Archive for July, 2009

last weekend

It’s the last weekend before the semester of interstate study at a level I am underqualified for.

I don’t know if it’ll be OK. Actually I’m shit scared. Is it a bad sign that the lecturer answered my question “do you think I can cope with this course” by saying “you’ll be working your backside off, but I know you like hard work”.

No I don’t. saints preserve us.

Still you know you’ve got to seize that day and bite it’s hairy arse.

Speaking of hairy. It seems like the obligatory PAMPERING of the modern woman seems to come down to hair management. I don’t understand how ME time has morphed into this, but there it is. More here, less there, OFF completely in that bit, etc. Darker, lighter, vooshier, quieter, louder, up, down and on and on.

I have neglected all aspects of this. No wonder I’m feeling unpampered. And guilty for being both an unkempt hair ball and for failing to pamper myself.

So this final hoorah of freedom, this weekend, can be a celebration of hair maintenance and an opportunity to celebrate my modern womanhood.



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Well, the other day I was driving along a busy road and noticed two ducks, or perhaps a duck and drake? trying to cross.

They would walk out a little into the lane, and then have to back up as a car came. Just like  human pedestrians. A lovely thought. And I wondered if they would be OK –  do ducks mummies train ducklings to look both ways?  So distracted was I by my human centric empathy for their trouble, I was really surprised when they pulled out the big guns and just flew over the traffic.

An unhuman solution.

Remember. Some things are different.

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term is back

some book I was browsing in the library called something like adolescents for mummies said that taking care of 5 to 12 year olds was like a nap under palm trees on a tropical island.

That certainly sums up my school holiday, without palm trees or tropical islands, and technically gothgirl is 13.5. But the nap part was spot on.

Within about two days we became unhinged from school based routines, and everyone started going to bed circa midnight. Or remained unobtrusively and undetectably awake, engaged in post midnight activity. But I was too relaxed to worry, and pretended not to notice.

So blah to school going back. Although it is Husband who wakes up on time and gets everyone fed, dressed and out the door on time. He is a doll. Really.

Lack of organisation on my part meant I had forgotten to check, end of  last term what time my first lesson was today. So I got to work half an hour early.

To cheer up I bought socks. Stripey ones. (Technically twos.) oooh.

Turns out, a couple of weeks in to vegetarianish life, I am pretty good at vegetarian cooking. Better than meat based cooking. Wow. it’s weird to find a whole dormant skill set. Not a foodie. Don’t like cooking. Felt depressed the other day when I figured, if I’m cooking dinner until I’m 80, that’s 15695 more dinners.

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The womenfolk of my mother’s family marked every occasion with a nice cup of tea. Sometimes the occasion would be having a cup of tea, which would indeed become an endless tea loop. Still I think it’s a good life – an endless tea loop punctuated with assorted life happenings.

But until recently I’ve ignored my heritage and made tea by JIGGLING a tea bag in a mug of boiled water for 10 seconds.

We take our coffee seriously. For eg, Husband snortingly derides instant coffee as “gruds”. And if he’s travelling or working somewhere where folks don’t really understand software developers and is forced to drink instant he says “I’m on the gruds”. Ugly but accurate. (the phrase not the man.) There’s ritual to the coffee making at our house and it’s serious business. It’s also man’s business.

It’s ridiculous that we don’t take our tea seriously too. Especially when I consider my heritage, and the fact I composed an Opera about afternoon tea.

So I bought a tea pot.

Isn’t she beautiful. And we’ve been taking tea properly.

Although now I have an urge, I haven’t had for over 30 years.

I want a tea set! A jug, and cups and saucers. oooh.

Hmm. An ebay project. Cool.

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1. I’ve been trying to find out from google if it’s normal to feel blah after a kidney stone. (It’s been three weeks, and where are my vooms?)

Well, you know when you start googling about illness… people carry on about shit online eh? I just wanted some validation of my experience, not to read about people’s unrelated misery.  It’s all about me for me. Why doesn’t the rest of the world feel the same way? Unfortunately I’ll have to go the Doctor now who is likely to notice that in the year since we last met, and he told me to lose 20 kgs, I’ve lost 2. Maybe I could go American weightwise and say ambiguously yet truthfully “I’ve lost a whole stone since we last met.” Also, instead of being impressed that we’ve recently gone vegetarian, and congratulate me on the weight losing potential there, he’ll reach for some large B12 needle, and jab me right in my dignity. Damnit.

2. I wish I liked where I live better. Some people connect with their abode. Can I make myself love my suburb more? Dr Phil says “love is a verb”. Or someone with a high Dr Phil quotant. Husband interprets verb loving as you might expect. I don’t think that’s going to be appropriate for engaging with the suburb. So I’m out of ideas.

3. Yesterday I gave a talk and demonstration to some corporate/management folks on how a conductor manifests leadership.  This involved the participants singing. And the culture of the organisation was pretty ‘blokey’.  And we got these high level management, blokey folks doing some four part harmony.  They did great and just impressed me for giving it all a go.

Husband thinks corporate choiring would be a good future for me. (Partly because my earning corporate training rates would mean he could retire and lounge around the house scratchy various bodily parts, eating vegemite toast, and watching Dr Phil  every day.)

4. Why when people talk about work/life balance do they juxtapose these two elements? As if during work time we are not living? Maybe there’s the rub right there folks.

5. It’s been cold. When we first moved here, we were impervious to this level of winter, because we came from Canberra where it really is cold. Now, nine years on, I am shivering and sooking and generally hating all weather, except the two nice days in early autumn.

6. It’s Friday again and where’s my Haiku. I’ll think very hard before I go embracing the next internet tradition that pops up.

7. too late. here it is. hee hee. Also what about that gross worm ball thing in the sewer? Something about that – maybe that it’s totally Zerg or that there’s still unknown things around us, or that it plugs into a profound archetypal fear of sewer monsters – pleases me immensely.

8. Ok. ok A Haiku.

One for Gothgirl. Dont’ tell her she’ll be mortified.

Today you laughed with me

and the child in you shone out

and I remembered

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I’m married to an old school geek. One of the last. They just aint cool.

He’s gorgeous and sweet and everything one could wish for in a husband but he predates geek chique. And like all true geeks is proud as punch with his geekly sartorialness.

On the positive side we have an abundance of computers.

Such that when goldenboy has two friends sleeping over there are more than enough computers to go round, for their thumpy bumpy smash em bash em online blood fest.

(Still it’s perfectly pleasant from the outside. A trio of ten year old boys quietly engaged at computer terminals. School holidays are easy at our house. I just have to remember to drag them outside occasionally for air and sunshine.)

Except I’ve  been relegated to one of the bad computers – the one in the lounge room. Our TV computer. Which it turns out isn’t so good for blogging on because it has a hypervigilant super enthusiastic backspace key. I’ve had to rewrite this post three times.

These school holidays were about throwing things out. (I would have liked to rewrite that last sentence but I’m avoiding the backspace key, so we’ll just have to live with it. It was OK just a bit bland.) I threw out tax things from the mid 90s the other day.

Today it’s time to look in the pantry.


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oh fuck it’s Friday

I need to do a Haiku

remembered in time.

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