Saturday, August 23, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
There are rules we all must follow in a polite, orderly society. Rules my mother taught me. Rules I
try to teach my son. We are told to say "please" and thank-you", to not speak with our mouths full and that it's rude to stare. Mothers are, of course, always right but there are exceptions to every rule and thus I today declared that the don't stare rule needs qualification. Some people are just do striking that I actually believe it is rude to not admire and not just in a fleeting, furtive way. On occasions, you do need to take a good hard look. So it was today when I met Jesse. It was Jesse's job to apply the colour to my regrowth, a polite word we all know means grey hair. Immediately I was transported back to the Underground Nightclub in Brisbane in the early '80s, a somewhat strange reaction given that young Jesse would not even have been born then. But that was the era of Boy George and Marilyn where the men wore as much make-up as the women and were often better at applying it. That was the era Guy Liner first came to my attention although I don't remember it being called that at the time. Funnily enough, that was also the era of UB40 a band which Jesse told me was one of his musical inspirations. Modern music, he said, was noise and the saxophone player added most of the music he chose to listen to was by people now dead. Behind an ear was the tattoo of a treble clef which he said represented his love of music and at $30 cost more than any of the other tattoos on his body. All of his family are musical and inspired by that tattoo most now have a musical note behind an ear. The other tattoos were were all done by tattoo artists who are family and friends - the first for his 14th birthday. In New Zealand, where he is from, he explained no-one seems to have the same "problem" with tattoos. He only realised it was an issue when he briefly went to school in Australia. He recalls sitting in a school office with his mum and the principal - a man with little style and a bad comb-over job. The family was told they would need to do something to cover up the tattoo on Jesse's calf because appropriate standards needed to apply when you entered the school gate. The enraged mother replied "and how, exactly, is that haircut appropriate. Mum said she would "do" something about the tattoo - get another one. And so she did, because as I said mothers are always right, just not about the staring thing.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
You know you have to fight it. No matter how overwhelming the urge is, you can not give in; you have to push through. Nothing totally throws a human body in quite the same way as the jet lag from a long haul flight. Many a wise man has come up with a jet lag solution but today I discovered a group of international exchange students recently arrived in Brisbane who had one of their own - a competitive game of park Frisbee. It was the middle of the night in California but rather than hit the sack the students decided the best plan was to remove all temptation and hit the park. That should get the blood pumping if nothing else. It was a strategy I was applying in my own way. My body clock was totally whacked from sleepless nights due to coughing followed by hours of day time sleep. Then repeat. Either I needed to beat this or become a shift worker. So at afternoon nap time, I was also in the park with the dog avoiding the call of the pillow. Let's hope it works - for all our sakes.
Monday, August 18, 2014
I am fully aware that this is the snot talking. This is the cough talking. This is nights of interrupted sleep talking. But sneezy, wheezy, drowsy Susan just wants someone to tuck her up in bed, rub Vicks on her chest, feed her chicken soup, read her a bedtime story and turn off the light. Being an adult and having to make adult decisions can be tough when you are on top of your game but downright tiresome when you just want your mum. Who want to be a grown up? Not this little black duck. Right now I do not feel like being one of life's lollipop ladies. I want others to check the road is clear and hold up the traffic. I just want to skip across the road knowing that it is safe to do so. Of course this will not last. When the snot and cough and sleepless nights disappear the control freak who doesn't much like being told what to so will surely re-emerge. Until then, anyone want to make me cup of tea? I'll be in bed. It's past my bedtime.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
It was all about the dogs today.
1) There was a beagle sized hole on the bed this morning with The Fed going home with my brother last night after his holiday with us. A beagle, I have to tell you, can take up quite a lot of space on a bed and a beagle pup is a fur covered weapon of mass destruction. I will miss him, I already miss him, but rather appreciate the quiet and order that has returned to the home
2) Margaret got to resume her puppy love with Rumple. The two dogs were too much but it was clear Rumple and Margaret were well overdue for a contact visit.
3) It was RSPCA cupcake day so Rumple and I headed out to the dog park for the big fundraiser. As I remain sick as a dog, I probably should have opted for the canine treats but instead invested in a box of human cupcakes and came home to bed. Neither Rumple nor I felt much like a hydrobath either
The consumptive cough, the fevered brow, the vigil of the loved ones at the bedside. That could have been me today - except for the loved ones bit. The dogs hung around but the humans - rather tired of the death rattle - preferred to keep their distance. To tell you the truth I would have run a mile too, but I didn't have the breath to do so. Okay, I am exaggerating