tripping in syrupy friday

Man sometimes it's hard to stay up and positive and 'yeah everything will work out'...but i tell you what, working at the Water Corp is a big bloody help. I'm not getting things sugar coated, what i'm getting instead is the truth, but with the added 'we're not going to leave you out in the cold'. Dave said today he was 'delighted' with my work. those exact words. It means a lot.

I am standing before a weekend filled to the gills with work - expedia this time. But with the hope that maybe this lot of cash will go towards my own debts- of which there are a few million. I listed them to mum on the phone yesterday and even saying them made my lungs rattle.

Yesterday we bought a heater for the bedroom- this morning I woke with nose intact and body-temperatured. I also bought a hairdryer and today we're going to Target. Oh the adventures of our suburban lives.

And oh the unsmooth differences with people who are perhaps trying too hard and to what end? Methinks this weekend would be better spent curled around some journal articles, perhaps Jeff McMullen's autobiography (i'm pathetic, i know it) and endless cups of milky tea. Instead it'll be curled around the miniature laptop and reading about the tourism industry in India :-)

"The darkness of the soul is not lighted by moving the body to another place"

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the tip of my nose: frozen
it was so hard to drag myself from bed today, half an hour before 6am.
there was Canon to analyse, there was coffee to be made, but what about ... my sleep? when will I sleep enough?
and of course i don't have energy for lots of other things, but even a full Paul Keating cup of straight black coffee hasn't done the job. I've done my job, well, one of them anyway.
Now I'm going to cook porridge and try and find shoes without holes to wear to work.

It might be beautiful, but it's a sleepy morning.

When I first saw Abbotsford Street...

I thought, those trees are flame trees and if we move here, in winter the street will be awash with bright red flowers.

Then when we did move in, I revised my initial thinking... perhaps they aren't flame trees after all, because in Cottesloe they are already flowering, yet these showed no sign. But those heart shaped leaves are so familiar...anyway, I thought no more of it, until yesterday afternoon, plodding home from work, only to look up and be face to face (give or take a few metres' elevation) with a beautiful red flower. So winter is coming, but slowly, and the street will be washed red.

Ever more things to be grateful for.

Today I'm pummelled by fatigue again, but so many good things have happened- on Saturday, after taking delivery of a wonderful second hand bed and baking three pretty bloody amazing cakes (burnt toffee in oven not withstanding) I started on the French onion soup and we headed to Lynwood. And it was wonderful. Wine and jaegermeister and soup and oily croutons and so much laughing. It was like old times. Very old times, but it was intimate and comforting, that family's still family, no matter how twisted the connection.

Balint zonked out some time after midnight (Pete was long gone) and Betty and I stayed for another hour or so, huddled in front of the laptop, humming Italian pop songs and sipping warm wine. Bliss.

Sunday we went to the Hungarian house, and I surprised myself by having a wonderful time. Of course this must have been helped by Zoli and his great kids and Di, but it was a good happy set up, the weather was beautiful and I didn't have to work. It was fantastic.

It's almost my bed time, but I wanted to say one more thing. Remember Impulse, from our school days? Well, I'm poor and my perfume is empty, so I thought, with a nod to the credit crunch, that I'd buy some body spray instead. First, in Coles I tested Illusions...whoa, did I really stink like that in high school? I remember Bud used Incense, which also hit my olfactory area like a train...so I settled on mostly musk, which is stifling and cheap smelling, but also packs a wonderful memory-wallop, and if I use little enough, it's almost bearable. Thierry Mugler eat your heart out!

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Rain

The rain finally came to Perth on Wednesday night. The night I turned 29.

Balint and I had taken our superb bottle of Windance Cabernet Merlot (2004) to Clarke's of North Beach, and while feasting on seriously incredible duck (him) and lamb (me), we watched rain begin to pelt the outside world. It had been such a long dry spell, I couldn't help but rejoice. Even though my new red dress got a little soaked, and I got a little wet and cold.

The rainy weather has continued- with a vengeance. On Thursday there were multiple power cuts at work, serious power failures around Perth, and violent storms, so that on Friday morning, the car park by the Water Corp was littered with large broken branches and scattered gum leaves. I can't describe the smell, but it made me smile out loud!

I learned two things on Friday afternoon as I mounted the railway bridge to walk home. As the skies opened in the most sudden and full-on downpour I've ever seen, I learned: my boots are not watertight and my grey Rivers jumper is most definitely made of wool- it smelled like homeless wet dog.

Last night we had dinner at Chook and Keith's. You know each time I see them, and it's nowhere near often enough, I love them a little more. Chook had planned a big birthday celebration, making all my favourite things. Roast lamb, and home made mint sauce, bread and butter pudding, red wine and a beautiful sponge cake with passionfruit icing.

When I cut the cake and made my wish, it was twofold...one of them I'll keep secret, but the other was that Chook and Keith remain as active and healthy and cheerful and wonderful as they are for as long as possible!

And today Perth is a bit like Melbourne- lashings of rain, then brilliant sun, then rain, then sun then both- rainbow! I've baked a mud cake and an upside down apricot cake for the cake stall at the Hungarian house tomorrow- now I just have to figure out the best way to scrape burnt sugar off the floor of my oven.

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Birthday

My birthday, this day of gifts, actually began yesterday evening when I returned home from a very good day at work, and B presented me with a set of six beautiful wine glasses.
This morning I was greeted with a whiplash-causingly-gorgeous sunrise. I kept popping out on the balcony to take pictures, leaving my metrica undone and undone.... but there will be time for that yet.
And then, while walking to work, a text message arrived from my Grandmother. It still strikes me as amazing that she's using technology with relish. I miss her so much!
I'm in a remarkably good mood- hope has sprung, and being 29 isn't so very frightening.
After all, how bad can the day be, if it starts with a healthy dose of Bizet?

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PhDs and Nail Ale

Phoar this was a difficult weekend. But happily it started wonderfully.
On Friday, I left work early and drove speedily to Freo, where Gary, his wife Jo and three of his finished PhDs were celebrating the completion of their doctorates, joined by Ange, Eric and I- the three not-yet-completed ones.
Everyone was in a jolly mood- we munched on those wonderful Clancy's chips and drank beer and talked and laughed and in the end it was just Gary and I that stayed for one more pint and I actually felt adequate. Although I haven't read (of course) as much as I would like to, I didn't feel empty headed or slow.

I didn't fully realise how drunk I was until I got home- it was a big fat irresponsibility to drive. But my guardian angel must have been present.

On Saturday I worked at the hostel again, until 8.30 and then again on Sunday from 7AM!! Sunday was work in the main kitchen though, and boy was that a different experience. Chef Steve wanted to clean the fridge and I had the job of scrubbing the fungus ridden shelves in hot water. My hands looked awful, my back ached and I was exhausted by the end of it, but when I got home, Balint had cleaned the entire flat and it gleamed and it mean so much to me!

We went for a tired afternoon walk and had a pint of Kilkenny at Durty Nelly's in the city, while listening to an enthusiastic American sing Cold Chisel and Elton John songs. It was a beautiful end of autumn day, and I don't understand why my eyes flew open at 4.59 this morning... but I couldn't for the life of me get back to sleep.

And then my laptop died. The screen sported colours that Paul Smith would be proud of, but there was no restarting it, no reaction, nothing. I cried. But Balint reckons if it's a serial problem, Dell should fix it free of charge.

I am exhausted today. Toothpaste on the wrong side of the brush exhausted. But I should get a big rest tonight, because Wednesday is a very important day!

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My neighbour has a Holden

I know, I have one too, but I want to write about his for a minute...

It's not yet 7am, and this happens every morning, and I am stupidly excited by it.
As the dawn cracks orange on the horizon, I hear him start up his car. I am usually in the kitchen at this time, unscrewing the coffee machine, or making porridge. And his car is loud. I hear him rev the engine, sit there in the parking lot for a while, and in my environmentally unfriendly soul the sound thrills me.
Only this morning though, did I realise how bloody loud that thing is. I'm at the other end of the house, on the far side of the building from the parking lot. And I noticed the leaves on the tree outside start to rattle. A sound like thunder filled the room. And it was my neighbour's Holden.
It's unfortunate, that such a petrol guzzling, nature-hurting beast can excite me so, but it does. The same as my own car does.

Anyway, it's early, I'm cold, the coffee hasn't kicked in, and I thought waxing lyrical about V8 engines would be a good mini break from analysis.

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Life Cycle

It was an interesting weekend.
On Saturday I baked and cooked and Betty and Peter came over for coffee which was wonderful. B was at work from well before sparrow's fart, so he missed out on driving around lost (in Perth?!) for an hour, untilwe found Harbour Town and dashed in to spend some hard earned money, hardly there for the spending.
I bought a white shirt for work, from Rivers and a soft, charcoal grey Gilby jumper. I am wearing both as I type this.
Then the guys took me home so I could get ready for my shift at an old person's home in Cottesloe. Having worked in Bicton at Karinya, I didn't think this would be that different, but nothing could have prepared me for the grandeur. The facility is built on a rise with limitless views over the Indian Ocean, the staff are wonderful, the rooms more like suites and the food impeccable. Yes, I know, because i tasted it. But still there is an air of unbearable sadness, even though most of the residents are present in mind, and sharp. It really is the final stop before dying. And it's incredibly hard to see these once magnificent humans (like we all are- magnificent and awe-inspiring) reduced to a child-like helplessness. How hard it must be to cope, when your mind is still active and sharp and you are witty and then you shit yourself, or have to use a bed pan, or be fed because some other part of you doesn't work. There was a lady t here who has a cat in her room, a big black fluffy Pista of a thing, though slightly friendlier. The lady was still mobile, though suffering from diabetes, and I almost lost it when she said, I'm not giving up yet, looking with love at the cat.
The rooms are peppered with photographs of loved ones lost, or just missed. But it is heartening that there is a pretty constant stream of visitors.
I served afternoon tea, then cleaned the kitchen, and then served dinner, which was the bigger job. The labour-intensive clean up afterwards was a relief, because it was solitary work.
I'm going again next Saturday, it's a comfortable shift and the money should cover our food bill for a week, so it's a big help.
Sunday was B's birthday, and in my scattered, fatigue ridden state, I wasn't well prepared. No stores open on Sunday and I don't even have a springform cake tin. So I phoned some restaurants, and finally got us a table at Fraser's. It was madly impressive. The lights of Perth spread out before us, but almost close enough to touch. The food and service were flawless and well worth the wheeze-inducing final bill. Hamlin Bay Cab Sav- got my vote :-)
Poor B is sick, but the telly I'm picking up for him today should put a dimpled smile back on his face ...

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I'm back in denim

Man, these jeans are so tight I feel like I'm wearing denim armour. They restrict movement, and I curse the existential changes jeans go through in the washing machine. Anyway, at least they look good :-)

Here in WA, the biggest buzz at the moment is the referendum on daylight savings. Here at work, on the outlook bulletin board there is friendly banter back and forth, the yes vote, the no vote, and it goes on. And I read these comments and I rejoice that I live in a place where this is our biggest worry. Yes, there are crap things happening, we're getting more greedy and getting poorer while other people get richer still at our expense. But these are not at the forefront of our minds. Not from where I'm standing anyway.
There is a level of relaxation and easygoingness here that I haven't experienced in any other country and I adore it. I bathe in it and I love it!

Another thing I love is the idea of suburbia. The writing idea I think I've mentioned before. Well, I've finally started the folder, taken the first step.

Yesterday I put in a twelve hour day, today is looking to be similar, but in about a week or so, we should be up and online at the apartment too!

So, to Friday. Planning and printing and pruning ideas, while outside the unseasonal perfection continues. What a beautiful day!

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Red socks and Rancid

The red socks were yesterday. An unknown colleague, Mike, came by to show me a system I was unfamiliar with. Mike must be around 50, and looked respectably dressed right down to his ankles. When he sat down, I saw he was wearing bright red socks! I warmed to him immediately. Not to mention how much more when I sniffed a waft of Old Spice drifting over my desk. Ahhh.

The Rancid was this morning. I had an early start, going to see Soph in Shenton Park for the monthly torture and then driving home through blinding (literally) sunshine. I dropped the car and walked to work, and in the chilly morning across the carpark I really fancied a bit of Rancid. So when Radio Havana almost blew my hair off, I broke out in an enormous smile, and again with that feeling, that today belongs to me, and I am in the most beautiful place in the world.

I also had this feeling while brushing my teeth in the breaking dawn today- the view out the open bathroom window was a pale black sky with a sliver of bright orange, illuminating the silhouettes of gum trees.

If only air conditioning was outlawed...

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mornings

The weekend mornings were more like wide open dawns, with us waking at 4.30 so I could take B to work in East Freo and then drive back through the blinking pitch black, with the cranes behind me and the Florentine tower of UWA ahead. We live in a beautiful place.

I am tired almost beyond measure- I have no nails to speak of, my face looks like the surface of the moon and I have a stomach ache that feels like someone is chewing my guts from the inside. But I know this is all temporary. Soon, I won't need to work three jobs (yep, you read right: three, because this weekend I too am going to work as a kitchen hand at an old people's home in Cottesloe) and I will have time and energy to do a few Anna things. Maybe even save up for an easel and same paints...

This morning was also particularly gorgeous. In fact, as I just wrote that word, 'gorgeous', I suddenly thought that the colours of the sky this morning would have looked resplendent as shirt colours for Jay Gatsby. "I'm sad because I've never seen such beautiful shirts before" - how I hated Daisy.
But I digress... this morning I woke a few minutes before six, made my coffee and sat in the study, with the sunrise behind me, my Paul keating mug and a book about Hungarian intellectuals in Germany. It was a peaceful, blissful time.

The new apartment is slowly taking shape. It lacks any real furniture, other than that which we ahve received from Zoli, or scrounged from the side of the road, but boy do I love my washing machine and my fridge. I am inching towards grown-upness.

I had a letter from Emily yesterday- the first one at the new address - and she, from a distance, has appointed herself my life long cheerleader. And again, like on most days, I am flushed with gratitude for the amazing life I have.
(Luckiest girl in the world- think I've mentioned that before).

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