command centre

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the Command Centre

It’s from here that the shots are called and the menu is planned, prepared and distributed to the guests.  It’s important to remove yourself and sit back to consider the options.  Who’s best with who and who’s not getting along with the others.  Planning time.  It’s very important – particularly when this place is more like a spa resort than a chook house, really.

mission control

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THE PLAN

 

Whoever said looking after chooks was easy has never done it.  “Just chuck out some feed and collect the eggs”… as if! 

Chooks need military precision!  They need routine. And if they don’t get, by God, they’ll let you know about it. This is the mudmap I do when looking after Dad’s chooks.  Do I overthink things? Probably. But what if one naughty hen pecks another and that one flies into the next pen with some others it’s not meant to mix with? Disaster! The boys have names, ‘cos they’re easier to distinguish. The girls in age groups for now.

 

like a boss

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Aaaaand, stay there!

 Well done, Puppy!  That goanna didn’t know what was on his hammer and he didn’t come down that tree for hours – ha ha.

babysitting

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waiting

I’m baby sitting for the Oldies – so, meet the baby.   He’s waiting for Dad to come home. 

Not long, mate – not long.

 

welcome

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wedgetail eagle

I haven’t seen any wedgetail eagles around here for a few years.  I believe they develop several nesting sites and rotate around them over their lives.  Usually, we’ll see them in flight, waaaaay up high circling – but today was a lovely “welcome to country” from the couple. 

As I drove in, over one grid, hang a right, through the boggy patch and straight on over the gravelly bit.  The track veers right and down/up a couple-a hills before the last chicane down to the house. 

And there they were. Sitting low on a tree’s branches – maybe they’d just fed?  Unless you’ve seen them, you have no idea how friggin HUGE they are.  And beautiful, just beautiful. 

I turned off the engine, grabbed the camera and walked up slowly.  The lady moved off to a tree further away and the man followed.  They were not concerned, but sat on the far side of the next tree trunk so they could play hidey –go-seek with me. 

I took it slow but knew they’d move again.  Girl first, boy second.  Big wings beating, but not going up at all.  They flew at level over to another copse of trees.  I blew my camera battery entirely – and then when unpacking – realized I’ve forgotten my charger! Typical.  One battery to last a week.  This will be tricky – but I’ll go for a walk up to the old nest to see if they are any signs of recent renovations.  Wish me luck.

eyes open

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I walked past these windows quite a few times before I saw the detail added to them. My lesson – a little more focus in the here and now and I would see the kind of depth I’m craving to find in my boring daily humdrum.

There are a million gifts of beauty for us all. Made and left where we might find them if we open our eyes. How many pieces of wonder do you walk past each day?

keeping centre

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The challenge – should I choose to accept it (and I do) – is to maintain the rage against self-absorbed crazy-makers, energy sappers, suited wankers, ditzy dipsticks, drama queens and lazy bastards.

My life, my balance, my wants, my will.

I WILL win.

nature girl

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Beautiful morning.

7:00 Great walking. A bit of slipping in the mud. A careful eye on the uneven ground in front. A thud from a low hanging branch. A bit of laughing. A leach caught before it’s dastardly act. A dramatic re-enactment of it’s woeful attempt to do evil. More laughing. Silence at the waterfall. A bit of sweat and puffing on the walk back up.

8:00 Terrific start to the day.

time out

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My time:-

– in a safe place
– with no computers
– surrounded by supportive people
– walking amongst natural beauty
– in silence
– massaged
– cooked for
– taught new things
– and reinforcing old knowledge
– relaxing
– reading
– sleeping
– balancing.

Time out for me.

high frequencies

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What an absolute shit of a day.  For some inexplicable reason, there’s a lot of tension in the air, ‘cos everyone around me is sounding off, arcing up, pointing fingers and NOT LISTENING to each other. If they could all just shut up for 5 seconds, and think about why the person they are arguing at is saying what they’re saying, and not keep repeating what they think as if it’s not being understood, then my life would be much easier.

I hate conflict. I can talk a good fight but that doesn’t mean I like them. I don’t like hearing harsh words, I actually physically flinch when it’s around me.  My body language never lies.  It makes me sad to see people choose sides and not give the benefit of the doubt to each other.  Prejudgement and holier than thou certainty by people who don’t actually know the facts gives me the complete irits.  Who the hell do they think they are anyway?

Three different adults today have disappointed me…and I won’t forget it, but I’m going to work very hard on letting this nonsense wash over and around me.  Not through me.  My nerves can’t take.

and the Oscar goes to…

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Oh I do love a red carpet.  It’s where the fabulous meets the notorious with some star power razzle dazzle in the mix.  Fashion shows are about the clothes, red carpets are more about the horse wearing them.

This year’s Academy Awards was a little disappointing – with nothing really blowing me away.  The ladies definitely brought the colour this year, with no real standout theme.  I suppose white was the most popular, but it’s difficult to “pick a winner” when the looks range from girly-flutter through to hard edged couture.

The best dressed women are the ones most comfortable in their skin.  Who dress for their shape and know this is them.  I find little attractive about the ones trussed up to project something they are truly not.  Young things dressing too old (bless them).  Old things dressing young (thanks for the laughs!).

This Oscars was the wrong person in the wrong dress.  I think they should have a swap meet and ‘do-over”.

a rant and a request

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Is it too much to ask for real estate agents to update their online listings?  Is it?  I went to 7 open houses today – 2 of them were already Under Contract – but no element of the listing advised that.  I could have gone to other houses I’d actually have a chance at buying at these times instead.  To add insult to injury, one house I drove past for a stickybeak on the way to another had a SOLD sign up.  FFS!

there’s no business like show business…

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I forget how much I love the movies.  There always seems so much else to do, to pay for, to run around spending time on than to sit and escape for a couple of hours.  Every year I say I’ll go at least once a month, and every year I’ll realise I’ve seen maybe 2 movies, tops.  Apparently, 2 hours and $20 is too big a luxury to give myself.  Silly girl. For the record, today I went to the movies because I had a few hours to wait for my car to be serviced.  I saw The Descendants with Gorgeous George in the lead.  Sigh.  He does pick a good story to tell.  Beautiful.  I think the experience was only enhanced by the fact that it’s “tight-arse Tuesday” and my fellow cinefiles were of the aged variety.  They noted all the things I would otherwise have missed – “Hawaii’s green, isn’t it?”…”That’s not nice language at all”…”He’s the baddy”….”I like their shirts”.

The Descendants - 2012

audience awareness

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Sometimes, the bloke whinging about how he can’t get a girlfriend needs to listen to himself talk about women. Cos if it pays to advertise, and this is how you show yourself to be, then you’re on your own, pal.

QUEENSLANDER!

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What happens when you’re little when you climb in to a safe place, but grow up so much that you are too big to get back out again?

my saviours

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My earbuds save me on a daily basis. They shield me from unwanted conversations. They help me get under the loud phone conversations, deep and meaningfuls and total dross blabbed all over my bus. They help me sidestep and zigzag the slow walkers and meandering finger pointers out shopping.

They are my cloak of invisibility. My tardis to some of the best and most fantastic day dreams I have. I love my earbuds. Because they give me the one thing that helps me get through the day – music.

BAFTA vs Grammy

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And the Cinema Stars win!

it’s the simple things

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This is it. The end. The last of Dad’s honey :(. My nickname isn’t ‘Pooh’ for nothing. Those bees had best get busy.

hindsight wins

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STRESS FULL day today. God almighty. Shakes. Headaches. Crying. Pale. Fer-eeeeeek-ing out.

I had somehow committed myself to something that wasn’t right for me. I was maneuvered a little, lead a little, and definitely put on the spot to decide quickly. And boy, wasn’t my body telling me so! I was freaking out about how to put the brakes on, but nicely, you know? ‘cos you gotta not hurt anyone.

In the past I would’ve hurt me to not hurt others. Not anymore. I get the whole ‘don’t go to bed angry’ thing. There’s no way I could’ve slept! So to be able to deal with things – no matter how unpleasant, was such a relief – a massive relief to get out of that one. I know I pissed some people off. But I slept til 10am. It was the right decision in the end. And I can learn to live with people not liking me.

a softer side

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Sometimes I surprise myself. I am the most UN-pink, UN-girly-girl, UN-glittery woman you will ever meet. So when I’m drawn to something so unlike myself, it makes me take a step forward to figure out why.

These lovely cards by Deb at Bella Paperie are gorgeous. I think they are beautiful. I spent three hours of tape, glue and glitter with a group of people happy to have a go. In doing a craft class, you place your trust in the teacher. There’s no risk of failure because the ‘recipe’ already works. You get told what to do so you don’t need to think (much!). And most importantly – NO-ONE SEES THE ORIGINAL.

It’s nice to do something out of your comfort zone. Dive in and see why it’s never taken your fancy before. I’m still not really into the whole pink thing, but I might allow myself to like more bling. 🙂

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Waitangi Day’s lessons for an Aussie

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It’s Waitangi Day in NZ. It’s an interesting story if you’ve never read the history. I always know the day. I think a lot of Aussies do. I see so many similarities in the marking of the day with our Australia Day shenanigans.

There is debate and angst about the inequality of the original inhabitants and the invading people’s in the one land. A lot of distrust and long held sorrow. The Aussie government’s disgraceful delay in apologizing for the years of policy that shattered families across the land…and continues to affect them all generations later. All these things rear up again on a commemorative day. There is so much water under the bridge – with little allowance made for the fact that the bridge is a long way downstream from where it began too.

I like the Waitangi story – I love the pride in the Maori culture, I wish all Aussies had more understanding and respect of the Indigenous cultures here. There is so much we don’t know.

I can say Hello, Please, Thank you, Yes and No. I can count to 10, ask where is a hospital, a bank and a railway station. And I know one pickup line from pretty much every country I’ve travelled through, but I don’t know how to say these things in the language of the traditional owners of the land I live on…

Do you?

hope

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I hate Sunday nights. They remind me how much time I didn’t use to get stuff done on the weekend. And by ‘stuff’, I mean the things I want to do, not have to do.

I imagine everyone else is the same – chores, cleaning, for me – house hunting… Catching up with friends is getting pushed more and more down the list as non-essential. Sunday nights are also when the headache that will be my constant companion until usually Tuesday evening begins.

And yet, I have hope. That there’s light at the end of the tunnel, my home will come, I’ll get to see people I actually like, spend more time with the family, crafting, cooking, gardening – and not fitting it in between hanging out the third and fourth loads of laundry.

I believe in the pendulum swinging…and it’s coming back to centre. It is.

blood suckers

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These blood sucking vampire flies are everywhere at the moment. Gonna wear some turbo DEETed citronella soaked garlic to bed – once I invent it. Ha.

twitter

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Twitter is full of wit, facts, discussion (some educated-some not), photos, links, sharing info, directing, sometimes misdirecting, HUGE pinches of salt, marketing ‘bote, spam ‘bots, hilarious ‘bots and the odd hooligan.

I love it. There is something cool and invigorating to send a quick 140 character ‘thanks’ to my favourite author in the whole world, and get a reply. Twitter is the awesome.

these are not the droids you are looking for

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I’ve been thinking about perspective…

If you consider the individual parts that make up an adult life are:-
> work – the what, the where, the who (oh my goodness!), the rules, quirks and the whhyyyyyy
> home – the where and the how of living the life you choose
> people – I’m not gonna lie, I am the sanest person amongst my family and friends 🙂 and
> ‘things’ – whatcha got, what’s busted, what works and what I want
then these four areas in my life are all on the move at the moment. Not exactly teetering (not yet), just wobbling a bit.

I feel the need to fix everything – to sort situations out then and there. All gunho and doin’ the stuff. I think most adults do. In watching others deal with the odd curve ball, I try to emulate how they stay grounded and focussed – to not get wound up or beaten down.

So, I’ve begun my very own Jedi mindtrick – telling myself to breathe. Consciously, deliberately, drop my shoulders down and B R E A T H E. Maybe by the end of my 366, I’ll have figured out how to manage it without so much effort…or I’ll have lost my marbles trying.

Screen Actors Guild Awards 2012

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Oh, I do love a red carpet….

my next ride

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I spent a lot of this weekend in the car. In the rain. Driving. A lot.
I love my car – Rupert. But my next car will be Bond, James Bond.

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getting a little bogged down

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Very very tired of looking for a home. It’s an effort to look, choose, schedule, and get to open houses each weekend…assuming they actually have inspections. These days it’s by appointment mostly – 10 times the work for agents and a royal pain in the whatsit for me. So many calls and emails to see if you can schedule a look through. How the hell do you sell a house if you won’t let people view it? FFS!

26 Jan – Aussie Aussie Aussie

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Aussies aren’t the only country that bbq meat for an easier meal – but we hang our hat on the practice.  We hold dear our outdoor lifestyle so fervently that we give ourselves a special day to use it.

En masse, we throw some snags, onion slices and steak on the grill, rustle up some salads and slap it all between the sides of a hamburger roll liberally smothered in tomato sauce (NB: not ketchup).  We play some games in the backyard – usually scratch cricket – so that everyone, no matter the age or ability, can have a hit, run, catch or bowl.  If you’re very lucky, you have a dog on your side as a ring-in fielder.

Some Aussies have a pool to cool off in, some are near the ocean, but we play, we eat, we play some more and we cool down however we can.  The point is we do it together.  We stop all the running around, the “have to do’s” that get in the way and we make the effort to spend the day together, talking, laughing, eating and drinking.

The Australia Day public holiday has such a different feeling to it than the Christmas holiday.  Less emphasis on presents and the need to give everyone something meaningful or “good”.  Less tradition to adhere to on what to eat, how to eat, how to spend the day.  Australia Day is easy-going.  It’s the day we spend being how we think we are.  Relaxed.  Connecting.  Having a laugh.  Enjoying the moment.  No worries.

I know that this day holds historical echoes that are unpleasant and that some find upsetting because it feels unresolved and unacknowledged.  Regardless of the day you get to do it, joining your loved ones together with a no fuss, no baggage, no bullshit event – just to catch up and relax – is a gift I hope you receive too.

craft central

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Ooh, I’m a sucker for ribbon. I can remember sitting at my Nanna’s table learning how to make crepe paper rose bouquets. I must have been about 9 years old. My Mum does every kinda material craft, and me? I’m a beginner at more craft types than you can poke a stick at with too little time to practice them all… Oh, and I am sucker for ribbon.

well, this looks familiar

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There’s nothing you can do when it won’t stop raining.

We grow a pool in the backyard and although a few things get wet, it’s ok.

It’ll all dry out and we’ll get on with things.

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