The Bunny, the Book and the Blog

and a happy little side effect called euphoria

Oh it’s a buzzy world I inhabit today!  I’ve just had my monthly infusion and that makes me feel a bit manic, a bit weird (just quietly) and like I can manage anything (I think that is the euphoria side-effect, again): only I don’t. Manage anything. Because it’s just a feeling, not a practical reality.

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(it is hard to find ‘a’ words to go with that picture, so A-nother had to do! I’m not tired of them, as that word implies, I am very, very grateful for them).

In reality, I’m here on the sofa, letting the weird win over, waves of bust-outta-my-skin-feeling, crazy, heat, palpitations, fuzzy vision and a yuck post-infusion taste in my mouth.  Thankfully, the flush is yet to begin, I can look forward to that joy tomorrow. So I’m riding it out, resting and hanging out with my bunny-onesie-pyjamioed daughter.  We’ve been giggling.

I like it.  So here we are while I fizz away in my slightly manic post-infusion-way and show her how I post on my blog.  Why? She wants to start her own, how cool is that?… I’ll keep you posted on how that goes!  Here she is, modelling my current reading material.  You’ll see why, soon.

 

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 “So, Mum. How do you write a blog post?”

“I’ll show you!”

NOTES FOR MY GIRL
(and anyone else who wants to write a post someday)

STEP 1:
You find something that you want to WRITE about.   It might be a conversation that you want to discuss, a picture that inspired you, something that riled you or a moment that ‘smiled’ you.  Whatever it is, get writing. Start with some context for your blog piece.
I want to write about a great evening with you, my girl and how it relates to learning to blog.  So I start to tell the story, like this:

We’re in the lounge, my BobbyD, and me.  We’re having our special after dinner cuppa and unwinding; we’re discussing this bookDavid and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants, by Malcolm Gladwell. The kids have gone to bed (or so we think….) and I’m inspired because Gladwell’s way of pulling things together is totally brilliant. I already love his other works, and he has written here about something I am passionate about… the misfit. By the way, have you read ‘Outliers’?  I think it’s essential reading for every parent teacher and coach.  This one looks to be just as good!

…and then you SAVE DRAFT and carry on writing until your piece has a beginning, a middle (and eventually, a clear end) like this:

So anyway, I’ve always loved the story of David and Goliath.  David’s bravery, his self-assuredness, his strategic approach to what seemed like insurmountable odds. It’s a great story for the book to start on. So I’m regaling my hubby with Malcolm’s pithy, easy-to-read, yet intelligent writing style, when our tween enters the lounge. She crosses her long legs underneath her on the sofa and settles in to listen. I pause, and remind her that it is bedtime. She says, “But… it’s just…” and I wait for what usually follows. (Insert here: I’m thirsty/ I have more homework/ One more chapter/ just another hug…).  But she flashes a huge grin and continues,
“it’s just that… you’re cool when you have cuppas and talk about books.  I want to hang with you.”

Is it a cunning ploy? If so, she’s getting good. If not… oh, if not!  I am completely taken by the notion that I might, finally, after ten years, have achieved “cool” status with my girl!  And it’s connected to cups of tea and books! I don’t want to let go of that loveliness, not straight away. Maybe she could stay up. Just a little longer…
…she is clearly very astute.  Because it doesn’t stop there.

In a master stroke, she tells me I am also cool because I blog. That she would like to blog, too. She offers to get my computer, and retrieve some of my secret chocolate stash from the censored location (so much for that spot!) We settle in to write this post together.  We take some photos to use in the post. She wants to know all about how it works.
How cool, is she?!

I’m suckered right in. She’s here beside me now and we are blogging. 🙂

STEP 2:

Gather what you need.  Computer, chocolate, photos.  This is really what you do right at the very beginning, but it came up in the story now, so it will have to be step two.  Yes, Bee.  The preparation is important, it will save you time later.

STEP 3:

Click that button up there to the right that says, SAVE DRAFT.  Then, ADD LINKS to all the text which make sense for linking outside the blog (to relevant websites) and to your own (to something you’ve written before).   Links are the highlighted words in your post that will take readers to other webpages. I will link the text about Malcolm Gladwell’s book so people can find it, and then I will link the text that refers to my daughter, to a post I made last year all about her.  She adds that I should link Daddy’s name to the post I wrote about him
(see? She’s cool and clever).

STEP 4:

Source and edit and UPLOAD YOUR PHOTOS. I keep it pretty simple, I either take photos on my iPhone, or pay and use licensed pictures from Canva (an online blog graphic app). I do that to make sure I am not breaching copyright with other peoples’ pictures.

When you’ve edited them and got them looking just so, add them to your page and make sure the settings are right. I could go on about that, but my girl has to go to bed now, so showing her this bit might have to happen next time I am cool enough for her company…

I interrupt this transmission to put her, firmly and finally, to bed.

Wow.  That was fun!  I think I am going to like teaching her how to blog!  If I am the admin of her site, I can keep it as safe and as private as possible.  She wants to blog about her favourite pastime, horse riding, followed by…
“horse gaming, horse pictures and horse products and horse books and favourite horse gear…” (take a breath, girl!)  I think finding her ‘niche’ will be pretty straightforward!

STEP 5:
SAVE DRAFT.  Check, EDIT, go through your post.  When you are sure it looks right (Bee, that means when Mummy is sure your post is ready, appropriate and proofed!) you can schedule it or PUBLISH it immediately.   I always check it again the minute I publish to make sure I didn’t miss things.  It’s easy to miss things in the wordpress draft format. In fact, I find editing after publishing to be highly motivational!

STEP 6:
Let people know it is there! Link your post to your blog’s facebook page. Add it to the ‘link ups’ or ‘share threads’ you are part of on any facebook groups you belong to.  If your blog has a subscription plug in, people should get an email to say it is there.

STEP 7:
…aaaand, finish with a question or two.  It lets the reader know that you would love their interaction.  It turns it into a conversation.  Much nicer.

Tada!  That is how I write a blog post.
If you are a blogger, is your process similar?
And even more important, are you COOL, too?

 

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Photograph by Bee Cox (my girl)

Ah!  I’m cool, yes I am. Maybe only for one ten year old girl who doesn’t want to go to bed.
But it counts, okay?

 

The Reality Slap: Giveaway!

I’ve been banging on a lot lately about Mr Russ Harris.  His books were introduced to me by my Health Psychologist, Anna.  I have found his book to be easy-to-read, helpful and realistic.  Really practical.  And it is not just good for those of us with chronic illness.  It’s good for anyone who has been slapped by reality and is struggling to wrap their heads around it.  Maybe that’s you?  Maybe it is someone you know and love and you don’t know how to help them.  Russ knows.   Being a bloke, he is also a really valuable read for guys you might know who have been slapped around a bit by reality. He writes like man.  Straightforward, to the point and full of things you can actually do to make a difference.  He has suffered his own reality slap, so it’s not just rhetoric.  It’s relatable and incredibly useful, especially if their reality slap is coming to terms with a loved one’s diagnosis (how many of us know someone cracking that particular walnut)!

I am always on the lookout for giveaway possibilities.  I seriously love giving pressies, so I guess this is an extension of that.  It occured to me that I am not the only one that could benefit from The Reality Slap.  So I ordered two.  One for me, and maybe, one for you!  If you think you, or someone you know, could benefit from this book, why not enter?  Or feel free to share this giveaway with people you know who might need a chance to enter the comp.  There is a facebook share button below.

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To be in the competition, just make a comment, in around 25 words or less, below. You must use the words “reality slap” somewhere in your comment, by the end of Sunday 14 September, 2014 (NZ time). 


You can write in sentences, you can write poetry, you can use your words any way you like, but they must be your words.  Tell us how life has given you a reality slap, or tell us about someone who needs this book, or tell us why you would really love it.  You can click on the word ‘comments’ below to be taken to the comment field.
You don’t have to have Dysautonomia to enter.  We all get slapped by reality at some point.

Ts & Cs:
I will notify the winner by email, so you must include your own personal, valid email address to be eligible for winning, this won’t be visible on my blog, only I can see it.
I won’t be using email addresses for any purpose other than notifying the winner.
The prize is as stated and is the product pictured.  It is a brand new paperback copy of the book The Reality Slap: Finding Peace and Fulfilment When Life Hurts by Russ Harris.  Published by New Harbinger Publications.
For your safety, please don’t put your postal address in the comments, if you win I will email you for more details.
I am happy to post to anywhere, so don’t be shy.  Wherever you live, NZ Post can get it to you…

Although I am advertising this competition on my facebook page, I won’t be running it there.  So make sure your comment is entered below this post, in my blog commenting form, on this blog.  Not on facebook.  🙂

Good luck!

PS.  See that Dysautonomia Awareness Bracelet?  My order of bracelets for awareness month next month just arrived.  The winner of this competition will get the bracelet too!  Isn’t that rad!  Gotta be in it to win it!

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Newsflash

Screen Shot 2014-05-22 at 11.40.40 pm
I used to watch the news, but now, not so often. When did that change?  
I used to know who was at war with who and what kinds of horrors people were inflicting on each other each day.  Now I find the news is on when I am struggling to get dinner on the table.  It’s the absolute worst time of night to take anything in; the kids are clamouring at the counter, sometimes they are needing school letters signed or doing their last minute homework.  Our family is large and at that time of night there are five or six of us in the dining room. Sometimes, if the homework is done, I’ll try to be a broader citizen. I put the news on and turn the sound up.  The chaos and cacophony reaches crescendo.  I turn it off.  I should probably record it and watch it after the kids’ bed time.  But after bed time is so deliciously quiet and zen… (who am I kidding!  ‘I just need some water!’/  ‘I’m going to the toilet!’/  ‘Just one. more. cuddle!’  The latter always works ‘cause I am a sucker).  What I mean is, after they go to bed, it is my time.  My time with my hubster; if he’s not working.  My time to let go of all the day, disengage and coast.  I don’t want to see the torment of the world out there or carry the pain of those children or shake my head at the follies of youth or tut about some new journalistic low.  I don’t want to think at that time of night.  I need to chill out.
I deserve it.

Or, I’m baking and the choc drops are calling my name.  I pop a few in my mouth.  Why not?  It’s me making all the bakey effort, and I hate baking.  I’m not even going to eat most of these cookies.  I slave and they get wolfed down in a day!  Humph.  Gone in a flurry of after school famish.  All my efforts.  A few choc drops is the least I should have, really.  Should be the whole leftover portion.  After all, I deserve it. Then, it’s 2.45pm and I need to get my skates on for the school run.  A coffee, yes, a coffee might be nice… maybe there is time to call in at the cafe on my way out?  I’m ordering and I spy that gluten free raspberry friand, so far superior to my humble mum creations, beginning to bounce up and down in the display cabinet.  “Hey, Rach!  You’ve had a hard day’s morning!  Eat me!  I will solve all your concerns.  I will soothe all your achey woes.  Eat me!”  And I make friends with that little friand. It would be rude not to, and after all.
I deserve it.

Or, I’ve been in bed most of a week, conserving my energy for the bare minimum.  It’s been miserable.  I feel like a little pick-me-up. So I have a little guilty look over on the Book Depository website, again.  Just window shopping. I believe I should support local sellers, really.  I know I’ve spent more than enough on books in the last wee while, but something new to read?  Why not?  I have to put up with this stupid illness day after diabolical day.  Most of the time I keep the whinges inside my own head.  It bites.  I add books to my cart.  Just a way of grouping my favourites together, I tell myself. Like a neat little pile. I see a new audiobook that would be great for the kids.  I can justify that one easily.  In fact, they need it.  Good for their learning.  I click through to the confirm order page.  I ignore the total and tick the boxes. What?!
I deserve it.

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Where I grew up poverty was a smell.  A rancid odour of uncleanliness. A reality you couldn’t ignore.  It slapped you in the face and demanded action, notice, emotion.  We lived in a third world country and down on the riverbanks behind our home was a squatter settlement.  The most common sound I heard from that settlement during the daytime was the sound of children laughing, splashing in the river, jumping off the bridge.  A toy worthy of envy was a tyre, toted alongside by a stick, wheeled beside its’ proud owner; belly pushing against skin, malnourished.  Dull eyes and scabby skin. Clothes worn into a polished brown sheen of dirt.  Singing.  Walking.  Feet hardened and yellowed and soles cracked. A wide, woolly headed smile that could crack open the hardest heart.

I think about those kids and I am reminded. We are born fortunate.  We arrive here, our lungs swell and we shout for attention.  We take for granted the care we get.  Food, warmth, love.  We grow in our warm cocoons, surrounded with the comforts of modern life.  Water from the taps, light from the switch, rest from the bed, free education, help from the doctor, subsidies, special programmes, trade agreements, interest rates, infrastructure, welfare.
After all, we deserve it, don’t we?

We don’t deserve anything.
Our rights are not in fact, ours by right.
Nature can give and nature can take.  Circumstances destroy. All we think we own and know to be ours can be gone in an instant. It happens all the time.
But don’t take it from me, you can see it on the News.

I don’t deserve the fruits of my labour or the benefaction of the garden.  I don’t have a claim to this beautiful free country, clean air, real food.  It’s not mine by right, this home, these people I love.  I am splendiferously fortunate. I could have been born into the squatter settlement behind my childhood house.  I could have contracted an illness far worse than my own.  I could have been childless.  I could have been alone.  I could, like millions of women and girls, have been sold into slavery. I am a whisper of fate away from another set of circumstances at any given moment.  I don’t deserve it; all that I have.  But I accept it.

And when I remember to think about how undeserving I am, I am grateful.

 

 

 

picture credits TV3 NZ and  nationalgeographic.org

view an incredible TED talk that made me think.