Show And Tell

When I was at primary school we used to have a thing once a week called 'Show and Tell". Kids would bring in some sort of random item and stand up in front of class and talk about it.

One year, maybe when I was about ten years old, the headmistress decided to have for "show and tell" a girl come into class to show us an injury that she got from walking into a glass door.

Seriously, that was show and tell for the day. The girl had stitches all over her arm and elbow. It was quite ugly but also exciting to see. The headmistress thought we might all benefit from this girl's visit and, in future, be very careful about walking near glass doors. It always stuck in my mind the pursed lipped expression on the face of the headmistress as she peered at our upturned faces over the top of her glasses as the wounded girl related her tragic door story.

Anyway, when I think about it, it must be hard to impress kids these days with simple things like an arm injury. After what they see on television and the internet an arm with a few stitches would be very passe indeed. Maybe someone has to see an autopsy in class to get a few raised eyebrows.

Today I was reading an article about narcissistic motherly love. I think that means when a mother thinks the sun shines out from her child's botty and that the aforementioned child is, in fact, the most incredible looking being that ever arrived on the planet.

I did think my son was a rather cute baby when he was born. It took a few days though. I mean, he was a bit ugly in a way. Not fugly ugly, just sort of "popped out of the oven" kind ugly. But after a couple of days he settled.

At the age of about three months old he really was a gorgeous looking boy with peachy cheeks and a lovely twinkly smile. He was always happy because I always picked him up every single time he cried so essentially he was at adult height for the first twelve months of his life.

However, at the age of about six months old I realised something that I hated to admit. My son looked like Alexei Sayle who is a British comedian. Now, that's okay to look like Alexei when you are Alexei but when you are six months old and look like that it is quite a different matter.

At the time of this realisation I had some photos of my son taken at a shopping centre. You know those crappy ones where the kid is wedged in a box to make them sit up and smile.

When I got the photos, put them up on the wall and saw the resemblance I said to myself "that is one ugly kid" and they were taken down a short time after. The last thing I needed was someone questioning the paternity of my lovely boy.

Actually, the photos were pretty grim.

I know mothers should never be heard to say that their kids have had ugly moments but mine did and I have photos to prove it.

By the way, I actually do think Alexei Sayle is a rather gorgeous looking fellow these days. He obviously outgrew his awkward phase.

As we all do.

Ciao
LC

Just Chit Chat

There is absolutely no reason that I uploaded this photo here other than it just happened to be on the computer.

Actually, I may as well say where it is. It is in Scotland and the year is 1994 so I was about thirty years old. Don't be fooled by the cheery little smile on that face because I can tell you I was a complete fruit cake on that trip. I know I did a post about it. I threw my wedding ring out the car window as we drove along a wet and dark road in bleak Scotland.

Anyhow, I am just doing a general chit chat post about my week.

We are moving offices this week. At least the boys are. I just point vaguely at what has to go where. The move is about 150 metres away so they just bring the forklift with a pallet on it and everything gets loaded up and moved.

However, tomorrow I have the most dreary task of setting up a new data base to load onto the new Mac computers we are getting. It will take me all day and I can take no phone calls or do anything else but that because it is fiddly and requires all my focus. I can hardly wait. Sigh.

Then Friday I have to go through all my shite that is near me and get rid of anything that is no longer needed. Interestingly enough I have paperwork that was packed down when we moved two times ago and I really think this time it is getting chucked out.

During the move we had our server shifted onto the floor because the cabinet it was in needed to be moved to the new factory. As a result of the move some wires were knocked loose enough to ensure drop outs all day (until I worked out to check wires and push them into their slots properly again).

So, after the THIRD time I was dropped offline when doing wages I rang my husband and asked if he could come and look at the server since it had played up after he moved the comms cabinet (he did the phone and data cabling). As I was talking to my husband about it I looked across and saw Bossman bend over and push the restart button on the server. At the same time he was muttering something about the computers playing up.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" I said.

He stood up and looked at me with an expression that I have seen on Homer Simpson more than once.

"What?" he said with an incredibly guilty look on his face.

"You don't push the restart button on the server without warning us first. I was doing wages and now I have to start again," I yelled.

Then I said to my husband "OMG, I just saw a Homer look just then," to which my husband replied "What? His bum crack?".

"No, forget it. Someone just got sprung pushing the restart button without warning me," I said while staring at Bossman who still was holding back a laugh. I finished the phone call and went to fix the wobbly wires all the while telling off Bossman.

Later on we were laughing about it. My boss said it was like stepping on a land mine, hearing the click and going "oh dear" just as he pushed the restart button and heard my voice.

But I got the wages done finally and the server has been hunky dory since.

I really must be more respectful to Bossman.

Really, where on earth could I work and speak to management that way and still have a job?

Ciao
LC

Weekend Blab

As you may know, I had a busy weekend doing something terribly exciting.

Fund Raising.

Those two dreaded words that nearly every parent would know. It means begging for money from people you want to remain friends with. Or begging from people you don't know.

On Saturday morning we had a fund raising breakfast. It involved making bacon and eggs on toast and the local park where I do outdoor exercise. We had coffee and juice and I was up at 7.15 am baking a batch of cup cakes.

We were there for an hour and made $200. Easy peasy and it did not suck the life out of our day.

Sunday was quite a different matter.

I met up with the people supplying the big BBQ van at the venue 8.00 am sharp. Well I wasn't very sharp. I was very tired. The charity group brought everything. Sausages, bread, chopped up onions, condiments and cooking utensils. We just had to cook and sell. Any money we made after the cost was ours.

The van was positioned outside the front of a huge office supply place that is busy all the time. The car park was full all day long. Seriously, I would never have guessed that office supplies could be so appealing and I love office supplies.

The day was hot. Obviously too hot for eating sausages because sales were slow.

As the day slowly moved on our conversations with each other became pointless and silly. Although I am essentially a kind person I have to confess to making rather unkind comments about people who declined the offer of buying a sausage. Out of earshot of course.

"You look like you could use a sausage"

"You look like you have had plenty of sausage"

"Can I see your sausage?"

"Crikey, those two look like they invented sausages".

"What, you don't like my sausage?"

I did not do any cooking. I hate sausages. I just handled the money because I like money and it meant I did not have to wear latex gloves.

Although the day was long it was kind of fun because we were all in it together and having a good old giggle all the time.

At 4:00 pm the charity guys came to pack up and we took the left over sausages home. Well, I took mine home and then the next morning took them to work and dumped them in the freezer for the next work BBQ. There is no way my son and husband would want to eat their way through 3kgs of sausages. Well they might, but I won't let them.

I drove home smelling like a snag.

How much did we make? $250.00 plus an extra $100 on drinks and raffle tickets. And quite a few people gave us donations as they passed by.

I think the breakfast was a bit more of an easy fund raiser. But, what counts is that for the weekend we raised $550.00 which will bring our Oxfam walk tally up to $4550.00 once I get it banked. And I have a few more donations to bring in and so the target of $5K will be raised before the walk.

April 1st is rolling on and I am feeling rather excited about it all.

The advice from the Oxfam trailwalking group is that a week before the walk I should carb load. Bread, pasta, rice and other lardy carby foods.

I can hardly wait.

Getting permission to eat carbs without restrictions.

Isn't that every woman's dream?

Ciao
LC

Rocking, Rolling And Sausages

I feel like I am always busy these days. Oh, that's because I am. Ha ha.

On Friday I went to work with the intention of finishing in the early afternoon and getting a few urgent things done for the weekend. However, no such luck because work is really busy and I just cannot leave with things unfinished. So five o'clock I left the office, made my way to the accountant to drop off some things and then headed home.

In the evening the three of us went out to see Doobie Brothers in concert. My son went with grave reservations about how he would feel about the whole thing. He whinged and whined and I had to put my hand up and say "talk to the hand, the face ain't' listening". I also explained that even if he did not know the music there was nothing better than listening to a professional seventies rock band live. I said it was an historical event in a way. K grew up with the music, I grew up with the music and now S was going to see the music. His kids won't because I cannot imagine the Doobie Brothers rocking it on stage in twenty years.

When we got to the venue I think my son's greatest fears were realised. He was the youngest person in the audience. The demographic was aged fifty to sixty five which is to be expected considering when the Doobie Brothers were big here.

Before the main act there was a rather doleful support act we had to endure. My son had a face like fizz and I leant over and said to him "remember all those school concerts your mother and father had to sit through? well, this is pay back." He had to laugh at that.

However, it turned out that he enjoyed it because they are a great band, played all the good songs and really were good value for money.

However, I was really, really cheesed off when Mr Tall and Wide Man sat in front of me with his equally space hogging girlfriend. Seats should be allocated according to height.

The concert was a seated one and everyone remained seated until the last song. I am a bore when I go to concerts. I don't clap. I don't clap to songs and I don't clap after songs unless I really, really enjoy it and even then the clap would be very brief. I will clap at the end of the concert but that is usually because I am so relieved to get out of there. I did have to stand up and clap during the last song because everyone else did and I was not interested in sitting a looking at everyone's bum wiggling away. Too, too much for me.

So we ended up home quite late and I was so very tired. This morning I had to get up early to be part of a fund raising breakfast for the exercise class. Because I had been late home yesterday from work I did not have time to bake cup cakes for it so I had to do them at 7.15 am in the morning. Anyway, all was done. We raised $200 toward the Oxfam walk and everyone enjoyed themselves.

However, I was so tired for the rest of the day I just lolled around the house having a random snooze and putting the odd load of washing on. Eventually I had to drag myself out of the house and go to the shops to get some supplies for a fund raising BBQ we are doing tomorrow. When I got outside I realised that the cold morning had morphed into a stinking hot late afternoon and I was wearing boots and tights and looked like Morticia all in black pushing a trolley around the supermarket filling it with exciting things like cans of soft drink. In fact, the trolley was so full of crap that I felt I had to explain why the contents of my trolley were so dreadfully unhealthy.

I don't think the checkout chick believed me because her answer to my BBQ explanation was "Yeah, whatever makes you feel better."

So here I am at 8.15pm watching the news on television and digesting some chocolate. Tomorrow I will be up early and ready to cook sausages and smile very brightly from 8.00 am until 4.pm.

I must remember to pack my own lunch. I despise sausages.

And that is my weekend pretty much.

Hope yours is fun.

Ciao
LC

So Natural

What do you think of that expression "she's naturally beautiful" or when people say things like "I prefer the natural look"?

I laugh. There is more truth in the expression that Dolly Parton used once. You know the one? "It costs a fortune to look this cheap" or something like that.

The natural that we see is just so far from reality these days that I think people don't get what natural really, really is.

There is a small window in the life span of a human being where we all look fantabulous and natural. I think it arrives just as puberty tapers off and then leaves at about the age of twenty five. I am not talking about how a person looks, I am talking about the peachy glow of youth. That glossy hair, the translucent skin and bright eyed sparkle that is with you the moment you get out of bed even after a big night out.

When I see a photo of a celebrity and someone makes a comment on how natural she looks I know for a fact that it took a lot of make up to get her to look that natural. It took hours to get that natural look. Hours and a bit of air brushing for sure.

Natural. HA!

Yesterday I received some hair product and make up in the mail that I had ordered in the previous week. I am a hair product whore and I love buying new product. You may well ask how someone who is growing out their grey hair could possibly want hair product for. Well, I use it every single day to prevent having brillo hair. Grey, long, thick and very wavy hair is incredibly resistant to styling and needs serious attention.

Last night just before I drifted off to sleep I made a comment how I could not wait to use all my hair product.

My husband replied that there will not be much room for me in the bathroom with all this hair product.

"I need it all," I said and then explained how it worked.

"I have the silver shampoo which I use weekly to make sure that the grey hair does not yellow at all. Then, every day I use the sleek shampoo and conditioner which is the start of keeping my hair from being too frizzy. After I towel dry my hair I use Moroccan hair oil which keeps the hair shaft smooth and makes it easy to blow dry. As I blow dry I use a heat protective spray to keep my hair protected from the heat of the hair dryer. Then when I have dried my hair completely I put a smoothing creme to defrizz the hair a bit more. And then I put a pomade in the last two inches of my hair to bring some of the curl back and that separates it a bit. After that I use another pasty thing to give the hair some more texture. Then I top it off with a fixative spray gel which keeps it all in place but at the same time it looks natural kind of messy because I hate really smooth hair which looks fake."

Then I added that it would be unsafe to light a match near me after I have done my hair.

Really, if you ran your fingers through my hair they would get stuck in the knots that somehow happen during the course of the day. All that hair product creating some weird atom fusion thing.

It kind of explains why I am late for work each day. Because before I dry my hair I have spent twenty minutes doing my make up.

Hard work looking natural.

Ciao
LC

Saturday Stroll

We had another long walk on the track today. Same one as last week only this time the weather was hot and we started in the middle of the day.

None of us were particularly enthusiastic because there is nothing quite as unpleasant as going for a 40 km walk on a track you did the week before when you know what hills you are going to have to do.

Plus we were just tired anyway. I don't know about you, but walking 80km in a week and doing three exercise classes at the age of 47 does make for a tired person.

After a couple of hours and a stop for a strong cup of coffee things were fine and the walk improved greatly. The only stops were made were for toilet breaks, blister checks, drinks and some food.

Below is a photo of part of the track. At this point of the actual trail (on the day) we would have walked 80km and through the night. Today we had walked almost half that and evening was falling.
This is the track walked. Evening was just starting to creep in and the shadows were longer. The weather was warm and the air was fresh with the smell of eucalyptus.


A photo of the bush. There are homes not too far from here. But we really did start to move closer to pockets of farm land.

As we walked along there were such lovely things to look at. Like the tree on the hill. We passed cows and horses. The smell of everything was so organic and fresh.

I had been wearing my Ipod and listening to music as I walked. It helped keep a good pace.

But at this point in time I turned off my music to listen to something I never hear near my home. The sound of nature. Frogs in particular. It was so lovely. I had to take a quick little video of that small evening song that nature so kindly offered up for nothing.

It was a beautiful end to a sunny Saturday stroll.

Ciao LC

Son Talk

My son is a lazy monkey.

I am loathe to say lazy shit because I think that expression should be saved for adults who are lazy. Teenagers who are lazy kind of can't help it unlike adults who generally make the choice.

Anyway, we live about ten minutes walk from my son's school. Maybe fifteen minutes if you allow for the dawdle factor.

Without fail I would say that my husband ends up driving my son to school three times a week. Seriously, three times a week my son is chauffeured to school.

The only reason the other two mornings he walks would be because my husband has gone to work early and there is not a chance in Hell that I would drive him.

I would like to say that the reason I won't drive him is because I believe he should walk and get out in the fresh air and learn to be independent and other do goody blah blah.

Sadly, the truth is this. I am so hopeless at getting ready in the morning that he would end up at school half an hour late if he waited for me. The other reason is that I hate driving down the street with one thousand other cars dropping off lazy kids to school.

My son also knows that when my husband says "I am going to work early today and you have to walk to school" that he has to crank things up a bit and get ready very quickly. He has learnt over the years that I won't do for him the things that my husband does for him. If not for my husband my son would go to school with no lunch in his bag. He would learn very quickly to make his own lunch.

Essentially my son knows who he can wear down with the whinge factor. And it is not me.

This morning the following conversation transpired between my husband and son:

Husband: "It's going to be hot today".

Son: "Then can you pick me up?"

Husband: "Why? Because it is hot?"

Son: "Yes"

Husband: "I have to work and besides, I never know where to pick you up from school. You never walk home the same way"

Son: "Well, you can either go up the street that goes up near the train station or the other street that goes down that other road and just look for me"

Husband: "I am not driving around the streets trying to work out which high school kid is you"

Son: "Why not?"

Conversation ends at this point.

Had the conversation been between my son and I it would have gone like this:

Linda: "It's going to be hot today"

Son: "Then can you pick me up?"

Linda: "You cannot be serious. Don't be so bloody lazy."

Son: "Okay".

End of conversation.

You know, I would give my life for my son.

But he can walk home from school.

Sheesh.

Ciao
LC

Thursday - Again

One thing you can always rely upon is that time will tick, tick, tick along no matter what pressure is on you.

Right now I have vague and constant pressure happening. It's not bad pressure, it's just being under the pump kind of pressure. It's a positive stress so that is good.

I have the Oxfam walk on the 1st of April so the training and fund raising aspect of that has eaten a lot of my free time. But that will soon be over so that is okay.

My house is still in a state of chaos since being flooded and we have no carpet or heating and the place is very messy but when I compare it to what other people suffered during floods I just figure "meh" and ignore it all. It will be sorted before we go overseas on the 8th April.

At work we have been building new offices and factories behind us and bit by bit things have been demolished and all that is left is the old office I am in now. On March 28th we will be moving everything 150 metres across the block of land and into our new office.

Well, I am not physically doing anything in the move. I just tell other people what I want done. But still, I do have to use my brain to work out what goes where. But I do have to sort the shit from the not so shitty stuff. Work out what to keep, what to throw and what to archive.

Anyway, on that same day we are crossing over from using PC's to Mac's. Before that time I have to get a new accounting data base ready to load onto the Macs and make sure everything works well. For a few months I will be working with PC and Mac so it will be interesting.

Before I get overseas I have to make sure that all clients have their invoices and I have to ensure most of our suppliers are paid and processes are in place to pay staff.

I would not be lying if I did not say I am treated like the proverbial Queen Bee at work right now. There is so much pressure on me that my boss and his wife are constantly asking what they can do to help. But you know, I have just accepted that things are just going to be hectic until I jump on that plane with K and S and that is that.

One thing I am looking forward to is our new office. Everything is new. Desks, cupboards, computers and kitchen. We even have an indoor garden that will have a pet turtle. It has taken ten years of hard, hard work and great effort to get to this good place and my boss and his wife deserve it.

While I am away work will build me my new studio. It is a project for the apprentices so won't be that expensive. Just cost price. We have a Project Manage in the office who is a real gun and he is overseeing it all for me. I feel very lucky.

This weekend I have another walk on Saturday. It will be the same track but we are leaving later in the day so that we get some night walking to see how we handle it. Then Sunday we will do a small 20km jaunt locally.

Once I get my weekends back I shan't know what to do with my time! I asked a girl at exercise class if she was interested in training for a half marathon. She is seriously pondering the thought while I am seriously pondering why I ever thought such a thought.

Especially since I have notice that every one of my toes is bruised from the walking I did last Sunday. Apparently it is normal for this little thing to happen. One of the others in my group has lost one toenail after getting a blister under it. Nothing to do with the shoes, just one of those things.

So, there is my time ticking over, moving on and racing by.

I am just living it.

Ciao

LC

International Women's Day

Today is International Women's Day.

What's the big deal about that you may ask, especially if you are a man.

It is a big deal actually. Often what men take for granted women have had to struggle for.

The one thing that just never seems to be getting anywhere as far as equality goes, is the safety of women in every community around the world.

Sexual abuse.

Domestic abuse.

Forced and arranged marraiges.

Circumcision of women purely to reduce their sexual desire.

Over sexualisation of females from an early age.

It's no wonder that women think like victims. I know I do before I head out of the house for an evening walk.

In fact, I probably would not do that so much these days.

It's one thing to get beaten, it's quite another to run the risk of being raped.

If only it were as simple as equal pay for equal work.

Ciao
LC

New Blog Address

I have a new blog address.

www.lindastwaddle.com

The old address www.lindasphere.blogspot.com. will be redirected to the new address so the only difference will be what you see as the domain address.

I think the new address takes up to three days to work. Apart from the name change, nothing else will change.

Hopefully this will fix all problems I have had with Blogger/Google on and off for a while.

Ciao
LC

BLOG

Someone has logged into my blog and posted some weirdly wrong stuff.

My apologies for that.


I have no idea what happened there but have changed my whole password etc.

Might have to change the blog name.

I am so embarrassed if anyone had it arrive in their email. I saw it arrive in mine and had to look twice.

Linda

Sunday Training

On Sunday I did training for the Oxfam Trailwalk.

Two other team members were with me. The fourth one (the guy) had to pull out after hitting his little toe on some furniture in the middle of the night when checking on his children. Who hasn't done that before? Ouch.

Anyway, after the Tough Chick Challenge the day before, I can't say I was overly keen to get up at 6.00am Sunday morning to get picked up at 6.30am. I packed my back pack with all provisions the night beforehand to ensure nothing was forgotten for the day.

This time we were walking on part of the actual trail itself. With part of the track closed we had to start about 25km's into the track which is neither here nor there but it did mean that we would only get about 40km done rather than our hoped for 50km.

We arrived at the starting point at 7.20 am. Instructions on where to go were very, very poorly written and that fact combined with three map illiterate females did make for a slight delay in getting on the correct track. We were left feeling left stupid after we realised that other track walkers had made the same errors (both male and female).

However, once we got started all was good. The first part of the track was a pleasant meander through some very lush public gardens. The walk led us across a road and into dense bush land onto a very narrow track (about 18inches wide) that had a very steep and bushy drop to the right. The track here was very wet and muddy and we were not the only people on it. There were trail runners and we had to often press ourselves to the left side to let them pass.

This went on for about 3km's and we found ourselves standing at the base of a most hideous lane we had to walk up. It was steep and went on for about 1km. I have to say that the pain in thighs as I stepped up the hill was fierce. By the time we got to the top we all felt very relieved.

We soon found ourselves in the National Park and lots of beautiful foliage to walk through.

The weather was perfect for walking. There were some incredibly long a boring parts where there were no trees. Just dirt tracks with the sun shining down on us and a scattering of other walkers. I had slathered sun screen all over myself knowing that hours out in the sun without it would result in a tomato face and scorched arms.

We have a few stops on the way. Sock changes. Blister checks. Leg stretching. Eating and drinking.

Speaking of eating. Well, it was one of the best days for indulging. When doing the trail walk I don't eat any apart from things like lollies, white pikelets, grapes, dried fruit and glucose/magnesium lollies. Chocolate. Some sports water - but not much. Energy food and not much else. It just fantastic to eat shit food all day and not feel guilty at all.

One of the girls went very healthy and had a seed roll full of salad. She then ended up feeling bloated and lethargic. Next time we go training I would say her backpack will be full of as much trashy food as mine.

My husband picked us up nine hours later and drove us home. Although a bit tired I really could have done another 10km's.

Once home I had a hot bath and soaked my tired body. My toes were tender which is normal on these trail walks. Blisters were minimal and by today have all but gone.

Next Saturday we are doing another track walk only this time we will do the last three hours in the night because on the actual Oxfam Trailwalker day we will be walking all through the night so we need to know what it is like to walk under those conditions.

Tonight I did an exercise class and tomorrow is a rest day and I am looking forward to it.

I shall have to find another challenge to get stuck into after this one. It is such a great way to keep fit and strong.

Ciao

LC

Tough Chick Challenge

How did you spend your Saturday?

Well, I did the Tough Chick Challenge.

We drove about an hour from home to reach the venue. I had a vague idea of what to expect.

We had to wait a while for our start time.

Here we were waiting at the start line. Having a bit of a giggle.

The giggling soon stopped once we headed off. We had a four km run and it was nothing like I am used to. Along gravel roads, up dirt tracks in the bush, down and up more tracks and along more gravel roads with deep ruts and grooves in them. I was hoping I would not break my ankle or something. Half way through the run I got a stitch in my side because I had a mouthful of water and had to run through it.

During the run I was thinking "what the f***k am I doing here" and "I am too f*****g old for this shit" etc. You get the mindset. But I kept on because that is what you do isn't it? Just ignore the whiney inner voice and keep moving.

We then came to the part of the course that was all obstacles, the first one being a crawl through sloppy, wet, filthy and stinking mud that was about fifteen inches deep. We had to keep our heads under barbed wire so naturally we ended up soaked to the skin.

The rest of the course involved climbing over log walls, crawling through tyres, running up steps through the bush, climbing over a rope wall, balancing across logs that were wobbly, swinging on a rope over muddy water (which I landed in) and numerous other insane things.

The final trick of the day was a rope challenge. You had to pull yourself across an expanse on a rope and not fall off. I could not make it across. Cramp in my leg along with wet and soggy yoga pants cut me off in my tracks. But, it was fun anyway.

Very dirty at the end of it all.

When I got home I was so tired. I mean, really tired. It took ages to scrub the filth off in the shower. It had soaked through all my clothes and stained my skin. And on the way home in the car I smelt like a wet dog. There were shower facilities there but there was only cold water and there was no way I was having that. So I sat in the car like a wet monkey totally exhausted.

And the photo above is all of the gals who love to spend Saturdays just being tough chicks.

Tomorrow I have a 50km walk planned but have just sent an email saying if anyone wants to do just 35km I am happy to oblige.

Because although I am a tough chick, right now I am also a totally knackered one.

Ciao

LC

Coffee Break

Am at work and it is about 3.30 pm.

I still have another 1.5 hours to go and have allowed myself a break. Not a coffee break actually, a green tea break is the truth. Coffee this time of the day will keep me awake.

Nothing to report except that I finally picked up my new car yesterday morning after getting a pay out for my flood damaged car. I got the same model. A Mazda3 Maxx Sport Hatchback.

All black with tinted windows. Six speed manual and all the go gear such as GPS and bluetooth. A new version of my last car. The girls at exercise class said that the black made me look slimmer. Isn't that the purpose of black?

It is nice to have my own car space back. I feel like a rodent that has gotten its own cave back to sleep in.

I went to therapy yesterday. Still going every two weeks.

Sometimes we talk about childhood "ishoooos" and how they have impacted my current thinking. But I get sick of that and try to avoid it now and then. However, I notice that when I am talking about something I am struggling with it always seems to go back to my early years.

So it seems that at the moment all my roads are currently leading to Rome.

Everytime I go in to see him I sit down and say "I don't know what I am doing here, I have nothing to say" and then spend an hour talking and getting a lot out of the talking.

I don't generally share what I have been talking about with K because it is not necessary. It is about me changing my way of thinking and my approach to life.

I get something out of therapy that I cannot really put my finger on. It's deeply personal and has nothing to do with anyone but myself.

Maybe it is just me finding some sort of inner confidence and peace.

Or just finding a reprieve from the busy world in that small room for one hour a fortnight.

It doesn't really have to be specific, but if it makes me feel better in some indefinable way then that is all that counts.

Ciao
LC

App App Appy Day

You know, I love my IPhone.

It's the best time wasting gadget I have.

It's even better than the IPad. I love the IPad. But I am in love with the IPhone.

That's because it is small and cute. Makes phone calls, surfs the net and I can play numerous games on it.

I love the Apps you can download but I don't need to download every App. And guess what, I don't need to see every App you downloaded.

Yes, I have to rant about sharing the news on your latest App.

Don't share it with me.

Unless it is your good old basic fart app, fat app, aging app or other inane stupid Appity App I really do not need to see any of your additional apps.

Apps about Share prices, closest coffee shop, the weather in other countries, track your period app, decibel meter app, any of the forty seven cooking apps are really, really good but you know, I don't need you to show me every single one of them when you come into the office.

Perhaps I am just mean spirited because you know I did a post about what I think of hearing about anyone's YouTube watching habits recently and there was the post about people who tell me about their dreams and it does seem that I don't want to hear anything anyone has to say which is not true.

I just don't want to hear about everything they have to say. Tell me a bit and then we can discuss it a bit more if it works.

Keep me briefed on the odd little App you might like. But that is about all I need to know because guess what, I trawl the App store just like you do looking for amusing and entertaining apps and don't need to share my wares every single time we meet up.

I say this because every time some guy comes into the office and sees that every desk has an IPhone sitting on it and out comes the App-reciation society chat.

Huddled together in a little bunch swapping app stories.

Still, it has at least taken the place of showing photos on the IPhone or any other mobile device. Seriously, how often has someone brought their phone in to show you the 500 photos they took with their phone on the three day weekend they just had.

Maybe I am just an unsociable old cow.

Who loves playing the App Words With Friends.

Have you seen that one?

Here, let me show you the App.....

And you can show me the Spirit Level App that you have on your Iphone.

Sigh

Ciao
LC

Boring Post

I was never any good at school. Never any good at sport.

It was not until recently that I realised how bad I was when I came across my old school reports. The marks were below average. And many notes from teachers that were just a variation of "could try harder".

There was one teacher in primary school who noted that I was a very sensitive and intelligent child. I wonder who that teacher was. As an adult I actually agree with what they wrote and want to say "well spotted". Of course, I have had to do a few months of therapy to accept that description. Ha ha ha.

I daydreamed at school. Stared out the window. Doodled in my books. Talked to class mates. Waited for the school bell to let me race out the door. It was just a place to hang out. I did not get it at all.

I don't recall doing homework. Certainly my parents never asked me to do homework. Their main concern was that I did housework and never got pregnant (like my older sister did at age fifteen).

School, in my mind, was just a place to be until you were old enough to leave and get a job. I left in form five which is now called year eleven. My parents never encouraged any of us to do well at school.

In particular, my father was just waiting for the time when we could get a full time job and pay board to him. In his mind we were just a costly burden for him to put up with. The sooner we reimbursed him the better.

As a teenager I was considered a wog because my parents were not Australian. The few friends I had were from non Australian backgrounds and we all put up with being the outsiders at school.

At my son's school there are so many nationalities that there is a niche for every child. All of my son's friends are of non Australian backgrounds. Japanese, Chinese, Israeli and Indian. Mostly geeky kids who just are not into sport. Because there are so many he will never feel like the outsider that I (and my husband) was at school.

Some people think that immigration and multi culturalism is a bad thing. I think it is great and makes the community vibrant.

I was so self conscious of my lack of sporting ability at school. If you were not a sporty person you were pretty much alienated from a big portion of the social group. It was hard being the last person to be chosen to join a team. The choice was limited for girls. Softball, Netball and cross country. The PE teacher was a complete and utter bitch who hated non sporting girls in particular and went out of her way to utterly humiliate girls like me.

My son does not give a shit that he is not good at sport. It helps that the school has such a wide variety of things to do for Phys Ed. Not just football, soccer and cricket. There is lawn bowls, table tennis, volley ball and so many other things that kids can take part in. So the geeky kids, the kids who are not into sport and the ones who are just no good at sport will always find something fun in the physical activities.

It was kind of ironic that when I went to a school reunion years ago nearly all the kids who were sporty and fit at school had long ago dropped the sport and talked about it like glory days. They were now sports watchers, unfit and overweight but talking as though it were only yesterday they kicked a winning goal.

This post has no real purpose. Just thinking in writing form. It's almost pointless actually.

It's just that I look at my son and think how he just goes to school and enjoys the whole part of it, even the boring bits.

It makes me happy.

Ciao
LC

Trans Seasonal

Sometimes I have gone into a clothes shop in the warmer months to buy some article of clothing.

Then I might come across some dress that is a bit more expensive than I want.

I try it on.

Like it but hate the price tag.

Really want it but don't want to spend the money on it.

Plus I know that it will sell out before it is reduced because it is unusual or nicer than average.

The sales person can tell my dilemma and says those magic words.

Trans Seasonal.

"Oh, the thing is with a dress like that is that it is trans seasonal. Just pop a long sleeved t-shirt under it and a pair of tights and you are set for the cooler weather," she tells me.

So, in effect, it is two dresses for the price of one. Or, if you allow for the in between seasons, it is four dresses.

WOW.

So I buy it.

Guess what? It's not trans seasonal. It's a summer dress dude. And today, when I put a t-shirt under it and a pair of black tights and my black boots, it looks like I am wearing a summer dress over wintry clothes.

It reminds me of the days when my mother put a dress over my skivvy and long pants in winter to keep me warm.

All I looked like was a poor woggy girl who had no idea of how to dress.

And "trans seasonal" dresses only ever are made in summer and spring because it is pretty obvious that you would not wear a heavy weight winter dress in summer would you. But you can "layer" "trans seasonal" clothing.

Blah, blah, blah.

Oh, and this "trans seasonal" dress is made of a linen mix and is wrinkled to shit so I may as well have not bothered ironing it this morning.

Which reminds me of one truth. The nicer the dress the more shitful it is to iron.

Sigh.

Ciao
LC

Seasons

Tuesday will be the first day of Autumn.

Autumn is my favorite time of year in Melbourne. We still get a lovely warmth that does not carry with it the bite of the Summer heat.

I got up early this morning. Went outside to pick up the Saturday newspaper that I get delivered.

The morning smelt like Autumn.

What does that smell like? Fresh and earthy. And it looks beautiful. A heavy dew had fallen on everything and the sun was shining on the wetness. Twinkling and lush.

I had an early exercise class and it was a large group. We were divided up into four groups and did a circuit class. Lots of running between cones, up hills and jumping over hurdles. Wet grass made me cautious when I ran. There have been times where I have slipped over and I have learnt that being of a certain age means a fall hurts more than it did twenty years ago.

The toast I had for breakfast gave me energy for about fifteen minutes and then I felt myself flagging a bit. By the end of the class I was soaked in sweat and very tired. I know it was a hard session because the class was fairly silent. No breath for social chatter until the class ended.

In the afternoon K and I did some food shopping before having a cup of coffee in a local cafe. Although I had bookwork to do I kept putting it off. I felt like I needed a mental break. It will only take me a couple of hours so I will do it later today.

Today I have been very conscious of the passing of time. I wonder if having a blog just makes me more aware of things like that. I mean, it is five years now that I have been blogging. And suddenly I am realising that while some things stay the same, most things change.

I post about day to day things that I would forget normally. But writing about those days sets them in some sort of time limbo. Or is it a cyber time capsule? I don't know. But it's there. In writing. Stuff that I have done. Or thought. Or felt. Small conversations I have had. Things I recalled on certain days that I may well have let pass by without much thought.

I'm a bit, well, not sure of the word actually. Is it aimless? No, not that word. Kind of in between something I know and something I don't.

Maybe there isn't a word for it.

Maybe it is just that feeling you get when one season is about to end and another one is about to start. That confirmation that the world just keeps on spinning and time keeps passing no matter what happens or does not happen.

It feels sad. But not in a negative way. It's like that sad thing that you feel when you open up a box with things in it that take you back to somewhere that seems so far away.

Sort of like a sigh that is taken out of your mouth without you actually knowing it was going to happen.

Just surprising.

That's all.

Ciao
LC

Letter To....

Letter to Man In Porsche.


Dear Man In Porsche

Yes, you.

I saw you on the way to work today. You were driving along in your very flash silver Porsche.

Wearing your white shirt that looked all crisp and stylish behind the tinted windows.

Your tie had been tied in a Windsor Knot. I could tell by the thickness of it.

Hot sunglasses Mr Porsche Man. Aviator's by the look of it. All black. I bet they are designer ones. They looked so groovy.

Cool hair. Sharp cut.

I bet you had some funky music playing as you sat in the car because your fingers were tapping on the steering wheel to some unknown rhythm.

Dude, you were young and hot.

That is until......

You picked your nose.

You didn't just pick it.

You dug into it.

Explored it like a person digging for treasure.

Dig, dig and dig.

Can I just remind you that although you feel safe inside the cocoon of your car and don't really notice anyone outside of your own ego, well, you are not safe and we can all see in.

So, use a hanky.

Or a tissue (a hanky is more eco friendly though - you can wash and reuse it).

Or wait until you get somewhere more private before you pick your nose.

Don't do it when you are stopped at the traffic lights.

It's not a good look no matter what car you drive.

Regards

Middle aged woman in black station wagon (not picking her nose).

Ciao
LC