Sometimes on the way to your dream,

you get lost and find a better one.

Friday, October 30, 2015

Wednesday's Words on a Friday




On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.
We have taken over this meme from Delores, who had been having computer problems.
This month the meme continues here, at Elephant’s Child with words supplied by Margaret and Sue.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.   

Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image. What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  We would really like it if as many people as possible joined in with this fun meme. If you are posting on your own blog - let us know so that I, and other participants, can come along and comment. 
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.

It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?

this week's words are:

1. tent
2. awe
3. wardrobe
4. agent
5. microlight
6. chair

and/or

1. hound
2. roof
3. tyre
4. bewilderment
5. joy
6. shoe

Here is my story:

As we set up the tents and chairs in the back yard, my husband Tim, told me about yesterday's morning class with the current crop of fourth graders. The topic had been sky and he'd asked them to name three things that could be seen in the sky. One boy had replied with "sunlight, moonlight and microlight." When Tim asked him what he meant by microlight, Benny had said "the stars, sir, some of them are so tiny, like pinpoints, my sister calls them microlights."  I thought perhaps the boy might one day be an astronomer and Tim nodded his head, agreeing it was a possibility, the boy was always reading books about galaxies and constellations.

When all the chairs had been placed around trestle tables, Tim checked the wire enclosure to be sure Rufus, our beagle hound wasn't going to be able to escape and create havoc once the rest of the family arrived. It was going to be a hot afternoon, so yesterday evening we'd constructed a roof for it from a sheet of canvas, so Rufus could have some shade and I'd tossed in a couple of old car tyres. For some reason Rufus loved lying curled up inside them. 

A week ago, the house next door had been auctioned off, we'd sat on our front porch and watched in awe as the estate agent kept the crowd of potential buyers interested with his non-stop chatter about the house, the area in general, the delights of living in a small country town. Bidding had been brisk, with the house finally being sold to a middle aged couple who planned to bring her newly widowed mother to live with them. As the house had been empty for some time, they were able to move in quickly and today was the day. 

It was also my birthday, my fortieth, and the joyful reason for the tents and chairs, as we were having a barbecue lunch, which would probably drag on for most of the day and become a barbecue dinner as well. We were hoping that perhaps the new neighbours would be happy to join us for a "welcome" meal and we'd get to know them. All we knew so far were their names, Brian, Maggie, and Maggie's mother Ava. 

As our family members began arriving, so did the moving truck which pulled up  and backed into their driveway. It was followed by a gleaming chauffeured vehicle and we watched discreetly as an older woman got out. Gazing about with bewilderment plain on her face, she directed the driver to place her suitcases on the path, case after case after case of matched luggage, all in pink leather. "This must be Ava," we whispered to each other. I counted the suitcases, six large ones and a dozen smaller ones in assorted sizes. Enough clothes to fill my own modestly-sized wardrobe several times over, surely. 

Maggie and Brian arrived just as the last case was added to the pile, an enormous round hat box that had been on the back seat. "Sorry we're a bit late Mum," Maggie said, "I broke the heel off my shoe at the last minute and had to unpack one of our boxes to find another pair."

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Thursday Thoughts # 69

from No Substitute for Murder by Carolyn J Rose

" A small dog gets up everyday with just one thought on his mind," my vet had cautioned. "And that thought is 'I will bend you to my will.'"

Small dogs must think they are cats (*~*)

Today's Thoughts:

I had a thought a while ago, (don't know where it came from, but there it was in my head), that I should try a cream cheese&chopped raisins spread on my bread. 

So I bought spreadable cream cheese and a packet of raisins and a new loaf of rye bread, chopped some raisins, mixed them into about a tablespoon of cream cheese and spread it over a slice of bread. 


And how was it?
Awful.
Really, really awful.
I'll never listen to those thoughts again.


The cream cheese is pushed to the back of the fridge until I decide what to do with it.
The raisins will get chopped into the oats/dried fruits mix I cook as porridge for breakfast.


**********


An article in our local free weekly paper bemoans the loss of some (most) of our Aussie colloquialisms. People these days are 'OMG'ing and 'WTF'ing instead of saying 'you beauty; bonza; you little ripper!' Not to mention 'strewth' and 'crikey'.


This has been written about before, but no one seems to be taking much notice. Our country is being Yankified faster than I can get out of my socks. 


'Mate' and 'cobber' have been replaced by 'dude', 'buddy' and 'pal'. Think about that for a minute. Think about 'G'day mate'. 'G'day buddy' just doesn't sound as good. 

It's unAustralian. 

Even our rhyming slang is fast disappearing. When was the last time someone offered you some 'dead horse' (sauce) to go on your pie'n'chips? When did anyone ask how the 'billy-lids' (kids) are doing at school?


Then there's the distinctly Aussie metaphors. 'A few snags short of a barbie; a few roos loose in the top paddock; camp as a row of tents'. Someone on the large side, a strong, hefty fellow, might be described as 'built like a brick s***-house'. (outhouse; dunny).  He could also be as 'fit as a mallee bull'.
Anyone throwing a bit of a tantrum would be 'carrying on like a pork chop'.


The article goes on to say "we must keep the cornerstone of our dialect - G'day- in daily use if we're 'ridgy-didge' and 'fair dinkum' about keeping our language (vernacular) alive. 


When immigrants arrived here after World War 2, they assimilated fairly quickly and most were soon talking just like us. 

But with accents.  
Nowadays, with most Australianisms disappearing as fast as a new Maccas goes up, I don't think the current crop of newbies, mostly Asians and Indians, has much of a chance. They'll assimilate, they'll get jobs, their billy-lids will go to school, but I can't see any of them saying 'stone the flamin' crows', or 'she'll be right mate', 'dead set', 'bob's your uncle', 'safe as houses'. With or without accents. 

And just for the record, Australians eat bikkies (biscuits) not cookies. Our billy-lids eat lollies, not candy.


Don't get me wrong here, I still like all my American friends, and their choc-chip cookies, I just wish that more of us Australians were interested in keeping the old sayings alive. 

Sadly, that won't happen. A couple of generations from now, all that will be left is an occasional newspaper article like the one I've mentioned here.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Whimsical Wednesday # 199

Welcome back to Whimsical Wednesday!

The day for your googled giggle that gets you over the hump that is Wednesday and sliding down into the weekend.

How sweet is this?
Huskies, now in 4-packs.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Monday Musings # 11

Let's begin with a few newspaper quotes:

"Birthdays are good for you, the more you have, the longer you live."
***********
"A politician is a person who will double-cross that bridge when they get to it."
***********
"got a free hour? don't fill it - just be in it." (my favourite)
***********
T-shirt message: "the fact there's a Highway to Hell and only a Stairway to Heaven says a lot about anticipated traffic numbers."
***********
Here's something to muse upon: In the opening scenes of The Blacklist (my favourite TV show), Raymond Reddington says to Elizabeth Keen, " you got rid of your highlights, you look a lot less Baltimore."

What exactly is this "Baltimore" look?
Do all girls/women in Baltimore have highlights in their hair?
Only those of a certain age? Those with a particular hairstyle?
***********
What about other cities? or states? Is there a "look" the defines you? 
Can you travel to another part of the country and have people know instantly where you are from by your hairstyle or hair colouring?
***********
I've been watching my DVD movie collection to decide which ones I'm happy to keep and watch again and which ones I can live without. Some of them I had on VHS tapes and transferred them to DVD when I got a player that used both media styles. It's easy, and I got 99% of them transferred before the player broke down from overuse. The VHS part, the DVD part was fine. Buying blank DVD discs was much cheaper than buying the movies on DVD. Anyway, some of the transferred movies, have static lines and iffy sound, because the VHS tapes were so old and worn, so I'm making a list of those and I'll eventually replace them with DVD copies if I can find them. Some are really old and may not be available. 
***********

Sunday, October 25, 2015

movie marathon

I'm watching an old movie titled Raw Deal, with Arnold Schwarzenegger (playing an ex-FBI agent trying to get reinstated), chasing down a slew of mafia members or something. 
Not really paying attention, but I'll watch it again sometime and fill in the blanks.

Anyway, I've just seen Arnie drive an enormous tow truck right in through a pair of glass restaurant doors and continue on through the building. 

I really, really, wanted a waiter to be there, waiting for the truck to stop so he could say "table for one, sir?"

Sunday Selections # 247



Welcome back to Sunday Selections!

This once-a- week-meme was originally begun by Kim of Frog Ponds Rock, as a way to showcase some of the many photos we all take, but don't get around to showing on our blogs.

The rules are very simple:-
1. post photos of your choice, old or new, under the Sunday Selections title
2. link back to me, River, somewhere in your post
3. leave me a comment so that I know you've joined in and can come over and see what you've posted.
4. hop on over to Elephant’s Child to see more of her wonderful photos.
  Andrew often joins in too.

I usually go with a theme for my Sunday Selections and this week, as promised, the Terrace Houses on the beachfront at Grange. 

you all remember these?

there's a noticeboard nearby telling us the history of some of the Grange beachfront area, the Terraces are right there in the centre.

the picture, an original photo.

the information:

"The Marines" Grange
Completed in 1884, only 8 of the planned 24 apartments were ever built. These buildings remain unique as the only Victorian three-storey terraces on the sea-front in Australia. Originally the stone used in the building was rumoured to be from ships' ballast, but is now thought to be from around Dry Creek. 
(Photo by permission State Library of SA)

imagine having your breakfast coffee on that top balcony overlooking the ocean.

Quite stately aren't they?

renovations going on to two of the homes.

the front fence design matches the balcony railings, I think it's pretty.

long, lazy days watching the boats,

or the pines,

or the fishermen at the end of the jetty.

and here is that plant again.














Friday, October 23, 2015

Wednesday's Words on a Friday



On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.
We have taken over this meme from Delores, who had been having computer problems.
This month the meme continues here, at Elephant’s Child with words supplied by Margaret and Sue.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.   

Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.

It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?

This week's words are in fact two photographs which will appear in the correct place in my story. 

my contribution this week is Chapter Two, and Three; inspired by the words written by Lee which can be read here in the comment section of Elephant's Child's Wednesday Words post.

Chapter Two


Maisie May had been named for her great-great-grandmother and had grown up hearing the stories of the older Maisie’s vaudeville career. Her mother, Katie, still had the tattered, tasseled tambourine used in most of Maisie’s stage routines. 

From a very early age, young Maisie May had shown an aptitude and love for singing and dancing. She hadn’t migrated to Broadway, however; vaudeville wasn’t as “big” as it once was and the younger Maisie preferred a more regular income.                                                       She had become a kindergarten teacher and took great delight daily in teaching her young charges to sing and dance to the records played during Music Hour. 
To supplement this income, Maisie May also appeared in television commercials, thus satisfying her natural inclination to perform. 

When the elder Maisie passed away, her countryside home had been left to Katie, who hadn’t wanted to live away from the city, so the house had been rented out for several years. Those tenants had now moved on and the house had been empty for almost a year. Repairs were necessary and probably some upgrading too; Katie and Maisie May had discussed this at length, deciding to fix things up and sell the house. 

Chapter Three

When the school summer break was underway, Maisie May had driven to the old home and stayed in the front bedroom while going through room by room, checking off a list of things that needed to be done. 
In the elder Maisie’s bedroom, she had spied a corner of a picture frame peeking out from behind the dresser where it had fallen, probably many years ago. 
With surprise Maisie May discovered it was a photo of the elder Maisie, taken at her very first public performance, dated and signed on the back by her father. 


Maisie May dusted it off and placed it carefully into her suitcase. Katie would be very pleased to have it.

As she drove away from the old house, along the track between the trees, Maisie May glanced into the side mirror for one last look. 


She hoped a family with children would buy the old house and turn it once more into a home, with laughter, singing and dancing spreading warmth through the rooms.