Monday, August 07, 2006
It's Time To Resurrect This
"There Are Too Many Saviours On My Cross"
A dramatic spoken reading written and performed by Richard
Harris on his album, "Slides" copyright 1971 by ABC Records.
This was written with regards to the fighting in Northern
Ireland which was particularly bloody around that time.
I think its application is much more universal.
There are too many saviours on my cross
lending their blood to flood out my ballot-box
with needs of their own.
Who put you there?
Who told you that that was your place?
You carry me secretly naked in your hearts,
and clothe me publicly in armour, saying
"God is on our side,"
Yet I openly cry
"Who is on My side? Who, tell Me who?
You who buried your sons and crippled your fathers
whilst you buried My Father in crippling His Son."
The antiquated Saxon sword, rusty in its scabbard of time,
now rises.
You gave it cause in My name,
bringing shame to the thorned head that once bled for
your salvation.
I hear your cries in the far-off byways, and your
mouth pointing north and south,
and my Calvary looms again, desperate in rebirth.
Your earth is partitioned but in contrition
it is the partition in your hearts that you must abolish.
You nightly watchers of Gethsemane,
who sat through my nightly trial delivering me from evil,
now, deserted, I watch you share your silver.
Your purse, rich in hate, bleeds my veins of love,
shattering my bone in the dust of the Boxside
and the Shaghill Road.
There is no issue stronger than the tissue of love,
no need as holy as the palm outstretched in the
run of generosity,
no monstrosity greater than the anger you inflict.
Who gave you the right to increase your fold while
decreasing the pastures of My flock?
Who gave you the right? Who gave it to you, who?
and in whose name do you fight?
I am not in heaven,
I am here, hear Me.
I am with you, see Me,
I am in you, feel Me,
I am of you, be Me,
I am for you, need Me.
I am all mankind, only through kindness will you reach Me.
What masked and bannered men can rock the ark
and navigate a course to their own anointed kingdom come?
Who sailed their captain to waters that they troubled
in My font, sinking in the ignorant seas of prejudice?
There is no virgin willing to conceive in the heat of
any bloody Sunday.
You children, lying in cries on Derry streets,
pushing your innocence into the full-flushed face of Christian guns,
battling the blame on each other,
Do not grow tongues in your dying dumb wounds speaking My name.
I am not your prize in your death,
you have exorcised Me in your game of politics.
Go home to your knees, and worship Me in any cloth,
for I was never tailor-made.
And who told you I was? Who gave you the right to think it?
Take your beads in your crippled hands.
Can you count My decades?
Take My love in your crippled hearts.
Can you count the loss?
I am not orange, I am not green,
I am a half-ripe fruit, needing both colors to grow into ripeness,
and shame on you to have withered my orchard!
I, in my poverty, alone and without trust,
cry shame on you and shame on you again and again
for converting Me into a bullet and shooting Me into men's hearts.
The ageless legend of My trial grows old, and the youth of your pulse,
staggering shamelessly from barricade to grave,
filing in the book of history My needless death one April,
Let Me in My betrayal lie low in My grave,
and you in your bitterness lie low in yours,
for our measurements grow strangely dissimilar.
Our Father, who art in Heaven, sullied be Thy Name!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
All Australian Boys Need A Shed
We have had a busy week. Lots of things to do around the house. Tony is building a studio for himself up in a double garage we have.
As you enter our property, about 100 yards off the road, off to the right side we have a double garage that is extra long. Next there is Tony’s original shed, also double garage wide sized, then a path towards the back of that shed. Behind his original shed is my old art studio with a kindling wood shed attached to it. We use my old studio for storage. To the left of those sheds is an area where most of the fire wood is stored.
Past the path is a single garage that is actually yet another shed for Tony, also extra long. Here he repairs things and stores tools. Next to that is a small shed that is called ‘Lin’s Smell Works.’ I start plants there or strike cuttings. Tony has a small water tank attached to the back of that shed which lets me have a direct water source piped in to the shed.
These sheds don’t look like master pieces. Like many country Australian sheds they are put together with old timber Tony scavenged by tearing down other buildings. Windows we found at salvage yards suffice in these sheds. They are big and old and they let in loads of light.
Tony loves to restore old furniture that’s why he needs a clean area. The other sheds work for sculpting, carving and storage. This new area will allow him to work ‘clean’ and provide a special place for him to pursue his music.
One of the funny things I learned about Aussie men was that ‘all Australian men need a shed.’ In fact, I was told this. It amused me big time when I first got here. Then I realised that it is a big part of Aussie culture. A place where men can be men and women enter only on request. I don’t enter Tony’s sheds unless he requests my presence. He generally stays out of my studio in the house and my ‘nurturing shed’. He does need to enter the studio when he wants a DVD or video or book as I have them all on this humungous bookcase he built me. It takes up a full wall and I need a ladder to get to the top. Lol.
On top of Tony building his new shed we are completing what I like to call, ‘Our work in progress.’
This is our home. It started out as a small cottage.
Every nail has been hammered in to it by my husband.
One it consisted of two bedrooms a living room/dining area and a small kitchen. One bathroom and an exterior laundry shed.
Now you enter into a huge enclosed barbie area. Loads of windows bring the outside in. The floors are oak and walls are pine. There are two doors leading inside. One leads to the sunroom. A huge entertainment type area with loads of windows and two sets of French double doors. The back doors lead to a small deck which leads to a lovely little laundry with it’s own deck. The second set of French doors leads into the main part of the house. We have a dining table that seats 10 out there, a couch and chairs. It is a really lovely place to entertain. No TV out there. Just a stereo system and cds galore.
The main part of the house consists of a kitchen
I love, small dining area for just the two of us, living room, study/bedroom, master bedroom, and my studio which is also really a bedroom. There is also a bathroom with a mural by yours truly, shower/bath etc…
Most of the floors are oak with area carpets, one area is real tile in Santa Fee colors, and the walls are pine. There are vaulted ceilings and loads of color. We have exposed beams. It is a comfortable sprawly kind of place. We are comfortable sprawly kind of people and it suits us. This place wouldn’t suit everyone. You need some imagination and creative bent to enjoy it.
I have brass plates, copper, pewter, original paintings and photography on the walls. Our kitchen has Cyprus pine counter tops. A pain to keep clean sometimes but I love them.
The house is built with love and imagination. Nothing traditional about it. We love it because we have built it together after Tony’s initial structure. It has taken 11 years to make it what it is now.
The property is landscaped but more in the cottage garden style. Lots of trees. All kinds. Most of it is left for the wildlife to thrive in. There are just under 6 acres. It is a little slice of heaven.
As much as we love this place it is too much work now. Tony has Chron’s Disease. He takes it a day at a time. It won’t kill him but it has changed his ability to work flat out. Raised his frustration level. I have a permanent problem with my foot that can’t be corrected and limits me from wandering as I once did.
It breaks my heart but once we finally have the place exactly as we imagined we are going to have to sell.
It’s now a fact of life.
Friday, July 28, 2006
It's Just One Of those Songs
I don’t know exactly why but my life is not complete without background music. I see things happen and a song pops in to my head. Someone mentions something from the past and another song starts playing. Tell me about something that IS happening and an old song creeps in. Try and write and a song lyric fills in the plot. Music – music – music – the song fairy strikes yet again.
And the songs don’t just play one line. Usually they run the full course. The worst times are when they stick there. OCD here I come.
Take a certain someone who enjoys tormenting me by bringing up things such as; 'The Song That Never Ends'. Or what about the insanity created by 'Kum-bai-ah' or however you spell that song? The list goes on and on and on. I can’t stop them invading my brain.
Ask me where I was in 1972 and my brain shuffles through the top 10 hits of the day. Remember the Beatles? Shit – I can’t get the songs out of my head.
The day I saw the movie ‘Help’ was the day my mother was hit in her car – twice! Once by a kid on a bike who stove in the side of her car and the other by a guy who ran a stop sign while she was taking the kid who hit her to the hospital. That song took on new meaning that day.
It is a weird fact of my life that I am going to hear music when there is none playing until the day I die. I have come to accept that. I wonder what will be playing when I take my last breath. ‘You’re Gonna Lose That Girl’, ‘Daniel’, ‘Wildfire’, ‘Alone Again Naturally’, – nope - just got it:
'I’m not scared of dyin’ and I don’t really care. If it’s peace ya find in dyin’ well then – let the time be near. If it’s peace ya find in dyin’ and in if dyin’ time is near – then bundle up my coffin cause it’s cold why down there – crazy cold way down there. And when I die- and when I’m gone – there’ll be one child born in this world to carry on – to carry on.’ Blood,Sweat and Tears
Shit – a Gershwin tune just came on. Nothing stays with you like Gershwin…A fine romance that’s what this is…I’m going round the twist.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
To Sleep Perchance To Dream
My eyes are so tired they are watering tonight. This probably won't be a long entry. Hubbie had a restless night and was talking to me. So everytime I started to drift off he would say something and I would wake up again.
I just spent the last few hours trying to research some stuff and it included lots of scrolling. My eyes have had it. Sigh!
I have to tell you all how lovely it has been to make some new friends here. For every entry I have received positive feedback and I really enjoy visiting your bogs in return.
On a positive note regarding another entry; my friends are settling their differences and that makes me very happy.
To Leolady - thanks so much for all that information you sent. I passed it on to two people. I felt warm all over that you would take the time to send it to me. Big kiss for that.
I am very glad that I have lighted here. Thanks for pointing the way FG. Big kiss and hug to you.
My sister just came on IM and she is blinking that she wants to talk so I am off for now.
I just spent the last few hours trying to research some stuff and it included lots of scrolling. My eyes have had it. Sigh!
I have to tell you all how lovely it has been to make some new friends here. For every entry I have received positive feedback and I really enjoy visiting your bogs in return.
On a positive note regarding another entry; my friends are settling their differences and that makes me very happy.
To Leolady - thanks so much for all that information you sent. I passed it on to two people. I felt warm all over that you would take the time to send it to me. Big kiss for that.
I am very glad that I have lighted here. Thanks for pointing the way FG. Big kiss and hug to you.
My sister just came on IM and she is blinking that she wants to talk so I am off for now.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Just An add On
When I was growing up and I really wanted something I realise now that it was generally my father who had me go for it. He was the one who pushed wings on us while it was generally my mom saying, 'You'll shoot your eye out'.
As a parent I try to be aware of that. My children are older. They were older when I inherited them. Their father did all the hardest work - on his own. But they still check here first when they are going for something new. And I try very hard to remember that they need to be encouraged. And as much as I may fear an outcome - I need to let them try with no vestiage of my fear landing on them. As a parent I think it is one of the hardest things we will ever do. And I am grateful that my father was aware that we needed those wings. Because hopefully, we are passing them on to our children now.
TTFN
As a parent I try to be aware of that. My children are older. They were older when I inherited them. Their father did all the hardest work - on his own. But they still check here first when they are going for something new. And I try very hard to remember that they need to be encouraged. And as much as I may fear an outcome - I need to let them try with no vestiage of my fear landing on them. As a parent I think it is one of the hardest things we will ever do. And I am grateful that my father was aware that we needed those wings. Because hopefully, we are passing them on to our children now.
TTFN
Sunday, July 23, 2006
You'll Shoot Your Eye Out
This is not about what you think it is from the title. It isn’t about owning a weapon. On one level it is about being a child and wanting something beyond reason and the probability that you will never get what you want. And the certainty that whatever it is you desire will probably not be good for you. On another it is about the parent who helps gives us wings.
One of my favorite movies is called, ‘A Christmas Story’. The story is about a little boy who only wants a ‘Red Rider Bebe gun’ for Christmas. He worries about how he will ask for it in such a manner that the present will not be refused out of hand by his parents.
The boy thinks of every possible way to convince his parents that he should get the gun. He tries to enlist the help of his teacher and finally even gives in to asking Santa. At every turn the response is, ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ His frustration grows and grows.
Finally Christmas arrives and while he receives a number of excellent gifts there is no ‘Red Rider Bebe gun.’ When his parents ask if he was happy with all his gifts his resignation is complete. He responds in the affirmative with a sad little smile. Then his father points to a gift well-hidden behind the tree. It is the longed for Bebe gun. His father had listened and bought him the gun. He remembered wanting one at the same age and getting it.
Of course, the boy begs to use it and his mother tells him to go ahead but to be careful, ‘Don’t shoot your eye out.’ He runs outside and takes careful aim. When he fires at the target the gun jerks back, hits him in the head and knocks off his glasses. At first he thinks the dire warning has come true. When he realises he is okay he tries to find the glasses and steps on them breaking the glasses. A fate worse than death awaited any child who broke his glasses or lost them. I did it a few times myself. So I know.
The boy has to invent a story about what happened to his glasses so his parents don’t go ballistic and take away his gun. He tells them that an icicle fell and hit him. A plausible story because back when we had winters that cold, it did happen. It was a constant warning from our parents not to stand underneath an icicle.
His mother accepts his story and they have a happy Christmas. The boy reckons it was the best gift he ever received or ever would receive. No other gift he ever receives matches up to that one.
I watch that movie and I am back in time. I remember winters that were that cold and all the snow. I remember the anticipation and preparation leading up to the holiday. And I remember what it felt like to want something that badly. It was a wonderful innocent time but it was one where in retrospect we were powerless. Subject to the decisions made by parents older and wiser. Subject to warnings about what would and would not be good for us.
As a child there was a purity to our wanting. And in our belief that our strongest desires would come true if we just believed enough, even if our desire wasn’t good for us. As adults that purity is gone as is our belief that we can make all things happen if we just try hard enough.
We now know we have to slog to get things. Slog hard. We have to make them happen ourselves. And we have to make the decisions about what is or is not good for us.
In this day and age, I long for the simplicity of those childhood beliefs. And sometimes, when I’m wanting something badly that might not be good for me, I hear my mother’s voice saying, ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ Just like the boy in the story I’m glad that I had a father who understood and when it was really important to me, he never told me, ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’
One of my favorite movies is called, ‘A Christmas Story’. The story is about a little boy who only wants a ‘Red Rider Bebe gun’ for Christmas. He worries about how he will ask for it in such a manner that the present will not be refused out of hand by his parents.
The boy thinks of every possible way to convince his parents that he should get the gun. He tries to enlist the help of his teacher and finally even gives in to asking Santa. At every turn the response is, ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ His frustration grows and grows.
Finally Christmas arrives and while he receives a number of excellent gifts there is no ‘Red Rider Bebe gun.’ When his parents ask if he was happy with all his gifts his resignation is complete. He responds in the affirmative with a sad little smile. Then his father points to a gift well-hidden behind the tree. It is the longed for Bebe gun. His father had listened and bought him the gun. He remembered wanting one at the same age and getting it.
Of course, the boy begs to use it and his mother tells him to go ahead but to be careful, ‘Don’t shoot your eye out.’ He runs outside and takes careful aim. When he fires at the target the gun jerks back, hits him in the head and knocks off his glasses. At first he thinks the dire warning has come true. When he realises he is okay he tries to find the glasses and steps on them breaking the glasses. A fate worse than death awaited any child who broke his glasses or lost them. I did it a few times myself. So I know.
The boy has to invent a story about what happened to his glasses so his parents don’t go ballistic and take away his gun. He tells them that an icicle fell and hit him. A plausible story because back when we had winters that cold, it did happen. It was a constant warning from our parents not to stand underneath an icicle.
His mother accepts his story and they have a happy Christmas. The boy reckons it was the best gift he ever received or ever would receive. No other gift he ever receives matches up to that one.
I watch that movie and I am back in time. I remember winters that were that cold and all the snow. I remember the anticipation and preparation leading up to the holiday. And I remember what it felt like to want something that badly. It was a wonderful innocent time but it was one where in retrospect we were powerless. Subject to the decisions made by parents older and wiser. Subject to warnings about what would and would not be good for us.
As a child there was a purity to our wanting. And in our belief that our strongest desires would come true if we just believed enough, even if our desire wasn’t good for us. As adults that purity is gone as is our belief that we can make all things happen if we just try hard enough.
We now know we have to slog to get things. Slog hard. We have to make them happen ourselves. And we have to make the decisions about what is or is not good for us.
In this day and age, I long for the simplicity of those childhood beliefs. And sometimes, when I’m wanting something badly that might not be good for me, I hear my mother’s voice saying, ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ Just like the boy in the story I’m glad that I had a father who understood and when it was really important to me, he never told me, ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Traci's Marvelous Sand Bags
My friend Traci has been doing a great job of changing her lifestyle for a while now. She is my most inspiring diet example.
It's not that Trac was so much over weight but she has MS and every extra pound is a problem for her. She works at keeping herself going. And she had gained a bit of weight - probably 30 pounds she didn't want or need.
We chatter like magpies when we are together. I knew everything she was doing to help her get rid of the weight. It has been 18 months now that she has been at it. She has haunted health and diet websites, searched the local library from top to bottom, and polled anyone she thought looked like they had lost weight. And she made up her own dieting tips. They are good and sound tips. I am reaping all the benefits of Traci's hard work. I should have started when she did but I had too much crap going on and not enough motivation. She is a great cheerleader though and yesterday she showed me one of her favorite inspirational pieces.
Traci got a bunch of baggies and hit the sand pile they had on their property. She took along her trusty scales and she weighed out 1 kilo or 2.2 pound bags of sand and closed them up. Then she made some 500 gram or 1.1 pound bags. She takes them out according to her weight loss for the week and feels the true loss she has achieved. Sometimes she puts them on her stomach or under her arms or on her thighs so she can see just how unattractive all that extra is. I was rolling around laughing when she showed me her bags. And we laughed even harder when she started putting them all over her body. We must have been a sight for the husbands.
Then we got enough bags out for my current weight loss (the one Tony keeps looking around the house for)- 'I still haven't found it, dahhhhhling. You did a good job losing it.' Very funny man - not. It felt great to heft those bags and put the loss as something tangible in my mind.
You don't always see a weight loss at first. Even though the scales swear it. Or even if your clothes feel a bit baggy. But try lifting those sand bags and you will be doing the dance of joy. And it's heaps better than going down to the butchers and asking for smelly old fat in kilo bags. I am going to make some of my own and not have to worry about freezing them. And when I am all done with them I can start to fill up the whale pond or make my own beach.
In my dictionary under inspiration it says, 'see Traci.'
It's not that Trac was so much over weight but she has MS and every extra pound is a problem for her. She works at keeping herself going. And she had gained a bit of weight - probably 30 pounds she didn't want or need.
We chatter like magpies when we are together. I knew everything she was doing to help her get rid of the weight. It has been 18 months now that she has been at it. She has haunted health and diet websites, searched the local library from top to bottom, and polled anyone she thought looked like they had lost weight. And she made up her own dieting tips. They are good and sound tips. I am reaping all the benefits of Traci's hard work. I should have started when she did but I had too much crap going on and not enough motivation. She is a great cheerleader though and yesterday she showed me one of her favorite inspirational pieces.
Traci got a bunch of baggies and hit the sand pile they had on their property. She took along her trusty scales and she weighed out 1 kilo or 2.2 pound bags of sand and closed them up. Then she made some 500 gram or 1.1 pound bags. She takes them out according to her weight loss for the week and feels the true loss she has achieved. Sometimes she puts them on her stomach or under her arms or on her thighs so she can see just how unattractive all that extra is. I was rolling around laughing when she showed me her bags. And we laughed even harder when she started putting them all over her body. We must have been a sight for the husbands.
Then we got enough bags out for my current weight loss (the one Tony keeps looking around the house for)- 'I still haven't found it, dahhhhhling. You did a good job losing it.' Very funny man - not. It felt great to heft those bags and put the loss as something tangible in my mind.
You don't always see a weight loss at first. Even though the scales swear it. Or even if your clothes feel a bit baggy. But try lifting those sand bags and you will be doing the dance of joy. And it's heaps better than going down to the butchers and asking for smelly old fat in kilo bags. I am going to make some of my own and not have to worry about freezing them. And when I am all done with them I can start to fill up the whale pond or make my own beach.
In my dictionary under inspiration it says, 'see Traci.'
Down But Not Out
This will sound nuts but I can't figure out how to answer your comments one-at-a-time and I am going nuts. I have checked every help think on comments etc... but I am getting nowhere. So instead of blogging, I am off to study questions and answers again. I am such a novice at this computer stuff. No matter how much I think I have learned. Hope it is a great weekend for you all.
TTFN
TTFN
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Let's Be Careful Out There
The Internet is a wonderful way to make new friends and help run your life. There is a true information highway, banking at the touch of a finger, shopping, mail, and business opportunities. People can work from home in ways they never dreamed of before. You can get your education on-line. In my case, it allows me to be in instant contact with family and friends overseas making me a bit less homesick. But for all the wonderful things that happen there are ways that the Internet can be a disaster.
I have just watched what happens when miscommunication occurs between two people that considered themselves the best of friends. And it is really very sad. They met on-line. And that is how I met them.
The gory details are not important. What is important is that life on the Internet can seduce you in to a false sense of well-being. We enjoy meeting new people and we start to share the details of our lives. We feel we have made a connection. We form fast attachments and email furiously back and forth. Sometimes we even get to meet in person. But mostly this all happens while we are on-line in the comfort of our own home.
Often we find ourselves spending more and more time on-line so we can spend time with these new friends. They can become more real than the people around you. Gradually, you can become more and more intimate with these friends.
It is easier in may ways to be friends on the Internet. Easier to share the intimacies when you are not looking in to the other person’s eyes or reading their body language. Perhaps this makes us feel safer because we are not being ‘judged’. It is individual for everyone.
There is danger in allowing friendships to develop so quickly. I am not being cynical. Friendship needs to develop over time. Shared experiences. Not just entering a contest together or sharing a joke on IM or email. In some ways Internet friendships are like reading a book by a well-loved author. We fall in love with their characters and the lives they live. We relate to their experiences because maybe we have had a similar life experience. We want to keep the book and read it again. But we can’t live there. And we can’t live on the Internet.
Not being in the same room or even in the same town. Not ever sharing a meal or seeing how a person acts around others. Never seeing another’s environment or their friends and family – all these things affect who a person really is. And without them we can really only guess who the other person is. So we run the risk of being disappointed. And hurt and hurting the other person back.
I am not saying that we should never make on-line friendships or that they are bad. I have been enriched by the many new friends I have made on-line. Yet, I have taken it slow. I try not to make demands on these friendships or put expectations on them that the other person may not be able to meet. I try to enjoy the people for who I perceive them to be and hope that they will enjoy knowing me. I try to be clear about what I think they are trying to communicate. And I take it slow. That is important – taking it slow.
Two of my friends didn’t do that. And now they are angry and hurt. They are disappointed with each other And disillusioned. And it is very sad to see. Because I am sorry they are hurting and I like them both.
The lesson here is to take advantage of what the Internet can offer but do so with your eyes open and tread carefully. We can have friends all around the world or even across the street – on-line. But we need always, to be aware. And never make more of life on-line then it really is. Opportunity but not the most important thing in our lives.
I have just watched what happens when miscommunication occurs between two people that considered themselves the best of friends. And it is really very sad. They met on-line. And that is how I met them.
The gory details are not important. What is important is that life on the Internet can seduce you in to a false sense of well-being. We enjoy meeting new people and we start to share the details of our lives. We feel we have made a connection. We form fast attachments and email furiously back and forth. Sometimes we even get to meet in person. But mostly this all happens while we are on-line in the comfort of our own home.
Often we find ourselves spending more and more time on-line so we can spend time with these new friends. They can become more real than the people around you. Gradually, you can become more and more intimate with these friends.
It is easier in may ways to be friends on the Internet. Easier to share the intimacies when you are not looking in to the other person’s eyes or reading their body language. Perhaps this makes us feel safer because we are not being ‘judged’. It is individual for everyone.
There is danger in allowing friendships to develop so quickly. I am not being cynical. Friendship needs to develop over time. Shared experiences. Not just entering a contest together or sharing a joke on IM or email. In some ways Internet friendships are like reading a book by a well-loved author. We fall in love with their characters and the lives they live. We relate to their experiences because maybe we have had a similar life experience. We want to keep the book and read it again. But we can’t live there. And we can’t live on the Internet.
Not being in the same room or even in the same town. Not ever sharing a meal or seeing how a person acts around others. Never seeing another’s environment or their friends and family – all these things affect who a person really is. And without them we can really only guess who the other person is. So we run the risk of being disappointed. And hurt and hurting the other person back.
I am not saying that we should never make on-line friendships or that they are bad. I have been enriched by the many new friends I have made on-line. Yet, I have taken it slow. I try not to make demands on these friendships or put expectations on them that the other person may not be able to meet. I try to enjoy the people for who I perceive them to be and hope that they will enjoy knowing me. I try to be clear about what I think they are trying to communicate. And I take it slow. That is important – taking it slow.
Two of my friends didn’t do that. And now they are angry and hurt. They are disappointed with each other And disillusioned. And it is very sad to see. Because I am sorry they are hurting and I like them both.
The lesson here is to take advantage of what the Internet can offer but do so with your eyes open and tread carefully. We can have friends all around the world or even across the street – on-line. But we need always, to be aware. And never make more of life on-line then it really is. Opportunity but not the most important thing in our lives.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
the Little Saboteur
I recently read through a book about something we all carry inside us that the author called our little saboteur. I feel in love with the concept straight away. You might call it a good angel and a devil. It is the thing inside us that tries to control our ability to change for the better. Getting rid of our self-destructive tendencies.
I used to imagine this as the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. But that denotes evil to me and that is a battle we have ongoing but on a different level than a saboteur.
So I decided I needed to keep my concept of ‘evil’ but add the concept of also having a little saboteur. This is the little being who stops me when I am working at change. Sometimes the being interrupts my creative flow as well. Mostly it hovers around the edges waiting for an opportunity to sabotage my taking care of myself and hubbie. Double whammy for hubbie as he doesn’t know about his little saboteur yet let alone mine.
That little being is individual to everyone. Only you can give it substance and form. I have mine pictured clearly. I call him Sabbie and I have decided he is male. He is small and almost weightless for which I am grateful. The only time he takes on weight is when he is trying to do me in. Then he feels like a boulder!
He is shaggy by nature being generally unkempt. He changes in color from pink to firey red with some serious blue tones thrown in for good measure. The colors deepen as he grows in strength. When I have him under control he remains very pale.
He pops up when I am deciding on vegetables or something gooey. He creeps around when we are out for the day and need to decide where we are going to eat. He screams at me when we are shopping for food.
And let me think about exercise and he is yelling bloody murder.
I’m slowly learning to drop him in his tracks. I send him away as quickly as I can when he makes himself known. In the past two weeks he has gotten easier to banish but I know him. He will be back at it just when I am feeling my strongest.
I think that the trick to making him vanish is to name him, welcome him, and learn to laugh in his face or give him a good swift kick so it takes him a long time to climb back up to my shoulder. Laughing is best though. He hates it when I laugh at him as he is so serious about what he does. It slays his ego.
You really need to be comfortable with him though. If you can’t name him, give him a place and keep him in it – you can’t defeat him.
I wish everyone would grab hold of this concept and run with it. Introduce yourself to your own little saboteur. Tell him you are a nice place to visit but he probably wouldn’t want to live here on a regular basis.
He is going to fight you kicking and screaming but if you laugh and really mean it – you can win.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Just When I Thought
Just when I thought I had it all together I find I am still fumbling around here. Must be old age creeping in or spolied by the old site. lol!
It has been good to hear from everyone. I noticed that some of the comments I said to post have not been posted but there was only one from leolady in the comments moderate area. Sigh!
I think it is really good to be able to come here and just post. No mucking around. No games, no contests, no little groups to keep up with. Just pure writing for the sake of writing. I think I am getting weary.
I don't mean to make it sound like my other site that I visit is bad, It's not. I have grown there. I am just tired of fussing around and not getting anything done.
Anyway, on to better things. I have heaps to do in the house today. Hubbie is filling in at work so I am alone. I enjoy this time since he is actually retired on disability due to illness. When he is up to it he goes in to his old job. This is good for him as he sees old firends from work and he keeps his hand in. It picks him up. He misses working outside the home sometimes. On the other hand he enjoys setting his own pace and doing whatever he wants in a given day. It has altered my life quite a lot though. So I enjoy the minutes I get to myself. Saves me having to stay up late to write. On the other hand, I do my best stuff when it is late. lol! I have always been a bit of a night owl. Now that the kids have left home I don't have to worry about how late I stay up.
I hope that FG has recovered from her 'Deep Purple' haze. lol! And that leolady has a great vacation. I'm glad that everyone liked my book suggestion although a little bird told me leolady won't get a chance to read on her vacation. lol! A good time will be had by all - I'm sure.
TTFN - off to the housekeeping wars.
It has been good to hear from everyone. I noticed that some of the comments I said to post have not been posted but there was only one from leolady in the comments moderate area. Sigh!
I think it is really good to be able to come here and just post. No mucking around. No games, no contests, no little groups to keep up with. Just pure writing for the sake of writing. I think I am getting weary.
I don't mean to make it sound like my other site that I visit is bad, It's not. I have grown there. I am just tired of fussing around and not getting anything done.
Anyway, on to better things. I have heaps to do in the house today. Hubbie is filling in at work so I am alone. I enjoy this time since he is actually retired on disability due to illness. When he is up to it he goes in to his old job. This is good for him as he sees old firends from work and he keeps his hand in. It picks him up. He misses working outside the home sometimes. On the other hand he enjoys setting his own pace and doing whatever he wants in a given day. It has altered my life quite a lot though. So I enjoy the minutes I get to myself. Saves me having to stay up late to write. On the other hand, I do my best stuff when it is late. lol! I have always been a bit of a night owl. Now that the kids have left home I don't have to worry about how late I stay up.
I hope that FG has recovered from her 'Deep Purple' haze. lol! And that leolady has a great vacation. I'm glad that everyone liked my book suggestion although a little bird told me leolady won't get a chance to read on her vacation. lol! A good time will be had by all - I'm sure.
TTFN - off to the housekeeping wars.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Falling In Love With A Story
I would think that most people who write a blog are readers as well. Or working at becoming a writer. And to be a good writer you have to be a reader.
Due to the high cost of books in Oz, I haunt 2nd hand shops. My finds are generally wonderful. I will search for older books and stories set in specific time frames. Sometimes I find an author that really sets my spirits to soaring.
I found one such author recently. Her name is Ruth Parks. She wrote 2 books that I now consider treasures. The first is called, 'The Harp In The South' and the second is 'A Poor Man's Orange'. The setting is after World War II. The people are Australians or Australian immigrants living in the slums of the city scratching out a living. They are so alive and rich that you feel you know them. I ended up feeling as if they were family. I didn't want the stories to end. And the stories stay with you long after you have closed the book. I have adopted Ruth Park's people and feel blessed to have found such a wonderful writer.
When you find a writer and a story like hers you are given one of the greatest gifts you can ever hope for. I wish you all such finds.
TTFN
Due to the high cost of books in Oz, I haunt 2nd hand shops. My finds are generally wonderful. I will search for older books and stories set in specific time frames. Sometimes I find an author that really sets my spirits to soaring.
I found one such author recently. Her name is Ruth Parks. She wrote 2 books that I now consider treasures. The first is called, 'The Harp In The South' and the second is 'A Poor Man's Orange'. The setting is after World War II. The people are Australians or Australian immigrants living in the slums of the city scratching out a living. They are so alive and rich that you feel you know them. I ended up feeling as if they were family. I didn't want the stories to end. And the stories stay with you long after you have closed the book. I have adopted Ruth Park's people and feel blessed to have found such a wonderful writer.
When you find a writer and a story like hers you are given one of the greatest gifts you can ever hope for. I wish you all such finds.
TTFN
Saturday, July 08, 2006
A Good Time Was Had By All
We had a lovely evening tonight. Tony's friends from work arrived and we watched the rugby. Sadly, Australia lost to New Zealand and the screams filled the rafters. lol!
But I made a new friend. I already knew the man and his girlfriend was delightful. She sincerely loved our house which always puts you in good with me. Our house wouldn't suit everyone. It is a country cottage run amuck. But Dannie loved it and we hit it off.
I am really pleased we managed to have the guests because last nights tea did not sit well with hubbie and he was up almost all night. He told everyone at work that I tried to kill him. The man is very samrt. You can never put anything over on him. lol!
TTFN
But I made a new friend. I already knew the man and his girlfriend was delightful. She sincerely loved our house which always puts you in good with me. Our house wouldn't suit everyone. It is a country cottage run amuck. But Dannie loved it and we hit it off.
I am really pleased we managed to have the guests because last nights tea did not sit well with hubbie and he was up almost all night. He told everyone at work that I tried to kill him. The man is very samrt. You can never put anything over on him. lol!
TTFN
Friday, July 07, 2006
Figuring things out!
I am still trying to weed my way around here. I say weed as I have been pulling out my errors and deleting them and it reminded me of all that I need to do in the garden beds. It is winter here and that always shows me things I need to uproot.
I have a daughter who has an Associates in Horticulture. She tells me anything that doesn't belong in a specific spot is a weed. That being the case - in my cottage type gardens where overrun is the by-line - I need to do lots of weeding. lol!
I am grateful she has that degree although it has nothing to do with what she currently does for a living. She is now getting ready to begin her 3rd degreee. Crisis Management is her current forte. lol! I think we just rolled back round to my garden again and the stress level I am giving myself trying to adjust to this site.
I used another site for so long that I have to totally retrain my fingers and brain and read directions again. If all else fails...
Tomorrow I am hosting the Rugby Union match between Australia and New Zealand. Normally I get out of watching it because my husband (a die-hard Rugby Union man) doesn't find me much fun to watch it with. I am drooling over all those lovely legs running around in shorts while he is yelling at the winger. That was his old position. He played until his knees gave out at 36. He even played for Australia briefly. So Rubgy Union is very important around here. Especially if Wales play.
They call it football - where are all the helmets, padding and postions I know and recognise? Where is my favorite quarterback? Well, at least they have it all over the Yanks in the great butts and legs department. Back to drooling again. lol.
So I need to make snack food and be sure that I have spent some time mediatating to be calm before the game starts. Fortunately we have vaulted ceilings so all that yelling is unlikely to blow the roof off. Pray for me.
TTFN
I have a daughter who has an Associates in Horticulture. She tells me anything that doesn't belong in a specific spot is a weed. That being the case - in my cottage type gardens where overrun is the by-line - I need to do lots of weeding. lol!
I am grateful she has that degree although it has nothing to do with what she currently does for a living. She is now getting ready to begin her 3rd degreee. Crisis Management is her current forte. lol! I think we just rolled back round to my garden again and the stress level I am giving myself trying to adjust to this site.
I used another site for so long that I have to totally retrain my fingers and brain and read directions again. If all else fails...
Tomorrow I am hosting the Rugby Union match between Australia and New Zealand. Normally I get out of watching it because my husband (a die-hard Rugby Union man) doesn't find me much fun to watch it with. I am drooling over all those lovely legs running around in shorts while he is yelling at the winger. That was his old position. He played until his knees gave out at 36. He even played for Australia briefly. So Rubgy Union is very important around here. Especially if Wales play.
They call it football - where are all the helmets, padding and postions I know and recognise? Where is my favorite quarterback? Well, at least they have it all over the Yanks in the great butts and legs department. Back to drooling again. lol.
So I need to make snack food and be sure that I have spent some time mediatating to be calm before the game starts. Fortunately we have vaulted ceilings so all that yelling is unlikely to blow the roof off. Pray for me.
TTFN
The World's Two Best Diet Reasons
It came to me the other day what the world's two best reasons are for starting a diet. The first one is a flat out shocker. Our son sent us his video camera as he no longer uses it and he thought we would like to get some video for hubbie's parents and my mom. Of course we would and like any kid with a new toy I went to town. I videoed anything that didn't run out of the frame. It was a trial run. The only running that happened was me. Screaming in to the night when I saw myself on playback. My hubbie had taken his turn with the new toy as well. Weight Watcher's point system just came out of moth balls. lol!
The second great diet impetus was my trying to balance our budget with the current cost of gas. To run the car we are going to have to give up food. We live in the country. It costs lots of fuel to go anywhere. There will be drastic changes in the 'let's take a drive to nowhere' philosophy we currently entertain. And the extra money has to come from somewhere. That would be the food budget. I guess it is the most flexible item we have.
We could win on several levels here and the way I see it, as long as I keep playing that video feedback and cutting back on the food budget we are bound for the thin look.
TTFN
The second great diet impetus was my trying to balance our budget with the current cost of gas. To run the car we are going to have to give up food. We live in the country. It costs lots of fuel to go anywhere. There will be drastic changes in the 'let's take a drive to nowhere' philosophy we currently entertain. And the extra money has to come from somewhere. That would be the food budget. I guess it is the most flexible item we have.
We could win on several levels here and the way I see it, as long as I keep playing that video feedback and cutting back on the food budget we are bound for the thin look.
TTFN
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Success!
I'm not sure why this wouldn't work for me yesterday but today I managed to cut and paste my story. I put it in Word first.
'A Rose By Any Other Name' gratified me in several areas. It let me write down what I was thinking about life in Oz and it was my first published piece. A local paper but a published item. I was very proud.
The language battles still exist althought they are fewer and far between. We often watch 'UK TV" and I love the British sense of humor. They also do a hell of a mystery. I still find myself asking Tony what they just said but not as often. I get in to trouble with a hard Scottish accent but as my appreciation of other accents grows, so does my ear.
Perhaps the biggest problem still existing is when I identify myself on the phone. People think I am saying everything but Linda. They think I am Wendy, Belinda, Lindy, or Linny. Hello! This never happens in person. And when it is an automated message and I have to speak to move on I always get transfered to an operator. I don't mind because I usually want an operator anyway. But I have to correct them because they keep calling me by whatever name they think I said.
Life in Australia is special. They are wonderful people generally although there have been one or two I wanted to deck. But then, there are loads of Americans I want to deck so I guess it evens out in the end.
I have a few more stories that I want to add and I will over the next few days. I hope that you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. And maybe I will be inspired to write some more. I have been wanting to do that for a very long time.
TTFN
'A Rose By Any Other Name' gratified me in several areas. It let me write down what I was thinking about life in Oz and it was my first published piece. A local paper but a published item. I was very proud.
The language battles still exist althought they are fewer and far between. We often watch 'UK TV" and I love the British sense of humor. They also do a hell of a mystery. I still find myself asking Tony what they just said but not as often. I get in to trouble with a hard Scottish accent but as my appreciation of other accents grows, so does my ear.
Perhaps the biggest problem still existing is when I identify myself on the phone. People think I am saying everything but Linda. They think I am Wendy, Belinda, Lindy, or Linny. Hello! This never happens in person. And when it is an automated message and I have to speak to move on I always get transfered to an operator. I don't mind because I usually want an operator anyway. But I have to correct them because they keep calling me by whatever name they think I said.
Life in Australia is special. They are wonderful people generally although there have been one or two I wanted to deck. But then, there are loads of Americans I want to deck so I guess it evens out in the end.
I have a few more stories that I want to add and I will over the next few days. I hope that you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. And maybe I will be inspired to write some more. I have been wanting to do that for a very long time.
TTFN
Monday, July 03, 2006
A Rose By Any Other Name
I'm an American who has been adopted by Australia. I love Australia if for no other reason than she adopted me in spite of my roots and my accent. An accent, by the way, I personally do not believe I possess.
Australians are generally very open. They either like Americans or they don't. Those that do are unfailingly friendly. They are glad to meet you and happy to converse. I appreciate this quality because even after nine years on Australian soil, I have a lot to learn. I think that if you want to know about people you should go directly to the source, so I am always pleased to meet an "American friendly" Australian and settle down with a cuppa for a nice long natter. (As I mentioned, I have been here for nine years.)
Probably the first thing you need to do in any foreign country is to either arrive knowing the language or to get yourself a translator. My knowledge of foreign languages consists of two years each of high school Spanish and Latin. At 50 years of age, I have never been to Spain (but I kinda like the music) or Rome nor am I Roman Catholic, so I find that what is left of this knowledge is as useful to me as the mini-skirts I wore when I gained the knowledge. However, if you ever want to translate the first paragraph of "Caesar's Gallic Wars”, sing Christmas carols or bless yourself in Spanish or Latin, I'm your girl!
I wasn't worried about arriving in Australia unable to speak the language because I had it on good authority that Australians spoke English. Since my mother and the American school system spent the first eighteen years of my life correcting my usage, pronunciation and articulation of English, I was pretty sure that was what I spoke as well. I felt I had it made in the shade! No communication problems for little old me. Besides, I would have my very own cuddly personal translator. He stood in front of a celebrant and promised to love, honor, cherish, do windows, remove Jurassic Park spiders, throw himself in front of snakes and translate for me. It's the part where he always falls asleep when I make him watch the video. His job was to help me over the odd hump in the language road. Wrong!
First of all, my translator was born in Wales (the land of lyrical speech and the longest words in history unpronounceable by anyone not genetically predisposed) where he spent the first four years of his life. He spent the next 12 years of his life in London. That is a total of 16 of the most formative years of his life in the language department. Granted he had been living in Australia for a VERY long time but he still hung out with a lot of Welsh and Irish mates and his parents have never lost their accent.
.
Second, I failed to take into account that just as there are speech variances from region to region in the land of my birth, the same is true in Australia. Especially when you live in Tasmania! Consequently, I have spent the last nine years of my life in the pursuit of a happy medium. It was so bad for a while that anytime I had to fill out a government form I was unsure if I needed to check yes next to the box where it asks if you need a translator or if anyone in the house speaks a foreign language! For example: say the word aluminum and then ask me to say it. It is always worth 10 minutes of hilarity around our house. You say toe-ma-to and I say toe-may-to.
I am gaining ground finally. I'm not exactly sure when the transition started but I can now move from Australian English to American English with lightning speed. The realization that I am now fluent in a foreign language came to me the other day when after making four locals calls and making myself understood in Australian, I then phoned my mother in America and made myself understood in American. The conversation went something like this:
"Hello"
"G'day, Mum"
"Linda?"
"Hi,Ma! How ya goin?"
"How am I what?"
"How are you?"
"I'm good, I got the test results back from my physical and I am very healthy!”
"Good on ya, Mum!"
"Errr, right...how are Tony and the kids?"
"Good, Tony has been feeling a bit shagged lately but he's right now. Tris is back to playing footie in his spare time. Vic was also a bit crook but she is right now."
"Excuse me?”
"Sorry Ma, Tony is tired, Tris is playing football, and Vic was feeling a bit off color."
"Oh, well tell Tony not to work so hard and tell Tris to please stay in one piece and maybe Vic needs to see a doctor. Give them my love, please."
"No worries Ma, I mean not a problem!”
"What else is new?”
"I played gofer for the sparks the other day and the excavator just arrived to make a road through the bush and hopefully get rid of some of the bracken."
"Excuse me?”
"Sorry, I played gofer for the electrician, and the excavator is making a new road through some of the woods and taking out some of the ferns."
"Oh, that should be good."
"Yeah, I reckon the drive will be about a kilometer long when the excavator is done. Oh...I've lost a little over 4 kilos...hang on a minute as I want to get a cuppa."
"Linda, what did you just say?”
"Sorry again...I estimate that the drive will be almost a half mile long and I've lost almost 9 pounds. I'm pouring myself a cup of coffee."
"Linda?"
"Yup!"
"When are you coming home for a visit?"
"Ma, I was there only last year!"
"Yes, but I think it's time for a refresher course in the English language!”
"Habla ustedes Espanol?"
I'm an American who has been adopted by Australia. I love Australia if for no other reason than she adopted me in spite of my roots and my accent. An accent, by the way, I personally do not believe I possess.
Australians are generally very open. They either like Americans or they don't. Those that do are unfailingly friendly. They are glad to meet you and happy to converse. I appreciate this quality because even after nine years on Australian soil, I have a lot to learn. I think that if you want to know about people you should go directly to the source, so I am always pleased to meet an "American friendly" Australian and settle down with a cuppa for a nice long natter. (As I mentioned, I have been here for nine years.)
Probably the first thing you need to do in any foreign country is to either arrive knowing the language or to get yourself a translator. My knowledge of foreign languages consists of two years each of high school Spanish and Latin. At 50 years of age, I have never been to Spain (but I kinda like the music) or Rome nor am I Roman Catholic, so I find that what is left of this knowledge is as useful to me as the mini-skirts I wore when I gained the knowledge. However, if you ever want to translate the first paragraph of "Caesar's Gallic Wars”, sing Christmas carols or bless yourself in Spanish or Latin, I'm your girl!
I wasn't worried about arriving in Australia unable to speak the language because I had it on good authority that Australians spoke English. Since my mother and the American school system spent the first eighteen years of my life correcting my usage, pronunciation and articulation of English, I was pretty sure that was what I spoke as well. I felt I had it made in the shade! No communication problems for little old me. Besides, I would have my very own cuddly personal translator. He stood in front of a celebrant and promised to love, honor, cherish, do windows, remove Jurassic Park spiders, throw himself in front of snakes and translate for me. It's the part where he always falls asleep when I make him watch the video. His job was to help me over the odd hump in the language road. Wrong!
First of all, my translator was born in Wales (the land of lyrical speech and the longest words in history unpronounceable by anyone not genetically predisposed) where he spent the first four years of his life. He spent the next 12 years of his life in London. That is a total of 16 of the most formative years of his life in the language department. Granted he had been living in Australia for a VERY long time but he still hung out with a lot of Welsh and Irish mates and his parents have never lost their accent.
.
Second, I failed to take into account that just as there are speech variances from region to region in the land of my birth, the same is true in Australia. Especially when you live in Tasmania! Consequently, I have spent the last nine years of my life in the pursuit of a happy medium. It was so bad for a while that anytime I had to fill out a government form I was unsure if I needed to check yes next to the box where it asks if you need a translator or if anyone in the house speaks a foreign language! For example: say the word aluminum and then ask me to say it. It is always worth 10 minutes of hilarity around our house. You say toe-ma-to and I say toe-may-to.
I am gaining ground finally. I'm not exactly sure when the transition started but I can now move from Australian English to American English with lightning speed. The realization that I am now fluent in a foreign language came to me the other day when after making four locals calls and making myself understood in Australian, I then phoned my mother in America and made myself understood in American. The conversation went something like this:
"Hello"
"G'day, Mum"
"Linda?"
"Hi,Ma! How ya goin?"
"How am I what?"
"How are you?"
"I'm good, I got the test results back from my physical and I am very healthy!”
"Good on ya, Mum!"
"Errr, right...how are Tony and the kids?"
"Good, Tony has been feeling a bit shagged lately but he's right now. Tris is back to playing footie in his spare time. Vic was also a bit crook but she is right now."
"Excuse me?”
"Sorry Ma, Tony is tired, Tris is playing football, and Vic was feeling a bit off color."
"Oh, well tell Tony not to work so hard and tell Tris to please stay in one piece and maybe Vic needs to see a doctor. Give them my love, please."
"No worries Ma, I mean not a problem!”
"What else is new?”
"I played gofer for the sparks the other day and the excavator just arrived to make a road through the bush and hopefully get rid of some of the bracken."
"Excuse me?”
"Sorry, I played gofer for the electrician, and the excavator is making a new road through some of the woods and taking out some of the ferns."
"Oh, that should be good."
"Yeah, I reckon the drive will be about a kilometer long when the excavator is done. Oh...I've lost a little over 4 kilos...hang on a minute as I want to get a cuppa."
"Linda, what did you just say?”
"Sorry again...I estimate that the drive will be almost a half mile long and I've lost almost 9 pounds. I'm pouring myself a cup of coffee."
"Linda?"
"Yup!"
"When are you coming home for a visit?"
"Ma, I was there only last year!"
"Yes, but I think it's time for a refresher course in the English language!”
"Habla ustedes Espanol?"
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Living In Australia
I said that I would start to post about what life is like for an American living in Australia. I am a few days late with that but my intentions are good. lol!
I can think of no better way to start than by posting a short story that I wrote and had published in the local community paper. It is about the difference in language. We come to an English speaking coutnry thinking that we will have no problem communicating, as we speak 'English'. I put that in quotes as there are so many varieties of English. When I would visit another state or live in another state in the USA, I would call my mother and with-in minutes she would be asking when I would be speaking the 'King's English'. Quite a hoot coming from a woman who lived in New England. Her relatives arrived from Ireland on America's shores in the very early 1800's. Of course she really meant when was I going to start talking in a proper New England accent.
Well exactly the same thing happened when I moved here. On a much bigger scale. The following is the story as it appeared in the paper. I hope it is enjoyed by all. If you have already read it - hello Val - you can certainly give it a miss this time. lol!
Ooops! I lost it be right back.
This may take longer than I thought. The computer is not letting me cut and paste. I wrote an article on computers as well. I may have to publish that one. lol!
For reasons unclear to me I can not cut and paste the story. All help would be gratefully received.
I can think of no better way to start than by posting a short story that I wrote and had published in the local community paper. It is about the difference in language. We come to an English speaking coutnry thinking that we will have no problem communicating, as we speak 'English'. I put that in quotes as there are so many varieties of English. When I would visit another state or live in another state in the USA, I would call my mother and with-in minutes she would be asking when I would be speaking the 'King's English'. Quite a hoot coming from a woman who lived in New England. Her relatives arrived from Ireland on America's shores in the very early 1800's. Of course she really meant when was I going to start talking in a proper New England accent.
Well exactly the same thing happened when I moved here. On a much bigger scale. The following is the story as it appeared in the paper. I hope it is enjoyed by all. If you have already read it - hello Val - you can certainly give it a miss this time. lol!
Ooops! I lost it be right back.
This may take longer than I thought. The computer is not letting me cut and paste. I wrote an article on computers as well. I may have to publish that one. lol!
For reasons unclear to me I can not cut and paste the story. All help would be gratefully received.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Settling In
I have been thinking about the things I would like to post and lots of ideas came to mind. I thought first, that maybe some people would like to read about what is like to be an American living in another country. Then I thought maybe I should post some art work with comments on individual pieces. Then I thought I would post some of my drawings or caricatures. Now I have decided that this should be a combination of all the different parts that make me who I am.
So in the next few days, I will start to post different things that tell about me. I hope that if anyone pokes their head in here they will give me feedback on what they see. I appreciate feedback. I suppose most people posting blogs would appreciate feedback. So any and all feedback is welcome as long as it is polite. lol!
I'll be back.
So in the next few days, I will start to post different things that tell about me. I hope that if anyone pokes their head in here they will give me feedback on what they see. I appreciate feedback. I suppose most people posting blogs would appreciate feedback. So any and all feedback is welcome as long as it is polite. lol!
I'll be back.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
This blog is a first for me so people will have to bear with me until I get things right. I have written on a writing website but I feel the need to move forward and concentrate more on my creative nature and play around less. I need more discipline I guess.
A friend steered me in this direction and I am grateful. She always has such good ideas and is an inspiration. Thanks, Val. You are a wonderful addition to my life.
I will keep this post short until I have looked at everything I can do to set myself up properly. For now, it is enough that I have begun.
I'll be back.
A friend steered me in this direction and I am grateful. She always has such good ideas and is an inspiration. Thanks, Val. You are a wonderful addition to my life.
I will keep this post short until I have looked at everything I can do to set myself up properly. For now, it is enough that I have begun.
I'll be back.
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