Posted in Family life, Happiness, Health and fitness, Women's issues, Writers

A granddaughter’s giggle gift

A granddaughter’s love so consuming

A love so consuming it wraps my heart like a baby blanket. Her newborn fingers, tiny and perfect curling around mine. A wayward curl escaping the fashionable headband her mother has dressed her in, showing it’s defiance as she gets on all fours beside the family dog to lick water from her bowl, then grins at her cleverness. Giggling when my own old-stinky dog licks her face and not being one bit scared. Wearing matching Mummy sunnies and posing for the camera with her gorgeous mum. A book resting on her lap, she’s all concentration as if a washing machine of words are swirling in her brain ready to pour out. Her first intrepid steps and incoherent babble. The way her face lights up rosy cheeked and toothless, big blue eyes shining like the sun diamonds on water. Walking like a waddling duck to the water’s edge holding her daddy’s hand. Her snuggles into Poppy’s shoulder like a baby koala. Playing chase with her uncle without knowing the rules. Her tiny arms around my neck and kisses my lips, soft as sea foam, sweet as strawberries and pure as rain. My granddaughter – what a blessing.


Larabella Easter 2015 Paradise Point
Larabella Easter 2015 Paradise Point

EAster 2015 Larabella 011a

Blogging is for experts – not!

During the writing of this blog I’ve often switched from subject to subject. One day writing, one day fitness, another saving elephants, another about the beaches of the Gold Coast. It doesn’t make me an expert on anything but I have lots of interests to write about. I’ve been told to have a successful blog you have to be an expert. Phft!

Experts? How many really are experts? A fashionista (a natural flare for shopping or fashion), a #fitspos (someone who inspires people to get healthy, fit and sporty) and the like are often not experts. Some #fitspos aren’t even personal trainers, lets alone qualified to give nutritional advice (some of course are), but you get my point. Bloggers can make out to be experts they are not.

I don’t want to follow that trend and I certainly won’t be getting out the abs for a quick selfie any time soon. Firstly, because I have not got the knack for a selfie. I either look chicken neck, falsely smiling or find wrinkles I never knew I had. Secondly, I don’t really want show a lot of skin to the world. Maybe if I was 20ish I would, but at over 50 I’m better off concentrating on writing rather than perfecting the perfect #fitspos selfie.

So I’ll write about fitness and health from an older chick’s perspective (no expert here) and I’ll write about any other heartfelt subject I want to. I’ll write about elephants needing their tusks and no hunter should be taking them. I’ll write about volunteering overseas (yes, still trying to get to Africa). I’ll post about small things that motivate me and could help you. I’ll give tips on writing and other things.

As a writer I’ve always been private. My words are my words, not what I look like. I want them to be appreciated, enjoyed and sometimes even helpful. I’m not writing because writing a blog is trendy I’m writing because words have to come out of me like rain from rain clouds. I don’t want to be famous for a blog. I don’t like the idea of five-minutes of fame created in this age of internet. Though if my words become famous, that’s a different thing. Yes, my novel manuscript is still available publishers.


Donna Munro is the author of The Zanzibar Moon, Kendwa's Secret and Elephant Creek, freelance writer, blogger, graphic designer, content writer, book marketer, administrator, web editor and book reader. She's been published in Take Five, The Australian Woman's Weekly, For Me, She, That's Life, Woman's Day and Club Life and other smaller publications. She is a proud member of Romance Writers of Australia and the current Administrative Assistant. Donna lives in Queensland and is addicted to beaches, reading, Peanut Butter, elephants, koalas, Sydney Roosters and Home & Away. You'll often find her digging her toes in the sand with a book in her hand.

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