My drive home from work normally takes me twenty-five minutes. Today, it took me seventy-five.

I tried not to be frustrated by this.

I reminded myself I wasn’t in the accident that lay ahead.

I was forced to stop. To wait. To breathe.

And I watched. I watched as our long line of jammed cars, awkwardly created a path for an ambulance who would tend to strangers.

Because humanity.


Overthinking: Case Study #01

My first thought is always the worst one. And if it’s not, then I quickly find it from there.

Like that fire we saw on our early morning walk. We could see black smoke billowing in the distance and wondered aloud to my husband if we should call the fire brigade. His first thought is like the exact opposite of mine, which borders on guileless denial.

H: Someone’s just burning off.

Me: Now? It’s barely dawn!

H: It’s very still. Maybe conditions are optimal.

Me: I think we should call someone-

As soon as I’d said it, we could hear sirens. Then we started to hear the odd bang as combustibles caught alight.

Me: Oh! I think it’s a house.

H: You can’t possibly know that from here.

Me: But what if it is? What if it was arson? What if the person who started the fire had driven past us and our conversation had prevented us from noticing them and then they went on to commit another crime?

Not that I said that last bit aloud. He would have given me that face.

Meanwhile. I’m memorising car plates.


Buying our World

Occasionally, you read things that resonate.

Every time you spend money, you’re casting a vote for the kind of world you want – Anna Lappé

I feel like I’m at school again, and I’m staring at this quote on a large piece of paper with only one word after it.


Okay, so I’m crap at essays. I’ll skip that, but really, how does this make you feel? How are you buying into the world?  Is it a healthy choice?

The first thing I feel is denial. Denial and guilt. Guilt and denial. Denial and guilt.

Shut up.

Not you.

Never mind.

Denial is a form of optimism. I’ve discussed this self-preservation mechanism before but at times we’re in denial to save ourselves from our choices. Like how catching a plane is bad for the environment,  but it’s okay because when you booked your ticket you clicked a button to plant a tree. Or you convince yourself you don’t travel much because Soandso travels much more. Or soon there will be fusion energy so what you do now is irrelevant.

I exaggerate somewhat. I have ‘planted a tree’ to counter my air-travel and while that is better than nothing, I have no way of verifying that said planting took place. It’s a guilt button for travellers to make us feel better about our choices.

I buy sushi for lunch sometimes and it comes in a crinkly plastic container. I look at this packaging and feel guilty everytime. I’d bring my own container but I’m told that in the unlikely event of food poisoning, the business could argue it was my container and not their food that made me sick.

So really, I should take my own lunch to work to avoid all this. I DO sometimes but otherwise I have no excuse – I’m just lazy.

Take away coffee cups are another poor choice I make. I believe I don’t have the time to wash a KeepCup but I really should try harder. Make time.

What world do you buy?


My proclivity to collect things panics me at times.

At the top of this list – I worry I’m materialistic. I worry that my anti-materialistic beliefs are hypocritical owing to the plethora of stuff in my house.


I don’t feel I’m money-oriented,  I don’t feel excessively concerned with material possessions.

I like to think I’m a protector of objects.

Which is a worry.

My concern sounds excessive.


nanopoblano1Team Tiny Pepper! GO TEAM!

To Err is Human

[Warning: Some people may find the following post upsetting.]

Written Tuesday, 7 April 2015

There’s a long and ever growing list of atrocities happening in the world right now. People still starve to death, people kill children, children kill children, people are still judged and killed on the basis of their race and religion. I need to give myself this perspective because I don’t live amongst these horrors, I don’t live in fear of my life, wonder where I’m going to sleep or how I’ll feed my family.

Sometimes though, things happen, horrible things that affect my little piece of this world which leave me wondering about our humanity. If we can’t find compassion for these small horrors then how can we heal as a world? Are we becoming an intolerant, ignorant and selfish society unable to of see the perspectives of others or take responsibility for our actions?

I really, really hope not.

At the beginning of the year, my mother saved a Jack Russell cross terrier from our local dogs’ shelter and she’s been a member of our family for the last three months. Despite the abuse she received in her previous life, she’s a people-loving, optimistic little mite with a beautiful nature and we absolutely adore her.

Last week, Mum’s little dog was attacked by another dog. The other dog was off leash, and raced at Mum’s dog completely unprovoked, it took hold of our dog’s back and shook her. While Mum screamed and kicked at the other dog, its owner turned up and managed to free our dog from its jaws. In the distance, the man’s wife and two children edged away from the scene.

Mum was shaking, and sobbing on the grass with her beloved dog bleeding in her arms.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Of course I’m not!’

‘Look, she’s fine, it’s just a small puncture. I’ll pay for the vet.’

‘If your dog’s like that, why was it off its lead!?’

‘I’d just let him off to have a drink. Perhaps there’s someone I can contact?’

‘I’ll call my husband’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay your vet fees’

‘I’ll need your details’

‘My car’s just over there, I’ll get some paper and write them down.’

He took his dog back to his car, got in with his family and drove away.

Mum managed to call Dad and waited on the grass until he turned up and they drove our dog to the emergency afterhours vet. My dad couldn’t stay, in his haste to help Mum he’d left the house unlocked and forgotten his wallet. I joined Mum at the vet and she cried as she relived the horror of the experience and the helplessness she felt. We cried as the vet discussed the likelihoods of internal bleeding and spinal damage and surgery and finances.

We left our little dog at the veterinary hospital with promises they’d call with her progress.

On the way home in the car, Mum told me she knew he wouldn’t come back as soon as he’d excused himself to leave but was too distressed to think straight. ‘I’m not angry now. I was angry and wished horrible things upon him, but that kind of thinking changes nothing. I just want her back, and things as they were.’

Mum and I discussed his perspective – the love he perhaps felt towards his own dog and perhaps his inability to afford the vet fees.

‘But it’s not about the money. It’s to say those things and not mean them, it’s about being responsible for all this pain yet leaving me alone and distraught in the park. What kind of person does that?’

A coward. Methinks a coward does that.


UPDATE Written Wednesday 15 April 2015

The happy news is, our little dog survived. She had a broken rib and corrective surgery for the internal bleeding into her lungs. She had thirty-two staples in her side and looks a little bit like Frankenweenie’s Sparky. But she’s alive, and happy, ears up and tail wagging and no obvious spinal injury at this stage. We are still yet to ascertain if she’s been effected emotionally as she is not yet fit to go for another walk, but certainly, things are looking promising. We are really grateful for that and the beautiful people at our veterinary clinic.