Monday, 7 August 2017

F#@k It Days.

I woke up feeling a bit crummy today. I don’t know if it was a hangover from last night’s beers, the 20 hour return flight from Indonesia or post-tour blues. But I felt the need to pull my shit together, grow up, drink green juice, pat puppies, donate to charity, become an excellent human being.

I’m kid free until Wednesday. It’s weird being kid free when you’re a single parent. There’s not a great deal of stuff that you HAVE to do when you’re on your own, but there’s plenty of things that you can totally do because you are on your own.

Like brunch. And brunch I did.
Like cooking food that doesn’t include ‘hidden’ veggies. And cook I did.
Like go into a bookshop and make book choices based on recommendations and peruse in your own time, rather than purchase a tale on getting rid of night-time nappies (for my kid, not me) at 11pm using my phone with only one eye open. And bookshop I did.

Alone time is rad time. As a permanent over-thinker of life, it’s made me think about what happens next when life goes back to normality and I’m a 35 year old single mum divorcee again.

I was explaining this to the bespectacled man behind the bookshop counter and we workshopped some life tips. It was an inspirational thirty minutes. Actually life-changing. So life changing, I need to share my new curated life tips with you:
1.       Know your boundaries. Respect them and respect others.
2.       Brush your hair daily.
3.       Find the origin of your anxiety and embrace its roots. Chill.
4.       Don’t overthink tomorrow today.
5.       Go outside.
6.       Don’t put yourself down. You are rad.
7.       Say ‘thank  you’ instead of ‘sorry’.
8.       Be positive in your position.
9.       One thing at a time.
10.   Other people’s reactions are not your fault.
11.   Drink water until your wee runs clear. Clear wee equals a clear mind.
12.   Ask people questions about life. Learn along the way.
13.   Pack a lunch every day to look forward to.
14.   Get soaked in nature, not screens.
15.   You deserve good bed linen. Make the investment.

The Bookshop Boy sold me a copy of The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving A Fuck. This is where I’m at right now. Wanna do this together? Let’s not give fucks together. 

Love Ali.

Monday, 3 July 2017

Wasting time / timing waste

It started with my bin. It’s always full, bursting, overloading with trash, every single day. How could I have so much rubbish? Sure, my kid is still wearing night time nappies which are virtually wet sandbags by the morning, but outside of this what was filling my bin to the point of explosion every day?

It was simply waste. So much waste I was starting to question my wastefulness. Which is exactly what I did.

Having become a single parent in my mid-thirties has made me think about my budget and what I’m spending. Removing a whole second wage from my bank account came as a shock, but not as big a shock as the discovery of the waste I was creating in my own little household bin.

My bin was filled with food scraps, left overs, wrappers, plastic bags, old clothes, broken shit and of course those shockingly heavy night time nappies (seriously, at what age do kids stop wearing these?)
It was somewhat refreshing seeing my bin in this state. I needed to make a change and stop throwing my money in the, well, bin. The food wastage was a big one for me.

I started with eating my fridge and pantry down. I wanted a clean slate. Start afresh, become a vegan, only drink green juice, be a better person, stop swearing, pat dogs. All the things.

It was hard to start. I had to become creative with my cooking through using grains, rice and pasta and finding fun and interesting ways to use the vegies in the crisper. Instead of throwing out the vegies starting to turn to scrap, I made soup. I used all my canned legumes in soups, salads and chilli. I froze any large cook ups to eat in desperate times and then came the day where I simply had run out of food.

I cleaned my pantry and I ordered a sweet box of seasonal fruit and veg from a local greengrocer. It was delivered a day later and it was enough to get me through my week. I wrote a menu on the back of an envelope for the week based on my fruit and veg and bam, I felt like Suzy Homemaker. The box of fruit and veg cost me a grand total of $28 and teamed with a few extra items from the local supermarket, I was now on my way to smashing out a pineapple ($50) for a grocery bill each week. 
And I felt smart for it.

There’s something else that has been bothering me about my waste. It was my clothes. In between my crazy full time hours, the full time parenting, the swimming lessons, the kinder pick ups and drop offs, the cooking (and eating down my pantry) and of course the dating, I’d become a slave to fast fashion. A slave to the e-newsletters offering free delivery, sales, ‘hot looks this winter’, ‘Buy 2 get 1 free’, 20% discount for 20 hours. Gah! It’s all a little overwhelming, but the marketing had been working on me. A little too well.

So I cleansed my wardrobe, removing the clothing I hadn’t worn in years (do I seriously need maternity clothes as a single mum with a four year old?) and sold or donated what I didn’t want, wear, or just didn’t fit anymore (see above reason as to why). I created a rule for myself – no purchasing of new clothes for a month, maybe two and see how I survive. And so far, I’m still alive with only a receipt highlighting a purchase for some new undies in the pile.
Homemade dress from a Ken Done curtain, $4 wool jacket from the local Vinnies, $5 leather boots from eBay. FUN!

Don’t get me wrong, I like a good shop but for me it’s about the hunt. Online shopping is just too easy, the sales are too accessible, the click throughs are too available, I think the models wearing the clothes look just so ‘similar’ to me (in my dreams). So I’ve turned to op-shopping. It’s fun, it’s entertaining for my kid and now my home is filled with miscellaneous treasures that tell a story. From the eighties skateboard linen on my son’s bed, to my dress made from a Ken Done curtain, life shouldn’t be about throwing out stuff for waste’s sake. It should be fun, colourful and filled with rad stories and adventure.

It’s been an interesting experiment and it seems I’m not alone. With so much inspiration behind the ABC’s recent War on Waste program and hearing my mates discuss their wasteful waste, it’s nice to hear of plans to diminish the size of our bin loads. My bin is looking a lot healthier as is my fridge and pantry and my purse is giving me the thumbs up for it.

I’ve still got a long way to go, but the best thing about recognising my bin is a disaster is knowing my bin is a disaster. I’d love to swap stories of saving, sharing and recycling. So let’s not waste any more time on waste.

Follow me at or on Instagram or Facebook @houseofwebb and let’s do this together. 

Thursday, 22 June 2017

A Dating Test at Slice Girls West

It was my first Tinder date and I obviously had no idea what I was doing, but I wanted to look like I did.

I had a plan.

We were to meet at The Reverence in Footscray at 6pm. I was going to give the Tinder Date two hours and then I was going to meet my girlfriends at Back Alley Sally’s at 8pm as a ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card. If we liked each other, we would plan another date. If we didn’t, I had an escape route.

It seemed flawless.

Except upon arriving at The Reverence five minutes early, I discovered it was closed. The only other bar I could think of moving the date to was Back Alley Sally’s around the corner where I was meeting my pals. It was a risk, but I was under time pressure and I had to make a decision. Fast.

After changing my seating position three times: the booth (too open), the bar (too closed), the corner table with stools (too awkward in high waisted jeans), I chose an open large table that wasn’t too noisy. The bar was super warm and friendly in comparison to the rainy Melbourne night, and the beer selection was ripe for the picking.

My date arrived from the inner Northern suburb of Carlton admitting that the change in venue and the threatening dark laneway where Back Alley Sally’s sits in Footscray was a little scary.

The bar had already made me feel at ease so we discussed the venue, the attractive staff, the beers and pizzas available from Slice Girls West below.

Then it got serious. My date stopped the conversation bluntly, staring me intently in the eye, pausing to gather his thoughts. He was scripting something.

‘Ali. I’m so sorry. I really am. I just have to tell you something and I’m not sure how this is going to go.’

I felt sick. I was a crap date.

‘Your fly is so undone. It’s so open. I’m trying so hard to look you straight in the eye and hold conversation, but I can’t go on. I’m sorry.’

I looked down and my 30cm zipper on my high waisted jeans was wide open, like a vortex, alarmingly displaying my white knickers for all to see. Sitting on a stool did not help this situation.

I zipped up and told my Tinder Date that I wanted to go home. He laughed, explained that he was ready to move on and continue our time as long as I could forget that it had happened (I obviously haven’t). So we drank more beers and smashed out a few laughs. He was a funny guy.

Ten minutes before my girlfriends were set to arrive, I gave him a warning: ‘My girfriends are on their way, they will squeal with delight at catching us on a Tinder Date, they will quiz you, they will drink and swear and ask you intimate questions. You are welcome to stay and drink with us, or you can use this time as your get out of jail free card.’

He stayed. We drank. We laughed. My girlfriends quizzed. It was now a Tinder Date of Five. He left a while later and we exchanged numbers. I ran back inside the bar and debriefed with my girlfriends over more beer and pizzas from Slice Girls West.

The pizza toppings quickly diverted our discussion: The Forever Mushroom with its truffle-scent provided distraction from the filthy but entertaining conversation coming from our booth. The crust was perfect in my opinion, not too thin, prepared well and cared for and cut in perfect sharable sizes. The Wannabe Warwick pizza with its artichokes and capers matched our gossipy squeals as our table discussed boys like we were 16 again. But it wasn’t just the pizzas, the Tinder Date banter and booze that made for an excellent night; the staff at Back Alley Sally’s were so friendly, the venue was cosy and I felt like I was surrounded by friends even though the bar was full of strangers.

It was an excellent start to a new friendship. The Tinder Date got my number and we ventured out a week later on a second date. There quite possibly might be a third. Perhaps it was because of my cool choice of venue or maybe it was my ridiculous friends, either way if you’re looking for a sweet place to meet a kind stranger, Back Alley Sally’s might just be the spot you’ve been searching for.

Back Alley Sally’s and Slice Girls West can be found at 4 Yewers Street, Footscray. Visit for more information and to view the delicious menu.

Photos courtesy Back Alley Sally's.

Saturday, 27 May 2017

Putting the Super in Superannuation and other financial things I've learnt while getting my shit together

I've had to do some pretty hardcore adulting of late and I've got to say, it's been fun - challenging - but fun. I can totally do this adult thing!

One adult event that I've never been wildly great at is finances. I'm great at saving, but outside of a bank account I've always been overwhelmed by the 'financial things' you're meant to have by a certain age.

I've read a gazillion of those 'must have in your '30s articles' and have had random chats with friends about health insurance deals. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm bored senseless by the topic or it just overwhelms me blindly, but I just can't seem to find the time to invest my brain in this information let alone my wallet.

But. This is adulting and the investment in the time now is an investment in the future (I sound like a guru already!)

Now that it's just me and my jolly child, I've had to pull together a bit of a list of grown up financial things that I need to get sorted in order to get my shit together, not just for me but for my son. Because I couldn't find a list of shit to do that suited me and my solo parent situation, I thought I'd put one together. Perhaps you can help me add to it?

One thing you need to know is that I'm not a money expert. I'm on a shoestring week-to-week. I work full time, I'm a single parent, I have kinder fees and I love my job in the arts because it is so bloody special and rewarding (not because it pays me the big bucks). I also have a financial advisor. A what??

Ok. Here's what I've learnt:

Financial Advisor
These people are incredible. They are really excited by numbers, by spreadsheets and they can see into your financial future. A financial advisor helps you understand what all the numbers mean.
AND you can pay their fee out of your superannuation fund so it doesn't affect your day-to-day account.

Do you know how much you have in your super account? It's good to check this out and if you can, perhaps try and add a little bit extra each week. We are lucky that we can put aside a little fund that is untouchable until the day you decide to rest and go sailing. I've just set up a self managed super fund which means I have full control of my account, my coin and I also get to be made a director of my super fund (which is another great title for adulting). This is your golden egg for the years to come. Keep an eye on it and feel secure.

If you own a house, I'm sure you have house insurance. Same goes for a car.
What happens though if you have a massive bike stack or fall off the playground and hit your head on a sharp pine cone and you can't work for months? Life, health, disability, trauma... they are all massive words and they all come with insurance. Gah... it sounds like spending money that you just don't have. But what happens if something happens? How do you keep food on the table, mortgage or rent payments up, bills paid? It's a little bit of food for thought. Not that you want to think about bad things happening, but it's good to have a plan.

If you have some assets, get a will. If you cark it it's good to know that your rad bike, transformer set, record collection, avocados or Yarraville house is going to be kept safe in the hands of the person of your choice. It costs a little bit to do, but then it's done. You can change it as required... ie if you get a divorce or you buy a new bike or you have another kid.

Whether it's a spreadsheet, back of the shopping list drawing or one of the many online tools, it's so good to have one of these. Recently I wrote down everything I spent over the course of a week. I couldn't believe how much I was spending on coffee or 'quick trips' to Coles New World. It all adds up and I have made some dramatic changes in my daily spending. It takes an hour or so and some brain space to start a budget, but once it's down it gives you a pretty sweet look into your spending habits and where you can save that extra coin.

It's all a bit grown up, but now that I've pulled this stuff together - all in my name - I feel like I'm in control of my life and I know where my money is going. I've started to take an interest in the topic, perhaps now because I'm on one wage and I want to know where every cent belongs. It gives me a great feeling of security. In my former life, I might have left a lot of the financial stuff up to my ex-husband because he was good at this stuff. However there's something to be said about if you earn it, learn it.

If you're looking for a good financial advisor, I use a local Yarraville dude, Andre Dirckze, and he is running workshops on getting your shit together. You can check them out here:

This is not a sponsored post, I just really care about this stuff now.

Best of luck and happy saving!

Thursday, 4 May 2017

Excuse the over-communication, dear diary

On Sunday I celebrated, sorry... wrong word, um saluted. No. Recorded. Yes, recorded.

On Sunday I recorded six months since my husband left me. Six months since the dream of moving to the country with my family was taken away from me through one shitty gut-wrenching text message.

I remember the day six months ago, but it feels sometimes like it's been six years. I remember vomiting in my toilet and leaning on the bowl shaking, terrified about what was happening. I was so scared of being on my own. Surrounded by our house packed up in boxes ready for the 'big move', terrified that I had just resigned from my job to take on a big dream role that my husband had encouraged me to take. Almost hysterical that we had leased our Yarraville house and I didn't know where my son and I were going to live. Sick with fear that we were days away from settling on a country house in Trentham that I now no longer wanted anything to do with, let alone the two mortgages that threatened me. Don't even mention the cancellation of a daycare spot in Yarraville.

Six whole months. Holy hell. So much can  happen in six months.

Damn, you know what, it was a kind of celebration. A celebration of sorts that has seen me reflect upon the last half of the year. A celebration that for the first time in so freakin' long that I've kind of hit the jackpot and said to myself 'How good is being me?'

Lately,  it's been super good.

My son and I smashed out a good old roadtrip up to Newcastle. I drove from Melbourne to Newy with a four year old and A Tribe Called Quest greatest hits album. No ipad. I winged it every day, not really knowing where we would end up that night, but knowing I had mates and family along the way who would let us crash on their couch and pack us a picnic for the next day. And it wasn't that bad. Alfie and I became best buddies, covering topics such as careers (he wants to be a windmill fixer), to questions about why Leroy Brown is the baddest man in the whole damn town, and why 'ships' eat bananas b-a-n-a-n-a-s. And of course we talked about poo and wee and doodles and pop-offs.

We rediscovered the Giant Ram at Goulburn, the Submarine at Holbrook, the Giant Rolling pin in Wodonga, Nobby's Lighthouse, the Dinosaur Museum in Canberra and my favourite, the Australian Reptile Park in Gosford.

I hope he remembers this trip forever. I know I will.

The tricky thing about a super long road trip is how much time you have for thinking. During the 10+ hours of driving to Newcastle I went over my separation, spat out some hate, had some whopping big cries,  and had a few solo laughs.

I thought about a handsome man I was recently seeing, who I ran away from because relationships now terrify me. I thought about Alfie and what sort of guy I was going to bring him up to be. I thought about me and who I now was and who I was going to become.

I came back from this road trip so much stronger then the person I left.

On the 10+ hours back to Melbourne, I thought about adventures and cooking and friends and dating and music and my home and how I'm going to be more focused at work and funny shit that my mates get up to.

When I walked back into my house, I smiled. I painted the interior the next day and went on a date that night. My best girlfriend came over the next day to help me finish the painting and we giggled over beers about this exciting new chapter.

I'm so fucking free and it feels so fucking wonderful. Seriously, how good is it to be yourself.

So good.

Happy six months. I did it. I can't wait to see what the next six months will bring.

As a side note, I'm also bloody proud that I can talk to my ex-husband. What happened, happened. It's done, it can't be reversed. It's so important to me that Alfie knows that while his parents don't live together we both love him oh-so-very much. My ex and I see each other every week and each week it gets easier. I never saw this happening to me and me being in this situation, but I am and this is my life. This is also the life my ex husband chose and it's up to us to be the best folks we can for that gorgeous son of ours. See, this is adulting at its toughest, but also best.