It's a big issue in the media at the moment, what with Malala Yousafzai's speaking tour and all. I dearly hope my own children (boys AND girls) grow up with as much passion and courage as Malala. Whether it's for social injustice, or world peace, or improving lives in third world nations, or healing the sick (like you, Trish), the dreams and dedication of our children gives us all hope for the future.

Candy Crush will be deleted from my iPhone if it doesn't let me get past level 70 very, very soon. Stupid game. Fruit Mania is just as bad.

(Not that I ever play them, either. I'm way too busy finding excuses to not mop my floors. It is amazing how many excuses I have found over the last.... actually, you probably don't want to know how long it's been. Perhaps I should create an app that will give women the perfect excuse when presented with an activity they desperately wish to avoid? Like washing up after cinnamon scroll pancakes.)

What do I know? I know that my children are treasures, and I try to spend as many seconds as possible enjoying their childhood with them. Before I know it, they will be grown up and gone. The floor, however, will always be here. I'll mop it when the kids move out.

Oooooh, I MUST get that book! I'll read it, then put it on the shelves with the two thousand other books I have no intention of ever getting rid of.

The sad thing is, I am not exaggerating about the two thousand books. And that's just the start of it. I am a world-class hoarder. Last Christmas, I promised myself that I was going to change my hoarding ways and have a major cleanout. From the ceiling-high stacks of junk in my walk-in wardrobe, I managed to throw out three things: an 80's red leather batwing jacket that I once wore to a fancy dress occasion, a pair of black leather knee high boots (one had a hole in the sole), and a broken crock pot. Just the crock pot, though. Not the insert. You never know when something like that may come in handy. And that was all I could bear to part with.

Last month, when the cold weather hit, I mourned both the jacket and the boots. There is no hope for me. But I'm going to read Corrine's book anyway. A good laugh is never a bad thing.

Oh, and in case you're wondering why I had a crock pot in my walk-in wardrobe, it's because my kitchen is totally overflowing with hoarded cookware. This means I also have a food processor under my bed and a box of mismatched cutlery on the top shelf. Also, I discovered a small paper shredder in my underwear drawer.

Did I mention there was no hope for me?

When you are blessed enough to form a connection with someone special, that bond is like a thread. When the currents of life carry us on our separate ways, the thread stretches. Occasionally, it breaks and we drift apart. But more often, the thread remains forever, and just requires a little tug to bring the person back to us.

You've got a lot of threads that have woven into a World Wide Web of people who care about you, Trish. Don't fret about those who have drifted off. Instead, enjoy those who are only a tug (or a hug) away. Oh, look, here's a hug for you right now.... ((0)).

In answer to the stop sign's question: Yes. Yes I am.

Sounds delightful, Trish! Hopefully your next activity will be just as good. I personally wouldn't be able to choose any of them - for a number of reasons - but I am looking forward to enjoying each experience vicariously through you.

Here's a link to a blog post I wrote a while back, about a disaster involving a speeding fine, a wheat bag and a smoldering microwave: http://cattysconspiracycorner.wordpress.com/2012/...
We've all been there, right?

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You too, Trish? I hate those mountains of crap that I... uh, I mean... 'the kids' won't part with! The only good thing about them is that they cover so much of the floor that I only have to do half as much mopping. Hmmm... I hate mopping. Maybe I won't clean the crap up after all.

Keep your happy song in your heart, Trish. LYLT!
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Trish, darl, you don't have to feel depressed to be depressed. Depression can drain your will to live. No, I don't mean as in 'I want to die', I mean as in 'nothing interests me any more'. Life can be passing you by, and you don't care. On days like that, you can lose hours just staring into space, not even caring enough to brush your teeth. You don't feel sad, or angry, or anything at all really. Just empty.

I hope that's not what was keeping you in your bed, Trish. Hopefully it's just a one-off emotional/physical tired spell after your long trip. Thank goodness you've finished the first stage of your unpleasant journey, so you won't have to do the Sydney trip any more. But if you do think you might be suffering from depression, see someone straight away, won't you? Or at least visit one of the many depression websites. You of all people deserve to be happy.

Big hugs, Trish. Congratulations on getting through the long-distance phase of your treatments. LYLT.
My recent post Women Rejoice!

What to be thankful for? Everything. Every day. And it's all giftwrapped in hugs from my little ones, then sealed with their sticky kisses.

Big hugs for you too, Trish. But you might want to skip the sticky kisses, as the kids and I have been eating ice cream.
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