Serene Sunday

I was up at 6am. It was still dark. The fire was still burning. Junior came straight inside when I called him. I made coffee. I was hungry, so I made muesli straight away. It was quiet and still.

The fire was still burning from last night, occasionally crackling just to makes its presence heard.

The day gradually got lighter, the dark breaking, fracturing, cracking letting the light seep through. The shadows in the room faded and disappeared, floated away, I don’t know where shadows go. The day was light outside when Sam appeared at 8am.

The sun came out and the sky changed to blue.

Luke went to Tasmania to see his family. It didn’t go well last time, let’s hope it goes well this visit.

We played computer games and ate fig jam and peanut butter toast and drank coffee. It was that kind of day, Sunday at home watching the day pass by.

It became a cool, wintery day with light rain.

Sam and I cooked roast lamb for dinner. Roast lamb, well cooked, it doesn’t get better than that.

Sunday evening television featured ABC's flagship political analysis show Insiders, breaking down the ongoing domestic friction surrounding Prime Minister Tony Abbott's highly unpopular 2014 Federal Budget. 

I went to bed early, as I had to be at work early. Lovely work. Oh shit, can I do it? Can I fake my way through it just enough to get out the other end unscathed. That is the key, if you can look confident and appear to know what you are doing just enough to fool the clients you have it made.

I’m good with well organised clients who have well defined procedures and are run well and smoothly. With them I have no problems. I can plug into the kind of office and cruise through without too many problems.

It’s the badly run, poorly sourced, procedureless and sytemless offices that I’m not so good with. I just don’t have enough interest in them to make them work. I should be doing your figures for you, not setting up procedures and systems, that isn’t my role. I’m supposed to be keeping your boat afloat, recommending a new course where I think it is necessary, not rebuilding the fucker.

I tossed and turned thinking about it. 

American radio personality and voice actor Casey Kasem died at age 82. I always think about Michael Buble when I think of Casey Kasem and the story Michael Buble tells.

Michael Bublé shares a heartwarming story about the first time he heard the legendary radio host Casey Kasem announce his name on the air.

As a young boy, Bublé used to hate mowing the lawn for his mother every Saturday. The only thing that got him through the grueling two-hour chore was wearing headphones and listening to Casey Kasem's American Top 40 Countdown. He was captivated by the show, especially how Kasem would read long-distance dedications for people who were dealing with personal loss or life milestones.

Years later, after launching his own music career, Bublé experienced a surreal full-circle moment. While listening to the radio, he heard Casey Kasem count down the billboard hits and introduce the number one song in the land: Michael Bublé's "Home".

Bublé reflects on the memory with immense gratitude, describing it as an unbelievable feeling to go from a kid pushing a lawnmower and finding solace in Kasem's voice, to suddenly hearing that same iconic voice say his name and play his hit single. He frequently references Kasem's famous sign-off, "Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars," as a lasting inspiration in his life.