The start of something

This is another of those sitting in my inbox since forever posts that I am not sure what to do with other than just publish.

The title is so fitting to so many aspects of my life though. I am always aware that I am at the 'start of something'. Sometimes I don't think I even know what that something is, I just know that it is something.

Anyway I am starting to ramble and since I have already done that once today I will refrain from any more. It is Tuesday and I have blogged and while I haven't for a while I am a bit excited to be joining in with #IBOT

It was hot and sticky.  The air thick and heavy.  The weather man said it might rain but what would he know?  He was only guessing anyway.  They all were. No one could predict the weather on a regular basis nor any other of life's daily events.  Apparently that was half the fun.  The unpredictability and uncertainty of it all, that was what was meant to keep people going.  Sure spontaneity and surprise had it's advantages but sometimes there was nothing better than a guarantee in life.  Of course these are few and far between but that is what makes them so great.  They are worth the wait.

If you waited long enough even the weather can be guaranteed.

In early October it is only guaranteed to rain if your car windows are down or your washing out.  This becomes void though if it is done on purpose.  Mind you the way the air hung so still there was no chance of rain tonight even if she had forgotten to get the washing in. Assuming of course she had actually managed to put a load on and hung it out.

It had been another long day.  Yet nothing was really accomplished.  She seemed to wade through life without ever touching the bottom or even the sides for that matter.  She certainly wasn't complaining though.  After all no one but herself was the master of her destiny.  Not even the fairies.  Sure they could lead her in the right direction but the choices to make were all her own.

Time and time again she had wished for them to just be able to tell her which choice to make but they never did. Nor would they ever.  It was always the same old answer.  "You must choose yourself, follow your heart"

How was she ever supposed to follow her heart when quite often her head was in disagreeance?

She got up.  Peeling her back from the plastic chair as she did.  How was it possible to sweat so much in such a short period of time?  She had only been sitting outside a few moments and already the sweat was pouring out of her like a leaky tap.

It had been nearly 170 days since it last rained.  Her body longed to feel the cool wet drops rain again.  Surely it wouldn't be to far away now.  It was a little late this year but not yet long overdue. They had gone much longer without rain before.  The year of '73 saw 203 days without rain.  When it did finally come though it didn't stop for a week.

The me day that wasn't

Today was supposed to be a me day.

A most perfect place for a bit of me time.

I had thought that I was on top of everything. You know, all the housework was out the way, washing under control and the majority of the dishes done and dusted. Leaving little old me free to do as I please. Free to write, or crochet, or sleep or whatever my little heart desires.

Sure there were more useful things I could have done, like clean out the pantry, the floors always need sweeping and all the rest of it. But all such things didn't have to be done if I didn't want to do them. I had thought that there was enough general order and things done, that I could let a few things slide and take the time to focus on me.

Only somewhere along the line I have somehow found endless crappy things to do. Turns out the only the way the washing was under control was if that meant spread all over the laundry floor with what appears to be half the local beach or school sand pit. Hard to tell the difference really, all I know is that there is sand everywhere and there shouldn't be.

From there I got asked to work later which made me start prepping dinner super early which meant I was alerted to the fact that the kitchen is almost in a state of disrepair. Apparently the aftermath of breakfast was more severe than I realised.

And then...

As if this wasn't all enough, I remember the play date that Teapot has lined up with a new friend who's mother I don't really know and will therefore invite in for coffee which means really I should make a bit of an effort to hide my lack of housekeeping enthusiasm.

Oh the sighing.

Procrastination at it's best

I sat down at least half an hour ago. The plan had been to write a list of the things I needed to do today. Lord knows there are plenty of them and more than anything I want to be organised and productive. It is the only way I am going to even have a chance of staying afloat and getting done all that is expected.

Mind you after taking far too many selfies with #SummertheBird who desperately wanted me to share my coffee with her I seem to have forgotten exactly what I thought was worthy of writing down. It goes without saying that there is washing to be done, because there is always washing to be done, be it washed, folded or put away, it is always there in some form if not all.

Much like the constant need to prepare food to feed the hungry and rarely satisfied masses with.

Sigh.

Oh and the dishes. How could I forget the dishes, another constant on the list of household jobs that all too often seem to consume our daily life. Or mine at least.

Cue even more sighing.

Much later in the day. Ok maybe not much just later, a little after lunch to be exact.

After scrawling the above in my notebook and flaffing about with a stupid dragon game The Little Two introduced me to I managed to do a few things that mildly resembled being productive. There was washing sorted and folded, some even made it to the cupboard, most didn't though, it is patiently sitting on my bed waiting for the girls to come home from school and see to it.

I also managed to sweep, clear most of the bench and lounge room as well as walk around in a daze not actually doing anything. All up I manage a good twenty minutes of work evenly spaced out over two hours. Not a bad effort really.

The last thirty minutes probably saw me achieve the most as hunger started to take hold. I had made a deal with myself that I couldn't eat till it at least looked a little like I had done something. The things we do hey?

Just another not so manic Monday

It's Monday morning. In a few short minutes the clock will be ticking over to nine. Which by most accounts is still relatively early. It does however feel as if I have been up for hours upon hours. Time is currently going painfully slow for me and I do not like it at all.

Last night went on forever.

After nearly two weeks of late nights and adjusting to night shifts I thought it would be wise to take the opportunity to have an early night and play sleep catch up. Dumbest idea ever. Apparently my body has decided that it doesn't need sleep for more than two hours at a time. Fun times right there.

Despite today being the start of the second week of school holidays, meaning I could have stayed in bed longer and prolonged the already longest night on earth, I rose with the sparrows, or at least Mr Awesome, as he does not have the blessing of school holidays and doing whatever it is his heart desires.

Tomorrow marks the six year anniversary of Dad's moving on to a better place. The end of his suffering as a mere mortal on this god for saken planet that lets the elderly linger on for what must feel like eternity for them as their bodies ever so slow stop working and start to shut down.

Death is such a funny thing. Especially in the elderly. 

I remember back to that fateful day and even through all my heart ache I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I was so glad that his pain had come to an end, that he would no longer have to suffer through each day wondering if it would be his last. Nor would I. 

For years my thoughts each day had been consumed with whether or not this would be the day that I had been dreading for as long I could remember. It was at times rather exhausting to say the least. Not to mention pointless but I it was a hard thing to shake. Fear is like that.

I was born when Dad was forty eight. A time in most people's life when becoming a parent is the last thing on their mind. 

Not my Dad though. 

He was forever saying he wasn't like everyone else. He was right. Over the next seven years he would go on to father two more children.

At the current tender age of thirty seven and with three children safely tucked under my belt, having more children is the last thing I want. I can't see that changing over the next ten years either. In ten years Teapot will be fifteen. The thought of starting over with the whole baby thing again then makes me shudder and want to curl up in a ball.

Not my Dad though. 

There was never any doubt as to how much he loved being a parent, even at that later stage in life. What's more is that it wasn't until I was well into my teens that I really started to realise just how much older he was compared to all my friends' fathers. 

He had always joked you are only as old as the woman you feel. For a long time I had just giggled not really understanding what it meant. My Mum is twenty one years his junior.

Generally speaking I go about my days not giving much thought to the fact that Dad is no longer with us. It is a part of life I have learnt to deal with. An inevitable part of life that I waited for, for so long that when it happened I just kept keeping on. At three and a half months pregnant I refused to feel grief for the fear of my unborn child having a sad soul.

Each year though as September draws to an end and October slowly gets underway I feel myself become somewhat consumed with an all encompassing sadness. All I can think of is my dear old Dad, how much I love him and how I will never ever get to see him again. Tears constantly well in my eyes begging for permission to roll down my cheeks. Rarely do I let them.

Except for when I write.

Writing is my solace. The place where I can truly be me. It gives me the chance to unravel my mind and find a place for my feelings to fit. It is my one true friend that lets me say what needs to be said.

Fifteen minutes

There are approximately seventeen and a half minutes till I need to depart for school pickup. Possibly twenty three if I committed to walking super fast and maybe even twenty five if I ran or rode the bike.

So obviously it is the perfect time to sit and try writing a blog post.

I think about blogging and writing all the time. Finding the time to do it is another story altogether.

I think back to my time in Darwin, before #ouradventureofalifetime and wonder how I ever managed to make as much time as I did to be online. Deep down I know the answer mind you.

It happened because there were so many other things I let slide. Namely relating to housework and tending to the every need and whim of children.

Now that we are renting, which means living in somebody else's house, I feel somewhat obliged to be a more dedicated housekeeper. After all, I am now responsible for their most valuable asset. Talk about pressure. And stupidity. Surely I should have been able to apply the same logic when I was responsible for maintaining my own most valuable asset?

Sigh.

Thankfully winter has passed and the onset of spring has well and truly put a spring in my step. It feels somewhat similar to the dry season back home. The air is filled with a freshness that words can't describe. Gentle breezes make sure that the clouds continually float on by leaving the sky a sparkling shade of light blue. I feel energised and ready to take on all that may be thrown my way.

I snapped this little guy yesterday while I was out in the garden bird watching and enjoying some sunshine

And that is how much I can write in fifteen minutes

No more excuses

For the first time in I don't know how long, Tuesday saw me opening up the laptop with the intention of actually writing something. Somehow the day had found me with a few spare minutes and my thoughts seemed gathered enough to actually share in a coherent fashion.

In one of the many blogging groups I am part of someone had shared a post saying they had written a post about all that happened to them in August and they had included a linky if anyone wanted to join in. Of course now I have no idea at all who that may have been.

Since it was Tuesday and I was blogging it meant that I could have also linked it with EssentiallyJess for IBOT and had a double whammy for getting people to drop by. Especially since it was a text conversation with Jess the day before that had inspired me to try and spit some words out. She's good like that.

Anyway, there I was, laptop open, words poised to start flowing and suddenly I found myself trying to design a new header.

Yep. I know. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but there I was fluffing around with some stupid new drawing program that I had no idea on how to use and getting frustrated at it not doing what I wanted.

It is fair to say I can be more than easily distracted.

Much like right now.

You see when I thought about starting this post it was going to be a somewhat deep and meaningful. I was going say something about the tragedy of Aylan and the horror of what is happening in Syria. Only I can't.

My head literally starts to hurt the moment I start to think of it all. My stomach churns, who is to say that the blessed life I live here couldn't just one day disappear because of the decisions made be the powers that be. Though this time I refer not to the celestial beings I normally call the powers that be but instead the politicians who are meant to be in charge of the nation's best interests.

While fighting with what words to use and where to start my washing machine kindly keeps beeping at me. Reminding me that the towels still need to be hung out. They would probably be dry by now if I had of gotten up at the first beep.

I so wanted to say something of worth though.

I wanted to stop making excuses for not making the time to write.

I guess at least some writing has occurred now so perhaps I should just be happy with that. There is still a floor to swept and mopped and of course the towels to be hung out. Oh and the dishes. There is always the dishes.

There are probably many displaced women who at the moment would give anything to have all of that as their biggest concerns. Talk about perspective. She says as she flits over to a new window and starts filling out a form to join an exercise group...

Brain emptying done wrong

This image, of flood plains out at Kakadu, has very little to do with anything in the post, I just like it. A lot.

I have been sitting here (not here as in the above image, just here as in my lounge) with the laptop open on my lap for nearly forty five minutes now. I had a scroll through the Bidding Wars page to see if there were any bargains I needed to bid on. There wasn't but it took quite a time to decide that.

From there I went and had a quick look to see if there was anything of interest in my newsfeed. There wasn't. Sarah over at Move Fuel Love, had shared a photo of Darwin sunset and the current temperature. It made me want to stab her eyeballs just a little.

It rained for 30 seconds this morning in Darwin and at almost 8pm it's currently 28C. BUT the sunsets sure are pretty  This is Winter in the Top End.

Posted by Move Fuel Love on Monday, 15 June 2015

Not only was the sunset amazing, as Darwin sunsets so often are, but at nearly 8pm it was still twenty eight degrees. Twenty eight god dam degrees!!! The only way I can even get close to such a delightful warmth is if I have the air con cranking up that high.

Oh how times change.

There once was a time when I had the air con cranking at eighteen degrees because I so desperately wanted to snuggle under a doona. Now I have it as high as I can, which actually happens to be only twenty six degrees, just so I don't have to wear five hundred layers of clothes.

It would be fair to say that winter and I are not the best of friends. I mean I do love being able to go for a run bang smack in the middle of the day and not dying from heat exhaustion but there is just a small part of me that is longing to be just a little bit warm without having to stand under scolding hot water. Because FYI it turns out that constantly showering in scolding hot water leads to a rather dry scalp which then in turn leads to dandruff.

There was no dandruff in my hair when I lived in the tropics and it bugs me insanely that my locks are constantly infiltrated with little white flakes now.

Sigh.

When I started this post, oh so long ago now, thanks to the concentration of a goldfish and being called on to go pick up the husband from hockey, I had planned on joining in with the ever so lovely Miss Cinders for her monthly emptying of the brain. Only when I went there just now I realised I completely and utterly missed the brief.

I thought (very wrongly) that it was a free association writing thing where you just sat and wrote whatever hair brain idea passed between your ears. As I have so clearly done. But it is not. Well not entirely. There are some loose statements to answer.

Double sigh.

Luckily I have more than one blog so I can pop over to APL and do it there. And even more luckily (totes acceptable grammar in the blog world btw) it is Tuesday and I have blogged so I can join in with EssentiallyJess and the IBOT gang