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Now trying to do for crafting blogs what I did for parenting blogs @ http://thesamewool.wordpress.com

Think of it as ‘Not Drowning, Crocheting’, except hopefully not as lame. 

Samewool

Fullstop.

I have just spent the last two hours clicking around this blog, much like the hero of a zombie film wandering through the deserted city streets. For some reason, the abandoned cars that inevitably line the streets of those films always get to me.  They hint of stories untold.

Fortunately, however, this blog is full of stories that *have* been told and I thought I would share some of them now – as a way of  punctuating this blog once and for all.

Enjoy.

Life At A Funeral

The Silent Red Ninja

The NDM Guide to Making Piñatas

Fire

The Cupboard Rarely Opened

The NDM Children’s Vomit Scale

Sorry, It’s School Policy

The Finger Of Blame

First Born

A Normal Person

Mother’s Day  - Episode Two

The Inflatable Brad Pitt

The Gallery of Domestic Godlessness

 

The Goat Fucker

You might have heard the joke. An old man is crying on the beach when someone stops to asks him what’s wrong. He points out the nearby pier that he built entirely by hand that has weathered a thousand storms. “But do they call me Simon The Builder?” he asks. “No, they don’t.” The old man then points out a nearby boat upon which he has fearlessly fished the treacherous seas for decades. “But do they call me Simon the Fisherman?” he asks. “No, they don’t. You see, you fuck one single goat…”

And so it has been with me. And no, no, no, I haven’t literally fucked a goat. But as far as many people are concerned, I *have* fucked my life and the lives of others. You see, I left my husband. But I didn’t just leave my husband, I left my husband for another man. And not just any ‘another man’, but a man who was the husband of  another woman in my local community and a friend.  And then I stayed in that community.

That was over two years ago. To this day, some people – both in this community and beyond –  can’t see past that goat. They’ve forgotten that I was ever an active and caring member of my community, a loving mother and a wife who tried her best. They can’t see past that goat to the preceding years of loneliness in a slowly dissolving marriage. Or see how meeting and falling in love with someone outside of my marriage challenged everything I had ever thought about myself and left me feeling so scared and lost and alone that I can’t even begin to say. These people also can’t see how utterly terrifying the decision to leave my marriage was. Nor how hard the subsequent years have been living in a community that (mostly) doesn’t feel comfortable about my new partner and I living there, but where it’s been best for the kids. And they certainly can’t see how, from a single red couch in an empty rental house, my partner and I have built a full and loving home for ourselves and for our collective five children.

This is not to say that I’m proud of a lot of my behaviour and actions. Nor is this meant to deny or belittle the very real pain of the people who have been hurt by all this – our ex-spouses and their families. Our families. Our friends. Our kids. Ourselves.

But two years on, I want to be able to say this: I am not a bad person. I am a basically good person who has done some bad things. I have also done some good things. Some stupid things and some desperate things. And some noble things, too. And I’ve done all of these things in the name of trying to live this life of mine the best way I can. This crazy, complicated, once-around-only life with all its surprising twists and turns and piers and fishing and goats.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

This post was directly inspired by Kerri Sackville’s “coming out” article about her separation last month which beautifully captured the difficulties of separation in this era of social media. I’ve been feeling that I have owed the readers of this once-was-blog a brief note of explanation. However, I am closing comments on this out of respect for everyone involved.

If I didn’t hate the word ‘ramblings’ so much when applied to writing, I’d call the following links ramblings. But I won’t. Because I’m an arsehole like that.

Here’s some stuff I said somewhere other than here:

The mighty keyboard -  Watch yourself: I’ve discovered on-line complaint forms.

What-The-Fuck-Dot-Com - A post about a photo of a woman breastfeeding dogs… and other web-based adventures.

Shitting where you eat - Sometimes revenge is a dish best served in a toilet.

Spectacular! - Choosing new glasses when you can’t wear your glasses to choose them is only the beginning…

Dear readers,

You’ll be pleased to know I’ve been exercising my writing muscles on a range of topics over at ‘In The Powder Room’ including:

MENSTRUATION 101
All the things I wish I hadn’t had to learn the hard way.

Ten ways my kids annoy the shit out of me
Kids. Gotta love ‘em… or do you? Well, yes, of course you do… but then again…

Simple systems for everyday life
For every domestic problem, there is a solution: wine.

Love,

The NDM

Push Notification

People say I’ve dropped off the face of the earth. Turns out the bowels of the earth still has a great internet connection.

Here are some of the pieces I’ve been writing elsewhere lately:

Santa’s Bitch – I don’t know about you but I’m sick of covering Santa’s arse and letting him get all the glory.

Surviving December: Five Top Tips – “Stick to white spirits… They stain less when spilt” and other sage advice for getting through the silly season.

My Five Fantasy Washing Machine Settings – I’m revolutionising laundry, one cycle setting at a time.

Melissa Who? – I always thought Melissa George was that girl from E-Street who sang ‘Read My Lips’. Apparently I was wrong.

To catch up on all NDM-flavoured pieces on ‘In The Powder Room’, click here.
To catch up on all NDM-infected pieces over at ‘JustB Australia’, click here.
And to catch up on the world of knitted facial hair, click here.

You’re welcome,

Love

The NDM

Some crazy people in the US asked me to write a ‘back to school’ post. As an Australian parent trudging out of winter towards the end of term 3, I laughed. My, how I laughed. And then, when I stopped laughing (and then crying some), I wrote this post over at ‘In The Powder Room’.

Oh, and I’ve also been up to all different shades of no good over at JustB Australia.

Everywhere but here…

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