J'ai SUPERFROID

Right now I'm wearing this t-shirt. It translates "I'm super chilled" though I guess it could also be read "I'm super cold", and I guess different people may have different takes on that. I bought it when I was in fact quite chilled in the French Alps a day or two ago, though I'm about to be wearing it in Rio. Does that make it a whole different class of chilled? I don't care. On the flight here I finished the first book I've read in years, "exit through the wound" by North Morgan, who I know as London Preppy. In the back of the book the publisher, Glasshouse Books, states "Glasshouse books has a simple mission statement. To publish books for people who don't read."

I tick that box.

When I started the book I was unimpressed. Not only was the main character straight rather than gay, yet the same character from london preppy's blog. Some of the work was pure cut and paste from the blog, and there was so much drug use I felt I was at work. But it grew on me. Certain bits have been updated for current consumption, which disappoints, but despite this I enjoyed it and in the end I was just burning through the pages under a narrow beam from my reading light as everyone else on my flight slept.

And on this Iberia flight from Madrid to Rio there are pieces of tape holding together the mirror and ventilation filter in the one toilet I've visited. I hope the engines and fuselage are more convincingly held together, but then this is a Spanish plane and we are deep in GFC2.

The reason I referred to the book is that it reinforces an opinion I've developed recently that I need to stop caring what people think. I have no reason to be self conscious and if people don't understand me they can ask. I don't need or want to explain myself. I'm calling it self respect. And I'm going to be more demanding with it in future.

Which brings me to an issue I've been grappling with for a few years now. A good friend disowned me for personal reasons, his not mine, some time back. A friendship I enjoyed greatly and have missed, and the demise of which I do not and will probably not ever truly understand, though I am certain there is miscommunication, misunderstanding and a deal of emotional content that's difficult to decipher. My mistake then was to allow it to happen and not enforce a face to face discussion, even if the end result were to be the same.

But now I'm giving transparency the flick. If you want to know what I'm thinking, deserve to know it first, then ask. I'm taking no prisoners, jumping into 2012 and running with it, not waiting for anyone to catch up. Keep up or make your own way. Be sure to have fun though. I certainly will.

Gazing into the www sky

I remember as a kid our long summer holidays to the Myall Lakes where we would camp at the edge of the lake, our own sandy beach, our own space. Days were spent in or by the water, swimming, skiing, sailing, windsurfing or just mucking around. In the evenings as the sun set slowly over the lake I'd stare at the stars emerging in the deepening blue sky. I was at the edge of the earth with the vastness of space just an arms-length away. So insignificant and yet so connected at the same time. The potential possibilities of what I could achieve felt infinite.

There was no internet back then. There was no verb 'to google'. Billions of stars then and now but now there is a whole new world that you and I both can explore through the screens we are focussed on right now.

While I may have felt the possibilities were endless then, right now they are ever so much more real. If I want to contact someone - I can. There was a movie that moved me, so I emailed the director and had a conversation. There was something that irked me on a TV show & newspaper article, so I tweeted in response and had myself heard. When I'm not happy with something politically, I can move and shake and do something about it. Easily. And then there's this blog, while a little less fashionable these days, it is my own little publication that is read regularly throughout the world (by some very special people). A very small sandy beach in the huge ocean that is the world wide web.

And while I love watching the sunset and gazing at the stars, for me it is all about the connection. The people who come into my world and share experiences, reflect on them and gain from them, returning to the world a little better for it. Hopefully.

And right now I'm physically exhausted from the people who have come into my world of late. And I love it.

It's Time - Get Up video

I love this. It's beautiful and powerful.

Click here to support the cause.

Noosa Triathlon Chaos

Me - far left - at the bike-run transition.

Last weekend was the focus of my training for much of the year. The Noosa Triathlon.

And what a weekend it was to become!

The first thing one notices when you arrive in Noosa on this particular weekend of the year is the mass of bicycles EVERYWHERE. And they're not just standard bikes. They're the carbon fibre / time trial / über expensive variety in all manner of shapes, colours and weights.

While they may be the first thing you notice they are by far not the predominant feature. The hot, fit men that abound is enough eye candy to create visual diabetes. And while I'm tempted to say I'd be happy to made ill from the abundance, that's a little too close to the bone for me for this particular weekend.

Pre-race preparation is all consuming - a combination of physical preparation / equipment organisation / hydration and rest. I find myself phasing out of conversations as I focus on my race plans and preparation in my head.

But this year things, all kinds of things, go horribly wrong, from way in advance right through the weekend. We'll start with my brother having to withdraw as result of his bike-car crash earlier in the year. A fews days before the weekend I develop a sore throat and cough, this was not in my pre-race plan. As the weekend arrives we discover that my partner and his team are in fact not registered for their team event. A technical glitch that wasn't a fun discovery for the team especially for the cyclist who had her own newly purchased über bike all prepped up with no place to ride. On Saturday Qantas grounds its entire fleet and our exit from Noosa becomes uncertain. Not that I'm too worried as staying in Noosa longer is never really a problem.

But wait, there's more.

Sunday, Race Day arrives and at 5am I'm awake and in preparation, pre-hydration and setting up gear in the transition zone. My race starts at 6:52. The swim is good, but I'm feeling a little congested with the cold I've developed, so not perfect. The cycle is hard work, more than I remember, but at the same time I'm feeling pretty strong and confident and I push myself hard. My legs don't feel as fast as they have been in the past few weeks though, not the strength I'm used to. Transition to running is easy, but by 2km the run hurts and there's 8 to go. I know I'm in a good position though with one or two ahead of me. But each km feels harder and harder. I'm loving the hose spraying locals who rain on me but the rehydration stations aren't frequent enough. It's getting close to the end, just 3 km to go. I'm feeling a little faster, but it' still hard work and then the next thing I know I'm in an ambulance, sirens and all, what the hell happened?

The ambulance officer comes in and out of blur. He asks me if I can see clearly yet. I wonder if he can read my mind but realise this is not the first time he's done this. He tells me what's been happening, I've collapsed, dehydrated with next to no blood pressure but never unconscious, though I recall nothing. He updates me on what's happening next and I close my eyes because it feels better that way. But that prompts him to ask me if I'm okay , or "keep with me" which he doesn't actually say but I hear it, so I keep my tired eyes open as he buzzes around me keeping going. We shake and shudder and wind our way to the emergency department by which time I've had 2 1/2 litres of fluid and where I then have another 2 more before leaving later that afternoon, somewhat dazed and very tired but still a little bit thirsty.

My support crew doesn't hear about me nor my whereabouts until 2 hours after I was due at the finish line. They're accordingly freaked out, but happy to discover I'm alive and deliver loads of big hugs when I get back to Noosa. It's big Pizza dinner, a lot of fluids and early to bed. How we get home is something for tomorrow.

reunited

I did it.

I made it to the school reunion.

I had extremely low expectations, but they were blown right away. I had a ball, in fact I was with the last few people to leave. The fellow colleague I'd had huge issues with some 15 years ago came directly up to me and apologised for her behaviour back then. I wasn't sure how things would go there, so it was extremely refreshing and quite fun. There were some really interesting people with whom I could have chatted individually for a whole evening, and some amazing life stories. Of course not everyone was completely engaging, but people were generally a whole lot more mature and more outwardly focussed. It was of course punctuated by me coming out multiple times, which some people had to take a little moment to compute. I got more attention from the girls than I ever did, which was fun, as with their compliments. I left with a sense of warmth from people who actually gave a damn.

I'm very glad I went. I'd sworn never to go to another school reunion.

Changing one's mind isn't always a bad thing.

It's My High School Reunion

The last high school reunion I attended was hideous. I couldn't get away fast enough, literally. I wanted to leave but was driving my good friend who, very unusually, got drunk, was less inclined to leave and blah blah I got home later and more infuriated than ever. The people there reverted to their high school personas and maturity and one previously good friend treated me as if I was not even in the room. Flabbergastingly childish. We've not spoken since, her choice. There were, I recall, two women with whom I chatted who were standouts from that crowd. They had both married early, had kids, worked and studied all at the same time, and were switched on and real. They were the only saving grace. The bimbo women who battered their eyelashes and giggled about how much work it must have been for me to study medicine et al, bored me to tears, as did the men's bravado about who achieved what materially in their lives.

"Never again", I said.

I lied.

I have accepted the invitation to the follow up reunion some 15 years later. This time I'm hopeful some of those missing from the earlier reunion will enlighten my opinions, and perhaps a good dose of maturity might enter the room this time. Though I'm setting my expectations to basement on this one. The chosen restaurant is not bad, so at worst it's an ok meal with bad company, many of whom have no name embedded in my memory. I'm curious if the woman who has chosen not to speak to me for over 15 years will be there and if so will she make eye contact? My good friend who got drunken and disorderly last time has his act in gear and will be a fun sparring partner I expect this time. I'm not taking The Frenchman, as I love him to much to force this upon him. It would be quite the coming out event though if he did accompany me though as most won't know I'm gay (I assume). So I'll be flying under the radar, and that can be fun. I really don't care what people think any more. I'm more interested in finding out out the paths people have taken in lives less ordinary, and I believe there might be a few of those, though if truly wise they probably won't be there.

All Tied Up

I was chatting with a good friend the other day how I never wear ties any more. I have a boat load of them from the days when I did, but they slowly phased out of my day to day wardrobe. Sometimes I miss them.

We threw about a few ideas as to why they were invented in the first place, none of which turn out to be correct. My friend suggested I post about the history of the tie. So Martin, here is your post. I'll keep it brief, though that could itself be a whole other post...

It seems Ancient Egypt had the first known neck tie - a rectangular piece of regular cloth wrapped around the neck and draped over the shoulder a bit like a shawl. It represented social status. China had a form as well, noted from around 220BC. But the modern tie stems more from a fashion statement by the military in Croatia in the 17th century which was noted by the French and copied. They must have found the Croatians sexy.

The ties were worn in a lot of different shapes and styles with loads of different ways to tie them.

Up until the 19th century, the styles mostly included country symbols and were tied in ways that represented the social status of the wearer. I wonder if a certain knot indicated sexual persuasion...

The modern necktie developed its shape in 1924 when New Yorker Jessie Langsdorf patented a style of cloth and cut, made in 3 parts which were sewn together to form the now worldwide fashion item.

And maybe, having researched some of the uses of it (ie the photos for this post) I might have developed a new interest in Ties, and the men who wear them.

It's not about the clothes

There's no wonder designers hire sexy models like Mr Zagorski here, to wear their wares. Sometime the clothes are so good they need nothing to sell them, but more often than not they need to borrow a little sex appeal. Take these particular board shorts he's wearing - put them on anyone else and you'd not look twice. Young Maxwell wears them and suddenly they're more appealing and you're thinking "I could wear those", and the advertising ticks the box, and hopefully your wallet.

I recall going to an event as a teenager with my brother who was competing nationally windsurfing. Lots of the guys were wearing these cool new surf clothes, they were mostly elite windsurfers and accordingly fit & tanned. I was much less fit & fantastic, but I liked the gear they were wearing (really the guys themselves too if I'm honest). The next day I decided to track down where I could get some. When I got to the store the staff told me of the event they had loaned out much of their stock for the night before... So all these guys were effectively models for the clothes for the night. I kind of felt like I'd been tricked and lost interest in buying anything.

Product placement does work, I just try to take less notice of the product and more the placement these days...

The Art of Unproductivity

I'm an on-the-go kinda guy, a day isn't complete unless a thousand things have been accomplished and I've arrived in bed late more because of the time rather than me actually wanting to stop. Thursdays are not quite that kind of day. This is the day I look after my now 2 1/4 year old daughter. Getting a handful of things done, outside of looking after the young one, becomes a major feat. Forget hundreds or thousands. From the outside, having the day off work to look after a kid seems bliss, and sometimes it quite frankly is, but it is also a challenge in the mastery of multitasking. I met a friend for lunch at a cafe with my daughter this Thursday. She had woken (and hence so had I) early and was a little more tired than planned by lunch time. ie Slightly grumpy & not so sociable. Not the best start. Tiredness brings on a little bit of food aversion, or at least a bigger tendency to play with it, and make noises when things aren't going precisely her way. Conversation was a little stuttered with my very forgiving friend. Through my mind is going a constant checklist - is she eating enough, am I going to need to use the bathroom, is there a change table there, are we disturbing the other cafe patrons, what did my friend just say, do I need to get toys out or will she cope without, is letting her watch Dora the Explorer on the iPad a bad parenting decision. Oh and there's more but after we get home, having sun all the way there in the car to keep her awake, and she decides she isn't going to sleep her usually early afternoon nap, I go into a meltdown. It's the time I was counting on to get stuff done.

One has to cut ones expectations and learn to enjoy being just a dad, playing silly games, drawing and building with blocks, running around in circles, dancing and singing like you've never done before. And it is a lot of fun.

When you let go of everything else.

Pitbull / Marc Anthony - So Eurovision, So Gay?

I heard this track on the radio a week or so ago and felt like I'd heard it before. It sounded like a Eurovision song but I couldn't quite pick which one it was. I Shazamed it to find out and "Pitbull featuring Marc Anthony" was the answer. Now I've just looked at the video, and the the chorus is just so camp and so Eurovision, I'm wondering what it all means. Of course I'm not spending any real time thinking about it, but it's funny, it's not the image these guys usually project as far as I am aware.

August: The End is Near

August is the month that defines my year. It's not that anything special happens in August, it's just that when it comes around it's the sign that the year really is closer to the end than the beginning. People start talking about Christmas even Christmas parties. August is the last month of our winter and the time we start to look forward to a nearing spring and the summer it in turn heralds. And before you know it by the time you've thought about August it feels like the end of the year is here. But wait, there's so much to be done before summer comes along. And I still have that 6 pack to procure before it's warm enough to be meandering shirtless. Maybe it will happen this year. But it's August, have I left my run too late? I'm telling myself it's just another day in another year, which only has boundaries because we have constructed them. But it doesn't work, it's the end, the year is officially not new, not young, and there's so much to be done.

Populate or perish?

Imagine you're in an empty warehouse. Immense open space, and you.

Sitting on a chair.

If we add a little magic, you can populate the environment around you in any way you choose. You may make it into a neat forest, with you resting on a day bed in the middle, or reclining in a hammock. It could be the ultimate dance party with a selection of people - will they be men or women? a mix, hot & sexy or guy/girl next door types, maybe a very specific kind of party goer? Perhaps just one person dancing only with you.

It might become a theatre, a cinema, a Googleplex. Perhaps an oasis like resort with waterfalls and plunge pools. It might be a mammoth sauna / bath house or a vast dark space with just a string quartet playing under a spotlight . The ultimate warehouse residence with mezzanines, grand staircases, designer art, a butler and a resident chef catering for your impromptu dinner parties. Maybe it's a library with walls of books.

You're going to create something entirely different from me or anyone else and this would be different now from if I asked you 1 hour ago.

People often think they know what you are thinking. Chances are there are a thousand other things happening in your head one of which might be close, but the reasoning behind it might not connect at all with what they are thinking. Just as you really have no idea of their thoughts or the reasons behind them.

It easy to stereotype or assume thought patterns, but if one keeps an open mind, you can travel to whole new worlds through the people around you. You just need to ask loads more questions, assume nothing and not build walls where there aren't any.

What kind of worlds will you find?

I'll have what He's having

I reader has kindly recommended this video, and I can't think of any reason not to agree. A little bit of hotness for the start of the weekend.

Is there a point? I don't know. And tonight I really don't care. Click below and watch a little pretty.

Just because it's sexy

47 seconds

Training Partner?

I've lost my training partners.

I've lost my coaches.

Some have moved out of the area, some are temporarily in the Northern Hemisphere, some just don't train any more. And too many have been hit by cars. On bikes. Bloody Drivers.

My brother is still out of action in a training sense from his accident, and my swim coach is in hospital in a coma.

I've always been an independently motivated guy and so I go on and push myself to go better, harder, faster on my own. But I like people and I like working as a team, or even just working independently but connecting with someone along the way. I miss them all. The people who would just be there and do stuff, and push hard, and sometimes not but still have fun along the way.

And so I'm looking out for new people to fill the void. They may or may not look like the guy in the picture, but so long as they challenge me in some way I really don't mind. I just have no idea where I'm gonna find them.

June 2011

Wandering around Paris it really seems the city of love is more a city of unhappiness. Almost all the faces one encounters looks like it's just been told bad news, or is pissed off with everyone around it. Maybe the high temperatures in recent days have been a catalyst for discontent, but I have never really sensed a great 'love' any time I've been in Paris. I know scores of people who rave about how they want to return here, and dream of living in Paris, but I really don't get that feeling. Don't get me wrong, I thinks it's a great city with a lot of positives, great food, loads of things happening (often closed the day or time I turn up, we'll call it bad planning) , but the sense I get is that the people who actually do live here are dreaming of being somewhere else too. Oh and the traffic is awful, (but the trains are great).

There are a host of hot men, but I don't get a sense of there being much of a sporting environment here. Which is something I would need to work on.

Pack up my wheels and...?

I'm ready for a break. Ready for some change. I've been on the merry go round for months and the 1 week break in Byron Bay was great, but enough to make me want more, not be ready to go back to every day life. I want to buy that one way ticket to anywhere and see where it leads. I want to seek the people who make me think and grow, and leave the people who stifle creativity and expression.

At the same time I want to cure my dog who has cancer and is deteriorating daily. He's the best natured labrador you could imagine, allowing my daughter to pull toys and food from his mouth, lie all over him, climb over him, as well as hug and kiss him as she too grows attached to him and searches for him whenever she arrives home. I don't want to leave him, I don't want him to leave us.

Watching a loved one dying, a little more each day, is a kind of living grief. You feel joy that he's here with you and sorrow knowing the time you have with him is increasingly short.

So I want to run away and stay where I am.

Byron

I'm hooked.

I've just completed my 4th triathlon and I'm already calculating how to better my times and be more competitive, even though I came home with gold.

It has been our tradition to head to Byron Bay to compete in their Ocean Swim race the first Sunday in May each year. It's usually a fun weekend and a last hurrah to summer as the heat disappears northwards.

This year it was a fun week, and a distinct end to summer. The triathlon follows on the next Saturday and this year I decided to hang around and do it. It was very worthwhile. While I used to enjoy the ocean swims because of the competition as well as the eye candy, triathlons have an exponentially improved eye candy quotient. Sometimes distracting but always welcomed. The race itself is a lot more taxing both physically and mentally, and I love it. My legs may hate me for it but I love the feel of getting faster and becoming the runner everyone thought I wasn't. Including me.

There are loads of interesting people in or passing through Byron and the beaches and surrounding hinterland. A week spending time watching the waves and turning off the world is an excellent option, even if there is some serious energy expenditure bookending it.

It also turns out there are a hell of a lot of gay guys getting into triathlons.

Who'll be joining me next year?

Holes in all the right places.

There's something about things that have holes that I just love. It could be the peak at something you're not supposed to see, a view of something sexy, the ability to poke your fingers into them and feel around. The curiosity as to how they formed - intentional, accidental or just with repeated use.

When I first met the Frenchman he had a pair of jeans with large holes in the legs which showed off his very sexy knees. It's one of my enduring images (and tactile memories) of those fledgling days of our relationship.

People too have holes, and I'm not talking about orifices. The imperfections they frequently try to cover up. In my work I have to poke and prod into these holes in people's lives because they're the bits that, while frequently labelled trivial, often have significant impact on their lives and health. Often in ways they have no idea of. While it can be dangerous territory to explore, the discovery of these perceived or real imperfections is often valuable for the people who harbour them. The truth is everyone has something they feel is imperfect or needs to be sheltered from the rest of the world. More often than not it's something that gives us individuality and makes us interesting and if embraced can make us better people.

For some of us being gay is that imperfection.

Butterfly Kiss

The best thing about being a dad is being able to spend loads of time playing. Getting out the lego and making things, drawing things, throwing balls around, dancing crazily around the house singing and making up the words. Repeating words or phrases and having them come back at you in increasingly refined form, sometimes days later, getting spontaneous hugs and kisses, and laughing uncontrollably at reactions you never anticipated.

Here you have a few shots of the two of us playing. Much fun.

For those following my brother's recovery (a cycling accident), he's home, out of his neck brace and going well with a lot of work still ahead. I'll be competing without him, sadly, at the Sydney Triathlon in 2 weeks. Training continues at pace.

40 40 40 104 104 104 hot hot hot

It's F*#king hot. It's 1.30am and it's still 32C. The last few days have been peaking at 40C (104F) and staying there for a while. I've put lunch time runs and cycles on the shelf for the moment. But the water is my constant companion. I went skinny dipping in a rock pool by the ocean here at midnight which was sensational - not just the cooling off but the stunning phosphorescence in the water. It was like an underwater fireworks display. At 35 degrees outside it was nice to just float around for a while until I actually felt cold. It's one of my favourite things to do in the middle of summer. Pure bliss.

My brother has made it home from hospital and is rapidly on the mend. He's on a mission it seems. Hopefully his body will keep pace with his head.

It's been a good day.

Hit the Sand

It's been an intense week and it's time to hit the sand and celebrate the weekend. For those following the progress of my daughter Amélie, she is now 20 months old and loving rolling in the sand until she's coated like a lamington, then diving in the water and splashing about, and repeating it all. I'm going to be joining her over the weekend and at one point we'll be racing in the far north of Sydney. It should be fun. I hope you have a fun filled weekend. Hopefully I'll see you at the beach!

Telephone Calls from Disaster

You know those telephone calls you get? They come out of the blue on any normal day, in the middle of doing normal things. But they're not anything normal. They're entirely extraordinary. They're phone calls you never want to answer but you don't know it until you do and then it's too late.

I got that call on Friday morning on my way to do a house call. My normal Friday work day. The patient I was going to see was dying, but the call was about my brother. He was hit by a car training on his bike. He was in the emergency department.

I'm horrified, but the voice of my sister-in-law is calm so it mustn't be too bad. But then, they hadn't let her see him yet. I'm rifling through the possibilities - and I don't like the connection of car and bike with my brother in between. I have many questions but none of which can be answered right now. Shit. I'm thinking more words but I'm a little uncertain of where to go and how concerned to get. He's in another city and I'm due to see a host of patients myself. I don't know whether to cut and run or hold off and wait for more news. I don't really concentrate well with my patient but I get by.

More news and he's alive - he's concussed but has some fractures. Okay that's not so bad.

He has 18 fractures, many involve his neck and back. Oh god that's not so good. Can he move? Does he have any spinal cord injuries...?

He can move, but he's in a lot of pain oh and he's punctured his lung. Brilliant.

It turns out the driver who pulled out in front of him from a stop sign "didn't see him" (he was wearing fluoro yellow) and was upset about his car mirror being smashed up. Lovely.

He'll be months in a neck brace and his Iron Man Triathlon in March is off.

I'm at once pissed off at the bloody driver and trying to be the supportive medically trained family. Thankfully he's in good care. But it's just so unfair.

People, keep a look out on the roads!! I don't want to be the next casualty.

summer hotness

It's not really a new year , just a continuation of the last one with a new number, and a whole lot more chocolate. Where the hell did it all come from? The cupboard is still chock full of the stuff. It is certainly making me train harder to keep lean. So come Mardi Gras I'll be back to peak form though probably not be anywhere near Mardi Gras itself.

Wandering through The Beresford hotel (so packed you could lift up your legs and still be standing) a few Sundays ago, the first time in a LONG time, I discovered the gay world is actually a whole lot more attractive than I realised. Straight men had been increasingly attractive to me compared with their gay counterparts. Perhaps its because the guys who turn up at the Beresford are a generally a little more gay-as-a-part-of-their-life rather than gay-as-a-career. Or perhaps I've just been away for too long, but regardless, it was refreshing.

This time of the year is certainly peak hot-man season, and everywhere I go I'm pleasantly distracted by men looking somewhat like those above. I've almost fallen of my bike run into a pole or swum into a wall with quite some regularity. The price of hotness. Curiously I've found through my work that the most beautiful people typically have the biggest psychological baggage. It's sad but at the same time reassuring. Yin & Yang always keeping the world in balance.

Having been especially social and entertaining for much of the summer to date, I'm now looking forward to some minimalism. Some time watching the waves roll in, and perhaps picking up a book or two and taking myself offline a little more. Time will tell if it actually happens, and I need a really good book to take me away from it all. Suggestions most welcome.

My plan for your New Year

For New Year's Eve and any night out on the town these are going to be your bodyguards. In fact you can take them wherever you want really, they're yours.

When you wake up on New Year's Day and every day this year this will either be you or your lover preparing to make your breakfast. Your pick.

Your home will be kept spick & span by your own personal house man. He comes with his own gloves.

If you get into any difficulties through 2011 and need support, these are your men. They'll be there through thick & thin to keep you moving upwards. Even though sometimes you'll want to just hold on for a bit.

If you get into a hot spot and need someone urgently. Here he is. Just don't ask him about his hose.

And at the end of each day this is how you will be greeted at the door. Time to smell the roses, or lilies or quite frankly whatever you want.

Have a fantastic 2011. Thanks to all of my regular readers for continuing to come back and read Superchilled. It's great to have you here. It's great to be here and 2011 is filled with extraordinary possibilities. Let's make them come to life.

X