Random act of kindness.

There's this fabulous group called Wake Up Sydney! and they have these little things called kindness cards. The concept is that you do an anonymous act of kindness, and leave the card behind. Ideally, the recipient will then do an act of kindness for someone else, passing on the card as they do so.

Visit http://www.wakeupsydney.com.au/ and order your 5 free kindness cards, it's such a lovely feeling taking the first step to a kinder world.

My mum moved into her new house just before Christmas and didn't have enough money to plant her gardens, so off my brother and I went to Bunnings and replanted her backgarden with all her favourite flowers.

My lovely friend Eadie for some reason that I don't remember was pushing this tyre. I think she was trying to get it from her little green Suzuki over to my car. My act of kindness was offering her encouragement.

Balloons on a friend's car for his birthday.

A photographer friend of mine Tim Harris helped me out with a uni assignment, putting lots of time and energy into creating a beautiful photoshoot and then editing pictures for a look book piece. This was my thank you to him.

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

This old love will never die.

I think I was born in the wrong era. I have a fascination with the concept of true love, and in a society where marriages rarely last, it's nice to see little reminders like these that true love can exist. These are the little lessons we can learn from those who have gone before us.

A little something from my darling friend's backyard.

Over 35 years later, my nan still has the picture of what she wore on her first date with my pop.

That's true love.

Bowling.

Perhaps if I make an effort to post up all the pictures and bits and pieces I've collected the past few weeks (ok months) tonight, I won't feel quite so guilty the next time it takes me a month to post something up. Maybe just space out your perusal of this dodgy blog. A sentence here, a paragraph there...

So, I rarely bowl. Go bowling. Watch bowling. To be honest, the first ten minutes-highlight of my day. And a brilliant activity in theory. So upon arrival you get greeted by some middle aged biddy who hates the world, and demands you tell her your shoe size immediately-and god forbid you don't know what it is. Because gone are the days when you could bowl in your socks, now as a teen who already has to deal with adolescence, now you have to know what size shoe you are-in men's sizing.

So you tell the old soul 9, and she says sorry there's only size 11's. Fabulous. I trip on flat surfaces, so by all means put me in shoes 4 sizes to big (because let's face it, a 9 is like an 11, and an 11 is like a 20) and give me a ball to throw.

What's worse is when you get to an age where you can't have bumpers anymore, and 'excuse me ma'am that light orange ball is for the kids'. Not only am I now a ma'am, but I'm wearing clown shoes, forbidden to have bumper bars, and have to do weights while engaging in a 'fun' activity.

After all this merriment you must be wondering why I persist-it's in the hope that one day, just once, I will beat my brother at bowling. After the enormous effort I have to go to just to get shoes on and 'select my bowling ball' however, I've entirely lost interest and find the only highlight of the squats (or getting up and down to bowl your ball once every 3 minutes), is the chuckle you have when someone slips, drops their ball backwards, or has a clearly fake name like Morticia up on the screen.

Yep, happy to be the source of chuckles for all the bowling haters out there.

Here's to a lifetime of Strikes, Spares, and well fitting bowling shoes.

Love Morticia. xx

Such a sad week.

I'm a terrible blogger. No really. It's constantly at the back of my mind that I'm neglecting my blog, and yet I never seem to find the time to do it. I have a tendency to put my random musings on facebook, just because I can do it from my phone. I'm so terribly heartbroken this week, my beloved cat Monte was killed by an idiot in a car, so may his little soul rest in heaven, and may there be lots of food and adoring fans up there waiting for him.

The love of my life. RIP Monte Moo. :(