Dear diary,
its been so long since I wrote in you.
But you’ll never guess what happened.
As you know, I was getting ready for my birfday, to be eight. jus like I said on the last page, I was trying so hard to get all the tings ready for my party, cause I coldnt trust mum or anyone to be able to make my party jus how I needed.
Remmember, how there was we had a big fight and mum said that I could have my party where ever I wanted, only if I let her be the boss. Well I didn’t fall for it, cause I knew dad would be on my side I would get my party where I wanted anyway, and it would be just how I wanted. Just how I had seen in the little princess colouring in book, exsep there would not be stupid yellow lamps like how carline colowed them, they have to be pink, mum promised me pink lamps
Well the lamps was pink, and god how they glowed in the night. Like balls of fairyfloss floting, joe, that’s suzis bruther kept jumping to eat them. But dad told him off and he had to sit inside, like the budgy idiot that he is, looking out at us having so much fun playing pinyata, he didn’t even get to have the choc coated fudge which i hand picked from the chocloteer. You now, I picked all the sweets and treats at my party, I have a list of my favourites, and made a table with my bestest friends favourites as well.
Then I made sure that these were lined up with which games i thinked my friends would win, so they had their favrite sweets when they won. even Sally, I nowed she would win pass the parcel, cause she always wins (she had won at stacy, jeradins and even harlds party, even thow harlds party was so crap, cause his parents are like religees nudists, or that’s what mum said and no one was allowed to have lollies).
So, I had the cake from the Newpapa adds, yes the half cookies and cream half camel crunch from the ice cream shop. It was so good, I had bits from both half and I coulnt even tell which was my favourite.
But you now what, mum wast even gunna let me have any, till I cried. Cause she said that if I was sick the cake would not help it.
See cause I had been originating all week for my party, I was up late and coldnt sleep, I kept dreaming wether I should invite suzi. She wasn’t on my list, her rating was not high enough, plus I hate her bruther. But I nowed it was wrong to not let her, cause dad says we have to be nice to them, since they is from the wrong side of the road, and they are on welfare. Who cares if she has a scolap to go to our school anyways.
But I let her come on the second last sleep. Then when I was arranging the dekorashins the night before I feel off the ladder, mum said I fainted, but I said that she pushed me. See she was jealous, cause my party was better then any she had before.
But it was the flu, I was struck like a stimtarta dad said. It was horrabel, I harley slept for worry, then had to delget from bed, telling where things went and how to put the chips just right.
But just like mum, from the first guesses door bell till last kisses goodby I was a consulet host. Then I collapsed in bed at the end and stayed here for two weeks till I am writing to you.
I have decided that planeing is no fun and like dad sayed I shud jus let my nex party happen, like a hippy get togever.
Misty XOXO
Epilogue
The idea for this story is based on true events, and to the person that gave their diary, thank you and please remember that I would never say you were such a little bitch, but artistic licence may have been needed. It didn’t seem as interesting when you were nice but obsessive about planning.
Much love
jailo
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Ok so its late...but i always am...
Ok... I cant rotate the images... maybe its best to turn ones head anyway...
The beginnings of a children book about the seasons...or just for fun...or maybe because i like to play with colors when it's too cold out side to be :)
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Choosing the next Topic?
Well that was fun :)
Just to keep things moving. This month we got the previous topic chooser (Berni) to pick the next, at random from everyone who posted.
And the winner is ... Calypso!
Hit us Rypso.
In the mean time, does anyone have a good idea on what system we should use to pick who chooses the next topic?
Suggestions have been;
Alphabetical order
Randomly out of a hat
Some sort of fixed order
The currently accepted method is that the previous topic chooser picks the next at random from the list of everyone who posted that month, excluding themselves and anyone who has chosen recently, with the intent that everyone gets a turn.
Just to keep things moving. This month we got the previous topic chooser (Berni) to pick the next, at random from everyone who posted.
And the winner is ... Calypso!
Hit us Rypso.
In the mean time, does anyone have a good idea on what system we should use to pick who chooses the next topic?
Suggestions have been;
Alphabetical order
Randomly out of a hat
Some sort of fixed order
The currently accepted method is that the previous topic chooser picks the next at random from the list of everyone who posted that month, excluding themselves and anyone who has chosen recently, with the intent that everyone gets a turn.
Deep Geo
You may need to click on the images to make them big enough to see. On the last panel I had to click on it again to zoom in.
When the image opens I have to hit back to come back the main page. Don't close the image page.
When the image opens I have to hit back to come back the main page. Don't close the image page.
Soo... How's the weather?
Basking in the warmth under Sophie and Eyal's UV protected veranda I lay on their couch listening to one end of Sophie and Bernie's conversation. Sophie mentions something about the 1st of may and i remember about this blog and how I haven't even thought about it since i was invited to join. I had planned on writing some awesome story about something well cool. But meh. This is all i've got. A bit of fluff off the top of my head and only a tinsy bit at that as we have a lunch date at the food club. Mumma is cooking Kangaroo pie. Should be interesting. My writing is slowed down because Shiloh the ergo baby stirs every couple of minutes and i have to walk around to try and settle her. She opens her little eyes and smiles when Sophie calls her cute. She is definitely the loveliest little person around. And that is all.
Adjusting to Habitat
A little story about the weather in early life...
It was a humid night, lit with an enormous moon. Shiloh, just 10 hours old, was asleep between us, enshrined on her own little bed. Every time her breath caught in her throat or she shuffled, I woke up. She awoke to feed punctually every four hours. Deeper into the night her breathing became rapid, too rapid? I held her close to me making long calm breaths hoping she would regulate her breathing to match mine. I fed her, I tried to sooth her. Eventually I woke Eyal, ever practical he counted breaths per minute and googled it. 100 breaths/minute is too many, it had been nearly an hour. I wasn't panicked, somehow still high from giving birth earlier, still in another world. We called the midwife, she called Emergency, for the first time in her life our baby left the cocoon of our house, bundled into the car. A warm wind had come up, somehow reassuring us. Her breath seemed to calm a little.
They greeted us by name as we entered the hospital, not rushed, but not calm. They asked me to undress my baby. My heart was breaking, her so naked and vulnerable and me meant to be a protector. They took blood oxygen, checked her heartbeat, her blood sugar, her reactions. She was the picture of newborn health. She breathed gently and calmly lying there naked looking at the doctor and three nursing staff. Later, we realised she had been too hot. Too well wrapped, over coddled. The baby needed to feel that wind on her skin.
Day Two: jaundice was creeping in, a little yellow pigment starting at the face and sweeping down to her toes. Our midwife suggested UV light, 10 minutes naked in the sun on her front and then back. Her little naked head so big for her body, like a little tadpole she lay flailing her arms in the sun. She was so recently released from my body, the incredible space around her was overwhelming. Her 20 minutes in the outside naked freed her from jaundice. We had underestimated the power of her need to acclimatise.
Now 8 weeks on, we are pros. On the sunny autumn mornings she sits outside, squinting and frowning into the backyard of jungle and rivers, watching the patters, listening to the river flow. On cold mornings I light the fire and she sits entranced. She moves her limbs through space confidently. She has learned to adjust to her new habitat outside. She is aware of the sun rising, the rain falling and the chill in the air. Her cold hands are always grasping to touch, her head always turning to look. An homunculus absorbing the world through touch and plays of light.
It was a humid night, lit with an enormous moon. Shiloh, just 10 hours old, was asleep between us, enshrined on her own little bed. Every time her breath caught in her throat or she shuffled, I woke up. She awoke to feed punctually every four hours. Deeper into the night her breathing became rapid, too rapid? I held her close to me making long calm breaths hoping she would regulate her breathing to match mine. I fed her, I tried to sooth her. Eventually I woke Eyal, ever practical he counted breaths per minute and googled it. 100 breaths/minute is too many, it had been nearly an hour. I wasn't panicked, somehow still high from giving birth earlier, still in another world. We called the midwife, she called Emergency, for the first time in her life our baby left the cocoon of our house, bundled into the car. A warm wind had come up, somehow reassuring us. Her breath seemed to calm a little.
They greeted us by name as we entered the hospital, not rushed, but not calm. They asked me to undress my baby. My heart was breaking, her so naked and vulnerable and me meant to be a protector. They took blood oxygen, checked her heartbeat, her blood sugar, her reactions. She was the picture of newborn health. She breathed gently and calmly lying there naked looking at the doctor and three nursing staff. Later, we realised she had been too hot. Too well wrapped, over coddled. The baby needed to feel that wind on her skin.
Day Two: jaundice was creeping in, a little yellow pigment starting at the face and sweeping down to her toes. Our midwife suggested UV light, 10 minutes naked in the sun on her front and then back. Her little naked head so big for her body, like a little tadpole she lay flailing her arms in the sun. She was so recently released from my body, the incredible space around her was overwhelming. Her 20 minutes in the outside naked freed her from jaundice. We had underestimated the power of her need to acclimatise.
Now 8 weeks on, we are pros. On the sunny autumn mornings she sits outside, squinting and frowning into the backyard of jungle and rivers, watching the patters, listening to the river flow. On cold mornings I light the fire and she sits entranced. She moves her limbs through space confidently. She has learned to adjust to her new habitat outside. She is aware of the sun rising, the rain falling and the chill in the air. Her cold hands are always grasping to touch, her head always turning to look. An homunculus absorbing the world through touch and plays of light.
jailo gettin on this scene even though its a dumb theme
Wether you like it or not it’s got to be hot when you drop…
It on inspirazzi,
like a mechanic under-a shasy, or bong-head on the bagpipes
Don’t matter the weather outside,
I got-ta keep my fingers tappin tight to the tune of this turbid night,
There’s a million ways to stray from this theme,
It’s almost obscene how billions of conversations… don’t
When the smoke from our fires and the lies from our past… won’t
Go away,
until we can learn to sway our hips, curls our lips and give each other a kiss
I dream of each of you, no not like that, but like this;
to lay my head in the hollow of your ribs,
stay the night under the stars in your backyard digs,
Laughing in lost memories of adolescence,
before babies drew us tired through days,
making lazing away sunny afternoons and swaying to a soft tune
so…
beautiful…
No matter how dark the storm, long the road or lonely I be
Thoughts of all yall are the honey to this bee
It on inspirazzi,
like a mechanic under-a shasy, or bong-head on the bagpipes
Don’t matter the weather outside,
I got-ta keep my fingers tappin tight to the tune of this turbid night,
There’s a million ways to stray from this theme,
It’s almost obscene how billions of conversations… don’t
When the smoke from our fires and the lies from our past… won’t
Go away,
until we can learn to sway our hips, curls our lips and give each other a kiss
I dream of each of you, no not like that, but like this;
to lay my head in the hollow of your ribs,
stay the night under the stars in your backyard digs,
Laughing in lost memories of adolescence,
before babies drew us tired through days,
making lazing away sunny afternoons and swaying to a soft tune
so…
beautiful…
No matter how dark the storm, long the road or lonely I be
Thoughts of all yall are the honey to this bee
Weather the storm...
While sitting on a horse, scratching its withers and wondering whether my shed will weather the weather or whether the storm will scare my wethers and bellwethers till they jump the fence in search of finer pastures and clearer skies, I get to thinkin' that:
I'll just thank the sun for comin' up again tomorrow and hope things go close enough to smooth, such that I can try and enjoy the weather for all the gorgeous things that nature is bound to put in it.
The sun cookin' the countryside such that I relish the cool spaces under the trees where I can hear the crickets discussing their chances at making a family; birds floating high above on breezes I can't yet feel, the smell of cut grass that always brings back younger years; then the wind in the trees as the smokestack clouds suck air up as they plan a hosing down for us, sometime soon I hope; the smell of rain on the air as the temp turns from raise a sweat to raisin' goose bumps; it's fresh now, almost the sea 'cept without the brine to it, and quiet, the critters know when water's coming and they get, what seems to me, a little -unexcited- about it. Not gossiping and chasing 'tail' or dinner now, but looking for somewhere to weather the storm. It's not necessarily their favourite show but they'll take up a posie and watch it. After all, the sky is nature's big screen, may as well sit back and watch the show.
When it comes it washes everything down, strips the dust from the air till you can close your eyes and *feel* the sharp edge of everything around you. Clean and clear. Your eyesight's better now, when you do look, every hillside is clearer 'n' closer than before - between showers at least.
But then the storm, the rain, goes on and on till everything starts to smell like an unaired cellar, dank and alive with things you'd rather not smell let alone touch. The rain lasting for so long you get cabin fever trying to wait out the wet rather than out and run around in it, like crazy folk do :)
Then either you give in and go plum crazy and end up running about in your orchard, where once firm paths are now strange amusement park rides that send you in several directions other than the one you planned on, or the the weather gives in and the sun comes out.. it was going to eventually it was just playing chicken with you to see how foul your temper might get wondering if your fowl would weather the conditions any better than you.
The sun is glorious, the most welcome thing in your world now, little wonder it's the preferred idol of worship for millenia. It's saving everything from ruin. Drying out the storms work, clearing your home and mind of the fog and mould that settled in.
Giving everything that life-boost so that we can all breath it in and live.
Live under a bolt of blue with a shot of bright white-yellow burning us brown and turning the green grass yellow. Dang, need that rain again or there'll be ruination..
I'm thankful that, "after the rain comes sun and after the sun comes rain again" ♪♪♪
We just aren't real sure of the when and where of it. If we were things would be boring.. there'd be no wondering whether the weather would..
.. but if the weather don't suit you, here.. now, jump the fence and find where it does, outfoxing the weather will take some work and keep you on your toes.
I can see it now... and we're all the luckier for it.
"Climate is what we expect and weather is what we get."
I'll just thank the sun for comin' up again tomorrow and hope things go close enough to smooth, such that I can try and enjoy the weather for all the gorgeous things that nature is bound to put in it.
The sun cookin' the countryside such that I relish the cool spaces under the trees where I can hear the crickets discussing their chances at making a family; birds floating high above on breezes I can't yet feel, the smell of cut grass that always brings back younger years; then the wind in the trees as the smokestack clouds suck air up as they plan a hosing down for us, sometime soon I hope; the smell of rain on the air as the temp turns from raise a sweat to raisin' goose bumps; it's fresh now, almost the sea 'cept without the brine to it, and quiet, the critters know when water's coming and they get, what seems to me, a little -unexcited- about it. Not gossiping and chasing 'tail' or dinner now, but looking for somewhere to weather the storm. It's not necessarily their favourite show but they'll take up a posie and watch it. After all, the sky is nature's big screen, may as well sit back and watch the show.
When it comes it washes everything down, strips the dust from the air till you can close your eyes and *feel* the sharp edge of everything around you. Clean and clear. Your eyesight's better now, when you do look, every hillside is clearer 'n' closer than before - between showers at least.
But then the storm, the rain, goes on and on till everything starts to smell like an unaired cellar, dank and alive with things you'd rather not smell let alone touch. The rain lasting for so long you get cabin fever trying to wait out the wet rather than out and run around in it, like crazy folk do :)
Then either you give in and go plum crazy and end up running about in your orchard, where once firm paths are now strange amusement park rides that send you in several directions other than the one you planned on, or the the weather gives in and the sun comes out.. it was going to eventually it was just playing chicken with you to see how foul your temper might get wondering if your fowl would weather the conditions any better than you.
The sun is glorious, the most welcome thing in your world now, little wonder it's the preferred idol of worship for millenia. It's saving everything from ruin. Drying out the storms work, clearing your home and mind of the fog and mould that settled in.
Giving everything that life-boost so that we can all breath it in and live.
Live under a bolt of blue with a shot of bright white-yellow burning us brown and turning the green grass yellow. Dang, need that rain again or there'll be ruination..
I'm thankful that, "after the rain comes sun and after the sun comes rain again" ♪♪♪
We just aren't real sure of the when and where of it. If we were things would be boring.. there'd be no wondering whether the weather would..
.. but if the weather don't suit you, here.. now, jump the fence and find where it does, outfoxing the weather will take some work and keep you on your toes.
I can see it now... and we're all the luckier for it.
"Climate is what we expect and weather is what we get."
Whether you like it or not, here is the weather.
Image: ledana9
So I picked this topic... weather. At the time I was 35 weeks pregnant and I had become obsessed with the weather. I'd downloaded iPhone weather Aps which I checked with religious fervor. I began to understand humidity and what it meant in real life.... it was shocking. Summer raged on and on and on and on into Autumn and I felt every rise in Celsius more acutely than a teenage girl feeling the need to squeal when she sees Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen on screen for the first time.
I imagined my creative commentary for this post was going to be a picture of me. Appropriately fecund, standing in the rain... the rain I dreamed of, the rain that; according to Oz Weather, BOM, various random Google searches and standard weather reports, was just not coming. I waited, checking the forecast at every opportune time, which is often when you aren't working and waking too many times to count in the night to pee.
Then it came...... one hot ridiculously humid day, clouds. I looked up into the sky praying to all and any god that would listen. "Open up them there clouds and rain down on me like never before, cast out all ye precipitation right now, right here. I am ready." I wanted rain that would make Noah look like a madman spouting crazy talk, I wanted it to last forever.
It sucked. No need even for an umbrella.... then the sun came out and the steam rose from the road. There, mocking me in the sky, like a double chocolate mudcake at a Weight Watchers meeting, was a rainbow. I cried.
How could this go on? How could I go on? Sleep deprived because of the aforementioned nocturnal whizzing sessions and not to mention the fact the preggo ladies actually run a hotter average temperature than the general public, it felt impossible.
The idea of a picture of me, standing in the rain, appropriately fecund, arty and whimsical, hurt my brain.
It's cooler now, I never check the weather reports. My cankles have reduced to a respectable size, and I realise that much of the sleep deprivation was due to a lack of naps that were downright impossible to have in the sauna of life that was merely a month ago.
So here is my post. It is not the imagined arty photograph as representation of weather in relation to the gestating female form. Just a moment in time, that has passed, and has made way for other moments.... kind of like the weather.
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