Posted in True Story, Inspirational

I met him online ….

leo baby

I ponder for a subject to write about today.  On cue my companion nudges me to remind me of the time, it’s dinner time.  His stomach clock is better than the latest ‘Fit Bit’.

There was recently a blogger requesting all to share their love stories and made me want to write about someone other than my “Dandelion Guy”  https://uma197.wordpress.com/2017/01/19/the-story-of-the-dandelion-guy/

 

I met him online …..

This was my first time going online and drooling over different types bodies.  Some very masculine, some just petite and cute.  I hadn’t decided and I didn’t know what type would suit me and my family.  With that excuse I spent hours researching about different breeds.  Luckily dogs don’t call you out on generalising them as per their breeds. I think that would be pure breedism (there is actually a thing called dog breed discrimination obviously – I invented breedism).  I saw a comment that referred to Beagles as great landscapers.  I am sure there are Beagles who don’t dig and there are other breads who may dig. Anyway I am someone who does a Phd before buying toothbrush (mmm… pity I didn’t do that when picking my husband), so I continued with my research.

I had spent days searching through websites of animal shelters, dog breeders etc, one day while at work, let’s say during my lunch break, I continued with my online perving, then I just stopped.  My eyes fell on this adorable hunk of meat.  His eyes, his googly eyes just hooked me right in.  I rang the phone number given and said “I want him”.  I rang my husband and said the same thing.  It was love at first sight.

That afternoon we picked our boys from school and headed straight to meet my new guy. He was simply divine. There were others with him, they were cute too.  But, my eyes did not sway. I looked at Peter, the owner and said “Yes, I want him”.

It was a hot day, a very hot day, so Peter told us that it was too hot for him to travel that day and to return next day.  The forecast was cooler temps for the following day.  He gave us advise on things to get ready for his arrival.  But we paid for him and returned home slightly disappointed to return home empty handed.  Not exactly empty handed, we took home his new bedding, his own crockery, toys, food etc.

I couldn’t sleep all night. The few times I dozed off, were filled with dreams of my little cuddly boy.  The next day slowly dawned.  I still had to get through the drudge of the days living responsibilities.  Finally school pick up and we go straight to see Peter.  Leo2

He is mine.  Apparently he is ours and I have to share.  Okay I will share but he is mine.

He is of mixed parents.  Not sure who is who but one of them was a Pug and the other a King Charles Cavalier.  He wears the wrinkles better than anyone I know.  His snout is flat but not flat as a pancake as the pure pugs.  His name is Mr. Galileo Ganesan and mostly referred to as Leo.

He is a Foodie.  He has even tried out bird seed.  He went through a lot of trouble to obtain that treat and may have been disappointed to find that it didn’t taste as good as the Kangaroo Salami that Arj (my youngest) has packed to take to Japan. Well that was really to his liking as the next day he showed interest in tasting the second pack.  It was so good he even didn’t mind the wrapper or the metal clip at the bottom.  He enjoys the fruits from our garden.  It doesn’t bother him that the peaches have pits, he just downs it all in one go.  But his personal favourite is my mum’s Sri Lankan “Hoppers”.  hoppers

Loves his creature comforts.  He doesn’t see the point in sleeping on the floor when you can sleep on the couch.  A couch with cushions is even better. What would make it perfect would be a heat pack.  These are not things we have given him, these are things that he acquires himself.

leo on couch

leo on cushion

Some may refer to him as “fat”, I prefer the word “portly”, yes I think he just a bit portly. And it could be muscles and not fat?

This gorgeous thing has a serious side to him too.  He came to me, at one of my darkest of times.  I was on remission but then I had to go for another surgery to remove another lump.  Surgery was brutal, but the recovery was even worse.  I could hardly move.  Once my husband and son left home, it was just him and me.  He knew that I was in pain, he followed me from bed to the couch.  He kept me company, he kept guard outside the bathroom door.  He was my companion and he was my Protector.  This surgery was 5-6 years ago.  But just like that scars that remain in my body, he remembers it far too well not to guard the bathroom door. So even to date he keeps watch outside my bathroom everyday.  Doesn’t like anyone coming home after a blood test with the bandaid on the inside of the elbow.  He knows too well, it was a sign mum wasn’t well.

He understands packing a suitcase means someones departure.  He doesn’t mind my husband packing just the hand luggage, he knows dad’s just going for business and will be back tomorrow.   But big bags means big leave.  He will start to mope and his eyes will droop.  It will break your heart and rip your soul.

Yes, I met him online.  There is truth in “love at first sight”.

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Posted in Daily post

The Word Patina..what evokes?

Working from home can sometimes be a bit challenging.  It demands discipline at a time procrastination wants to raise it’s ugly head.  My fingers seem to wander off opening all other tabs – Facebook, email and abc news.  I like to stop there as delving into them is usually a very short stop.  Sometimes I would open up WordPress as well. And the worst one is Korean Dramas.  I don’t like the last two tabs as I know it’s not going to be a short stop.  Today is one of those days.  Work seems to be  wandering faraway, but it’s okay the deadlines aren’t here yet too.  As my son and I sometimes joke  “if it’s not the due date then it’s not the do date”.

I normally write at night, after I have done my days dues.  It’s my guilty pleasure, my small treat.  Not today, I have decided to take a day off, maybe not the whole day but at least a few hours off to do some reading and writing.

Work is important as it pays the bills.  But leisure is important because it gives a worthwhile reason to work.  That’s my excuse for today anyway.

I peek at the word prompts on wordpress and ponder which word, which subject takes my fancy.

Patina –  Evokes the memories of my Old English master.  He wasn’t our school teacher but an external Tutor the nuns recruited for the boarders.  He was tall and huge.  I particularly remember the tiny glasses that sat on the edge of his nose.

My passion and advancement for the English language was molded by mainly Four individuals.  My dad – he introduced me to many classics, Rudyard Kipling’s “Just So Stories” was one of them.  Needless to say that’s what I read as bedtime stories to my kids.  My dad introduced me to another old relative, not sure how he was related to us, that was Mr Ganeshan.  He was amazing at picking an unusual word and describing it with gusto.  So he was my second mentor.  The third was this Old English Master.  He was an imposing figure and we were meek and humble in front of him.  Many hated his vocabulary lessons.  But the nerd in me welcomed his lessons.  Patina was his word.  Before I ponder away into memories and let you wonder who the forth mentor was.  Well it’s my hubby.  Until I met him I read many books, but mainly romance.  I didn’t mind detective stories and yes Sherlock Holmes was on the list.  Hubby introduced me to a whole different world.  Never in a million years would I have read books such as “Hunt for red October”  or the Borne series.  Not my cup of tea would have been my answer.  But he encouraged me and said just read the first chapter and give up if you still don’t like it.  Mentors come in all shapes and sizes.

PATINA – bellows out our master – a pause and the word repeated again.  Dictionaries aren’t allowed to be open until we’ve been told so.  I had no idea what it meant.  No one did, I was eagerly waiting for his explanation while some had already moved on to daydream.  He points us to the St Joseph’s Bronze Statue that dominates the room.  “The green stuff on the bottom, that’s Patina”.  Huh! what an anti climax.  That’s just mere oxidation.  He went onto explain how and when you would use that word in normal conversation.

I was young then, I didn’t think further than that about that word since then.  But seeing it on the list here, it did evoke old memories and new musings.

Memories of my dad – movies, songs, books, studies, humanity, my dad had a hand in all of that. Even him introducing Mr. Ganeshan was all part of his grand plan.  It appears that there is a film of Patina still lingering over the silhouette of my body, the untimely death of my dad, life lessons learnt after his passing, no amount of polishing seems to remove the stubborn patina.

I wonder if we are meant to cherish the Patina, rather than remove it, as if it’s a foreign body. Why not celebrate the multitude of colours as a symbol of  life, age, history, memories and lessons learnt.

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/patina/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/treat/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/evoke/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/dominant/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/cherish/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/silhouette/

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Gossip

Sharing another’s thought and words. It touched me, hope it does to you too.

Miss M.

Title: Gossip

Author: Miss M.

Disclaimer: No plagiarism intended. This is a work of fiction based on my imagination. Anything or anyone mentioned in this piece of creative writing that exist in reality is purely coincidental. Do not plagiarize.

View original post 116 more words

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Happy Australia Day

Australia-Day

Happy Australia Day to all my fellow Aussie mates.  Hope you are toasting somewhere by the beach or the pool with a stubby in one hand and a sausage sanga (Sausage Sandwich) on the other watching over your mates playing backyard or beach cricket.

For most Australians (Australia Day) simply represents a public holiday which gives them an excuse to fire up the Barbie (BBQ), sausages, beers a game of cricket, pavlova and pretty much talk “shit”as Aussies would refer it.  Most Australians at most times are pretty chilled people.  This has been noted by most tourists who come to this country.  We are a nation of genuinely nice people.  We may not have the polish to cover up and talk politely and be politically correct but even the guy who sounds racist is usually a pretty nice guy.

A friend of mine who came over from North America was amazed how random people just opened up to her in the bus or the plane and were super helpful.  I recollect a time when I went to Canada with then my two very young children, I went via Hawai.  My youngest was a runner/escape artist.  So I had  to hang on to him on one hand other with all the luggage.  Had three passports and all other documents to hold as well.  Unlike in Australia there were too many check points.  And each time I think that’s the last of it and put the passports back in the handbag and then come across another check point.  Ughh! They had no sympathy for a mother with two young kids, instead they would get irritated that I didn’t have the papers ready. Same treatment when coming back, I was on this constant stress mode when I arrived at the Sydney Airport.  Waiting for my bags to arrive and keep the young one on check, a middle aged man standing next to me said to me “love just stand here and point me to your luggage and I will get it for you” and he just did that, packed all my luggage carefully on the trolley and put my boys in it too.  I got to the counter and as there was no queue in front of me I didn’t get a chance to get the documents out.  I was again on panic mode trying to get them out.  The lady at the counter “love take your time, it’s ok” and she started to chat to my kids.  I thought “I’m home”.

I am a migrant from Sri Lanka, I arrived here twenty eight years ago and became an Australian Citizen 26 years ago exactly today.  Hubby and I were expecting our first child and the Citizenship ceremony took place in Hornsby, NSW.  It was really an awesome day.  It felt like the beginning of many great things to come by.  And it sure did.  A conscious effort was made to make us feel welcomed and a new chapter was opened in our lives.  Even so, I think within me for a long time I felt like a guest.  I was happy where I was staying but didn’t feel it was my place.  When ever I mentioned “back home” it meant Sri Lanka.  I think the first time I referred to Australia as my home was on this return journey from Canada.

Hear me out completely before you cast that stone “ungrateful”. I wasn’t ungrateful, far from it.  As each year notched I became more relaxed in my new environment and I could feel a shift in my mannerisms and way of thinking.  I was becoming used to the Aussie Larrikin and was starting like him/her.  I am still a mixed bag in terms of my identity.  When I am asked “where are you from” at times I would say “from Sri Lanka” but there are times I have caught my self saying, we are originally from Sydney, then we moved to Adelaide…”  I have no shame or issue of my ethnicity.  Do I ooze with so much pride that I refuse to call myself Australian? On the contrary, I feel so much pride in saying I am an Australian.

So much so, I am comfortable calling out on the mistakes, errors and simply things we should rectify.  I am no more a guest, I am now a family member.  I will support, I will stand up for, I will protect but I will also call you out when you are wrong.

The great debate at present – should we change the date of  Australia Day? 

For the first Australians the Aborigines this seems to be very important, as this day represents something very dark in their history.  It wasn’t the day that English really landed in Australia however throughout history, on the 26th of January the English set up or did horrible things to Aborigines. There was even once a Beach umbrella type thing set up called the ‘Aboriginal Embassy’ as to represent ‘Aliens on our land’  They kept reminding them with their actions that they stole this land from them and now they are foreigners in their own country.

The aborigines lost their land, their identity, their language, their families and eventually their self worth.

I do not believe in punishing or blaming the current generation for the mistakes of the old.  We all need to move on.  But for the victim it is easier said than done.

I know many fair minded White Australians despise the way some Aborigines behave.  Using the past issues as excuses for their drinking, gambling and unemployment.  As a fellow tax payer I can understand their frustrations.  The only way forward is education, empathy and mutual respect.  All these actions has to be two way.  We need to educate ourselves about them and them about us and same goes for empathy and mutual respect.  It goes well past not calling each other “white fellas” and “Black fellas”

For me 26th of January is an important day as that was the day I became an Australian legally.  However, happy to move the celebrations to another day so everyone in this country can celebrate it.

I even have a day for that.  February 13th.  It was the day we said “sorry” to the aborigines.  It was day that moved the first Australians and descendants of the first fleet Australians. “Sorry” is a simple word but a damn powerful word.

After the big riots in 1983 in Sri Lanka when the whole country went on a rampage of killing innocent Tamils no one said “sorry” not even close.  The country’s then President J.R Jaywardene went on T.V for his first press conference and explained that the “Sinhela people reacted to the 13 Army soldiers being killed by the militants in the north” not one word to say that this was in fact something wrong. pointless, mindless act.  Not one single word, the whole speech almost condoning the actions of the masses.  Months later my friend Lalith sent me a letter, it was not a long letter, it simply said “I’m sorry, I am ashamed” he went on to ask if I was okay, etc.  But none of that mattered.  The only words that keep ringing in my ears were “I am sorry”.  He was just a young teenager at that time.  But he was sincere, he was courageous, He was respectful.

If we are serious about reconciliation we need to start with respect.  Even if you do not care about reconciliation and simply want them to get off their back sides and do a days work and get off the dole, this is the only way – RESPECT.

The day we said sorry to them was a great starting point.  Let’s start there.  Let’s remind ourselves each year, what we did on the 13th Feb 2008.  Let it be a day that we are all proud of.

Time for another piece of Pav.

 

 

https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2017/01/18/10-things-you-should-know-about-january-26

Posted in Sad story

Wasn’t meant to be…

wasnt meant to be

My first attempt at fiction.   I wrote this short story (very short) awhile ago and contemplated a lot whether to post it or not.  My heart goes out to all the mothers and fathers who have to bid good bye to their precious babies.  My mum did it five times and my aunt the same.  I don’t want to open their wounds.  This may have been a product of my forlorn state after my Niece’s baby’s passing.  This is not her story.  But something unfortunately many women face.  I have no remedies for your shattered hearts.  All I can offer is a humble hug.

 

Wasn’t meant to be…….

“Wasn’t meant to be’… Same words, repeated over and over again.  Words that you don’t want to hear any more. Empty words chanted when nothing else to say.  There is nothing else to say and nothing else matters anymore.   Lu sobs quietly as each person hugs.  She really wants to scream.  Scream out loud “WHY, WHY ME?” “WHAT DOES IT EVEN MEAN, WASN’T MEANT TO BE” She screams within, holds back her words just let’s out the tears.


It’s still raining outside.  Ruby is refusing to get out of bed.  “Come on Rubes, you know, mummy can’t carry you anymore”.  Finally after all the “hurry ups and have you brushed your teeth” they head to school.

Mandy, Ruby’s teacher greets them at the door, “How long to go Mrs. Cavanah?” Lucille strokes her big belly, “Another five weeks and a bit”. Tommy runs in with his normal gusto and almost bumps into Lucille.  “Careful” warns Mandy and pulls Tommy to aside.

Lucille heads back to her car thinking “Not long now, we will have another Tommy”, “Oh God, hope not” she chuckles to herself just remembering the cheeky boy.


It’s another ordinary day at work.  Lu sneaks a moment to day dream.  Sipping her tea, she gazes outside.  She has a perfect view from her 14th floor office.  Rain had stopped, but people were still scurrying about.  “Why do we rush? “Is it so wrong to be a minute late?” Gentle thump from the belly jolts her back to the real world, to the world, where The Clock is the master and you are the slave.

She turns back to her computer, but not for long.  Her phone vibrates.  She smiles opening the message.  Max has gone berserk again.  He is wearing a St Kilda Jersey and is holding a smaller one.  She texts him back “you idiot” and a smiley face.  She heads back to the computer.  She finds it hard to concentrate.


“Little one’s not happy today” she thinks, slowly massaging her belly.  It’s nearly 3.00pm.  The pain was notching up. Her boss Amanda reluctantly lets her go home early.  “Privilege of a childless bitch” – Lu wanted to say it out loud.  But she holds it in and utters “thank you so much”.

Lu sends Max a text, “Going home hun, not feeling great, can you pick up Ruby?” “Sure thing, you rest up” “Take care on the roads, pretty slippery out there”.  “Will do, thanks”, smiley face Emoji – Lu puts her phone away, and gets ready to reverse.  She sees Amanda in her rear view mirror.  She had parked on the spot right behind her.  Her boot is up; she was taking some files and was about to head back.

Lu reverses the car out, puts her window down and waves at Amanda.  Amanda both hands full just makes a head nod.  It’s not that either of them like each other, but just a mere modern day courtesy. Amanda is a typical “Career Woman” No husband and definitely no kids. She lacks empathy towards women with any family issues or that’s how her co-workers feel.  Women in the department think that she is jealous of their life and hence makes them feel inferior when they have to take time off because of pregnancy or when their kids fall ill.

The pain was getting worse.  Lu now starts to slowly drive off, she passes two cars, and then she stops.  Couple of minutes passed and Lu’s car hadn’t moved.  Amanda feels that something was up. Amanda appeared at her window and asks “what’s it Lu?”

Lu was sobbing into the steering wheel. Lu lifts her head up.  She keeps crying.  She sobs uncontrollably. She tries to tell something to Amanda.  But words fail her, nothing coherent comes out anyway.  Everything blurted out as a sob.  “Lu, come on, what is it?” Amanda bends down to Lu’s shoulder level.  Amanda sees the reason for Lu’s melt down.  Lu was sitting in a pool of blood.


Panic, Chaos Siren, Ambulance, lonely hospital bed …..

 


“Wasn’t meant to be”… Same words, repeated over and over again.  Words that you don’t want to hear any more. Empty words chanted when nothing else to say.  There is nothing else to say and nothing else matters anymore. 

*****

So near but not close enough.  What’s the lesson in this? Hope, elated happiness and then snatched away without any warning, without any rhyme or reason. What is really the lesson in this? And why wasn’t it meant to be?

Oh God!! Why does it hurt so much?

Why is hurt larger than joy? Why does pain throb while happiness remains calm? And why does sadness lingers on while glee and merriment is just momentary.


There are no answers, Lu is told “wasn’t meant to be” is all you can say.

 

“Wasn’t meant to be”… Same words, repeated over and over again.  Words that you don’t want to hear any more. Maybe empty but words nonetheless, so it’s chanted when nothing else to say.  When there is nothing else to say and when nothing else matters anymore all you can say is “wasn’t meant to be”.

Or is it?

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/forlorn/

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Recovering from Dec 2017

newyears eve2018

New year dawns, and four days has passed.  Hot cross buns have adorned the shop shelves.  Debate is it too early for hot cross buns to be out or not has begun.  I am a bit slow this year.  I am yet to post Happy New on Facebook.  I have been rather silent on facebook and even in my blogging world for sometime now.  No, I am not depressed or despondent.  Slightly sleep deprived and tired. Real world has taken over the virtual world.

Before I go any further.  Wishing everyone a happy 2018.

Snippets/recap of 2017 …..

If only I could change the script for the start of 2017.  For the first time in our married life, hubby and I spent New years eve separately.  He had lost his dad a few weeks ago and was away in Sri Lanka.  We bid good bye to many dear ones that December. It was just horrid.  Hubby was away in Sri Lanka, my youngest in Japan and even my mum had to scurry to Sydney for another funeral. It was just myself and my eldest at home.  A house that is usually full of people, chatter, food and pure chaos that day looked bare.  For once there was no chaos but there was no joy either.

Slowly as 2017 progressed chatter, food and chaos crept in.  My eldest Hari was doing well in his job and youngest was making his mark at University.  Life was getting into a normal rhythm.

Then came the jolt.  My niece lost her baby.  She didn’t deserve a sentence as cruel as this.  No one does. I don’t really understand the reason, meaning for such demises.  I am told that there is a lesson in this.  A lesson to say that life is short, live today as there is no tomorrow.  I am not sure if I buy that theory wholeheartedly.  Am I that dumb that I need a lesson from a baby’s death and a mother’s misery?  Where was their chance to live and learn?  I guess these are live’s mysteries that we have to trudge through.

Around October my eldest decided it was time to give his mother another cardiac stress test.  He rang me from Perisher Blue ski slopes.  He loves to ski and has a season pass. Every fortnight he drives to Perisher which is about 5-6 hours from Sydney with a couple of his mates.  When he started the conversation “I’ve done it this time..”  My heart sank.  The brat realised I was on tenterhooks. He started to drag the story out, telling me details of what they had for lunch etc without telling me what injury he had sustained.  I realised at this stage it couldn’t be that bad if he was in the mood to joke, but then again he is my son and that it was very possible that he was playing it down.  Eventually I found out that he had injured his ankle.  At this stage they didn’t know if it was a fracture or a ligament damage.

I packed up my bags and left for Sydney the next day.  He had to undergo surgery and was on moon boots and crutches.  His main concern and question to his surgeon was if he would be ready for skiing in December as he had planned to go to Canada.  To my horror the Surgeon is also a skier and was very encouraging and worked towards getting him ready.  He was given the all okay to ski in January rather than in December.  My thoughts on the surgeon, well I think he is just trying to get more customers.  Grr…

I returned home after about six weeks in Sydney.  Musings…

I have no idea how I lived in that mad city all those years ago, school drop offs, tennis lessons, swimming lessons, karate, God!! I was mad.  But if I had not lived there I wouldn’t have met some of those people that are so dear to me.  Each time I return to Sydney we carry on the friendship where we dropped off last time.  We may not call each other every day or write to each other.  But it doesn’t matter as they are in your hearts and you are in theirs.  I am glad I live in Adelaide but I do miss my friends in Sydney (and let’s be honest the shopping too)

It pained for me to see Hari in so much pain and discomfort.  Each day brought about a new challenge. If I was to take anything positive out of this situation would be that I got the opportunity spend some time with Hari.  I miss him so much and always think that he had moved out too young.  But I gave him the nod so he could sour and fulfill his dreams.  It was also a time I could spend time with my dear friend Rajee.  “A friend in need is a friend indeed”

My youngest Arj turned 21 on the 7th of December.  Pretty proud of this young man.  Pretty proud of the cake I designed too for an aspiring young journalist.

arj cake

arj cake word

Not so proud of my talents in Photography though.  To read the entirety of what’s written on the cake click on the link above.

My nephew had a son and my mum turned 75 and my aunt turned 85.  Thankful for all the blessings and using them to soldier on through the trudge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/silent/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/snippet/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tenterhooks/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/theory/