Sounds of nature

Christian and I had gone to bed and could hears noises coming from the pond across the road.

Me - Is that ducks making that noise?
C- Ah no. That would be frogs.
Me -  They sound like ducks. *pause* Do you think it's a defense mechanism?
C - What is?
Me - The frogs, sounding like ducks. I tried to think of what eat frogs and I can only think of birds and obviously another bird isn't going to eat a duck. It would fly down for dinner and then be like 'Oh shit, it's Mrs Johnston!'
C - Snakes eat frogs.
Me - So the frogs sound like ducks so snakes won't eat them.
C - If you say so.
Me - Hang on, do snakes have ears? Can they even hear???
C - Yes, they have ear holes.
Me - In Gary Larson comics snakes always have ear lobes. But then again, the snakes are always in a loungeroom and Mrs Snake is wearing earrings and pearls and Mr Snake is wearing glasses and reading a paper.
C - ...I'm going to sleep now.
Me - Oh, ok. Night.

The Gardening Finals

Well Ladies and Gentlemen, the Spring Gardening Finals weekend has drawn to a close and what a weekend it was! We had some amazing match ups, some shock losses, triumphant winners and most of all, much gardening fun! If you missed all the action, catch up with what happened in our match by match run down!

Match 1 - Team Annie VS Team Flower Beds

TFB looked strong coming into this match. The late rains had added fuel to their fire and they had some strong looking weeds. However, the first half saw TA make an early attack on TFB's left flank and it really looked like TA had the match in the bag. There was some calculated forking and TA really dug down deep and grabbed most of those weeds by the roots. TFB did manage a few evasive maneuvers but all in all they were not looking good by half time.
TFB did have a trick left up their sleeves however. Carpal Tunnel, who used to play for TA made his appearance in the second half and boy, did he show TA who's boss! Some great team work with Deep Rooted Grass really has TA struggling and it looked like they had this match lost for sure! The way this game was see-sawing backwards and forwards had everyone on the edge of their seats. Could TA make a late surge? Or would TFB just be too strong?
Then TA pulled out the wild card! Poison! We have never seen TA use this move in all their games against TFB! But that Deep Rooted Grass is just too persistent!
It came down to the wire but TA came home in the end.

Match 2 - Team Annie VS Front Lawn

Match forfeited by FL as their main player, Lawn Mower was injured and could not play.

Match 3 - Team Annie VS Lantana

TA came into this game as the favourites. Their win against TFB earlier in the day, plus the rest they had due to the forfeit really put the odds in their favour. Lantana however has never been easy to beat.
Lantana bought some of their most prickly players with them and most this year seem to have a height advantage.
Yet again TA started strong, really attacking Lantana's lower branches, and making great use of their most aggressive player,  Long Handled Pruner. TA made some great headway, despite numerous small injuries to Easily Scratched Forearms. Lantana have always been known for their aggressiveness and TA really had to use every ounce of their courage to keep on top of this beast of a team.
The second half saw TA really begin to struggle. Their defense, Wheelie Bin was just finding Lantana too much to handle. It was obvious he wasn't going to be able to take much more of what Lantana threw at him.
And then Lantana pulled out their signature move! Allergies! TA had been confident that they could counter this, but in the end it proved just too strong for them. Lantana followed this in quick succession with Major Hives Outbreak and TA just crumpled under the pressure.

Grand Final - Lantana VS Back Yard

Tune in next time to find out who will win the ultimate battle - Lantana or Back Yard! Both are strong teams, however Back Yard has stronger team play and really seem to have a broader skill. On the other hand, Lantana is more aggressive and will use that to their advantage.
However is goes down, one thing is certain. This will be an epic battle!

Therapy

Dave, this is a poem I wrote about my own experience.  Poetry isn't something I normally delve into but the first psych I ever saw set me the task as part of my therapy.

STOLEN INNOCENCE

Jolt awake. Cold sweat running down your back.

The nightmare never fading – it’s real.

Fall back into uneasy sleep.

The years fly backwards

Back towards your innocent childhood.

A bright sunny afternoon

Laughter haunts a gentle breeze.

A friend takes on a stranger’s face

Hands suddenly roaming everywhere

They rip and tear your innocence away,

They weave the thread of future nightmares.

Self esteem plummets, confusion skyrockets.

A new experience – “Am I being bad?”

Days, maybe weeks flash by

Laughter haunts a gentle breeze

You run, trying to hide as the countdown begins

You panic – she’ll find you first.

A cupboard door opens in your bedroom,

A hand gestures you inside.

You accept the stranger’s offer.

You sit, cramped, hoping you aren’t found.

The stranger’s heartbeat thumps loudly in your ear.

You squirm, this isn’t right.

So uncomfortable, you can’t breathe…

Eyes fly open, a scream in your throat.

You pull yourself out of bed and run

As a wave of nausea rolls over you.

Your stomach is emptied but your mind isn’t

“Please God, please take the memories away.”

As the day dawns you steel yourself,

Steel yourself for another day of

Living without your stolen innocence.

Changes

Another one of my stories.

CHANGES

By Annette Hudson

It's odd, isn't it? How there can be one defining moment in your life that will change you forever.
Sometimes it's a small, quiet moment that you will probably overlook, wouldn't even notice upon reflection that that was the moment, the catalyst that would alter your future.
And sometimes it's so fucked up there's no mistaking it.

Mine was the latter.

My life had been on track and was moving in a stately and organised fashion towards the goal I had set myself. I was 23 and I had it all. I had finished uni and had a great job, my family were close to me and gave me all the support I needed, Josh and I were definitely moving towards the  proposing stage, I'd bought a townhouse in a nice suburb close to the city, what didn't I have? I was happy, in love and loved.

I remember the day clearly, even if the incident itself is slightly blurry.
It was February, one of those hot bloody Februarys that make you wish summer would hurry up and pass the reins to Autumn. I'd woken up sticky and warm, despite the aircon having been on all night but since it was my RDO, it didn't particularly bother me since I could put on a singlet and a short skirt instead of a trouser suit for work.
My morning routine was the same really. I got up, showered, dressed, had brekky, watched five minutes of appalling morning tellie. What is with those shows? How can they stand there with a perfectly straight face and blatantly flog some 'new' piece of exercise equipment that will work about as well as the last piece of 'new' equipment - put simply, not well at all...
Once I'd had enough of that tripe I'd thrown on my cross trainers, grabbed a bottle of water and set out for an early walk. As I've said, I don't live that far from the city and even though I don't particularly want to go for a brisk walk down Hay Street Mall, I do enjoy the parks that lie on the outskirts of the CBD. Nicely manicured, green and fresh, lots of water features to keep the appearance of being cool despite the mercury rising to the very high 30's, all surrounded by the lush homes and mansions of the wealthy. If there was any place to escape to, this would be it.

It was quite and serene that day. The Christmas break was over and so being just before nine, the streets were deserted. Mum and Dad had done the school dash before heading off to work themselves and the only people out and about seemed to be retirees walking their beloved dogs.

I warmed up by doing a lap of the private harbour that jutts in from the river, crossed the bridge and decided to head into the grounds of one of the large parks to avoid the crowd of nannas that seemed to be converging on the waterfront footpaths. As soon as I entered that lush overgrown space, everything went quiet. The sounds of the small amount of traffic about was muted, no dogs barked, no one spoke at top volume on their mobile phones, it was just me. I felt peaceful and relaxed and ironically enough, safe.

Yes, sometimes I do look back and laugh. Not often, only in my more hysterical moments. But something has to give every now and then and if I didn't let it out that way, well who knows? Maybe I'd end up going postal on someone's arse.

I'm not the world's most dedicated exerciser. I'd guilted myself into the walk only because I'd spent the entire weekend drinking and had figured my RDO was a chance to redeem myself. So once I had relaxed a bit, I slowed my pace, the day was really warming up and I had already worked up a sweat. I kept my mind occupied by imagining the various ways Josh would pop the question. He was an imaginative sort who liked big gestures and so there was no end to the ways he could propose and cause a scene all at the same time.

It came without warning.

A man had been jogging down the path towards me and when he had come even with me he had suddenly stopped, swung back his arm and punched me in the face. I had been looking away slightly and so my cheek bone took the full force of the blow, if he had gotten my nose, I think I would have passed out completely.
I staggered, the pain was immense. In movies and books, people always seem to take punches so easily. An opponent can land several blows and the hero just takes them, waititng for their chance and then they launch into the attack with a myriad of punches and kicks of their own.
Not me.
I was dazed and groggy and completely stunned. And so I missed my chance to struggle early on, the only chance I'd gotten.

From then on, the story was written in stone.

I was dragged off the path by my jogger, forced through branches and ferns, still not resisting, not even crying out. We had gone quite a way before my senses started to return but still they were groggy and delayed. I started to struggle but my attacker easily resisted my urge to break free. I looked about me, trying to figure out where we were headed when I heard the sounds of voices coming from ahead. There was a split second when hope surged in me, when I thought that perhaps help was just around the corner, but instead of slowing, the man pulled me along faster, moving towards the voices eagerly.

That was the last time I felt hope. It has not returned since that day.

I fear it has abandoned me forever.

At last I was pulled through a patch of harsh branches, the skin on my arms scratching easily. Two other men were waiting there, one tall and lanky, the other slightly shorter but powerfully built.
Those are the only details I remember of my attackers. Nothing else remains of them in my mind apart from the fact they were so ordinary.

There was no preamble, no talking themselves up, no explanations, nothing. Jogger twisted my arms behind my back while Lanky crossed to me. He held a wad of material in one hand and he grabbed my jaw and sqeezed hard until I cried out in pain. He used that chance to shove the material into my mouth and I gagged when he shoved it too far back. That evoked a chuckle and he raised his other hand to show me the small knife he held.
It wasn't a large knife, and it wasn't a spectacular killing machine. The thought that crossed my mind was that it was the same as the one I had in my kitchen at home, the one that fits into the second smallest hole in my knife block.
I still flinched and Jogger pulled me tighter against him, so tight that I could feel his excitement pushing into my lower back. Lanky brought the knife to my singlet and in one quick jerk, sliced right the way down from the neckline to the bottom seam.

He licked his lips and slowly pocketed the knife, then reached towards me. I sqeezed my eyes shut so I didn't see him grab my breast but I felt it as he roughly groped me, twisting my nipple harshly through the lace of my bra.
"That felt nice, didn't it?" Jogger whispered in my ear. I choked on a cry and it was then that my fight reflexes kicked in. I struggled and squirmed, I kicked and twisted. All to no avail. My chance has passed me by five minutes ago and there was no turning back the clock.

My struggles seemed to excite the men even more and the third man came to join in. He and Jogger pulled me to the ground, pinning me down easily. Lanky unzipped his pants and my mind went numb.

That's the only way I can describe it. I guess it knew exactly what was coming and knew that there was no way to escape and so it did the only thing it could to protect itself.
It shut down.
My mind literally shut itself down.

I ceased to struggle and went as limp as possible. I didn't feel the odd blow that one or other of the men would deal me, I didn't hear their remarks, didn't take in any detail that would later help identify them.

The only time I reacted was the first penetration. The sweat from the heat of the day helped slightly, but the pain as Lanky forced himself into me was awful. I felt myself tear and he thrust again and again, and soon there was no resistance for him as my blood provided lubrication.

Time lost all meaning, there was just numbness, occasional pain, and more numbness.

I didn't even know when it was over.

I lay there for hours, lost in the emptiness of my mind, hiding from the fear, not even aware that I was completely alone.

Two school boys found me. They were on their way to their secret hideout when they stumbled across me. They must have only been about ten, no where near old enough to cope with the awfulness of the situation, but really, is anyone old enough for that? One of the boys ran off, screaming for his Mum but the other, bless his little cotton socks, stayed with me. He held my hand, and told me it would all be ok. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was wrong, nor could I with the gag still in my mouth.

There was an investigation. Two other attacks in the area, both committed by three men led the police to believe they were the same men. No brainer really.
But I was as useless a victim as could be. No information, no descriptions, just numbness. The physical examiner provided more information than I did. Multiple penetrations, at least five times, most likely more, bodily fluids left behind but DNA forensics aren't as developed as they make you believe in the tv shows and so unless the men were caught, that was useless. I needed 44 stitches. I had a minor concussion, multiple abrasions and bruises, two fractured ribs.

But something else was missing.

Inside, there was nothing, just emptiness and numbness. And I still haven't found me. I'm still gone. It's been a year and I'm still just nothing. There is no trace of me anywhere.

On second thought, perhaps that's not quite accurate.

Every now and then, late at night, I scream in horror at what has been done to me.

But I scream silently, in my dreams.

Nipplegate

Yes I know, I'm being lazy, but a txt message recap post is better than no post at all, yes?

Christian - This shirt kills my nipples.

Me - Thanks for that visual.

Christian - Imagine my shirt in a book depository with a sniper rifle. My nipples driving past in a convertible, waving at the crowd. All of a sudden - *BAM*

Me - Back, and to the left.

Christian - I need a second shirt on the grassy knoll. A much less scrapey shirt.

Bacon Karma

A conversation Christian and I had via txt on Wednesday.

C - Who do people ruin perfectly good food by putting bacon in it :(

Me - Because you are being punished for killing the president of Micronesia in your past life.

C - Was he a pig?

Me - No, but karma knows you hate bacon and this it its way of punishing you.

C - That doesn't make any sense.

Me - That's because you don't believe in karma. That pisses karma off so it also tries to include prawns whenever possible.

C - No sense.

Me - Also, custard.

C - I was trying to figure out where Louis from Suits if from cos he's so familiar. Look him up on IMDB, you'll see why. He's guest starred in every tv show ever made in the last 10 years.

Me - Beaver Man!

C - He works like a beaver, that's for sure.

Me - He also build dams

C - More like daaaayums!

Me - No sweetheart. Just...no.

That is all.

River Queen

I've been really thinking about getting back into my writing lately but I just never seen to have time. I've been going over some of my old stuff to try and get motivated but it doesn't seem to be helping much. 

To appease those of you asking to see some of my work, I thought I'd post my story River Queen here. It was published in the magazine Litmocracy a few years back. Hope you enjoy :)

It was dark when the boy awoke. He lay in the warm comfort of his bed, his ears picking up the sounds of dawn. Birds chirped outside his window, a cow bayed from the sheds, demanding to be milked and a rooster crowed from the chook pen. A spoon clinked against a cup in the kitchen and the heavy boots his father wore made the floorboards creak as he left the house to attend to the farm.

And then the boy heard a different sound. A sound that was becoming increasingly familiar. It came from the room next to his, where his mother still lay in bed. It was the sound of sobs being quietened by a pillow.

Unable to listen anymore, the boy quietly rose and dressed. He made his way to the kitchen and quickly packed some bread and cheese into a bag and picked up an apple. He was almost out the door when his mother called to him.

“Jacob, where you be going this early?” He voice was steady, but she couldn’t mask the thick emotion that still sat in her throat.

“I’m just going to the creek Mama,” Jacob called softly.

“Don’t go too far now. And make sure you don’t disturb your daddy. He’s awful busy today.”

Jacob nodded and called out, “I sure won’t. I’ll be back in for lunch.”

“You take Misty with you if you’re going to the creek,” His mother called as he left the house.

The boy looked around the yard and spotted the shepherd lying in her hay bed next to the shed. He whistled sharply and the dog jumped up and ran to him. Together they set off across the yard towards the paddocks.

White clouds raced across the lightening sky as the dawn became more pronounced. A cool breeze ruffled the boys hair as he reached the edge of the first paddock. He crossed the firebreak and climbed over the fence into the back paddock. He stopped and called to Misty, who was busy snuffing at a cow pat. The shepherd jumped the fence easily and the two companions continued on their journey, leaving a trail in the dew behind them.

At the end of the back paddock, bush started and ran towards the back of their property. Jacob liked being in the bush, exploring and pretending to be a settler or a hunter. He also liked playing in and around the creek too. Well, it was actually bigger than a creek but it didn’t scare his mother so much if they called it a creek instead of a river. Creeks were small and harmless: rivers were much more dangerous. Jacob’s mother hadn’t actually seen the river so his father told him that they should refer to it as ‘the creek’ to stop her worrying. She did insist on him taking Misty though whenever he went there.

The element of water added more fun to his games and created thousands of scenarios that trees and dirt just couldn’t provide. Jacob could spend all day at the creek and never get bored.

He did admit however that it had always been more fun with Benjamin though. Ben would always take the time to play with his younger brother at the creek. Although he was eleven, a good three years older than Jacob, he would leave the older boys and come with Jacob to the creek to play.

But that was before Ben went away.

One day he just didn’t want to get out of bed and he kept on coughing. Doctor Wilson came and had a big serious look on his face. He said he’d take Ben away to a place where he would get better, but Ben never came back from there. Then a week ago Jacob and his mother and father went to church on a Thursday. The boy had thought that was strange. They only ever usually went on Sundays. And his mama didn’t stop crying and his daddy had tears too, which Jacob was amazed at. His daddy never cried. And he sat there, being cradled by his mother’s arms, not really knowing what was going on, but too scared to ask. But deep down inside, he knew that it had to do with Ben. Maybe they were all praying for him to get better?

So now Jacob came to the creek alone.

The school holidays had started but he hadn’t seen his friends since Ben went away. But he didn’t mind. If Ben wasn’t going to the creek with him, Jacob preferred to go alone.

Misty ran ahead of the boy when he smelt the water and Jacob hurried after him. He pushed through the bush and emerged at his favorite spot of the whole creek. There was a shallow beach surrounded by large granite rocks that bobbed up out of the water so that, if he was careful, Jacob could use them as stepping stones to get to the other side. The trees hung over the river, letting only beams of sunlight filter through to the water. But just to the right of the beach was a large flat rock overhanging the water that was not blocked by trees, and so it was always warm in the sun.

Jacob settled himself on the rock and started on his breakfast, occasionally throwing some to Misty, and enjoying the warmth.

Several hours later, Jacob was standing in the shallow water of the beach. He had made a small boat out of bark and leaves and was releasing the craft into the water. The small boat wobbled a little and then was slowly pulled into the current. Jacob shouted with joy that his creation had worked and ran up onto the river bank to follow his craft. He ran downstream, past the flat rock and past the small rapids where his boat took a small beating, to the large tree that had fallen across the river. He quickly moved onto the log and eased onto his stomach so he was hanging over the water. He watched the little bark boat with sails made of leaves move quickly towards him. Jacob stretched out and scooped the little boat into his hands. He then clambered to his feet and turned towards shore, ready to go back to the beach so he could release the boat again. Misty was standing on the bank, but instead of looking excited and playful as he usually did when they played ‘chase the boat’, he was cowering on the ground and whining.

“Hey boy, what’s wrong?” Jacob asked, moving quickly towards the dog.

Misty whined again and crawled across the muddy ground towards Jacob. The boy ran his hands through the thick fur to calm the dog, and then stiffened as he realised he was being watched.

He had spent all his years on the farm and instinctively knew when an animal was watching him. Roos and foxes were the most common this far out in the bush, but sometimes a sheep or a goat would wander away, lost and then stumble upon the boy while he was playing. But this was different somehow. This was…bad somehow. Misty never acted like this with any of those animals. He would sometimes bark and chase them, or round them up, but he was never afraid. Maybe it was a wild pig, Jacob thought. He had heard his daddy say that the neighbours had been having trouble with them. A pig might scare Misty. Wild pigs scared almost everyone.

Jacob

The voice came from downriver. It was almost a whisper carried on the wind and for a moment, Jacob thought he was imagining things. Misty whined again, his eyes slightly wild.

Come to me

There was no mistaking this time. Someone was calling to him. Misty yelped and then bolted for the bush, leaving Jacob alone.

“Misty! Come back!” he called, even though the boy knew the dog would not heed his calls.

Torn between curiosity and fear, Jacob stood undecided on the river bank.

Jacob

The boy made a decision. If the person knew his name, they must know him and therefore couldn’t be that bad. He placed his boat carefully on the log and began to follow the river downstream.

He picked his path over slippery rocks and decaying leaves, straining his neck to see around the bend in the river. After a five minute walk, the boy came across the swimming hole, a natural pool in the river that he had only been to once before.

The voice had not called him again and Jacob looked about to determine where the person was.

“Hello,” the boy called. “This is Jacob. Is that you, Mr and Mrs Whittaker?” He called out his neighbours names.

There was no response. Jacob shivered and looked at his watch. It was almost lunchtime. He decided to return home so he wouldn’t worry his mother. He crossed to the pool to wash the dirt from his face and jumped as he looked into the water. Instead of his reflection, a woman was looking up at him. Jacob stumbled and fell backwards, looking around. He wondered if Ben had returned home and was playing a joke on him. There was still no one near.

Cautiously, Jacob peered back into the water. His own scarred reflection stared back. He sighed in relief.

JACOB!

The voice was sharp, almost a command but still a whisper. Jacob looked up and saw the woman standing on the far side of the waterhole.

She was unlike any of the women he had ever seen before. She was tall, with flowing blond hair that was almost green in the dim light. She was dressed in a long white dress, not unlike his cousin Mary’s dress the day of her wedding. White or not, no one wore dresses on the farm. All the women wore jeans or trousers.

It was her eyes though that caused Jacob’s throat to almost block with fear. They were a bright purple, almost violet and they shone with intensity. All up, she reminded Jacob of a witch he had seen in a horror movie that Ben had let him watch.

This woman was bad. How he knew, the boy couldn’t say, but he knew immediately.

Jacob, come to me

The woman didn’t speak, her lips didn’t move, but Jacob heard her words clearly.

“Who are you? What are you doing on our farm?”

The woman threw her head back and laughed. The sunlight that trickled in from the tress sparkled in the woman’s eyes and her green hair flashed.

“My dear boy, I have lived here for hundreds of years,” She moved her mouth when she spoke this time and that somehow made Jacob a little less scared. “Perhaps I should be asking you what you doing in my home?”

Jacob didn’t know how to answer that and so he stayed quiet. Her statement that she had been here hundreds of years seemed even to Jacob’s eight years, a little hard to believe.

The Woman continued to look at Jacob, a small smile on the mouth. When she didn’t speak for a few minutes, Jacob tried again.

“You seem to know me. Who are you? Do you know my father?”

The woman shook her head. “No Jacob, I do not know your father. I only know you because you come to my home frequently. I rarely leave my waterhole here, so I haven’t seen you in person all that often, but the trees have told me of your frequent visits.”

“The trees talk to you?” Jacob asked, half in disbelief but also amazed.

“They would talk to you if you chose to listen,” The woman replied. She stepped forward and sat lightly on a rock.

“I suppose I have been rather rude Jacob.” She said, looking directly at the boy, her purple eyes flickering. “I am Enalaya, the River Queen. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jacob didn’t know what to think. The woman was absolutely terrifying, but she didn’t seem to be threatening him.

“I’m really sorry Miss, but I have to go home now. My mama is expecting me home for lunch,” Although he was scared, Jacob didn’t want to appear outwardly rude.

Enalaya’s head dropped. “As you wish Jacob. But perhaps you could come and visit me again? It is lonely being the River Queen.”

Jacob hesitated and then nodded, then turned toward the path to leave. He had gone several steps when he turned to look back at Enalaya. The rock was empty. There was no sign of the woman. She had vanished. Jacob frowned and then moved on.

Until next time

The voice floated on the wind and caught up with Jacob as he made his way down the path. He stopped in his tracks. The voice faded with the wind and he carried on until he reached the log. Picking up his boat, he hurried back towards the house.

The following day, Jacob returned to the river.

The experience of the previous day had unnerved the boy to a great extent and a fear had begun to gnaw at the usually happy young boy.

Even Jacob himself could not explain why he went back. Misty had hidden in her kennel and refused to come out at all that night. That in itself should have been enough to keep Jacob away. Added to this was the strange things the woman had said. Jacob had an Uncle Geoff who said things just as strange, but he took pills to keep himself normal. This woman probably needed pills too, Jacob thought.

On top of it all was the fear Jacob had felt during the encounter. Even though Enalaya had not harmed him, she scared Jacob worse than the dark creatures under his bed or the werewolf he had seen in a movie.

So why was he going back?

Jacob could not say exactly. But he did have a feeling that Ben would have gone back. Jacob would have done anything his big brother would have done. Ben loved adventure and was always making up new games for them to play. This would have been just another game to Ben.

Boy, Jacob sure missed Ben. He never told mama that because anytime someone mentioned Ben to her, she would get all teary and quickly leave the room. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his mama. But the thing he wanted most was to ask her when Ben was coming home.

Jacob neared the river at his favourite spot and sat on his rock in the sun to ponder the situation. He knew that if he told his parents about the woman they would think he was making it all up. Grownups could be silly like that sometimes. They never believed the important things like this, but still acted like Father Christmas was real, years after your older brother told you he wasn’t. So Jacob knew he was the only one who would ever know about this woman.

He also gave some though to what Enalaya wanted. She said she was lonely, but Jacob was only a kid. Why would a grown lady want to talk to a kid? Besides, she had her trees to keep her company.

Even if she was a strange lady who liked to talk to kids, how was Jacob to know when she wanted him to come talk to her? Would she do the funny trick where she sends her voice on the wind, or would she come and find Jacob? Or would he have to go to her and just guess when it would be okay for him to show up? Although he had come back to see her, he was still scared. He didn’t want to make her angry by turning up unexpected.

The boy sat on his rock and thought about the strange lady some more. He lay back and looked at the clouds overhead. They were getting darker and Jacob was sure it would start raining soon. He hoped the lady would be finished with him by then so he wouldn’t get wet. She might be the River Queen who didn’t mind the water but he was still a boy who preferred to stay dry.

Jacob

There was her voice again. He supposed that meant she wanted to see him, so he stood up, brushed off the back of his pants and began walking downstream.

As he went, the boy became more aware of the trees. He used to think of them as just trees, but now he was sure they were aware of him as he passed by. And was that the noise of the wind or was it the trees whispering to each other about him? Jacob grew just a little bit more afraid and tried to walk closer to the river so he wouldn’t be so near the trees.

He came around the bend and reached the waterhole. There she was, looking exactly like she had yesterday. Enalaya was sitting on her rock again, her white dress almost touching the water’s edge.

Hello Jacob

She smiled at him, s strange little smile, and didn’t move her lips as she greeted him.

“Hello ma’am,” Jacob replied, trying to be polite, but wanting to ask her to speak normally since her way of speaking without speaking scared him.

She seemed to sense this and spoke properly. “I am glad you came Jacob. I have longed to speak to someone for such a long time.”

“Are you sure you want to talk to me?” the boy asked. “I mean, I’m just a kid. Wouldn’t a grownup be better?”

She laughed and the sound sent chills up Jacob’s spine. He wasn’t sure if that had been a friendly laugh or not.

“Oh no, my dear boy. You’ll do just fine. Besides, no one must know I’m here.”

Jacob wanted to know why she was supposed to be a secret but somehow knew that he didn’t want to know the reason.

“So Jacob, tell me, why do you come here so often?” Enalaya asked, her purple eyes glittering.

“Um, well as I said yesterday, this is our farm. I play down here so I don’t disturb my father.” Jacob hoped that she wouldn’t try and tell him again that it wasn’t his farm. She didn’t, but she stood up and walked to the waters edge.

“But why do you come here alone? I mean, I’m sure you have friends who would want to play here with you.”

“I used to come here with Ben but he’s gone away for a while. I’m sure he’ll come with me when he gets back.”

Enalaya looked at him quickly, as if rethinking what she was about to say.

“I see. So Ben is your brother?”

Jacob nodded. He wasn’t sure how she knew this as he had never told her, but then again, he hadn’t told her his name and he had known that.

“Where exactly do you think Ben has gone?” Enalaya asked.

Jacob looked up as a large raindrop splashed on his cheek. “Why is that important?” he asked.

“I was wondering what makes you think,” Enalaya said, dipping her toes in the water, “that Ben is coming back at all?”

Jacob stood stone still, ignoring the rain that started to fall more heavily on him. He didn’t know what to say. What could she mean by that? Of course Ben was coming back. He had to.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Jacob told her, starting to turn. “Ben is coming back. I know it. Now, I have to go.” He started walking quickly up the path, leaving the River Queen behind.

Ben isn’t coming back

Jacob tried to block out her voice as he wiped the rain from his face. However, no matter how hard he tried, her voice kept on following him.

Jacob, listen to me

“No!” Jacob yelled. “No, I won’t listen to you. You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Ben isn’t coming back

Jacob began to run. He reached his spot by the river with his rock and he turned and broke through the bush. Branches caught his face but he knocked them back and kept on running, slowing only when he reached the fence and pulled himself over it

The cows were in the back paddock, but they were huddled on the other side, as far away from the river as possible. If I was a cow, I’d be doing the same thing, Jacob thought.

Jacob, Ben is dead

Her voice stopped Jacob dead in his tracks, and he sank to the ground of the muddy paddock. Rain streamed down his face, mixing with his tears. As clear as day, he knew she was right. He just didn’t want to know it before. Jacob cried as his grief washed over him and his heart filled with emptiness. Enalaya didn’t speak to him again. He guessed she realised he believed her now. Ben wasn’t coming back.

Unlike most eight year olds, Jacob had had a vast experience with death. He had grown up on a farm after all. He knew exactly what death meant. Even though Ben hadn’t been trucked off to be sold as meat, it amounted to the same thing. The cows didn’t come back, and neither would Ben.

After what seemed an eternity, Jacob pulled himself to his feet and wandered back to the house. He only had a distant realisation that his mama was pulling him into the kitchen and toweling off the mud and rain. It seemed like a dream when she picked him up, wrapped in a blanket and took him into his bedroom, anxiously feeling his head for a temperature. And after he had stared at the empty bed next to his for hours, trying to picture Ben sleeping there, Jacob finally fell to sleep too.

Rain thundered against the window pane and wind howled around the house. Every now and then, lightning would light up the sky, followed closely by the thunder. During one particularly loud clap of thunder, Jacob woke suddenly. At the foot of his bed, he saw a shadow. When the lightning came again, it illuminated the face of Enalaya. In the eerie light, her eyes no longer looked purple, but a deep dark black that absorbed all life. Jacob waited for her to say something but by the next lightning strike, she had vanished. He turned over and fell back to sleep.

Jacob awoke suddenly with the sensation of falling. When he felt the pain of hitting the wet earth, he knew he really had fallen. Rain instantly soaked him as he stood unsteadily, trying desperately to recall how he had come to be here. One moment he had been in bed, the next he was outside on a stormy night.

The electric sky brightened the gloom and Jacob recognised where he was. Not far from the river was a small clearing at the bottom of a steep slope. Looking up, he saw broken bushes and small trees. He’d obviously fallen down the slope.

Trying to get his bearings so he could get back home, he turned this way and that. But as he looked around, it seemed the clearing was getting smaller and smaller. The trees leaned in close on either side and the wind shrieked in his ears. Jacob ran towards an open section of trees but when he reached the opening, he found it had closed. Darting back the other way, he tried again. No matter how fast he was, he couldn’t find a way out.

Starting to panic, Jacob’s ears picked up a new sound. Laughter. Evil laughter. Not knowing, or particularly caring who was laughing, just wanting to get away from it, the boy ran straight for the trees ahead. He felt resistance as branches tried to hold their ground, but panic had given Jacob’s tired muscles new strength, and he beat his way through.

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Jacob ran from the clearing, not knowing where he was headed. Rain washed across his face, obscuring his vision but he blinked it away and kept on running. The sound of his panting was loud in his ears but over it all, the sound of laughter was still following him.

Jacob risked a look over his shoulder. He could see nothing behind him. Still running full pelt, his foot caught in a root and he fell, sprawling onto the ground. Sitting up, wiping blood from his mouth, he saw he had reached the waterhole. Laughter followed him here and the trees seemed to reach for him.

“Enalaya, please help me!” Jacob shouted. Something snagged his foot and he recoiled in horror as a tree root tried to grasp him. Something tugged at his shirt and turning, he saw a branch reaching down from above, trying to grasp him.

Jacob scooted sideways, away from these living branches, and shouted again, “Enalaya, please! I’m scared. Please help me River Queen!”

Jacob

He voice called over the laughter. Jacob turned and crawled across to the waterhole. He looked into the water and her reflection looked up at him. She beckoned him closer.

You will be safe here

Jacob looked around. From every direction tree branches were reaching for him and the laughter was getting louder. He looked at the water. Enalaya didn’t look scary at all now. She looked like a saviour.

Without a backwards glance, Jacob threw himself into the water, towards Enalaya’s open arms. It was suddenly very quiet, the laughter was gone, and Jacob felt peaceful.

Welcome home Jacob

The storm had died down and the search team was able to move more quickly while looking for the boy. The property was vast, but the team had agreed to search it first, before moving on.

Mike Whittaker scoured the bushes for any sign of Jacob, but saw nothing. He moved away from the main search team, heading down the slope towards the river. Here and there he caught signs of something having been through the bush, broken branches and flattened grass, but until he could be sure it had been the boy, and not a roo, he decided to not alert the rest of the team. There was no point abandoning the rest of the search if it turn out to be a roo trail.

Mike moved downstream, following the path. He passed the rapids and a large log, but still didn’t see any signs of Jacob. He knew he was getting close to the old waterhole and a feeling of dread filled him. Without being aware of it, he picked up his pace.

He came around a bend in the river and the waterhole came into sight. At first glance, he didn’t see anything unusual, but then he looked more closely and saw something at the water’s edge. Mike hurried forwards and saw the limp form of Jacob. All hope left him as he saw the boy was face down in the water. He sighed and picked up his radio.

“This is Mike, I’m at the waterhole. I’ve found the boy.”

The radio crackled and the search leader’s voice seemed loud in the clearing. “What news?”

“I’m afraid we’re too late.” Mike’s voice was filled with sorrow.

“Roger that Mike. I’ll send some men down there to help you while I inform the family.”

Mike had been neighbours with Jacob’s family for fifteen years and knew them well. He didn’t envy the search leader the job of letting Jacob’s parent’s know of the boy’s death. He had only been to the funeral of their eldest son last week and remembered clearly the overwhelming grief they had felt.

He sighed again and waded into the water. Jacob’s limp body was covered in scratches but the water had washed away all traces of blood. Mike turned the body over and let out a shout of surprise.

Jacob’s eyes, usually a dark brown, were now bright purple.

Ramblings of a philosophical nature

Today was not overly exciting. You know, just a regular old day, get up, go to work, come home, go out to a movie, come home, write blog post. Yet two things occurred that made me ponder some of the mysteries of the universe.

The first was an incident that happened to my friend Lynette, whom I work with. We work in a rather old building (Over fifty years old!) and there are many people at work who firmly believe the building is haunted. I have heard stories of strange noises and the feeling of a 'presence' but that's as far as it goes. No one has actually said that something happened to them.

Until today.

Lynette went to the bathroom down in clinical to wash her hands after have some delightfully sticky cake I'd bought her. She turned on the hot tap, started to wash her hands and then saw the tap ever so slowly start to turn itself off.

Second - we went to see Prometheus tonight. Probably don't have to say much more, I'm sure everyone is pretty up to speed on what the movie is about. Except for Acci obviously who will make some quip about not having seen a movie since Casablanca was showing at the Talkies and he much prefers to spend his time watching bunnies make nuclear missiles and so he has no idea what it is about. Simply put it's about exploring where we came from, who created us and why the fuck they want to kill us by infecting us with face-hugger infested goo.

Oops. Spoiler alert!

Anyways, so we're driving home and I told Christian about Lynette's encounter.
He scoffed. To be expected I suppose.
I asked him what could be a scientific explanation for what happened. He said he wasn't sure but he's sure it aint no ghost. I then asked him what he thought happened to the energy within a human when we die. He replied that the only energy we have comes from the food we consume and the oxygen we breathe and that any residual energy would just dissipate into the surroundings.

I asked if he believes that humans have a soul. He does not. He firmly believes that this is all we have. He asked if I believe in souls. I said that I'm not sure but I hope we do have one as I'm scared shitless that this may be all there is. I just can't believe that all my memories, my thoughts, my sheer existence will cease to exist because my body gives up.

He then asked me if I believe in ghosts. I told him that I don't believe in them but I also don't not believe in them. There is so much of this world that we don't understand and so I'm not going to discount something because I have no proof. It's like my feelings about God or a divine being. I don't have any proof that they exist but I also won't deny they do exist simply because I have no evidence. I shall keep an open mind.
I also pointed out that science has come so far in recent times that we know so much more than we did fifty years ago. Imagine what we will know in another fifty! I said by then we may have proved that alternate realities exist and ghosts are simply a weak spot where these realities merge for short periods of time.

He grunted at me, completely shocked by this theory. I think he likes it.

Come on science, prove me right!

On the up and up

I know posts about my depression can be, well, depressing but this time it's actually good news.

It's been about six weeks since I cut last. I thought it was longer (looking at the scars you'd think so anyway) but it was about the time Christian left his job so the math says otherwise. I had upped my anti mental pills but since I've been staying firmly on the wagon I've decided to cut it back to the half dose for now. I can always up them again if need be but for now it will be nice to cut back on the side effects.

I'm definitely feeling much better. I still have my bad days and last week I probably would have cut again except for Coles foiling my plan by no longer selling blade refills. That was a good thing though because I got to work and talked it through with Lynette and the feeling passed. I'm hoping I can break the habit if I can keep postponing the self harm.

My self esteem is low as always but perhaps not scraping the bottom of the barrel at the moment. That is my biggest issue and one that I think will plague me for some time to come. It's weird. I know I'm loved by my friends and family and I know they think I'm beautiful. I just can't see it. But isn't being able to recognise that others think so the first step?

I'm going to share an article I read the other day which I also shared on FB but it's so good, I want everyone to read it. For those of you who also have depression, you'll relate. For those of you who don't, it's a great insight into how talking about it can be hard. I find I can talk about it quite easily but I know for others who are more private it's hard to break through that stigma.

Just some food for thought.

He's put up with me for HOW long???

Yesterday marked 16 years that Christian and I have been together. I know most married couples only celebrate their wedding anniversaries but since we had such a long engagement and saw our wedding as just making it 'official' in the eyes of others, this is the big anniversary for us.

We went out for dinner last night and I told Christian he had to surprise me with the 'where'. Being a man and Christian, it wasn't mush of a surprise. He took me to The Olive Tree Restaurant in West Perth which is where we had our wedding reception and our most favourite restaurant. We spent the evening doing what we do best - having playful debates!

Christian sends a txt to a mate about archery the following morning and changes a word in predictive text.
Me - Urgh, I hate predictive text, it's so sucky!
C - What?!? No way, it's the best thing ever!
Me - No it's not, it always puts in words I would never use and it takes longer for me to change them to what I want than it would for me to type the damn thing out myself.
C - You have to teach it! It'll learn eventually what words you use most.
Me - If I wanted to teach something, I'd have a child. I'm not teaching my damn phone!
C - This new phone has the best predictive text I've ever used. This is the first time I've had to change a suggestion.
Me - Oooooh that's impressive! It's learned what you like in two days! [/sarcasm]
C - I've sent like 10 messages since I got it!
Me - Wow! That's like, totally heaps!
C - There is documented evidence that predictive text is faster.
Me - I don't believe you.
C - Remember you and Mike had that race and he won.
Me - No he didn't, I did!
C - Did not.
Me - Did too! I won at least one of them! And I think we tied one as well....
C - Uh huh
Me - Hang on a minute...is the race I had with Mike your so called 'documented evidence'?
C - Evasively Well it was documented...because you sent it...
Me - You are such a cheater!

After that, everything Christian said got a 'And there's documented evidence to support your claim?' in response.

We had a lovely dinner and got home just after nine. And in true married couple tradition went straight to bed promptly fell asleep! Christian is still asleep now, 12 hours later! Obviously our debating tired him out!

Yet another Christian quip

I apologise for the lack of originality of my posts lately as they all seem to be 'Christian said this' but isn't it better than no posts at all?

Me - How's the job hunt going?
C - Neyh, there's nothing out there. Nothing good anyway.
Me - Have you heard anything from Lance's friend who said he'd keep an eye out?
C - No, but I didn't really expect to.
Me - Have you thought about trying an agency?
C - Oh fuck no.
Me - Why not?
C - Those people have no souls.
Me - Oh really?
C - It's true.
Me - I'm sure it is dear.
C - I'm sure they're all gingers...
Me - Uh huh, whatever you say.

Quidditch through the ages...or not

Christian and I have some weird conversations whilst laying in bed. I have no idea how this one even started...somewhere in there we ended up getting onto the subject of sports.

Me - We could play Quidditch together!
C - Erm...
Me - No seriously, they have a Quidditch league here in Perth now and you run around on a field with a broomstick between your legs.
C - Pisses himself laughing It's retarded enough as it is in the books and movies, why would they make it even more retarded by running about with a stick between your legs.
Me - Quidditch in the books isn't retarded! It's a highly skilled game!
C - No it's not! They just all fly around trying to get that one stupid ball that wins the game.
I try and explain the rules of Quidditch to Christian as he has no idea.
C - ??? What the fuck? Why are there other balls involved? If getting the snitch wins the game, why don't they all go for it?
Me - Because catching the snitch doesn't necessarily win the game. If you've scored enough points to begin with, you can still win even if your seeker doesn't catch it. Besides, only the seeker can go for the snitch.
C - Why?
Me - Because they're the rules!
C - Where does it say that?
Me - In the books!
C - It specifically says that's the rule?
Me - Yes! It's the seeker's job to catch the snitch.
C - That's just his role, that's not a rule. Why can't they all look for it and whoever catches it just hands it to him?
Me - Because that's not how it works Christian!
C - Who says?
Me - Quittitch Through The Ages , that's who!
I go and find the book and throw it at him. Christian reads the book from start to end (it's not a long book).
C - There's no actual rules in here! Anyone could catch it.
Me - Gah! I give up! Flails arms around in the air.

Despite my exasperation with my husband, on Friday we actually got to spend some time together. I had arranged to have the day off so my car could get serviced and Christian came and picked me up and we headed down to Hillaries Boat Harbour to have some breakfast.
We went to Dome and they have these new fandangled electronic table trackers instead of the ye olde number on a stick. I was playing around with it and was musing out loud how it would work.
Me - So I assume they have like a map of the tables on their computer and a mini GPS thingy would mark the table that this is sitting on so they know where we are hey?
C - I doubt it.
Me - So how do you think it works then Mr Smarty Pants?
C - Not like that.
Me - So what, they just walk around and a little voice in their ear says 'Getting warmer, warmer, hotter, NO COLDER! COLDER! Warmer, warmer, hotter, hotter, BAM there they are!'
C - Neyh.
To take out my frustrations I pull faces at him all through breakfast, much to the amusement of other patrons.

After breakfast we headed out to the shops at Whitfords to kill some time before my car was ready. I bought a very cute 1920's (?) style hat (I'm not good with hat history, it may be a 1940's style hat) and we also picked up an awesome umbrella that has the handle of a samurai sword.
While we were browsing through a book exchange, my phone rang.
Me - Hello.
Voice - Hello, this is Louise from Big Rock Toyota. I've gotten the report back on your car and they suggest at 30,000kms that you have your Throttle Body Housing cleaned.
Me - I'm going to put you onto my husband because last time I got something like that done without checking with him, I got yelled at.
Pass the phone to Christian.
Me - Speak to this lady, she wants me to have the throttle housing thingy cleaned.
C - Why do you want me to speak to her?
Me - Because you know stuff.
C - How much do they want to charge?
Me - Just talk to the damn lady Christian!
C - Hi, so how much do you charge for that?
Christian's mouth literally drops open, then he starts laughing.
C - Ah no, I think we can give that a miss. Thanks.
After hanging up, I ask what she said.
C - Oh, it's normally $180 but she could drop it down to $110 for us.
Me - And that's...crazy?
C - They spray a can of stuff and run the motor for two minutes*. That's it.
Me - And this is why I give you the phone.

* This may or may not be how it actually works but this is how I remember him saying it. If it's wrong, blame me and my memory cos I'm 100% sure Christian knows what he's talking about.

Just on a final note, here are some photos of Molly. Just so you can all go 'Awwwww'.

Time travel

The problem with always having been the 'good' kid growing up is that I'm finding that every now and then I revert back to my teen years and act like everyone else was doing back then while I was busy being responsible.

And so for the past TWO weekends (yep, count em) I've found myself getting rather pissed. The first weekend Christian had some people round to celebrate his last day at his job. I hadn't planned on drinking much because I had to have an early night for my market but I didn't quite pull off that plan. It made for a rather uncomfortable day in 40C heat at the markets.
Then last night one of Christian's mates came round to watch the footy and somehow we got to talking about which pubs and clubs we've been to in town and we decided to go out. Tash had had a bit of a rough weekend and so I called her and told her to come out with us. We had pre-going-out drinkies here and then headed out to The Court for several more.

Which leaves me at lunchtime on a Sunday feeling rather seedy and looking through the few random photo albums I have on the HTPC. I came across some pics I took last winter up at my mother's place and although I'm pretty sure I have them in an album on FB I figured I'd share them on here since it's my blog and I'll do whatever the heck I want lol.

Most of them are of old figurines and things from Mum's garden.

Owl!


Purdy flowers.


I just love the fact that I found a rubber duckie in the yard. Nestled against the decaying leaves it gave me a bit of a Chernobyl feel for some reason.

I'd love to say time and spiders wait for no man but considering this is a thermometer it's a bit pointless...


My fave photo.

There's a bear in there...

My mother's freaky ashtray.

This 28 wanted...

...this chicken. Nom nom nom cheeeeeeekan!


Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the blast from Nettie's past for today. Please remain seated until the internet comes to a complete stop and then make your way in a orderly fashion to the door. Thank you for frequenting The Natterings of Nettie and have a pleasant day.

A day at the markets

My cousin Sarah is one of these annoying crafty people who have awesome ideas and the actual talent to execute them. A while back she started making jewellery and accessories and started an online business called Bits and Bobs. As well as making items, she also started sourcing jewellery online to supplement the handmade items. I think it started by her sending me links to items she was thinking of buying and then me searching for other cool things but before we both knew it, I was also buying things to sell.

And so it eventually evolved into us getting a market stall up in Mundaring on the second Sunday of the month. We’ve just had our second one and it definitely seems worth the effort. The market is open for six hours and of course there are quiet times and so there’s lots of time for people watching. People and things we’ve seen include :

*A mullet on every second person.

*The mulleted women opposite us deciding that bras are so yesterday.

*The local church have a tent and they just love venturing out to hand out pamphlets and scare away customers.

*A lovely lady called Judy who is a newbie too and has been next to us both times.

*Irresponsible pet owners walking their dogs on hot bitumen on a 40C day.

*Two girls dressed in head to toe vinyl devil outfits, handing out pamphlets to a car show. I dared them to hand the church tent some brochures and they totally did! Best expressions ever on Churchlady’s face! I swear her mouth drew into such a thin line she almost sucked her nose off her face!

*A man with his beard dyed purple.

*A chain smoking grump who sells wrought iron candlesticks and snaps at you if you accidentally lean a table against his curbing whilst setting up.

*Gaggles and gaggles of teenage girls there for their cheerleading stand.

Things we didn’t see

*The git who nicked one of our rings.

All in all it’s a great day out and making a bit of cash on the side is always handy. I’m putting it aside for November because FLORA IS COMING!

NB - I have photos of the items I have gotten to sell (or some of them anyway) but my puter has been having some reconstructive surgery and is out of action at the moment and I can't be arsed uploading them to the HTPC.

True Love

Sleepy conversation I had with Christian in bed the other night.

Me - Are you happy?
C - Yes, I am. Are you?
Me - With you I am.
C - Meaning?
Me - I'm completely happy with you, I'm just not so happy with me these days.
Pause
Me - But I want to be happy. I want to feel the same way about me as you do.
Another pause
C - That might be a little weird when you give yourself a boner.
Me - This is true. It may freak you out a little.

Boom chicka wow wow

Off with the fairies

My brain hasn't been working lately. Example:

The other day I stop off for some groceries on the way home from work. I hand check out man my reward card. He looks at it dubiously, hesitates for a second and swipes it anyway, then hands it back to me.
COM - This card doesn't work here.
Me - It's not a credit card.
COM - I know.
Me - It's a rewards card. You know, I get points and stuff.
COM - I'm sure you do. But it still isn't working here.
Me - You swipe it and it gives me points.
COM - I get that but it only works at Big W and Woolies and places.
Me - Aaaaaaaaaaaand your point being?
COM - This is Coles.
Me - Oh...
COM - Sorry.
Me - Don't apologise, I'm the dumbarse who has no idea where she is.

Anyone know of any brains for sale on the black market?

To be open or closed...

...that is indeed the question.

And unfortunately I don't have an old skull handy to chat to so I'll just natter on to you lot.

As most of you are aware by now, I'm pretty open about the things that go on in my life. I've been told by some people (ok, quite a few) that I share too much. This is something I do ponder from time to time and I'm sure that these people (ok, mob) have a point.

I guess I just feel that if I'm having a conversation and something comes up that I've had an experience with or has happened to me, I almost feel compelled to share. Otherwise it's like lying. Because anything I say from that point onwards won't be the truth. If someone says 'I've always wanted to catch a squirrel and dress it in Barbie clothes cos I think it would be fun' and then I say 'Yeah, I wonder what that would be like...' when I know damned well how much fun it is...well to me it feels like I'm not being honest about my opinion because I'm withholding certain information.

Christian on the other hand is very...selective about what he tells people. Not because he's secretive or ashamed or anything, but he's just always been a man of few words.

What got me to pondering tonight is that we were out at a movie with our friend Steven. We were chatting afterwards while standing outside the bank where I used to work and I said I hated being there. Steven said 'Oh yeah, you used to work there. I know you left but I don't know why.' To which of course, being me, I told the truth and said 'I slept with one of the ladies husbands.'

Slight pause, then a bit of a stutter.

'Riiiiiiight. Well, we knew something was up but I always assumed you had cancer or something. All we knew something was upsetting Christian and he didn't want to talk about it. I've always thought you must have had cancer!'

And that's the difference between Christian and I. My friends all know I'm a marriage wrecking slut who turned suicidal from her guilt because I told them about it. Christian's friends think I'm dying of cancer because he said nothing and they only had observations to go on.

I wouldn't say I'm closer to my friends than Christian is to his. And it's not that Christian won't talk about the whole thing. He's always been very supportive and open in discussions that we've had as a couple with other people. If it wasn't for the fact that he doesn't really talk much about anything I might have thought he was trying to protect my honour (or what little I have left of it). The only explanation I have left is that it's a personality thing and I just happen to more open than he is.

It's not just the affair that I'm open about either. I've always be open with people about my abuse, my mental illness, being bi, my lack of religious belief, my favourite colour, the fact that I went to a Take That concert, my inability to conceive children, my dislike of Tom Hanks, my cutting...if it comes up in conversation, I'll discuss it. It's not like I go up to random strangers and say 'I hate Tom Hanks' and run away; the subject has to be broached first.

But how open is too open? My mother hates the fact that I admit to things that are considered shameful. She does not like me talking about my affair, she hates it when I wear shirts that show my scars, she freaked out completely when she saw me kiss Flora on the lips, she tells me I need to get over my abuse and stop dwelling on it. My mother is nice I swear, I really do, but she just has certain issues about some things. I do have to wonder though if the problem lies with me? The things I do obviously make her uncomfortable and so if I become more closed about my life, it would obviously put her at ease. If I was less open, I would most likely make a lot of people more comfortable. Therefore is it logical to assume that the onus rests with me and I should be more tactful; less open; restrained; decorous; less me?

I hate the fact that I make people feel uncomfortable.

A conversation with Christian

I walk into the study and completely interrupt Christian whilst playing an online game with his mate Steven.

Me : Do you like my bear? Points to my new Oatmeal Beatbox Bear shirt.
C : I don't get it.
Me : What's not to get? Bears like beatboxes cos it's music for the slaughter.
C : Yeah...I still don't get it.
Me : The original strip has lots of dead people round the bottom of the bear. As if pointing this out will help my cause.
C : Yeah...still not getting it. I don't see what's funny about that.
Me : Cos you know, bears like to kill people and you know, stuff, and they like to listen to music and like, stuff, while they kill...you know...and like...stuff...
C : ...
Me : It's true!
C : No, that's not true. Bears don't listen to music.
Me : Well, it's like, just as true as like, things like Zurgs being tru...oh, you're not playing Starcraft anymore.
C : No, I'm playing Call of Duty.
Me : Well, aha! Look at that! People don't run around in a war shooting people with guns without a helmet on! See, that's not true!
C : No, that's totally true, only squares wear helmets.
Me : Well, what's more true? Hmmmm? Bears listening to music while slaughtering their dinner or nerds who work in call centres running about in war killing people?
Silence whilst Christian gives me 'a look'.

Why is it I can't even win an illogical argument with this man???

Aloha peoples

Hey all,
I don't particularly have anything to write about but I felt like I should keep this post roll going.

It's very hot in Perth at the moment. Today was 36C and that's the coolest day we'll have all week. The forecast reads as follows ; 38C, 40C, 40C, 39C, 42C, 40C, 39C.

I think I'm going to go hibernate in a freezer somewhere...

Honestly, I love living in Perth but I hate summer and herein lays the problem. Perth is summer central. It's hot and sunny and dry almost all summer long. Therre is very little respite from the heat and when the temperature does finally drop down to the mid 30's, the humidity feels lonely and decides to visit.

I love winter. Our winter. Which is the equivalent of your summer my northern hemisphere friends. I'm sure though that I would die if I ever had to go through one of your winters.

And yet as hot as it gets here, I do love my little city. And so I'll forgive her scorching days and the sunburn she inflicts and instead look forward to cool, winter days when the wind blows the leaves through the streets and the rain gently falls down to the thirsty baked earth.

Bouncey Bouncey

Flora has officially booked her holidays.

I AM SO BLOODY EXCITED!!!

Seriously, I'm bouncing around like I'm high on red cordial.

She'll be here in roughly nine months! So much planning to do! We've already got a list of things we want to do but every now and then another idea pops into my head. Then I phone her and our conversation consists of a lot of squealing, a lot of bouncing on both our parts, a lot of eyerolling from Matt and Christian and in between all of that we scour the internet for things to do whilst they're here. After our trip to Rotto we're going to have about two weeks to fit in catching up with Sarah; going to the zoo; having a girly night out followed by a nice evening out; heading up to York for the day; having a bbq by the river; playing super golf; having a big party for Flora's birthday; possibly having a slightly (ok, very) illegal driving lesson; maybe going to Scitech; seeing my Mum (who has adopted Flora) and doing lots of hanging out, watching Frisky Dingo and Middleman and just having fun.

I just can't wait!

Lights, camera, action!

Hello all :)

First of, just to start off with some cuteness, here is a picture I took of Molly. She's utterly adorable but I must admit, I felt very sad when I took this photo. I was chatting to Flora on the phone and we were talking about Molly and when I took the photo I noticed just how much she's now showing her age. We very quickly changed the subject because we both got upset and were almost in tears.


On the weekend Christian and I decided to go shopping for some light fittings (by decided I mean I said 'Let's do this' and he went 'Whatever') .
We've been in the house for roughly four years and it's been one of those things I've said we need to do for ages and we've just not got around to doing.
The house did come with some el cheapo fittings but they a) looked horrid b) set on fire easily and c) nope, looking horrid and setting on fire were enough reason for me!

We looked at a couple of the big lighting stores and eventually found our way to a small little store tucked away in some shops on the highway. As soon as we walked in, it kind of felt we'd been transported to someone's Nan's attic or a little antique shop. It was absolutely cluttered as the shop was tiny but they'd tried to display as much as they could.
The ladies there were very lovely and we ended up buying from there, mainly because the service was unbeatable.

These are the basic fittings we got for rooms that didn't need fancy lights; the study, bathroom, laundry and toilet.
The glass is frosted and has a swirly kind of pattern on it.


We got these ones for the kitchen, dining room and random area in middle (technically the dining room but it's too small for a table so we put the dining table in the 'games' room which is too small to be a games room...).
It's kind of hard to see the pattern in this photo but like the previous fittings, these are frosted but the design almost looks like there are cracks through the glass.


And finally, our 'balls of string'. They're actually made of wood and we bought these for our bedroom, the loungeroom and the entry...hall? space? meter squared bit you stand in before it becomes either the lounge or bedroom?
Anyways, so we bought the last three the lady had boxed and as we were paying at the cashier, she climbed up and took down the display model, plonked it on the counter and said 'No point me trying to sell one, happy housewarming!'.
I was just over the moon, it was so nice of her. So that one went in the spare bedroom instead of one of the plain ones.


This is ball of string lit up.


Because the bedrooms are smaller than the lounge, the light actually throws shadows on the wall. I think it's awfully pretty :)


We also bought a full length mirror which is great as it means I no longer have to go outside and try to catch my reflection in the window if I want to see how an outfit looks. We just have to mount that on the back of the bedroom door as soon as Christian nicks some double sided tape from work!

Hurrah for getting small things done!