Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Last year I asked Kat from Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes, to write a poem for his eleventh birthday. At the time I did not post it because, well, I just didn't.
But I think it is so lovely that I want to keep it here on my Blog. It really captures that little boy's essence so well.
First of July, a winter’s night
A boy called S*****, came to light,
Time’s flown, he’s now eleven.
Complexion pale, and up-stuck hair,
He looks you in the eye
Python has him laughing loud,
But nightmares make him cry.
He loves when people pull a face,
Lost items make him mad,
When others are unkind to folk
And creatures, he feels sad.
His favourite friend is Alan
His folks are his mates too,
With silly walks and talks for
Entertaining “Mr. Moo”.
At school he’s just a dreamer,
Not really organised.
Already likes the pretty girls
In class--Mum’s not surprised.
He’s moody and creative,
Is bothered when things change,
Likes no lunchbox surprises,
His day, don’t rearrange.
Don’t dare put him in clothing
That rustles, or noise makes,
Just give him brand new boxers
Not briefs, for goodness sakes!
He watches Harry Potter
On screen and dvd,
But Springfield’s Simpsons
Dominate the family t.v.
You’ll find him often mesmerised
By Runescape’s magic tricks,
Or buried in adventures of
Tintin or Asterix.
He listens to strange music
For lad so young in age;
Weird Al’s a little wacky
Alongside Jimmy Page.
Like most boys, S***** loves to eat
And pasta is his dish;
To marry an Italian girl
Who’ll cook, is his great wish.
But Mum knows what’s important--
Not only food he needs,
Nurture talent that he has
Ensure his soul, he feeds.
He truly is a lucky lad;
Mum’s love for him’s so pure.
She’d give up everything she has,
His joy just to secure.
Kathleen Mortensen © 2008
He has grown up a bit since then. I could possibly add Xbox to his list of loves. I just think this poem says it all.
I am taking the day off work just to spend time with him and his best friend. Actually, I should say that I am going to ferry them all over the place to have fun.
My husband, who is ten years older than me, arrived in that same sort of still world.
For a long, long time changes just rarely happened. Or, the changes were too irrelevant for me, as a child, to take notice of.
Small things like bakeries opening up on a Sunday morning, the day of rest, made the evening news on the big black and white television that sat in the corner of our small lounge room. I remember the baker being hounded by the news reporter and having to defend his dreadful crime of opening on a Sunday morning to sell bread to locals who chose not to go to Church.
People drove the same car for years and years. Kept their lawn mower for a lifetime. Stayed in the same house for most of their life. Fixed things that broke. Made things out of the unfixable. Took a shopping trolley to the local grocer so often that they knew each other by name and talked about mutual goings on each time they met. Life just had some sort of silent continuity about it that left one with a sense of being part of that process.
Even the shows on television stayed the same for years.
Changes were incremental for many, many years. The odd old house started to disappear from a side street and was replaced by a more modern home, making a statement by showing those around that they owners were "different" and "progressive" and "with it". Then, as the owners have grown old their own modern house has been pulled down and replaced with a more "now" home.
For years I could drive past places I remembered seeing as a child and never did that place change. Same butcher around the corner from where I lived as a six year old. Sawdust once on the floor, soft under my barefeet. Wooden butcher's block in the corner, the top misshapen by years of sharp knives striking the surface as the butcher chopped slabs of raw meat. My mum would sometimes ask for a few sheets of butchers paper to take home for me to draw on.
One day I drove past that butcher's shop and it was a florist. A couple of years later I drove past and it was a gift shop. Then, when my son was about three years old, I drove past and the butcher was now a furniture shop selling fashionable "hand made" shabby chic homeware.
I stopped the car and took my son with me to take a look at what they sold. I bought a small lidded box which holds lots of personal items relating to my son. His candle that was given to him on his day of christening along with a letter written by the minister which is for my son to read when he is older. Baby cards, birthday cars, ribbon that wrapped presents given to him when he was born and small items collected over the years and slipped into the wooden trunk for purely sentimental reasons.
I have not been back to the shop since. No reason, other than things I do now do not take me anywhere near there anymore.
About a week ago I drove down to the supermarket that is situated in the suburb of Hampton which is where I moved to when I was twelve years old and spent my teenage years, and in fact, is where I lived until I moved out and left the family home for good. I like going there. Despite the fact I have not lived there since I was nineteen, I feel it is still home for me in a way. Not that I even know anyone who lives there, except my father and it is not likely I am going to knock on his front door ever.
Anyway, I was driving along and it was a Sunday and the traffic was so busy. On a Sunday. It seemed liked a week day. This is a fairly recent thing. And by recent, I mean that it is in the past five years that the traffic on a Sunday has become so busy that it makes a trip to the shops an almost stressful event. Everyone seems to feel the need to be somewhere other than home. They are not at the supermarket, so the occupants in the cars on the road must continue on to other places.
On the way home from the shops, I was driving down the road that eventually takes me to the big local strip shop near my home. When I moved to here in 1991 (thereabouts), this local shopping centre was small. Mostly full of older people. Not so many young people. You could cross the road anytime without fear of being skittled over. Now, almost nineteen years later, it is long, busy and full of many shops. Lots of teenagers. Full of cars. Busy, busy and busy.
I sat in the car waiting for the line of traffic to move and wondered why I did not notice all this change going on sooner. But I then realised that the change is non stop now. Like a big snowball. Just rolling and rolling and getting bigger. Just keeping out of it's way is nigh impossible.
I see so much change now that I find it very disconcerting. Is it because I am older? I don't think so because my husband notices the same constant change. My brother also finds that constant change in the local area very irritating. It unsettles him and at the end of the day when he turns off the busy road and drives down his long and quiet street he finally relaxes. I feel the same way when I turn my car into the driveway at the end of the day.
It made me think about what my son thinks of the world now. So I ask him. I ask him if he thinks his world, his school, his streets change? He told me that the world seems to be always changing. Outside changes all the time. Lots of traffic. The school is bigger and more kids are in it. Two things have stayed the same he told me. Two things that make him feel relaxed and so happy. I leant forward in anticipation.
"Soft drink is one. Pepsi and Coke have never changed", he tells me, a big smile of delight on his face.
I stare at him. How interesting. Soft drink. Well, not quite the comfort food of my childhood years, but obviously meaningful to him. I wait for his second revelation.
"Getting home after school. I walk in the door, drop my school bag on the floor and feel so relaxed. That never changes", he leans back into the couch and crosses his arms. I silently agree with him.
So, if at his young age he thinks the world it constantly changing does that mean he will never know a life without change? Will he have to keep that stillness, that continuity happening in his own home and just step out into the chaotic world of change? Will he be so conditioned to it that it will seem normal to him. Just the way children grow up now?
I suppose that children are just like new trees. Take root and work in with the environment around them. Bend with the change. Quite different to an old and rigid tree like myself. I can only sway a little bit. Then it gets a bit hard.
Maybe I am just getting old.
And that is all okay as well.
Just another change.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Perhaps I am reading more into it than there is. But, I recall that there was a stage where for ages and ages there was a huge amount of Bakelite, from the 1940's and 1950's and enamel ware appearing on Ebay. It appeared and was cheap as there was a lot of it around, then, it died off and soon became not as easy to find. Then, once in the hand of hungry collectors, the value increased.
Other times, you might suddenly see, from one dealer, an amount of new vintage Italian bedspreads or quilts for sale. Usually from the 1960's, popular in a young girl's glory box or given as a wedding present. Often Italian weddings are huge with many gifts given to the couple and many things that a girl had in her glory box go unused for decades so it is not rare to have lots of these "new" old pieces of linen appear online for sale now and then.
Well, I wonder what will be the next batch of goods flooding the Ebay market. I think lots of 1970's lifetime collections will soon appear. People who modernised their homes in the 70's perhaps? Now in a house too big to keep, or is not just dated, but needing so much work done it is more prudent to move out to a smaller place.
I just wonder about it all. Why people buy and sell. What is the motive behind it all.
Why do I have four sets of those Bessemer plates in my kitchen cupboard when one set is fine? But they remind me of being small and sitting at the table to eat from the orange plate. My sister had the red one. My dad did not care what he had. Maybe I bought four sets and thought that one day I might give a set to my brother and two sisters. I still want to buy some more. I want to own them and look at their bright colours and think about what cupboard they were kept in for years.
Why do I buy another Marcella bedspread when I have three already? But when I lie in bed and feel the weight of the thick white cotton, run my hands over the patterned, uneven surface of it I think about who owned it and how they washed it and ironed it and lay under it each night just as I do. Perhaps by owning more than one I feel that I am keeping something alive. I don't know.
Maybe I think too much about not very much.
Essentially, Ebay is just one big online shop. If you look at it in a practical manner.
I think of it as a trading place of people's lives.
Random ramblings here.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Also wondering why I bought that green cardigan. My son calls me Ned Flanders when I wear it. Worse than that, I was wearing grey pants as well. However, I was minus the moustache so fortunately one could tell the difference between us.
When I am wearing it and tell that child of mine to do something he replies "Okaly - dokay - doo" or "Sounds spine tingly dingly" and some other thing that goes like "hey diddly whatever".
I have been wearing it less. My brother said it looked like grass.
My husband is colour blind, he just thinks it is brown.
Who would think that a cardigan could evoke such responses.
I should have bought two of them.
Hey diddly hi ho hum.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Busy at work and home and not feeling very inspired.
Lately, every day has become Groundhog day and I need to address that.
End of financial year at work is less than a week away, school holidays start, my son turns twelve on the first of July and I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.
Must be Winter blues.
Monday, June 22, 2009
I gave her the credit card details to allow her to process the tickets directly with the airline, which, incidentally, is Malaysian Airlines.
For some unbelievably insane reason, the airline company took the money out twice. Once in three separate ticket costs - that was fine. And then, in one combined cost where it has sat pending in limbo land putting my credit card over the limit.
I have a low limit on my credit card because I don't need a big limit. Don't need an $8K limit or anything along those lines. In the 24 years I have had my credit card I have never gone over the limit. I was gobsmacked to see this extra $5,500 on my card.
Anyway, the travel agent has been following it up and was told it would drop off the system on Friday. Well, it did not drop off the system and still has not dropped off.
I woke up this morning and when I saw that the credit card was still over the limit my blood pressure went through the roof and I could not eat breakfast. I never leave the house without breakfast, but this morning I was ill with pissed offedness.
I also had to get my son organised. He was pfaffing around whilst I was running around and he went on the computer to check his emails. I went on a bit of a rant about that. A really good old mummy rant about things. Really, it was unreasonable of me since he was dressed and we did have time. But I had to tell him to get his breakfast, tell him to brush his teeth etc. I was just in a shitty mood.
Later on I apologised for it. Brought him up to speed on the credit card fiasco and how annoying it was. He was fine.
About five minutes later he sat beside me and said; "So, because someone took money from your credit card you got angry at me".
I looked at him and was silent for a few seconds.
"Yes, that is right. I got angry at you because of someone taking money out of my credit card," I replied rather shamefacedly.
He just left it at that. Not much else to say to that little lesson from son to mother.
All the times I have said to him "Tell me what it is you are angry about? Don't just take it out on us here in the house. Find the root of the problem and address it" and other similar things. Teaching him about anger management.
Nothing like hearing your own words come back at you.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
It is one from the book club I have joined.
Getting back into the habit of reading consistently has taken me a few weeks. And I really had to discipline myself to sit and just enjoy the process of reading as there really is no point in being in a book club if you only finish one book in four weeks.
Years ago I used to read all the time. Weekends were spent sitting in a chair ploughing through a good book. Have to say that was before I had a child to look after.
Unfortunately, I have to also confess that sometimes I spend time on the computer when I could be reading. Not saying anything wrong with computers, but they are inclined to be time wasters now and then.
Not just that, working, motherhood, household things etc. just take up time. Then you get into lazy habits and have to address it now and then. And, sometimes I am too tired, mentally, to pick up a book and read. But I have been doing it and it seems to be falling back into a rhythm.
The book I finished today was called The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and it was written by a woman called Mary Ann Shaffer.
The book is set in 1946 and is written in the style of epistolary which is usually in the form of letters and documents. So the book builds on a series of letters between a female writer and other people based in Guernsey and England. A very witty book that is very cleverly put together. Each letter leads you on and on into the relationships that have been and gone.
Unfortunately the author of the book passed away before she saw it published. It was her first book and what a pity she never got to know of the pleasure it would have given to people to read. I, for one, would have sent her publisher a letter to say how much I enjoyed it.
I especially loved the book as it is essentially based in Guernsey which is a place that I have always thought to be interesting to visit. I think I have a romantic notion of it.
So, that was my little reading for the weekend.
I have a new book on hand now. Something by P.D. James. I love a good mystery.
Feel so much more relaxed having read a book.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
It kind of started yesterday evening with a slight tummy ache from some dodgy sushi. Add a headache and a trip to the chiropractor and then wash it down with three glasses of diet Coke. No, not three glasses of wine, that would render me unconscious for 24 hours. Diet Coke just makes me ill as can be but sometimes I forget and last night I forgot.
Woke up with a big, fat headache and nausea. Plus, a huge pimple on my forehead which was full of juicy promise but has, as usual, let me down in the substance department despite picking at it all day long. Now it is just an angry red lump on my forehead.
No amount of painkillers helped and in the end I just randomly sat watching television and snoozing when feeling really bad and then doing bits of housework when feeling reasonable. At about 5.00pm the fog lifted and I felt much better.
At one point in the day I went into the laundry to put on a load of washing, opened the overhead cupboard to take something out and hit my head TWICE on the corner of the cupboard door. Not just on my head, but right on the big, fat pimple. Immediately after that I opened the dryer to take out some clothes and they all fell out and landed on the floor, still wet. When I bent down to pick them up I hit my head again on the bench and knocked all the pegs onto the floor.
What else. Um, oh, not much really.
Just felt a bit sorry for myself at that laundry point of the day.
Have consoled myself with some dark chocolate.
A panacea for everything.
Even big, angry fat pimples.
No matter where they may lie.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Romancing The Stone must have been made twenty five years ago. Honestly, it seems like yesterday I saw it at the movies. In fact, when I was watching it my husband said that we saw it together but I don't think so. I said to him that it might have been him but I cannot recall. You know, when you have been hanging around the same person for years it is a bit hard to remember just who you went to the movies with.
The main star was the gorgeous Kathleen Turner. She really was a beautiful creature in her heyday. Kind of gutsy and funny. She was in a few other movies as well. One of them was Body Heat in which she was a real femme fatale. Plus she did the voice for Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Roger Rabbit.
Anyway, I was watching the movie last night, enjoying the absolute 80's appeal of it all and I was reminded of my hospital stay when I had my son.
When I was pregnant I had long blonde hair. Very glamorous looking. Not a yellow ditsy blonde, more of a caramel colour with blonde highlights. Extremely high maintenance to keep looking good. People at work would say I had hair like Kathleen Turner. I was a bit pleased about it.
During the pregnancy my hair was so thick and glossy it was a delight. Truly, despite the hard work it was the one time I really loved my hair. Of course, after I had my son I am sure that half my hair fell out and the other half stayed in a pony tail for months ever after.
But I digress.
Whilst I was pregnant I ate like a pig. I was hungry all the time. I woke up thinking about food and had a 24 hour a day empty stomach. My husband could not believe it. Once I even got up in the night and ate a peanut butter sandwich using mouldy bread. I was so hungry. Just makes me sick thinking about it. I ate and ate without giving a shit about the consequences..
All that eating was fine for the first five months of the gestation as I also had really dreadful morning sickness and usually vomited up half of what I ate throughout the day. However, the last four months of the pregnancy I was not ill and just put on weight. In fact, one time I was sitting on the bed when my incredibly brave husband said to me "Linda, do you know that you are the shape of a volcano? Wide at the base and narrow at the top." Can you believe that?
Towards the end of the breeding programme I had to shop around for some things to take to hospital. In particular I was looking for a lovely pair of pyjamas. And one day I came across the most divine pair of snow white linen pyjamas. Made in France. Cost a fortune. I cannot tell you the exact amount as I believe I have erased it from my memory in shock.
When I got them home I hand washed them, ironed and folded them and then put them in the case to take to hospital.
Seriously, I had this idea that when I had "the baby" I would greet visitors in hospital wearing my wonderful white linen pj's and nursing my new baby that would be all swaddled in the overpriced Peter Rabbit baby wrap I had bought. I would look as glamorous as Kathleen Turner, my hair all lovely and my face made up. Like out of some magazine shoot.
Ah, of course, you laugh. Firstly, I had a c-section and could hardly move. Then, all that food I ate for months on end did not magically disappear overnight. I had put on so much weight that those overpriced linen pj's would not go past my mid thigh and even that was hard to get them up that far. As for the pyjama top, well, my huge udders made sure that any button closing was impossible.
I ended up wearing my maternity clothes. It was a humbling experience.
As for those pyjamas. I accidentally put them in a hot wash and they shrunk so much that they looked very silly on me even when they did finally fit me. Not long after they were relegated to the rag bag for dusting use only. The most expensive dust cloth I have ever used.
Well, there really is only one Kathleen Turner of course.
But it was nice to aim a little high at the time.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
You know, things like fix car when it stops, move heavy things, paint walls, put bins out and take in washing when it buckets down with rain and wife is at supermarket.
My husband is of the old school. Useful man. Knows what makes a car go vroom and what to do if it doesn't vroom at all. How to unblock vacuum cleaner. Get rid of big spiders. Run cables all over the house. Build things like my studio and his garage. Put bikes together. Has lots of tools in the big garage. Potters around and can do useful things.
Until, of course, it comes to the 'puter. That is me. Not sure how that ended up my domain, but if he wants the email set up, things downloaded, anti virus loaded, updates sorted, defrags done, disk clean, attachments saved, letterheads done or any other fiddly things organised then that is my job. Once it gets to hard I send it to computer man who fixes it for a large hourly fee. Fortunately this is a rare event.
My son thinks I have unlimited knowledge about computers. So often I hear "muuuummmm, the computer won't let me sign in, upload, download, turn on, now freezing or running slow" being howled at me from the office. To which I respond by walking over, pushing a few buttons, restart the computer or something along those lines and fix it.
Maybe because I am on the computer all day it is assumed I know more than the average person. Trust me, I don't.
Recently my son has been pestering me to use Xbox online. Finally, today, I made the effort to organise it. What a drama. Husband had to crawl under house to run cable to Xbox console. I had to go online and fill in all the blab and pay the yearly fee. After three hours of tearing hair out I had to ring Xbox support and then got it all going.
Now this online stuff opens a new box of problems and that is download usage. Last thing I want is to be put on go slow because some young boy has been playing online games in excess. I may have to upgrade the internet access to a more expensive plan.
I was reminded of when I worked in Corporate for a company called Optus circa 1994. It was the start of the digital world. Words like "information highway" and "smart card" were being bandied around. We were told that in the future every house would have internet access, multiple computers and that everyone would have a mobile phone which would send messages.
This guy went on and on about it all. At question time one of the gung ho employees put her hand up and asked about the cost of all these extras in people's lives. Wouldn't they be too expensive.
He laughed and said something along the lines of "that it did not really matter what it cost because when people want something they will pay". He also said that even if owning a mobile phone, having the internet at home or more than one computer cost an extra $100 per week, people would find ways to have it because that is the nature of the consumer. When they want something, they will get it.
I remember thinking he was full of crap. Who in their right mind would spend so much money on such rubbish?
Well, his words were right. Thinking of my 1920's house with three computers, two laptops, wireless network and two mobile phones - well, it doesn't come for free.
So, there it was, all laid out for us years ago, ready to be there when we opened our wallets to peer in and see if we could pay for it all.
It seems we all could and we all do.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
When I first had my blog I looked at my stat counter lots of times.
Now I look at it once a week. If that even.
Anyway, I just want to say that people do look up the strangest things and end up stumbling across my blog.
Not rude things so much as odd things. And they come up on a regular basis.
can i put pineapple and banana on my face for a blind pimple
dogs doing poo
is bird shit unhygienic
never eat alfalfa sprouts
wooden spoon on bare bottom
mother and boy in bath
sister in law trouble
want to sleep with sister in law
how to make a slug house
is laziness genetic
sprouting chick peas secret
naked in front of sister in law
thickset hairy guy
what does slughouse mean
No secrets in Google land.
What are some of the word searches that lead people to your blog?
It took ages for the day to just feel normal. Rolled out of bed, schlepped around the kitchen, had toast for breakfast as the milk was just a bit whiffy for my liking and then finally got around to having a shower. It was slow motion all the way.
Just after lunch I took my son down to the local shopping centre to have his breakfast (at 12.30 midday) and then we walked around and did a little bit of food shopping at a local grocer's.
This is my favorite food grocer's. They sell loads of different types of fruit and vegetables, also a butcher and fishmonger on site. You see them bring in the meat and cut it up in full view. The fish is fresh and there is a big variety to choose from.
This particular store attracts all different nationalities. They cater for the tastes of Asians, Europeans and Eastern block countries. I feel that I can always get something I like, something different. The normal local supermarket is so mundane compared with what I grew up with and I just get sick of it at times. And also annoyed with the hideous prices they charge for very ordinary produce.
My son found the place noisy and crowded and tried to have a whinge about it. I let him pick out some food for himself - needless to say that he did not choose an apple.
I like this place because they sell loads of vegetables chopped up and ready to cook with. And at a cheap price. I know that sounds just the deal for lazy sods, but when you work and then have to come home to cook dinner the last thing one wants to do is chop vegetables. I don't want to buy processed food, so buying the vegetables freshly chopped and washed makes life easier and ensures some level of healthy input into my cooking.
Plus it is cheaper. Tonight I made a huge batch of pumpkin soup. Enough for eight big bowls. The whole lot cost around $6.00 in total and everything that went into it was fresh.
My son and I had been down the street for about two hours and were just about to get to the car when my husband called my mobile. He was concerned that we were not home yet and wanted to know if something was wrong with my car or something.
"If there was something wrong with my car, I can assure you that you would have been the first person I would call," I informed him.
The reality was, he thought that I had dragged my poor long suffering son into a supermarket for two hideous hours and wanted to make sure S was okay.
Oh, dear, how cruel of me to expose my son to such an ordeal as food shopping.
I think he might be scarred for life.
He might have to go the therapy later on and talk about it.
What a cruel mother I am.
He he he.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
"Don't take all night", my husband tells him as the child heads off to the toilet where, of course, he leaves the door wide open and I have to shut it.
"Well, I have not been for days", he complains. Obviously genetically stamped like his mother....
My husband and I just tell him to hurry up.
Then, from behind the closed door of the bathroom comes this shouting.
"What is it", I ask him through the door.
"It's my poo. Oh my God, it is the size of a huge cucumber", he tells me.
"No, no and more no. Too much information", I say to him and walk off with hands over my ears.
He tried to tell me about it in more detail.
I just kept saying "no, no and no. I do not need to know".
But of course, you all do and that is why I have posted about it.
My son might not like to eat his vegetables, but he sure does like to excrete his vegetables - even if it is just in shape only.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Each one emailed me. Promising some sort of deal to fix my erection (if I had them), my sex drive, make me horny, give me a Gucci bag, collect money from a lottery I have won, get a Rolex watch, get cheap Acacia berry which will ensure my body will be fat free, marry a Russian girl and let us not forget the Nigerian offer to get huge amounts of money from Abu Ben Boobys estate.
Also, if I sign into my bank account via their email they will give me a bonus $50.
And, I know Trojan is a brand of condom. Should I let it in on my computer? Will it protect me from a virus?
So, here are these people who so kindly invaded my email inbox. Maybe you recognise some of them.
Manieri K Samuel
Reifman K Darin
Plus some in Russian I cannot copy.
Anyway, that is all I can be bothered with today.
If you know them can you tell them to take me off their mailing list 'cos they annoying the shit out of me.
Monday, June 08, 2009
When I have a long weekend I always have one day of doing not very much at all and that was yesterday. Just spent the day relaxing and pottering around the house. Took it easy.
In the middle of the day on Sunday my son talked me into playing Xbox with him. So I seriously did my best and was not too bad. The whole hand eye coordination took a while to wake up, but I did get a bit into it after a while and ended up playing for an hour or more with him.
Initially I found it difficult at first to understand where my character was in relation to terrain but once I worked it out the game became quite enjoyable. The only thing I found was when the opportunity came to shoot my opponent, in this case being my son, I got so excited that I pushed and twiddled every knob on the Xbox controller and ended up losing.
Plus, whilst I was playing I realised, suddenly, that I really needed to go to the toilet. It crept up on me without my noticing. Now I know why my son wriggles around for ages and then just bolts for the toilet.
What I also noticed as I sat there, open mouthed and wiggling thumbs, is how quickly an hour goes and how much time you could waste on it. I understand how easy it is to just lose a day on that thing.
Today I had to do a few very boring things, one in particular was to find a PDA or PDA Smart phone to use with our electronic time clocks we have on all our building sites. The guys at work clock in with key tags and we use the PDA to download the data and then load it onto the computer.
The PDA we had died a few weeks ago and I have had a hell of a time finding one that will interface with these time clocks we have. After weeks of phone calls, visits to numerous stores and many emails back and forth to the American supplier, today I finally found a store that sold one of the much needed PDA phones.
The store was HUGE and my car was parked a decent walk from it. After I got all the way inside the store I realised that I did not have the list of compatible PDA's in my handbag and had to walk all the way back to the car, get the piece of paper and then all the way back to the HUGE store and then find a person to help me.
Now, this store had the thing I so desperately needed and, of course, it was the last one in the store and had no battery. It had been a new return. So I had to buy a battery on Ebay when I got home. I also made the store write on the invoice that I could return the unit if it did not interface with my software AND I made them give me a five year warranty for next to nothing.
So, finally I hope I can just put that saga to rest. Because there is nothing more boring that buying things like that.
After this boring as batshit shopping event I then decided to go food shopping at a different supermarket, just for a change of scenery. I chose one that is situated at Chadstone (hideously huge shopping complex and always advertised as the shopping capital) so that I could sneak in some clothes shopping after I had done food shopping. Seriously, I had earned an hour or so of retail therapy.
Find a parking spot and take out bags from car boot. Starts to rain. I realised I am freezing but I make my way to the supermarket. It is a five minute walk from the car and I trek along in the wind. Once inside the giant place I meander around aimlessly filling the trolley with the usual fare.
Then I have to push that wayward and heavily laden shopping trolley back to the car, in the rain and realise I have no idea exactly where my Mazda is and have to push that trolley up and down the parking area pushing my key thingy and seeing if I can see my car lights alert me to my car parking spot. Eventually I find it, load the car up and then make my way into the busy confines of the shops.
Came home with a pair of pants and a skirt both of which were reduced in price and were just what I needed. So, success on this cold and rainy day made the effort worth it.
And let's not forget my housewifely duties.
Once home I baked a batch of chocolate chip banana cup cakes.
Followed by a one hour weights and cardio session in the pouring, cold rain.
Sigh, the things we do on our long weekends.
In fact, I cannot imagine how I think it even worthy to record such a day.
Except to just let you all know that days over the other side of the world are just as boring as yours may seem at times.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Having had a relaxed Saturday I did not feel like cooking so eating out is a nice thing now and then. Once there with the meal in front of me I was reminded once again how cooking should be left to the professionals and not to army cooks like me.
I had a Linguine Del Mare with a Napoli sauce. Which is a seafood dish. Now, I am unsure what they do to the sauce to get that aromatic, garlicky flavour but it was unbelievably delicious. The seafood was so fresh. But what made the dish extra special was the fact that I was starving.
It is just great to be super hungry and have a tasty dish in front of you. Every mouthful was an enjoyable experience.
So we are going again tomorrow night with friends.
Anyway, today I went to the chiropractor and had the back manipulated. I have had such a chronic problem with my pelvis and back that I have finally decided to get it fixed.
Because my body type is flexible it has managed to compensate for my problems for an awfully long time. Then the other day I realised, or should I say accepted, what an impact it was having on my life. Less walking, taking pain killers to go to sleep, pain on sitting down and chronic headaches. So time to do something about it. Get cracking, so to speak. Which is what she did do. Cracked my neck and it sounded like a gun shot in the room. Very satisfying.
I was left wondering about the whole alternative therapy thing. I am fairly open minded about some alternative therapies but part of me thinks some things are just a crock of shit.
Having had success with Chinese medicine and acupuncture I am happy to try it again. But once I went to a Naturopath and ended up with her being a bit annoyed because I would not spend an extra $300 on various powders that would fix my ailments.
Another time I went and had a Reiki massage having received a gift voucher for the experience. It was so laughable. Sorry, but it was. It overstepped my boundaries of spiritual and went right into quackery. As much as I don't like a relaxation massage, being on the receiving end of a massage where the practitioners hands never actually touched my body, was a bit alternative for my liking and seemed a bit of a rip off to me.
But now and then I do entertain the thought of a colonic irrigation. I know that sounds disgusting, but I do wonder about it. My niece, the one who suggested I do this gall bladder cleanse, says to me that if I try it first, then she will. But I am not trying it unless she does.
Neither of us is willing to take the first step. I mean, although the thought of having your colon cleansed with warm water seems kind of refreshing, the reality of having a hose stuck up my bum just cancels out any perceived benefits of it.
You know, if you were lying and waiting for a deep tissue sports massage the anticipation would be quite different to lying in a clinic waiting for a hose to be stuck up your nether regions.
Some dreams will never be realised.
This may well be one of them.
However, if I ever, ever do muster up the courage to do it, I promise that I will blog about it in great detail.
Almost tempting just for that alone.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Firstly, a photo with mummy. He is so pale. Or I am so made up. No, really, he has milk white skin.
Then another photo in the dentist's chair.
He was excited and nervous.
I got to the radiologists and filled in all the paperwork and then was directed to a change room.
I had to remove all my clothing except for my underwear. Then the guy handed me a robe that was made out of this strange navy blue thick paper.
All well and good.
Except for one thing.
How the heck does anyone bigger than a stick insect get changed in a room that is two foot wide by three feet deep? Ten inches of the depth is taken up by a wooden seat to dump your stuff on.
A curtain is at one end of the cubicle which did not pull properly across and it was drafty.
I had to remove my jacket, cardigan, t-shirt, bra, skirt, boots, socks and then tights. Put on the stupid blue "dress" and then stand shivering away until my turn came.
All in the tiny room. Every time I bent over either my head hit one wall or my butt bumped into the other side.
Plus it had a mirror in it so that I could see what was going on. Why would you want a mirror in that pea pod sized room?
Thursday, June 04, 2009
I just remembered two good things about today.
No, THREE good things about today.
1. Came home from work and my husband had cleaned the house top to toe. What a good man.
2. Got a parcel from and Ebay purchase I made. I bought a 1970's retro, beige leather jacket. Knee length and lined in the most interesting gold, padded satin. Fits like a glove and looks great. Perfect condition. All for just $50 including deliver.
3. Picked up two brand new Laura Ashley cushions I bought on Ebay. Lovely and velvety. All maroon and gold. I really don't need them but they were such a good price I had to buy them.
There you go.
Just when you think your day was a bit blah, you realised how good it was.
Ah, I love the irrationality of PPMT.
Always thinking the kooky moment you experience is a reflection of your entire life.
When in fact, it is just a brief few seconds.
I had to cancel two nights of exercise because my back was sore and I had a chest cold. I felt as guilty as could be, which is silly. But I figured that instinctively I needed the rest and sometimes you have to listen to your body. Besides, I was tired.
A trip to a new chiropractor on Tuesday evening was a step in the right direction for fixing a long term problem I have had with my back and hips. The chiropractor was a woman in her mid thirties who was right into the entire holistic approach to fixing the body and I felt very relaxed about the whole back cracking process.
During the course of the consultation she pointed out an unusually large amount of physical and emotional issues I must be experiencing without actually having to ask me. It was an interesting process as everything she said was true. Things like "you would be the type who gets agitated with crowds" and "extremely sensitive to people's moods" and "very creative minded but terribly frustrated as well". It may be coincidence, but I was duly impressed. Especially when she said "your bowel must really give you some trouble". Hmmmm. Tomorrow I have an xray and then Saturday I will see her again.
After work yesterday I picked my son up from school, took him to the chiropractor, went food shopping (because I love the supermarket so much), came home and made dinner for my son, made minestrone soup, made a casserole in the slow cooker and finally baked a cake which rewarded my late night efforts by collapsing in the middle as I opened the oven. I almost burst into tears.
I woke up this morning completely tatty headed. Teary, fragile and irrational. Felt really upset by the state of my cake which was a sure fire indication that I was not thinking clearly. After a conversation with my husband about it all, I realised that I would have gotten my period tomorrow. I have PPMT these days. Phantom pre menstrual tension. Once I was able to pin my mood to something specific I felt settled. It justified my kooky thought process.
Cake was perfectly delicious despite it's appearance.
Tomorrow I am taking the day off. My son is finally getting his braces off after just over two years. He is so excited and, to tell you the truth, so am I. I cannot wait to see how he looks. He wants me to take a video of it, pictures and all that. You bet I will. He was hoping to get the whole day off but as the entire process takes only an hour he has to go back to school.
Heading into a long weekend with Monday being a public holiday and I think I will feel 100% once I head into the working week on Tuesday.
So, this has been my totally riveting week.
I cannot believe I even bothered posting about it.
But, if you are still reading at this point don't wait for the punchline, there isn't one.
Maybe when I read it back twenty years from now I will realise that it was, in fact, just good that I was doing something.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Maybe I should start the post with "on day two at the supermarket".
Anyway, I was at that place standing in a queue and was watching this elderly gentleman in front of me get his food out from the trolley and place it on the belt for the cashier to whizz through.
He was about 75 or older. He was wearing a light brown jacket, beige trousers, cap sat on his almost hairless head. I could see his hearing aide tucked behind his left ear. Creases in the back of his neck. Shiny brown shoes, not new but well kept. He chatted to the girl as she packed his food into cloth bags.
I wondered if he was married. I adjusted my pose and glanced at his left hand and saw a gold band. At the same time saw his watch, sturdy silver thing with a worn leather strap.
As he took the food from his trolley I thought to myself that although he was married, I wondered if his wife was alive, or still at home. The food he chose was that of a man who was not caring that well for himself.
Packet of low grade mince meat, generic shortbread biscuits, processed cheese slices, couple more packets of no name biscuits, two meat pies that were also no name brands and a packet of sugar free eucalyptus hard lollies. Did he know they were sugar free? Did he stand and read that back of the packet for the nutritional information?
Some milk and a packet of tea leaves. Finally two loaves of brown bread that I had seen on special. No fruit or vegetables in sight. But then, he may get those at the green grocer's.
Makes his own tea. In a pot. Likes his biscuits with it. Maybe toast for breakfast? He might have marmalade at home. He looked like a marmalade man. Toasted cheese at lunch? Mince and potatoes for dinner. Meat pie as a treat. The lollies for a blocked nose as they were eucalyptus. Maybe just a treat.
I think I am right because my father in law had pretty much the same things in his shopping basket. He also would have a packet of sausages now and then. Pop up the street and get himself fish and chips. Now and then he would make pot of vegetable soup. But as he got older, that was not so regular. And after my mother in law died it did get less motivating for him to cook well.
Despite my offers of healthy meals, he preferred to do his own thing when it came to food. Fair enough. Surely we can get to an age where we can eat what we like. But he did have a massive stroke and lives in the nursing home now.
Besides, sometimes older people have their own ideas about food. Good old fashioned food. None of that fancy stuff. Food that fed generations before we got all these experts. Also killed off plenty, but that is not important. Comfort food.
You know, although I understand how we all have to eat well, exercise and live a healthy life, I wonder if, at a certain age, you just get sick of it.
Sick of moderating your drink? Making a conscious decision before you put food in your mouth. Making sure you got off your bum and exercised. Resisted the addictive puff of a cigarette with your morning coffee (which would have to be decaf). A life of being mindful of the body we are born with. Amongst all the other stresses in life.
So, one day you just think that you might eat half a packet of biscuits. Or a big bowl of icecream. And some chocolate. More bread, and white bread at that. Thick layer of salty, yellow butter on top of fresh white bread. Then some jam. And another slice. Plus another one whilst you watch the midday movie. Mmmmm.
A nice pie for dinner. With some buttery mashed potato. So tasty. You can say what you like, steamed fish and vegetables will never quite hit the spot like a meat pie with flaky pastry hot out of the oven. Or a warm sausage roll from the bakery followed by a custard tart, the top sprinkled with nutmeg.
Just curious you know. At what point in time do you honestly not give a shit.
I am not there as yet, not even near there.
But I am wondering if there is such a time.
Just thinking about that hot meat pie.
Monday, June 01, 2009
It allows me to do very silly things on it and then make sillier decisions to upload the end results of foolish behaviour irrespective of the possiblity that someone out there may think I actually look like this.
Also allows my son to make silly videos.
All round entertainment machine.
Great time waster.
Trouble is, when you are short and stocky and love food there is only one way to go if you eat to excess. Even the slightest bit of excess. And that is out. My boss has a belly on him. A pretty good one. I wonder if he has seen his tackle lately.
I call my boss Barney because he looks at bit like Barney from The Flintstones. But the other day I thought he was looking a bit like Homer. He was sitting on a couch eating a nice piece of Danish pastry and for a moment it was like seeing Homer.
He obviously is concerned as today he mentioned to me that he was joining a gym and would get a personal trainer to get him motivated. Good idea I told him.
Later on in the kitchen I was making coffee and he came in and chatted away.
"You know, I think that maybe I should cut back on bread. That puts weight on," he said as he took out a big chocolate chip cookie from the biscuit jar.
"Not just bread," I told him, looking pointedly at the cookie.
"Oh, no, this is a treat," he answered as he munched away at it (first cookie of the day).
Ah, the weird logic of food consumption. It's great.