Month: February 2010

This weekend  just gone was Tim’s sister’s wedding. And I’ll be honest – actually, that’s not even hard at all right now, apparently yet another side effect of life after the accident – the only thing that was creeping closer than the day itself was my dread of it. Not because I don’t adore Cat, or her amazing partner David, or even that I don’t like weddings. Because I do. In the words of Eloise, I love, love, LOVE them! (All of the above). No, no, the reason for my rising reluctance is probably entirely obvious – namely that given…

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It’s Valentine’s Day. We’ve never really been huge on V-day, not through some self righteous sense of railing against commercialism or anything even remotely cool like that, but rather just because for us, February and March is already jam-packed with celebrations. Birthdays: Tim’s Mum, my Mum, my own, Tim’s sister, Tim’s brother, Tim’s own, not to mention the anniversaries of both our first kiss (March 14: at the Pearl Jam concert of 1998 no less) and our wedding. In short, we’re already overloaded with reasons to celebrate without adding the fuss of February 14 to the list. But today, we’re…

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Man oh man, I do hope that what they say about things happening in threes really is an old wives’ tale, otherwise I will be finding myself permanently adopting the ‘brace’ position. Thursday morning. Eleven am. Cassidy has just awoken from his nap. I have finally achieved the unthinkable – admittedly that is at this point, ANYTHING – in the form of a completed article to submit to a magazine. I am just about to pop the kettle on for a congratulatory cup of chai when… Ring, Ring. I pick up my phone. It’s Tim. Checking in on me. Sweet.…

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The posts below are just random musings from the past couple of weeks. I hope it all makes sense to you. Some of it doesn’t even compute with me, so if you continue on: kudos! Just to update you, this has truly been the most insane time of my life. Last Thursday my husband Tim was hospitalised with chest pain. He was in hospital for 5 days. I will write more about this some other time, but in short: NUTS. NUTS. NUTS. Not his nuts, just the situation. Not his heart either, thank goodness! Though that’s certainly what it was…

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Even reading over these past couple of entries, I find myself nauseated just with how self-pitying I have become. And in some ways, that’s been the hardest thing to get a grip on. How have I – who I like to consider a pretty damn positive person, to the point where at my university interview the panellist actually called me “Pollyanna” TO MY FACE – devolved into this uber negative whinger? Ugh. Today I’m actually feeling a lot better mentally, a lot worse physically. It’s two steps forward, one step back – all I need is Tina Turner’s “Nutbush” and…

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