Had a pretty nerve-racking week after Seth was diagnosed with a Staph infection in his leg. His stitches had developed a secondary infection, and boy was it manky! The doctor placed him onto amoxicillin forte tablets, strong enough to eradicate all infection in a small Bosnian village, which thankfully appears to have done the job. If the tablets had not worked, we were in for a trip to the hospital for some very invasive treatment. It felt like we really dodged a nasty bullet there, so I was exhaling a massive sigh of relief when he got the all clear on Friday, just have to get it checked again in a week and that should be the end of it. 
So with all crisis averted, I was free to celebrate a sunny Spring weekend with Zoe, Seth and Helen. We had gathered together for an early Halloween celebration that included a trip into town to see The Archibald Prize, which again did not fail to dazzle and impress me. The winner was an almost three dimensional looking painting of Barry Humphries by Louise Hearman, that was really astounding, but as usual I always prefer something other than the winner selection and favoured the painting called Rhys Smart Mouth by Melissa Ritchie. In truth however, they are all tremendous pieces and we are so lucky that Ballarat got to host this exceptional exhibition for a second year running. 
Following The Archibald Prize, we went to a local wine bar for nibbles and my first alcoholic beverage in 31 days. I ended my sobriety on Saturday over a glass of sparkling wine, which I didn't even have to pay for! The wine bar accidentally gave me a gluten product , which I had specifically asked not to have, and they felt so bad about it that they refused to let me pay the bill when we left. This was really generous of them, especially since I explained to them that I am not anaphylactic and that I wasn't going to die, but they were so determined to make up for their blunder that they enforced that we were not to pay the bill. Turned out that I was perfectly fine, and that there actually is such as a thing as a free lunch, you just have to be willing to risk your health to get it! 
Rounded out our night with some delicious Thai curries, a few quality whiskeys and a bit of gross out Halloween viewing; starting with Ash vs Evil Dead S2 and ending with something that really defies all explanation. 

I have been watching so many TV series lately, apparently I have become a TV addict.
There is actually a thing called TV addiction, it isn't a fantasy, apparently it is very real and after reading the symptoms, well it is safe to say that I definitely have it. Do I care? Fuck no I don't! I've given up just about everything else this year, I'll be fucked if I'm going to give up TV and movies as well. 
If you have any of the following symptoms, you too may have an addiction to TV:

• Appearance of withdrawal symptoms when watching is cut-off or suspended
• Lack of self control when it comes to limiting time in front of the TV
• Giving up "real world" activities in favour of "TV time"

Well, it's a big old tick for me on all counts there. Yes, I get antsy if my show is suddenly cut off or interrupted, who wouldn't? Yes, I lack self control with the amount that I watch, it's nothing for me to binge on a whole series in a day or two if it really lights my fire. And giving up "real world" activities to tune out with a movie or TV program keeps me sane, if I couldn't tune out the real world regularly with some quality fiction viewing, I would definitely be getting all stabby, and no-one wants that. 
​Why does everything that we enjoy doing have to come under the microscope? Why are so called experts continual making me feel guilty about every fricken thing I do? I am so tired of having to justify every little addiction that I have. There are certain things that no amount of badgering or health warning will ever take away from me, and one of those things is definitely TV and movies.
On top of movies and TV series, I am still addicted to loads of others things that aren't good for me when I think about it. Like sugar, salt, whiskey, butter, dark chocolate, cheese, B-Grade horror movies and staying up way too late. And sometimes I even (God forbid!) mix my addictions together! AHHH..... the scandal! 
However, I do try to balance it all out with good addictions like yoga, journaling, getting up early, flossing everyday, drinking herbal tea, eating a balanced gluten-free diet, drinking lots of water, taking multivitamins, pottering around in the garden, creating art and laughing my arse off everyday, and most importantly loving others and letting others love me back. 
So seriously, everyone can just calm the fuck down with their guilt ridden addiction talk. I don't need to be addiction free, I don't think anyone does. It's okay to have some flaws, it's totally normal and okay to succumb to your desires every now and then. We should all do what feels good for us every now and then without feeling guilty. As long as you are balancing it out, then I don't see what all the fuss is about. It's all about balance, guilt free pleasure is what makes life so bearable and joyful.  
So I'll say it out loud and proud - I am addicted to many, many things....especially TV and movies....and I don't feel even a little bit bad about saying that. 

Laziness in bucket loads this weekend. Drove out to Enfield on Friday evening after work and I haven't left the house all weekend; I'm totally hermit-ting out and I'm loving it! The weather has also dictated that I can afford to not even venture outside the house at all, since it did nothing but rain most the day yesterday, and today is just freezing! It really feels like a second winter has arrived, which has meant that I don't feel even slightly guilty about binging out on various TV series, reading in bed until 10am or perusing Pinterest for hours on end. 
So my final full weekend of self induced sobriety has found me plumply and pre-menstrual, curled up on the couch in my trackie pants with a peppermint tea in hand, watching mindless shit and wondering when the relentless poor weather will take a turn for the better and make everyone and everything sunny once again. 
But enough whining, because something really great did happen this week, in spite of the shit house weather and my raging PMT. Craig put himself on nicotine patches and has decided to quit smoking! Hard to believe really, this is a man that used the Kung Fu Panda slogan of "True Heroes Never Quit" as a mantra and self justification for his continued addiction to cancer sticks.
Well, apparently, even in my current slovenly state I can be quite influential and my positive example has spurred Craig onto quitting himself. I must say, this has been the finest reward for having a sober month and trying to add a bit of zen to my life, because I didn't even ask for him to quit, he has come to this all on his own. Turns out that I just had to eliminate all toxins from my own life to influence this behaviour - which was totally easy! HA!
Whatever the reason, it's fabulous and I am proud of him for having a crack, it's not an easy thing to do, I know this because I did it about four thousand times before I succeeded. Craig's moment of zen is just around the corner, let's hope he can hang in there for it. 

Fair to say that my self induced sobriety is starting to make me a bit stir crazy and has proven to not be my most favourite undertaking of all time - no surprises there though, a blind man would've seen this coming. When I am not shoving food into my face, I am being really ill tempered, which has made things pretty unpleasant all around. I know that all of this drama is just a sign of my body craving what it cannot have (interestingly enough it just seems to want chocolate and plain salted crisps at the moment) but I am not digging on it all. How can I effectively detox myself when for the past four days I have just been gorging out on all of the bad stuff? 
It would be fair to acknowledge that I probably also have PMT, but big whoop, who doesn't? If I keep scoffing myself stupid at this rate, I will be lucky to fit into any of my summer dresses when summer does finally arrive. And that's another thing, this god forsaken, shit-house, rainy, cold weather that won't let up! I'm so fucking over it! Whatever happened to spring? It still feels like Autumn/Winter around here, and I'm so tired of the cold wind, torrential rainfall and having to run the heater all of the time. Enough!
​There, I've had my rage out. Got it all off my chest, just needed to vent a little. In truth, I think that I am just tired of feeling like a grumpy cat, a black cloud, a sour girl. I hate myself when I get angry for no good reason, it's illogical and stupid and I expect so much more than this ridiculous whiny whinging.  And what is with all of the gorging? You would think that I was stock piling for a famine - enough already! 
Even though I know that I have less than two more weeks to go until  this self induced sobriety ends and that yes, the physical benefits have been really great, I would be totally lying if I said that I wasn't missing my regular slice of oblivion. 
But NO! Gotta stay strong, can't get weak now, I'm rounding the corner and heading into the home straight....I can do this! DETOX! DETOX! DETOX! Yeah, I'm gonna be my own damn cheer squad, besides it's not like me to quit out on a personal goal, I'm seeing this shit through to the bitter end, even if I am a fat angry bitch when I get there! 

Craig and I have been doing a lot of tag teaming lately, working like a well oiled machine to pick up each others slack and share the load. This came into play on Thursday when Seth ran straight into a park bench and took a gouge out of his shin that required stitching. Yes, for the third or fourth maybe (I am starting to lose count) time in the last twelve months, Seth had us sitting through the dreaded waiting room ordeal at the local hospital. 
All manner of freaks of geeks saunter into emergency here, mostly a lot of one-sy toting bogans that have burnt themselves on their sandwich presses or deep fryers whilst preparing an afternoon snack to have while they watch Maury Povich from what I can understand. Whatever the reason, they sure do glut up the waiting room for hours on end with an endless stream of what seriously appears to be things that they should be going to their GP for, not the hospital. 
A lovely three and a half hour wait for Craig, until I tagged him out when I knocked off work, which meant that I arrived just as they were going to commence the procedure. Should an eleven year old have to wait three and half hours for stitches just because he isn't screaming the place down? I know that I have said this before, and I will say it again, the hospital here needs a serious overhaul and about twenty more staff, it is just ridiculous! 
Anyway, back to the suturing. Two shots of anesthetic (he's harder to numb out than a pedigree race horse apparently), six stitches and a still slightly open wound and the job was done, and now the healing can begin. Tough little cookie still went to school the next day, just wanted to say "six stitches, bitches!" to all of his mates I think, that and the fact that there was a sleepover on Saturday night that he was determine to attend, even if they had amputated his leg he would've packed his bag and went I think. 
So, while Seth was at his sleepover, we tagged in Zoe and she came out for the weekend to have a catch up with Craig and I on our own, which is a rare thing indeed. We went into town for a few drinks (soft drinks for me - still rocking sobriety) to celebrate a friends birthday and then got some Thai take away and headed home for some poor quality, B grade classic horror. Managed to round everyone back in together on Sunday afternoon at the cinema, it was time to get me some Burton action. 

MISS PEREGRINE'S HOME FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN
Release Date: 2016
Rating: M
Running Time: 127 mins 
A delightful, and also at times frightening fantasy, adventure story, based on the novel of the same name by Random Riggs and directed by Tim Burton. Having also read the book, this was a decent interpretation, and didn't stray too far from the story line of the novel. With a bevvy of unique and unusual characters to encompass, this was no small feat for Tim Burton to tackle, and I really enjoyed seeing the characters come to life on the big screen. 
Jacob's grandfather has filled his head for years with elaborate and exciting tales about a magical orphanage run by a bird and filled with gifted children. When his grandfather dies under odd circumstances, Jacob begins to entertain the possibility that the tales were actually true and sets out on an adventure to find out for himself. 
​Balancing between whimsical and terrifying, there is a lovely tale to be discovered here about embracing differences and finding strength during difficult times. The cast is just fantastic, with the ever beautiful Eva Green dazzling as Miss Peregrine, veteran Judi Dench lending a professional hand as Miss Avocet and Samuel L. Jackson, who was clearly having a ball hamming up his role as the super villain, Barron.   
FINAL SAY: You don't have to make us feel safe, because you've made us feel brave. 
3 Chili Peppers

Essentially a scarab beetle is just a dung beetle that the Egyptian people worshiped, and like all dung beetles they spend a great deal of time rolling balls of shit around and trying to get it to fit into places that it shouldn't be. This kind of dung rolling takes a lot of effort, it requires scarabs to use their whole self to get things going, and it is not unusual for a dung ball to roll right over the top of a scarab during the rolling process.
In my line of work, I often feel just like that scarab beetle, pushing shit uphill only to be mowed over by it moments later. I suppose that everyone feels a bit like a scarab beetle at work from time to time, I just seem to feel that way an awful lot lately, and it sucks.
​Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to be the most powerful person a room for a change instead of the least powerful one all of the time. I wonder if the powerful players of the world ever feel like scarab beetles in their line of work, but I seriously doubt that they would. I bet that they have crushed a lot of scarab beetles like me on their way to the top though. 
It is days like these that make me feel very small and insignificant in the world, and for that reason - I hate days like these. These are the days that leave you second guessing yourself, questioning all of your choices and wondering if there is more to life than what you are experiencing; all the while knowing with a painful completeness that there really is so much more, and that you have fallen way short of your own potential and that you only have the rest of your life to contemplate that agonizing reality. Yep, one of those days....
And in true scarab beetle fashion, tomorrow I will resume work on my dung pile, I will smile while I do it and I will convince myself that I am making a difference, because if I didn't do that I would just self destruct under the weight of my own insignificance.
When you are very small in the big wide world, you absolutely must find joy in the small things, or else you are just doomed. Generally, I am very good at doing that, but today not so much. 
​Now I know why I binge drink. 

One full week of sobriety down, and just over three more weeks to go until the end of the month, but whose counting?
On the plus side my liver is shouting out 'thank-you oh kind woman', and my stomach hasn't felt this good for weeks, maybe even months, so a reprieve from grog, fatty foods and caffeine was clearly way overdue. 
On the downside, I have realise that I like to drink when I feel stressed, and I also like to drink when I feel happy and I especially like to drink when I feel relaxed, so pretty much 24/7 - I like to drink! When I was driving home from work on Friday, after a particularly hectic day topped off with a grocery shop at ALDI (let's be honest, that is never much fun), I started to think about alcohol. I usually reward myself with a drink when I get home on Friday, followed by a few more rewards in regular intervals until I roll into bed sometime later in the evening (or early Saturday morning) three parts sozzled. Well this week that wasn't an option, so I just went home and made a pot of tea, like a good nun should. 
Don't drink, don't smoke, what do ya do? Remember those lines from that Goody two Shoes, Adam Ant song? Well that's my life now. No huff, no puff, and no cheeky nips, not for one whole month anyway. It's actually not really that bad if I am being honest, it's not like I drink during the week or anything, but I have come to realise that drinking on a Friday and Saturday (and occasionally a Sunday afternoon too) has become routine for me. Perhaps a little too routine to be considered healthy. I know that binge drinking is meant to be the worst sort of drinking, and I hadn't really thought of myself as a binge drinker before, but I most certainly am a binger - of epic proportions. 
Aside of the obvious physical benefits, I think that this month of sobriety is also going to make me a lot more mindful of the amount that I drink in one sitting from now on, and the amount of days that I consecutively drink. I think that I have really been quite unkind to my body and probably have caused a fair amount of damage to my internal organs in my continuous pursuit of oblivion. 
I have until Halloween to contemplate my previously wicked and lush lifestyle choices, because that is when I am letting myself climb (not fall) off the wagon. I am saying climb, because I am determined to not get wiped out on that weekend and fall shit faced off the back of the wagon and into the gutter. I plan to just gently easy back into alcohol, like an adult; an adult that has to take care of their damaged internal organs type of an adult. Can't be getting all sloppy in November after being such an angel in October, that's what December is for! 

Don't you just hate negative people?
I am really trying very hard not to let them mess with my mojo. 
I find that as I get older, I have less and less tolerance for all of the negative bullshit that some people bang on about. To put it as bluntly as I can, some people really need a high five...to the face...with a chair.
I mean these people's lives are really not even that bad, trying at times perhaps, like everyone's is from time to time, but really not dreadful at all. Talk about your first world problems, these so called 'problems' are really not problems at all.
Puleez! Calm down people...things are not all that bad!
Some people I know will complain about the shitty taste of the coffee, the rainy weather, the state of things that has nothing to do with them, basically any shit that they feel like venting about. And mostly they are venting about things that are completely out of their control to change anyway. It is like they get some morbid joy out of stating the obvious and moaning on and on about it.
I just find it so incredibly, mind-numbingly boring!
I really don't want to sound like a totally selfish asshole here, but I hate that it messes with my zen state of being. I am not yet at that ultimate zen state of being where I can just block and deflect everyone else's stuff yet, so irrelevant whining does unfortunately get in.
Hello! I am trying to be mindful and zen here in case you hadn't noticed, so please don't be a creep and vent your shitty 'not really a problem' crapola onto me thanks. Sorry, but I am out, done, not interested, don't bother, go find someone else to complain to. 
When you have a real problem, let's talk, until then...namaste bitches; you came to the wrong place because I'm too busy being zen to listen that trivial shit anymore. 

As the Spring break draws to a close I begin to reflect on what this last part of the year will bring to me. The final term is often notoriously busy and generally stretches people to their snapping points, but I am super determined to ride out the rest of the year feeling chilled out, even if other people start to act like tools, it doesn't mean that I have to join them. As the days get longer and sunnier, I am determined to also get brighter and brighter myself. 
My daily yoga and mindful meditation practices have really increased my general care for my physical and mental self, and it is starting to pay off as I find myself getting more relaxed and self aware as the days wear on.
I have even started to drink way less coffee now, only having one or two cups a day, as apposed to the seven or eight that I was generally having. It's been all green tea and herbal teas for me over the past fortnight, and I am really enjoying the change.
To be honest though, giving up coffee is actually insanely difficult. The withdrawals are just crazy! I have had some really bad headaches and dizziness, and an almost 'brain fog' type of a thing going on. It is hard to explain, but it is like I am just not running at 100% and I know that my body is asking me to give it caffeine.
I cannot believe the amount of bad shit that I have willingly put into my system over the past 40 plus years, any wonder I have been feeling like a crap sandwich, the build up of toxic crap in me must be immense. 
I am thinking about having an alcohol free month leading up to the silly season to really flush some toxins out of my system. I know that my insides would greatly benefit from a bit of a whiskey break, maybe not my mental health, but definitely my insides. I am going to be the 'queen of quitting bad shit' my the end of this year at the rate I'm going. First cigarettes, then coffee and now I am contemplating kicking the whiskey? Things have gotten pretty nuts around here.
In truth, 2016 has probably been one of the most transformative years that I have ever had. I have never felt more determined to give myself a fresh start like this before and I have certainly never even contemplated taking on any form of detox before this year. I really don't know why this has all happened, I didn't set myself a goal to do anything this extreme this year, it has all just happened around me. I figure that a clean start to 2017 can't be a bad thing though, and having a generally healthier lifestyle should theoretically add years to my life and allow me to feel better overall, so I think I'm just going to go with it. If my body wants a detox, then detox it is. I may well regret this, but how bad can a month off the grog really be? Time to man up and find out for myself.
​Keep me in your prayers won't you?