The Journal

Today marks another reboot. I did Pilates and bought books, exercising my sagging arse in the morning and my shrinking mind in the afternoon. I nearly bought a book called The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. The first page amused me. But then I read chapter one in its entirety and found the…

It's something to guard against, aching teeth. Not with flossing or expensive dental work but with breathing, relaxing, letting go. By mid morning, every morning at the moment, my mouth is unhappy. When I pause to examine I find my molars are clamped shut, grinding, my jaw locked with bottom teeth rammed tight against the…

The Husband and Uncle Mark are cooing over a torch, the latest in a long line of illumination tools to clutter my kitchen shelves. With living room lights dimmed, the boys are wonderstruck by the intense blue beam streaming from the slender cylinder. It's not hard to imagine them as children, mucking about in the 'boys…

There's a certain selection bias in these notes.  It's much easier to wax lyrical about a day full of activity, a day where stuff gets done and to-do lists shrink and there are compelling verbs and colour to play with. Days spent in Hong Kong in lounges and bars and restaurants. On days like to today…

"Mum. We have to leave in 15 minutes." This was not a 6:15am alarm, just The Ballerina waking me to drive her to weekly choir practice. The school timetable has no respect for a writer's night owl habits. So I dragged my wretched carcass from its covers, pulled on shorts and sneakers and drove her, through bleary…

It feels like January. The good intentions rekindled on holidays still shape my days (headaches notwithstanding). Today I ate spinach and blueberries and cut up a pineapple. I made bolognaise sauce from scratch - with vegies in it. And I'm writing, albeit in the dead of night when I should be asleep. Boy shopping Even with plans and…

A headache crept into my bed last night, igniting my brain. It wrapped its tentacles around my skull, digging its fists into my temples till I opened my eyes. Then shut them fast, to block the piercing light streaming in through shuttered cracks. Last night I'd promised to cook bacon and eggs for breakfast but first had…

Down to earth with a thud today, driving across town before breakfast to collect The Ballerina from a sleepover. On the way home I shopped at the butcher, the greengrocer and the supermarket, buying dry-aged rib steaks, nutty muesli, yoghurt and a box full of veggies. Then toilet paper. At home I washed and hung…

Resolve Departure heralded good intentions. No champagne, no sugary post-meal treats. Instead, the flight from Brisbane to Hong Kong was all water and fruit and naked salad. Seven days and a couple of extra kilos later I'm returning home, strapped in and waiting to push back, cursing my lack of discipline. Bircher muesli with fruit…

I'm curled up in bed with an empty teacup beside me watching Lethal Weapon. The movie could be seen as a cultural touch stone, the first in a good-cop versus bad-drug-dealer franchise featuring slide guitar, gunfire, explosions and 1980s profanity. Am I drawing a long bow? Maybe. The rest of the day is easier to…

End of day The hotel bar has toffee walls framed by wide timber architraves. Punters sit in deep tub chairs upholstered in leather and pale gold chintz. Or there are sofas with cushions in caramel, coffee and beige; fat, v-necked, kept in shape with plumping and karate. We drink whiskey and mock tails and nibble on…

"This probably sounds terrible mum, but it tastes just like the Spaghetti Bolognese from The Gap Tavern," The Ballerina said to me tonight as she twirled piles of pasta round her fork and into her mouth. "Not terrible at all my darling," I responded, secretly chalking up a maternal win as I finally witnessed my…

Fat fingers... It used to be that ageing only waived at me when I looked in the mirror. Given my iron bladder and aversion to food preparation this happens infrequently. Without the demands of urination and hand washing I generally get away with two daily visits to the bathroom; once in the morning when I'm…

My name's Angela and I sell things online. Not for the money, just to offload stuff. I'm a chucker and there's not a sentimental bone in my body. Soft toy you've had since infancy? Binned. School magazine collection from the 1970s? Consider it compost. The Husband is afraid to stand still in case I size…

Anybody would think the fridge had broken or the stove had gone kaput. I haven't cooked all weekend. We've had cheese platters and take-away Thai food and explored the suburbs looking for an afternoon coffee. Tonight we should have eaten left-over cheese and green chicken curry. Instead we picnicked at Mt Coot-Tha, picking up karage chicken…