Do you always watch for the longest day...
And then miss it?
I do, and this June it was the shortest day and I missed that too. There is so much to think about these last days.
I went against my superstitions and watched the game at the Paddo on Friday with J, but all the hoping and swearing couldn't save the team from being beaten by the Swans.
Post-pub the night was close and full of wonder and so the weekend began, slowly and with smiling.
I shopped on Saturday, important things like Tim Tams for the trip and bits and pieces for the bambi shoulder I'm cooking on Wednesday. I am probably disproportionately excited, but I smile when I think of the way Em and I barreled into the venison farm shop, salivating.
There were two more football games to watch on Saturday - SarahJ picked me up and we went to North Beach first - I swear God was in a good mood when he invented afl uniforms, to watch J and then on to City beach to watch Sarah's Rob. Good fun, until one of his team-mates staggered off the ground with a broken collarbone. We three spent the next four or so hours at the hospital, walking from xray to exam room, the Eagles Pies game on every available screen.
On Sunday, after a substantial mug of Paul I strapped my various devices on and headed to City Beach for a run. And I completed 16kms. I know it's a long way off a marathon still but it made me so very happy. And what an encouragement, running up the many hills of North street and then cresting the last to see the Indian Ocean spread out before me like a welcoming embrace. I ran up to the Ocean Beach Hotel on the corner of Eric, proudly muttered "Home stretch baby" as I turned around and ran back to Norm.
Later, what started as an offer to look after J and his sore head turned into an absolute treat for me, with lunch at the Breakwater in beautiful winter sun. Not too sure what I've done to deserve this.
I then spent an hour with an amazing photographer called Melinda, by a colourful wall in Freo on Cantonment street having my photo taken. What a thrill! And the results are mostly wonderful!
No trip to Freo would be complete without a pilgrimage up to the monument and whilst there I saw the most gorgeous thing! On the bench next to me say a couple, maybe 16 years old. And they had the simplest picnic of bread rolls and chocolate milk. And I thought champagne and strawberries are not always necessary, sometimes the simplest gesture can make your heart soar.
On the drive home I saw something else wonderful: At the Loftus lights I was stopped next to a big, rumbling Holden ute with a big burly bloke driving. And then I noticed that on the seat next to him, sitting on top of a motorbike helmet was a cat. Yes, a cat. I wanted the lights to stay red for ages.
The night was set to fizzle after that, with an encroaching wave of I'm so ronery, but a chance phone call saved me and this morning I was late to work, late to breakfast but infinitely happy.
In four days I fly, ready or not.
I do, and this June it was the shortest day and I missed that too. There is so much to think about these last days.
I went against my superstitions and watched the game at the Paddo on Friday with J, but all the hoping and swearing couldn't save the team from being beaten by the Swans.
Post-pub the night was close and full of wonder and so the weekend began, slowly and with smiling.
I shopped on Saturday, important things like Tim Tams for the trip and bits and pieces for the bambi shoulder I'm cooking on Wednesday. I am probably disproportionately excited, but I smile when I think of the way Em and I barreled into the venison farm shop, salivating.
There were two more football games to watch on Saturday - SarahJ picked me up and we went to North Beach first - I swear God was in a good mood when he invented afl uniforms, to watch J and then on to City beach to watch Sarah's Rob. Good fun, until one of his team-mates staggered off the ground with a broken collarbone. We three spent the next four or so hours at the hospital, walking from xray to exam room, the Eagles Pies game on every available screen.
On Sunday, after a substantial mug of Paul I strapped my various devices on and headed to City Beach for a run. And I completed 16kms. I know it's a long way off a marathon still but it made me so very happy. And what an encouragement, running up the many hills of North street and then cresting the last to see the Indian Ocean spread out before me like a welcoming embrace. I ran up to the Ocean Beach Hotel on the corner of Eric, proudly muttered "Home stretch baby" as I turned around and ran back to Norm.
Later, what started as an offer to look after J and his sore head turned into an absolute treat for me, with lunch at the Breakwater in beautiful winter sun. Not too sure what I've done to deserve this.
I then spent an hour with an amazing photographer called Melinda, by a colourful wall in Freo on Cantonment street having my photo taken. What a thrill! And the results are mostly wonderful!
No trip to Freo would be complete without a pilgrimage up to the monument and whilst there I saw the most gorgeous thing! On the bench next to me say a couple, maybe 16 years old. And they had the simplest picnic of bread rolls and chocolate milk. And I thought champagne and strawberries are not always necessary, sometimes the simplest gesture can make your heart soar.
On the drive home I saw something else wonderful: At the Loftus lights I was stopped next to a big, rumbling Holden ute with a big burly bloke driving. And then I noticed that on the seat next to him, sitting on top of a motorbike helmet was a cat. Yes, a cat. I wanted the lights to stay red for ages.
The night was set to fizzle after that, with an encroaching wave of I'm so ronery, but a chance phone call saved me and this morning I was late to work, late to breakfast but infinitely happy.
In four days I fly, ready or not.
posted by BanAnna at 6/24/2012 08:56:00 pm
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