All You Can Eat...

Dear hearts,

Decisions, decisions, decisions...hmmm

It's not really like Miss Mich to vacillate. To pussyfoot around. To shillyshally. Waver, waffle and whiffle. To be honest, I don't think I could ever see myself whiffling (?).

Back on topic...

Whilst Miss Mich has been steering the good ship CSS, and sharing the managerial love with all the chickens, she has still stolen a few moments to ponder the question of responsibility.

Miss Mich was born responsible Dear hearts. Mother to her own mother from the beginning, the pace was set for early maturity and a certain world weariness by the 7th Grade. With that in mind it was packed bags and an early escape from the family home and out into the real world as a tender teen ., only to end up mothering all over again.

It was not until the sperm donor decided to sow his seed elsewhere and Miss Mich began to collect her Charms, that she was able to find her inner hedonist and embrace darling Piglet. Piglet, whom we all know has absolutely no conscience nor thought for consequence. Piglet actively advocates Abdication of Responsibility at all times, preferring instead to go with the sybaritic flow and have two of everything… please.

Peter Pan is in the same class as Piglet. The boy who never grew up, not that boys ever do. Even those who appear to be responsible Masters of the Universe, like Miss Mich’s legal eagle, at heart are just big boys taking on the bully’s behind the school shed. The only difference being this lot wield “patches”, guns and knives and the school shed is traded for a certain capital city airport.

Miss Mich may appear to be meandering around the topic at hand, and that is probably because she cannot decide between deciding and that of throwing off all sense of responsibility and following Piglet to the all you can Consume of Life Buffet…in Vegas obvi…

What a lot of capital letters I realize. I hope Dear hearts, that I am not typing too fast for you.

So, should Miss Mich consider multi tasking? That of having her cake and eating it too? (Piglet says yes). Historically speaking it was a rather unfortunate end for Josephine and her whole cake affair…so one wonders how to have it all from all and keep ones head in the process. Which reminds Miss Mich of a very sensible morsel of wisdom from the lovely Miss Christine. That of keeping one’s head whilst giving it…

Now I really am meandering…

Enjoy Friday responsibly (if you must).

With love
Miss Mich

If You were a Carpenter and I were a Lady...

Dear hearts,

Here we are at the fourth charm. The Builder.

Sweetest idiot savant you could play sport with. I say that with love because he was mad. Literally. But in the nicest possible way.

For twelve months Miss Mich woke at 4.45 every morning, seven days a week, and beetled down to the Gate house of the Hemme's big Victorian manor, The Hermitage, on the water at Vaucluse to play with the builder. After a good hour of hanky panky, breakfast would be had at Speedo's North Bondi after which Miss Mich would make her way back back to beautiful Bellevue Hill, happy as a clam, to wake the babies at 7 on the dot...school you know.

Lovely boy. He lovingly built four houses for Miss Mich in her former life. Accompanied Miss Mich to Tafe every Tuesday night for the course of the Real Estate course, a willing study buddy and driver. A lover of architecture and sailing, extreme sport and race horses, he was excellent entertainment, especially when it came to the home stretch. He was stamina personified. ..

He showed Miss Mich the Witsundays in the darling Hunter 42 and introduced her to all the little fishy's. For that Miss Mich will be always grateful. That and the opportunity to wear nothing but a smile for a week and a day, generously providing the perfect way to celebrate one's birthday.

There is not a lot more to be said about the Builder to be honest. Although he played a significant role in the evolution of Miss Mich's sporting prowess and had the confidence that Miss Mich would in fact reach the heights that she has, the builder was perhaps just that, a beautiful building block upon which Miss Mich could hone her skills. 6'1'' of olive tradey muscularity. Yum yum.

He left Miss Mich with the comparison of female body to equine body, applying certain massage techniques that made the mares come on and the ladies simply, well...come on...

Is it not said that genius is so very close to madness? The darling builder was a little of both. There was no disgrace, Dear hearts, except perhaps that he could not maintain equalibrium outside of the bedroom. Miss Mich wishes him well and hopes he has found his peace of mind.

Enjoy Thursday.

With love and a little madness
Miss Mich