March in review

Yes, I've made it this far...

March 31, Day 91. Decked out

When I grew up in Brisbane there was no such thing as a deck - verandas yes but decks no. But now the deck is often the best room in the house.
At our place, opening up the bi-fold doors and sitting on the deck overlooking the pool and the trees is about as good as life gets.
This morning we got to show off the house to my father-in-law Simon for the first time and naturally the first thing we did was go outside the house to the deck.
It's dead impressive when you've just come from an English winter.
What I love about this pic is the three generations of men just sitting and chewing the fat over a cuppa

March 30. Day 90. Fly away

Flies. I consider myself a summer person, embracing everything about the warm weather. Everything, that is, except flying insects.There are a lot of good public health reasons for hating flies but really when it comes down to it they are just seriously annoying.
The fly is always the uninvited and unwelcome guest at the barbecue. Take a prawn or a piece of meat from the fridge and swarms of flies seem to materialise from nowhere.They can spoil a picnic and even a nap can fall victim to a flying insect buzzing around your head.
Yes, there is so much beauty in life which can fall victim to the fly.
This photograph taken at West End this morning sums it up beautifully. What a delicate rose, its petals softly lit by the morning sun. It would be just beautiful except for the fly. Bloody typical.

March 29. Day 89. Hung out to dry

 

My family is either exceptionally clean or exceptionally dirty. We'd have to be very dirty to create the amount of washing we do. On the other hand, with the amount of washing we do, we must be exceptionally clean.

Of course when I say "we" do washing I am using the Royal We. We equals I, obviously. There's a fair bit of learned helplessness going on here - if I do it badly enough she won't ask again. Call me old fashioned but I do think pegs are a minimum requirement for hanging out washing. My husband disagrees. I don't think my son knows what a peg is.

But I digress. Washing. I think it breeds when I am not watching, which probably better than it breeding when I am watching because that would be just weird. The cycle of collecting clothes from the floor, loading the machine, hanging out, bringing in, folding and putting away is a bit like painting the Story Bridge - just as you finish it's time to start again.

It just makes me wonder how people survived when Monday was wash day. Perhaps they were just cleaner. Perhaps the were just dirtier.Whatever. Aren't we just so lucky to live in a time where we have been liberated by all these labour saving devices?

March 28. Day 88. Resistance is useless

 

I think it was 1979 or 1980 when I first started this diet. In the 32 years since I have probably lost 100 kilograms, perhaps more. That's not the issue. The issue is the 120 kilograms I have put on in this time.

Truth is I can resist anything but temptation.

Right now the good Susan it largely triumphing over the bad Susan. Weight is coming off rather than going on but it doesn't take much for the pendulum to swing back the other way.

So having a box of Freddo Frogs and Caramello Koalas sitting in my desk is cruel and unreasonable punishment. 

It is the curse of every parent - the fundraiser. When you have a school-aged child, life is an almost constant parade of swim-a-thons, treat stalls and pie drives.

I actually own this $48 box of chocolates because they had to be sold and the money returned by last week. The plan was to offload them at work but that hadn't happened by the deadline so naturally I paid for them myself. 

Eventually I will sell them, or give them away or eat them but right now they sit on the desk torturing me.

I understand that schools and community organisations need cash but I sometimes think that parents might prefer to just pay an additional levy rather than having to become a door-to-door salesman.

Personally, given the choice of selling or eating $48 worth of chocolate or paying $12 extra for each of the four terms of drama classes a year I'd pay up every time.

But perhaps that's just me. I might just ponder that some more over a Freddo Frog.

March 27. Day 87. Oliver!

Ask my son and he will tell you that he was born to be in musical theatre because he was named after a musical.
This isn't actually true. Oliver is just a name that both my husband and I liked and the fact that there happened to be a musical of the same name never crossed our minds.
Undeterred by the facts of history, Mr O is doing his best to be a role model Oliver. Like the musical "never before has a boy wanted more". But that's another story.
Anyway, he is always Oliver (or at homework time Oliver!with the exclamation mark, just like the musical) but never Ollie.
Believe it or not it never occurred to me that people would shorten it to Ollie but I hear it all the time from teachers and I think it sounds rather cute (not cute enough to make me want to use it, but cute just the same).
Of course I should have know that an Oliver would get Ollie just like Oliver Hardy who was always Ollie.
All of which leads me to today's picture taken from the wall of the Cement Box Theatre at St Lucia.
The block wall has been adorned with images of actors and productions and centre is this rather impressive Laurel and Hardy. It's perfect in the situation and given the chaotic nature of the images around it I don't think it would be out of place for Ollie to utter his signature line "that's another fine mess you've gotten me into". And that, too, reminds me of my Oliver.

March 26. Day 86. Blame it on the alcohol

 

Teaching on a Monday morning is a challenge. Now I admit that there are few people who spring out of bed ready to embrace the new working week with full enthusiasm but trying to motivate a group of young adults after doubtless a big weekend (read bigger than mine) can present a particular challenge. In fact I have some groups that seriously remind me of store dummies - they look human but you don't get much response out of them. I could be wrong but I think that this line up of empty kegs under the University of Queensland Rec Club this morning provides a clue to where the issue lies.

Let's face it, university students drinking alcohol is hardly a new phenomenon. I could say that I never indulged in binge drinking as a university student but if I did you would have every right to say "liar, liar, pants are on fire".

In my defence, rarely did this happen on a Sunday night - mainly because I'd spent all my cash on Friday and Saturday. But today's student is more likely to work long hours and be more cashed up than in the past. The days of hanging around university's refectories is well and truly over. Now back in my day....