The Bone Bed by Patricia Cornwell

…and I will dance this dance alone and it will be a dance I've danced before….

I'm cleaning house

From January 2, 2013

Well, so to speak.  You couldn't tell by actually visiting my house.  Of course, Kevin would tell you that cleaning is recognised by - damn this autocorrect - it refuses to allow me to use American spellings - an increase in mess.  There are piles of things where there once were none and paper spread over every flat surface.  The dead give-away, however, is that the vacuum is lying about.  Well, that used to be the dead give-away before Zupe.  Now, it might mean that he wanted to play with the vacuum and I was powerless to object.

But, while I am making a attack on the box of papers that need to be filed or followed-up-on or discarded (because the follow-up period has long since passed or my passion for them has waned below the file level), what I'm making an effort at lately has been to clear the draft folder in my blog.  I have an amazing number of draft entries - some of which are only titles many of which no longer stimulate me to remember the event I intended to chronicle.  I'm starting with the oldest.  Sometimes I post them "on" the date that I wrote the beginning of the blog and sometimes, not always on purpose, I am publishing them on the current date.  That's why I'm wishing my friend Diane a happy birthday in June for her January birthday….in 2008.  Yay for me.

Be Mine

If I should I live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you.

Happy Birthday, Diane!

From June 2014

Diane, you are another sister. I can't believe my good fortune to find you my roommate that first year at Ohio State. Such a big place to find a familiar and dear face. I treasure those years with you- and hope that this birthday was outrageously special. Maybe sometime we should get together again?

Originally written, and languishing since, January 2008.  Please tell Diane, if you see her, that I love her.

You can't get better than this!

The music! The costumes! The whistle!!

Wow, this was originally written in 2010.  I cannot figure out why it was still a draft.  I am feeling sad, however, that I don't think the link works and I am dying to know about the whistle!

Australian True Crime - draft from 2009

In the last week Kevin and I have finished "Underbelly" (the 13 part series about the Melbourne gangland murders of the 1990's and early 2000's) and "Chopper" (a movie about another Australian bad guy, Mark "Chopper" Reed.) We enjoyed both: "Underbelly" was both an excursion into Australian television (which, despite having lived here for over 2 years (over 3 for Kevin) we've never watched) and an OK story. "Chopper" was an excellent movie about a very unusual and disturbingly amusing character. You know. The kind of amusement you only feel when you are very far removed from the actual events and people.

So, Australian TV. I'm not sure I can put my finger on the exact difference(s), but (on the basis of watching a single progam series, mind you) there is a palpably obvious dinstiction between American and Australian TV. You can definately turn off the audio and still recognize that this is not a product of NBC or HBO. People are doing Australian things- like eating and DRINKING outdoors- around the barbie, hanging clothes out to dry and driving on the left side of the street. There is, also, something different about the editing - particularly scenes involving cars and car chases. And, in "Underbelly", at least, it takes lots and lots of bullets to kill a person. This may be historically accurate or it may be an artistic decision- or both. Maybe Australians are just really poor shots.

This one goes out to the ones I love

Happy Valentine's Day! to all my friends and family. I dearly love you and look forward to spending time with you.



This post was in draft form from 2008.  I am not sure why I never finalized it!  None-the-less, enjoy!

In my inbox today....

From June 2014

Send a Greeting Card for Queen's Birthday (not Western Australia) on Monday June 9th‏!

Who could resist?? But, where, exactly do you find a greeting card for the Queen's Birthday (not Western Australia)? Though, I suppose, there is a clue there - don't look in Western Australia. AND, once I have the card, to whom would I send it? To the Queen? But, it is a holiday for all of us - not Western Australia....

Since I don't know what to do and a search of Birthday Alarm cards fails to yield a "Queen's Birthday (not Western Australia)" card, I have decided that a short blog post- sending out to everyone -except you-know-who ...what? you don't like a party? - will have to suffice.

And, we will need JUST the RIGHT photo.

PS on the watch-thing

You probably don't want to be the one to buy me my next watch, because even though the watches have only lasted a few years, each watch has outlived the giver. Isn't that sad….

Postscripts are awkward on the blog, as they appear before the original post… Hmmmm.

Out of time

From May 2014

This post title could mean so much. It could refer to the facets of my life that have kept me from updating the blog in months - despite birthdays and a fabulous trip to NZ to visit friends. It could refer to another musing of life and death and how every book I pick up lately confronts this theme. But, it is much more prosaic.

About two weeks ago now, I lost my watch. I love that watch - a Timex that is the third iteration of the perfect watch for work: not digital (can YOU count heart beats while watching digital numbers run past?) and with a second hand. Plus, it had "Indiglo" - push the crown (the once-upon-a-time-wind-me-up-button - I google the name for it, so don't give me any grief) and the face would glow in the dark. Perfect for checking the time in the middle of the night here where my on-the-bed clock only "glows" for a few minutes after the lights go out - and besides, I couldn't see it unless I pressed my face up to it or wore my glasses. My first such watch was a graduation gift from my Grandmother when I finished vet school. The "Indiglo" function died and I exchanged it for a "new one" - at Kohl's. (You can exchange ANYTHING at Kohl's. Take it from a former shoe department employee who accepted shoes in deplorable condition for exchange.) That watch eventually ran down and even a new battery wouldn't fix it. My third watch was a gift from my sister for my birthday a few years back..at least 2 watch bands and a battery ago. This is the watch I lost.

I looked all over the house with Kevin's admonition echoing in my ear - "there are only so many places it could be". Where did I have it last? At work. And, where are my scrubs from work? In the laundry.

I found it. I had washed and dried it. It lost 10 minutes. Ten minutes. How does that happen? Alien abduction was the first solution that came to mind. I reset it and put it on. The band was a little brittle feeling, but …

I noticed it was losing time. One minute every hour. And then, after a couple more days, it just stopped working. It is 8 o'clock.

This is about the time I got sick. Zupe had a fever for two days and was waking at night unhappy for two more. But me? I've had a non-stop, no sleep cough for 2 weeks. It really sucks the SECOND week you have to go to work with such a cough! I woke up Friday morning early dreading a fatigue filled work day and listening to the garbage pick-up. I plastered my face to my bed clock and turned on the light of my Kindle. Four AM. Wow. Early. More sleep (potentially) for me. I lie awake willing for sleep to return and recognising that sometimes my thoughts were a bit too bizarre and must be dreams. I open my eyes again and the bedroom has a soft glow of early morning. Experience tells me it is about 6:00 AM. I grab the clock and hold it level with my nose. The time is 4 AM.

Or,maybe it is 4 PM.

Life lesson #422

A croissant ceases to be a thing of beauty after microwaving it for 50 seconds. How did I let that happen????!

I'm famous!!

From walk through West End

Check out this entry in Bored Panda. What is currently entry number 6 - submitted by Anonymous Panda - It's me! It was a beautiful day of wandering around the West End in Brisbane and being pregnant with Zupe. You won't see the pregnant, only the "mouse hole" and mice.

"The Beginner's Goodbye" by Anne Tyler

My friend Luke told me once that he'd been considering my question about whether the dead ever visit. It was true that I had asked him back around the time I had asked Nate, but this was weeks and weeks later. Apparently, he had been deliberating the issue ever since. "I've decided," he said, "that they don't visit. But, I think if you knew them well enough, if you'd listened to them closely enough while they were still alive, you might be able to imagine what they would tell you even now. So, the smart thing to do is pay attention while they're living. But, that's only my opinion."

INGRID MICHAELSON - "The Way I Am" - (official music video)

Kevin is a wonder at getting things that one of us thinks we need or might enjoy. He recently found he had a discography of Ingrid Michaelson though neither of us knew WHO she might be - OK. Yeah, we knew she'd be a musician. This was NOT the song that he eventually figured out that had spurred his interest. Nor was it the song that was featured in the HBO program we both loved, "Enlightened". The special song was one about breathing. I should find it for you…. or maybe Kevin will.

From Kevin:

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Being dead is not worse than being alive, it is different though. You could say the view is larger.

"The Lacuna: A Novel" by Barbara Kingsolver

From February 24, 2014

"For any homeless wanderer, he is a miracle of instruction. Now that he is exiled from every place on earth except a desert wilderness, he declares a passion for cactus."

From November 6, 2013

When I was a kid walking home from school (35 miles, barefoot, through the snow), I had a lot of time to observe the world and ponder. On three or four days EVERY YEAR, the snow melted (spring) and the world leaped out of its monotone cloak into vibrant brown with greenish hues and on these days, as I left the empty lot and crossed into my friend Joyce's backyard, I was confronted by white dog poo. Yes, Snowflake the Alaskan Spitz was a white dog, but so was the poo that coloured (not the best choice of words here) the grass under the clothes line on which he was frequently chained. Even then I thought it was odd because my dog, Peanut, had brown poo.

I still think it is odd. I've now lived with dogs and picked up dog poo for close to twenty years. Poo is white only when it is stuffed with kleenex. What was Snowflake eating? Granted, I have figured out that it didn't leave his little white bottom as little white poo but aged and bleached into these calcified nuggets. Still, did he have a metabolic condition that over-mineralized his excrement?

Zelda has been dancing on the other side of the rainbow bridge for 4 months now and gross as it may seem to you, I have been watching the few and scattered fecal boluses in the back yard. I couldn't bring myself to scoop them up and dispose of them. They were what I had left of Zelda and maybe cloning technology would take a leap into easy affordability in the next few days and then I'd want that poo! Anyway, there's still a couple of pieces left - under the clothesline though she was never chained there - she just knew it would be a most inconvenient spot - and now they are white. I still don't understand Snowflake, but these, I've decided, must be angel-dog poo and it brings me a little explosion of joy to think she's still checking in on us.

I miss you my princess. Even though you had been confined to the kitchen for your incontinent ways for the last year, I expect to see the blinds stir and then you to meet me at the door when I come home. I keep the screen door closed when I close the sliding glass doors in the kitchen so you can see the closure and not run headlong into the glass. As the days then weeks roll by, in my heart you get younger and are once again in your prime. You tear through the house chasing a balloon. You dash around the backyard playing soccer with me. You pause for minutes to meditate with your peace lily. You leap over and over again at the table while we eat hoping to attract a scrap. Your chin is on my knee when I sit on the couch or lie in my bed. You never give me kisses. Zelda, there is SO MUCH FOOD on the floor these days. I am so sorry you aren't here to enjoy it - sometimes, it is even watermelon!

On occasion I try to think about having a dog again one day but my mind struggles. In my heart - having a dog again - means that somehow I open the door and Zelda is back. Where have you been, dear friend? I love you, so. How I have missed you!

From February 1, 2014

From February 1, 2014

Happy Birthday Dear Renee- ee

Sunday is your birthday. You could be 51. You won't be. You'll always be 50 and, not really. Really 49. Why are you letting ME get older by myself? Isn't the little sister supposed to do that with you? Are you sure you read the fine print?

Sorry Renee. I'm still so angry about this. I'm angry about a lot of things. And, sad. Angry and sad. You name it: angry and sad. When will it stop? How will it stop? Damn it all.

And, I feel so bloody (salute to my new land) selfish about it all - because I want you to be there for me. I miss you. I have a list of projects I need your help with - not the least of which is raising a boy. A BOY, Renee. What do I know about a BOY. And, he doesn't make it easy by possessing a shared language with me. Doesn't he realize I don't know what I'm doing? That, I need some sort of break, here?

The most recent issue of BH&G (Australia) had the audacity to publish an article called "now Paint Your Own Art". HOLD IT. That was your job! I am surrounded by too many, too white walls. They taunt me.

And, who's going to laugh with me about this idea - cutting an Elvis image into your lawn? Laugh and then DO IT!

Gotye, Somebody That I Used To Know -

This is going out to everyone!

Only four weeks now until I need to be packing for New Zealand! Maybe I should be packed already. No, there's still Thursday!