the weekend

My weekend went by in a brilliant haze of champagne bubbles, giggles and fake tattoos: perfection in other words! I was one of the 20 or so girls helping Meredith celebrate her bachelorette weekend at a Texas Hill Country hideaway in a six bedroom house that sat on the back of a huge block, amongst a maze of live oaks and cacti, right on the bank of a creek <3 It was the most idyllic setting for an obnoxious, overly loud and drunk group of girls, wanting to dance, sing, scream and "wooooo..." a lot.

I actually think a place like this would be the perfect location for any kind of weekend: romantic, family or friend alike.  Here are some pics of the house:

I won't soon forget this house or this weekend.  Right now I'm off to bed though....

this week's tip | open your mind

Do you believe in God?  Which God?  Vishnu?  Arianrhod?  Ahura Mazda?   Tsohanoai?

I believe in the faith of endless possibility.  To me, your God is as real as my own but so what?  Does what I believe really impact your life in any significant way?  Why are there people who always try to make someone understand things in their way?  Why is it important that you should agree 100% with me and I, with you?

My dad used to say 'leave the matters of faith alone for your heart to decide: it's a personal decision.'  That's resonated and stayed with me throughout my entire adult life, for I also believe we each have our own path that twists and turns us in its own way.  A way unique of any other that shows us different things and teaches us each a different lesson.  How could I ever possibly see the world the way a 50 year old man living on the Irish coastline would?  Or a 17 year old Somali girl?  Or Giorgio Tsoukalos?   Why are there some that think I need to?  Isn't faith meant to be a very sacred, personal issue to everyone?  Something that brings you comfort and bravery.  I mean honestly, what do you care who I'm praying to in the dead of night?  How does that touch your life at all?

The very idea of converting someone to your religion baffles me.  Mainly because no two people ever really interpret things the same way, but also because of how much one person can change over the course of their lifetime.  I've often heard Christians say that one Bible passage could come to mean two, or three, or even four different things throughout their own lives, depending on the reader's mood, situation, growth or change in life.  Which part then, would you try and make me see?

I dream of a world in which we are each secure enough in our own beliefs that we don't to try cramming them down the throat of anyone else; and not merely from a religious standpoint either.  A world in which government systems aren't so hell-bent on controlling every last one of us, that they feel the need to periodically fuel the hatred and underline the differences between us all.  A perfect utopia in which we are all open-minded enough to believe there is validity in every faith.

What I'm about to say isn't meant to sound like boasting, but I consider my own life as testimony that peace can be attained through open minds.  Consider me briefly:  I was born and raised Russian Orthodox in a communist society | despite a communist, atheist grandfather, who incidentally remains my most beloved relative | my mother is Baptist | my best friend is Baptist | I'm not sure about my bro exactly, but think he's somewhere between Christian and ancient-astronaut-theorist | I married a Methodist | moved to America where my closest friends became: (OMG) Muslims (what!), Greek Orthodox, transcendentalists, New Agers, Catholics and (sorry mama) atheists.  Oh, and can you believe I've somehow managed to befriend republicans and democrats (even a tea party enthusiast) alike?  It's baffling...or is it?  Because, in my opinion:  no one cares.  No one I want to be around, anyway.  My friends and I take each other at face value and leave personal beliefs alone, since we all believe you reached your own conclusions on purpose.      

It's so enriching to share your life experience with people from vastly different backgrounds to your own.  To discover how your silly buddy that makes you laugh so hard you get abdominal pain, can even have a sense of humour when he was raised in poverty in Bangladesh.  Or how your Iranian friend's entire family with Zoroastrian beliefs were simply told to convert to Islam and within a week had their homes stripped of any Zoroastrian book or artifact, who has legitimate reasons to despise Muslims, but doesn't.

It's an enormous world and I think it's fair to state that every 7+ billion of us have a unique perspective and personal belief.  I will never make you try and see the world through the eyes of a girl born in Kazakhstan during the Soviet Union era but grew up in Australia.  Nor could I ever fully adopt your point of view.  I do believe, however, that with an open mind we can empathize with each other and learn so much about what it is to live in this world.  Isn't that what we're here for?

Peace out.    

celebrate the (big and) small things | Jan 23

After a gloomy and cold couple of days I'm celebrating the sun coming out in time for the weekend! Hooray!  Everything looks more cheerful with a sunny backdrop!

Also this week I'm celebrating two new additions to the family:

a baby blue point juniper and Baxter, saying hello

and a baby lavender <3
(this will be my third attempt at growing the herb, so fingers crossed!)

And something that's always cause for celebration is dates with girlfriends! This week I've had two!  Lunch and a wedding dress fitting with my girl Meredith who gets married in May // then The Theory of Everything at the cinemas with my love Susanna.

I should mention that this movie, about the life of Stephen Hawking, blew my mind and opened my eyes in a way I can't describe.  I highly, highly recommend it and plan on buying it for myself the second it comes out on dvd.  Perhaps the biggest thing I should celebrate this week is the lesson I received from this incredibly moving film - about the tenacity, positivity and sheer purity of the soul of the man who has achieved so much despite a horribly debilitating disease: a condition that surely would have destroyed a lesser man.  It's a testimony to the human being, really, that in spite of body wasting away, the mind can reach such heights through simple, unwavering determination and positivity.

I actually haven't stopped crying.  I mean I've literally been breaking down on and off since watching it.  Its impact so deep that it's caused me to reevaluate my life and all my bull-shit, nonexistent, self-pitying excuses about why I haven't grabbed life by the scruff of the neck and fought for my dreams.  I'm filled with shame for myself, and awe for the man.  I have a renewed sense of determination and believe that if Stephen Hawking can smile and achieve more than anyone ever thought he was capable of, I simply have no excuse.  How can I even dare to invent one?  I refuse to wallow any longer!  Please do yourselves a favour and see this film.  If it doesn't drastically affect your outlook on life, then at least you will know more about what it's like to walk in the shoes of this lovable, brilliant, radiant man.  If you're anything like me, you'll be left with a bit of a crush really.

Hope everyone has a marvelous weekend.  Don't forget to give thanks for your able bodies, mouths that speak, eyes that see and ears that hear!  For that alone, you are blessed.

good enough for the very best

Randomly enough, after weeks and weeks of stifling, unbearable heat here in Austin; a thunderstorm moved in last night and has turned the weather cold and grey.  With one more week left of summer, I didn't expect to be spending this weekend snug in bed under a blanket, but what could be better on a day like today?

Grey weather always makes me pensive and I've been thinking a lot about my week, this year, my life.  On Tuesday something happened that made me cry the kind of deep, heaving sobs that come from far, far within: when the one person in my life I could ever call 'idol' paid me the highest compliment and gave me a shout out for yet another of her successes at New York City's Couture Fashion Week.  I felt beyond humbled - maybe what I felt was closer to shock - that someone who's world renown as a leading couturier, someone I revere and feel honoured to just know, would remember one of the little people, like me.  Since then, I've been reliving our entire relationship and reconsidering what she means in my life...

Her name is Nina Gleyzer and I met her for the first time in February 2011 as a fresh-faced, wide-eyed new-comer to New York City, the Waldorf Astoria, Couture Fashion Week and the fashion industry.  I was asked to fill in for the editor of an Atlanta based fashion magazine, who was unable to attend the event due to a prior work commitment, and to say I was overjoyed is a serious understatement!  I was flying higher than ever before in my life, seeing The City and the glitz and glamour of the fashion industry for the first time.  There's nothing, ever, like the first time.

I remember everything: the freezing chill that winded me as I stepped out of LaGuardia airport; the sleet on the ground; the excited butterflies that swarmed the pit of my stomach as I was ushered to the cab line and finally witnessed with my own two eyes, the arrival of iconic yellow cabs of Manhattan, followed by the surreal ride over the bridge and the vision of that most worshiped skyline unfolding before me...

SIGH.

Of course, that was nothing at all compared to the fruit bats that promptly ate and replaced my stomach-butterflies when we actually entered New York City: where my expectations and everything I thought I knew of the buildings, landmarks and streets, dissipated.  I realized in that moment that no matter how much you obsess over movies, books, webpages or magazine articles about New York - you'll never truly know the city until you visit.  It's overwhelming.  It's incredible.  Indescribable. One of the best places on Earth.    

I couldn't believe my luck when we pulled up in front of the Hilton on the Avenue of America's!  I was staying here?! Never before had I seen such a grand hotel, such luxury, nor so much high fashion and evident wealth in one place at the one time!  Louis Vuitton boots, Prada handbags, mink fur coats, tiny dogs wearing diamond encrusted collars... this really was like every movie I'd ever seen // and that was  just the hotel lobby!  I tried my best to act like I belonged, despite the neon THIS IS MY FIRST TIME HERE AND I'M UTTERLY OVERWHELMED billboard hovering above my head!  But, it was New York after all, no one noticed or cared.  Bliss!

After getting my key, I practically ran to my (beautiful) room, where I immediately flung open the curtains and just stood starring at the view before me with tears of joy in my eyes for several minutes. I took a much needed soak in the garden tub, had a meal and tried to compose myself, before I getting ready and leisurely wandering over to the Waldorf where I suppressed many excited squeals as I checked in as press for (you guessed it) the first time in my life!  It was in this state of elated gratitude that I took my place in the second row, notebook on lap, and took in the show.  Impeccable dress after impeccable dress flowed down the runway and the evening consisted of six designers total, two cocktail breaks and three hours.  But two designers stood out to everyone: Suzie Turner with her feathered ballgown masterpieces; and Nina Gleyzer with her timeless, Chanel-chic.

While I had interviewed designers before, none had been of this caliber and I was nervous.  Many prey upon that and act snooty.  Not Nina.  I can't really describe what it felt like to meet her, but I have always imagined it would feel like meeting Mademoiselle Chanel.  She was so confidant, so poised yet so passionate, that I was overcome with emotion and immediately had to find a corner to draft up my article in a trance of admiration.  That has never happened with anyone else.

After that, came the larger-than-life after party and two more magical, whirlwind days in Manhattan.  Those were two days of snow, blistering cold and exploring the city.  Two evenings of runways, interviews, canape's and cocktails.  When I returned to Atlanta, I submitted my articles and, feeling somewhat deflated, carried on freelancing - business as usual and nothing as glamorous as high fashion or New York City.

Two weeks later, the Editor in Chief of the fashion magazine called me with the highest praise: Nina Gleyzer herself had read my article and wanted to thank me personally!  I was floored!  Anyone who actually reads what I wrote about her will see why!  Of course, I instantly re-read said article and all of those feelings of awe I experienced upon meeting Nina, came rushing back.  She is a force.  And yet, she noticed me.  Little old me: interviewing internationally renown designers for the very first time and stumbling horribly along the way.  She wanted to thank ME for my praise - which was essentially putting down on paper how her composure made me feel self-conscious, unrefined and somewhat intimidated! Thank ME for esteeming her and her collection.  That what my first glimpse at Nina Gleyzer: an untarnished soul that's remained humble and grateful despite decades in the corrupting high fashion industry which takes only months to destroy lesser beings.

Another few weeks went by when suddenly we were being re-introduced at a charity event in Atlanta.  'So you're the talented girl who wrote such a beautiful article about me,' she casually said, loud enough for our circle and bystanders to hear, while I turned a vivid shade of red!  'Come see me at my atelier some time, I would love to chat with you.'  And just like that, began a life-changing, heart wrenching relationship between little ol' me and a woman of the highest strength and caliber I've ever encountered.  We spent the next few months rewriting her website, because she liked the way I described her clothes artwork; smoking, snacking and drinking lots of coffee along the way.  It was for these measly wesbite write ups that she remembered me, and thanked me, when her turn in the spotlight came once more and she received special accolades during last week's S/S 2015 Couture Fashion Week in NYC.

It blows my mind because while I gave her a few written descriptions for her website, she had given me something I can never quantify or fully express.  It was always simply an honour being in her presence: she is a big deal and she knows it!  But amazingly, she encouraged me.  Inspired me. Believed in me.  Loved and cared for me.  Most importantly, she was always brutally honest with me. Her holler in my direction made me weep with humility and just awe of the woman I worship, but now that I think about it, I wonder why it came as such a surprise at all.   I quickly saw, while working with her, that Nina has a tight-knit team of photographers, models, publications, buyers, students and so forth: all loyal to her and every one of whom she was loyal to in return. She treated them all just like she treated me: with genuine warmth, acceptance and beaming pride.

Before I met Nina Gleyzer, my impression of the big-shots in the fashion industry was that they were all exceedingly arrogant.  That they dispensed of people easily and claimed the achievements of those around them as their own. Nina removed my prejudice, but still remains a diamond in the rough, who values relationships and quickly moves from being an inspiration, an extraordinary visionary and master couturier into the hearts and circle of family, to anyone fortunate enough to work with her.  To me, Nina is like New York City: elegant, timeless, abundant, resilient and the height of style.  Urging all those around to be strong, believe in themselves and become the best they can be, while utterly accepting them the way they are.  Indeed I can't think of one without the other, both having made such dramatic impacts on my life: my first impressions of the Big City in which I was overcome when I met the only woman in the world I want to resemble.... and how they both forever changed my perception of freedom and blew my mind.

I remember reading somewhere once, that while people may forget your words or actions, they will never forget how you made them feel.  Nina made me feel talented.  Capable of anything. She used to tell me to follow my dreams and damn the consequences - to grasp what I wanted with all my might and never, never let go or give up.  On gloomy days like today when I am full of reflection: I wonder at myself and my self doubt, for if I am good enough for Nina Gleyzer - then I know I am good enough for the very best!

one of my all-time favourite Nina Gleyzer creations

all audience eyes upon her masterpiece creations <3

I've always felt extremely honoured to be considered part of the team 

NB// The link above to the aforementioned Nina article was indeed written by me and has been published completely unedited: but due to contractual loop holes, the Editor in Chief of the e-gazine has since claimed it as her own.

long distance birthdays

#145073671 / gettyimages.com

Emma turns 30 today.  A few days ago it was my older brother who turned 30 and his weekend-long celebrations kicked off last night.  As if that wasn't enough for me to miss out on: in just a few short weeks, my best friend from high school (Sandra) is getting married to the man of her dreams - a man who must be unlike any other to be able to snare a girl as picky and free spirited as her.  A man I've never met.

I'm missing it all.

I feel strangely hollow sitting here, in my usual spot before the computer: coffee at hand and dogs at my feet.  The sun is spilling gloriously into the living room, which smells of fresh apples (thanks to my new Scensy Warmer!) and wildlife is at its most active.  All these things usually bring me joy, but aren't having that affect this morning.  For the first time in a long time, I'm homesick.

I sent presents to Emma and my bro weeks ago and because they arrived on time, I've already had the pleasure of receiving photographs of them been worn or enjoyed.  I've spoken to Emma, bro and Sandra recently and exchanged assurances of being thought of and missed as usual, but today it doesn't seem like enough.  Today, like a big baby, I just want my big brother!  To laugh and joke with in the sense of humour that we alone out of the entire world share.  To just zone out on the couch with a movie and annoy him by talking way too much through it: something I haven't enjoyed since 2011!  Today I want to touch my best friend Emma and give her the customary, celebratory scalp massage that became tradition all those years ago.  And god damn it I want to have a cocktail with Sandra and watch her eyes light up as she talks of her groom, the extravagant one-of-a-kind wedding that they're planning at Brisbane's hottest club and that jaw-dropping gown that's guaranteed to floor her guests.

Her guests.  One of which I will not be.  This shatters me today.

I don't know why I feel this way today, amidst the most social fortnight I've had since moving to Austin, I find myself suddenly yearning for home.  Australia home - not Atlanta home.  It's bloody hilarious that now I think Austin is great and it's getting easier for me to not miss Atlanta anymore I find myself wanting to go home to Australia more than I have in YEARS!

I'm feeling fed up with 'catching up' and photos of cakes, drinks, laughs!  I want to be the one eating the cake, making the drinks, providing the laughs (well for my bro anyway, since no one else gets me).  On occasions like weddings and 30th birthdays, I want to be there in the midst of it all - not toasting to their health from a distance.

My heart hurts today.

It makes no difference that the sun is shining after almost a week of rain, or how heavenly the room smells.  Even if a local whitetailed stag (that I'm usually obsessed with) walked straight into my living room right now.  None of it matters today.  It doesn't change the fact that there's an ocean between me and all I care about.

u is for the USMC

Will is a Marine.  Although he's been out for years, I say is a Marine because once a boy becomes a Marine, he remains one for life.  I wanted to write about the Marines because of my own experiences: my first impressions, my prejudice, my deep dislike that transformed to endless love and what it's like to be married to one.

My first impressions were horrible but this can probably be attributed to the time and place.  When I met my first group of Marines, I was a full-time university student working part time at a restaurant/ bar to pay my bills, in a small town called Rockhampton, in Central QLD Australia.  Not far from this town was a military training ground, Shoalwater Bay, which facilitates simulations and exercise for militia from several different countries, one of these being the United States Marine Corps.  I won't go into detail about other countries but I will say that none of them behaved the way the U.S. Marines did.  Whenever they had free time, they would storm into Rockhampton, drink themselves stupid and crack onto every female with a pulse.  If you were even semi-attractive you were in serious danger of becoming a victim to incessant bull-whistles, vulgarity and all manner of propositions.  Myself and the other girls in town quickly understood why the Marines had such an awful reputation for womanizing and although we thought it shocking that any girl could fall for such sleaze, we each sincerely worried for our friends, hoping no one we knew would add to the 'surge in local pregnancy' statistics that followed the Marines whenever they left a town.  My opinion was set: I hated every one of them.

As I've mentioned in the past when I met Will two years later, I found him arrogant.  Within the first hour, I'd also discovered he'd been in the Corps and thus thought my dislike justified.  His cockiness, to me, was surely a result of spending too much time womanizing and I could never give someone like that the time of day.  Yet within the next few hours, I thought myself in love and by the end of our first week together, I was certain of it.  Of course his own merits had everything to do with this, but his Marine-ness was more of an obstacle than I could have predicted, I flat-out refused to get involved with one. As the weeks went by, my resistance began to crumble and after several frank arguments, Will helped me to better understand the mentality of the boys.  He told me what being deployed, boot camp and war is like, in a way that movies and songs can never convey.  He made me aware of things from their point of view: their desperation, their struggle, their need for intimacy and their 'frankly, not giving a damn.'  They go in as boys: wide eyed, looking for honour and glory.  They become hardened men within months and perhaps for this reason, they are fortunate to be part of a militia that allows them some kind of outlet during their free time.  Although I don't condone their actions in Rockhampton and firmly believe in subtlety, my anger at all of that has dissipated and has long been replaced by pity.

It makes my heart hurt to think of Will as one of those boys, but at the same time, I feel safe knowing my husband is a Marine.  Not only because he's had the training but because of how emotionally strong he is.  I am awed by the sheer amount this man can handle.  And the way he deals with one problem at a time, giving each his full, undivided attention.  He has carried me through physical and home sickness, arguments, grief and more: standing firm and strong just like I envision a soldier would in the face of danger.  There are times when he breaks.  There are times when he needs to be alone.  There are times when he cries. Some times he becomes pensive and just doesn't talk. During all those times I remember what he told me to make me feel pity instead of hate. I remember what he's been through and I give him as much time as he needs because it's worth every hardship, a thousand times over, to be married to a man like Will.

More than anything else, being married to a Marine is like having an enormous family.  Every one of the boys from every one of his platoons is a brother to him and every time I meet one, they become a brother to me as well.  These boys are so real!  So honest and loyal. I love watching them interact, always with heartfelt emotion, kindness and genuine affection. Yes, they are rough as hell and when they're drinking it's best to leave them be - but they are tender when they need to be and I know within my heart that I can call anyone of them, anytime, and they will be there for Will, for me, for our family. The bonds they made, they've made for life and perhaps beyond, for their souls are joined for eternity - of that I'm sure.

t is for tradition

Anzac Square Brisbane.  The Shrine of Remembrance and Eternal Flame

In many ways Australia and America, both being christian countries, celebrate the same things and have similar holidays.  But there are a few Australian traditions I miss dreadfully.  Anzac day, celebrated on 25th April, (which incidentally is today over there), being the major one because of so many sentimental reasons: it's the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps day and a time when the entire nation stands still in commemoration and gratitude.  The parades, the speeches, the haunting sound of the bugle, the silence and the memories of one beloved Anzac soldier together with love for my close friends still serving to this day, will always and forever keep this day sacred to me.

At a Remembrance Parade and Ceremony, Anzac Square in 2012

Will, paying his respects

Melbourne Cup is another tradition I miss.  Of course the actual event is larger than life and the city gets a holiday, but no matter where you are in Australia on that day, you are expected to participate.  Ladies get dolled up in elaborate dresses, hats and jewels; men wear suits and off they go to work where they are undoubtedly greeted by a table of food and drink, underneath the biggest TV the organizers could find.  This is where, for the duration of the race, you will find most Aussies on Melbourne cup day.  Placing bets, screaming, laughing, crying, eating and drinking: then it's back to work as usual.

clowning around at the local races (not the actual Mel.Cup)

The Aussie tradition of Easter is different too.  For a nation that thinks bigger is better, America has definitely missed the Aussie-Easter-egg memo.  Our Easter eggs (and chocolate rabbits) are HUGE and I'd never quite given up searching for one of those traditional head-sized ones I always got in Aus, until this year.  I disparagingly gave up hope when one of the bloggers I follow (another Aussie ex-pat living in the States as well) wrote this post about how American Easter eggs are plastic and full of candy VS Aussie ones that are almost always chocolate: sometimes with candy inside; sometimes simply (deliciously) as large as a football.  It used to take me a week to eat my traditional present-from-the-parents egg, but that's how I liked it!

One American tradition that I have embraced with all my heart is Thanksgiving.  Never mind how it started, or what caused it in the first place, I think giving thanks is a wonderful concept!  Traditions are undoubtedly things that vary between families, but in America everyone celebrates Thanksgiving in some capacity and it's my favourite of Will's family's celebrations too.  Nobody goes around saying what they're thankful for but I like to sit back and make metal notes while Uncle Sean stirs butter into the mashed potatoes, Aunt Amy pours martinis, grandpa mutes the TV so that he can hear what we're all gossiping about in a 'subtle' way, grandma fusses over who's not eating... and bookmark all those moments forever in my memories that live in the thankful side of my brain.

One of the things I love most about Will's family (and something I hope remains a tradition), is how they can take a public holiday like Thanksgiving and turn it into a week-long celebration.  The women call each other to find out what we're all drinking, who's bringing what to the table and what we're wearing a week in advance.  Then we all 'conveniently' decide we're missing an ingredient or the right outfit and that we must go shopping - as if we need an extra excuse to get together!  Despite all of our preparation and fuss, our get-togethers are never structured or on schedule.  It's always chaos, but it's real.  Will's family isn't formal, they each are completely comfortable setting vague time frames and then going with the flow.  We're always allowed to take our pups with us and they run free, scrounging for food dropped on the floor while everyone helps themselves to the fridge or pantry and argue about petty opinions or reminisce about times gone by.

snail mail

Does anyone still have a pen-pal?  Or are those days long gone and completely replaced by email/ facebook inbox pals?  As I mentioned here, I love sending and receiving handwritten cards or letters and yesterday I got a bit of a shock when I received my first handwritten letter in many years!  I savored the experience of it, making myself a coffee and getting comfortable on the couch before opening it up to read, then reread it.

In the letter, my friend calls me her 'pen-pal' and it reminded me of school, (German class) where we were assigned foreign pen-pals to improve our language from both ends; as well as the many hundreds of notes my friends and I would pass around to each other over the years - on lunch breaks, between classes, in classes, first thing in the mornings...  it was kind of like keeping pen-pals and so much fun sneaking around behind the teacher's backs: especially if the notes were about them.  I know these days kids at schools text each other everything that goes on but it's such a treat and a laugh to have tangible notes.  To be able to reread them after many years, like I did last year when I visited my parent's house and my old bedroom which still contains a box of my old school things; and to remember all of the gossip, hype and catastrophe of those days. 

Maybe my generation was the last to actively participate in snail mail and hand written notes but I wonder if we're also the last to appreciate them?  As I walked out of the post office earlier today, filled with glee about my new Harry Potter stamp book, I thought just maybe we're not...

This week's tip | Always bring a hostess gift

I love giving and receiving hostess gifts!  Ironically, although this universal tradition is one of the first rules of dinner party etiquette: it's also the first to be overlooked.

A hostess gift is simply a token of appreciation for the person or couple who have gone to the effort of having you over and preparing dinner.  It can be as simple as flowers, a bottle of wine, dessert or something longer lasting like fancy hand soap, cushion or vase: basically anything relating to home or entertaining.

The best hostess gift I've ever received was a lavender Carrière Frères candle but getting flowers is always fun too!  

At the end of the day any thoughtful gesture shows the invitation is appreciated and will definitely score you brownie points with the hosts. (but if you're really stuck - google hostess gifts and a whole bunch of great ideas pop up ;)

The places I've called home

The scariest thing in the world to many people is moving away from their family and friends.  I’ve moved to completely new cities – where I knew no one and started my life over, completely from scratch, four times in my adult life and five altogether, if you count moving from Kazakhstan to Australia with my parents when I was 5. 

Honestly, it IS hard and scary and lonely and completely, gut-wrenchingly depressing at times.  There are times when I weep for past lives of mine that lived happily in places where I was whole – with friends, family, a job, a car, stability, purpose.  Sometimes it seems that the moment I have it all together, I leave.  Sometimes I’m desperate for a permanent home; a piece of land somewhere in this world that belongs to me, where I can spread some metaphorical and physical roots (I love gardening).

I want to give a shout out to all the places I’ve called home, places within the city limits of which parts of me are confided, like Voldemort’s horcruxes. 

Almaty – Kazakhstan (yes, the place Borat is from)

I was born and lived here until I was 5. Although my recollections of it are scattered, the memories I do have are very powerful and are mainly of a family that I have long since become estranged from; but I think love is the strongest emotion of all and those feelings and faces have remained with me throughout my life.

Brisbane, QLD Australia

School, work, church, family, growing up, first friends, first fights, first unforgivable circumstances, first love, first kiss (Chris Lokteff - I get to brag because... well google him!!), first disappointment, first designer handbag, first everything I guess… it all took place here in the beautiful capital city of Queensland, Australia.

Sunshine Coast, QLD Australia

Although I never technically lived here – every school and family holiday, as well as many, many weekends were spent at various beaches here on this breathtaking shore.  Caloundra, Mooloolaba, Nambour, Noosa and the mountainous hinterland all left huge footprints on my existence.  Kings Beach at Caloundra has remained my meditating center: the spot I always go to in my head when I need to feel at peace.

Gold Coast, QLD Australia

Same as above – although not the family holiday part.  Once high school was over, my friends and I spent many weekends along the shores of this part of the world.  Southport, Surfer’s Paradise, Burliegh Heads and Coolangatta were always my favorites.

Rockhampton, QLD Australia

My first solo adult move. I came here for university and a boy, neither of which worked out.  Instead I found my truest and bestest friends.  Friends that have withstood time and heartbreaking distance.  I miss this place (and Yeppoon) so much that I get chocked up when I think it.  I lived here for almost 4 years and undoubtedly left the biggest chunk of my heart here in this small town.

Scarborough Beach, WA Australia

My next solo move; but during this one, I became tied to Will and we have traveled together everywhere else since.  Although we only lived here for 6 months, it was an incredible experience.  Truly one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.  I spent a lot of time in the capital city Perth, which was a short train ride away from me, in Fremantle, on Scarborough Beach and neighboring beaches.

Yeppoon, QLD Australia

Will and I got married here and then stayed for a while before moving to the US.  This small town is only half an hour away from Rockhampton and it’s where many of my friends live.  It’s the unofficial beginning of Australia’s iconic ‘Great Barrier Reef’ – amazing, awe-inspiring; life changing experiences were had here. 

Atlanta, GA USA

The lonliest I’ve ever felt, moving to Atlanta was a culture shock, a test of my marriage and friendships, yet another growing experience and the single most self-altering 3 years I’ve ever had.  I spent the first year being heartbroken and homesick for Australia, completely determined to hate the city and not assimilate at all.  But it’s seriously impossible to hate Peidmont Park in the fall, Centennial Park at Christmas, Stone Mountain any time of year or Midtown where we lived.  Eventually, after meeting people, figuring out the public transport and getting to know Will’s family, this city became another home with many more people I’ve come to love.

Austin, TX USA…

Doesn't feel like home yet but… Stay tuned!  After a month here, I like it a lot.  In many ways it reminds me of Australia! And now that I’m no longer homesick for Aus every day, it’s an ironic and almost painful reminder of how far I've come but now have to start again! The attire of shorts and flip/ flops and the wildlife, nature and environmental consciousness are all very reminiscent… expect that here it’s deer, raccoons and squirrels abounding the streets instead of kangaroos, cockatoos and possums.  I think moving here will turn out to be a good thing, eventually. The people are very welcoming and genuine, shouldn't take too long to assimilate.  For now though, it's back to homesickness and loneliness.  

The childless wife

On Saturday Will was out of town and I was thinking of how to spend my day off with the puppies, who are currently my only source of company since I don't have any friends in Austin yet.  This got me thinking of my closest girlfriends when it suddenly hit me - they all have kids!  Even when we did live close to one another, their Saturdays revolved around their kids whereas I still wanted to do things like shopping, getting manicures or drinking wine and watching movies.

I know childless women always go on about not being about to relate to their friends with children or they get bored constantly hearing about them all the time but I sat there wondering if my life has less importance than theirs because I haven't begun to live for someone else... and how different this particular Saturday would have been if I had.

My list of priorities revolves around taking care of my husband and our dogs; writing; home decor and fragrance; a social life complete with new venues, cuisine and travel; manicured nails and fashion. I still look at kids and wonder what the big deal is about growing a tooth or each one going through the motions of balance, crawling, walking, talking ... to me it's the normal progression of life and I would assume that if teeth weren't growing or if the kid wasn't walking THAT would be the big deal.

Does society judge childless wives?  Or do we judge ourselves?  That's what I'm trying to figure out.  I know I judge myself and feel dreadfully self conscious about my priorities and life in general whenever I'm with my friends who have children. What makes it worse is that most of them were married a lot shorter than Will and I are married now before they became mums, while  I'm sitting on the wrong side of my 20's with no thought of having children.  And doesn't this somewhat placated attitude of mine towards my friend's children mean I'm simply not mother material anyway?  (Am I The Trunchbull?? Oh God, that's a horrible thought!)

Will and I often discuss our blessings and incredible life: full of adventure, free of stress and the ability to do exactly what we want, when we want.  But who's to say our life is better than anyone else's?   Who's to say that's the correct way to live?  Would we feel as lucky and blessed with a baby to care for and mould?

I look at each of my girlfriends now: each a wonderful and very different mother, each seeming happier than I - no self-consciousness or regrets when we're together - but then none of them have a child over 10.  I wonder if it will even out between us again once their kids have grown?  Who's to know what kind of adults they'll become or what kind of bond they will have?

Will my friends end up lonely, once the kids (that they gave their other priorities up for) leave their nests?  Will we still be friends?  How many of their marriages will survive?  Or will they always feel happier and more fulfilled than I - simply knowing that they are forever bonded to another human in a way that a childless wife will never be?