June 19. Day 170. A big drip

We needed the rain. I get that. But somehow the scattered showers today managed to scatter themselves right over me at the exact moment I stepped outside. I felt like one of those cartoon characters walking around with a big dripping rain cloud over my head. I wouldn't mind so much, I would even ignore the water smudged fresh nail polish AND the wet dog smell, but today of all days I wanted nice, dry driving conditions. Today was the day my sweet little baby had his first driving lesson. The mere thought turned me into a big drip. We all know that wet roads are slippery dangerous roads and that wasn't the plan. But I trusted driving instructor Alan and his dual control car. That is, I trust Alan a whole lot more than I trust myself as a driving instructor. The fact is that while I don't have dual controls on my car I do have an imaginary break pedal and if I am a passenger - no matter who is driving - I am pumping it for all it is worth. I am the world's worst back seat driver, even when I'm in the front seat. There is no way in the living world I could instruct a learner driver especially one I gave birth to. So I have to trust Alan and pray for safe roads and safe drivers and try to not be a big drip.

June 18. Day 169. The early bird

There's this bloke who works at my local NiteOwl who seems like a very nice fellow except for one thing. He likes cats and has no time for dogs. Dogs, he told me, are too needy as though any sensible person would see that as a bad trait. I find a couple of obvious faults with his "logic". For one, not all dogs are needy and two those of us with needy breeds almost certainly like it that way, in fact we probably created the neediest of our needy little fur friend. Rumple is probably the neediest of needy dogs.  He needs his humans, he worships us (especially me) and rarely leave my side. Truth is, I love this. I find it most endearing.
So this morning when I woke and he was asleep on my pillow one paw across my face my heart melted as it does most mornings. Sure, this probably has many recoiling in horror at the lack of hygiene involved in this situation but the only problem is posed for me was that on Wednesdays I have to spring out of bed early and leave the furry one behind. In addition it was still dark AND only 10 degrees. But I braced myself and did what had to be done. And there were pay offs. I'd finished at the ABC studios before 7am when the morning light is still perfect for photography. I love the sun on the lorikeet having a feeding frenzy at South Bank. It may not be as warm as a dog on your head but those birds are like little rays of sunshine just the same. In fact, they are definitely worth getting out of bed for.

June 17.Day 168. Don't judge a book by its cover

My elderly neighbour Margaret was reeling off a list of why she has some "issues" with a distant relative. "And", she said "she doesn't like dogs. You can't trust someone who doesn't like dogs, can you?"
While I'm pretty sure there are some entirely trustworthy persons who are not dog fanciers I see her point. What she is really saying is that you are more likely to trust someone with the same value system and liking dogs is very much central to Margaret's world view.
If not liking dogs is a reason not to trust someone I suppose the reverse could also be true. People with dogs already have a common ground with other dog owners. So it was with Jimmy. Jimmy is from Philip Island and this afternoon he was at South Bank with his mate from Melbourne and their three dogs. Now normally I am a little bit inclined to make judgements on face value and men with piercings, huge novelty sunglasses, no shirt and gruesome tattoos I might normally avoid. But our dogs decided a chat was in order and Jimmy was every bit the character he appeared. He's heading to Airlie Beach and had intended to spend only one night in "boring Brisbane" but decided he rather liked the place. He's still he a week later. So liking Brisbane AND liking dogs seems Jimmy and I had far more in common than I thought at first.

June 16. Day 167. Where there's a will

There's an old saying "where there's a will, there's a relative". In some cases those who have paid scant attention to the dearly departed while he or she was in the land of the living have been known to descend vulture like at the scent of a trail of cash. Fortunately it is a process that to this point in my life I have been able to steer clear of. But after a recent fall my elderly neighbour has decided it's about time she revisited her will and asked if I would mind driving her to Sandgate to see her solicitor. As I'm not a beneficiary so no-one could question my intentions I figured there were a lot worse things a person could do on a day like today than take a trip to the seaside. We ate fish and chips for lunch and there was time for a stroll along the waterfront. Very nice it was too. I was worried she might take a tumble but naturally it was not her that fell. The idiot with the camera failed to noticed just how slippery the wet rocks she was climbing on were. My pride was a little wounded but fortunately the camera wasn't and anyone looking got to have a good laugh. That has to be worth something. I'm sorry to disappoint any birds of prey circling but other than a bit of a graze on the hand and a wet boot I'm fine. You'll have to wait a bit longer to enjoy the spoils.

June 15. Day 166. Sick little puppy

It's a tough gig parenting and one of the most physically distasteful bits is dealing with the bodily fluids and functions of one's little person. That's a pretty big downside of pet ownership too. I pondered that today when I was on poo pick-up duty at the park. Oh yes, there is something most unglamorous about bagging dog shit, there really is. But that wasn't the end of it. Just after we returned home Rumple vomited, a large projectile number all over the dining room floor. Naturally at that moment all the other humans in the house were strangely absent so Nurse Susan had to spring in to action. But here's the thing. With fur babies just like the human offspring you may really hate mopping up poos and spews but that's not the really hard bit. The really hard bit is how your heart hurts when your baby is ill and you just want to kiss it and make it better. Fortunately in this instance whatever it was that was making Rumple feel ill was clearly discharged in that mess on the floor. He was back to is normal self within moments

June 14. Day 165. Streets ahead

James James busking in the Queen Street Mall

Waylen and Anthony putting on a performance of a different type at South Bank

One of the awesome thing about travelling overseas used to be the shopping. The streets of foreign cities were lined with shops filled with exciting things the likes of which you never saw at home.
The shrinking world has robbed us of a lot of that. Sure there are treasures in the grand bizarre in Istanbul and the street markets in Singapore not available in the local Westfield but the shopping plazas the western world over all seem to be packed with pretty much identical goods.  So even if I  know every purchase I want can be made under the giant roof of one suburban mega centre, I often choose to leave the car and walk into the city instead. Sure there is a sameness about the shops but there's always something going on that you won't see in the wilds of Westfield World. Today's mission was to replace yet another lens cap for my camera and allow drama teen to stock up on holiday reading and viewing material. We took the dog (another thing you can't do in the suburbs) and strolled into town. Drama Teen was on dog duty while I again contributed to the camera accessory business. Then we swapped and the dog, camera and I went on a street photography mission while the boy spent a lifetime browsing his favourite stores. Normally waiting for this agonisingly slow selection process does my head in but not when there's the Saturday afternoon bustle of the city to enjoy. There were was a street artist, James James the magician, a man creating balloon art for the kids, the blind saxophone player, Mormon missionaries so much going on. And then when the purchasing was over we got to walk home enjoying a chat as we went. And to put icing on the cake, our route home passes through South Bank where we met Waylen and Anthony practicing some stunt riding. They told me they had ridden a lot when they were younger but had let it lapse. Proving they still had it obviously gave them a great deal of joy (it also gave the crowds a little free entertainment). Yep, all cities are a lot them same but they are also different.I might be a bit biased but in many ways Brisbane is streets ahead.

June 13. Day 164. Reflections

I spent a great deal of the mid 70s with permanently bruised wrists thanks to Click Clacks. Remember them? The supposedly fun toy with two hard balls on the end of one piece of string. The idea was to have the balls hit at the top and the bottom but in my uncoordinated case it often meant one or other ball crashing at high velocity into my wrist. (The early 70s it was permanently scabbed knees from coming off my scooter at the bottom of the steep concrete drive way). Anyway I got to reflecting on the crazy toys of my childhood today while watching the ibis in the drained South Bank pools. In the shallows left while the main pool is drained for annual maintenance the ibis dipping looked for all money like one of those magic dipping birds. Everyone had one of those. I also remember my Spirograph, Slinkies and  with great fondness. And that was was decade were everything was Holly Hobbie. How sweet. I'm sure the kids of today would totally trade their iPad for any one of those (not). But then again, I wouldn't trade my smart phone for anything either even though I'm sure using it to play Candy Crush for hours is about as good for my wrist as those Click Clacks. Still it doesn't hurt to stop and reflect every now and again.