The Artist woke up in a terrible state this morning.  He had had a nightmare.  I immediately asked if the nightmare was that I had died.  Because such was his state.  What else could it have been to render him so distraught?  It had to be that (that I had died) because his greatest fears would be realised in that he would have to:

* be on the frontline (like a General Eisenhower) to deal with two teenage girls and their mood swings on a daily basis
* buy tampons
* go formal dress shopping (for two dresses)
* shop for and cook two meals a night (one for normal people and one for a vegan)
* finally take responsibility for doing the 120 million hours required for Miss18 to get her drivers license

It turns out that my death is not that scary.  What is that scary, the stuff that nightmares are made of, is BBQ’ing the dog.  He had a dream that he BBQ’d Koda.  And Koda’s eyes were open on the BBQ while he was preparing to eat him.

I went to make coffee and returned to find The Artist spooning the dog on his bed (the dog’s) whilst crooning his deepest apologies.  The dog was having none of it.

He stalked downstairs with me in indignation to do his morning ablutions.  And then the problems started.  He would not come inside for fear of being breakfast, even though BBQ is more of a lunch/dinner thing.


I trust you nothing.

I explained to him that he was safe.  Traumatised he started eating grass whilst communicating to me with his eyes that perhaps if he eats grass his father won’t find him so appetising.  I then told him about the cows that his father enjoys as steak – completely destroying his safety net theory and my hope of ever getting him inside.

The Artist is still apologising to Koda for his terrible dream transgression.   But I don’t think he is that sorry because I sent him this Facebook funny to which he responded as follows: IMG_5711.PNG

Yup – nightmare my friend.

Love and light
Lauren xxx

Put a ring on it.

So about 20 years ago I told The Artist that if he liked it then he better put a ring on it. It certainly was about bloody time as I was not getting any younger at the ripe old age of 26 (or so I thought). The Artist was slightly riper than me but was not in any hurry I might tell you. So I put a ring on that too.

I think it takes a while to figure out this marriage thing. It’s not for the faint-hearted. Much of the time I feel like the Secretary General of the United Nations – the good Ban Ki Moon could learn a thing or two from little Barbie Ki Sunshine over here. And as I was writing this The Artist walked in with the dog and he was holding pastries and coffee.

I took one look at him and started to cry. Because love. (And also because I have been a complete nightmare for the past week due to some added work stress and he still brought coffee and pastries!!!).

And because he said he also almost bought me another golden retriever. I sent him this photo on the weekend and told him what my version of heaven looks like.

Team Golden Oldies - living my dream and providing much happiness to this one on Facebook.

Team Golden Oldies – living my dream and providing much happiness to this one on Facebook.

He takes my heaven seriously. But we’re not getting a new goldie just yet – sanity has prevailed over my crazy heart.

I can’t for one minute begin to start detailing all of the past the 20 years. I can only hope that the journey continues with as much laughter and love.

Happy anniversary babe.

Love and light

Lauren xxx


Now some of you might get upset when you read this on my behalf.  I am just going to put it out there and tell you what happened.

Today at a client, a gentleman of elderly years and not very good hearing asked me if I was expecting.  At first I thought I had misheard (as I suffer from wax build-up sometimes) but he persisted when I said no I was not in fact pregnant – almost as if he wasn’t sure that I wasn’t sure I was telling him the truth.

I nearly got upset until I started unpacking this one, going through what I was wearing today, evaluating the few kilo’s one has recently acquired, posture? and why he might have thought this thought.  And then it hit me.  It is my youthful glow!!!!!!  I bought a new foundation yesterday and took care with the application of my make-up this morning so I was in fact glowing like a preggie.  As I have recently meandered into my 46th year of life (something I shared with him), another baby is unlikely at this stage.  As unlikely as me participating in the 2020 Olympics in fact, unless there is a donut eating competition.



So I am going to take this one as a compliment that he even thought I was still in the baby making business.

Miss17 is at home studying for exams and came to my office yowling about the tragedy that befalls her each month being a woman.  The yowling was about to graduate to hysterical tears when I relayed the story of my pregnancy.  It was like someone had pushed pause on the remote and changed the channel.  She liked that one – yes she did.  On exiting the room, newly invigorated with laughter she reminded me that she would disown me if I was ever to get pregnant again. As The Artist and I have told them time and time again, we have only ever had sex twice – that is why we have the two of them.

Love and light

Yours glowingly

Lauren xxx


So, it you’ d told me six years ago I was going to be turning 46 today I would have boxed your ears, or given you a warm klap as my countrymen would say.  Because, how ridiculous is that???????

If you’re wondering how things are hanging, a bit too much if you must ask.  Also been battling with a bit of a lurgy that saw me at the chemist late last night with an antibiotic script made out to Miss14.  Tonsils are tonsils after all.  Except some have white and red spots on them and feel like they are trying to razor their way out of your throat.  And Amoxicillin is Amoxicillin – doesn’t matter whose name is on the paper.  We won’t talk about the toxic waste coming out of my nose and chest because that’s just gross.

And I bet what you’re all really wondering about is THE PRESENT!!!!!  Well, truth be told I banked myself a weekend in Melbourne with my mates a few weeks back – you surely saw all the pictures?  If not I know you joined a cult somewhere and fell off the grid.  So that was the present at the time.  But The Artist is not one to arrive empty handed. This morning as I sat down to my coffee I nearly suffocated an Apple Watch (they are not comfortable to sit on, in case you were wondering).  After the shock wore off, we decided I am not ready for that kind of commitment and people already talk funny about me sometimes – imagine if I walked around like 007 talking into my wrist?  There was also mention of a Tag Heuer – Tag Heuer say what????????? However a couple of years back I was gifted a watch for my anniversary that I love dearly and am not ready to send to the drawer where all the old watches go. The replacement gift arrived at lunchtime enclosed in one of those lovely blue boxes that all the girls like to receive.  [note to the blokes – you can never go wrong with Tiffany].

Always a winner

Always a winner

So, what are the take out’s 46 year’s in?  Very different from six years ago people.  Very different.  Because happiness has been redefined as I know it.  And here goes.

  • Running on adrenalin does not make for happy.  Being present in the moment most of the time makes for happy.
  • The world doesn’t end if you don’t go to gym five days a week.  It does end however if you don’t make it to hot yoga on a Saturday morning.
  • 4pm is not for answering emails you didn’t get to whilst fetching the kids from school at 3.30pm and driving them home.  4pm is for walking Koda and breathing and looking at the beautiful headland across Lurline Bay, Coogee and Maroubra.  And the world does end if you don’t do this.  Because guilt.

And finally, there is such a thing as a mental health day.  The first time I heard of this thing I scoffed and laughed and sneered.  Well look who’s laughing now. It’s a real thing people.  It’s like an adult time-out.  I don’t know whether everyone needs it but I’m telling you that I embrace it instead of fighting it. If you don’t already – give it a shot.  Magic stuff.

On that note I’m going to hunt for my friend Nurofen or Panadol (whoever I see first) because the tonsils are sending out SOS messages again. Thanks as always to all of you for the birthday love.

Love and light

Lauren xxx

The Epic Weekend

It has been somewhat of an epic weekend here at the Chez.  We had a birthday – I got the gift wrong again in case anyone was wondering.  And yes, that was me walking down Crown Street on Friday morning in the pouring rain to American Apparel, for nothing it appears.

On Saturday night I had eight young teenage girls sleeping over.  They have not previously slept over because back in the day, her sister before her organised a sleepover and we did not have the foresight to quarantine them downstairs.  Hence The Artist and I could not sleep.  At the time we were both working like mad things and were already severely stressed and sleep deprived.  Let us just say that we did not put our best foot forward at 3am and we might have seemed like two potentially psychopathic serial killers.  Ever since ours has been the house of non-sleepover legends.  They have stayed away like the place has no wifi.

Koda was also excited that we were having guests and on the afternoon walk decided he should be in dress-up when the girls arrived.  This is his Mike Tyson.


So the Chez turned into a mini B&B – I had blow-up beds aplenty and did some heavy lifting of the dining room table with Miss17 to ready the place.  Things have changed somewhat from a few years ago and I can literally sleep through a freight train coming through the room on rotation.  The Artist not so much but we all survived with good humour.  The mountain of washing and linen that has resulted has not left me in such high spirits but this has been counteracted this afternoon by my warm bed, a cup of tea, the Olympics and a bag of Fritos.  I also had chocolate cake for breakfast.  Because I’m an adult and I can. Koda came barracking for chips but it was not on the cards for him.  After loads of washing I was not setting myself up for forensic poop cleanup.

No Koda - not with that stomach........

No Koda – not with that stomach……..

We then watched the Gold Coast Titans vs the New Zealand Warriors because Jarryd Hayne had his own camera.  He was on the side for a good 20 minutes.  I mentioned to The Artist that he could at least have taken off his shirt and made it a worth while experience.  He is still cross because he feels like his great love Jonathan Thurston is being gazzumped by Hayne’s very large pay packet.  I have explained to him that Thurston needs a good manager to negotiate for him and that it is not Hayne’s fault and that he should bear him no ill will.  The chewing gum whilst the camera was dedicated to him on the sideline wasn’t helping endear him either.

And that is the thing about with living with The Artist.  Sometimes you have to explain things that are obvious to other people.  And sometimes you never know when something surprising is about to be said.  Like when he commented that Manu Vatuvei looks like one of his cousins.  I’m struggling with this one, naturally.  He then rewound the game and paused on Manu’s face.  Struggling………


And then he mentioned that when he took Miss14 to soccer this morning he arrived at the wrong field.  But it wasn’t his fault because another father was already parked there and was out of his car waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.  Steve (we’ll just say his name is Steve) commented that he could see Miss14 had recently polished her soccer boots.  As you can imagine she has the filthiest boots on the team – The Artist then countered that with an old school rugby team rivalry joke that Steve’s team were too busy cleaning their boots to win a game against his school team (The Artist went to a school that actually could have been called Thug Life High School had it not already been called Highlands).  Whilst they were trading insults and time was moving on, they realised that no-one else was arriving because they were in fact at the wrong field.  The Artist is blaming Steve – because he was there already.  I have again tried to explain to The Artist that he drove to the wrong field, had Steve been there or not, he still would have been at the wrong field.  Sometimes it’s a hard life being the clever one.

One that note I bid you a good week, may the sun shine and the stupid be few and far between.

Love and light

Lauren xxx


There are times when sometimes you wonder about the universe.  Because it can be so fucking wonderful and so fucking shit at the same time.  I honestly try every single day to find the good.  And I always do.  Like the whales yesterday off the Maroubra headland.  And the black lorikeets today. Nature truly can lift the soul.

Today was quite ordinary though.  My bus was MIA for half an hour.  The silver fox driving it looked perplexed when I asked about the tracker that connects to the app not being activated.  Eyes were rolled (his, not mine because I’m not disrespectful like that) and I decided to move right along.

Some challenges presented themselves a bit later resulting in me needing a bit of a drink at around 3pm but one simply does not roll a glass of champers at that time of the afternoon on a Wednesday.  So I took the dog for a walk.

Now all of you that have had eyes on Koda I sadly inform you that you need to stand down because he has found his great love.  Six weeks ago another Goldie called Lily moved into the area.  People have remarked that they have watched these two together and it’s as if no-one else exists.  This is true.  Another truth is that Lily has the devil in her most of the time and takes to torturing her gorgeous mother.

It was Jolina’s birthday today and she was having a real shit of a day.  In her 4×4 monster she clipped a smallish Fiat on South Dowling (after sitting in traffic for three hours) and didn’t realise (because she was practically catatonic from sitting in the aforementioned traffic for three hours) but the Fiat owner promptly reported her to the nearest police station.  Let’s just say they didn’t call her to say Happy Birthday to you.

After frolicking with Koda for a good ten minutes the evil took hold and Lily found the thickest, blackest mud to lie down in.  She was like Topdeck.  But black underneath.  And then she promptly jumped on Koda who then became like upside down Topdeck.  Jolina was going to cry.  But one simply doesn’t cry on one’s birthday.  I had a “fuck this” moment and told her we were taking the dog’s swimming in the Mahon Pools.  She looked at me like I was a crazy person.  Because there are big signs like this everywhere.

NO DOGS!!!!! NO DOGS!!!!!

I told her to just follow. These were desperate times.  And it was her birthday for God’s sake.

And then they refused to jump in.  To the child that left his ball down there we bless you for your foresight. Jolina threw it in which sparked some interest from Lily who approached the edge of the pool cautiously.  Jolina was quick to kick her in the arse, straight into the pool.  Like a boss.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t howling with laughter at this point.  Koda is more of a follower than a leader so boom! in he went.  Monkey see, monkey do.  I hauled both out by their collars because getting in was easier than getting out it seemed.  And just like that we had too perfectly gold, golden retrievers.  This is what #winning looked like today. And man, oh man was I feeling a bit better.

So were Lily and Koda (I think).  They are smiling, no?


The wayward Lily was immediately leashed as observed in this picture.  We are only stupid once.

And strange, but true everyone felt better.  We laughed like lunatics, saw some more whales, shared some deep, dark truths about making life less stressful.

I know I have said this many times over, but this dog has changed my life, not only bringing me perspective but also allowing me to meet some beautiful people.

Keep it real people – life’s too short.

Love and light

Lauren xxx

Be a friend and listen to the whinge

I am writing this purely because I need to whinge.  I had a good friend on the phone this morning and whinged his ear off to the point where he was about six minutes late for his 8.30 meeting.  [This is why he is a friend.] Probably won’t take my calls early in the morning again anytime soon.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the Poop and Kakka.  The saga still continues with blood vomit, explosive diarrhoea, antibiotics, prescription dog food and the ten years that I have lost of my life.  Today Koda was back at the vet for round 500.  Let us just say that yesterday afternoon I used up a substantial amount of latex gloves in the clean up.  Again, if it doesn’t work out for me in marketing etc I can go and work for people who need some taking care of business. [refer to Pulp Fiction The Wolf clean up scene]

The other source of my angst – and if you are as bored of this topic as I am, is my car.  Yes, that old chestnut.

On Saturday night – with four teenagers  enroute to A MidSummer Night’s Dream, I experience a Mid Winter Evening’s Nightmare when the vehicle’s onboard computer started shrieking for me to pull over due to loss of tyre pressure.  You are actually fucking kidding me?  Well, apparently not.  In the dark it was well hidden but in the cold light of Sunday morning a shiny silver nail was located in the left rear tyre.  The one that I replaced in November.  The Artist is understandably mental.  I truly don’t know what to say.  They supposedly repaired the tyre yesterday and I happily thundered off to an event over “the bridge”.  Returning at 10pm I found myself navigating the Lane Cove Tunnel when the car’s computer again experienced a melt down insisting I should pull over and stop the car due to massive tyre pressure loss.  Now let me tell you something – there was NFW I was pulling over because there was nowhere in fact to pull over.  So naturally I called The Artist who was not really able to help as he was safely tucked up in his warm bed in Maroubra.  He suggested I take my life in my hands try and get home and drive slowly.  Which is what I did whilst again losing a few years of my life in the 40 minute drive, such was my stress. It turns out that when they fixed the tyre earlier in the day they neglected to even inspect the others for any damage.  I am not entirely sure who exactly this made sense to but let us say that when we meet tomorrow I might just conduct a quick “impromptu” lesson on customer service and responsibility. Gentlemen – I’m coming for you, bright and early so brace yourselves.

On that note, as I sit in Kerryn’s car waiting in the cold for a soccer practice to finish – I bid you good night. Thanks for listening (this is what they call a captive audience).

Love and light

Lauren xxx