Day 10 : Shades of Grey

It's on the days you least expect it that the wind knocks you right off your feet. I recall a time when we went camping with our three little girls. We loved the area we were camping in so much we decided to make an offer on a house in the valley. 

Camped high up in the mountain mobile phone coverage was not great. Dean was off down the way looking for wood for the fire and I had my number two child in the tent with me. I could hear the other two little ones playing outside the tent when my bank manager called me on the phone. 
The tent was the only place I could get reception. After talking for a couple of minutes it became very quiet just outside the tent. 

You know what they say when children are quiet they are up to something...
These two little ones, a five year old and my 2 year old were gone. My heart sank. We were camped at the prese pis of the mountain. The walking trails had sheer drop off points all around. I called out there names and no one answered. I was like a wind up toy getting more and more frantic as the minutes went on. My blindman managed to make his way back to the tent hearing me calling out to our girls. What a predicament I was in. One sighted parent and one who could not go looking for them in the bush if he tried. I asked fellow campers if they had seen them. Others who were total strangers within our camping circle decided that they would start searching down the trails. Quickly the word got around that there were two little girls lost in the bush. I felt panic stricken, I wanted to cry, I wanted to be sick and I all I could do was to stay put and wait. Petrifying fear came over me. The ranger asked me a few questions, then he radioed to another ranger on one of the trails where the sheer drop offs were. It was about 20 minutes at that point since I last heard the children playing outside the tent. 

Finally some treckers were returning from a hike and they said they had spotted my two girls, about 1lkm down the trail. It hadn't occurred to the treckers that there was anything a mis because they were hiking with two adults and another child. The kind people turned on their heals and ran down the track to find the happy hiking party. 

For one brief moment relief came over me but that was short lived. While I sat there waiting for them to return all sorts of thoughts went through my mind. Who were the people they were with? Were the people good people or bad? What were their intentions with my girls? How could I have been so stupid to leave my girls playing outside the tent. I hope they come back uninjured. What if the treckers can't find them now. I paced around the tent waiting, waiting, waiting. For a moment it felt like time had stopped and stood still, until finally my five year old apeared from between the scrub with a big grin on her face...the two year old was being carried in the arms of one of the tracking rescuers. I was overcome by a mix of emotions, relief being they were back safe, joy that they were back, anger that they had gone hiking in the first place with out their parents, confusion as to why they decided to follow strangers down the mountain...so may emotions, which one do I pick as an appropriate response. 

Our Trio of Happy Campers 

I think this was a practice run in life of how to respond to my girls. This disappearing episode only happened once but there have been many times I have felt these same emotions. With four teenage daughters this blind man and I have had many an occasion where life seems to be going along nicely and then one of them will do something so stupid that you think their brain and heart are totally not connected. Sometimes it's not just one of them making decisions that concern us, some times we get hit with a double and a triple whammy, all in the one day, one afternoon or sometimes with the one 1 minute. 

No wonder with these roller coaster of emotions parents literally go grey overnight... I see now why by the time people are in their fifties their hair looks white, and frown lines appear over their brows...(I'm ready for Botox now) these are all parents of children who have become teenagers. If I was a drinker I would be an alcoholic. It's no wonder people check into wellness retreats or like us sign up for Anthony Robbins programs to help keep our emotions in check. Other wise I would be put in a mental home wrapped in a straight jacket rocking back and forth on the edge of my bed. 

I have a good friend name Julie and I hadn't seen her for many years because we lived far apart. I bumped into her at church and she being a trained social worker looked at my warn out face and reminded me that teens are crazy. It's not parents who are crazy it's their misfiring brained children. She placed her hands each side of my face and told me not to worry. Then left me with a loving bear hug and reminded me that you just gotta love them through it and try to mitigate any major damage they can do to themselves during their crazy time.

Tony Robbins and our church both taught me just to love...so now when the moon is full, or when the house is high on emotion I channel my inner zen. Tell them all, I love them, and wait for the crazies in them to die down. We still don't know if this is great parenting but the blindman and his wife have got to weather this storm just for another ten years or so. Let's see how grey our hair has turned by then hey! 

Day 9: Is your Dream Big Enough?

When I first met Dean he had less than 10% eye vision. Nope that's not much but it was enough to read his text books and computer screen via a two inch thick magnifying glass. It was a long and tedious task for him to read a section of his text and then type it into his computer and then try and read what he had written via this method. For me it was as if I had gone back in time and I was watching the ancient Egyptian scribes tap out a scene of hieroglyphics on the side of a tomb, it was such an arduous task to behold. Yes, my blind man completed an environmental science degree in our first 3 years of marriage. 

Interesting to some he travel to North Queensland with his university group learning about landscapes, animals, sea life and habitats. When he came back home it was as though I was sleeping next to David Attenborough as he was full of animal facts and stories that he shared about the wildlife he had encountered. He camped in the Northern NSW hinterland to trap native animals and tag and release them, taking data and reporting the data to the university. Like a navy seal he dived to the bottom of the water storage dam taking water samples at different levels and wrote reports on his findings. So many incredible experiences my blind man participated in with his utter ability to go beyond what people would consider him to not even consider.

In Dean's final year of his science degree he wrote and published a report on the effects of sea level rise on coastal urban environments. This young man had me amazed at his ability to use all of his other senses  to conquer any fear that may have stopped others even fully sighted people from achieving. Deano has vision and his vision is in the form of a dream that he will achieve. Dean makes dreams his reality. 
I have heard them say if you can visualise it you can have it. Where your focus goes energy flows and this has been true for this blind man with huge vision.

Deano Graduating his First Degree in 1994 

It was around ten years after his first degree  that Deano decided he would go back to university. There was a  huge change in teaching and learning styles over that ten years. It was during this time the Internet was produced and there were some major advances in technology assisting the blind to know what was on the computer screen. This is where we were first introduced to a programs called jaws. The program read nearly everything Dean research on the computer. However this technical advancement was not available for the first 2 years of his second round of studying so I had the task of reading to my blind man. 

The Blindman and his girls on his graduation day

As Deano had some residual vision, the more difficult subject matter, like business maths and statistics, I was able to re-write on a white board large enough for him to read. It certainly was both a laborious and tedious process. Algebra was never a strong point but hey when I have ever used it since. Perhaps they make you do it to program the brain to think another way. How do you discuss what some of these symbols look like to a blind man? My description of the value pie went something like this "A soccer goal post with a bent cross bar on top" and the symbol for infinity is an "eight lying on its side." It felt like I was now the Egyptian scribe tapping away at the stone wall. All I can say is when we sat our exams the Blindman got a high distinction and the Blindmans wife got a distinction...I would have thought it would have been the other way around because I rewrote the text. Just goes to show that just because you can't see it certainly doesn't equate to not understanding. 

It still amazes me today that my man got right through high school never being able to see the black board. Only with the help of a good friend, Steven Viney, who read all the details to him that he could not see, was Deano able to complete his schooling years. My man always sings the praises of his mate who without such a sacrifice of service, he would never had made it through high school.

Our accounting lecturer said to me once"I don't see how Dean will use this information if he can't even see" I commented back to him " Don't underestimate this man. He can do anything I know I have seen it first hand" Others would have been insulted or even taken his words to heart but not us. The words felt like someone was laying down a challenge that we were set to prove him wrong. 

Today Deano does all the invoicing for our company, he manages our budget and negotiates deals. This blind man had a dream and he is living it. Now he has started to share his passion for life with others through a new network marketing venture. It's not something he would have ever tried before so we will see where this exciting path takes us. That's what life's all about isn't it. Challenging ourselves, growing in the face of adversity and helping others along the way.

Blindman Deano on his graduation day of his Business Accounting Degree 2009 

Day 8: Freedom for some

The magic of the white wand. 
When we were newlyweds Deano, my blind man, faked it. Never to accept that his blindness was going to define his opportunities in life, this young man had just enough vision to get around without the use of the long white stick that most other blind people use for mobility. "Nope it's old crusty people that use canes" I supposed he thought when he in his youthfulness. So as a young adult the man of my dreams could manoeuvre  himself across a room without seeming like he was blind. I guess it was the masculine side of him coming out. When a man feels masculine the most is when feel he feels freedom. A cane was not going to give him the freedom that he so desired... so he thought. 

Cute girls learning to use the can at an early age

                                                                 Cane helps blind girls
When we went out he would hold my hand, and I would tell him how many steps were In front of us before we had to step up or down the curb, how many stairs we had to climb and which direction to turn are these were just the tip of the iceberg of instructions I had to think about. Train travel to work was an interesting new experience once we moved to the city. New instructions quickly became part of my repertoire. Directions like where the edge of the train station platform was and describing to him how high to lift his leg onto the train or how wide to step out over the crack was so he did not fall through. So many instructions, I felt like my brain was doing to explode at times. He's not dead yet so I must be doing okay.

When we bushwalked it was always interesting, and as I have already said it in a previous post I'm not the best at giving directions so imagine going through a bush track and trying to describe the landscape one step at a time..Big rock here, tree branch over head, duck your head now, roots of a tree, there is a slippery looking spot on your next step, watch the puddle over there, oops I mean to your left (the puddle was probably on his right) and it goes on.for For the entirety of  what is meant to be a fun day-time-date turned out to be a direction giving marathon...there should be an olympic category for this challenge 

Deano was the age of 30 when his older brother Lorin who is also blind encouraged him to go to cane training. With both men being born with a small amount of eyesight that diminished over the years it took them a while to accept they finally needed more help.

That cane changed my life literally. It was meant to be an improvement for Dean, but, how can I put this without sounding kind of self-centred. That cane gave me freedom. I could finally walk without feeling the need of excusing my husband for tripping over someone's dog, or child, or asking for forgiveness from people when my hubby almost landed in their shopping trolley. I remember someone commenting to me once as we walked down the street late one night that my husband was clearly drunk as he stumbled up as stair case. Interesting considering Mormons don't drink Nope these type of comments were over because finally the outside world could see a blindman carrying a white cane (even though he felt he didn't need it) to the rest of the world needed it. 

Cane training
 Amazing technology is being developed to assist the blind

The cane really does not help him how others think it would. It's more of a warning signal to the general public that my my blindman in denial is on his way through...I swear in the shopping centre that cane is like Moses parting the Red Sea. It is the wand of magical of power, especially if you are in the Christmas rush with a army of hurrying shoppers wanting to get their last minute Christmas buying done is a snap. Yes there are some benefits of having a blind husband...pull out that cane with one flick of the wrist the crowd moves aside as I guide my husband to the best buys within the store. There's gotta be an upside to every trial in life, even if it's just a little moment. I grasp any positives to feel good about a situation that is considered by most as a difficult challenge in life. Yep in and out in half the time. 

I have joked with him in the past that He is my zombie apocalypse plan. That cane can be used to beat any one off...made from metal tubing in 4 sections it is light weight held together by an elastic string...I am sure it would make a really good oversized  numb chuck if he had to use it to defend his damsel in distress. 

Over the time my blindman has learnt to embrace the cane. It really has brought a whole new dimension to hiking. We not only use the cane but we also have a tent pole stretch between us. Me holding the end against my hip and And my guy holding also against the rod on his hip. That way Deano can feel my movements up and over rocks or down over uneven footings and use his cane to tap to find the edge of anything that might trip him underfoot. Now even though I still give him some directions there is also time to talk to each other about the beauty around us, hear the banking streams and listen to the whip birds down in the valley. It would have to be one of our most favourite dates of all time apart from tandem cycling that is...but that's another story. 
The cane has been a cymbal of freedom for me as much as it for Dean and I for one will be forever grateful to its inventor. 

Deano and the blindman's wife with our friends taking a selfie on one of our hiking adventures this year

Day 7: Enough is Enough

Some days are diamonds some days are stone...today my thoughts are all over the place as to what to write but I know there is one subject that has eating me up for ages...the thought that I felt for many of my early years...this one thought consumed me in my teens, my twenties and my thirties but it hasn't been until my forties that I think I have finally put that thought to bed...
I used to think that I was not enough...I am sure every woman on earth has thought this in some faze of their life or another...even if it was just a fleeting thought...just for one moment or just for one day. 

I used to think (as a teenager) my size 12 body was enormous and never good enough, my hair wasn't long enough, my boobs weren't big enough, I was not talented enough, I wasn't cool enough...not like my ever so trendy older sister who had all the boyfriends. Not to mention my very pretty friends from my youth group who either danced ballet, played multiple instruments, sang like a character out of a Disney movie, were athletic, great at home economics, super intelligent, or all of the above and looked like a supermodel when we went to the beach in the size 8 swim suits. Nope I definitely felt like I was not enough. I had the short 80's hair style, you know the pixi cut that looked so trendy in the magazines but failed to translate on my head. I had a pimply face, I felt I was the  tag along friend to the pretty group. I honestly felt like the sympathy friend. 

When my family moved to to the country in my later adolescent years life slightly improved...no girls in my church youth group to compare myself to, still I really had doubts that I was enough. 
When I met my blindman I was told mean words by others in my peer group at school that I won't repeat but it was comments that at the time I decided to take to heart...once again I robbed myself of ever feeling like I was of worth. Even though my Husband picked me I still felt not enough...for starters I was 18 when I got married so I never felt old enough. 

happy snap at a concert of the Blindmans wife and her loving husband

These feeling continued into my 20's. I allowed my life to be consumed with feelings of inadequacy...not being able to give birth naturally, having children who were not your subservient kind, ones who challenged me most days. I felt many times that although I could make things work on a tight budget my efforts were never good enough. As a stay at home mum, my blindman miraculously worked as a waste water consultant to the local council. Those days at home were isolating and depressing, the days were endless and relentlessly long, changing nappies, breast feeding, washing, cooking and cleaning, shopping and teaching my little brewed of 3 under the age of 4. Why was I not enjoying life I often wondered. I always thought this would have been the best time in my life...but it really was struggle street. Many a cold morning I would have to be at 5am to pack the children into the car and drive my husband to the waste water plant for work and back home to tuck the girls back into bed for another hour or two sleep whiles I set up the house for the day ahead. Then I had to get through the day with little girls and other neighbourhood kids I would baby-sit. I felt like "Mrs Hanigan" from the musical Annie when she sand her song "Little girls" Of course people assumed that because I was a trained child care worker that I really enjoyed my days at home with my girls but I felt I was never doing enough. Was I teaching my children enough, was I playing with the children enough, was I keeping the house clean enough, did I feed my children nutritious enough food coupled with thoughts of was I still sexy enough even though my body had given birth at this stage to three caesarian babies 
 In my thirties my feelings intensified, what if I can't earn enough because by now I was the main breadwinner due to Deano going back to university. Was I supporting his needs enough. Was I still attractive enough. Did I help my kids with their homework enough and was I spending enough time with my 4th and baby of the family now that I was working full time. 

In my late thirties  I questioned weather I did a good enough job bringing up my daughters now they were teenagers, have I saved enough money, have I given myself in service to others enough, have I prayed enough, and the list goes on... I felt  like the tragic words of Kasey Chambers song were about me...Äm I not pretty Enough...was my mantra
Not Pretty Enough By Kasey Chambers

Today I met a woman who had been suppressed  in her thinking for many years and she said to me "you know I'm one of those women you read about, the one who gets to age 40 and boom they change everything about their life."

Recently I have learnt to change my thoughts...I have been on a path of self discovery a path that had lead to one answer...life is too short to think I am not enough. I went to a Drs appointment early this year and had a breast scan. The Dr found a small number of unusual cells and quickly had me undergo a procedure to remove the mass. At the same time in my life I went to a seminar with the one and only Anthony Robbins. At this seminar I discovered the path to my own happiness...I have decided that life is too short and to quote something I shared with a friend of mine today "Love your life, take pictures of everything. Tell people you love them. Talk to random strangers. Do things you are scared to do. Because many of us die and no one remembers a thing we did. Take your life and make it the best damn story in the whole world. Don't waste it!"

Unlike the movies where the 40 year old woman gives up her former life I have learnt that I don't have to change everything in my life just one thing....my thoughts, "because you know "I am enough!" And what I think about myself is now is so liberating. Yes I care about whether I am attractive still but let's put this into perspective ladies...my husband is blind so I am pretty damn lucky don't you agree...he will never see this fine lines around my eyes and my skin as it droops...he always has seen me as enough and for that I am blessed. 

He loves me just the way I am

Day 6 It's in the Genes

Today was a day like any other Sunday for a Mormon family. We got up, made ourselves look presentable and went to church. My life has been moulded around the teachings of the church thanks to my grandma Merle Shrimpton joining the church when she was in her early 40's.
Merle was not your typical woman. She too, like me was a mother of 4 daughters.
Born in 1918 Merle witnessed the evolution of horse and carriage to cars and trucks,  outdoor dunnies to fully flushing indoor  toilets, scrubbing boards, to wringer washers through to the washing machines we use today, milk, bread, fruit and veg delivered by horse and kart to today's massive shopping complexes, and of course the huge leaps in technology from the use of ball point pen and paper to computer and then hand held devices...what an amazing time to be alive.  

My grandparents Dating Picture

My grandma also had many talents and career changes in her life. Getting married in the Great Depression my beautiful loved Nanna was one of the first Australian female tailors. Her mother worked for a male garment maker and they live at the back of his shop. She at a young age learnt how to make a suit without a pattern. She made her own wedding dress out of suit fabric because it meant that it was more "serviceable". This was a word I'd hear time and time again when she made practical play clothes for me out of old Ostie dresses that she had found at St Vincent De Paul. My Nan would take the fabric and sew us up some sort of jump suit or church dress if the fabric was pretty enough. When I got married she recovered my hand-me-down lounge with a khaki green fabric telling me it was more "serviceable" than any other fabric. It was a little too Khaki for my liking,  but hey,  we were newly weds and had no money to replace the green baby poop coloured lounge. Gratefully I smiled and thanked her for her beautiful efforts.
As my Nanna got older she became a nurse helping her mother-in-law as she aged and also taking care of her friend who I only knew as Auntie May when she had no other place to go and  was also ageing. My loving grandma taught me to give even when there was not much to give and she always had a fantastic sense of humour.

The wedding Photo of Merle and Alfred Shrimpton

Sadly my grandfather died just after I was married 25 years ago. They were teenage sweet hearts and adored each other. After the loss of her beloved, she took up driving the red sports addition car that her husband had bought just before he passed.  Even though she had the car keys taken off her 30 years earlier due to some miss-haps in her driving skills she was determined this was her moment. My Pop, I am sure,  would have rolled in his grave had he known...or perhaps he was laughing at her looking down from heaven as she took to the streets in her lipstick red shiny machine. Nanna decided she would make the best of anything that came her way. Although she pined to be with her lover she smiled every day. 

This woman knew the value of a good laugh and just having her In the room even if she was asleep on the lounge made people around her smile (often because of the foreign noises that would come out of her petite body as she snoozed). One of the funniest memories I have of her was when my sister captured her on film just a few weeks before she left us . Nanna was wheel chair bound and started manoeuvring it towards an empty bucket that lay on the ground in front of her. She used her good leg to trying to strike the container, her voice can be heard  saying..."just let me die I'm trying to kick the bucket!"..then the film captured her looking around at our reaction and her laughing at us as our eyes widened not knowing if she was joking or being a little serious, her cackle filling the air with just pure joy at her own silliness.That's the way she lived...finding the joy in every moment. 

 When she was 90 this little old kitty decided she would pose with a real tiger to capture her momentous moment.By the age of 96 my Grannie had a Facebook page...and by the age of 97 this hip and happening woman had a blog. My Nan was almost jumping out of her nursing chair telling me that 80 people had read about her life in one post she had written overnight. Coming from a woman who had moving boxes full of her diaries and poems  that she had written about her life,  she had finally found a technology that gave her life significance and meaning because people could read her words straight away. She had found a medium to share her experiences even though she was house bound due to a stroke, this ageing lady had found a way she could have a social impact on not just her need for interactions with others but also a way she could teach others through her example, just as she had done throughout her life. In the last year of her life she made me promise her that I would start a blog. I did start that blog but life got in the way...

I like my Nanny was also a diary writer. 

Just last week my daughters were to rummaging through the boxes in the shed and found my diary collections...lots of giggles and teasing came in my direction as they read about all the past boys I crushed on. They finally came to the diary entries about my blind man. They noticed that these entries were not written in the diary but they were glued in on other paper that I had written on. Being the snooping teenagers they asked why I didn't write about Dad directly into the book...I had so many little teenage heart breaks that I was convinced that it was the bad luck diary that made the boy I had just written about break my heart...and I wasn't going to risk that with this gorgeous man. Not wanting to jinx anything I recorded the whole love affair on random prices of paper and glued them into the said diary after we got married.

So when you ask me why do I want to record my life with my blind man, as asked by my sister yesterday...my reply is because it's part of my DNA, my Grandmother asked me to do it...she felt a real need to give even after she was gone and I believe I am fulfilling her wish and in doing so connecting with others and validating their struggles by sharing my own and in the process teaching others how we have made the best of a blessed life even if it's not perfect.

My Grandmother Merle and my 4 daughters with me visiting her just before she passed away last year. See even in her 98th year she had a twinkling smile

Day 5: The Poison Chalice

Every morning my blindman makes me a fresh pot of herbal loss leave tea. He pours it into the tea pot and scalds his finger tip daily just to measure when to stop pouring...now that's what I call love. 
Knowing that I have an early start to the day he transfers the hot brew into a clear flask so I can take it with me into the car. 
The water has a yellowed tinge to  it almost looks like daisies and the smell is divine like minted flowers. 

This afternoon I found my tea flask sitting on the bench and it was full. Thinking that my loving husband had refilled it for me and being that it was that time in the day when you clearly haven't drunk enough water...your so parched that your mouth feels like you've eaten the Arabian desert...I proceeded to skull the golden brew down. Yes it was a huge chug like I had been a Friday night binge drinker for years, with my friends cheering me on I the background "Drink, drink drink"  (of course I know nothing of that sort of behaviour because I am a good Mormon girl and I don't drink - alcohol that is!)


So like a fish I sculled the concoction down until it was half done...then to my utter dismay I tasted what I had thrown down my neck...it wasn't my favourite tea at all...it was a bottle of soaking dishwashing water same colour as my tea, that someone had decided to leave in the bottle to make sure it had a good clean. GULP! 

My first thought...am I going to die? The next one...read the side of the washing up liquid bottle...and the next thought...it was pretty watered down I should be okay. My mouth tastes just like it did after my Father had washed it out with soap after telling my sister to "shut up" as a kid...that was considered the worst 2 words in the world in the 70's in my family at least! 

There has been a few times my blind man has put a foreign substance in his mouth that he thought was something entirely different. Like the time he squeezed nappy rash cream onto his toothbrush and proceeded to try and clean his teeth...oh the commotion from the bathroom that night was fun to see! Husband gagging, spitting and then using the bath towel to wipe out the greasy slime from his mouth.  Me rolling around on the bed in fits of laughter...yes not too much compassion from me at times. 

But tonight was my turn for gagging! Both my blind husband and our two visiting friend all having the last laugh! Just as well I lived to tell the tale. Look on the bright side...I won't be needing to do a dietary cleans for a while...those soap suds totally did the trick!  Warning: Don't try this at home (cause you might end up with bubbles coming out your rear bubble blower...if you know what I mean...wink wink)

Nimueh from the series Merlin enchanted the chalice in a plot to poison the Arthur...I am still yet to find out who filled my flask...the guilty party has stayed very quiet...lol

http://merlin.wikia.com/wiki/The_Poisoned_Chalice

Day 4: Broken pieces don't count...right?

I once heard Tom Hanks say "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you'll get",  in my life it's a little different..."Life is like a packet of Arnotts cream filled biscuits...if you eat the broken pieces they don't count!"

#blindman always the adventure seeker

 Deano my blind hubby he has always been the optimistic type of person...someone who has never said he can't and a man who would give anything a go...even if he gets broken along the way. There have been times when when he has just thought he was invincible like when he offered to help a single mum move home, slipped in her drive way and broke his arm. He didn't tell me about the fall until later on in the evening after he had finished helping the friend move her furniture. Nope not until he was almost ready to hurl up his guts did he complain about his sore elbow. 


Then there was the time we were walking home from his office together and he ducked under a palm tree leaf without realising there was a power pole with a utility box on it on the other side of the massive dangling branch.  The poor man skinned his nose right from the bottom to the top catching the bottom of the metal utility door as he lifted his head from under the branch. 

Recently he bent down in the side yard to pick a tool up out of his tool box only to find the garbage bin had been moved into the place where he had left his tool box. Yes that too was a trip to the hospital to have a tetanus shot because he split his lip on the edge of the bin... Poor Dean looked like he had picked on by the big kid at school and had come off the worst. 
There have been countless times I've jokingly been accused of beating my poor hubby up as he has a bump on his head or a swollen nose from walking into walls, or hitting his head on cupboard doors that have been left open.

This year it was another trip to the hospital for the man who thinks he can do anything. Dean went out to the shed to fetch me out smaller printer as our large printer was out of ink. In a shed that is full of pedal go karts, he manoeuvred himself between tyres and steering wheels to make it to the back of the crowded dusty storage area. Carrying the 30kg load back through the maze was another trick. Forgetting that he had moved a bucket of cycling helmets he tripped and holding the load he lost his footing this time the weight of the printer smashing against the ground with his wrist pinned in between. Not a man to be tied down by a plaster cast one week later I found him in the kitchen with a pair of scissors cutting his arm free. The broken ones don't count right!

My #blindman bent over to do some gardening and forgot the shovel was sticking out of the dirt

It is this simple attitude of let's go for it that I love about Deano. Sometimes I feel that is why we are together he is the Yin to my Yang...I am so cautious about everything. That's the way I was brought up. My Dad was an advisor for risk management in small business and my mum...well she would never take a risk...still at age 68 says she could never ride a bike...and as a child would say stuff like...I don't recommend you take up squash you might loose an eye. Or I took an aerobics lesson once and couldn't walk the day after so it's not that fun. Lol. 

To this day I remember when I played soft ball for the first season as a teenager. I got a ground ball straight of the bat to the forehead in my first training session ever I was knocked out cold. When I came too I felt my head, it was like Frankenstein. I had a broken eye socket! When mum came to pick me up she looked at me knowingly and said something along the lines of "See I told you sports give you injuries!" I sadly never played softball again. But in saying that I really do love my mum and there are many great lessons I learned from her example. She really taught me charity and love. My mum loves everything. (Except sport) she loves her dogs so much that she chews nuts up for them...yes she is a little crazy too but that is where I get my best parts from. 

So being the crazy cautious type and Deano being a free spirited give anything a go person it's no wonder we ended up with a not so typical life..so remember when things are not perfect...the broken pieces don't count. Right!