Bye Bye Neighbour

Today K and I went to the funeral of our neighbour who died Sunday week ago.

I have not been to many funerals. In fact, I think only six in my 47 years and one of those was a sister of a friend of my father's. Only one had the service in a church, the rest at whatever it is they have at those Chapels that sit in the huge cemetery things.

Today the funeral was held at a Catholic church around the corner from us. Now, before I describe the event I have to tell you that I am not religious. I was not brought up in a religious household but I did get baptised when I was about 19 or 20 on stage, in a pair of 1950's bathers and in front of about three thousand happy clappers. And that I did because my mother wanted me to.

So, being in a Catholic church for a funeral was an interesting experience.

We walked to the church from home. The weather was warm enough and the sun was shining in the blue sky. It seemed right to walk. When we arrived there were maybe about sixty people there. Everyone in black. Lots of hand shaking going on. The hearse outside the church entrance waiting for the end of service to take the coffin away.

On the way into the church we were handed the words to whatever prayers were going to be said. Two pages worth. We then sat in the pew and waited for the service to start.

Now, not being a church goer means I have no idea what the rituals are. Apart from seeing things on television of course. Things like Royal weddings and funerals. I do know there is a great deal of symbolism but have no idea what it all means. It always looks very nice to me but that is it.

So, now I am going to say something that might offend people but here goes. After half an hour of being in that church I felt like I was on the film set of The Life Of Brian or some other Monty Python movie.

There was a lot of "Oh Lord" and "Lord keep me safe" and "The Lord is with Me". This was followed by words such as "Oh, Lord, take me your unworthy servant to be under your roof" or "Born a sinner" and other encouraging expressions. There was mention of doing more good deeds in life than bad deeds to ensure a place in heaven.

Everyone seemed to know what to say each time the priest said anything. He would say something and they would respond. Lots of standing up and sitting down. There was a moment where everyone had to kneel but we chose not to for two reasons. Firstly, I had no idea what to do and the moment passed and, secondly, I am not Catholic so I don't think it was expected from us anyway.

But, you know, once I got used to it I thought it was quite interesting. Although, very little was said about the man in the coffin until the very end when his son came up and spoke about him.

The church was very warm. In fact, it was hot. This is because we sat just under the heater. As the service droned on the air seemed to be suffocating. I had a headache. My eyes ached and my tears were intermittent. I held the little card with my neighbour's photo on in. On the front was a photo of a young man, inside was a photo of the man I knew him as. He was holding a big fish he had caught, his smile full of pride. Each time I looked at it I felt a strange mixture of disbelief and sadness.

The church is next door to the Catholic school and I could hear the children playing outside, their laughing drifted into the thick air of the church and mingled with the "oh dear Lord" words coming from the priest. A plane flew overhead. I could hear the traffic from the busy main road at the end of the street.

There were stained glass windows around the church and the sunshine shone through them giving the glass a beautiful glow.

The service ended with the priest sprinkling holy water over the coffin and the swinging the Censor across it, the smoking smell of incense filling the already airless church. I felt I might vomit if I did not get some fresh air.

Then the coffin was lifted up and onto the shoulders of friends and family and carried out to the waiting hearse. His wife walked behind comforting her sobbing daughter. I felt my tears come as tears do.

Once outside I gave his wife a hug. I felt she must be so drained.

We waited a little while before heading home. But before we left we looked up to the blue sky and saw that they had organised a sign writer to write our neighbours name up in the blue sky. Everyone looked up and pointed, tears stopping to allow for smiles. It was a lovely way to say goodbye.

I looked up for a while. Watched the plane finished the last letter and disappear out of sight. Then, when the white letters started to break up in the blue sky, I took one last look at the coffin in the hearse, the top covered in beautiful red roses. The flower of love.

We walked home.

In the mail box there was a letter from our friend overseas. She had sent me the service from the funeral of her father in law who had died a couple of weeks ago. She knew how fond I was of him. It seemed so strange to arrive on the same day as my neighbour's funeral.

I felt as though I had said goodbye to them both.

When I look at the photo of my neighbour now I think how utterly final it all is.

And how life goes on for everyone left.

It's just so deep.

Ciao
LC

Saturday Chit Chat

I had what felt like a long week. But now it is Saturday and life is moving along as always, irrespective of life, death and other happenings.

Last night when I went to bed I was planning to be up early to do a 7.45 am cardio class. However, my body decided that a headache, aching hip and right arm were the order for the day and I reneged on the exercise. Besides, I have a 10km run tomorrow morning and have to save my energy for that.

The usual things were done today. Laundry, make the bed, read the newspaper and other regular activities. And once again I was trapped by the lure of a couple of movies on television. I love movies and one of the was the classic North by Northwest. You would think that after seeing it at least half a dozen times I would tire of it but, no, it still is a great one to watch.

Around lunchtime I had this notion that I would go and visit a local health food shop that is up at the end of our street. God knows why I bother with the old "health food shop" notion. All that happens is that I walk out of there with something inedible and overpriced. I think that when I wake up feeling shite I must get this idea that I can go down to the health food shop, buy some food, eat it and suddenly feed fabulous.

Needless to say I did walk out with four items in my shopping bag and $42 less in my wallet. One of them I needed (B12 sublingual tables) but the rest were just overpriced weird food items. Still, one has to feel as though one is trying. And, you know, I don't really mind eating the 5 sprouted rye bread that I have to keep in the fridge and cut with a wet knife. It makes me feel special, especially when I spread it with the soy cream cheese..........

Later in the afternoon K and I went to the shopping centre as I had to buy a pair of compression tights to run tomorrow. I have been meaning to buy a pair for ages and figured that a 10km run is a good enough reason to do so. Compression tights are meant to reduce the pain from lactic acid in the legs because they compress the muscle which means that blah blah blah blah and blah and then that justifies the $139.95 I spend on them. Getting them on was like pulling on a balloon but I have to say that they felt great and held me in like a pair of fancy foundation garments. If nothing else they made me look slimmer and, hey, doesn't that make all that scientific so much more believable.

I then went into the studio and tidied up. During the week I bought a reindeer hide rug on EBay. It originally comes from Finland as they farm and eat reindeer they way we do cattle.

I fiddled around with my camera and took a photo in black and white which looked nice.

I then took a photo of the old studio which has become a home for all the pushbikes we have. Well, the ones we have and don't use much. It keeps them in dry and relatively dust free. The room looks so tiny to me.

Apart from that, not much else happened today.

Except, tonight for the first time since November last year K is doing a music job. He stopped it all last year when things were hard for me and I was not coping with life. Since then he has really enjoyed hanging out with family and doing his own thing. Music has become a deeply personal thing for him rather than play it to make money. He sold his sousaphone, tuba and double bass and just enjoyed playing his piano at home again.

The other week he got a phone call from someone asking if he could do a piano gig. He reluctantly agreed. If he keeps saying no then one day he won't be asked again and that is not ideal. I think it is good and the timing is right. He must have been anxious about it because he had a dream the other night that he turned up for the job and he was naked. Now that would be a disaster!

My son is on the computer.

And I am blogging.

Now I shall get up and make myself a cup of tea and have one of those very healthy over priced things I bought at the health food shop. A soy icecream vegan biscuit thing. Believe me, it tastes as good as it sounds.......

Nom, nom, nom.

Ciao

LC

Huh?

Note to self.

Don't let teenage son use wheedle power to snaffle your laptop so he can use Skype to talk to friends while he plays Xbox online.

He might think it can happen again.

It won't.

No matter how wheedly gets.

Ciao
LC

Sent from my bloody iPhone

My Neighbour

We live next door to a really nice Croatian couple.

They have been in their house for about forty years. Their two children grew up in that home, lived their lives and moved out.

She cooks lovely food and at Christmas I get to eat her delicious home made biscuits with their lovely sugary coating.

When my son was younger he and I spent a lot of time over at their house. S would play pool with J. Or cards. Or any other games that he happened to have.

C would make me cups of coffee and give my son glasses of lemonade and tasty treats. I would listen to J talk about his early years in Croatia and his time in the army.

They often had friends over and there was lots of laughter. Over time the friends have died, most of them from smoking related illnesses.

J had his first heart attack at the age of forty. That's young isn't it. He was a man who made his own cold meats, sausages, black pudding and other fatty European meaty foods. He liked to drink and smoke. After his first heart attack he changed his diet a bit. Drank a bit less, laid off the black pudding.

For the past ten years he has had a tough run of bad health. Mostly heart related. He also developed type 2 diabetes. Through all of his health ups and downs he continued to smoke because he was of the belief that smoking did not cause cancer. That was all just doctor talk.....

Two weeks ago my husband and I were in the front yard when we saw J. He came over to us and told us that he had a tumour in his right lung. The cancer had not spread and he was going in for surgery soon.

I could see that fear in his eyes that happens when people are about to embark on some journey that has an uncertain end.

We talked about it for a while. He had been coughing for a long time and when on holiday recently he coughed up copious amounts of blood. So when they got back from their holiday he went to the specialist and the end result, not surprisingly, was that he had lung cancer.

I gave him a big hug and said he would be okay. He said he had had a good life so if anything happened then we should all remember that.

So, about ten days ago he had surgery. I spoke to his wife last Thursday and she said he was weak but okay. It would take a long time to recover. We talked a long time about what happened on the holiday and how he just did not think he had anything wrong with him. But I think she knew and I knew that he was afraid to do anything because it's not that easy to face some things is it?

Before I left I asked if she could pass my thoughts onto her husband. I told her I really like J and he has been a lovely neighbour to us. I have spent many hours leaning over the side fence talking to him. Heard his coughing. His laughing with friends. Seeing him take the boat out with his son to go fishing. Seeing him play games with my son. She said she would tell him because he did like hearing about how everyone was asking after him.

Today when I came home from work my husband said that he did not want to tell me until I came home the sad news that J had died yesterday.

He was due to come home yesterday and had been in a good mood and full of jokes. He'd had a nap and didn't wake up.

I felt very sad and shocked because he was only seventy and I guess I thought he would be home and eventually get better.

I like to think that before he had his nap his head was full of happiness because he was alive and going home to family. I am sure he had thoughts along those lines because that was the kind of guy he was. If there is some sort of life after death thing well he has a load of friends on the other side to hang out with. Believe me, plenty of them got over there way before him.

I am really, really glad I gave him that big hug two weeks ago.

Ciao
LC

Finished

Two months ago a pile of timber arrived in my driveway.

On Saturday I moved my stuff into the new studio. Most of it anyway. The rest of it today.

This morning the sunshine looked beautiful in the room through the skylight. In summer it will be hot and I am getting a special shade cover made to reduce the heat. I may look at some louvres to block of the light on those scorching hot days.

The room smells of wood and tung oil.

It did not take long to fill the empty space.

I have a lot of work to do to get it tidy and organised. I felt quite overwhelmed by it all.

On Saturday I went to the hairdressers and had my hair cut. It's a bit shorter than I expected and I am unsure if I like it. I have to fiddle with it to get it just right. It's just different now.

This weekend we finally got things organised in the house. Boxes were able to be emptied from the garage and K had his space back. Books went back on shelves and things looked normal.

The lawns were mowed and edges done. I went down to do some grocery shopping and it seemed as if everyone had something to do in their front yard. The weather was perfect. Warm and sunny. I hung out the washing and it smelt beautiful from the outside air. The front and back doors were left open and fresh air filled the house.

Who would want to stay inside on such a day. Oh, wait, my son. But he did go to the movies with a friend later in the afternoon which was nicely sociable of him.

Later on I baked the most deliciously unhealthy orange cake. Loads of butter and eggs. I made enough for two cakes and will take one to work.

Spring is so close now and the days are longer. I love this move out of the cold months.

Another week ahead and more sunshine on its way.

Lovely.

Ciao

LC

Hormonal Friday

I am at work today but expect to finish earlier than normal to go to the Chinese Doctor.

This week I have been hormonal. Really, really hormonal. I know people make jokes about women being hormonal but it is kind of awful living inside an hormonal headspace.

I woke up feeling ugly, overwhelmed, bloated, teary, ugly, tired and bloated. Also felt angry. Shitty. Feel intensely useless and hate my physical self.

This lead to me finding it nigh impossible to find anything to wear because I felt so awkward in my body (which is so disconnected to my head space right now). When K gets home he will see evidence of this on our bed since I tried clothes on and then chucked them onto the bed because I did not want to wear them.

I know I am irrational at the moment and full of mental self flagellation. For example, last night K and I went for a run. We did 7.25 kms and it took 50 minutes. My left knee and right hip were sore so that slowed me down a bit. But it was a cruisy jog and had I taken a pain killer before I left the house I would have been able to do a full 10km's.

When we got home K went and measured out the distance and after he got back and told me how far we had run all I could think of was how slow I was and how I should have done that distance in under 45 minutes. I felt I had failed terribly and I was just a stupid middle aged woman who did not try hard enough. I was incapable of seeing the other side of things in that I actually did the run (having not run for a while) and that most people would have been sitting at home doing nothing. It ruined my night and made the run seem pointless.

Anyway, last night I slept like a corpse (except I woke up thankfully). Finally got to work after finally getting dressed, doing make up, drying hair and all that. By the way, there is one down side to having grey hair. When you are having a shitty middle aged woman day and then get a bad hair day to boot you feel like a grey haired witch. Thank goodness for make up and hair product.

So, I get to work, walk up the stairs into the office and see Bossman in the kitchen talking to another work colleague. He saw me and I burst into tears and mumbled something about being so hormonal. After giving me a hug he then asked if I wanted to take the day off (how nice is that) and I said that it was better to be at work than to be alone with myself. He said that I was allowed to be the office bitch all day long.

The Project Manager made me a cup of coffee which was very thoughtful.

I sat down and sorted out my day's work when the phone rang. It was one of those awfully annoying telemarketers. He asked to speak to the manager and I yelled "no, no, no. go away I have PMT" and hung up on him. Poor guy. Talk about bad timing.

There was a split second of silence in the office before laughter.

It's nice to know that it is okay to be hormonal and accepted.

I feel like I am in my twenties again, so hormonal. Years ago I cut my hair in an hormonal rage. Shredded my clothes. Been abusive, angry and full of self loathing. It has been the bane of my life being overly hormonal and has taken years of hard work to deal with it and not infect the lives of those I share my world with. Lately I feel all my efforts have just gone down the toilet.

However, because I have experienced it before I know what it feels like and know what I need to do to manage it.

Apart from the usual holistic approaches to it I will whinge about it on my blog.

And those who read it can suffer along.

Ciao

LC

Life, Death And Stuff

I had an email today from a friend of mine over in the UK.

Her father in law had died suddenly on Sunday.

It made me cry. I just feel incredibly sad.

He was such a nice man. We stayed with him and his wife whenever we went to the UK and have such fond memories of them.

I used to work with their son and, strangely enough, he ended up marrying a girl I used to baby sit when I was sixteen. So we have this lovely connection that goes back a long way.

Just the other day I started planning our next big trip and had expected to see him again, never thinking he might not be there. He was old and fragile but I thought he might hang around, well, for ever or something.

A month or so ago one of the brick layers we use at work died suddenly of a heart attack. He was only in his mid fifties. Okay, he was not the healthiest of guys but it was still a shock for me. He was always so cheery when I spoke to him.

On the weekend someone else we know from work died of a brain aneurysm. Fit and healthy man of fifty nine. So very unexpected.

It's such a shitty thing, dying. I'll never get used to it happening to people I know, or only partly know. It never matters how expected it was (old age, sickness etc.) it is always a shock.

It really is so final and it seems to happen to all the nice people. That's possibly because the people I know are nice but that aside you have to admit there are some really awful people alive and kicking while lots of great people are pegging it.

The mother of my boss has a huge social network. She is in her sixties and, over the years, many, many friends have died. Some of her closest ones. I know it is very upsetting for her, particularly when she gets a run of them - so to speak.

I know it is a normal process but it's just plain old sad, sad, sad when it happens.

When we went to my father in law's funeral it was not held at a church but they did have a minister read the service. There was a comfort in the process as he spoke.

My son turned to me and said "What sort of funeral do people have if they don't believe in God?"

"Any sort they like I suppose. As long as the goodbye is a nice one I guess it does not matter what you believe," I said.

This post is just a ramble.

Rambling is one way to deal with sadness.

Ciao
LC

Prickly

I swear this has to be the best reason my son has the day off school.

Yesterday he went on some sort of orienteering course which involved a day in bushland.

During this time he picked up a cactus and poked his friend with it. Also poked himself with it.

Pokey, pokey, pokey.

He did it because he is fourteen (that was his answer to my question).

He did it because it was one of those cacti that don't have prickles......?

They do have prickles sonny boy. All cacti have prickles. Just because you cannot see them prickles it don't mean they are not there.

It's the ones you cannot see that cause the problem.

My son is at home because he has a big prickle rash on his stomach because he poke his top yesterday. He cannot even sit down.

And yes, we let him day off because we are very bad parents.

Cactus rash.

Really. Never heard that one before.

Ciao

LC

Bobble

You must be wondering why I have the word "Bobble" as the post heading. Well, that's because I could not think of anything else. Oh, I did think of the word "tonsure" because I really like that word even if having a tonsure hair do would be very unattractive. But bobble won out.

After I took the day off on Friday I felt very pleased to wake up Saturday morning and know it was not Sunday.

The boys from work came around to lay down the flooring. Due to the fact that I wanted the floors to lay side to side instead of front to back they had to glue and nail the boards down instead of just nailing. Something to do with the floor joists running the other way. Anyway, I also wanted the boards hand nailed because I hate the indentation that the gun nails make. Even after they nails are punched down, the look is different. Plus, I wanted to use short lengths of board because I happen to like that look.

Hence the reason it took them all day. It was fiddly and time consuming.

Today K sanded the boards. The were water damaged and had numerous black marks on them that had to be sanded out. I was happy with water damaged because I liked the idea of them looking not perfect. As it was, every mark sanded out and the boards looked like new. The bonus is that the fact there was water damage meant they were very cheap. Which is just as well because the budget was blown out of the water ages ago. Now I am at the "I've come this far so just might as well do it properly" stage.

Then K put a coating of tung oil on. The floor needs another sand and another one or two coats of oil. So the boys won't be back until that cures completely which is about a week.

While K was sanding away, I had to paint primer on the window and door frame. I am the slowest person when it comes to painting. I have to be perfect and like to use a small brush. I hate brush marks going in different directions and a run mark freaks me out. So, in the time it took K to sand the floor three times and put the oil on I only managed to put one coat of primer on the window and door frame. Lucky painting is not my day job or we would all starve.

Later in the day we went to the shopping centre which was so busy. I had to buy a gift voucher for a birthday present and we also ended up buying some clothes. I dunno, the promise of warmer weather requires one or two new additions to the wardrobe I think.

I ended up buying a denim jacket. Yep, denim jackets are back in. However, this one has a definite 1970's shape to it and I feel positively great in it. It will match with floral skirts and cargo pants. However, can't really wear it with jeans because it is a big fashion clanger to wear double denim. Or so I read in some trashy mag when last at the hairdressers. Then again, that may have changed because it is eight weeks since I read that and the fashion industry changes on the throw of a coin.

For the last week I have put a new rule in the house. No more chocolate except on a Saturday night. That's because I have no moral compass when it comes to chocolate. None of us do actually. It has been a good idea because I was eating way too much of it and when I recently pulled on my pair of jeans that I wore a few months ago, well, it was not very comfortable. They are like a litmus test for me. They never lie. When they are too tight it means I have been a food pig.

Amazingly, a week ago S came into me and said he wanted to change his eating habits. This was after he had to take a day off school with a stomach ache. He asked me to not buy a few things I have in the house because they make him feel sick. I am so glad it has come from him because as a parent I can have foods there but I cannot force him to eat them. He agreed to not have white bread anymore and now eats rye or spelt bread. I know multi grain is great etc. but he does not like the texture of it so the rye and spelt bread are fine.

More yoghurt in the fridge. Tubs of fruit and healthy snacks are now waiting for him to eat. There was never anything seriously unhealthy in the house but he just refused to try anything new. Now he feels ready to try a few more things. Better now than in twenty years.

He even at ALL his carrots tonight. Okay, they were honeyed carrots but still, he ate them all. I might try a few beans on him. Or cauliflower! You know, he even agreed to have a cheese and LETTUCE sandwich. Fantastic. I can see a salad being eaten before Christmas! No? Maybe not. Don't want to be too ambitious.

At work a busy week is ahead but I am not stressed because I have slept so many nights now without waking up. I am full of mental energy.

However, it appears I am not so full of physical energy. I have this 10km charity run coming up at the end of the month and I have not trained for it at all really. Well, not much. Definitely not enough. I just could not get my head around it while fatigue was all over me.

Still, I know I will do it because I just know myself. I hate letting myself down. Or anyone else for that matter.

Plus, I just love a challenge.

Only two more weeks to Spring and all the weeds in the garden are thick and lush. I might pull them out! I could even plant some flowers. Mow the lawn! Do the edges.

So much to do. It's making me tired just thinking about it all.

Oh, wait, that's so silly because everyone knows that I won't do any of it.

That's what I have a husband for.

Silly me.

I just have to write a list.

Much easier.

Ciao
LC

Friday Spot Blab

I had today off work.

In fact, everyone took the day off work. It didn't start that way. Boss Barney went up interstate with two others for a weekend away. Then another person was going to be on site so would not be coming in. I had a doctor's thing to go to in the morning and made a decision that it would be good to get some other things done. When Boss wife heard that she said she was not going to spend the day in the office alone.

And that was that. Like a domino affect.

I had to go for a skin check. Despite the fact I have not been in the sun for most of my adult life, I have sun damage from my childhood jaunts in the hot sunshine. So a regular check is in order. Although, I have not been since 2007.

It's very strange having a skin check. You have to sit in your underwear on the couch while the doctor looks closely at your skin. He is so close it could almost be said to be intimate but for the circumstances. I could feel his warm breath on the skin of my face.

He used a most unflattering light on the skin. I could see the harsh reality of aging and sun damage up close and it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. But nobody is seen with such a light in the real world (thank goodness).

I was prompted to go because I had an uneven spot on the side of my nose. My local GP had looked at it and did not think it a problem so I was not worried.

Unfortunately the skin doctor was not happy with it. He said it looked and behaved very much like a type of mole called a Hutchison's Melanotic Freckle. So, he cut it to send of the pathology and have it checked for melanoma cells. I find out in a week the results. If it shows anything suspicious I then have to go back for further action. Getting it early is the key. Although it looked just like a freckle to the naked eye, under the light he had there was a surrounding spread of pigment that said a story of its own.

I was thoroughly fucking depressed about it.

My sister rang me later in the day and I told her about it and she said "oh, Linda, of all the faces it had to be on, why yours". I said "why anyones".

So this evening I have a big red scoop taken out of the right side of my nose. I will have a scar. Hopefully that is all that I have to have cut out.

After that exciting visit I went shopping. Spent some money on "stuff" and felt briefly cheery as I contemplated my new goodies.

In the afternoon K put a coating of oil onto the outside of the studio. Tomorrow the floor is going down along with the skirting boards, architraves and door hardware. Then that is it. Well, almost. Have to paint the eaves and outside window frame.

This evening I am sitting and blogging. Looking around Etsy website and trying to resist the urge to look up Hutchinson's Melanotic Freckle on Google.

Sigh.

Gonna be a long week.

Ciao
LC

Aspirations

Every now and then in our letterbox we get a local real estate magazine.

The demographic it targets is obviously those with a bit of dosh to spend because the houses that feature in it a quite pricey. Although, these days, every house in Melbourne is pricey.

Anyway, at the beginning of the magazine they have some articles about what is happening around the area. Or what groovy clothes are on offer in certain groovy shops.

Along with all this there are advertisements for various things such as beauty parlours (I love that word "parlour"), high end jewellery store and places to "do lunch".

Also there will be, without fail, advertising for one or two private schools. In that advert they will talk about how by sending your child to their school you can almost guarantee great things for that child.

Today was a really uninspiring advertisement for one particular girls private school and before I tell you about it I will give you my idea on private schools and what I would expect.

Personally, I think private schools can be a wank. Yes, I do. However, I understand why people send their children to a private school because these days the public schools in most areas are not giving children the best deal. Government cut backs mean that many schools are understaffed which leads to huge classes which then means teachers cannot give enough one to one attention.

If your child is strong in certain areas a private school often has better facilities for them to achieve what they need to. Socially it can be a good networking thing if you like that sort of life.

Fortunately where I live the high school my son goes to is one of the top five public schools and is run like a private school. The school zone is small and houses in the zone go up in value by twenty percent. So we are lucky.

If we lived out of the zone I would have considered a private school but probably one of those free thinking Montessori schools for my son. Yes folks, I would have had him taught in a tree hugging school because I believe that a child who is emotionally grounded and has good self esteem has a good start in life.

Call me idealistic if you like. That's because I am.

Now, back to the advertisement.

This advert was extolling the virtues of sending your girl to this particular private school. It was accompanied by a photo of a nice young girl in uniform next to which were the following words..........;

"A Chance to be 1st Place National Cheerleading Championships".

All I can say is this. I would not be paying $25K per year for my daughter to aspire to having first place in Cheer leading Championships.

I would call that a good and healthy thing to get involved in at the school. And a fun thing.

But I do not think advertising it as an aspiration is very enticing for a parent.

They should have had a girl achieving something in the area of science or maths.

Now, sorry to all you cheerleaders out there. I know you all look great and are very fit, but cheer leading is not a career.

Not if you came out of six years of private school especially.

Ciao
LC

What's Real

There has been a bit of press about Jane Fonda recently.

She must be puttng out a new DVD. Or maybe wearing some short skirt. Or telling us about how she keeps young because she's "Fonda Sex" (her words, not mine). Or talking about her weight - again.

Good on you Jane. I think you are a good actress and have a lot to offer but I think you are full of bullshit sometimes.

Below is a photo of Jane Fonda. She does look really great. Notice I did not say "for her age" at the end of the sentance? That's because I can't really say that honestly unless she allowed herself to age without intervention. And that is okay for her to do that because she has the money to tweak a bit here and there and, sadly, needs to do that to be noticed in Hollywood.

So, yeah, she looks nice even though she got tweaked. But it is the two photos below that one that piss me off.
These are recent shots of Jane Fonda and the article banged on about how fabulous she looked "for her age".

Well, fuck me if I would not look fabulous too if I was air brushed to that degree.

Who is that woman sitting in that chair? It does not even look like Jane Fonda. What's with the finger in the mouth pose. Fuck (yes, another swear word) that. Where is her integrity? It's pathetic so see a woman, once thought to be a feminist, sink to this at the age of 73.

At any age is bad enough but surely by now she would be kind of accepting of her age and wear it a little bit more realistically, tweaks or no tweaks.

This shot below is just another one of her looking nothing like she is.

Does she really look at those photos and think "gosh, I look great"?

I would be fucking offended if a magazine made me look that different. Because what it says is that she did not look good because she was wrinkly and old. And she is duplicitous in allowing that level of air brushing.

I mean, it does not even look like her. What is it? Her Avatar?

Jane Fonda, I want to tell you that it's okay to have wrinkles and that you have let yourself down terribly by allowing those photos to go to print. Honestly, it just beggars belief that you could look at those photos and be okay with it all.

For all her going on about how happy she is with her life and herself this photo shoot says the complete opposite to me.

She looks better in the first photo. She looks like I would expect a well groomed and beautiful woman of 73 to look like.

I don't know what else to say.

Except that it is disappointing to see.

Ciao

LC

Aw, Tummy Ache

This morning S came into me (sloth like mother still in bed) complaining about his stomach.

He put on his very sick voice.

"Mum, I have Gastro," he moaned.

Moaning was accompanied by clutching of stomach, peaked look on face and shuffling.

"What do you mean? Do you have diarrhoea? Are you going to vomit?" I asked him.

"No, I have bloating. You know. Gas. In my stomach. Gastro," he explained to me.

"S, Gastro is not wind. Gastro is a nasty tummy bug. You have wind," I told him (trying not to laugh).

However, something was not right with his stomach and he had to take the day off school. He stomach was so tight and bloated he could not even do up his trousers. By the end of the day he felt better.

Ah, I recall those days of bloating.

Never stayed home though.

Yeah, yeah. I am a soft touch.

Ciao
LC

More Sunday Blab

I really must think of a more interesting heading when I do a post.

I cannot believe what a different person I am. Three night's sleep has filled me with energy. My brain is in sync with my body. Food shopping was done, dinner cooked, laundry done, bed made. My head was fresh and happy.

Still did not go for a run. Which is rather naughty of me since I am going to be doing a 10km run on the 28th August. However, I did have a very intense cardio session yesterday morning which involved using the skipping rope a lot, running around cones, skipping, running, skipping and more running for an hour.

Towards the end of the class I felt like an old woman. You can bet I moved like one.

During a cardio class there are three words everyone wants to hear and they are "find your pulse" because that means the class is finally over. Yesterday my pulse was higher than usual which meant I found things a bit hard and had to push myself.

When I am sleep deprived over a long time everything is an effort. I know I am functioning under par everywhere. Work, exercise, eating habits and care factor drops a little. Doing the basics is all I can focus on. Getting through the week is my main aim. However, today I feel like a shining star and had no trouble doing anything. It's lovely to feel this way.

Today my son went for a bike ride with K. I would like to say he was filled with joy about the whole thing but the fact is he was given a few choices and opted for the bike ride. He moaned about it before he went and moaned about it after he went. But K said that S totally enjoyed the ride which was along the beach bike track. It would have been perfect had K remembered to bring some money to have a coffee down at Acland Street.

While the two of them were out doing that I went and did food shopping. It took ages but, sad to say, I was rather enjoying myself until the very end of it (just before paying) when a little thing happened that made me dry retch in the car all the way home. I need to paint the whole picture before I say what happened.

Recently we have, once again, had a mouse invasion invasion in our house. There are a number of reasons for this (and none of them are because my house is mouse friendly ie dirty).

Not far from us are two places that have chickens. Where there are chickens there are rodents. We have also had wet weather and somehow this brings mice with it. To make things worse, our house is old and it is impossible to plug up every nook and cranny.

Anyway, every few years we get a mouse problem.

My husband and I differ when it comes to what to do with mice.

I want then DEAD. Don't care how. Trap or poison. As long as the end result is a dead mouse. That might sound mean of me but mice and rats are disease carrying vermin and shit everywhere. And they breed like mad. It's just not okay to have them in the house EVER. Once an outdoor mouse is in the house its cuteness dimishes to zero. Not cute having mouse poo poo in a place where eating and food preparation happens. Plus, not like they just hang around the kitchen. There are no boundaries for a mouse.

K wants to catch them. Poor little mice he thinks. And so we have a "mouse friendly" trap. It uses balance as a way to catch them. You put food in it and when the little mouse goes in to eat it the trap tips up and the door shuts. Then you release the mouse a few blocks from home.

That's okay for one little mouse but last week seven of the furry fuckers were caught. I think it almost became some sort of bonding experience for my husband and son as they let the mouse go around the corner. On Friday morning my son actually thought it funny to bring the trap into the room and threaten to let the mouse go on the bed. He didn't do it because he knew that the punishment would be dire.

So, on Friday I sent an sms to my husband to get poison. No discussion was entered into. Poison arrived home and has subsequently been eaten by sneaky mice. I know it is cruel but the fact is that we just cannot have mice and humans cohabiting. That is how the plague came about (okay, the flea was on the rat but you know what I mean). We also spent time being extra mindful about crumbs around the place.

Anyway, back to the supermarket story.

There I am at the counter with all the food going through the register. I had my eco friendly bags all stuffed into one big bag and the girl had used three of them. I just happened to look in the big bag to get another one to hand to her and saw, to my utter vomitous horror, a huge amount of mouse SHIT in the bottom of it.

"Oh my God. Give me that bag back. There is mouse poo in here," I said - totally mortified and then mumbled something about being so embarrassed. It's like being at the hairdresser's with your child and she tells you they have head lice.

The girl reassured me that it was okay. In fact she told me a wonderful lot of stories about just what she has seen in people's shopping bags, including a pair of unwashed underpants in a gym bag. Now she can add a bag with mouse shit in it to her story telling.

I drove home feeling very disgusted by it all and dry retched everytime I pictured it. I forced K to look in the bag before making him toss them all in the rubbish bin.

Still, it's also kind of funny.

I think.

Later this afternoon K and I decided to go to an exhibition at the art gallery. It was finishing today and the paintings were very beautiful. The artist is called Eugene Von Guerard. It was a nice finish to a very productive weekend.

Now I am going to do one more thing before I plonk for the night. Make some apple crumble and then a cup of tea.

It's all good right now and I am enjoying it.

Ciao
LC

Hey, It's Thursday!

Not that I have anything to say on this Thursday but I will try to put that nothing into words.

You know I have been building this studio of mine. Well, the cost has kind of ballooned and given me a few sleepless nights. Actually, it doubled in cost and has pushed my anxiety through the roof. It's way, way more than I thought but that is because I added a few things. At work we call that "client variations" and they really bump up the cost of building. Anyway, I have my head around it now.

I had been toying with the idea of a new kitchen one day but I realise that there is no way I can have both the studio and kitchen in this decade. So I think I might just repaint the kitchen cupboard doors and just freshen things a bit. I might even mop the floor. Haha. Oh, I do need to sort the pantry out and that is enough.

I think the studio is better value because I will always be creating something in there. In a new kitchen I would still be cooking the same dismal dish each day. Nothing will inspire me to cook any more than I already do.

My days are busy at work and the evenings are just made for exercise and plonking. We have had a couple of unusually warm days and it has been so wonderful. At work I had the door to our garden space open and the breeze could come in.

As my sleep has been so poor I have fallen into starting work at 9.30 or 10.00 am and finishing around 5.00 to 5.30 pm. This is because I wake up all through the night with rotten night sweats and twitchy legs only to fall into a deep sleep at about 6.00 am. It's not much fun. But boss man does not mind what time I turn up so I can go with my body clock.

Every week I have been going to the Chinese doctor to help things settle. I started new herbs this week for the night sweats and have had two good nights. Not sure if that is because I am so dog tired I just crash or if things are really starting to settle. The herbs may be just like a placebo but if it works, who cares.

Recently I have been thinking about simple things in life that give pleasure. I have come up with three things, two of which are just really puerile but if you really think about it, you will get where I am coming from.

Sleep. We all know how shitful one can be with no sleep. Poor sleep is unhealthy and dangerous. The other day I was in the car at the traffic lights and my eyes shut ever so gently in the warmth of the car. I had to then drive with the window open to let fresh air in and wake me up. So, consistently good sleep is very pleasurable.

Poo. Yes, having a daily dump is a pleasant thing. Not that I would know since my bowel has a mind of its own and a temperamental one at that. It must tie in with laxette abuse over the years or something like that. I know I mentioned once how I went on a ten day cruise and did not have a dump ONCE in ten days. I ate the whole time and nothing made its way out. It was very stressful when I got home. So, you get it don't you?

Farting. Yep. Farting is funny and makes me laugh. I still laugh when playing with my fart apps on the phone. I like my farts by the way and not anyone elses. I think mine are funny even if nobody else does. Farting relieves pressure. Loud farts are very funny. Toxic ones are empowering. It's all good.

Think about it. If you did not sleep, poo or fart for a week I think you would feel dreadful. Even doing without one of those things would render me incapable of working.

I know I feel very satisfied with the IPhone, IPad and computer sync together.

So it makes sense if the same sync satisfaction applied to bodily functions.

Wonder if I could get a programmer to sort me out.

I realise that the latter half of the post is a reflection of my being overtired and silly but that is okay too.

Cia
LC