What’s it worth?

31 May

via Pinterest

Lovers, the other day I read this:

No pressure, no diamond.
– Thomas Carlyle

Do you know it?  Do you know the feeling lover?  The breath holding, eye squishing, stomach scrunching anticipation before you give the nod. The positive pressure of eustress, taking you to a new edge.  And the woooosh of the exhale, acute mind boggling awareness of what you just did; the exhilarating release.  The sudden ‘all stations are go’ because you made the declaration, so it’s game on to make it work.

All that daydreaming, and vague chatter about what you could do.  All that one-day-ing.  Trust that we all do it, no matter where we’re at.  Just that some of us act quicker than others, some of us leap and pray hard as they plunge into their future.  Others pray and wait for perfect conditions.  Sometimes they come, and then sometimes we wait an eon.

Sometimes we crash hard, and sometimes we hit the ground running.  There are no guarantees, but if we knew what to expect… wouldn’t that just suck the fun faster than a Hoover.

I wonder lovers…

What is it worth to raise your stakes, higher?
What if you tried a different method entirely?
What is worth to be open, clear and vulnerable?
What about moving your body in a new fashion?
What about moving your body and your things?
What if you used your time differently today?
What if you put a limit on it? And stuck to it.
What would happen if you upped your value?
What if you exposed a secret side of yourself?
What if you said yes? Or no? And never maybe.
What if you made an effort to pimp your standards?
What if you sought out new knowledge in a strange place?
What of taking time to feel out your emotion instead of raging?
What is it worth to acknowledge the love around you without fear?

What if you set off a glitter bomb, and applied a little pressure? Tested your limits, with love. Leapt into abundance?  There is no one right way, but there is always your own distinctive style.

Is it worth reaching a new perspective or understanding?
Is it worth a new mindset ready for the next challenge?
Is it worth that expression on every one of their faces?
Is it worth a better result?  Or just a different one?
Is it worth the freedom to explore, everything?
Is it worth the space to rest, find peace?
Is it worth learning you can do that?
Is it worth meeting your soul face to face?
Is it worth stretching your mind, or boundaries?
Is it worth finding your own kind of pure joy?  Jubilation?
Is it worth finding out what sort of magical stuff you’re made of?

Is it worth holding a diamond in your hand?  A sparkly rocking orb, refracting light in the direction of your next adventure?  Fashioning it into a charm you carry with you always, not for luck, but as a reminder of how totally magnificent you are.

Yes?  Unreal. Go for it.
No?  Too nerve-racking? Well, what about that other thing you wanted to do then?  Don’t think I was going to skip over that one.  Start small if you have to lover.

How might you put a little pressure on lovers?  What is drifting about your orbit that you can’t ignore anymore?  What do you want to say yes to, and up the stakes?  Because when you up the stakes, you up your game.  You learn how to wing it and become more resourceful.  You end up agreeing to deliciously crazy nonsense you never would have.

And trust me lovers, you’ve definitely got game.  We’re just waiting for you to bust it out.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. Might you share this nibblet of loving nonsense? Email, Facebook or even print it out and pin it up somewhere with a dreamy view?

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Actually, you probably can bend that way

28 May

“I’ve done this kind of thing before, and I just don’t see how it can work.” 

This is one of the most dismaying phrases ever to appear before my eye balls.

“Seriously?” Was my eventual, bewildered response.  After I’d let the situation marinate a wee while.

Because we weren’t discussing the intricacies of solving a Rubik’s cube, we were negotiating a love affair type situation.  Or maybe it was lust, or like… there were definitely absurd nicknames involved.  In any case I was left in a sort of baffled frustration as I watched the prospect of a happily-ever-after-ish-or-thereabouts vision sort of just dissolve in front of me.  You know that feeling?

Apparently he didn’t bend that way. Bummer.

Not necessarily because the romance of long imaginary beach walks and shared gelato were off the table – they’re not, romance abounds in these parts, so we’re good on that point – but because it felt like possibility everywhere had just been brutally shot in the foot…

It hadn’t though. You can’t actually kill possibility, it’s abundant; I’m flagrantly using dramatic license here.  You see lovers I’m an impossible idealist, big picture type of gal. Just like a gazillion other people running on mad faith and imagination (perhaps a little sketchy on the actual figure).

Actual possibility, and actual unimaginable things are happening all over the place because people refuse to accept they can’t make things happen.  They’re throwing logic, fear and proven methods into a big pot, brewing it with gobs of honey and sipping it while they ponder the various nonsenses that lay before them.  They’re making it work.

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.” – Albert Einstein

There’s no future in the past lovers.  We can’t take what hasn’t worked, and apply it to what we have in front of us.  In fact if we want to be perfectly honest, the past is fairly irrelevant, because how we exist here is unlike any moment before, and none of us can predict the future.  We can make assumptions about each, and have a right crack at forecasting a probable outcome, but that’s about it.  All of us are flying blind really, throwing our hearts and ingenuity at the situations before us, and seeing what sticks.

Lovers I assure you that every single day, every single situation, the wild crazy stylings of your Creative Genius is within grasp.  You can actually bend that way if you want to.  It is possible.

Don’t believe me?  May I remind you that we hauled ass to the moon?

That bread loaves are sliced.
People are genuinely happy.  Right now.
People are surviving heartbreak. Right now.
They can transplant hearts, limbs and lungs.
Fireworks displays get bigger and more spectacular.
People crowd source funding to make their dreams come true.
Noah built an ark. I once built a footstool.  (Okay I assembled a footstool)
People are painting masterpieces and developing killer gadget prototypes to make your life easier.
The internet allows me to pretend I’m from the future when talking to people in other time zones, in real-time.
Graffiti artists make their mark the very top of billboards, leaving us wonder ‘how the heck did they get up there?’
Someone thought airplanes would be a cool thing to make.  And now we’re nipping across the globe like it’s nothing.
Someone who wrote a novel, perhaps even in another century, never really considering that you specifically would exist, can offer wisdom that changes the course of your life.

A fine specimen like Evan Dowman (who you don’t know, but would adore) exists, is single and he wanted to say hello to you.  And he’s not the only one.  You would be shocked how many people are toying with the possibility of saying hello to you lover.

And people actually do solve Rubik’s cubes.  Without the assistance of Google. True story.

Because folks everywhere are opting to explore into the bat shit crazy ideas on the off-chance that they might just work.  And if they don’t?  If they really don’t despite throwing everything you have at them? It’s okay.  Because there is always space to let the dust settle, with the knowledge that there’s an infinite list of schemes to back them up.  Seriously.

You bend that way, and you don’t break.  You bend toward what is possible and whether it turns out or not – the world around you remains standing.  Only you’re different, because you know that you can bend that little bit further now.

But aforementioned dude wasn’t ready to bend my way.  Now this isn’t to say that he isn’t bendy at all, he is.  It’s just we’re all bending in different directions, and he was heading right when I was rocking the bat shit crazy notion we could both swing a hard left.  Heck, even I wasn’t sure I could bend that far before I swallowed the trepidation and threw it out there on the fly. Only that particular possibility got shot in the foot.  Sometimes that’s how it happens.

Sometimes it means something else becomes possible.

And just because it wasn’t someone else’s possibility, doesn’t it’s not yours.  There are all kinds of possibilities waiting to be born by you especially.  Or maybe there’s someone else out there running on the fumes of imagination too?  There’s only one way to find out if you can bend that way lovers…

We’re here for a good time, not a long time lovers.  Whatever it is lingering in your orbit now, make it possible.  Make it count.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. Did this resonate with you lovers?  Might you share it then?

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I landed in Melbourne! Please send socks. And a maybe a Snuggie.

22 May

Just a quickie lovers!

I landed in Melbourne last night. Hello Melbourne! I snuck in under the cover of darkness and everything yo, just like a real ninja.  And just a heads up to those from the north – they’re right – though not as chilly as I’d expected, it is remarkably cold here.  I have only been able to type this note after defrosting my fingers on the kettle for exactly 47 minutes.  Granted, this is one of those times I have fabricated utter nonsense, and that is a big fat lie.  Along with fangs and glitter, I had enough forethought to bring gloves with me.  And thankfully this fuzzy coat make makes me look like a sexy (albeit terribly startled) Inuit, so I’m set.

I’m staying with Lady Candy for the moment, who sounds like she might be a high-end escort, but is not, so please no enquiries.  Not to say she’s not an exquisite creature and couldn’t give it a red-hot go, but she’s booked out exclusively to Sir Flamingo & Co until further notice.  I’ve been spoilt for helping hands so far with this mad-but-hella-fun-non-plan to migrate south.  Lady Candy has been kind enough to offer to be my landing pad for a wee while and I could not be more grateful for her favour.

Please lovers, today seek out the Lady Candy (or plural if applicable) in your life and tell ‘em HUGE thanks for keeping you rolling.

Here now our quickie ends lovers (but damn it was good, phew!). I must dash, the Lady has promised an array of Adonis-type baristas who make coffee so silky it could cure chronic tonsillitis with one sip.  I’m told this city is known for them, and she said I must pick my favourites from the outset… I jest! Remember how I had a day job a while back?  Yeah me neither, but the time has come that I need to source some form of employment as to be able to pay for the delicious caffeine addiction I’m about to take on.

Hot tips on anything that involves writing (anything), or utilising my extraordinarily good energies to simply be generally fabulous in the orbit of other fabulous folks are appreciated.  Other creative ventures also welcomed, I have many skills and am willing to learn many more as quickly as required.

And we all know that regardless of what I find myself doing, I’m very likely to unearth lashings of nonsense ponderings from the experience to share here with you.  What would you see me engage in?

Until next time lovers… thank-you very hard for chilling with me along this fantastical journey.

Yours in nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. But please seriously, send socks.  Lots of socks.  If you can only find mismatched, daggy wooly ones with ugly pom poms and cartoon characters, I am okay with that.

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You’re imagining it. Thank-you.

22 May

via Pinterest

Thank you a bundle for reading, hanging out and sending back love for the nonsense we engage here.  You’re all perfect and full of really good things.  It gives me great pleasure to know that each of you is out there in the world, pimping your standards and doing awe-inspiring things on the regular.
I know some of the flock are launching businesses, finding their lost keys behind the couch, sweating final exams and some are even rocking crowds at international conferences.  And then there’s the babes making their mark by rocking life daily.  You’re showing up and feeling out this being human gig with faith the big magic is just around the corner.

I love your everything.  I love your elbows, your triumphs, your missteps, your stories, your big dumb grins, your fabulous and your whispering truths.  I love that you’ve all the capacity to do really awesome, really strange and unimaginable things.  Except you are imagining them.  And in doing so, you’re making your trillions of cells jitterbug.

And you’re making it possible.
And you’re making it real.
And you deserve it.
And you got this.

Thank-you.

Yours in nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S.  Go make some magic happen.

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The Ronnie Theory & why you’re always on time.

20 May

via Piccsy

I’ve got this affliction where I prefer to be ridiculously early for things. We’re not talking friendly punctuality here, we’re talking my internal clock nudges me to get ready about 40 minutes before I need to, so I can be at least 20 minutes early if possible – you know, just to hang. I’m all for not keeping folks waiting, but we’re talking unnecessary preparation. Part of me suspects it’s an instinctual overcompensation for being born ten days late. Most of me thinks it’s the lingering inner control freak I showdown with every now and then.

In any case lovers, the punctuality thing has quietly driven me absolutely bananas for yonks. Because despite having that friendly advice offered by the inner control freak, all the way from the nosebleed section of my brain, there is nothing I can do to control time. Or anything I can do to sway the outcome of being early, late or rocking up all sexy-fresh and windswept, bang on time.

Nada. Life’s gonna happen as life needs to happen lovers. Or as we shall now call it: The Ronnie Theory.

Ronnie is a quite awesome fellow, chair connoisseur and is very, very fond of storytelling. Which is fair enough really, the man has a plethora of tales to relay, and often a captive audience needing his approval or signature before they can continue with their day… thankfully these tales are interesting to listen to. One in particular tickled my fancy.

Now, it was a few weeks ago, and there was miniature desserts involved so I may have been distracted and thus sketchy on the details, but I’m confident I can do the story justice.

A long time ago, Ronnie was rather smitten with a certain young lady. He thought she was the most wonderful creature as she sauntered past him, flipping her hair in slow motion, like a shampoo ad. Her scent was comparable to Acacia honey and your deepest, sweetest dreams.

Okay so I’m making that bit up… but he did manage to score a date with the lass. They arranged fixed time to meet at the train station, and then they would gallivant to wherever young people would gallivant in those days. You see lovers, this was when mobile phones weren’t a thing and one would be required to travel home to use a landline to engage in telecommunication activity. You couldn’t just shoot of a text message to enquire if your date was running on time, you had to commit to the plan in advance.

And so the day of the Big Date arrived. As did the hour they would meet, embrace and gallivant. Young Ronnie arrived five minutes earlier, eager to be on time and make a good impression. He was as fond of this girl as he now is of storytelling. The hour came, and then passed. Seven minutes went by, then thirteen and not long after that Ronnie figured he’d been stood up and bailed.

A day or so later, when she was able to catch him at home on the landline, the young lady in question asked Ronnie why the hell he hadn’t shown up. He said “I did show up. You didn’t.” She had been running late.

“I don’t wait for longer than fifteen minutes for anyone.” In disbelief she exclaimed, “but I could have been the love of your life!”

“Then you would have been on time, wouldn’t you?” She couldn’t refute his argument, and so that was that lovers.

It’s a solid argument. He’s now married to a gorgeous lady, who doesn’t smell like honey but also doesn’t swan her hair around like a dork (thank goodness).  Life’s going to happen as it needs to, people are going to rock up if they’re meant to, be late if they’re meant to. They’ll miss the party all together if you’re both meant to be en route to meet other destinies. So why wait in excess? Or be consistently unnecessarily early just to make sure you’re on time (uh, note to self…)?

Being late might piss people off. But I know numerous people who cannot master the unassuming art of being punctual, and they do okay. Being really early might be super handy, but I am starting to realise there is a catalog of things you can do with an extra twenty minutes. Getting the project finished on time is great for productivity and budget purposes, but often procrastination and time-wasting is more indicative of where you should really be directing your energies.

Traffic jams, lost packages, stubbed toes, moving delays, short-term romances, wi-fi issues, leaving your hair dye on too long and the rest - life has a funny way of helping you out, as noted by Lady Morissette a while ago. You’ll find a reason to stay, or leave if you want to. Similarly, that’ll all go to shit and you’ll be impeded by old mate Cosmos if you’re getting in your own way.

The Ronnie Theory: You’ll be on time if you’re meant to be part of it. If you’re meant to be doing something else, you’ll be doing that. I realise it’s not entirely dissimilar to the basic definition of ‘fate’, but has a rad story to accompany it. And you’ll probably appear much cooler and informed on the mysteries of life if you nonchalantly shrug off mishaps with ‘eh, I’m employing The Ronnie Theory on this one. Now mate, would you mind passing me that miniature creme brûlée?’

So just roll with it lovers. Whatever’s timeframe you’re thrown into, find a way to be okay with it, and then find a way to enjoy it thoroughly. Because that’s the adventure you’re meant to be having, and you’re running on perfect time for that.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. Where have you found yourself employing The Ronnie Theory?

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Homeward bound.

18 May

As previously mentioned, Flamingo Manor is hitting the road.  I’m packing up this Jubilant affair into one wholly splendid suitcase (not-to-be-missed crazy bright plaid) and casually strolling away from home.  And I tell you now it is mighty lucky I recently acquired some gigantic but fabulous sunglasses to hide the welling tears that keep wanting to assault my face each time I say goodbye to someone.  I buy mascara based on merit of volume, not waterproofing.

There is no real plan here though, I’m very much acting on a feeling that’s been nudging at me for oooohh 18 months or so to fly the coop… manor… coop… whatever.  I was a bit slow to act on this one.  Nonetheless on the 21st of this month I shall depart the Gold Coast, armed with aforementioned suitcase and mad trust in old mate Cosmos.  It’s very much going to be a stroll off the plane and say ‘aiiiiight Cosmos, I’m here.  Whatchu got for me?’

No plan. No car. No home per say.

Let’s be honest, this Flamingo Manor situation is more of a figurative one.   They say home is where the heart is lovers,  and I’m not sure who they are exactly but I’m sure they’re onto something.  Because (not surprisingly) this has become something of a prevalent pondering for me of late as I make the last-minute preparations to skedaddle – much to some people’s chagrin I am rather adamant that I shan’t return in a residential capacity anytime soon.

“Our homes do not have to offer us permanent occupancy or store our clothes to merit the name. To speak of home in relation to a building is simply to recognise its harmony with our own prized internal song. Home can be an airport or a library, a garden or a motorway diner.”
- Alain de Botton, The Architecture of Happiness

Now as I hold back on blubbering (the crying thing is still new to me) I am settling into this idea that home is people, places and activities.  Home is the beloved friends I’ve collected.  It’s the dance floors I’ve graced along the way & the various locals I’ve tipped my hat to strolling by.

It’s certain songs.  Phrases.  A favourite meal.  A collection of photos.  Your oldest shoes.  Late night chats.  The way some people laugh, or hug… or even scowl.  The secret cafes.  A stranger you always see.  Inside jokes that refuse to die.  The night sky.  Gelato.  Stories in life and in books.  The ocean.  The city.  The sound of footsteps or the train.  That inexplicably weird thing your car does when you start it.  The quiet dinner turned wild rampage.  The wild rampage cut short in favour of an early night.  The secret rituals you perform when you have at least eight minutes alone.  A good cup of tea.  It’s family and friends, wherever they are.  

It’s whatever or wherever you are.  It’s old and new.  It is familiar.  There is nothing to say you can’t wander into a new place or group of people and instantly feel at home.  It’s nice to have that structure, history and familiarity you create around you… but it is equally delightful to trust you don’t have to rely on any of it to find your centre.

You simply need to know where home is for you, lovers.  All of the things, people and places you can reach for and find solace… feel them out and find ways to have them near.

Capture it, record it, then play it over and over. And over if you need to.  We’ve iPods, email, smartphones and apps for nearly everything.  In most cases, you can get whatever you want posted to wherever you are with a couple clicks on your computer.  You’ve come home in a matter of seconds.

Me & Lizzy G

Strangely I feel as if I’m headed home, despite the fact I’ve never lived in Melbourne-town, only visited (though I almost deliberately missed my return flight).  It’s because there are people I call ‘home’ there, and there are people I consider ‘home’ here promising to visit.  I’m taking the essential home comforts with me… tunes and the string of flamingo lights I had hanging over my one party dress on the wall. In Melbourne I am assured there is delicious coffee, dahhhling fashions and a bunch of other really awesome things I shall share with you along the way.

But for now I farewell the little nooks and folks I have here on the Gold Coast, hiding behind my fabulously gigantic sunglasses  - pictured here beach side with Lizzy G –  pretending I’m not about to bawl my eyeballs out.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. If you’re in the know with Melbourne-town nonsense that I need to be in the know about also, please do drop me a love note here.

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What’s the point of livin’ if you don’t wanna dance?

15 May

Still being a trifle negligent with the posting lovers.  It’s due to the packing… and moving and whatnot… and things.

Also probably because I keep taking frequent dancing breaks. I have lost count of how many times I’ve replayed Better Than Today by Kylie Minogue (a fabulous Aussie, hey yo hey yo).  I’ve a significant amount of left over glow sticks that just will not fit in the suit case, it’s a hardship but you know I’d hate to see them go to waste.

Methinks this is a clear choice to be the unofficial theme song of Flamingo Manor.  What do we think m’loves?  At the very least we could vote it onto a 2012 Flamingo Hits compilation mix tape.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. What would you call your theme song?  Of the day, week or of all time even?

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Hola Monday!

14 May

Aiight now lovers… if your Monday isn’t feeling like this, then I strongly suggest we all put on some merry tunes and kick this week off in style.

Okay? Done. And done.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S. This time next week I’ll be smooshing my sister’s utterly gorgeous face in the Adelaide stop-in before moving to Melbourne. Jubing baby!

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I’m moving. Horray!

11 May

Yep. Moving Flamingo Manor. Interstate.  And I’m referring to the Manor in a physical-the-Manor-is-in-my-head-my-head-is-attached-to-my-body-and-my-body-is-going-somewhere sense, not away from here the Manor.  I’ve sold Roxette (the automobile) and am going to squish all the vital things, like clothes and flamingo lights, into a suitcase and migrate south from the Gold Coast to Melbourne, Australia.  We fly out on the 21st of May at 6am…ish and it’s chilly in Melbourne so bring a decent coat. And maybe a scarf, or seven.

So lovers, things around here might be a bit quiet on account of me quite possibly being either lost in a myriad of boxes bound for storage, or because I’ll likely be slack with the posting, opting instead to use the internet machine to listen to music while packing instead of writing you notes.

This doesn’t mean I have forgotten about you.

…okay perhaps momentarily.  But I shall endeavour to return as soon as possible with news of the migration.

Yours in Nonsense,
Casey xo

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What sort of nonsense are you prepared for?

7 May

They say preparation is key lovers.  I’m not entirely sure who ‘they’ are but it seems to make a trifle of sense, doesn’t it?  To make sure you have all your things together so when opportunity strikes you’re ready to jump on it hard and fast.  Preparation lovers – otherwise you run the risk of being that kid who turns up to the soccer game in scuba gear, flippers and all.

I learned the other day that my Great Grandma Ethel always had a packed suitcase on the ready in case of an emergent situation.  I’m not entirely sure of the contents, but considering Ethel was a woman who was never seen out of full dress and done hair, I imagine it was the full caboodle.  I know of ladies who travel and shove their worldies into their bra just in case of disaster.  People carry jumper leads in their car in case it stops.  Though when my car stopped, I left it there and walked to a bookstore named Shenanigans.  It seemed the fitting thing to do at the time.

Some folks carry matches and pocketknives.  Some take a cardigan always, in case of a turn in the weather. Friend of the Manor, Lady JZ, always has a glue stick with her, because extreme craft is always on the cards (and this is precisely why we love her).  Sifting through my own bag now I am trying to decipher what I am prepared for, and am drawing a blank.  I have:

2 books
1 wallet
1 set of fangs
2 sets of keys
1 mobile phone
1 sequined scarf
1 paw paw lip balm
1 pair of binoculars
1 set of headphones
3 kinds of nail polish
1 vial of purple glitter
1 tube of magic hand cream
2 coloured pens – pink & purple
1 strawberry shaped re-usable shopping bag
1 Macbook case (the Mac lives in there when I’m not writing to you)

Plus usually bananas, grapes and I’m quite positive there’s stuff lost in the abyss… Yes there is a ridiculous assortment in there and it’s a rather large bag.  Though unlike Ethel’s emergency ready bag, I could not tell you what I am unconsciously prepping for judging by the things have with me on the ready.  Really, really content disco grocery shopping, complete with a glistering purchase list?

Though truthfully, everywhere you turn, everyone is seemingly preparing for something.  Affirmations to bolster, resources to inform and by actual physical things they carry around.  Some of them have apparent purpose, and immediate results when we utilise them.  Some we just like to have with us as security, we like to think we’re going to be composed enough to reach for these things when the unexpected strikes.  Or the expected, as it were.

Another friend of the Manor, Lady Ashleigh of TRI-C Personal Training, pointed out to me that consistent activity causes our bodies to prepare for what comes.  Our muscles, our cells, our everythings get used to our routine and get complacent; they’re all ‘ohhhhh yeh, got that sorted’.  So if we want to move forward we have to tune into when it’s time for us to unprepare, up our game and mix it up.  The way we move needs to alter as we strengthen.

So that leads me to query how often we need review the way we make provisions for certain circumstances?  Is it something you keep a check on, or have you kept the suitcase packed with the same effects since the day you packed it in October 2002?  And indeed, what sort of nonsense is it that you find yourself preparing for with the way you live your life?  Disaster or wonder?  Love or fear?  Action or rest?  Pirates or ninjas?  Perfectly executed scheduling or a car crash on your wedding day?

Can you ever really to know what to expect at any given moment?  Are you clairvoyant or as accurate as a magic 8ball?  Because lovers, pretty much all of us are winging it hardcore. We’re winging it, and finding ourselves with furrowed brows and a bag full of tricks ready for everything we can’t predict for certain.  Which is both terrifying and thrilling, wouldn’t you say?  Because while we boggle our eyes trying to see so far ahead, we also have the room to imagining a magnificent realm of possibility where magic and other cool shit manifest all the long live day.

And so I wonder, as you move through your day, week and/or life…
Do you wake up grinning like a dork, bracing yourself for an amazing experience?
Do you always wear your dancing shoes? To work and to get milk?
Have you got a stylish pen on the ready to scribble down your details?
Do you expect people will screw you over royally or bring you joy? How does that affect the way you communicate with them?
Do you carry an umbrella?  Require a certain beverage or song before declaring your day has ‘begun’?
Might you wear luxurious underthings on the regular, or sensible underthings in case of unexpected breeze?
How do you walk? Quickly, as not to be late? Or slowly, as not to miss the scenery?
Do you carry spare batteries?  Or a wardrobe in your car? Tissues?
Perhaps you eye yourself off in the mirror every morning and tell yourself you’re abundant and rather fantastic?  Or just look away and grimace?

What is your plan B? Or Plan K through O?

Have a quicky squiz at your life just now… What are you prepared for lovers?  Can you trust that old mate Cosmos has it covered, or are you packing the ‘essentials’ just in case.

Yours in nonsense,
Casey xo

P.S.  If you wish to have a rather large but very sexy bag to fit all amount of peculiar items, click here.

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