%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  City to Aussie outback without a learner's manual - a ute and dogs blog |
| Little Red Writing's blog - from City to outback Australia |
| Good moaning ... second coffee and I'm beginning to function. One more and I could be dangerously inclined to do some work. Another long drive yesterday to the Big Smoke city for a meeting - then the long drive home. I don't know why but the drive always seems longer on the way back. Today, I opened my WDC email to find some lovely comments. I am still staggered by the kindness of people. I feel humbled by the whole WDC thing - there are some amazing writers, editors and poets in here and they stop their publishable work for a while to call by my little blog and say hello. How amazing is that? It has been raining - thank goodness. We need rain. Our white Maltese puppies are now covered in mud. They looked dingo-like with their mudded coats plastered to their whippet like skins. New husband who isn't domestically inclined, as you gathered from my blogs, still likes cleanliness and order. However, cleaning to him is to ensure a dust free line of sight to the big screen TV. His idea of order is that the remote controls are all lined up. This practice, he tells me, ensures his favourite sports team wins what ever match he watches. Personally, I think either the Aliens finally probed him or it's just an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder thingy. I digress. We keep the puppies in the laundry. I use a wooden baby gate to keep them there but so they can see us in the kitchen. This morning at 5.15am, they were both hanging over the baby gate covered in mud. They were wet, bedraggled and earthy. New husband walked past and stopped as they excitedly tried to get his attention. He thoughtfully looked at their muddy faces over his wire glasses. I asked him what was wrong and after a few minutes he said "Red, should we return them and get chocolate coloured ones?" " Whhaaaaat?" I gasped ready to hide them till he came to his senses. " Well," he reasoned, "the white ones show the dirt too much." "NO, NO, we cannot." I was emphatic as I whacked him with a rolled up newspaper. We didn't return our respective children because they were messy and we won't be returning our two puppy boys. He scurried off to get ready for work. Really! humpf! Till next time, keep dry and sane. Cheers Red |
| Being on a quest to be more involved in life - something left of centre, something straight out of the sewing box, I joined a local doll making class. I know, I'm hardly the doll making type but I like to keep my psyche on its toes. Cheaper than therapy. I rocked up to the class to find there were two of us. After 15 minutes the other person left. Seems she had phobia issues and completed stuffing her doll in the privacy of her own home. I told the dollmaker I wasn't interested in making one of those poe-faced flat country dolls with the lacey aprons. I wanted something with a bit of attitude. If alive it would be wise, be able to recite the Rubyiat down the pub and, of course, drive a ute... not too much to ask, huh? She raised her painted eyebrows and said 'Each doll gains a personality as it is created.' Righty-oh. I stuffed and prodded my doll with the wrong end of a pudding stick till he had the strength of character of any human I'd known. Having grown up with the right end of a pudding stick, I know how character building it can be in the hands of a flava bean lover. I digress. Perfection is a hard ask but Harry is the result. He's a white haired, sculptered doll with wrinkles, screwed up nose and many imperfections. His hair is white wisps of uncarded angora and his red velvet hat is scrunched and secured into wise calico head. His half lidded beady eyes follow me from his pride of place in my office. When I have a question, his eyes say it all. I swear, sometimes, they roll up into his lids. Shhhessh, everyone's a critic. |
| It's not often it rains here. The terrain is a brittle brown and the earth cracks with thirst. Yesterday it pelted down, literally out of the blue. As suddenly as it came it, went but the dark clouds still hang high. I'm normally not a slow learner, but I now know that if the rain soaks the garden, I can weed it easily. Today, that's my mission. I'll turn the soil in the front garden and stop the young neighbours from hanging over the fence thinking I'm growing something illegal in between the bushes. Although, luckily, they have been preoccupied with a garden birth. They invited all their friends who bought casks of cardboard plonk and sat around providing a running commentary about the birth. I had a quick look through the fence. Their soft natured loppy black labrador had 12 puppies. I thought she was a festively large dog. Not realising her delicate condition, a few days ago, I'd yelled out "loves her food, huh?" "Nah, she's up the duff" he snorted back. "Oh, kwelllll" I trilled, trying to fit in. I backed off, taking my size 7s out of my mouth before I left, who would be me? Anyway, pitch fork, bucket, gloves, knee pads, insect spray and high heels ready, I'm outta here, man. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
It's okay to feel old. It's not fun to look old.