The Monday Flex

Gosh - I honestly thought that the flex day was a thing of the golden past until I came to Qld and got a job at theTrash City Sheltered Workshop. Here I am, Monday, not at work and *getting*paid*. LIFESTYLE!
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!

I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.

Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?

The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.

Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?

PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.

PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?

PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.


Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).

PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice

METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.

Duck!

On the staff Intranet today:

Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754

Small Children - Sometimes Funny!

One of the new people at work has a child who is 6. She sounds super-cute. Apart from the dermatitis and vomiting.
Anyway, she was apparently trying to describe skin-tone colour, and in reaching for the word "flesh" came out with "fladge".

Fladge.

That's genius. I wish I'd thought of that.

Farewell Sheltered Workshop

The penultimate day in the Sheltered Workshop went by pretty quickly - what with the packing and the gossiping, and the bludging.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.

I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.

Quote of the Day

"The use of intellectual rigor for the purpose of increasing fear, sorrow, or doubt is the greatest
cowardice of all."


Karen Pino

Ringing Research

My head was ringing all day, and on the way home I listened just to the noises of the car, the highway, the endless passing vehicles. I got passed by a pig yesterday. Sitting on 100 he accelerated past me and gave me the filthy look from hell. What?! Was my petticoat showing? Had I offended his pale pink sensibilities with my dirty back window? I don't know. But it did give Carte Blanche to all other vehicles on the road and I watched them move off into the distance in their illegal 115klm/hr caravan of speed. I just wanted some time alone.

Ringing in the head is unnerving. Sometimes it's in the ears - that's also not great. In the head is crazy land though. Is that just a kind of headache?
Oh - I just asked Wiki - and it reckons I have Tinnitus. Which it appears is largely subjective. In a few cases, it is objective and the person's ears actually emit sound. Full On! As it doesn't interfere with me falling asleep, it isn't severe. It's just that in Battle Star Galactica, they include the ship's hum as part of the soundtrack - and Firefly (tho not as much) and it's a big part of being immersed in those worlds - escaping into DVDs at night - is the soundscape.

That's hard to grasp - how integral sound is. There's no natural environment without it - except space. Sound can't travel in a vacuum. As a writer, it's something that gets largely left up to the reader - trying to do more than hint at the soundscape can really distract more than add to the mood. Sound is so much a part of everything to us, that it has effectively become invisible until it's not there. That's why those old BBC productions of novels are so hard to bear - too quiet. Only the dialogue. Creepy.

Sound. I crave quiet and my own head brings with it these noises - ringing, clicking and cracking, ticking, blood. So if you see me laying on the bed in the dark - I'm not being lazy (necessarily) I'm researching sound. Same goes for watching BSG or Firefly. That's my excuse for this week, and I'm sticking to it.

Visitation

Glory glory!
To an utterly gorgeous late-morning I stumbled out of the bedroom and realised I don't need to drive anywhere today. Relief - such relief. There's couch time, there's laundy hanging out time, and there's the promise of visitors. Visitors - for me!!

It's important when one lives a long-way-away not to get too caught up on the idea that anyone will ever actually get here, despite all the good intentions. Going into the country for city folk (particularly city folk from interstate) is akin to writing a will. Honestly, it's a good idea, and probably worthwhile, but it takes too long, and no-one ever really gets around to it unless there's a direct and urgent need. Hey, don't get me wrong, it's a frackin long way. Total kudos to Mellie and Tom who both made it to visit me at work during April. That was awesome and I was astonished at how badly I wanted to show Mellie my desk, and think of interesting things to tell Tom about Trash City. So today, with the promise of a visitation, I didn't get too worked up, so I wouldn't be dissappointed when it got called off (freak cyclone? Flat tyre? Heart Attack? Sure, I understand). You know, *anything* can happen - and sometimes does. I was so cool, so understated, the only thing I did was get the butter out of the fridge at lunch time so it would get soft in an hour or so, because I would make scones *anyway*.

So when Lee & Andy arrived - I could have popped a gasket I was so excited! They made it!!! They had come from Petersham and now were in Frazerview. AWESOME!! I wanted to tell them everything about everything all at once. "And this is a tree, but my dad hit it with a tractor a few years back, and that's why it's wonky, and this other tree is younger, but it's grown bigger, and that's the house - where we live - and this is the fence and the paddock, and those cows, well they aren't cows, they're the yearlings and mostly they're steers now, and, and, and..." my brain could *not* get a word into my mouth for a while there. But they were good, and we walked up to the olives and walking is always calming in these situations. How brilliant it is to have beloved friends to show somehting to, and through their eyes see everything all over again. Mum and Dad love to talk about the farm and afternoon tea (yes, Scones with lashings of cream and jam) was great fun. We watched the sun set from the back hill, and waited for a wallaby to move off the track on the way back down.

They had to go - of course - evening meal beckoned. Mum had brought more meat in case we could tempt them to stay for dinner, but they have a lot of people to see over the weekend. So they drove off into the twilight, we fed the animals and closed the house back up for the evening. Mum and Dad are watching "Gardening Australia" on the tube and after I hit the button here, I'm going to walk out into the dark yard and stare up at the sky's opulent stars and imagine all my friends standing together and looking up as well. I'm going to feel the cool air moving through the little hairs on my arms and over my skin, hear the telly in the background, smell the warm ground letting out a breath into the evening and feel all around me the energy of the greater life in the world and the special energy that seems like strings. Stringy stretchy love that reaches so far so easily - possibly through the stars- and keeps friendships alive.

I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker

Something about travelling gives one a sense of freedom.
Starting in a new town can be like that too – completely anonymous. No expectations – internal or external. No habits about what or who belongs where, or what should happen when. It’s almost addictive, if it didn’t come at the cost of some pretty nice feelings – belonging with friends, warm cosy home feelings, clean laundry.
Anyway. One of the things about being an outsider is how different everything looks - it's possible to really *see* things. In my first few weeks as a temp in the TCSW, I got to go to a lot of minor events where I could just stare slack-jawed at the world around me. One of the things that caught my eye was a (presumably) innocent man called Steve Hutton. He's the general manager at the local paper and as such gets invited to a large number of meetings, launches, receptions, discussions, and openings. He's a good looking man - a little taller than I am with dark hair, well-formed brows, and a charming smile. In other words - easy on the eyes. In this town that is a standout feature.
Being a minion, I usually have nothing else to do, but to find a vantage point where I can be simultaneously called upon by my boss at any time, and comfortably stare at Steve Hutton. After a few months, he has started to notice that I do this. As a continuation of my anthropological experiment, I have decided not to stop. Frankly, I'm amazed I got away with it for so long. Very 'Fight Club' if you take my meaning.

It's great to have a hobby.
It really is very minimal stalking - I haven't ever gone to his workplace, taken surveillance photos, found out his wife's name - none of the basic things. It is piss-weak stalking I know - but I just keep hearing Edward Norton's voice saying "I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker" and it makes me laugh. You know, why get all bent out of shape about Brad Pitt (or Angelina) when there's perfectly good-looking people who are a lot more accessible to watch? I'll never get to meet Brangelina in person, but I can offer Steve Hutton a badly cooked entree every other week.

Let's hope he's got as a good a sense of humour as I have imagined that he has. Otherwise, I'll have to find out if blogging constitutes a breach of a restraining order.

Lost in Redbank

Stupid roads. Stupid signs.
Exploring somewhere new is probably not done best in the dark, when one is hungry, and need to pee.
Hurtling down the highway the turn-offs seem to loom rather quickly and there's little time to evaluate if it's the right one (how can there be so many turn offs so far apart for the same places?) and wham! you turn and drive, and 20 minutes later when you nearly hit a knagaroo on a deserted, unlit backroad, you realise this probably isn't the way to the big shopping centre. Turnaround and another 20 minutes, then the next exit, still not the right one. An hour it took. AN HOUR.
Embarrassing? Yes.
Want to know what's humiliating? I got lost on the way back too.
The shops weren't even that good either. What a wash-out.

Get Up start ramping up

That fabulous organ of democracy - GetUp - are in pre-election mode.
Unlike most politicians, this means that they are canvassing people like you and I for our opinions and concerns.
Radical huh?

They are currently surveying their members and asking all kinds of intrusive and offensive questions like:
"Why do you think this election is important?"
(I'm paraphrasing) and they let you write as much as you like! Most of the rest of it is ticking boxes, so I thought I would share with you what came to me as I thought about that question. Coz it's a good question. I know a lot of people don't care about politics, but our world really is run on it (or fucked -up by it) whichever way you look at it, better to yell and throw a rock to get the bus to swerve this time.
C'mon - go have a look at their site! They don't expoect you to agree with everything, but give it a crack.
http://www.getup.org.au

So here's my rant:
"This is a pivotal time to make a difference in how we survive climate change. Howard's policitical maneuvering to keep all ecological issues sidelined has undermined our economy because the economy is based on a presumption of ecological stability and safety. Australia is geologically and ecologically vulnerable to the effects of climate change and we cannot go on under a leader to refuses to act in our greater interests.

Secondly, the shame of the Tampa, of our woeful track-record in the health and well being of our Aboriginal peoples, of our neglect for David Hicks, of our disregard as a country for those who have been abused, ill-treated and those who seek refuge has reached tipping-point. Once again, our country is looking for heartfelt leadership and compassion. No-one in this country wants prosperity at the cost of human kindness. The Howard Government has hidden behind this rhetoric for long enough, and must be called to account for the actions they took on our behalf.
Thirdly, our nation is caught in a short-sighted boom based on non-renewable resources. Where is the investment in the sciences and skills of the future? What do we have to offer China after all our ore is gone?
Fourthly, Fifthly and Sixthly, the mining of uranium, the wastage of water to corporations (and industries) and the increasing privitisation of our public services are all eroding our integrity and identity as a nation and as a caretaker for the future.
Finally, and seventhly, the creeping "churchification" (mostly via rhetoric I admit) of our governing bodies really pisses me off. We are a secular nation - all the better to embrace the peoples from many cultures and backrounds that make us up. This is enshrined in our constitution (section 116 I think from memory) and it specifically prohibits religious intrusions into state (secular) activites - for example Citizenship Ceremonies. Just as politicians ought to be scrupulous about declaring their share holdings, filing their original receipts for expense claims, so they ought keep their own staunch belief in an imaginary friend out of representational politics.

Thanks for listening."

101 Posts!

It's these little milestones that give a sense of richness ... don't you think?

Gandalf Pig Dream

Last night I dreamt about pigs. Clever, talking pigs and Gandalf. There was some kind of pig quest, and dark foresty bits where good pigs wouldn't go.
There were mean pigs but hope too - the hope for a better future and fresh hay kept us all going.
I'm not sure what Gandalf had to do with anything, I think he was running a Wizards Master Class for some other pigs and just got swept up in events.

SHAOLIN SHOALHAVEN!

Wow!
I am too excited to type properly!

Exclamation marksss!!!

I've just read in the paper that the Shaolin Temple are pretty seriously looking at building a temple at Jervis Bay. Here, in Australia!! A Shaolin Temple!! HERE!!
OH MY BUDDHA!

Of Course, being the forward thinkers that they are, they plan to update the layout a bit - including a 1500-seat exhibition hall, golf course, hotel and 800 residential lots.
Genius.

That's going to put the Aikido and TaiKwonDo crowds on the unbalanced back foot. Yeah. It seems the NSW govt is keen and supportive (der!) the only complaints so far has been from some local christians (der!).

I think this is an awesome move, and possibly could be a way to get Jackie Chan to spend more time in our country. Beats the panty-waist options like Martha Spewart Homes - where you move into a suburb she has total design control over. I'd rather do kata before breakfast thanks!

Not That Much of Any One Thing

I've been tumbling one or two words around in my mental spinner and rather than getting polished, they got kinda dry and withered. So that stuffed that post idea.

Yesterday was a big day - a lot busier at work than I had hoped for and weird oversized taffic on the road (the ARMY was on the move in oversize Aliens-inspired things that I can only guess were APCs) then late at night huge trucks all with the weird super-yellow flashing lights and OVERSIZE oversize signs. One had a yaht with a keel as high as the mast (heading inland!) and of course the invasion of the watertanks proceeds apace and half a house (not as unusual as it sounds). It's in the car when I see things like this, or hear something on the radio that clashes well against something in my head that I most miss having the linked, clever tools i now associate the keyboard with (god, remember the grim days when you used to have to know what a modem was?).

I did have a notebook in the car up until recently and would scribble things as I could grab them. After one day a car passed me with the whole load of the passengers utterly loosing it watching me driving and writing I did have a minor re-think. Audrey has a much differently shaped steering wheel than the road monster - it was kinda bench-like but the drawback was that I would be beeping the horn and not realise it. So in Audrey, I can't get any traction. I think I need to find one of those little pad setups that cabbies mount on the dash to the right of the wheel just next to the side mirror area. Anyway. writing and driving don't really mix.

So I'm feeling pretty good for no apparent reason, but I'll take that (thank you very much universe) and if there is some credit, we can chalk it up to dark chocolate (Jamacian Rum today) and just knowing that Neil Gaiman is out there in the world (go now, and feel the love) and that there is half of a new William Gibson novel waiting for me at home tonight (review, yes, I've promised a review. Stay tuned, or stay "Feeded").
Yeah. Life is good!

Bogan Lunch

When in Rome...

Completely out of prepared lunch imagination and home-assembled salads, I opted for the Bogan Lunch today.
Went to the "Hoe Inn" (pun-riffic name huh?!) and ordered a Veggie Burger (no onion, bbq sauce) and a chocolate milk (small). For $7.25 I got a meal roughly half the cubic size of my head. Full as a goog - I even ate all my crusts.
There's something to be said for burgers - and I haven't had the 3pm dizzy either.

Day before the day before the hump

Some Mondays are a bit more "monday" than others. You know what I mean - the ones following a long weekend - for example, can start with a bit of a false high (adrenaline/caffine) and then plummet quickly (some might say immediately) into a dystopian low (generally as I walk in and suffer the simultaneous onslaught of the flourescent lights and the smell of the place).

Eeuw.

But here I am and here we go - another week in the Trash City Sheltered Workshop. I've come in to find that some wag in the office has got me a packet of 24 colouring-in pencils via the corporate stationery order. Hil-Ar-ity.

Gotta get my head around it. C'mon! Slap! Slap!!
Reality hurts.

Serious Monkey

Marianne made me a monkey.
He has a big wrinkly forehead and is quite serious about life.
I love him already - he is on my Panel of the Interior (you know - the rabble of voices bickering and battling for the upper hand inside the echo-chamber of the head).
Marianne has put a face to something in me that often hoots with derision & I have had no name for. I am so very pleased with this toy and the mirror he holds back to me. 

From the outside it must seem very childish and 
infantile for a woman to play so readily. 
But really, I cannot think of anything more valuable or hard - won in my life than this fragile capacity.

There was a comment this morning about culture being the outcome of humans' ability to sustain play into adulthood. Andy had been explaining the concept of Neotony (in relation to Anime and manga art styles) and then *pop* out comes this dazzling sideways link and I thought of my grim monkey and new wind-up dinosaur, and the softening they facilitate and the stories and talks they spark and allow.

So much has hapened before lunch today. My head is a little foggy from the wine last night and I don't feel up to being witty or intelligent. I am just a squirrel faced with an overabundance of nuts. I've momentarilly run out of places to stuff goodies.
There is something very tasty in these two things to come back to, I'm sure it will keep.

Laughing

Last night started out with a modest dinner in a good qaulity family-run resturaunt. It was so good to see some familiar faces and I felt relaxed and happy. A busy day after what has been in some ways an ordinary week - but an ordinary week in which a lot of thngs shifted around inside me and I feel able to make new accomodations for the complexities of my life.

A bottle of wine was opened and shared.
Another bottle appeared with mian course -
thank you wine fairy -
i wasn't really in touch with the practical mechanics  of things by then. 
And that is the magic of a nightout, isn't it? 
Sharing a meal, telling stories, laughing and being loud. 
Laughing some more. 
Tipping and praising the patient, tired staff. 
Spilling into the street for circular goodbyes and
'which way are you going?' muddling.

Guilt-free pleasure and belonging.
Wonderful, just wonderful.

A Life in Words by David Malouf

' "One life, one writing," Robert Lowell proclaims in one of his poems in For the Union Dead. It's a condition any serious writer takes for grnated, and living up to it is what such writers use a  test of their integrity, of whether what they are tempted to write belongs to the real body of their work. In the end a writer is the work that appears under his name, not a personality or character; all that in time gets lost. What remains, embodied in the work, is a consciousness with its own peculiar pre-occupations, quirks, questions, doubts, insights; a set of responses to the isness of things, the great plural world of phenomena - light, colour, landscape, atmosphere, all the tumbling paraphernalia of livingand, more quiretly, a voice with its individual cadence.

It takes a little time to discover you may be a writer.What consolidates it for you, as they come (slowly sometimes) and accumulate, are the writings: poems, stories, the second novel rather than the first.

Until these are solidly there your being a writer is an aspiration more than a fact. After that it is the body of work that defines you and the body of work to which you are committed.'

(This is the opening to an essay titled "A Life in Words" by David Malbouf published in The Weekend Australian: Review Section May 5-6 2007)

So Over It

The olive harvest continues - it's been over a month - nearly six or seven weeks now I think. There's still about a fifth of the trees to go, and it's an Occam's Razor setup - the closer we are to the end the more there is to go. It feels like it will never end. The weather has stayed fine and hot so the trees are continuing to ripen. Ripening, and over-ripening. There's so much fruit on every tree now, a lot more like it should be, but almost half of it is too ripe and has to be thrown away (bruised, rotten or otherwised damed fruit can't be used).
In Mum's words "I'm so over it. We're finishing at the end of May".

That's how it goes. I think it's been a harvest of only about 3 tonne as of last weekend. I'm only involved on the weekends when I help grade (sort) the fruit. In a normal (non-drought) season, we would expect to get about 12 tonne. Frankly, we couldn't have gotten it off the trees this year. Of our regular pickers, about half didn't want to work this year, the people we selel the fruit too got a bee in their bonnet about only taking 'A Grade' so we've put a lot more to oil than we ordinarilly would (which makes us a lot less money), we've needed to make capital investments in a grading machine, and then further purchases on the right crates and tbs to use at either end of it. Dad's been getting radio-treatment for a face cancer every weekday, so he's doing a 200klm round trip every day, unless he's delivering our fruit to the oil press and then it's a 500klm day. I've never been so grateful to have an office job.

Kids, wear sunscreen. You so very do not want to get skin cancer.

Last night someone asked me if mum and dad make money.
No. No they don't.
Maybe if we got the 12 tonne instead of the 3 they would have a chance to recoup the costs - but even getting it off the trees and graded takes so much human effort. They're really banking on the mechanical harvesting techniques improving, and someone buying equiptment and being willing to lease it out for a week or so with a good driver for next year.

Of course, all the planning in the world won't help if there's no rain.
This farming stuff is heartbreaking in bad times.

Normal Things

Have just been doing normal things. Being sick sure puts "uphill" into the day to day doesn't it? I'm happy that all I have is a cold - but how much heavier my body feels when faced with stairs (or even getting up out of the recliner-rocker). Health is important people, give yourselves some protection from the winter sniffles!

I lashed out this week, got myself some slippers from BigDub. Can't actually remember the last time I owned slippers. Of course the cool weather has given way back to stunningly oppressive heat again, so there goes twelve bucks up the chute. I also upped the ante on the tissues in the house. We've gone from black and white homebrand (800 grain sandpaper anybody?) to 3-ply aloe vera infused nose-towls. Pure luxury.

Speaking of sandpaper, I'm feeling a little proud of myself tonight. I have done my first ever car-rust-sanding type thing. There's probably a name for this. Sanding out the rust, spraying it with that grey primer undercoat stuff, and then, I'll do the white coat tomorrow. Pretty clever huh? These manual skills things really get a workout up here. Why don't guys call doing car stuff craft? Just coz there's no yarn or needles, doesn't mean it's not craft. I also sanded my new set of shelves (I held the bits while Dad nail-gunned it into submission), stained it (with tea: Bushells - if you're interested) and gave it a first coat of estapol. I was feeling a little bit pleased with myself. Right up to the point where I got a bit disorientated and knocked the tin of estapol over. Gee that stuff gets really sticky really quickly.

At least the scones worked out for morno's.
Jam anybody?

Tick Tock

May already.

Last week I got a little car. Her name is Audrey and she is white. She's a 1981 Mazda 323.
Full moon last night - so bright I had to pull the blind across, but then, there were some other reasons I wasn't sleeping so well.

I have an interview today - I'm really nervous. I got up early to have an extra special shower and have extra time for getting dressed, and now I think I may have not put on the deoderant. ARGH!
Interview is at 2 pm, and because I am still getting to know my new phone, I'd forgotten to put the appointment in for 14:00 hours, so at 1:50 am my phone went ballistic warning me I had only 10 minutes to get to the board room for this meeting. It's just gone 8 am , and I'm trying to feel like it's early and there's plenty of time and everything's ok, and actually I just feel slightly panicked and can't breathe.

It's all over now - I think I did ok. The mananger of the position - who has interviewed people twice before and never filled the role- smiled a lot (including going and fetching me a strepsil when I had a coughing attack).

Stinky coughing girl seemed to do ok.

Mum's weaning the calves, and they've been bellowing for two days. Their throats are starting to sound like mine. A hoarse household.
Audrey doesn't have much of a radio, and my little pod thing is out of juice. I need some kind of major gadget audit/integration project.
Yes. There's also got to be rust-sanding projects.
I digress.

Actually today is one of those days where there's *only*digressions.