Hard Questions and Even Harder Answers...

We all harbour questions that we would dearly like to ask someone, or many someone's, but never think we will be able to spill the words.  It's like you're too scared to ask because you don't really want to know the answer?  Or you know what the answer will be, and can't bare to think of what you will do with said answer?  Or is it just me?

I've just spent the weekend up in Queensland.  Had three days of pretending that I didn't have a care in the world - no kids to worry about, no work to get to and no alarms to set, because there was nowhere I had to be!  I stayed in an apartment with two lifelong friends, and we sat and chatted, ate cheese and drank wine.  Had a massage in our lounge room overlooking the surf.  Read a book.  READ A BOOK!!!!!  We also went out two nights in a row, and drank copius amounts of alcohol.  Something I really very rarely do!

I also saw my Dad.  I haven't seen him since he had his heart problems late last year, so it was lovely to see him in the flesh and note that he had put on some weight.  And for the first time in my 37 years, he did not smell of tobacco and nicotine.  A HUGE and noticeable change.  He picked me up from the airport on arrival and drove me up to my friend's parents house.  Back to the same neighbourhood we had lived for many years.  His memory is vague, and I had to remind him of where the house we used to live in was.  We sat and had lunch, and chatted about a range of topics and then said our goodbyes.  When my weekend was coming to an end, I called him again and arranged to meet up to spend the afternoon before I departed.  I was a little anxious and couldn't figure out why?  But only minutes after pulling in to the caravan park he calls home, I worked it out.  I hadn't been to my Dad's place of residence in almost 25 years!  14 of those I didn't even know where he resided, or whether he was in fact, even alive.....

He showed me around his humble little caravan, and pointed out that he'd had a massive clean up since kicking the cigarettes months ago.  It was freshly painted and he'd acquired a few pieces of newish furniture.  It was certainly very "homely".  But to be completely honest - I was sad.  I was sad that the man who had spent the first 12 years of my life being my Dad, providing for me and making a great life for his family, had ended up in a caravan park.  Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against people who live in caravan parks!  I spent a couple of years myself living in one, after my Dad had lost all that we owned through his gambling habit, and my Mum and Step Dad were left to pick up the pieces.  SO I know all about people who live in caravan parks.  BUT - this one little caravan and its contents were all that my Dad has to show for his almost 70 years of life.  And it saddens me.

Anyway, I soon got over that sadness and got a royal tour!  Met all the locals, including his friend "Dot" whom I spoke to on the phone during Dad's stint in hospital.  She was the one who explained that he was very sick and required triple bypass surgery, and all that goes along with what that meant.  Lovely lady, even more lovely that I know she's looking out for my Dad.

I took a Nana Nap on his couch until it was time to leave for the airport again.  We grabbed some dinner in the departure lounge and chatted some more.  I can't remember what we were talking about, but I finally got the courage up to ask one of a million questions I'd been wanting to ask over the years - "Do you ever look back?".........  He did not hesitate in his answering, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me, that I was finally going to be able to hear my Dad apologise for all that happened.  "Oh, of course I look back, I look back and think how bloody stupid I was."  O.M.G.  Perhaps I would finally be having a conversation about the huge white elephant that has been sitting in the room the past ten years??  And then he continued........  "That's why I've never been in another relationship".  My ears pricked,  I could feel a Hallelujah moment coming.  "Because I could never have someone telling me what I can and can't do again"................

Deflation.

I just nodded my head and carried on eating my greasy chicken and chips.  I couldn't make sense of what he said, and really didn't want to.  We bid farewell at the departure gate and I headed back to Melbourne....

So I get home and relay this entire conversation to my husband.  At 11.45pm at night.  And he makes sense of it for me.  My Dad still doesn't acknowledge that his gambling was what ruined our family.  What ruined his marriage.  And why I had nothing to do with him for such a long time.  He is still living in denial.

I say "my family is fucked".  Andrew says "Our family is great".

Perspective.

I find more out about this family of mine the older I am getting.  Sometimes it puts things in place, other times it just gets more muddled.

Do you have any hard questions you haven't been able to ask?

Gratitude

Thirty-one years ago, I changed schools.  I was only one term in to grade one at Merrimac Primary School when we up and moved to a more country-ish town called Coomera.  Back in 1981, Coomera didn't have much.  There was a milk bar at the caravan park on the corner of the highway, a police station and a small grocery store (well there was probably more, but as a six year old those were the most important!).  My parents built a huge 52 square home on seven and a half acres.  We had dams, stables with horses, chickens galore and an aviary with all varieties of feathered friends.  There was a slow moving little creek that ran through the property and up until our pool was built I have memories of jumping in the creek or being dragged around the dam.  I won't go in to the time that dragging ended up with me being taken to hospital for my first set of stitches - let's just say that dams also have rocks and reeds growing under the water!

The local primary school was quite some kilometres away.  Over the other side of the highway, where not long after we moved, Dreamworld opened right across the road from said school.  My Mum would get a job there in the early 80's, along with lots of my friend's Mums, and some afternoons after school, we would wander across and dump our bags, and go through the back gate to spend a couple of hours on rides and water slides.  Yeh.....life was pretty tough.

Kids would come from miles away to this school.  Literally.  We would be picked up by the bus, mostly outside our own house - because neighbours were so far apart!  And we would all congregate at this same school.  It was here that I met the majority of my closest friends - even now, after all these years.

I wasn't what I would call a popular kid.  But I also wasn't not popular.  If you get what I mean?  My entire school life was spent bouncing from one friend to the next, one group to another.  And without sounding up myself, I think I was a pretty well liked kid.  I don't recall being teased (well, until high school when some smart ass boy asked me if I'd been sunbaking under a flyscreen?) or pushed around, I just went to school, learnt and had fun.

The reason I'm sharing all of this with you today?  Well, last Tuesday I decided I needed to send my Dad a hamper for Christmas.  You see, his Doctors have given him the "thumbs down" to travel to Melbourne for the festive season.  His health has been shocking since his little heart episode.  In fact, I'd been holding my breath until Thursday just gone, when what I think was a bone marrow biopsy (I say think because my dear old 69 year old Dad cannot for the life of him give me the proper names for all the tests he's been going through!) came back with nothing!  Hoorah!  I'd spent ten days freaking out because his doctors thought he may have bone cancer.  Now, it's just waiting on further results for his heart, kidneys etc etc.

Anyway, back to the hamper.......  I went online and was quite frustrated by the options laid out before me.  $70 for a crappy little hamper with crackers, red wine and other bullshit added in.  No good for my Dad who doesn't drink red wine, is not a fan of crackers and doesn't stand for bullshit.  So I headed over to the old faithful Facebook and popped up a status to all my Gold Coast friends, wondering who lived close to my Dad?  A couple of girls I went through school with popped up and a certain lovely lady only lived ten minutes away and was more than happy to put a hamper together for me AND drop it off to my Dad!  I was thrilled!

I messaged her a list of possible items - XXXX beer, Violet Crumble, fruit mince pies and a little pudding.  And lots of fresh fruit.  This wonderful human being went above and beyond for me, and blew me away with the end result.  She delivered it to my Dad yesterday.  Now, she had not seen my Dad for probably 25+ years, so to go to a near stranger's home and deliver a gift with personal touches is a big ask!  But she did it.  And she gave my Dad a hug and a kiss from me too.  AND sms'd a photo for me too!  Dad was surprised.  She said he was speechless.  Well, until he figured he had some company and wanted to have a chat.....

Dad with his loot!

I'm sharing this because I want to remind everyone that the Christmas spirit is in fact well and truly alive and kicking.  When I posted the photo on FB yesterday afternoon and did a public thank you to my friend, everyone I grew up with was chuffed.  Another of my life long friends messaged me and I sat in tears with gratitude for the friendships that were formed such a long time ago.  I don't know what was in the water in those little towns in the 1980's, but whatever it was - it helped form a great bunch of children, who have grown in to a wonderful group of adults who are just plain AWESOME!

And just keep this in mind, next time you're travelling down that huge and busy Pacific Motorway on the Gold Coast - Just when you're passing the McDonald's and big stores that line those towns, think of the hundreds of country kids who kicked around in the dirt and had no idea what a Maccas was.  Imagine us crossing the two lane highway to get to our school bus.  And try to picture a much simpler time.  Because that was my childhood.  Well, part of it anyway.....

Blah....blah blah!

I've been a busy little beaver (so childish that every time I hear that word I laugh?) this last week or so!  Apart from the fact that it's school holidays here, which itself is enough to generally send me in to a spin - I've also well and truly got my Sew-jo back!    The last few months have been mind-blowingly maniacal, and I'm still recovering.  But our renovations are ALMOST finished - just one bloody toilet door to be hung!  Our house is feeling like a home - mostly due to the amount of crap that everyone feels comfortable leaving lying around.  My Dad is recuperating from his generous stint in hospital and scaring the shit out of us all.  The sun has been shining at least a few days a week, lulling us Melbournians into a false sense of Spring.

Things are looking up in the world.

I took my two working week-days off work last week, and spent it hanging out with my two primary school kids.  It was actually refreshingly lovely.  I also took Saturday off work, for the AFL grand final.  But we won't talk about that........bloody Swans.

When Chelsea asked me yesterday if we could go and watch "Hotel Transylvania" at the movies, I said yes (if you've seen it, you will now understand the post title!).  I sms'd her bestie's Mum, who also happens to be my friend, and arranged a weeknight date.  Unheard of.  We took Lochie along too.  Had a fabulous laugh at a really great film, and was later introduced to HARRAJUKU CREPES!!!  What rock have I been hiding under????  FAR OUT!  I didn't order one because I really wasn't sure what on earth they were all about.  But I made sure to help both Chelsea and Lochie (and my friend) to eat theirs.  Now all I can think about is a return trip.  Nom nom nom......

I've also been chatting to the girls at The Handmade Library!  And just yesterday they unveiled an Amaze-balls give-away!  Which you can check out AND ENTER HERE.  I am very happy to be a sponsor of the give-away - so head on over and tell them I sent you!

And today?  Well, today I'm having another chat, and a cuppa, with Clare from Clare's Craftroom.  Clare is running a series of morning teas with a bunch of lovely crafters - so I'm wrapt to be included!

Oh - and I'm off to work!  So that's it for now.  I will leave you with some of the results of my return to the sewing machines.......

All of these goodies can be purchased from Thursday 18th October when I hold my Out To Sea Market Night!  HERE is where you will find the details.

What have you all been up to in my absence??

I Don't "Get" Smoking?

There.  I've said it.  I've said it before, to many people, but am just going to put it out there here - I just don't "get" the appeal of smoking.  I don't understand why people start.  I don't understand why they continue.  And I mostly don't understand why they don't give up when their health has been jeopardised.

The reason I am now making these statements on a public forum is because my dear old Dad is still sitting up in a hospital ward, waiting for approval to have a triple bypass.  He has been smoking for over 55 years.  He had a stroke about ten years ago, which obviously wasn't a big enough scare for him to quit - but this week's health problems have him throwing away his tobacco and plastering himself in nicotine patches.  But really, isn't it just too late now?

Not only is his heart in dire straights from all the smoking, his kidneys are up shit creek too - which he seems to think is against him being a good candidate for the surgery.  Now, obviously I am not in Queensland with him, so getting a clear picture of how things are going is not an easy task.  There's only so much the nursing staff can explain over the phone, but the general picture is that they have done all their assessments and sent them to the specialist hospital in the city to await their answer.  What happens if they say no?  

I was talking to my sister the other day, giving her the run down on where things were at with Dad's condition, when we nearly got in to another philosophical conversation.  Only nearly because I was at work, and really couldn't spare the three hours the conversation could have taken!  We do like a chat.  But basically, the crux of my argument always leads me back to:

Why would you willingly do something to your body that you know will more than likely kill you?

Why?  I need people to explain this to me.  Yes, I understand it's an addiction.  Yes, I understand that kicking a habit is hard work.  But why?  Why not kick it to the curb?

My sister has been living with half her lung capacity for years now.  And I have no doubt that the sorry state of those said lungs will be what takes her from this world.  And I don't get it.  I hate knowing that she, my brother and my Dad's health has been shot just because of a choice to take up something they KNEW was dangerous.  Well, Ok, I'll give my Dad a semi-leave pass because the 50's loved glamorising smoking!

It's not too late.  This is my mantra.  My Mum gave up smoking years ago and her health has been so much better.  My late Nanna gave up at age 80!!!!  NEVER. TOO. LATE.

Soooooo......wait a tick whilst I climb down off my soap box.......

Now feel free to bombard me.  Tell me WHY?  Why do you smoke?  Why don't you give up?  And if you have given up - what was the catalyst?  I really would like to understand!

**** Disclaimer - Ok, so I'm not perfect.  I have been known over the years to get wildly drunk and shove a cigarette in my mouth.  But I have certainly regretted it every.  single.  time.  Lucky I don't get wildly drunk any more!!

Chapters of 2012

Just when you think you're drained, something else happens and it starts all over again.  Yesterday was a taxing day, the end to a taxing week.  I thought by the time I had finally gone to sleep last night, I'd shed some good tears, and had a good de-brief with my husband, so today would be the start of another week.  Fail.

This morning brought a phone call.  I had just bought a few plants and was madly trying to plant them before Chloe's dentist appt when it started raining.  So I jumped in the car and saw I had a missed call - from my Dad.  Strange.  I called him straight back and then came the beginning of the next chapter of the tale that is 2012.

Dad has had what they think is a heart attack - on Sunday.  He's been in hospital since then, but thought he'd wait til he found out what was going on before letting me know.  Thoughtful yes?  Anyway, turns out the old man's heart is blocked to within an inch of life and he now requires triple bypass surgery.  I sat in the driver's seat of my car whilst his lady friend filled me in on what had been happening.  There are some if's and but's, because you see, Dad has been a heavy smoker for some 50 odd years.  And he also has a lot of chest congestion, which does not make him the prime candidate for serious kick arse surgery.  So it's a little old waiting game. 

I was very brave, I uttered a few "ah-huh's" and a couple of "okay's", but I really just wanted to cry.  My Dad is sitting in a hospital 1345 kilometres away (yes I did just google that statistic!) waiting for a thumbs up, or down, to surgery.  All three of his children are interstate.  And his lady friend tells me that if he has the surgery, he will need full time care for two weeks afterwards - translated to: Your Dad needs you.

I tried calling my sister.  No luck.  I rang my Mum, who hasn't been married to my Dad for over 25 years, and told her to call my brother.  And then I just got on with it.  I got on with cancelling his flights down here in October, that I only booked last week.  I rang Andrew and filled him in.  I began the mind boggling task of working out how on earth I would be able to drop everything here and relocate to The Gold Coast for a week or so?

My sister called me back.  We came up with a plan.  I cried and gave her a serve for being a smoker.  I cried and told her that my family were all going to die because they make stupid choices and that I will be left all alone.  I went to a funeral exactly one week ago for a beautiful woman who died basically from smoking.  It was very close to home.  I cried and told her I was sick of having unreliable siblings.  And she apologised.  And we laughed.

My brother called back.  He agreed to the plan but won't be an active participant because he can't leave the state at present.  I'll leave that with you to put two and two together.  But he did offer to listen to me when I was balling my eyes out.

I called Dad back.  Relayed our plan to him.  Assured him that if and when he has surgery, I will fly up there, rent an apartment (Nope, I won't be caring for him in his caravan!) and care for him and then my sister will fly up and we'll play tag team so she can take the second half of the job.  I think he was a tad speechless.  But very grateful.

I only re-connected with my Dad about nine years ago, which I sort of wrote about HERE.  I'm just a little bit worried that things may not go well and I will once again, be Father-less.

I'm TRYING to be positive!  And I'm ever so grateful for an amazing bunch of human beings who just happen to be my friends for sending me wonderful little messages of support!  Including this little gem....

I know I'm a lucky girl.  But sometimes, just sometimes, I would like some time to breath between chapters.  Just a little.

Happy Father's Day - the late edition.

As I start to type this post at 10.44pm, my darling husband is finishing up ironing a week's worth of work clothes for himself.  I know it was a week's worth, because I sat on the lounge next to him watching Foxtel, and pulled out the hanger-upper part at the end of the ironing board when I noticed he was wandering around downstairs trying to find somewhere to hang the finished shirts.

Yes, today was is Father's Day in Australia.  And I made sure that the few hours I was home this morning before I left for work were as wonderful and relaxed as the man I am lucky to call my husband.  The 7.30 wake up call from Chloe holding her laminated hand prints and poem were enough to snap me out of my usual automatic response of "get back to bed!"  Instead, I directed her over the other side of the bed to wake her Daddy up.  The other kids followed shortly after, showering Andrew with their hand made cards and school stall bought gifts (Note: their new school's Father's Day stall kicks arse!!!!), and I then presented my gift - a pair of Hawthorn PJ pants.  These were purchased mainly for my own amusement, but the kids found them equally as amusing when he wandered downstairs wearing them.  Win win.

We headed to the shops for a quick morning tea, before I left him with the three kids and a trolley, bidding them farewell as I skipped towards my car.

I've heard Father's Day is supposed to be relaxing?  Well, I get the impression Andrew's wasn't so much.  I got that impression when I called at around 5.30pm from work to ask how his day was going? Oh, and what was for dinner?  I didn't quite fully get the response.  Something about him cutting back and pulling out all the plants in the backyard, finishing off the letterbox he somehow miraculously (impressively) put together yesterday and mowing the lawns.  Then I heard tacos, he was starting to cook tacos.  So I asked if he had taken the washing off the line........ Cue the sound of exasperation.

I wonder if that's what I sound like when he calls me in the early evening?

Anywho - I hope you've all had a FAB Father's Day and that above all else, you have spent the day appreciating the important men in your life.  All of the above drivel clearly spells out my appreciation and adoration, for the Father of my children.  I'm a very happy, and lucky, woman.  I've also taken the time today to phone my Dad in Queensland, who informed me it was a public holiday there on Friday, hence his card didn't get there in time.  Another phone call to my Step-Dad, whom I informed had a card sitting on our kitchen bench, that he would receive in due time.  And did a shout out to my Father in law on Facebook.  All Fathers covered.  Phew.

And to all of you who are missing an important man in your life.  I hope today brought some happy reflection.

How did you spend this Father's Day?  Did your other half bring the washing in and does he wear pj's??

Forgiveness.....and other stuff

This post has been swimming around in my head for a week now.  Exactly one week.  For it has been one week since my Dad arrived to stay.  He lives in Queensland, in a caravan park, in a van he oh so proudly owns.  Ask him, he'll tell you about it.

I did not know my Dad for a 15 year gap.  Not long after we (My Mum, Step Dad, Brother and miniature chihuaha - in a powder blue datsun - remember datsuns?) packed up our belongings, leaving our own shit-heap caravan/home behind, and headed to Victoria - we lost touch.  Well, more to the truth.....he kind of disappeared.  The kind of disappearing that happens on purpose?  To avoid paying money.  Nice.

Anywho......it TRULY didn't bother me, most of those 15 years.  In fact, I quite preferred it that way.  It was uncomplicated.  One less person I had to deal with.  It simplified my teenage years, to a degree.

Fast forward to circa 2002.  The phone rings.  Some random is on the other end.  And I have NO IDEA who it is.  Turns out it was my Dad.  Turns out he had a minor stroke and a pretty decent car accident.  Turns out he remembered he had children.

I can't even remember how that conversation went.  Needless to say, it must have gone well - given he's been staying here this week.  What happened after that phone call wasn't overly mind-blowing.  It was quite simple.  I had a choice.  I could hold a grudge against him and never let him in, or I could let it go.  The fact that he pissed away my family's security, all that we owned, and gave in to the gambling demons that haunted him?   We went from being a relatively "normal" suburban family with a very successful business owning Father....... to a Fatherless family who had to gather all of their possessions and live in a caravan for a couple of years.  Fun?  Not.

But I did it.  I forgave him.

Life is short.  

When I picked him up from the airport, over a decade after last seeing him, what I did see was an old man.  With next to nothing.  And he got in the car like nothing had ever happened.  So I went along with it.  And still do.

The strangest part about this story?  That he has been here for most of the seven days he's been in Melbourne, and I can honestly say I have not had a decent conversation with him.  Of course, that's not counting the stories he has told me about his kidney stones, constipation, sore shoulder and the strangers I knew nothing about until he told me!  Each day he has been here has been the same.  I go about my usual routines, and he hovers between watching television and popping outside for cigarettes.  

We are still strangers.

I feel like this should sadden me?  But it doesn't.  It just is what it is.  In essence, I am thankful that I have a Father.  One who has, over the past ten years, taken the time to get on a plane every couple of years to come and watch television at my house.  Taken the time and made an effort to send my children, his grandchildren, birthday cards.  And always calls me a week beforehand to let me know he has sent them something.  He has also taken the time to try to be a part of my life.  Even though I think I haven't really let him in.  I don't think he really knows me.  And probably never will.  

For all his faults, I love him.  And I know he loves me - unconditionally.   He never asks me for anything.  Nor do I ever expect anything of him.  So for now, it's working.  This Father/daughter thing.  It may be unconventional in some eyes, but that's my family.  Unconventionally conventional.

I want to end this with one of my all-time favourite quotes. 

 From one of my all-time favourite quoters - Oprah....

Are you a forgiver?  Or a grudger?

I had to say "Yes" didn't I?

My gorgeous husband came up with the genius idea to purchase a PS3.  Sort of a pressie for himself, for starting his new job.  I begrudgingly agreed to said purchase because:

a)  He works ridiculously hard and long hours to provide us with a great life

b)  He is a "gamer" at heart and since we got the iMac and iPad - apparently the games you can get on them just aren't the same as what he got on normal PC

c)  He promised me I would still see him and he would not live in the back room

Now, his original genius idea had the PS3 living in our bedroom.  Yehhhh.......nahhhhhhhhh.  Cut that one down quick smart.  Visions of lying in bed watching some stupid game on the tv, or waking in the middle of the night to the ever-so-delightful blips of a video game was not ideal in my eyes!  So I agreed it could live out in our back lounge room.  The same room that the Wii lives.  The same room that the kids watch tv in.  And NOT the same room that I have all of my foxtel shows set up to record on IQ.  That was MY genius moment.

So yesterday he goes out, whilst I'm at work, and purchases said game console.  I come home to find a very happy gaggle of children along with an extremely pleased with himself husband.  Master 7 comes out with this beauty - "Mum, did you tell Dad he could buy it?"   Ahhhh.....he's been taking note of how this household works....

Fast forward to today.  When husband returns to work.  Master 7 is not even awake two minutes when he asks if he can play the PS3?  No. The remainder of the afternoon, after a morning spent at the park goes something like this:

Kids jump straight on to PS3 when walking through door

Arguments about who is playing first, second, third, fourth, fifth (you get the picture) 

start almost immediately

Arguments, tears and yelling continue for approximately four hours

I threaten to pull the whole bloody thing out of the wall and take back to shop

Kids pull their heads in - somewhat

I retreat to computer and ignore them successfully

Don't get me wrong - I have absolutely no problems about kids and video games, televisions or anything even remotely classed as "not good parenting" hehehhe....but, I'm going to be having words with the husband about his ability to introduce this new play thing - and disappear to work!

Anyone else out there have a thing or two to say about video games?  Or children?  Or school holidays? Ten more sleeps....

I need Dr Phil - Part one....

**  I started writing this post two weeks ago....but it was all too hard, so I'm trying again today....

c/o sodahead.com

Not for me....well, I guess it is in a round about way for me.  I was watching yet another amazing Intervention on Dr Phil today, and I stood there crying and feeling the torture this poor family was going through, watching their family member literally killing themselves in front of their own eyes.  And there was nothing they could do about it.  Enter: Dr Phil.

Addiction is a nasty, evil and soul-killing thing.  It drains people, drains the people around them.  And unfortunately, too many members of my family have been afflicted with this evil, and I'm just about at my wit's end...

It all started with my Dad (well, I'm guessing his Dad, or his Dad's Dad, or someone prior to my Dad started it all?), who discovered the "joys" of gambling many many years ago.  Gambling pretty much ruined his life, not to mention his family's lives, which I guess in turn, means mine?  I don't see my life that way, i.e. ruined, but it was certainly altered.

Gambling led my family from a humungous house on the Gold Coast, a successful family plumbing business and what I would have considered, a pretty regular and happy family life, to smaller homes and businesses and a fairly dysfunctional family life.  Until we eventually had to sell everything and rent a house from a family friend.  The inevitable happened, and my parents divorced and we then lived in a caravan park for a couple of years.  This all happened in a matter of approximately seven years.  So it was a pretty swift fall from grace.  Some relief came in the form of my Step Dad and his job offer in Melbourne, so off we went.  But the damage had already been done, and I did not see or hear from my Father for the following 13 years.  I am however, pleased to say, he re-entered my life eight years ago, and we have a pretty good relationship.  I accept that he had/has a disease, and he is now a reasonably elderly man - so bygones are now bygones.

To say I have "issues" with and around gambling, would be a huge understatement!  I made it perfectly clear to my darling husband not long after we met, that the one thing that would be a deal-breaker, was gambling.  He and I now have an agreement that he is "allowed" (typing that sounds SO wrong) to gamble Melbourne Cup Day.  And it's a bit of family entertainment - the kids pick horses and put a dollar on them.  Win, win.

Needless to say - this first addiction was the first of many to emerge in my family, and I believe was the catalyst to all that would eventuate.....