As I stepped outside at 7am to scrape the porridge pot into dog's dish this morning I was greeted by a rose pink palate in the eastern sky behind the sparse crown foliage of the messmate and peppermint trees. Magnificent. I heard the garbage truck entering the street so I went inside and got the skin I had peeled from the chicken breast that I'd cut up and put in the oven to dry out as dog treats. The chicken is easier to cut into small pieces without the skin, and the gluey mass of skin is hardly fit for little dog. I put boots on and walked up to the bin that Gordon had taken up to the street last night. The truck does our side of the street on the way back and we are the last so there's a few minutes grace to get to the bin before the truck picks it up. On the way back I inspected the tiny eucy seedlings growing from seed I collected from a special tree on a trip a while back. I put some dry dog minis out for the birds and noticed as I took my boots off that in ten minutes the eastern sky had changed to a delicious bright yellow on the clouds against the now blue background which had been grey a short time earlier.
By this time I was inspired to my back teeth with the prospect of another day, and the promise of an evening meal and wine, the wine from which I had abstained all working week as is my normal habit. I have had a full week of activity some of which was different, including a trip to Neerim South to pick up an advanced lemon tree last Monday, for my dear friend Maria as a present.
On the way back I visited a friend, an old football team mate Leigh Candy in Warragul where he has retired from the Education Department. He has a lovely renovated house almost in the heart of town and has been busy making over the garden to his taste and interest in native plants. A streak of blue dye through his white closely cropped hair showed he has maintained some eccentricity. It was not related to his support of the Carlton Football Club he assured me when questioned, and said until recently it had been a pink streak, just something he had gone with in company with his partner's daughter and he actually liked it. Back in our football days Leigh turned up wearing caftan and thongs whatever the weather and smoked a pipe, the contents of which were dubious. He talked of yings and yangs and things of which I knew nought. I remember our coach 'Lace' saying to him at half time one day when he was having a quiet day, "Look Lethal, I don't give stuff about yings and yangs, just get the footy." Get the footy he could when his yings and yangs were right. He kicked five goals in our preliminary final resurgence from a mile behind, four in the last quarter, and followed this up with five in the Grand Final in what he said he knew was his last game. And a premiership and Best and Fairest award in his last season.
That Monday night I had a meeting with the Puffing Billy working group to prepare for the stakeholders meeting with PB and council bigshots and politicians the next day. The pollies in the end were apologies. There was no real progress to come from this meeting, only assurance from PB that they would work with Gembrook Community Group to address the problems to the mutual benefit of all parties. The CEO said he could not agree to putting the Thomas Tank Days planned for spring summer autumn 2017/2018 on hold, as we requested, he would need to take this to the board. Their decision would be known by us at the next meeting scheduled early June. Meetings meetings meetings, no change to plans yet. I do not believe they have any intention of altering their plans. Farce.
On Wednesday Gord and I planted Maria's tree in the position in her garden that she chose when we mowed her grass on Tuesday. It looked lovely. The Trini Lopez hit song 'Lemon Tree' (very pretty) from the 1960's was in my mind. Maria wasn't home when we planted it but she rang and was so happy. I was so happy too. If I had done nothing else for the week, after enduring the torture of these PB meeting and all their bullshit, the pleasure I gained from seeing that tree in the ground safe and sound and hopefully to thrive in the future is huge. It got a bit knocked around on the trip back from Neerim as I had to lay it down in the trailer and the bouncing caused a lot of soil to fall from the 40cm pot, and the trunk to move up and down weakening the roothold. But I think it will be alright, it is well staked and it's a good time of year to plant.
I stopped at Bunyip on the way back from Warragul and bought a battery powered Husqvarna chainsaw which I can't wait to test drive, and get on with my pruning and removal program planned at the farm over the next couple of months.
A pleasant day today with rain coming, I worked well yesterday to get most of the picking done to make today light. A good football game it should be tonight between Geelong and Bulldogs, by the fire with a bottle red. Fabulous Friday.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Monday, May 08, 2017
So It Goes
Life is busy and dynamic on a daily basis. There's much to see, do and respond to, and so little time to analyze and make sense of it. There are four things I want to write about since my previous post.
1. Finally, week before last, I made it to the skin cancer clinic for a full body check up. This started in February before our NZ holiday. You know how it is, before a holiday you rush to get things done. There was a growth on my forehead just in the hairline in an area of discolouration or darkening, it had been there for some months. I went to the doctor for appraisal. My bloke was on leave somewhere (working in a remote indigenous community where doctors are needed but scarce) so I saw someone else at the clinic in Berwick. This guy said it looked suspicious but it would need a longer consultation and a nurse booked also so a piece could be taken and sent for biopsy, so comeback after my holiday and book a long consultation and a nurse. I did this and booked a long session with my doc after our holiday. The clinic rang a day before my appt and said my doc, whom I must say I like and have confidence in, said he didn't want to go cutting at something he hadn't seen. I said that's fine, the thing had shrunk and I had been considering cancelling the whole thing, but look hey seeing as I'm booked just change it to a short consult and I'll parley with my man about it. He looked at it and said he didn't think there was anything to worry about but there was just one small area that was suspicious and he referred me to a skin cancer clinic where he said they have a much better camera and it would be a good idea at my age to have a check anyway due to my outside lifestyle, my age, and because I take methotrexate which gives you a greater chance of contracting melanoma. To end the story I got the all clear. The skin doc I saw, a dark skinned fellow who said he came from India, a big strong guy, told me the growth was a wart, that is why it came and went and he froze it off. In answer to my question he said he had trained in India and Australia. I said India scared me simply by virtue of its huge population of a billion people. He said yes there's a lot of poverty but 20% of the people are very wealthy, which means 200 million very wealthy people. Mind boggling. He said I should get a check up every year or two because of the methotrexate.
2. This last week was tough. I had a museum meeting Tuesday which I chaired as the pres was away and a Puffing Billy Working Group meeting on Wednesday night. This PB business is taxing, it destroys my peace and calm and saps my mental energy. The longer it drags the more my dislike for it grows. Thursday I had to take Elvie to the eye doctor in the morning, 10.30am in Berwick. The receptionist said there was quite a queue and I could expect a time of one and and half hours to two hours so I went shopping for some nice bread at Coles, the sourdough light rye is great and I bought 5 loaves for the freezer. Then I took Pip for a walk and visited the receptionist at my dentist in the same street, a lady of Sri Lankan or Indian origin who delights me when I go to to the dentist. As I entered the street outside the little court I saw a young lady pushing a pram and she stopped and said her baby loved dogs. I picked Pip up so baby could see her close and asked the lady what was the baby's name, by this time baby was smiling and showing happiness. She said 'Santiago'. That's interesting I said, "Why Santiago?"
"Because my husband comes from there."
I told her I had been to Santiago, and that I found it to be a beautiful place but very crowded, and that there were stray dogs everywhere in the city in large numbers. Our conversation was invigourating. She told me her husband's name was Rene and his family migrated in 1988 and moved to Endeavour Hills. Her name was Flavia and she came with her family from Madras India also in 1988 when she was one year old, and she also grew up in Endeavour Hills. Her husband works for a bank looking after investment clients. You have to admire people who uprooted their lives and migrated, to Australia or anywhere. Such a huge thing to do in life. Flavia was a lovely lady whom it was my great pleasure to meet. I told her I write a blog and how to look it up, and that I would post about our meeting, when I get a chance. I hope she does. Hi Flavia. I wish you happiness and a great life for Santiago.
3. Last week nearly knocked me out. Besides the above, I was busy workwise with many orders for foliage and flowers made more difficult by other demands. Thursday I was flat out catching up and exhausted. But a great saving grace was a visit by my sister in law Margaret on Wednesday for lunch with her daughter Liz and Liz's 7 month old baby Patrick whom I had not met previously. My thoughts beforehand were on the PB meeting and all the angst I feel. But meeting Patrick transformed my mood. This wonderful little fellow smiled and squealed and grinned and seeing Lizzie, whom I have known all her life, as a mother now, and Margaret as a grandmother, lifted me out of my pit. It was beautiful. New life is wonderfully uplifting.
4. Lastly, I'm reading a fantastic book, titled 'Unbroken' by Laura Hillenbrand. It's the life story of Louis Zamperini, an American middle distance runner whose 1940 Olympic aspirations were shattered by WW11. He joined the airforce and was a bombadier in the South Pacific. A plane he was in searching for other lost airmen went down and he spent 46 days days drifting on a raft and nearly dying of thirst, starvation and exposure with two others, one of whom did die before they were picked up by the Japanese which began a long period of almost unbelievable hardship and suffering. There is so much in this story that is enlightening to me of the immensely dangerous existence of these brave young airmen. The attrition rate was high. Libby got this book from somewhere after seeing the movie, she told me I should read it. I had no interest, I saw a snippet of the movie where Louie was being beaten by the Japs and suffering extreme pain and I thought I can't handle that. Then Rickyralph came up one day and saw the book on our bookshelf and said to me it was a great read I should read it. I said no thanks I can't stand such pain. Rick said, "But it is more than that, it's a whole life story." Anyway after finishing my last book and asking Lib did she have one for me she picked up 'Unbroken' and I gave it a go. It is riveting, enlightening, and most of all inspiring.
It is almost unfathomable, the madness of war, and sadly, that it is a good theatre for psychopaths, like the Japanese corporal 'The Bird", Louis Zamperini's tormentor. Just reading about World Wars 1 and 2 is harrowing and confronting. But history is history, and we need to learn from it.
And so it goes.
1. Finally, week before last, I made it to the skin cancer clinic for a full body check up. This started in February before our NZ holiday. You know how it is, before a holiday you rush to get things done. There was a growth on my forehead just in the hairline in an area of discolouration or darkening, it had been there for some months. I went to the doctor for appraisal. My bloke was on leave somewhere (working in a remote indigenous community where doctors are needed but scarce) so I saw someone else at the clinic in Berwick. This guy said it looked suspicious but it would need a longer consultation and a nurse booked also so a piece could be taken and sent for biopsy, so comeback after my holiday and book a long consultation and a nurse. I did this and booked a long session with my doc after our holiday. The clinic rang a day before my appt and said my doc, whom I must say I like and have confidence in, said he didn't want to go cutting at something he hadn't seen. I said that's fine, the thing had shrunk and I had been considering cancelling the whole thing, but look hey seeing as I'm booked just change it to a short consult and I'll parley with my man about it. He looked at it and said he didn't think there was anything to worry about but there was just one small area that was suspicious and he referred me to a skin cancer clinic where he said they have a much better camera and it would be a good idea at my age to have a check anyway due to my outside lifestyle, my age, and because I take methotrexate which gives you a greater chance of contracting melanoma. To end the story I got the all clear. The skin doc I saw, a dark skinned fellow who said he came from India, a big strong guy, told me the growth was a wart, that is why it came and went and he froze it off. In answer to my question he said he had trained in India and Australia. I said India scared me simply by virtue of its huge population of a billion people. He said yes there's a lot of poverty but 20% of the people are very wealthy, which means 200 million very wealthy people. Mind boggling. He said I should get a check up every year or two because of the methotrexate.
2. This last week was tough. I had a museum meeting Tuesday which I chaired as the pres was away and a Puffing Billy Working Group meeting on Wednesday night. This PB business is taxing, it destroys my peace and calm and saps my mental energy. The longer it drags the more my dislike for it grows. Thursday I had to take Elvie to the eye doctor in the morning, 10.30am in Berwick. The receptionist said there was quite a queue and I could expect a time of one and and half hours to two hours so I went shopping for some nice bread at Coles, the sourdough light rye is great and I bought 5 loaves for the freezer. Then I took Pip for a walk and visited the receptionist at my dentist in the same street, a lady of Sri Lankan or Indian origin who delights me when I go to to the dentist. As I entered the street outside the little court I saw a young lady pushing a pram and she stopped and said her baby loved dogs. I picked Pip up so baby could see her close and asked the lady what was the baby's name, by this time baby was smiling and showing happiness. She said 'Santiago'. That's interesting I said, "Why Santiago?"
"Because my husband comes from there."
I told her I had been to Santiago, and that I found it to be a beautiful place but very crowded, and that there were stray dogs everywhere in the city in large numbers. Our conversation was invigourating. She told me her husband's name was Rene and his family migrated in 1988 and moved to Endeavour Hills. Her name was Flavia and she came with her family from Madras India also in 1988 when she was one year old, and she also grew up in Endeavour Hills. Her husband works for a bank looking after investment clients. You have to admire people who uprooted their lives and migrated, to Australia or anywhere. Such a huge thing to do in life. Flavia was a lovely lady whom it was my great pleasure to meet. I told her I write a blog and how to look it up, and that I would post about our meeting, when I get a chance. I hope she does. Hi Flavia. I wish you happiness and a great life for Santiago.
3. Last week nearly knocked me out. Besides the above, I was busy workwise with many orders for foliage and flowers made more difficult by other demands. Thursday I was flat out catching up and exhausted. But a great saving grace was a visit by my sister in law Margaret on Wednesday for lunch with her daughter Liz and Liz's 7 month old baby Patrick whom I had not met previously. My thoughts beforehand were on the PB meeting and all the angst I feel. But meeting Patrick transformed my mood. This wonderful little fellow smiled and squealed and grinned and seeing Lizzie, whom I have known all her life, as a mother now, and Margaret as a grandmother, lifted me out of my pit. It was beautiful. New life is wonderfully uplifting.
4. Lastly, I'm reading a fantastic book, titled 'Unbroken' by Laura Hillenbrand. It's the life story of Louis Zamperini, an American middle distance runner whose 1940 Olympic aspirations were shattered by WW11. He joined the airforce and was a bombadier in the South Pacific. A plane he was in searching for other lost airmen went down and he spent 46 days days drifting on a raft and nearly dying of thirst, starvation and exposure with two others, one of whom did die before they were picked up by the Japanese which began a long period of almost unbelievable hardship and suffering. There is so much in this story that is enlightening to me of the immensely dangerous existence of these brave young airmen. The attrition rate was high. Libby got this book from somewhere after seeing the movie, she told me I should read it. I had no interest, I saw a snippet of the movie where Louie was being beaten by the Japs and suffering extreme pain and I thought I can't handle that. Then Rickyralph came up one day and saw the book on our bookshelf and said to me it was a great read I should read it. I said no thanks I can't stand such pain. Rick said, "But it is more than that, it's a whole life story." Anyway after finishing my last book and asking Lib did she have one for me she picked up 'Unbroken' and I gave it a go. It is riveting, enlightening, and most of all inspiring.
It is almost unfathomable, the madness of war, and sadly, that it is a good theatre for psychopaths, like the Japanese corporal 'The Bird", Louis Zamperini's tormentor. Just reading about World Wars 1 and 2 is harrowing and confronting. But history is history, and we need to learn from it.
And so it goes.
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