a community of people who live life well and write about it. I love being able to share this crazy journey. 


Life is cool. Live it. Love it. Share it.


* I hope my peeps don't mind that I have used one of their catch phrases, it is too good to keep under wraps!

RemembeRED - Can you guess what I am thinking about?

I am linking up again with 'Write on Edge' and... 

Conjure

Writing short posts is an excellent way to flex your word choice muscles. Which word is the most clear? Poignant? Direct?

This week I want you to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever you like.

But don’t tell me what it is, conjure it.

Don’t tell me you were sad- tell me that your face crumpled as tears drizzled down your cheeks.

Don’t tell that that one guy was hot- tell me about his eyes. Or his tush. Whatever.

You have 100 words, use them wisely. And yes- you so can do this!

Come back to link up on Tuesday. I can’t wait to read what you conjure!

Can you guess what I am thinking of?

From the moment you touch my lips, I am yours. You are golden, sweetness and comfort. When I hold you, your warmth spreads through my hands and flows through my body like mist. I begin to uncoil, sighing, at peace. Your sweetness soothes my soul and fills my senses. To some, you seem insignificant. Something to take for granted. An accompaniment. But to me, you are fields and fields of flowers. You are India. At the end of a long day, it is you I look forward to. Blessed am I that Mr Cool understands my connection with you.


So... What do you think it I am describing? Scroll down to see if you are right. Feel free to write what you thought I was describing in the comments - just to see how effective my description was, not that I am fishing for comments of course! 

A nice hot cup of tea before bed.... Aaahhhh..... Bliss. The end of the day ritual.

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Travelling When Wireless Meant A Really Old Radio

I have decided to join up with the 'Write On Edge' Community this week. The prompt given for this week is to write about a memory I have of life before the internet. It has to be 600 words, I cannot use the phrase, 'I remember' and it can't be a list.... 

Travelling When Wireless Meant A Really Old Radio

Before we had children and a house and grew up, Mr Cool and I spent some time living in London. I like saying we lived in London, had we rented a flat 5 metres further up the road, we would have been living in Essex. And although there is nothing wrong with Essex, it sounded so much better to say that we lived in London.


We were pretty savvy travellers back then, so we thought. We had personal CD players for the long flight so we could listen to any of the dozens of CDs we carried with us. We had bought ourselves a very cool little camera that had a zoom lens and electric everything. We made sure we got one with film that could be bought in every major city in the world.


Before we left, I went around the school I had been working in and asked if anyone wanted to be on my 'Belindaland' email list. I was going to document our trip and was planning on sending messages home for friends and family when I could. So, I started out with a list of about twenty people who wanted to be on my list. I thought that was pretty cool.


I sent messages home most weeks. We travelled to some cool places, but we also worked in some inner city scary London schools. My emails were pretty exciting at times! By the time we left London eighteen months later, I was sending those 'Belindaland' emails to more than 50 people. I would get emails asking to be put on the mailing list. Even strangers asked, they had read my emails over the shoulders of friends and family and wanted them in their very own inboxes. My mother-in-law would print them out and then edit them, literally cutting them up and re-gluing them, cutting out words like 'damn' and 'bum' so that Mr Cool's grandma wouldn't be upset by my 'bad' language. It was cool to be in demand.


Because we didn't have internet in our flat, we were limited to internet cafes. This was fine by us. We would grab a nice big coffee and head to an internet cafe for an hour or so to catch up on things and write home. Due to our camera requiring film, getting photos into the emails was really tricky. A few times I literally sent photo albums home, much to the delight of our parents. 


A little while ago, some friends were either living or travelling in London. One friend was looking for The Rainforest Cafe in Piccadilly. We were able to give her directions live online. She then sent photos of herself drinking my favourite Key Wester Smoothie at the fantastic smoothie bar complete with elephants and monkeys in the background. Another friend sent photos of herself standing in front of the Louvre, I was able to see the photo seconds after she posted it onto Facebook. Another friend on Facebook sent out a question asking for things to do in a certain part of London. As quick as a flash I shot out a list of things that I would have done in that part of the city. Travelling is so different these days.


When I think back to our days of travelling, I am glad we travelled when we did. We simply enjoyed things and then once a week, shared our tales. There was no pressure to send instagrams of the view from the Eiffel Tower or status updates about the bad fish pizzas I kept accidentally ordering. We lived first, wrote about it later. A great way to live, don't you think?