I thank my lucky stars

Today I was sad. Its ok, it is what it is. It just felt a little like a headache but in my chest.

I was just looking through photos of our 6 month trip.  I know I don't talk about it much. It seems surreal now.

Actually thats not true, I just have trouble conjuring up the feelings from the trip because of what happened after.

We were so lucky, so so lucky to have been able to do what we did. To just "upticks and go" and 6 months and 1 week of adventure, pure freedom and fun.

I am really grateful for all of what we experienced but I am most grateful for WHEN it happened. Consider this, If we had gone when I had proposed we go, January, we wouldn't have been able to go at all. Mum passed on January 21st, just two weeks after we got back.

As it happens our trip went off without a hitch, we escaped not only unscathed but completely ready to do it all over again. It was like we got given the universal green light.

Dont get me wrong it wasn't all sunshine and roses, there was the time that Leah got onto a crowded peak hour Paris subway train and I got caught in the doors, trying desperately to open them before it whisked away my eldest child...on her own. There was the great Blood nose of Milan, when I had to practically bathe Brianna in a public fountain, which then turned a worrying shade of Pink. There was the stroll through the "red light" district in Montmarte, where my children learned that "Pussy" has two meanings, there was the time I got drunk on Baileys and decided I could ride Leahs scooter... I ate gravel, there was the sprained ankle in the Grand canyon which we told Leah to "shake off" (great parenting moment 2015), there was the gastro outbreak in L.A which resulted in spewing out the window of the rental car...semi successfully, there was poisoned snails in Barcelona which along with the gin is a night I would rather forget, there was the Toga party in Las vegas, we didn't attend but it happened around our motorhome for about 5 hours, it feels weirdly exposing when people party right outside where you are sleeping.... Oh and there was "Dick and Balls" in Louisiana. A state park so grungy and dodgy and swamp like, that I was expecting squirrel and moonshine for dinner... It also was shaped like a dick and balls on the map....

It wasn't sunshine and roses but it was perfect and I thank my lucky stars.

DICK AND BALLS, LOUISIANA

Op Shop Fashionistas

Yes, they smell like old socks and Nana, yes there will be some "special" people also shopping but its a world of unlimited fashion imagination to my kids.

One of my girls likes to be slightly tom boyish and edgy, the other, girlie and pretty and sweet.
Shopping at Target or whatever is hard. 1. because they each have very strong opinions on the different styles they wear and also because they are in larger sizes than their age. Meaning my 8 year old wears a kids 12-14 and my 9 year old wears a 10-12.
The style of clothes in the regular shops aren't age appropriate. Tiny little shorts and midriff t-shirts with "All the boys want me" scrawled across it is not my idea of little girls wear.

So together we scour the treasures at our local three op shops. We are getting really good at finding cool, slightly unusual and fun clothes.

We have these rules:

Never buy underwear
Try everything on
Never go op shopping in a rush, two hours minimum
Don't Op shop in a swanky or funky area, the clothes will be heaps more expensive and the attitude way more annoying.

So use the school holidays as an excuse and go musty, dusty, op shop diving. Don't worry the smell washes out ;-)

What a bunch of whacky f** weirdos we are

I can't leave the house without making the bed, have to take my phone to poop (I think 100% of my blog readership is all of you on the loo?), can only sit on the right side of the bus and I have to have my asthma inhaler by my bedside even though I don't actually think I have asthma. Oh and I never eat the bottom part of a banana, have to have some sort of cover on me (even in the arm pit of humid summer nights) and I have to turn the radio off if I am trying to parallel park or if I am lost.

My eldest daughter Leah has to straighten things on shelves, not at home of course, but in the super market. She spends a lot of time straightening and correctly stocking at Coles.

One of my friends has to make the "woosh" sound (the one Microsoft used to make in the 90's) when she sends an email. This ensures it arrives quickly apparently.

Another of you has to put your right shoe on first, every time.

There is the friend who can't sleep if there is ANY water in the kitchen sink and another friend who has to check the bed for spiders every night before they can set toe inside it.

And then there is this bunch of whacks:
gets physically sick at the sight of a raw egg and won't allow different foods to touch each other.

Always has to use the last stall in the public toilets (furthest from the door),

Has to sleep in complete darkness and even covers the crack under the door,

and my absolute favourite crazy quirk, that I am pretty sure would make you money on the internet... Only cleans the house in heels, can't do it in flats.

Please share your quirky traits and be a loud and proud weirdo!

Observations from the 72 Bus

Wear deodorant people! There was a guy with such a strong funk that I was seriously considering removing my earbuds and sticking them up my nose.

To the lady with the sensible shoes and white satin blouse, doing her eyeliner: How the. actual.Fuck. did you manage to not stab your eyeball on the end of that eyeliner pencil like a shish kebab? Its a talented lady who can apply perfect eyeliner and mascara in a moving bus....I salute you.

I think at bus driver school there is the following units "How to brake like the bus is on fire, EVERY SINGLE TIME or How to make all the passengers fall off their seats". I am surprised I don't have a permanent dent on my forehead from the seat in front.

Also catching the bus makes me feel old. The bus was packed this morning. I thought to myself :Oh, you had better stand up for an old person"........ I was the fucking oldest person on the bus.... the whole way!!!!

Dave hurry up and fix my scooter.... I am going bus crazy.

Why your Bucket list should become your Fuck it list.

I have always had a bit of an issue with goal setting. I hated the idea of planning out my days and weeks for years at a time in order to reach certain goals even life (fun) goals, not just career goals.

I understand the concept, I also understand that it is formula for success that works. I get that.
What I have a problem with is the single mindedness of it. That while you are tirelessly striving towards the goal ahead, what opportunities in the left - field have you missed? The best things I have ever done in my life have actually come as the result of little or no planning and had a momentum of there own. I love the fact that these great things then led to the next unexpected great thing.

There is NO WAY I could have planned out the last ten years on paper, even the idea of it. I would never, ever have had the mental forethought to see what I have done or where I have been or what I have had to do. My true capabilities lie in the unknown and untested. I like the idea that in a years time, I'm not sure what I'll be doing.

Ah, but are you thinking, this is why you aren't rich Caroline? This is why you don't have a career?

Possibly, but I love the list of things I have done, failures and success's. I love the diversity of my experience. It won't make me rich, but then again, who knows.

Currently I am enjoying being able to completely enjoy my free time. In my previous incarnation as a real estate agent, I could never feel completely at ease. I always felt "on" or like I should be doing more. It is the sort of industry that if you aren't a million dollar success story, you are failure, with little to no in-between.

I realise a "bucket list" is not necessarily career or goal oriented. It can be about life experiences, what I am trying to explain is that the best life experiences just happen and you can't plan for it or wish for it because you have no idea what it is yet. I believe the saying about being careful what you wish for, because what you think you want versus what you actually get can be very different things.

Let life lead you a little. The more you have to force the situation and bend life to fit with your detailed goal list, the more life will fight back. Have you ever been trying very hard to get somewhere or do something and everything in life is just against you? Stop, stop trying, say fuck it. Something else will happen, I promise and it will be what life was trying to get you to see, over in left field and it might just be the best thing that you ever do.

Pretty things in strange places

While we were travelling I documented all the "Street" or "Urban art" I could. I loved looking down a dirty alley way and finding a splash of colour and style. Looking back through the images, a lot of them have more meaning to me than the big touristy places and traditional "happy snaps".

This post is dedicated to the pretty things in strange places that I collected and would like to share with you all and to the everyday art makers, who strive to bring fun, beauty and quirky to our mundane minutes. xx

P.S Italy, New York, Paris, Montpellier, Joshua Tree NP, Los Angeles, Texas

Do you even lift??

Pretty much my whole body is a collection of muscles that need work. Some more than others. So, Ive decided to start on one area in particular.

It is possible to work and tone these muscles using weights.

"So what?"you say? ... No this blog is not turning into a fit bunnies account of her own arse in various stages of roundness. Its worse.

I am talking about my pelvic floor. 
For the most part, I am a proud owner of my girlie parts and its not a big deal, really, until I decide I need to jump, skip or go for a jog.

For all the male readers that I may have somehow attracted to my blog and who have now realised that I am talking about "girlie bits", it's ok, It's funny.

So, one late night, I read an article about "that kind" of weight lifting to help train and tone those muscles.

Obviously, you can't just attach your nearest dumb bell on a string a walk around. So I order the beginners kit, sneakily, and hope that Dave doesn't ask what the extra $$ on the credit card were.

He did. I watched as the potential, hopeful gleam in his eye turn into absolute, belly clutching, roll on the floor laughter. Followed by cheeky questions about "How buff is it going to get?" and future texts asking if "I even lift?".

So, its early days. I can't exactly hop on the scales to track progress. But its the easiest work out Ive ever had to do and gives a whole new meaning to working out.


I'm blushing and already wondering if I will have the guts to publish this... If you ever actually read this particular post, than cheers to you in partaking in my overshare.

And heres to "Buff Vags" everywhere.

P.S If you're a little nuts like me and in the same boat, contact me and I can let you know the brand. 

Keys... Yes please

We are in the Hippo, our 30ft, 3 bed motorhome, a little dented and war wounded after having carted us from New Jersey to Niagra, through Pennsylvania, Carolina and Greogia  to Florida. We had a slight altercation with a metal safety barrier on a freeway in Jersey and we were all  a little worse for wear. Oh... And if anyone asks, it was a massive grizzly. 

We had been freezing our butts off in wintery Niagra, bored shirtless in the middle of "Camouflage, hunting and people of Walmart" America and we arrive in the Florida keys. It is a breath of salty fresh air and so quiet. There is only one place, one state park, you can stay in with a motor home.  It's in Long Key. It's not Key West, it's not restaurants and hotels, its not key lime pie and drunk girls. It's sandy car parks and beach, a throw back to 1960's motels with shell shaped little villas.  It's heaven. Quiet camp spots, right  on the beach. There is no wifi, no tv. We park up, get out our camp chairs, plonk them in the water and chiiiiiiiiilllllllll. Relax,the closest land mass is Mexico. 
Picture it, 
Warm, quiet beach, with no one really around and only a small threat of being stung and bitten from some small jelly fish. We are from Australia, you've got nothing that can kill us.
We are chilled. For 5 days, we do nothing. 
Wake up, coffee, sit on the beach. In the Hippo for nap when it's hot. After lunch we sit on our chairs in the water and stay there until after sunset. Naked frolicking children and the odd jelly fish and kayaker for entertainment followed by a spectacular sunset. 
The only negative was a thing called a "Noseeum" literally "no see them". A little invisible insect that bites like a Mozzie, But, the bite will keep itching days or weeks after you have been bitten every time you sweat or get hot. Resulting in head to toe redness and itchiness. So. God. Damn. Itchy. There is no repellent or cream that works. But it was worth it. We hadn't planned to visit the Florida keys and we saw nothing of the well known Florida keys, but we had our own private beach and our hippo and our family. Yes, I did sing the Beach Boys song "Kokimo" continuously for 5 days and we got to keep our "Noseeum" souvenirs. 



Oh and seriously, the rented camp chairs where already rusty and covered with seaweed, if anyone asks :)