MY HUSBAND KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT GARDENING...

So, it’s become apparent that as brilliant as Charlie is at fixing things, building things (from garden beds to houses) and maintaining our pastures and cows, he knows fuck all about gardening.

I should be fair; he is really good with natives, particularly trees.  My knowledge is quite limited in this area, though I am learning, but Charlie is really good with native trees.

However, that means fuck all when I have an acre of perennial and annual gardens to deal with.

When autumn and spring roll around every year, I curse the fact that we have such an expansive garden.

The pruning, weeding, planting, planning, mulching and cultivating required shits me to tears sometimes, and the amount of work is never fucking ending. 

Then of course, there are the 130 plus roses I have to contend with.  Those fuckers fight back when you prune them, and I have so many scars on my arms from the thorns, that I look like a self-mutilating emo.

Yes: I do wear gloves and long sleeve tops when I’m pruning roses, but don’t be under the illusion that those things stop thorns.  They do not.

However, I do enjoy the fruits of my labour, for the garden is absolutely spectacular when it’s in full bloom, and there is nothing quite as lovely as sitting on the verandah with a book and a cordie on a warm evening, and basking in the fragrance of nature.

There’s also nothing quite as awesome as the realisation that you’re eating produce from your garden.  Leaf, root and bulb vegetables, as well as fruits and herbs; there’s no end to what you can do with all of these goodies.

At the moment, Charlie and I are having a ‘discussion’ about the garden.  I have made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that there are to be no more garden beds built.  No more!

Charlie goes on a creative tangent, and I swear to God I come home from fucken anywhere, and there’s a new garden bed.  I’m like WTF?  Another one? C’mon!

So, we have a magnificent frame that runs beside the garage, and it has olives growing along them.  We’re training them; they’ll be espaliered along the wires, and form a beautiful ‘olive’ wall that hides the garage a little.  Charlie wants to build another fucken garden bed in front of it.  I’ve cracked the shits and said ‘no more’. 

Charlie then says ‘This garden bed can be my project then.  I’ll look after it.’

That’s when I declared the screamingly obvious: ‘Charlie, you know fuck all about gardening.  Not only would you not know the right things to plant in them, but you wouldn’t know how to maintain it.’

‘I know how to garden…’ he sulked.

‘Ahhh… pruning the lower branches off gum trees is one thing, but maintaining a perennial garden is another.’

‘What’re you saying?’

‘You don’t know how to garden.’

‘I do so!’

‘Do you know how to prune?  How to strike cuttings? Which plants are perennial and which are annuals? What plants get pruned and when? Do you know how to prune roses?’

‘With a chainsaw?’ he smirks.

‘Do you even know what type of plants we have in the fucken gardens?’

Charlie just blinked at me.  ‘No… but I could learn…’

‘You’re absolutely right champ.  You could learn, and you’d be a great student.  However, you can’t be fucken bothered with it.  Really.  Can you?’

‘No.’

Charlie spends hours at night time in the summer months watering the gardens, and hours on the mower and with the whipper snipper to maintain the lawns.  However, maintaining a perennial garden requires a completely different skill set. 

He has an absolute heart attack when I give my salvia’s and pentstemons their autumn prune.  Two thirds of the plant is on the ground, and we’re just left with startling sticks. This is normal, but he freaks out.

When I pull out the ever multiplying African daisies and the guara’s (butterflies), he nearly cries because I’m pulling out a good, living plant.  Dude, they’re taking over and smothering everything, I explain.  You have to thin this shit out, or you’re going to have serious problems.

After several years of the world not ending, and the garden not being a disaster area, he finally trusts me.  Can you believe it?  You think with a mother named after fucken flower that has a greener thumb than God himself, you reckon I would have picked up a thing or two, right?  Pffftt.

So, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that if I need it built, fixed, dig it up, planted, mulched, sprayed, mowed, whipper snipped or watered; Charlie’s my man.   Pretty broad spectrum, I must say, but not always the assistance I need; particularly at this time of year, where everything screaming for attention at once, and there are so many hours in the day.

I wish I was retired.

So whilst he’s chasing cows, burning paddocks, throwing out lime and whatever the fuck he does out there, I’m hip deep in perennials screaming for my love and attention.

At least someone loves me.

Peace out.

WEEK 16 SYL CHALLENGE: TIME MANAGEMENT: FOCUS & SLOW DOWN

Deb, the creator of the SYL Challenge, has hit upon an area that I need serious improvement on, and have been working toward for some time now.

Focusing on what needs to be done, and slowing down.

I’m one of these ‘busy’ people that run around everywhere and have a million and one things to do.  I try to cram as much into my day as possible, and often feel exhausted at the end of the day, and like I haven’t achieved everything I set out to do.

This is where ‘lists’ come in handy for me.  I’m forever working off lists, and setting priorities from that list.

Reading through this week’s challenge, I can see that through my learnings so far, that I’m starting to clear out some of the unimportant clutter (small rocks), and shift my attention to the more important things that need to be done, including personal priorities for myself.

Since starting this challenge, I have gone from someone that puts their personal priorities, and I’ll use exercise as a perfect example, last, and everyone else’s needs first.

Now, going to the gym every day, and doing water aerobics twice a week has been built into the natural flow of my week.  Just like I have to go to work four days a week, I have to go to the gym on the way home.  The priorities on my day off are the gym and water aerobics, followed by the secondary things that support the flow of the household, such as cooking and ironing, etc. 

Gym and aerobics are only put off for things that I want to do, and not things that I need to do.  They are not, and will not, be swept aside to accommodate someone else’s needs, unless of course there is an emergency or something important that requires my assistance.

In doing this, I’ve somehow managed to free up a lot more time in my day.  I’ve succeeded in sifting out the unimportant stuff, carrying out the priorities, and managing the general stuff well.

However, I’m not perfect, and still have a way to go, even though I think I’m getting the hang of things.

As I mentioned before, I do make lots of lists, and on my days off, I scribble down the things I want to do.  I find that if I write them down, I don’t have to remember them, and the fear of ‘forgetting’ something is gone. 

I don’t stress so much, and I simply prioritize my list, and get on with it.  My list is not dominated by things I must do, rather than things that are important and need immediate attention, followed by secondary things that contribute to the flow of the house, and then ‘me’ time.

It’s incredible how, by simply listing things, prioritising them, and doing your best to get through them, whilst ensuring you include ‘me time’, frees up so much more time.

It’s a lot simpler than you think.

This week’s challenge talks about multitasking, which is something I love to do, but often fuck up.

I can get distracted very easily, as most people can, and a straight forward task can drag out for ages, because I’m jumping all over the place.  I also find that I can be in a hurry to do things, and end up stressing myself out because I’m rushing; rushing for simply no reason.

For example; if I’m later home from work than planned, I race in the back door, start throwing things together in the kitchen, drop things, cut myself, burn dinner or present some slop that somehow resembles something that could be eaten.  

I may be paying the bills online, but get distracted by Facebook, and end up stuffing up a payment.  I could be typing up recipes for my Facebook recipe page, and get distracted by emails or faxes.

All of this simply results in me being more stressed, and dreading having to do these tasks again, which could be made much simpler if I just focused and slowed down.

Hence why this challenge seems to be a good one for me.

Some of the changes that Deb suggests, are as follows:

Eliminating distractions so that when I’m on one task, I stay on that task (i.e. closing other windows while I write a blog post so I don’t dip into email)

Learning when to single task versus multi task (the trick to multi-tasking is to make sure you are combining two ‘autopilot type tasks’, like laundry folding and watching TV, cooking whilst chatting on the phone, or jogging whilst listening to a podcast, rather than tasks that involve skill or brain work).

Building in breathing room (leave blank time in your schedule between appointments and tasks, allow for travel time, prioritize me-time).

Choose the simpler method or option when possible (gives a savings of time, energy, stress and even money at times).

Self-care should be invested in upfront, rather than solely as a reward when you have accomplished ‘enough’ (if left for last, you will often run yourself into the ground emotionally or physically).

Focus on what is truly important (often, if you look at a to-do list of 10 items, there are only 2 that are truly important or critical for that day)

I laughed when I saw this list, because some of these things are so me.  I iron whilst I’m watching telly (two ‘autopilot’ things), I unload washing, drying or fold laundry whilst cooking, and so on. 

However, closing other windows whilst I’m working on specific tasks on the computer is gold.  I feel stupid for not having thought of that before! If I do that next time I pay the bills on line, I may not stuff them up! LOL! 

There are a few great ideas here that I can build into my day, as well as the possibility of a lot more.

So the challenge this week is this:

1.      Set yourself up for success and identify only 2 or 3 important things that you must do each day.  If you achieve those few things and have time, energy or inclination, do more.

2.     Build in breathing room to your day and plan some down time – every day!

3.     Focus.  This week, work to eliminate multi-tasking when you are doing your important brain work at the very least, or from all areas if you are up for a serious challenge.  As much as possible, give whatever you are doing, your undivided attention. 

One thing Deb suggests is that if you find you’re looking for a distraction after a period of time, then maybe you have been doing that task for too long.  Give yourself a break, walk away, make a cup of tea, and return to it.  Can it wait until later if you need a break?

So, this week, I’m going to focus on ‘autopilot’ multi-tasking, and dedicating my attention to ‘brain work’ tasks, so I can focus and get things done.  I’m going to endeavour to eliminate distractions whilst I’m working on the serious stuff, with a view to getting shit done, and giving myself more time back.

Should be an interesting week!

Peace out.

LIKE A PRAYER

So, I hear last week that they’re going to install ‘prayer rooms’ at all football venues, so that Muslims can pray whilst they’re at the footy.

Now, my initial reaction to this announcement by the AFL was simple astonishment.

Why on earth are we dragging religion into this game? 

For the love of Pete, why can’t people just come to the footy and watch?  Why do we have to accommodate people that need to pray at certain times of the day?  If their necessity to pray impacts upon their ability to involve themselves in social activities, then they need to sort their priorities. 

If they can’t cope a few hours without prostrating themselves, then don’t come to the footy.  The rest of us shouldn’t have to accommodate them.

And what about the other faiths?  What about Christians? Wiccans? Evangelists? Mormons?  Jehovah’s Witnesses? Buddhists? Hindu’s? Hare Krishnas?  Where’s they prayer rooms?

By singling out one faith, is the AFL discriminating against all of the others?  Is that even possible? 

I’m confused…

That was my first reaction.

Then, I was astounded to learn that the MCG have had prayer rooms for seven years.

Seven years. 

AND, these spaces are available to people of all faiths, not just Muslims.  The term ‘prayer room’ implies that they are for Muslims, but it’s a generic term designed to accommodate everyone.

They have also been recently introduced to Etihad Stadium, and will soon appear at ANZ Stadium as well.  Other grounds will follow suit.

At this point, I feel sorry for the AFL, because their attempt at getting some PR mileage out of this…. open-minded accommodation… would appear to have backfired.

Jeff Kennett, the human bucket mouth, was the first one up on his pedestal screaming about Australia’s Christian social fabric being torn apart because we’re constantly accommodating minorities. 

QUOTE: ‘How dare the AFL take the game MY forefathers have played for generations and turn it into a religious political football for a minority.’

‘With due respect, the culture of Australia is a Christian society of many faiths and many community backgrounds… when you come to a community, the community can be gracious and it can be generous, but it doesn’t have to change its very fibre.’

Good point.

And one I would have strongly agreed with if the AFL hadn’t pointed out that these ‘prayer rooms’ were for ALL denominations.

Then I have to ask myself this: is this even a problem at all?  So what if people drop into the prayer rooms, and have a quiet moment to themselves without bothering anyone?

The stadiums offer male and female toilets, snack bars and public bars for our convenience, why not prayer rooms?  What’s the difference?

I’d get more pissed off at drunken Collingwood ferals at the footy than I would a Muslim who quietly slips away at 2.00pm and sends one up to Allah, let me tell you.

At least the Muslims have a little more respect.

Eddie McGuire once famously said ‘It’s not as if we’re going to have falafel stuffed in our face.  This is irrational fear that has no place in the game.’

Australia is a multicultural society, whether you like it or not.  We are made up of many different people with many different cultures, traditions and faiths.  It’s our nature to embrace all of these cultures, and welcome them into our community.

It is also our nature to condemn something that is different. 

So, where do we find the balance?  Is a prayer room really accommodating everyone, or is it singling out and drawing attention to the unassuming?

Is it necessary, or is it a ‘politically correct’ overreaction?

Our society is united by our enjoyment of sport; particularly footy.  All of those that love the game should welcome people with open arms, and not turn them away because they have different points of view.

If that was the case, there would be no Collingwood supporters at all :D

So, next time you’re at the footy, drop into the nearest prayer room and send one up to whatever God you believe in, for your team.

It may make a difference.

Peace out.

UNROMANTIC WEEKEND

So, it was Charlie’s and my wedding anniversary last week.

We’ve been together for eleven years; married for four of them.  Just bliss *rolls eyes*.

So, in typical fashion, we organised a night in the city to celebrate.

Now, here’s the deal; I organise the accommodation, and Charlie organises the entertainment.

Entertainment does not involve special cuddles.  Well, not just special cuddles.  I need more ‘stimulation’ than that.

So, I kept my part of the bargain, and organised a night in a hotel we’ve stayed in before, called the Hotel Charsfield, on St Kilda Road.

It’s a beautiful old hotel that’s been magnificently restored, and is nestled amongst all of the modern, angular monstrosities that is modern architecture.  It’s quite a visual surprise amongst the concrete jungle that is St Kilda Road.

What did Charlie organise, I hear you ask?

Fucken nothing.

His plan was to take a tram ride up St Kilda Road to China Town.  On our wedding night (we got married in the afternoon), we had a meal in Chinatown, and it was beautiful, so he wanted to go back there.  Lovely sentiment on his part.

However, that would require planning and booking; something completely foreign to him.

Then after dinner, we would catch a movie and go back to the hotel for some lovin’.  (The ‘lovin’ bit was the important part of his plan, me thinks).

So, we get into the city about 7pm (because Charlie had fucken golf in the afternoon), check in, dump our stuff, and head out to catch a tram.

Now, I’ve only been on a tram twice before.  Once on the City Circle Tram with my bestie peeps, and once on the Tram Car Restaurant that hoons around the city.  Now that was an awesome night out.

Anyway, we jump on the ridiculously crowded tram, and she, who suffers from motion sickness, is standing on the turntable part of the tram; you know those long trams with the accordion bit in the middle? Well, they have a ‘turntable’ inside so the accordion bit can flex.  So yeah; that were I’m standing.

Having never really travelled much on a tram, I was unfamiliar with how they are driven.  When they take off, it’s like a fucken rocket.  The tram is then driven like it’s stolen, before the anchors are thrown out and we come to a screeching halt at the next stop. 

I spent most of the trip being thrown around like a fucken ragdoll, and I’m sure at one point, I was flying at a ninety degree angle to the floor, clinging desperately to the rail.

I lasted ten stops (quite proud of that) before I grabbed Charlie and declared that we need to get off this fucken roller coaster before I throw up the packet of Twisties I had on the way down here.

Not a good start to the night.

So, we jump out (for our lives) at Flinders Street, and are greeted with the comforting smells, sights and sounds of a city alive at night.

There were people everywhere!  I couldn’t believe it!  We’re supposed to be heading into a recession!  Why the fuck weren’t these people at home watching telly or something?  Unbelievable!

So we beat our way through the throng, toward Chinatown.  I will say this: pink hair, short dresses and thongs seem to be the fashion for young ladies in the city at the mo.  As for the men; don’t even get me started.

We finally get to Chinatown, and I’m ready to eat my arm I’m so fucken hungry.  Of course, the smell of the region doesn’t help my case, because that familiar, common ‘Chinese food’ smell was everywhere. 

We wandered along the strip, checking out a few restaurants, and realised that at 8.30pm at night, there really weren’t a lot of places to eat.  They were either full, had long queues waiting to get in, or were too expensive.

This is the point where I wanted to kill my husband for not booking or organising anything for us.  I fucken knew this would happen!

My distress was relieved when I stumbled into an Asian gift shop that was full of Hello Kitty stuff.  I walked out with a new phone cover, and that pacified my mood for…. Ooohhh… a good thirty seconds, then I was back into ‘kill’ mode.

Fuck I was hungry.  Not a good position to be in if you’re diabetic.  Something I made very clear to Charlie on one occasion.

There was a ‘beat boxer’ on one of the street corners, with quite a crowd around him.  He was pretty awesome, actually.  I think Charlie was new to the ‘beat box’ thing *rolls eyes* (this is what I live with) and stood there for a good five minutes listening before I physically dragged him away. 

By the time we reached the top of Chinatown, I was tired, cranky, bruised from bashing through the crowd, and way past hungry.  It was 9.15pm.

I turned to my poor husband and declared ‘I’m done.  Take me back to the Hotel, and we’ll get room service.  I’m fucken done.’

Poor Charlie’s head dropped; he had failed, and his beloved wife was not happy.  Dog. House.

So we trudged back down Chinatown and turned toward Burke Street, where I knew we would find a taxi rank.  That’s when we stumbled across a little Asian café that was busy, but had a couple of people leave as we walked past.

We were in.

We had a lovely, simple meal of wontons for the starter, and Beef Satay and Sweet and Sour Pork (old skool) with rice for mains.  We even lashed out and took advantage of the dinner special; $1 cokes with every meal!  Oh yeah!  We were livin’ large!!

Charlie then took me to a fine establishment (7 Eleven) for an ice cream (no expense spared), before we took a cab back to the hotel.

At 10.00pm, I slipped into my jimmies, watched the end of the footy with my beloved, and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder.  I was nudged awake, told to put my cpap mask on (cos I was snoring), and did not wake until my bladder interrupted my sleep at some ungodly hour of the morning.  My eyes didn’t open again until 8.30am.

Breakfast was enjoyed in the hotel dining room, with a massive selection of breads, condiments, cereals, fruits, juices, yoghurts, croissants, muffins, teas and coffee.  It was awesome. 

After checkout, Charlie and I risked another tram ride into the city, which fortunately for him, I was able to get a seat on. 

We wandered around the Arts Centre market, where I marvelled at the talents that some people display.  The crafts and handmade items were just beautiful.

We wandered around Federation Square, which I think is an amazing place.  Sure; it looks like someone dropped a ceramic tile and glued it back together again, but I love it.  Charlie had never been there before (OMFG), and when I took the man that fabricates steel for a living into the atrium, he was lost. 

I swear he stood there staring at the steel work for about ten minutes, muttering some incoherent babbled about steel, mazes and jigsaw puzzles.  I dragged him to tables and chairs nearby and made him sit down so he could look at the structure without concerning security and embarrassing me.

After more tram rides, getting lost in Crown (they’ve changed the food court/movie entrance around a bit) and walking past shops that we could never afford to shop in, the Buttlers called it a day, and headed home.

Yep.  One of the most romantic weekends I’ve ever had.

Romantic peace out.

POLICE SPRAY

So, I’m heading through Kilmore the other morning, thinking to myself ‘I’m having a good run today’, when I hear on the radio that there’s been an accident.

Wallan never makes the news unless it’s for something bad (usually the case for most suburbs, really) and apparently there was a nasty accident down there somewhere.

Great.

So as I’m head through Wallan, I can see that the police are at one of the intersections ahead of me, re-directing traffic. 

Now, there were police, flashing lights and traffic everywhere, so I naturally assumed that this is where the accident was.  However, I was too busy trying not to cause another accident to really see any gory action stuff, so I didn’t really take a lot of notice.

So, I turn right (as directed), and head through the back of Wallan, and come back onto the Northern about half a click past the accident.

Yay! Back on track! I think to myself, as I hoon off past the footy club and toward the Hume.

That’s when I see it. 

The accident wasn’t at the set of lights after all; it was over the rise and about a kilometre away from the Hume. 

And it was big.

So I join the relatively short queue, which appeared to be moving, in the patient hope that I will get through eventually.

There’s traffic dripping through from the other direction, and my lane was moving slowly, so we had to be getting through.  Right?

Wrong.

Twenty-five minutes later, my impatience has gotten the best of me, and I realise now that it’s not traffic coming the other way, but vehicles turning around.  That’s why my lane was moving. 

Standing on the side of the road, just a little head of me, was a couple of coppers, having a good old yap. 

When I get close enough to them, I wind down my window, and catch the eye of one of them.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask politely.

‘There’s been an accident.’ He said matter-of-factly.

No shit, I thought.  ‘Really? I would never have guessed.’ I sighed.  ‘Can we get through?’

‘No.’ he laughed.  ‘The roads completely blocked.  You’ll have to turn around and go back through Kilmore’

‘What?’ I gasped.  ‘When the fuck were you going to tell me that?’ I snapped.  He just looked at me like he’d been slapped.  ‘I’ve been sitting in this queue for twenty-five minutes, and you didn’t think to come along and tell people that they can’t get through?  Are you kidding me?’

‘Um…. We have a diversion at the intersection….’ He pointed in the direction from whence I’d come.

‘Well clearly that’s working well!’ I barked.  ‘I was redirected this way!  And what about all the poor bastards coming out of the estate between here and the intersection?  No one’s redirecting them?’

He looked back down the line of traffic toward the estate entrance, a little lost.

‘It’s clear you traffic management skills are somewhat questionable, champ.’ I barked again, and he turned to me with eyes of steel.  ‘I can’t believe that you’re not walking along this line of traffic and telling people to turn around!  I can’t believe you don’t have someone posted at the estate entrance? What the hell do you expect all of these people to do?’

‘Well… we’re doing the best we can…’

‘Um… no you’re not.’ I snapped again.  I could have reached out of my fucken window and throttled him.  ‘I’ve wasted twenty-five minutes of my life in this queue.! Twenty-five minutes I’ll never get back again, and to top it all off, I’m now fucken late for work!  And that’s happened whilst you’ve been standing on the side of the road yapping to your friggin mate there!’ I said, pointing to the other female copper, who was watching the scene with a great deal of interest.

‘Like I said, we’re doing the best we can.’ He said a little stiffly.

‘And like I said, no you’re not.  You two should be walking along this queue and turning everyone around instead of just standing there.  That’s traffic management.  Then you should have someone’s arse standing at that estate entrance turning people around.  Surely you can see that what you’re doing now is not working?’

He looked up the queue of cars again, his mind clearly ticking over.

‘Jesus mate; common sense is free.  You’ve robbed me of twenty-five minutes; the least you could do is save the poor bastards behind me.’ And with that, I put my car in gear, drove ahead a little bit and turned around.

As I drove back past the coppers again, they were starting to approach the other waiting drivers.  Amazing *rolls eyes*

Took some numptie office manager to point out the bleeding fucking obvious.

I have an immense amount of respect for the Victorian Police Force, but these two must have been the dumbarses of their graduating class, with a FAIL in traffic management for sure.

Clowns.

Peace out.

BIG ROCKS FIRST

Stephen Covey is a well published author and professor at a business school in America.  His book ‘7 Habits of Highly Effective People’ has sold millions of copies world wide.

He’s created many business methods and time management tools to help people become more successful, but is also known for a famous talk once given about big rocks and small rocks.

I’ve found it, albeit in summary, on the interwebs, and wanted to share it with you.

In the middle of a lecture, a presenter pulled out a wide-mouth jar and placed it on the table, aside to some fist-sized rocks.

After filling the jar to the top with rocks he asked, “Is the jar full?”

People could see that no more rocks would fit, so they replied, “Yes!”

“Not so fast,” he cautioned. He then got some gravel from under the table and added it to the jar, filling the spaces between the rocks. Again, he asked, “Is the jar full?”

This time the students replied “Probably not.”

The presenter then reached a bucket of sand below the table, and dumped it on the jar, filling the spaces between the rocks and the gravel. Once again he asked “Is the jar full?”

“No!”, the students shouted.

Finally, he grabbed a pitcher of water and filled the jar completely, asking to the public what they could learn from that illustration.

One of the participants answered, “If you work at it, you can always fit more into your life.”

“No,” said the presenter. “The point is, if you don’t put the big rocks in first. . . would you ever have gotten any of them in?”

It is suggested that you can apply this theory to every aspect of your life, from work to home life. 

Focus on the big things first, for they’re what gives your life structure and joy.  The rest is just filler.

Peace out.

WEEK 15 SYL CHALLENGE: PRIORITIES

Challenge for week fifteen: Conduct a time audit.  Have a look at what you currently have on your to do list, what is in your calendar, what activities you are involved in, commitments you have made.  Do these reflect the values you identified in the goals you set?  How much of your time is spent ‘above the line’?  Think about what might need to go to make room for what you really want in life – to achieve the vision you have set for this year – or what changes can be made to your routines and activities to make room.

Interesting one this one.

In the process or getting your head around ‘time management’, which the next four or five challenges are focused on, we have to look at how we’re currently managing our time.

I don’t know about you, but I use to spend a lot of time running around trying to cram as much into my day as possible.  I’d dread a day where I’d felt that I was just sitting around reading or watching telly, because upon reflection, I felt that I’d wasted it.  In reality, it was down time for me, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

However, guilt steps in and you feel like you’ve done something wrong because you’ve taken time for yourself.

Here’s a tip: we don’t have to spend every waking moment of our lives running around after everyone else.  At some point, we have to stop and take care of ourselves.

That is nothing to feel guilty about.

Look at it like this; if we spend all of our time running around after everyone else and accommodating all of their needs, and neglect ourselves, we will crash.  What good are we to anyone, let alone ourselves, if we crash?

We must take time for ourselves.

So, part of this challenge is about focusing on what’s important to you (which again, refers us back to goal setting and the wheel of balance stuff from previous challenges) and puts them in some kind of priority.

Time management is not about cramming as much as possible into one day: it’s about having a day filled with things that we want to do, whilst still managing to address the things we have to do.

It’s about balance.

For example; no one wants to spend half an hour paying the bills.  Gaaa… what a boring and unrewarding job that is.  However, it has to be done.  If we procrastinate around this task, ignore it and put it off, all of a sudden it becomes and urgent problem and takes up more time (and creates more stress) than we really need it to do.

Our life should be a balance of doing the shit we want to do, and these little tasks are simply peppered through it as one of life’s necessities.

Deb, the creator of the 52 week challenge, talks about a time management matrix created by a gentleman called Stephen Covey, called ‘the four quadrants’. 

Basically, this matrix carves up your ‘time management’ life into four sections.  Thinks that are important or of value that are both urgent and not urgent (first two), and thinks that are not important, that are also urgent and not urgent.

I’ve attached a copy of my own quadrant that I created, so you’ll get the drift.

Now, this is not gospel according to Stephen Covey, but it runs along the same theory, and it works for me.

You see, in quadrant number one are the things that are a priority to me at this point in time.  My health, gym/water aerobics, my diet, my relationship with Charlie and any emergencies that pop up, no matter what they are.  These are the ‘big things’ that will take a front seat at all times.  These are the things that my life will revolve around.

You will note that ‘work’ is not listed here.  I see work as a necessary evil; something that I must do to fund my lifestyle.  This matrix is about what I do with my down time.

The second quadrant are things that are no so urgent, but still important to me.  Secondary things that I enjoy, and when the big things are done, this is what I focus on. 

I love updating my Facebook recipe page, my blog, watching the odd television show (love the cooking channel), reading, gardening, CWA and looking after Mum.  These are the things that bring joy to my life.

The third quadrant is things that are not a priority to me, but have to be done.  I have to keep on top of the household and my personal finances, and I have to do jobs around the house.  That’s life.  However, they’re not going to be a dominating part of it.

The fourth quadrant, to me, represents things that I really don’t want in my life at all, but are there none the less. 

In reality, we can’t control the impact of other people on our lives.  People will be negative; they will be drama queens, and they will endeavour to dump their problems on you instead of dealing with it themselves.  These things are inevitable, but instead of them controlling my life, as they have in the past, I’m pushing them as far out of my circle of influence as I possibly can.

Time management is about taking care of the important stuff first, and in this sense, by ‘important stuff’, I mean the stuff that’s important to me and the goals I’ve set for myself in this challenge.

I found this quadrant matrix very interesting, because what you see here is not what I started with.  It’s helped me clearly see what has to be a priority for me; what I need to be spending the majority of my time focusing on, and what’s actually dragging me down.

When I have the big stuff under control, I can bring in the little things, like the stuff in quadrant two.  They are not as important as the other things, but again, they give my life some joy.

It’s time to start living ‘above the line’ in quadrant one and two.  Above the line.

I’m not 100% convinced that I have my head around this challenge fully yet, but I think over the next few weeks, as I press forward with the other challenges, this one will fall into place.

Mmm…. Not meant to be easy, is it?

Peace out.

RANDOM ACTS OF FREEWAY KINDNESS

I was reading a girlfriends blog today, www.louslaughsandlearnings.blogspot.com.au, and a memory of something recent popped into my head.

You see, Lou was talking about altruism, (amongst other things), and where there is a point in which you have to draw the line.  We’re supposed to love and give unconditionally, but sometimes, you get to a point where you can give no more without compromising yourself.

That made me think of random acts of kindness, and I recall a story from a couple of weeks ago that I want to share.

I was driving along the Geelong Freeway, from Hoppers Crossing (where our mail box for work is) back into the office at Sunshine. 

It was a school holidays, and the traffic wasn’t overly heavy.  Four lanes of 100kms an hour was bliss!

Anyway, I’m in the very left hand lane, hooning along, and in one of the centre lanes, was a big arse 4WD ute towing a caravan.  The ute was loaded up with possessions, Mum and Dad in the front, kids in the back.

Their front left had tire was flat.

I dare say, because of the weight they were towing, they couldn’t tell.

All I could think was ‘forget the tyre; they’re going to completely stuff their rim if they don’t pull over’.

So, I come up alongside them, wind the window down and start tooting the horn.  The mother looks at me, and I start pointing to their flat tyre.

Obviously, she couldn’t understand me, so she wound her window down.  I yelled out ‘Your front tyres flat!’

She gave me the thumbs up, and turned to her hubby as I drove away.

In the rear view mirror, I saw their hazard lights come on, and their vehicle slowly make it’s way across the lanes, and pull up in the emergency lane.

I drove along, smiling to myself, because I felt I’d done something good for someone else.

How long would they have travelled before there was a problem?  How long had they been travelling already?  Would anyone else have stopped them or pointed this out to them?

What kind of holiday would they have had if their rim was damaged; an expensive one, I dare say.

It cost me nothing to help them, but I couldn’t help but wonder if someone would have done that for me?

Treat others as you would yourself, they say.

Peace out.

I'M OFFENDED

A quote from a friend:

Announcing 'I'm offended' is basically telling the whole world that you cannot control your emotions, and that everyone else should do it for you.

GREEN BOMB

Well; I didn’t see that coming.

Bob Brown resigning from politics at what I would have considered the height of his power?

One must wonder why?  What’s the real reason for him leaving now?

Do The Greens actually listen to the feedback from the public, and are making moves to save themselves before the next election?  Federally, The Greens are a little on the nose, particularly after the debacle that’s become their ‘alliance’ with the ALP.

A lot of people are blaming The Greens for the excessive taxes we do not need, poor economic stimulation because of it, and all the other tree hugging bullshit that’s seen the ALP do more back flips than an acrobat.

They have been slammed in the New South Wales and Victorian elections, losing what seats they did have, and it’s predicted that the same thing will happen when the federal election rolls around next year.

One wonders now if they will go the way of The Democrats; who were simply there to ‘keep the bastards honest’.

The one thing I will admire about The Greens, is the way they have conducted themselves.  There was no indication of political instability within the party, no suggestion publicly the Brown was ready to go.  They kept it all private and ‘in house’, as it should be.  The ALP and Liberals could take a leaf or two out of The Greens book on this one…

At 67, maybe he’s ready to go?  Maybe Brown feels that he’s done enough? Maybe he’s built the party up to a point where he can step back now?

Maybe he’s dodging a bullet?  If they get massacred at the next election, as it’s predicted, at least he won’t be around to cop the fallout for it.  Christine Milne will.  Mmm… clever.

Brown will be remembered as the great man that built the party and lead it through the greatest period in its short history.  Brilliant.  Nothing like a martyr, is there?

Or maybe it’s simply become too ‘political’ for him.  Maybe it’s all heading in a direction that even he doesn’t want it to go, because the game has suddenly become way too serious.

So, where did it all start?

Well, throughout the 1970’s, the good Doctor was exactly that: a doctor.  He graduated from medical school in the late 1960’s, and for the next decade, practiced his craft. 

In the late ‘70’s, he became the director of the Tasmanian Wilderness Society, which would see him involved in a myriad of protests and actions in the defence of our magnificent wilderness.

In 1983, he was arrested during a protest blockading works for the proposed Franklin Dam, and spent nineteen days in prison.  On the day of his release, he was elected into the Tasmanian Parliament.  That year, he because our ‘Australian of the Year’.

In 1990, he established the Bush Heritage, which funds and purchases environmentally significant land.  Apparently, the Bush Heritage’s first purchase was a block earmarked for logging.

1992, Brown helped form the Australian Greens as a national political party, which before then, consisted of loosely aligned local activists.

1996 sees him become the first Australian Greens Senator (and first openly gay member of parliament), and over the following years, he would be a strong opponent to the Howard Government, and a loud voice for environmental and social issues alike.

In 2003, Brown was famously ejected from federal parliament during a speech by then visiting president, George W Bush.  He was very vocal in his opposition to the Iraq war, and certainly let Bush know it during his visit here.

So, after many years as the ‘public face’ of The Greens, after many years working tirelessly for environmental and social issues throughout Australia, Bob Brown has called it a day.

In June 2012, he will retire gracefully from public office, but I’ve no doubt that’s the last we’ll hear of him.

Love him or hate him, you can’t argue that Brown is not dedicated in his mission.  It’s rare to see someone stand so convinced of his beliefs, where those around him were being bought for the best price.

Is he leaving on a high?  Yes; I think so.

Was he pushed? I don’t know. 

What will it mean for Australian politics?  Hard to say.  I think The Greens will disappear somewhat after the next election, as the public are sick and tired of them and what they see is happening to this country through their alliances.

Many have wondered who is actually running this country.  We’ve elected the ALP into power, yet it would appear that a man with only 14% of the vote is the one running it.  The majority did not vote for this, and the majority will certainly make sure it doesn’t happen again.

However, stepping aside now gives The Greens a chance to re-build and work a new strategy in time for the next election; in time for them to save themselves at the sacrifice of the ALP.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of the man.  I don’t agree with his policies, and I don’t agree with the way The Greens are wielding their power at the expense of our nation. 

When he steps aside in June, he won’t be in the limelight to see the legacy of the carbon tax and how it impacts upon this nation.  If the face of the carbon tax is running for the hills before it comes to fruition, what does that say about our future?

However, I do respect the man’s resolve.  He had a vision, and I have no doubt that he will leave a lasting imprint on our political nation.

Peace out.

NOTE: all historical information about Bob Brown was obtained from the Herald Sun website :D