Happy Smile Day!

I still remember climbing the stairs

after a hot and sweaty day

and sitting on the mattress of my bed.

I was in Thailand.

My jaw and cheeks would be aching from smiling.

Smiling to say hello...

Smiling because I didn’t understand what was being said...

Smiling because I was covering boredom...

Smiling because if I didn’t smile,

the million questions would be more painful

than any stomach ache or unhappiness...

Now, my smile is often the first comment made about me.

I don’t even realise that I am smiling –

but there it is, a smile…

plastered across my face…

A habit from long ago…

I have come to realise that my smile has been helpful.

People smile at me a lot.

Sometimes, people let me cut into a line –

without me even asking.

People are happy to help me out.

I think that a big part of that is my smile.

It’s a real smile –

even if I don’t realise I am smiling.

I’m happy. I’m where I want to be.

Life’s good.

So tomorrow, April Fool’s Day

Is also National Smile Day…

Challenge:

How many people can you get to smile at you?

Give it a go…

Smile first and see who smiles back.

You never know,

you may brighten the life of someone

having a miserable time…

Just because you smiled!

World Smile Day does have a great reason for being.

Smile Day is a fundraising day

Raising cash for Clown Doctors.

(Think Patch Adams)

Clown doctors treat the worst of illnesses!

Funny Bone checks and Red Nose Transplants, to name a few!

Clown Doctors make the smallest of patients smile,

when nothing in their present life is worth smiling about.

Think of a small child…

Lying in a big hospital bed.

Maybe it’s a short visit –

Maybe its just another time in hospital.

Think of their parents, watching… helplessly

As their child struggles…

Imagine the difference a Clown Doctor must do!

Happy Smile Day!

Become involved to raise money Smile Day fun-raiser in 2008. Visit http://www.smileday.com.au

or phone 1300 HUMOUR (1300 486 687)

http://www.everydayhero.com.au/event/NSDayCloDoc

http://lifestylediscoveries.com/blog/health/humour-foundation-declares-smile-day/

Making Friends Again

We're making friends again.

We decided it would be for the best.

It's not easy...

... there's still a great deal of awkwardness...

but...there's no other choice.

We're making friends, again.

On Sunday, my car threw a tantrum.

I didn't really understand.

Holding a grudge into Monday,

my car relunctantly drove me to work.

Red lights were flashing and I was scared.

This tantrum was bigger than most.

It seemed that the only way I could make peace with my disgruntled car - was to buy it an expensive gift...

... which I reluctantly did.

Once the gift was placed under the bonnet...

all seemed to be forgiven.

While the car is happy...

I'm now the one holding the grudge...

But, I'm trying to forgive and move on.

An alternator -

it seemed that this was the only way to keep my car happy.

Neighbours

Neighbour Day

I can see you shaking your head…

Neighbour Day? Why?

I know that, with the rain falling and my feet cold, I’m much happier curled up on my bed than wandering around the neighbourhood.

Neighbours: Across the road are three people – who I rarely see, but who seem nice. They’ve helped me out a couple of times.

Next to them is the local oldie – who knows everyone and everything. I know he means well, even when I feel guilty about the condition of my lawn!.

One on side, I have a young family. We don’t have much to do with each other. I think things fell apart a little after my birdbath was broken and then placed back together, perhaps so I wouldn’t notice?...

On my other side is another family. I often hear raised voices, but they seem happy enough.

Behind my back fence, down the corner is another young family. I know very little about them, but I do hear her yell every now and again.

I’m not too inspired to be actively celebrating Neighbour Day – especially in the rain…

But… there’s another lot of neighbours - the back fence ones. We even put in a gate – so we don’t have to jump the fence anymore.

We recently had a toast to living next to each other for three years. I’m happy that we share a fence.

It’s interesting that after living in a house for three years, you get to know the noises of the neighbours. I recognise sneezes now. I know the sounds of different cars. I know when people leave for work and when they might get home. I guess I know my neighbours more than I realised.

So, why celebrate Neighbour Day?

It all started back in 2003, in Melbourne.

Andrew Heslop started it.

A lady was found in her house,

wrapped in her blanket, lying on her sofa.

She had been dead for two years!

Her bills were being paid…

No family or friends had raised an alarm.

Her neighbours didn’t really notice not seeing her.

The growing pile of mail didn’t raise alarms.

Sadly, this was only one such incident.

After several stories like this, people accepted the idea to Check on your Neighbour.

Now, people have barbeques and street parties.

Some councils plan fun days.

What started with a sad story

and a letter to the editor

is now gaining momentum across the world.

It might soon become an International Day.

http://www.neighbourday.org/how-it-all-began

Earth Hour

My lights are on and I’m wondering whether I should feel guilty…

It’s Earth Hour.

If I was “good” for the environment, my lights would be off. I think my laptop and television should be off, too. All are on. Electricity is being sapped up at my place at the moment.

The burning question –

Should I feel guilty?

For just an hour this year, I could be supportive and turn off my lights! One hour! That’s so little to ask for! I should be joining in and saving electricity!

I hang my head...

I soak in the guilt…

But, then – No!

I’m not sorry.

My daily electricity usage is very little.

Well below average.

I have a hot water pump – using the air to create my hot water. It only uses a tiny, tiny amount of electricity.

I have solar panels on my roof. They create more electricity than I use.

I have a garden and grow most of my food. This cuts down electricity, water and petrol usage! I have a water tank and use far less water than is deemed “average”.

I hardly eat meat.

I’m not joining in with Earth Hour this year – but I am living a very sustainable lifestyle… every day!

Maybe, instead of Earth Hour, we should all be living an Earthy Life.

Hanging in Shame

I woke this morning to find the weather

ashamed of its behaviour.

It hung its head

in the form of a thick, white fog.

The fog was covering the mess

caused by yesterday's dreadful weather.

It was as though, by hiding the mess,

everyone would forget and forgive.

By this afternoon,

the sun was beating down again,

drying up the mess.

Under Water

A local park turned into a lake...

Buckets

Encased within an old demountable building,

I yelled at my students all day.

I had to.

The constant rain beating down on us forced me to.

The noise never let up…

The rain fell in a constant white wall.

The windows fogged, but not before we noticed the school drains throwing water up into the air. By the afternoon, the playground fields were a lake and the back paddock flooded. We couldn’t leave our building without stepping in rivers of water.

By lunchtime, the first of the parents arrived. Soon enough, there was a steady stream of them at the door.

The kids realized that today was not an average day and their excitement levels slowly rose. Half an hour before the bell was due to ring, the kids were all taken to the hall. A movie was put on. Early arriving parents were forced to sign their children out – with more rigid strictness than normal. While some parents were angry, they should be thankful as each and every child at the school could be accounted for…

Our principal told the bus driver that children would not be on the bus today. I can imagine some more angry parents, as they were forced to get their children from the school…. But… we knew that each of our children were safe. Staff that lived locally were stationed in the hall, well after the bell… watching and waiting. Others of us were debriefed in the staffroom. While the principal, a father of four, was ready to bunker down and wait in the hall with other teachers and remaining students, the rest of us went home… We left with the principal’s words ringing in our ears… Drive safely. Get home safely.

Leaving the school, I noticed cars pulled up on the side of the road. People were looking at the flood water. The parks and walkways were hidden under a sudden lake.

The roads were almost empty – eerily empty. Flood water covered most flat surfaces. Only once did I feel water grip my tyres and threaten to take my car. A car and truck, not so lucky, had crashed together, and reminded me to be careful.

My own street had been covered in water. Had I been an hour earlier, I would not have made it home. The debris from the sudden flooding of the storm water drain lay across the road. Water still gushed along the drain. A man, clad in a wet raincoat, was sweeping the road free of sand and rubbish.

Pulling into my wet and flooded garage…

I felt good.

My car had survived the trip home.

While the outside of my house was wet and boggy,

the inside was warm and dry.

As the rain continues to beat down, with no sign of clearing…

I can’t help but wonder about others.

A man lost his life from these rains today.

Sirens frequently fly across the sky.

Roads were closed and cars actually drifted off in the flood waters.

Roads were closed because of flooding.

Roads were closed because of rock slides…

And a tree blocked another road.

Some schools are expecting to hold children

until after five o’clock.

Reports differ, but it seems that three times the monthly average rainfall fell in an eight hour period.

That’s a lot of rain.

And tonight, they’re expecting a high tide.

If the weather is like this tomorrow, I’ll be checking the radio. If roads are closed, we’re to report to our closest school.

From the inside, I can absolutely say that children in primary schools are kept safe – even when natural disaster zones are declared in the area.

Those who can't...

I'd think I'd like to fancy myself as a bit of an artist...

but I think I'd be kidding myself.

So, I'm led to thinking about the old saying:

Those who can't... teach.

At the moment, 29

10 & 11 year old kids are under my influence.

Scary thought, isn't it.

29 kids are being shaped into my way of thinking...

my way of doing...

and their parents (mostly) are happily going along with it.

While I make sure that I am meeting the required teaching time for literacy and numeracy and I try to keep up with the science, HSIE, fitness and sport timetables...

my favourite subject is creative arts.

It doesn't take long before my kids love it too.

Here's what we've been doing:

Ourselves - in oil pastels

Huge icebergs, floating in deep Antarctic waters

Emperor penguins - in oil pastels

and their little chicks - in charcoal and seals

Now... we are learning to draw faces with charcoal pencils and soft pastels, smudging and blurring lines as we go. Their first attempts have been great. I'll post their efforts after we've had a chance to refine our skills a little.

Pray for us, Saint Patrick

My grandfather was a character...

cheeky and fun.

I'm so lucky that every memory I have of him

is a happy one.

When I first remember getting to know him, he was a bit scary. I'm not even sure why. I guess - very simply, he was a stranger.

As an adult, I read through his diaries...

kept religiously, over the years.

Reading the first few pages felt a little rude -

a little... intrusive.

Soon, I was swept up in the routines of his life, the casual funny comments thrown in amongst the planting of tomatoes and the picking of beans.

It was surprising to see how he had written little things we had done - things that wouldn't seem to be of interest to him.

He fought to keep his drivers licence until the end - reminding me of that green Kingswood and the way he huddled over the steering wheel, pretending to speed through the town....

He was angry at his doctors for putting him on a diet. By the second day, he was starving and counting down the minutes until lunch! (Oh, nan's roast!)

He was just another guy...

But he was my grandfather.

His Irish blood coursed through him

- and every year...

without fail...

he wrote in his diary -

Pray for us, St Patrick.

He's not here to write it now....

So, I will, instead.

"Pray for us, St Patrick".

Time to Get Naked!

Today is another one of those special days…

And today’s is pretty cool.

To celebrate today’s occasion

would take a little nerve,

a lot of self-esteem and a handful of bravery…

but, not many clothes!

Today is Naked Bike Ride Day, Australia!

Imagine…. You’re driving to the shops for the groceries…

A bike passes on the other side of the street….

You double take (almost crashing into a tree)…

Was that person naked?!

Yep!

This has been an annual event in Australia since 2004. Only nine places in Australia celebrate the day with a bike ride. I think my local area should brave up – clothes off and ride in next year’s event. Pity, though… I don’t own a bike! (luckily, the same goes for a skateboard, rollerblades and rollerskates!)

It’s not all about being naked –

It’s more about showing vulnerability.

There is a dress code and it may not be as scary as it first seems.

It is: “As Bare As You Dare!”

Body paint is used to spread the message

(for the people in their cars who double take!).

The naked bike ride day is a political protest –

of the creative and harmless kind…

of the funny and enjoyable kind.

The ideas behind it are very good –

Save the Planet – You know about the destruction of the planet (animals, plants and air) caused by cars…. Ride a bike, instead.

Riding naked is showing how vulnerable riders are. Riding can be dangerous.

Riding a bike is not only good for the environment – it’s good for the rider’s health, too!

This seemingly crazy idea sure brings together the brave naked riders – promoting community spirit. And riders – well, if they see someone they know in the street, its easy for them to pull over and have a chat…. Although, people in my home town found it easy to stop in the middle of the street for a chat! And they were in cars!

Riding naked is a great way to show the world how different how bodies can be, but how we should all accept ourselves for who we are.

So… gear off – pedal on!

Check the photos out at the Naked Bike Ride Australia webpage!

http://wiki.worldnakedbikeride.org/index.php?title=Abo

Hip Hip Hooray

Ladies!

Today is the day we stand tall and recognise our strengths. We can be proud of our efforts and all of the little things we do – every day.

Today is International Women’s Day.

Every year for 100 years, the 8^th of March has been celebrated by women everywhere.

Originally, this was a time when the world’s women stood up and demanded equality. Brave – when it was assumed they should sit down and be quiet – once dinner was served, the house cleaned and the laundry done.

A hundred years ago, many women were working in dangerous conditions, for less money. In all but a few counties, women were denied the right to vote.

The huge and courageous efforts of the women back then have ensured that today’s women have better rights.

Still, almost two thirds of illiterate adults are women, as girls in many countries are not always given the chance to attend school. Young girls are married to older men, often leading to sexual diseases and complicated pregnancies. Female genital mutilation is still a problem and many women are stolen for prostitution. We often earn less money in our jobs and fewer of us will hold senior positions than our male colleagues.

Being Australian, my rights are much better than women in many other countries. So, while I will sit back tonight and smile in celebration of International Women’s Day…

… I’ll be grateful for the women who fought for my freedom. I will stand tall and teach today’s girls that everything is within their reach. Anything is possible – we just have to stand up and try.

Happy Women’s Day!

First, they Killed My Father

First, they killed my Father.

I was walking through a Canadian museum where haunting black and white photographs filled every wall.

The photos were of people...

…lines and lines and lines of people.

The faces were staring down at me with hauntingly beautiful eyes. Some of the eyes held sorrow, others worry. But each of those faces told the brutal story of Cambodia’s history – Pol Pot’s savage killing of the nation’s people.

“First They Killed My Father” is Loung Ung’s story.

She was one of seven children, living happily in Phnom Penh. Her father was a high-ranking government official.

Life was a wonderful adventure –

until the alarms started...

until the trucks started rolling in...

until Pol Pot’s Khmer Army stormed the city

and forced everyone out.

It was 1975. She was five.

Suddenly, Loung Ung’s life of privilege was her biggest threat. She was taught to lie. She rubbed charcoal into her face, to cover her pale skin.

She learned that neighbours couldn’t be trusted...

That everyone was a possible spy.

She learned that people could be taken away – suddenly and without warning.

She learned that, sometimes... these people didn’t come back.

Slowly, day by day, food became scarce and hunger set in.

Slowly, one by one, members of her family were killed.

Eventually, the only way to survive was for the children to separate.

Loung Ung’s siblings were sent to labour camps. She was sent to train to be a child soldier.

Finally, Pol Pot was defeated.

Finally, the country was able to step towards the future.

Finally, Loung Ung was heading towards her family reunion.

Now, Loung Ung is living in America. Loung Ung’s sister, Chou still lives in Cambodia.

Leaving for America was Loung Ung’s happiest and most awful day. She was chosen to leave Cambodia - instead of her sister. She lived with guilt for years. The sound of a balloon popping or a car backfiring was enough to send the memories of bullets flying into her thoughts.

By writing “First They Killed My Father”, she relived all of the memories, helping herself to move forward. By writing this book, she has explained a tragic history in simple terms, filled with sorrow and fear.

The book is beautiful - in all of its brutality.

After a life of war, living a life of fear and sorrow is like giving in to the soldiers.

Loung Ung refuses to give in.

Her favourite quote is one of Albert Einstein’s – “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

Everything is a miracle.

What a wonderful way to approach life.

http://www.harpercollins.com.au/author/authorExtra.aspx?isbn13=9780732265915&displayType=readingGuide

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4373.First_They_Killed_My_Father

http://www.harpercollins.com.au/author/authorExtra.aspx?authorID=50016322&displayType=interview

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

It feels as though I am waking from a long slumber.

I can't remember when I last

spent time with the Hairy Cow.

Apologies to the Cow.

I'd like to say I was somewhere exciting...

somewhere interesting...

but, no.

Outside, I see the spiders have tangled their webs all over my deck.

Weeds have stretched up, reaching for the sun.

My garden - which was such a good provider over summer, has begun to crumple. Leaves are dying, vines are yellowing and fruit production is slowing.

I notice dirty windows and dusty floors.

The washing has piled up - but the day's dark clouds are threatening me... daring me... just hoping I'll be naive enough to hang up wet clothes.

The wind is picking up - I'd forgotten about windy season.

I'd like to say I've been busy...

but really...

I think I've just been lazy.

Apologies and earnest promises -

I'll be better!