Month: May 2017

5 easy steps to make beeswax cloths & banish plastic wrap over your food FOREVER

There are a million links on the web for doing this, but as part of my “Have a break from Blogging” policy, I tackled this today (has been on my To Do List for ages) SO EASY: Cut out cotton cloths using pinking shears (various sizes/shapes to fit over your bowls/plates) Line baking tin with sheet of baking paper (oven on about 120-150 i.e. low/medium) Sprinkle cloth with grated pure beeswax & 1/2 teaspoon of coconut oil (optional)  After it all melts (approx 3-5 mins), use clean paintbrush to make sure all edges are soaked in wax (the material just sucks it up) Hang on line to dry (I just strung .5 metre twine between fridge & pantry), newspaper underneath to catch drips, & put tray there so the wax falls back in to be re-used. Takes 1-2 mins to harden. So Simple!  Repeat Wash in cold soapy water only after use, and not good for meat products Fantastic gifts for every single person you know, so we can banish plastic wrap forever! There are …

Moon Ate the Dark Writing Prompt Challenge: Moon/Hazel Reid

Originally posted on Brave and Reckless:
“Mum Moon ate the dark chocolate!” yelled Ash. Mum panicking, yelled back asking him did Moon actually eat it all. Ash getting more panicked told her that he did and that he’s lying on the floor moaning and that his tummy looks funny. Mum frantically getting out of the bath drips large drops all over the floor making it slippy. “Ash you’ve got to get him outside quickly”. Finding clothes she tries to get them up her tacky legs and thinks ‘yet another terrible start to the day’. “Mum he’s going to be sick” a plaintive Ash calls up to her. On reaching him she grabbed Moon and dragged him outside. He did indeed start throwing up; black vomit. She was glad that she knew he’d eaten the chocolate because it looked like blood.  Stupid dog. ?

Watching her cry from across the world

In bed, snuggled with cat, computer, and early morning cuppa. Click link on generic Facebook newsfeed. Suddenly watching a grief-stricken Mum, mourning her lost daughter after the bomb blast in Manchester. See her blotched red face, and the grey roots of her dull brown hair. Notice her own mother sitting beside her, and perhaps that’s her son, sitting on the floor at her feet, holding her hand with his head bowed? See her swollen eyes and running nose, thickening her voice, wailing for her lost baby. And as my own tears fall softly, think: ‘This is the true good of social media; we can share our vulnerabilities and losses. Her life has just been fucking ruined, and she’s sharing a miniscule amount of her pain on this day with us. She’s held in this nightmare by her family who love her, and she’s not alone. Thank god she’s not alone.’ We are all in mourning, all across the world, all the time: for our lost family members or friends, our beloved dead pets, our forgotten dreams. …

Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Finding/Gabrielle Griffin

Originally posted on Brave and Reckless:
What leans a woman into her Life? Lean close to the Ache of pain or grief instead of away? Not Away into drink, sex, TV or buying. But instead Breathe hot and brave into heart ruptures, pressing pearl bones against trial and Mistakes, angled up close enough to see the Splinters as they happen. Moon was such a Woman. Tall, strong, soft, wrapped in amber and citrus oil, Kindness like a long scarf trailing from her hair. When Moon first kissed her with mint fire lips, did all the stars Stop to watch? It seemed so. She sank her black bags of Loss to Moon’s bare feet, who simply leant in, stepped over them, and Kissed her again. When they first made Love, after 2 months of crawling round her Ugly walls, Moon whispered her name over and over, calming urges to Flee outside her frozen body, with the thin blood and forever tears. For Moon, she Warmed. When they first fought, as all lovers must, firework shouts Cracked…

Down the long lane

Originally posted on bone&silver:
My mother, who lives in England, turned 80 on July 4. From Australia, I had organised a 3-day weekend get together in an old farmhouse on Dartmoor for our closest relatives, meaning 13 of us met up to celebrate. I hauled myself over to the UK, begrudging all those people who sleep easily on planes. Still, four good films in a row aren’t bad going. A couple of weeks before I left, I treated myself to a massage. As usual, I wondered why I don’t do it more often? It was such a lush experience, with hot white towels softly lowered over me, and warm wheat-bags resting along each limb, feeding the air with that fresh bread scent. No tinny dolphin music, just silence. It was in a private home, so no exterior noise, or impatient clients waiting outside the door for us to finish. The masseur created a wonderful sense of nurturing, with her deliberate, knowledgeable movements, and I sank into the experience. I’d had a horrible cough…

Gift from teenage son…

I heard ‘Almost17’ in the shower at 6am (we had to leave for the airport at 7); he soon came into my room fully dressed, with still-damp hair, where I lay in bed reading before getting up. Him: Move over Mum. Me: [Really??] OK Sweetie. [Sliding over, slightly stunned, but pretending I’m cool…] Him: Happy Mother’s Day. Me: Thanks. You know I think it’s a load of Hallmark crap don’t you, but that’s still lovely, thank you. Are you bringing me peppermint tea in bed? Him: No, I’m too tired. I didn’t get home from the party till 1am. *Rolls on his side away from me*. Spoon me Mum. Me: [REALLY??] OK Sweetie. [Spooning behind him, completely stunned, gingerly resting my arm on top of him and the quilt because, you know, I’m Cool…] Him: No, properly Mum, under the covers. Please let me sleep for another 15 minutes. Me: Sure honey… *Lie there holding my baby boy as he begins to twitch and dream, breathing deeply. For how many nights did I hold him until …

Thank you! Here’s cake for my 100 Followers! :~D

Yup, I just reached that sweet baby milestone, and want to honour all of you who’ve taken the time to read even one Post. I’ve always wanted to be a ‘writer’, ever since I worked out how to make a word on a piece of paper (I remember the moment; it was of course c-a-t). I felt like I’d made magic, and sometimes still do. When I write or read something poignant or visceral, I’m so grateful for my blessed life, where I can make Art in peace and safety, with a roof over my head and food in my belly. I’m going to donate $100 today to The Indigenous Literary Foundation here in Australia, whose mission is to provide language-appropriate books and reading classes to disadvantaged Aboriginal children in remote areas. I’m also going to eat a piece of cake. If I could share it with all of you, I would. Thank you so much for your support and love, gabrielle xxxxx