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Gone Fishing

24 Sep

holsbys gone fishingI don’t know why I’ve posted a picture of the ocean, in fact, I’m about to head on a vacay in the the opposite direction.

Remember how I was umming and ahhing about sucking off into the funset for a little jaunt with Grandpapa and his Winnebago?

Well, by midday today the babes and I will have touched down in sunny Alice Springs where we’ll meet our main man, Grandpapa, and Windbag the beloved bus and head off into the desert for 10 days of big open skies, red dirt and adventure.

I cannot tell you how much we’re looking forward to it. The children are pumped for emu and camel spotting, and I’m pumped for some down time and wide open spaces.

It’s been a crazy 6 months full of change, fear and excitement, tears and laughter, so I reckon 10 days of sweet F.A. will do me the world of good.

There’s something about big open skies and road trips that lend for the right kind of soul searching so I’m going to disconnect from the cyber stuff and simply be present in the real world for a bit.

I’ve scheduled some Holsby gold from the archives to happen on the Facebook page so you don’t forget me while I’m gone, but I’ll mostly be out of 3G range so I can’t keep you updated even if I want to for at least a week… God knows, I’ll still be the desperado standing atop Ayers Rock waving my phone above my head trying to get reception so I can share it with you.

But that’s not all, folks, I have some more news too… while I’m away the blog is getting a little nip here and tuck there so by the time I return my trusty steed will have had a proper facelift.

It’s exciting times for my wee blog.

We’re growing up, taking the leap onto the next level and I’m taking you guys with me. You game?

Thing is, you’ll probably see the new look before me. In fact, I won’t be able to do any of the little tweaks and love taps I’ll give it when I get the chance so you’ll probably see a few changes over the coming weeks.

If, by chance, something goes awry and you have any issue connecting with me, just stand by and know I’ll be home on the 4th October and all will be sorted asap.

Otherwise, hang tight, m’lovers.

I’ll post to Instagram and Facebook when I can, and I can’t wait to show you my portraits from the middle of Australia.

Catch you on the flip.

Love and light,




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Homemade Beauty Treatment, aka Tightarse Exfoliator

21 Sep

I’m hardly known as a beauty blogger for two very good reasons.

Firstly, it is a well known fact that most days I barely brush my hair and secondly, refer to point one but replace the word ‘hair’ with ‘teeth’.

Winter wreaks havoc on my sensitive skin. I used to have hardy skin, and I was never spotty in high school, but as I got older products stung my face and post-sproglets my skin has turned into part pizza, part handbag.

This Winter has been especially bad. My chin is spotty, my cheeks are peeling and my skin looks positively exhausted, and old.

And wrinkly.
a little bit like this (photo credit : Brian Roberts)

a little bit like this (photo credit : Brian Roberts)

I tried straight coconut oil for a time, but that made everything worse. Now I’m using rose hip oil to moisturise but it wasn’t getting through the thick layer on linoleum on my face.

I ran out of my usual exfoliant a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t gotten around to buying another. My scrub of choice is usually Aesop or Grown brands but they are a little on the exxy side…. like $50+.

homemade beauty treatmentMy skin was positively screaming to be sloughed yesterday and I thought I’d whip up a little something to have a crack at removing a layer of dead skin cells and may I just say –  I don’t know if I’ll be going back to store bought.

This shit is the bomb.

I’ve had some organic oat bran in the cupboard for ages but aside from chucking a spoon in my baking here and there and haven’t really known what to do with it.

Now I do.

What you will need :

1:1:1 oat bran, natural Greek yoghurt, olive oil

homemade beauty treatmentWhat you will need to do :

Mix your ingredients and gently rub all over your face leaving it as soft as a baby’s butt.

homemade beauty treatmentIf you want to do just your face, a teaspoon of each is enough, but if you’re going the whole body shebangalang make more and scrub that beast down.

homemade beauty treatment

doubles as breakfast if your tongue is long enough.

I made the error of making more than I needed when I was just doing my face and I thought I’d save it for another shower later.

I gave it a shot but by the time I got around to it I was simply smearing Bircher muesli on my skin. It still worked a bit, and I was delightfully smooth and moist but it felt a tad on the kinkier side of beautifying.

So, there you have it gang. A new feather in my bow. Beauteous blogging.

I’ma gonna give those fashion/beauty bloggers Sonia Styling and Kimba Likes a massive run for their money. Bet they’re shitting themselves.

homemade beauty treatment

Not sure what that look on my face is about. I look like a muppet.


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Information is beautiful, until paralysis

14 Sep

information is beautiful, until paralysisI don’t know about you but I’m finding a little information overload at the moment.

It’s as if there is so much information available to help me succeed in anything I want to do that it’s like the entire interwebs is beaming down celestial beams to help me become all that I can be.

I do want to be all that, but it’s a little exhausting at times.

We’re all trying to have time to do everything we need so, as much as I see the benefit of hacking life, I reckon mere survival should also be high fived.

We’re surrounded by –

Ways to be a better parent.

How to fit it all in.

How to organise your pantry.

Take a better selfie.

Housecleaning life hacks.

Be a better lover.

Be a better friend.

Have shinier hair.

How to be incredibly happy.

Obviously, I do not desire to let myself, my children, my pantry or my hair down but holy snapping duck shit, but my head starts to spin like Linda Blair without the zombie eyes and pea soup.

I don’t know where to start with getting my life in order, and according to the internet oracle I’m obviously doing everything wrong, so I’m getting the PARALYSIS. It starts in one leg like a dog with a tick and before you know it you’ve drunk a whole bottle of wine and decided to just leave world domination until tomorrow.

Do we really need to be ALL THAT WE CAN BE?

What if I just BE?

Slow down? Breathe a little?

You know when you’re sitting on the loo trying to do a poo and you push and push and all that happens is a fart at best or a fissure at worst?

Forgive the poop analogy but sometimes no matter how much you strain that shit ain’t happening so you just need to wait it out and not force it.

I read a post by Kelly Exeter yesterday about making life simpler that used the term ‘cherry picking’.

I am so guilty of that.

Looking at people’s fabulousness on social media and wishing I was living their fabulousness.

Their perfect husbands, hanging terrariums with plants that are alive, shiny well behaved children with clean faces. Their amazing shoes and handbags that match, and hair that never looks greasy. No adult acne. None.

No one puts the really shit bits on social media. Their partners skid marks, their infected ingrown hair on their bikini line, but you can guarantee everyone has THE SHIT.

And then I had the most hilarious thought.

I thought that if I’m in here looking at all of you thinking your lives look so interesting and cool and soooo together, then maybe someone out there is looking at my life thinking that my life looks so interesting and cool and I’m sooooo together.

And I laughed, and then I laughed some more.


I had some girlfriends over for dinner on Friday night, and one of my girlfriends is going through a terribly difficult time in her marriage. And she said it….

She said the very words I had been laughing about.

“I see you and everything you do and I think you’ve just got it all so sorted, and you’re so together. You’re juggling everything and doing it on your own and you’re ok.” (paraphrasing, I was a bit squiffy)

I looked her in the eye and her told her that I spent a small portion of yesterday afternoon lying on the floor in my daughter’s room having a little panic attack and crying, hoping the children weren’t distracted enough from Jimmy Giggle to look for me and bust me on the floor, and I’d have to pretend I’d lost a shoe under the bed and got dust in my eye.

I don’t know where I’m going with this…..maybe I do.

Maybe it’s don’t be fooled.

Everyone is dazzling each other with smoke and mirrors, and if their pantry is jealously spotless maybe there is a skeleton in a closet that you would never wish for. Just cherry pick your own life. Look at those bits you love and highlight them and turn down the volume on the crappy bits.

Just breath. And instead of trying to be everything…

Just be.

At least for this week.

World domination can wait until next week.

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Portrait 365 : 237 – 244

5 Sep




“I was happy to find out I was pregnant, but it was a surprise. When I started spotting I went to my obstetrician but because it was still early he really couldn’t tell what was happening. I went for a blood test thinking I was 8 or 9 weeks but my hormone levels were dropping and we thought I was miscarrying. The next couple of days I had terrible pain. I was told to go for another scan so I drove myself there but the sonographer could not believe I could even make it on my own. My pregnancy was ectopic and my fallopian tube had burst and I was rushed straight to hospital and operated on immediately.”

I searched Heather out, asking for someone to point her out to me after she mentioned how much she was enjoying Portrait 365. I knew she had to be one of my portraits. Then she proceeded to remove my carefully laid psychological band-aid until she could see my very heart. We connected. She shoots and talks and blogs too.



“I fell in love with a Finnish exchange student and then she went back to Finland. I wrote her a little book with pictures in it and made a mixed tape and on the end of the tape I said something really soft and cried a little and I’m worried one day it will come out.”

This guy was an endless course of amusement. It doesn’t get much drier than his humor. If you want some, you can find him here.




“I’m proud that I pushed myself to come here. I’ve been blogging for a couple of years but not pushing myself. I’m ready for a change of direction in my life and this is a great step towards that.”

I lost Morgans card. If anyone recognises her ping me so I can link her blog, please.



“I just came back from 2 months traveling in The States and it’s a bit of an adjustment. The reality of not being able to party and go to the beach every day. I’m planning on heading back there soon for my modelling.”

I practically tackled Ruth in my effort to shoot her before she got away.



“The last time I cried was when I lost my father-in-law. He was a passionate person and he loved the outdoors. I want my daughter Daisy to know that he was a super positive person.”



“Before my brother Cam died he was a big fan of Henry Rollins. Henry Rollins once said “All of the people on the planet are your peers. What are you doing for your peers?”. I really love that.”

If you’ve never come across Eden before you wouldn’t know that she has a rare heart condition. Her heart is the size of the moon and it feels all the feels one million times more than your average bear. This is both a great gift, and a very heavy burden. She writes the best. Hands down. Check her out.



“My first proper kiss was with a boy called Elmore in a shelter on a cricket pitch and I really wanted to kiss him because he smelled like bourbon and cigarettes. Now every time I smell cigarettes and bourbon I get weak knees.”

Candice is an aficionado in all things vintage. You can find her here.


 Who is your favourite this week?




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Lessons in Life

3 Sep

You may or may not know that I went to ‘blogference’ on the weekend called ProBlogger.

550 bloggers converging on one hotel on the GoldCoast is a hell of a thing, you can only imagine how many selfies and images of food were zipping across the interwebs. You would be forgiven for presuming it was a room full of narcissists, but I assure you it was anything but. There was much love and support to be had…

As many of you aren’t bloggers I’m not going to talk to you about the conference which although it was ten kinds of amazing, it’s boring as batshit if you’re not a bloggy type.

What I am going to talk to you about are a couple of the invaluable life lessons I learned while I was there, because I believe that no matter who you are or what your dreams are this stuff is relevant across the board.

Fear is a killer.

We all feel it.

It’s natural to feel fear around something you’re passionate about but you mustn’t let it cripple you.

I was shitting my pants about going and hanging out with so many chicks (chicks are freaky, right?) but what I discovered was a coven of love and support.

Darren Rowse, PB founder, said “If you want to conquer fear, don’t sit home and think about it. Go out and conquer it.”

How true is that? You need to go and punch that fear in the throat because scared people don’t achieve their dreams. I could be all ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ but it’s a bit wanky, so hear this….


You already know I’m a wanker. I told you about my vibrator.

Don’t be afraid to tell someone how you feel about them.

Just before PB I received a message from someone I didn’t know. A blogger. A really good blogger. And she reached out to me to tell me she really loved what I was doing and they way I was doing it.

She made my god damned month. I hugged the crap outta her when we met for the first time over the weekend and I told her she really touched me.

It made me realise that it takes little effort to tell someone you acknowledge what they’re doing and that you rate them. I took that on board and went and gushed all over a few people that I wanted to tell I admired and did I make their day?

Who knows, but at least I wasn’t scared to share my feelings.

You don’t get successful overnight.


This one sucks big balls, sure, but it’s a great reason to keep going. Success, life, all of it – it’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Rand Fishkin, a specialist in something that I find really confusing, said “The price of success is failure after failure after failure.”

I personally would rather not fail lots of times, my poor ego hates it. Or maybe I already have failed many times. Lord knows, I’ve tried lots of things before I found this writing thing, but either way, you just need to start, and then you need to keep showing up consistently.

Set goals.

He who is aiming at something is more likely to hit it, than he who is aiming at nothing. Capiche?

Matthew Michalewicz touched on something that smashed me in the nose and made my eyes water….

Matthew Michalewicz

He also talked about goals, but you also need to believe in yourself.

And that shit is hard. It’s so much easier to doubt yourself, and wonder how you will ever achieve your dreams but you know what?

You are talented, creative and worthy, so why not you?


Just start. Today. Better to start imperfectly than to wait until you’re perfect. I can’t remember which guru said this, and I’ve totes paraphrased but you get the gist.)

Achieving your dreams is not magic, it’s knowledge and process. Doing the steps that lead you to where you want to be.

When blogging royalty recognises you it’s ok to wet your pants a little bit.

I’m not cool. Not by a long shot. You knew that already but now the cat is well and truly out of the bag with the rest of the world.

So all of this inspiration and joy has left me feeling wrung out like an old sock. I feel a little sad.

I feel a little scared, because this is it.

I’m standing on the precipice of my new life and it’s now or never…..

These really are the days of our lives, and there is no half way.

You either do it, or you don’t.



There were many awesome women, but these women?  They are my tribe.

There were many awesome women, but these women?
They are my tribe.

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Portrait 365 : 230 – 237

27 Aug





“The word on the street is that three of my favourite things start with ‘C’ – champagne, cheese, and chilli crab.”



Because, fabulous, darling.



“I’m proud of my daughters because they’re accomplished.”

“Are you proud because they’re accomplished?”

“No, because of who they are as people.”

“Are you friends? Do they tell you their secrets? Is that why your bald?”

“Nah, that’s hereditary.”



“I used to wear heels to the corner shop. Now I’m more of a Cons girl, but these new shoes are comfy as fuck.”



“I felt like there was something wrong. 12 months prior I felt like I could hear two people talking about me and they were discussing how I was sick. I finally went to the doctor for a check up and they sent me straight to Emergency where they hooked me up to machines for 20 hours before diagnosing Type 1 Diabetes. Apparently I was nearly dead. The moral to the story – listen to the voice in your head.





“I was beside myself about turning 39, but when I woke up today on my birthday I realised I have lived a life less ordinary. I have won and lost, and taken big risks, and although my life may not look like I imagined it – that’s why I was framing out – I realised it’s better and the best is yet to come.”



“The poor Chinese waiter retreated in giggles when he heard ‘What colour is YOUR anus?”

One of the funniest yum cha conversations EVER between three very open, and awesome if I may say so, women.

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What not to say to a newly separated lady.

21 Aug


I got this.

If you follow me on Facebook you would have heard me mention that the neighbours are circling like gulls trying to ascertain WTF the new living arrangements at my gaff are.

If this is your first ever post, I’ll fill you in quickly – My marriage just ended and I’m doing a remarkable job of pretending it’s business as usual. I wear bright lipstick and stick a smile on my face and I drink a lot of wine.

This shituation is under control.

As I step out of my front gate I get swooped upon by curious suburban neighbourly types fishing for information to which I’m infuriatingly schtum.

My bestie suggested we build a man-sized mound of dirt in the back yard to really ‘fuck with them’. I personally thought that was pure gold. I could make it the new naughty corner and really look like the Mansons had moved in.

I explained the sitch to my direct neighbours because they’re home a lot. Now on my own in the house I thought having some neighbourhood watch was a sound plan. They’re a nice enough young fam bam. We say hi over the fence and it has real warmth but that warmth has not extended to backyard BBQS or key parties.

I’m good with that.

There is one particular Mrs Mangle nosey neighbour a few doors down whom I have avoided for about a year because I don’t dig her swag. Neighbourhood gossip ain’t my bag, and although pleasant enough, there’s not enough time for the peeps I’m crazy about let alone ones I’m lukewarm on.

So, the nice young Fam Bam was having a pretend picnic with their dinosaurs and teddies on a lovely rug in the gentle winter sun, and I stepped onto my back deck (which in awesome suburban style looks straight onto their greying knickers on the Hills Hoist), I gave them a ‘nice day for it’ salute and we all felt fuzzy for a moment and went about our business, until I heard my name being yelled across two gardens and a couple of fences by Mrs Mangle.

“Danieeeeeellle, where’s your husband? I haven’t seen him lately. Is he here? I saw him packing boxes into the car a couple of months ago.”

It was like a punch in the face to be honest. I could see the fam bam slowly sinking into the ground as they wish for invisibility and I did that thing where your tummy drops and your wee nearly squeezes out like silent tear from your urethra.

“He doesn’t live here anymore” I yelled back ” but perhaps over two fences and two gardens and a teddy bear’s picnic isn’t the best way to chat about it.”

And I stalked in, slamming the sliding door enough to shatter the glass into a million pieces – At least in my head I did. I really just politely closed it grumbling to myself because even though I never want to speak to her again I still want her to like me.

The other one I’m loving at the moment is “Wow, you have we very second weekend off from your kids. You’re so lucky.”

Yes, I am lucky. Because my marriage didn’t work out how we planned and I’m a single mum struggling to keep my shit together I get two days a fortnight to try and regain sanity. It’s awesomesauce. Everyone should have a crack at it.

In truth, the weekend thing is nice, but in an ideal world everything works out swell and you get a little ‘me’ time and family time is balanced  and everything is shiny and life is played to the ‘Family Ties’ theme song…..

“I bet we’ve been together for a million years, I bet we’ll be together for a million more…. sha la la laaa.”

*earworm alert – you’re welcome.

I’d also like to say if you have a distant acquaintance going through this, asking them about their financial status is actually rude. Asking me how I’m getting along financially is a little bit like asking me if my bowels are regular, and what’s the consistency.

Actually, you know, I’ll take the scat chat, please.

But I’m not immune to putting my foot in my mouth. No, sireeeee, Bob.

In fact, I’ve put my foot so far in my mouth on occasion, it was easier to remove it rectally than it was to cough that shit up, so I’m not judging anyone for their lack of tact….. however, if you’d care to express concern or curiosity buy me some goddamned $5 flowers and invite yourself over for a cup of tea.

Like I would do.

Or simply grab my hand, look me in the eye, and ask me,

“Are you cool? Can I do anything?”

I’ll say “yes, I’m cool”, and “no you can’t” so you’re off the hook but at least you weren’t a thoughtless dick.









Portrait 365 : 222 – 229

19 Aug


“I lost my father when I was 12 and my mother raised my sister and I in Nepal. It was a struggle, and I came here to study. I had no money so I had to work to pay my way. There are no bad jobs.I did everything, housekeeping, supermarkets, Bunnings. Now I’m a baker and I still struggle to get my residency but soon it will come and then things will be easier.”





“South Australian 12 year old 200 metre butterfly champ.”



He was deaf and he didn’t speak English but armed with smiles and charades we got there anyway.





“I’m heading home to my house in the Riverina after a month holidaying in Cairns. I was up there with family and we went out on the dirt roads to Weipa and had a bit of an adventure. It’s really cold here though.”



“I competed in tennis until I was 15. I used to play with Laura Robson but then I moved to a school that wasn’t sporty at all so I didn’t compete any longer; which was a down point. Then I became a tennis coach which I love to this day. I should have carried on with tennis however I discovered drugs and boys.”



“I’m proud that I finally got my electrical license. I started my apprenticeship, and then I stopped doing it. I got lazy, but I knew that I needed to go back and finish it and sort my life out.”

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How I became a podium dancing alcoholic.

17 Aug
So sweet and innocent. Me at 2. Before clubbing.

So sweet and innocent. Me at 3. Before podium dancing in clubs.

My Dad is in Australia at the moment to do some traveling.

Some months ago he bought a Winnebago that he fondly named Wind Bag and periodically he skips across the ditch and takes off on a road adventure. He’s cool like that.

He stopped a couple of nights at mine on his way to pick up the Wind Bag and told me of his plan to drive from Melbourne through South Australia and up to Alice Springs before heading to Ayers Rock and the Olgas by the end of September. My green eyed monster’s eyes shone like emeralds…. that was one cool mo’fo’ road trip.

I sure would like to do that some time.

… But I have two kids and important routines that must be adhered to or my neurotic sky will fall down. I’m positively tied to all of my responsibilities so I could never to do something so crazy, could I?

The more spiced rum and lime juice we had to drink the more plausible it seemed.

There’s enough sleeping room for everyone. The kids can play outside if the space gets too cramped and there’s a tv for evenings. But the sleeping routine? I don’t know about you but I’m a stickler for it.

Dinner is 5.30

Bath is 6pm.

TV for half an hour at 6.30

Teeth and bed is 7pm

Reading a few books until 7.30 unless I speed read to get the hell out of there because I’ve had enough of them for the day.

I’m flexi within 10 or so minutes of this routine but then I start to get twitchy.

What would happen to this routine if we went on the road, all four of us sharing a living space smaller than my lounge?


Nah, too hard. My control freak couldn’t be bothered.

I asked Mister H if he could take a week off work so I could go on a road trip with my Dad. As amicable as Mister H and I may be I’m well aware that there will not be a lot of weeks in the year during which I can take off sans bambinos, so when Mister H told me to let him know how serious I was and he’d make arrangements I got to thinking if this was my only time off all year is a road trip with my Dad the prime way to spend it?

No offence Dad.

What if I want to go to Bali or Thailand with a friend? Or a lover, heaven forbid (I’ll get laid eventually, right??).

Kids will suck hard on that trip….

What if I want to go on a volunteer trip to a third world country, or trekking up some really ridiculously big hills?

Kids will suck hard on those trips too.

Screw it, I decided. I would go on this cool mo’fo road trip adventure will my Dad, and I will take the kids.

I can relax my regime, the sky will not fall. In fact, it will be good for us all (except maybe Dad whose serenity will be completely screwed, but he’s a good sport.)

I remember a photograph of myself as a child sitting at a table in a restaurant at night on a trip we had to the Canary Islands. I would have been about 3.

I think I was eating a bowl of eating ice-cream and strewn around the table were wine glasses and my Mum was in the picture too but barely. She was at the head of the table which was fading off into black.

During a phone conversation with Mama about the potential trip I mentioned the photo. I mentioned how she used to take us away on jaunty adventures where all of the routines were broken and it was fine, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

And she said, “Darling, after dinner we’d take you into the nightclub and you’d dance with us on the dance floor.”

She back-pedalled saying they didn’t stay out until 2am, and nightclubs there weren’t filled with Class A drugs in those days, but the go-go dancer was out of the cage.

That. Explains. Everything.

How it all began. Note my wine glass and food all over my face.  *not the actual photo I'm referring to in post

How it all began. Note my wine glass and food all over my face.
*not the actual photo I’m referring to in post


The difference three minutes can make

13 Aug

When I was chatting to my friend Carolyn from Champagne Cartel about how the Portrait 365 project came about because I’m essentially too lazy to study photography, she loved it so much she asked me to write a guest post for her.

it took me a little while get around to it, but I finally pulled finger and today I’m wrapped to be guesting over at Champagne Cartel.

Those chicks are fairly well flipping’ fab.

Number 1, Day 1, Portrait 365

Number 1, Day 1, Portrait 365

I’m the kind of person who learns best by just doing stuff.

When I was a fledgling TV producer I would just hire crew that had a million times more experience than me and I would watch them like a hawk and learn how it all worked by observation. I’d hazard a guess that people suspected I was faking it, but if you fake stuff a few times it becomes reality before you know it.

Except orgasms. Never fake orgasms.

To see the rest of this post check it out here.


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