Wednesday, July 16, 2008

coincidently, where was i?



does everyone go through this blogger crisis? like what to write? feel that if nothing major or dramatic happens then frankly, what is there to say? i fear this blogging malarky will lead me into wayward distractions. into trouble. so i at least have something remarkable about which to write. what did bacon say about leading extraordinary lives? or was that someone else? it was oscar wilde who said something about us all lying in the gutters but some of us are looking at the stars...




you know, i get this daily email from the Universe. yes. It. .and i know there was all this silly hype about that book The Secret, you know, all consumerist and see the big house, the flash car, the healthy body, the sexy wife and all that and whoosh suddenly you have it and you can, apparently, laugh away cancer...but, these little emails i receive are little inspirational daily reminders. yesterdays one was crap, clearly, or maybe i didn't understand it enough...but i liked todays:




If you just whistle every now and then, janelle; skip every thousandth step or so; skim the odd stone across the odd pond; go dancing on the occasional blue moon, if only alone in the dark; dress up sometimes, even with nowhere to go... for simply stirring up some little bit of hope, no matter how silly or disconnected your actions seem to be with the rest of the world, magic flashes in the unseen, friends are summoned, connections are timed, stars are aligned, opportunities are crystallized and serendipities are calculated, creating possibilities for new realities that cannot now even be imagined from where you presently stand.
Shazaam - The Universe


man. a great way to start the day. deluded? maybe. maybe not.



you know, i love the jungian theory of coincidences...or not coincidences.


i digress.

at present, after only two days sans The PS (playstation for those not in the know), my life is remarkably similar to a telly tubby life. (but without the uncontrollable toaster) god. remember those little freaks?



anyway. the last two days have been a little bit like being stoned with the telly tubbies in their telly tubby garden. so it was with huge relief (in retrospect) that mo and i crossed paths this morning and she joined us in our telly tubby frolic of tennis, learning new card tricks , cooking classes and dressing up as princes and fairies on horses.....it was Bloggers Unite all over again and for real. .i was getting desperate. are there any adults out there, i dreamt? I NEED ATTENTION. and whoosh the universe blitzed in mo. could have blitzed in that italian from vietnam, though. the one that mo and i dreamed up to cross the pedestrian crossing in front of manjis petrol station. he didn't quite shimmer into view at that particular point in time but i tell you, thirty minutes later outside the ice-cream shop he cruised past..... no matter. it was lovely beautiful miranda, soul sister of mine, today.

detail your wishes. detail your wishes.


i feel as fat as a telly tubby too. bloody hell. why won't the telly belly just go away? and i am only on DAY 2 of my great big bloody marvelous idea of confiscating The Playstation. . . . . things are stacking. starting to stack.

so yesterday we ran walked 5 kms. must confess it was rather far for gabby...who was in tears (ish) by the end but had healthy ruddy cheeks and had to listen to my lecture about not crying because think of all those little maasai girls who have to walk miles to the clinic by the church because a dog bit their cheek and their mummy's don't carry them and blah blah blah a not too dissimilar lecture to the ones previously used on the boys about homeless sudanese kids with no parents or food only bullets raining down on them and the streets kids lying in the cold nights on the pavements, exposed to hunger and dangerous grownups oh and lets not forget the kids in mogadishu and BLAH. she still cried and i ended up carrying her for all of five meters before dumping her and making her walk the last twenty or so.... she is bloody heavy, man.

...violin and guitar lessons in the afternoon. my students were dreadful. useless sausage fingers. one forgets about one's rough calluses after thirty odd years of strumming. i'm like growling at the kids "darling. HOLD your finger hard on the string....but keep the note clear...PUSH with your thumb..no.no. no. like this. like THIS..stop picking your nose and look,. i said like THIS (as i wrench the poor child's hand around) rubin: maaaaaaarm. our fingers are sore.... ow. you're hurting me. i can't do this.



me: FOR GODSAKES DARLING. ok okokokokokokokokok sorry. ok well give your hand a rest then..sigh sigh....



hateful mother: oh stop whining. come on darling! be tough. oh ok. sigh sigh.

great mothering skills, huh? and a rubbish teacher. need that suzuki music methodology teaching aid: How To Teach Your Child To Play An Instrument Without Resorting To Violence.
the exact book which was gently yet kindly edged towards me by one of the mothers at gabby's violin lesson yesterday.

so i guess a 5 and 9 year olds fingers are far tenderer. still. hell. where do you start? hang down your head tom dooley? jamaican farewell? whats the history little miss mystery? there really is nothing complicated about D and Em....
and the journals continue: I rodde rhino. i played tenis. i went to cook.
above entries shared between two authors.

well. clearly playstation addict rage seems to be abating yet moulding into plain, horrid conventionalism. i will not comment lest i block this latest creative surge, dedicatingly scrawled into their much loved journals.
i read, under great duress, gabby's Level 1A with her. amazing. jane and peter and pat (the dog, a rather handsome looking red setter, if you remember ) are still knocking about the place, playing on idyllic beaches and deep green forests with silky soft thornless lawns - something from dreamland, with obviously absent parents or child minders. every now and then, like at The Toy Shop - you see a kind pudgey looking lady in the background, dressed ina 1950's crimpolene butter yellow frock, dark curls about her kindly cream and strawberry complexion. buxsome. she must be The Kindly Shop Assistant (although we don't get to Assistant or Kindly in Level A1.) Peter and Jane predate everything. everything. they are comfortingly wrong. they are pre war england. almost.
we can deduce, naturally, that jane is either mental or deaf because of the way peter talks to her:



Here is Pat, Jane. See Pat come Jane. Look. Look Jane. jane! JANE! Jaaaaaaaannnne! Jane, pat is coming. Look. Here is Pat. Peter likes Pat. Jane likes Pat. Jane do you like Pat?Pat likes Peter. Pat likes Jane. and onandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonand on WE GO.
jane is hellova special.

and when i point to the word "Like" and ask the young gabriella what it says, she doesn't have a bloody clue...


might be good for learning to read but it makes for brain draining, suicidal bedtime reading. try reading above extract with expression....whew. and look at yourself in the mirror when you say it...
must must find Dr Seuss alphabet. far more fun, i say.


had to buy contact lense cleaner for safari craig to send out on the next plane headed his way - far and beyond to the middle of no-where tommorrow. i have a great affection for the phrase :In The Middle Of No-Where." we once had a client in zambia who had to make a business phone call. we drove miles through the dust and heat and tsetse fly infested country to get him back to the main lodge for his phone call. the main lodge, in those days, was like Town. Humming. Busy. Where EVerything Happened. i was lurking about the office door, sort of half listening sort of half not, to his conversation.


Client: Hello? HELLO? (to himself, christ this line's shit) HELLO!? Frank CAN YOU HEAR ME? Yes. Its Alastair. Yes. Fine, fine. WHAT? Oh. in the middle of bloody no-where.


at the opticians i purchased a pair of aviators (oh nameless lableless zanzibari cheapos) for ten bucks and received another diamante pair for free! hah. deeply suspicious and fear that it may be an al quaeda ruse, with invisible poisonous dust on the lenses which will slowly make me blind...heathen pig that i am.
kids had a blast at tennis. then home where mo taught everyone more card tricks and clever things to do with a piece of string. intricately wind it around fingers, tug and it all falls away freely without knotting. so clever. way beyond me of course.

and then, oh then, THE COOKING CLASS. what a blast it was. such fun and so productive. sal was simply amazing and wonderful...decided to do a picture story on cooking class...


walking over to cooking lesson with fellow blogger miranda, apron donned. (http://thetimesofmiranda.blogspot.com/)




preparing the dishes...polenta cutlets and tomato sauce and awesome carrot muffins.




everyone had tasks but the zizzerizer was the most popular.




and some had good old fashioned things to busy themselves with like buttering the pan, licking the dishes and the spoons...


some of us were into more esoteric things, like the orgasmatron - a "thing" apparently invented in australia, circular, with copper prongs shaped for a head, manoevered by a wooden handle. its lowered slowly onto your head, light scalp pressure, then lifted, twisted and lowered again...to be repeated until sensation has gone... its whacky and LOVELY! look carefully you can just see the copper prongs...every house hold should have one.




...and mo loving The Blue Ball which matched her jersey exactly.
quite.






never quite got round to the piano lesson but heard first born tinkling, teaching himself mary had a little lamb, of all hits? ? stabbing it out with a single second finger. keep it simple. keep it simple. tommorrow it'll be chopin baby.


ended the day with fancy dress and horses. the horse fairy and the prince on a fine white steed called rhino....delightfully dreamy and more alice in wonderland than telly tubby land...



i think i dreamed up today.






i think i did.




Kitchen Board: Wednesday 16 July 2008:


Contributor: me.
comments: dedicated to Dumdad...All About Lists.
xbisousx comme toujours - off to watch that movie i promised myself.









8 comments:

M said...

It's such a pleasure to read your blog. Your writing voice is so clear that I can almost hear it! I feel so happy that I found your blog. There's an amazing spark of life that pops right out of the screen whenever I read about your latest adventure.

Bush Mummy said...

OHMIGOD can I come and live at your house please? It's sounds wonderful..

Tonight when I tucked my 2 year old and all her friends in for the upteemth time, our conversation went something like this:

"Mummy what's this one called?"

"Tinky Winkey"

"And what's this one called?"

"Lala"

"And what's this one called?"

"Po"

"And this one?"

"Dipsy"

"And this one?".. and so it went on.. for about five minutes.

Sigh.

Dumdad said...

Something dedicated to little old me - thank you! How exciting. (I must get out more).

Dipsy.

We always refer to this one as Dipsy Diving. Ho, ho.

Or Dipso.

Janelle said...

bunch o'loonies! thanks for stopping by...xbisousx

john.g. said...

What a great post! I don't usually read long posts but that kept me interested all the way through! x

Janelle said...

thanks john g! pressures on now...ouf! x j

Chuck Pefley said...

Bunch of loonies sometimes is a good thing ... like clean slates and invented days. :)

Thanks for your visit and comment in a far away place today.

ed said...

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