Linda and her Twaddle

Bitch On Board

2009-07-10T18:08:00.004+10:00

I was a bit of a bitch today. To both my son and husband. I feel quite guilty about it but I am using the argument that it hardly ever happens and if it does happen it does not mean that I am morphing into my father. Which, incidentally, is one of my greatest fears. I am not perfect, only human.

Anyway, I had bought a lamp via Ebay and had to go and pick it up in a suburb about an hour away from where I live.

I cannot express to you how appalling my map reading skills are. I read maps upside down, back to front and inside out. If I have instructions given to me they enter my right ear and exit my left ear. It is a classic case of "I see your mouth move but all I hear is blah, blah, blah". It is all made worse by the issue I have with my left and right. If you ask me to raise my left hand I have to say to myself "hmmm, left, the opposite of the hand I use the most" or something along those lines.

In 1994 when my husband and I went overseas we had the worst arguments about my map reading. One argument ended when I hit my husband over the head with a giant road atlas as we tried to make out way out of Bath and onto London. It was not until last year's trip that he apologised to me for being so unsympathetic about what was obviously a problem I could not resolve. The fact remains, I could not find my way out of a paper bag without some level of stress.
So, last night my husband sat down with me with the street directory and outlined which way to go. I studied it closely and felt confident I would have no trouble getting there.

The is, of course, until I missed the sign that pointed the turn off I was meant to take.

So, naturally, as I turned left into nowhere land at the end of the freeway, a mobile phone call was made to my husband. It was my son who was the go between as far as the conversation went. After stopping by the side of the road I then spoke to K who, despite his efforts to help me, was rewarded with a screech and me hanging up the phone.

Once back on the freeway my husband called again and my son answered the phone. Husband offered to meet up with me and show me where to go. However, the conversation was translated by my son as "Dad is twenty minutes away so can he come and pick me up and you can go on your own....". Chinese whispers starting here.

Without going into too much detail of the content of the heated conversation, it culminated with me ending up on a newly built freeway which put me out of my comfort zone and resulted in another hanging up of mobile phone.

By this stage I was totally out of control, and for me, that is a rare and horrible place to be. I yelled at my son. Whined about life. Said the "F" - spelt it out actually, did not say it in full. Got lost once more. Said I wished I was not married. Also said that if I fell off the face of the earth the only thing that they would miss would be my laundry efforts.

Also said that from now on I will ask nobody to help me ever and would do things on my own.

To which my son replied, "Mum, nobody can be that free. We all need each other".

Sigh, nothing like a child to say the right thing. I calmed down. We both kept quiet and found the place where the lamp had to be picked up from.

I had to eat some humble pie when I got home.

It was this trip today that made me realise that I am the perfect candidate for a GPS thing in the car. So I went to the shop to have a look at one and get some information on them.

Unfortunately I was tempted instead by the lure of an iPod. The only one I have is a teeny one for jogging. That is my justification.

Came home and loaded up lots of songs. My son took a photo of me dancing to Jackson 5's I Want You Back.

Everyone is happy in the house.

As for the lamp. It was made in the 1920's roughly. The base is made from the root of a tree and has been fashioned to have a series of steps up to a lighthouse. I have wanted one of these for many, many years.

I think it was worth the stress of today to tell you the truth.

But I won't let them know that....

Ciao
LC

Oh, How Nice Of You To Say

2009-07-09T15:44:00.002+10:00

The other day when we were out and about in town, my son had the camera and took some shots.

At one point he took a photo of me and then said......

"Hey, mum, this is a good photo. You don't look like the Grim Reaper."

I looked at him and said, in a most offended voice.....

"Gee thanks, but I think you meant The Crypt Keeper."

You know, there is a difference.

Sheesh!

Ciao

Thursday Off

2009-07-09T15:13:00.006+10:00

Last night my son had a friend stay the night. They talked non stop. Late into the night. I fell asleep at about midnight and they were still talking. I think they were watching The Young Ones as well as I could hear laughter going on.

At 6.00 am they were up and out of bed playing Xbox live. I think my son will be tired tonight. When I was young and had a friend stay over, we would talk for hours as well.

So, I took the day off work today to take my son and his friend out for some fun. Note, I did not say "to take my son and his friend and myself out for some fun".

I don't like to whinge too often, but to be honest some of the things that parents do to ensure a fun day out for kids are boring.

I took them to a place called Sidetracked which has Go Karts, Laser Force (laser shooting in a maze in the dark), ten pin bowling, mini golf and loads of money gobbling arcade games.

I decided to get there early to beat the crowds. Well, what a mistake that was. There was nobody there but us three and the staff. It was then I realised that I was in for a bit of a boring three hours.

Sidetracked is a place that promises lots of fun at considerable cost. The cost is not unfair, I have to say, as to run a place like that and have all the public liability insurance etc. costs money. So I am not suggesting the value is not there. But if you have three or more children, you can bet your hand will be deep in your pocket.

They had a deal going that was too practical to refuse. Trouble with being a bookkeeper is that you always look at the best value for money and so I coughed up for a special that let the boys do bowling, laser force and mini golf for as much as they liked for two hours. However, the two hours was not due to start for another 45 minutes and so I then spent more money to squeeze in a ten minute go kart session to kill some time. Just want to say what a jolly good up sell the man behind the counter did on that one.

I have to admit, Go Karting is great fun for kids. Getting to drive before the age of eighteen is a bit exciting. The opportunity to drive with your foot flat to the floor for ten minutes brings out the competitive nature in anyone.

There were about ten children and two adults doing this race. One of the kids was a young girl and her driving was so slow and so cautious that she had to learn very quickly about keeping to the left.

I stood on the sidelines watching and realised that my son has a really competitive streak. Once he moved out from the pit stop he seemed to morph into a mini man. The expression on his face was one of set determination and he raced past everyone until he came behind the leader of the pack, an adult who deliberately refused to let him pass. Every time my son made a move up to the side to get past, this guy would close it off and force him to back off. In the end, there was a collision which stopped the race and the adult was told off by the supervisor. Made me wonder who exactly was the child there at that time.

After the race finished, the two boys headed off to play indoor laser force for about an hour. Let me tell you, what a boring place it then was for me. And not just me. Sole adults sat at lone tables with books and coffee waiting for the two hours to pass.

It was noisy with the sounds of music, chatter and go karts going around the track. There was the smell of grease or something in the air which I love. Although the place was an open warehouse, they had heaters that hung down from the roof and kept the place warm. It was nice to watch the children enjoying themselves.

I had brought a book with me to read which was so boring that I could not get past the third page and subsequently sat writing and drawing mindlessly. When I got home my husband asked me what did I do while they were playing. I just rolled my eyes. Fortunately I have a high boredom tolerance level. The beauty of being a hard core daydreamer. No matter where you are there is always something to watch. Something to think about.

It was lots of fun for the boys and we don't go to these sorts of places often. They were really appreciative of the day.

Another day off tomorrow.

But I am keeping it cheap.

Ciao
LC

Who Needs Brains

2009-07-06T20:23:00.006+10:00

When I was young, about fourteen, I had to get a part time job if I was to have any clothes to wear apart from the tat my mother picked up from the opportunity shops.

My father was of that genre that believed if a child could walk and talk then it could work.

My first part time job was working at an old people's home that was in the next suburb away from where we lived. I had to catch a train and then walk for about ten minutes from the station to get to work.

I worked in the kitchen and dining area. If I was on the breakfast shift I had to go from place setting to place setting and put whatever cereal the oldies wanted into the bowl on the table.

Raw oats for old Mrs Very Wrinkly, muesli for old Mr Mustachio, corn flakes for Mrs Hairy Chin, porridge for Mr Yellow Teeth. You get the idea.

I know it sounds mean the way I recall them, but I was only fourteen and you can imagine how ancient these old folks were to me. Old and scary.

Once they all shuffled in for breakfast I would come around and see what else was wanted. Milk, tea, fresh toast, coffee or juice. They were all very sweet to me, even the old men who would squeeze my bottom on a regular basis which I found totally creepy but did not know how to handle it and just giggled which only encouraged more groping and the cycle continued to the point where I became anxious about it each time I worked there.

After breakfast I would clean up, wash dishes, mop the floor and, if on a full days work, would help the cook get the lunch ready.

The cook was this giant woman from Germany. She wore thick glasses and had a drooping bottom lip that hung down and showed the receding gums of her bottom teeth all the time. She always dressed in a shabby dress that was covered by an equally shabby apron. Bare legs were not allowed in the kitchen so she would wear thick, grey tights irrespective of the weather and her big feet were enclosed in leather clogs.

I used to have to help her get lunch ready and I would have to say it was a most revolting experience. Mainly because the food was so disgusting.

One time lambs brains was on the menu. Well, more than one time when I think about it. Although I was familiar with some pretty strange food being of the foreign factor myself, I could never get my head around the eating of brains no matter how interestingly they were dished up.

Anyway, the butcher delivered the bucket of brains to the the kitchen door of the nursing home. I opened the lid and there they were, lambs brains floating in water like some sort of hideous Frankenstein experiment was in progress. The cook then told me to take them out of the bucket and drop them into the sink that she had filled with water. The brains popped out of my wet hands like soft, ugly little heads and splashed into the sink. I did make a game of it. How could I not.

After this slippery and unpleasant episode I had to peel the outer membrane off each brain. I baulked at this as she showed me how to do it, her hard yellow fingernails piercing the fine membrane that covered the brain and then peeling it off in one motion and leaving it to drift aimlessly in the sink full of water like some sort dirty piece of silk petticoat.

Once I had done the deed I then crumbed them and she cooked the poor things. There were loads of them, all golden brown and piled up in the stainless steel dishes that sat underneath the warming lights. Those brains were a hit, nearly everyone had seconds and it was served up with bubble and squeak, another thing I never liked.

Other times we would have potted meat which in itself was an experience to make. There were a few dishes that featured tripe. One was tripe and onion in pastry. I kid you not, the most disgusting thing I have encountered. Although, the dishes that had kidney or liver in them would come a close second on the horrible food scale.

Desserts were always nice. Old fashioned bread and butter pudding. Stewed fruits and freshly made custard. Lovely vanilla ice cream with home made waffles. Sometimes the cook would make fruitcake for afternoon tea. Many times we would serve up soft, white scones all hot with fresh cream and sweet strawberry jam.

It is my belief that desserts were invented only as a reward for eating gross food such as brains, kidney and liver. Oh, and tripe.

I worked there part time for about twelve months and then got fired because I had lied about my age when I first started. What was the big deal about that? I worked hard and did all that I was meant to. It should not have mattered that I increased my age by a couple of years.

Years later I was out on a date with some guy and on the menu was crumbed lambs brains. I decided to give them a go. Much to the disgust of my date, I ordered the lambs brains and awaited their arrival with trepidation. When they were plonked down in front of me I realised that everything I believed applied to the appearance, smell and taste of a lambs brain was about to be confirmed.

I took one bite of the offending bit of offal upon which it made a squeaking noise as my teeth sunk deeper into the chewy texture. I made an involuntary gag and dropped the bitten piece of food out of my mouth and let it fall onto my plate.

Needless to say, I was not asked out again.

Neither have I eaten brains since.

I did eat snails cooked in garlic and butter once. To this day I can recall the vile sensation of putting that snot like hermaphrodite in my mouth where it squeaked as I bit it. I then swallowed hard to get rid of it (in a more lady like fashion) and it sat wedged in my throat like a piece of rubber for ages. I had to eat a big ice cream to force it down.

One should not eat food that squeaks.

No wonder I have food aversions.

Blech.

Ciao
LC

Sunday Out And About

2009-07-05T16:57:00.010+10:00

I woke up this morning with a case of cabin fever. It was time to get out of the house. I think I have spent nearly every weekend for ages inside or at the supermarket.

My son was in a vaguely shitty mood which matched my own headachey grim demeanour and getting out of the house was a tense episode.

Firstly, I wanted to go to the art gallery to see a Salvador Dali exhibition but my son expressed a strong disinterest. Moan, moan and more moaning at the prospect of being forced to see any art. We got in the car and my mood was put onto high grump alert as I thought of what a selfish and ungrateful pratt a child can be. Always thinking about what they want, not anyone else.

But, I held my tongue and waited until my headache dissapated and my mood settled. No point in having a heated discussion about "my needs" with a twelve year old boy.

As we drove toward the city I said to him that it would mean a lot if he could put aside his obvious boredom at the prospect of seeing Salvador Dali and come in with me. He agreed, and really that was all I wanted to hear.

By the time we got into the gallery car park I had calmed down and decided that it would be best if I went to the exhibition on my own at a later date because I would want to spend a few hours walking around and listening to the audio about each painting. So we decided to just go for a meander around the gallery anyway.

My son really enjoys contemporary art, even though I don't think he realised it until we were looking at some great paintings and sculptures. His entire mood changed and his eyes were wide open at the strange paintings on show. At one point we were looking at a series of black and white photos from the 1960's, all abstract, and he was totally engrossed in them, sitting down in the semi darkness to stare at them. In the end I had to go back and get him out of the room to keep moving.

He got his wish to sit in a MacDonald's store and use his iTouch to surf the net.

We went to a cafe later in the afternoon where he indulged in a hot chocolate made with melted chocolate, cream and milk and I lied about my age. This little cafe has been around for so long. My mother used to take me there when I was a little, little girl and it was one of the few places you could get good, strong European coffee outside of home.

The decor only recently got completely updated and it now specialises in great coffee, hot chocolates and Belgian chocolates to indulge in.

During the day we came across the odd street performer. I love these ones that look like statues and move every so slightly. They stand there for so long. Street performers are so professional now, a great form of entertainment. In Winter there are not so many, but in Summer you see many of them attracting big crowds. I have to admit, it is a tough way to earn a dollar, but they do well when the crowd is big.

For the first hour in the city my son was completely into his iTouch, but after a while he decided to engage in some conversation with me. At the end of the day, nothing beats a good old chinwag.

A random shot of a happy boy as we headed back to the car to go home.

On Sunday, just near the art gallery, the city is full of market stalls. Some of the stuff on sale is okay, but most is for tourists who want some quality Australian souvenir's to take home. Personally, I would rather walk naked than wear an Akubra hat, but each to their own.

It was a relief to be out of the house, away from work, just out and about. I intend to take an entire day off work and go in to see some exhibitions at the gallery. I realised that now and then I just have to be on my own in the environment that feeds a hungry soul.

All in all, a good Sunday jaunt.

Ciao

Saturday The Fourth Blab

2009-07-04T18:35:00.009+10:00

I have been blogging less lately as my wife, life and mothering duties seem to have taken a priority for weeks on end.

Especially at work. I have been thinking about work when not at work. Which is usually not an issue, but because we went through a tight and tough time, it was getting a bit intrusive. However, we seem to have gotten past that enough for me to feel a sense of relief.

Also, I have been so tired for weeks on end and finally picked up some iron tablets as about fifteen months ago I was diagnosed with low iron levels but did nothing about it. Hopefully things sort themselves out now. Plus I had slipped into a level of inertia about looking after myself emotionally. I know that sounds a bit precious, but I feel as though I have been just going to work, exercise, supermarket, washing and ironing and sleeping. Then on the weekend just not getting enough done that was enjoyable.

Maybe just a rut that needed derutting (is that a word?). Now I am working out of it.

I took two days off work this week. Wednesday was my son's twelfth birthday. I could not believe it. Twelve years ago he arrived and change our lives, in a great way. Talk about a learning curve.

Now here is this boy on the brink of teenage hood. His feet are big and they stink at the end of the day. I think that is a boy thing actually.

For his birthday he went to Gold Class cinemas with a friend to see the new Transformer's movie. Gold Class only has about twenty or so seats in it that are very comfortable. You can order yummy food that gets delivered to you once the movie starts. It costs more, but it is a nice birthday treat.

Whilst they were both at the movies I went shopping and just enjoyed myself. Spent a little bit of money on moi, not much, but enough.

Made a cake and decorated it in chocolate (his request) and was one candle short so we used a match stick for candle number twelve.

At the end of the day I worked on my beauty regime. It is a work in progress.

I ought to warn you, a close up of the photo below is totally disgusting. The honesty of digital pictures.....

Friday I dedicated myself to getting all the laundry sorted once and for all so that my weekend was just for relaxing. Having a day off now and then makes a big difference. This morning when I woke up I felt at ease for the first time in a while.

My husband and I bought my son an Apple iTouch for his birthday along with a docking station. To me, twelve is a special age and I wanted him to have something he would remember. He never asks for things like an Ipod or iTouch. About a month ago he had asked me if he had saved up enough pocket money for one and I said that he was almost there. So he just left it at that with the idea he would buy one in a few more months. Even when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday he just said that he wanted a surprise and anything I gave him would be great.

So, he gets the Itouch and is so pleased with it. Loads his songs, sits and surfs the Internet with it. Later on we had the following brief dialogue.

"Mum, on the weekend can we go to MacDonald's?" he asks.

"Why do you want to go there, you don't eat that rubbish?" I queried him.

"No, I know. But I want to take my iTouch and use it in there because they have free WiFi," he told me.

"Oh, okay," I agreed thinking to myself that, once again, MacDonald's have worked out a way to get customers in. Tomorrow we will go to one and try it out. Just sit at a table without food or drink just to try free Internet access.

Bit strange when I think about it.

Tomorrow my son and I are off into the city to go to the museum and just do a few things together as my husband has a music job on. I am looking forward to just being out and about more than eleven kilometres from my front door.

Sometimes you have to watch out, the world can suddenly get small if you don't keep moving outside of the safety zone.

By the way, I am growing out my fringe. Does it make me look older? Or mumsy? Or like I have a big, big forehead? Or a big face?

Ciao
LC

Reality Versus Fantasy

2009-07-01T22:22:00.004+10:00

Nuff said.

Ciao

School Talk

2009-07-01T20:43:00.003+10:00

Last week my husband and I had to go into the school for the usual half year parent/teacher pow wow.

The day before my son had been sent home with his mid year school report that outlined where he was at and how that averaged out in education expectations.

There is an awful lot of blab that goes on in these reports. Lots of big fat paragraphs that outline what the child is expected to be able to achieve and if he achieves it.

My son met the criteria of where the normal twelve year old child should be, except for two small areas. One was personal learning and the other was LOTE.

We asked him what subject is LOTE and he said he had no idea. I read deeper into the report and found out that LOTE is a subject where he learns Indonesian.

"Are you learning Indonesian?" I asked him, really surprised as there has been no mention of it.

"No, I'm not learning Indonesian," he told me.

"Well are you sure? Because it says here that you are learning it," I pointed out the details to him. He was adamant he was not doing it.

The next day we went to talk to the teacher and went through the report. My husband asked what LOTE was.

"Language other than English. They learn Indonesian," she informed us.

"Really, well he says he isn't," my husband told her.

"Well, he goes to that class for forty minutes every week. So, he is in the room. But don't worry, everyone is asking the same question. Something is not being made clear in class about what the children are actually doing," she told us. Oh, really.

Anyway, we talked about how my son is going in class, in particular the personal learning issue, and she told us that he was, well, a bit lazy. It was hard for her to find what motivates him. Don't I remember that feeling at school.

Once a week he has detention at lunchtime to finish work he has not finished during class times. Needless to say, we had no idea of this happening. She expressed a concern that he seemed totally unconcerned about having detention and treated it as a lunchtime get together with the teacher (being her).

We agreed that from now on, any work he did not finish during the day would be sent home with him as extra homework in the hope that he would realise that getting it done at school would be a better idea. He does need a bit more of a push from us. His teacher said that he has the intelligence and is full of fantastic ideas, but getting him to use it was quite another.

I asked her if he was talking in class to other children. Was that the problem?

"No, you son can occupy himself quite happily with a pen. Or drawing cartoons. Or making little notes in the back of his maths book. When I tackle him on it he says he is "thinking about his work," she was trying not to laugh, but it was funny.

I was laughing at this. Not because it was funny (I reassured the teacher), but because he reminded me of me at that age. His teacher asked me how my teacher managed to help me overcome this behaviour as she would be happy to apply it to all students.

"It took forty years. I grew up, although I still have those moments at work," I answered.

Some things about school have not changed at all.

Daydreaming is one of them.

Ciao
LC

Deconstructing The Boy

2009-06-30T13:29:00.003+10:00

Tomorrow (July 1st) my son turns twelve.

Last year I asked Kat from Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes, to write a poem for his eleventh birthday. At the time I did not post it because, well, I just didn't.

But I think it is so lovely that I want to keep it here on my Blog. It really captures that little boy's essence so well.

First of July, a winter’s night
In nineteen-ninety-seven,
A boy called S*****, came to light,
Time’s flown, he’s now eleven.

Complexion pale, and up-stuck hair,
He looks you in the eye
Python has him laughing loud,
But nightmares make him cry.

He loves when people pull a face,
Lost items make him mad,
When others are unkind to folk
And creatures, he feels sad.

His favourite friend is Alan
His folks are his mates too,
With silly walks and talks for
Entertaining “Mr. Moo”.

At school he’s just a dreamer,
Not really organised.
Already likes the pretty girls
In class--Mum’s not surprised.

He’s moody and creative,
Is bothered when things change,
Likes no lunchbox surprises,
His day, don’t rearrange.

Don’t dare put him in clothing
That rustles, or noise makes,
Just give him brand new boxers
Not briefs, for goodness sakes!

He watches Harry Potter
On screen and dvd,
But Springfield’s Simpsons
Dominate the family t.v.

You’ll find him often mesmerised
By Runescape’s magic tricks,
Or buried in adventures of
Tintin or Asterix.

He listens to strange music
For lad so young in age;
Weird Al’s a little wacky
Alongside Jimmy Page.

Like most boys, S***** loves to eat
And pasta is his dish;
To marry an Italian girl
Who’ll cook, is his great wish.

But Mum knows what’s important--
Not only food he needs,
Nurture talent that he has
Ensure his soul, he feeds.

He truly is a lucky lad;
Mum’s love for him’s so pure.
She’d give up everything she has,
His joy just to secure.

Kathleen Mortensen © 2008

He has grown up a bit since then. I could possibly add Xbox to his list of loves. I just think this poem says it all.

I am taking the day off work just to spend time with him and his best friend. Actually, I should say that I am going to ferry them all over the place to have fun.

Ciao
LC

Changes

2009-06-30T07:17:00.000+10:00

When I was born in 1963, the surroundings in which I arrived had not changed in years. By surroundings I mean the suburbs, the streets, the cars, the shops, the parks and the houses that nestled all amongst this static place.

My husband, who is ten years older than me, arrived in that same sort of still world.

For a long, long time changes just rarely happened. Or, the changes were too irrelevant for me, as a child, to take notice of.

Small things like bakeries opening up on a Sunday morning, the day of rest, made the evening news on the big black and white television that sat in the corner of our small lounge room. I remember the baker being hounded by the news reporter and having to defend his dreadful crime of opening on a Sunday morning to sell bread to locals who chose not to go to Church.

People drove the same car for years and years. Kept their lawn mower for a lifetime. Stayed in the same house for most of their life. Fixed things that broke. Made things out of the unfixable. Took a shopping trolley to the local grocer so often that they knew each other by name and talked about mutual goings on each time they met. Life just had some sort of silent continuity about it that left one with a sense of being part of that process.

Even the shows on television stayed the same for years.

Changes were incremental for many, many years. The odd old house started to disappear from a side street and was replaced by a more modern home, making a statement by showing those around that they owners were "different" and "progressive" and "with it". Then, as the owners have grown old their own modern house has been pulled down and replaced with a more "now" home.

For years I could drive past places I remembered seeing as a child and never did that place change. Same butcher around the corner from where I lived as a six year old. Sawdust once on the floor, soft under my barefeet. Wooden butcher's block in the corner, the top misshapen by years of sharp knives striking the surface as the butcher chopped slabs of raw meat. My mum would sometimes ask for a few sheets of butchers paper to take home for me to draw on.

One day I drove past that butcher's shop and it was a florist. A couple of years later I drove past and it was a gift shop. Then, when my son was about three years old, I drove past and the butcher was now a furniture shop selling fashionable "hand made" shabby chic homeware.

I stopped the car and took my son with me to take a look at what they sold. I bought a small lidded box which holds lots of personal items relating to my son. His candle that was given to him on his day of christening along with a letter written by the minister which is for my son to read when he is older. Baby cards, birthday cars, ribbon that wrapped presents given to him when he was born and small items collected over the years and slipped into the wooden trunk for purely sentimental reasons.

I have not been back to the shop since. No reason, other than things I do now do not take me anywhere near there anymore.

About a week ago I drove down to the supermarket that is situated in the suburb of Hampton which is where I moved to when I was twelve years old and spent my teenage years, and in fact, is where I lived until I moved out and left the family home for good. I like going there. Despite the fact I have not lived there since I was nineteen, I feel it is still home for me in a way. Not that I even know anyone who lives there, except my father and it is not likely I am going to knock on his front door ever.

Anyway, I was driving along and it was a Sunday and the traffic was so busy. On a Sunday. It seemed liked a week day. This is a fairly recent thing. And by recent, I mean that it is in the past five years that the traffic on a Sunday has become so busy that it makes a trip to the shops an almost stressful event. Everyone seems to feel the need to be somewhere other than home. They are not at the supermarket, so the occupants in the cars on the road must continue on to other places.

On the way home from the shops, I was driving down the road that eventually takes me to the big local strip shop near my home. When I moved to here in 1991 (thereabouts), this local shopping centre was small. Mostly full of older people. Not so many young people. You could cross the road anytime without fear of being skittled over. Now, almost nineteen years later, it is long, busy and full of many shops. Lots of teenagers. Full of cars. Busy, busy and busy.

I sat in the car waiting for the line of traffic to move and wondered why I did not notice all this change going on sooner. But I then realised that the change is non stop now. Like a big snowball. Just rolling and rolling and getting bigger. Just keeping out of it's way is nigh impossible.

I see so much change now that I find it very disconcerting. Is it because I am older? I don't think so because my husband notices the same constant change. My brother also finds that constant change in the local area very irritating. It unsettles him and at the end of the day when he turns off the busy road and drives down his long and quiet street he finally relaxes. I feel the same way when I turn my car into the driveway at the end of the day.

It made me think about what my son thinks of the world now. So I ask him. I ask him if he thinks his world, his school, his streets change? He told me that the world seems to be always changing. Outside changes all the time. Lots of traffic. The school is bigger and more kids are in it. Two things have stayed the same he told me. Two things that make him feel relaxed and so happy. I leant forward in anticipation.

"Soft drink is one. Pepsi and Coke have never changed", he tells me, a big smile of delight on his face.

I stare at him. How interesting. Soft drink. Well, not quite the comfort food of my childhood years, but obviously meaningful to him. I wait for his second revelation.

"Getting home after school. I walk in the door, drop my school bag on the floor and feel so relaxed. That never changes", he leans back into the couch and crosses his arms. I silently agree with him.

So, if at his young age he thinks the world it constantly changing does that mean he will never know a life without change? Will he have to keep that stillness, that continuity happening in his own home and just step out into the chaotic world of change? Will he be so conditioned to it that it will seem normal to him. Just the way children grow up now?

I suppose that children are just like new trees. Take root and work in with the environment around them. Bend with the change. Quite different to an old and rigid tree like myself. I can only sway a little bit. Then it gets a bit hard.

Maybe I am just getting old.

And that is all okay as well.

Just another change.

Ciao
LC

Buying Bits Of Lives

2009-06-28T14:25:00.008+10:00

When I go onto Ebay and search the vast data base for tempting things to bring into my already crowded house, now and then I feel like I can get a vague idea of what group of people are starting to leave behind their mortal remains.

Not just their mortal remains, but all their things that they bought, accumulated and collected over a lifetime.

You see, on Ebay, people will generally search for something for a relatively small range of reasons. Specific and useful items at a low cost. Such as shampoo, conditioner, perfume and make up. Then, some search for second hand clothes, shoes and furniture. Looking for something that is unique and, hopefully, cheaper than buying it in a store.

There are those who search for the unattainable. Or things that are so hard to find in any shop they may have been in many times. Dinky toys, vintage toys, collectible items, parts for old bikes or old editions of comics and other books. People who buy and sell these collectible goods know their stuff. These sorts of things get traded back and forth all the time and people constantly improve their collection.

Now and then though, one will search for items that generally only appear on Ebay when someone has died and their goods, not wanted by children or other relatives, get bought in bulk by a dealer who will sell it for profit. Maybe they have not died, but are too old to live in the home with all their familiar items and have to make decisions that involve getting rid of things they have had around them for a long time.

These things are not always particularly valuable, but they have a nostalgic feel about them because they remind one of things they had when young.

At the moment, things like retro kitchen ware that was bought in the 1960's are everywhere on Ebay. Bessemer plates, anodised cups and plastic picnic sets in little brown cases. Things that my mother would have bought new and enjoyed putting on the table at lunch time. Things that got hidden in the back of a kitchen cupboard and forgotten about until, one day, that person got old and either died or moved into a smaller place.

I am guessing that when lots of these sorts of items from a particular era suddenly appear on Ebay, it is maybe because a few more houses were emptied of unwanted personal items.

Perhaps I am reading more into it than there is. But, I recall that there was a stage where for ages and ages there was a huge amount of Bakelite, from the 1940's and 1950's and enamel ware appearing on Ebay. It appeared and was cheap as there was a lot of it around, then, it died off and soon became not as easy to find. Then, once in the hand of hungry collectors, the value increased.

Other times, you might suddenly see, from one dealer, an amount of new vintage Italian bedspreads or quilts for sale. Usually from the 1960's, popular in a young girl's glory box or given as a wedding present. Often Italian weddings are huge with many gifts given to the couple and many things that a girl had in her glory box go unused for decades so it is not rare to have lots of these "new" old pieces of linen appear online for sale now and then.

Well, I wonder what will be the next batch of goods flooding the Ebay market. I think lots of 1970's lifetime collections will soon appear. People who modernised their homes in the 70's perhaps? Now in a house too big to keep, or is not just dated, but needing so much work done it is more prudent to move out to a smaller place.

I just wonder about it all. Why people buy and sell. What is the motive behind it all.

Why do I have four sets of those Bessemer plates in my kitchen cupboard when one set is fine? But they remind me of being small and sitting at the table to eat from the orange plate. My sister had the red one. My dad did not care what he had. Maybe I bought four sets and thought that one day I might give a set to my brother and two sisters. I still want to buy some more. I want to own them and look at their bright colours and think about what cupboard they were kept in for years.

Why do I buy another Marcella bedspread when I have three already? But when I lie in bed and feel the weight of the thick white cotton, run my hands over the patterned, uneven surface of it I think about who owned it and how they washed it and ironed it and lay under it each night just as I do. Perhaps by owning more than one I feel that I am keeping something alive. I don't know.
Maybe I think too much about not very much.

Essentially, Ebay is just one big online shop. If you look at it in a practical manner.

I think of it as a trading place of people's lives.

Random ramblings here.

Ciao
LC

Thinking Of.....

2009-06-27T20:24:00.001+10:00

Where the rest of the world is in relation to where I am. Especially since I made a few comments to the travel agent that elicited the response of "Linda, go home and look at the atlas. Prague is not near Italy".

Also wondering why I bought that green cardigan. My son calls me Ned Flanders when I wear it. Worse than that, I was wearing grey pants as well. However, I was minus the moustache so fortunately one could tell the difference between us.

When I am wearing it and tell that child of mine to do something he replies "Okaly - dokay - doo" or "Sounds spine tingly dingly" and some other thing that goes like "hey diddly whatever".

I have been wearing it less. My brother said it looked like grass.

My husband is colour blind, he just thinks it is brown.

Who would think that a cardigan could evoke such responses.

I should have bought two of them.

Hey diddly hi ho hum.

Ciao
LC

Blogging Break

2009-06-24T07:26:00.002+10:00

I am taking a blogging break for a week or more.

Busy at work and home and not feeling very inspired.

Lately, every day has become Groundhog day and I need to address that.

End of financial year at work is less than a week away, school holidays start, my son turns twelve on the first of July and I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Must be Winter blues.

Ciao
LC

Lesson From Child

2009-06-22T10:44:00.002+10:00

Last week (Monday to be exact) I organised for my overseas tickets to be booked and paid for via the travel agent.

I gave her the credit card details to allow her to process the tickets directly with the airline, which, incidentally, is Malaysian Airlines.

For some unbelievably insane reason, the airline company took the money out twice. Once in three separate ticket costs - that was fine. And then, in one combined cost where it has sat pending in limbo land putting my credit card over the limit.

I have a low limit on my credit card because I don't need a big limit. Don't need an $8K limit or anything along those lines. In the 24 years I have had my credit card I have never gone over the limit. I was gobsmacked to see this extra $5,500 on my card.

Anyway, the travel agent has been following it up and was told it would drop off the system on Friday. Well, it did not drop off the system and still has not dropped off.

I woke up this morning and when I saw that the credit card was still over the limit my blood pressure went through the roof and I could not eat breakfast. I never leave the house without breakfast, but this morning I was ill with pissed offedness.

I also had to get my son organised. He was pfaffing around whilst I was running around and he went on the computer to check his emails. I went on a bit of a rant about that. A really good old mummy rant about things. Really, it was unreasonable of me since he was dressed and we did have time. But I had to tell him to get his breakfast, tell him to brush his teeth etc. I was just in a shitty mood.

Later on I apologised for it. Brought him up to speed on the credit card fiasco and how annoying it was. He was fine.

About five minutes later he sat beside me and said; "So, because someone took money from your credit card you got angry at me".

I looked at him and was silent for a few seconds.

"Yes, that is right. I got angry at you because of someone taking money out of my credit card," I replied rather shamefacedly.

He just left it at that. Not much else to say to that little lesson from son to mother.

All the times I have said to him "Tell me what it is you are angry about? Don't just take it out on us here in the house. Find the root of the problem and address it" and other similar things. Teaching him about anger management.

Nothing like hearing your own words come back at you.

Ciao
LC

Book

2009-06-21T21:41:00.002+10:00

I just finished a lovely book today.

It is one from the book club I have joined.

Getting back into the habit of reading consistently has taken me a few weeks. And I really had to discipline myself to sit and just enjoy the process of reading as there really is no point in being in a book club if you only finish one book in four weeks.

Years ago I used to read all the time. Weekends were spent sitting in a chair ploughing through a good book. Have to say that was before I had a child to look after.

Unfortunately, I have to also confess that sometimes I spend time on the computer when I could be reading. Not saying anything wrong with computers, but they are inclined to be time wasters now and then.

Not just that, working, motherhood, household things etc. just take up time. Then you get into lazy habits and have to address it now and then. And, sometimes I am too tired, mentally, to pick up a book and read. But I have been doing it and it seems to be falling back into a rhythm.

The book I finished today was called The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and it was written by a woman called Mary Ann Shaffer.

The book is set in 1946 and is written in the style of epistolary which is usually in the form of letters and documents. So the book builds on a series of letters between a female writer and other people based in Guernsey and England. A very witty book that is very cleverly put together. Each letter leads you on and on into the relationships that have been and gone.

Unfortunately the author of the book passed away before she saw it published. It was her first book and what a pity she never got to know of the pleasure it would have given to people to read. I, for one, would have sent her publisher a letter to say how much I enjoyed it.

I especially loved the book as it is essentially based in Guernsey which is a place that I have always thought to be interesting to visit. I think I have a romantic notion of it.

So, that was my little reading for the weekend.

I have a new book on hand now. Something by P.D. James. I love a good mystery.

Feel so much more relaxed having read a book.

Ciao
LC

Oh Poor Me

2009-06-20T20:11:00.002+10:00

I had a dreary Saturday. So it is only fair that I should moan about it.

It kind of started yesterday evening with a slight tummy ache from some dodgy sushi. Add a headache and a trip to the chiropractor and then wash it down with three glasses of diet Coke. No, not three glasses of wine, that would render me unconscious for 24 hours. Diet Coke just makes me ill as can be but sometimes I forget and last night I forgot.

Woke up with a big, fat headache and nausea. Plus, a huge pimple on my forehead which was full of juicy promise but has, as usual, let me down in the substance department despite picking at it all day long. Now it is just an angry red lump on my forehead.

No amount of painkillers helped and in the end I just randomly sat watching television and snoozing when feeling really bad and then doing bits of housework when feeling reasonable. At about 5.00pm the fog lifted and I felt much better.

At one point in the day I went into the laundry to put on a load of washing, opened the overhead cupboard to take something out and hit my head TWICE on the corner of the cupboard door. Not just on my head, but right on the big, fat pimple. Immediately after that I opened the dryer to take out some clothes and they all fell out and landed on the floor, still wet. When I bent down to pick them up I hit my head again on the bench and knocked all the pegs onto the floor.

What else. Um, oh, not much really.

Just felt a bit sorry for myself at that laundry point of the day.

Have consoled myself with some dark chocolate.

A panacea for everything.

Even big, angry fat pimples.

No matter where they may lie.

Ciao
LC

Glamour Gal

2009-06-17T22:05:00.002+10:00

On Monday night at one of my regular sojourns to the supermarket I made an impulse purchase of a dvd. There were two dvd's in the box and the titles were Romancing The Stone and the sequel Jewel Of The Nile.

Romancing The Stone must have been made twenty five years ago. Honestly, it seems like yesterday I saw it at the movies. In fact, when I was watching it my husband said that we saw it together but I don't think so. I said to him that it might have been him but I cannot recall. You know, when you have been hanging around the same person for years it is a bit hard to remember just who you went to the movies with.

The main star was the gorgeous Kathleen Turner. She really was a beautiful creature in her heyday. Kind of gutsy and funny. She was in a few other movies as well. One of them was Body Heat in which she was a real femme fatale. Plus she did the voice for Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

Anyway, I was watching the movie last night, enjoying the absolute 80's appeal of it all and I was reminded of my hospital stay when I had my son.

When I was pregnant I had long blonde hair. Very glamorous looking. Not a yellow ditsy blonde, more of a caramel colour with blonde highlights. Extremely high maintenance to keep looking good. People at work would say I had hair like Kathleen Turner. I was a bit pleased about it.

During the pregnancy my hair was so thick and glossy it was a delight. Truly, despite the hard work it was the one time I really loved my hair. Of course, after I had my son I am sure that half my hair fell out and the other half stayed in a pony tail for months ever after.

But I digress.

Whilst I was pregnant I ate like a pig. I was hungry all the time. I woke up thinking about food and had a 24 hour a day empty stomach. My husband could not believe it. Once I even got up in the night and ate a peanut butter sandwich using mouldy bread. I was so hungry. Just makes me sick thinking about it. I ate and ate without giving a shit about the consequences..

All that eating was fine for the first five months of the gestation as I also had really dreadful morning sickness and usually vomited up half of what I ate throughout the day. However, the last four months of the pregnancy I was not ill and just put on weight. In fact, one time I was sitting on the bed when my incredibly brave husband said to me "Linda, do you know that you are the shape of a volcano? Wide at the base and narrow at the top." Can you believe that?

Towards the end of the breeding programme I had to shop around for some things to take to hospital. In particular I was looking for a lovely pair of pyjamas. And one day I came across the most divine pair of snow white linen pyjamas. Made in France. Cost a fortune. I cannot tell you the exact amount as I believe I have erased it from my memory in shock.

When I got them home I hand washed them, ironed and folded them and then put them in the case to take to hospital.

Seriously, I had this idea that when I had "the baby" I would greet visitors in hospital wearing my wonderful white linen pj's and nursing my new baby that would be all swaddled in the overpriced Peter Rabbit baby wrap I had bought. I would look as glamorous as Kathleen Turner, my hair all lovely and my face made up. Like out of some magazine shoot.

Ah, of course, you laugh. Firstly, I had a c-section and could hardly move. Then, all that food I ate for months on end did not magically disappear overnight. I had put on so much weight that those overpriced linen pj's would not go past my mid thigh and even that was hard to get them up that far. As for the pyjama top, well, my huge udders made sure that any button closing was impossible.

I ended up wearing my maternity clothes. It was a humbling experience.

As for those pyjamas. I accidentally put them in a hot wash and they shrunk so much that they looked very silly on me even when they did finally fit me. Not long after they were relegated to the rag bag for dusting use only. The most expensive dust cloth I have ever used.

Well, there really is only one Kathleen Turner of course.

But it was nice to aim a little high at the time.

Ciao
LC

Early Xbox Birdy

2009-06-16T15:16:00.001+10:00

I have always believed that when it came to sleep my son and I were of the same ilk. You know, hard to make the effort to get to bed each night as there are better things to do. Then nigh impossible to get out of bed in the morning because it is warm and snuggly and you are tired.

But this morning something happened that made me realise that my son is much more motivated to get out of bed and face the day bright and early than I am. For, this morning, that son of mine set his alarm for the dark, early hour of 5.00 am and got out of bed, put on his school uniform, crept into the lounge room and jumped on Xbox live until 7.00 am when my husband got out of bed.

Both my husband and I were unaware of his little foray into his early morning activity as we were, naturally, fast asleep.

All this transpired because last night I had told my son that the best time to use Xbox live was between the hours of 12 midnight and 12 midday as we would not be using our peak cable time. Hence the reason I would not let him play it last night.

So, he goes to bed with a little thought in his mind that if he cannot play in the evening, well, he will just get up early and play it in the morning.

Really, really early.

I have not yet decided whether I am cross or not. Also, am now going to have to check I am right about the whole off peak thing. Especially if he is actually going to take heed of what I have said.

But seriously, whilst I admire his determination to squeeze in the little leisure activity before school, I am afraid I am going to have to restrict it. Last thing I want is him getting two hours less sleep each night.

Although, if I tell him that, he may go to bed two hours earlier in the evening to make up for the two hours earlier he wants to get up.

I think I will just say no. But then, knowing the relationship he and I have he will expect a logical explanation behind my "no" answer. He is at that age where he wants more than just "because I said so" for a reason. Thoughts on parenting tactics aside, I do prefer to give a reason behind my disciplinary measures. And to tell you the truth, I am not sure why I am saying no.

If I just say no without a good reason, then, he may think "well, mum and dad are asleep anyway" and just do it on the sly. Hmmmmm, no, I think he would try to make some deal that he could do it once a week. He is not a sneak as such.

Perhaps I just do not want him going to school all hyped up. The thing is, he is not hyped up. He just plays, has fun and then stops and gets on with other stuff. My sister's boys do the same. And are well adjusted and doing well at school.

I can see some negotiating tactics coming up.

Boys and their toys.

Ciao

Tecknowledgely

2009-06-14T16:20:00.002+10:00

When a women gets married she may choose a mate who can do things that she cannot or does not want to know how to do.

You know, things like fix car when it stops, move heavy things, paint walls, put bins out and take in washing when it buckets down with rain and wife is at supermarket.

My husband is of the old school. Useful man. Knows what makes a car go vroom and what to do if it doesn't vroom at all. How to unblock vacuum cleaner. Get rid of big spiders. Run cables all over the house. Build things like my studio and his garage. Put bikes together. Has lots of tools in the big garage. Potters around and can do useful things.

Until, of course, it comes to the 'puter. That is me. Not sure how that ended up my domain, but if he wants the email set up, things downloaded, anti virus loaded, updates sorted, defrags done, disk clean, attachments saved, letterheads done or any other fiddly things organised then that is my job. Once it gets to hard I send it to computer man who fixes it for a large hourly fee. Fortunately this is a rare event.

My son thinks I have unlimited knowledge about computers. So often I hear "muuuummmm, the computer won't let me sign in, upload, download, turn on, now freezing or running slow" being howled at me from the office. To which I respond by walking over, pushing a few buttons, restart the computer or something along those lines and fix it.

Maybe because I am on the computer all day it is assumed I know more than the average person. Trust me, I don't.

Recently my son has been pestering me to use Xbox online. Finally, today, I made the effort to organise it. What a drama. Husband had to crawl under house to run cable to Xbox console. I had to go online and fill in all the blab and pay the yearly fee. After three hours of tearing hair out I had to ring Xbox support and then got it all going.

Now this online stuff opens a new box of problems and that is download usage. Last thing I want is to be put on go slow because some young boy has been playing online games in excess. I may have to upgrade the internet access to a more expensive plan.

I was reminded of when I worked in Corporate for a company called Optus circa 1994. It was the start of the digital world. Words like "information highway" and "smart card" were being bandied around. We were told that in the future every house would have internet access, multiple computers and that everyone would have a mobile phone which would send messages.

This guy went on and on about it all. At question time one of the gung ho employees put her hand up and asked about the cost of all these extras in people's lives. Wouldn't they be too expensive.

He laughed and said something along the lines of "that it did not really matter what it cost because when people want something they will pay". He also said that even if owning a mobile phone, having the internet at home or more than one computer cost an extra $100 per week, people would find ways to have it because that is the nature of the consumer. When they want something, they will get it.

I remember thinking he was full of crap. Who in their right mind would spend so much money on such rubbish?

Well, his words were right. Thinking of my 1920's house with three computers, two laptops, wireless network and two mobile phones - well, it doesn't come for free.

So, there it was, all laid out for us years ago, ready to be there when we opened our wallets to peer in and see if we could pay for it all.

It seems we all could and we all do.

Sigh......

Ciao
LC

Who's Looking

2009-06-13T22:42:00.002+10:00

I gather that most people who have a blog will also have a visitor counter attached to it.

When I first had my blog I looked at my stat counter lots of times.

Now I look at it once a week. If that even.

Anyway, I just want to say that people do look up the strangest things and end up stumbling across my blog.

Not rude things so much as odd things. And they come up on a regular basis.

Like:

can i put pineapple and banana on my face for a blind pimple
dogs doing poo
is bird shit unhygienic
never eat alfalfa sprouts
wooden spoon on bare bottom
mother and boy in bath
sister in law trouble
want to sleep with sister in law
how to make a slug house
is laziness genetic
sprouting chick peas secret
naked in front of sister in law
thickset hairy guy
and
what does slughouse mean

Fascinating.

No secrets in Google land.

What are some of the word searches that lead people to your blog?

Ciao
LC

Saturday Shops

2009-06-13T14:53:00.016+10:00

Last week was a busy one at work. It took up a lot of my mental energy. Combined with two trips to the chiropractor and three extra hard exercise classes, it was only natural this morning that I slept in until 10.00am.

It took ages for the day to just feel normal. Rolled out of bed, schlepped around the kitchen, had toast for breakfast as the milk was just a bit whiffy for my liking and then finally got around to having a shower. It was slow motion all the way.

Just after lunch I took my son down to the local shopping centre to have his breakfast (at 12.30 midday) and then we walked around and did a little bit of food shopping at a local grocer's.

This is my favorite food grocer's. They sell loads of different types of fruit and vegetables, also a butcher and fishmonger on site. You see them bring in the meat and cut it up in full view. The fish is fresh and there is a big variety to choose from.

This particular store attracts all different nationalities. They cater for the tastes of Asians, Europeans and Eastern block countries. I feel that I can always get something I like, something different. The normal local supermarket is so mundane compared with what I grew up with and I just get sick of it at times. And also annoyed with the hideous prices they charge for very ordinary produce.

My son found the place noisy and crowded and tried to have a whinge about it. I let him pick out some food for himself - needless to say that he did not choose an apple.

I like this place because they sell loads of vegetables chopped up and ready to cook with. And at a cheap price. I know that sounds just the deal for lazy sods, but when you work and then have to come home to cook dinner the last thing one wants to do is chop vegetables. I don't want to buy processed food, so buying the vegetables freshly chopped and washed makes life easier and ensures some level of healthy input into my cooking.

Plus it is cheaper. Tonight I made a huge batch of pumpkin soup. Enough for eight big bowls. The whole lot cost around $6.00 in total and everything that went into it was fresh.

My son and I had been down the street for about two hours and were just about to get to the car when my husband called my mobile. He was concerned that we were not home yet and wanted to know if something was wrong with my car or something.

"If there was something wrong with my car, I can assure you that you would have been the first person I would call," I informed him.

The reality was, he thought that I had dragged my poor long suffering son into a supermarket for two hideous hours and wanted to make sure S was okay.

Oh, dear, how cruel of me to expose my son to such an ordeal as food shopping.

I think he might be scarred for life.

He might have to go the therapy later on and talk about it.

What a cruel mother I am.

He he he.

Ciao
LC

Vegetable Matter

2009-06-11T15:51:00.002+10:00

Last night my son was just about to go to bed when, you guessed it, he had to go to the toilet.

"Don't take all night", my husband tells him as the child heads off to the toilet where, of course, he leaves the door wide open and I have to shut it.

"Well, I have not been for days", he complains. Obviously genetically stamped like his mother....

My husband and I just tell him to hurry up.

Then, from behind the closed door of the bathroom comes this shouting.

"What is it", I ask him through the door.

"It's my poo. Oh my God, it is the size of a huge cucumber", he tells me.

"No, no and more no. Too much information", I say to him and walk off with hands over my ears.

He tried to tell me about it in more detail.

I just kept saying "no, no and no. I do not need to know".

But of course, you all do and that is why I have posted about it.

My son might not like to eat his vegetables, but he sure does like to excrete his vegetables - even if it is just in shape only.

Ciao
LC

Friends?

2009-06-09T21:32:00.004+10:00

Are these people my friends?

Each one emailed me. Promising some sort of deal to fix my erection (if I had them), my sex drive, make me horny, give me a Gucci bag, collect money from a lottery I have won, get a Rolex watch, get cheap Acacia berry which will ensure my body will be fat free, marry a Russian girl and let us not forget the Nigerian offer to get huge amounts of money from Abu Ben Boobys estate.

Also, if I sign into my bank account via their email they will give me a bonus $50.

And, I know Trojan is a brand of condom. Should I let it in on my computer? Will it protect me from a virus?

So, here are these people who so kindly invaded my email inbox. Maybe you recognise some of them.

Schlotshauer Deedra
Angella Carlos
Gowing Jeqvo
Willodean Arvilla
Valentin Mayer
Peachey Izbqxe
Linda Balinski
Batz Leslie
Quincy Noble
Bongers
Blanca Oleary
Roselle Elli
Bobbie Orozco
Lawanda McCracken
Lathem Ewevobym
Hussein Killingsworth
Kendal Clementina
Manieri K Samuel
Aron Stovall
Ueckert
Peveler Qzjny
Reifman K Darin
Segonia Wogap
Tradiff Pfander
Sung Nickerson
Taunya Ella
Vania Lisandra

Plus some in Russian I cannot copy.

Anyway, that is all I can be bothered with today.

If you know them can you tell them to take me off their mailing list 'cos they annoying the shit out of me.

Ciao
LC

Long Weekend

2009-06-08T20:52:00.003+10:00

I actually had four days off this weekend. So I am gong to bore you with some of the details of it.

When I have a long weekend I always have one day of doing not very much at all and that was yesterday. Just spent the day relaxing and pottering around the house. Took it easy.

In the middle of the day on Sunday my son talked me into playing Xbox with him. So I seriously did my best and was not too bad. The whole hand eye coordination took a while to wake up, but I did get a bit into it after a while and ended up playing for an hour or more with him.

Initially I found it difficult at first to understand where my character was in relation to terrain but once I worked it out the game became quite enjoyable. The only thing I found was when the opportunity came to shoot my opponent, in this case being my son, I got so excited that I pushed and twiddled every knob on the Xbox controller and ended up losing.

Plus, whilst I was playing I realised, suddenly, that I really needed to go to the toilet. It crept up on me without my noticing. Now I know why my son wriggles around for ages and then just bolts for the toilet.

What I also noticed as I sat there, open mouthed and wiggling thumbs, is how quickly an hour goes and how much time you could waste on it. I understand how easy it is to just lose a day on that thing.

Today I had to do a few very boring things, one in particular was to find a PDA or PDA Smart phone to use with our electronic time clocks we have on all our building sites. The guys at work clock in with key tags and we use the PDA to download the data and then load it onto the computer.

The PDA we had died a few weeks ago and I have had a hell of a time finding one that will interface with these time clocks we have. After weeks of phone calls, visits to numerous stores and many emails back and forth to the American supplier, today I finally found a store that sold one of the much needed PDA phones.

The store was HUGE and my car was parked a decent walk from it. After I got all the way inside the store I realised that I did not have the list of compatible PDA's in my handbag and had to walk all the way back to the car, get the piece of paper and then all the way back to the HUGE store and then find a person to help me.

Now, this store had the thing I so desperately needed and, of course, it was the last one in the store and had no battery. It had been a new return. So I had to buy a battery on Ebay when I got home. I also made the store write on the invoice that I could return the unit if it did not interface with my software AND I made them give me a five year warranty for next to nothing.

So, finally I hope I can just put that saga to rest. Because there is nothing more boring that buying things like that.

After this boring as batshit shopping event I then decided to go food shopping at a different supermarket, just for a change of scenery. I chose one that is situated at Chadstone (hideously huge shopping complex and always advertised as the shopping capital) so that I could sneak in some clothes shopping after I had done food shopping. Seriously, I had earned an hour or so of retail therapy.

Find a parking spot and take out bags from car boot. Starts to rain. I realised I am freezing but I make my way to the supermarket. It is a five minute walk from the car and I trek along in the wind. Once inside the giant place I meander around aimlessly filling the trolley with the usual fare.

Then I have to push that wayward and heavily laden shopping trolley back to the car, in the rain and realise I have no idea exactly where my Mazda is and have to push that trolley up and down the parking area pushing my key thingy and seeing if I can see my car lights alert me to my car parking spot. Eventually I find it, load the car up and then make my way into the busy confines of the shops.

Came home with a pair of pants and a skirt both of which were reduced in price and were just what I needed. So, success on this cold and rainy day made the effort worth it.

And let's not forget my housewifely duties.

Once home I baked a batch of chocolate chip banana cup cakes.

Followed by a one hour weights and cardio session in the pouring, cold rain.

Sigh, the things we do on our long weekends.

In fact, I cannot imagine how I think it even worthy to record such a day.

Except to just let you all know that days over the other side of the world are just as boring as yours may seem at times.

Ciao
LC

Office Creature

2009-06-07T16:02:00.003+10:00

I got out of bed today and my son was sitting in front of the computer on my fit ball trying to keep warm. I had to take a photo.
Ciao
LC