Category Archives: Modern Life

Introspection, Relationships

I don’t want to hear your excuses

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A walk on a Rottnest beachl

I realised something today.

I don’t like to hear excuses, and not only that, I don’t think others do either.

It’s always been my pet hate when people give me chapter and verse when they can’t do something – go out, do a task, whatever.

Okay I get it – I fume inside my head – it’s making me feel worse hearing your excuses.  Just say you don’t want to come!

It’s that whole – “I would have done it if” thing.

If I didn’t have to wash my hair, if I wasn’t so tired, if I could have found a babysitter…

The truth is maybe – maybe you just didn’t want to go.

The only things I think I want to hear are that you already have a prior task or appointment OR that you don’t want to, maybe it’s not your cup-of-tea.

Because in the end that’s what it mostly boils down to doesn’t it?

This is what highlighted in yellow texta to me that I don’t like excuses – my Dad rang about some chairs and I gave him my excuses as to why I didn’t go to a concert with him last night.
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Now the truth is I didn’t want to go.

Yes I was tired and underwhelmed with enthusiasm by the rest of the family but if I had really wanted to go, I would have.

He cut me off and I realised that I was doing to him what I hate being done to me.  

A reflection.

Sorry Dad.

I think underneath we know why people say no to invitations.

And it does hurt a little when we get a no.

But it’s like salt in the wound to get a list of excuses on why.

So next time, I’m just going to own my feelings and take responsibility for my life and just say no, politely.

I think it hurts less.

Current Affairs

Fire Tweets

kinglakeI’m new to Twitter and so if this sounds a little evangelical, a little newly converted, my apologies.

I’ve been following the fires in Victoria via my twitter feed, getting updates from 774melbourne and CFA.

And I really feel connected. As much from the official tweets as the more informal ones from other twitterers in the area.

I’ve also tuned into 774’s emergency coverage on the stream.

The news is grim. Many lives lost, hundreds of houses, towns have disappeared.
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At the time of writing this, 36 people have been confirmed dead.

And the fires continue.

13 minutes ago:

CFA advises people in the Dederang area to stay in their homes or head to a neighbour’s . Implement your fire plan. It is too late to leave

I hope you are safe.

Extracurricular

When the surf is smokey

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smokey

It wasn’t that long ago that Perth was surrounded by bushfires – or at least it felt that way. The sky was overcast with smoke.

And yet I still didn’t “get it” when I saw the sign until I was well past it on my morning walk.

Which is why I took this next photo:

lifeguard

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I wanted to see what the lifeguards thought smokey surf looked like.

Turns out they were just being witty.

Yep.

Good luck for those of you in the extreme fire danger zones this weekend.

Beliefs

Bogan Pride

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There seems to be an increasing trend for Australian motorists to attach Aussie flags to their cars on the Australia Day Long Weekend.

The fashion seems to be either two flags poking proudly up from the front or back windows or perhaps one wagging like a friendly dog’s tail off the back aerial.

Occassionally you’ll see a very patriotic sort with both and perhaps even a full sized flag, creating quite a bit of drag I would think (flag drag?), but that’s usually only if towing a trailer or boat.

I confess I’m not sure how I feel about all this wrapping oneself up in the flag business.

I’m all for a bit of national pride – a bit of “aren’t we lucky to be living in such a great place” fervour – and in the past even toyed with the idea of an Aussie flag bikini, although it’s true, not recently.

I quite like the idea of a big fireworks display in the middle of fire season, not that I can bear the day long picnic that goes with it.

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This flag waving thing, it’s tribal isn’t it?

And who is in this club? 

From my observations – white Australians.

Are we turning Australia Day into White Australia Day?

When does pride in one’s country cross the line to redneck jingoism… bogan pride?

Or worse… racism?

Random

Taking things personally

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When do you get upset with technology?

I’ve discovered that I’m quick to move to tears when it gets personal.

No, I’m not talking about that pink plastic machine that lives in handy reach under my bed, the one once described as “disgusting” by a curious child.

Even when the batteries die I know Mr Electric isn’t doing it on purpose or in some fit of pique or is sulking because I didn’t put the cushions on his side of the bed on the floor…

Same with computers.  

They can be frustrating, I grant you, but they rarely turn me into a quivering wreck, tears streaming down my face, bottom lip (not to mention bottom) wobbling.

No, what really gets me is when the piece of software or technology appears to work for someone else but not for me – even when I’m doing EXACTLY the same thing.

Case in point the GPS unit in the car we borrowed for the drive south.

Every time I tried to input our destination it refused to let me – the options on the screen remained life grey and lifeless – and yet, when Groover had a go – you guessed it – everything worked.

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I pressed destination, Groover it must be said somewhat smugly replied.

But that’s what I did!  It HATES me!

Being a girl, I turned to the instruction manual.  No answers.

It wasn’t until we hit a traffic snarl at Mandurah that I worked it out.

The GPS doesn’t let you input addresses while you are moving.

It’s not a bug, it’s a safety feature.

(and come to think of it… I did see some grey box flash up on the screen when I turned it on… but who reads those pesky boxes?)

It was somewhat galling to realise that not only was the machine working perfectly, it was even looking after my safety.

Which is more than I can say for Mr Electric!

Groover, Relationships

Smug satisfaction

4 Comments

It’s a little bit embarrassing to admit this but I feel a little kernel of smug satisfaction when I’m right… and Groover’s wrong.

Take the other day.

We were on our way down south (for our 19th anniversary meeting getaway).  A friend had kindly lent us her convertible and we were excited about exploring all the features.

We set off sharing a large coffee, sunnies on, the top up and before we’d turned the corner I suggested we take the top down before we hit the freeway so we could feel the wind in our hair (well, my hair) and the sun on our sunscreen covered shoulders.

There’s a button on the overhead console.

You do the honours, said Groover magnanimously and then…

No!  Not that way!

I’m sure it’s this way, said I.

You’re wrong, he said.

But though we pressed it this way and that, the roof refused to retract.

We pulled over and I consulted the manual… what?! I’m a girl!

It appears that the luggage separator must be fully employed, I read from the passenger seat as Groover in that manly way that guys have around cars opened the boot and starts shuffling luggage.

Try that, he said, but the roof again failed to budge.
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I’ll try, I said, as Groover sat back in the driver’s seat.

On the luggage separator is a little diagram and I could see that it hadn’t been – what did they call it – fully employed.

I “employed” it, repacked the suitcases and said, it’ll work now, and it did, when, that is, he pressed the button in the way that I suggested!

I felt so good!

Yes I suppose it’s a little mean spirited but there is a LOT of satisfaction being right around Groover.

He’s just so confident in his opinion and capabilities, some inane part of being a bloke I suspect.

And, if I’m honest, it feels even better when I am right and he is wrong.

So we’re driving along, top down, wind in hair etc, and I mention this feeling to Groover.

Does it feel the same to you when you’re right, and I’m wrong?

No.  I’m just happy that the problem is solved.  It’s not a competition you know.

Yeah right.

And then the GPS incident occurred, but that’s another story.

Dippity, Hugamuga, Introspection, Parenting

No going back

6 Comments

How did I look after my two kids when they were little?

Yesterday, we picked up the younger cousins (4 & 3) for a sleepover.  My sister-in-law needed some free time to pack as they are moving house soon.

The big cousins are fantastic with them.  Hide and seek, mudworld, swimming, they are like built-in au pairs who look after the two littlies with good grace and humour.

Within an hour of getting home yesterday, in the middle of the first game of hide and seek though, the 3 year old started crying, holding her neck.

There was no blood but she was in a lot of pain and couldn’t be comforted.

We all packed into the car and went to see the doctor who prescribed Painstop and thought she must have strained her neck, like whiplash.

It did put a damper on things but Dippity remembered the chocolate icecream we’d bought and the Princesses DVD and 3 decided that she wanted to stay on the sleepover!

Dippity was brilliant at cuddling her and distracting her from the pain.  Brilliant.

Of course I rang her mum to let her know of the drama but that 3 seemed okay if sore.

The rule with children is “never wake a sleeping child”, we all know that, but because of the suspected head injury the doctor advised that we should. 
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So we did, and she cried, so we gave her some more medicine and took her for a wee and she went back to sleep.

In the morning she was fine.  Her neck still stiff and putting a tee-shirt on and off painful, but smiling and wanting to go for a swim.

(We rang mum to tell her she was better, and mum reported a lovely sleep-in)

Today we’ve had mudworld, a swim, a tv show and now they are walking to the DVD library for a movie (we’re hoping it will tire them out a bit).

I’ve got 20 minutes to write this and reflect, maybe finish a cup of tea.

You know, I don’t think I could look after little ones again full-time.  They are exhausting!  Little balls of never-ending energy.  

I’d forgotton how you become the entertainment machine – always thinking ahead to the next activity, the next snack, the next meal.

It makes me appreciate my teenagers.  Sure, sometimes you only get the odd grunt out of them but they are self sufficient.

And I especially appreciate how good they are with their small cousins.

Books, Random

Careless in Red by Elizabeth George

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Here’s the massive coincidence.

The last two books I’ve read have been The Islands by Di Morrissey and Careless in Red by Elizabeth George.

(I know I’m supposed to have been reading The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga – the Booker Prize-winning novel – but I just can’t get into it)

Now on the face of it these two novels have nothing in common.  The Islands is soap opera in book form and Careless in Red is detective fiction.

I read The Islands first.  It was a review copy that came into the office and I was looking for some light reading for the holiday break. 

Anyway it was Christmas and I wanted to invite some good friends of ours – now divorced – to our Christmas dinner.  Which I did and it was all very nice.

The day after Boxing Day, the male half of this couple flew out to Hawaii to have a holiday with his girlfriend.   The Islands is about Hawaii.

Then I sat down and read Careless in Red. 

Now technically I shouldn’t have been able to take this book out of the library.  It had been reserved and mistakenly put back on the shelf. 

The librarian had been giving me a lesson in self check out when it came up flagged as reserved which she over-rode I guess because I was a good student… or something.

Anyway I got the book with a “Please read it first” from the librarian (first of the seven I had taken out) and so dutifully I did so.

Get this.

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How spooky is that?!

I thought it was spooky.

And both the books had a surfing theme running through them.  What’s up with that?

So to the review of Careless in Red by Elizabeth George.  

This is another Inspector Lynley novel and I love this series.  He’s an upper class Earl who works for New Scotland Yard or did until his upper class pregnant wife was murdered randomly by a twelve year old boy.

To cope he takes himself off for a walk along the Cornish coast and finds the body of a young man at the foot of the cliff.

Of course he is dragged into the investigation along with the fabulous Barbara Havers, his former partner at the Met. (and by that of course I mean the Metropolitan Police not the Metropolitan Opera)

It’s full of intrigue and inuendo.  Red herrings and plot twists, all set on the wild Cornish coastline.

I imagined Echo Beach style surf shops, Irish cliffs (okay I know they are probably very different but they are the ones I imagined) and plump, tasty Cornish pasties.

I always enjoy Elizabeth George’s books and this one didn’t disappoint.  She’s like a modern day Agatha Christie but her novels are a good deal longer.

And I like a good doorstop of a mystery.

Fashion Victim, Work

How I get to work

3 Comments

The last thing I do before leaving home every morning is fill my coffee cup for the drive to work.

I love my coffee machine.  If Groover and I ever split up I think custody of the coffee machine might be a contentious issue.

And today I’m back at work.

I’m not unhappy about it. It’s going to be 38C today and I get to sit in air-conditioning ALL day.

I’m wearing a dress I made over the Christmas break from material my friend and colleague gave me – she’s the one I did sewing lessons with.

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It’s a bit short though. I think I’m going to add a border to the base of it.

Photo will come soon.

It’s kind of nice being at work over the Christmas break – a relaxed pace and because everyone is on holidays – no annoying phone calls!

Oh and while I have you – check out these photos of my recent lunch with The Food Pornographer. She takes such delicious photos – mine were rubbish!

Yes of course you have to take photos of food when you’re with TFP!

Current Affairs, Extracurricular, Hugamuga

Keep Cott Beautiful

6 Comments

Seems the Town of Cottesloe read my post about the Michael Jackson litter campaign and decided to update their signage.  Hope it works although I will miss having a giggle at the old posters.

The weather this Christmas break has been beautiful.  High 20s to low 30s.  Crystal clear days.

Not what I’d call shark weather.  You know, those oily November days where the sea is flat and grey.

And yet it has been shark weather.  A fellow got taken off Port Kennedy and yesterday on our walk the authorities pulled everyone out of the water.

It was like a scene from Jaws.  A beautiful beach day with everyone standing on the beach or the groin looking for a fin. 

Five helicopters were circling overhead.

We didn’t see the shark and walked home.

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Last night we invited our son’s friend’s parents over for a Christmas drink.

“So did Hugamuga get a good report?” they asked making small talk.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!

We hadn’t seen his report!!

That’s bad isn’t it?

He did really well I think – 3 A’s in the core subjects… and they are the subjects that count!