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 |  City to Aussie outback without a learner's manual - a ute and dogs blog |
| Little Red Writing's blog - from City to outback Australia |
| Lately, my normal morning start about 3.30am. Just the bats are awake. Even the lazy python who lives in the chook hose won’t stir (mental note to relocate him). This morning is special, it’s nearly 7am and nothing is awake demanding food or attention. It’s quiet. Just the hum and snort of hubby’s sinuses. Even the bad tempered parrot is silent in her happy hut. Moments like this, I savour. As I closed my eyes, I thought about the bird cage, must change the paper ... then there is the wash ... must put that on, oh, ... and the watering of the thirsty plants. Must do ... after my sleep in. Maybe, I could sneak out and water ... feed the pups and clean the rubbish while putting the wash on. Yes, then have a ‘sleep in’ moment. Or I could stay up and clean out the pantry of the expired products. A noble task to save the family from an agonising death by expired noodles. My maternal instinct kicked in. WDC people may understand that compulsive need to do everything before allowing themselves the pleasure of writing. I think my avoidance gene is still alive. Going to attend to changing parrot paper then see if the quiet moment is still available before the day kicks in when I will have the mental awareness to check the status of that lazy python. Have a pleasurable writing Sunday. Regards The Red of Quiet Bliss in Small Bytes :) ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Got my hair cut today. I know this doesn't mean much but its a few hours drive to a city hairdresser. It's a treat not to feel like one of the blokes or a young lad at his first job after leaving the local barber. Sitting in the chair wrapped in a black smock I caught a look at myself. When did I get so old? I missed the middle bit where you complain about finding a grey hair ... I have a grey peppered rabbit warren. My hares were not just for Easter. I didn't want to look at the mirror. Even a bit of lipstick wouldn't help. Perhaps a trowel and some poly filler?... the penny dropped. I realised why some women resort to smothering their faces in bum cream - desperation. The taut and terrific is a big sales pull for the gravity ravished. No, I won't, I can't. The Pharmacist would be mortified and my 'problem' butt would be the talk of the town. So, again, I looked into the mirror of broken dreams. Who was this person and where did she come from? A few of you have been on this journey with me in the past few years. It sucks - life moves on leaving the elasticity of youth behind, replacing it with the crabby crown fallen. The hairdresser was a pleasant enough girl. She made the 'ooh' and 'ahh' noises in the right places when I explained I wanted my hair to look like a younger looking Fergie with a bit of Bette Middler thrown in (her earlier years, of course). She said, 'So, you like her music?' 'Bette?' 'No, Fergie'...'Oh, I meant Fergie Duchess of York (I guess she still has a title)'. Wrong era. She snipped away pre-occupied. Why do they ask what haircut you want when they have no intention of doing it. What happened to honesty in snipping? She could have said "Sorry love. You are a middle aged cow who will never look like a film star in your wildest dreams... now how about a nice short back and sides like the other lads?" It must be hard to be pleasant to everyone. I would have loved a chat. Working at home doesn't lend itself to intelligent conversation since my staff are dogs. But she was lost in her own world. Needless to say, my hair got shorter and less feminine. Voila! I emerged from the smock as a young lad from the country - the look I travelled to avoid. Funny old world. When I went home, no one noticed the cut. Even the dogs. It's awful. My belfry's been boyed again. Somewhere inside there is a young bunny. I know even if no one else does. Cheers Grey Red |
| I'm a night time person. Mornings are for the birds and paperboys. It's 10.30am and I've been up since 5am working. Yes, it's not a good look. Even showered, made up and three coffees don't give me that perky, 'I love life' look. Pfffft! Acceptance of my life and my age is slowly happening. I think our minds are younger than our bodies - regardless of the true years. We live in this world that advertises youth. We believe the hype that if we don't have the right sand shoes, we can't bungy jump. I value my retinas. My dear old crazy mum (rest in peace) had a best friend who went bungie jumping for her 85th birthday! True story, I saw the picture - it was the best temporary face lift I'd seen. I was in awe. Then, mum's friend got younger after her controlling husband died. She started to live and do things that 80 year olds ought to reconsider. Driving a huge 4WD, playing golf with 20 year olds, she made up for about 40 years in the blink of an eye. Mum got older and slowly lost her mind. Strange how life can over take you and before you know it, you are being processed along different paths. The sausage factory of destiny. Umm... now I'm hungry. Catch you again soon. The Home Office Rubber Band Bungie Queen Red of Oz ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Good morning, I've been up and working but now it's my break time. Tomato on crackers and a cup of coffee should get me back on track. I'm in avoidence. Work is piling up and I have only so much enthusiasm to go around. I am going to make a list and tackle it disaster at a time. I've talked myself into it. Thanks for the help  Cheers Ms Red from the outback |
| This morning, I was hanging out the washing, half asleep as usual. Normally uneventful - even for me. Through the wooden paling fence I heard swishing through long grass and saw smooth animal markings coming towards me. Startled, I wondered if I'd woken up in Kenya. Through the pailing fence, poked a old red veined nose. One bloodshot eye focused on me. "Red, it's me - your neighbour." It was the widow K in her tiger-skin bathrobe. She really needs to mow that lawn. 'Red, I have a gentleman staying" (...and I should know this, why??) I smiled and said "Honey, that's nice." "Nooo, I mean he is STAYING" (... errr ok) I still had a basket of wet towels and D&Ms at a fence always made me uncomfortable. "I met a man and he's perfect not like the losers in the past ..." I lowered the towel I'd almost pinned and listened. I was pleased for her. "That's so great" She had driven all the neighbours mad in various degrees. Her dogs ran free, she had screaming matches with a family that were culturally different (no real reason but she can sure pick a fight) and she is always stalking someone over a perceived wrong like her her bin being moved or a light bulb missing. I should mention she is 78 and uses a mobile scooter for travel around town. She was raised on the land. Her first husband drown and the second man went after her money. She had, as of last week, her seventh heart attack. I always felt she was on borrowed time. "He's older than me: 84." ".. but age is just a number", she added re-assuringly. " We are both in double numbers, triple is when you get to 100." I followed the logic. "He stays at the local rest home and he is miserable. I've asked him to move in." "That's wonderful, how long have you known each other?" "3 days .. It was love at first sight" she said as she wiped her drippy nose on her sun-faded tiger-skin sleeve. Love doesn't wear bi-focals. "I knew it was right as soon as I met him" She gave me a girly grin and flashed the tops of her dentures, 'He's hot and has his own hair." When she started to bounced saying she never thought love would happen again to her, I found myself a bit jealous. I remember the feeling, the giggly madness. I wanted to feel that again. I wanted to feel like laughing, dancing, and burying my head into a wet towel. I hate the old sensible feather duster I've become ... and I would have to re-wash the towel. "I feel like a teenager again". I knew what she meant. For a few minutes I saw a 17 year old full of hopes and dreams. "In a few years, we are going to sell the house and move down the coast. We're going to live in a caravan park by the sea." " WOW", I said, thinking a caravan park would be difficult for two elderly people. I thought about the comfort and privacy in the home she had over the fence, the accessible toilets, the easy mobility access for their buggies, the comfort and ease... and, of course, the air-conditioning. But this was me. My logical, boring, sensible self who stopped running with the wolves a few years ago to stay put and feed puppies. With passion and spontaneity, nothing is impossible. Dreams, fun and laughter with the passion of love have no "what ifs". She thanked me as she raced off to make breakfast. I thanked her. I had a smile on my face and hope in my heart. Later that morning I saw them head up the street in their scooters, her in the lead. He, a well dressed man in a impecably ironed shirt/ tie and a cream 'going out' hat, chasing after her, as fast as his motor would allow. Both had a spring in their wheels. Yes, I'm quite jealous. Time to hit the hay. Early mark tomorrow. Remember, dribbling in old age isn't always because of ill fitting teeth. Cheers Ms Red |
I woke up old. Not the usual wrinkles in the mirror but webs in the brain. Since I can remember, I've loved the craft of writing but always thought the actual 'doing' was far better coming from someone else. I would be the one woman cheer squad on the sidelines. Go writer go. I would be the editor. My inner critic wouldn't let me be fallible. Perfect or nothing. Life isn't perfect and as I've aged discracefully, I realize this is a truism. How do people do it? How do they not feel the pain of imperfection. I admire the 'this is it - suck it up' attitude... I don't have it. My bucket of half written dreams has a hole. Perhaps some are to be cheer leaders, others to win. I'll have a headache tablet and a good lie down ... this intraspection is messing with my cobwebs. Write on - I'll watch.... today. Ms Web Red ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Living in a small country town can get a little odd when you are from the city. The town has a funeral director who, in the quiet times, works for the local hardware shop. I knew this but never thought much of it. This morning in the hardware shop, in the reflection of a bottle of turpentine, I saw him behind me with his tape measure extended. I'm not an early morning person and, admittedly, I do resemble death warmed up at 9am but I was questioning his marketing. Swinging around full of fake life said "I'm just looking - no need to wait for me"... (now or later). I know business is slow and there is a lot of multi-tasking in this town but I hadn't planned on dying before I chose the paint. I know in any other business we give people top marks for initiative but this was blatant coffin chasing. Perhaps he just thought my butt wouldn't fit and I needed something custom made ...I dunno but, suffice to say, I grabbed the paint and left alive - without a pre-paid plan. Till next time...still living and breathing. Red ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| More rain on its way. The river is already too high and will go over the bridge again. I have calmed down Not so New hubby and tied him to the chair to watch re-runs of "Lost In Space". He is happy. The white pups were chocolate brown after playing outside. I gave them both a bath and they now don't smell like racid, stagnant water. They know the word "bath" and both hid under cushions. Doggie avoidance at its best but I saw their tails. They do everything in pairs and both thought they were safe. I hate being the ogre with the soap but someone has to take charge and turn things around. I was going to ask NSN hubby but I know if I asked him he would answer me with a question like "What would Zackery Smith do?" .. so, 'danger danger..' I thought I'd do it myself. Better get off to bed - it's late here and I just realized the time. Cheers Dozy Red - ready for bed |
| The pups went ballistic this morning. They raced around barking and wanting to play. My head was pounding. I didn't sleep well last night. The weight of the world? probably not. I fell asleep with the TV on. All night I woke watching bits before dozing off again. I then worried whether Oprah and the Roswell aliens would get little Timmy out of the well ... all my TV glimpses had mixed together. Such a conundrum. Result being, this morning I was shattered. I had a headache that could floor an elephant. This didn't stop the pups from doing their frantic two legged dances. They wanted me to know the lawn mower guy was here. They didn't have to tell me, I could hear him. He's a happy soul - a morning person. I knew I would have to face him to pay for the mowing - lying on the floor and hoping he could go away, wouldn't work. I don't look the best in the mornings ... or the afternoons. I'm wake up at night. Too late for the lawn mower man - he always meets Ms Messy. I brushed my hair and put on the lippy but this thrown together shambles was nothing he hadn't seen before. We talked about the weather. It's the most important topic in the outback country - for good reason but I ran out of "umms, yesss, and I knnneewwwws.." So, I stood stoically with my mouth curled tight like a cat's bum, trying to look awe struck. Sigh. Best I could do for a Monday morning. After a headache tablet and a strong cup of black coffee, I'm almost human again. I made a mistake of doing the Oprah real age test on line. Suffice to say, I came in badly. Book me into a retirement village and be done with it. 17 years more than my chronological age! I don't smoke, seldom drink now and gave up chasing young men a decade ago ( I regret some decisions.. ). I hate to think what the score could have been. Now, I have a clean living life (and, remember, clean country weather!) but I've still got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana skin. Sheesh - I need a few vices back. It might give me a few more years. Well, can't gab about nothing all day and better get stuck into my work. I feel I need to get passionate about my work but it's still just work. Now, if I could write, I'd be set. I admire all those people who write. I guess I'm destined to be just a writing groupie... then, I guess, that's not a bad thing either. Watch the skies, there are cloudless days coming soon ... my lawn mower man swears it's true - and he knows these things. Cheers Red |
| Today I discovered the comment part of the blogs below. I didn't realise till now. Sorry to all the lovely people who took the time to leave a comment. Duh. I've given myself a forehead slap and I'm on the ball now. Nope, you can't have that in writing Just to show you I have conversation about something other than the weather, today I went to the local township. A meander and looksee .. nothing major to do. Ok. ok... my forgetfulness had the rent go to the wrong agent's account...but I fixed it up; oh and the lost mail key turned up .. I must pin it to my knickers like my mum told me; and yes, I remembered new husband's blood pressure tablets. If he keeps on-line gaming with the young ones, I suspect he'll be going through a fair few of them. I feel old today... probably because I am. Today, I was looking in a real estate window when an sales woman raced out and sidled up along side me like my new best friend. "Just looking" I trilled. Not taking 'Just looking' as a valid excuse for frequenting she started making small talk. I stepped to the side. My personal space had a case of the screaming claustrophobias when my fear of intimacy kicked in. I paced again. She matched me move for move. The dance of the saleswoman. During this time, after eyeing me up and down (not far to scan 5'2''), her eyes met mine. She squinted and screwed up her nose. "You know", she began, " women of OUR age crave security..." I was hoping she wasn't proposing because I was out of there. Three husbands, two kids, two puppies, and that incident in '99 with the 'fluffy duck' is as complicated as I want my life to get. I don't think anymore would fit into my obituary. I shrugged and held my breath. She continued.." We need bricks and mortar .. roots... trees, open spaces." Ahhhhhhh, ..I exclaimed, as if I'd been raised in dark cities by wolves. Suddenly, the country parafin lamp lit up. "You mean, buying a house.." She rapidly clapped her hands together with the excitement of a child being offered a free puppy. "Err, no, sorry. I'm here for the ambiance" (and a breather from the rent receipt stuff-up). I often hang around looking in shop windows, it makes me feel thinner".. the joke didn't work. "Well, have a nice day", she cooed coolly running back inside like her insurance was expiring. Umm... Nice day? It's bucketing down... but, then, I wasn't going to mention the weather was I?. Sighh. May all your chooks turn into doves. Regards Red ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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