Quote from Flaubert - and he knew a thing or two!!

“Be steady and well-ordered in your life so that you can be fierce and original in your work.”
– Gustave Flaubert

The Sounds of Clucking

There was a moment over the weekend when I realised that despite me not enjoying Ipswich as a cultural centre, my new place in and of itself hits all of the points I wrote down at the end of Mastery when we were dreaming of what we wanted our future to hold.

This was about four years ago now, and at that time, the idea that I might one day be a worthy citizen for a mortgage was ludicrous, bordering on delusional. To sit and write out "I want a place surrounded by trees so I can hear birds-song, and there's plenty of natural light, and wood and books. There's beautiful things, a place for my desk and it feels like home. There's a gas stove and a bath tub and music fills it. It is a happy home" was an act of faith almost beyond me.
One of the things that I didn't know I should put on that list, was chooks. I like the idea of chooks, but I am no where near uber-gardener capacity in terms of even planning the garden, let alone caring for food producers, but a neighbour very nearby has some and the morning chook noise is incredibly comforting and pleasurable. I stand in my kitchen, making tea with the cheerful red kettle on the singing gas stove, talking away to the dog (the cat already doesn't listen) and over the fence and between the hills hoists comes the sounds of clucking.

I am holding off putting a clock on the wall in a nod to this beautiful period in the morning when there's tea, the paper the dog and the chooks. A brief interlude of life for living without email and beeping calendar appointments. In a good, basic way, it's starting to feel like a home. Like maybe my home.

A Year in the Blogosphere

This month marks my first year anniversary as a blogger.

Overall I'd say it's been worth it for me, and that I would continue to do it. What the blog has meant to me and done for me has already had about 3 mayor shifts since I started, so I'm quite curious to see what the next year brings!

Ultimate Lifestyle

A funny thing happened on the way to the Colosseum today.
Riles and I were taking the morning constitutional (west of course - he thinks he can walk back to the farm if I loose the leash) and we went past the Ippy Golf Course (the big one, not the pretender at Sandy Gallop). The other day we saw roos there, and we both like the way there's space and nice far horizon.

Anyway, I was just thinking that based on the traffic, first T-off must be 7am. Couples with matching His N Hers golf bags and clubs rolling into the carpark at 6:55am. Then a 4WD swings by with a trailer with a golf buggy on it! I didn't know you could buy them privately. I wondered if that would get better mileage than Audrey for the daily commute - kindof like a neutered beach buggy ride. Anyway, just as I had thought that I had gotten a handle on the Ippy golfing lifestyle, the ULTIMATE LIFESTYLE MOMENT happened. The garage door of the house directly opposite the golf course driveway rolled serenely up into it's catchment and a couple in their own golf buggy cruised the 3 metres of their driveway, sailed across the street, into the golf course and up to the tee!! OMG!
Can you believe it?!

Hi-Larious.
It's thirteen hours later and it still makes me shake my head. In a strange way it's been inspiring. I hope that if I ever get old, I have my priorities that clear!

Enforced Sanity Break

The relentless flow of work I have been slowly sinking under the past two weeks has slowly ground to a halt this afternoon. The Sheltered Workshop email servers are down for the count. After 2 hours of neither giving nor receiving, I am forced to look up and notice that the sun still shines in the window, and that at 5.12 pm I am the last person left in the building.
Hi-larious!

Most excellent, I shall be home before half-past, and walking the dog in the twilight. Unpacking again after dinner and some planning about re-arranging everything. It all looked so serene and pure when everything was in nice neat boxes. The house is starting to look a lot more like somewhere that I actually live, with piles of papers and books in corners, against walls and encroaching everywhere except the bathroom.
Chaos emerging from the sterile purity of cubes. Lovely. Very heartening.

In other news, National Write a Novel in a Month is coming up again quickly - remember to register soon! You don't want to miss out on that crucial first day.

Oh yeah and the federal election got called, but that's late November - our novels should be nearly finished by then!!

Pie Culture

Ipswich embraces much of what I remember being left behind in the 70s. Utes, thongs, chicko rolls, dodgy moustaches, and the pie. Bogan chicks getting off on V8s.

Maybe suburbia has been like this the whole time and I’ve just been ignorant. In that case, ignorance really is its own kind of bliss. Maybe the pie from out of the back of a ute on the side of the road has appeal. Handy – roads are long here. Quicker - Maccas drive through queues are killers. And filling – no one here seems to caught up on nutritional fine print!
The names are right out there too “Big Dad’s Pies” a local franchise going strong. “Joe’s Pies” – calling it how it is.

If you like meat, this is the town for you. Gotta fight for a decent lettuce, but meat from here to kingdom come.

Everybody loves the Elephant

“I’ve shot 630 elephants and 63 men, and I regret the elephants more.”

Attributed to Arthur Jones, 1970. Inventor of the Nautilus machine.

Storms Forecast

This month is really getting away from me.
I've got until friday to get our next quarterly brochure proofed and signed off. I don't really write anything, I'm the in-between person. Not quite senior enough to be editing or making any real decisions. The type-it-up and send it back to the designer, person. Not glamorous, no. Not fulfilling, no. Slightly appreciated and well-paid. These things will do. Tomorrow is the 'send it to all the stakeholders for their approval of their bit' day, and we'll see if the preliminary approvals I got from each of them will hold good. Let's hope so.
Dull isn't it.

I didn't mean to start talking shop. There's been awesome thunder and lightening storms. Very little rain in them, and a bit of hail. Some areas have been devastated - others completely untouched. Everywhere is humid and horrible. Peter was grazing his cows in the long paddock this morning, and as we rolled through them, I saw how bony and tired they all are. His cattle, like ours, are near to death from hunger and creeping malnutrition. If we can squeeze two drops of water out of these storms we'll be grateful for it. In that context, print deadlines don't really mean that much.

I unpacked a few boxes tonight. After nearly a year in storage, it's a wonderful surprise to unearth so many beautiful things and wonder where I will put them all. The kitchen cupboards aren't quite finished yet, and somehow I haven't yet stepped over the threshold of putting anything into the built-ins. Maybe it's the lack of a bed. A home isn't really anchored until you're sleeping there. Until then it's a camp kitchen with an indoor loo. Still, my camp kitchen and indoor loo now have an owl or a Buddha in nearly every room. An eclectic pairing I grant you. It will just get better from here. The lovely Mel arrived today with hand-me-down couches. My vision of a lounge room that can comfortably seat 12 has finally been realised - sadly just about a thousand kloms from any of the usual groups of 12 that I can assemble! A success of its own kind nonetheless.

Street Gossip tells me that the horrid Bogans from Hell over in number 13 (no really!) have already gotten their eviction notice, so there won't be too much more excitement soon (read Police and GBH). "Gosh", says I "that's jolly good news". The folks in 15 had set up their lawn chairs at the fence-line for an uninterrupted view of the moving weekend. Glad to be that entertaining whilst doing nothing but carry boxes in and rubbish out.

For no reason other than it has been the main way I spend my leisure hours these past weeks, I tell you that I am still watching the TV series ROME on dvd. It is brilliant. Really. Bloody. Brilliant. This is my third spin through and it's still growing on me. The dvd extras are wonderful and bring out more and more of the value in the series. Don't get me started on Titus Pullo or Mark Antony. I will gibber, and that is never cool.

Meet Rumi

The horrid case of cold feet and near panic from yesterday has drained away. Much lighter today, and almost whistling and tra-la-laah-ing except, of course, I don't want to draw attention to myself.

Intending to go and look at a dog as a companion for Riley, I have come away from the pound a rather proud new nearly-owner of a beautiful long-haired Turkish Van cat whom I have named Rumi. He's only a young 'un and is at the vet getting his bits nipped off. I really hope I'm not allergic to him - I've never kept a long haired pet. I don't have a photo of him, but he looks almost *exactly* like this cat, but thinner and younger.

Between Riley and the Fig Tree (blooming and blooming) I am feeling very nurturing and content.

Also, some of my not-very-creative (I thought they were dull) ideas are getting through all the hoops at work and some of them (they did spawn like toads) may make it to print!

Praise be! A good day finally!! I shall be taking a long weekend to clean, paint and nest in the new place. I am planning next weekend as well, but as I have so little stuff, it may all be over this weekend. We shall see.

The Ram may have touched the wall but we are secure, and have faith in our resilience.

However, a lot of rain would really really help as well.

The Ram Has Touched the Wall

Commitment is an odd creature, don't you find?
I have not had a close relationship with it so far during my life, so it has been an interesting experience lately as my wishes bring me closer and closer to what have always looked like shoals of certain destruction. I have sought out every other possible path to gaining what I want and they each ended in a cul-de-sac. One, untried and undesirable option left, to commit to living as an employee (not a contractor) to commit to the purchase of large items in the promise that their later (greater) value will support my dotage. Down this path I go, with much trepidation and an exit strategy tucked under one wing.

I have been escaping my own life by immersing myself in the life of Rome. I was bewitched by this, and have started again from the beginning of the series. There's so much to say about it, it will have to be another discussion. What I really wanted to turn over, was this one point, very early on, where Mark Anthony says, with a huge passion, "the ram has touched the wall!" and they're off! What the?!

The whole Roman way of life was a commitment in terms that are quite hard to reconcile with our modern/post-christian morals. This particular comment was compelling and I could not make out what it was about, but from the context it clearly had great importance.

So I looked it up, and here's a good explanation from someone else who's name I have lost:
"It was a strict policy of battle. When a city was to be under siege, they had a chance to give up, to submit to Rome’s rule. However, once the battering ram touched the outer wall of the city’s defenses, the commanding Roman officer was not allowed to accept surrender, was unable to give quarter or show mercy.”

“The policy was designed to put pressure on the enemy. If they weren’t absolutely sure they could withstand the siege, they better give up, because once the ram had touched the wall, that was it.”

That was it - indeed!

So here I am, feeling at once both under siege, and at the same time be-sieging my own previous life with these changes and desires for a future. Confused? Oh yes. If I wasn't cautious of mixing times and empires, I'd now segue into a Cassandra theme, but enough altogether.

Let it just be thus, as a koan to my world this week.
The ram has touched the wall.

Dullsville, thy name is Ipswich

OK. This is it. My last night as a free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky bohemian type with no debts, no responsibilities and nowhere to live.
By this time tomorrow I shall burdened and shackled to an odious mortgage. Haunted by the towers of formal papers and hounded in my dreams by the marching column of compound interest I shall wither away into an ever-narrowing dullness. My only conversation will be of painting, furniture or food coupons.

Or, it could be really good. Don't really know.

One thing is certain, Riley doesn't want to leave the farm. Cruel of me to even ask him to give up his ute, his spot in the sun, and especially the wallabies - dead or alive, he loves them all.
"Riley," I say to him "we all have to make sacrifices in this Brave New World." and he wags his tail and runs to my father.

C'est la vie, eh?!