Poolside

I'm scared.

For some reason I have been appointed the 'chief judge / finishing marshall' at tomorrow's school swimming carnival.

Be warned - these are the kind of things that happen when one dares to escape
the daily grind and lose oneself in island life for a week.

I think I will be more like the 'chief indecision maker / finishing marshmallow' - soft and easily manipulated!

I'm one of those "I'm sorry. You don't like it? Please let me change it. I'm so sorry" types.

Not one of those "If you don't like it, kiss my ass" types.

The only decision I want to be making poolside is which cocktail to try next.

I'm scared. Did I mention?

There are students, and moreso their parents, who take this business quite seriously.

I know. My Dad was one of them. My husband will probably be one of them.

If I can sleep tonight, I will dream of fathers coming at me with accusing, angry stares and "sweetheart, you got it wrong - what were you looking at?".

Or worse than that, groups of mums.

We all know that a group of women have the power to bring whole nations to their knees, should they choose to do so.

Hell hath no fury than a Mum whose child was robbeth of a placing.

And they will probably be justified in their wrath.

I'm easily distracted.

One smile from a friendly parent, waft of hot chips or wave from a cute kid and I'm engaged - oblivious to who touched that god forsaken wall a tenth of a second earlier than whom else.

But rest assured, in my absence and obviously acknowledging the pressure of my morning task, my colleauges have given me a lovely role for the last, more casual part of the day's events.

I get to be the 'rescuer'  - in the pool with the children for the afternoon.

Kill me with kindness.

Happy Friday!

Shar :-)

By the way, it would have been a strawberry dacquiri - that I would've tried next.

I do - and they did.

I do want to thank our bride and groom for, not only making each other's dreams come true, but for fulfilling one of mine too.

Very kind of you Mr. & Mrs.

I have always wanted to travel to somewhere tropical for a wedding because I imagined it would be such a unique and joyous time.
A time when everyone just has to happy and in the moment.

(Why I didn't do exactly this for my own wedding still baffles me!)

I'm greedy. I absolutely love a good wedding.
I love the feeling that we're all here or the one thing.

We've all committed our day and night to celebrating. Woo hoo!

And well, a wedding away just takes all that good stuff and streeeeetchs it out.

I do believe our wedding trip to Sabah didn't disappoint my long held fantasies!

From the moment we met some of the 'wedding crew' at the airport,
I started buzzing.

It was like when you walk up to a wedding ceremony and see all the familiar faces that you get to spend the next few hours with - but so much better because it was going to be days, not hours together - on an extended escape from the real world where work is replaced with play and nobody has to drive!

(I'm well aware that the sight and sound of our excited toddler might have had the other guests at the airport thinking along similar lines, but with a much more negative slant!)

I do love the atmosphere that surrounded our whole trip.

I loved seeing the familiar faces (and hearing the tired jokes!) in the lobby, around the pool, at the breakfast buffet, on the beach, at happy hour. I loved becoming more than acquainted with the other wedding guests and getting to know the families of our bride and groom so well. I loved forming friendships while our kids swam and played. I loved that we were all confortable and easy with each other. I can hardly believe I socialised so naturally in bathers, for flips sake. Bathers I wouldn't wear at home!

By the time the wedding day arrived, we were friends more than invited guests.

(Partly the cause of excessive alcohol consumption and questionable dancing that followed, I firmly believe!)

It was a wonderful feeling to leave the poolside that afternoon knowing that the 'peez de reziztawnce' was coming!

I was feeling especially lucky that my best-man-Hubby was bringing me into a whole new world -

the groom's preparation.

I've been a bridesmaid for friends and a bride so am pretty offay with the excitement, giggling, floral delivieries, photography, champagne and beauty regimes that the girlie component of the bridal party enjoy.

I was pretty curious when the boys arranged to come to our suite to ready themselves.

I thought I would get some insight into the way men really feel about marriage and get to see our groom let down his sarcastic, wise cracking veneer to reveal that romantic, gushing side he has.

I thought I might witness some 'bromance' and shed a little tear at the sheer masculine beauty of it all.

Nuh.

When the groom hadn't arrived well after the arranged time and didn't answer his phone, I panicked and prepared for some talking down, some nerve soothing, some revving up maybe.

But apparently he was just in the shower.

Girls, they didn't do much of anything.

They sat on the couch in their jocks and asked the time approximately four thousand, three hundred times.

They dressed, corsaged, let me take some hurried pics and left.
It was all a bit of a letdown to be honest.

I'll take the hair, make up, bubbly, planning, gossiping, bag packing and repacking, teetering heels, giggling stuff next time! 

Mother Nature really turned it on with the weather for the wedding day and walking towards the wedding pavillion you couldn't help but be in awe of  this true church of God.

Everyone managed to ditch the bikinis and boardies and looked just gorgeous - well, it would be hard to look anything but when you are set against this beauty.

Waiting for our bride's entrance, Magoo and his little buddies were wired about the bubble blowing that they had been promised and shifted in their seats constantly.
Hotel guests were sensing an occasion and sidling over to check it all out.
The groomsmen continued their vigilant clock watching.

The bride and her attendants looked just divine as they made their lovely, long procession to the boys.

The ceremony was brief, but beautiful and heartfelt.

The backdrop, amazing.

The apres-vow Moet, well appreciated.

After the chaotic, whole group shot, the newlyweds enjoyed a photo shoot on the beach while we simply enjoyed them enjoying a photo shoot on the beach.

Magoo and co. just enjoyed the beach.

The reception was held just metres from the ceremony on a grassed area in front of said beach.

The setting couldn't be any more gorgeous and I have trouble remembering the tableware as the view just blew any possible crystal / mirror/ floral / glass concoction out of the water - literally!

The meal was termed 'barbeque buffet' but was much more 'sensational feast'.

We had beautiful, plentiful food and fantastic people to share it with.

The drinks were flowing and our little people were as electric as the humid air.

Magoo danced, ran and yelled himself silly, having the time of his life.

It was no easy diplomatic feat to prise him from the dance floor for the speeches and the bridal dance.

Once Magoo retired to his grandparents' care, Hubby and I mistakenly believed ourselves to be young and free (Well, that's what our anthem tells us anyway!).
We didn't think ahead to that cute, little knock on our door (which, for some reason, resembled a catastrophic earthquake) at 7am the following morning.

We drank, boogied, sang, drank, cackled (ok, just me), drank and partied for hours.

The signature 'scarecrow' dance move from here featured heavily in the second half of the night's proceedings.

According to Sabah legend, a couple of us may, or may not, have been seen teaching the 'scarecrow' to a group of Japanese tourists in the hotel lobby lounge in the wee hours of the morning. 

The gorgeous 'wedding in paradise' was just the icing on the cake of a brilliant week.

I do look forward to a much discussed return to the Shangri La Rasa Ria, Sabah for that en mass vow renewal some time in the future.

Shar :-)

Now, This Is Living!

Warning - lengthy waffle ahead. Turn back now  - or make a cup of tea.

As I sit here surrounded by washing (how did 3 people create mountains of washing when they wore their bathers for most of the week?) and my boys sleep off their 'holiday hangovers', I feel so very lucky, punk.


Lucky, lucky, lucky to have walked onto a stunning, picturesque movie set for a week and not be kicked off. Not because we behaved so badly (the wedding night excepted) but because it was just beyond beautiful and exactly how I imagine 'the other half' must live.

I'm so lucky to have been part of a gorgeous gang of great people who travelled to Sabah, Borneo to witness two particularly great people marry. Lucky to have had a whole luxurious week of my boys, of warmth, of being waited on, of another culture, of cocktails, of sound sleep, of socialising, of running without a headful of stuff blocking the magnificant view... I could go on and on and on.


And Magoo.

Magoo had the BEST time and was in toddler heaven. He made some little buddies - and some not so little buddies. He swam and slid his heart out and chatted non stop to anyone who would listen. He was captivated by the "rangtangtangs" and was like a dog with a bone. Luckily a cute, puppy looking type of dog 'cause it went a little something like this :
"we see rangtangtangs aday?" (short pause)
"we see rangtangtangs now, Mummy?" (short pause)
"what rangtangtangs dooo-ing?" (pause)
"rangtangtangs wake up now?" (short pause)
"where rangtangtangs go now?" (slow walk and pause)
"we see rangtangtangs, Mum?"      You get the idea!

The "rangtangtangs" were amazing, cheeky and entertaining. The beautiful little baby 'Ten Ten' was just adorable - and really brought home the not so vast differences between our hairy cousins and us.
'Ten Ten' was described as being a needy newborn who required feeding every couple of hours, cried loudly when her nappy was soiled and was agitated as her first set of teeth began coming through. Familiar much?

I managed a run each morning as the sun was coming up and it really was a treat. Not everyone's idea of a treat, I know, but it really was mine. I ran along the beach in front of our resort around a point and into where the river continued into the mountains. The view was awesome and my ipod remained off as I preferred the sound of the ocean and the jungle to the aussie accents of Hilltop Hoods swearing at me as I made my way up a Malaysian beach. 

On the first day I ran about 18 minutes out and the same back. I didn't encounter anyone that first morning but I did think I had discovered where the staff held their private parties way down the beach. I've seen Dirty Dancing, I'm in the know. I spent the rest of the day looking for a watermelon to carry down there Jennifer Grey style that night.

The next morning I set out on the same run and after a few minutes noticed some thing on the sand ahead. I thought it might be people crashed out, so being a nosey parker I kept running towards them. Then I decided the partiers actually looked more like piles of rubbish being collected. As I ran to within a couple of metres of this 'rubbish pile', the 'rubbish pile' twitched, raised a few sets of horns and swished some tails in enquiry. It was four water buffalo lying in the sand. I stopped short, turned on my heels and hotfooted back down the beach like lightning. That morning I opted for short relay runs in front of the hotel, all the while clearing my throat in preparation for any screaming I might have to engage in should I be chased! I did see my four friends much further down by the river on another couple of runs and I'm sure they were relatively harmless - but I wasn't taking my chances.

Sabah is a truly beautiful place. The pure luxury of our resort was in contrast to the simple way the locals lived - but their modest ways of life were gorgeous and fairly clean. Read- Sabah does not smell bad! We took a day's island cruise to snorkel, paddle and swim. We visited a terrific zoo where Magoo got up close and personal with his star attraction, the elephants. We shopped a little, ate a lot and loved it all.
If the great beaches, stunning landscape, friendly people, gorgeous pools and ridiculous buffet breakfasts weren't quite enough - there was always happy hour. Oh blessed happy hour.

 The beach bar hosted 'Happy Hour' drinks between 5-7pm every evening. Anyone with young children knows that the hours between 5-7pm are notoriously described with a flurry of adjectives  - but "happy" wouldn't usually feature on that list. Happy we were though. When cocktails cost the equivalent of soft drinks, children run free in the grass and sand, your new buddies (big and small) trickle in for that 5pm gong, a spot of beach volleyball, table tennis or bocce is played and a cute little band strum Beach Boys hits - the world is truly wonderful place and you can't be anything but

 happy.

Even table tennis with an overenthusiastic, but sadly underskilled toddler is a happy place with a cocktail in hand and so many great people to share it (and him) with.

Hubby was the best man at the wedding we travelled up for - and the best man in our suite too! Magoo was in his element to have Daddy's attention from morning to night (okay, minus a couple of hours a day for Happy hour when Captain Morgan held court, during the golf morning, the wedding and when the jet ski called).
My point was that Daddy was awesome, involved and helpful. Which meant Mummy got to be chilled Mummy (okay, except on he back of the jet ski, in seatbeltless vans dodging water buffalo and isalnd hopping in an aging boat).

In summary, our holiday was bliss! I wouldn't change a single thing (unless you count the addition of a couple more days and the subtraction of a couple of less wines at the wedding).

Shar :-)

Coming soon to a blog near you (well, this one, duh) -
The Wedding Post.

Run to Paradise

Suck. Sorry.
I'm probably on the beach.
Or by the pool.
Or napping.
Or watching Magoo loove the "rangtangtangs" sick.
Or doing 'happy hour' proud.
Or witnessing our friends marry in the most fabulous of locations.
So, yes, sorry for not posting this week.
I'm sure there's a doozy of a brag fest post on the way.
:-))))


If it's any consolation, I'll be real fat and running real slow when I return.

A Change Is As Good As...

Here's to changes.

Changes that on Monday looked challenging, draining and uninviting.

Here, less than a week later, I would like to celebrate these changes.
Preferably with a beverage of the sweet and bubbly kind. Cheers!

Here's to one bunch of 32 ten year old rockstars instead of one hundred and something little lovelies.
To the refreshement of students who say "excuse me" rather than pull on your skirt, or top, or leg.
Here's to independence and witty humour, as opposed to the same cute 'knock, knock' over and over.
To legible writing that doesn't require reading aloud repeatedly to decipher what word was intended by the author.
Here's to parents who have learnt to trust the system, the school, their children.
To clean noses and fingers unphased by shoelaces or yoghurt tubes.
Here's to hitting the ground running and slowly hotfooting it up that mountain of curriculum.
To coming home to "I missed you Mummy" over and over and over, while Daddy feels slighted that he's put in the hard yards all day - for once.
Here's to realising you can be adaptable, flexible and spontaneous after all.
Well, within reason. :-)

I'm sure there's a lot of merit in the wisdom of "A change is as good as a holiday."
But, just to be sure, I'm going to take the holiday anyway!!

Shar :-)

Wax On, Wax Off

First, a confession.
I have the selfish wish that both my hairdresser and my beautician do not fall pregnant or rethink their careers any time in the near future! It's a compliment (and a disgusting reflection of my character) because they are both so absolutely awesome. I have searched for these two stars for a long time and am quite attached to their respective skills.


So, moving on.
I had on one of my precious lists "make beautician appointment before Sabah". 
Of course, who wants to be hairy on holidays?
Or for the Rottnest Channel Swim 2011, it appears.
Hubby saw said list and piped up with "can you make an appointment for me too?"
Huh?
Images of a certain St. Kilda football player immediately sprang to mind as I grunted "what for?!"


Years ago, Hubby used to wax his legs for swimming, cycling and running.
But not lately. Not last year for the Rotto swim, nor the year before or the one before that either. Not since we have been married actually.
But this year, he has decided that he wants to be footloose and hair free for the crossing.
Fair enough... I guess!! I quite like(d) Hubby's hairy (manly) legs myself, but it is just hair. Or was.



Hair today...

 My beautician is a beauty. But she is also brutal -  'good brutal' considering I go there for a specific reason and that is to be (relatively) hairless. She doesn't hold back, is speedy and is extremely thorough. I usually leave there with the urge to giggle stupidly at what just took place. All of which make her a brilliant beautician  - for me.
For hubby is a different story. Flashes of a particular St. Kilda star again!


So, off Hubby went for his 3.20pm appointment today.
He has returned to us no less a man, but a considerably smoother version.

Chicken anyone?!

Hubby didn't focus too much on the pain factor in his recount of the wax files, but as I had my own appointment with said brilliant, brutal beautician at 5.40pm he did admit to handling it a little less bravely than I do!

Hubby is super impressed with the results of his 80 minutes (!!) in the lilac torture chamber - and hopefully will be chafe - less after Saturday's swim.
Me ? I'm jealous - I want sleek, shiny arms too - and worried  - can this marital bed handle four silky, smooth legs?!!

Quote : "She made me bleed, Shar"





Shar :-)

L plate lister

Here is Magoo's own little list of things that he believes should be packed in his bag for his first overseas trip this week :

• Milo snack boxes - free [3]
• A car
• Tennis Racquets
• Round and Round The Garden [?]
• Red dress for Mummy
• New clothes [red also]
• A choo choo train

I think that pretty much covers it!
Viva Kota Kinabalu!
:-)