On and on

Got the first essay for history in a couple of days ago, getting an assignment for literature ready for next week. I've got this countdown sort of thing happening with assessment ratios. 7.5% complete for lit. (will be 37.5% done next week) and 20% complete for history.

I'm really enjoying lit. It goes at a fair pace though, not only a new piece to study each week, but often surrounding issues to study as part of it. For instance, with the film Memento, we were encouraged to go have a look at existentialism. With Heart of Darkness and The Tracker we were encouraged to learn more about the history of colonialism in Africa and Australia and race relations and such.

In history the off-campus students seem to be almost totally ignored. It's all interesting stuff, but not as compelling as lit. I think the difference is mainly in the presentation though, and how the off-campus chair in lit. really makes an effort on the message boards to get people talking, involved and engaged. With history there's no effort spent on us at all.

Meanwhile, the tot has come down with shingles. Here's the pic for the grandparents:
That rash continues on around the front in a similar narrow band in her armpit and across her chest. It was ok for the first couple of days, it didn't seem to be bothering her, but last night when this photo was taken she was having a Pinetarsol bath every half hour or so to relieve the pain and itching. Last night in her sleep she kept writhing, crying and screaming "Ants! Ants! Ants on me! Get them off!" Which was pretty awful. Needless to say I've had little sleep for the last couple of nights.

Saving the World*

It's no secret that the world contains more human beings than it can comfortably support. It's also common knowledge that because of crowding-out by humans, and the accompanying environmental degradation, many species of animals are endangered. So, I have come up with a solution that addresses both of these problems at once.

Being a scientifically-minded type of person, I believe that proposals must be tested. For this test I selected the cheetah, a magnificent feline, famous for its sprinting speed. It is obviously in severe decline in this area; on a recent trip to Werribee I counted only two! The problem is simply defined: cheetahs struggling to survive, too many humans in the world. The simple solution: feed humans to the cheetahs.

Now, I know what you're thinking: it sounds OK so long as it's someone else being fed to the cheetah. To show that I am absolutely serious about this I am leading by example and have fed my own 3 year old child to a needy cheetah.

As you can see, the tot went bravely to do her bit for saving the world and the cheetah itself was very enthusiastic.

What happened next was quite chaotic, as you can imagine. There was growling and screaming and a general to-do, this is the best shot I could get under the circumstances.
So, there you have it. I urge you all to follow my example and feed your children to a wild animal. I wasn't sure about it at first, but really it's quite liberating. If you're feeling especially generous, you might also want to feed it an elderly relative or two.

Thank you for listening, I hope together we can make the world a better place.

*No animals, including children, were harmed during the making of this blog post.

Why are boats like spiders?

Because first you see a big one:

and then you see lots and lots of little ones.

It got me wondering how much I'm going to be able to see of the Avalon Air Show in a couple of weeks.

No thanks, Telstra

I got a letter from Telstra a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, they were worried about how many calls I'd missed in December (17 of them!), so they were going to start a message bank on my line. It's free, they told me.

Well, that's very nice of them, but if I'd wanted message bank I would have got it already. It's not exactly a secret service. If someone can't get me at home, they'll probably call my mobile, or send an SMS; I don't need message bank. There was no question in the letter, though, I was getting it whether I liked it or not.

That got me thinking (always dangerous) why are they so insistent to push a 'free' service on me? The answer, I figured, was in their little graph explaining why I was getting it. I missed 17 calls in December, 10 in November. The cheek! Their network had been used 27 times in 2 months for NO payment! Someone tries to ring me at home, I'm not there, they don't pay. Next step is the caller's choice: try again later, try the mobile, etc.

So, when they turned my personal message bank on, on the first of March, the first thing I did was attempt to set the amount of time the phone will ring to the maximum to give people plenty of time to realise I'm not there and hang up. While I was listening to their interminable announcements I heard that you could actually cancel the service through their telephone set-up thing - they don't tell you that in their leaflets and promo letters. Even better, I thought.

After listening to another boring load of announcements, which I think might be so you fall asleep and miss where you have to hit the button, I managed to cancel the service - but only after confirming about a gazillion times that I really wanted to do this.

Bye bye message bank. Now I don't have a free service that I didn't want and people don't have to pay to find out I'm not home.

I aint saying nuthin...

Because uni started last week. Every time I get some breathing time and think about drawing or blah-blah-blahing, I get the guilts and go attempt to study instead.

The last 2 years I've only done one unit at a time, a quarter of a full time load. By the end of last year I was keeping up pretty well, so I decided to be brave this year and do two units. So right now I'm stressing over whether I've bitten off more than I can digest properly - I hate half doing these things.

I got radical last night and went to bed at 8pm, I was yawning-non-stop tired anyway, and got up at 5am to attempt some study time before the tot woke up to begin her usual chore of ordering me around all day. Unfortunately, she discovered I was missing just after 7. Between 8 and 9 is her normal getting up time, so I didn't get quite as much time as anticipated. Anyway, it's early and I got a bit done so I have an excuse for slacking off and blogging a bit.

What I did at the party...

Yup, that's right, I held everyone's drinks.

Consolidating.

I've been slowly moving entries from the MySpace blog over here so they're all in the one place. It's not your imagination, there really are old entries appearing out of thin air. Posts ported over from MySpace have a (MySpace) in the title.

My Plans for World Domination...

...are currently in hiatus. Here I was worried about my sagging 40-year-old butt when what I should have been worried about is my sagging 40-year-old knee. It seems to be an over-use type of thing, came on slow after a few days of treadmill use.

So, while I've been sitting on my butt over the last few days, I did this instead:

Can you tell I hate doing backgrounds? For me the main game is the face - it's the only part I find really interesting. The rest of the body I'm much less fussy with; clothes, shade em a bit so they don't look too out of place; background, what background?

This is SO good!

You may remember, last week I acquired a treadmill in my latest attempt to get my sagging 40-year-old butt to become a little smaller. Well, look at it now!

The Growly Bear was kind enough to construct a table that sits over the display so I can read, web browse, watch movies, study, play games, etc. It comes off easily if I want to run and watch the numbers tick by. I am all set to rule the world while at the same time becoming an athletic goddess! Unfortunately, the goose-stepper seems to have had the same idea. Curses! Foiled again! If it wasn't for that meddling kid!

Another photo of power lines.

Does this mean that Melbourne is now Australia's gay capital? That's one hell of a rainbow parade.

Bare Butt Alert!

Don't look if you're offended by nudity.


Oops, too late. This has been sitting, half done, next to my desk for a couple of months. I finally gave it a bit of working over today. The model is taken from a stock image over at Deviant Art. Don't know what to do with it now. I can't fix it because when I do the black page becomes visible through the lighter skin tones - I tried packing the pastel on a ton of times over fixes, but same thing every time. Was a pain.

For the Grandparents

Pic. of the "Big Ow"


See? We're traditional parents: we make sure she gets beaten up regularly, just like in the old days.

It's my Birthday!!

Over the hissy fit now, doesn't seem any point in carrying it on after midnight. Feel free to send presents or commiserations or both - preferably cash, thanks.

My Last Day of being a 30-something

I just realised that I'll never have another chance to throw a hissy fit while I'm under 40. So, go away, you all suck.

The Bear gets some novel body piercing.

Done (and photographed, thanks Kim!) at work. I said to him, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! That's terrible! I hope you washed your hands before you went to the doctor." Of course, he never saw a doctor. He tells me he pulled it out with his teeth.

2 days to go.

New toy.

When you're home alone nights with a 3 year old, you can't just leave to go out walking. If you go for a walk during the day, then you have to go slow and stop every ten seconds while she stops to pick up a leaf, look at an ant, say hello to the dog that's going apeshit 2 inches away with only a 2 foot high picket fence between them, etc.

So, I got myself this baby:

Unfortunately, as you can see, a certain someone seems to think that it's hers, not mine, and figured it was just the thing to help her perfect her goose-stepping technique. Don't be surprised, all 3 year olds are Nazi's - or at least totalitarian dictators.

3 days to go.

Hungry?

Would you like fries with that?

*Edit* Nearly forgot! 4 days to go.

Alien Update!

I think they come in peace.

5 days to go... *twitch*

You'll never forgive me for this one...

6 days...

Really exciting news! Magical Trevor 4 is out! Again they failed to capture the downright catchiness of "beans, lots of beans, lots of beans, lots of beans". True to form, though, they got a toilet joke in.

Too Tired...

...because just got home from long, but fun, day in Melbourne. I've started a countdown though, so I feel compelled to continue the countdown anyway: 7 days to go.

People have been responding to my desponding with various cheer up messages. (Of course, all prefaced with, "You're only as old as you feel," which, admittedly, I did ask for. That, however, won't stop me from making a hit list with every single one of you on it. Although I'm far too nice to actually 'hit' anyone, I will keep it for future reference.)

One of the more interesting 'cheer up' messages was this:

But cheer up, on my 40th I got into punch ups, shoved whatever I could lay hands on into my system, and somehow ended up at home at 5am calling a hooker. She was about 50 seconds into her routine when I called it off. It was about as erotic as cleaning your fingernails. You'd be hard put to do worse than that. I think I also crashed the car.

Now, most of this sounds pretty routine: sex, drugs and rock and roll(ing with the punches). My favourite bit is he *thinks* he crashed the car. He's invited to the beach shack for birthday drinkies, but I'll be making sure the car keys are well hidden.

Mat

This chap's mum asked me to do this pic (and the last one). He unwisely tried to avoid the camera, resulting in the gormless look. Want to get Mum back, kids? Send me a photo of her where she looks silly and I'll see what I can do.

8 days to go.

Look who came to visit

9 days to go.

Think it's trying to tell me there's no escape?

Kiddie quote for today:
(while attempting to read, on her own, a book she's never seen before)

"One day, it was night.
It was berry dark.
And we sat and we sat and we sat and we sat. (Thanks Dr Seuss)
It was berry BERRY dark
And it was beautiful, and a bit stinky."

In Other News:

Aliens landed in my garden. No they didn't kidnap anyone or offer free anal probing. They did, however, leave this:

Isn't it cute? Look at those tentacles reaching up to the sky. Hmmm, I wonder what it did wrong to get left behind like that. Perhaps I better give it a wide berth until I get some idea of its long-term intentions.

Countdown.

In 10 days, I will no longer be a 30-something. I'm sure my hair is going to go white overnight, such is the import of those numbers showing another decade closed. Well, ok, I know someone out there is going to say the numbers aren't important and follow it with some reassuring platitude. Actually, I'll kill the first one to say "You're only as old as you feel." because with a sore neck and blurry vision the last few days I'm not exactly feeling youthful.

I'm watching the numbers with the same sort of feeling I had as a kid when I'd watch the new-fangled digital clock tick over all the numbers at once. You know those clocks that had the numbers on thin sheets of plastic or whatever that flip down as the minutes and hours change? I had one of those next to my bed, was always fascinated at night, when I should have been asleep, watching 9-5-9 suddenly flip into 1-0-0-0. So here I am, counting down the days till my own numbers flip.

Another "I love my verandah" post.

It often occurs to me that I've become quite boring. Life, although I don't have a lot in the material sense, seems to be very good. I love doing the simple things like picking something from the garden and eating it, or sitting on my front verandah and looking at this:

On the horizon you can see the skyline of Melbourne (click on the photo for a larger view). I used to be a city girl, but after having spent a decade or so in the country I started to find the city noisy, claustrophobic and just all a bit too much for the senses. So, why is this my favorite view?

I don't spend much time these days talking to people. I read a few blogs and web forums but spend almost no time at all participating in them like because it all seems like so much shouting into the wind (the exceptions being a couple of irregular personal blogs which are more like conversations than fora). There is very little good I would have to say about the outside world, but there just doesn't seem much point in bringing up criticisms because for the most part people just don't want to know.

So, this is the thing that bothers me... a personality paradox. I read the 'shouting into the wind' of others, but feel disinclined to participate. I prefer quietness, to be away from the busyness of the city, but can't get enough of staring at it across the bay (I could just as easily stare at the You Yangs in the distance). Perhaps I am missing something?

Another "I love my garden" post.

These aren't the blood plums - I only wish the blood plums had been this prolific - but they were nice too - yellow flesh inside.

I had a friend from Melbourne over for the weekend . It felt pretty good grabbing stuff from the garden to serve up, it's still all new and novel to me.

Chalk Dawg

I'm sorry, but if you read this blog you're just going to have to put up with the occasional (or more frequent) cutie kid story.


This was done by my 3 year old. I thought, 'wow, that's a pretty neat dog face'. Then I thought, 'oh wait, it's probably meant to be a flower or an aeroplane or something'. So I asked what it was and she replied, 'a puppy dog'. This from a kid who still says things like, "I'm berry berry hungry!" and "Look! It's a hippopopomus!"

So, now you also have a chance to see the work of my little prodigy.

Happy Birthday Alex.

Blood plums.

Today I made stewed plums from plums grown on a tree in my yard. It was something I just had to do.

I lived in St Kilda when I was a kid. My maternal grandparents lived in Dandenong. I spent a fair portion of each school holidays over there. There was a cousin, only 6 months younger than me. We were inseparable. Whether it was ducking through the back fence to the park on the other side, or walking to the top of the hill that made up the court and riding tricycles, then later skateboards, back down, we were rarely apart.

The highlights of the summers were Nanna putting a tray of ice on the floor in front of a fan - you could call it the '70's version of a portable air conditioner, we two girls would lie on our bellies licking the ice. And, there was the plum tree. We would search the tree for ripe ones; we could never wait. Most were firm and bitter, but we ate them anyway. Then we would luck onto an early ripener which renewed our resolve to find that next beauty.

Eventually it would be announced that the plums were ready. We would pick bucket loads of the fruit, take it inside and spend the next couple of hours washing, cutting, pitting; the juice staining our fingers purple. Nanna would stew them and bottle them and we would have them served up for dessert day after day; the tart fruit complementing the ice cream.

Blood plums: I never could get the taste out of my head. I bought things labeled "Blood plums" when I saw them in the supermarket or where-ever, but they never tasted the same.

Then, a few months ago, I moved house. There were two plum trees, but I didn't really think about those Dandenong plums until the trees were well along in their plum plumping and the fruits of one of those trees started to look familiar. At first, so as not to get my hopes up, I told myself it was probably just wishful thinking. Then they started to go red; dark red like the memories, but I wasn't convinced until I found one I deemed 'ripe enough' and tasted it.

There I was again, going to the tree daily, or more, searching, searching for any that looked like they'd ripened since my last inspection. Many of those early ones were firm and bitter, but I ate them anyway. I was better at judging them now, perhaps less hasty, so the beauties, when I could find them, made up a greater proportion.

Last week I went to South Australia for a week and I was all worried that I'd come back and the plums would be all dropped on the ground. There were a lot of plums on the ground when I got back, but still plenty on the tree. Many had been pecked by birds but there was no shortage of unblemished ripe red memories. Yesterday, I had plums fresh off the tree for breakfast, lunch and tea.

Today I took a large bowl to the tree, filled it with the best plums I could find, brought them inside, washed them, halved them, dug out the stones, put them in a pot of boiling syrup, and sat back to admire my purple-stained hands. Nanna died a few years ago so I had to resort to Google to get some clues as to the proportions of sugar/water/plums, but I remembered the process from 30-odd years ago. I let it cool a bit then put some warm plums in a bowl with some ice cream.

It was perfect.

Lolitas

Last week I spent an evening in the same room as this girl and her friend while they were talking, endlessly and circularly, about boys. It's an experience I never want to go through again... seriously. Thanks girls. I'm going to go get me some earmuffs before my girl hits that stage.

Time to try this out.

A couple of months ago I was trying out different venues to share some of my drawings. I settled on MySpace, because of the networking facilities mixed with blog functionality. I've had a few people say that they can't get into the pics or blog, where all my content is, unless they join MySpace. So, I'm going to keep the profile over there and start putting new stuff here instead. Let's see how this goes...

To see the old stuff:
Profile is at http://www.myspace.com/beachhermit
Old blog: http://blog.myspace.com/beachhermit

To just see all the drawings: http://beachhermit.deviantart.com/gallery/