The herb and spice merchant

I met a girl in a spice store the other day and she was from New York. At one point she even lived on Thompson and Spring, like me. She probably patted my dog! (Everyone did.) So of course we got chatting about how much we loved it and how much we missed it and yet how Melbourne had become a kind of panacea for all that homesickness.

“I think Melbourne has all the good bits of New York,” the girl announced, and I surprised myself by agreeing.

“The amazing food, and restaurants hidden down secret laneways,” I said.

“The awesome live music scene,” she said. “And I walk everywhere here, just like I did in New York.”

“Oh yeah!” I said, “And it’s mostly flat like New York.”

And on we went. And on and on and on. And so I discovered that I really did love this city, and that perhaps I had found somewhere to call “home” at last, something I’d yearned for, ever since I left New York.

“Melbourne is really similar to New York except that it’s-- it’s--” the girl said, and she flailed in the air with her hands to find a way to finish her sentence.

“Less concentrated?” I prompted, and she said, “Exactly!” I had found a kindred spirit.

The girl managed the best smelling store I had ever come across, anywhere. You know in the cartoons when a character smells something really good and follows the delectable aroma, nose in the air, for several blocks before finally discovering the source? That was me, following my nose through the door of this store.

Inside were more than 200 different hand-ground, hand-mixed herbs, spices, and blends, and it was nose heaven. Without intending to spend a cent, I left after 20 minutes with $70 worth of tea, spices, cupcake wrappers and paper straws in my bag, alongside a booklet outlining cooking classes that I totally plan to take.

I was half way to the post office before I managed to give myself a shake and think, “What just happened?”

The name of the store is completely unpronounceable: say “Gewurzhaus Herb & Spice Merchants” three times quickly if you dare. But it is a happy place.

Melbourne peeps: do you want to join me for cooking classes? I’m dead keen on the yum cha and ‘From Persia with love’ classes, but open to the others too. They all look great. Send me an email if you’re up for it.

Madeleine grows up

You are three months old, Madeleine. Your whole life stretches before you. Life was the first gift I gave you. In 70 years, 80, 90, this world may still know you. Lucky world! I wonder what it will look like then.

What will you do with all those years? They are your very own to grasp and love and celebrate, my darling. What a bounty!

Will you plant radish seedlings and watch them grow? Will you kiss a cat? Will you curl up for hours with your favourite books? Will you giggle for hours with your best friends? Will you make silly smiles with orange quarters? Will you lie in the sun and dream animals out of clouds? Will you draw and paint and stick and shape? Will you squeal and run and chase and jump?

Will you ride horses like your mama? Train chickens like your dad? Sew costumes like your big sister? Take photos like your middle sister?

Please be kind and loving to others. Please help those who are in need.

Please know that you are deeply loved. Please know that you are infinitely precious.

I wonder what you will do when you are big.

Will you be Prime Minister? A shopkeeper? An artist? A child-raiser? An archaeologist? A chef? A fundraiser? A scientist?

There is so much you can do with your life. And you don’t have to stick to just one path. After all, you have all those years in your pocket. Those many, many decades, in which to tell the world: “I AM MADELEINE, HEAR ME ROAR,” and then give it a kiss on the nose.

And I will help you. I will love you. I will dream with you. I will support you.

ALWAYS.

This world will hear you and love you long after I am gone, Madeleine. (Oh, I am so jealous of this world!) But even death won’t stop me helping you. Nothing can. We've made plans, my sweet. You are in safe hands.

Oh and Madeleine? No power in this world or the next could even TOUCH the love I have for you. That, my angel, is eternal.

And then some.

Disclaimer: I am participating in the LIFE Awareness campaign. I received a VISA gift card for this post courtesy of Life Insurance Finder, via Digital Parents Collective. I am also in the running to win an iPad3. As always, all opinions are purely my own.

That was the official disclaimer. Here's what else I have to say: Mr B and I both have life insurance so that our girls can know every opportunity life has to offer them, even if we can't be there to give it in person. So I am completely comfortable putting my name to this campaign, which is all about thinking about how you will care for those you leave behind. >

Madeleine grows up

You are three months old, Madeleine. Your whole life stretches before you. Life was the first gift I gave you. In 70 years, 80, 90, this world may still know you. Lucky world! I wonder what it will look like then.

What will you do with all those years? They are your very own to grasp and love and celebrate, my darling. What a bounty!

Will you plant radish seedlings and watch them grow? Will you kiss a cat? Will you curl up for hours with your favourite books? Will you giggle for hours with your best friends? Will you make silly smiles with orange quarters? Will you lie in the sun and dream animals out of clouds? Will you draw and paint and stick and shape? Will you squeal and run and chase and jump?

Will you ride horses like your mama? Train chickens like your dad? Sew costumes like your big sister? Take photos like your middle sister?

Please be kind and loving to others. Please help those who are in need.

Please know that you are deeply loved. Please know that you are infinitely precious.

I wonder what you will do when you are big.

Will you be Prime Minister? A shopkeeper? An artist? A child-raiser? An archaeologist? A chef? A fundraiser? A scientist?

There is so much you can do with your life. And you don’t have to stick to just one path. After all, you have all those years in your pocket. Those many, many decades, in which to tell the world: “I AM MADELEINE, HEAR ME ROAR,” and then give it a kiss on the nose.

And I will help you. I will love you. I will dream with you. I will support you.

ALWAYS.

This world will hear you and love you long after I am gone, Madeleine. (Oh, I am so jealous of this world!) But even death won’t stop me helping you. Nothing can. We've made plans, my sweet. You are in safe hands.

Oh and Madeleine? No power in this world or the next could even TOUCH the love I have for you. That, my angel, is eternal.

And then some.

Disclaimer: I am participating in the LIFE Awareness campaign. I received a VISA gift card for this post courtesy of Life Insurance Finder, via Digital Parents Collective. I am also in the running to win an iPad3. As always, all opinions are purely my own.

That was the official disclaimer. Here's what else I have to say: Mr B and I both have life insurance so that our girls can know every opportunity life has to offer them, even if we can't be there to give it in person. So I am completely comfortable putting my name to this campaign, which is all about thinking about how you will care for those you leave behind. >

The dream

All that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream. Edgar Allan Poe

Paper Dreams from Kenneth Onulak on Vimeo.

Do you think this is what the pictures in galleries get up to while we sleep? This little movie kind of reminds me of the chalk-on-pavement world in Mary Poppins.

Loving lately

springtime sunshinejasmine perfume in the air long walks with madeleine kitty purrs target fashion (no seriously), like this my new tangerine handbag madeleine turning into a chatterbox that first cup of tea of the day fresh lime on tacos terrariums

aaaaand, here i am elsewhere: paris + nyc books for kids gel manicure joy!

what's making you happy today?

I like her hair

I like to pop over to New Yorker Joanna Goddard's blog A Cup of Jo from time to time, for a bit of a style top-up. It is simultaneously inspiring and intimidating to peek into the life of such a gorgeous, successful mother. Most often when I read Joanna's blog it is while wearing my fluffy, pink dressing-gown with Madeleine's milky spit-up down the front of it and, quite frankly, I don't know how Joanna does it. But I do know how she does her hair, thanks to the fabulous collection of hair tutorials on her blog. Joanna makes glamour look so easy. Which do would you do?

Spring cleaning hurts

Mr B and Madeleine and I spent the weekend in a frenzy of spring cleaning and organising. We sorted through bags and boxes, hunted under beds and on top of cupboards, and moved furniture around like there was no tomorrow. By Saturday night, our house was a dust-ball infested mess on the inside and, outside, it looked like something out of Hoarders, with rubbish and old furniture and dead-looking carpets piled up under the verandah, ready for the rubbish collection. It wasn't always easy, letting go of things. In fact I think we let go of a few too many precious and sentimental things in our (ok my) desire to be tidy (we are both VERY sentimental), and Mr B and I slumped into Saturday night in a kind of daze, slowly taking stock of what we had done and giving in to a few regrets, filling the hole we had created with bad food that generated even more regrets later.

I got up early on Sunday and started cleaning up the mess we had made, then Mr B and Madeleine appeared and Madeleine was so adorably chubby-cheeked and full of smiles that we said "Forgeddaboudit!" and left the mess to head to the shops. (Because what better remedy is there for having thrown out all your old things than BUYING NEW STUFF)?

All in all we were pretty restrained, but we did buy an Ergo carrier for Madeleine after reading all the helpful comments on this post I wrote for iVillage, and already I love it. I carried her around the shops with me for the next two hours and she felt safe and secure (she fell asleep), and my back didn't hurt one bit. In fact it felt like I was pregnant again, without the carpal tunnel syndrome and pinched nerve, and I got all teary-eyed which was embarrassing because the lady in the food court thought I was crying over the milkshake she had made.

The Ergo put Madeleine in THE BEST mood for the afternoon, which is normally her grumpy time, so she and her dad read books together while I finished up the cleaning (that sounds like he is rather sexist but actually I requested this role, it just felt so good to be able to get things done), and we finally hit the hay last night in a sparkly clean house and much more at peace.

A few things that survived the cull:

If you happen past my place in the next couple of days, just don't judge me for the overflowing bins and green garbage bags and broken furniture out front, aaight?

A song for rain

What do you have planned for the weekend? I think I will splash in puddles, tend to my flower garden and play hopscotch with a fox.

Here's a little something to take you into Saturday with a smile on your face.

the Song for Rain from Yawen on Vimeo.

I like big butts. And spring

I hope you are enjoying the change of seasons. I sure am! I confess I'm more than a little apprehensive about the onset of summer, winter-and-cold-loving weirdo that I am. But earlier this week Melbourne turned on spring in a major way, and I was undone. All that sunshine, and the scent of jasmine in the air, and tiny droplets of humidity on my skin, and birds going CRAZY, and pink buds on the fruit trees, and green buds on the big trees, and coconut cream on my skin, and fun summer hats, and and and…

Spring has seduced me.

Recently I discovered a footpath that wound all the way from the end of my street to the Melbourne Zoo. So on Tuesday Madeleine and I followed said path, and met some dear friends for a couple of hours of exploring among the beasties. We climbed elephant sculptures, hunted an elusive tiger, wolfed down fried rice and made wishes upon seahorses (ok that was just me. But people do that, right?). Madeleine attempted to blow raspberries but only succeeded in generating a river of drool. Points for trying, my darling. I possibly subjected my daughter to years of future therapy by dressing the both of us semi-matching, in polka dots, though I swear that wasn't on purpose.

Just as we went to leave, I discovered my sweet friend had stashed a bag of home grown lemons into the bottom of Madeleine's pram for us. What shall I make? Do you think this souffle recipe would be too tricky?

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ps. Have you missed me? It is entirely possible that I possess a completely unrealistic idea of my place in your online life. But you may or may not have noticed that this blog has been down for the past week. And for two weeks before that, all subscription links were lost. Thanks to the help of Brandi, things are almost back to normal. So in case you're interested, here's what you missed:

* Granted * Lately, on instagram * Made in Melbourne (Etsy!) * Dear friend * On dads and daughters * Little thoughts

* And on iVillage: The truth about what future mothers should know * And on Happiness Is: That day

Granted

Mission accomplished. Wishes granted. Two weeks after I created this wish post, I walked past and discovered the people of Fitzroy had taken up every single item on offer. It really warmed my heart. I hope it gave them what they needed.

In case you're curious, the wishes were:

TRUE LOVE UNDERSTANDING A BRAVE HEART TO BELONG FREEDOM A BELLY LAUGH A SMILE FROM A BABY HOPE A FRESH START FAITH

I sure hope they find them. What do YOU wish for? What wishes would you grant, if you could?

(ps. When I put this little poster up, I was a bit afraid to be spotted so I picked a tiny, out-of-the way residential street in the middle of nowhere. I was saying to Em that I probably should have been brave and picked a busier street, like Brunswick Street, to ensure the poster was actually seen. But Em said maybe it was better this way. "Because maybe the people who walked down that street were the ones who really needed a wish the most." I rather like that.)