Sweet Emotion

I have been accused of being 'clingy'. I was angry at first but my accuser is a believer in ‘conditional’ friendship and not being ‘clingy’ was always one of the conditions so I should have known better but I was emotional - not 'bang down on the floor flailing around in tears' emotional but "Why . .what did I say . . I don't understand . .why are you angry at me . . please don't be mad . .I feel awful . . .what did I do? " clingy and over-stepped the mark! I’ve calmed down a bit now but basically, he was right - I am indeed an emotional animal!

It’s weird because only my most intimate friends see the emotional side of me – most see me as cold, organised and controlling. I’m the coper. The one that steams ahead through adversity. The one who gets things done. I’m the ‘responsible’ one. The one who doesn’t need any help. The pragmatist, the cold fish. The one who is aloof, comfortable in her own skin, capable, opinionated and ultimately sensible and ‘balanced’. If only they knew the half of it! I do tend to rush in with people I like - a bit 'full on'. But those in my inner sanctum see someone different. They are partial to the fragility and my deep and varied insecurities and fears and they understand the clingy thingy. I know I sound a little mad at the moment.

But which is better? To be an emotional cripple and guard your emotions so closely that nobody knows what you’re thinking. To walk away rather than confront issues and work through them? To be unable to enjoy fully functioning interactions and relationships or to be unable to interact with people? I'm sure there's a balance. I don't bottle things up. I let fly.

I looked up some definitions to see exactly where I fit or indeed if I fit.

e·mo·tion·al [ i mṓshən'l, i mṓshnəl ]

Definition:

1. expressing emotion: relating to or expressing emotion

Lately I’ve been expressing a lot of emotion. Sadness at ClareBear’s departure, loneliness living on my own without DrummerBoy, anxious about my insomnia and the house sale, nervous about a new bout of bush rats playing soccer in my ceiling after midnight. Then I get disproportionately upset when someone who is normally pleasant and joyful is rude to me or ignores me. I feel lost when someone refuses to communicate with me or storms off in a huff. When I’m happy, I’m over the moon – seriously I get quite euphoric about the smallest things. When I’m sad I’m totally down in the dumps and disproportionately possessive. Whatever happens to me and around me arouses emotion and usually quite extreme emotion. It’s part of my being and who I am.

2. easily affected by emotions: being by nature easily affected by or quick to express emotions

Absolutely, if someone is nice to me I feel a warm and fuzzy glow it can sustain my psyche for days. If I'm ignored I feel rejected, if I think I've offended I'm remorseful. If someone else is in dire straights or suffering, my heart goes out to them whether I know them or not. If someone close or remote is in pain, I feel for them. If they’re experiencing wonderful things, I try to share their jubilation and excitement. I feel physically sick if there’s discord in any of my relationships, I can’t eat and I can’t sleep, I have this churning pit in my stomach if I think I've upset anyone. Yes, I’m very easily affected by emotions . . mine and those of others.

4. stirring emotions: arousing or affecting the emotions
I’m easily stirred by the sound of bagpipes (don’t ask), the raising of a flag, a gold medal ceremony, a wedding, a graduation, beautiful scenery, the death of an animal (except rats) or when someone unexpectedly does something selfless and completely nice to me I am overwhelmed with joy. Not to the point of tearyness. I don’t cry when I’m emotional generally, tears are saved for moments of abject anger and frustration. But yes, there are events, incidents and memories that significantly stir and affect my emotions on a daily basis. I think that’s pretty normal.

5. inspired by emotion: inspired or governed by emotion, and not by reason or willpower
Instead of listening to the internal voice of reason – it had been reduced to a whisper on Monday night – my heart ruled my head and I went off on all cylinders with an emotional tyrade. Reason was relegated to the back room and I ended up in a tizz.

Frankly I take things way too personally, relationships far too seriously, and I read meaning into random and casual encounters, my heart rules my head and my mouth runs off on its own! The fingers on the keyboard aren’t bad at doing that either!

Ah . . . but it’s better than the alternative . . if I seem ‘over attentive’ (I prefer it to clingy) . . it means you’re one of the few who know me really well and get a glimpse of what many cannot see. Annoying? Definitely. Endearing? Maybe . . .Part of my psychological make-up? Absolutely!

Anyway, me and my anti-clingy friend will be alright I hope. I just have to remember to put my emotions in a box and tie it up and lock it away if our friendship is to continue. Restraint has never been one of my strong points.

Crank it up punters! This is what my head looks like today!

Thank God its Friday

Because tomorrow, I'll know what to do . . . .

Have a wonderful weekend punters. And big hugs for Rattie Mattie who is my new best friend, my secret crush and the best Level 2 Support Person next to Kahlerisms, I have EVA not met! Although I've met Kahlerisms and he's very nice as well as capable and lives in a little green house with Brethred and their two cats . . . . but I digress.

Happy weekend to all of you who have been so supportive in person, email or the blog this week and wished both Clare and I all the best. I'm feeling much more relaxed and you were all right, it was the build-up to leaving not the actual departure that made me sad. I'm feeling much more together today and I've already had an email from Chile so it's all good. It's been a strange week and I've only actually worked for three days owing to the Public Holiday and having Thursday off so next week it's nose to the grindstone in earnest, I have so much to achieve.

Thanks BabySis for the reality check and DrummerBoy for being a brick. And of course all the rest of you who have been very sweet and full of good advice and best wishes for our travelling friend. If she shows up at yours, give her a couch! I'm very lucky to have such a select yet diverse group of commenters who seem to have an affection for this drivel and the person who slaps it down each day. I appreciate you too.

And some food for thought, don't believe all you see on TV broaden your minds, increase your knowledge and try to walk a mile in someone elses shoes (sometimes they're sparkly and if you click the heels together they'll take you to amazing places)

"There are two things which cannot be attacked in front: ignorance and narrow-mindedness. They can only be shaken by the simple development of the contrary qualities. They will not bear discussion"

Dalai Llama

"Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live"

Oscar Wilde

"Criticism of attempts to broaden intellectual, social, political and spiritual horizons come from people who cannot see past their own agenda!" (I made some of that up . . .)

Be nice to each other

Oh I'm Just an Old Judgemental Extrovert!

According to the Myers Briggs scale of things, I'm incredibly rare. . . part of only 3% of the population so I'm feeling quite special today. Thanks to Emporer Ropi for the link (I love this quiz stuff).

I've been psychometrically tested many times, usually for various employment opportunities, and each time they come up trumps. That's when I answer honestly of course. The thing is, I've even tried to cook the books so to say and they still come up with the same stuff. So, apparently, I'm an ENFJ . . . we are externally focused, introspective, altruistic, positive and have excellent people skills. We place utmost importance on helping others grow. We are warm and have a natural desire to be supportive and encouraging. Being charismatic and possessing excellent language skills, we do well in leadership roles. ENFJs strive to enhance the lives of their human brethren.

We are the benevolent 'pedagogues' of humanity. We have tremendous charisma by which many are drawn into their nurturant tutelage (ooh sounds like something JD would say!) and/or grand schemes. Many of us have tremendous power to manipulate others with their phenomenal interpersonal skills and unique salesmanship (umm that could be a bad thing right?)

ENFJs are people-focused individuals. We live in the world of people possibilities. We understand and care about people, and have a special talent for bringing out the best in others. Apparently, our main interest in life is giving love, support, and a good time to other people. We're focused on understanding, supporting, and encouraging others. We make things happen for people, and get our best personal satisfaction from this.

Success for us, and this is particularly true in my case, comes through involvement in the process of making things happen and through finding that our efforts on behalf of others have fulfilled our own lives as well.

We also focus on how organizations should treat people and communicate these values to others. We enjoy leading and facilitating teams, (aka being the boss) and like to bring matters to mutually beneficial conclusions.

In short: A mentoring, altruistic, easily hurt, religious, neat, content, positive, affectionate, image conscious, bossy biatch with absolutely no attention to detail (I've just realised that Blogger has a friggin' spell checker!) and little patience for fools.

As for multiple intelligences, I'm a lazy, un-musical, linguistically challenged yet a personable, visual naturalist! I can live with that. Now tell me something I don't know . . .

Take the Test

And You Thought You Had a Year to Recover?

So the festivities are all over then? Shit no . . . there's one more before Easter and that's on the 26 January - arguably in the middle of one of the hottest month's of the year . . it's Australia day! The idea is to celebrate the British establishment of a penal colony at Botany Bay but many regard it as a shameful day of invasion and exploitation. More about that in another post. Today, the sun is shining, the world is at peace and everyone's nursing their New Year's Eve hangovers so here are some useful facts, hints and tips, should you choose to venture down under for Australia Day celebrations, which I might add, are well worth the trip!











Whatever you do, never, never, never wear one of these
Or be caught alive in a pair of these:

More travel tips available on request including Barbie Ettiquette, How to Treat a Sheila, Footy Tips and how to avoid Drop Bears.

It is 2008

Happy New Year everyone!

Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Duit
Voorspoedige nuwe jaar
Feliz año nuevo
Blwyddyn Newydd Dda
Kia orana e kia manuia rava i teia kiritimeti e te mataiti ou
A blithe Yule an a Guid New Year
Boldog uj evet
Среќен Божик и среќна Нова година (thought yo might like that one Damian!)

Now, back to my Bailey's on ice! Cheers!

C'mon Everybody Get Wrapping

This Christmas' colour theme is quite obviously - red and gold!

Jack McMad has left his run a little late. Now he's faced with the fine art of gift wrapping for Lady McMad and it's causing a conundrum. So, if you don't have your presents yet . . get cracking. Here are some 'hot tips' on wrapping for morons (read men) who traditionally have as much success wrapping gifts as they do finding a matching pair of socks under their very noses. And before you get your grundies in a twist, this is not a sexist statement - it's entirely factual:

1. Buy jewellery - the jeweller will wrap it for you in a pretty little gift box and we all know what you get when you give a woman jewellery fellas? If you don't, I'm not going to tell you
   
   
2. Buy the gift in a large shopping centre where they offer 'free giftwrapping' at the information counter. Yes, that means you have to do what the rest of us do and drive to the multi level car park, exact road rage on the person who pinches the first space after you've been stalking it's previous inhabitant for half an hour, venture into the mall and actually find a shop that offers a suitable gift. If you spend a set amount within the centre, just present your receipts and two pretty nubile nymphettes will wrap your present for you, smile at you and if you're lucky, provide a glimpse of cleavage from their scanty Santa's Little Helper's wraparound tops.
   
   
3. Buy a gift bag. Make sure it's big enough for your present and has a Christmas theme. Receiving a Christmas gift in a Birthday bag for a five year old (unless you are five) is not cool and it looks like you've recycled which is cheap and tasteless. Whack in the gift, stuff a bit of tisue paper on the top and you're home and hosed.
   
   
4. Buy a voucher/gift card. Any sort of voucher but don't be cheap $10 at the local supermarket is not a Christmas gift. Ramp it up a bit to a $50 or $100 gift voucher for Coles Myer, David Jones or a specialty store where you know she likes to shop. This could be any Jewellery store or Day Spa vouchers for manicures, pedicures, facials and massages. For Pete's sake, don't give her a voucher for Bunnings or the Electronics Boutique unless you know she's a geeky gardener!
   
   
5. Call your mum and ask her to come round in a hurry and wrap it for you but that's lame ass and your significant other will certainly know that the mother in law has had a hand in the wrapping. Plus the mother in law will want to make sure that the significant other KNOWS she had a hand in the wrapping.
   
   
6. The total act of desperation - buy a Christmas card and write "Your Present this year is a weekend in a luxury hotel of your choice and at a time of your choosing". Then she does the hard work and you just flash the credit card when the time comes!

Um just make sure there's no Christmas Beetle crawling on the card when you use it!
This one checked out my number while I was doing some online shopping!

Friday Frippery

I have been in battle with a smartass from a fund manager all day
I have $1.92 in the bank
It is raining very hard and has been all week
Crispy isn't happy cos his KISS cover band is changing lineup
Daz is incommunicado or in love, I've yet to ascertain which
Brian is having a long weekend and drinking Vodka
JD is off with the pixies
Grandad is tearing the health system apart
AV is waxing lyrical in her darkroom
DrummerBoy will be Drumming
ClareBear will be partying
Thommo has her day off
TheBoss has gone on a golfing holiday
K8 is playing nursmaid and cleaning windows
Kate is probably knitting and nursing a migraine
Nonny will be up to high jinks
Anonymous will be taking pics
Terrence is probably tipping cows
Wordnerd will be watching the game
Ian preparing his sermon
Ryan is counting down the days till he gets his shiny new 'ute'
TheBenchwarmer will be drinking coffee, lamenting lost love and smoking too much . . .
If I left anyone out, I'm sorry . . .

So to the rest of my bloggy friends . . . . . . . have a lovely weekend wherever you are. It's all good . . COS IT'S TIME TO GO HOME . . . .

And here's a little Aussie band with a song that I like, I just wish I was young enough to go to their concerts without looking conspicuous - Gyroscope with 'Snakeskin' - not quite what someone my age should enjoy . . .but then, I'm a little different.

I Am a Time Lord Baby!

Johnny Dodge has long finished his dinner by the time I’m thinking of knocking off work. Shifty’s snuggled the snugglepot into the cot. South Africa aint that far away from Perth but it’s still yesterday there and Vanilla is plotting her latest novel . . . Pennsylvania is 16 hours behind and just getting home from work when I’m planning lunch.

So just how do time zones work? It’s all about longitude. Think of the earth as a segmented orange, you’re holding the orange so that the segments run from top to bottom. The navel where the orange was attached to the tree in your forefinger, the base of the orange in your thumb. Rotate the orange from left to right, east to west. That’s the effect of timezones.

It seems crazy I know that with daylight saving time, we’re two hours behind New Zealand (bastards get the news first) 16 hours in front of the Eastern US states, 10 hours in front of Western Europe and 9 hours in front of South Africa. Weird, you bet, but there’s something kind of sweet in knowing that while Absolute Vanilla is having breakfast in Capetown, Brianf is finishing his late night Vodka and Water and lamenting the latest baseball loss. Kate has just put down her knitting. Jefferson Davis is posting his last pic and poem and getting ready for bed in the US of A and I’m in me jimmy jams and about start the day. Daz is finishing his last game of Halo for the night. Grandad’s sipping his last drop of cocoa and disposing of the day’s evidence just as I’m cranking up the leaf blower. Grannymar is dusting the bedroom for stray spiders before hitting the pillow. Nonny’s . . .well she’s either being thrown out of a pub or making sure she’s still in possession of her knickers and K8 is away in the land of Nod . . . Anonymous has been up since sparrows fart for obvious reasons. ClareBear and Drummer Boy have just arrived home . . Damian is driving to Melbourne for coffee because . . .well that’s actually got nothing to do with time, that’s just him, apparently it’s worth a ten hour drive to find a decent Barista.

Pretty cool . . . reminds us that we’re in a global village and somehow tenuously clinging to a spinning sphere. And if that doesn’t blow you away, if I flew to New York today, I’d arrive two hours before I left. Yes! Yes! Yes! . . I am a Time Lord! Crank it baby!

Easy out . . World Clocks on your Google Home Page!

Less is More

Not much time tonight, it's been ballistic and I've just got time to do something between demi glazing onions and adding Thai curry Paste:

Absolute Vanilla: (and whatever that chook is called). Chin up, get well the flu sux. Hugs all round
B3N: Where are you? Given up blogging?
Kate: Nice to have you visiting but where on earth did you get the time to write such a huge list! Maybe that's something I should do on Tuesday evenings
ClareBear: Nice start to a blog . . .even if it is a bit premature . . . Do they have internet cafes in Equador?
Grannymar: What would I do without you. . . I hope the walls aren't talking back and I'll listen to the Podcasts on Saturday.
Grandad: Glad you found your brain . . Guess what . . last night they had a doco on the Rose of Tralee. Apparently last year was won by a Queenslander and this year by an American . . .time to get your gun out.
Wordnerd: Whatever you do DON'T agree if Miss Priss asks you to match every dollar she saves to buy a pony . . . trust me, I'm really over this lunchtime feeding biz.
Jefferson Davis: Where are the kilos of craic? You have a 'parlour' how quaint. Can I come into it sometime my little spider?
K8: Please come over and clean my windows. I promise I'll put all the huntsmen in a jar and mail them to Daz and double spray the doggy snot with Windex
Kahlerisms: You've got 24 hours to change your mind . . .otherwise, your couch is mine *evil laughter*
Johnny Dodge: You play that trick again and, and, and . . .I'll fall off my chair laughing. I had no idea who it was for about 30 seconds until you snickered. Oh for and everyone else "John is Cool"
Nonny Mouse: Love yer work. Keep yer knickers on.
Brianf: Glad you're feeling better, get some fresh air, eat your greens and stay away from that rich food . . oh and pumpkin isn't just for pigs
Benchwarmer: Update your blog! And I think it's your shout for lunch
Daz: I'll stay up till 10:30 just in case. If I was your Digs Mummy I'd make nice lunches for you and a thermos full of caffeine.
Thommo: You'd better be available for lunch on Friday, I have so much venting about TMAPITW!
Merry Widow: Thanks for the email and I'm glad you're having a blast. L- o-o-o-n-g Lunch on the 12th! Although Ocean One has been bought by the Tandoori Sizzler so the seafood platter might be doused in cardomon.

Oh and thanks to all of you for your thoughtful, funny, entertaining, heartfelt and rude comments. I wake at about 6.00am and log in to check out comments and take a peek at your blogs. You get me going in the morning. *Bless*

Foot In Blog Disease

Keeping it real 'ish on email and blogs is pretty difficult. Things can be misinterpreted, humour can be misgauged as sarcasm and caustic humour considered as rudeness. It's a real trick to get your personality across without voice or expression don't you think? That's also why I like talking to some of my bloggy pals on Skype, at least a little vocal intonation gives the game away. I don't take too much time over my posts . . . I work full time, raise two kids and do all the things that working mums do . . .and especially at the moment trying to fatten up the old fella, time is at a premium. I type pretty much in the same way I speak. I'm a fast typist so the verbosity just pours onto the page as the words form in my brain probably much quicker than I could ever say them - hence my restrictive vocabulary. Occasionally the words bypass my brain altogether and I just talk shit. (I can say that . . .you can't) Then again, sometimes I pour over the draft and edit it so that I'm sure that my message is understood, particularly if it's more than a blithering but most times, I just rant, joke, reminisce and vent and sometimes, just sometimes, it turns into something worth reading or hanging on to for my littlun's to read long after I've fed the worms - I hope. Although sometimes albeit rarely, I realise that what I've written isn't quite what I've meant, other times someone tells me what I've written isn't quite what I meant.

Not so long ago, I did the unthinkable and sent an email about someone to them. It was serious stuff and almost cost me my job . . .the only saving grace was that the remarks, whilst disparaging were absolutely true. Phew a close call.

I'm not overly guarded on the blog, but I'm very keen not to offend anyone. I don't delete comments unless they are derogatory to someone I know or another commenter. Say whatever you like about me, I have thick skin unless you go for the jugular and if you do, you'll know about it.

So for the record if you're referred to as a bugger, bastard, git, slut, boofhead, paduan, youngling, ratbag, redneck, twit, ginger, redhead, bluey, wingnut, ankle biter, bloke, dag or a dill . . . I really like you. Even if you come in as a drongo, dipshit, dipstick, jumped up moron old fella or a mongrel . . .I'm not really having a serious go. If I call you a racist, extremist, biggot or patronising asshole . . .then I'm probably not too happy with you but I will never call you a 'C'.

The long and the short of it, apologies to anyone I've stuck it to unintentionally. I will be more sensitive to transcultural interpretations of what I consider to be gentle pokes. Hey, I'm well known for foot-in-mouth-disease so what's so different about a blog. What you read is what you get. I do however, reserve the right to insult Il Diablo . . . but I don't think he'll mind . . . he doesn't read my blog!

Three Americans, Two Irishmen and an Australian walked into a bar . . .

Jefferson Davis (and yes that's one of his real names) has a podcast. He's a poetic and creative, sensitive southern American (thats southern states not the hersute Colombian type). He says 'Yes maam" and "How are you sir" then goes and beats the shit out of some interloper because they insulted his girlf. But don't be misled by his politeness, he has opinions - strong ones and get those hackles up and he'll reveal all. He's had a podcast for a long time. Long before I joined the Blogosphere. He and a ratbag redneck gunslinger IT geek with a heart full of mush and a mind full of opinions started it ages ago. They roped in a 19 year old angry Irish lad with an intellect and humour that still surprises and thrills me on a daily basis and then a mature gentleman with a penchant for shooting tourists or directing hikers towards the bog who also has a soft accent, a popular blog, and a droll sense of humour that renders me giggling in the early hours. Damn this time difference. I shouldn't be laughing at 6.00am.

There's another participant that I don't know at all well, he says little but is a close relative of JD's and I think he takes it all in . . . maybe waiting for the right moment to make a poignant point or maybe we just don't talk enough about cars. I think he'll make his presence known over time . . .

So as a newcomer and guest participant with this motley crew, I have found myself as part of the once-known Jefferson Davis Podcast. (Damn you Johnny Dodge for linking me) Soon to be renamed and relocated Kilos of Craic. Now my point? Well the new site, as yet unadvertised has a great name. Kilos of Craic (sometimes its measured in milligrams but when you get a kilo of it . . well worth the wait) and on a good night it is indeed funny, elucidating and informative. On a bad day, it's a bunch of cross-continental idiots talking complete crap . . . and saying "Are you there? Are you still here? Have you gone offline?" Even that can be funny if one of us smashes a champagne glass or brings up an hilarious reminiscence.

My problem, the tagline for the site. Ok we all voted and love Kilos of Craic but . . . it needs an erudite description of exactly what the thing is about . . .the trans-oceanic ramblings of time challenged lunatics? An old git, a young git, an upside down git and a few American gits who just don't git it? So . . . . sorry Jefferson but . . we need a tag that's gonna really reel em in . . . or more importantly make us laugh 'cos basically I don't give a shit who listens . . I just have fun doing it . . . so here's a synopsis on the participants for those who haven't heard it:

Baino: Rants blithery about things antipodean, insults Americans and smashes glasses because the time difference means she's pissed when they record late on a Saturday night Aussie time.
JD: The ultimate adjudicator, owner of the Podcast, recorder and editor who manages to make a silk purse out of a sows ear
Dr Don: Who knows? Southern relative of Mr Davis that says little but takes it all in. I have a feeling he'll be more involved over time.
Brianf: Can talk the leg off a chair, talk under water - but always has something reminiscent, patriotic or policitically challenging that can set the agenda (and a heartful of mush for a gunslinger)
Grandad: Softly spoken Wicklow type, erudite, cutting edge and sometimes just plain silly with the best cooked breakfast description I've ever heard . . .
Daz: Used to be angry until he got back on the Rugby team . . .now he's just plain boofhead, impetuous, intelligent, incomprehensible (due to his total reluctance to buy a decent microphone) and impatient . . .if it doesn't happen when it's supposed to . . . he's got better things to do than play with us c**ts (his words not mine).

So . . the new podcast has been recorded but not yet posted. Apologies JD but I think we need some creative input. I'm an itinerant. If there are more than five, I'll take a back seat but . . . we need a tag line that reflects the ramblings, twitterings, warblings and wankings that make us smile (and hopefully some of you) each time we post. Any suggestions?

Kilos of Craic - . . . . . . . . . . .(complete the sentence)

Arky Rocks

This one's for Crispy, Arkenstone, Kahlerisms, . . . I met this kid through a helpdesk. He supported the industry software that we once used for our financial planning, VisiPlan. He was serious, helpful, followed-through . . .the sort of person you could rely on to resolve your problems which in my case were often banal . . three times and you're out with passwords or just not reading the latest release notes.

We started chatting along with problem solving. Then sending funny emails. Then every Friday I had to do a backup which rendered all software on my PC useless other than MSN. He was on the Helldesk and we began chatting. We share a love of Star Wars, Blues Brothers, Clerks and I had to set him straight on a couple of occasions on Metallica. We have a lot of differences. He's a geek. Totally. Has his own web server, chats with fellow ancient Mercedes owners, is or was a World of Warcraft gamer . . makes multi-layered jelly with pineapple chunks. But for some obscure reasons we became the first . . yes the very first . . online friends - from my side anyway! Long before blogging or Skype or Facebook.

Last year, he was working in Sydney training other geeks and made the brave move of coming over for dinner to meet. He's lovely. After the first uncomfortable hug and 'would you like a beer' we sat for hours, drinking, talking, eating prawns. He showed off his camera and expounded his love of KISS and Sci-Fi. He asked the hard emotional questions and by the time his taxi came, the night had seemed all too short.

He's going through some tough times with family illness but tonight, the night of a spectacular lunar eclipse, I spoke to him, and the girl that loves him and we had a really nice time negotiating through MSN, Skype and finally a call between quick sojourns outside to look at the tangerine coloured moon.

Yep it was ecliptical in more ways than one. I really, really like this kid. We've kept in touch over 3 years now that's longeivity for a 25 year old. He's somber, unemotional, technical, brave, sometimes dark, often jovial in a geeky kind of way but when there's a crisis of family, love, work, he talks to me. He's a good boy. Good morals, well educated, sweet and he has a lovely girlfriend who I also 'met' via licensing of industry software but spoke to for the first time tonight. Chris, you are special and I'm very lucky to have met you. I wish you well and you're in for some rough times ahead. I hope I can be the friend you have when you're not having a friend and that we can meet up again occasionally because you have something endearing about you and we share an affection for Star Wars, even in Lego form (although I can't claim to being the constructor of Darth Vader, that honour goes to Drummer Boy), Mac computers, cats and getting pissed! He's a talented photographer, she's a fabulous portraitist (althoug I suspect she doesn't really know how good she is) and thankfully, they live in Melbourne so occasional meetings are not off the cards. Good luck to you kiddos and keep in touch. It has been my pleasure to have 'met' you both. And you know, for a moment, it was really nice to know that you were looking at the same orange eclipse as me! Far away as we are, this weird event connected us. (Ok I'm going to collapse in a romantic pool of green cheese right now)

Orange moon, you saw me standing alone . . withought a love of my own .. .

Accentuate the Positive and Never Mind the Sausage

A recent book published outlines all the things that really annoy us. You know men leaving the toilet seat up, burnt toast crumbs in the butter, dishes left in the sink, milk bottle left out on the bench, the bed unmade, grinding teeth, women using his razor to shave their legs. I’m sure we’ve all got our lists and we should revisit them another time.

But today, I’m feeling pretty happy and thought I’d focus on the positive. It’s not super news and it’s not sensational so probably will bore you to bits but I thought I’d post on things/attributes I really like in people and also things that I really like after all, this is all about me right?

Qualities that I really love in others include:

• Demonstrabe and genuine interest
• Consistency with just the odd surprise thrown in
• Politeness
• Diversity
• An ability to follow through
• Intelligence
• Empathy
• Respectfullness
• Egalitarianism
• Total honesty and most importantly . . .
• Humour.

I’ve always subscribed to the ‘treat others as you would be treated’ dictum and think it’s a pretty fair way to approach the human race. If anything, it’s one of the creeds I live by the most. I’m hopeful that I treat others, both real and virtual with the same qualities listed above regardless of their sex, age, location or funny little quirks.

And on another note . . . because I have a number of youngling friends real and virtual, I want to set the record straight - my age does not define me darlings any more than youth is wasted on each of you . . .

The Benchwarmer (Age 22) “You’re a cranky ol mama with something interesting to say and stop looking at me with those disapproving eyes!”
(I am not cranky! I’m Grumpy there’s a very subtle difference)

Kahlerisms (Age 25) “You’re one of my favourite old people”.
Fwoooaaaarrrr, Heh, Meh, :P - at least I'm active on my blog!

Daz (Age 19): “I can’t believe I’m talking to someone who’s 50 . . . ”
Aww . . c’mon kid . . . close your eyes I sound like I'm 20

Ocky (Age 21) “Oooh Helen, you’d get on so well with my girlfriend’s mother, she’s a whacky old bird too”
Thank you Dan, I feel so much better knowing I'm part of a madwomen's circle.

DrummerBoy (Age 20) “You’re driving like a geriatric doing 40 in a 70 zone!” . .
I am not, I'm just on auto pilot, it's usually peakhour when I drive down this street . . .

So here goes, next time you think of us mature ladies as over-the-hill, think about what we have to offer

• We won't wake you in the middle of the night and askwhat you're thinking?
• We won't put pressure on you to marry us and start a family
• If we don't want to watch the footy, we'll find something else to do that's more interesting
• We don't yell anymore, we've worked out more sinister ways of getting our own back. Of course, if you deserve a repremand, we'll deny priviledges and shoot you if we can get away with it
• We are more generous with praise often undeserved because we know what it's like to be unappreciated
• We are psychic and know what you've been up to whether it's a quick one at the pub or a serious affair.
• We have endless patience with the sad, the lonely, the lovelorn, the boring and the demented . . . especially those of us who have raised children!
• Once you get past a wrinkle or two and the fact that everything is heading south, we're more sexy and far more experienced than our younger counterparts.
• We're forthright and honest whether you like it or not, we'll tell you when you're being a jerk so you will always know where you stand.
• We don't get embarrassed standing next to you if you look like a bucket of smashed crabs - we can see beyond the exterior

Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. The world is full of paunchy relics making fools of themselves with some 22-year old. They're the sort that say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" But my sweet things, the worm is turning . . . these days we old battleaxes are realising that it's not worth buying the entire piggy just to get a little sausage!

Go the olds!
(I'm not quite that old yet mind you)

Dissolvey Bits

Dodgy post tonight.

Work has been hectic and everyone's got the flu except the healthy smoker. TheBoss and Sgt Bilko are having major disagreements about how to run the business so I'm the peacekeeper extraordinaire, the Henry Kissinger of the workplace, it's like standing between Stalin and Kennedy and not speaking either of their languages.

My perfume arrived. $173 dollar's worth. Calvin Klein Escape, Eternity and Rochas Byzance. I will smell like a tart's boudoir tomorrow. It arrived in a box packed with those little wormy foamy things but they are GREAT. They dissolve in hot water so you just run the tap (don't tell the water board) and sloosh em down the sink. Incredible. Simple things, simple minds and all that!

I did a podcast on the weekend. I was the only one in a timezone where drinking was acceptible due to the lateness of the hour, when everyone else was eating brekky and I turned into a gasbagging banshee and broke my fave champagne glass. Apologies to fellow podcasters who fought to get a word in edgeways, it's not typical of my future behaviour. Now that's optimism for you, they probably won't ask me back!

DrummerBoy has discovered the purity that is good quality coffee. He's working at the Tutti Fruitti Rose Farm and Orchard and they have a cafe with Cappuccinos to die for. Now he's criticising my Lavazza because it isn't smooth enough . . .everyone's a barista these days.

ThePrincess has taken to doing runners on a regular basis and eating building apprentices lunches. The electric fence is proving a nil deterrent and I think her collar is broken, she gets a beep and a little buz but the good old thwack that is designed to keep her confined to five acres is just not being delivered. It's a great way to meet good looking leathery young men in shorts and singlets who take pity on her, ring me at work and I have to run off to pick her up or better still, they pop round and drop her home. I've become quite close to Mick, Tom and Sledge who insisted on refusing to allow me to buy them a BLT to replace their stolen googgy egg sarnies. She is now relegated to the dog run and literally in the dog house so to speak. I now have the numbers of five decent blokes in my mobile. *evil laughter*

I've given up watching LOST it has a new timeslot of 10:30, what a waste of three seasons. I never knew what was going on anyway. Ah well, time for my latest bout of eye candy, Big Brother's on . .such is the life of the everyday housewife, mother, worker, cook, washerwoman, financier and dog catcher.

Caio:)

Another One Bites the Dust

I'm very emotional at the momen about someone I’ve, 'known' only for three months but have come to like very much yet we've never met. Daz has called it quits. He’s not podcasting, he’s not blogging he’s leaving the virtual world and it’s virtual charms in a wave of beration. He has spat his virtual dummy, packed his virtual kit and his typical 'fuck'em' attitude and like Pinocchio is dedicating life from hereonafter to becoming a real boy. I’ll miss the little tyke. He was funny, intelligent, disrespectful . . .and one of the first to begin commenting on my humble efforts. Thanks Daz, I appreciated it very much. He said what he thought and rarely thought about what he said until after he'd said it. . . .I think. Nevertheless, virtual life is a little less exciting for his passing out. Vale Hospital Daze and Dario Sanchez's Angry Dome. Good luck kiddo . . . send me an email now and then because I’m not an avatar and I don’t live in Second Life . . and I need to know where you are so I can shout you a Sambuca when we finally meet!

. . .So what does one do when feeling depressed and emotional. Go to the movies of course!. No chick flicks for this little black duck, no pretentious English Drama or predictable American thriller . . . I’m going with Speilberg - Transformers here I come!

I Am a Very Angry Person

On something more serious now. I have been blog browsing. Mainly through links twice removed from blogs I know and I have discovered a disturbing trend 'some' and I reiterate 'some' writer's blogs have filled me with umm . . . petulance. I was on one blog, can't remember whose but the comments were all 'would be' writers talking about their creative bent and stroking each other's massive egos. The basic conversation was "well we're creative so we're not normal. Normal is boring . . ." or "I don't believe in putting people into boxes . . .we're creative so we don't fit into one". Hello . . you just did! Imagine the absolute narcissism of actually acknowledging that you are a 'creative' person and then having the gaul to create your own little creative 'box' and deny that you are actually able to be categorised. Fuckwits. Now you know I'm cross!

The bottom line was a bunch of creative (so they say) wannabe's deciding that their 'box' was different to everyone elses. They were outside the square, different, off the wall, creative. Fuck me stupid! Now I'm sorry but good literature has often come from the most normal of sources. Vicar's daughters, lonely moorland dwellers, alchoholics, University drop outs, middle class normal kids with little else to fill their time, travellers, mums who couldn't get their kids to sleep . . psychopaths and sociopath's. Not one of these 'sources' of great literature ever thought of themselves as 'creative'. What absolute arrogance to stand up in front of a crowd and declare "I am creative". Please stop using this silly word. Creative is thinking of a solution beyond the norm, in science, literature, medicine, astronomy, cooking - whatever! I was very creative the other night. I learned how to make a white tiger outfit using a borrowed computerised sewing machine. But as usual . . I digress.

What happened to humility. I don't stand up in front of a crowd and say "I'm a fucking fantastic mother!" or "I am a superior user of MS word" so why, if you think you have a slightly artistic bent do you need to annoucne to the the world that you are 'creative'. Creativity is bestowed, like respect, it's earned not declared. Some of you have 'talent' but I'm sorry, many of you are complete egomanical wankers (and I think I was being creative in my use of that word.)

In defense of those I truly admire as potential writers, I love your work and you know who you are. But I have to say , the most creative amongst you are also the most humble. Normal is not a dirty word and normal and creative are not mutually exclusive. Stay humble, keep writing, get published, then I'll take notice.

Post Script: take a look at some really creative blogs. The ones that make your heart pump, you're tears well, your cockles warm and your inner child giggle. I thought briefly of linking some in here but then . . there are too many and most don't even know I visit their sites. I'm putting a vote up here for normal writers, those who have narrative, humour, a good command of the English language and a connection with their readers. Don't tell me JK Rawlins writes shite. She is much loved by millions. Don't tell me Stephen King is a nutter because I don't care, his books are captivating and if I hear one more more pompous ass tell me that the DaVinci Code is fiction I'll fucking stufff a dead dingo up his arse. I know it's fiction but it was a great read! Come into the real word you pretentious pricks and either decide to be nobodies on the blogosphere or write something that people want to read. Jane Austin was lonely, the Bronte's isolated, Johnathon Swift could not spell, Dickens and Steinbeck were journalists . . . none of them pretentious 'creatives' but all of them brilliant writers.

Here endeth the first lesson. Phew. I feel so much better now. Wanna fight . . . get you're dukes up!