The third annual #LeadingTheCharge road trip is mere days away from kick-off.  This is the single largest and longest engagement/activity that the Trust we started in 2014 does in the calendar year.

Once a year, now in early Autumn, we pack our bags and pile into our EVs and drive from town to town/province to province.  We go from one end of this beautiful island nation to the other, and we stop so I can SQUEEZE EVERYONE and tell them how deeply and importantly I adore them (because telling people in person is always more special than saying it over the Internets) and after we play with all the people, we retire to our hotel for “quiet drinks” with the team.  It really is the most magical time of the year.

So, every year I think to myself, that we need to have an unofficial theme song.  Something we can have playing over the dinky little PA system I bought for the very first road trip.  Something that clearly captures the culture of our community.  Something, probably with the word electric in it.

So this year, I am putting it to the community to choose an unofficial theme song for the 2017 road trip.

I’ve chose five songs that could fit the bill, and am very open to further suggestions.

I’ll list the songs and make s short case for each.

Ready?

Here we go!

1. Eddie Grant – Electric Avenue
2. They Might Be Giants – Electric Car
3. Oasis – She’s Electric
4. MGMT – Electric Feel
5. Queen – We Are The Champions

1) So let us begin a the top of the list.  What can I say about Eddie Grant?  This is a fun, lovely, perky song from the early 80’s and has just enough political undertones to pack a bit of a punch in an election year.  I really do want to rock down to Electric Avenue… because doing so will FULLY take us all higher.

2) Well… Seriously.  Best Electric Car song (only, electric car song) EVER.  This is my favourite.

3) Oasis is truly not my favourite, but this song is cheeky, and fun and interesting and about a quirky girl.  I think we are all pretty quirky so that’s how this made it to the list.

4) It is just a good song to bop to.  My kids love MGMT so I thought I’d put the fact I am a prolific breeder to good use by suggesting something from their generation.

5) WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!  This is a great song and the volunteers and supporters have always been called champions BECAUSE THEY ARE!

So have a listen to these five songs and think about which will be the best Theme Music for the trip we are about to take.  I can guarantee whatever you choose will be playing when you come out to see us at any of the stops along the way.

Here’s a selection of pictures from events over the past few years.  Have a look and see if you can spot yourself!

My homegirl Frida knew a think or two about managing the crazies.

Thanks for reading, and remember to vote.

XXOO

Dee

Yesterday I was reminded too many times to recall, just what an impressively spoiled douchebag I am on a regular basis.  The source of the mirror that reflected this embarrassing reality back to me is most likely the super fun new medication I am munching for my super serious sadness disorder.  That, combined with access to the struggles of beautiful people I am blessed to know got me to thinking about just what a grade A asshole I actually am.

I am swimming in a sea of confidence, support, financial freedom, health, community, and there’s a nice ripe cherry of white privilege on the top to open doors and give me pause to feel smug for doing all the things and smashing walls, doors, ceilings and barriers.

Oh, and the HYPOCRISY!  We must not forget about all the ways I find to be a raging hypocrite.  For an environmental activist; my carbon footprint, food waste, self indulgence, hedonism and even grooming regime is appalling.  I live in a sprawling home where I killed my worm farm by feeding them banana peels and I always forget to water my garden.  I claim to be a social sustainability and equal opportunity activist and I live in the least diverse and most expensive neighbourhoods in one of the most expensive cities on earth.

Do I take this shit for granted?  Absolutely.  Am I aware of the spoiled asshole I am? You better believe it.  So I’m determined to remain aware of it and do what I can to earn my stripes and share air and water with people who are already, and would like to be gentler to the planet and all the plants, people and creatures we share it with.

I am not inviting challenges or lessons, as there’s been a fair number of hard knocks and sacrifices getting to where I sit fat, privileged and with some level of influence today.  I’ll get my plateful of grief, hardship and struggle.  We all have our turn dining at that dark and difficult table in this life.

What I am saying, in my characteristically less-than-delicate way, is that I don’t ever want to be the sort of person who feels superior or smacks around paltry advice like “If I can do it, anyone can do it” or “you just have to really want it”.  Fuck. That.  Fuck that sideways and seriously, because people are all fighting a hard fucking battle and don’t win every fucking time, but they ought to all be able to celebrate the shit out of and feel fucking fabulous when they do.  For fuck’s sake.

Life is hard, life is not fair, and the reason I wanted to remind myself and anyone who read this of that point is this:

Some of the strongest, kindest, smartest, hardest working people of various colours, creeds, religions and socio-economic backgrounds have reached out over the past few days in various ways.  They are struggling with loss and challenges that break my heart and would send me to a padded cell.  Yet they smile.  They show strength.  They complain in private to trusted friends and confidants.  And they keep going.

People who are kind enough to say “you’ve worked hard” or “you deserve it though” are very sweet, but the results of my choices in this life are as much luck as they are effort.  I married a mild mannered man who grew into a passionate innovator who’s changing the course of history and revolutionizing an entire industry for the second time.  I did not seek out this fairytale, but I sure as shit feel blessed to be a character in it.

My four amazing, healthy, kind, irritating, impossible children remind me every day that I am an asshole and a failure, and I am so glad of that fact.

So I’ll go out today and know that I am an asshole and try to do some good to balance it out.  Thanks for reading.  And thanks for being my friend.  Even though I am a bit of an asshole for real.

XXOO

I went to a women’s conference over the weekend. It was aptly titled:

Women Who Get Shit Done.

The South Island

Leaving Auckland

Safe in my seat Kia Ora Mag at arms reach.

Only one of the three guests I had invited was able to make it. My friend Erin joined me. She graduated with first class honors from Law school at the University of Canterbury. She works at the human rights commission and is one of the funniest females I know. Between mercilessly making fun of me and making epic wheelchair jokes (she has CP and uses a wheelchair), she often has me in stitches.

Erin and I were roomies for the weekend so we got to have those yummy giggly teenage chats before bedtime that are a natural consequence of sleepovers. This was about the only time I spent with Erin, as she’s always quick to make friends (and is well connected to everyone I know that has met her, because she’s actually that awesome) so happily did her own thing as I did mine.

I’m not comfortable going into detail, but I want to tell you what was particularly brilliant about this weekend.

There were 100 women, and a few super cute and/or well-behaved children. The vibe was incredibly diverse, supportive, and fun. Aside from a small handful of occasions, I did not feel judged. I frequently, perhaps predominantly feel judged when I am around other women. There are some obvious exceptions, like most of my friends and many of the women who work alongside me in transport and sustainability. But to be in a place with 100 strangers, where we all had something to contribute, it was more than just a bit magical.

I don’t want to talk about the session that I co-hosted in any sort of detail. I don’t feel a need to share all the fun and fabulous stuff we got up to in other sessions. What I do want to say is that I’d recommend this to absolutely anyone (who identifies as female or non-binary) who likes to get shit done.

There were young millenials running workshops and planning global domination. There was a beautiful bohemian woman teaching us protest songs from the 60’s and earlier. There were wonderful discussions on women’s right to choose, there were lessons, there was laughter, and there were tears.

I was incredibly mindful of my propensity to interrupt people, so spent two sessions completely silent. I also tried very hard to listen for understanding and learning, not just waiting for my turn to talk.

Erin assures me that it was the most mellow she has ever seen me, and I think she may be right. Still bubbly, still loud, still contributed and joined a session (or two, or three) for every time slot. I met a handful of truly kindred spirits (Emily, Eve, Yvonne, Hana, Shelley, Jo, Ruby, Aliesha) and know that relationships will grow and more will be nurtured over time and online as well. I need to take the time to start some private groups for us to continue some heavy but healing conversations in a safe place.

So I’ll leave it there. Just to get my gratitude down in black and white. I am thankful to the organisers, I am thankful to those who attended, I am thankful to Erin, and I am thankful to the long suffering Phteven for believing that smart, strong, impactful women are a wonderful conduit to spread the word about ChargeNet and to change the world. Thanks for your support and thanks for watching the kids over the weekend baby.

I made one of those passive aggressive posts over the weekend:

“It is a wild world, and I just don’t want to be a part of it anymore…”

Or something to that pathetic and cryptic effect.

I thought I’d take a moment to explain what the actual fuck is going on in the corner of New Zealand I like to call Dee-land.

I started the year with a new diagnosis. Still working out medications, which is strange, as medication is not something I take (aside from generation one antihistamines like Benadryl for sleep, supplements for my anemia and occasionally Ritalin for keeping my A-D-Deeeeliciousness under control) very often.

There are some side effects that are normal for this medication. Hand tremors, thirst, sleep. I am thirsty, but have no other “normal” side effects.

I have had a number of not normal side-effects.

The long and the short of what has happened is I have almost completely lost my joy. I have a very short fuse. I no longer crave human contact of any kind, let alone the insatiable desire I had for hugs, smiles and connection, even 5 weeks ago when I started this regime.

So, I’m a bitch. And you know what? I kind of like it. Here’s a recent photo of my “not amused” or “WTF” face… It is kind of actually my face now.

I feel no need to carry on chatting beyond the point of saying what needs to be said. I don’t care what every single person is doing or why. I do not feel in any way responsible for the bullshit and stupidity that is rife in the world (it still gets me down and makes me want to do something of course), and last… but CERTAINLY not least… for the first time in 30 years I do not crave death or have suicidal thoughts countless times every single day.

Now I’m faced with a conundrum.

My children miss “fun” mom. I think my husband misses the old me, but it is difficult to tell because he’s so busy lately. I’m not sure what my friends think, because for the first time in my 38-year history, I’m not deeply concerned with how other people are feeling all the time.

So do I keep on this trajectory and hope that it changes or settles down and my short fuse and lack of empathy or even interest in the world around me, or do I go back to the old me.

I’ll tell you what. Even thinking about going back to the way things were makes my eyes sweat. All the confidence and noise masked a metric shit-ton of self-loathing and anxiety, and I don’t want to have to continue to live trapped in that bubble of neediness and self-hatred.

But I miss craving hugs. I fake hugs now, and that’s really fucking weird for someone who used to need human contact like most normal people need air. And I miss dancing with the kids in the kitchen while we cook dinner. And I miss belly laughs, and benders, and highs, and lows, and feeling hopeful almost pathologically optimistic.

I miss me. But I hated me. Like PROPER fucking HATED myself.

I’ll go back for more discussions on options, and I will try and figure this out, but this short break from truly craving death, despite knowing cognitively how selfish and ridiculous those feelings are/were… I can’t begin to tell you what kind of relief I feel.

So, to those closest to me who have born the brunt of my bitchiness, I am sorry, but I am not sure that Dee the pushover who needs or wants a cuddle will be returning. And to the many WONDERFUL and supportive friends who have DM’d me and offered words of kindness and support, I thank you so much! Your warmth is the only thing that has brought light into my dimmed heart these days. The meds have me feeling like most of the world is populated by fuckers who just wanna fuck people for their own fucking gain (the medication has done nothing to curb my swearing BTW) and knowing that there are good, kind, wonderful people who have genuine concern for crazy asses like me, well it is buoying.

So what would YOU do?

Would you carry on and try to learn how to trust people again without the veil of optimism that the previous un-medicated state used to allow? Or would you give up and try something else?

Feel free to be as judge-y and opinionated as you wish if you’re going to comment.

I’d like some fresh advice on this.

“You guys are really busy.” or “I don’t know how you fit it all in!” I hear this or some permutation of this every day.

You know what. I ALSO do not know how we fit it all in, and I can quite confidently say I am entirely fucking overwhelmed and my brain actually broke while I was in the shower this morning.

Here’s how it played out:

For 10 blissful minutes, it was just me, my Lush products, and jets of hot water.

There were no meetings, no computer, no phone, no kids… and for once in a blue moon, not even a Phteven! Generally my husband and I shower together , owing predominantly to our unwavering dedication to conservation.

Then again, maybe not. Who the hell are you to judge?!?   Jokes.

Anyway. This morning, it was just me. A whole shower with nothing but Dee!

That short shower was a chance to think, and here’s just a sampling of what danced through my overly full brain:

Something needs to be done about the old trees, the new trees, oh and what about the bees. Then there’s all that stuff with employees. I know what I need to do, but I am so tired. So incredibly tired.

Kids, kids, kids… Okay. School is starting. They’ve got their stationary, they know who their teachers will be. 4 kids, 7 activities, and 4 adults to share the ferrying. This can work. We can do this. Takes a village to raise a child. We have several of each in play at any given time. We’re okay. We’ll be okay. The kids are going to have a great childhood (mental Trump impersonation) It is going to be GREAT.

And then, it happens. The fear of fascism crashes in, and I think about the Islamic travel bans, the right to choose being removed, and the thought of already vulnerable women being made to feel like genuine criminals if they are in a situation where termination is the only option they can reasonably abide. How can we have been thrust back in human, environmental, social and scientific advances so rapidly by a reality television spectacle? America may have fucked up a few things, but no one deserves what they are going through right now. When is the world going to respond? When is China gong to respond… What’s going to happen.

I’m genuinely frightened for the future, and I have no idea what I can do about it. Can I do something about it? I wish someone would upload a manual… I’d read the shit out of that.

Special topic. What shall I do my paper on? I wish I could do it on Norway or Iceland. They are fascinating on so many levels. Can’t believe we will be in Norway in less than a week. And we even get to speak! What an honour… You know, I think I’ll research new markets. New things are important. Important and risky. Risky business.

It is quite amazing how many people seem to be interested in our business. The business we do and our personal situation. I wonder how everyone in Matakana got the impression we were selling. Quite strange hearing back from our neighbours that they’d heard the same. People sure do like to talk. Even if they are talking shit. I’ll never give up the treehouse. It is our haven and we could quite comfortably retire there. Funny how rumours start. If that’s a rumour we have heard, I can only IMAGINE what kind of shit and smack talk gets perpetuated about my crazy ass. Sigh.

Do I care?

Unfortunately yes, I absolutely do.

Shower off. Towel down. Back into the startup trenches…

There are a dozen more things sitting on the tip of my brain day in and day out. I get to feel fairly impressively fucking useless as friends fight cancer or shovel through incredible mountains of shit that they landed in through no fault of their own. It is impossible to help everyone, and I mean to be a better friend and just even listen or engage, but life happens and time runs out to do the things I want/need to do every day.

Most of the time I can cope. Today, ten minutes to myself broke me and I am going to bed early in the hope of rebooting and being able to wake up tomorrow and be able to suck it up and just keep climbing the fucking mountain Phteven and I started out at the base of in March 2015.

Thanks for reading.

The first thing that feels like I need to get off my chest before going into a full-blown girl power tirade, is this:

2016 was pretty shitty for a lot of people. It was one of the busiest, saddest, happiest, most difficult, and best years I’ve had in my 38 turns around the sun.

I managed to cram about a decade worth of shit into the last 12 months, but also did some epically dumb stuff and dropped a lot of the balls I’m always juggling.

The proverbial mom ball is as huge and heavy as a large medicine ball, and that’s the one I have dropped most impressively in 2016. Having a vagina means that no matter how equal my husband and I are, and no matter how important our combined dreams and career are to us; “The children need their mother!” and the world needs Steve’s big brain and track record for changing the planet because he gets tired of waiting around for someone else to do things.

This is not a complaint.  It is an observation.

So, where was I…

Yes, it was a busy, BUSY year!

Between Kiwi road trips, international travel, kid wrangling, PRing, wifing, studying, socializing, charging into the future, and HEAPS of sleeping (or just being in my big comfy bed, exactly the way I am as I write this) I got distracted from my writing, which is one of my most favourite things to do in the whole world. More writing is the only measurable New Year’s resolution I will be making.

I will, however, be cramming as much, if not quite a bit more, into 2017. Top of this list, is I will be kicking my appreciation, adoration, and enthusiasm for women into the highest of high mother fucking gears.

A friend we spent NYE with in Paihia made me promise that this year I read the Constance Hall book, so I shall put it in the list of stuff I am gonna demolish in 2017.

There are so many amazing women on this planet. I am lucky enough to know a few hundred of these women, and a few dozen of them very well indeed. My tribe is lit. My women are amazing. My life would suck without the support, honesty, laughter, Love and tenderness I receive from the goddesses in my world.

Throughout history, badass bitches have led the charge and changed the world in various schools, disciplines and arena. My forefeminists had to fight hard for the rights of their daughters, sisters, mothers, and friends, and themselves.

Feisty females such as Émilie du Châtelet and Ada Lovelace were documenting a vast array of scientific and philosophical discovery and observation hundreds of years ago, and busting misogyny with their intellect and passion.

Suffragettes fought and sometimes died working to earn women the right to vote. They were railing (quite rightly) against the trappings of misogyny in a world where men held all the cards (and the land, and the positions of power, and often the education, and the money… I could go on) so that I could be free enough to share my thoughts and opinions as I do so eagerly.

There’s still so much bullshit to shovel through before gender and/or sexual orientation are neither here nor there. People ought to be able to be whatever brings them bliss. They ought to be able to not be judged on the kind of junk that they are packing, but rather by the content of their character, their deeds, their abilities, their resilience, and perhaps more importantly; their kindness, tolerance and sense of humour.

It seems to me that settling for equality or pay parity seems unimaginative, unambitious, and lacking in vision. Women the world over ought to have the freedom, knowledge, and opportunities to spend their lives feeding knowledge and passion and contributing to the world in any manner they see fit.

Men ought to be able to do the same.

Some of the biggest obstacles to that level of awesome include jealousy, fear, ignorance, and insecurity. Women can be plain mean at times. Both victims and perpetrators of cruelty have reasons seeded deeply in the tapestry of their lives for being as they are. I think we’ve all been guilty of being either bullied or the bully. We are all vulnerable to making poor decisions and treating other people (like women who threaten us, or confound us) like shit.

I think the world would be markedly better if we could just fucking stop doing that.

People are fighting battles we know nothing about. In 2017, try to build others up with sincerity, praise and gratitude. You’ll find that it reflects fairly intensely back at you when you do.

I realize a lot of the people reading this already know all of this stuff. I just wanted to get it down in writing that this is going to be a year for building up and celebrating the brilliant and beautiful souls I am connected to in personal, professional, perhaps even spiritual ways.

You get out there and be all the you that you can be ladies. We’ve all spent enough time feeling scared, anxious, tired, denigrated, gaslighted, misunderstood, or any other range of shitty feelings from any number of sources, even in our own homes and social circles.

A kind word from the heart of someone you respect can change the trajectory of not only a day, but in some instances, and entire life.

Let’s all be the change from bitching to building.

Happy New Year.

XXOO

I’m having a nice sane spell at the moment.

We went on a road trip a couple of weeks back and got to see some of my kindred EV spirit animal people (and their pets, and their children, and their cars…). That lifted my spirits a lot. I also got to travel with some of the team and one of our partners. I’ll call him Tom to keep his identity somewhat secret.

So driving along with “Tom”, we were shooting the breeze (well, you might find this difficult to believe, but I did MOST of the talking) and then the issue of mental health came up.

Now “Tom” is one of those incredibly chilled out kinda guys, who never seems to get overly excited about much. He is calm under pressure, and doesn’t blow his stack and get too excited about things that make me shake/rattle/explode with enthusiasm.

We were driving along, and I mentioned quite brazenly and with more than a pinch of sarcasm:

“You may find this IMPOSSIBLE to believe, but I’ve got a few diagnosed mental health issues…”

“Tom” nearly busted a gut laughing out loud. Once his laughter subsided enough that our conversation could continue, we had great chats about our experiences with friends and family who cope with depression, anxiety, and any number of mental health issues.

This is the way we should ALL feel about mental health I think.

Yes, I am batshit cray cray. Yes, I sometimes make terrible decisions. Yes, my weaknesses can also be my strengths. Most people with mental health issues don’t spend too much of their lives in a zone where they pose much of a threat to themselves or others. Annoyance? Yes. A genuine threat? I don’t think so for the most part.

So today as I walked around Pak’n’Save dancing outrageously and having an excellent time talking to my verbose 2 year old son James, I thought to myself: “How fucking lucky am I to be nuts enough to have fun with my son while grocery shopping… That’s a pretty great thing, and I Love that about me.”

As my husband cowers in a separate room to me, because today is red zone day and the start of a three day period of sporadic behavior, laughter, tears, and sometimes anger (PMS, or PMT for those in the know) I thought I’d open up the laptop and take a moment to celebrate being a content and crazy lady.

Yay for eccentricities.

Have a great day, and thanks for reading.

XXOO

It is Wednesday, the… erm… somethingth of September.

I have three massive assignments due in the next fortnight.

They aren’t all due until between early and mid October, but, because I am leaving New Zealand for an epic mother/daughter trip from the 1st of October, I need to be realistic and get them in before I go.

There’s a massive international EV event kicking off basically on Friday, so I’ll be up and down the country doing some of my favourite things (talking to other EV geeks and taking pictures and selfies and such).

I currently weigh 64.4kg which means I have plateaued for about two months now.  I’ve got a goal of <55kg and know that I could reach it if I exercised even a little bit and stuck to my 5/2 diet better. I won’t say I am failing, nor am I a raging success in this area.

I miss EVERYONE!  Seeing people I like at sustainable events for a fleeting moment, or when I drop kids off or pick them up from playdates, or at the mall, cafe or even watching people’s lives happen on my social media feeds.  It makes me pine for summer evenings on our deck or over at my friend Rebecca’s house by her pool.  Or sitting in the kitchen with Nikki and Andrew at their ridiculously tidy house (Love you and your OCD Nikki darling!).  Or going further back into my history, meeting up at Galbraith’s ale house for some cheeky pints with the geek squad… I miss socialising for socialising’s sake, and not being thrown out of my comfort zone and into networking events where I drink too much and drop a C or an F bomb at inappropriate (and frequent) intervals.

The children help put dinner on the table and clean up after at least 5 nights a week.  This small and significant change in lifestyle (we used to randomly throw food in their direction, while ferrying them around from pillar to post or plopping them in front of electronics for hours on end while we worked) has netted excellent results.  We are also trying to play cards or board games with the kids, but I often fall asleep before 7:30pm (directly after dinner) because my sever anaemia and whatever depressive episode has settled in means I am a total sleep slut and can’t get enough z’s lately.

I’m making plenty of mistakes and hopefully learning from them.  Trying not to make the same mistakes over and over, but that’s not always successful as some of my stupid is well and truly entrenched, and it takes a lot of effort to change it.

Marriage is okay.  Steve’s a champ when I am down, and I’ve been a mess for months now.  Joy returns for moments and then the weight of the world gets heavy again and I get all EMO and shit.  Totally boring and I wish there was an off button for the stress and anxiety.  Writing it down makes me see in black and white how ridiculous and indulged I am, and is a good kick in the pants to build a bridge and get over myself.

Some people we Love are going through the hardest possible shit I can ever imagine.  There’s no manual on what to say.  No matter what your spiritual or general belief structure, tragedy, illness and grief defy comprehension when they hit close to home.  Sometimes, terrible shit happens and it sucks, and it isn’t fair, and everyone gets their turn to be on the receiving end of life altering tragedy… But I hate it.  I fucking PROPER hate it, and I hate that hurt has to play such a huge part in the lives of some beautiful, kind and loving people, while relative comfort and very little struggle can sometimes be the lot for people who are not so kind or helpful while journeying down their life path.  It defies all human understanding and it makes me very sad and angry.

I’ll post this without sharing in on social, because it is just a meaningless meandering, more of a journal entry than a blog.  I just wanted to feel the rhythmic tapping of the keys as I wrote free form for a while.

Have to go collect the kids now.

Last week was one of those weeks.

We all have them.  The “I think I may not have the metal to do this anymore.” kind of week.

The frustration was punctuated with a few excellent moments and some really unpleasant and/or uncomfortable ones.

So, one of the things about me is, I hand out advice like the Panda Express hands out samples of orange chicken on toothpicks.  Thing is, I don’t always follow that advice.

Here’s a taste of some of my favourite bits of advice:

• Be kind, everyone is fighting a hard battle. (I know this, really I do, and I try to be kind but wow I can be a venomous bitch when things go wrong… If I am pissed at a person, they don’t have to spend any time guessing about it, they will know pretty quickly)

• Pick your battles, and when you do choose to fight for a cause, kill ’em with kindness. (Um, every injustice in the world is a cause I swear I’ll get behind one day… Feeling that way all the time is freaking EXHAUSTING, and I know heaps of people who suffer from the same thing.  The kill them with kindness thing I can safely say I work pretty hard on for the most part though.)
• Comparison is the their of joy. (This. Is. Completely. True.  Tend your own garden and  enjoy reaping what you sow, and don’t forget to share when you have a surplus)
• Sometimes, all you can do is chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on. (This is the whole subject of the blog…)
• Whenever you are given a tough choice, or any choice for that matter… choose the thing that helps assure you are not being an asshole.  (This is something I practice hourly, not just daily. I actually use a different word for this particular saying, it starts with a C, but I thought this was good enough for effect)

So, while my lashings of awesome advice often consist of suggesting that people should give less fucks, I realise we all need to prioritise.  We also need to shovel through a bit of shit from time to time, but knowing when to let go and throw things that do not serve us, is a skill and a necessity.

This weekend, I had the pleasure of seeing a couple of very dear friends on Friday, who I hosted sporting my most very flash black track pants and oversized hoodie.  Then, on Saturday, I got to see more wonderful humans, some of whom went to high school with my beloved Grumpy husband. One of those humans had become my bestie and has caught two of my babies (she’s a midwife) and I got to hang out with her doing a whole lot of nothing. It was pretty great.  Sunday was a two-year-old birthday party with one of the two Kiwi families I have firmly adopted. I LOVE them and they are truly family and it was a brief but brilliant chance to catch up with them.

The conversation was on high rotate all weekend:

“You guys have been busy!”

“How long are you in the country for this time?”

And the regular updating exchanges of news about our kids, renovations, ski trips, travel, social events, work, mutual friends and the fact that being a grown up is a bit shithouse on some levels.

Perhaps the best thing about the entire weekend was this:

I got to be myself.  My strange, awkward, loud, sweary, PJ wearing, weekend self.  No secrets, no filter, no shame, no worries.

Did my friends enjoy every moment basking in the glory of me?  Probably not.  I tend to tell the same story over and over, and I can get distracted in the middle of conversations.  Was it awesome to hang out, even briefly? You bet your ass it was.  Because friendship and family are something I take pretty seriously and they do NOT end up in the fuck it bucket.

There’s dozens of people who I hold in my heart and think of every day that I haven’t been able to lock in an any actual face-time with in what feels like FOREVER.  But rather than feeling bad about it, what does Dee do?

She chucks those feelings of guilt in the fuck it bucket and moves on.

I do not put my friendships there, but I do put the rather unhelpful feelings of guilt and insecurity in there, and whether it is a month or a decade between visits, I know my true soulmates and I will pick right up and have an amazing time together.  If not, then our reason, season or lifetime has run it’s course, and we can both cherish the memories.  Moving on.

There are things we’d all like to chuck in the bucket, that sadly, just can’t go there permanently.  Things like bills, jobs, chores, study, deadlines.  They can sit in the bucket for a bit, but you have to take them out, dust them off and deal with them at some point.  The magic thing about these things, however, is that just getting them done is much easier than the stress we feel while avoiding or worrying about doing the menial but important shit we all have to do.

This isn’t a blog telling you to trivialise real stuff like grief or change or life in general.  I just wanted to share with everyone, this observation:

The older I get, the less I care about trivialities that used to really stress me out.

I’ll end with some stuff that got chucked squarely in the bucket over the past few days:

I was told by a friend that someone I thought liked me has been running around smack talking me and calling me a flake.  Where does this belong?  In. The. Bucket.  Along with any effort to be friends with this person above or beyond smiles and exchange of niceties at the mall if our paths cross.

Um… there’s a really long list of stuff that went into the bucket but as I go through it in my head I realise it won’t serve me or anyone else to share too many examples.  Must protect the innocent and all that.

Anyway.

Whatever shit you might be shovelling through, big or little, good or bad, keep shovelling, and also separating into important or fuck it bucket.  I hope you have the chance to embrace the important bits like the Love and memories that you’re building while you walk this world.  I hope you have a job or a hobby or a purpose that fills you up and is not always a chore.  I also hope that you get to actively stop worrying about things you needn’t be concerned with, like keeping up with the Joneses, hanging out with people who don’t feed your soul, or going to events or places you don’t really like because you feel like you should.  You know what is important to you, and as long as you’re actively trying to NOT be an asshole, I bet you’ll be able to put a few things that have been bugging you into that big ‘ol bucket.

Have a wonderful rest of the week, and THANK YOU for reading.

XXOO