The writer's blog

I live a kind of hazy sit-com existence in a gorgeous room, in a cute house in a beautiful Otaki, that I love very very much.  I am actually almost living in my room because that is where I write.  I have been given advice from NON WRITER's, including my doctor,  that I shouldn't work in the place where I am trying to rest.  That may be true for normal people but that is utter bullshit for me.  
I don't need to be anywhere else to be inspired.  I don't need a retreat halfway up the swiss Alps, or a garret in Paris, or on a boat on the ocean.  I just need to be here, in my lovely comfortable (very expensive, thank you Johnny) bed. 
Believe me I've tried to write at a desk, and a table, and in a chair, but it doesn't work. Even yesterday I tried to write with my daughter and that didn't work.   I spent the whole time titu-ing on the facebooks.

I'm over trying to do anything that may fit into someone else's idea of what I should be doing, if it ain't broke don't fix it ay.


At the moment Scotty and I are in a happiness bubble.  They turn up every once in a while when everything is just wonderful.  He is getting a new job up here in the sticks so there will be no more driving an hour and a half to get to Upper Hutt.
I am being the perfect (well as perfect as I can be) wife and he comes homes to gorgeous aromas of delicious food about to be served.  His room is tidied within an inch of it's life.  His clothes are folded and placed lovingly in his drawers or hung on hangers.  His sheets are clean.  
His/our house is spotless.
But...I can tell you right now, this will not last, this is a bullshit fairy-tale and believe me, he never gets used to it.  As soon as he even looks as if he is taking anything I do for granted, it all STOPS.
 Believe me, the one thing men don't need is to be over indulged for long periods of time because they turn into arseholes exactly the way spoiled kids do.  
Fuck that.
When I was a kid my friends and I all had mothers like this.  Problem was they were almost all doped up to the eyeballs on valium or zinging around on speed.

Pictures paint a thousand words...I have many pictures of myself, I'm a bit obsessed really.  Its not about vanity, its more to do with the passage of time, and the ruination of the human body.
I am getting older and that is cool in every way apart with what its doing to my body, as in making it really uncomfortable to live in...everything aches like heck now.  

I have two daughters who are beautiful... and who look very VERY young.  Like teens really. 

  

This is all to do with great genes.  My Dad looks about 50 and he's 80 something.  This is all a gift.  I just got it given to me along with my brains and entertaining sense of humour oh yeah and my humbleness. Ha ha ha
Its weird, but I like myself a lot more now than I did when I was younger.  Apart from trying to get up in a hurry, that is torturous, but hey...

 So, I Never EVER photoshop myself...I just curate well *smile*