ednabeancounter

100 Things I would like to do before I die...

2009-01-18T18:33:00.004+11:00

What an ambitious project! I don't really think that I will my finalized list together in one sitting. Some of them are going to be really crappy, but I will come back and edit them later. There are a few things that should be on this list that I have already done. For the longest time, I dreamed of visiting Paris - now been there - done that - and all that it entails.

1) Learn to water-ski
(Not to an extreme level - just enough to be towed along and have fun)

2) Go para-sailing

3) Visit Gallipoli, Turkey at dawn on the 25th of April

4) Win lotto (well derr...)

5) Write a really entertaining (and not necessarily best-selling) book

6) Attend the Gymnastics World Championships or watch the gymnastics live at the Olympics

7) Have a reputation for throwing really good parties, and have people really look forward to your parties

8) Have a lovely flower garden

9) Sing a duet with my daughter that will knock people's socks off

10) Write my will

11) Be able to walk to the top of the You Yangs without stopping for a rest

12) Wear a size 10 sleeveless dress again and look good

13) Have a really long rambling family history trip to Ireland

14) Visit Auschwitz

15) Write the story of my life - honestly, brutally, and without elaboration

16) Have a wonderful wardrobe full of funky retro clothes and be able to carry them off without looking like mutton dressed as lamb

17) Read books that touch my soul every day

18) Ride a toboggan in the snow with C and the Midget

19) Live in a houseboat in Amsterdam

20) Write to Thomas Keneally and have him write back to me

21) Ride in a hot air balloon

22) Go snorkelling on the Barrier Reef (again)

23) Fly over Sao Paulo in a helicopter (I saw it once in that Race around the World show and it looked so awesome)

24) Go on the Race Around the World Show and be competitive

25) Swim in a pool in a cave

26) Get really good at eight-ball again

27) Take beautiful, magical photographs

28) Find cooking less of a chore and more of a wonderful experiment

29) Get a librarian's degree and work in a really cool place like a State Library with lots of really old, crusty documents

30) Do something really heroic and selfless

31) Have the guts to donate blood regularly

32) Walk the Sandakan trail in Borneo to remember our fallen

33) While in Borneo visit the orangutan reserve

34) Come to terms with my mother's death, once and for all

35) Go on a relaxing, luxurious cruise around the Mediterranean with a bunch of wonderful friends

36) Be comfortable enough with my own body to have a really good massage

37) Have a psychic experience

38) Be unafraid of confrontation

39) Be pulled along by a boat on an innertube really fast!

40) Own a classic car - something with fins

41) Earn enough money that I could employ a cleaner and never have to do housework again

42) Float down a long river on an innertube

43) Inspire other people to lose weight

44) Be in the room when my daughter gives birth and for her to want me there(that is a looong way off yet)

45) Attend the Venice Carnevale - and go to the ball in renaissance dress and mask and look really good.....

46) Visit Lourdes

47) Do a slow driving trip through France, without money being an issue

48) Be in a lighthouse on a really dark and stormy night

49) Learn to drink coffee, and like it

50) White water rafting

51) See the statue of Christ in Rio, up close

52) Go to a Cirque du Soleil performance with my daughter

53) To go on a really good flying fox or zip line (maybe the one in South Afica at Sun City?)

54) Eat Mexican food in Mexico

55) Live in rural France for a while, learn the language, shop at the markets, immerse

56) Visit the Lost city of Petra in Jordon

57) Attend a show at the Moulin Rouge

58) Have my hands henna painted

59) Make friends with an elephant

60) Have a drink at the Geiger Bar

61) Jump off a bridge (not too high) into a river or the ocean, a couple of times in a row

62) See Amy Winehouse, live in concert, at the top of her game

Will have to think for a while more now...be back soon.

Critics be damned - I loved "Australia"

2008-12-28T22:53:00.002+11:00

I don't care what "they" say, I was completely engrossed by it! I let it wash over me, chose not to be too picky about some of the plot failings, and let it consume me - I cried most of the way through - for my hometown, for the injustices, for the hard outback people - the ones who have always done it tough, for motherly love, for passion and missed opportunity.

I had a dream

2008-09-17T23:01:00.003+10:00

A few weeks ago - I had a dream, and this one I remember! Only because it was bizarre. The hunky young man above was looking deep into my eyes and saying "You're the One". There was no romantic connotations, just burningly intense blue eyes!

It was the Ron Hovey room!

2008-09-17T22:45:00.003+10:00

This is the picture of the Thanksgiving Service held at St Mary's Basilica after the Cats won the flag last year, celebrated by my friend, Father Dillon. Ron Hovey & Frank Costa in the photo.

This post is dedicated to my readership of one, with many thanks for his loyalty and supremely good taste in football teams.

Marcus, I messed up - it was not the Bob Davis room (I don't think there is such a thing), it was the Ron Hovey Room. And there is no romantic story about how I got to be there - no long lost footballers in the family etc. I just purchased tickets on Members Purchase Day for that game, and they were sent to me. Before I turned up at the ground that day - I didn't even know where the room was! I had seen the glassed in area at the back, but always thought it was corporate boxes or something.

My daughter and I decided we didn't really like the experience - far too sterile and quiet. And we're of the embarrassing kind - we like to yell and scream and get into it - Carn the Cats! But it was all a little too polite. Tiny bits of polite clapping, almost like being in a library!

I'm upset today about my Chappy. He's my fave, and he's gammy hammy is acting up - here's hoping he'll be right for the final (God willing we make it that far!). At my daughter's school, they always say prayers for the Geelong Cats players that are injured - that cracks me up!

This is How A Heart Breaks

2008-09-17T22:36:00.002+10:00

Don't you wanna go for a ride
Just keep your hands inside
And make the most out of life
Now don't you take it for granted

Life is like a mean machine
It made a mess outta me
It left me caught between
Like an angry dream I was stranded

And I'm steady but I'm starting to shake
And I don't know how much more I can take

This is it now
Everybody get down
This is all I can take
This is how a heart breaks
You take a hit now, you feel it break down
Make you stay wide awake
This is how a heart breaks

Don't you wanna go for a ride
Down to the other side
Feels so good you could cry
Now won't you do what I told you
I remember when you used to be so shy
Yeah, once we were so fine
You and I why you gotta make it so hard on me

And I'm sorry but it's not a mistake
And I'm running but you're getting away

You're not the best thing that I knew
Never was never cared too much
For all this hanging around
It's just the same thing all the time
Never get what I want
Never get too close to the end of the line
You're just the same thing that I knew
Back before the time...
When I was only for you.

Sung by Rob Thomas

Not sure about the above lyrics, and actually not sure that I have the right song, but definitely have the right artist!

I find it incredible how quickly I forget dreams, and in this case the first song I have heard for the day - the memory has been wiped out by hearing many other songs.

Opinion on Rob? Interesting voice - not my cup of tea - but certainly doesn't make me cringe like James Blunt.

Now We're Getting Somewhere

2008-09-16T22:36:00.002+10:00

Now We're Getting Somewhere (Neil Finn)

LYRICS

It never used to be that bad
But neither was it great
Somewhere in the middle than
Content and much too safe
Ooh tell me please
Why it takes so long
To realize when there's something wrong

Lay me out with your heart
Now we're gettin' somewhere
Push me back to the start
Now we're gettin' somewhere
Take me out let me breathe
Now we're gettin' somewhere
When I'm with you I don't care
Where it is I'm falling

There's money in the Bible Belt
Hugs for daddy too
Three wishes for eternity
We've got some work to do
Oh tell me please, tell me what went wrong
Cos I believe there is something wrong

When you took me to your room
I swear I said surrender
When you opened up your mouth
I saw the words fall out
Though nothing much has changed
I swear I will surrender
There is pain in my heart
We can choose what we choose to believe

In order to alleviate my writer's block, I shall endeavour to post something about the song that wakes me up on my alarm clock each morning - if I can remember it!

I have always loved Crowded House, and originally loved Split Enz & Neil Finn as a soloist. As a matter of fact my current Facebook status is Showing "Ednabeancounter is singing Four Seasons in One Day" due the wildly bizarre weather we have been having here over the last few days.

I never saw Crowded House live, sadly. I did however see Split Enz live at the amphitheatre in Darwin in either 1982 or 1983. They were insanely good! I remember nearly having an embolism during "I see Red". I don't think I have ever enjoyed myself so much at a concert! They were supported by a local band of hunkies, and they did a version of Batman! that was super cool - well to a 14 year old any way!

I was extremely saddened to hear of Paul Hester's suicide, but I have posted about that on a previous blog entry.

It is so incredibly funny that my first attempt to write regular blog posts is based on a song choice. I had a similar writer's block back in the early 80s when I was a prolific (and reasonably talented) fiction writer. I decided to write a story about the lyrics on each of number of SPLIT ENZ songs that I had on a cassette! The co-incidence is quite bizarre!

As for these lyrics - some of them could absolutely sum up my current relationship! It has most recently made a huge turn for the better - due to the opening of a number of channels of communication - like words falling out of my mouth!

The second verse doesn't really make sense to me, but Crowded House do have an obsession with American culture, so therein would probably lie the answer.

The Demise of Style

2008-08-31T20:56:00.002+10:00

Today I am lamenting the demise of style. And yes Your Honour, I am guilty, so very guilty.

I've been wading in a pool of reminiscence all day. Not my own reminiscence, but a reminiscence of stylish times past. When women dressed up to go to work or shopping. When a man about town had a stylish suit and a hat, and polished shoes.

When most people didn't overeat, and were happy to have mundane jobs because it put food on the table.

Cyclone Tracey

2008-06-25T22:51:00.004+10:00

Well today I have been given a reminder that I have a blog, and that I should be using it.

It is blowing an absolute gale outside. Storms don't scare me at all - in fact I find them quite thrilling!

On that note, I might enthrall you all with my memories of Cyclone Tracey.

The funny thing is, I was not actually in Darwin when the cyclone struck. I was nice and safe in my grandmother's house in East Maitland in New South Wales. We had left Darwin three days earlier to go on our bi-annual visit to see the relatives. We learned on TV, as the rest of Australia did that Boxing Day, of the utter devastation of the only place I had ever called home. It didn't seem real to me - it was just pictures of a massive mess.

My mother was absolutely beside herself. She didn't care about the house, she was just so worried about her friends. She was crying and irrational. My grandfather couldn't understand her behaviour. I remember him saying to her "What are you worried about? You have all your family safe and sound here". What he didn't really understand is that my parents had built a life there without the safety net of family (except for little old me), and their friends were their world. They had moved to a strange little frontier town in 1964, thousands of miles away from the hustle and bustle of Sydney where they had met. They had moved for adventure, and they had found it. They also found an astonishing warmth and sense of community. A wild and crazy place. A place of big drinkers, beautiful sunsets and lifelong friends.

I don't think it was the first time in their lives that my grandfather George, and my mother Barbara were at loggerheads. My mother was the second of four girls. She was the only one who had sought a career, nursing, and who had continued to work after marriage, and her only child, me. I think that Barbara had quietly broken her own mother's heart when she moved so far away.

When George had returned home briefly on leave from World War II, he brought each of his three girls a present (the fourth daughter was born after the war). To his eldest and youngest, he gave a beautiful doll, and a teddy bear. To my mother, he gave a tomahawk.

I remember crying while watching the TV, but not really feeling anything. Crying more because of the hysteria in the room, and the confusion of having absolutely no idea what lay ahead of us.

George decided to ring the local newspaper. The following day, our story was in print, including a mention of me crying my eyes out in front of the TV. Yay! Officially a cry-baby in print!

Then the phone calls started. People wanting to donate things to us. Other relatives. The Department of Construction looking for my Dad. Three days after the cyclone we received a crackly phone call from Katherine from close friends who had survived. There was not much left of our house, but all of our friends were fine.

Dad was officially recalled to Darwin. The rest of the population of Darwin was being airlifted Hercules by Hercules out, and the government was trying to find a way to get my father in. By the 29th of December, Dad, Mum & I were in Sydney. We traipsed from government building to government building trying to get all Dad's paperwork in order. Dad had vaccinations, and a firm place on a chartered aircraft on New years Day.

I remember feeling very excited and scared at the same time. It was so exciting to be in Sydney - it was the first time in my tender seven years that I had ever spent time in the city centre. Were were staying at an old crummy hotel in Pitt Street called the Mac Hotel.

OK - the night is getting late. I will return to edit this post and finish it off in subsequent days. I will even try to get some scans of photos of post-cyclone Darwin in!

Tomorrow We Say Sorry

2008-02-12T21:02:00.000+11:00

Tomorrow, the Australian Government will issue a formal apology to the Aboriginal population of Australia for our abhorrent behaviour from 1910-1970 in relation to the stolen generations.

Finally, I am proud to be an Australian again. Finally, an elected government in Australia has the guts to own up to the racist attitudes that existed (and sadly still do exist) in our parents' and grandparents' generations.

Kevin Rudd, I am so glad I voted for you. How refreshing to see politicians follow up on their promises. First Kyoto, and now Sorry. Great work mate.

I don't think the sorry goes far enough. I truly believe that compensation is applicable on a case-by-case basis. Stealing children is barbaric. What the hell were we thinking?

I am hugely annoyed by the standard redneck response that is being bandied about. "Why should I be sorry? I didn't do anything!". Oh for God's sake. The emotional immaturity of that response is astounding.

I wish I could be at Parliament House tomorrow.

Timor unrest again

2008-02-11T22:44:00.000+11:00

Things are heating up in Timor Leste again. Did I ever tell you I know the UN spokeswoman for Timor Leste? We got up to lots of mischief together as teenagers.
She is quite the accomplished stateswoman now. I'm proud. I love it when my friends change the world. Bloody shame about my sad achievements really.
Here's what Allison has to say;

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,23192543-601,00.html

Hope Ramos-Horta pulls through. He's in good hands in Darwin.

A day of Contradictions

2008-02-11T22:31:00.000+11:00

Today, Jenny did not get better. She will never get better. As Amy was singing her songs, Jenny breathed for the last time.

I am please that Amy showed the world that she is still breathing. She slew them at the Grammys - she looked good. She was as weird and as jerky as ever, but that's my girl Amy. Proud of her - fight for your life girl.

Vale, dear Jenny

2008-02-11T13:09:00.000+11:00

Jenny died this morning, in her own bed, surrounded by her family.
She put up such a brave, noble fight against an insidious disease. It broke her body, but it did not break her fine, serene spirit.
I can't say I knew her that well. I shared a workplace with her one day a month, a cup of tea and a lovely, warm, laughter-filled chat. She was the kind of woman you would want as your own mother. She was not an old woman.
I watched her be as optimistic as any human possibly could, get better, and then get far far worse. I watched her survive for her daughter's wedding.
I loved talking to her, I loved morning tea so much at that office.
I am overly upset by this - I should definitely feel sad, but I just can't stop crying.
Today the world is a worse place, and I a more wretched human being.
Jesus is holding you in his arms Jenny, and there is no more pain. Fare thee well, gentle soul.

Third Weird Thing

2007-01-31T01:06:00.000+11:00

Ok, the third weird thing about me is my irrational fear of crocodiles. Now that I think about it it's probably quite a rational fear. I know Steve Irwin used to think they were nice, and cute, and adorable and worth saving. Bugger that.

Apart from the endless recurring nightmares I used to have about crocodiles, me and my crocodile homies have some history.

You're probably all tired of me mentioning that I'm from the Northern Territory of Australia. I'm tired of me mentioning it. However, besides me mentioning it endlessly, it was actually a fairly interesting place to grow up. My parents were camping and fishing folk, much to my chagrin. I'm more of the sleeping, movie-going, reading folk myself.

We often when to Kakadu National Park before it was a National Park, and before it became a tourist mecca. We used to fish for barramundi at a place called Yellow Waters, which is now a real tourist mecca, but used to be just a great place to fish. See photo. Nice huh?

So moving right along. You'll have to forgive my over-use of measurements in the following paragraph. I'm trying to give you some perspective of size (and frighten the bejesus out of you at the same time). My apologies for the imperialists out there - I tend to think in Metric these days. Although I'm 5'3" tall. Don't ask me what that it is centimetres. But I digress....

One day we were fishing at this lovely spot in a 6 metre long aluminium dinghy (aka dodgy tin can). When out of the corner of my eye I saw a 5 metre long (16 foot) crocodile hurl itself out of the water and drag a full-grown 1000kg water buffalo by the neck into the water, never to be seen again (after a bit of splashing and kicking). At the time I was about 20 metres (65.6167979 feet) away from where the buffalo used to stand. Gulp.

THEN, when I was a bit older, I took my sweet English penfriend on the Jumping Crocodile Cruise. The photo at the top of this post is one of the crocodiles that they tempt to jump up and bite chicken carcasses off sticks. All was going well, we were enjoying the little sweet croccies jumping up etc etc la la la gaiety and fun.

By the way, we were sitting on the lower deck of a boat with glass sides, and right against the window. The commentator then announced that we were in for a special 'treat" today, because Molokai, the king crocodile of this part of the river was heading towards the boat. We craned our necks to get a view and couldn't really see anything but swirling water. right.next.to.where.we.were.sitting. Then this massive crocodile (about 7 metres long) propels itself straight out of the water with nothing separating us except a pane of glass. I could see green muck on his four-inch long teeth. I could not have put my arms around the girth of its head, let alone its body. I could have smelled its breath if I had not felt all the blood drain out of my face and take all the strength inside me not to faint.

The rest of the Jumping Croc Cruise was not as la la la gaiety or fun. We tried not to think about what would happen if the boat capsized into the brown murky river. We tried not to think about having a massive coronary seizure before your skin even touched the water from pure, unadulterated terror.

I'll also refer you to a previous post where I once did some croc flirting with another friend.

Enough said I hope.

A QUICK MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSOR

2007-01-31T00:22:00.000+11:00

I am changing the subject from my weird things theme to talk about...drum roll....

REDUNDANCY

The hell-hole that was formerly my workplace made someone redundant yesterday. Someone who didn't deserve to be made redundant. Someone who was relying on working for the next 5 years to fund her retirement. A lady generous enough to donate one of her kidneys to save her husband's life (and it has so far).

Well the girls and I have just been together for a few hours commiserating. We have laughed and cried, drunk wine and beer, bitched, dobbed, digressed, got angry, got sad.

So there is nothing else for it Jude, but to trawl the wharves, or tap-dance in the mall. Have fun!

2nd weird thing

2007-01-29T15:51:00.000+11:00

I am a human flotation device. However I'm not colour-coded in the safety colours of red, yellow or orange (unless I am sunburnt). I'm one of those people who can read a book while floating in the pool. I can recline on my side whilst floating. I'm of those people who does not sink in the water even though I am not moving at all. Treading water? Who needs it.

Sadly this also means that I cannot be a scuba diver. I tried once. I had to wear the most massive weight belt. I could not rise to the surface even when I wanted to. Which caused me to panic. Panicking+ Scuba Diving = no good. Money > drain.

Apparently it's all got to do with the distribution of air between my fat cells. I am fat by the way, but this is irrelevant. Apparently I also have a lot of air between my fat. yay.

I've just done a google-search on this, and obviously didn't type in a very good search specification. The nett result of my search is that I would really like to try a flotation tank. This is completely beside the point. I am seriously considering writing a post on my short attention span. Perhaps this will be the third weird thing about me.

793!

2007-01-29T11:49:00.000+11:00

I've been reading a lot of blogs in the past few days. I've seen this little meme where everyone has to write six weird things about themselves. I have not been tagged to do this because I don't have any internet friends :( awwwww. Well hopefully now you'll keep reading and not think that I'm too sappy.But I thought I would do this thingimy anyway.

First weird thing about me

As a prelude to this, I am slightly obsessive compulsive, so some of this weirdness really is an illness. Ewww. Germs.

1) I originate from the Northern Territory of Australia, quite a large land mass that has an inordinately small number of people living in it, mostly because the vast majority of it is desert. The other reason that nobody lives there is that the top half is in the tropics and is hot and cycloney. Anyways......Car Number Plates in the NT consist of two lots of three numbers. When I see these numbers, I just have to take away the smaller number from the big number in my head. Even when I'm driving which can be dangerous as I'm concentrating on subtraction and not the road.

I do work in accounting however, and maybe this is not that weird. Maybe I was destined to work in accounting because of these number plates. If only someone would explain it to me......

Mess

2007-01-28T16:33:00.000+11:00

This is the rubbish bag of crap that was spread all over the laundry floor when I woke up a couple of mornings ago. The contents include two newspapers and the foam bit out of an ironing board cover, shredded into hundreds of minute pieces. See two posts ago, "Girl and Her Dog"

Expense

2007-01-28T16:26:00.000+11:00

This is what the electrical cord to the dryer looks like now. See previous post "Girl and Her Dog". I don't have a photo of the internet router that she relieved herself on that sizzled and smoked. I also don't have photos of the three leads that she has chewed up, or the pile of socks and undies that she has ruined. This is just the start.

A Girl and Her Dog

2007-01-28T16:02:00.000+11:00

I fell for the emotion of the idea. A dog. Just what she always wanted. What she talked about incessantly. To make up for being an only child. I loved dogs when I was a kid.I remembered the love that I felt for my favourite dogs. Remembered seeing my dad cry when one of our dogs died.

I had to talk hard and fast. In reality I had to beg hard and fast. C really did not want a dog. The timing was not right. I begged, I pleaded. I was an idiot.

C caved in. I wish he hadn't have. I would have been angry at him, and not understood. I understand now! Can I take it back?

Maybe I am lucky

2007-01-28T13:29:00.000+11:00

I haven't thought about this blog for a long time. There are still a number of blogs that I read regularly and enjoy. In fact I will have to update my link-list for sure.

Quite often I dwell on the fact that I think my life isn't so great. This is predominantly my fault, as I think I am just about the laziest person who ever lived. But every now and then your read about someone else's misfortune, and it gives you a big fat slap in the face. Read this and be slapped;

Leanne, I'm praying for you, and I'm not a believer!

The Girl Will Win Survivor

2006-03-30T21:36:00.000+11:00

I hate raw tomatoes. Hate, hate hate 'em. Always have. Make me gag in a way that only a finger in the back of the throat can.
Midget inherited this tendency. I was wondering if it was just conditioning from me, or a real dislike. I do remember watching her when she was quite small, about 18 months old, pick up a cherry tomato thinking it was a grape. I watched the expression on her face change to complete distaste and the cherry tomato made a quick reappearance on the floor.Since that time I have not pressed the tomato issue.
The Midget's step-dad, C is very unusual in that he will eat anything, the more obscure the better. He's been challenging her to try more and more things. She initially put up great protest, and I thought it was the start of dining-room warfare. However, she has gradually realized that some different foods are interesting, and perhaps even tasty!
For dinner tonight, they were preparing exotic sandwiches on english muffins. The ingredients were; pastrami, tasty cheese, avocado, stuffed green olives and capers. The pair of them took great relish in eating the sandwich and making many moans of pleasure in between bites( it was rather over-dramatic in my opinion).
A couple of days ago, C challenged her to eat a cherry tomato. I thought that I would try to do the encouragement thing and said that I would have one if she had one. So I gulped mine down as quickly as I could and then she bites into hers. At first there was a big gag. But then the survivor thing kicked in, and she forced it down. And then she ate another one. And another one. All the way defiant.
She's going to be able to eat the mangrove worms and the warm cow's blood and the crickets and the witchety grubs on "Survivor" hands down. Grim determination will conquer. An obscure talent, but good in times of starvation.

Whodunit

2006-03-28T21:58:00.000+11:00

I came home early from work this afternoon as I wasn't feeling well. I think I'm coming down with a cold or the flu. The Midget has a bad cough also, but she tends to spend most of autumn and winter with a cough, every year.
I went straight to bed and proceeded to have a very elaborate dream, that panned out just like an Agatha Christie whodunit novel. A group of women (including myself) were going through the household effects of a murdered man, each of us having memories and associations with different items, each of us having a motive.
I managed to solve the mystery and the guilty one grabbed me and held a knife to my throat. As usual, just when the dream gets interesting, I wake up.

Is Osama a CPA?

2006-03-27T22:25:00.000+11:00

I just heard an episode of a very interesting and intelligent mainstream radio show podcast called "To the Point", a show which covers a broad range of US political issues. I just heard something that made me laugh (in an extremely world-weary and sad way) and I had to post.
There has been a recent study done to cost out the war on terror. The people who had formulated the costing were assuming that all US troops were withdrawn by 2010, and costed the war up to that point. A TRILLION dollars. TWO TRILLION dollars if you add in such variables as loss of future potential of people wounded/killed during the war, increasing fuel price instability, impact on homeland security (ie lack of home guards around to help clean up the Katrina mess because they were all in Iraq) and ongoing costs of veterans (estimating that 250,000 people would be involved in the war up to 2010).
Just imagine, improbable as I know it is. Just imagine, that this war sent the US bankrupt. Osama's sides would be splitting. He would be still holed up in some cave in Afghanistan living the quiet accountant's life (But I want to be a lion tamer!*), co-ordinating the quiet accounting war. The US imploding on itself. The US owing so much money to China that they couldn't repay it, and China sending the liquidators in. Oh, the exquisitely gruesome irony.
*obscure reference to a Monty Python sketch

My Life is as Good as an ABBA song

2006-03-27T19:50:00.001+11:00

- Direct quote from Muriel's Wedding. I also wrote this in C's recent birthday card, which had a particularly sexy snap of ABBA on the front.
When I was about 8 years old, I absolutely adored ABBA. "Money Money" was the first "grown-up" single I ever had, a much treasured present from my mum. My best friend at the time (and still a dear friend now), Galia and I played long and involved ABBA games. I always let her be Agnetha, the pretty blonde one. I steadfastly stood by Frida, who I insisted had a better voice anyway. We knew all the songs. We madly sang them all into our hairbrushes and worked out complex dance routines.

I had an ABBA t-shirt, that I wore constantly.I once fell off my bike into a huge puddle while I was wearing my Abba t-shirt and cried buckets. I didn't want that shirt to stain!
My poor parents were subjected to days and days of ABBA "Arrival" when we were driving down the east coast of Australia on our Christmas holidays in 1976.
I listen to a particularly daggy radio show every weekday morning, Breakfast with Laurie & Paula. I love it. It helps me start the day. A couple of forty-somethings that have a certain understated comedic chemistry on radio together. Every Monday there is a segment called "Paula's Pick". Paula chooses some derelict sad old song from the 70s, and callers vote as to whether they want to hear it or not. About four weeks ago, it was ABBA's "When I Kissed the Teacher". I hadn't heard the song in probably 18 years. And it has been contained inside my head now for four weeks straight.
Oh! The joy of that song! The absolute perfection of that boppy little tune! The absloute musical genius of the bit that goes;
"One of these days, gunna tell him I dream of him every night", and then lower, "One of these days, gunna show him I care gunna teach him a lesson alright". OOOOH the bliss. I cant explain how good it makes me feel! Am I psychotic? Probably. That song makes me deliriously happy.
Send help now.

I haven't been here for a very long time

2006-03-26T18:30:00.000+11:00

As I just said, I haven't been here for a very long time. Where have I been? Hell and back, hell and back.No not really. Just not in this space.
My partner C insists that blogging is navel-gazing. A comment like that is enough to start me writing in my blog again. Work that out.
I'm going to link and de-link some other blogs that I like to read. I'm going to de-link someone that I like - a sassy girl who lives what seems to be a very exciting life in one of the world's great metropolis. But when she posted a picture of herself on her blog that can only be described as soft-porn, I need to disassociate myself. I dont hate her for it. I just dont want my blog linking to it. Sorry girl - I will continue to read though.
So what's happening with me? I've been using the computer less and less. Got hooked into genealogy, but I'm fairly much over that now. You know, the usual fad has outlived its lifetime. I did find out a lot of interesting stuff about my family. But in reality, what good is it to anyone? It is completely irrelevant to the here and now.
I did find out that there are more convicts in my family line than I would ever have imagined. I did find out that most of my family is more Irish than I could have imagined. I have dispelled that great family myth that we are related to the (late famous) Australian country music star Slim Dusty. I found out that one of my family lines were one of the great pioneering and enterprising families of New South Wales - something I dont think my grandfather was aware of in his lifetime, which is quite a shame.
I'm still in that dull old job. I still find it hard to stay awake during the day, and still over-eat to compensate for my boredom there. My boss is just too good to me, and such a lovely soul. I would hate to leave him in the lurch. Not that I am irreplaceable. We just work well together. I like being his business confidante.
As for a fantastic life experience, we attended a night session of the Commonwealth Games athletics last Monday night. WOW is the only way to describe it. We saw the fastest man in the world Asafa Powell run a very tidy 100m race, along with what they say is one of the best 5km races the world has ever seen. It was such a gutsy run by Craig Mottram, the crowd nearly lifted the stadium into the air. 80,000 people in one place, absolutely awesome. It's something I hope my daughter remembers for the rest of her life. We were lucky to have quite a lot of Australian gold medal presentations, so we got to be all patriotic and belt out the Australian national anthem at the top of our lungs, what seemed like many, many times. We got the winner of the gold medal in the women's hammer throw, Brooke Kruger, to wave at us because she thought we knew her. Such a sad look of disappointment on her face when she realized that we didn't know her!
Well, I think I'll be back soon.
Talk to you then....

Excuses, excuses

2005-10-24T14:12:00.000+10:00

The midget is going through a funny (but interesting) stage. She likes to correct us and announce her views on things at every chance. The annoying thing about is is that she gets into a conversational loop, and it's quite tedious to listen to. If you ask a question about something, she has a stock-standard answer for it, and can't seem to vary her response. I'm not overly concerned, I just find it a little weird.
I haven't been posting much. Why you may ask? Mostly I have been reading other people's blogs. At the moment that seems infinitely more interesting than creating something to write here. I'm afraid that my mediocre writing will bring people to tears. I'm back tonight, because the hard drive broke in this computer and I have lost all my bookmarks for the sites that I read.
Have decided not to write the book in a month thing, for a couple of reasons;
1) I am mortally afraid of failure
2) I will be away from my computer for 6 or 7 days in November, so that there will be even less chance of me being able to write 50,000 words.
3) C should want to come with me to Hong Kong anyway cos I'm great fun.

Exciting Projects

2005-10-04T14:39:00.000+10:00

My goodness do I have some stuff in the pipeline. I think I'm being over-ambitious, but I'm going to give it a go.
Firstly, as I have already mentioned, I am on a health kick. So far so good - however - can't wait for the antibiotics to kick in and get rid of this heavy chest.
I had a quick look at Dervala's site tonight to find a link to something that has really intrigued me....NaNoWriMo here I come! What a fabulous idea! I was umming and aahing about it, particularly the time constraints of writing 50,000 words in a month, when C fixed that up with some good old fashioned bribery. He'll come on a holiday to Hong Kong with me if I get the 50,000 words finished by the deadline. That sort of opportunity is too damned good to pass up. I'm going to get cracking on a novel plan in the next few nights.
Meanwhile I'm doing it hard with caffeine withdrawal. I just have to cut my Diet Coke intake for my health's sake alone. I drink way too much of it and not enough of anything else. So have only had one very small bottle today, and managed to make it to lunch time without caving in. I felt pretty crap by then though. Will try to go without completely tomorrow.

Peace and Quiet, but not in Bali

2005-10-03T14:58:00.000+10:00

At the moment all is peaceful in the household. However, the place looks like a bomb has hit it. There are suitcases, shoes, roller skates and a netball lying in the hall as I write. Perhaps I should be cleaning everything up. But perhaps I wont.
The midget is back from her holiday in Sydney, much to our relief. I miss her so when she is away. She was happy and sweet this afternoon. She went to the beach with her young suitor Patrick and his mum and they had a lovely time. She then arrived home and hounded C, and he played lovely games with her for hours until his patience wore thin and he retired to bed, where he is still.
So I sit here alone. It is not often I am alone here. Everything is very quiet.
I had a quick visit to the doctor this afternoon and came home loaded with antibiotics and ventolin, and an urgent need to kick this bronchitis in the bum. The Doctor mentioned that the city I live in is Australia's allergen and asthma capital. Yippee. There is a large oil refinery across the bay that pours out plumes of crap into the air. No wonder my lungs aren't coping. It also doesn't help that this house is cold, drafty and in urgent need of renovating. C is saving his pennies for that. I probably inhale a load of plaster dust in my sleep every night. My doctor quipped "move to Queensland". If only it were that simple.
There have been bombings in Bali again. Surely this is the death knoll for Australian tourism there. This is a tragedy for the Balinese, who are the loveliest gentlest people and largely rely on the tourist dollar. Bali is largely Hindu, but because of the large amount of Western tourists visiting, radical islamic groups seem to target Bali. So far the reports are saying that two Australians have been killed, with up to 100 injured.
I went to Bali on a school excursion in 1978 (grade 6). We had such a brilliant time, the people were wonderful to us. It was such an adventure. And this was way before Bali became the tourist mecca that it is today.

Daily Bread

2005-10-01T14:44:00.000+10:00

The western world is getting dreadfully fat and unhealthy. As I get older I am suddenly concerned about my health - I never really gave a crap in the past. At the moment I am feeling very mortal.
Part of it has to do with the fact that for the second winter running I have chronic bronchitis and don't seem to be able to kick it easily. I have had some health problems in the past, but these have all been fixed by removing non-essential organs (tonsils, adenoids, appendix and gall bladder - I'll also throw wisdom teeth into that melee). However, I've not ever had respiratory problems until I moved to the wet cold climes of Victoria.
I'm a little concerned that I have developed asthma. My grandmother was a chronic athmatic. My friend Robert developed asthma when he moved from the NT to Victoria because of an allergy to rye grass. The midget has also had a consistent dry cough all winter, but the doctor says her chest is clear, no asthma there.
Anyways I'll be off to visit my favourite doctor on Sunday, probably to get a script of antibiotics. As long as it works...
Now back to the fat thing. I've been overweight most of my life. I was rewarded with food when I was young, and then ate to combat loneliness and anxiety as I grew older.
I dont want to be fat and unfit and unhealthy any more.
The lovely Vashti says it best in her post about daily bread. Why do we eat and take more than we need?
I'm all with Dr Fiona Wood on this one.
I'll tell you how I go. I'll try not to reduce you to tears with tedium, or dull statistics. But I will try to be honest.

Spanking?

2005-09-17T14:42:00.000+10:00

I think I've mentioned before that I sometimes sell stuff on Ebay. I've got loads of old books and magazines lying about the place, so I put a few items on last weekend to see if there was any interest out there. I recently bought a cool box of magazines from the 1950s. I'd almost like to keep them myself, but my instinct tells me that I can make some money here.
Anyway, I scanned the cover of the first one on the pile, and put in a quick list of some of the stories, including a fairly conservative story about spanking. My, have the spankers crawled out of the woodwork! Creepy little spankers.
Two blokes emailed me for a scan of the article. I thought about this for a while and thought I would crop part of the first page of the article, just enought to make it interesting - see below. After all, I'm not going to give everything away - I want to sell the magazine after all!

I emailed this to both the people who asked. One guy emailed back saying "thanks".
The other one.......

"Wow, this is awesome! Do you have the other two pages of it? I only saw and could open just the first page -- but it was quite provocative indeed! Where are you located? I forget exactly how I contacted you -- presumably through a Yahoo spanking group, yes? Tell me more about your spanking life, your experiences, your hopes and longings in the "corporal arts!" Oooo-la-la! Ever spanked/paddled/caned/strapped at school? Who did the spanking at home: mom or dad? Belt? Paddle? Hairbrush? Hand?

Paul"

Paul forgot exactly how he contacted me - it was through ebay you freaking dork (I must remember to take my name out of that Yahoo spanking club). And this did not come out of my personal spanking collection.
He'll probably track me down now through a google search on spanking. Yippeeeeee.
Spankorama.

Los Angeles, Melbourne oh Goodie.....

2005-09-14T14:50:00.000+10:00

Well it seems that terrorists have announced to the world their next targeted cities. No-one seems sure if it is a credible source.
Announcing a target seems a strange thing to do. Wouldn't it be easier to just keep the element of surprise? The people of LA and Melbourne will be all prepared! And then the terrorists will bomb the heck out of Boston and Sydney.
I can be all blase and smart-arsed, but I do live 70km from Melbourne. Yippee. Just another thing to obsess and worry about. There is a website called werenotafraid.com that has had about a kazillion hits. I'm thinking of creating a website called "www.imslightlyafraidandwishididnotlivenearmelbourne.com" and feature lots of photos of me being snivelly. Seriously though, you know, of all the places in all the world. I'm dropping the midget off at Melbourne airport next week to fly to Sydney to spend a week at her Nanna's for the school holidays. Airports also make me apprehensive. I'm never quite happy about flying, or putting my loved ones on planes.
Los Angeles however, could do with a bit of a razz up....only jokes. I think "LA" and I dont think Hollywood or glamour. I think LA airport, East Coast Airport closures, LA smog, strip searches and the angriest I've ever been with anyone in customer service. But I will leave that rant about my experience in LA airport last January for another time.

2005-09-12T10:30:00.000+10:00

Aaargh. I have just read an incredible post about the highest bar of parenthood (read the post entitled "Six Years") and am now feeling completely inadequate. I just took the midget down to the shop and was too far behind her to stop her from having a dreadful stack off her bike, in fact for one second she disappeared behind a parked car and I feared the worst! However, a few nasty welts and scrapes, and no tears whatsoever (brave girl)and she's fine. And I feel even more inadequate.
My life is blindingly complicated at the moment. And really, honestly, it is all of my own doing. This relationship I am in is high-maintenance of the millionth degree, and I felt very close to throwing it all away this week. Sometimes it is too hard. I wont say any more.

Here is a photo of the lovely midget at "The Jump Rope for Heart" day at her school. How do children get all this energy? I thinked she skipped all day. The kids all had to wear something red - so I got her some natty new red closthes. However the natty new red shorts kept falling down and we were getting some natty pink undies action. Luck they were sensible undies, or we might have had some coin-slot action!

Oh Katrina!

2005-09-05T15:30:00.000+10:00

I've been getting myself into trouble and commenting on a number of blogs about the relief effort that is happening in the USA. It seems beyond belief the complete mess they are making of it.This guy says it all, so much more eloquently than I can manage.
I also think it's a bit of a mistake to throw money at the problem. I just dont trust that my money would get to the right place. Everybody seems to think the Red Cross is a good bet. My impressions of the Red Cross are based on this; When the East Timor humanitarian crisis was happening, the Red Cross people were driving around in brand new Mercedes Benz (as were the United Nations people I might add) and staying at the only decent digs left in Dili, while the people were trying to survive sheltering under bits of corrugated iron. I know this for a fact. The company I used to work was the only shipping line in and out of East Timor (from Darwin in Australia) for some months. We shipped everything - food, cars, tanks, you name it. I dont want my money going into "administration". I want it to help people, practically. I'm not sure if the Salvos are as dominant a force as they are in Australia, but I would definitely give my money to them in preference to anyone else.

Kick Arse Graffiti

2005-09-04T14:29:00.000+10:00

This is some freakoid graffiti. We walked past this abandoned building in Melbourne on Wednesday. I'm not a fan of the scribble, but I love this. New-age hieroglyphics!

A Standard Old Saturday

2005-08-28T14:48:00.000+10:00

My lovely C made dinner for us tonight - a lovely spicy sausage casserole. While he cooked, I read him excerpts from the book "Boy", a novella of Roald Dahl's memories from his school days. It is completely delightful. Mental note: Read more of his books, after getting through the following list of the best novels of the twentieth century. All this reading will take me through to the twenty third century. And then there will be another couple of lists to read through!
C set up his music computer today and we spent part of the afternoon mucking about with his midi composer and warbling into the headset - we all had a go and it was a fair bit of fun. I bought a new keyboard for his computer earlier in the week, and it turned out that the "W" stuck, so we took it back to the shop this morning. I completely embarrassed myself by poking the shop man in the arm quite hard while he was demonstrating the faulty w, saying "See, see it does stick". C calls this my stage mother persona. I regretted it as soon as I had done it and slunk away to another corner of the shop. I was lucky he didn't punch me, I reckon.
We also had an adventure to our local Mitre 10 hardware store and bought various electrical fittings, laundry baskets, garbage bins and the like. A completely riveting shopping trip.
After we came home I had a glorious 2 hour sleep - I love the fact that C doesn't mind me having a sleep on the weekends. He works at home and often doesn't get up till late and has naps whenever he feels like it. I stay up later at night with him in the computer room during the week. By the time Saturday comes around, I'm pooped. A Saturday morning sleep-in is not a possibility as the midget has early-morning ballet! 9am on a Saturday is criminal! So my weekend naps are just the best kind of luxury. The midget is becoming more and more independent and can amuse herself. C keeps an eye on her and they often do stuff together.
Our ever-growing guinea pig family welcomed the arrival of 5 (!) new babies on Wednesday. Despite their cuteness, I was quite peeved at this. After the last set of arrivals (3 live, 1 still-born) I said no more babies!! Boys and girls completely separated. However C's sister thought that she knew better because they looked lonely. It only took an hour, and the cycle of life continues. Yesterday the three older offspring made a journey to the pet shop, and on Monday, the firstborn, Joel becomes the class pet at the midget's school. And then we go back to having two adults and five babies.

Useless Stuff

2005-08-26T14:55:00.000+10:00

Does anybody out there own lots of useless stuff?
Before Christmas sometime I bought a food processor. I had lay-by'd it months earlier and carefully paid it off with the remnants of the household budget.I thought this thing would revolutionise my life. It can do backflips for chrissakes. I also thought it would inspire in me a love of cooking.
I cant believe that I actually forgot I bought it. I found it in the computer room on the weekend under a bunch of junk. I haven't even opened the box.
I want to take back all the useless stuff I have ever bought and get refunds. I would then have enough money to buy a fairly decent house or a yacht or somethin, outright.
I liked the idea of that food-processor so much. I had vague ideas that I would love the results, but detest cleaning those blades. When you chop an onion with a knife, you only have to wash the knife and the chopping board. When you chop an onion with processor, there are blades and tiny bits of onion in every nook and cranny.
Then there are the boxes of books that I bought to sell on e-bay. To C's chagrin they are lying around everywhere. When I wasn't working last year, selling stuff on ebay became a bit of a hobby. I was making money out of it too, but only a couple of hundred a week, not as much as my working wage. I bought loads of old books and postcards wholesale at the best auction house I've ever been to. Unbeknownst to me I actually bought some rare items. I sold one book for US $130 - and I bought the four boxes of books that held this book for AU $60. I put this decrepit old library book on ebay for $3, and it sold for $90.00 - it turns out it was a rare first edition of a book about the IRA. So you just never know.
However, I just cant be stuffed at the moment.
If I ever became a millionaire (this is extrememly unlikely as I do not even buy lottery tickets) I'd love to be an antique dealer. I just love old stuff.
We are off to netball soon. A very late game - 9.40pm. C's dad will be here soon to watch the midget. Wish us luck. It would be so nice to just win one game.

A Multitude of Topics

2005-08-20T09:55:00.000+10:00

AUSTRALIAN YOUTH CHOIR

Well thankfully the Australian Youth Choir were polite enough to send an emailed apology. It makes me feel slightly better. The midget has pretty much forgotten about the incident as I thought she would. We have looked into another local choir, and it is now up to me to give them a call. I'll add that task to my multitude of lists of things that I am procrastinating about.

A YOUNG INNOCENT VISITS IRELAND

The lovely young Olivia formerly of my workplace is now on the Irish leg of her world tour. I wailed liked a banshee when I read her latest email. This is a direct quote:

"The first night we arrived in Ireland the people we were staying with took
us to the pub for a drink. They ended up inviting some of their friends back
to their house and they kept us up drinking til 5 in the morning. I wasn't
drinking much so my 1st impression of the Irish I will probably remember
forever - they were all sitting around the kitchen table, hands joined and
waving in the air shouting some old Irish folk tune. Crazy crazy."

I have similarly bizarre memories. I warned her.

MARY HAS A BABY

Another lovely workmate, Mary had a baby boy yesterday. Aaah the pure joy of a new arrival. The midget and I had much fun this morning choosing a gift, and we will visit them in the hospital tomorrow.

NERVOUS BREAKDOWN AVERTED

I'm feeling much better now thank you.

CRANKY YANKY

Been reading this blog on a regular basis. Can't stand the man, but also like him a lot too. Hate his views on guns, Iraq, women. Admire his soft underbelly (dont ever insult his mama!)! Like his humour. This bloke has more than 2,000,000 hits on his blog. I have just made 500. Probably 100 of those are myself and another 50 would be Serge. The rest have mostly done searches on "muffin tops" (I'm thinking about taking that post off) or "Morticia Adams". Fairly sad. A recent visitor found my blog by doing the following search - "girls caught bean bad"- You've just got to love people who cant spell. No porn here sunshine.

The Bitterness of Disappointment

2005-08-14T12:11:00.000+10:00

Oh I'm cranky. Bloody Australian Youth Choir. We turn up today with a very excited little girl in hand to be told she is ineligible to audition because she is two months too young. NOWHERE does it say this in the literature. It also wasn't mentioned to me when I enquired about the auditions over the phone.
She was so disappointed. She cried softly in the back of the car all the way home. She had been practicing singing and was very excited. I've sent them an email, lets hope they have the balls to answer me back.
Memories of my own personal disappointments came flooding back - aaach. I've been like a bear with a sore head all day. Its just so unfair to her. She sobbed, "Why does there have to be such a thing as age?" Oh the sweet poppet.

What's the Meaning of it All?

2005-08-13T15:22:00.000+10:00

I've had a very busy week at work, and today I felt the strain. After not having had a lunchbreak all week, and working back most nights, I decided I needed to get out of the office for lunch today.
I sat at the food court tables in the local shopping centre and watched the people. Hardly a smiling face to be seen.
I feel like I might have read too many depressing blogs lately. The ones that spring to mind are the ones written by women who suffer from bouts of soul-sucking depression. Seemingly extremely intelligent women, yet emotionally fragile.
I remember seeing an old woman walking along, hunched over and looking at the floor, her clothes tatty and mismatched. And then as I was taking the escalator down to the exit, the shopping centre staff were rushing a screen around an old lady who had collapsed, right there in the food court. I think she may have just fainted, but she may have had a stroke, I dont know. Thankfully the ambulance was on its way.
I got to the bottom of the escalator and was hit with this overwhelming rush of sadness. I think it's the closest I have ever had to a panic attack in my life. I felt so distraught, I thought I was choking with tears.
Am I close to a nervous breakdown? It feels more and more like it every day.
I want to live in one of those fantasy wholesome communities where you know all your neighbours, you share their lives, and they look after you, and there are kids running around every where and generally a good time is had by all. I seem to remember that sort of thing before the cyclone in Darwin. But I dont know if that was my parents perspective on it all. It seemed great at the time.
As I was writing this I managed to spill C's cup of coffee all over the computers and ground and his legs. Bloody hell. Computers still going so far. Floor reeking of cofee. C not burnt - all OK. What a goober I am.

Me Me Me

2005-08-09T14:45:00.000+10:00

I've never done one of these online quizzes before. I like the idea. They reveal interesting things about a person. I also think they could possibly inspire further blog posts. I'd do anything for inspiration ha!
1) First name: Not Edna. A saint's name starting with C. My mother was going to call me Jane, but that rhymed with my surname and sounded very silly.
2) Were you named after anyone?: Not intentionally, I believe. However recent family history research shows a long incidence of this name for many generations, including both my grandmothers, although neither were known by the name.
3) Do you wish on stars?: Nope. But my little girl does, and I like to go along with that.
4) When did you last cry?: Yesterday. I cry a lot. I am a woos. From fragility, uncertainty, sometimes an ephemeral sense of happiness.
5) Do you like your handwriting?: Yes! I'm quite proud of it in a stupid pedantic way. When I ocasionally have to do old-fashioned accounting ledgers in long-hand, they look quite beautiful (if I say so myself).
6) What is your favourite lunch meat?: I love the chicken that they do at Rumpole's Cafe at the Supreme Court in Darwin. I'm not sure what other ingredients are in it, but it is divine (mind you I haven't had it for six years).
7) What is your most embarrassing CD?: Madonna - Erotica
8) If you were another person, would you be friends with you?:Hmmm. I'm definitely hard to get to know. The best friends that I have in my life knew me before certain events changed who I was forever. I actually seem to be able to make friends with men easier than women as I'm not so good with typical "girl-talk". I would persist with me, get a hint of my searing wit, and want to go back for more. Jeez I'm modest.
9) Do you have a journal?: I bought a beautiful journal from the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam last October. I was completely inspired by visiting Anne Frank's house . However the inspiration lasted exactly two weeks before the "lazy-cowness" overtook the inspiration and the journal writing came to a screeching halt. I also bought another beautiful journal in Vienna in the hopes that the first one would be filled very quickly. I ended up giving that one away as a birthday present. Since then, this blog has been a little like a journal for me.
10) Do use sarcasm a lot?: Definitely. But my friend Salome is the sarcasm master.
11) What are your nicknames?: Bub, Mumbo Jumbo
12) Would you bungee jump?: Yep
13) Do you untie your shoes before taking them off?: Never. I am one of the laziest people alive.
14) Do you think that you are strong?: Not at all
15) What is your favourite ice cream flavour?: Licorice
16) Shoe size?: 8
17) Red or pink?: In my youth, definitely RED! Now a nice salmon pink is just loverlly
18) What is your least favourite thing about yourself?: My complete and overwhelming disdain for housework and cooking
19) Who do you miss most?: Mum, Uncle Brian
20) Do you want everyone you send this to, to send it back?: I'm not going to send it to anyone, but if anyone I know reads it I'd be interested to read their responses.
21) What color pants and shoes are you wearing? Black trousers - still got the corporate suit on. Have brown leather clogs and socks on my feet - tis very cold in this house and they are my favourite house shoes.
22) What are you listening to right now?: A guy named Carus. He supported Dave Matthews at the Palais in Melbourne a few months ago and we bought his CD- just a guy playing guitar singing his heart out - love it.
23) Last thing you ate?: Slice of tasty cheese and before that Combination Satay at our local Japanese/Chinese restaurant.
24) If you were a crayon, what color would you be?: Dark blue or purple
25) What is the weather like right now?: Fairly cold (winter in Victoria) about 8 C outside.
26) Last person you talked to on the phone?: C's sister. A fairly uninspiring conversation about guinea pigs, believe it or not
27) The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?: Teeth, smell, eyes
28) Do you like the person who sent this to you?: No-one sent this to me, I found it on a nice blog "Yes, YelloCello"
29) Favorite Drink?: Diet Coke. Can absolutely not get through the day with out it.
30) Favorite Sport?: Participating - netball. Watching - gymnastics or swimming
31) Hair Colour?: Dark brown with an alarmingly increasing number of greys
32) Eye Colour?: Green
33) Do you wear contacts?: Glasses. Have never gotten around to getting contacts - I told you I was lazy.
34) Favorite Food?: Pasta, licorice, musk sticks, mandarines, crumpets with honey, mango, hot cross buns, raisin toast, and I could go on....
35) Last Movie You Watched?: Herbie....uggggh...see previous post. Last movie unaccompanied by 6 year old, The Devil's Arithmetic
36) Favorite Day Of The Year?: A tie between the midget's birthday and C's birthday.
37) Scary Movies Or Happy Endings?: Definitely happy endings
38) Summer Or Winter?: I like spring and autumn - bugger the extremes - neither is too pleasant
39) Hugs OR Kisses?: Can't choose. Hugs are very nourishing, and kisses can be yummy.
40) What Is Your Favorite Dessert?: Pavlova
41) Who Is Most Likely To Respond?: Maybe Serge - I'm hoping Yaksox for a laugh....
42) Who Is Least Likely To Respond?: Too hard
43) What Books Are You Reading?: Isabel Allende's latest - I cant remember the name of the story - very enjoyable so far.
44) What's On Your Mouse Pad?: No mousepad - optical mouse
45) What Did You Watch Last night on TV?: Dont have a TV!
46) Favourite Smells?: The smell of rain approaching before a tropical storm, Chanel No 5, C's skin, mangoes
47) Favorite Sounds?: The midget's uncontrollable laughter, C's excitable geeky laugh, music from the past
48) Rolling Stones or Beatles?: Definitely the Beatles - no contest
49) What's the furthest you've been from home?: London, Vienna, New York, all about the same distance away from home.
50) Do you have a special talent?: Avoiding housework
51) What is your ring tone?: I detest mobile phones - mostly I am uncontactable except when I am at home or in the office - the rest of the time is my time and everything else can wait....

Migraines

2005-08-08T13:17:00.000+10:00

This is a boring and way too technical topic for a blog post. However I'm going to entertain it for a little while, however it may not entertain you.
I've just had a migraine that has lasted for three days. And it was just bloody awful.
I started getting these headaches about two and a half years ago. I thought they were something to do with an old filling that I thought had fallen out of my tooth and exposed a nerve. At this point I hadn't been to the dentist in 17 years. I had post-braces dental trauma and morbid fear of dentists.
However, I braved a visit to find out that my filling was completely intact and I didn't have a single cavity, just a whole heap of tartar. The dentist did enquire though, about the status of my wisdom teeth. A little x-ray later, and a clearer picture emerged of wisdom teeth with nowhere to go and roots growing straight into the roots of all my other teeth.
A year ago last Friday I had my wisdom teeth removed, all four in one go. What a freakin' nightmare. 49 weeks ago I got the worst migraine that I had ever had. Hence, wisdom teeth had nothing to do with migraines. Aaaaargh.
Then I had a brain MRI. No tumour. No abnormality. (Alzheimers has not set in yet, no matter how dazed I feel at times).
Hence no explanation for the migraines. Could be a food allergy, stress, etc. Who knows. However, they are just awful.
My good friend Salome used to get migraines, I'm not sure if she still does. I know that she sourced some of her migraines as being allergic to cinnamon (!) which was a real blow to her given to her predilection for pastries. Now she just eats shortcrust pastry dough. Yuk.

On a different note, I have been getting a lot of hits on my site by people referencing "muffin tops" on search engines. All the hits have been from the USA. What the??? Has the muffin top syndrome just emerged there? One dude left a comment on my muffin top post saying he though they were very sexy (and I think he was quite upset about the negative tone of my post). To each his own. If I wanted to I could generate some very fine muffin-top action of my own. The difference is I have self-respect and just choose not to.

On a funnier note, somebody from Israel found my site by doing a search on the words "hasidic breasts". How funny is that?

Change is Not Loss, It is Only Change

2005-08-01T13:00:00.000+10:00

Have been on a blog hiatus for a few days. I have been feeling unmotivated for the four millionth time this week so I'm attempting to make amends.
The whole landscape of my work environment changes tomorrow, and I feel quite unsure about it. I'm not one of these people who cannot deal with change, but the two nicest people in the place (apart from the boss) finished up on Friday. Young O's traineeship finished and on Thursday she flies out to London for the adventure of a lifetime. Big M is three weeks off having her first baby, and I will miss her gentle serenity madly. The other M is on 3 weeks leave, so the administration corps consists of myself, J the old battleaxe and J the junior, during the busiest time of the year. It's time to sink or swim!
It's been a very quiet weekend, and I have had far too much time on my hands to think.

Themis

2005-07-27T16:22:00.000+10:00

Serge you are a very clever snag.
And a libra to boot.

Salome?

2005-07-27T15:35:00.000+10:00

Ha Ha Salome your secret is out. My friend, the person formerly known as K has decided upon Salome for her blog alias.I have been doing some intense research and have come up with some conclusions based on the following text.

"Salome - (1) The daughter of Herod Philip and Herodias (Matthew 14:6-8: Mark 6:22; cf. Josephus, "Antiq. Jud.", XVIII, v, 4), at whose request John the Baptist was beheaded."

Or more recently;

"Wilde's play became the source and inspiration for Richard Strauss's one-act opera also named Salomé, first produced in 1905. Herod's lust for Salome is emphasized, which Salome uses to gain her wishes by performing the famous "Dance of the Seven Veils." Salome, in turn, desires to have John the Baptist -- a new interpretation of the original myth. In the end, the only way Salome may have any part of John, quite literally, meant that she must demand his head be given to her. Salome fulfills her passion by kissing the dead lips of John's decapitated head, who had previously rejected her. This new and more familiar version of Salome depicts her as a seductress of her stepfather and a murderer of a saint, thereby becoming a symbol of the erotic and dangerous woman, the femme fatale."

Conclusion 1) I really really believe that my Salome has no inklings to be seduced, or seduce her step-father.

Conclusion 2) I have never seen my Salome do the Dance of the Seven Veils. I have, however, seen her do the dance of the seven caftans. Tis a very beguiling dance in its own special way.

Conclusion 3) Using the more traditional research, I believe the words "John the Baptist" should be substituted by the words "John the Belgian".

I eagerly await an explanation

Pleeeeease be careful Skippy

2005-07-26T14:46:00.000+10:00

"Hullo. Frank Walker from National Tiles here."
When you read the words on paper (or on screen as it were) they look fairly innocuous. However these words are from the most cringeworthy radio ad I have ever heard. Possibly only people from Victoria will know this guy. I swear I wake up to this almost every morning. It's the way he says it. I might try and get a sound file and attach it to this blog so I can share this with the rest of the world. It's a surefire way to make you get off your bed and turn the alarm off, and really quite an unpleasant way to start the day.
To my beloved friend and avid blog reader, the woman formerly known as Hildegarde. I had a brainwave as to your blog alias. You will have to explain the ThoThemis reference - I dont have a clue, except that when you say it there's a really neat spit-spraying effect.
From this day forth you will be known as Serge. Her Dad calls her Serge, and also something to do with sausages, I forget but I know it is amusing. Her dad is also prone to gobbling like a turkey REALLY LOUDLY in confined spaces (like the front cabin of a very small ute with all the windows wound up). When explaining why he called her Serge, he said that he felt a surge of love whenever he was with her. How great is that!
Serge and another wonderful friend K(who I'm going to have think very hard about an alias for) are going to start a blog. Now this will be a cack. I can hardly wait. I'll be linking gals.
Well I might mention a few things about my weekend. On Saturday I went to the horse races in Caulfield in Melbourne. C did not want to come because he was being a stinky bum. I took the Intern and the Midget and had a fairly decent time with the folks from work. I am very pleased to note that the Midget has quite a knack for picking winners on the track. I'm cutting her a percentage of the prize money (mostly in Chupa Chups) but as her agent (and chauffeur)I get to keep most of it.
She picked a horse with the name "Smart Arch" which is quite a funny play on words and repeated it loudly to everyone who would listen. However "Smart Arch" is still running and we didn't score with that one. Perhaps they should change his name to CrackerUpHis Arch and he may do better. Rule Britannia! (By the way, my father, whose name is Arch, taught me that song at a very tender age).
My lovely boss is so Catholic that he would not bet on a horse named "Evil Agent" even though it was trained by his favourite trainer and highly respected. He instead went with an old nag named "Joseph" which is also still running.
On an interesting and different pious note, I have never seen more Jewish people in my life as I did walking down Glen Eira Road in Caulfield that day, some in Hasidic dress. I dont think I ever
saw a Jewish person in Darwin. So it was a very interesting sight for me.
On Sunday I took the Midget to see the latest Herbie movie. Oh yuk. What happened to Herbie??????!!!! Wail.....Those movies used to be fun.
At one stage the Midget was in tears because Herbie was going to get mashed by a monster truck in a demolition derby. I thought I was going to have to take her home. I had flashbacks to the very first TV show I ever watched - picture this - 1972 - brand new TV - Skippy alone in the city - bouncing through the traffic - Edna completely traumatised - Edna banned from watching TV for quite some time. I actually remember this very clearly.
Back to Herbie. The most prominent part of the movie, I thought, was Lindsay Lohan's breasts. I have never seen a movie aimed more at teenage boys in my life. Fast cars, big boobs and tiny skirts. Even Lindsay's racing outfit was unzipped provocatively. You know, just to there, as it would be. You see, girls are protected from fire ravaging their breasts in a car crash by it's ingenious design.
Matt Dillon played the bad guy, and luckily for him, he is ageing gracefully. However I still cannot forgive him for acting in a movie called "Rebel", which is the only movie that I have ever walked out on in my entire life.
A note came home in the Midget's bag from school today - "Your child has made it to the final audition for the Australian Youth Choir". I was ecstatic, excited, thrilled in a way only the truest of stage mothers know. Cross-examination of the midget revealed that every one in her class received the same note. :<( .Not so exciting. I'll let you know the outcome of that one. Audition Day is August 13th. I now suspect it is some kind of marketing sham.
Shortlist of blog alias for aforementioned friend K
1) Sunflower
2) Fish'n Chips
3) "He's dead, he died"
4) Caftan-a-rama
Other suggestions welcomed Serge & K.
That's all for now.

Croc Bait

2005-07-22T15:32:00.000+10:00

I'll shortly continue with the Irish escapades. However there are a number of things I'm going to mention first about today.
1) I told an old friend about my blog. I hadn't previously told any people that I know personally about my blog (except for Yaksox but we dont know each other that well). And then she commented on it in an email to me.
"bizarre" - ouch
"amazing" - Ok I think
"witty" - I can handle that one
"bordering on exhibitionism" - ouchy ouch ouch ouch
Aaaah what the hell, I'm letting it all hang out after years of cloistered boredom.
I really respect this woman - "she has a fine legal mind" (that is a line from one of her references). Seriously she has the smarts big time. She has an amazingly important job in the legal system in Australia. I cant say any more - she would have my guts for garters(and then sue me). Anyway, Serge's opinion (do you like that one S?) means a lot to me. So I'm bemused.
2) I REALLY lost my temper tonight playing netball. I hate dirty players and I HATE being patronised by the umpire who told me to "learn the rules".AAAARGGHHHH. I nearly chucked a "John McEnroe". Then I used the "f" word within hearing of my daughter and I'm quite ashamed of myself. I'll feel better tomorrow.
3) Dervala commented on my blog - I'm chuffed
4) I need some help with the English language. I'm confused between amended and emended. Now Serge or Dervala, help me out. One of the girls I used to go to school with works on the Oxford Dictionary (in Oxford of all places - imagine that!)but I'm sure as hell she wouldn't read my blog. If you send someone an invoice that has been altered, are you sending them an amended invoice or an emended invoice? I say "amended". The other looks wrong. Help!

OK back to the story at large.

So Olga had changed. She had this really hard edge. I craved the instant comfort that you get from an old friend (I get that from Serge except when she is commenting on my blog - lol).But she was scary. And jetlagged. And pissed off.
The next night we decided to go out to a nightclub that I had spent most of my formative years in. It would make me cry to count the money that I had spent over that particular bar. This nightclub was pretty much past it.However, it was the only place that played even moderately alternative music in the whole town. In its heyday, it was UNBELIEVABLE, but at the time of Olga's return it was just dark, sleazy and boring.
I had raved about this place, and we sat there bored as all hell, almost uncomfortable in each other's presence. There was nothing else for it but to become horrendously drunk. And then....I found her again.
She had an urge to feel the ocean. She hadn't swum in the ocean for years in Ireland. So at about two in the morning, tanked to our eyeballs, we caught a cab to the beach. And the tide was waaaaaay out.
At this point I must digress slightly to tell you about the seaside in Darwin, so that you can understand the full scope of our stupidity.
In the tropical parts of Australia, you can only swim in the ocean between the months of May and October. Any other time of year, there are what the locals call sea-wasps floating en masse around the inner shore. The proper name for them is "box jellyfish" and these nasty little buggers can KILL you.
Darwin Harbour is also infested with saltwalter crocodiles, and these nasty big buggers will KILL you (and then eat you).
So there we were, Olga, another lass named Angie, and I, waist deep in the ocean, in our underwear, with ZERO visibility out to sea or in to shore. It seemed like such a laugh at the time .......(whimper).
Not too long after that, Olga got a job at the local Casino as a trainee croupier. And I boarded a Greyhound Bus for a five month sojourn to southern climes to say my goodbyes to my beloved aunt who was dying of cancer.
This is becoming a very long story.
OK. I'm going to cut quite a lot of detail here. I came back from South, I had a huge argument with the woman who was destined to become my step-mother (fisticuffs included)and moved into a house with Olga, Robyn and Robert.
Insert "Lots of drinking, laughter, high-jinks and lack of sleep."
Olga and her mother decided they would like a free trip back to Ireland (and I was so itching to go too). So Olga decided to enter the local "Rose of Tralee" pageant. With a lot of histrionics, a complete change of looks and image (external only), and much mother-daughter arguing between Olga and her ma, she bloody well won the thing. Twas off to Ireland for us. Stay tuned....

Olga the Irish Punk

2005-07-20T15:42:00.000+10:00

I'm probably going to make any Irish people reading this blog guffaw at the naivety of the crap I'm about to write. But hey, blogs are a free world.
This post has been inspired by reading quite a lot of an enchanting blog at dervala.net. She speaks for herself, I'm not going to rant and rave, but I just really like it.
Her family are based in Limerick. Now I have spent some time and drunk many a pint in Limerick, and this is part of that story.....
Alrighty then.
It starts in grade 10 when a crazy Irish girl named Olga started attending my high school. I think she was asked to leave the only Catholic High School in town on account of her wonderfully outrageous behaviour. I loved her exuberance and devil-may-care attitude. She already knew some of the girls in our group so her arrival was such an easy transition, she just fitted us like a glove.
She was madly obsessed with Adam & The Ants. She drew pictures and designed logos endlessly and talked of marrying Stuart Goddard (the head ant guy). She was arty farty and interesting and I hero-worshipped her.
I remember this mad sleepover party at her house. We ran down the street in the middle of the night and threw rocks on the roof of the geekiest girl in our class (I'm sorry Regina). We skinny-dipped in the above-ground pool in her front yard and pretended to kiss each other with hands over each others mouths. (Quite pseudo-lesbian really, I didn't think that we were suppressed until I think about it now.)
There was another party that looms large in the memories of all my friends - it was our watershed, our coming-of-age. I think I'll do a whole blog post about that party another time. Anyway Olga got hideously drunk at that party and there were rumours of behaviour with boys (only Lee B can verify if it was true - Lee are you out there?) and scandal and vomiting and coffee in the shower and me trying to carry her home and her being too loud and wanting to smoke cigarettes in the spare bedroom of my house when my parents arrived home. Aaaaah, memories. And that was only her role at the party! Wait till I tell you what happened to everyone else.......(another time).
Then there was the poor girl we victimised out of the school who made the mistake of pashing off with Olga's (newly)ex-boyfriend after roller-skating one Saturday night. I couldn't wait to offload my information with glee to Olga. Oh we were such spiteful cows together....(Justine, I am truly, truly sorry - I read your letter at the school re-union some years ago and it made me cry).
Half way through these exciting times, Olga's parents decided that they wanted to return to Ireland. For some reason, Australia just had not turned out the way that they had wanted it to. There was an excruciatingly pathetic airport scene with much blubbering and hugging and holding hands and pledging eternal friendship. And then she was gone. Just like that. And our lives were much quieter. And the parties weren't quite the same for some years.
We heard from her every now and then. She moved from Cork to Annacotty, just outside of Limerick. She left school and started studying ceramics at Limerick School of Art and Design. She was head of the Limerick division of Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. She told us tales of her loathes and loves, and it all sounded very foreign and exotic. And meanwhile we got on with our lives.
She was gone for five years. And then a letter was received - she was returning!Mum and Dad did think that Australia was OK after all!
Most of our gang had moved on. Some of the gang didn't care. I cared! I was so damned excited! I turned up at the airport at 3am after a night of clubbing with "vows of eternal friendship" intact. Dewy eyed, I waited outside customs! There she was - spiky pink hair, cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and pissed off as all hell because her suitcase had gone to Timbuktu. Was disillusionment setting in?
Stayed tuned for the next exciting episode.....
Cos I'm off to bed. Tell ya more next time.

Picnic at Hanging Rock

2005-07-18T14:14:00.000+10:00

"What we see and what we seem is but a dream, a dream within a dream."

Ooooh. Creepy. I went to see "Picnic at Hanging Rock" at the Darwin Cinema, all by myself, at the age of 9. What was my mum thinking? It was school holidays and I think she trusted my judgment. I came out feeling enormously uneasy. This is probably the first film I ever felt "touched" by. Even now, when I hear pan pipes, I get a chill down my spine.

Today we took a leap into the great outdoors, and actually went to Hanging Rock, about an hour-and-a-half's drive from here. It was everything and more that the movie showed it to be. Spiritual, eerie, enchanting, beautiful. I had my own "oh my God I'm spinning out" moment when I looked up at the sky and the clouds were moving so quickly against the bleakness of the rocks. I felt dizzy and nearly fell over.

I could almost imagine Joan Lindsay's story to be true. I had to catch myself from looking for skeletons of 105 year old corpses dressed in white stuck in crevasses and gullies.

The climb was difficult in places, particularly when the paving trailed away to the summit of the rock. C, the Intern and the Midget were in their glory running ahead and seeing what they could discover next. I preferred to contemplate (and catch my breath) as I went along. The landscape looked a little different from the movie. We were visiting in mid-winter, whereas the film takes place on Valentine's day, in the harshest part of the Australian summer. The rocks were covered in moss and lichen and there were many puddles from recent rainfall in the area. It was a truly delightful walk, with not too many other walkers to spoil the atmosphere.

I took some photos with my brand new camera (a late (unexpected but very welcome) birthday gift) and will endeavour to post them on here soon.

After the walk we went down to the cafe at the foot of the rock. It was heated by a lovely woodfire, painted in warm colours and filled with lots of homely eclectic furniture. I had warm scones, jam and cream, and they were to die for. The boys had apricot crumble and bruschetta, and the Midget had a toasted sandwich (simpler tastes).

In the distance we could see some people looking at a kangaroo on the picnic ground. We decided to go down and have a look, and it turned out that she had a huge joey in her pouch. He stuck his head at at just the opportune time for everybody to see. We couldn't have asked for a more Australian experience for the intern.

"Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place."

Crikey Moses

2005-07-15T15:16:00.000+10:00

Hello world. (I can't quite do it the same way John Laws does it, but then again I wouldn't want to).
How is everybody?
Hey Yaksox how do I contact you?? Thanks for the comment, it was really nice to hear from ya. Do you miss dancing? We dont go much any more. It got a bit boring, and I got cranky at a (youngish) woman whose first name starts with J for flirting with C too much. I'm not sure if you ever noticed that.
Had a funny experience last night. I chanced upon a blog of a woman in Texas and I swear I was reading exactly what I felt about so many things! Politics, being an only child, fair-weather friends,stay at home motherhood, and the list goes on. There were so many similarities, it was captivating. I posted a couple of comments - fairly inane - sympathetic, slightly humorous, nothing offensive there. Then I started reading her archives. I was reading for maybe half an hour, maybe more then all of a sudden I am locked out, and the site is asking for a password. I was so paranoid! I thought I had offended the woman. I actually was thinking about trying to email her. But then I thought maybe I had violated some unwritten "link" law. I put a link on my site, basically as an easy way for me to read her blog in the future. I was thinking, maybe you're not meant to do that unless you ask? Please let me know anyone. So I took the link off and republished and went to bed feeling really weird.
It turns out (this is Douglas Adams' favourite connecting phrase - I love it too) that she had thought that somebody she had referred to, in not the best light, in her blog had found her. If she ever comes back to my blog, "I do not know you at all". Have never been to Texas. I was thinking about leaving another comment but then I'm also paranoid about being over-eager! I think I'll just leave it for now.... Never mind. I really liked her blog.
Do people make friends from blogs? Does it get further than just leaving inane comments occasionally? I quite enjoy reading other peoples blogs (voyeurism?), but I can never think up anything terribly interesting to write in a comment. Like everyone else, I'd probably like more comments, but I do understand the difficulty. Just say hello. Go on.
I guess it's a bit like having old-fashioned penfriends. I bet that hobby has taken a huge whooping now we are in the age of computers. It's not the same emailing back and forth. In letters you can sum up what happens in a month, and not be expected to have to write back for a few weeks. There are personal touches, handwriting, stamps. The delicious feeling of finding a letter in your mailbox. The old email in-box is just not so exciting. There is always way too much crap in there.
My day was fine. No housework tonight, have just played netball. Have had our arses kicked as per normal. A good game though. A couple of our regulars are away on holidays. One of the fellows is such SUCH a bad sport. Has been thrown off the court a few times for mouthing off at the umpire. It's just too embarrassing. I just want to play the silly game, not be embarrassed by someone I dont know and to be "linked" to that person.
Anyway, without this regular guy away, it was great to actually play the game and just accept the umpire's rulings, whether they were bad decisions or not. The umps are always going to make mistakes, but usually they penalize both sides incorrectly, so it usually evens out in the end.

NEW TOPIC

The media are calling the London bombing incident "London 7/7". That shits me to tears mostly cause it's my birthday. I guess the many people who have their birthdays on Sept 11 have more grievances than I ever will. I cannot understand the huge over-emphasis of remembering something by its date and morbidly reliving the whole thing on the anniversary every year.
A few months ago I happened upon Rosie O'Donnell's blog for the first (and last) time. It was the anniversary of her mother's death on St Pat's day and she referred to it as "dead mommy's day". Basically she intoned that her whole life shut down on this day and it took her all her might to get through it every year. I just dont understand that. I have a "dead mommy's day",I remember the date (it also makes me remember my friends birthday which is also on that date) and I certainly think about mum, but it is not debilitating. My mum died in her sleep when I was 14. It was overwhelmingly traumatic, then (and still now), but I dont dedicate a sad day to her memory. I use all my will and might to think about great times. I still miss her dreadfully, even though I have been alive a lot longer without her in my life than with her. I remember her birthday and Christmas and on my birthday I think about her a lot. I refuse to commemorate the day she died. That day does not mean anything.
I've only been to her grave three or four times. Visiting a grave doesn't really mean anything to me. It's not her, the essence of who she was.
Hmmm. This has got me thinking. Maybe I haven't been to her grave that much because I was appalled at the headstone my father picked for her. Completely unsentimental and plain, so typical of my common-sense father. That really shouldn't matter at all. Hey but it does. I have just discovered something about myself. Inner psychology unravelling blog-style. If I ever have a lot of money, I'm definitely going to change it. Would that make me visit more often? I dont know. Probably not. Weird. Would I be doing it for her? For her memory? For other people perusing in the cemetery? I can't work it out.

Other People's Lives

2005-07-14T14:16:00.000+10:00

...are so damn interesting compared to mine. I'm sick of winter (here in Australia) and this freezing house and not doing anything exciting and creative.
I've just been reading other people's blogs. I'm not writing a PHD dissertation or having a baby, or not having a baby, or in some new and exciting or weird country or have extreme political views and quote lengthy newspaper articles with links and whizz-bangs and hows your uncles.
I'm going to work every day in an accountancy firm, coming home, preparing dinner, doing pre-bed things with a six year old, writing a little boring drivel in this blog and then collapsing into bed. I guess many other people do it also. I guess everybody at my accountancy firm does it. But they watch TV at night and at least talk about that. I just smile inanely because I dont know the first thing about what's happening in TV land.
Instead of watching grass grow, I'm watching my hair turn grey.
Sick of reading my whinging yet?

Miss Over Eager Beaver Retriever

2005-07-13T13:56:00.000+10:00

I've overdone it now. Trying to be eager at work that is. I'm now appearing like a complete dill and I think I'm being laughed at behind my back. But screw it, I have absolutely squat to lose.
I think I broke the record for the most internal emails generated in one day. FFS. What a try hard.
Apart from that, and one conspicuous stuff-up, I had another good productive day, but ran out of steam at about 4.30pm. I'm going to forego lunch tomorrow and get all the really crap jobs out of the way first. I'm saying this now, but I'm nearly sure that I wont do it.
Was also productive on the home front - more cooking and washing -0 gasp!! That's three days in a row.

Grooviness is beyond my reach

2005-07-12T14:33:00.000+10:00

I wanted this blog to be all humorous and witty but I've just run out of puff with it. If I sit down to think of something funny I just lose interest and then I get nagged to death by C. For some reason this is really important to him, not so to me.
I just had a look at yaksox's blog for the first time in ages. I just love the watermelon helmet. Yaksox you are my hero. I wish I knew how funny you were when you lived a few streeets away from me. www.sunnybreaks.org. Have a geek - he's a cack. I'm not sure how teaching English in a Christian girls high school in South Korea is treating him. He sounds a trifle on edge.
Anyway, back to my blog dilemmas. I've decided it's going to be a boring diatribe of the days events until I can think of something funnier.
I was MOTIVATED today. Quite rare. Felt bloody good, have to keep the energy going. Worked hard, till I ran out of puff at about 5pm. Came home, bought washing in off line. Did more washing. Baked cookies and tuna bake, for an interesting dinner combination. Did even more washing and have clean school uniforms ready for bub for tomorrow. Have clean underwear and clothing for myself. Oh my God it is a bloody miracle.Bub was bathed, hair washed and blow-dried!
I enjoyed work today, no drama, no stress, everything under control. Ready for the boss to return tomorrow and throw my life into disarray. I have to take notes however, or I will never remember what he wants me to do.
I had a nice evening with little bub. I love that angel so dearly. She helped me cook a little bit and then we did reader-cover and did the mermaid thing in the bath with the washing of the hair.
The house still has a boring air. Can't get the computer geeks out of the computer room. Hate the coldness of the house. Would just love to watch half an hour of mindless television.
Away now to put washing in the drier and have a two minute shower. Did I tell you how much I hate having a water tank that does not cope with four people living in this house, particularly in winter when the only relief from the cold is a steamy shower??

Three Whole Months

2005-07-10T13:50:00.000+10:00

Hello blogging infinity. It has been three whole months since I even opened this little treasure. Baaaah. Another three months of wasted time in this oh so short life.
I turned 38 the other day. Bugger that is an obnoxious age. Pushing 40. Aaargh. Frustrated. Unhappy. etc. Undecided, etc. However........nearly out of debt......! The next big leap awaits. As to what that shall be...hmmm....
Have been listening to a lot of Douglas Adams book tapes lately. Damn funny man. A great procrastinator, truly one of my own ilk. Dreadfully sad that he karked it at only 49 and with young kids.
So I had better do something within the next 11 years tomake things really count....

Crazy People

2005-04-03T16:15:00.000+10:00

They're out there in droves. Some are crazy like Michael Jackson (backed by a bit of talent and money) and some are crazy because of heartbreak and bad luck. Some just don't fit in to society.
I used to live very close to Central Station in Sydney. Some days I would see the same lady near the phone boxes. She would shout down the telephone lines in Vietnamese, sometimes crying, always distressed. I often think about what had happened to her to make her lose reality. Perhaps she was shell-shocked from the war, had been a refugee, had lost her children. I'll never know.
I have my own story about Central Station. I was travelling around Australia and I ran out of money in Sydney, so had to find some work to fund further travels. I was living above a crusty old pub in a fairly decent serviced room just two blocks from Central Station. Because I had been doing a lot of travelling and had a lot of friends living and working overseas at the time, I would often go down to Central Station to make phone calls on the credit card phone at odd hours of the night, to fit in with overseas time zones. One particular night I couldn't get through to anybody, I had tried half a dozen different people all to no avail. The night cleaner came past and started hurling abuse at me. I started to question what he was talking about and he proceeded to hose me with an industrial hose! I wasn't terribly happy, I can tell you! I walked home dripping wet and down in the dumps!

Pocket PC

2005-03-31T15:30:00.000+10:00

C purchased a pocket PC (as opposed to a Polly Pocket dolly) off Ebay and it came in the mail today. He has been talking about little else for some time now. Apparently this thing is going to revolutionize our lives. He has already left the carry-pouch on top of the washing machine in the laundry. I don't think that he wrote down on his Palm PC where he has left it - therefore this organization theory is complete bosh already.
I had a productive day for a change today. Actually put in the full quid. Did such interesting stuff as analyze the bosses' horse-racing syndicate. Gee whiz, lucky I get paid to do the company's accounting!
I'm in a blither. Uninspired. Can't find a topic that lights me fancy. Gimme a topic anyone, anyone and I'll have a rant.
Aaaah C has just given me inspiration after doing a little Cher inspired boogie in the 'puter room. If I didn't know him better I would say that he is gay. He has flamboyant tendencies. And likes Cher (a lot). And sings Abba. And the songs from jesus Christ Superstar. He acquires a lisp when talking on certain topics only. He likes wearing my clothes. He particularly likes a purple pair of bloomers that I bought when I was pregnant. It enfuriates me when I find out he has been wearing them. I'm thinking of throwing them out. However then he may move onto other pieces of my underwear. For the time being I can live with the bloomers.
However he is all man in the bedroom. LOL. TMI!!!

6 foot tall and Bulletproof - Eating Mangoes

2005-03-30T15:10:00.000+10:00

After a somewhat glum day yesterday, I'm completely on top of things today - Look out world! (or I could say Hello World! like John Laws but one twit saying that is enough).
I still feel blue about Paul Hester. Depression is a dreadful thing. The news indicates that there is more to his suicide than originally thought, broken relationships etc etc. Terribly terribly sad. I loved Split Enz and I loved Crowded House. I ache for his loved ones.
I just read a blog post about pineapple that has me drooling. http://melllyfeline.blogspot.com/
So I'm sitting here guzzling down green grapes as a substitute. I have a similar emotive story about fruit - but the culprit is mangoes - the sweet lush flesh of Bowen mangoes grown in our backyard before the cyclone in Darwin. Having so many beautiful rose coloured mangoes that we didn't know what to do with them. Mango chutney bottling sessions on the weekends. Sitting on the back steps with the mango side cut into squares and turned inside out. Sticky juice running everywhere, staining clothes. Slurping and biting, never quick enough to contain all the juice. Neighbourhood kids stealing them off the trees by the bucketload. Dodging green ants as you picked them off the tree or the ground. The odd smell of the rotten and squashed ones.
Those trees were completely flattened during the cyclone. We were re-assigned a different house in a different suburb once the rebuilding began. Dad didn't really have the heart for gardening anymore, he had put so much effort into the other house. He eventually planted two mango trees in our new backyard, but they were just not nice. He chopped them down many years later. The green ants were just so annoying when you had to mow around the trees.
I rode past our old house block years after the cyclone on my bike one day. There had been a big ugly brick house built there - no cyclone was going to move that sucker. And sure as anything those big old mango trees were back to their full glory. As I rode past, I noticed some little kids high up in the branches.....
On a side note, apparently the green ants disappeared from Darwin for a few years after the cyclone. They eventually regathered and marched their way up from Katherine, just like the cane toads are doing as we speak. There was a teacher from New Zealand (her name was Miss Kidd from memory) at my school in 1975. Just why she was teaching in a totally demolished city will remain a mystery. But she didn't believe that there were green ants - she wanted proof. Hopefully she stayed in Darwin just long enough to have one bite her on the bum.
Now I live in Southern climes and pay $4 each for extremely average mangoes. I still have to have a couple a year, even at that exorbitant price. Weiss Mango Bars are pretty yum also.
Yep, there are still some things that I miss about Darwin...sigh....

I want to be a Fairy

2005-03-28T21:20:00.000+10:00

I've had a bit of a bad day today, for a number of reasons that I wont go into. There are just some days that make me feel crappy and I feel like a bad person.
I feel devastated that Paul Hester (ex-drummer of Crowded House) hung himself in a park in Melbourne on the weekend.He has two daughters, eight and ten years old. It makes me distraught that he felt there was no other answer for him in his life. I didn't know him personally. My heart goes out (I hate that phrase but I cant think of another) to his girlfriend and children. It is awful to lose a parent young, no matter what the circumstance. C & I both know about that.
I also got a razzing off my dad for not keeping in touch with him. I'm not sure why I neglect the people I love. I think it's laziness, my biggest vice.
On an up-note, C was wonderful to me today. He read me Harry Potter in bed and fed me licorice, diet-coke and blueberries and taught me a lot about unconditional love.
My daughter and I watched Fairytopia on DVD. She was so caught up in the magic and the beauty of it all. I want to live like a fairy! If only the magic was real. Sigh.....
We went to the open day at the local Steiner School on Saturday. In some ways it was like a fairy land. The classrooms were painted beautiful soft colours, the beams and windows were swathed in silk and chiffon. There were huge cushions, beautifully coloured chalkboard drawings and fanciful poetry. I wanted to go back to primary school and live in this dreamland. However, tomorrow its back to partitioned offices, computers, files and the anonymity of an accountancy firm.

Muffin Tops

2005-03-28T14:45:00.000+10:00

No, this post is not about a certain Seinfeld episode.
It's about a lot of the women in this town that I live in. Maybe it's the state I live in, perhaps it's happening everywhere in the world. However on recent trips to both Europe and the USA I didn't notice too much of it happening there. In Europe however, most of the women were of the correct weight for their height and their clothes seemed to fit well. This was not the same in America, however it was mid-winter and freezing cold so not really the type of weather to hang your muffin top out.
What I'm talking about here is the tendency for the heavier ladies to wear hipster jeans. There is always an overflow effect at the top, hence the muffin-top.
It seems to be THE fashion here. De rigueur, as it were.
Could somebody please tell these people that it looks really bloody awful!!??

Counter Wars

2005-03-28T08:08:00.000+10:00

My lovely computer geek other half C helped me redesign my blog last night. He also helped me put on a really groovy counter that gives me all sorts of statistics. He also created his own new website last night. He posts scripts for his favourite open source software on it. He is a very active member of this particular software's community and so we have been comparing site hits. His is rapidly escalating into the hundreds whereas mine has been stagnant at 15 for about 8 hours now. Not happy.
He keeps telling me I have to provide more for my readers. Readers, I'm sorry to tell you that I have given you my all. Well I have only really started giving you my all.
I'm going to describe the cacophany of noise in the computer room at the moment. We have one bedroom of our house set up with puters, three on at the moment, all with two screens each. We have Dave Matthews band blaring out of the speakers, the five year old loudly doing an educational maths programme on the other computer and me madly typing. Bushy the errant cat is protesting loudly about being kept inside. We are all candidates for industrial deafness. C is quiet. He looks like he is browsing (probably logging up hits on his own site grrr...).
We went to see the Dave Matthews Band at the Palais in Melbourne the other night. Well worth it. I loved the Palais, I had never been there before being still fairly new to Mexico.It is so old and cool and yet cruddy at the same time. Just my kind of place. The skydome bit is quite surreal, a bit Escher-like. I'd like to live in a place like that.
I wore my clacky mules to the concert. It's not really the place to wear clacky mules. Every where I went I was disclaiming my shoes mumbling "noisy shoes" under my breath as a blanket apology to anyone I was annoying.
On Good Friday we went down to Queenscliff for a drive. The original plan was that we were going to go for a scooter ride along the foreshore. There was a huge seafood feast type festival happening when we got there that I thought might be worth a look. None of us were in the mood for munching on mussels at 11 in the morning, so we thought we would have a look at the activities.It was very bloody ho-hum I'm sad to report. However we gladly handed our donations over to the Children's Hospital appeal and moved on for a quick look around the towm. We valiantly followed our 5 year old midget on her scooter to interesting places such as the lolly shop and the book shop and then drove home, feeling mildly dissatisfied.

Morticia Adams

2005-03-27T17:36:00.000+10:00

Good evening mwahahaha. Have added an old favourite photo. C says that I don't look anything like this anymore. I've gone for more of the earth-mother/lazy cow type look. Ah well. Tis still me!
It's Easter. Can't say that it's a terribly symbolic time for me apart from Easter Bunny duty tomorrow morning. C just read some of my blog, the bits about him. He's gone all shy.
I told him that I was mentioning his love-handles in my next post. Anyway, I have now mentioned them. They're tiny, but extremely cute.
I have a lot to talk about but I'm going to postpone this till later. Might be time for a bit of love-handle fondling.

Multi-tasking

2005-03-24T17:04:00.000+11:00

I have a complete inability to multi-task. If someone is even talking mildly loudly, or is talking about something interesting, I drive like a bloody maniac. I have nearly wiped out my family many times by getting involved in what is happening inside the car, and not being involved enough with what is happening outside the car.
C is an amazing multi-tasker. He can programme in C and listen to audio books and write music in his head all at the same time. He has an unusual brain. His body is very nice also (whoops where did that come from?)
We have an audio book playing at the moment. C is working on his stuff (it's secret computer stuff) and there is a Terry Pratchett book playing. I have no idea at all of the plot line. I occasionally notice the voices change, but apart from that it is going completely over my head.
Does anybody out there in the void have any slightly amusing multi-tasking stories?
How about customer service stories?
Anything?
Anyone?
Please?
My counter has ceased working.
bugger html
(hey everyone, I'm engaged! How about that?? Haven't got a rock yet, probably have to buy it myself)

The Swimming Pool

2005-03-20T15:13:00.000+11:00

We had a family outing to our local swimming pool this afternoon. It's a nice little pool, heated, indoors(no sunblock - hooray - god I hate sunblock), and shallow so that we dont have to watch the five year old like a hawk. We have a favourite thing we like to do at the pool. It involves being swooshed through the water flotaing on your back. It is the most relaxing surreal experience (as long as you can block out the incessant squeals of little girls playing chasey). We go all the way to the pool just to do this. It's one of our bizarre mating rituals.
On the way to the pool C & I were talking about the psychology behind the "Baby on Board" signs that people put on their cars. I'm wondering if the real people that you have to worry about on the roads (like drunks and hoons) take any notice of these signs. It affects me, I'm a mother, but I dont exactly drive recklessly anyway. Does anyone have an opinion on this? Is a little baby's life more valuable than a child, adult or senior? Babies are probably more protected in baby capsules than any other family member in the car.
OK enough of the deep psychological crap. Onto dentistry.
I had four wisdom teeth out in one go last August. It was a completely crap experience. I've heard of other people having even crapper experiences like being able to feel the pain when the roots snap and stuff like that. I was knocked out for half an hour in a day surgery, but woke up in the middle of the operation. Not good. Almost brown underpants time.
Every time I drive past that surgery I get a shiver. The surgeon was a very sweet Chinese guy who must be absolutely worth a mint, a good catch for anyone who is looking. However, when I went to my follow-up consultation he didn't remember that I woke up in the middle of the "experience". Then he explained to me that he takes out 40 sets of wisdom teeth a week (40 x $950 = $38000 (!!))which equates to 2080 victims per annum. Hopefully a large percentage of them do not wake up during the ordeal.
We drove past the surgery on the way to the pool and C felt it wise to tell me something. Something he had heard on the Comedy Channel when he was in America recently. The segment was about people's greatest fears. One guy told of combining his two greatest fears. About parachuting, and the chute failing to open. And then falling head first with his mouth wide open into a water bubbler. Just thinking of this makes my whole jaw ache and I get quite nauseous. C has quite the sense of comic timing.

Forbidden Topics

2005-03-19T16:23:00.000+11:00

They say there are three things that you shouldn't talk about in company. Sex, politics and religion.
I'm not going to talk about sex. There are way too many blogs and websites and chatrooms completely devoted to that. Plus one of my lovely readers is 17.
I'm quite interested in politics but talking about politics is usually a one-sided boring rant.
So that leaves religion. Who can I offend today?
I'm not religious. There have been many times in my life where I wanted to be religious, you know, to be sheltered from the storm. I just couldn't believe, as much as I wanted to. And I am from stock who have had Catholicism shoved down their throats for centuries, the Irish. My parents were brought up with religion looming large in their lives. My dad is a former altar boy, and my mother a nurse who was trained in a Mater hospital and who had considered becoming a nun.
My five year old daughter has been exposed to religion and has seized it with the frenzy of a zealot. She is VERY religious. We say grace at mealtimes on her insistance. C & I go along with it. C's family were/are also very religious, but of another faith - Christian Science (NOT SCIENTOLOGY!). This faith is of the genre that "You can heal your life" with prayer and positivity. The positivity part I do give a lot of credit to.
The only thing that draws me to some kind of religious belief is the whimsy that an after-life exists. My mother died suddenly when I was 14. I was completely bereft, still am in a way. The idea that I could see her again and hug her and cry and laugh is too delicious for words. It's ALMOST enough to drive me to religion.

Yahoo Games

2005-03-13T16:20:00.000+11:00

Thought I'd do a bit of bloggin' tonight. Haven't blogged for a while now. Been too bloggin busy.
C is away tonight, he's staying with friends in the big city - he needs a break from me - lol. So I thought I'd be naughty and play some computer games. I don't mind a bit of Yahoo Euchre or Canasta. C hates me playing them. He thinks they're a waste of time, which they are, but they are also a welcome escape. I live in a household that does not have television remember! So when he's away, the little mouse plays. Squeak.
So I'm merrily playing my first game of Euchre, in a "Social Lounge". Thats the place where people are supposed to be friendly and they aren't playing for sheep stations. Things are going well for my partner and I. We lead 8 - 1. Then I get a brilliant hand, a real loner, so I go alone. Now all these technical details may be boring for someone who knows little of this game. However if you win on a lone hand you get 4 (or 5?) points and the first to 10 points in Euchre is the winner. Anyway, it was a bit of an overcall but I just love the opportunity to go alone. One of my opponents says to me "there is no need to go alone when you are on 8 Points" and I said "ah well" "its just for the drama of it". So this opponent then sends me an individual message and calls me a four letter word starting with c.
Some people in this world are so pleasant and such good sports aren't they?? Gee whiz I was glad I was in the "social lounge", not the "madman with a gun lounge". Needless to say I hopped out of Yahoo games and came to the safety of the blogging lounge. So far I haven't had any negative comments or been called any four letter words. There is always time I guess.
Yahoo Games are an interesting social phenomenon. I used to like a good card night in the distant past. It involved friends coming over, getting horribly drunk, a few accusations of cheating, some heated arguments, and the aforementioned friends crashing in your loungeroom because they are too drunk to drive.
Lets look at the positives and negatives of Yahoo gaming.
1)
Positive
It doesn't take any time at all to do the shuffling
Negative
There is never any time to get another drink or have a wee break without making the people you are playing with and against irritable.
2)
Positive
You get to play with people from all walks of life, from all over the world and sometimes they can be nice and friendly
Negative
Weirdos from all walks of life and from all over the world can abuse you via personal messaging and stalk you over the internet. You have no recall to punch them in the nose or yell "get the hell out of my house"
3)
Positive
Sometimes you chance upon a really talented player as a partner and this makes you look good
Negative
When this talented partner realizes that all they are doing is making you look good, they leave your table at the end of the game

OK now I'm going to list some things that I can only think of as negative

1) When you are addicted to Yahoo gaming you become a social hermit and do not leave the house and do not talk to people face to face. (This however is inherent in a lot of computer-based applications).
2) Yahoo is notoriously buggy and you can freeze or drop out just when you have the crunch hand
3) Yahoo players are not at all understanding when you race away from the computer because you hear your child vomiting in their bed. They generally boot you out of the game. Heartless sods.

OK that about covers it.

On another note I'm going to put in a link to a very funny website. I know the guy who writes this site. He does not know that I read his site. Before he recently went to Korea to become an English teacher, he lived in the same suburb as me. We were both members of a radical gang (Irish set dancing) and he always seemed to be a very quiet unassuming fellow. Little did I know he has such a wicked wit and entertaining website! It's always the quiet ones you have to watch. He is one very funny bathplug.
www.sunnybreaks.org
Have a gander.
Thanks to my readers (all three of you).
I am tremendously encouraged by humorous comments.

Will I ever get to the bit about the Mona Lisa?

2005-02-27T21:49:00.000+11:00

OK, so for you folk who are following my blog, I think I will finally cover the bit about the Mona Lisa tonight.
So anyway, we have a lunchtime flight out of Paris to Amsterdam and about two hours to explore the Louvre. Aaargh. The most extensive art collection in the world and two hours to see it!
We hoon it in a taxi and get there early enough to avoid any huge line-up. The hardest part was trying to work out how to use the automated ticket machines. For some reason my credit card wouldn't swipe and so we were scrabbling around for enough cash to get in. Finally ! Yes we're in.Which way to the Mona Lisa? Up that escalator, and down a very long hall, full of huge impressive early paintings. Then a crowd starts to build at the end of the hall - this is it. The famed girl! And about three hundred Japanese tourists in front of it taking photos with digital cameras and flashes. I couldn't believe it, I didn't think you would be able to take photos of it.
Anyway to cut a long story short, it is very small and behind a couple of inches of bullet-proof glass. But it was actually much better seeing it there than ANY photo I've ever seen. The woman was smiling at me! I loved it. I'm going to try to post a very blurry photo of people taking photos of the Mona Lisa, I think this is quite humorous within itself.
So then there was a mad rush to see a couple of Vermeers, some Egyptian stuff, the Venus de Milo, the Rubens room and then a mad dash back to our hotel to catch the airport bus. THE BEST OF The Louvre! in under three hours! I would not recommend it. Take a few weeks, and then you might see it all.
Next time I get to Paris I think I'll spend a week at the Musee d'Orsay. I love the impressionists.

ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NOTE.......

WAR...AND HOW MUCH I HATE IT.

I can't believe John Howard is sending more Australian troops to Iraq. Why can't we just leave that poor beleagured country alone? The Americans are doing enough cultural damage for all of us. Life is actually much worse for the average Iraqi now than it ever was. Yep, Saddam and his sons were monsters. They are out of power now. Hooray. But any stability that those people have known is completely gone.
What the average American doesn't get is that the Iraqis had NOTHING to do with 9/11. There still havent been any weapons of mass destruction found. (unless you can count some rusty old shells buried years ago). OK, the war has been fought. But now the "insurgents" or even radical fundamentalists are taking control of the streets - the average Iraqis fear for their lives. Women have been forced back to the dark ages. Read Riverbend's blog - you'll see how it really is for a woman there - a woman who had a good career and a whole heap more freedom than she has now.
Anyway, for the first time in my life I'm not going to sit on the fence. I'm going to a peace march in Melbourne on the 18th March starting at 5pm at the State Library. I'm going to make some signs and have my say! If you feel the same way, come along!

From Notre Dame to the Tour Eiffel

2005-02-24T20:37:00.000+11:00

OK, so anybody who has been interested thus far, I shall continue with the Parisian saga.
The descent from the Bell Tower was obviously a lot bloody easier than going up. We had a quick look inside Notre Dame but we were being bailed up left right and centre by people from the Christian festival. C was listening only to the pretty girls trying to convert him, selective Christianity.
So, time to move on to the Eiffel Tower. Back onto the red double-decker bus we go. All the way around Paris again. Then our bus stops, for a long time....in sight of the Eiffel Tower. We sat there for so long that eventually we said, right, we're off mate and walked down through the area with all the gold statues (I'm not sure what that area is called) and watched some kids do great tricks on skateboards on the stairs.
Finally we get underneath the tower, and we are just dying to go to the toilet. So we stand in a queue for 20 minutes. C went straight into the mens - why are there never lines in men's toilets?? Then we start queuing to go up the Eiffel Tower. We were very good at queuing by the time we left Europe.
C was so disappointed because he was dying to climb the stairs to the first and second levels, but the queue to do that closed as it was nearing dusk.
So we queued for an hour-and-a-half and eventually got to go up just as it was getting dark. At least we were being entertained by the police chasing the hawkers away on bicycles and by foot. There is no way I would be a hawker there - those police carry machine guns!!! Once on top of the tower, up a bizarre diagonal elevator I was quite scared, I couldn't go near the edge, particularly on the platform that was open to the wind. It was very beautiful. They started the flashing lights on the tower while we were up there. We could see a soccer match that was being played beneath us, the players looked so tiny, like toys.
We decided that all that queuing had made us hungry so we try to get into the cafe at the Tower. The maitre'd looked us up and down and said they were full. I hate that. Its like being told by a bouncer at a nightclub that it's "Member's Night". Aaargh. Haven't these French people seen Pretty Woman? We had money to spend! So what if we looked a little bedraggled - we had been queuing all day! I also had very festive ornate stripey socks on so maybe that had something to do with it. Sock discrimination. There should be a law against it.
So, sighing, we went down resolving to get dinner elsewhere. C & I have a thing with landmark kissing. We have a big smooch whenever we are near a landmark. So when we see the landmark on TV we have memories - aint that sweet?? So we had a big smooch and decided that we were going to do a waltz underneath the Tower, you know, trying to be romantic and that. C & I belong to an Irish Set Dancing gang, so if anyone out there knows what "Round the House" is, we were doing it. It was going very nicely when the hawkers starting putting plastic Eiffel Towers and roses in front of us - how damn annoying!!
We ended getting felafel and shawarma at a very authentic looking Arab place - lots of Arab guys smoking and playing dominoes - the real deal!
Hey, tomorrow I might get to the Mona Lisa story!

Attempting to see the Mona Lisa

2005-02-23T17:15:00.000+11:00

My blog has become a boring rant. So I am going to publish some random thoughts and conversations that have popped up during the day. Today C & I were talking about the Mona Lisa. Somehow that Da Vinci Code book crept its way into our conversation - neither of us have read it. We have had our own Parisian experience....

THE MONA LISA

C & I visited Paris last October for two days only. Our visit to Europe was only for two weeks and it had been my lifetime dream to visit Paris. So we paid a fortune and squeezed in a two day side-trip. Now I am a very organized traveller. I make sure I buy the current guide book, usually the Lonely Planet, study up, research, memorize maps, work out itineraries etc. Very anal. I love maps to almost an obsession.
HOWEVER, because we only had two days in Paris I decided not to plan anything because I already knew what I wanted to do:- 1) Visit the Louvre
2) Climb the Eiffel Tower
3) see Notre Dame
then, whatever else we could fit in in such a short time.
We had a gorgeous hotel room, and paid for it (200 Euro per night) but we had such a lovely view over the romantic gabled roofs of Paris. You could have played a football match in the bathtub, and it had a gentle incline built in to the tub to lean against - it was everything I could have dreamed of (except for the house-maid walking in on me in the middle of the bath! - that was not so dreamy).
So up we rise, nice and early for our day at The Louvre. C went to the local bakery and bought back a delicious assortment of goodies, including one of each of the petit-fours they had in stock in a beautiful cardboard box tied with a ribbon. Just lovely...
We set off down to the Champs Elysees ( a five minute walk away) to catch our red double-decker bus that we had bought a ticket for the day before. We go round just about all of Paris before we get to the Louvre, hop off the bus, get lost on the wrong side nowhere near the entrance. Finally make it inside to where the pyramid is, wondering why there are no lines or many people. WARNING TO OTHER UNSUSPECTING TOURISTS: THE LOUVRE IS CLOSED ON TUESDAYS. I sat on the edge of the fountain and cried. So close and yet so bloody far..........
C did his best to console me. Told me he didn't really care about the Louvre anyway and wanted to climb the Eiffel Tower. It didn't help. We bargained and argued and decided we would have just enough time to quickly dash into the Louvre the next morning and see the highlights.
We decided we would go to Notre Dame and then see the Tower that evening. So we walked to Notre Dame, stopped at a very nice "looking" restaurant for a very average salad ( a strange concoction of cheese, lettuce, mayonnaise and not much else). We get to the plaza in front of Notre Dame and there is this full-on Christian festival happening in the square. There was a giant (hollow) wooden cross and all these people waving their arms and singing. There was also a giant queue to climb the bell-tower! I was on a quest to see where Quasimodo lived. I had a thing for Quasimodo because one of my favourite songs of all time is about him: Quasimodo's Dream by the Reels. (BIG P.S. IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS POST - IF ANYBODY CAN POINT ME IN THE DIRECTION OF WHERE I CAN GET A COPY OF THIS SONG I WOULD BE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. I HAVE A DOWNLOADED COPY OF KATE CEBERANO'S VERSION, BUT ITS JUST NOT THE SAME) .
I get on the end of this very long line. C decides that he feels like smoking a cigar (?!). C is a very health-conscious anti-smoker so this surprised me somewhat. So I patiently wait in line while he shoots off on a cigar mission. He returns and proceeds to smoke the damn smelly thing in the midst of the Christian festival. Then he starts getting dizzy and looks very pale. He sits on the ground and leans on the barrier separating the church from the square looking like a heroin addict who has just had a much needed hit. MANY people were looking at him! Then for reasons known only to C, he decides to eat the butt. Ewwwww says the general populace.
You have to know a few things about my fellow C. He eats anything and has guts of steel. He quite often eats teabags (paper and all), cheese riddled with mould, food that has been unrefrigerated for days, drinks beer with mould growths floating around in it,and not too long ago ate a sausage roll that had been sitting in the car (in summer) for three weeks. Not a single symptom of gastro present. However, the cigar butt actually made him feel ill. Hooray!
Meanwhile in the line I am merrily eavesdropping on a group of gay American guys. How come there is always one whinger in a group that none of the others can seem to stand? Who invites the whinger on the holiday anyway? Do they invite themselves? Is it a pity vote?
Finally the laborious trek up however many steps to the bell-tower. I am not a stair-climber. I am not fit. C was taking delight in my pain by taking pictures of me while I was hauling my asthmatic arse up those stairs. (About a week later I miraculously managed to haul my arse up an even bigger set of steps at St Stephens church in Vienna) It was worth it! A beautiful panorama of Paris and the obligatory photos of me imitating gargoyles.
Oh bugger I'm getting tired now. I'll have to continue my Paris saga next time - maybe we'll get to the Mona Lisa story yet! Till then....

Neglect

2005-02-21T16:02:00.000+11:00

Bloody hell, been neglecting my blog. It's easier said than done to keep this up. Have been a lot of perusing of other blogs - v interesting. C has offered to set me up a flash design, so it looks all swish.
Maybe then I'll have more people interested than only me! I think one other person has ticked over the counter since I put it on.
How terribly tragic and sad.
Absolutely no comments at all to make about this weekend - has been very up and down. Seems to me a lot of wasted time. Helped C with "THE PROJECT", did lots of research which was very interesting.
Not much humour, cynicism or anything to mention this time.

I have a counter

2005-02-16T16:54:00.000+11:00

Wow. Think I'm becoming serious about this. I now have a counter. Let's see if anyone in their right mind, or not so right mind reads my inane blog.
As for me, how did my day go. Well it seems to be that the powers that be at my workplace aren't going to do anything much about the cleaning contractor that attacked me. It seems he has a brain tumour. On top of that he is an alcoholic. Apparently the medication for his tumour and the grog do not mix. So apparently because everyone feels a bit sorry for him, he's allowed to do crazy things and abuse people and push them through doorways. OK, I wasn't physically harmed in any way. But I was completely freaked out and was quite scared, in fact couldn't stop shaking.
Well I feel sorry for him too. But he shouldn't be working in a place where little things can trigger him off. If I had been one of my company's clients, I think it might have been a different story.
My boss is a very decent Christian man. Very compassionate, likes to look after the people under his wing. However, I think in this case he's treading the wrong side of a fine line. A small part of me feels like resigning because of it, but I know rationally I'm probably looking for an "out".
On a positive note about work, I got really busy during the afternoon, and the time flew. I think its time to try and keep that work rate up all the time and be as efficient as I possibly can be. You know, score some brownie points and perhaps occassionally enjoy what I do. How novel!
Today my daughter thinks I am very funny. Any day that my 5 year old daughter thinks that is a good day. In fact for a while she couldn't stop laughing at a few things I was saying. Oh! The absolute joy in my heart! She has a beautiful joyful erupting laugh. The kind of sound that makes the world go round.

It's been a while...

2005-02-12T20:00:00.000+11:00

It's been a while since I made my last (and first) blog entry. There has been lots happening. Firstly I flew back home from around the other side of the world. Then I've gone back to my mundane job only to be harrassed by a crazy contractor. And now my devil is home and we've added two new members to our family, two Guinea pigs named Romeo and Juliet.
I read a lovely book on the plane - Mitch Albom's "The five people you meet in heaven". I bought it at Los Angeles airport during a fit of boredom and started reading it at the gate lounge. By the time boarding commenced I had only two chapters left and started reading it again as soon as I had my seatbelt buckled. I'm sitting in the plane seat bawling my eyes out (I'm prone to lots and lots of tears) while everybody was loading on the plane. The poor guy sitting a few seats down from me didn't know where to look. By the time the plane took off, the book was finished! And I felt touched by a very sweet story.
My devil and I often talk about the fact that we would like to believe in God. But we just can't. Too scientifically minded? Not sure. Seen too much? Possible. Both our mothers died early, mine when I was 14, his when he was 16. Our mothers both had a certain faith in God, mine not so much towards the end, but she had considered becoming a nun when she was young. The devil's mum was quite religious and faced religious dilemmas because of her illness. I could almost go for religion if I had the guarantee that I could see my beloved mother in "heaven" or whatever happens after you die. It's a whimsical fantasy, and basically I cant be bothered with the other religious bullcrap that will get me to heaven! So (hedging my bets here) I hope that if there is something on the other side, that the love my mother and I shared is strong enough for us to be re-united somehow.
Jet Lag
Gotta love it. My sleep patterns still dont seem right after being home nearly a week. I'm still on North American time. My devil (who I'm now going to refer to as C because I dont wont anybody thinking I'm a devil-worshipper) only flew home on Thursday and he looks so tired, poor bub.
Guinea Pigs
We all had a joyous reunion since we've been home with our five year old daughter, although her behaviour is somewhat dubious. She has been very excited to see C again after him being away five weeks but gets over-exuberant about everything, is nearly climbing the walls and driving me nuts. One of our cats has disappeared in the two weeks that I was away and so we decided to get her some pets of her own. So we now own two sweet little Guinea pigs who are merrily munching away at our back lawn. Our little girl, that will henceforth be known as "I", is very happy, and has announced to us that she always wanted guinea pigs (this is the first we ever heard of this!)
Psychotic Cleaning Contractor
Nobody at work told me that this guy had problems. If I had been warned, I would have walked away from him then and there when he bailed me up for using the disabled toilet. The meeting with all the bosses on Monday should be very interesting. I'm going to try and keep my cool, much easier said than done for me! I dont really want him to lose his job, but he cant carry on acting like a nutter. It's not really safe. And my blood pressure can't stand it for sure!
Till next time....

Blast Off!

2005-02-04T13:26:00.000+11:00

I am a 37 year old Australian woman who has been absolutely gobsmacked by a blog that I have just read - Riverbend - you are amazingly eloquent, forthright and unafraid of the world. Everything that I would aspire to be.
I have had a bad day. It started off unassumingly enough, but it has ended with me doing a deal with the devil. This is not such a bad deal, and it is forcing me to do something that I have wanted to do for a long time - and that is write. As the devil told me, I make every excuse in the book not to actually start to write. The house is too messy, I have a million other things to do etc. All these things are true. But mostly I'm just scared. Scared of failure and criticism. I think I actually have a phobia of criticism.
I work as an unqualified accountant in a fairly unsatisfying job. It is easy enough, the money is good, but it really just passes the day away and puts food on the table. As the devil said to me, I dont have a passion for anything. I have been caught up in a rotten suburban lifestyle and I do crave for more. So if anyone out there is crazy enough to read this, and empathises in any way - hey - let me know.
The year before last I had a mid-life crisis. I left my husband, moved states, and took up with the 21-year-old devil that I have previously mentioned. This devil is no ordinary devil. He is blessed and tainted equally. He is of the mad scientist genre. Completely brilliant, driven, emotionally unstable. You know the type. When he is not telling me how much he loves me with a mad passionate lusty look in his eye, he is telling me how much he hates me and wishes he never met me.
I wear the burden of being a "Scarlet Woman" without ease and accompanied by much guilt. After all, I am a very lapsed Catholic.
By the way, my name is not Edna. I thought that it was a very unassuming name that would not attract attention. My blog name really says it all. Suburban mediocrity. (Please, no offence to anyone named Edna or any accountants intended).
Why have I decided to write a blog? Is it an ego thing? Probably. Do I think I'm talented and funny? Probably. It's a start. And I dont want the devil on my tail.
Much much more later......