September 4. Day 247. Putting my feet up

Wednesday of Week 7; exactly half way through the 13 week semester. I guess that means I'm half way there. That head down, bum up position is pretty much situation normal around here.
And it's not just the paid employment (in fact, if I'm honest, the day job is the least of my worries).
But today is Day 1 of the plan to buy myself - if not the opportunity to put my feet up a bit - at least the space to be able to breathe.
I have engaged a helper - a unique being who is prepared to be a teen mentor, home work facilitator, cook, cleaner, driver of Mum's taxi or whatever the family needs on the day.
The plan is that this will allow Susan to get back into the swing of things. Not sure how it is all going to work just yet but I have high hopes.
So here's today's image taken at South Bank this morning. It may be just a rush of blood to the head but I think it's a sign of me regaining my balance.

September 3. Day 246. Who's a pretty boy then?

The first haircut. It's a big moment in every parent's life.
I remember when my actual baby had his first haircut. I could have cried. All those little blond, baby curls gone.
Suddenly he looked so big, so grown up.
Of course he was still adorable but for a few days he didn't quite look like my baby. I still have a little bag of those curls somewhere.
So it was deja vu all over again today when the fur baby had his first haircut.
But unlike the experience of the first born, fur child looks so much littler.
He also looks adorable and it has to be said much tidier and even cuter if that's possible.
As an added bonus the haircut means he can now see clearly.
You will be pleased to know I did not even feel the need to keep a bag of fur. If I need a reminder of the moment I need only look at the credit card bill. Let's just say the human child's first cut was a little bit more "budget friendly". Of course Rumple is worth every cent.

September 2. Day 245. Shout it out loud

Oh will you shut up?
Some days everyone seems to want a piece of you. Today was one of those days.
The screeching seemed to be coming from all directions. This may have been the reality or it may be a combination of a blinding headache, serious marking-induced sleep deprivation and a savage bout of Monday-itis.
By late afternoon I'd had enough and decided a little fresh air and a walk was what was needed to clear the head and put a bit of space between me and the voices of demand.
But some days you just can't escape it. I stopped on the footpath outside Brisbane State High School to take a photograph of some litter arranged decoratively on the spikes of the fence.
Clearly I was in someone's territory and he wasn't afraid to let me have it.
Barely a metre from me and totally ignoring the savage beast on the end of the lead, this bird swooped in and let me have it.
Let's just say they don't call them Noisy Miners for nothing.
All I can say at least it wasn't a magpie. That would have really capped off a manic Monday.

September 1. Day 244. Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day.
Dads are special people with unique roles in their kids lives and even if it is one of those Hallmark Occasions designed to guilt us in to buying greeting cards and jocks and socks any excuse to remind us to say thanks and I love you can not be all bad.
Of course, for those of us whose dad is no longer with us Father's Day will always be tinged with sadness. That's to be expected but can not be allowed to overshadow the day for Charles, the father in our household.
We delivered cards, and chocolates (which we "helped" him with), a book, shirt and and even a Onesie as a little family joke.
Late in the afternoon, with the boys occupied in secret men's business, I walked down to South Bank and watched other families celebrating their dads.
My eyes were drawn to Tim and young Jordan playing fully clothed in the pool. That is such a dad thing to do. You've got to love it.
So enjoy the rest of your special day dads. You've earned it.

August 31. Day 243. It will be all white on the night

I have been told that white suits me and I should wear it more.
I have totally chosen to ignore this advice despite acknowledging that it may just be right.
The thing is this, white suits me. I do not suit white.
I am a total grub. Putting a pale colour on me is like an open invitation to every piece of dirt and every morsel of food to come round and party on my clothing. It will not be white for long.
But I am prepared to make the occasional exception. I did have a white wedding and I did get myself all whited out for Diner en Blanc Brisbane 2013 our city's version of the worldwide all white picnic.
You wear white, take white chairs, white picnic baskets, white tables and white accessories and gather at meeting points around the city.
Then you are bused to a secret location for a pop up, all white picnic.
I love the theatre of that and 2500 people wearing all white on the foreshore at Hamilton was quite a sight. The logistics of busing those 2500 people back to their starting point was far less spectacular but it has to be said that once we were on the bus the antics of our fellow passengers was "interesting".
Would I do it again? Possibly if the transport thing was addressed but for now it was all white on the night.

August 30. Day 242. Slow and steady

That business about slow and steady winning the race is crap, total crap,
Slow is pretty much my only pace (reduced to very slow now that I am frequently carrying six kilos of fur on my shoulder as a result of a Rumple sit down strike). I can assure you I have never won a race and am never likely to. In fact the turtle and Steven Bradbury, the Olympic ice skater who won only because every one else fell over, were the only ones ever to win by going slowly.
So I might not have the turtle's winning ways but I am a plodder and like this bloke at the Lakes at the University of Queensland this afternoon I frequently feel that I am only just keeping my head above water.
But I have a plan to be a winner in the great race of life.
This afternoon I interviewed someone to save my life. She will cook or clean or help facilitate homework or be a ear to the teen, whatever it takes. This, hopefully, will give me some much needed breathing space. Watch out hare, Susan is back up and running.

August 29. Day 241. Birds of a feather

They say that you can tell a lot about a person from the company she keeps.
If this is the case I must be a bit of a bird brain and constantly in a bit of a flap. That's about right, as it happens.
Anyway, for what ever reason I seem to regularly find myself in the company of bird fanciers. Today it happened twice - in the form of my present neighbour Margaret and a former neighbour Clare.
Mid afternoon, Margaret called me across to sign her postal vote form. She'd spied me from her window where she was feeding her feathered friends. While I signed the form, Rumple got to sample a little of the bird mince.
Later in the day, Rumple and I went to visit Grandma and dropped in on John and Clare, the neighbours of my childhood.
Again it was bird feeding time and the clothes line was weighed down with a load of coloureds in the form of rainbow lorikeets.
They were screeching louder than a roller coaster full of children. But what a pretty sight. Yep, birds of a feather do flock together.