I have this family tradition.
Growing up, every night at the dinner table, the Good News Bad News question would do the rounds. “So, what’s your good news bad news of the day?”, my mum would ask, since she was always the instigator of this tradition. Uggghhh, we would moan, especially as teenagers. I dunno, we’d shrug, determined to pass the spotlight along as swiftly as possible. She persisted though, my mother, every single night, because she knew long before we did that traditions are the very heart of families. The simple, small legacies that shape the way a family exists together are the things one remembers long after they are over.
Without much deliberate thought, Good News Bad News has continued in the new family I have built for myself. Actually that’s not entirely true. The Bad News segment has been scrapped. It’s been changed to Highlight Of The Day. There is a particular person, an eternal optimist in my new family, who prefers to emphasize only the good, and it is for this very reason that I love this particular person so very much. Nevertheless. Nevertheless. Sometimes a girl’s got to vent. Good News Bad News is about balance. It’s about reality. It’s about can-you-believe-this-freaking-well-happened-to-me-but-look-how-well-im-doing-by-listing-all-this-good-stuff.
So, without further ado, I bring you Good News Bad News: Melbourne Edition.
I arrived with Ella in tow sporting no headaches, no bruises, no aches and pains. The solo plane ride was a success. We grabbed our bags, dropped them at a friend’s house and jumped back out into the fresh, crisp air, absorbing every shred of vibrance the place offered us. We passed deli’s full of mouth-watering food. We ate lunch at quaint corner pubs. We walked up and down streets, passing old vintage shops and record stores and people from all walks of life. We passed little cottage homes with pretty flowers out front and I remembered how much I loved this city.
**The street messages were what I loved the most. The city was full of them.
Two days into our trip, my phone (read: my lifeline) was stolen from my bag when we were shopping at the markets. Oh dear, it was bad news. It was terribly bad news. I had lost photos I’d loved and not backed up. I’d lost contact numbers. I’d lost the ability to work until I returned home. I’d lost the faith I hold for humanity which gives me hope that people are more good than they are bad. After a counselling session from Joel, however, I got my shit together and let it go. People have it far worse, I told myself. They really do.
Once Joel arrived, a cold front set in and we rugged up (which I love), went exploring (which I love), drank a little beer or two (which I also love), and ate until we couldn’t eat anymore (which I love the most).
The first night in, Ella had developed a killer cold and as a result woke me at 10pm, 11pm, 12 pm, 1 am, 2 am and so on and so forth. Somewhere mid-early-morning I lost my marbles all over the bedroom floor and my mama cool was replaced by deep, hot wrath. It was directed towards Joel, as it usually is, which is lucky for Ella, not so lucky for him.
(No photos to accompany this, unfortunately.)
It was Joel’s birthday while we were away, and we celebrated in style and had a heap of fun doing so. Nothing says happy birthday like a trip to the zoo.
*You guys, a butterfly landed right on my head. Talk about Good News of the day.
Ella peed on our friends’ bed. So mama bought flowers and made Ella write a sorry note. It was actually kind of funny, in the end.
And because all Good News Bad News should end with a positive spin, this happened, friends. Perhaps the good-est good news of all.
I snuck away.
And I shopped.
The red tent is going into hibernation for a week or so because I’m flying to Perth on Thursday for the wedding of some dear friends. We are juggling some serious balls over here right now. Things just got a whole lot busier.
Have a wonderful week, red tenters.
I’ll miss you so.