A Little White Wisdom

Dear hearts,

It’s Friday night. Miss Mich finds herself at home sharing the evening with your sweet selves and a cheeky little West Australian Classic Dry White. The Bright Young Things are respectively out and about. The songbird is just finishing a gig at Prince Charming’s Ever After Café, whilst the baby is heading out for the last night available to disgrace herself at Schoolies. God love them both. My darling Boy is treating himself to a birthday weekend of no doubt monumental proportions. After all, it’s not every birthday you leave your teens behind..

The aforementioned West Australian White, not to be confused with the NZ White, (don’t ever…this one in the bottle has far more intelligence than the other), and I were just discussing the Capital letter worthy subject of One’s own True Nature. Bit of a mouthful I know, but try and stay with me…(I’ll type slowly)

We have discussed in this very forum the different sides to ourselves and the faces we show at any one time. That is not to say, though, that there is not a common thread no matter the face, no matter the situation. One would hope that even if you are Eleanor Rigby or one of Picasso’s women, one’s true nature would prevail. Take the earnest Chameleon, it’s not that it chooses to confuse, wants to deceive. Just has to. To survive. Still the same slightly stunned looking reptile, just trying to make it’s way in the world. Like us all Dear hearts..like us all.

Someone once said to me, and I cannot for the life of me remember who, that you cannot deny your true nature. I find it interesting that I cannot remember who shared this little pearl with me. I have carried it around for a really long time. It’s one of the mantra’s in my pocket. Along with” let it go”, “just one more cocktail” and Julie King’s gem “take yourself out of the centre of the universe”. Ms Morgan King must also take credit for “you are not unique” and “cup of tea Darl?” I love her to bits and always will. Too many cups of tea around her Bellevue Hill kitchen table have sorted my life and the mysteries of the world.

Back to one’s true nature. I happen to think that no matter what, at the end of the day, one is one’s self. Recognisable. Of a flavour and character that is despite my darling Jule’s admonishment..unique. In her defence, she refers to situations. Not character.

By recognising and being true to one’s nature, we can make the big decisions with integrity. We can be non negotiable on certain subjects. We can have confidence that when we take a stand, we mean it. That our friends can depend on us and our children can have faith in us. And at the end of the day we can live with ourselves and believe. In ourselves.

The West Australian White wholeheartedly concurs and makes the point that you can take the White out of West Australia, but never the West Australia out of the White…

D’accor Dear hearts.

Enjoy the weekend.

With a little white love
Miss Mich

I need to tell you something...

Dear hearts,

Need. Needy. Needful.

Can of worms, Dear hearts.,, can of worms.

We can begin with Maslow’s Hierarchy. Easy peasy.

We are all driven to meet the basic needs of oxygen, food, water and shelter. Obvi..We are so lucky here in the far far north to have such an abundance of all.

We need to feel safe. Again in a first world country, this is generally a given. Miss Mich has spent time in some curly third world situations where tanks, curfews and no essential services make it difficult to enjoy the culture, get to know the locals and find a good cocktail.

With those two boxes ticked, we move up the pyramid to Love (not to be confused with sport), affection and a sense of belonging. On the question of belonging, Miss Mich always defers to the most esteemed of philosopher’s Groucho Marx who maintained that he would not belong to any club that would have him as a member…here here.

Next we move on to the need for esteem (see Groucho)…In order to flourish we must respect ourselves at the same time as earning respect from others. Nothing like a bit of kudos in the community, Dear hearts. The Bright Young Things and I will be packing Christmas hampers for the homeless in a matter of weeks.

The last and by no means least need to fulfill is to find what you were meant to be. And that Dear hearts, can be anything..anything. My career guidance to the Bright Young Things has always been to find that thing which makes you happy to get up in the morning and go off and do. Vocation..vocation..vocation..even if you do wish to be a real estate agent.

Once all of the above has been met, it’s over to those little darlings of needs that can eclipse the basics.

Miss Mich needs Sport. Obvi..

Stimulation and Amusement.

The security of knowing the bright young things are safe and well.

A decent glass of something fruity and some scandalous conversation.

Shoes.

Music.

Hope.

Independence.

What we don’t need is anything holding us back from fulfilling those needs that, beyond the basic, allow us reach our true potential. We all hold within ourselves that very potential to achieve whatever it may be that can make us truly great...even if it is just how to mix the perfect cocktail.

Enjoy Friday.

With love
Miss Mich

Appliance Love

Dear hearts,

Miss Mich has been dealing with some very domestic issues this week. A less than cooperative washing machine forced Miss Mich to deal with the matter of appliance maintenance.

This then led to a discussion of the application and inclusion of certain appliances in the boudoir with some of Miss Mich's closest and most trusted confidant's. It is best not to name names with this little tete et tete Dear hearts. What sized batteries are used in the bedroom, should stay in the bedroom. Discretion, toys and a low hum are really what Miss Mich is all about. Be assured, your secrets are safe with me...

What did become apparent, however, was the diversity of what floats one's boat. I almost wish I could name names, but if you don't mind, I will chuckle to myself as we go along, and if I'm feeling particularly cheeky I may give out the odd hint.

There is of course the obvious appliance, and I have it cleared with the appropriate confidante, that Tinkerbell wholeheartedly endorses the idea of some battery powered love. Having had several discussions with Tinkerbell re said battery powered love, Miss Mich is bemused to say the least to hear that one can break such a devise (!)…Miss Mich must now confess to, in the past, being somewhat concerned about the durability of the occasional live sporting partner of her own. But this is truly amusing…And begs the question…does this cum with a warranty?

Having attended Sexpo in Sydney with Miss M, Miss Mich had her head turned and her imagination piqued at the variety of accessories available to one with an imagination. Glass blowing will never have the same effect for MM going forward.

Then came the last charm. Dress ups and latex and a certain white substance made for some extraordinary evenings Dear hearts. The fact that he looked as good in Miss Mich’s lingerie as herself was at the same time both disconcerting and intriguing in the best possible way. Viva la cross dress…

There is of course perhaps Miss Mich’s most curious. And inspired…that of the Libertine…(note the capital letter)

Miss Mich has a confidante, a very special confidante who embraces their sex like no other. Miss Mich can only aspire to the heights of such a mentor. With this one there is no going back. No boundary, no limit or line to cross. Sex personified. An enthusiasm that Miss Mich has never seen matched. An imagination that makes story time the best time and a stamina that makes one day roll into the next. This one keeps on coming…

The Bright Young Things are very frank about their sporting lives and Miss Mich is always most curious to hear how the young folk are “gettin it on”…To hear the baby speak of a chum “deciding he was gay”…made Miss Mich at first pleased to hear this young darling embracing who he is…but then to hear the disclaimer of his previous girlfiend that (and I quote)…”no gay boy loves eating pussy like…..” made Miss Mich laugh and wonder that maybe you can have your cake (hole) and eat it too…

Having done the research, Dear hearts, both literally and figuratively, Miss Mich has come to the conclusion that it’s all good. How lucky are we that it is a smorgasbord of boy and girl and whatever else you would like to add to the mix. As long as everyone is having a good time and there is enough to go around…

Enjoy Tuesday.

With Libertine love
Miss Mich

Pandora's Box

Dear hearts,

I promised you Pandora's Box.

And here it is. Just ask the baby about Pandora's Box...Just ask Sha ron Morrie...The songbird fell in love with the Italian artisan of the car panel there, so she is the last one to consult...

As for myself, I'm kind of at peace with the whole experience. But it was tough. No question.

After we left the Big House and the most recent charm who was very much less than charming (and yes I will explain), in somewhat less than amicable circumstances, it was to Pandora’s Box we decamped. I don’t use the word camp lightly either.

The Big House had everything a girl could want. A pavillion boudoir set in the rainforest with a Peter Pan walkway to the living pavilion. Which made its salubrious way out to the terrace that overlooked the Coral Sea, Double Island and all the little fishy’s on their way north to Port Douglas. A 180 degree panorama of ocean and sky. And don’t get me started on the Full moon…

Choose your pool as one waterfalled it’s watery way into the next. The Bright Young Things had their wing and all lived happily under the architect designed tropical roof.

Until the charm lost his charm…

Pandora’s Box on the other hand was a makeshift “high set Queenslander” (note the inverted comma’s) of indiscriminate and dubious proportions. When one walked down the hall to the communal bedroom that the baby and I shared, the structure swayed its hips with a disconcerting rhythm that was far from alluring. The promise of landscaping from the landlord never materialized and the “moon dust” as the Bright Young Things christened it, flurried its way into our clothes, noses and beds, but never our hearts, Dear hearts, let me tell you.

With walls flimsier than a paper lantern Miss Mich was forced to have her late night conversations with her legal eagle out on said moon dust covered deck, under the cover of blankets in the middle of our northern winter…and yes it does get cold…

No car until our legal savior provided Granny’s car, made the weekends interminably long, but Miss Mich’s thighs terribly fit from walking, walking just to get away…Sha ron Morrie will forever be Miss Mich’s BFF for the kindness of driving her to and from the city and their shared place of employment.

The less said about the neighbours the better. Miss Mich has blocked out the smells, sounds and close proximity of the folk who confirmed in Miss Mich’s mind that indeed, she did not belong on the flat. The Big House is on the very same hill where the darling Cottage is. Miss Mich has the same neighbours, same gardener and almost the same view. The air up here, Dear hearts, is so much clearer than that below. Please do not think Miss Mich is being elitist. It is just that her head is clearer and her heart happier a little closer to the clouds.

All in all, Pandora’s Box was a small segueway on the road to enlightenment. A little purgatory for the Catholic in Miss Mich. A reminder, if Miss Mich should ever forget her Hail Mary’s, or forsake her faith, that straight back to the flat will she be banished.

Enjoy Thursday and redemption.

With love
Miss Mich

Up.Up.Up.

I have been thinking of the extraordinary Dear hearts,

That which elevates us above the ordinary.

Miss Mich must confess to having a fear of the ordinaire. It is not my intention to appear elitist, you know I am egalitarian at heart and in the immortal words of Geoff Fenech, “I love youse all”. But for myself I must say that I cannot settle for the median of anything. I would rather struggle on the edge of nothing, which if you consider Pandora's Box, a tete e tete to come, than be comfortable in the middle of well, the middle.

It doesn't take much to feel that we are operating at a higher frequency. Take notice of your surroundings. Here in the far far north we are so incredibly blessed with outstanding natural beauty. I have spoken of the full moon, all the little fishy's, the mountains and the sky. What more do you need to feel that you are floating?

To let you all in to a little secret, the easiest way to feel above the dross of the everyday is simply to laugh. One immediately feels young, energised and relaxed. There is no doubt that laughing is good for you, and your soul. There are several ways to channel said laughter. Miss Mich has been described variously as irreverent, taking the piss and just down right hilarious. I will take them all with gratitude. If I was irreverent, it must have been called for. If I took the piss, then you deserved it. If I was hilarious, then I thank you.

Sport. Stairway to heaven. Thats all I have to say about that...

Be a little bit naughty. This may or may not involve sport. Doesn't matter. Naughty is as naughty does. I love that (oh and Forrest Gump...obvi) Miss Mich can recall several acts of naughtiness with pretty much all of the major players in this blog and several more. Miss Mellie, Sha ron Morrie, Miss Christine to name a few. Don’t get me started with the boys...I would then feel compelled to elaborate. And incriminate. Myself...

The Bright Young Things are the best reference for raising oneself above the ordinaire. They are constantly challenging. Themselves, their present and their future. The songbird reaches heights that make me weep. See and hear for yourself at Salthouse on Sunday's and Mondo's on Thursday's. The baby has an insight into life that I am trying to catch up to. She is my sounding board and often the only voice of reason in the Cottage. The songbird and I are way too emotional for that little essential. My Darling boy and artisan of the mosaic. He who surfs with the dolphins of Jervis Bay and has eyes the colour and depth of the ocean, shares his ageless vibe, humour and love with all. The lovely Imps (and surrogate daughter) begins her trajectory to the fashion heavens at Whitehouse School next year. I expect nothing less than a complete wardrobe, comp, natch, to promote and share the Imps love...

My list of shortcuts to the exceptional includes aspect, light and space. Lemon, chilli and salt. Poetry. Music. Literature. I love Patrick White. All of our friends, compassion and empathy. Faith, hope and charity. Circles, trinity's and whatever you may believe in. And the last is standards. Don’t be shy about having them. Without them we become less than who we deserve to be.

Love. Lots.

Enjoy Friday.

With love
Miss Mich

I Remember When...

Dear hearts,

Miss Mich's terribly efficient Aide de Camp, Ms LA, has made the comment that she feels swamped by an “Epidemic of Goldfish”. You can imagine my raised brow as I asked her to Please Explain…

It’s not often Miss Mich comes across another as acerbic as herself, but the ever capable Ms LA has a sharp mind and sharp tongue. That is why I love her so.

Apparently, the simple yet stylish goldfish has a memory span of 4 seconds. This may be the reason that they have ended up swimming in circles in bowls whilst salmon have the glory of swimming upstream, bears excepted.

Memory….

Pardon?....Oh yes. Ms LA has made the inference that Miss Mich can sometimes be a little vague in terms of her recollection of the morning’s events, her latest marketing plan for pen domination in the far far north or whom, sorry what, she did last Tuesday. A fair call perhaps, or is it a cunning plan of Miss Mich’s to appear somewhat less than on the ball?, the red herring that masks the mind like a steel trap..to quote our favourite detective Maxwell Smart. Now there was a man…

Miss Mich’s ruse and blonde hair aside, I feel compelled to share with you the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy’s introduction to the meaning of memory.I dare you to read on and remember…

‘Memory’ is a label for a diverse set of cognitive capacities by which humans and perhaps other animals retain information and reconstruct past experiences, usually for present purposes. Our particular abilities to conjure up long-gone episodes of our lives are both familiar and puzzling. We remember experiences and events which are not happening now, so memory seems to differ from perception. We remember events which really happened, so memory is unlike pure imagination. Memory seems to be a source of knowledge, or perhaps just is retained knowledge. Remembering is often suffused with emotion. It is an essential part of much reasoning. It is connected in obscure ways with dreaming. Some memories are shaped by language, others by imagery. Much of our moral life depends on the peculiar ways in which we are embedded in time.

Couldn’t have put it better myself. Miss Mich remembers as a child the thought that “soon I will be a grown up and this childhood will not count”. How wrong I was. Damn you memory..

We are the sum total of our experiences and the memories of such experiences. What we do with these little darlings shapes us into the adults we become. Our memories are the stories we tell. To our friends, our loved ones and our children. It is possible that time can distort our memories, can bend the experiences and shift the shapes of what may or may not have happened. And even though we may wish not to have certain memories, we cannot escape them.

Miss Mich’s best stories of the last 10 years or so are some of her favourite memories. The Bright Young Things are perpetual favourite memories. And sharing with you Dear hearts, Miss Mich’s most secret and scandalous memories, add to the depth of experience. Both present and past.

Enjoy Monday (all of them)

With love
Miss Mich