Wrong number- 9 things about...

My name-

1. My real name is Yasmin
2. My Dad was a postman and saw it on a letter to Africa and decided he liked it
3. My Mum wanted to call me Tracy - Lee
4. My Dad won
5. Ya-ya is a nickname my nephew came up with when Yasmin was too difficult to pronounce
6. Everyone calls me Ya-ya
7. I kinda like being called Ya-ya
8. I have two middle names and they both belong to my grandmothers
9. I think my name suits me

What's your name? Go on - tell me.....

Why can't I be you?

I have a confession to make. I want to be you. Yes, that's right you. The blogger who can do everything. The blogger who has everything. The blogger who updates on a regular basis.

I want your talent. Yes, you talented bloggers. I want your drawing skills and your ability to knit anything but squares and a scarf. I want your sewing skills and softie ideas and hand-designed/hand-crafted clothes that look like they belong in the windows of those trendy shops in the High Street. I want the ability to create something that is SWAPABLE and the ideas to open an Etsy store. I want that talent.

I want your homes. Yes, your beauitful homes. I want your gorgeous abodes that look like a mix between the houses in Vogue Living, Martha Stewart and Oprah Home. I want your quirky ideas and your second hand furniture (especially the ones found dirt cheap or even better - for free!) and your self crafted cushions, curtains, art etc (see above). I want your bits and kotchkes and thingamajigs and stuff. I want how tidy and clean your homes always look in the photos. I want to be able to mix red, aqua and brown. I want your homes.

I want your cute children. Yes, your kids. The ones who have the vivid imaginations and the fantastic wardrobes and the witty repartie. The ones who are home schooled and intelligent and musical and art filled. I want those kids.

I want your energy. Yes, your extraordinary energy. I want to be able to go to work (a job I love, of course) and I want to raise two kids (see before) and I want to bake cakes (that people want to eat) most days and I want to have the energy to decorate my home and create enough wonderful goodies with my talent to be able to fill my Etsy shop and the local trendy shop and enough left over to swap. I want your immaculate gardens that produce enough gourmet goodies for me to cook ever tantalising meals and I want your creative photographic talent, so I can take wonderful photos on my evening walks and I want your energy to blog entertainingly EVERY DAY and I want to never, ever be sad.

Oh, why can't I be you?

Never enough

It has been a long time. Every time I felt inspired to write, I would read a few of my favourite sites and then feel I had nothing to share. There is only so much you can write about grief. And I didn't want to appear morbid. Or constantly sad. Or in need of copious amounts of pity. Because I'm not and I don't want to be and I...just....don't. Want to feel like all of the above. And so I didn't write because compared to my favourite blogs, my life is - well, it just is.

I did do the walk in honor of my Mum and I walked for 8 1/2 hours and I raised $2500 for Kahlilla. And I'm glad I did it, not just because I helped little Kahlilla but because it gave me time alone to think of Mum. And it was nice. Mothers Day wasn't that bad after all.

My art group had our stall and it was a laugh. We still meet every month and our numbers seem to be growing. Some knit, some sew, some paint, some bead and some glue. It's really an excuse to craft and gossip and drink copious amounts of champagne. Some of the art/craft produced has been fantastic and so we are not going to stray from our original formula! If any of you are ever in Melbourne and want join our soiree, you are more than welcome.

My Birthday was wonderful and the 80's outfits were so funny - I was so chuffed that all my friends went to so much trouble and got soooo into the 80's theme. Lot's of drinking (my friends created a cocktail called a "Spazzy Yazzy" which tasted like fizzy cordial), dancing, gossiping and game playing (I will never be able to drink Galliano again!) I felt really loved. If any of you are reading this, thank you hoochie mama's - yes, you know who, fruit tart.

And life is life. I am still working extraordinary hours and I still want to be healthy (said as I am making my way through a Toblerone!) and I still have all my nagging what ifs and I am still trying work out my dreams.

And I still think about my Mum. But it's just never enough.