Linda and her Twaddle

Thursday Holiday

2012-01-26T15:23:00.003+11:00

It is Thursday and I am not at work.

It is a public holiday. Australia Day. There will be lots of flag waiving down at local parks and beaches but I won't be one of them.

I also have tomorrow off. Australia is known as the land of the long weekends due to the numerous public holidays we have that often fall just prior to the weekend. Many people will be taking Friday off. I would have gone into work but Bossman is a great believer in all staff having time off to spend with friends and family.

This morning I was meant to get up early and do a bootcamp exercise class with my husband down along the beach. I woke up and decided not too. Well, it was not as easy as that. I lay in bed and thought about how much I hate doing hard exercise in the morning because it sucks the life out of me for the rest of the day.

I am not talking about going for a walk like I did last Sunday. That is fine. It is the "running along sand holding a big car tyre over your head" kind of exercise I hate. It also tends to go with "running up lots of steps and then down those same steps and then run along the sand and then do loads of push ups and then mountain climbers and how about some squats" activities as well. Then I get home dog tired and spend all afternoon resisting the urge to have a sleep only to fall asleep in the chair in front of the television later on.

So, once I got over the incredible guilt of not doing the class I went back to sleep until 9.00 am in the morning and now, at almost 3pm, I am not tired at all. But I will be heading off for a 15km walk soon. There is no way I could not do something. No exercise means highly agitated Linda at Large.

This week has been a busy week in my house with the kitchen benches installed and also with the arrival of the stove. Life is getting back to normal. Not that I can complain that it has been difficult. It has just been intrusive.

In fact, recently I have had an aversion to doing any serious complaining at all. A while ago I made some whiney remark about something trivial and my son said "Oh, a First World Whinge" or something like that. I felt a bit embarrassed, despite the fact that he meant it as a joke. It reminds me of the first few times that I went to therapy and the therapist said something along the lines of not minimising my own problems.

He asked me if I felt that a soldier who fought in a war and came home with injuries was more entitled to complain that I would about my own internal naval gazing problems. By the way, he did not say naval gazing problems but I am adding that because that is how I see my own shit. And he also worded what I am relaying in a much more professional way. But I cannot recall the details because it was too professional for me remember but I have not forgotten the gist of it.

And I said that the soldier was entitled to complain more. Maybe complain is not the right word. Maybe I mean that he was entitled to express his difficulties more and to have these issues validated.

It is all about perspective isn't it? I could whine about anything and everything but the reality is I have nothing really concrete to seriously vent about. It is in my nature to just think that there are people who have such significant struggles in life that anything I may feel grievous about is petty.

Or if I vent I don't want to be seen as ungrateful. I just want to have a bit of a whinge and that is it.

Anyway, the past few weeks have been very strange for me in a way. For the first time in what seems like forever I have not been waking up with anxiety and having to carry it around all day. I cannot think of a time when I have not had chronic anxiety. Depression is crap but anxiety is just tops that for me. The physicality of it is hideous.

I have no doubt that the extra, extra exercise has contributed to this change, as has getting fairly solid sleep. A break over Christmas was good. Recharging batteries. Lots of hot sunshine.

Now you would think I would be happy about that wouldn't you? Well, part of me isn't.

For me, anxiety has been a very good driver. It had become a part of me and now it is gone and I miss it. I do. I miss the horrible monster that it is. I don't miss the physical aspect of it, that pressure in my chest and head and just that anxious state that is always there. But I miss the challenge of combating it or using it do motivate me to do more things or to be a better person. Although, I am doing more things I suppose and maybe that is why it has dissipated.

The busier I am and the more I exercise then the less anxious I feel. So, what happens when I don't want to be busy or feel like a break from exercise? Or the sun is not shining so hot in the sky and giving me strength? Will it come back like a sneaky rat?

The anxiety has gone and the melancholy feeling has settled enough not to intrude on my thoughts each day. My sleep is solid but I cannot say I feel refreshed. I could sleep for ten hours and still roll out of bed like a zombie. But the main thing is that, on the whole, my sleep is not being interrupted by me waking up all through the night. That makes it easier for me to manage my physical and mental well being.

As the anxiety has taken a break, I feel like my inner bitchiness has come out. Now, I am not sure if I am bitchy or just assertive and that the conditioning of women is that when they are assertive they are made out to be difficult or bitchy.

But, quite frankly, right now, I could not give a fuck.

I think I may just enjoy being anxiety free for as long as I can and if it means I may offend others, be a bit snappy or just do whatever I want then that is okay with me. I cannot think of the last time I feel free of anxiety of it for as long as this.

It gives me the chance to just relax. Plus the chance to rebuild my personal confidence and work out some new goals to achieve. When I am anxious and depressed I spend a fairly decent amount of time working at not allowing it to infect my life to the point where my work and home life are not functioning. It is all very tiring.

I'll try not to be anxious about the prospect of the anxiety coming back.

In the meantime, part of the process of keeping things calm is to go for that long walk.

So off I go.

Ciao
LC

Sunday Slog

2012-01-22T19:20:00.001+11:00

I had another training walk today. Last week was checkpoint 1 to checkpoint 2 of the Oxfam walk. This week was checkpoint 2 to check point 3 and back. A round trip of 32 km's.

Left my place at about 6.30 am on a clear and warm morning which was heading into an extremely hot day. I checked the websites to see if any of the tracks were closed but, sadly, none were.

We went in my car because I have a GPS and none of us had a road map book. Not that that would make a difference because none of us seem to be able to read maps very well.

The GPS kindly took us to a dead end. It made me laugh because just as I left home I thought to myself how funny it was that people who use a GPS sometimes end up in dead ends or other stupid places.

However, we found our way to the place we needed to go which was Lysterfield Lake Park. It is a very busy place for bike riders due to the fantastic bush tracks they can ride on.

We had kind of forgotten this as a checkpoint during the Oxfam walk last year. But we absolutely forgot how long the walk was to the next checkpoint. Also forgot how hilly it was. Last year we were unable to train on many sections of the track (including this section) due to flood damage. We were heading to Ferny Creek.

The weather was HOT. It was at least 36 Celsius which I think translates to about 97 Fahrenheit. Fortunately the morning was reasonably cool so we only had to contend with the misery of the hills that seemed never ended. But that was still over three hours of it.

On the way back, however, it was fiercely hot and there were many areas of walking track that were devoid of shade. It was extremely windy and that wind was northerly and mean. The way back was also psychologically challenging because of the heat and the tracks just were so looooooong.

At one point we had all run out of energy despite eating a big lunch and plenty of lollies. So we stopped off and bought bottles of sugary coke and that was so much better than any sports drink. It fired us up for a good hour. Then it was back to water and lollies.

By the time we got back to the starting point we were very tired and possibly a bit dehydrated from the heat and wind. A sit down at the park cafe to have coffee revived us enough to get home.

Next week there is no training. We all want a week off.

So, what did we think of it all as we walked along? It was the single most unpleasant walk but the fact we did it was a good achievement. There was some whining at different times. The higher and harder the incline, the whinier we became. Just prior to the half way mark I was hungry and needed a toilet trip and my whinging faded into silent grumpiness. Once I attended to those two needs I was fine.

Despite frequent applications of sun screen we all got burnt. It was windburn which is hard to avoid. By the time we got back to the car we were soaked to the skin with sweat and covered with dust that stuck to our sunscreen layered arms. One of the girls had a severe reaction to some plants that brushed against her legs. She has serious allergies and carries and EpiPen around in case she has an anaphylactic shock from something. We all know how, when and where to use it. She also stepped on a snake lying across a path. It moved almost as quick as her back into the bush. It is snake season right now so it was no surprise really.

When I got home I was so grateful for the shower. Also for the fact that K went out at stocked the freezer with nice things. He also did a lot of painting in the house.

Two hours later I have recovered nicely. Just tired and pleased with what we did today.

So, that is my Sunday.

Ciao
LC

Monday Stuff

2012-01-16T22:01:00.001+11:00

I should try to be more imaginative with my headings shouldn't I?

But I am going to blather on about stuff and the word shall feature many times over. And it is Monday.

So, there you go.

I had a busy kind of weekend. But not action packed or anything. I just did things that had to be done and it filled my weekend.

On Saturday I am not sure where the day went but a lot of it was spent tidying up the back room which has been cram packed with stuff that was emptied out from the kitchen and lounge area.

When we filled the room we did not put much thought into just how long it would be out of action for and thus kept on dumping more stuff in it. If there is one thing that makes my life stressful is a room that does not have a pleasant feel about it. It can be untidy but it needs to have some sort of feel about it that is pleasant.

Over the past couple of weeks, every time I looked at the state of the room I felt even depressed in that "fuck, I have to do something about it" kind of way. You know, that feeling that is going to require great effort to fix. Great physical effort.

Sooner or later I was going to have to tidy that room up.

Saturday was it. I picked my way through the books, kitchenware, pfaffity pfaff stuff and "things that had meaning but no longer do but I find it hard to get rid of it" stuff. I managed to fit all the bits and pieces in neat boxes and wedge them under the piano. Then some items were place on top. The end result was a room that made sense.

It took ages. It was dull. I also tidied my bedroom (again) and my son's bedroom (again) and the front room (again). Having a small house requires careful placement of things. We always seem to have one wall short. Do you know, my studio is now as full as it can be. If I had another room I would find a way to fill that too. The longer you live in one house, the harder it is to fit everything it.

I am trying to be organised so that if I peg it at least my things will be in order. My husband thinks that is a bit morbid but I don't agree. I like to think that, if nothing else, people can say that my things were in order. I am sure they will say more but I like to strive for order right to the last second.

Of course, my handbag will never reach that state of Nirvana.

So, Saturday was a good day in a dull sort of way. I wanted to go to the movies in the evening but my son said he did not want to because - wait for this - his hair looked bad...... Truly, that was his reason for staying home on a Saturday night. But, hey, who am I to criticise him. Because the next day when I went for a training walk I skipped breakfast so that I could blow dry my hair.

Yes, Sunday was a training walk. Up at 6.30 am. Normally I would never wash my hair before a training walk but I did buy this deliciously lovely shampoo that makes my hair extra smooth and I wanted to use it. Is that sad or what? However, it was really a waste of time because the walk was so hot that my hair was in a pony tail and stuck under a sweaty cap. I had hat hair by the time I got back home. But I had lovely hair as I left the house early in the morning.

We did a walk that was 20km return. Up hill on the way there, downhill on the way back. It was a bush track and we saw kangaroo and wallabies which was very nice. Plus lizards. Heard some frogs. Saw a huge spider. No snakes but they are there no doubt.

Up hill was awful. And never ending. Up, up and more up. But we just do it. Have a whinge, stop for a drink and then keep going. At the halfway mark we came to a big park near a dam and there was a coffee shop. The area we were walking in is busy with mountain bike riders and bush walkers so the coffee shop does a good trade.

Then, after two coffees and two toilet stops we headed back, downhill. Down hill is hard in its own way. You have to watch for slipping. It is hard on the knees and thighs. But we all exercise on a regular basis so it was okay.

We were home by 1.00pm. I pretty much wrote the day off after that. I was tired. Lay on the bed reading and then slept for a couple of hours. There is not much to do when the body wants to sleep. Better to listen than try to fight it.

Today I am sore. My muscles are sore. I took extra magnesium and have started retaking some supplements I had left for a while. I feel like they help. The magnesium definitely makes a difference. I need to rejig my diet a bit because my fatigue is quite a lot more than it should be.

Next Sunday we are doing a 32km return walk. More hills and horrible ones at that. This track is also part of the Oxfam walk but last year it had been washed out by the rain. This year the ground is quite dry.

I am a bit anal about walking in the bush on hot days. Bush fires freak me out. Next Sunday is going to be 30 celcius so we will have to read up on the Parks advice on whether or not to walk the track.

We have not done much about fund raising but that is because we only have to raise $1000 this year instead of the almighty $5000 that we committed to last year. I have a lot of friends who are waiting for me to send the details and they will donate. We just do not feel the pressure to fund raise like we did last year. This time we are focussing totally on the training and the fitness aspect of it.

Now, onto a completely different story.

At work today my boss and another supervisor were discussing the drug using habits of half of the tradesmen we have working for us. Every weekend at least half of the guys would use all sorts of recreational drugs. A wide range. They also drink to excess. It is pretty scary when you think of it.

I understand that the reasons that people use drugs is as wide ranging as the reasons that people over eat or drink to excess. There is no one defining reason either. More like a myriad of things.

Although I like to think I am non judgemental about drug users, deep down, I probably am in some cases. I know that I feel empathy for the situation that got them to where they are, but I do often think that hard choices can be made for many of the people. And I do apologise for being judgemental. It is not always nice to be that but I am just human. It's just not black and white really is it? Every person has their own set of circumstances.

So, back to the guys at work. What I am intrigued by is the fact that a couple of the older guys do drugs when they go out. Just for fun. I must be thick but I always think that drugs are more a young persons thing and, hopefully, one would drop it as they got older and got their shit together. I am thick aren't I? I am naive. Totally. I need to grow up.

However, in light of this I sent my boss an email that had a link to kits you can buy to test employees for drugs and alcohol in their system. What people do in their spare time is their business entirely, but when at work it is not unreasonable to ask for a person to be clean. It is unsafe to have drug and alcohol affected people working on a building site. Bossman thought I was being a bit over the top but I said that if guys are using power tools they need to be alert. Our insurance cover is astronomical.

So, that is my excitement for the last few days. I do have another story about the painter at our house but it is long and convoluted so I think I might save that for another day.

In the mean time I must let you know of a little saying I read on some else's Facebook page that is still making me laugh 24 hours later.

Your arsehole must be jealous of the shit that is coming out of your mouth.

I don't know why, but it really resonates with me.

Must be something about working in the building industry.

Or listening to politicians.

Or celebrities.

It's just funny and I cannot wait to use it.

I will you know.

One day, out of the blue I shall say just those words.

Before someone says it to me hopefully.

Ciao
LC

Friday Prattle

2012-01-13T21:46:00.001+11:00

After my brief little rant earlier in the day I did what needed doing at work and then headed home.

It is only fitting that I should finish off the day with an incredibly dull prattle. Not just for your sake, but for mine as I always like to record even the most mundane of days.

At the moment we have a couple of rooms in the house being repainted. The kitchen/family room and the laundry. As much as I wanted to have tangerine as a colour, I have followed advice and chosen a rather neutral colour called White Duck (half strength). In my mind it should be called "Vague Beigey Grey" because that is what it is. It will brighten the room, blend in the the rest of the house which is green and be a good contrast for the very dark kitchen benches I am having.

Still, tangerine would have been very pretty indeed.

By the end of the month life will be back to normal and I will be able to cook inside. Oh, wait, no. That will not be until mid February which is when the stupid, big, overpriced oven comes from Italy. Which, incidentally, I am in love with despite it bigness, stupidness and over pricedness. There is a funny little story as to why I chose that particular oven.

Years ago, eons ago, I was a nanny for a wealthy family in a wealthy suburb. They had a huge kitchen with every convenience you could imagine. It was state of the art (would be very dated now). But they had one thing I loved and that was an indoor BBQ grill. I decided that one day I would have one of those, perhaps not so big, but I wanted one. Now, almost thirty years later, I am getting a smaller version of it as part of the oven. Unfortunately, it meant I had to get a giant range hood to suck up the fumes from the BBQ when I use it. And I believe that my micro protein burgers will be very nice on it indeed.

Funny how one gets a fixed idea on something.

This evening we went out for dinner at a pizza restaurant. At the table next to us was a family of four.

Parents and two children. With them were a set of grandparents. All very well dressed. Neat, tidy, smooth and, I dunno, neater.

They had been seated for a while when the waiter came up to discuss the menu and take orders for drinks.

The mother was very insistent on making sure her children were behaving as one should in a restaurant. Manners were the order of the evening.

First she enquired the name of the waiter. It was Giovanni.

She then made sure that her children addressed him correctly and used his name.

"Say thank you Giovanni"

"Say please Giovanni"

"No, it is "I'll have the wedges please Giovanni"".

It went on like that for a while. Then after the waiter went away the two children were playing with their toys that they had brought along. The girl had drawings to do and the boy had some toy zoo animals to play with.

At the same time the husband kept checking his phone and the wife took it off him. Every time the children misbehaved she would explain politely to them how they should behave when out.

"Please sit still"

"Please leave your sister alone"

"Do not kick the leg of the table"

"Keep still"

"I told you to leave your sister alone"

It was a constant drone of instructions on how to behave. Her consistency and patience was impressive. I know I would have just been a witch, said a rude word and thrown a bitch faced stare at the children.

However, despite all her efforts, the results were in one ear and out the next. In the end their food arrived and there was silence.

About half an hour later the two children started behaving like children again and the mother quietly told them to stop. To no avail. They maintained their naughtiness. The mother then yelled, all polite demeanour done away with. The grandparents yelled at them. It was chaos for five minutes.

I just love it when other peoples children do their lolly when out and about. It is very satisfying.

Whenever we eat out K and I like to finish off the meal with a coffee. It annoys my son no end as he is busting to get home and reconnect the techno umbilical cord to his brain.

Tonight he said that after I have a coffee he will have one. And then another one. And just sit there all night having coffees just to force me to stay in the restaurant.

"But you don't like coffee," I said.

"It's not the point. I am just going to have one to annoy you." he said.

Well, as it was, I had a coffee and he had a warm Italian donut filled with sweet custard.

So, now we are all home.

My weekend consists of a training walk on Sunday.

A house clean on Saturday.

A training walk on Saturday.

Then I might finish it off with another prattling post.

Ciao
LC

Friday 13th January, 2011

2012-01-13T10:55:00.003+11:00

I DON"T WANT TO BE AT WORK.

ciao
LC

Saturday The Seventh Of January

2012-01-07T15:46:00.002+11:00

I was up early this morning to do a 20 km walk as part of the Oxfam training. I did not really feel like it as I had slept so poorly during the night and my body was so heavy with fatigue when the alarm dragged me out of my sleep at 6.30 am. But, you know, when you commit to something you just do it no matter what.

We walked down to the beach which is about 6.5 km and then along to a nice coffee shop where we sat and have coffee and gave our muscles a rest.

The walk back was just as brisk but it was hot and I was feeling the lack of sleep creeping over me. I was pleased to get home at 11.15 and have a cup of tea followed by a hot shower. Right now I am thinking how nice it will be to climb into bed tonight and sleep. However, my husband has cabin fever and wants to go to the movies and see Tintin so I might need a nana nap before we all head out.

Tomorrow we are up early for some hills and step training. I would like to say it is easy and anyone can do it. But it is hard. Still, anyone can do it even if it is hard. Hard is hard irrespective of whether you want to do it or not.

I was sent this photo because it looks just like my tattoo. It is very atmospheric. I wish I knew more about it. The tree is fantastic the way it leans over the girl. The stance of her body looks defeated but I think the angle of her head looks defiant. I like it. It was very thoughtful of the person who sent it to me.

Thursday was the day I finally went back to work. So I felt I had an extra two days of holiday. Actually, since I was originally going to go back this Monday, maybe I feel cheated out of two days holiday. No matter, it was nice to go back to work. This time of year is quiet and casual. All the boys in the office came in wearing thongs (flip flops - before you freak) and then just schlepped around in bare feet. Not me, there is no way you would see me with my feet on show like that. Especially since doing the Oxfam walk last year and losing all my toenails. It is not a pretty sight.

Personally, I loathe feet. As useful as they are, I don't want to see or touch anyone's feet and I certainly would not want anyone to touch mine. Unless it were something to do with some sort of life or death surgery. To me, feet are the bug catchers of the world and very ugly ones at that. Even "nice" feet are ugly. I recall a big gossipy story about a member or the Royal family getting caught by the paparazzi getting her toes sucked by her financial advisor. Apart from the "what were you thinking?" aspect to it, the whole germ factor just made me pull a face and still does. Buy, hey, I am uptight. Even my fingernails are clipped to nothing to prevent germ growth underneath them.

At work I just ploughed through paperwork and sorted my desk out. Whenever I go back to work after that Christmas break the pressure in my body and head just automatically builds up. It must be all the neurones firing up or something. I am sure that is why I did not sleep well last night. All wired up in my head and body from work.

You know, my dog died a while ago. I have been having dog thoughts. I miss my Angus but I also miss having a dog around. I have decided that another dog is on the cards but not until after the Oxfam walk because I need to commit time to a puppy. One good thing is that I can take a dog into work otherwise I don't think I would get another one. It is not fair to leave a dog at home alone. Especially a border collie. They would die of boredom.

When I first had Angus I was home a lot but I also took him into where I worked. I just turned up with him. What could they say? He was well trained and sat at my feet whilst I worked away. Love me, love my dog. Is that what they say?

I did the same when I had my son in a pram. Work wanted me to go in so he came with. Nobody ever said no and it worked well enough. My son, however, was not well trained but he did sit nicely in the pram for quite a while. He was easier than the dog at that age.

Now he smells like a dog.

So, that is my Saturday for now.

I might go in and tidy my bedroom.

Then again I might not.

Might just get onto Etsy.com and look at "stuff".

More likely I am going to tidy my bedroom and then sleep on the bed.

Ciao
LC

Happy New Year 2012

2012-01-02T14:24:00.000+11:00

I could have posted a Happy New Year greeting yesterday but had to do the things that suddenly needed doing on New Years day.

Happy New Year to everyone.

Do you have resolution? I don't. It's a bit of a wank that whole resolution thing. I have had resolutions but they are so stupid that it is pointless. Things like "be more organised" or "get to bed early" or "put less in handbag" and other mindless stuff.

It's hot here. Really hot and windy. Yesterday was hot as well. So it does bring forth that question as to why I get the impulse to do something inconvenient outside.

I woke up yesterday morning and thought that the mezzanine floor in the garage needed to be sorted. It has boxes of stuff stored up there and has been getting a bit crowded. When you live in a small house (by today's comparisons) and are lacking storage it is really important to have regular culls. Or regular double checks that what mattered three or more years ago still matters.

When I get such a notion my husband just goes with it. Doesn't matter if it is 36 celcius outside and thus even hotter inside the garage. It has to be done. So down came the plastic containers of stuff for me to go through. One at a time, lids off and contents on show. It was a bit of a hard job. I find the whole decision making process hard at the bets of times but on a stinking hot day with sweat dripping underneath my clothes it is even more challenging.

I kept pretty much all of the things I had previously stored of my son's items. But a lot of things of my own were moved on. Baskets. I had a few of them. I must of gone through the basket phase years ago. They went out onto the front nature strip and were picked up by passers by. Then I had a box of these candle holders. They were actually in the studio. When I bought them (ten of them) I had misread the size and instead of being little things they were HUGE. Great big glass things that you needed great big candles to sit in the middle of. Not cutesy little tea light candle holders. They were hideous. No wonder they were so cheap. So out on the nature strip they went and were also taken away.

I found a lot of things that my mother had given me. I use the term "given" very lightly because I now realise the process of handing over something from mother to daughter can also be "dumping ones crap over to someone else". I recall her saying something to me about getting to a certain age and just getting sick of having so much crap in the house. I get what she meant and I also know she won't mind that I got rid of the doily's and material paraphernalia I have had for the past 15 years and not looked at ever. And she won't mind that today I will put the loads of coloured cellophane I somehow ended up with. Or the craft magazines. Or the cut outs for making things.

One thing I had was a very old and big alarm clock that had been my dad's. It was not his as such in that it held no sentimental value to him. It was something he had picked up over the years and it had hung around the house when I was little. Somehow I ended up with it. Many years ago it fell of the mantlepiece and was dented and the glass broke. I had the glass replaced and then a leg fell off. After that I packed it away and when I unpacked it yesterday and the hands had fallen off. I tossed it over the the rubbish pile and the glass broke. I might retrieve it from the rubbish and use its internals for a collage.

The job of sorting seemed to take forever and I did contemplate giving up at one point. You know that half way mark where everything is just all over the place and it looks like it is not going to come together. But I persevered and it was all finished after a few hours (food and drink breaks extra time). We managed to empty three or four containers of stuff. K tucked all the "must keep" into a corner so that we knew it would not have to be moved any time soon.

Then I went into my bedroom and finished off the task I had started the day before. Sorting clothes, tidying drawers, sifting through receipts and making the room feel nice and fresh for 2012.

Even though the day was extremely hot I made myself go for a walk in the evening. It had been a couple of days since I had done any exercise and I feel very agitated and moody when I leave it just that long. It just feels so much better when I exercise. This morning I was at exercise class with the rest of the group doing weights in the hot morning sunshine. It was hard work. But only for the hour. Once home and showered I was fine. I had to drop the size of my hand weights most begrudgingly due to a chronic problem with my shoulders and neck. Months and months ago I did a vague injury and it has plagued me since. Over the past few weeks it had escalated to taking anti inflammatory medication and pain killers. I think this week I shall have to see someone about it. I had trouble using the hair dryer this morning and that calls for immediate attention. I can put up with a lot but if I cannot dry my hair then I need to get things fixed.

It's so peaceful outside. Not far from us is a house that has a swimming pool in the back yard. I can hear the kids jumping in and out of the pool and laughing. It's such a nice sound on a sunny day. It would be fabulous down the beach on a day like today. I would go down but K and S just loathe being outside on a hot day. My son with his luminescent white skin hates being sweaty and K is the same. They like the cool interior of the house. And cool it is right now. We have two types of cooling in the house. The evaporative cooling that is great on very dry and hot days, and recently I had an air conditioner put in the back room which is big enough to cool the rear of the house which gets a bit hot after a few days of scorching summer days.

The studio has an air conditioner too. It takes a few minutes to cool the room down to a delicious temperature. I could not sit in here other wise. The afternoon sun belts down on the studio and despite being heavily insulated it gets very hot.

So even though we are all a little housebound with this weather, at least it is cool.

I just realised that I have crapped on about the weather for a while.

Tomorrow I am going to go to work and do just a few hours to get back into the swing of things slowly. I don't have to go back until next week but to tell you the truth I don't like being at home too much or for too long. I like a nice break from work, time to potter at home, an easing back into work, a bit more pottering at home and then straight into work and then it's back to the busy, busy thing. I get a bit moronic with too much time on my hands. My head likes to be stuffed to the brim most of the time. Too much "me" time makes me shitty. Not enough makes me shitty. It's a balance.

So that is my day.

I am sure I have more to write but there are two things making it difficult.

One is that I have not got a decent chair to sit at while I am working on the computer in the studio. The bench was raised for me to stand at when I am working (or sit at on a stool). Then I brought in a table to sit at with the computer. However, I have not a decent chair to sit on and have been perching on a horrid stool which is too low. This actually aggravates my shoulders while typing.

And that leads me to the second problem. My aching shoulders and neck are now hurting too much to type and my arse is numb from sitting on the stupid small stool.

In fact, that is a really good reason to go to the SHOPS and get a chair to sit on.

Oh, goody goody.

Ciao
LC

December 30th 2011

2011-12-30T18:49:00.000+11:00

It's my birthday today.

Number Forty Eight.

So Happy Birthday To Me.

We went out for breakfast with my brother and his clan. The place we ate at was a lovely cafe in a swishy suburb. Lots of delicious choices to ponder. I had a big vegetarian breakfast and it came with home made baked beans which I love. My brother gave me his baked beans and then K offered up his but even I have my limits on how much food I can fit in my stomach. Obviously not a popular item and perhaps not the best thing for me to eat with my track record of farting. Haha.

Anyway, one of the little gifts I got was this thing below. Some bull dog clips with words embellished on them.

As my sister in law handed them over to me she said "We thought of you the moment we saw it".

Hmmmmm, now, what does that say about my reputation?

I have a similar set at work in red and when I brought them into work Bossman's wife said "Oh, that is so you Linda".

I really need to raise my standards.

The breakfast was enough to keep me going until about 5.30 pm when I came into the house and had a snack.

I have spent the day in the studio just pottering around making a giant mess and not having the success I like to have. But that is just how things go. I was distracted quite a bit by bits and pieces I kept coming across. Which is a nice diversion.

Having this week off has been a wonderful thing because I can just move at my own pace. Go to bed when I feel like it and sleep in until I feel like getting up. This time of year is a regular slouch for me. I have to remember to do things like the washing or to eat. Or to eat properly should I say and not to eat chocolate and Christmas biscuits.

Yesterday I went to work for a few hours to pay the end of month bills. You would not think that paying bills could take so long would you but it did. I was sensible enough to bring milk with me so that I could make coffee when I got into work. It was great being there alone and just listening to music and not have the phone ring once.

Although the tradesmen are coming back on the 3rd of January, I will still be taking it very easy until the following week. I need to recharge my batteries completely before getting back to work. It's a very busy year this year, in fact, so busy that we are taking on another person in the office to help. We are all a bit nervous because getting someone to fit in is going to be a challenge. But we are all good to work with and the women who is coming on board seems very nice. Unlike the last one I had who grew dope in her garage and sold it (and got charged) and smoked a bong every night while at the same time telling her own daughter not to.

Plus she used to eat ALL the biscuits in the place and drink at least ten cups of coffee a day. When I went on holiday once I came back to the work load from hell. All she had done was put everything in a pile alphabetically and not do anything with it. She really was difficult. I know I blogged a few times about her but I don't think I did her justice.

She ended up moving miles away and getting into dog breeding. It all worked out in the end.

On another subject completely and a silly one at that, I must make note of a conversation that transpired between myself and on of the Oxfam team members.

The other night K and I went for a walk. Not a doodly walk. I don't do doodly walks. It was a hard walk. Not that that bit of information is important, I just want you to know that I don't dawdle when I walk. It's something of which I am very proud. My husband has to take 1.5 steps to my single stride. Of course, he can run faster than me but I can out walk him any day.

So we are on this walk and we meet up with this Oxfam friend and her husband and we got talking about my shopping experience at Chadstone and all the young gals who looked like Kim Kardashian. This friend has three daughters, two of whom are 15 year old twins.

Then the conversation went like this:

R: God, if you hate Kim Kardasian don't come to my house. My two girls want to be like her. You should see them.

Me: Really? Do your girls wear those denim shorty shorts and skimpy tops no matter the weather?

R: Fuck yes. Dresses up to here (indicating point just below bum cheeks) and they show off their long legs. Makes me sick to the stomach. You really cannot tell them.

Me: I would never have worn such a thing at that age. Aren't they worried about the attention they might get?

R: No, they like the attention they get. It's pretty tame. They don't go out very far wearing that stuff.

Me: I just did not have the confidence to wear that sort of clothing. It's not slutty, it's just skimpy. I just never felt confident to wear skimpy things very often.

R: Me neither. It's just not right.

Then some silence.

Me: I'm jealous.

R: Yeah, me too. Jealous as hell.

Me: Yeah, I am about that jealous too.

Then we parted ways. Two middle aged women feeling very middle aged.

Ciao
LC

Sunshine On Tuesday

2011-12-27T15:02:00.000+11:00

It's Tuesday.

Normally I would be at work on a Tuesday. Doing the wages. Going through paperwork. Working out where the money is coming from and what invoices are due to be sent out.

I'd come into the office. Drop my bag in the third drawer. Put my phone on the desk, near the key pad, on the left hand side. Sit down and move the computer mouse to wake up the big Mac. Bring my pens out from their hiding place. Go through emails. Chat to whoever is in the office.

I'd make a coffee. Then get to work.

Right now, however, I am sitting at the table on the back verandah. It's that nice quiet time of year that I love. The aftermath of the Christmas frenzy. I can hear the train in the background making its way to the station not far from our house. The neighbour drags their wheelie bin from the front nature strip and its wheels rattle loudly on the paved driveway.

The weather is warm. That beautiful warmth that lets you sit outside without getting too hot. Its windy and the trees are moving around and making my favourite sound of leaves rustling.

We have noisy birds near us. Their screeching interrupts the peacefulness of the day but I don't mind them because they are birds and just doing their bird thing.

I feel I should do something productive. In the morning I managed a few half hearted domestic duties. Washed the dishes, folded some washing and went up to the street to get a loaf of bread. That was after getting out of bed at around 10.00 am.

But now, now I just want to relax. Close my eyes and listen to the warm wind and the creak of the hard plastic verandah roof above my head as it expands and contracts under the sun.

I wonder what the grass would be like to lie on. It's been raining so I still think it might be wet under the green blanket. Were I not feeling so lazy I would put a towel down on the damp grass and lie in the sunshine. But it seems too hard right now.

There's so much to do. So much I want to do. Go in the studio. Make my bed. Go for a walk. Buy something from the art shop. Read a book.

But it's so seductive just sitting out here at the table just listening to the warmth of the day drift by.

Later.

I'll do all those things later.

Right now I will just close my eyes and feel all the delights of a summery day make its way through me.

Ciao
LC

Boxing Day Twaddle

2011-12-26T22:32:00.000+11:00

Well, Christmas is over.

Just like that. Until next year.

Yesterday we did a couple of Christmas visits in the morning and then came home and plonked around the house. My son and I watched the Director's cut of Blade Runner and I loved every bit of it. He enjoyed it and said it was not bad for a twenty year old movie. I went for a walk in the afternoon only to get drenched in a sudden storm and had to be picked as I stood shivering under a tree while thunder and lightening went on all around me. And, yes, I do know one should not stand under a tree in a thunder storm. But I also know that I could have been struck by lightening had I been walking out in the street.

So my exercise effort was thwarted by rain.

Today I have to confess that I went to the Boxing Day sales at Chadstone (aka HELL). K dropped me off nearby because the chance of finding a parking spot would have been nil.

What can I say, it was unbelievable. Crowded and noisy. I don't know why I went. It must be for the experience or something.

I did have a gift voucher given to me by my son for Christmas and wanted to go to the shop to redeem it. The shop is called Peter Alexander and sells pyjamas and pyjama related accessories. I had bought things from the shop years ago and loved what they had. So I went in there, or should I say I squeezed in there and starting going through the stuff on offer.

I noticed a few things. Firstly, I was the oldest person in the shop. Secondly, baby doll pyjamas are in vogue. Thirdly, the wearing of cutesy undies that say the word "bite me" across the bum are a popular item. As are 1950's style undies with frills all over them. Either I had gotten older and my tastes had changed or, oh wait, there is no "or". I have gotten older and my taste in pi's has changed.

Really, my taste has not changed but the quality of bed wear has. And the target market has changed. I don't want neck to knees in flannel but I would like nice fitting quality bed wear made with fabrics that have interesting designs on them. Not cheap material made by underpaid labour in poor countries and then sold for a huge profit in a shop in Chadstone. The stuff looked and felt cheap but the price did not reflect that.

I did find a few cutesy things to buy and made my way out and back into the crowds. Lots of Kim Kardashian look alikes were teetering along on hooved shoes, three abreast and chattering away.

As I went into a few shops I noticed something that intrigued me. Lots of young couples shopping together. Not just shopping together but both showing a nauseating interest in the act of shopping. Young men deep in dialogue with their girlfriends about make up, underwear and clothing. Seriously deep in dialogue in a deep and meaningful way. I would freak if K really gave a flying fuck about my shopping choices.

When I got home from there I raided the pantry to find food to eat because I hardly ate when shopping because it was so crowded. It was full of bits and pieces from a couple of Christmas hampers that I had been given. I have to say something about the stuff that is packed in hampers. It's shit. Obscure and disgusting crap. I think I had to throw out half of it. Are Christmas hampers the place to dump unsellable food or experimental concoctions?

What's on for tomorrow?

Nothing.

A sleep in.

A schlepping around.

Nice.

Ciao
LC

Christmas Eve

2011-12-24T23:22:00.000+11:00

Today was Christmas for me. I love Christmas. I love everything about it. Even the things I hate about it.

However, I don't like the lack of parking when I need to go to the shops but I do love the hustle and bustle of it. I am fascinated by the need for giant amounts of food that people feel compelled to buy. And to eat. When I went to the supermarket yesterday I could see that people had their supermarket trolleys loaded for impending doom followed by the prospect of pestilence and starvation.

Me included. There are a couple of things I buy excess off at Christmas and they are raspberries and strawberries. I am not sure why because, when I really think about it, I don't like them all that much. I think I like the look of them. I do like them in a Summer Pudding but since I have never made one I cannot even use that as an excuse for spending money on them. Actually, I don't think I really like Summer Pudding that much because it has white bread around it and that gets all soggy with the juice from the berries. But it looks very pretty.

Anyway, that's just babble. Yesterday I had to go down the street and stock up on the items that one has to for Christmas. I bought a turkey buffet thing from some boutique butcher. They stuff it and roll it and wrap it in the stretchy net thing to hold it together (I had to ring them today to ask if I had to leave it on when it was cooking). The butcher's was packed with people buying meat, sausages, more meat and meaty meat. Then I went past the place that sells seafood and it was packed with people buying fish, fish, prawns, oysters, fishy smelly things and then more of it. Loads of it.

I got home and wedged everything in the fridge which is currently sitting out on the back verandah while the kitchen is being renovated. I thought I had too much food but figure it is better to have a bit much than not enough.

My sister in law rang me and asked what I wanted her to bring. I told her nothing and then reiterated that I meant nothing. No chips to nibble, no pretzels, no nuts, no chocolate. Don't bring anything because it is not needed. All that snacking and nibbling before dinner is just enough to make a person vomit. How much food can one put in their stomach on one given day?

This morning I was meant to do an exercise class to make up for the one I reneged on on Thursday night. I woke up early with a vague headache and decided that doing a fitness test at 7.45 am was not a good way to start the day when I had to cook in the afternoon. So I got out of bed and started to cook the rice for the Danish Ris a la mande. The stove is outside and the photo is of me in my pi's stirring the pot.

I have a problem with rice. I can never get my head around the whole expansion thing. So I put the whole bag of rice in the pot and added three litres of milk and stirred away. It took about half an hour or so to make and when it was done I put it in the fridge to cool down. I would be adding cream and almond meal to it later in the afternoon.

Well, you know what happens to rice when left in just a bit of liquid. It does that absorption thing. When I took the pot out of the fridge later this afternoon it had become this solid block of rice. I added some cream to it and broke the handle of the wooden spoon while stirring it. Then K took over and the same thing happened.

The only way to mix it properly with the cream was to use my hands. So I washed them and then sunk them into the now sticky mess. But K had to add more cream. Then more. Then milk. We then tipped the expanding gloop into a huge mixing bowl I have and I continued to mix it. It took almost a litre of milk and the same of cream to get the rice back to a nice creamy state. It was quite funny.

But you know, it was really nice digging my hands in the creamy rice.

Outside the weather was stinking hot and I had to do the cooking out on the back verandah. Sweaty and hot. I had the turkey thing and some roast eye fillet. Loads of potatoes and pumpkin. Did the token vegetable thing just for colour. I had thought about doing a salad but figured it was a waste since I am the only one who eats it.

So, I stood out there and did the dinner, made gravy and the sauce for the dessert. Twice the tea towels nearly caught on fire. When I took the turkey thing out of the oven and had a taste I realised that they had stuffed it with some sausage kind of stuffing which really made me dry retch. But everyone else liked it. Apparently that is the traditional thing for stuffing turkey.

We decided to eat inside which meant sitting on the couch and arm chairs because I don't have a table inside anymore. It was far too hot outside. It was like having a picnic without the bugs and flies.

After my brother and his family left (which seemed to take for ever) K and I cleaned up. You know, I have to say that washing dishes in a laundry trough is about as close to roughing it as I want to get.

I sent my brother home with all the left over Ris a la mande because he just loves it. I do too but one small bowl is enough for me. It's so rich. Besides, I saw how it was mixed..........

Now it is 11.00 pm at night. S is at his computer playing a new game. K has gone to bed with a case of "belly fullitis" and I am just happily sitting down at my computer doing my blog and pfaffing around on Facebook.

In the afternoon I went next door to see my neighbour whose husband had died three months ago. I was there for an hour chatting away. Well, she did a lot of chatting and talked about what had transpired since her husband died. Honestly, he was a man on a mission for an early demise. First heart attack at 42. Smoked even though he had all of the health problems that would get worse with smoking. Type 2 diabetes, high cholesterol, a stent in his heart. You know the sort.

He had the worst cough for 18 months prior to being diagnosed with lung cancer and refused to mention it to his doctor. When it finally got diagnosed he went off his tree at his wife because she wanted him to tell the doctor he was still smoking. He said he couldn't because he had told his doctor for the past six years that he had not smoked at all.

So his wife is made from good Yugoslavian stock and grief is a process that makes one stronger. Her children have found it harder to deal with. She is of the generation that has seen friends and family die and those left over talk about it with the knowledge and understanding that goes with it all. They always go into fantastic detail of the discovery of each illness and the subsequent consequences of it.

As I left she gave me a lovely hamper of food and later on brought over a little box of her home made Christmas biscuits. Last time I had those her husband had brought them over and I ate them all day long. I was glad that she still baked them this year and had managed to continue that tradition.

I think I must go to bed now. Tomorrow we have a couple of Christmas visits to do and then home. I can tell you I will be going for a long walk because I feel like a roly poly pudding. I shall have to ration the neighbours biscuits. They are very nice.

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and even if you don't celebrate Christmas I hope you have a Merry Non Christmas which is almost the same but completely different.

You know what I mean.

Keep safe and peaceful amongst it all.

Ciao
LC

Slack Rambling Post

2011-12-21T11:13:00.005+11:00

SLACK!

That's me today.

Not really slack. Just slipping into the Christmas mood and relaxing a bit.

I am at work and doing a blog. It's been a while since I did that - I think.

I have the concentration span of a pea today. Yesterday I used up all my care factor and now it has disappeared. I think it is because I am waiting for a big cheque to clear in the bank at work which then allows me to pay the things that need paying before Christmas.

Or I am just slack.

Have fiddled with FB. My son is at home and put a post on his wall that said;

Alright.

Inbox me a question and I will answer honestly.

Doing it for the entire day because I'm bored.

So I sent him a question which was "is it better to be an anarchist or a minarchist? Which works best in a modern society?" I know that is really two questions but it is kind of one question broken into two sentences. I think I could have worded it into one question.

He replied with "Minarchist. You don't get into as much trouble, and it's much less dangerous than being an anarchist".

Does that mean he is a consequences kind of person?

He is pretty funny these days. On Monday he picked up his report in school and brought it home. Although his behaviour is excellent in class I am afraid he did not do as well as I know he could have. The usual "could try harder" line came up.

My husband and I discussed it and he and I have different views on it all.

My parenting style is fairly free and, rightly or wrongly, I think S will find his niche when he is ready. He is only 14.5 years old and it is easy to forget that because he looks and sounds much older.

K is concerned that S is a lazy sloth and does not engage enough with school activities, has to be hounded to have a shower, yelled at to get out of bed, bullied into doing any homework, reminded all the time to practice his clarinet and is addicted to the computer and Xbox. He is concerned that when he gets out in the working world he will not do well.

I think differently and wonder if I am deluded in my thinking. In my mind S is a normal teenager and is not hard wired yet which means his brain is so different to that of a dull adult. He is obsessive about things when they appeal, he does whatever I ask him (hang out washing, empty dishwasher, make his bed, pick up his washing) and he talks to both K and I so openly about anything. He He has good emotional mindset and is very good at expressing his feelings if he feels the need. I think the way his mind works will ensure he will navigate his way through life pretty well.

I guess the next few years will show if our parenting was okay or not.

When you have a child you realise that whatever ideas you had about parenting are very quickly dispelled. Although for me, it may have been a bit different. From the age of five until I left home at 19 I had to look after kids. My brother, my sister, my nieces, my nephew. From nappy changing to feeding and beyond, I spent years with a child to look after and I often wonder if that gave me different outlook on being a parent as opposed to someone who had some sort of nurturing idealistic view of motherhood. I did not resent it at all, I just had a very realistic idea of the impact that children have on a persons life.

Hence the reason I have only one child....

Anyway, there is a point in time where a parent sees themselves in their own child. My son is very similar to me. In fact, sometimes I feel very sorry for my husband having both S and I to contend with. That is not to say that there is anything wrong with either S or myself, but there is a particular personality at work that can be irritating. My son refers to it as the "M------N" gene at work (using my maiden name). It makes me wonder if it is in the genes or is it a direct influence from me?

The other thing you realise is that a child comes to an age where you cannot just force them to do things they don't want to. I can't say to my son "I want you to do better at school next year" and expect him to just do better for me. He has to have the "want" within himself. I have to hope that whatever groundwork has been put down over the past is going to work.

Oh, gosh, I just bored myself. Time to stop.

What's this post all about?

Work avoidance? Yes, that is it.

Seriously, it is all about the meaning of life.

And with that in mind I sent my son another question to answer.

"What is the meaning of life?"

His response?

"Ponies"

Ha ha ha.

That's my little Brony.

Ciao
LC

The Woman In Orange

2011-12-18T17:19:00.000+11:00

Recently I bought myself a morph suit.

You may ask yourself why and I probably won't be able to explain it exactly except to say that I have wanted for ever since I first saw one a few years ago.

It arrived in the mail a couple of weeks ago and of course I put it on with GREAT amusement. I even posted a photo of myself on FB wearing it. It drew a lot of comments, all very funny ones.

I don't think amusement is a good enough word but it is the best I can come up with.

When I first bought it I asked if K and S would wear one each if I bought them one. In different colours of course. Maybe a blue and a green. It would be very funny to just sit around the house in morph suits and have cups of tea.

Needless to say, they both answered with a resounding and non negotiable "NO".

At work they thought it was kinky. I had to explain that a lycra, full bodied, bright orange morph suit is not kinky. It is not even sexy. It is FUNNY guys. Do they not know the difference between kinky and FUNNY?

They also thought I was weird.

Anyway, I put it on and it made me laugh a great deal.

It made my husband laugh even more.

Even my son laughed.

Which was good.

Laughing is good.

But, what was kind of strange is they both thought my actions of buying the morph suit, wearing the morph suit and having a photo taking next to the pantry in the morph suit was completely normal behaviour for me.

Hmmmm, is that a good thing?

Ciao

Sunday 18th December

2011-12-18T16:33:00.001+11:00

The Christmas tree went up this week. Two weeks later than usual and in a different part of the house, but it is up and that is what counts. The place is still unfinished but the tree still looks nice and twinkly.

For the first time ever, S did not have to step up onto a stool to put the star on top of the tree. Even I have to step on a stool but he is now over two inches taller than me and closer to the top. Besides, it's always going to be his job to put the finishing touch on the tree.

As we were decorating it S would pick up a decoration and say "I remember this". It was a different feel for him. He used the word "nostalgic" in his description. If he starts using that word to describe his feelings now (at age 14) I cannot imagine how nostalgic he will feel at my age.

Christmas is only a week away and I don't feel particularly rushed this year. In fact, I feel scarily kind of calm. On Friday I left work early to go the the shops for some Christmas shopping. I have a love/hate relationship with the shops at Christmas. When I walk into the store I feel all excited looking at all the Christmassy things. Then, after an hour or so, I start to feel overloaded after looking at all the Christmas Crap.

The shopping centre is so huge that is takes me for ever to get to one end and then the same amount of time to get back to where I started. And it seems that I always have to get something at one or both of those ends.

During the course of the shopping journey I had to go to the toy section of one of the stores. Oh, what a mindless pile of SHIT resides on the shelves of all toy sections. Apart from Lego, it would be reasonable to say that most toys will spend their lives in a cupboard. I cannot even say they will have short lives because when they have outlived their appeal they will end up in landfill for the next 1000 years. I am so glad that my son has long passed those toy hungry years and is now just a PC and Xbox loving geek.

Anyway, I meandered around looking at the shelves before drifting out of the place and finding myself in another shop that sells games, computers, DVDs, music and the like. I picked up a few games for my son and then bought him the uncut version of the SciFi movie Blade Runner. One of my all time favourites.

But I have to confess that I did not really buy it for him, I bought it for me but will give it to him because I believe it is important for him to see this exciting movie in a semi educational sense. It's a classic! All history is important, even SciFi movie history.

After I sorted his stuff home, the lure of the shopping centre had completely died and I left. So I still have to get a few things next week. Which is kind of off putting because next week is going to be so busy I will be kicking myself I did not make the effort to endure the place on Friday and finish everything off that I needed to.

I have also been doing a bit of online shopping and have come to the conclusion that it is a bit tempting. The pleasure at having a few parcels arrive every couple of days makes it easy to do it again.

On Saturday I had a fund raising breakfast with the exercise group and cooked bacon and eggs. I hate cooking outdoors on a hot day even if it is early in the morning. By the time I got home I had a headache and no energy. I slouched around on the couch and now and then got up to either eat or put on a load of washing. Then, when I felt really energetic I hung the washing out. It was terribly unexciting.

Finally, I felt so disgusted with my lazy self I went for a 5km walk in late afternoon heat. Nothing like exercise to clear ones head. At least I felt like I had earnt the right to laze around and watch television.

This morning, however, I made up for any laziness and caught up with the girls from the Oxfam team and we did some training. We drove to the hills and walked up the Kokoda steps (about 800 of them) and down again. Then up a very steep hill and down again. All up I think we spent two hours burning our butts and legs with the effort. It made up for any slackness from the day before.

Since then I have been watching some television and am now in the studio tinkering. Outside the wind is so noisy. I love that sound. It is so soothing.

I am also working on a painting I started last week and changing it to suit.

It is such a nice place in this pod.

The whole world is out the door and I am in here in my own space.

It's nice.

Ciao
LC

11th December, 2011

2011-12-11T13:23:00.001+11:00

Last night it rained so heavily that it woke me up. Loud thunder claps rattled the windows. I drifted in and out of sleep before waking up feeling alert at around 5.30 am in the morning.

I lay in bed with all sorts of notions about getting up and starting the day early. I could go for a 10km walk. Get up and do the laundry. Do something in the studio. Just start the day early. But I resisted the urge because I know that doing that would result in me laying around all afternoon dog tired.

So I closed my eyes and lay in that half sleep, half awake stage until I fell into a deep sleep at around 7.30 am and woke up at 10.00 am.

Right now I am in the studio and outside it is fresh and the wind is constant. If I close my eyes it sounds like the beach. It is so silent out here, in the studio behind the garage. The room is so well insulated that outside noises are muted and surreal. I have blinds now that block out a lot of light and during the time I am not in here I pull them down to protect what is in here. K put up shade cloth over the skylight to keep the harsh summer sun from pouring onto the bench top. At the end of daylight savings it will come off.

The weeping Dutch Elm outside the window is like a green hulking shape. It seems to have doubled in size with all the rain we have had and underneath the canopy is like a little sanctuary. Some of the drooping branches hang down onto the clothesline and steel hanging space but I don't really want to cut them yet. They look so lush and free. I feel that by cutting it I am cutting off its arms or something.

I am just pottering around in here. Hanging up some pictures I have. I put up a shadow box on the wall to display my favourite little pointless things. But one shadow box is not enough and I will have to buy two more. It does not get dusty in here, not like in the house so I don't mind putting bits and pieces up.

Yesterday K raised the bench top to waist height because it is easier to work and I can store some things underneath if I need to and somehow I think that it won't be long before I do that.

Where is S? He is on his computer talking to friends whilst playing some online games. The other day K asked him why he never had friends over these days and S said that he talks online to his friends all the time and that most of them never leave the house. He says he sees his friends at school all day and does not want to see them all weekend as well. He wants his own space and wants to be able to be alone when he feels like it. Although, yesterday he went to the movies with one of his friends. S organised it all, got me to get the tickets online and his friend's father picked took both of them to and from the movies.

I know that a lot of people just hate that relationships are conducted in that weird online way but I actually don't have a problem with it. The online world connects a lot of people who might not fit into mainstream, predictable society. I guess, like most things, it just has to be managed properly. I would have loved computers to have been around when I was a kid.

K is out in the garage working on one of his cars. He recently had one repainted and is now putting the windows back in. I know it has been a fiddly job but one is going to give one of those satisfying results at the end of a long learning curve.

I am just starting a painting so that is going to take up some lovely time for a few hours.

It's a nice Sunday.

Ciao
LC

What?

2011-12-10T17:55:00.001+11:00

Today I had the following conversation with my husband.

K: I spoke to my sister today and she was telling me why your farts smell so bad.

Me: Are you serious? (really thinking WTF!)

K: Yes, apparently it is a bacteria that makes the farts actually smell really bad and it is aggravated by stress.

Me: Obviously I have been under stress for all of my almost 48 years.

K: Well, you can take antibiotics for it.

Me: No, I think you can just smell my farts to gauge what mood I am in or what stress I am under. Besides, I rather enjoy the impact my stinky farts have on everyone else.

K: Yes, of course.

Me: By the way, why on earth are you discussing the smell of my farts with your sister?

K: I wasn't, she rang me to specifically tell me that.

L: Are you serious? (again thinking WTF! and also thinking that at some time my farts have been discussed between K and his sister which also makes me think WTF!).

Later on I went to put something in the fridge and noticed a box of antibiotics. As K had been on antibiotics for something (not stinky farts) I asked if he was still on them. He replied that they were for me from his sister in case I needed them for my farts.

I am not sure what my reply was. Perhaps something along the lines of "are you for real". I may have thrown in the F word.

And that is not "F" for fart.

Ciao
LC

4th December, 2011

2011-12-04T20:04:00.001+11:00

A long and busy week it has been for me and now it is Sunday and I am in my favourite position - sitting down with the delicious Mac on my Lap. Wouldn't that make a good song? Put the Mac on my lap and I'll give a little clap. You could look at that differently if the Mac were a person.

Anyhow, this week was a jam packed one with work and exercise obligations. Yesterday I helped out at a stall at the Swedish Christmas Bazaar and did not get home until almost 6pm. It was so busy that I had to park my car about 1.5 km's away for the bazaar. Once again I wondered at the ways in which people are prepared to spend money on all sorts of tat. Honestly, I am sure most of it qualifies for landfill.

I had a relatively early night because I was up this morning at 6.00 am to do the first training walk for the Oxfam charity thing. It was just a 20km thing and it was a doddle. We had a new team member because one (the man one) had to drop out due to family commitments. So four women over the age of forty doing it this time. I named the team Walking Working Wonderwomen. I think I may hyphenate the last word. It looks wrong. Or maybe just have two words.

Our 20km walk took 3.5 hours and we did stop for a coffee at the half way mark and the finish. I was a bit tired when I got home and did not get as much done as I had planned to. My legs were fine but I am looking forward to going to bed tonight.

The kitchen joinery went in last Saturday and things are looking different. Stone benches will hopefully be in by Christmas. Painters coming on the 12th December and the floor will be polished after Christmas as we have to be out of the house for a couple of days while it is being done.

I am very happy with the new kitchen. Actually that is an understatement, I love it. It's just so slick and everything does what everything should do and it will just look great when it is finished.

I have gone off blogging a bit these days. I am doing different things and life is busy. Plus I have a blogging block and just don't have the interest I used to. It's a sad thing in a way because it has always given me a great deal of pleasure to just blog random things. Part of me thinks I just post the "same shit, different day" kind of thing and wonder why? Does that mean my life is boring? Or am I just happy doing pretty much the same thing in my life. Maybe I could write about something else. Maybe my blogging days are drawing to a close and I am ready to move onto a new creative activity.

Another part of me thinks that there is something about therapy that has sucked the creativity out of me. Or redirected it. Or put it on hold. Therapy is great in many respects but it does streamline my thoughts in a way I am not all together happy with sometimes. They need to be rearranged to my liking again. I wonder if there is some sort of process I have to go through to get back the urge to write on a regular basis. You know, talk about my shit until I die of boredom and then write about it.

Then there was that upheaval around the house this year which been a bit of a demotivating thing. And I have had a drawn out depressed episode which is not particularly exciting. Maybe I have just lost my writing mojo. Maybe when I get a break over Christmas I will recharge the brain batteries and that will help. I know that I am just waiting for a free day to start a new painting for the kitchen. A decorative painting to add colour to the modernity of the kitchen.

I am still going to therapy. Once a fortnight. It is a positive process mostly. I am actually going into the session with specific issues I want to tackle. Issues that I had not put to rest properly. They had been buried and we all know that if you bury something alive it will come back to haunt you. Although, I am not sure how much therapy one can do before getting sick of talking about oneself. Honestly, it must be mind numbingly boring for a therapist to listen to people's crap. I did say that to my therapist and he replied with a very suitable answer which implied he did not get bored at all which was very nice of him.

I have this thought about therapy and it reminds me of a service that you can have in some countries where you pay for a friend. It's true. You pay $50 an hour to have a person pretend to be your friend for an hour. No, it is not prostitution - although they are not friends but they charge a lot more than $50 per hour. Actually, I think they charge the same as a therapist so you could weigh up which one offers the most benefits or value for money. I should not think like that about therapy because I know that it serves a very important service to people (me being one of those people) and I would not wish to devalue the value of my therapist.

Now it is close to Christmas and the year is going to tick over to another. That is one constant in life. Time moving on no matter where anyone is at. I have not thought much about sending out Christmas cards and thought it might be a nice thing to send out New Year cards instead. By the time I get around to doing a Christmas card it will be New Year anyway. For the first time ever the Christmas tree has not yet been put up. The house is still a bit chaotic. It may be another two weeks before it goes up and that is okay as long as it goes up for Christmas.

Don't even ask about Christmas shopping.

To tell you the truth, I just want to see the back of this year and get on with a new one.

I am going to finish this post with a conversation that my son and I have had. Although, perhaps it would be exaggerating to call it a conversation.

Me (walking into office where son is sitting at computer): "Oh my God, you stink. Go and have a shower".

Son (without looking at me): "So don't come in the office if I smell".

Me: "What, you want me to restrict access to rooms in my own home because my son stink?"

Son: "Yep".

Son has shower next day. Variation of conversation takes place over and over on different days. Son only showers when directed too. I have been told this is a normal thing and I have to confess that I also was a stinky teenager until about the age of fourteen when I got a part time job and being clean was a necessary evil. If it were not for the fact that being smelly was socially unacceptable I think I would kind of enjoy not having to have a shower every day. I am also of the belief that the real reason people go camping is so that they can avoid having to wash because that is the ONLY reason that I would want to go camping.

It is great having a teenager in the house. They are interesting creatures full of incredible ideas that are so far removed from the brain space of an adult that is is hard to imagine that most adults were teenagers. Oh, actually, thinking about some adults I have met I might take back that thought. I might word it differently. Teenagers are full of wildly imaginative and random thoughts and not many carry the energy of those thoughts into adulthood.

I have spent over an hour trying to finish this post off without falling off the blog perch with boredom.

But here I am, at the end and thinking I might sign off and go to bed.

Nothing like a blog post to send one to sleep.

Ciao
LC

Week Ending 27th November

2011-11-27T21:27:00.001+11:00

Yesterday K and I went to the races for the end of year work Christmas party.

We had to be up at 7.00 am as tradesmen were coming to install the kitchen. I actually slept in and then schlepped around in my pyjamas while they started work.

It was grey outside and then the rain started falling. I felt my enthusiasm for the day sink slightly as there is nothing worse than a rainy day when one goes to the horse races.

After I had my shower and got dressed I started blow drying my hair. I know this bit of information is as boring as shite however I have to talk about this.

I have a lot of hair and now that it is full of grey it is extra hard to blow dry but it is worth the effort. The worst thing for grey hair is damp air. Cold damp air. Cold, rainy days are my worst hair nightmare.

I took extra care blow drying. Extra time. Made thoughtful choices about the hair products. Not enough and the hair will frizz. Too much and it will frizz. And then on some days it does not matter what you do, it will frizz. And yesterday was that day.

As I stepped out of the bathroom I was happy with the end result. Smooth hair, lovely dress, kitten heel shoes and nice handbag. Ready to go.

However, as I got to the car I could feel that movement of expanding hair. Hair starts to curl. Hair starts to frizz. Hair starts to get life of own. The rain had set in for the day. The hair was moving.

We drove the car to a meeting place where we then went by hired bus to take us to the races. They were out of the city. Country races.

The meeting place for the bus was across the road from the beach. This cold, windy and salty air ensured that whatever I did to my hair in the confines of my bathroom was a complete waste of time and I should have just dried it under a hand dryer for all it mattered. It was full on woolly grey hair.

As we arrived at the race track the rain and wind were fierce. I had an umbrella which was kind of pointless in that weather. My dress got wet. My dress made with vintage silk taffeta was now wet blowing up in the air like a big parachute. I had to hold it down, keep hold of the umbrella and also try to walk across wet grass without my shoes getting stuck in the ground.

At least we were undercover as we had hired a marquee. It was about 12.00 pm and I was starving by now. The food was not due until 1.00 pm so I actually drank two glasses of champagne. Being a person who just never drinks, the champagne had the immediate effect of warming me up which was most welcome as it was chilly.

I made one bet and lost $10.00 which, for a bookkeeper, is enough to give me a stomach ache. Or was it the third glass of champagne. Not sure. But I did not have a flutter after that. Just watched the horses run by. Lovely animals with their long limbs stretching out as they thundered by. Nothing quite as beautiful to watch I think.

At one point I had to use the toilets and made my way across the wet and windy landscape. As I stood in front of the mirror trying to make some order of my big hair my eyes made contact with a young girl who was staring at me. She continued to stare as she walked slowly out of the toilets. Looking back at myself in the mirror I wondered just what she thought when she looked at me.

There I was, skin white with the chill of the air. Wearing a dark crimson dress, wild grey hair and a tattoo. Plus a black flower fascinator topping it off. To her I must have looked like something out of a Grimm's Fairy Tale book. A modern day witch.

We did have a good time but the weather was most disappointing and my hair just did my head in. I like my hair "just so" and it did quite the opposite.

When we got home most of my new kitchen was in and that was great. I then sat down to chat to my son about the day.

Just as I was about to start the conversation he said "Oh my God mum, what happened to your hair? It looks bad".

He then said "you don't look ugly, you hair just looks bad."

I think that was complimentary.

I had to laugh. The honesty of teenagers is just fantastic.

Today the sun shone and my hair was perfect.

And that was good too.

Ciao
LC

Firs Day Dull Post

2011-11-24T20:20:00.001+11:00

I have tomorrow off work.

There is something so nice about having a work day off when everyone else is working. Sort of like wagging school.

Sadly, as an adult one can't just wag it and keep it a secret. If I wagged school nobody knew but the person I wagged school with. And we got up to mildly naughty things like having a ciggy somewhere and a drink of Lilydale Apple Cider which was the cheapest booze around. Sickly sweet taste with a great alcoholic punch for a teenager.

However, tomorrow I have grown up things to do. I take days off to get things done that need doing on a week day. And dull things they generally are. The bright spot of the day is that I will be catching up with my favourite niece.

The work around the house has been ticking over and this Saturday the joinery is going in but the bench tops will be at least three weeks before they arrive. Because the stove is not coming until around February I am having the old stove reconnected outside on the back verandah. This solution came about today when the plumber from work suggested it. So I can cook Christmas dinner on the stove outside and I don't have to buy a BBQ.

I know it seems like a bit of fun not having to cook because there is no stove to cook on, but it is pretty dreary trying to find really healthy food to eat that just needs heating up in the microwave. There are some great places I can get things but it tastes all the same after a while. Recently K bought a frozen dinner for himself and S from a place around the corner. They do things like roast dinners or very traditional desserts. My son ate one that was roast chicken and the next night K dished up one that consisted of meat pie and vegetables. S refused to eat it (meat pie being chunky meat and not minced meat). Later that night he said he felt weak with hunger. So we gave him a bowl of ice-cream for sustenance. I can see a bad habit developing here if the food situation is not under control.

Although, I wonder if I could puree vegetables into ice-cream. Would he notice beans and peas amongst the cookies and cream?

The other thing is that I miss baking. I like to bake a cake or biscuits. Look up the recipes. Try something new. Measure out the ingredients, mix them up and pop what ever it is in the oven. It's therapeutic and I miss that process.

Still, it is not forever and I am very happy to have the inconvenience because it is a means to an end.

Last night we went out to a local RSL club for dinner (RSL = Returned Services League) so that we could have something tasty and well cooked. It was so depressing there. They have pokie machines and you can hear them from the dining area. The ringing bell noises drifting over to where we sat. It was all but empty except for a few lone diners. The atmosphere was hollow. There is a culture of drinking and gambling that we are just not part of and seeing it at work in this sort of place makes me feel a bit flat.

I am not sure how people eat out all the time. It's all a bit time consuming and boring. Plus I think that home cooked food has a really nice flavour that you can never really get when you eat out. Even my crap cooking is nice.

I just realised that I have been plodding away at this post for ages.

That's because it is a Thursday post.

Ciao
LC

Reno Ramble

2011-11-21T21:46:00.001+11:00

I just love Gen Y. They always know how to help with computer questions. So I now know how to upload photos from iPhoto on my Mac. Below is a photo of the empty kitchen. It's a bit dusty. The floor is being repaired this week. Kitchen joinery goes in this Saturday.

Below will be a new pantry and fridge space. We had to "steal" cupboard space from the laundry to make this area larger.

The two photos below are of all the kitchen stuff in the dining room. Which is really a piano room. It freaks me out every time I look in this room. I know that I will be moving lots of this stuff on to a charity shop because I don't want it back in the kitchen.

A view from the window. It's only short term so that is okay.

Below is the temporary kitchen. It is kind of funny. I think

I do not know how people renovate a house, sell it and then do it again and again. I grew up like that for years because my father was always doing it. As a result I never lived in a finished home when I was growing up and it had a big impact on me and my life.

I loathe an unfinished home.

Fortunately this is all only short term so I can ignore the inconvenience.

It's great to be able to take the photos to look back on when it is all finished.

Ciao
LC

Sunday Ramble

2011-11-20T21:08:00.001+11:00

I was going to upload some photos of what has been happening around the house however I am unable to work out how to upload the photos from my iPhoto library as they are not showing up in finder.

Blah blah blah.

So, instead I will just do a quick ramble post.

Today was an outside day. The sun was shining and warm. The weeds in the front garden were thick and begging to be pulled out. It started off as a one person job (me) but the inroad I made into the thick weedy garden bed was dismal to say the least. So K had to help.

We managed to get one large garden bed cleared and I planted some gardenias that I had been given from work. I actually had so many that I gave half to our lovely new neighbour.

It was nice to be out in the fresh air, especially with the house looking rather forlorn with no kitchen and dusty surfaces.

Later in the afternoon K and I went for a 7km walk. I was so tired to start with. Being out in the sunshine for a few hours is very tiring in itself. To follow it up with a fast paced walk took a bit of an effort to start with.

Now I have registered for the Oxfam Walk there is no excuse for not getting back into those big 20km plus walks. This time the team will focus on walking up steep hills because that is where the hardest part is when doing the Oxfam Walk. Trudging up those never ending steep inclines and feeling the burn.

This week is a busy one at work. But that is nothing new. If all goes according to plan I will have Friday off and have a catch up with my niece. The Saturday is a day at the country races with work. While we are there the kitchen joinery will be installed.

Two weeks after the joinery is installed the bench tops will be delivered. In between that the parquetry floor repaired and polished and walls painted. I am not sure if all will be done by Christmas. I do know the new stove won't be arriving until February some time and I am in two minds about reconnecting the old stove in the interim. I may be able to get by without it.

After this weekend I have something booked for every Saturday in December.

So, all in all very busy and I have to be organised with my time if I am to do what needs doing.

When I work out how to upload photos from the Macbook I will do so.

Technology.

I love and hate it.

Ciao
LC

Finally A Post

2011-11-19T19:51:00.001+11:00

It has been a while since I posted. Well, a week.

That is a while.

When I first started this blog I would blog every day. Sometimes twice a day!

Does that mean I have less to say? Or does it mean my life is different? Days are busy? Or am I lazy?

Possibly all of the above. It's not specific.

Anyway, this week has been relatively busy. I had to do after hours bookwork and that was about as pleasant as eating my own vomit. Which would be fine were I a dog but I am not. Not that I have eaten my own vomit but I have certainly had a taste of it on the way out and I hardly think it would get better on the way back in.

I LOATHE doing this bookwork after hours and have decided that life is too short to continue doing things I really don't like. So when I dump the books back to this client I will be telling him that is the final time. I did try to dump him once before but he could not get another bookkeeper. That's because he is a high maintenance person with the worst paperwork.

I know I am not exaggerating about his difficult persona because the accountant says the same thing. I sent him an email telling him that I was no longer going to do the books for HMC (high maint client) and he said he could completely understand.

Anyway, to top off the whole shitty process I had trouble with my lap top. Trouble with signing in to the tax portal online. Tried to update my iPhone which kacked itself. Lap top froze. Lap top groaned. Lap top restarted itself more than once.

You get the picture. Just the thing you want happening after a day at the office and at about 9.30 pm. I was so frustrated that I really, really wanted to hit someone. Or cry. Or get someone else to sort it out. All those frustratingly shitful and negative emotions were building in me like a volcano. I went onto FB and had a rant. Then a few more.

Then went to bed. My husband asked me about what happened and I just said "I can't talk about it". What I really wanted to say was "I want to kill the nearest person next to me and it happens to be you so it might be best if I don't talk about it at all". After half an hour of intensely angry thinking I went into an angry sleep which meant I subsequently woke up feeling like an overtired five year old the next morning.

That morning I had to get up and try to restore the iPhone - which worked. So at least one good thing happened. However the last time I backed it up was a month ago so I lost some photos which made me feel gutted because I have some sort of weird thing in my head about "those moments lost forever" and I drove to work trying really hard not to think about the three photos of my son drinking a milk shake that were no longer around. I still cannot think about it without feeling sad which is completely irrational and the rational side of me knows that but the other side of me just takes longer to get it.

So, to console myself and with no justification other than a self indulgent reason I bought myself Macbook Air. That's how it works. Old lap top shits middle aged woman so she trades it in for a slick new Macbook Air. Actually, I have been planning on upgrading for a while and I felt the time was now.

Have you ever bought anything from the Apple store? Let me tell you, it was a most pleasing experience. Corporate they may be but I don't care. The attention I got when I went in the store completely blotted out any ethical issues I may have with Corporate. It's not often I go into a store and feel that the sales person gives a shit whether I live or die.

After the sublime experience of making the purchase I went home and played around with it. But I still had to finish off the crappy bookwork. The problem was not going to go away but at least I had the twinkling new toy waiting for me.

However, I have not been able to yet work out how to transfer my photos from iPad to the Mac. I think I will have to go back to the store and get them to advise. It's not very straight forward. Although, nothing is at the moment and I am possibly just OLD and CONFUSED.

That is the end of this post because if I continue on it will be too long.

Will start on another one which is about something completely different.

No lap top talk.

Ciao
LC

Friday Night Thoughts

2011-11-11T21:54:00.001+11:00

I am in my studio at the moment doing, of all things, bookwork.

I know, I know. It's a dreadful thing to sully the creative spirit of the studio by doing bookwork. And very reluctantly doing it as well. In fact, I almost went out shopping for things I did not need just to avoid knuckling down to do this bookwork.

But the house is in a complete mess and there is nowhere to sit and do the work. At least here is it peaceful.

It's for a client of mine. He's also a friend. But he is hard work. I know he is hard work because the accountant also complains about him. So, he's a nice guy but a pain in the arse.

I don't like to be a bitch. It's not really in my nature. But I just have to confess how annoying this friend/client of mine can be. It's not him as a person as such but it is the way he lives his life and then complains about the fall out that really shits me. I have told him that he lives a messy life.

He's about to get divorced. The house has been sold and the settlement is in a couple of weeks. It's a long story and I might blog about it but right now I just have to get through this annoying paperwork.

Anyway, whenever I pick up the books from his office he hands me a basket of shit. Shitty paper. In that basket of shit there is always a huge amount of even more shitty bits of paper and the worst type of shitty bits of paper.

There is always a shit load of shitty credit card dockets. All scrunched up into shitty wads that I have to go through just to make sure there are no big ticket items there.

He is a credit card abuser. He has so many credit card accounts it astonishes me. But it is not as though he needs the extra accounts to survive. He needs them because he lives above his means.

You learn a lot about a person when you go through their personal and business paperwork. What they drink, where they eat, where they went, what movie they saw. I can see that my friend/client has been ignoring what has been going on around him and just gone out spending. It's been a long process for him, this road to divorce. A long and difficult one. And I can see by his credit card spending that he hid himself from it all.

When he sells his house he will pay off all his debts, mortgage, personal tax, school fees and anything else that needs attending to. His wife will get some money and so will he and they will most likely rent for many, many years, such is the nature of separation. It's pretty depressing for him and for his wife.

So, this weekend I have to get all his paperwork up to date and then work out how much is left after 21 years of marriage.

The thing is, he is still shagging his ex wife each time he sees her.

Hasn't told his new girl friend about it.

He is extremely jealous that his ex wife is also going out with a new man.

He is so resentful that she has also lost 17kg's and all but stopped drinking and has a good social life with her friends.

So he is now going to a psychologist to help him get sorted.

Messy.

Just like his paperwork.

Ciao
LC

Whingey Son

2011-11-08T20:28:00.002+11:00

My son was a bit of a whingey pants for a few days.

He had to join a few other boys at school on Monday to do yard duty. Clean up rubbish. All the children at school have to do it at one point.

He found out Friday and subsequently whinged about it from thereon until he got to school on Monday morning.

Whinged to K.

Whinged to me.

Whinged to me while we were out shopping on Sunday. I patiently explained that we all have to do things we don't like in life. Told him to think about the positive aspect to it. He is doing something that benefits the school and not himself. Explained that doing good things for the sole purpose of helping others is actually great. Mentioned a few times that it was best he just got his head around it all and stop carrying on a bit.

None of what I said meant anything or reduced his whinging about the most awful task ahead - picking up rubbish.

Monday morning he got out of bed and it started up again.

"I don't know anyone"

"It's too hot"

It's boring"

Then he said to us that it would be better for him to stay home and not use the computer or television. He would rather do that.

"So, what would you do then S? Stand in a corner?" asked K.

Child of mine said that he would even be happy to go to work with me. Well, he might be but I wouldn't be happy having him around whilst trying to do work.

At one point he stormed off shouting and went into his bedroom and shut the door.

I opened it and said "get dressed or you are in more trouble than Ned Kelly". Ned Kelly being a famous bush ranger who was eventually hanged for his misdemeanours. Not sure what could be worse than being hanged but packing away the Xbox for twelve months may come close (at least in my son's mind).

My polite conversation and words of positive encouragement that were given to him on Sunday changed to a few words like "suck it up" and "shut up and stop whining" and "don't be so lazy". Yes, I sounded like my mother. Although she did not use the words "suck it up". In fact, it would have been highly unlikely I would have even considered whinging about something like that. I would have just done it.

K and I said to him that there was no point going on about it. I mean, what was he hoping to achieve? Some sympathy?

I hate to say it but my son is a typical teenager. ME ME ME. And I am a typical middle aged woman who says that she would never have been like that when she was younger, you know, being perfect and all.

Well he went off and picked up rubbish and came home with the most woeful and pathetic face and told all about how awful the day was and how hard it was for him. It was all I could do to not get out a violin and play it.

Naturally I had to tell him my story of how, at the age of eight, I had to fill a ten litre bucket with ring pulls (from drink cans) that I found at the local drive-in where my mother worked. I got $2.00 for that. And I filled two tins so that I could buy my dad a father's day present. One needs to do it tougher than the child otherwise how will they appreciate how lucky they are. I mean, my mother had to walk to school in sandals in winter. Goodness knows what her mother had to do.

To which my son said "well at least you got paid".

I don't think he got what lesson in life I was trying to explain to him.

But then, I wonder if I would have either at the age of fourteen.

Nothing changes.

Ciao
LC

Sunday 6th November

2011-11-06T19:48:00.000+11:00

Sunday is coming to a close and it has been a busy weekend.

Yesterday K and I went to an art shop miles from home so that I could buy some supplies for a new art project. On the way back we stopped off to have some lunch and enjoyed the warm afternoon. The drive home seemed to take forever and I felt I had been in the car for hours on end.

By the time I got home I was ready for a snooze but went for a walk instead.

The house is in a bit of a mess and will be for quite a while.

My kitchen is now being opened up a bit for the building of a new pantry.

We sold the old kitchen on Ebay and it should be picked up this weekend. The stove was disconnected on Friday and we won't have use of it until the week before Christmas as long as things go according to schedule. So, crossing fingers for that to happen.

With no stove to cook on it makes having dinner a bit of a dilemma. I thought about buying a BBQ so today I went out to look at some but decided that it was cheaper and more practical to buy some table top grill thing to tide us over. If I bought an outdoor BBQ it would just be a waste of money.

So I bought this grill made by Sunbeam. I have always found these things to be depressing for some reason. Just the appearance of them makes me feel sad. I am sure there is some strange logic there. Something about renting when young and poor. Who knows.

It came with a recipe book. Some of the recipes were cake and biscuit ones and I found it intriguing because the interior is certainly very small and I cannot imagine producing anything of significance. However, I will do home made pizzas and things like that. Last night we had pizza and although I had the most delicious vegetarian one there is no way I can eat like that more than once a month as I will end up being unable to fit into my clothes. The place we bought the pizza from makes pizza's that taste just the same as the one I ate outside the Vatican in Rome in 2010. So incredibly tasty - almost addictive.

Below is a photo of the pantry and fridge area opened up. The room beyond is the laundry. We had to steal the cupboard space from to enable a pantry of useful size in the kitchen.

The space behind the stove was opened up and will be a stone bench with two banks of drawers below. That is where the microwave will sit along with the kettle and toaster. It is not very deep so not suitable for any preparation work. Essentially it is storage.

The rest of the kitchen is going to be just an L shape. As I am losing cupboard space I have to be very mindful of what is going back into the kitchen when it is finished. My brother will be making me a preparation bench that I designed and that will sit in the kitchen. It's pretty groovy.

Today I had to take my son shopping for some things he needs for a three day camp this week. It was two hours of hell for both of us.

Being a teenage boy he just wanted to get in and out. Having a mother who looks at every option thoughtfully and carefully before doing anything from choosing breakfast to spending money was his worst nightmare.

It worked out. Although he did threaten me with abandonment if I even hinted at looking at some clothing.

When I got home I then had to go out and find something for the studio. I felt like my entire weekend had been taken up with having to do things.

But I am now in the studio doing a post and that is good that was done.

The weather has been glorious. Hot and sunny. Trees are green and underneath them the shade is beautiful.

All is good.

Ciao
LC

Cup Tuesday

2011-11-01T22:06:00.002+11:00

Today I have the day off. It is a public holiday here in Victoria because of a horse race. That's weird isn't it? Having a public holiday because of a horse race that is an institution.

The Melbourne Cup. Long and hard race full of fine horses. Part of the Spring Racing Carnival where everyone dresses up, eats, drinks, loses money and then staggers home with hats, ties and fascinator's all askew. The finish was almost a double heat, so close to the line. The horse that won was no more than one centimetre ahead of the second. That is a good race. The Melbourne Cup is an exciting race and worthy of a day off work.

Well, that is my belief since I am getting the day off.

With Australia being the land of long weekends at any given opportunity means that many people do not work on the Monday prior to Cup Day. I did work. Yes, despite the fact I was planning a day off I had to do some things at work and then go to my brother's to do four or five hours of bookwork. I ended up home at 6pm feeling mentally knackered.

Still, the Saturday and Sunday were such fun because my husband and I spent a fair amount of time emptying out the kitchen which is due to be removed by the end of this week. It has to be removed because behind the stove we have blocked off a large area which used to be for an old wood stove. But we are going to use that area so all that is in front needs moving out.

The cupboards were emptied slowly and the contents piled in another room. The pantry emptied. The fridge moved outside. We got rid of a lot of stuff. Loads actually. The new kitchen will have less storage so any unused items really need to go. Not only that, I just don't use the crap I got rid of so why keep it. It's rather enjoyable getting rid of things.

It was extremely satisfying throwing out pantry food. I could see the food phases I had gone through last year. Packets of brown grainy things. Lots of lentils and other legumes. Curry spices. Random jars of herbs used a few times and forgotten. Udon noodles. Miso soups. Some I kept, most I threw out.

So, once the kitchen goes out and the stove is disconnected we will have nowhere to cook. We think that we may get a BBQ. I think we are the only people in Australia who don't have one.

The new stove I have ordered won't be arriving for sixteen weeks. That's because I chose something that was not standard so it has to be made and sent from Italy. The old stove will be reconnected in the new kitchen so I can at least cook something for Christmas.

For the next six weeks we will be a bit out of sorts here. After the kitchen goes in there is painting and floor polishing to do. Also getting an air conditioner put in and taking an old heater out. Then there is some work in our main bathroom because there is some water damage under the tiles and we will be replacing the bath, redoing some tiling and other really, really messy things. Also work being done outside.

However, I cannot complain because when it is all done I will have a great space to cook in and the place will look fresh and new. It has been about twenty years that the kitchen/lounge area was added to the house and it really needed a bit of work.

This morning K and I went to a beach Bootcamp with the exercise group. Lots of running on the sand, carrying tyres, throwing tyres, lifting bricks and other sweaty activities. I planned to also go for a walk tonight but my niece and her partner came by and we chatted for about four hours. By the time they left it was dark and my walking plans were put away. Besides, I had to finish packing things in boxes as they are going down to the charity shop tomorrow. I think I have throw out one fifth of what I had in the kitchen.

We had to empty the two bottom drawers. You know those sorts of drawers filled with random shit.

Birthday candles, batteries, gardening gloves, instruction books for various appliances bought over the past twenty years, cupboard hooks, twine, things that might be needed but not sure exactly what they would be needed for. There were also about thirty random keys in there.

We threw out loads. And I expect that when we revisit the box we put the "to keep" stuff in it will culled further.

I was on such a good run that I made K go through his wardrobe and be ruthless with things. We have the tiniest amount of hanging space that it is really important to have a throw out on a regular basis.

Now I have had enough and am going to make myself something to eat.

Tomorrow morning the tradesmen arrive at 7.00 am in the morning and I think I may just have to get up early.

Too many people from work have already seen me in my pyjamas.

I have to maintain some standards.

Ciao
LC

Monday Blog

2011-10-24T20:57:00.003+11:00

I am at work right now and taking a well earned slack break.

Bossman and his wife are back from holiday and didn't he have to put up with my venting. He is my last port of call when it comes to a work whinge because he just is the best pacifier of whiney women.

Soon things will get back to some sort of normal here. There is a four day weekend coming up and I am looking forward to having that break. However, before those four days arrive I have a mountain of work to get through so am putting of dropping my bundle until then.

Last week I finally went to therapy. After dragging my feet for months on end and then sitting down in front of him I wondered why I took so long. We went through a lot of things and the session went half an hour over time which often happens. I guess that is why he books me in for the last session of the day.

After a lengthy talk about lots of things he and I discussed about how I felt about the prospect of going onto anti depressants for what he says is a major depressive episode. I said that I would rather continue to try to manage it sans medication. Although he agreed he was a bit hesitant at first because I am running out of management options in a way. Really, unless he can guarantee I don't put on weight while taking anti depressants there is not a chance in Hell that I will take them. Plus, they just have side effects that are so unpleasant I just don't want to go back on them.

The thing is, I am very, very demotivated about doing things such as exercise, eating well, keeping a good routine and other stuff. All of it currently requires extreme effort but I am still doing it all. My main obstacle is bad sleep. On Saturday night I had a good sleep and woke up feeling like a different person. When I have poor sleep I am just a blah person doing whatever a blah person has to do. I function under par most days and then start to think that is normal.

Anyway, I will be seeing him again this week and for the next few weeks to determine whether or not I can get over this hiccup for now. It's my belief that I can as long as I have some guidance along the way. Maybe just making the effort and seeing him is the jump start I need. It has been a difficult year and I think that has just made things a bit harder for me.

When my niece came around on Saturday we were talking about it and she said "were you in denial about your depression?" and I said that she was possibly right. Not denial but more like ignoring it a bit. I just kept thinking of what I was not doing right rather than thinking that there was really a rational reason as to why I felt so up and down all the time. I point the finger at hormones, stress, poor sleep, not enough exercise or not being disciplined enough. Perhaps they are not the reason for feeling this way, maybe the depression makes me feel all those things.

It's all good really because I can focus on it differently rather than kind of knowing but denying it. It also takes the pressure off me thinking I am doing something wrong and that accepting things are not always in my control.

Next week I am having work done at home and life will be a bit chaotic while they get the kitchen out and we have to wait for the new one to be made. I think I will have two or three weeks of no stove which means we may have to eat out every night. It's a tough thought. you know, not being able to cook.....

It will take about four weeks for everything to get done. Then comes Christmas. It's all the routine of life isn't it? Whether the changes are via the seasons, months, birthdays, religious events or doing pointless household tasks, they are all there to remind us of the things we do to keep us feeling useful or part of something. Or to make what we do seem relevant.

As though things are put in place to validate our existence.

Oh, that sounded a bit deep.

I'd better get back to work.

Where I really need to validate my existence to ensure I get paid.

Ciao
LC

Well, Thanks Boss

2011-10-24T16:54:00.000+11:00

Where my work is we have built three office/factory warehouses. The whole thing has been a joint venture with two other builders and one of those builders is a really difficult person.

He offends people. Is rude. Is demanding. Is bossy. And tactless.

Today my boss was defending him saying that you just had to get to know him. You just had to work him out.

"He's rude and really offends people but he's good," he said

And then he added "he is a lot like you Linda."

Well, really, I am not sure what to say.

Rude, demanding, bossy, tactless, offensive person that I am.

Sigh

Ciao
LC

Sunday Outing

2011-10-23T20:23:00.002+11:00

A day out and about. Museum and a car show. Just a few photos.

S took some photos.

Which is the real dinosaur?

This is a new and fantastic way that the museum has animals displayed.

There is a great interactive screen that corresponds with the animals on display.

Me standing at the old black and white television.

My dream car. A Triumph TR6.

Ciao
LC

Bedtime Conversation

2011-10-18T20:28:00.002+11:00

The other night my husband and I had a stupid conversation.

It all started with a fart, as all good conversations do start. Or should start. It was my fart (of course).

"You know, I really should stop farting. I mean, I don't think twice about farting in front of my own son. It's so wrong. I have no standards," I said to K.

"I know, I just fart in front of him in the office. He never says anything but, really, it might totally disgust him and he is too polite to tell me," replied K.

The conversation went along these lines with both of us talking about how we would have freaked if our parents farted in front of us. Ew, vomit.

"Maybe we should talk to him tomorrow and make sure it is okay that we fart. It's just disgusting that, as his mother, I think nothing about farting in front of him and laughing about it," I said (then started laughing about it).

"Yes, we should. For all we know he may be silently freaking out each time we fart. Poor kid," said K.

Next evening we sat down with S.

"Your father and I want to talk to you about something we think is really important," I started.

Son looks at both of us with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Well, as you know, your father and I just fart in front of you with not a thought of how you might feel about it. I mean, we never hear you fart and maybe you are totally disgusted by us but don't want to tell us," I said."

"What the??? Yeah, farting is disgusting. Who says I don't fart in front of you two. I do silent farts. Ninja farts. Deadly farts" says son.

"Oh, well, okay. Well, we just wanted to give you the option of asking us to be more mindful about our farting habits when you are around," I continued.

"Yeah, I never want you to fart again. I want you to hold on tight for the rest of your life," says son.

Glad we got that sorted.

Actually, we never really got a definitive answer from him.

But if he ever complains in years to come he cannot say we did not give him the chance to express his feelings about it earlier.

I am such a considerate parent.

Ciao
LC

Turtle Keeper

2011-10-16T22:25:00.001+11:00

In our office we have a large light well in which there is a pond and some bamboo.

Recently two turtles came to live in the pond.

The guy who bought them just plonked them in the pond and put the food in the freezer.

However, I have now become the turtle keeper because it is important to me that they are happy and healthy.

So, today my husband and I went to a pet shop that specialises in things like snakes, turtles, lizards and other creatures. I needed a bit of information about the best way to keep the turtles happy. The shop was fabulous. I could be very tempted to set up a reptile tank at home but doubt that would be met with much enthusiasm as my husband is not at all keen on snakes.

Along with some stinky frozen prawns, mussels and white bait, I bought ten live fish to put into the pond for the turtles to feed on. The fish were in a plastic bag that had to sit in the pond water for 20 minutes before releasing the fish into the pond.

So, I put the bag in and one of the turtles could see the fish and started biting at the bag and pushed it to the far end of the pond, way out of arms reach. Below is a picture of me getting the bag back to me with a BBQ tool. This is when I am very happy that I do Pilate's and have good core strength.

Although, there was a brief moment when I almost slipped in.

When we left the turtles had still not managed to catch a fish.

They were, unsurprisingly, a bit too slow.

Ciao
LC

Blab On The Fifteenth

2011-10-15T21:02:00.002+11:00

I have had a very nice Saturday.

Last night I went to bed with the intention of getting up early for an exercise class but gave that a miss after yet another awful sleep. Had I gone to the class (and I almost did) the day would have been just too tiring. Better to get some extra sleep.

I went to the hairdresser's which is always my favorite day. Although, looking at the photo below it looks like I need to go to the hairdressers. But it was windy outside and blew my hair all over the place. When I look at that photo I am kind of surprised how grey the hair is looking. Still, even on one of my regular crap days I never want to change the colour back to dark brown.

After the hairdresser I once again made that stupid mistake of going to the health food shop for lunch. Honestly, everytime I go there to have lunch I feel disgusting. But I live in hope that one day they will dish up something delicious.

I stood looking at the array of brown and green food trying to pick the best of the worst looking. Not only that, most of the food is quite fattening so no matter if it is vegan it is still going to make me feel blech and contribute to a fat bum.

In the end I chose a chick pea, pumpkin and zucchini curried salad. Yep, it was a bit horrible. But it looked healthy so I felt special making that decision.

Now, in my mind, the balance of chick peas, pumpkin and zucchini should have been equal, however it was not. It was as though someone had tipped a big can of chickpeas in a bowl and stirred in some curry powder. Then garnished it with two bits of over cooked pumpkin and three bits of zucchini.

I dutifully munched my way through half of it before deciding that I really don't need that much fart food. As I left the shop I reminded myself that lunch was the last lunch I would ever have there again and was forced to console myself with some very delicious almond biscuits that I bought from a lovely Jewish bakery. Mmmmm.

Later in the afternoon I had to go dress shopping for a black tie function I am going to next Friday night. I loathe dress shopping. Especially formal dresses. Hate it. When I wear dresses I often think I look like a guy in drag. Walking into a dress shop just fills me with bleak despair.

However, the first dress I tried on was appealing to me. Nondescript and practical. So I bought it. In fact, I was home so quickly that K was almost shocked. He took a few photos for me because what I see in the mirror is different to what I see in the photo. I am happy with the dress. I also like the glimpse of the laundry and kitchen behind me. Very homely.

At the end of November I have a work function to go to and it is a race day. Another dress. However, I am buying one on Etsy so I hope it works out.

Today my son went out with friends to Chadstone shopping centre. K and I were gobsmacked when he asked if he could go.

"About time," we both said and clapped our hands with joy.

"I'll give you some spending money," I said to him.

"Yeah, fifty bucks should do it," he suggested.

Fifty bucks? FIFTY BUCKS?

As this was his first time out to the shopping centre with friends I said he could have that amount but next time there is no way he would get that.

So, off he went. Came home at about 5.30 pm wearing some stupid hat. I mean, really stupid big blue furry hat with giant ears. He paid $29.95 for it. What can I say. He has not taken it off and is sitting at the computer looking very weird.

During the week I spoke to him about getting a mobile phone but he says he does not want one. He wants to get through school without one.

So when he gets out and about I shall have to accept that he is where he says he is and okay.

Just like it was when I was growing up.

Only, I was not always where I said I would be.

And was not always okay.

Sigh.

Ciao
LC

Angus

2011-10-11T22:32:00.004+11:00

Dear Angus

In April 1996 you came to live with us.

A very furry and cheeky border collie.

A wonderful buddy in my life.

You chewed our socks.

Dug up the garden.

Tore the washing off the line.

Ate things you found around the house.

You were sly and naughty and I loved you being just that.

You spent lots of time with me. In these photos I was three months pregnant with my son. You were still my baby.

Over the years you just lived your life the way dogs live their lives with humans. Part of the pack. Part of our family. Many, many wonderful memories.

You got old like everyone and everything gets old. Towards the end you were deaf, frail, did not know who I was and never wagged your tail anymore. Life was painful and not pleasureable.

Today, over fifteen years after you came to us, we had to say goodbye.

Thank you Angus for being our dear dog for many years.

You are resting peacefully in the garden now.

Love LC

Annoying

2011-10-08T22:51:00.003+11:00

I don't know why, but for the past week or so I cannot post a comment on anyone's blog.

I type it up and when I go to publish the comment it disappears.

So I do it again and it just gets lost in the blog ether.

A couple have gone through but most have not.

Grrrrr

Ciao
LC

Saturday Blab

2011-10-08T22:36:00.003+11:00

It's been a busy week at work and things are stressful. Cash flow is tight at the moment and that makes my life hard in the office. Just before he went overseas my boss used some of the business money to purchase some property for development. It was to be repaid within the week from finance sources but because the paperwork had not been filled in properly it now won't be repaid until Boss Barney gets back. So, that puts a squeeze on things. Fortunately I had what he calls "the bookkeeper stash" in another account which I have just in case these things happen so I could transfer enough across to ease some pressure.

It's a bit of a joke. Me and my stash. Over the years I have learnt the way my boss does things and always put a bit of money aside in an interest bearing account. He never takes money out for personal use, it is all business related. But he often takes it out before all the paperwork is formalised properly. It was a few years before he found out about my stash. Now that he knows he often says I might have to use the stash soon. And, if I say I have no money he always says "what's in the stash?'. He has told other builder's about the emergency stash. I have to say that it has been a handy thing to access now and then. However, I have used it this time so now I am just waiting for money to come in from clients.

My last post was a bit of a one sentence rant. You see, sometimes the fact that I am very much like my father freaks me out because he was a difficult man. Then again, he had very good points and I suppose it is okay to have good parts of him without having to worry about picking up the negative aspects to him. But I do recall always thinking I would do everything in my power to not repeat his behaviour and allow it to infect my life. The down side of that is that if I ever lose my temper or get cross I immediately think I am morphing into my father rather than accepting that I am expressing my displeasure at something. And, what I call losing my temper is pretty mild. It might just be me getting cross. Anyway, enough of that. It's all just blah blah.

It's daylight savings now and the days are that little bit longer which is so lovely. The weather is milder but still the rain comes across and soaks the weedy garden. It is so different to past years and to see all the trees and plants looking lush is beautiful. Even the weeds look lovely.

Tonight we went out to eat and then had a coffee and cake in a lovely coffee shop not far from where we live. I took my camera with and fiddled around with the black and white settings. I like black and white photos, they just look nicer.

The photo below could have been taken a long time ago. I love all the magazines on the shelf. Some of them are design magazines from the seventies and eighties. We were talking about the days of type setting and how that job is all but obsolete because of computers. I looked at one magazine and it was so dated. Everything new becomes old.

I like the photo below. At any opportunity my son will put on a cheerless, teenage look. His body language says a lot.

At least one of us has a happy face! I really hate having my photo taken now that I am getting older. Just one of those female things maybe. For a while I was toying with the idea of never having another photo taken of me again and be frozen in time at a certain age. Then I decided that was ridiculous because I still have to look at myself in the mirror everyday anyway. At least black and white is flattering.

I finally made an appointment to see my therapist again. Not until the 20th of this month. Believe me, I dragged my feet on this one but the other week I had a really unpleasant panic attack which was totally unexpected so I figure I need to deal with a few things. Even though I handle panic attacks well enough I find them physically draining and nauseating. They have been infrequent over the past few years but since hormonal changes this year I feel a bit more susceptible right now. The unexpected one from the other day was difficult because only a few minute prior I was just having a normal chit chat in the kitchen at work so nothing specific was in my head. Then, on the way home I thought about it and felt very anxious as I drove the car. It is a bit of a cycle that happens.

When I sent the email to my therapist (I hate ringing) he replied so sweetly saying he had been wondering how I was. I don't know why I am like this but I often worry that I am an imposition on people. It's always a surprise to me that someone is happy to catch up with me or pleased to see me. I cannot explain why I think that but I am sure it ties in with some self esteem thing.

Anyway, I feel better now I have this appointment ahead. I can organise in my head what to talk to him about. Although, I have done that beforehand and end up speaking about something else. There is a lot in my head so it is hard to know which way the thoughts are going to tumble.

My son has been at home for two weeks of school holidays. He ventured out once into the city with K and they went to the Immigration Museum and also had lunch. The rest of the time he was a mole rat in the house playing on the Xbox or computer. He slept in everyday and even had a few pyjama days. Now he is back into normal sleep patterns and his head is ready for school. I asked him why he never has friends over and he said that he sees friends every day at school so it is good to have a break from them during holidays. He and I share some very similar traits. Need time alone.

I am hoping to get out in the studio tomorrow. Having finished one painting I am ready to start another. I tidied up today and did lots of clothes washing so that I would not have to do it all tomorrow. If I can ignore the very weedy garden on the walk to the studio I just might allow myself to get something done.

In the morning I have the opportunity to go for a run with some girls from the exercise group. I had planned to go to the session last Sunday but slept in. If I get a good night's sleep tonight I will endeavour to get up and meet them. But you know, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. My sleep patterns are so awful I cannot even predict how I will be the next morning.

But you know, these days I sometimes cannot be bothered even pulling on my exercise clothes to do anything. The past few months have seen me have to dig deep mentally to get out there and run around. Possibly because of the fatigue I have every single day and the poor sleep. It makes it very, very hard to be motivated to do anything when all I feel like doing is lounging around on the chair each evening when I get home from work. However, if I don't exercise it has a negative impact on every aspect of my life so I just do what I have to do and cross my fingers that eventually my interest will pick up again and the fatigue will sort itself out.

The other day I had to go to the doctors to get the results from the gastroscopy. The results were good so the thought is that I need to reassess my diet, which is great but needs a closer look. No wheat perhaps. Not sure what else I can change. I also had to get my ears syringed because they had filled with wax. If that isn't the most disgusting thing seeing what was wedged up in there. Blech. Still, my hearing improved greatly, the ear ache stopped as did the high pitched squeal in my right ear. There were a few other things and as I left he asked me if there was anything else.

"No, that is all for now. Just the usual middle aged woman things," I replied.

"Yes, you are right there Linda. And it only gets worse," he said.

Well, nice to know I am aging according to medical expectations.

Might go and get a nice pair of slippers then.

And crochet myself a rug for my knees.

And have a nice cup of tea.

Before I get my running shoes on and make sure the doctor can stick those medical expectations.

I have other expectations thank you very much.

I intend to be frozen in time.

Ciao
LC

Inspiration

2011-10-07T10:45:00.000+11:00

My father inspired me to try to be a better person because he is such a prick and I would never, ever want to be like him.

Diagnosis Left Or Right

2011-10-02T23:16:00.001+11:00

I am almost embarrassed to post this little conversation between my husband and I but I have to.

Since I had the gastroscopy on Thursday I have had a significant pain on my left side. It feels the same as when I cracked my ribs in 2010.

I cannot imagine why I have the pain since it was a very basic procedure. Maybe they were rough as they poked the camera around.

Anyway, last night the pain was pretty rotten so I thought I would Google the following words to see if there might be a reason for the pain.

"pain in right side after gastroscopy"

Needless to say, lots of crap came up and one of them made mention of a woman who had a pain on her right side after gastroscopy and died six days later of complications.

I read it out to my husband.

"Isn't the pain on your left side?" he asked me.

"Isn't that my right side? Oh, wait, that side is my left side isn't it," I said having a bit of a think about it.

"Yes, that is your left side," he reminded me (fully aware of my life long inability to work out left from right without serious thought before hand).

"Oh, that is okay then," I said.

I really need to get my left and right sorted.

I also stopped Googling after that.

The pain, however, is still there.

Still on the left side.

Ciao
LC

Sunday Evening Boring Post

2011-10-02T22:58:00.000+11:00

Not much to report from the house of Linda.

Daylight savings has started and the clocks move forward and the cycle of life continues.

It meant I slept in this morning. I had planned to do a beach boot camp with some exercise friends but the bed won out. Yesterday morning I had an exercise class followed by Pilate's so I don't feel guilty. Besides, boot camp is on every Sunday so I will get into it next week.

It's strange isn't it? That I should feel guilty because I did not exercise. But most times I feel anxious and guilty if I don't exercise.

I feel guilty about everything. I feel other people's guilt. I was born guilty. I am sure I could confess to someone else's crime because I would feel their guilt.

On Saturday morning I got an sms from my boss's mother asking if I wanted to catch up at a local shopping centre. Yes, yes, it was Chadstone AGAIN. It's either all or nothing with that place. When she sms'd me I actually replied by asking her if she meant to send it to me and not someone else as it has been ages since I heard from her. She has a huge social network and I could not figure why she would sms me to catch up. Does that say something about me?

So we met up for lunch. Fancy that. We "did lunch". And a very nice lunch it was too. It's very odd these days how they have this food culture within a shopping centre. They serve up the most beautiful dishes and make fantastic coffee at the place we ate at. It has a continental feel about it which kind of disturbs me to think that these days they can just make a "continental" or "oriental" feel about a place with the appropriate decor. I felt a bit depressed sitting in this fake Italian cafe in the middle of a huge shopping centre looking at the menu. I would rather be in Italy.

After lunch we went clothes shopping. Well, she did. I helped her pick out some clothes for travel as she is going over to the US to meet up with my boss and his family on Tuesday. It was really very enjoyable to just walk around and natter as she and I used to work together and have not seen each other for ages. I ended up being in the centre for four hours. The weather was dull so I did not feel I missed out on much.

I have just read the above and think this post is going to be one of those boring ones. Still, life is generally boring so it still deserves to be recorded. Also, if I waited around for something very exciting to happen, something worthy of an exciting post, well, there would only be three posts each year.

I have taken up ten week Pilate's programme. It's not the "gym" Pilate's, it is the one using all the medieval looking equipment. I have had three private lessons to teach me how to do things and each time I feel more worn out than when I have done a weights class. It's a whole new set of muscles being used. There is so much talk about the pelvic floor muscles that I am wondering if I will be able to crack walnuts with them after ten weeks. Haha, was that a bit rude of me? Seriously though, there is a lot of focus on core muscles. Muscles I never really use because the big muscles tend to take over when doing exercise.

Sometimes I feel as though I am a marketer's dream come true with all the middle aged woman things I do. It actually depresses me but I cannot help myself from doing them. Here is a list of what a middle aged, middle class boring woman does and, guess what, I do them or have done them all.

1. Book Club
2. Pilate's
3. Charity runs
4. Yoga
5. Eats super foods (Goji Berries etc.)
6. Buys organic
7. Does lunch with other middle aged or older women
8. Group exercise classes
9. Does Therapy
10. Gets a tattoo
11. Gets Acupuncture
12. Went to a chiropractor
13. Wears yoga pants by Lulu Lemon
14. Drinks green tea
15. Boot Camp

Today I went food shopping to different supermarket. It was out of my neighbourhood and the people there were of a totally different demographic. I felt a bit out of place but also mildly fascinated. There were lots of track suit panted people and plenty of screaming children. My car was parked in a stupid place far away and down slope which made pushing the food laden trolley quite a challenge and I had a vision of losing my grip and watching the trolley hit a car. Fortunately all the core work I did in the Pilate's class paid off and I was able to control the trolley by engaging my core and hanging on for dear life.

Oh, this post is getting even duller. Well, I may as well continue along.

On Friday I had a kitchen guy come around as I am getting a new kitchen. We came up with a design but he has to refine it a bit. There is going to be significant work done in the room including our floor being repolished after twenty years of us walking all over it.

Part of me feels a bit sad about the old kitchen going. I met my husband when he came into the family business to buy a bench top. That was in 1987. He ended up buying a kitchen and marrying me. However, one cannot be sentimental when it comes to the fact that the kitchen looks really, really dated. I know all things old were new once, but everything needs a refresh at some point in time.

Look, I have just bored myself totally here so I might finish up this post before I change my mind and delete it.

If you are still here reading, well done.

Oh, there was one thing. We have two pet turtles at work. They live in a pond that is in the light well that is behind me. Sometimes I look behind and one of them is staring at me through the glass.

It is freaky.

Ciao
LC

Fffffffffriday

2011-09-30T15:37:00.002+10:00

It's Friday and I am at work.

Yesterday I had to have the day off to have a gastroscopy.

What a waste of a day.

I have been having significant gut pain and went to the doctor's for that and some other stuff. Initially I was just going to rethink my whole diet because it feels like it is a reaction to something I am eating. However, I thought that it would be prudent to get the stomach checked first because that ensures I am not giving up wheat or dairy for no good reason.

As it was, fortunately there was nothing obvious but they took biopsies for stuff.

It was over and done with quickly. It's a weird place to go. Not actually a hospital. More like an office with medical facilities out the back. It certainly smelt like a hospital. And was clean in that sterile hospital way.

Because I was only having a gastroscopy I did not have to get undressed or anything. I just jumped up on the bed in the surgery, in my yoga pants and with my shoes on. When I actually walked into the room the anaesthetist was leaning against a bench reading the newspaper. It was a bit casual for my liking. I wondered if he washed his hands before he attended to me.

The place was busy. They said they had a quiet day, only twenty six people expected through. All this place does is endoscopy. It was like a factory.

Afterwards I went home and just lay on the couch feeling crappity crap and over tired. I was tetchy and bitchy.

I had an irrational conversation with my husband that went along the lines of this:

"I am shitty because even though we have private health cover I had to fork out $414 for the process and they found nothing."

My husband said that it was good that they found nothing sinister and did I really want them to find something just because I paid money?

He's right. What was I expecting them to find for my money? A handbag or something?

I mean, it was not retail therapy.

It was a medical procedure.

Sheesh.

Anyway, I still have the gut pain.

And I still think it was a waste of money.

That is the problem with being a bookkeeper.

You always want a good result for the money.

Ciao
LC

Healthy

2011-09-26T16:27:00.000+10:00

At work we have lunch provisions provided.

So, every Friday we place an order online from a supermarket and they deliver it the follow Monday in time for lunch.

The pantry and fridge is better stocked than mine at home.

Last Friday I did the order and decided to get a fruit box with seasonal fruit.

It arrived today. There is so much fruit there I could feed a family of six for a week and beyond.

There are only four of us in the office this week with Bossman and family away so not sure how we will get through it all.

I keep sending emails to the other three telling them to eat fruit. So they eat more.

I have had two apples, a banana, a pear and some water melon.

That is on top of the salad I had.

Subsequently I have a stomach ache.

It is going to be a long and fruity week.

Oh, and much to the annoyance of everyone I forgot to order biscuits.

There are no treats in the office this week.

Except yoghurt.

But that hardly counts as a treat does it?

I might have to bring some in.

Ciao
LC

Sunday Groan

2011-09-25T22:01:00.004+10:00

The weekend has been a good one.

Yesterday I woke up and went for a long and brisk walk, picking up some food from the bakery on the way. I went for the walk before I even had a shower, even before I ate breakfast. Normally I can hardly get out the door without food in my stomach.

The weather was nice and sunny but the air is still a bit chilly. I just walked and listened to music. It was very peaceful.

I avoided turning on the television until mid afternoon because I am a television watcher and behave like a two year old when it is on. Staring at the screen with my mouth half open. I even watch adverts. It is not just that, I am addicted to watching movies on the weekend and it eats into my day so I try to do what needs doing first.

But yesterday my favorite movie was on. Oliver the musical. I saw this movie when I was about six years old at the movies and it frightened the life out of me. Since then I have watched it a dozen times, seen every version of it including a great live on in London in 2010. And read the book numerous times. My son is also into it and we watched a two part series last night and went late to bed because of it.

I love the 1968 version of it because the music is fabulous. And Oliver Reed is such a beautiful man to watch. So whenever it is on television I just have to watch it. Which is what I did yesterday. The sets are fantastic and all of them were done at the studios. Works of art.

Anyway, managed to spend some time in the studio to redo a painting and felt satisfied with it. It was the first time I really felt okay with the end result of a painting and did not feel the need for anyone else's approval. It just felt emotionally satisfying to look at and the emotional process of producing it was very engrossing because it filled my head totally.

Today K and I went to Chadstone. Yes, despite my ranting about that same shopping centre last week I had to go back and get some damn clothes! I bought two pairs of black pants having decided I am now only going to wear black pants and black t-shirts at work so I never have to think of what to wear in the morning. Every single stupid day of my work life I change my clothes anything up to six times before I get out of the house. The less choice I have (and I don't have many choices in my teeny wardrobe space) the better as too much choice only fills me with overwhelming anxiety.

So, black is the new black for me.

This evening we had a get together with my exercise group. The personal trainer has been in business for ten years so it was nice to celebrate. It is kind of funny seeing everyone in normal clothes. We usually only meet in lycra! The evening was nice and the food was fantastic. However, I have eaten too much and am now sitting here feeling like a big blow fish. There is always a price to pay for eating one macaroon too much.

So, that was my weekend.

Now I might roll off to bed and hopefully sleep off my piggery.

Groan.

Ciao
LC

Friday Dreams

2011-09-23T11:05:00.002+10:00

I drove to work today in a fog. My sleep has been almost hallucinatory with dreams for a few nights and I think that means it is not particularly deep. This in turn makes me feel very, very slow after I get out of bed. My thoughts don't fall into place for ages and ages and fly around like birds in my head.

One night it felt like an entire episode of Silent Witness was happening in my head. I woke up thick with anxiety and it took all day to bring it down.

Last night I dreamt that my son was put in a cage at a Native Fauna park because he had teased a koala. They told him he would not be able to come out until he at 28kgs of bamboo shoots. I said that was unlikely to happen since he would not eat a carrot at home.

I dreamt a lot as a child. Long dreams that sent me sleep walking. Day dreams where I would be totally immersed in another world. My childhood life was one long journey into fantasy land. I think the dreams I have at the moment are tied in with the hormonal changes. I need to harness them a bit better because lately I have some really good ideas for canvas work. All surreal and symbolic. They come out of the dream. When I think about some of the dreams my head feels like it is on a roller coaster. It's not a bad feeling but it is fairly intense.

The dreams are so full of colour and movement. Long conversations go on in them. They are so vivid that I find myself wondering what was real and what was not. Last night I was about to say something to K and had to clarify if, in fact, I had not said it to him already. Was it in a dream?

That sensation of not being sure is making me very hesitant to talk about things in case I have imagined something or forgotten it. It's not like normal forgetfulness, it's more like working out whether or not my dreams are still hanging around in my daytime head space.

It's a weird kind of tiredness too. It's not like lack of sleep tired. I feel like I am still half asleep but able to function quite well. Tonight I will get a good sleep because it is the weekend and I have no need to get up before I have to.

My boss and his family have flown out today to the US for a four week holiday so the office is going to be very busy to cover for them. To help me out my boss has organised for my house to be cleaned over the four weeks so that I don't have to worry. The cleaners came on Monday of this week so the house had to be tidied to make the cleaning easier. When I came home I was in heaven. Generally when the house is cleaned it is on an as need basis. Not often I see it all done in one hit.

So I will have to get out of bed earlier to get more work hours in. It's only for a short time and I can do it if I have to. I just have to be very organised with my time and be careful with my moods. We don't want Linda to be hard work for the next four weeks!

Well, that is my brief post for Friday. I had to wait for my head to clear before I could start some very, very complicated work. When I do a post it kind of sorts my head back into one place. Bit like a magnet finding all the bits of metal shavings on a board. All my thoughts have now zoomed into work mode. I feel more at ease now.

Besides, if I don't get some work done soon the day will go pear shaped.

And that would be a nightmare.

Ciao
LC

To Walk or Not To Walk

2011-09-20T19:54:00.000+10:00

And that is the question I am currently asking myself.

Whether or not to do the Oxfam 100km Charity Walk in April next year.

On Sunday evening the question was posed to me about when we should start training for the Oxfam walk again. One of the team (the guy by the way) has dropped out because he has three small children and is studying part time as well as working full time. It is a big commitment and impinges hugely on any free time.

During the walk, especially the last ten hallucinatory kilometres of it, I verbalised how there was no way I would be walking this track again. A week later I said I just might. Now, almost six months later I am not that keen.

It's been a bit of a shit year and a lot has happened. How I managed to do that walk in the frame of mind I was in kind of intrigues me. Then we had the house flood. I had to move office and we went on an ill planned and not particularly enjoyable overseas trip. And then all the hormonal changes added icing to the cake.

I still have really ugly toenails because they all dropped off after the walk. Took months to happen and during the time they turned black. The training ate into my personal life a lot. Although, I won't say I did not enjoy it. It was a challenge.

The trouble is that I now have knowledge of what the walk is all about. And that makes a difference. I could turn the awareness into a challenge (and I do love a challenge on so many levels) and do the walk more efficiently by training differently.

My head space likes to take on things like this walk. I like that it is for a good cause. I like that it is a big project both mentally and physically.

I have a week or so to make the decision. The two girls are very, very keen to have me do it with them again. We have to get a fourth person to join. They felt we got on so well and had such fun it would be a pity not to do it again.

I do know that if I worked on being more organised (the eternal project is that one) it will work well. But it does mean that I have to be very, very mindful about keeping everything around me running smoothly.

As I am finishing off this post I have kind of answered my own question.

How can I not do it? Just because something is hard work it does not mean it is too hard.

Think I will send the girls an email right now.

Before I change my mind.

Ciao
LC

Fart Post

2011-09-18T22:37:00.002+10:00

It's been a long, long time since I have been so unladylike as to do a fart post.

I know I used to do them all the time (the posts as well as the farts) but I stopped for some reason.

I think the reason is something to do with getting older. Seriously, it does.

I was saying to my husband this morning that farting is not so funny when you get older because it implies lack of bodily functions. As though the aging process has brought along with it the inability to control ones farts.

I might digress here. A few months ago I was spreading a piece of toast with jam and I noticed that I had my mouth a bit open as I did it. I freaked. Why was my mouth hanging open loosely like the local village idiot?

Was it because my muscles were losing strength as I was aging?

After that episode I became uptight about whether or not my mouth was suddenly hanging open. Not hanging open like a giant cave, but, you know, kind of relaxed. I know I open my mouth to put on my mascara but that is in a controlled way.

The odd occasion it did drop even just a millimetre I would think "Oh, fuck, my mouth is out of control" and purse my lips tightly together.

Then I got sick of it and it stopped itself. I think I had traumatised myself and created some psychological process of slack mouth disorder.

So, back to farting.

Tonight we went out for an Indian meal with the group I did the Oxfam walk with. It has taken that long to catch up. I don't eat out much and I certainly don't eat Indian food because it is a bit rich and gives me a stomach ache.

However, I managed to eat a reasonable hot dish called chicken saag or something. It was pretty rich and now, over two hours later, I have the sensation of food wanting to come back up.

But, there is a bonus to this. I have been doing the WORST farts. They are so bad that I am really, really pleased about it.

They are empowering.

I wish I was in a crowded lift because I would share them just for a reaction.

It would be okay because everyone would just think I was a middle aged woman who has lost control of my faculties.

Oh, and I have the worst breath.

Funny how food that tastes so nice on the way in can change so much on the way out.

Ciao
LC

Truthfully

2011-09-18T17:44:00.002+10:00

Recently I have been having a very bad relationship with my clothes.

I hate them.

The other day I put on some jeans and they just felt and looked wrong. Because I have such a poor body image I never know if things looks as crap as I think they do.

I asked my son for the truth.

"Tell me, S, does what I am wearing look bad?" I ask him.

"Yes, it does," he replies.

"I appreciate your honesty," I said. And that was true.

"What do you think Dad would have said if you asked him," my son asked me.

"He would have said it looked great," I admitted.

"If you want the truth, ask me Mum. I will give it to you," said S.

Hmmmmm.

I need to be mindful of just how much truth I can handle before I ask him anything.

He just might tell me that my bum does look big.

Ciao
LC

Moanapause

2011-09-18T17:41:00.000+10:00

I am going to just have a Sunday moan. A really shallow Sunday whine from a middle aged lady.

That is what blogs are for. Having a whinge.

Before I start the whinge I just want to clarify a couple of things. Yes, menopause is a universal female life process. Yes, there are lots of people worse off than me. Yes, I know I am fortunate.

But I do want a little whinge.

Menopause sucks.

I hate that going through menopause has made me put on weight. And it is not my eating habits that have done the deed because I know I have not been eating too much. Nor is it my lack of exercise because I do exercise.

It's just one of those things that most (not all) women have to get their head around.

Actually, it is not that my weight has increased but the distribution of the weight has. My body is different. My body is middle aged. My body and my head are really not in tune. My arms and legs feel out of sorts with my thickening torso. Clothes annoy me. They don't feel like they used to. I feel like I got to a point where my body and head were no longer at war and now it is on again.

I look in the mirror and I don't get that person standing there. It's disconcerting. That face looking at me with the frown on it. My hair, now grey, seems to add years to me. But even then I won't go back to dark hair. So I have a love/hate thing happening with my hair as well. But I intend to win that one.

The whole process of getting older comes with all sorts of challenges and not just the physical. The emotional aspect to aging is a struggle on its own. Loss of youth and the sense of attractiveness. I know that older people have their own beauty but let's be honest, it sure won't match the beauty of youth.

I don't want to be young again. It's not that. It's something I cannot articulate without sounding like some woman who is having problems dealing with the aging process. Maybe the realisation that there are more years behind me than in front and that those years will be coming with different set of thought processes.

Before I could just eat well and exercise and things kind of worked out the way I liked. Now I have to do that and more if I want to get results that I feel comfortable with.

So, I have a few ideas to help me a bit.

1. Less carbs. This is because the body wants to make fat to store the disappearing oestrogen stores.
2. Different exercises. More walking. Pilate's. And not running because it is bulking me up. Plus it kills my joints. More upper weights, less squats.
3. Change make up to look less like the crypt keeper.
4. Don't let hair get short again - it looks mumsy on me.
5. Try to be kind to self.

I know, really, I am okay. But I cannot help what I feel deep inside. It makes no difference what other people think of me because it is what I think of myself that is what will find me some peaceful place.

My whinge is over for now.

I have to make dinner.

Ciao
LC

Saturday Shopping

2011-09-17T20:42:00.003+10:00

Last night as I lay in bed I was kept awake by the full moon that shone eerily bright into the bedroom. I love that moonlight. Considering the world is full of fakery, there is something about nature that gives great peace.

As I drifted off to sleep I had this plan in my head of what I would be doing today. You see, the weather is warming up and weekends are now extra, extra special. Plus, since I have been tracking my hormonal ups and downs I know that I have about five days of a peaceful mind ahead and can get a lot done in that little window of normality.  But sleep took over and I drifted off without making any specific plan.

When I woke up it was very early and K was getting ready to go for his Saturday morning bike ride. I drifted in and out of semi sleep and idly planned to get up and go to an early morning exercise. However the warmth of my bed, the silence of the house and the fact it was only about 7.00 am was enough to send me off to the land of nod again.

I ended up heading out to Chadstone shopping centre with the sole aim of getting some new clothes. It was a most disappointing day.

I think shopping centres are where all the bad people will end up after they die.  It is just Hell sexed up with bright lights and over priced rubbish.

The first store I went into used to be a pleasant place to visit. In the many months since last I was there it has had a complete refurbishment and opened last week. I walked in and was completely taken aback by the change. I felt disoriented and vaguely shitty at the knowledge that I was going to have to wander around mindlessly just to find anything familiar.

There was a famous model there doing signings. Why on earth anyone would want a model to sign something intrigues me. Once I had Michael Palin sign some books for me so I guess each to their own. Anyway, there she was, the very pretty Megan Gale. It is strange seeing a celebrity in the flesh. They always look different. She was taller and thinner in person and made mere mortals look dumpy and dull. But that is okay, it is her job to be gorgeous and she does it well.

However, my job today was to find clothes for myself. I walked all over that shopping centre. I spent almost four hours looking at clothes and trying on clothes. I tried on things that I normally would never bother with and tried on things I gravitate to all the time. I stood in hot dressing rooms and ignored the unflattering glare of the fluorescent lighting. Ignored the blister on my little left toe. Ignored the stuffiness of the shops.

I soldiered on, determined to find some clothes to wear.

However, I came home with eleven pairs of underwear for S and some make up for me. Why eleven pairs? He only wanted black so I got ten pairs of black and one pair of orange just for fun.

So, I gave up four hours of my life, four hours out of the sunshine, four hours of aimless meandering and came back with no clothes for me.

When I got home I changed into exercise clothes and went for an hour long walk.

I hate clothes shopping.

Ciao
LC

Neigh

2011-09-10T20:03:00.002+10:00

My son is a Brony.

You have to click on the Brony link to get the low down on what one is.

Or you can Google the word.

I think it is so funny.

And geeky.

Ciao
LC

Oh, Too Much

2011-09-10T18:28:00.001+10:00

This post might not come across how I really want it to but I shall try.

There are two parts to it that connect in a way. So, hopefully I get across what I am thinking.

Many, many years ago I read a short story by Stephen King. At least, I am sure it was Stephen King. It may have been Alfred Hitchcock but not likely considering the time line in which I read it.

It was a horror story (what else from Stephen King) and it had a really profound affect on me for years and years. In fact, it would be fair to say it still does for some reason.

I shall try to explain it with the scant memory I have of it.

There were two men in it. Somehow they had come across a way to see into another dimension or something like that. They could view these people living in a beautiful place. Big home with beautiful gardens. Well dressed in some old fashioned style. Of course, the view was always of the house and the garden as though looking through a window so these guys could only wait and see for anything to happen.

So, for weeks they just watched what was going on and, being a horror story, things changed for the worse. One day one of the guys noticed a weak spot in the connection between their world and this other world. Just a little gap in the corner. He realised he could poke something through it. A note or a pencil or something like that. Nobody on the other side noticed these things appearing.

Then one day the family had visitors over for a picnic. At the picnic the family attacked and partially ate the visitors in a most gruesome way. Then, and I am not sure how this happened, one of the creepy people saw the little opening to the "other side" and poked a half chewed human bone through it. Then another. Then the other family members joined in and kept poking hideous things over to these guys. It piled and piled up. Rotting bones and any other stinking and foul thing that they could find.

Now, I know that just sounds gross but I recall at the time thinking that was equivalent to the concept of intrusive thoughts finding a gap in ones headspace and causing all sorts of problems. And I know I thought it summed up something about stuff on television. This other dimension pouring crap into our loungerooms.

I recently experienced a similar thing in a completely different way.

For the past couple of years I would randomly read a website called http://www.postsecret.com/. Initially it started off as Blogger site. People were invited to write their secret on the front of a postcard and then either post or email it to this guys place and he would upload it onto the website. It took off like a storm. There was a poignancy about the whole thing.

Then, one day I was browsing in a book shop and saw that there was a book published based on Postsecret. Then six months later another one. I would stand and read them feeling like I was reading things that really should be kept a secret.

The website then only published a few cards on the site because now it was becoming more commercial and you cannot have people getting constant access to the postsecrets because how can you get them to also buy the books. You have to make them hungry for it.

The guy who started it does talks now and is involved in suicide prevention and other things. Which is good. He still gets about 1000 postcards sent to him each week. That's a lot of secrets to process.

Anyway, a week ago there was an App released by Postsecret. So I thought I might download it. It was only a couple of dollars.

It works this way. People upload a photo or picture and write a little secret on it and readers can reply to those secrets. Some secrets are things like "I pee in the shower" or "I lick my knife/plate when nobody is watching". I can dig those. But the majority are just misery in a few words. So many of them. They upload non stop and drop off after two hours I think.

The first day I looked at them and then had postsecret nightmares.

Within a couple of days I had postsecret aversion and just ignored it.

Last night I was flicking through a few and came across a photo that was so disturbing I actually reported (flagged it for attention). It was the first time such a thing had come across. It was of a young girl (about 12)and I would bet my bottom dollar she had been groomed and was being abused. I have never seen anything like that in my life and found it so shocking it actually gave me a nightmare last night.

Unfortunately all I could do was flag it for attention and hope that the administrators can find this girl. It really is still doing my head in.

So, what do these two stories have in common?

Well, I feel like that App was spewing people's misery and shit onto my phone. Now, it is one thing to read snippets of people's lives on a blog and take it all in a tiny bits and quite another to have it suddenly pouring in like a pile of rotten stuff into my head. All the misery and nastiness from unknown people suddenly at the touch of a finger.

Sure, I didn't have to read it and you can bet I won't anymore. Really, I had no idea what it would be like. But you know how sometimes you might look at/do/say something and not realise until it is a bit late that it may have a negative impact on you. I know I have to really watch for that because I don't have a very good filter against being affected by some things.

Well, at least I can shut off my world from the cankerous misery of those pouring out of the Postsecret app.

It is still a bit of a horror story to me.

Maybe I am over sensitive.

Ciao
LC

PS In case you are wondering, I have never posted a secret. Postcards are for travel and that is it.

Oh, Glorious Spring

2011-09-04T19:09:00.002+10:00

I love Spring. That hint of warm weather. The extra daylight creeping in. The blue sky.

The sunshine seems to reach down and wind its long rays around me, filling me with joy.

I love the way a sunny day makes you want to run out of the house and somewhere, anywhere as long as it is out under the sunny sky.

Speaking of running, I went for a run last night. I needed to go for a run because my stupid, stupid lap top would not work in the studio which made my anxiety levels reach a code red in possible bitch behaviour so I had to run it off.

I had purchased a new pair of running shoes and decided that getting rid of my inner bitch and try out the shoes would be a good idea. I also bought a new Ipod Nano and had to try that out. My old one has disappeared and I am wondering if it did not get sucked up the vacuum cleaner when my car was cleaned.

Anyhow, I went for the evening run. It was about 4.5 km's so a nice one. As I was jogging along the streets I could see up ahead the silhouette of a man running. He was quite far away but I thought he was running in a strange way, as though he were holding something in front of him.

He disappeared out of sight and I though nothing of it until I reached the place where I had lost sight of him. As I slowly jogged passed the house I looked up the driveway and saw a completely naked man standing there. Just not a stitch of clothing on.

As our eyes met (doesn't that sound romantic) he dropped his hands down to cover up his bits. I pointed at him and burst into laughter. He turned his back on me and quickly walked up the dark driveway. You know, it is very hard not to laugh at the sight of a disappearing bare bottom.

I kept jogging and laughing. It was so very strange. Then I realised that it must have been him I saw running down the street in the distance and now I know what he was holding in front of himself.

When I got home and told my husband. He felt that was very creepy and why would someone be walking around up a driveway naked. Interestingly enough, I don't have an answer for that which might explain why I have never done it. Although, I have always admired the courage of streakers. In fact, it would be true to say I almost envy the way they just get out there and run naked in front of thousands.

You know, I might make that a regular jogging route. Just in case I need a laugh.

Today was father's day. We went out for a late breakfast and then a bit of a meander up the street. Everywhere was busy. People out shopping. People out eating. The roads were busy. It may as well have been a weekday.

After we came home I went into the studio and pottered around. Started a little project. Fiddled with the camera.

I am just doing a few little things in the studio at the moment. Because it has been forever and a day since I have done anything creative I need to take my time or I will be so overwhelmed with the backlog of thoughts that nothing will happen.

It's a nice space to blog in.

For a start, it is clean and tidy. Unlike my house. You must think my house is always messy because I always complain about it. I think you may be right. I am a pig and a lazy one at that. But I have good persona hygiene. And my toilet is clean. My food is clean.

Oh, but the studio is new and fresh.

And it is peaceful.

Three things I aspire to be.

Ciao
LC

That Sunday Run

2011-09-02T11:16:00.002+10:00

Well, K and I did that 10km charity run last Sunday.

It's the first time either of us have done a 10km run.

I woke up with a sore hip and knee. So I had to start the day with pain killers and a protein drink.

Weather was perfect. A bit chilly but sunny. A friend from the exercise group picked us up at 6.30am which is the time I am normally fast asleep in my cosy bed. Early mornings are not my cup of tea.

So, we join the crowd and wait for the start. Shuffle along before the crowd gets room to run and disperse. Then we start jogging.

I forgot to tie the cord on my running skins and they started to fall down. Crotch first and then the waist. I could not run and pull them up although I did try and I am sure I looked very odd doing so. I had to stop and fix them up. It was at that point that my loyal husband kept on running and disappeared out of sight.

Great, no support from my running skins or my husband. You know, I decided to forgo running with my Ipod so that I could be polite and chat to K as we jogged along.

So, I just jogged alone. Well, not really because there are hundreds of other idiots doing the same thing.

It was a hilly course. But not too bad. I don't have a runners body. That is, my step is heavy and speed is not my forte.

Have you ever run for a long time? It is a boring as shit when you don't have an Ipod. My concentration span leaves a lot to be desired anyway and running challenges it greatly. I focused on my pace. On the blue sky and beautiful trees. The wide streets were lined with lovely homes. The air was still and I could hear the faint sound of traffic in the distance.

It seemed to take forever to get to the mark where the 10km runners turned to go back. I saw K pass me by on the way out. We gave each other a sweaty high five. At the turn around point I slowed to a walking pace to have a drink. Then I continued running. My hip was aching and my left knee was not happy. The shoes I had on were suddenly feeling like lead diving boots.

The last kilometre was long. The last 500 metres I started to feel a bit puffed but passed the finish line. According to my husband's watch I took one hour and seventeen minutes. He took one hour and seven minutes. According to the official time I took an hour and a half which I know to be inaccurate. The girl that drove us there took five minutes longer than my husband but the official time had her finishing sooner. She crossed the start line the same time as him so not sure what has happened there.

I had talked the girl into doing the run and she said she was cursing me for the last two kilometres. She even thought of faking a fainting spell to get out of it. Then she said it would have been easier to do the five kilometre run. I said that if she did that then she would not be as pleased with herself would she. We all know we can do a five kilometre run so it is no big deal. By doing the 10 km run we pushed ourselves a bit harder.

The running tights made a huge difference. The next day I just had twinges in the hips and knees whereas the others had sore muscles.

Now I am planning to do a 14 km run in November. This time with training.

Only this time I shall tie the cord on my running pants and take my Ipod with. I just know that there is no loyalty with K when it comes to running. He won't be waiting for me to catch up.

Next time I will beat him.

Ciao
L

I'm Looking Like?

2011-09-01T21:56:00.003+10:00

Today I went into the bank to put a cheque in for a quick clearance.

I was wearing triple denim. Double denim is bad enough, but triple denim just beggars belief.

I had on a pair of jeans, a pair of funky All Saints boots that I bought when in the US. The boots look all rough and ready and I paid good money to have them look grubby. The jeans and boots were topped with a groovy t-shirt that went past the hips. Also thanks to All Saints. As there was a nip in the air I topped the lot with an overpriced 70's style denim jacket. It has a blazer look about it.

Topping off the whole ensemble was a big denim shoulder bag I bought on Etsy.com.

You may wonder why I go to such trouble to describe what I was wearing today. There is a reason.

I get to the bank and the guy behind the counter serves me. We are one of their biggest clients so they know us pretty well. But this guy is new. The bank seems to lose staff at an alarming rate.

He chats to me for a while. Asks me if I am one of the business owners and I say no, just the financial controller.

He then says that I look as though I have travelled a lot. I say that I have done a few overseas trips. The conversation goes along this vein for a while as he processes the paperwork.

"I am rarely wrong with people. And I think you have been in and out of pleny of art galleries," he adds.

"Well, yes. I have been to a fair few", I agree.

Then he said that I looked like I had seen a lot. He said I had that look.

As he finishes the transaction and I say thank you I walk out of the bank thinking to myself what exactly does he mean "I look like I have seen a lot"?

Does that mean I look worn out and tired?

Or well travelled and interesting.

Or old and wise?

Was it my triple denim outfit that made me look like like a travelling hippy?

I almost equate it with that expression that someone has been around a lot.

It just says a worn out feel about it.

Mind you, maybe today I did have a worn out look. More than that, I may have had a crazy look about me. Last night I went to bed feeling vaguely shitty only to wake up and wonder what vile monster crawled into my head overnight. Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong.

I poked myself in the eye with my mascara wand and had to redo my make up.

I dropped all my little Chinese pills all over the kitchen floor and had to pick them up.

I misread some information from my son's school and was late booking him in for Parent/Teacher interviews. As a result of that we missed out. Not that he cared in the slightest.

I found an epic administration error in my financials and had to rectify it. Fortunately it was fixable but it made my anxiety levels blow out the top of my head.

So many other shitty things happened and I expect that by the time I got to the bank I was indeed looking as thought I had seen a lot.

I certainly felt like it.

Ciao
LC

Bye Bye Neighbour

2011-08-30T20:14:00.002+10:00

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

2011-08-27T19:03:00.003+10:00

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

Huh?

2011-08-26T21:32:00.002+10:00

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

2011-08-22T21:16:00.003+10:00

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

2011-08-21T20:24:00.008+10:00

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

Hormonal Friday

2011-08-19T13:00:00.002+10:00

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

Life, Death And Stuff

2011-08-16T19:45:00.003+10:00

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

2011-08-16T11:01:00.002+10:00

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

Bobble

2011-08-14T20:45:00.002+10:00

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

2011-08-12T19:34:00.004+10:00

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

2011-08-11T20:26:00.002+10:00

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

2011-08-09T19:41:00.005+10:00

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

Aw, Tummy Ache

2011-08-08T21:30:00.002+10:00

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

2011-08-07T19:01:00.004+10:00

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!

2011-08-04T20:32:00.002+10:00

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

Saturday Night Blab

2011-07-30T16:15:00.011+10:00

We've just come home after seeing the last installment of the Harry Potter movies.

It's the end of an era in a way. When S was four I took him to see the first Harry Potter movie. He loved it, I loved it. He was a bit scared to see the next two at the movies so I saw them on my own and he saw them on DVD months later.

I read the first five Harry Potter books to him. A chapter each night. And long chapters they were, sometimes taking me an hour to read. I never skipped any words and each character had their own voice. The last two books he read by himself.

The Harry Potter books have been as much a part of his life as Enid Blyton books were part of mine. Tonight as we saw the movie from start to finish I was aware that the past ten years of Harry Potter movies were finished and my son was far away from that dreamy little four year old, pink cheeked boy who dressed up as a little wizard with glasses and came down the street with me all those years ago.

As we left the theatre my son said that there was nothing to replace those movies. Those books might not be literary masterpieces but I think they will always be great books for children. Great fantasy reading and even better that there are movies to match.

On Thursday I took the day off work. Apart from the fact I had some bookwork to do at home and at my brother's, I was very tired from many nights of really rotten sleep. I slept in and caught up enough not to yawn five hundred times before lunch and to not feel snappy and anxious.

In the afternoon I went to my brother's. After I finished the bookwork we went down to the hen house to get some fresh eggs for me to take home.

The nesting boxes were full of fresh eggs. Even though I have a love/hate relationship with eggs I do love the look of them sitting in a nest.

My brother recently bought some weird amount of heavy ship rope just because he loves the look of it. It had been laid out to dry across his yard.

I parked my car under the cubby house that he built. The boys go up there quite often but I believe it also gets regular visits from big spiders which puts a damper on any cubby house fun.

His back yard is huge. He had oranges, lemons and grapefruit growing and I took some home with me.

I took a photo of my old studio which is soon to be emptied of my things as I make my way into the new and bigger art space. The old studio will become a nice place to put our ever increasing bike collection.

I have not done anything creative at all for months and months. I felt a pang of sadness that I was going to empty this little space that was made for me in 2007. Then I figured it was all for good and the space in my head was where it all happens really and felt okay about it.

So the new studio is almost finished. This week the floor goes down and the air conditioning gets put in. Some painting, floor sanding and bits and pieces. But almost done.

Initially I was going to paint the lining boards white but decided I liked the blonde wood. It has a coat of water based lacquer on it which will prevent it from yellowing. I can always paint it one day if I want to but for now I will just let it be natural. It gives a nice light.

Today I pottered around the house. Baked some very buttery, chocolaty and yummy cup cakes. Totally unhealthy and wonderfully delicious. No apple sauce in them!

I watched some movies on television. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and The Railway Children. Really, really love watching movies on the weekend. It's becoming a very enjoyable ritual.

Later in the afternoon I went out to go for a jog but only went around the block. It started to rain and I just don't run in the rain. Tomorrow K and I are going up to a thing called the Thousand Steps and run up and down them. I use the word "run" very loosely because I know how hard the steps are and no running will be done by me. Just the walk up to the start of the steps makes me dry retch.

I was a bit unpopular at home today. I had fiddled with my husband's IPhone to make the emails work properly and, coincidentally, all his phone messages and call history disappeared. I felt really bad about it. Then I washed a pair of his jeans without checking the pockets first (first time I have not checked) and there was a note in the pocket with a work address he needed to be at on Monday morning. I suppose you could say he should check his own pockets but, well, shit happens.

On Friday afternoon I went to the Chinese Doctor's for some acupunture to hopefully help my hormonal happenings. I had acupuncure on my back followed by cupping. I now have half a dozen big, round, purple bruises over my back. I think they will take a week to fade. They actually look like hickeys. The acupuncture helps. Interestingly when she does it I can fall into a deep sleep for half an hour after she leaves the room. Maybe I should get a bed of nails at home or something.

So, not much more to report. I am really just hanging out for my studio, warmer weather and more blue sky. Just longer days would do me. More daylight.

Now I might go and trawl Etsy to see what I don't need and then I will buy it.

Ciao

Indespensible

2011-07-26T18:19:00.003+10:00

Today my boss said to me the following;

"Linda, I just don't know what I would do if I had to replace you."

I felt very touched by his words and was about to thank him when he added;

"I would not be able to find someone I could swear in front of like I do with you."

Aw, thanks boss.

I think.

Ciao
LC

The Weekend

2011-07-24T18:19:00.002+10:00

It's Sunday evening which means the weekend is all but over.

It was a productive weekend for me. The boys from work finished putting the lining boards up in the studio which means things are almost finished. I'll get the power sorted this week and hopefully the flooring will go down as well.

K and I had to fill the nail holes in the lining boards this morning but it was a short job. K put one coat of clear varnish on the boards this afternoon. Initially I was going to paint them white but decided that the lovely blonde wood was too nice to cover.

Over the past couple of weekends I had not been out to do a decent food shop. You know the sort. The shop that sucks the money out of your bank account. So today I did a serious schlep around the supermarket. The bill was so huge I felt thoroughly depressed considering how little yummy stuff was in there. I also held up a line of people as the cashier put all the items through.

To add insult to the injury I had parked my car far enough away for it to be a major trek pushing the wayward trolley across one car park, across a side street and then to my car. My boot was full of bags and the final straw was when the super pack of toilet paper split its thin plastic packaging and all the dunny rolls bounced on the ground, in the trolley and in my car.

To my credit, I did put the trolley back where it belonged despite thinking that for once I would not be a fucking do gooder. But my goodness won out and I did the good citizen thing.

I won't even go on about how long it took me to unpack it all. K would usually help but he was working away in the studio. Son could have helped but sometimes it's just not ideal to have us in the same room together.

An apple crumble is in the oven and dinner is almost ready. How I love it when my days are productive. I even did three loads of washing (although, just how hard is it to stuff washing in the machine).

However, I have not managed to go for a run. A sore back as well as a thumping headache that won't go away are enough to put me off running. I am pretty sure that the "snotty nose bug" that was in the office for the last two weeks has landed on me. So, no decent runs yet. I'll have to catch up next week if I am to get fit enough for a ten km run in four weeks. There are just not enough hours in the day!

I think my son has grown even taller in the past two weeks. He is almost two inches taller than me. My brother was surprised at how S has changed as well. He thought he was a bit thin. But I think kids grow out and then up. I think S just has that typical long and lean body that young boys have.

The other day I came home from work and S was on the computer. As I talked to him I noticed that he was a bit snappy. I asked him if everything was okay and he said yes.

"Listen, you are just a bit sour. How about you jump off the computer and get a game out for us to play," I suggested. To my surprise he did just that and brought out Monopoly. As usual he beat me which lifted his spirits.

During the game he was telling me that they had been watching Dead Poet's Society at school for English. I recalled the movie. As S told me about it I wondered if that was what had made him a bit out of sorts. I asked him and he thought about that possibility before admitting it could well have been that. It's kind of a thought provoking movie. The next day he discussed it with me again with questions about what had happened in it. There is a part in it where one boy commits suicide and my son was asking why the father had blamed the teacher for it when, if you looked at it, it should be that the father blame himself.

We talked about being able to be oneself. I tried to explain that it is important to be able to be yourself but to also understand that there were certain obligations that went with being part of a cohesive society. Or that sometimes you might have to put certain dreams on hold to do other important things (parenthood - in particular being a mother).

"It's hard to get a balance sometimes. You have to work at it," I couldn't think of how to explain it and then I added something about it takes time.

Yesterday we were watching the news on television and the reporter was talking about how marriage between gay people is still not allowed in Australia.

"Isn't it stupid how they won't allow it," my son commented.

"Yes, it is. Why shouldn't everyone be able to express their commitment to each other," I agreed.

He then said that he just could not get why people can't just accept that some people are gay, some are straight and some are a bit of both. And why is there such a big deal about it all. Why can't people just be who they are.

I didn't have an answer because I do accept it. In fact, accept is a stupid word. It implies that because I accept it that I had to, at some point, not accept it and come around to it. To me, people are people. I break them up into levels of niceness and goodness and not into their sexuality or religion.

I'm just glad that my son thinks it's great that there are all sorts of people in the world and that normal is actually quite narrow when you think about it. Normal is something that works well for marketing but in reality no everyone fits that manufactured normal.

Now it is almost 7.30pm and I am going to have my cup of tea and watch some television. I think there is a new series of Midsomer Murders which is rather exciting for this 47 year old woman.

That's my weekend.

Sometimes I wonder why I even write about my weekends because they do seem to be a bit dull. But you know, one day I might be in a nursing home with my crochet blanket across my withered knees and will be reading my blog for nostalgic reasons.

And you can bet I will be hankering for weekends just like the one I have written about.

Ciao
LC

Fat Food Friday

2011-07-22T19:40:00.002+10:00

Every Friday, for as long as my son can recall, we have "Fat Food Friday".

When he was little he would have a Happy Meal from Macca's. Then it changed to pizza. Friday night pizza.

Every Friday at about 6pm S rings the local pizza shop to order his pizza. K picks it up.

Same pizza every single time. Five years of ham and pineapple pizza on Friday nights. He used to only get a small one but now he gets a medium one so that he can eat the left over slices for breakfast and lunch on Saturday.

So he rings up and they know his voice so well that the conversation goes like this;

Son calls number.

Pizza shop: "Pick up or delivery".

Son: "Pick up"

Pizza shop: "Medium ham and pineapple in the name of S...".

Son: "Yep".

Phone call ends.

Tonight he actually went with K to pick up the pizza. The staff came out from the back of the shop to meet S and say hello to the regular medium ham and pineapple pizza eater known only by voice.

He got told his hair was too long and that if he shaved it off they would give him a free family ham and pineapple pizza.

He declined. Family size is just too much for him.

For my FFF treat I had low fat red lentil, yoghurt, lemon and tomato soup and believe me it was as disgusting as it sounds. I had to eat it though because one needs something healthy before one eats a load of yummy chocolate.

However now that I have a rather bad stomach ache I am wondering if the combination was perhaps a bit wrong.

Ciao
LC

Healthy Baking

2011-07-17T20:11:00.002+10:00

I am trying out a few variations to my cake baking.

You see, cakes taste lovely because they are full of butter, sugar and other yummy things. They are fattening. You can add wholemeal flour if you like to make you feel they are a bit healthy. Or sultanas. Or put fruit in.

How about saying to yourself that if the cake has wholemeal flour, bananas, sultanas and some nuts in the recipe you are somehow getting part of the food groups covered for the day.

Except for that ingredient butter. That is what makes the cake so delicious and moist. Especially if you are making vanilla cup cakes. Mmmmm.

Well, in my efforts to make my treats a bit healthier I substituted apple sauce for the butter.

The recipe I had was for a seriously buttery batch of cup cakes. I worked out that the butter alone added 2178 calories to the recipe. So, per cup cake the butter alone would have been an extra 100 calories per cupcake on top of the flour, sugar and egg portion. And then there is the saturated fat portion. It's just not healthy.

I don't use margarine because that is full of strange ingredients that I am not keen on.

So, tonight I made a batch of cup cakes using this replacement.

They looked very nice.

Just as a cup cake should look.

However, they were actually kind of disgusting. Sort of chewy and tasteless and stodgy. Which could be good in a strange way because you would not go back for seconds.

K said that they could use something moist in the middle and he only ate one. Normally he would eat two or more.

It reminds me of the time I made a low fat vegan banana cake. It was grey in colour and most unpleasant in taste. Never again.

Now, what shall I do with the remaining 22 rubbery cup cakes? There is no way I am taking any to work. I could never live down the ribbing I would get. They would be thrown at me. Bounce off my head.

Ah, I have it. They would do very well in a trifle. Just add loads of custard, cream and jelly in the mix.

Oh, yeah, and some tinned fruit. You know, to make it "healthy".

Ciao
LC

Real People

2011-07-17T16:17:00.002+10:00

It's Sunday and I am once again enjoying being a lazy sloth.

Not really lazy but just enjoying being at home. It's cool outside and not much to do. I suppose some gardening could be done but we scratched around in the front yard like two lazy chooks and pulled out some weeds yesterday. In fact, I finally pruned a very big native bush that impinged on the driveway and made getting out of the car on a wet day particularly unpleasant. I am quite attached to it as it has very tactile foliage. But, it needed a trim and will grow back.

I've been out in the half finished studio feeling very excited. The skylight is in and the roof on so it is now all waterproof. On Tuesday they will put in the insulation, clad the walls with timber lining boards and put up the ceiling. Then the electrician will fit off what needs fitting off. The room even has heating and cooling. Once I paint inside the floor goes down. The count down to moving in my stuff is officially on.

On Friday night K and I went for a run. Five km's in about 30 mins which is good enough. Tonight we will do seven. It's easier to motivate oneself if another person is involved. Yesterday morning I was out of bed early for an exercise class. It was 2 degrees and ice was on the window of the car and all over the grass where we exercised. But the sky was blue and the sun shining on the icy ground. My favorite mornings. I felt really very fresh in my head. Adding more exercise in the routine makes a difference I think. I like that I am doing a charity run. It makes me more interested in getting out and doing it. It's not just for me but for others.

Sunday has become a rather indulgent day for me in that I have been watching old movies on television. Anything from the 1930's to the 1980's. It's hard to believe that the 1980's is so far away now. I left school in 1980. Then I spent the next thirty years growing up.

Anyway, back to the movies. One thing I notice when watching old movies is that people look real. They look like people I might see at work. Or down the street. Or at the beach. You know what I mean. They have uneven teeth. Or wrinkles. They are not manufactured looking. And not strangely smooth like some sort of waxwork figure. They almost look their age. One of them I watched had Bette Davis in it and she was about 53 and looked like a fantastic wrinkly old woman. It was great to see.

Today I was watching Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It's not the first time I have watched it. Each time I watch it I think "oh, not this again" and once I get into it I see things in it that I had forgotten. One thing that stands out is the colouring of everything. The lighting. It must be the use of real film as opposed to digital. It's so raw and natural. I could imagine looking out of a window and seeing those same colours whereas when I watch movies these days the colour looks sterile or something. I cannot quite explain it except to say that it does not look real anymore.

But I suppose I should ask what is real anyway. I get up each morning, shower, wash and blow dry my hair and put make up on. Does that make me a bit real? It might be three times a year I don't wash my hair. I have big hair. I have hair that likes to frizz and I can look like a witch especially now I have more grey hair. Whilst I don't care who sees me without my make up I am not so keen to be seen with my hair all natural and that is because it just looks too scruffy.

However, after watching old movies and seeing people who looked real I thought I may upload a photo of myself that shows me sans anything. This was the morning after the Oxfam walk. I had washed my hair the night before and gone to bed with it damp. It was such a rare event to see it so fluffy that K wanted to take a photo for posterity.

I am hideously tired in the photo so I don't care about the tired and unmade face on show but when I look at the hair I just cannot ever imagine me just letting it go natural ever. I intend to wash and blow dry my hair for ever and a day.

Also, just want to say once again how much I love make up and hair product.

That photo might be the "real me" but putting on make up and doing my hair is what makes the "really happy me".

Ciao
LC

Crap Day

2011-07-15T12:35:00.002+10:00

This morning I made the fatal mistake of putting on a pair of cherry red tights.

I hate the colour and I don't know why I even bought them. But I did and now feel I should wear them at least a few times before they become plant ties or something.

I am wearing them with a denim skirt and feel frumpy. And I am wearing a cardigan.

But the worst thing is the tights match the hand towel in the work toilets.

Great, years ago I would have worried about them matching someone elses tights but these days a matching hand towel is just as depressing.

Sigh.

One of them days.

Ciao

Blogging at Work

2011-07-15T10:17:00.003+10:00

Yes, here I am all alone in the office having stumbled into work at the usual time of 10.00 am.

It is a late start but I work until 5.30 so it's just the same sort of day. Normally I get in by 9.30 but I have once again been sleeping like shite which makes for a hard start.

Anyway, that is not why I am blogging from work to talk about my shite sleep. I am blogging because it is Friday and the week has been very intense here with lots of number crunching, setting up cost centres and other numbery kind of things. I love it but it does kind of sap the brain by the end of the week.

Once I wake up a bit more I will get stuck into work. Right now my eyes are still very unfocused and even my glasses don't help. I wonder if the eyes are the last thing to wake up? It feels like it.

Since I have been talking about my son a bit over the past few days I might as well continue.

The other day I came home from work and he was in the office. I asked him how his day was and what he did. Which is kind of stupid of me since he does the same thing. Gets up, schleps around in his pj's unless otherwise instructed, opens the fridge and pantry and then facilitates from Xbox to computer.

So his response to my question was this.....

"Well, I got up after you left for work, had a shower and got dressed, ate a bowl of fruit salad with yoghurt and then went for a 50km bike ride".

I think he could make a good politician. He said exactly what I wanted to hear.

Ciao

Bedtime

2011-07-14T21:27:00.002+10:00

Even though my son goes to bed before K and I do most nights, he does not fall asleep straight away.

He listens to the conversations that go on after he has gone to bed. Not because he is going to hear anything he shouldn't, but because he (like any child) lies in bed just listening to the sounds around him until he drifts off.

Half listening, half thinking. You know that place in your head.

Anyway, often, just before I go to bed and want to see if he is awake I say the following:

"So, K, which boarding school are we sending S to?"

or

"When do you think S should go to boarding school?".

Or something along those lines.

He used to just reply with a "Noooooooooooooo. I won't go" and some laughter.

Now he replies "I'll go to boarding school after I put you two into the nursing home".

It's very funny.

Really, always makes us laugh.

Ciao
LC

Parenting Styles

2011-07-13T20:23:00.003+10:00

It's funny just how many ways there are to parent a child and how each parent thinks that their own way is the best way.

I would not be lying in saying that plenty of people I know think that my husband and I are soft and slack parents.

Considering we come from very different families, we are in agreement in how we should parent our son. We respect his wishes, we consider his personal likes and dislikes, we discuss things with him and always take into account his own beliefs and values. As far as we are concerned we afford him all the respect we would another adult but without dumping on him the responsibility of having to behave like one. That will come in its own good time.

My brother and older sister are of the "teach the kids a lesson" kind of parenting. Which I loathe by the way.

For example, they believe that if you want to protect your child from the hot oven door you would press their little soft and pink hand onto the door to teach them that it is hot and eventually that would learn to stay right away from it. This technique would be applied from a young age and repeatedly until the child somehow gets it.

I would rather keep the child from the hot oven door until they are old enough to understand the consequences of what happens should they touch it. That might involve keeping a barrier around the oven and an eye constantly on the child.

When my older sister discovered that my son slept in bed with my husband and I she was disgusted. He was three at the time. She said that when he came into our bedroom in the middle of the night we should put him outside in the dark to teach him a lesson. Fuck knows what lesson he could learn there. Perhaps the lesson of cruelty. By the way, he made the transition to sleeping in his own bed, with the light off and the door shut when he was ready.

When my brother comes around here and I see the way he is with his two boys it actually makes me sick to the stomach. He never stops to listen to what they have to say. If they annoy him he just grabs their arm really hard and yells at them and imposes his mighty bulk over them. It does my head in.

And, he gets shitty at me because I have no problem letting my son do what he likes around the house. I never force him to mow the lawn, or hang out the washing, or clean the toilet or weed the garden however, if I need help with anything S will get up and help without complaint or resentment. Okay, a little whinge now and then. But then I also whinge.

My brother's children are forced to do everything my brother tells them. It's his way or the highway (or sent to their room). He treats them like a lump of putty for him to mould into the shape he approves of.

My brother came around the other day and went on about the fact that K should have made S do such and such outside. Maybe my brother should have some more kids if he wants to have someone do stuff outside.

My boss tells me I should make my son do more sport. I say "yeah, right, get him to kick a footy around when he hates sport". That I should make him to this that and the other. Why it bothers him enough that he thinks it is okay to comment intrigues me, especially if you saw the gut on my boss. Maybe he should take a leaf out of his own book.

I just say that the teenage years should be the wonderful years. The fact my son likes to sleep in on holidays, play on the computer, play on the Xbox, drink out of the juice bottle, sometimes wear his pyjamas all day long and pull faces at my very ordinary cooking efforts makes me feel happy for him. He is happy. His head is in a good place. He is embracing and enjoying his brief and important teenage years and isn't that what he should be doing?

Well, maybe we are doing it all wrong and S will be laying around in his pj's on the weekend ten years from now. Then everyone can take great pleasure in saying "I told you so". Who cares. Not me.

Next time someone alludes to the fact I am a slack parent who also does not make her son eat veges I might get them to ring him and ask him personally what he thinks of his shit mother and father.

He will say he loves us because he tells us all the time.

Actually, he will more than likely tell them he has booked our place in the nursing home already.

Ciao
LC

New Kid On The Block

2011-07-11T20:43:00.003+10:00

We have someone new in the office.

He has joined the landscaping section of the company. In fact, it is a separate company entirely and run from the office. My boss is his brother in law.

Over the past two weeks he has had to get to know the dynamics of the place and of the people - me being one of them.

When you have been working with the same team for years on end you are not particularly aware of your own "style" and how a new person may perceive you.

Anyway, for the first few days I was very polite. Then a phone call came through and I had to pass it on to one of the Project Managers. As I did so I may have expressed my feelings about this particular person on the other end of the phone (deservedly so). I may have said something like "It's f*****g such and such". In fact, I may have dropped the F bomb a lot.

I then turned to the new person and said that I hoped he was not offended by my language because it's not about to change. He has come from corporate where you are not even allowed to tell a joke in case you offend someone.

Fortunately, for his sake, he was quite comfortable with what I said. Too bad if he wasn't. I came first so he has to fit in with me.

Today the conversation came around what everyone did on the weekend. I said I went for a 5km run on Sunday evening and now have to do one three times a week to get fit enough to do the 10km run at the end of August.

"Are you really into sport Linda?" asked New Man.

"No, not sport. I took up exercise after I turned forty because it is one of the best things for keeping me from having to go back on anti depressants," I told him.

"Oh, I would not have thought that you would have depression. You are not sad or anything," he said.

I said something about people with depression are usually the last ones you think might have it. And that being depressed is not always about being sad.

It's a funny thing how people think depressed people must be sad all the time. I suppose that if you have never been on that side of the fence you could never get it.

Then there are those who think that people who are depressed should pull up their socks, be grateful for what they have, take more vitamin B, stop feeling sorry for themselves and other helpful snippets of advice. A while ago my mother was finally diagnosed with depression and went on medication. She actually apologised to me for being so unsupportive when I had post natal depression. She thought I was just really uptight, anal and overly anxious. Which is kind of bizarre considering she spent six weeks in a retreat after she tried to commit suicide when I was six. You think she might have twigged that her own daughter was a bit more than "anal".

Years ago I never mentioned anything about depression because it was my thing and what's to mention anyway? And I never wanted anyone to treat me differently. Now I don't care who does or does not know because the fact is that to me it is just a word that gives a name to why I think the way I do. Or act the way I act. Or have mood swings that are noticeable, especially now I allow them to just happen rather than trying to hide them.

Anyway, at the end of the day I am just me and all that goes with being me.

It's taken this long for me to get used to it.

So it is not a big ask to expect anyone else to take a week or so is it?

Ciao
LC

Chilly Weekend

2011-07-10T14:43:00.003+10:00

It is Sunday afternoon and I am schlepping around in my yoga pants. Not doing anything in particular.

Outside is cold and wet and not particularly inviting. Days like this just make me want to stay inside and schlepp!

I did manage to bolt outside and prune the rose bushes in the front yard. Just as I was hastily finishing off the last bush it started to rain again. Big, heavy, cold and wet drops plonking on my head and back. Slowly at first, warning me of what was to come, and then with great meaning as I just made it inside the warm interior of the house.

My garden is in great need of my attention. Each time a day with reasonable weather comes around I find an excuse to do something more pleasurable. I am becoming a bit lazy perhaps? Or is it that I know the cycle of maintenance and know that no matter what I do to the garden I am going to have to do it again and don't feel that pressing need to be perfect anymore.

One thing that is moving along nicely is the new studio. The roof is on, the skylight is in and the exterior is finished. Next week the electrician will come along to rough in for the power and lighting. The reverse cycle air conditioner will be installed. Once these two things are done the insulation and interior finishes will be finished. It's not far off.

I designed it and love its contemporary look. The deck, however, was added by my boss to balance it out. I am terribly excited about it. Once I finish my last painting off I will be starting another one that has been sitting in my head for months. It's been very difficult not having any outlet.

A few people have said that in a few years my son can live out there. I say he can have the old studio if he really wants to sleep in an outhouse. Somehow I imagine he won't do either. It's a bit chilly out there and a long way to the toilet at 2.00 am in the morning.

Last night I watched a lovely little movie on television. It was called The Waterhorse. I remember when K and I took our son to see this at the flicks. The main character reminded me of S at the time. Something about the way he spoke and saw the world. Last night when I watched it again I felt this painful melancholy for time that has gone. I know it is normal to feel these sorts of emotions but it hurts in that bittersweet way that I kind of love and hate at the same time.

There are those lovely years where kids love hanging out with their parents. Then come the years where they need to separate. Although I miss those early years, I really love his teenage years. I love seeing him becoming a young man. He is taller than me and his voice deep. The humour he has developed is sharp and wonderfully full of teenage cynicism. He watches YouTube videos that are full of the comedy for his age group.

When school finished last term he brought home his report. He is good at school. Above average in some subjects and average in others. In sport he is woeful. But I don't care about that. Having met his sports teacher I just think what a "numpty" he is. Just does not get kids who are not into football or other team sports. Fortunately my son does let his lack of interest in being sporty have any impact on his sense of belonging. My husband and I made sure of that during his early school years. We both were non sporty people as children and were made to feel very second rate at school and were never going to let S feel the same.

He is currently on school holidays and enjoying being a truly self indulgent fourteen year old. Actually, he seems older than fourteen in a way. Perhaps that is because he is an only child or something.

He has slept in every day and then facilitated between playing Xbox or being on the computer. Now and then he eats randomly. Enough to keep his stomach from rumbling I suppose. He is not a pantry or fridge muncher. He eats when hungry and stops when full.

We recently let him put himself to bed on some nights. Some self regulation to try out. These little steps of independence or something. He was in bed at 1.30 am a couple of times and then embraced the luxury of sleeping in the next day. But that fun is over now as we have a week to get him back into routine for school.

As parents we are fairly permissive. I don't even think that is the right word. We don't have too many rules. But then, he never really asks to do anything that is questionable. He does not even own a mobile phone and has not asked for one. On the weekend he stays home just does his own stuff. Sometimes I see loads of kids walking around the street on the weekends. Friends hanging out. I asked him why he never has friends over. He said he sees kids at school all week and that is plenty of human interaction for him. He enjoys his own company and prefers his online friends (some of whom are school friends). By being online it is in his control as to how much or how little interaction he has with them.

Should I be worried that he has not many friends? He is sociable when he needs to be. Looks people directly when he speaks to them. Although reserved he is not lacking confidence. Anyway, there is not much I can do about it even if I was worried because I think that he chooses to be that way because it suits him and not because he is shy or lonely.

I know that there is a thought that online friends are not ideal but you know, for some people they are the way that suits. Not everyone wants to spend time with people one to one too often. Maybe people are shy and it is the only way they can connect with others.

Yesterday I was sociable however and went with my niece to see the movie Bridesmaids. It was a very funny movie. More a chick flick with some totally gross scenes but I did laugh a lot during it. Of course, it still had to end with a sappy Hollywood kind of ending but I guess you cannot do much about that.

We then came back to my house where we chatted for a further couple of hours. When I am with my niece I feel very normal because she has the same way of thinking as I do. When nutty people are together they feel very normal because we all "get" the world the same way. It's like two aliens hanging out and catching up.

Now I am thinking about going down the street to do some food shopping. But the weather is still grey, cold and wet and I am putting it off as long as possible.

Tonight I have to go for a run. I have signed up for a ten kilometre charity run on 28th August so have to start turning my log legs into jog legs again. The run raises money for mental heath so the cause is a good one. The actual run is a rather horrible one up hill and down hill.

When I first said I could not run 10km's another girl in the class said to me "I don't get how you think you cannot run 10 km when you walked 100km straight for the Oxfam walk?". Yeah, I don't get it either. I think it is because the word run equals pain but walk equals tame. I dunno.

Anyway, I am doing it so that is it.

That is my Sunday post.

Now I might make myself another cup of tea.

And put off what needs doing.

Ciao

Organised?

2011-07-07T17:28:00.003+10:00

We have been having a plethora of television advertisements appearing lately offering the wonderful chance to have a prepaid funeral. To save the children the stress.

The advert always has a "groovy" older couple featured. Straw hat for woman, jumper over shoulders for the man.

I hate those adverts and I hate the whole patronising tone of them.

You know what else I hate, the concept of prepaid funerals. You can argue to me as much as you like how practical and how thoughtful it is for "old folk" to organise their funerals to reduce the stress on their children who will no doubt be so crippled by grief that they will not be able to handle the process of burying their loved ones. Guess what? I don't care. I will never buy into that concept.

I can accept that there may be circumstances where a pre-organised funeral is suitable but to do it just to help your children out is bizarre. There are a number of processes in life that we really need to be involved in.

Hatches, Matches and Dispatches. Yes, we say hello, good luck and goodbye for each of them. The last one being the most difficult and the most important for those left behind.

My brother inlaw's have paid for their funerals. They don't want their children to have to worry about it all. In fact, his mother in law said "oh, and I have organised such nice flowers". You have got to be fucking joking. She was fifty five when they organised it all. How depressing is that.

I want my son to find the organising of his parents funerals emotional. And difficult. And sad. And even overwhelming. Because it is part of life. Part of saying goodbye. It is how it is meant to be. I would expect him to shed a tear or two and find it all a bit hard. What is wrong with that?

Sure, make a few notes of who to call when you peg it. Or your favorite music. Or a poem or two to read out. Pin it on the fridge and make changes to it if you like as you get older and your mind changes. Even put aside some money for it in an interest bearing account (let's be practical at least). But to actually prepay and organise it all thirty years beforehand is woeful.

I am all for being organised in certain areas of life but this one does my head in.

It should be inconvenient, sad and all those things but it should also be a perfect time to get a new perspective on life and where you fit into it.

Death is part of life.

Ciao
LC

Me Me Me

2011-07-04T20:30:00.001+10:00

Have I mentioned how much I dislike the typical Alpha Male?

I like nice guys. I am married to one. Intelligent, kind, thoughtful and normal.

The one thing I liked about my husband when first I met him was that he did not talk about himself. About how good he was. How much money he earnt. How good he was at sport. He talked about stuff and I talked about stuff.

I work with Alpha Males. They talk about themselves a lot. There are a couple who don't and they stand out like dog's balls in the building industry.

My dad was a typical one. So is my brother.

Had I married and Alpha Male you can bet I would be divorced by now or they would have been stabbed during one of my unstable moments (which were frequent when young and still happen).

I was once engaged to marry one of them and he almost put me off men for life. Posturing, egocentric, beer drinking prick that he was. I dodged a bullet there by getting out when I did.

Maybe I don't like them because I could be an Alpha Female and you can't have one of those married to the male version. I like to think I am not but I sometimes wonder.

You see, I can be very difficult when things don't go my way.

I like things a certain way. I have a certain picture in my head about what the day is going to bring and when it does not bring it I get highly agitated and confused which leads to me be very difficult to rationalise with.

My mother used to say to me that I had unrealistic expectations of how things should be. And she may well be right.

The other day I was talking to my son about something that we were planning and he said "Don't tell me anything about it because it might not be what you say it is and I will be disappointed". So maybe he has a bit of that in him as well.

The other thing which I hate to admit to is that I just cannot stomach being told what to do. At all. Not even a little bit. A suggestion from someone will be considered briefly. But generally I meet any advice, offers of help, suggestions and other similar things, with polite facade as deep down I am usually thinking how much I hate being told what to do.

Over the years men have said to me that I must be hard to be married to but my husband says I am not. Just like owning a foreign car, you need to look after it and know what buttons to never push.

I am covered in buttons. I avoid situations that may cause a few of those buttons to be pushed which then leads to sever anxiety for hours, if not days.

Here is the sort of conversation that can lead to anxiety:

Project Manager calls me;

PM: What screws do you want for the decking on your studio
Me: What do you mean?
PM: Galvanized or Steel.
Me: Which ever lasts longer.
PM: They are both the same.
Me: What? Why do you ask? Which one looks nicer?
PM: I should not have rung you should I?
Me: No.
Then I spend the next four hours wondering which one is best. Finally stop thinking when I get to bed.

Conversation about portable phone at work - me speaking to K about how to use it:

Me: How do I answer and incoming call on the portable phone?
K: You press the talk button, then star and then zero.
Me: Which is the talk button?
K: The main button.
Me: Main button, then star then zero. Got it.

Get to work. Completely forgotten. Tell everyone it is star then zero. Or talk button then zero. Or talk then zero. Get confused and ignore ringing phones while I am eating lunch. Later I ask K how to do answer the phone again. He tells me and then asks if it rings. I have no idea if it rings or not.

Conversation about electrician:

K: I cannot be here to meet the electrician on Thursday.
Me: Okay
K: Can he come another day?
Me: No, I want the studio finished sooner rather than later. Write down what you need me to talk to the electrician about.
K starts to tell me what needs doing. I start to panic. There is no way known I can remember one word of what is being said.
Me: Write it down. Don't tell me. Put it in writing. Then I can read it out.

Conversation with carpenter:

C: What door do you want for the studio.
Me: What are you talking about? I am having the spare door down in the factory. I told the PM about it.
C: It's too small
Me: So, just get me one like that.
C: You can go to the Door Store and pick one out.
Me: You want me to go to a place with hundreds and hundreds of doors and pick one out? I will be there all day.
C: I will order one for you.
Me: Thanks.

Similar conversation about window happened with the same reaction and result.

I cannot imagine what it is like to just get out of bed and just "be". You know. Just get up, shower, get dressed, have breakfast and get out of the house without an agonising thought process with each step.

I go to bed thinking about what I will wear the next day and then when I wake up I rethink it. Not because I want to look good but because what I wear needs to match the mood I am in. If I am agitated I would never wear anything that was too loose or it will annoy me all day. If I put my maroon dress on today it would have pissed me off having that colour distract me. Or the brown with the cream would have made me feel disorganised. I don't own clothes that are noisy at all. Except my raincoat. I hate clothes that squeak, creak or make any noise when I move around. Or clothes that flop or dangle.

I'd like to go to sleep at night just like that. You know, lie down and close my eyes and drift off. Not have the noise of the house, the swish of noise in my ears. I would like to drift of to sleep not thinking about how many bugs there are living in my bed linen. Or on my skin. Or on my eyelashes. Apart from thinking about what I am wearing the next day, I actually am very good at not thinking about negative things when I go to sleep. Well, apart from germs and noises. But when you are a light sleeper it makes sleep troublesome. I thought about using ear plugs but then I would be able to feel the ear plugs and that would just make sleep impossible.

But there is one thing I love very much at the moment. Over the past few weeks I have been using an online accounting package and getting it ready for everyone else to use. The utter delight I have had doing the chart of accounts and cost centres just beggars belief. I get into a complete zone as I get it all to work beautifully. The new templates, the new scripts, getting the logo to sit perfectly on everything just makes my mouth water. When I log into the data base each morning I feel a thrill when I see it open up on the big computer screen.

The whole office just works on oblivious to my bliss.

I mean, it's hard to appreciate the pleasure if you are not into it.

Anyway, I have talked enough about me.

What do you think of me?

Ha ha.

Ciao
LC