Do What I Want...

Dear hearts,

You think that when you become an adult – you can do what you want. The baby often says to me, after I admonish her for some infraction of etiquette...”Do what I want”. We both laugh knowing that she will find her manners, take her elbows off the table and find the correct grammer for the situation presently being discussed. I roll my eyes, but take heart that at least she knows the difference and can mix it in polite company with the best when she has to.

I am footloose and fancy free. The baby is in Melbourne celebrating her coming of age. Of sorts. As a very experienced holder of the fake ID, the child is no new comer to the nightclub, bar, pub et al. Having said this, it will be quite the novelty for her to “be legal”. I can see her swanning in to The Brunswick Green, ID held out like a badge, new brunette hair framing her beautiful face, daring any and all...to check her ID.

Miss Mich can remember herself, sneaking into The Charles hotel in Chatswood only to be horrified by her cousin finding her on the dance floor and making quite the scene over her “little” cousin sneaking into the pub. In those days, Dear hearts, it was easy. There really was no such thing as ID and if one had a decent cleavage that was all that was really required. Luckily Miss Mich ticked the booby box, had long blonde hair and had the place at her beck and call.

So, the question is...can you do what you want just because you are an adult?

Hmmm. Yes. And no.

There is no question that it actually gets harder to do what you want as you get older. It gets more complicated. There is the “relationship” (you know how much I loathe that word). The children. The mortgage. The credit cards and the “outgoings”. Not to mention the expectations and aspirations of your neighbours, work colleagues and extended family. And I haven't even started on the media, and social and cultural mores. It's quite scary once you realise how embedded we are into blindly working towards achieving these accepted levels of success.

Do what we want?...yes. As long as it conforms to what is expected. Personally, I have come a long way from the spoilt Eastern suburbs housewife who expected and had pretty much everything. Everything, as it turned out, except what I really really wanted. Spooky huh. It's all very well and good to have a big house, a European car and a country property, but seriously what good is all that when you do not have the warmth of another's belly. When you do not have someone you can lie with and speak with. Or not. When you do not have chest curls to curl up in, or another's breath that you can take as your own. Having had both Dear hearts, I say you can keep your big house, your European car and your country property. I will choose the Cottage and chest curls over any and all of that stuff.

Perhaps the key is to keep it simple. No new secret I know, but sometimes we need to be reminded that less is more and that simple is best. We really can do what what we want if we remain honest and true. And what we truly want may be tucked in behind all of that other stuff. The stuff of imposed expectation, social competitiveness and what everybody else is doing.

March to the beat of your own drums dear hearts. Find what it is that makes you truly happy.

And do what you want.

Enjoy yourself.

With love
Miss Mich

The Salty Sea Dog

Dear hearts,

The Salty Sea Dog.

I've been sitting on this one for a while. It's such a big story. He doesn't really qualify as a charm, due mostly to his impotence, God love him. I can say here and now, though, it was not for want of trying. Me trying...in the end I suspect he found me slightly trying...although terribly cute...obvi.

The marina at Rose Bay offers the best in luxury white boats, harbourside views and coffee. Miss Mich spent every morning gazing out across the prettiest boats to unbelievable real estate, catching up with her bestest girlfriends, Miss Mellie included naturally, and sneaking both the SMH crossword and sidelong glances at this interesting fellow. Contact was initially made with Betty Ford. She was very partial to a mixed berry muffin. She was terribly good looking and the constant companion of said interesting fellow. Competition I hear you ask? Betty Ford was intelligent, discerning (she liked both yours truly and mixed berry muffins) and the epitome of canine sobriety.

As a border collie Betty herself was quite the salty sea dog, living on the male version's beautifully restored 1960's 50' Halvorsen cruiser. Google for yourself if you are not familiar with these most stylish of wooden motor boats. Polished timber, white leather, loads of elegant deck space. This was quite the runabout. Each morning the “dog” would glide in on his ex army tender and run Betty along the beach for her morning ablution and exercise. That done, it was time to settle in for a couple of hours drying out (the alcohol) in the sun with the crossword and several coffees.

Over time Miss Mich came to share the crossword,coffee and some interesting experiences at the same table and aboard that stunning boat as both the dog and Betty. Most of these interesting times involved ridiculous amounts of alcohol, Miss Mich disgracing herself spectacularly and some of the best stories I have to offer. Consider this an introduction. Each act of indiscretion is a tete et tete in itself. In the two and half years that Miss Mich shared breakfast, she remained completely convinced that she was a great idea for the dog. In the two and a half years that the dog shared breakfast with Miss Mich, he remained completely resolute that she was not.

And yet....

There was something. He was witty, seriously bright, well built (rowed for England) and artistic (architect). He was also an alcoholic and had that other small imposition...killer combination.

Miss Mich would not take no for an answer. In the end it became the game. Each time we spent time, it was monumental. In the consumption of alcohol, the extreme events, the lengths Miss Mich went to convince the dog she was the one. His grand sweeping rejection. His unspoken acceptance of her around every day and the way he looked at her. It all spoke of an unspoken intimacy.

He did say one thing. Right at the end. Miss Mich is still trying to work it out. I am not sure whether it was a cryptic clue meant to stay under my skin (which it has) or just a throw away line...we'll never know. He was a bit like that. He was interesting, challenging, and the one that could have been.

Now Dear hearts, every time I see a border collie I get a little thirsty, have a hankering for the sea and just wonder what did he really mean?

Enjoy the clue.

With love
Miss Mich

Moving Forward

Dear hearts,

Following on from my previous tete et tete, it has been suggested I offer up a strategy for the future. Just because I had no grand plan when I was 18 doesn't mean I can't formulate one now. It's never too late. In the words of our fearless female leader and at the risk of aligning myself with a Ranga...”moving forward”... these are some of the things I would like to achieve.

I will start small.

A basketball backboard to play one on one and perfect my three pointers (I'm actually really good at them...)
A dog to walk and take to the beach
A bicycle to ride to coffee on the weekends
A family membership to the local tennis club so that all the little one's can hang out and hit balls
The opportunity to cook lavish meals of many courses and feed all the babies until they pop
To take you know who to see the Songbird perform
To have my darling boy live at home again, even if just for the summer holidays, so I can wash for him, cook for him and cuddle him
To be tucked in again. I didn't realise how precious that is until it happened for the first time, not very long ago

Next level

A boat would be nice. I miss the little fishy's. And I know they miss me
Travel. Anywhere. With you know who
The business that is in my head needs to be put on paper and then realised. Help with that would be good
Finish the book that is started and finish the rest of the stories, poetry and ideas that are currently bullet point word documents not unlike this
Time....

Top of the Pile

A garden
A house to go with it
The boy to go with that
L. Lots
A future of all of the above. A boy, all the babies and love.
Simplicity

This was easier than I thought Dear hearts. Simpler. Let's hope I can cross a few off the list and sit back in the afternoon and smile.

With love

Who'd have thought?...

Dear hearts,

I know I've gone on about this before, but I still can't believe what happens to me. How my life keeps unfolding.

I was contemplating in the shower, mystified as usual at the events that unfold daily, when it occurred to me...what did I actually expect from my life. I must confess to no grand plan beyond losing my virginity at 18 and a half...My biggest decision after leaving school was University or Virginity? It never occurred to me that I could do both concurrently.

So I deferred from Syd uni and moved to Kings Cross...obvi...

Talk about opening my eyes. My single bed had it's spot in the lounge room as both of the bedrooms were taken. One by my best friend with whom I went to school and the other by a beautiful bi sexual woman who worked for a large record company. Coming home at the end of a Saturday night out seeing live music when pubs still had stages and dance floors, it would be a bit of a lottery to see if my little bed was free or full of boys and girls.

And then I met the John that I thought would do the trick for me and I would move on. In my mind, I would get the embarrassing business of breaking the hymen out of the way with a faceless body, develop a little technique and get out. Sadly and for some unknown reason, it took three years. All was not lost completely. I spent a year in south east Asia and India that changed me forever and celebrated my 21st birthday in the beautiful city of Mysore.

With some life experience, it was in the desert town of Pushka that I unlocked the mystery of the baby O, and considerable travel experience behind me I was able then to move on. We all know about the Sperm donor and the Charms and fear not Dear hearts, there are still a few good stories left to tell, before we find ourselves here in the far far north. All in good time.

I could have settled for the safe option of tradie and cottage in the suburbs. I could have taken myself to uni and who knows what. To be honest, I think I would have become insufferable, elitist and extremely uptight. Disappearing up my own academic arsehole. I doubt I would have discovered the little tricks I now have to play with or have had the compassion for you Dear hearts and empathy for the universe generally. But I could be wrong. See that's the thing...I'll never know.

I guess it doesn't matter. I can't change anything that has gone before. And I wouldn't. Those Bright Young Things for example. All I can do is make those darlings aware of the choices they can make. The potential they have to exercise and the opportunities available to them. They are so lucky.

And so am I. I have you, I have them and my own potential to explore and develop.

Enough contemplation. Here's to the future. Whatever it may be.

Enjoy the possibility.

With love
Miss Mich

What boys like

Dear hearts,

I want to make the disclaimer up front that what I am about to write is Academic. If I could live my life in words I would be a genius. A good looking, successful, funny, together, rich genius. Or maybe a fortune teller or turban wearing Guru. Maybe what I will do is have my bank account details at the bottom of this piece, and if my advice works for you, you can put money in my account…Just think, if I get good at this I may be able to retire from the pen world (it’s exhausting) and lie by the pool with laptop and cocktails dispensing advice and style tips…all the while listening to the electronic ca-ching…

Here we go.

What Boys Like or How to Win a Boys Love.

Ok stop laughing right now. I direct this comment to the Bright Young Things, Miss Mellie and Miss Christine. It may be true that I have not the best track record when it comes to these matters. But that does not preclude me, Dear hearts, from having good sound Academic Advice. (Please note the Capital letters…)

In theory, and let’s face it, that’s all I’ve got, …it’s not that difficult to put on paper what boys like or, how to win a boy’s love. I’m not suggesting you actually go out and have a crack, certainly not. What I am suggesting is that we look at the situation to try and understand (as girls), what makes those beautiful boys tick.

I do love them so. Well, some of them.

Paramount and top of list is:

You catch more bees with honey than lemon. The hair shirt doesn’t fit anybody well. You may think that by punishing them with silence or with holding yourself from them will whip them into shape, but here’s the tip, you are sorely mistaken. It will only drive them inward and lead ultimately to resentment and detachment. And it’s not good for you either. Who needs black in their heart.

They don’t like a nag. The more you berate, the more you go over old beaten ground, the more they will dig their heels in and withdraw. Horses, dogs or men…you do not want to see the white of their eyes.

Don’t be a Ball breaker. The days of breaking a horses spirit to make it do as you please are gone. Who wants a ride like that anyway. Don’t use guilt or coercion or threats. It says more about your inadequacies than it does the other.

DON’T SHOUT! Awful isn’t it? And so unseemly…A little decorum girls. One can make a far stronger point by lowering one’s voice and having a steely determination in one’s tone. Trust me, Dear hearts, at that one I am very good.

Mind Games. Don’t get involved in that shit. It does no one any good and will only end in tears. If you do it, I sincerely hope the tears are all yours.

That’s quite a few Don’ts. Shall we move on to some Do’s.

Do relax. Frankie said it best in the 80’s. And he is still on the money (shot)…Uptight, intense women are really scary. Enough said, I’m frightened just thinking of it..and as someone once said to me…just relax girl. I must confess to that making me a little bit horny, but that was a different dynamic…and it did make me relax.

Play. I have spoken of this before. Boys, no matter their age…are boys. It’s not difficult. It’s actually incredibly simple. Boys love to play. Word games, sex games, wrestling, cowboys and Indians…easy. And too much fun..It’s a win win situation.

Be generous. Listen to them. They may wish to spend 10 minutes explaining a diesel engine and the difference between torque and performance (or something like that..I wasn’t fully listening..) but it’s not going to kill you to appear interested and you may actually learn something.

Acknowledge their effort. They try really hard. They really do. Let’s be honest, we are hard arses. We set these standards, and I’m not suggesting they should be lowered. Noone has higher standards of manners and behavior than Miss Mich, but it is our responsibility to acknowledge when they make an effort. Often, they cannot fathom why it is so important to us that the table napkins be folded in a particular way, or that the toilet seat should always be down. Or that their dirty clothes actually go in a particular place and not where they fell from their beautiful olive skinned bodies. (mind you, to see that olive skinned naked body again, I would be happy to pick up discarded clothing from anywhere, but I digress). It is easier to direct them gently, with beautiful cock in hand, to where the appropriate table linen is kept.

Just love them. It doesn’t get any simpler or easier. This is the real key here Dear hearts. Just love them. That should be enough. That should be all.

I hope this helps. I welcome your feedback and comments.

Enjoy the lesson.

With love
Miss Mich

Letter to the Libertine

Dear heart,

You know I'm a great believer in the Universe. A great believer in the string that binds us and the songs that are sung along the invisible lines and ties that connect us. All of us.

For this reason we will always be connected. We will always be able to hear and feel each others vibration, tone and hum.

Breath will still be shared. It will make its way from lung to lung. Florence will remind us of that and the gentle sound of the exhalation as the breath heralds the coming will always be remembered.

Muscle has memory and and will live to serve that memory. Every stretch, every contraction, every flex will be testament to that which came before. It's important to keep moving. Always keep moving.

It's important to stay flexible. Don't give in to that sofa. Don't let the mind settle. Keep it moving as well. Open the mind, let the world in. Let every possibility have its say. It is your duty to share the world with the little ones as well. Give them alternatives. Make them think. Of other things.

For the gift that is you, I will always be grateful. How much have I been shown. I have seen within myself a kaleidescope of colours and textures and potential. How lucky am I.

I have so much to thank you for, but to do that I would have to open the box of sentimentality and its right at the back of the top shelf of you know which cupboard, so I'm just going to leave it there for now. I'm not good with glass as you know, and I don't think I could deal with another breakage just now.

So anyway...know that my energy will always be seeking out yours. They fit well and they really like each other.

And if you see Boy along the way, Piglet says tell him he's a really good root.

With love.

Is that monkey wearing a hat?

Dear hearts,

Idiocracy. New term. Capital letter. Capital idea.

All kudos for this little darling must go to the Baby.

There we were, swinging our way through the graceful curves to the beautiful Port Douglas and her markets. Laughing, teasing, blonde hair swirling. The songbird playing DJ, Mother of the year critiquing (with love) the comings and the goings of both sweet young things, when the Baby cries out…I can’t take this idiocracy any more! Such a statement silenced the happy trio, before the laughter flew out of us like helium filled conversation balloons and billowed out of the little bubble of a car. I’m surprised we didn’t lift off…

I’m embracing the term. I am determined to make it part of the Australian vernacular. Well, a part of mine, no less. It’s perfect. Forget idiocy. Idiocracy is a whole new territory. A new world if you like. With its own Government, its own parliament. Can you imagine the Upper House, the House of Idiot Lords? The house of Idiot Commons….In my mind I see all as very well dressed monkeys…in military uniform, with little caps on their heads. Something like the organ grinders monkey, something like Cheetah from the original Tarzan. Noble savage, noble idiot, idiot savant. Alright, I digress…

Then the Libertine speaks of mediocrity. Hmmm. Mediocrity frightens me. Always has. I hope it always will. The specter that is mediocrity was the wolf in sheep’s clothing that Miss Mich would reveal with a start(Boo!) when she told those darling Bright Young Things bedtime stories. Forget Twilight, Dear hearts. The vampire in my opinion is the aforementioned mediocrity. The one thing that terrifies me most, that keeps me awake at night is the fear of descending into the clammy arms of the ordinary. Of accepting things as sufficient. Of thinking, this will do…

And then of course there is The Principle of Mediocrity. Or if you want to sound terribly clever, the Copernican Principle. Throw that little darling in the mix when you wish to rise above the ordinaire, the mediocre. It all comes down to the Ms Morgan-King principle that we are not unique…she must have been channeling Copernicus over morning tea at her kitchen table. Spooky…

What is even spookier is the thought, if you take the Mediocrity Principle and run with it, that there are parallel universes throughout the cosmos, that are showing re runs of So you think you can Dance, Biggest Loser, Aussie Idol and that gem of lowest common denominator reality programming - Big Brother. All as we speak, and all in Clingon obvi…

Imagine all of those parallel life forms sitting down in front of enormous Clingon Plasma TV’s. Wondering who will be the next mediocre thing…

We all like to think we are different, but somehow the same. Take the Indonesian motto “Unity in Diversity”. Take the Benneton tag line “The United Colours of Benneton” (I loved that campaign). My new found favourite, however, is this little pearl just picked up on Brainy Quote:

“In essentials, unity; in differences, liberty; in all things, charity”

That my friends is the most meaningful 10 words out of the 556 I have just written. Apologies to have made you read this far to get to it…Congratulations to those who have persevered.

Enjoy the same difference.

With love
Miss Mich