tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-181206962024-03-15T02:49:07.027+08:00The Natterings of NettieIt's not dangerous, until something goes wrong!Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.comBlogger317125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-82926963141576289942013-03-10T17:17:00.000+08:002013-03-10T17:17:11.846+08:00Comic Con 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When Christian and I found out that Comic Con was having it's first ever visit to Perth, we jumped at the chance to go. The best Perth had ever had was SuperNova and that never really attracted much attention.<br />
And considering that we never really do anything overly ostentatious, we figured we'd splurge and get the VIP tickets. Not that our $150 a pop really got us much - just fast tracked queuing for tokens, a couple of VIP only panels and a DVD of the event sent out afterwards. For the really awesome perks, one had to part with several hundred dollars and we couldn't justify it <i>that</i> much.<br />
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We organised a dog sitter and got really lucky when we learned that Christian's aunty had a time share hotel unit just down the road from the Convention Centre and as she never used the free nights she's entitled to, she was happy for us to stay there.<br />
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We took the Friday off as an annual leave day so we could make the most of the weekend and set out to really enjoy ourselves. We checked in about 4pm Friday arvo and spent the evening wandering about the city. Just next to the hotel was this cool little shop that was absolutely jam packed with pianos. Seriously, if someone's Grandma was obsessed with pianos, this is what her attic would look like. There was hardly any room to move and it was fucking <i>awesome</i>! <br />
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We had to walk under the freeway overpass to get anywhere and this little guy was pinned to a 'Graffiti Hotline' sign. I'd forgotten to take my meds a couple of times in the last week and had been a right grumpy bitch and this made me cheer up considerably.<br />
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It was rather overcast on Friday and I thought the city skyline looked really cool. <br />
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So we got up early on Saturday and headed down to the Convention Centre, not really knowing what to expect. Obviously the lines were out the door, but it wasn't as busy as we had expected. Our queue time took longer than general admission as we had to be ID'd and get a few bits and bobs from the front desk.<br />
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While in line we saw Bane...<br />
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And Bender.<br />
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Inside we spent a couple of hours wandering about, finding out where everything was and taking in the sights and sounds. We got some tokens for some autographs and our VIP tickets paid off almost straight away as we were in line for tokens for all of about two minutes. Although we loved the idea of getting photos and autographs of almost everyone there it just wasn't really viable for us to do so - financially but also practically. I mean, we only have a little house and are almost out of wall space already. What would we do with them? No point forking out such a considerable amount of money (autos were $30 up to $50 depending on the star and photos started from about $50 I think to $90 with someone like Shatner or RDA) just to have them put in a folder somewhere never to see the light of day.</div>
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In the end we got two tokens - one to get an autograph from Colin Ferguson for Tash and one to get RDA to sign a Cyanide and Happiness comic for us.</div>
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The queue for Colin was rather short so we jumped in straight away. I told Christian that now we were mere moments away from talking to such an awesome actor as Mr Ferguson, I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say at all and would most likely make a blubbering idiot of myself. Which I probably did. </div>
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Colin - <i>shakes hands we me and then with Christian. </i>Hi, how are you? I'm Colin.</div>
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Me - Crap, really? We thought we were in William Shatner's line! Well damn!</div>
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Colin - Yeah, I get that all the time! <i>(Laughs...thankfully) </i>So, where are you guys from?</div>
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Me - From Perth, we're locals.</div>
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Colin - Wow, seems like most people are from around here. At most conventions heaps of people seem to have traveled a long way to get there.</div>
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Christian - Well, it's because we're so far away from everyone else in the country.</div>
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Me - Yeah, we're the most isolated capital city in the world. No one comes here if they can help it.</div>
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Colin - Yeah, it took me like five hours to fly here from Sydney.</div>
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Christian - And they charge you a heap to get here. </div>
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Colin - What, they don't give you a discount? </div>
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Christian - Nah, it's cheap to fly here from everywhere but not cheap to fly out from here.</div>
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Me - I get the feeling they want to keep us here...</div>
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We chatted for a minute more and Colin signed a photo for us and we walked off, me a little star struck. It was only then that I looked down and realised he'd signed the photo '<i>For Tasha, <u>great</u> to meet you - Colin Ferguson'. </i>Oops...Tash is going to have to pretend she's met him...</div>
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After that we looked around a bit more and then started to line up for our autograph with RDA. We were then shooed off because you weren't allowed to line up prior to 15 mins before the session time started. So we went and sat down for a bit and then when the allowed time had come, we went to line up, only to find a hundred people <i>already in line</i>. Grrrrrr! So we queued anyway and got shuffled further and further down the line as Platinum passes and the RDA Experience passes got put in front of us. After we'd been queuing for almost an hour a woman came down the line announcing that everyone should chech their tokens as the RDA tokens had a time on them and if your time was for 3:30 to come back later.</div>
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Well guess what? Fucking 3:30!!!</div>
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So we went and found a quite place against stage 2 to sit and I went off to find some food. By this time the crowd had almost doubled and it took me twenty minutes to navigate my way across the convention floor to the cafe and even longer to get back. When I did get back I discovered the invasion had begun!!! But for some reason Mario had joined forces with the Daleks!</div>
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We ate lunch and people watched (though I must admit I was crap at taking pics of the awesome costumes. I just hated interrupting people to get a photo as they must have been getting sick of it happening every five minutes.)</div>
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We waited where we were as there was a VIP panel on with Jason Momoa, Teryl Rothery and David Nykl from Stargate. At this point Christian looked as tired as I felt.</div>
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The panel started and the three actors were very friendly, very funny and just a lovely bunch of people. Plus, Jason Momoa is hot. Nuff said. </div>
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After the panel we decided to head back to the hotel for an hour or two to rest until heading back to get RDA's autograph. Before we left we stopped by a few of the artists booths to pick up some prints we wanted. I bought a heap of these Doctor Who prints from an extremely talented man called <a href="http://stewartmckenny.com/index.html" target="_blank">Stewart McKenny</a>. He was lovely and signed them all for me and we had an awesome discussion about Doctor Who, what my fave Angels episode was, how scary they were and if he drew The Empty Child. He said that this is something he wants to do in future. A truly remarkable artist and I encourage everyone to check out his site :) </div>
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After a short rest at the hotel (I didn't technically rest, I just messaged backwards and forwards with Flora but considering I was sitting on a comfy couch is was resting enough) we headed back to the convention.<br />
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And the line for RDA was so long, it snaked all the way through the convention, almost to the front door! Christian spoke to one of the helpers there and she said that RDA was there till 6pm but he would stay until everyone who had bought a token had gotten his signature (tokens are only valid on the day of purchase). So we went off wandering again and took a more detailed browse of the stalls. This was when we stumbled across this shirt. It's the characters from Firefly in Snoopy form.<br />
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Christian couldn't decide if it was awesome or not. I say yes.<br />
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We got back in line at about half five as we were tired of walking about and just watched people coming and going. If <i>I </i>was tried with sore feet, I couldn't imagine how Iron Man felt...<br />
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The line slowly snaked around until we could see the signing booths. Shatner had returned to sign extra autographs and Christian and I remarked again how fast he pumped them through. The couple behind us said that they had gotten his autograph and he didn't engage in small talk or pleasantries, just signed and you were ushered off. I guess when you're a veteran of these conventions, you do what you have to do to get through the day. To be honest, he's not looking all the best :( He walks with a cane and all his photos were taken with him sitting down.I can imagine just how tiring these days can be for him. When he left, someone in the line called out 'Goodnight Mr Shatner' and he turned and waved which was nice.</div>
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6pm came and went and Richard Dean 'I'm a fucking trooper' Anderson just went on and on. I have no idea how his hand had not fallen off as yet but he was determined that no one would go home without what they paid for. It was half past six by the time we reached him and he was still cheerful and chirpy and he happily signed our comic for us. He hadn't seen it before and he had a good laugh over it and I'm glad that we could make him laugh after such a long day. </div>
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<br />
That evening we stumbled back to the hotel and just ordered room service and mindlessly watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. We were just absolutely shattered after such a long day and we still had a day to go!<br />
<br />
Sunday morning we checked out of the hotel and headed up to the CC and discovered that the few people in Perth who didn't know it was on, found out and were there! Saturday it had gotten progressively busier as the day went on but the opening crowd on Sunday was as big as the biggest crowd on Saturday. We met up with Steven and it helped to have two tall people who could see where they were going. It's difficult when one's head only reached armpit level on most other people.<br />
We went to a Voice Acting Masterclass with Paul Eiding and Chris Sabat and then went to a screening of a few episodes of Adventure Time since we had no idea what all the hype was about. We said goodbye to Steven and headed for lunch and as we left the CC we found that they had shut the doors as they had reached capacity but there were still at least a thousand people still waiting to get it. <br />
After lunch we had planned to sit in on the Colin Ferguson panel followed by the Jason Momoa one and culminating in the RDA panel. Unfortunately the lines were so very long that the chances of getting in were slim to none and we decided that we may as well call it quits and head home.<br />
<br />
Turned out rather well actually as I've had time to do this post, and to scan our autograph and email it to Rob at Cyanide and Happiness. <br />
<br />
Now I'm exhausted so I'll wrap this up :)<br />
xxxNettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-2275754132629000232013-02-21T15:42:00.001+08:002013-02-21T15:42:35.650+08:00It's a Dance Off!I'm so lucky that I found Christian, because no one else will <em>ever</em> understand me like he does. <br />
<br />
Seriously, we have conversations that, if overheard by a psychiatrist would have us in a padded room before you could say 'Holy Batman, it's a padded room!'. We use so many in jokes, movie quotes and geek references that it must sound like a complete other language. For example, how much of the following conversation we had today via txt can you understand?<br />
<br />
Me - I hate my work puter and it hates me :(<br />
<br />
C - Dance off time!<br />
<br />
Me - I was thinking a Bane Off.<br />
<br />
C - Well it's not really a tie situation.<br />
<br />
Me - We hate each other equally as much so that kinda counts as a tie, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
C - It falls more into the rivalry category which would be a dance off I'm afraid. Prepare to get served.<br />
<br />
Me - Dammit, I wonder if my good friend Voltron would teach me some of his sik moves?<br />
<br />
C - Well unless your PC is an Atari you might want to get taught by someone who has moves that aren't from the 80's.<br />
<br />
Me - Don't you think I could win a dance off using the Robot?<br />
<br />
C - Not likely.<br />
<br />
Me - I guess it would depend who was judging the dance off...do you think it would be Billy Idol?<br />
<br />
C - Or David Bowie...<br />
<br />
Me - Oh yes, that guy. I wonder if my equally good friend Billy Zane will be there to support me?<br />
<br />
C - Or TVs Eric Roberts.<br />
<br />
Me - How about Tom Ribbons?<br />
<br />
C - He would only show up if it was a charity event for saving puppies.<br />
<br />
Me - No puppies were saved in the event of this dance off.<br />
<br />
C - Then Tom Ribbons will stay at home eating food that wasn't derived from animals or vegetables.<br />
In case you are wondering, that's mostly just dirt.<br />
<br />
Me - But dirt prepared bu one oh Hollywood's top B Grade chefs!<br />
<br />
C - Of course.<br />
<br />
Me - I don't know how much longer I can keep this conversation going...<br />
<br />
C - Yeah, I'm done.<br />
<br />
Can you name all the references quoted above? You have 60 seconds, starting...NOW!<br />
<br />
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Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-70583307991985798382013-01-15T15:11:00.001+08:002013-01-15T15:11:38.896+08:00Robin HoodHonestly, I'm beginning to think I should rename this blog from 'The Natterings of Nettie' to 'Christian and Nettie's Txting History' since all I seem to do lately is posts about conversations we have during the day. Then again, at least I'm posting, yes?<br />
<br />
C - I's thinking of getting the Razr on the staff plan. It's not a contract so I can change if the plan isn't any good and the phone will only cost me $240 all up.<br />
<br />
Me - Cool :)<br />
<br />
C - I'm technically not eligible but I don't think anyone will check and if they do I'll just play dumb.<br />
<br />
Me - You are a master criminal and I love you for it xxx<br />
<br />
C - I'm like Robin Hood. Rich = insert 'Big Corperate Phone Company Christian Works For'and poor = me<br />
<br />
C -Pretty sure they'll write folk tales about me in a few hundred years.<br />
<br />
Me - They'll sing about your exploits whilst carousing around a camp fire in the middle of the woods.<br />
<br />
C - Probably won't have woods in a few hundred years. Or fires for that matter.<br />
<br />
Me - True. So they shall sing about your exploits whilst carousing around a nuclear reactor in a barren wasteland.<br />
<br />
C - Much better.<br />
<br />
Me - Pity there's not a beautiful Maid Marrion to go with the story :(<br />
<br />
C - You could dye your hair red and be Will Scarlet, or learn to play the lute and be Allan a Dale?<br />
<br />
C - Or maybe just beautiful wench Marion? Bit too late for you to be a maid sorry.<br />
<br />
Me - You only just saved your arse with that one :P<br />
<br />
C - :D<br />
<br />
Me - Though if you want me to be Will Scarlet I can buy a wig and a strap on...<br />
<br />
C - Hmmm, that's the best offer I've had today so far!Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-75801093802167556072013-01-03T22:25:00.002+08:002013-01-03T22:25:15.694+08:00Cancer of the anusBeen a while hasn't it? Figured I should post before you forget about me and I die a lonely loner, on a lonely road, alone...<br />
<br />
Did everyone have a good new year? I did, it was a fun, nerdy evening on New Years Eve, then I pretty much slept all of New Years Day and then the trouble started the following day at work. Had an absolute shit of a day and this txt conversation with the boy followed towards the end of it, after much bitching to him about all the bullshit.<br />
<br />
<i>NB - Handy to know is that I am a Leo and Christian is a Cancer according to astrologists. </i><br />
<br />
Me - One of the nurses told me I'm having a crap day because the moon is in Leo and so Leos are in the limelight...:/<br />
<br />
C - Fuck you moon! Fuck you and your limelight!<br />
<br />
Me - Careful, Cancer is in Uranus, if it sees you fucking the moon it might get jealous.<br />
<br />
C - Cancer in my anus? Is she an astrologist or a proctologist?<br />
<br />
Me - She's a quack as well as an astrologist...<br />
<br />
The following conversation occurred this morning.<br />
<br />
Me - How's that cancer of the anus going?<br />
<br />
C - Turns out it was nothing. Turns out!<br />
<br />
Me - I always thought Uranus and Your Anus were the same thing. Turns out, they're not. TURNS OUT! (<i>For those of you who haven't seen the latest Bill Bailey show, the 'turns out' business will just confuse you. I assure you that it's actually very funny.)</i><br />
<br />
C - (digressing slightly) I hate how the internet is all like 'Look out Aus! There's a heat wave coming!'. Fuck you aresholes, Aus is more than just Sydney ad Melbourne.<br />
<i> </i><br />
Me -Where was our sympathy last week???<br />
<br />
C - What's that Perth? Sorry I can't hear you over here on the east coast because my head is so far up my own arse.<br />
<br />
Me - They better be careful, they might catch cancer of the anus...<br />
<br />
And on the juvenile note I shall leave it at that. I gave you a post, I didn't say anything about it being an intelligent, mature post...Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-8637979117958755192012-10-24T16:29:00.003+08:002012-10-24T16:29:49.768+08:00Sounds of natureChristian and I had gone to bed and could hears noises coming from the pond across the road.<br />
<br />
Me - Is that ducks making that noise?<br />
C- Ah no. That would be frogs.<br />
Me - They sound like ducks. *pause* Do you think it's a defense mechanism?<br />
C - What is?<br />
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!'<br />
C - Snakes eat frogs.<br />
Me - So the frogs sound like ducks so snakes won't eat them.<br />
C - If you say so.<br />
Me - Hang on, do snakes have ears? Can they even hear???<br />
C - Yes, they have ear holes.<br />
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.<br />
C - ...I'm going to sleep now.<br />
Me - Oh, ok. Night.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-73453754121611219962012-10-01T13:10:00.001+08:002012-10-01T13:10:31.957+08:00The Gardening FinalsWell 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!<br />
<br />
Match 1 - Team Annie VS Team Flower Beds<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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?<br />
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!<br />
It came down to the wire but TA came home in the end.<br />
<br />
Match 2 - Team Annie VS Front Lawn<br />
<br />
Match forfeited by FL as their main player, Lawn Mower was injured and could not play.<br />
<br />
Match 3 - Team Annie VS Lantana<br />
<br />
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.<br />
Lantana bought some of their most prickly players with them and most this year seem to have a height advantage.<br />
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.<br />
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. <br />
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.<br />
<br />
Grand Final - Lantana VS Back Yard<br />
<br />
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. <br />
However is goes down, one thing is certain. This will be an epic battle!<br />
<br />
<br />Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-1168626998123968932012-09-22T11:40:00.002+08:002012-09-22T11:40:38.182+08:00Therapy
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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.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
STOLEN INNOCENCE</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jolt awake. Cold sweat
running down your back.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The nightmare never fading
– it’s real.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Fall back into uneasy
sleep.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The years fly backwards</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Back towards your innocent
childhood.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A bright sunny afternoon</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Laughter haunts a gentle
breeze.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A friend takes on a
stranger’s face</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Hands suddenly roaming
everywhere</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
They rip and tear your
innocence away,</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
They weave the thread of
future nightmares.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Self esteem plummets,
confusion skyrockets.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A new experience – “Am
I being bad?”</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Days, maybe weeks flash by</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Laughter haunts a gentle
breeze</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You run, trying to hide as
the countdown begins</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You panic – she’ll
find you first.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A cupboard door opens in
your bedroom,</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A hand gestures you
inside.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You accept the stranger’s
offer.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You sit, cramped, hoping
you aren’t found.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The stranger’s heartbeat
thumps loudly in your ear.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You squirm, this isn’t
right.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So uncomfortable, you
can’t breathe…</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Eyes fly open, a scream in
your throat.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You pull yourself out of
bed and run</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As a wave of nausea rolls
over you.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Your stomach is emptied
but your mind isn’t</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please God, please take
the memories away.”</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the day dawns you steel
yourself,</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steel yourself for another
day of</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Living without your stolen
innocence.</div>
Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-74539225164973228252012-09-19T16:18:00.002+08:002012-09-19T16:18:44.338+08:00ChangesAnother one of my stories.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
CHANGES </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
By Annette Hudson</div>
<br />
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<br />
It's odd, isn't it? How there can be one defining moment in your life that will change you forever. <br />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.<br />And sometimes it's so fucked up there's no mistaking it.<br /><br />Mine was the latter.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />I remember the day clearly, even if the incident itself is slightly blurry. <br />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. <br />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...<br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />It came without warning.<br /><br />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.<br />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.<br />Not me.<br />I was dazed and groggy and completely stunned. And so I missed my chance to struggle early on, the only chance I'd gotten. <br /><br />From then on, the story was written in stone.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />That was the last time I felt hope. It has not returned since that day. <br /><br />I fear it has abandoned me forever.<br /><br />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. <br />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. <br /><br />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. <br />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. <br />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.<br /><br />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. <br />"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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br />It shut down.<br />My mind literally shut itself down.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />Time lost all meaning, there was just numbness, occasional pain, and more numbness.<br /><br />I didn't even know when it was over. <br /><br />I lay there for hours, lost in the emptiness of my mind, hiding from the fear, not even aware that I was completely alone.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br />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.<br /><br />But something else was missing. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />On second thought, perhaps that's not quite accurate. <br /><br />Every now and then, late at night, I scream in horror at what has been done to me. <br /><br />But I scream silently, in my dreams.<br />Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-82680206641341461842012-08-26T09:14:00.000+08:002012-08-26T09:14:02.261+08:00NipplegateYes I know, I'm being lazy, but a txt message recap post is better than no post at all, yes?<br />
<br />
Christian - This shirt kills my nipples.<br />
<br />
Me - Thanks for that visual.<br />
<br />
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*<br />
<br />
Me - Back, and to the left.<br />
<br />
Christian - I need a second shirt on the grassy knoll. A much less scrapey shirt.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-31666875910463405582012-08-17T07:55:00.001+08:002012-08-17T07:55:33.486+08:00Bacon KarmaA conversation Christian and I had via txt on Wednesday.<br />
<br />
C - Who do people ruin perfectly good food by putting bacon in it :(<br />
<br />
Me - Because you are being punished for killing the president of Micronesia in your past life.<br />
<br />
C - Was he a pig?<br />
<br />
Me - No, but karma knows you hate bacon and this it its way of punishing you.<br />
<br />
C - That doesn't make any sense.<br />
<br />
Me - That's because you don't believe in karma. That pisses karma off so it also tries to include prawns whenever possible.<br />
<br />
C - No sense.<br />
<br />
Me - Also, custard.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Me - Beaver Man!<br />
<br />
C - He works like a beaver, that's for sure.<br />
<br />
Me - He also build dams<br />
<br />
C - More like daaaayums!<br />
<br />
Me - No sweetheart. Just...no.<br />
<br />
That is all.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-81299965483563107432012-08-05T10:07:00.002+08:002012-08-05T10:07:54.014+08:00River Queen<br />
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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. </div>
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To appease those of you asking to see some of my work, I thought I'd post my story <i>River Queen</i> here. It was published in the magazine <i>Litmocracy </i>a few years back. Hope you enjoy :)</div>
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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.
</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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“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.</div>
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“I’m just going to the creek Mama,”
Jacob called softly.</div>
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“Don’t go too far now. And make
sure you don’t disturb your daddy. He’s awful busy today.”</div>
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Jacob nodded and called out, “I sure
won’t. I’ll be back in for lunch.”</div>
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“You take Misty with you if you’re
going to the creek,” His mother called as he left the house.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.
</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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But that was before Ben went away.
</div>
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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 <i>never</i>
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?</div>
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So now Jacob came to the creek alone.
</div>
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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.</div>
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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.
</div>
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Jacob settled himself on the rock and
started on his breakfast, occasionally throwing some to Misty, and
enjoying the warmth.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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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.
</div>
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“Hey boy, what’s wrong?” Jacob
asked, moving quickly towards the dog.</div>
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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.
</div>
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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<span lang="en-AU"> neighbours</span> had been
having trouble with them. A pig might scare Misty. Wild pigs scared
almost everyone.</div>
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<i>Jacob</i></div>
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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.</div>
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<i>Come to me</i></div>
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There was no mistaking this time.
Someone was calling to<span lang="en-AU"> him. Misty</span> yelped
and then bolted for the bush, leaving Jacob alone.
</div>
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“Misty! Come back!” he called, even
though the boy knew the dog would not heed his calls.</div>
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Torn between curiosity and fear, Jacob
stood undecided on the river bank.</div>
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<i>Jacob</i></div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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The voice had not called him again and
Jacob looked about to determine where the person was.</div>
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“Hello,” the boy called. “This is
Jacob. Is that you, Mr and Mrs Whittaker?” He called out his<span lang="en-AU">
neighbours</span> names.</div>
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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.</div>
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Cautiously, Jacob peered back into the
water. His own scarred reflection stared back. He sighed in relief.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>JACOB!</i></div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.
</div>
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This woman was bad. How he knew, the
boy couldn’t say, but he knew immediately.
</div>
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<i>Jacob, come to me</i></div>
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The woman didn’t speak, her lips
didn’t move, but Jacob heard her words clearly.</div>
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“Who are you? What are you doing on
our farm?”</div>
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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.</div>
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“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 <i>you</i> what you doing in <i>my</i> home?”</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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“You seem to know me. Who are you? Do
you know my father?”</div>
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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.”</div>
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“The trees talk to you?” Jacob
asked, half in disbelief but also amazed.</div>
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“They would talk to you if you chose
to listen,” The woman replied. She stepped forward and sat lightly
on a rock.</div>
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“I suppose I have been rather rude
Jacob.” She said, looking directly at the boy, her purple eyes
flickering. “I am<span lang="en-AU"> Enalaya</span>, the River
Queen. It’s nice to meet you.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jacob didn’t know what to think. The
woman was absolutely terrifying, but she didn’t seem to be
threatening him.</div>
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“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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Enalaya’s head dropped. “As you
wish Jacob. But perhaps you could come and visit me again? It is
lonely being the River Queen.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Until next time</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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The following day, Jacob returned to
the river.</div>
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The experience of the previous day had<span lang="en-AU">
unnerved</span> the boy to a great extent and a fear had begun to<span lang="en-AU">
gnaw</span> at the usually happy young boy.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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So why was he going back?</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.
</div>
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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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Jacob</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Hello Jacob</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She smiled at him, s strange little
smile, and didn’t move her lips as she greeted him.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“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.
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“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?”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She laughed and the sound sent chills
up Jacob’s spine. He wasn’t sure if that had been a friendly
laugh or not.
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh no, my dear boy. You’ll do just
fine. Besides, no one must know I’m here.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jacob wanted to know why she was
supposed to be a secret but somehow knew that he didn’t want to
know the reason.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So Jacob, tell me, why do you come
here so often?” Enalaya asked, her purple eyes glittering.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But why do you come here alone? I
mean, I’m sure you have friends who would want to play here with
you.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“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.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Enalaya looked at him quickly, as if
rethinking what she was about to say.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I see. So Ben is your brother?”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Where exactly do you think Ben has
gone?” Enalaya asked.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jacob looked up as a large raindrop
splashed on his cheek. “Why is that important?” he asked.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I was wondering what makes you
think,” Enalaya said, dipping her toes in the water, “that Ben is
coming back at all?”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Ben isn’t coming back</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Jacob, listen to me</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No!” Jacob yelled. “No, I won’t
listen to you. You don’t know what you’re talking about!”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Ben isn’t coming back</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Jacob, Ben is dead</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“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.
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jacob scooted sideways, away from these
living branches, and shouted again, “Enalaya, please! I’m scared.
Please help me River Queen!”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Jacob</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>You will be safe here</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Welcome home Jacob</i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“This is Mike, I’m at the
waterhole. I’ve found the boy.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The radio crackled and the search
leader’s voice seemed loud in the clearing. “What news?”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I’m afraid we’re too late.”
Mike’s voice was filled with sorrow.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Roger that Mike. I’ll send some
men down there to help you while I inform the family.”</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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.
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jacob’s eyes, usually a dark brown,
were now bright purple.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-35748958217030350072012-06-13T21:38:00.000+08:002012-06-13T21:38:21.985+08:00Ramblings of a philosophical natureToday 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.<br />
<br />
The first was an incident that happened to my friend Lynette, whom I work with. We work in a rather old building (Over <i>fifty</i> 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 <i>something</i> happened to<i> them</i>.<br />
<br />
Until today.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Second - we went to see <i>Prometheus</i> 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 <i>Casablanca</i> 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.<br />
<br />
Oops. Spoiler alert!<br />
<br />
Anyways, so we're driving home and I told Christian about Lynette's encounter.<br />
He scoffed. To be expected I suppose.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
He grunted at me, completely shocked by this theory. I think he likes it.<br />
<br />
Come on science, prove me right!<br />
<br />
<br />Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-31080925835976461142012-05-04T17:54:00.000+08:002012-05-04T17:54:08.708+08:00On the up and upI know posts about my depression can be, well, depressing but this time it's actually good news.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
I'm going to share an <a href="http://www.news.com.au/features/onehour-onelife/i-want-to-tell-you-all-about-my-struggles-but-i-dont-really-know-how/story-fnd9ca2w-1226343492211?sv=bb17667a127cb43ae14d5678175b2cb8" target="_blank">article</a> 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.<br />
<br />
Just some food for thought.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-35285893883078822792012-04-21T09:09:00.002+08:002012-04-21T09:09:37.311+08:00He'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 <i>big</i> anniversary for us. <br />
<br />
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<a href="http://the%20olive%20tree%20restaurant/" target="_blank"> The Olive Tree Restaurant</a> 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!<br />
<br />
<i>Christian sends a txt to a mate about archery the following morning and changes a word in predictive text.</i><br />
Me - Urgh, I hate predictive text, it's so sucky!<br />
C - What?!? No way, it's the best thing ever!<br />
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.<br />
C - You have to teach it! It'll learn eventually what words you use most.<br />
Me - If I wanted to teach something, I'd have a child. I'm not teaching my damn phone!<br />
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.<br />
Me - Oooooh that's impressive! It's learned what you like in <i>two </i>days! <i>[/sarcasm]</i><br />
C - I've sent like 10 messages since I got it!<br />
Me - Wow! That's like, totally heaps!<br />
C - There is documented evidence that predictive text is faster.<br />
Me - I don't believe you.<br />
C - Remember you and Mike had that race and he won.<br />
Me - No he didn't, I did!<br />
C - Did not.<br />
Me - Did too! I won at least <i>one</i> of them! And I think we tied one as well....<br />
C - Uh huh<br />
Me - Hang on a minute...is the race I had with Mike your so called 'documented evidence'?<br />
C - <i>Evasively</i> Well it <i>was</i> documented...because you sent it...<br />
Me - You are such a cheater!<br />
<br />
After that, everything Christian said got a 'And there's documented evidence to support your claim?' in response.<br />
<br />
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!Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-76255978523275816332012-04-03T21:12:00.002+08:002012-04-03T21:17:10.039+08:00Yet another Christian quipI 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?<br /><br />Me - How's the job hunt going?<br />C - Neyh, there's nothing out there. Nothing good anyway.<br />Me - Have you heard anything from Lance's friend who said he'd keep an eye out?<br />C - No, but I didn't really expect to.<br />Me - Have you thought about trying an agency?<br />C - Oh fuck no.<br />Me - Why not?<br />C - Those people have no souls.<br />Me - Oh really?<br />C - It's true.<br />Me - I'm sure it is dear.<br />C - I'm sure they're all gingers...<br />Me - Uh huh, whatever you say.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-10987014934372605432012-03-24T08:09:00.003+08:002012-03-24T09:03:18.753+08:00Quidditch through the ages...or notChristian 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.<br /><br />Me - We could play Quidditch together!<br />C - Erm...<br />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.<br />C - <span style="font-style: italic;">Pisses himself laughing </span>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.<br />Me - Quidditch in the books isn't retarded! It's a highly skilled game!<br />C - No it's not! They just all fly around trying to get that one stupid ball that wins the game.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I try and explain the rules of Quidditch to Christian</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> as he has no idea.<br /></span>C - ??? What the fuck? Why are there other balls involved? If getting the snitch wins the game, why don't they <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> go for it?<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>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.<br />C - Why?<br />Me - Because they're the rules!<br />C - Where does it say that?<br />Me - In the books!<br />C - It specifically says that's the rule?<br />Me - Yes! It's the seeker's job to catch the snitch.<br />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?<br />Me - <span style="font-style: italic;">Because that's not how it works Christian!<br /></span>C - Who says?<br />Me - <span style="font-style: italic;">Quittitch Through The Ages</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">, </span>that's who!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">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).<br /></span>C - There's no actual rules in here! Anyone could catch it.<br />Me - Gah! I give up! <span style="font-style: italic;">Flails arms around in the air.<br style="font-style: italic;"></span><br />Despite my exasperation with my husband, on Friday we actually got to spend some time together<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span>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.<br />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.<br />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?<br />C - I doubt it.<br />Me - So how do <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> think it works then Mr Smarty Pants?<br />C - Not like that.<br />Me - So what, they just walk around and a little voice in their ear says '<span style="font-style: italic;">Getting warmer, warmer, hotter, NO COLDER! COLDER! Warmer, warmer, hotter, hotter, BAM there they are!</span>'<br />C - Neyh.<br />To take out my frustrations I pull faces at him all through breakfast, much to the amusement of other patrons.<br /><br />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.<br />While we were browsing through a book exchange, my phone rang.<br />Me - Hello.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pass the phone to Christian</span>.<br />Me - Speak to this lady, she wants me to have the throttle housing thingy cleaned.<br />C - Why do you want me to speak to her?<br />Me - Because you know stuff.<br />C - How much do they want to charge?<br />Me - <span style="font-style: italic;">Just talk to the damn lady Christian!<br /></span>C - Hi, so how much do you charge for that?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Christian's mouth literally drops open, then he starts laughing.</span><br />C - Ah no, I think we can give that a miss. Thanks.<br />After hanging up, I ask what she said.<br />C - Oh, it's normally $180 but she could drop it down to $110 for us.<br />Me - And that's...crazy?<br />C - They spray a can of stuff and run the motor for two minutes*. That's it<span style="font-style: italic;">.<br /></span>Me - And this is why I give you the phone. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />* 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.<br /><br /></span>Just on a final note, here are some photos of Molly. Just so you can all go 'Awwwww'.<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTXxnQ6CZkaBg-uJEKa9Zs_94p9BrLOvKQZ1vv7bSH7Kbgn2qCjsQVqWC89HQHDPuFq4bJUfTvLSZxx_JhkZ4SgsJ2cgYHDAHF0DP59cDY06bxzyk3BislbIrhPAcpug0beGtkA/s1600/moredogs+016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTXxnQ6CZkaBg-uJEKa9Zs_94p9BrLOvKQZ1vv7bSH7Kbgn2qCjsQVqWC89HQHDPuFq4bJUfTvLSZxx_JhkZ4SgsJ2cgYHDAHF0DP59cDY06bxzyk3BislbIrhPAcpug0beGtkA/s400/moredogs+016.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723261547614117506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLLD9OoZ0uWb22zHKu4m4WphAfL61XGm5sP0hg88ryxCSFeGFyODlsm7FoQLcyNXK8FRTgFU_ZaU1hAxGHMMb7g3hgZonY2ec-Fwc3jMBSUu-BrrPkysDcSalZCd7KyWPlPa3Xg/s1600/doggies+035.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLLD9OoZ0uWb22zHKu4m4WphAfL61XGm5sP0hg88ryxCSFeGFyODlsm7FoQLcyNXK8FRTgFU_ZaU1hAxGHMMb7g3hgZonY2ec-Fwc3jMBSUu-BrrPkysDcSalZCd7KyWPlPa3Xg/s400/doggies+035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723261538797998306" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQJ9OOHfHZw3pKjhn5V6vT28wXkfvPhCVI6cL9psHqHwt7QkdXMd29Mfz8VzYFNPE9Sjm9FB7bkxUsMN9AdXWRbUUe4tSzUl2GowHGuPRkaCnoZ3-MPUl4MEAhU_gUqS4jIF36jA/s1600/doggies+027.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQJ9OOHfHZw3pKjhn5V6vT28wXkfvPhCVI6cL9psHqHwt7QkdXMd29Mfz8VzYFNPE9Sjm9FB7bkxUsMN9AdXWRbUUe4tSzUl2GowHGuPRkaCnoZ3-MPUl4MEAhU_gUqS4jIF36jA/s400/doggies+027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723261527798323778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijx_ScSAK2y0OpPd2fcXMtQORLXuCqvW1Jd6aihyphenhyphenV0k_u_zaJu35R8bEh8f7gsJEroeNFvKOlmAXO0-IuEo234pZBumH0JaA1acSRseDr_VYI6B-2FPGgfHS5lVWAcjFBHF2cU_Q/s1600/dogs+045.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijx_ScSAK2y0OpPd2fcXMtQORLXuCqvW1Jd6aihyphenhyphenV0k_u_zaJu35R8bEh8f7gsJEroeNFvKOlmAXO0-IuEo234pZBumH0JaA1acSRseDr_VYI6B-2FPGgfHS5lVWAcjFBHF2cU_Q/s400/dogs+045.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723261549367991362" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-91516634652774051232012-03-18T11:35:00.003+08:002012-03-18T12:26:38.384+08:00Time travelThe 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.<br /><br />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 <span style="font-style: italic;">planned </span>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.<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Most of them are of old figurines and things from Mum's garden.<br /><br />Owl!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLTuf3iKaDhgy5PlqVWHMjkO5SD08vPeJsReGXx6C5aBX4Kp6wxPss5Fp10x7KXMIns7hXWb47dstbOhIeATmlkE3vvaHGIJEyPLf9OUjS3JWFwprJ0qPxfzCE_MR9yNRBZGeBw/s1600/mumsandmundweir+031.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLTuf3iKaDhgy5PlqVWHMjkO5SD08vPeJsReGXx6C5aBX4Kp6wxPss5Fp10x7KXMIns7hXWb47dstbOhIeATmlkE3vvaHGIJEyPLf9OUjS3JWFwprJ0qPxfzCE_MR9yNRBZGeBw/s400/mumsandmundweir+031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721077861513427202" border="0" /></a><br />Purdy flowers.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1wYZpeL6jTZiXS2_BbI9ApEez8FwyaM8uETMtmVnZ71cEMEikjQBVHnXnUX-guaRnDRmSp4OSz8D50k2l0zql0d3aRdhe09U8rvxh-44SRjISi3-R_ipHZ7NjksKXIVvTBKXHQ/s1600/mumsandmundweir+018.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1wYZpeL6jTZiXS2_BbI9ApEez8FwyaM8uETMtmVnZ71cEMEikjQBVHnXnUX-guaRnDRmSp4OSz8D50k2l0zql0d3aRdhe09U8rvxh-44SRjISi3-R_ipHZ7NjksKXIVvTBKXHQ/s400/mumsandmundweir+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721076830658680354" border="0" /></a><br />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.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4vm2lfOzHnXnkVCGyuwVy_YBEFmuRCNGYdSme9yqz5CcKStW-fckrq6OTNAtznGzzr8HDhvyN9DN02RpPUTBWsX4e1LVooxYSeL61GotQLizKrha65i_jW1-tC7-dpI-QtG5ew/s1600/mumsandmundweir+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4vm2lfOzHnXnkVCGyuwVy_YBEFmuRCNGYdSme9yqz5CcKStW-fckrq6OTNAtznGzzr8HDhvyN9DN02RpPUTBWsX4e1LVooxYSeL61GotQLizKrha65i_jW1-tC7-dpI-QtG5ew/s400/mumsandmundweir+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721076823446594370" border="0" /></a>I'd love to say time and spiders wait for no man but considering this is a thermometer it's a bit pointless...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW0yGPf6B5LKhhJw6N5_JMIQ-NUGwSWY_hiTvnkHLbvHG_ARG7rn3sUFKu-TdreUrosbgBK8O8Fzr_M6zR2Jfg78K6r6wSc8AUGuExUAOyXvXMR2o-yJX4vafPiSsZedYzp0c7Q/s1600/mumsandmundweir+003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW0yGPf6B5LKhhJw6N5_JMIQ-NUGwSWY_hiTvnkHLbvHG_ARG7rn3sUFKu-TdreUrosbgBK8O8Fzr_M6zR2Jfg78K6r6wSc8AUGuExUAOyXvXMR2o-yJX4vafPiSsZedYzp0c7Q/s400/mumsandmundweir+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721076817859153954" border="0" /></a><br />My fave photo.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqzHoeFNe0PBB85DWWPNmmW7IFj5ScYdVjsXqMofkT8FPBBd2GFwsH5wf5Gd2JzecnaNTJOFQ3ofdS2IA2PSUuATZ0yq4hSy6BCscfmM_NqIo1Ghook8-ShFMaS5LKY53SmxSnw/s1600/mumsandmundweir+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqzHoeFNe0PBB85DWWPNmmW7IFj5ScYdVjsXqMofkT8FPBBd2GFwsH5wf5Gd2JzecnaNTJOFQ3ofdS2IA2PSUuATZ0yq4hSy6BCscfmM_NqIo1Ghook8-ShFMaS5LKY53SmxSnw/s400/mumsandmundweir+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721076809213145826" border="0" /></a>There's a bear in there...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PbrjBBe0ruuvXxNzGTfwVYaIXCDMG7u8SSnhivJtdKq_MOL-3rcZF6EjXv2fKyo9FFZg3F6_bZR8k7SgVdjfAkfpNvCCDhc0LxpDtSW3HP9IrwcQfjMJnt5_d_7f0hPiYWauSQ/s1600/mumsandmundweir+019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PbrjBBe0ruuvXxNzGTfwVYaIXCDMG7u8SSnhivJtdKq_MOL-3rcZF6EjXv2fKyo9FFZg3F6_bZR8k7SgVdjfAkfpNvCCDhc0LxpDtSW3HP9IrwcQfjMJnt5_d_7f0hPiYWauSQ/s400/mumsandmundweir+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721076839164415970" border="0" /></a>My mother's freaky ashtray.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68lXOhci3BgS7U2QMXg_7JZug2cjcppyw7ZIVWwVeBVZ7yFrpc4iLWHTQwSXRuw2921vI4-PVkAKiYAEkUbncL9REQw_aHeG9yOcAp5i2S3MKEvTGxchSTGYEJHx0visIJBZokg/s1600/mumsandmundweir+028.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68lXOhci3BgS7U2QMXg_7JZug2cjcppyw7ZIVWwVeBVZ7yFrpc4iLWHTQwSXRuw2921vI4-PVkAKiYAEkUbncL9REQw_aHeG9yOcAp5i2S3MKEvTGxchSTGYEJHx0visIJBZokg/s400/mumsandmundweir+028.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721077853574723554" border="0" /></a>This 28 wanted...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOKCeSSF8F0_wf0PEy_N-zSFu7V1q75aR3jEkt-ag7_Jj5sus6_b26is-Og18jh8TAhS4IOQW6eiPi6sBupJlCHDDkuS5SWBSqvXF8ZndWgREuIOMCK3GBSSLmEWQmRRmRW0lsw/s1600/mumsandmundweir+063.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOKCeSSF8F0_wf0PEy_N-zSFu7V1q75aR3jEkt-ag7_Jj5sus6_b26is-Og18jh8TAhS4IOQW6eiPi6sBupJlCHDDkuS5SWBSqvXF8ZndWgREuIOMCK3GBSSLmEWQmRRmRW0lsw/s400/mumsandmundweir+063.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721077878537531394" border="0" /></a>...this chicken. Nom nom nom cheeeeeeekan!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUujOXxDq14dNACBZNyESyw6H_FccD9WHcqPgTTjp7nNuex2XSPdNBhjzfNBY8Z6Lzh8N6KwYrjnGriipDSWLsV0SBTGUpZ2Ho96h_97DXWto_gk-LZSKm8muKTsBOEjePwYCbFg/s1600/mumsandmundweir+054.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUujOXxDq14dNACBZNyESyw6H_FccD9WHcqPgTTjp7nNuex2XSPdNBhjzfNBY8Z6Lzh8N6KwYrjnGriipDSWLsV0SBTGUpZ2Ho96h_97DXWto_gk-LZSKm8muKTsBOEjePwYCbFg/s400/mumsandmundweir+054.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721077874059912642" border="0" /></a><br />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.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-70697982815912434572012-03-12T16:42:00.002+08:002012-03-12T16:46:13.887+08:00A day at the marketsMy 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.<br /><br />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 :<br /><br />*A mullet on every second person.<br /><br />*The mulleted women opposite us deciding that bras are so yesterday.<br /><br />*The local church have a tent and they just love venturing out to hand out pamphlets and scare away customers.<br /><br />*A lovely lady called Judy who is a newbie too and has been next to us both times.<br /><br />*Irresponsible pet owners walking their dogs on hot bitumen on a 40C day.<br /><br />*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!<br /><br />*A man with his beard dyed purple.<br /><br />*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.<br /><br />*Gaggles and gaggles of teenage girls there for their cheerleading stand.<br /><br />Things we <em>didn’t</em> see<br /><br />*The git who nicked one of our rings.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-50670249499570063972012-02-26T08:23:00.004+08:002012-02-26T08:29:17.526+08:00True LoveSleepy conversation I had with Christian in bed the other night.<br /><br />Me - Are you happy?<br />C - Yes, I am. Are you?<br />Me - With you I am.<br />C - Meaning?<br />Me - I'm completely happy with you, I'm just not so happy with me these days.<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Pause<br />Me - But I <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> to be happy. I want to feel the same way about me as you do.<br />Another pause<br />C - That might be a little weird when you give yourself a boner.<br />Me - This is true. It may freak you out a little.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Boom chicka wow wow</span><br /></span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-88255577066844472702012-02-23T19:14:00.002+08:002012-02-23T19:21:32.368+08:00Off with the fairiesMy brain hasn't been working lately. Example:<br /><br />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.<br />COM - This card doesn't work here.<br />Me - It's not a credit card.<br />COM - I know.<br />Me - It's a rewards card. You know, I get points and stuff.<br />COM - I'm sure you do. But it still isn't working here.<br />Me - You swipe it and it gives me points.<br />COM - I get that but it only works at Big W and Woolies and places.<br />Me - Aaaaaaaaaaaand your point being?<br />COM - This is Coles.<br />Me - Oh...<br />COM - Sorry.<br />Me - Don't apologise, I'm the dumbarse who has no idea where she is.<br /><br />Anyone know of any brains for sale on the black market?Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-45610582260456413912012-02-16T00:40:00.002+11:002012-02-16T01:09:14.828+11:00To be open or closed......that is indeed the question.<br /><br />And unfortunately I don't have an old skull handy to chat to so I'll just natter on to you lot.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <span style="font-style: italic;">know </span>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.<br /><br />Christian on the other hand is very...<span style="font-style: italic;">selective </span>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.<br /><br />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.'<br /><br />Slight pause, then a bit of a stutter.<br /><br />'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 <span style="font-style: italic;">always </span>thought you must have had cancer!'<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I wouldn't say I'm closer to my friends than Christian is to his. And it's not that Christian <span style="font-style: italic;">won't </span>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 <span style="font-style: italic;">anything </span>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />But how open is too open? My mother hates the fact that I admit to things that are considered <span style="font-style: italic;">shameful</span>. 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 <span style="font-style: italic;">nice </span>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 <span style="font-style: italic;">a lot</span> 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 <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>?<br /><br />I hate the fact that I make people feel uncomfortable.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-36977791739455992482012-02-04T00:32:00.002+11:002012-02-04T00:47:04.480+11:00A conversation with ChristianI walk into the study and completely interrupt Christian whilst playing an online game with his mate Steven.<br /><br />Me : Do you like my bear? <span style="font-style: italic;">Points to my new Oatmeal Beatbox Bear shirt.<br /></span>C : I don't get it.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br />Me : What's not to get? Bears like beatboxes cos it's music for the slaughter.<br />C : Yeah...I still don't get it.<br />Me : The original strip has lots of dead people round the bottom of the bear. <span style="font-style: italic;">As if pointing this out will help my cause.</span><br />C : Yeah...<span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> not getting it. I don't see what's funny about that.<br />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...<br />C : ...<br />Me : It's true!<br />C : No, that's not true. Bears don't listen to music.<br />Me : Well, it's like, just as true as like, things like Zurgs being tru...oh, you're not playing Starcraft anymore.<br />C : No, I'm playing Call of Duty.<br />Me : Well, aha! Look at that! People don't run around in a <span style="font-style: italic;">war </span>shooting people with guns without a <span style="font-style: italic;">helmet</span> on! See, that's not true!<br />C : No, that's totally true, only squares wear helmets.<br />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?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Silence whilst Christian gives me 'a look'. </span><br /><br />Why is it I can't even win an illogical argument with this man???Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-70908186151531745132012-01-23T21:45:00.002+11:002012-01-23T21:54:48.608+11:00Aloha peoplesHey all,<br />I don't particularly have anything to write about but I felt like I should keep this post roll going.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I think I'm going to go hibernate in a freezer somewhere...<br /><br />Honestly, I love living in Perth but I <span style="font-style: italic;">hate</span> 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.<br /><br />I love winter. <span style="font-style: italic;">Our</span> 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.<br /><br />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.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-89893769638659993662012-01-15T13:00:00.002+11:002012-01-15T13:11:20.983+11:00Bouncey BounceyFlora has officially booked her holidays.<br /><br />I AM SO BLOODY EXCITED!!!<br /><br />Seriously, I'm bouncing around like I'm high on red cordial.<br /><br />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 <span style="font-style: italic;">lot </span>of squealing, a <span style="font-style: italic;">lot </span>of bouncing on both our parts, a <span style="font-style: italic;">lot </span>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.<br /><br />I just can't wait!Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18120696.post-88582103467004691062012-01-09T20:50:00.004+11:002012-01-09T21:12:52.651+11:00Lights, camera, action!Hello all :)<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcELWebUPXaYn49ihN9eu8QDfgyoQQuWHk7Ua6a8PSVn98Cl1Syox6VftXN8w8qFvHvHsmt1Dj-UlS67_TV9CKdjRsbarOppChn618prIWbeIC7pcOVfe-M7G694fC_-elUlDLg/s1600/housestuff+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcELWebUPXaYn49ihN9eu8QDfgyoQQuWHk7Ua6a8PSVn98Cl1Syox6VftXN8w8qFvHvHsmt1Dj-UlS67_TV9CKdjRsbarOppChn618prIWbeIC7pcOVfe-M7G694fC_-elUlDLg/s400/housestuff+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695568777683613458" border="0" /></a><br />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') .<br />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.<br />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!<br /><br />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.<br />The ladies there were very lovely and we ended up buying from there, mainly because the service was unbeatable.<br /><br />These are the basic fittings we got for rooms that didn't need fancy lights; the study, bathroom, laundry and toilet.<br />The glass is frosted and has a swirly kind of pattern on it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFjAOJm1D8zHBnvu5qJFFLfrT9W87_jeXE3MeOGOL7W6ifBQ3IXfp_yUsqwyNxgiHBHT4E7lgaE5XgwjzcqQuf6yAdkfP_aT2zjcvUQN1IIVzIrV2wpZbo1qRFyZya4aUsseVNQ/s1600/housestuff+008.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFjAOJm1D8zHBnvu5qJFFLfrT9W87_jeXE3MeOGOL7W6ifBQ3IXfp_yUsqwyNxgiHBHT4E7lgaE5XgwjzcqQuf6yAdkfP_aT2zjcvUQN1IIVzIrV2wpZbo1qRFyZya4aUsseVNQ/s400/housestuff+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695568452323139634" border="0" /></a><br />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...).<br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6fPMVXs1Fz9a9aZj9WGZS7F8jXh0IaLZ_HtKZj43dw73XoMzQmycZ0fmARzQDGbM5ITkv5c23k7AUzpm_XFoTlGIfA64aPfT77XwZZxs0-A5jM0LXXOO5rvPC4Cnz8aa-OF7Vw/s1600/housestuff+007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6fPMVXs1Fz9a9aZj9WGZS7F8jXh0IaLZ_HtKZj43dw73XoMzQmycZ0fmARzQDGbM5ITkv5c23k7AUzpm_XFoTlGIfA64aPfT77XwZZxs0-A5jM0LXXOO5rvPC4Cnz8aa-OF7Vw/s400/housestuff+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695568459233792738" border="0" /></a><br />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?<br />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!'.<br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7bzpbp0DIpqgjfY7Gluq-oJXwBOgBJaMgcOCyljL0oi_1J0M90Ur-WLLpLMEccoe6MFsF2J-WGljv3vquAkQ-Odqz7UxgIuBW2x0wlMkrpA4uZWtgTVudXsvCkaN8FCPDZnJbA/s1600/housestuff+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7bzpbp0DIpqgjfY7Gluq-oJXwBOgBJaMgcOCyljL0oi_1J0M90Ur-WLLpLMEccoe6MFsF2J-WGljv3vquAkQ-Odqz7UxgIuBW2x0wlMkrpA4uZWtgTVudXsvCkaN8FCPDZnJbA/s400/housestuff+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695568446443704322" border="0" /></a><br />This is ball of string lit up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7pHS7I4HeazJDudBj_ykPWu-pBVK7xK-DBFQ4lRIFFezWcnZHCcYc-eNAKOBbWFw-q9EVFju23knYHY_CJsTLaNPiU1ah5h8ndIeeClzxq8jAij-YAytyN1O4gWDU0bUA1Msug/s1600/housestuff+011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7pHS7I4HeazJDudBj_ykPWu-pBVK7xK-DBFQ4lRIFFezWcnZHCcYc-eNAKOBbWFw-q9EVFju23knYHY_CJsTLaNPiU1ah5h8ndIeeClzxq8jAij-YAytyN1O4gWDU0bUA1Msug/s400/housestuff+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695568436413414674" border="0" /></a><br />Because the bedrooms are smaller than the lounge, the light actually throws shadows on the wall. I think it's awfully pretty :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutCJqG8z0tUbepntPJ3IL5fKcc7fzNUe6Lo-wIF-V8N__XiFbQhYDWlkgs2KtE26g1Ysyuth17j3wwaDribanqelbuS6gUMLDNYVdlDqnuhetY2K38GGNUEwknRL8zICLne6Z4g/s1600/housestuff+013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutCJqG8z0tUbepntPJ3IL5fKcc7fzNUe6Lo-wIF-V8N__XiFbQhYDWlkgs2KtE26g1Ysyuth17j3wwaDribanqelbuS6gUMLDNYVdlDqnuhetY2K38GGNUEwknRL8zICLne6Z4g/s400/housestuff+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695568435542641970" border="0" /></a><br />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!<br /><br />Hurrah for getting small things done!Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11477445525093254939noreply@blogger.com3