Destination: Struggle Town. Population: Me

                                                                   Source: loveyourchaos.tumblr.com via TissueClouds on Pinterest

When you find yourself 7 months pregnant and staring at the next 7 painfully empty days without your partner around to keep you company or fill the lonely nights with love, I wonder, what's a hormonally unstable pregnant lady to do?

I could sigh no less than 10 times a minute…
Curl up in a ball hugging my big belly and cry…
Mindlessly eat half a carton of choc/caramel ice cream till I feel sick…
Surf the internet/TV channels waiting for something interesting to jump out and entertain me enough to take my mind off him long enough not to sigh again in this same sentence…
Send him multiple texts bordering on the psychotic…
and when all that is said and done I could start the cycle again.
Le sigh, siigh, siiiighhhh…

But when you've had enough of sighing till you hyperventilate you could do what I've done and write up an incredibly lame list of things to do to pass the time while he's gone.
Ahem… here goes:

1. Spend over an hour on Pinterest pinning useless images & links like your life and the lives of those who follow you depends on it.

2. Fill your day with as much work as possible.
No I don't need to finish early today.
Sure, a 13 hour shift is totally appropriate for a woman in my condition.
Please stay and have another treatment. Nooo don't leave me… 

3. Catch up on reading your pregnancy guides. 
Go back over the early months and reminisce if you must.

4. Scan Facebook for updates every 10 minutes & stalk the about page of your entire friends list.
You'll be amazed at the banality or downright stupidity of what some people will write about themselves.

5. Watch all the crappy/ trashy TV that your heart desires guiltlessly.

6. Make half hearted meals for one.
Spaghetti ala Heinz tomato sauce anyone?
How about cheese and crackers? Tuna straight from the can is always a winner.

7. Catch up on blogging ;)

8. Write a really shit post about your inability to have a life outside of your husband.

9. Upload and categorise your holiday photos and finally write some posts about the times you weren't so lame and had said life you now lack.

10. Think of people to visit so as not to be home alone more than you need to be.

11. Take naps.

12. Go out and buy the box set of season one of Once Upon A Time and catch up on all the episodes your hubby wouldn't let you watch in peace while it was free to air.

13. Stay up really late until you're tired enough to go to bed without him by your side.

14. When you wake in the middle of the night to pee/stretch your back/stretch your hips or reheat your wheat pack, read a book with the lamp on to help you fall asleep again rather than trying to strategically toss and turn with your numerous pillows in the dark, all the while, trying not to wake your significant other or push him out of the bed or smother his annoying snoring face with them.

15. Don't bother with your hair and make up nearly as much as usual.

Which wasn't much to begin with I might add…

16. Clean the house like you have OCD.

17. Make a start on the office/junk room that you can barely open the door to.

18. Go out and buy some curtain railings in order to hang up those curtains that you bought over two weeks ago. 
It'll feel really nice to walk around your own lounge in your underwear again without scaring your neighbours children for life or have to live in fear of peeping toms watching your every move while hubby is away.

19. Analyse your baby name list and eliminate options by charting the best combinations to suit your last name via numerology testing.

Seriously, by now you're surely THAT bored.

20. Take another nap. You've earned it.

Guess What?

Signs you might be pregnant or possibly unstable:

1. The Queens Diamond Jubilee concert brings tears to your eyes and the grand finale fireworks leave you blubbering (even though you otherwise couldn't care less about the Queen or her monarchy).

2. You cry during Cadbury's chocolate commercials because "they're so joyful".

3. You crave a meal from TGIFriday's (a salad and their sesame jack chicken strips to be exact) for 3 entire days only to finally arrive to a full house and be told there'll be an hours wait for the next table
- so you cry.

4. You have to stop listening to the radio because every song suddenly makes you emotional.

5. You can no longer spell to save your life.

6. Finding even the most simple of words to express what you want to communicate is beyond your current mental capacity.

7. You forget what you're talking about, mid sentence. 

8. You get irrationally angry at everyone's sudden observation of your "slightly festive belly".

9. While watching the children's movie Rio you weep because "their friendship is just so special".
By now I'm starting to think that I may be a little "special".

10. But it's all ok because as sudden as your mood swings come they are replaced by another inappropriate response to any given situation. 

So which do you think it is…

Is she crazy or up the duff?

Aw here, I'll give you a clue ;)

Faded Memories

Ever since I was a little girl I've felt drawn to and fascinated by old and derelict dwellings.

I would peer into the dusty windows of old corner shops and abandoned houses wondering what former life these neglected buildings once led.

Forgotten and forlorn… but not by me.

I could daydream for hours about what they must have looked like in their former glory.
I loved to imagine who once owned them, lived in them, grew up in them, what kind of things the shops would sell and who the people were who once shopped there.

When I look at an old building I don't just see the cracked and faded paint, dilapidated walls and ceilings or grubby grime stained windows - I see through the dirty facade and wonder at the beauty that once was as well as foolishly hoping that one day it will be restored once again.

I still feel sad when I drive past the empty lot of what once was a house straight out of my dreams.
The run down American country style house was exactly the kind I envisioned when reading so many of my mystery novels as a young girl.
For years it stood there neglected and overrun with vines yet throughout my teens and early twenties I would pass by it and fantasise of one day buying it and restoring it to the home it once was.
Silly that I would still feel cheated somehow by the demolition of that place, since I always knew I could never afford to buy it let alone restore it.
Still I can't help feeling regretful every time I think of it or pass by where it once stood…

Broken but not beaten, full of character, strength and with many stories to tell, sometimes I wish that walls could talk. Don't you?

HyperActive

There just aren't enough harps being played in music these days…

Wow - What a day!
It took me a solid hour to make what should've been a 15min trip into the city for the Melbourne Hair & Beauty Expo.
Stupid Nav Man kept taking me along the longest route and losing satellite reception that, compounded with my airy fairy headspace, had me making wrong turns and missing turn offs left, right and centre.

Thought I'd be clever and chose the cheapest car park miles away from the Exhibition Centre resulting in a walk across the bridge, two blocks away and up a flight of stairs. More to see and snap along the way, I figured. Except I was running late - no time for ambling…

Spent 4 hours bouncing excitedly from stall to stall, blinded by all the pretty shinny things on offer.
(Did not foresee that I would spend a lazy 500 smackaroonies on beauty buys as well as a 12kg box of wax. Suddenly it dawned on me how incredibly far my car was parked.)

Lugged my loot most of the way before my arms and back gave out at the car park. I had no choice but to tuck my stash in a discreet hiding place for later retrieval…
And not a single good samaritan in sight! (hubby reckons taking off my wedding rings might've got me a helping hand. How rude!)

I wish I'd had the foresight to be there a little earlier and take some shots of the docks and the beautiful Polly Woodside residing there.
Never mind, chalking it up to experience - it was my first time after all and I did manage to score a major haul so all was not lost.

This album helped keep me calm along the way.

Well, there's always next time… and next time you can bet I'll be prepared.

Complete with trolly and credit card in tow ;o)

Sharing the tale with everyone over at

Thea's Sunday Session.

The Birds

I feel like her questions should be directed at me.

Although yesterday I was giving a similarly hysterical performance.

Why are they doing this? Why!?!

Am I some kind of things-that-flap whisperer?

(haha, considering what I do for a living, maybe.)

Ok let me re phrase that; I don't like things with wings but for some unknown reason they flock to me like flies to honey. Or more fittingly, like moths to a flame.

It took all my courage to walk calmly and not cry hysterically while in the butterfly enclosure up in Queensland.

As others stood patiently, waiting for them to land on their outstretched hands, I hot footed my way through and still managed to have a swarm of them land all over me.

When birds swoop my car I close my eyes and swerve. 

If something flies at me it's at its own risk since you can be sure I'll either flail wildly or run from the room screaming.

Right, so it's established, I'm a weird freak.

Now here's the backstory.

It all started a few months ago when the feisty little pigeons in my area decided that dog food was rather nice to munch on.

Since Oscar neither invokes fear or attempts to even try to chase them away, the birds have no qualms about helping themselves to his meals.

My little man is a sharer.

Now here's where it kind of gets messy.

We all know Oscar is a spoilt little pooch.

A day left out in the backyard is like a year in the wilderness for him.

When left outside for prolonged periods he comes bolting inside at the end of the day dishevelled and distressed barking like a mad dog for a good five minutes.

You could imagine what he would be saying in puppy speak.

Because I work from home he is predominately inside with me most of the time and because he has a lot a bit of separation anxiety he's gotten very good at holding onto his business (which couldn't be good for him surely) but when nature eventually bashes on his door screaming he very calmly scratches at my salon door alerting me that he needs to go outside. An almost perfect system.

Occasionally I don't hear him and accidents can happen, so on warm enough days I usually just leave the door to the backyard slightly ajar for easy bathroom access and initially the worst thing about this would be allowing flies into the house.

Not anymore.

Remember the pigeons with an appetite for MyDog? (the food not my actual dog)

Yea, well it must be really tasty since they've decided it would be worth the risk to creep inside the back door for a sneaky snack search and subsequently get trapped.

It seems flying in through a crack in the door is easier than flying back out again.

No biggy. Although the first time this happened I nearly cried and proceeded to hold my bladder all day (to get to the toilet you have to go through the laundry) but when this kept happening, I soon worked out that I could open the side door to the laundry pop some food just outside of it and this would usually encourage the trapped rat with wings to follow its greedy stomach to freedom.

Then there was that bird. The partridge in my Christmas tree.

I don't know what the hell possessed that one to come inside but I figured the allure of a natural bushy tree inside the shelter of a home was too good an offer to pass up.

Hence no real tree will ever feature in my house again.

I thought that would be the end of it.

You guessed it - I was wrong.

I don't know what I've done to deserve it but already in the space of a week I've been scared half out of my wits.

Firstly on Monday night by this:

No, it's not a bird. That, my friends, is a moth.

If you think I dislike butterflies, how do you reckon I feel about these ugly mo fo's…

To put it in perspective it was roughly the size of Oscars head.

Ok, so maybe it was more like the size of my palm… but still, you have to agree, that's one big assed moth!

I couldn't sleep for fear I would wake up with it down my throat a la Silence of the Lambs.

I knew it had flown into the bathroom but couldn't even muster the courage to get up and close the door on it.

I begged hubby to get up and kill it or at least shut the bathroom door before wedging a towel under it (so it wouldn't crawl out from under there) but he quickly dismissed my ridiculousness then merely rolled over and went back to sleep.

Thankfully it was dead in the morning.

(which is the only reason I could get close enough to take a photo of it for you.)

And finally I bring you to yesterdays fiasco.

So I'm getting ready for work, minding my own business when I hear a furious flapping coming from what I assume is the laundry.

No problem, I figure.

I'm seasoned now, surely I can deal with this in a breeze.

I simply closed the laundry door leading into the house and opened the one from the sideway.

Curiously I can't see the bird anywhere in the usual places.

'Hmmm, maybe it's hiding in the toilet', I think to myself.

Back to my routine and within minutes more furious flapping.

'Stupid bird' I muse, 'Just fly out the freeken side door, you idiot'

I finish applying my make up and setting up my room for the day, sit down to wait for my first client while trawling through the web and simply expect the bird to be gone by lunch time.

A half hour ticks by and I havn't heard the bird.

Hopeful and with bated breath, I walk to the laundry door and open it just a peep, just enough to peek around the room.

Ok so nothing. I breathe a sigh of relief.

As I turn to walk away, there, perched on my kitchen sink, is the one and the same goddamn pigeon!

For a second I stand frozen, caught in the dead eye stare of this brazen bird before suddenly it decides to take me on and in a flash we are a flurry of frantic flapping and blood curdling screams.

You'll be relieved to know I managed to make it out of there alive before slamming the door to my lounge, (yes I live in a fun house of a thousand doors), shutting it off from the rest of my house.

Just then my first client turns up to find me weeping into the phone. Hubby once again had to save the day though I've since discovered he's not a big fan of birds or bugs either, so is more a hindrance than a help.

His solution? To rip open the fly screen on the kitchen window in order to unhook the latch that opens it to allow it a way out...

yea, now I have a torn up fly screen in my kitchen window and more bird poop than you can poke a stick at.

I know, it's definitely time for a doggy door and you best believe it will be a magnetic one or I fear it'll be stray cats next.

I'm like that song about the woman that swallowed the fly then swallowed the bird to catch the fly then swallowed the cat to catch the bird to catch the fly etc, etc…

Oh why me dear lord? Why me?

My Big Fat Greek Blabbing

Ok so this is turning out to be more of an on-line diary than I would've liked - but I just cant stay away!
(Told you I had a big mouth, well overactive mind at least - sorry, but don't say I didn't warn you).

Once I can start uploading pics I'll be sure to talk less... I think.... hmm, probably not..

I also haven't forgotten that my original purpose was to share with you some of my creative writing but this requires a trip to Kastro d'Acropolis (aka my parents house) and like a black hole once you step through that threshold you may never come back out!

Greeks have a way of turning a short visit into an all day fiasco of feasting, gossiping and just general ruckus till you're so confused about why you were there in the first place that you need to spend another half an hour trying to remember.
All this between mouthfuls of meat and carbs. And don't even get me started on trying to leave... as horrid as this sounds I've actually had to hang up on my mum mid phone call in order to break the time loop continuum that is her conversation.
(Now you know where I get it from haha)

I know I shouldn't complain. I'm lucky to have such wonderful parents - exasperating though they can be.
I've always been Daddy's girl & I love my Mama with all my being - her cooking and larger than life personality really are the paths to my heart.
I don't know what the main preconceptions of little Greek mamas are but let me tell you; what mine lacks in height she more than makes up for in vivaciousness and homemaking skills.
I can tell you some stories, (namely my Hens Night) but lets save them for another day shall we...

I'm actually heading down there this weekend with hubby, so hopefully while they're distracted with fattening HIM up
(the man always gets taken care of first, totally chauvinistic but not worth the battle caused by me pointing out this fact) I can sneak away quietly and track down my old folders of fiction.
Provided mum hasn't hidden them in "a safe place".

*A safe place - The Bermuda Triangle that coexists in the Black Hole
*The Black Hole - My Parents House aka Kastro D'Acropolis aka The Wog Villa

Well wish me luck on that adventure. It's been 2 weeks since we visited mind you so the lecture we're about to cop on that front followed by the amount of catching up to do should equate to a 24hr affair. God help me!

See ya on the other side xo - Kat