Failure to launch
I wonder how many readers are experiencing, or have experienced, what I’ve been dealing with over the last year or so? Let me set the scene for you. My daughter is 21, nearly 22, and has been working more or less full-time since she left school, just before she turned 17. She has not moved
Justin Timberlake: a priceless experience
The last gig I went to was Foo Fighters in 2011. I vowed it would be the last big concert I would ever go to. While I loved the Fooeys and was blown away with how awesome they were (as was Jack Black and Tenacious D), I really didn’t enjoy the actual concert experience per
Things remembered fondly 2.0
This is part of an occasional series where I recall my childhood and teen years spent in Mt Gambier. Part 1 is here. This is all part of a concerted effort to balance out what was a rather toxic family life, which I also write about. I figure these sorts of musings might also come in
Things remembered fondly 1.0
Last week, I took a day trip up into the Adelaide Hills for work. I was there observing a training session being run by one of my colleagues. I left home early, hitting the road by 7.30ish. It was brisk; not exactly cold for a winter’s morning, but certainly not warm.
As I drove up the freeway, the sun peeked bright and gold over eucalyptus-covered hills, and fog draped its wispy fingers low over scrub and housing estates. I followed the road through the tiny towns of Littlehampton and Nairne, and – managing to get only slightly lost along the way, after taking a right hand turn when I should have gone straight – ended up at Brukunga, where the training venue was located.
I easily found a car park, and squeezed my Barina in between two government plated 4-wheel drives. I got out of the car, and felt the immediate drop in temperature. The air was cold and damp, and smelled of rain and eucalypts and rotting wood. I heard magpies warbling in the distance. Gem coloured parrots swooped low between bent, writhing gums, squawking as they flew past me, outraged, I supposed, that I dare invade their territory.
Life’s disappointments (Part 1)
I was going to publish this as one post, but it ended up being quite long, so I decided to split it into two parts to make it easier to absorb. But please don’t be depressed: I really only have four major disappointments – interspersed among countless minor ones – in the 50 years I’ve been on this planet. It’s just that I have a lot to say about each of the four biggies…
I posted recently that I haven’t had too many regrets in life. They amount to about three:
- not marrying the rich, lovely, delicious Penola farmer I was seeing when I was 19. I broke up with him because my mother made my life hell while I was dating him due to her own self-loathing, petty jealousy and need for control;
- not traipsing round the globe in my 20s having affairs with exotic men, and working in exotic locations like London or New York or Paris. Or Saigon or Calcutta or Shanghai, and benefiting from those invaluable life skills that only travel can teach you like keeping cool in a crisis, dealing with sociopaths and seeing wonderful, breathtaking, amazing, crazy, heartbreaking things;
- that I didn’t find a significant other to have more children with, because I really, really, really liked being a mother, and having been a solo parent once, I wasn’t keen to have more children as a solo parent – I wanted someone to share the journey with.
The speech I gave for my daughter’s 21st birthday celebration
My daughter turned 21 on March 24, 2014 and this was the speech I gave for her 21st birthday celebration. I raised her as a single parent, and it was warmly received by her and her guests. I was 29 when my daughter T came into the world on Wednesday, 24th of March, 1993 at
One of my best ever achievements
I published this post very recently – on January 15 this year, in fact – but seeing as my daughter’s 21st birthday celebration is tonight, I thought I would republish it today. Here’s to you, my wonderful daughter! My daughter is about to turn 21 and I’m in the process of writing a speech to
Survival skills
A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about why I changed my name. Revisiting the past, which I had to do to explain the aforementioned name change, I was hit (no pun intended) with the realisation that I not only survived what can only be described as a toxic childhood, but managed to thrive as
The true story of why I changed my name
Here’s something you wouldn’t know unless you sit near me at work: my surname – Lee – is not my surname. It’s my middle name. I dropped my surname in my mid-thirties in a protest against my family. This is the story of why. My mother has been married and divorced* three times; she left my
A Christmas post
This post was originally published on 12 December 2011. Nothing much has changed except we now do breakfast (I go for a run beforehand) and I have replaced wine with Pimm’s. It’s now a day I look forward to, because I do things I enjoy: run, eat, watch Really Good TV, consume alcohol, all without