Make Money Fast (and a little gardening tip)

I have a hot money making tip for you.

Get your video camera and video me gardening.  I swear, if you are patient you will catch a gem for You Tube or Funniest Home Videos.

Just last week I headbutted a tree so hard I fell flat on my behind.  No witnesses. It hurt.  It really, really hurt.  A lot.

Then, the other day,  my hungry slipper got me attacked from behind.  I wore my slippers outside.  I know its, naughty.  They are daggy old things with the sole coming away from the toe so that they have a hungry mouth.

My garden tip, by the by, is to do with trellises.  Instead of having a trellis, I have rigged up some column shaped fencing wire trellises.  I can move them to where ever I have planted my climbing vegies, rather than having to plant the climbers where a trellis happens to be.

Anyhow, I spied some lovely little peas, and thought, I'll eat those.  I stepped into the garden with my hungry slippers and gobbled up those lovely sweet fresh peas.  Then I saw, Joy o Joy, more peas.  So, I stepped over said trellis. My hungry slipper gripped the wire, and well you should have been there with your video camera.  I was hopping around on one foot trying to untangle myself, not squash any plants and not scratch the skin off my calves.  Failed on all counts, and tore up the peas that were growing on the trellis.

I can't say when I might do something stupid again, but it might be worth staking the joint.

Listen hard to my advice

I listen to audio books when I drive to work. I have some advice before you take on this addiction.


You must have an ability to compose yourself quickly.  For instance, just as we entered the school gates one morning, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas ended in the tragic way the Boy in the Striped Pyjamas ends (no spoilers here).  Witness me and two teenage girls with tears streaming down our faces.  (Teenage boy commenting it would be funny if they all got up and were zombies. Let’s not go there.)


Arriving at work red eyed can cause concern and worry for your workmates. Compose yourself.


You must have patience. When you arrive in the work car park, you have arrived.  It does not matter if Henry, clutching his knife wounds, is reaching for the door, the taxidermist hot on his heels.  You will have to switch off the engine and switch off the iPod.  People do not trust car park loiters. 


You will spend the whole day wondering, but you will have to wait patiently till clock off.


Keep your eyes on the road.  You are not inhaling the scent of chocolate in a French village. You are not a boy vampire sucking the blood from your friend’s knee. You are not running from a herd of strange genetically modified creatures.


You are, and never forget this, driving a car.


http://www.audible.com/whatis

Listen hard to my advice

I listen to audio books when I drive to work. I have some advice before you take on this addiction.


You must have an ability to compose yourself quickly.  For instance, just as we entered the school gates one morning, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas ended in the tragic way the Boy in the Striped Pyjamas ends (no spoilers here).  Witness me and two teenage girls with tears streaming down our faces.  (Teenage boy commenting it would be funny if they all got up and were zombies. Let’s not go there.)


Arriving at work red eyed can cause concern and worry for your workmates. Compose yourself.


You must have patience. When you arrive in the work car park, you have arrived.  It does not matter if Henry, clutching his knife wounds, is reaching for the door, the taxidermist hot on his heels.  You will have to switch off the engine and switch off the iPod.  People do not trust car park loiters. 


You will spend the whole day wondering, but you will have to wait patiently till clock off.


Keep your eyes on the road.  You are not inhaling the scent of chocolate in a French village. You are not a boy vampire sucking the blood from your friend’s knee. You are not running from a herd of strange genetically modified creatures.


You are, and never forget this, driving a car.

10:10

The end is here and I can think past decimals.

10 words: Day 9

A work in progress is better than any strategic plan.

Day 8, Ten Words

Don't forget, I understand and know all you mental incapacities.

Day 7: Ten words

It is a truth, noone really takes a blonde seriously.

Day 6: 10 words

A girl, I think she is crying whenever she laughs.

Day 5, Ten Words

I value meeting committments, but scarpered for the weekend anyway!

Day Four: 10 words

Icing sugar and vinegar from when the circus left town.

Day Three: 10 words

I failed to express exactly how tired feels. Too tired.

Day Two: 10 words

Laughing and crying simultaneously, you could hear her on Pluto.

Day One

Unnerved: When sleep is elusive, raw nerves are easily agitated.

Sunday

The Return of Lucretia:

 knuckles, tense, determined

sharp

Gritted Teeth

frown pressed deep her

broken self.

marble eyes,

forlorn.

Friday Walk: A dreary day

Thursday walk: My secret lookout

The path begins wide...

but the entrance is neglected,

the way steepens,

and then

the rewards are wonderful.

Tuesday walk: Red Tailed Black Cockatoos

Sweethearts sat still and let me take photos.  They were eating the cones off the she-oak.  Sounded like pop corn going off in a pot.

Monday Walk: Light and Shadows

Sunday Sunset Walk

The Weekend ends...

From the dark comes the light.

Weekend

The best thing about my weekend: I didn't leave Wivenhoe Pocket.  After a 12 hour day on Friday doing the school run, working, then going to Tama's football game, I felt like a rubber band was wound around my head and shoulders.

Saturday/Sunday I got to do an exercise class, write, garden, make chutney, have a bonfire and bbq at friends and not leave the confines of my little, round country street.

Simple.

Priorities

I choose positive people over negative people.

Rage

I read a Cathy Kelly book once. My sister flys a lot and tends to pick some easy reads. She left a pile of books at my place. I am game for just about anything. I have read, and enjoyed, almost every genre, so why not this new phenomena of chick lit.

I was drawn to the main character, unhappy working full time. She wants to be at home with her young family. Me! Me! My unhappiness too.

Turned out her husband earned plenty of money and she had a marketable skill that could make her money from home. All she needed to do was decide to do it.

It was so easy for her to change her life I wanted to set fire to the book there and then.

Oh course, I finished it. I’m like that. Finish what I start, never late, be prepared.

At some point in the last chapter the main character’s name changed. Let’s say her name was Katherine, by the last chapter she was suddenly Kathleen. Was the character's journey so meaningless her name became meaningless to?

Where is that book? I wonder do I still have it somewhere. It might be cathartic to rip it apart today.

India, the fluffy white dog...

I have been telling my dog that some days are just harder than others.

Most days are tiring, a little mundane with some highlights.

Some days are just a bit harder than others.

But without those days we wouldn’t appreciate the good days.

I think she understands.

I surprise myself

I sprinted the other day.

Usually when my personal trainer says – SPRINT – I think, oh yeah right and jog.
But this day I actually sprinted.
It was surprising. Mind you, I wasn’t fast. I have come last in every race I have ever run. In fact, the last race I ran, the last time I sprinted was in 1984.
Yes, surprising.

Last Year's Lunch

I have procrastinated for over a year and then, the school tie saga. It takes Tama and me an hour to find his school tie in his room. Something must be done.

Step 1: Take antihistamine

It’s not like he doesn’t clean his room. He is made to clean it every Saturday morning. It is his method of sweeping contents to the edges, on top of things under things and at the bottom of his cupboard.

This is what I found:
1. Dismantled car radio and calculator
2. A letter to himself that he is not allowed to open until he is 17 (do I wish it wasn’t sealed!)
3. 2 unused light globes still in their boxes.
4. A rubber with a paper tail stapled to it and other with a cape.
5. A list of “Things to Do” I am 100% sure is not his.

The highlight of what I found is really rather sweet. It seems my boy is so attached to the lunches I make him he decided to keep the remnants of the last one I made him for primary school.

That was four hot summer months ago.

Hellstra Again

Telstra hands out there pre-paid credit at 3am in the morning.

How do I know this?

Because at 3am in the morning I was woken by the Midnight Beast singing "Wake up in the morning feeling like Winehouse"

Not the most soothing of songs, certainly not in the wee hours.

Once common sense kicked in and I realised I wasn't being attacked and my son's phone was somewhere in my room, I concentrated on steadying my racing heartbeat in the hope I would be asleep again soon.

No such luck.

There it goes again... "Wake up in the morning feeling like Winehouse"

Right, he has his phone scheduled to notify him of a text until such times as he reads it. Useful if I am trying to contact him. Less so at this moment.

I get out of bed and rummage.

Can't find it.

It goes off again.

Problem is, the lyric is just long enough for me to get a general direction, but not to locate.

Yes, I could ring it myself, but it s 3am in the morning. You think I am thinking straight. No I am not. I am just rummaging. And swearing. A lot of swearing.

Eventually I find where it as fallen between the cupboard and the dresser.

Lucky really, no one ever would have looked there otherwise.

Meanwhile, I woke up in the morning feeling like Winehouse.

Too much of a good thing (3)

The decent coffee quest continues.

I tried, and settled for the Steam Expresso Bar, then the brew yesterday tasted like insipid water.

I had to go across the river at lunch time, so waited until I got to Gloria Jeans for my hit.  I sighed with relief. Paul, still not as good as yours, but at least it rolled smoothly over my tongue.

Hellstra

I have discovered what happens to you in hell.
They send you Telstra bills, then make you sit on the phone to them for eternity.
Here are the stats.
- Rang the number and it hung up on me before I got to speak to a real person: 7
- Put through to the wrong number: 4
- Finally found someone who could answer my question and they could suddenly NOT hear me: 2
- Just randomly got hung up on: 2
- Times I explained my problem: 8
- Number of times I gave my birthdate and phone number: 12
- Number of times I cried: 2
Length of phone call/s: One hour and twenty minutes.

Too much of a good thing cont.

Friday and the search for a decent coffee continued.  I ventured into the Qld Flour Mill in the heritage end of town.  I love this part of Ipswich.  I love the stained glass windows above the door of the Qld Flour Mill.  I really, really wish I loved thier coffee.

Too much of a good thing

My favourite barista has shut up shop and left town.  It's like he doesn't care about me at all.

The question is, can the city of Ipswich offer me a decent cup of coffee.

So far:
Monday - De Lamantra - 38 beans to choose from.  Mine is so bad I tip it down the sink.  Tastes like dirt.

Tuesday - on my way to a meeting so I stop at MacDonalds. Coffee is like thier food. Bland.

Wednesday - De Lamantra is the closest so I give them a second chance and try another of the 38 beans.  I am thinking 38 beans is 37 too many when you only have 38 customers a day.  Dirt taste I am putting down to stale beans.  Not worth $4.00

Thursday - Mammoth effort on the phone to Telstra for and hour and twenty minutes.  It all ends in tears.  Do I need a coffee! The Cactus Expresso Bar is next on my hit list. A cup the size of thimble. Not worth the walk up the hill.

The last day of the week, Friday approaches and I am still hopeful.

How Racist are You?

When I was 12 years old, I went to boarding school. A girl shared my dressing room. She was Torres Strait Islander from Badu Island. One day she picked up my acne cream, read the label, and asked me about it.

My first surprised thought was, “She can read!” My very next thought was, “Of course she can read. What would make me think she couldn’t read?”

The question still remains, decades later. What causes a 12-year-old child to believe that a person, because she is brown and has tight curly hair, is less smart?

So I have to rewind to the first twelve years of my life. I belonged to a farming family, in a community of predominately German descendants. If there were Aboriginal kids at my school, they didn’t tell us about it. I remember nothing rampantly and obviously bigoted. Yet somehow, like osmosis, I absorbed unsettling stereotypes.

What was my 1970’s education telling me? It told me Captain Cook ‘discovered’ Australia, and the ‘first settlers’ struggled to tame a wilderness. It told me, almost in these exact words, the Aboriginal people did not fight back. Underneath these untruths was a subtle message. It said the Aboriginal people were not capable of fighting back, they didn’t try hard enough, they didn’t deserve to ‘keep’ this country.

What did 1970’s television tell me about Aboriginal people? Most likely it said they were absent and invisible. I don’t remember any Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander faces on The Sullivans or Young Talent Time.

The Department of Education sent some Aboriginal dancers to our school. The boy sitting next to me said, “They are not real Aboriginals – look their palms are white.” I looked at my palms, I looked at their palms, and I could see his point. But it made no sense that they would send out pretenders.

By the time I got to university, my friends and I were going to Land Rights marches. Sadly, at the end of the day we went back to our own lives. We did not really connect. But we were questioning what we had been ‘taught’ as children.

When my daughter was 6 years old, she said, “Mum, I always wanted to meet and Aboriginal person.” It is a step up from the boy who denied those dancers their aboriginality. It said to me she was curious, perhaps respectful, seemingly lacking any negativity. But it also says to me, there is still a divide in our community.

Priorities

I choose weeds over weedkiller.

Shutter Island

I like to go to the movie theatre well informed. It is all too expensive to turn up at any old random movie that has an interesting name. I choose to go to the movies I think I will like.

There are times though, when I get invited to a movie and attend through social politeness. This has been at times traumatising - Jerry Maguire - its been 12 years and I still remember sitting in that theatre surrounded by people laughing hysterically wondering why it just made me want to spew.

More recently Mamma Mia! proved not quite traumatising as irritating. What to say to my fellow movie goers who loved it?

I knew nothing about Shutter Island Big names do not a good movie make. Happily I was neither traumatised or irritated, although the soundtrack needed a bomb put under it. I was in fact intrigued and until the last moments unsure which way the film would go. It won't go on my list of all time favourites, but it was interesting enough for our family to discuss for most of the car trip home.

Cultural Divide

When writing, I have discovered cultural nuances which I have absorbed. In particular when I sub work for critique to my group of fellow writers from all parts of the globe.

It is not just the spelling, or the actual words, such as "port" or "bitumen" that catch me out, it is the things my characters do - like walk under buildings.

Any person from Queensland would read that character has walked under the house and understand. We spend much of our lives under buildings. I did not realise this was unique until now. So to assist with global confusion, please see above a "Queenslander" - the architecture that defines our state.

Writing and Working Fulltime

Let me tell you about working full time and being a writer.

When you are a writer and working full time (not as a writer), you spend a few minutes before you go to work tidying your house, not because you have an anal need to have a tidy house.

You do it because if you tidy every morning it will take less time on Saturday and you will have more time to write.

The Day After Tomorrow

I didn't want to see this movie when it came out, but it crossed my path recently so I thought I would give it a go. My original instincts were correct.

There are serious credibility issues in this movie. Not that the Earth suddenly freezes over, baffle me with enough science and I will believe anything.

I do not find it credible that this stupid man walks to New York to save his son. Why? What did he think he would do when he got there? As it turned out his son had it sorted anyhow, and the father arguably killed his friend and work colleague so he could prove he wasn't the slack father his ex-wife thought he was. A rescue team would have flown to New York when it was all over anyway - he didn't need to walk there.

Bin this one.

I am a guest blogger today. See my fellow writer Jennie Helderman's blog. Jennie is an accomplished writer from Atlanta. Flashquake nominated her for Pushcart Award in 2007. Wow, I can't do her justice, but hopefully you will all get to read about Ginger one day.

The Lovely Bones

My favourite film by Director Peter Jackson is Heavenly Creatures (regardless of the success of The Lord of the Rings), so when I read he had bought the rights to Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones I was enthusiastic. Peter Jackson and The Lovely Bones seemed the right fit and wanted to see what he would do with this wonderful book.


The reviews for the movie have been mixed. I think there are two problems. One, people could not get The Lord of the Rings out of their heads and their expectations ran toward an epic. The other problem is the story does not follow the usual plot line for a rape/murder story. How it should go... innocent child is raped and murdered, everyone does everything to catch the perpetrator, the perpetrator is caught and justice is done.


That is not the story The Lovely Bones tells. It tells a better story.


When I read The Lovely Bones, I thought, this is a book about grief. How people cope with grief, how Suzie copes with the grief of being dead, how her family copes with her being dead.


There is a risk of seeing a movie after reading a book that has been enjoyed and happily the movie worked for me. But it took me to a different place. For me the story in the movie is about how our bodies are less important than how we live our lives and the love we leave behind.


This is not a catch a murderer story, and sadly I think the trailers may have led people to believe otherwise. If you like to delve deeper than the good guys catch the bad guys then I think this story - book and movie - are worth a look and a read.

Devotees

Devotees is a surreal little story which started as a strange dream. I worked hard on it but it is not mainstream and has been hard to place. I am happy to announce Crash has published "Devotees" in their first issue.

Priorities

I choose reading my book over mopping the floor.

Sleep

At the end of the day, I close my bedroom door, my teeth are clean, I am clean, there is my bed, there is my book. Whatever else the day was, it is now perfect.

Avatar in 3D

Avatar is both magnificent and ordinary.

It is lush, full of colour, light and wonder - truly beautiful and with 3D more fully realised than any 3D I have experienced.

It is exciting on the superficial level of explosions and killing sprees.

The story however, is rather ordinary. For the majority of audiences who want an adventure flick with their Jaffas, I am sure it is an extraordinary experience. For someone who appreciates some depth and interest in characters and a story with surprises, there may be some disappointment. Some guy goes native and falls in love and has to fight his own people...been there? The top boss solider is a cardboard cut out bad guy with no soul, no real motive and stacks of guns.

Still, I wouldn't say don't go. I expect if you don't see this movie in 3D at the movies you will have to spend the next decade explaining why you weren't there.

Priority

I choose my garden over nice fingernails.

Storm Gardening

Looking through the window, snow is picture perfect. I expect living with it is challenging.

Queensland's license plates used to say "The Sunshine State." It's true many are envious our our ceaseless sunshine. Living with it is not always as one would expect.

Take today, I have some big gardening jobs on my mind. I hope to get a little in first thing in the morning. I wake at 7.30am, early enough for a Sunday morning I think. It is already too hot to go outside. Certainly too hot for weeding and planting and hard work. Perhaps I will get some gardening in at dusk, if it is not too steamy.

Then, mid morning, a silver lining on the horizon. Dark clouds.

For someone closer to the poles, where perhaps it is snowing, this may be the oddest thing you hear today, but gardening in the rain is perfection.

Cold? No, I wipe the rain from my forehead and the sweat from my upper lip and somehow they even themselves out.

The soil is loose and the weeds come out like a balding man's hair.

My children come outside to tell me there is a storm warning. High winds and flash flooding. It is for nearly all of south east Queensland. Not specific enough for me.

I can hear thunder. If there is any lightening I will go inside.

Mid afternoon and I am done. My hair is red with mud and my clothes cling like glad wrap.

I step into the shower clothes and all.

Clean, on the veranda with a wine and some cheese and crackers, I can admire the luminous grass and the sparkling garden. A perfect summer's day, minus the sun.

If it wasn't for these flies.

But, that's Queensland for you. Beautiful one day, perfect the next.