Culottes. Breeches. Gauchos. Jodhpurs. Whatchamacallits.   (I want to begin by extending a HUGE apology to my fellow fab 40 ladies, because this post is two days late, my blog was literally inaccessible since Sunday night because of technical issues, I couldn’t even get to the dashboard, and had to work with WordPress support via phone to resolve the problem, please forgive me ladies, please, this has NEVER happened before and I am so not a techie, it was really frustrating, but here we are, finally) Of late, I seem to be at a loss for words to say.  I’ve been staring at the screen since Thursday, and it’s already Sunday evening.  I’m not sure why that is.  I have the thoughts running through my mind but somewhere along the way, it would appear, they’re all jumbled up.  Like internet connectivity on a bad weather day, you know?  I don’t understand it though.  I don’t think I’ve ever been speechless. Or is it wordless, when it comes to writing? D O Y O U K …

A spectrum of refraction. An optical illusion of the best sort.   I’ll admit, I was stumped when I started writing this post.  What could I possibly talk about colours?  Save for the fact that they’re many and varied and evoke emotions in all?  And without sounding neither corny nor cliched?  I mean, there’s only that much one can wax lyrical over shade, hue, tone and tint. C H A L L E N G E D, I W A S But over the weekend, I attended my very first wedding on American soil (albeit it was a coming together of a Lebanese+Honduran female with an Italian+ Colombian male) and in the midst of oohing and aahing and gushing over how romantic and delicately passionate the chosen theme of creams, blushes and mint was, I thought perhaps I could share which colours triggered which emotions in me. Thus was the idea born. First up is the colour black.  It is of particular importance because of how it, simultaneously, symbolises confidence as well as a lack …

My New York moment. Immortalised and multiplied.   Isn’t it amazing how far one can come, and without even realising it? For those who are new to Sheela’s world, when I first began writing on this blog, my images were taken by my daughter, Eve, with my iPhone, and lord knows she did her level best but they were very different from the glossy numbers which currently dot the cyber pages of Sheela Writes.  Glossy, colourful photos of yours truly strutting and pouting (and occasionally also guffawing her head off), walking to the beat of my own drum on the streets of New York City. A far cry indeed, from those hasty shots snapped in between her finishing up homework and my preparing dinner, in (the comfort and safety of) my (oh so private) backyard.  My poor baby, a tough time I did give her. I L O V E Y O U, B O O ! ! ! So imagine how tickled pink I am, to present to you today, our second installment of …

Smooth as butter. Plush as a king’s ransom.   Hurray, the Fab 40s are reunited. A N D I T F E E L S S O G O O D Remember when I talked about taking time out from collaborations and projects because they, well, draining and taking me away from my real love?  That is to write whatever my heart desires and not based on what a preset schedule dictated?  That was last May and since then, whilst I appreciate the freedom to express myself in whichever directi0n my soul felt so inclined, I’ve also come to appreciate (and miss) the structure of a pre-determined timeline.  I’ve felt somewhat utterly lost like a ship sans its rudder.  There was nothing to nudge kick my ass into gear and put my thoughts onto posts. But above all. I’ve missed Jennie and Annie and Mary.  And Veronica (get well soon, babe).  Also Diane and Sam even if they are no longer part of this collaboration, they’re still my friends in their 40s who remain oh …