I'm Lucky

Sam snores and I lie in bed next to him listening to him as I fall asleep. That is why I never understand all the whinny pants who say their partner has ruined their sleep for the last 30 years. Or, those people who spend half of their married lives sleeping in the spare room.

Of course, I am not saying it isn't true for them, as so many people say it is their truth, so obviously....

I go to sleep, practically, every night listening to Sam snoring. Snore, snore, snore and that is about all I remember. zzzzzz. Apparently, we both snore.

We both fall asleep really quickly, both of us. If I'm not asleep in five minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I wonder why? I can be chatting away to Sam and he'll go quiet and I will say, 

"Hello?"

Then, in the silence of the dark, I'll get that ka ka ka ka of his nose in return.

It makes me smile. That's my boy.

So, all you complainers who complain about your partner snoring and keeping you awake... I don't know... sorry life is that way for you. 

I had an exboyfriend who used to put rolled up bread in his ears if he couldn't sleep, he had nothing else, so I guess I'm lucky. People have told me that, but I never take any notice. So many people have trouble sleeping. I'm glad I I’m not one of them.

I am lucky, I know that, but it has little to do with sleeping. A great boyfriend. A nice house. A great country (despite the current government) A beautiful dog.

Sleep is what I do best. It is what I am best at. It is really the only thing I do well. It's true. It's what I do best.

You know, when you lie down for so long you get that lazy, relaxed core feeling? That is my favorite feeling in the world. That lazy feeling. That totally relaxed feeling. I'm lazy, okay we all know that. But sleep is the best, I know that much.

I want those clean, simple, stylish lines

The Mornings Are Depressing Enough As It Is

I like sleep in the heat at night, it is an adventure. I don't mind how many times I wake up, I kind of like them, they are like the stops on a journey. I don't mind how many times I wake up, because I fall back to sleep so easily. I'm just awake for a moment, for a glimpse, for a look around, a summing up of how the evening is going. Why shouldn't the evening be as interesting as the day? I ask you? Then it is zzzzzz. It draws it out, makes it last longer. The mornings are depressing enough as it is.

Riding along the trams tracks

Dreaming In the Night

I had a driving dream. It was in a huge four wheel drive ute, that was a van. We drove through the night, we drove through the day. 

Then there was an opening in the side of the van, which was a slot at first and it kind of opened up and one had to stand very straight in it up against the side of the van wall to have a shower. The trim was silver metal with big rivets. I looked down over it to the bitumen of the road.

I woke up it was 4.35am. The fan blew. It was now quite cool. Air blew in from the open balcony door. Sam had pulled the doona over the two of us, it was very nice, cozy, I felt lovely and comfy. The light was shimmering and hazy at the same time all over the ceiling. I looked around and took special note. “What is it like when I wake up from my dreams?” It was quiet and still. The night shimmies with silence.

Then I dreamt about doing financial calculations on a tiny calculator and I kept messing it up.

The CEO (who may have been the queen) came out and told me she was waiting for the results. I continued to mess it up. The calculator was tiny, but the office and the office furniture were all huge. I was working in front of huge windows that looked out over the city. It was like one great big pokie machine. Big square frames, one by one, the tumbling fruit was life passing by beyond the windows.

Then I woke up a minute before the alarm, as I normally always do.

It Is Summertime, And The Heat Is Oppressive. But Hey, We're All Riding The Streetcar Together

I woke at 2am last night. Bing! Awake! I looked at my watch, it was going to be a long night, I thought. The fan blew directly on me. The sheet covered part of me. It's unusual for me, I normally sleep no matter what. 

I’d had unsettling dreams and I was awake. There was the usual one of failing at school. I hate that dream. Then I lay in bed thinking about work. I pulled the sheet over me, the fresh breeze blowing on me. The back of my head wet, the pillow damp, moist pillowcase, smelt of sweat. I was wondering if I was employable? What do I know?

I dwelt on all the things I couldn’t do, all the things I couldn’t offer a potential employer. Until I thought I was going to go mad lying there in the heat. It's funny how dark things can seem in the middle of the night, when you are unable to sleep. My forehead beaded. My t-shit stuck to me.

It felt like I was never going to get back to sleep. When I did I had more dreams. I’m sure there was one with Chelsea Brown in it, wearing a dark suit with white cuffs and collar. She was telling me to strike a pose. I woke again. It was still hot. I tossed and turned. It was still dark outside, so I knew it was still the middle of the night. The bedding felt damp. The air thick. Sam snored next to me. I turned. I turned again. The sheet stuck to my wet back. My leg slid out from under the cotton material, the fresh fan air felt cold. The fan blades whirred. I hate the heat, I thought.

Then I dreamt of not being employable.

I woke again, ah, what seemed like not long after, but the dark was breaking into light, the curtain of black had been pulled back somewhat and I could tell it was nearly time to get up, morning was here. The alarm sounded. Sam nudged me. "Get up. Did you sleep well?"

"Kind of."

It was going to be hot again today, so we left Buddy inside.

It felt hot at 8am as I left the house. What did they say, it is going to be 300 degrees all week?

 

When I came out of work at the end of the day, I don’t think I have ever felt greater heat. Whoosh! It felt like walking into an oven.

I got home and Buddy was lying beside our bed next to the fire place. He was hot. He was panting.

We had KFC for dinner, the $9 nine piece Tuesday special. We went to Woolies first. I wanted to go to KFC first, but Sam insisted. As he says, he is always right.

At least we didn’t have to cook… which is a little disingenuous, as it is Sam who cooks.

I Made Cake

I broke out the Kenwood and I made banana cake, it was too hot to do anything else, just something indoors. Besides, I had rotten bananas. Of course, there was the potential heat from the oven, but one has to be a little tougher than that, think Cake Making Guild. Tea and warm banana cake for breakfast, for Sam anyway. I ate it for morning and afternoon tea. We ate the lot, the whole cake, all of it, yum yum. I wonder why I'm getting fat? I found a recipe with many eggs and plenty of butter. You don't want some namby pamby tea cake that tastes as though it had a banana wafted in its general direction at some point. You want to taste it.

We headed out into the garden this morning, but even quite early it was getting hot. We drank tea under the macadamia tree. We're lucky that our garden is quite shaded with trees, all hanging over from the neighbour's yards. Other than that, we spent most of the weekend hiding inside from the heat. Lolling around. Wafting. Watering plants and cleaning and washing. Sounds grand, now doesn't it?

The light was crisp, the days sparkled, the air was thick with heat, all weekend. The house felt summery, still and bright. We swept the back yard and the front yard and messed about in the garden. And we slept a lot, dozed. Sometimes it is just nice to rest, you know. Lovely it was too.

That was my long weekend. The dizzy heights. No, it was nice, gentle. The beach would have been nice, but we both hate the heat, we're suited like that. Of course, if the sea was just across the road, that would be different. Still, with global warming, Fitzroy may one day be beach frontage.

Typing Into The Night

Typing in the night. Typing by the light of the screen. A twenty first century Christopher Robin, halfway up, halfway down. I can contemplate the world from there. Something about stairs, maybe it is the conduit powers, flowing from here to there, from up there to down here...

I quite like that moment, when you turn off all the lights and are heading to bed, and it is just the incidental light, from the moon through a glass roof, or a street light through a window that lights your way. There is a certain unique realness to it.

Chairs

Aunt Vi had bright orange chairs around her avacado green laminex kitchen table in her 1950s triple fronted blond brick veneer in Cherry Street Box Hill North

Morning Light

The hush of the early morning light

6am

6am solitude, the glow of peace

6am

As the tranquil morning starts to turn light

What is the Vision?

I can't quite believe how brazenly this dishonest Liberal Party is imposing their ideology on Australian irrespectively of weather it is good for the country, or not. Is that a vision for the country? Screwing the environmental controls, every one? Suggesting Christianity should be imposed on Australian education? Pissing off our closest neighbours with their own conservative fear mongering form of political racism? Screwing over renewable energy development for the mining industry? Giving us an inferior broadband network to keep Rupert Murdoch happy? Attacking those on welfare while giving the rich hand outs like expensive parental payments? Seriously, giving couples marriage counselling vouches which is, essentially, the imposition of their Christian beliefs by stealth. The vouchers to do what exactly? Putting men who have contracts with the government in charge of the Commission of audit of government policy? Cutting the taxes on the rich and most likely increasing the GST? Probably giving that over-wealthy Rinehart woman wages reduction for her (foreign) workers, or mining leases in pristine countryside where there will no longer be any environmental controls. Mr Rabbit said he’d take it up to the Japanese over whaling and he’s met the Japanese twice and said nothing … the list goes on… 

Medicare. If Medicare is costing more, raise the Medicare levy, the rich pay more, the poor pay less, the way it should be. Don't introduce a flat tax that is inherently more expensive for people on lower incomes.

The aim of government is surely to make society fairer and more equitable for everybody and yet so many of the policies of the Abbott Liberal Government do the exact opposite. It is as if their intention is to make the rich richer and the poor poorer.

A nice piece of arse

Ah, I have to laugh. The things I was thinking, as he looked over at me

 and gave me a wink, this morning at the traffic lights,

 just as I was thinking how he'd look out of those red shorts.

What's Wrong With Me?

I can pretend that (the name of the company) interviewing for my role without as much as suggesting that I could apply for the role doesn’t affect me, but it does. Let’s face it, what other conclusion can I come to but they don’t deem me suitable for their shitty little job. 

I lay on the couch tonight and felt miserable. I let it affect me, nonsensically.

It is stupid, really. It is not even a job in my skill set. A job that I am not good enough to do? That’s what it says to me.

Shake of the head. I know. But not to be asked? What else am I to think? I’ve been doing the job for 6 months.

It is stupid me feeling like that too because I don’t want a job I have to drive to. If I get a permanent role, I want it in the CBD so I can walk to it. That way I get exercise as I travel to work. (My HR boss) Isaac is a nightmare. (My finance boss) Cathy is difficult. (Oh, I don’t know why I feel that way, it is probably quite unfair) (My finance colleague) Christine is lovely. I like (My HR colleagues) Shayleen and Cate, but they are likely to leave anyway, they are young and smart. Shayleen certainly will. 

I am being ridiculous, I realise, as I don't even really want the role. But I still can't help but feel miffed. Why are we human beings such complicated creatures? Essentially, I just wanted to be asked. Then I'd could happily turn it down. Work that out?

It is the quarter finance/three quarters HR role. I have a foot in each department, but mostly I am in HR. And it is boring. It proved to me what I have always suspected about HR, they make an awful lot about very little just to justify their nonsensical jobs. Essentially, it is girl's continually justifying their existence.

Now, if it was purely a finance role? (as exciting as that sounds now that I look at it in print)

Cathy got up and was dizzy some months ago and I have been hoping she has a stroke ever since. (she is such a highly strung social climber) Then I could work with Christine, in a finance role I am qualified for. That would be cool. (Again, unfair really, quite hard arsed. But Christine is just much more of my type to work with. I’m much better with the laid back ones. Cathy is too uptight)

But, of course, that is a different job altogether.

You know, I’m lucky, I get to leave. None of them are really happy there. Isaac makes the department unhappy, like all HR directors he is all over the place like a mad woman’s shit. I don’t want to do PDRs. I don’t want to be responsible. I want to be free and leave when I want and work when I want.

But, it would have been nice to be asked. They are probably doing me the biggest favour, in all reality, as if I was asked I might have said yes and then regretted it. This way, I get to swish out and be gone.


I still feel pissy about not being asked, though. Pathetic, hey?

The new gateway to Victoria Street, cool isn't it

Who Put the God Botherers in Charge?

A friend of mine gave me an interesting opinion on why he thinks the Liberal Government thinks that global warming is crap. Translation - why the Liberal Party is crap. Why the Liberal Party doesn't care about the future of all your children - how could anybody who disregards the future of the planet so completely care about anyone's children?  My friend also tied it to why the Liberal Party has gotten rid of every environmental control Australia had in place above and beyond the, so called, mandated carbon tax removal?

Tony, the misogynist, Abbot is a devout, practicing, committed, whatever you want to call it as it all means the same thing to me, christian. The Indonesian tour boat operator is a christian. The fat one with anger issues who lies about the finances, the post op transexual who deals with foreign affairs, and, as we know, that... um... idiot... guy from South Australia. They are all christians, it is what they don't like to talk about. 

The proper question for any journalist to ask a member of the Liberal Party is not, "Why have you broken every election promise you made?" No, it should be, "So what part did god play in your electoral win?"

This is the reason why they think global warming caused by man is crap. It's all god's work, so therefore it is not something any of them have to worry about. So they don't have to do anything about the environment, they don't have to think about it, because it is all in the hands of god. It is all god's will.

It is why what the federal government is doing makes no sense. It is because they are leaving out the main incentive for what they are doing. Jesus. Like so many modern day Christians, just never mention that you are a Christian and continue on regardless attempting to influence the world. People are always turned off when you mention the C word.


I don't know really, but something has to explain what this idiot Abbot Government is doing. I found what my friend said kind of interesting. I'd never heard it stated quite so plainly before. Essentially, you can absolve yourself of making the big decisions, because god is in charge anyway, but, I guess, that is the basis of all religious belief, now isn't it?

I think all religion is nonsensical, based on nothing but myth, but I'm not against people finding comfort in whatever it is that comforts them. Some people find comfort in astrology, some people find comfort in ouija boards. I don't think it matters which supernatural force it is that you chose to believe in, they are all as relevant as the next one, as long as you find something in it to bring you happiness. Allah is just as relevant as Harry Potter if it brings some comfort to your life.

It is just when those personal supernatural beliefs are used to influence public policy that we have a problem.

I'm not sure if I buy it, though. I would have thought the Liberal Government were too busy licking out Gina Rineheart's cunt and sucking Rupert Murdoch's cock to have a thought out position on anything else.

It is troubling, though, that the gay... er... um... shall we say effeminate one (apparently, he has a wife and kids? Who'd have thought?) in charge of education has appointed some guy, who has been discredited by other educators, to review education, who has already said that the school curriculum is too left and that there is a greater need to teach religion in schools.

The critics have said that this education review has all the hallmarks of a brainwashing and propaganda mission to let the education minister impose his extreme right-wing views on Australian students.

Who said, when it came to election time, that giving the other guy's a go couldn't hurt?

Sam and I working from home. You've got to be careful when you have a bulldog. They get heat stressed. It has been so hot for the whole week that we both spent the day at home looking after him. He spent four days inside.

The golden morning sun

Buddy and I walking at 7am

I like the early morning

Don't forget, the Liberal Party thinks Global Warming is crap

Apparently, global warming will be characterised by extreme weather events. I guess Mr Abbott and his bunch of… um… er… ministers will not change their view from that of global warming being crap until we have such extreme weather events. 


You know, until America is plunged in to a deep freeze where if you leave your face uncovered for any length of time your skin will freeze. Let's say when it snows in Texas. When extinction rates rise. (Okay, not strictly an extreme weather event) Or the sea ice collapses in the arctic  Maybe when the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets both lose mass, along with most glaciers worldwide. When there is extreme heat in Australia that is so extreme let's say Adelaide is declared the hottest city on the planet.

Maybe when Portugal, China, Hungary, Finland, and Britain, all record heat waves. When the temperature in some place like Death Valley, hits 54.0C, the hottest temperature ever recorded on Earth. When Shanghai records 40.6C, the highest ever temperature recorded in 140 years of records in that city. When Brazil suffers its longest drought, maybe followed by massive floods.

When warmer Europe experiences massive rainstorms. When as much rain falls in a few hours in central Europe as normally falls in two months. When Czech Republic, Austria, south and east Germany, Switzerland, Slovakia, Belarus, Poland, Hungary and Serbia all experienced heavy flooding in what are described as once in 100 year rain events. In some places in Austria, 150 to 200mm of rain fell in a day. That’s one day.

When there are massive floods in Sudan, where more than 250,000 people are forced from their homes. The region around the capital, Khartoum, is particularly badly hit, with at least 15,000 homes destroyed and thousands of others damaged.

Or when hail falls in Cairo, snow in Israel, Syria and Jordan, and record high temperatures are recorded in Scandinavia.

I guess until such extreme weather events happen, the Liberal Party is justified in dismantling every environmental control Australia has ever put in place. Including the marine park protecting the Great Barrier Reef and the World Heritage Listing on Tasmanian forests. Because, until these extreme weather events happen, we all know that global warming is just crap.

pink flowers against the bright green foliage, just lovely

We're melting

It is hot. Too hot to write anything.

43 degrees today. 44 degrees tomorrow. 40 something on Friday.

All of that is followed by a cool change. Yay!

We pay higher electricity bills than we have ever paid, and yet those people who run the power companies can't guarantee the power supply on the high usage days. WTF?

So what did privatisation do for us? Privatisation gave the executives of the power companies huge salaries and gave us record high power prices. It makes no sense.

Sympathetic architecture? I don't know what goes through some people's heads?

A Job In Hand Is Worth More Than A Job Promised

I was asked today to work longer, at my current assignment. I was to finish the end of January, but they want me to work longer, on a week to week basis, while they interview new people for the role. Miss maternity leave has just confirmed she won’t be returning. They don't know when they want me to work till. 

“Is that okay?”

I said yes. What else could I say? I wasn’t expecting them to ask me that, I didn’t have any time to think. I was looking forward to finishing in a few weeks, I wasn't entertaining about any other possibility.

And I heard myself saying yes. Yes?

So why did I say yes?

Cate asked me later when we went outside to see how hot it was. “Why did you say yes? I was watching you as Cathy asked you and it was evident to me that you wanted to say no.”

“I don’t know.” Shrug. “She kind of sprung it on me.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Not really,” I replied. “If I am going, I’d actually rather go, move on and find a new role.”

“You should tell them.”

“I know.” My head spun. The sun beat down. It was like an oven out there. Rats, I thought.

Back To Work

Boo Hoo! What happened to the holidays? They are over. What happened to that bastard TattsLotto win? What happened? Sad face.

The traffic on Victoria Street was sparse, this morning. Lovely. There were signs all the way down the road that said something about a road closure. I kept thinking I should read them, however, I could keep going, so I did. Nobody stopped me, so I didn’t stop and I didn’t bother to read the signs… thoroughly.

At work by 8.30am. Everybody was late, complaining about the Victoria Street bridge being closed. I don’t really want to be there anymore. How many days have I got to go? End of Jan. Onward and upward, that is what I think. On to something new. Next.

There has been little talk of late from Cathy about me doing a more long term role with them. Permanent, you may say. I know this is often only in my own head, but I feel as though my lustre may have worn away just a little. I don’t know. But eventually I get bored and I am sure that shows to those who are employing me.



I don’t know? Is it all in my own head? Or, at least, does it start in my head but then become a reality I manifest because of the way I am feeling? I’m sure it all starts with my insecurities?



I don’t know?



Did I create this?

Maybe I am just bored?

The female I am doing the maternity leave for confirmed today that she will not be returning.

At the beginning of this assignment I was looking forward to her doing just that. Now, not so much. Sad isn't it. Three weeks to go.

I'll need another week, or two off when I finish. (Don't tell Sam – let see if he is still reading my blog) I'll be calling Jack around the middle of Feb to see what he has for me.

Cool Chevy

Chev Fleetmaster

The Hot Week Is Baring Down

Sam rearranged the bedroom to fit the air conditioner next to my desk, so it was out of the way. I was still asleep, practically. 

“Ra ra ra ra, all go! Do, do, do”

What, it is Sunday? My eyes hadn’t opened yet, I was like a newly born puppy. What are you doing? I pulled the doona over my head.

Sam insisted on buying an air conditioner for next week and the heat wave. I told him it was a waste of money and that he was being a baby. Wasting the world’s resources, sending the human race to its demise and all that. Sam still wanted it. 

We got the top of the range model. I don’t know if it was that Bunnings is a huge cave of a building, or that we didn’t really know what we were doing, but what looked like a perfectly reasonably sized machine seemed to double in size when we got it to the car. By the time we got it to our bedroom, it had turned into a power station from the Yarra Valley. I wanted to take it back and get a different one, but Sam was determined.

So, first thing this morning, he made it work. Good for him. Lovely, out of the way.

 

What a glorious day it was today, sunny with a blemish free blue sky. We walked into Lonsdale Street and ate ramen. Ramen with fried chicken, yum, yum. We had soft shell crab too, because we ordered when we were hungry, we should know by now not to do that. The soft shell crab was rubbish, tasteless.

We went to QV and shopped, mostly at Big W. I protested telling Sam that it was a non-allocated shopping day, as we shopped yesterday. Sam would have us shopping every day, if he could. I hate shopping. Sam wanted smoke alarms for the house. I’m not sure why he wanted them today? I don’t care about smoke alarms, I guess I should, but I just don’t. Kill me now. Smoke alarms, bored already. I got lost in the DVD section. I nearly bought Interview with a Vampire (it was $5) and a Katherine Hepburn box set, but at the last minute I decided that more movies on DVD I just didn’t need.

 

Then we spent the afternoon re-potting plants. I have a lot of indoor plants that I haven’t attended to for a while. (hang my head in shame) I bought bags of potting mix cheap at Bunnings yesterday. I have a glass-roofed atrium under which my indoor plants are dying on the very hot days. I put some unsuitable specimens in there, some time ago, temporarily and they have taken two steps forwards and one step backwards ever since. I googled what plants grow indoors in a sunny, hot position and it seems to be some herbs, and pelargoniums. So, we top dressed and rearranged the plants in the afternoon and moved some around in readiness for the 40 degree week we are apparently having next week.

I moved the lemon-scented pelargonium and the glorious multi-coloured pelargonium inside. I think it would be lovely to have flowering plants inside. I moved in the mint, the rosemary and the jade plant. I’ve been growing the lemon-scented pelargonium just for inside, I want the lemon scent to waft around inside.

I took away the spider plants, the begonia and the big umbrella tree, which burns in the very hot weather, before next week’s hot weather. They’ve gone for a well earned rest in the back garden.

It is nice to have a change. We don’t change our interiors nearly enough. I think even the slightest change can make things seem new and different. My atrium has been looking less jungle and more plant retirement home for some time now. I want to get back to the lush green look, not only does it look great, but it smells fresh and wonderful.

The sun shone down gloriously. I watered the back garden in the late afternoon when we had finished the re-potting. It is therapeutic to water.

Tomorrow, I have to go back to work. Yay!

Cool Mercedes, I've never seen this model before

Silver Mercedes

CLA200

Blood Tests And Then Coffee And A Muffin

I've just been to have my cholesterol and prostate blood tests. Oh, please don't let my cholesterol level be too high. Shudder.

I should have been healthier.
I should have done more exercise.

I stopped smoking again on Thursday, so that is a good start. I read in a magazine while I was waiting for the doctor that smoking increases cholesterol. I knew it didn't help, but I didn't realise it, actually, increased cholesterol.

I bought a new pair of running shoes, but I haven't been running... oh, I wish, walking. I've been sitting on my fat bum all week doing very little. I was so going to exercise while I was on holidays, but I haven't.

I haven't had my cholesterol tested for, um... er? I usually have it done every year and I keep saying that I missed my test last year, however I suspect that isn't, exactly, true. What I am saying is that I missed my test in 2012, as it is now, in fact, a new year. So, realistically, it means I haven't had it tested since 2011, which could, actually, shrug, kick the ground, mean not since 2010.

Oh, I don't know now. The years fly by and the time disappears and suddenly it is eons later. I still think I am 25, let's face it.

I used to go to the gay clinic in Fitzroy, which used to cost me $60 a visit. $70 a visit. It was going up in price all the time. And for that, I had great trouble seeing my doctor of choice, usually having to wait weeks to see him.

I went to that clinic for years, from the beginning of the old clinic in Carlton. My doctor used to take my blood. Then they had a nurse that used to take my blood, but still at the clinic. Then they stopped taking blood altogether and sent me to Dorevitch, or one of those pathology clinics and, of course, that was when I stopped having blood tests. I meant to go, I really did, but really, it was hard enough making a doctor's appointment, let alone turning the whole thing into a two-step process, first the doctor and then the blood clinic. And my blood tests ran off the rails...

Now I go to Doctor Johnny, who bulk bills and it doesn't cost me anything. I can usually make an appointment with in days of wanting to see him. I can always see him on Saturday, if need be. And today, he actually took my blood like a doctor, I didn't have to go and see somebody else. I just have to go and see him next Saturday for the bad... er... um... good news.

So, last time I had my cholesterol tested it was 7. But, as with my brother and sister, I have very high good cholesterol and 7 has never really been a problem. Cross my fingers.

I Took Buddy Into Work

I quit smoking today. Finally. How long has that taken? I can’t remember. I just looked it up in my journal, it has been since December 06^th. Bad me. I’ve had all those smokers around me, Xmas and New Year. Weak as piss, I know. It’s been a bad season for it, the Xmas season, the silly season for booze and smokes.

There was no Buddy on the bed this morning, probably best. He is already getting the idea that he can retire to our bed any time he likes and it is no longer a treat. We, I, have created a doona monster, actually, it is the pillows he likes. Mr lush puppy.

Sam wanted to yabber on, standing over me in bed looking down, at 7am, but I was comfortable.

“I can’t hear you.” 

I told him off last night for being a nag and he had pretended not to speak to me since. Can’t we keep that act up, I thought? At my sleepy morning best, not speaking is preferable. He pulled the doona off me. Grrrr!

But, I slept in, anyway, it was glorious. I woke at 10am, or near enough to. I so love it when my sleep-in mojo returns to me, I have been so long without it. It is so relaxing. It is so glorious. It is so lazy. It is so dreamy and luscious. And I love it.

I wrote a bit of journal. I’m trying to keep it up. It is too hard when I leave it for a week, I can’t remember it by then. It has gone.

Then I took Buddy to the dog park. When I got to the park, I pulled out my phone to look at the time and it was 11.11. Buddy ran around. There was a gorgeous Frenchie named Lilly. There were greyhounds and Labradors 

The sun shone down with some heat. Bulldogs tire quickly in the heat.

A Golden retriever tried to play with him as it was about time to leave, at which point Buddy ran over to the water bucket, drank and then stood at the gate. He looked around to see where I was as if to say, Come on, I want to go home now. I’m done.

I took Buddy into (company name) to meet everyone. We all talk about our dogs, so I thought since I was in the neighbourhood. Alli the receptionist jumped up and patted and cuddled Buddy and said how beautiful he was. It felt strange marching through the company hallways with my bulldog buddy. Cate and Alice and Christine were in my office. They all jumped up and patted Buddy in the middle of the room. Cathy and Shayleen were at Laverton, sadly as they are two of the biggest dog people. I got buddy a dish of water in the kitchen. Alice came out with me. We said hello to the accounts department, as we were leaving. Buddy is very social. We saw Valerie on the way out. It was fun. Cool. I liked introducing my little mate around. I have spoken about him so often.

I went and looked in Blah Street for my neighbour Gordon's new house. And while there weren't any houses with boards up with for sale signs on them and while I didn't know the number of the house that my neighbour Gordon has, actually, bought and, sure, I may have missed the only nice house in the street, there is nothing nice in Blah Street that I would yearn to live in. Maybe no 27, at a pinch. A modern double story town house… if that is you want.

It was a hot day. 33 degrees.

I talked to Mark on Skype. 

Mark thinks that, maybe, my neighbour Gordon, quite possibly, is running from old age. A new house, a new beginning, a new life, everything new… maybe?

Mark’s depressed. He’s upset about his son Fen. He feels ignored by boyfriend Luke, who is smoking a lot of pot and is either studying, or on Facebook. And with his father, Rich’s death, he feels his mortality and he feels as though he doesn’t have a lot of time left.

I ended up watching, What’s My Line, in the afternoon. Bad Christian.

We ate Indonesian chicken.

Sam cooked Beef Rendang at the same time for tomorrow night’s dinner. Yum.

This was the only flower photo that Buddy didn't photobomb

I’m Still On Holidays

I waved Sam good bye first thing in the morning. 8am. He went back to work last Monday. Buddy and I, paw and hand oscillating gently in the air as Sam walked along the footpath and disappeared out of view.

I wasn’t going to watch YouTube again, as I have spent two complete days absorbed by Youtube. I was going to write my journal/blog, I promised myself. However… perhaps just a little Youtube. I can’t just go cold turkey, I'm sure that is bad for one's psyche, or some internal organ.

I watched Q&A with, David Marr, Barry Humphries, Jackie Weaver, Miriam Margolyes and John Hewson. Has there ever been a more left leaning panel? Who cares, really? I cried laughing for an hour, mostly because of Barry Humphries, but not completely. They all derided Gina Rinehart, which was great. You’ve got to love somebody who suggests idiotic things – let’s pay the workers $2 an hour to work – getting justifiably derided by people who are infinitely more interested in the world than themselves.

But, it was a day to leave the house, smell the air, feel the sun on my skin, feel the breeze in my hair.

I met Jill at the dog park at midday. I got there first and there was no sign of Jill or Bear. Jill called me soon after and said she’d be there in five minutes. I shook my head and replied,

“You didn’t have to call me.”

I see it as one of the great wastes of our times, calling someone up when you are, literally, a minute late to tell them you will be there in five minutes. It is ridiculous. I guess it is yet another product of our “fearful” society.

The dogs played. The owners stood still, as is usually the case. The sun shone down. It was hot.
A man with a Shar pei said to me that he had to watch his dog as his dog and my dog were both still "intact" and that his dog may hurt another "intact" dog.
Shrug. I don't know what some people think. If your dog has, even the remotest, tendency to "hurt" another dog, then take your dog home and don't bring it to the dog park.
I didn't say anything. By not saying anything was I being disloyal to Buddy? What if the Shar pei then bit him and Buddy was hurt? I don't know? I tried to keep Buddy away from the Shar pei, though.

We walked around to Bridge Road and ate lunch, all four of us; Buddy, Bear, Jill and I. We ate tortillas sitting out on the footpath. Jill suggested them, of course, the tortillas. Fat people are always the best people to suggest the food. Well, Jill always is.

Many good sorts walked by. No, really, they did. I have to conclude that if you want to see sexy boys head down to Bridge Road for lunch.

A couple stopped to say they’d been trying to buy a bulldog and they asked all about Buddy. Yes, I would recommend a bulldog very highly. Even the waitress knelt down on the footpath and cuddled armfuls of Buddy and Bear saying, “Aren’t they beautiful.” And they are beautiful.

Jill’s having a lovely time spending her money with justification, now that her father is dead. She now has free rein to spend whatever she likes, no father any longer acting as a pseudo-conscious. It feeds right into her shopping addiction. She is just lucky that she has a large amount of money to her name. I said to her that she didn’t buy the Sunshine Coast house, recently, simply to have a holiday house, she bought it to facilitate her on-line spending addiction. She now has the perfect justification to keep buying “stuff” that she has absolutely no need for because she now has a new house to furnish.

She shrugged and agreed.

Still, I guess, it is compensation for a life time spent on her own. It fills the empty space of never having had a partner, I guess.

Money? Or love? Which would you rather?

I was back on YouTube when I got home, despite promising myself that I wouldn’t. (It is my addiction) I’ve got to write something. I haven’t written anything for ages. The week has drifted by almost unnoticed, as I have been distracted by the small screen.

I watched Joan Crawford being interviewed by David Frost, who seemed to be flirting with her. She seemed drunk, was drunk. She seemed full of shit, too. She had little interesting to say other than essentially “look at me.”

I watched and Janis Joplin sing on Dick Cavett. The great Janis Joplin. A key member of the 27 Club. She was great, she was a great singer. I guess Amy Winehouse was almost the equivalent to Janis dying? Huge fame. Death. Then Gloria Swanston came on. Could you get two different artists, I thought. I think Dick Cavett is kind of cute, I’d flirt with him. He has the most endearing smile.

I spoke to (neighbour) Gordon on the way down to Smith Street for dinner. He has bought a new house in Richmond, a modern townhouse in (blah) Street, which is actually near my work. he's retired. He’s selling his house, which he has owner for forty three years. Forty three years? Imagine leaving after all that time? He bought the house in 1970 when Fitzroy was a slum, when banks wouldn’t even lend money to buy houses in Fitzroy. He said, "When Gertrude Street was a dangerous place to walk along."

I’ve lived in Fitzroy for a long time now myself. I am heading to half the years Gordon has lived here, frighteningly quickly. It has gone so quickly. I can kind of understand how he must feel.

We went to Masak Masak with our coupon for dinner. The place was full and we were supposed to have booked. Oops. We should have read the coupon. It looked like everyone there was on a coupon… and gay. Lots of gay boys on coupons. There was a muscly cute dark-haired boy who sat facing me with his back to the door, who eyed off all the men as they entered or left. He didn’t miss any, well, any men under forty. He had good taste.

We went to Woollies afterwards. It was quiet. They have hot cross buns on sale already. I complain about Xmas starting in November, but Easter in January? I think that must be the earliest I have ever seen a seasonal product in the shops. When is easter? Two months away? Three months away? Talk about marketing changing the celebratory seasons, global warming of sales where the seasons are changing. Who can know when it is Xmas or Easter any more?

It was a warm night. Buddy loves a warm night, as we leave the back door open and he can wander in and out of the house as he pleases.

I love the carefree nights of holidays, the seemingly endless days of being off work. Sara Beeny was saving Rise Hall. I’ve seen it before, but it bears watching again. Can you imagine having a 90 something room house? All that space? The size and the grandeur. It must be amazing for children to play hide and seek in. Rise Hall is incredibly lucky, I’m sure saved from ruin by the skin of its teeth, by the paint on it’s decaying window frames, by one person. If it wasn’t for Sara, and her (cute) husband the house would be joining the ranks of grand British homes in ruins, I am sure.

It is fascinating to look at the derelict homes of England. Those amazing monuments to grand wealth of which that the wealthy have let go and which are now slowly crumbling to the ground. I always think that if the owners from the houses hey day could see the places now what on earth would they think? It would almost be inconceivable to them that such a grand structure could be allowed to decay.

Sam went to bed as I watched The Straits for the first time. Nana S, off to bed at nana time 10.40pm sharp. There was a program on car accidents that sounded interesting, after the Straits, so I lay back on the couch and waited for it to come on.

Then I was in my old neighbourhood, walking through the old laneways. At the first street intersection, (or street T-intersection as they are) one of the old houses up the lane from my parents house had been trucked away and another, much more elaborate, house had been trucked in, and the new owner was standing out the front telling anybody about it who would listen. I walked up the laneway a bit further to the next junction and that house had been turned into a kind of kiosk that opened directly on to the roadway, in which the only one of my cousins who I haven’t seen since childhood, was working. They were listening to some sort of woman’s football. My cousin spoke as if she was the commentator. Everybody seemed to be interested in this broadcast match. I wasn’t at all interested in it, of course, and I was somewhat perplexed why everybody was? It was announced that it was half time in the proceedings, just as I turned to walk back to my parent’s house. There were two women walking in front of me, who also seemed to have the games commentary coming out of their mouths. The woman with the new house at the first intersection seemed to have the commentary coming out of her mouth. When I got to my house my parents seemed to be speaking in that infernal sports commentary. They all spoke in that monotone commentary speak. Ah! I thought I was going insane. Why is the whole world speaking that way? If they all had to speak in the same way there were much better styles of talking in which they could talk. Stop it! Why wont they stop it? Stop! Stop! Stop!

I woke up. It was 4.30am. I’d fallen asleep on the couch. There was woman’s football on the TV. That commentary droned on and on. I found the remote and switched it off and, of course, it stopped. Glorious silence. Who cares about woman’s football? I went to bed.

I haven't been able to think of anything to write, for this last week, actually, since my last post, I'm not sure why? I've written something most days, but none of it has turned out to be much. So, while I am waiting for my writing mojo to return, here is a photo of Buddy asleep on my bed with me today. We spent the day in bed, me watching clips on YouTube and Buddy snoring next to me. Isn't he cute? You've gotta love YouTube, it is the easiest way to waste a day

I Spent The Day In Bed On Youtube

I spent the morning in bed with Buddy watching Youtube. I was watching Richard Dawkins discussing evolution with creationists.

He is a great thinker. I find him fascinating to watch. He has a great mind. Some say he is mean to people, and maybe he is, but then maybe he has to be? So many stupid people with which to deal.

I don't know how he does it, really I don't. The creationists are nuts. They think the planet is no more than 5000 years old, despite all the evidence to the contrary. “I just don’t accept that,” crazy eyes, would be their response. Of course, believe in what you want, I don't care. If it makes you feel good, that is great. But don't try and inflict your ideas on somebody else. The great problem Christians have, they can’t keep their ignorance to themselves. I mean sure, discuss it if you must, discussion is great, but don't try to bring it into the school curriculum. Don't teach it to impressionable kids.

I had frittata for lunch. Sam made it, and without bias, I reckon it was the best I'd ever eaten. Without bias I say, it was the best of the best of all of the frittatas ever made in the history of frittatas. How's that?

I could spend the rest of my life on YouTube. I love it. An hour of exercise in the morning, every morning, I don’t want to become a 20 ton shut in, being removed from the attic bedroom, it is always the attic bedroom, now isn’t it, by a large crane, all bubbles of fat cascading down, like a rather sad Michelin Man, looking miserable and embarrassed and in pain, as I am placed on the back of a flatbed truck to be taken away. Nobody wants that.

And then Youtube could entertain me for the rest of my time. The world and its people are fascinating, if you can filter out all the shit, the lies and the baggage people carry. If you can just watch the interesting stuff, the cool stuff, the stuff that makes you think, go wow even. Don’t we all want to go wow. Expand my mind. Don't twang my nerves. Don’t make me put my fingers in my ears and hum.

A lovely life... sure.

Is it wrong to want to do nothing? I suspect it is, on a deep intellectual level.

Can Smart People be Stupid?

Apparently, I have an IQ of 140. It was something that my private boy's school, Smithton Grammar, always got very excited about when it came to discussions about me. It actually translated into the fact that I was something of a problem for my teachers as I became a very good conduit of wickedness. The fact that I put my powers to evil stumped the men of my learning institution. Oh not real evil, no I left that to the Greek boys. Mostly it was just back chat, and more report cards often said that I could be a disruptive influence.

As an adult, I had an acquaintance who did something with lawyers and the training of them who used IQ tests for something, or other. He always wanted to test my IQ as, you know, it was his thing. I resisted for a while but eventually I did submit and my IQ did come out at 140. I was surprised and pleased, I don't think that I ever really believed it myself, not completely, it was just something teachers said.

My mother always said to me that she thought she had some sort of brain disconnect that made it impossible for her to learn the piano. And she struggled at university. She said it was very difficult for her in so much as she nearly didn't pass. But, she did pass her university qualification in the 1940s.

I struggled at university, it was always a great disappointment to me. Rather than it being the joyous time in my life, as so many people have come to say it was for them, I hated university. I found it an endurance test, one with which I struggled the entire time. After 10 years at a private school, I found myself to be very alone suddenly when I went to learn. I found it to be a hard and isolating. I found it rather unpleasant. It wasn't until I returned to study some years later to get an English qualification did I, actually, love it like I should have loved it the first time. Maybe, it was just the miserable business school?

I have never found my, supposed, high intelligence to be a benefit to me. I haven't, actually, excelled at anything. I can truthfully say that I have never felt good, well not so much good, as successful at anything.

Can smart people be stupid?