Look Mum, No Shoes!

This is a conversation between mother and child ( me and him) when he left his shoes at the beach.

 

“Where are your shoes?” said frazzled mother.

Son looks down at his naked feet. “No idea!”

“You wore them to school today, right?”

“Well dah. Of course I wore them to school. You don’t notice if I have shoes when I go to school?”

“I can only notice things after coffee. Where are your shoes?”  By now mother is starting to think of ways to smack the child over the head with out onlookers seeing.

“I might have left them at the beach?”

“The beach? Where all the sand is?”  Mother is starting to add up the cost of the shoes in her head and not liking the math.

“There was grass, too. I think I left them on the grass.”

“Do you think the teacher would have noticed and taken them back to school?”  Mothers head is pounding as the lift doors open but tries not to have a nervous break down  in front of other residents.

He shrugs. “How would I know?”

“Ask at the front office tomorrow,” mother suggests to the child who is just as introverted as she is.  “They are as big as canoes. Someone must have seen them.”

Introverted child gives her the look. The one that says you have about a 10% chance of me doing that.

“Try and ask at the front office tomorrow,” mother persists.

“Okay, okay.”  Child has nothing but after school snack and television on the brain.

 

Mother picks child up from school the next day and asks about the shoes.

“About that…” child begins with a beguiling look on his face.  “I went to the front office.”

“You went to the front office?”  she says, trying to keep her eyes from popping out of her head.

“Yes, I went to the front office. Careful of the bus that you’re about to drive into.”

Mother puts foot on brake. “You went to the front office?” Mother has visions of child cowering behind the counter of his new school.

“YES!  I went to the front office.”

“I’m proud of you for going to the front office and enquiring about the shoes. I have a feeling you didn’t get the shoes though.”

“That’s very perceptive of you, mother. I did not get the shoes.”

“OH!”

“I did however, fill out a lost property report. I am sure they will turn up somewhere.”

“Yes, on a homeless man who lives at the beach.”

“In that case, I’m giving to charity a few months early. I would have grown out of them anyway.”

Mother sighs but decides not to mention she’s the one giving to charity.  “I’m still proud of you for asking about the shoes. “

“Thanks mum!”

“Next sports day, can you please remember to wear your shoes home.”

“Sure. It will probably be hot and I’ll need them.”  Son opens sandwich he did not eat for lunch and munches.

“How does the weather come into it ?” Mother knows she will regret asking that but can’t help herself.

“If it had of been hot I would have needed them to walk across there road. Tar gets hot, mum.”

“Ahh!”  Mother once again calculates cost of more shoes for sport that he can leave at the beach.

 

 

Who’s Going to Clean That Up?

The renovation on the exterior of the building continues and I thought I would give you an idea of what’s been happening over the last few weeks.

 

Armageddon came in the night.

Armageddon came in the night.

 

This is my balcony after a few men with jackhammers spent the day on it. Needless to say I have not been home much and so I have been missing out on all of your blog posts and a bit lax in making my own.   The noise is akin to the building being taken apart and shaken up.

That is my lovely view above the rubble… we try not too look down too often. Keep your eyes on the blue is our motto right now.

I shall snap more pictures as it progresses and I will try and get around to all my favourite blogs when the noise is drops 100 decibels or so.

 

And there goes the littlest one!

My baby started high school last week.  It was an emotional day for all concerned. He’s an introvert like his mum and it’s a new town, new school, new everything – well you can imagine.  He was not impressed with his first day, and less so with the second. It was all doom and gloom in our house until he managed to turn it around on the third day and made some friends and enjoyed some classes.

High school is such a trial. One moment they are protected in year 6, feeling like big kids but fussed over by their teacher and safe in the one classroom and the next thing  we drop them into Armageddon and call it school.  Lots of different teachers and too many classes to find made it a bit much for my little munchkin but he went off today with a bit of a smile and not feeling quite so lost. Fingers crossed he comes home the same way.

Why do they have to grow up so quickly.

Go to the messy corner

The reorganisation after the initial move is still happening. Why did I think it was a good idea to put potatoes in the hall cupboard?  I had that immediate panic on the first day of simply getting stuff out of boxes, and stuffed things in any old corner.

I also had the problem of space.  I had to fit one large collection of stationary  in one small area of the “media room.”  I’m still using bunny ears when I say “media room.”

Here is the first attempt.

Don't get close. It might eat you.

Don’t get close. It might eat you.

But wait…there’s more

IMG_1317

My name is Sarah and I have a stationary problem

If I stuffed any more in it was all going to come tumbling down.  Something had to give and it was my wonderful collection of needless plastic inserts and folders and countless pens, rubber bands and sharpeners. Enough to stock the entire states school system.

After some – hours and hours – of sorting I managed to wrangle it all into this. If anyone tells me they can’t find a pen, it’s not my fault. I gave them all way.

Thank you IKEA

Thank you IKEA

One corner down, many many to go.

Book club – have you?

That's not me 2nd from the left. I'm the one in the bathroom hyperventilating.

That’s not me 2nd from the left. I’m the one in the bathroom hyperventilating.

I’ve belonged to an online book club. Hey, I’m an introvert, online is like magic for those of us who don’t socialise well. But now that I have moved I am determined to get out more and meet more people. Open myself up a little you might say.  I looked online ( some habits die hard) and found a book club in the next suburb so I joined and RSVPed for the next meeting late this month.

That’s commitment!

I’ve down loaded the book,  the latest by Donna Tart which I wanted to read, and shall get stuck into it as the meeting is only two weeks away and it’s a door stopper of a book.

The question is, what business does an introvert who hasn’t had to make a new friend in…well….forever  have walking into a room full of strangers?

Imagine if you will my hair standing on end right now just thinking about it.  It’s a new year right and this is a new challenge I have set for myself. What’s the worst that can happen.  No, don’t answer that.

I’ll kept you posted on how it turns out.

Have you joined a book club? Can you give me some pointers? As a writer, do you find book clubs helpful?

Rumble Rumble

Here I sit looking across the beautiful blue harbour, if I crane my neck I can see the beautiful blue sea,  but a strange noise has invaded my world. No it’s not birds or even the odd dolphin ( are dolphins odd?)

Is a jack hammer!!!

The apartment complex is undergoing a make over.  It will look lovely when it’s done but the process is a noisy one. I just finished a renovation.  I was not born under the sign of the renovator. I’m a hermit for goodness sake.

It’s also sprung a leak.  The apartment above had flooded and this drip drip drip has added to the rumble.

Yes, that's a nice yellow colour. Best not to ask what it is.

Yes, that’s a nice yellow colour. Best not to ask what it is.

I’ve had a few harried visitors looking up at the leak, flushing my toilet and shaking their collective heads. “Blockage” they all say.

Yes!  But what are you doing to do about it, I say. That’s my very new carpet under there  and that’s my very nice ceiling it’s staining and who thought it was a good idea to join 15 floors of plumbing together?

“We’ll sort it out love, don’t you worry.”

 

Apparently I’m not to worry as I try to get back into my writing. On the up side, I don’t live in the apartment above. It’s flooded and she’s building an ark. A very smelly one.

Cafe owners are rubbing their hands together I think.

 

Renovating, moving and writing. Which is the odd one out?

Those three things don’t go together.  I’ve tried to do all three and the last one failed miserly as you can see by the lack of posts.

We have finally made it, moving from Canberra to Sydney with over 150 boxes ( yes, 150) and only one child out of three following behind like a little duck.  Our oldest two have stayed in Canberra for university.  This hasn’t hit me yet but I am sure it will when their holidays are over and they are studying again and unable to visit me as often. For now I am still in the post move exhaustion phase. Give me time to have an empty nest break down.

Our dear, dear house in Canberra, where we did a great deal of raising of said three boys, was looking very tired by the time we moved out. Why is it that carpet and walls always look terrible once you move the furniture and love out of a house?  New carpets and paint were needed and had to be organised before we left.  Everyone cross your fingers that it’s all going well as I try and manage it from afar. It was also lacking in the new appliance department – something every tenant demands.  They had to be ordered and fitted while we tried to pack.

We’ve been in our much smaller apartment for a week now – did I mention smaller?- and though I purged before packing, I still have too many things and not enough places to put them. I’m going to have to be tougher. Do I love it?  Do I use it?….you get the idea. More of that later.

So we get to the writing part.  I haven’t done much since we last spoke.  Living in a house that was going through the upheaval of being packed up wasn’t helping the muse and now I sit in a messy “media room”  ( the small child that followed us insists we call it the “media room.”  Patient husband and I never fail to use bunny ear fingers when saying it,)  wondering when my serene writing environment by the sea will evolve.

The whole of my study – a room and under stairs Harry Pottereque  storage space  - now has to fit into this.

Oldest son erecting IKEA trolley while texting. That's my multi tasking boy.

Oldest son erecting IKEA trolley while texting. That’s my multi tasking boy.

Yes,  that’s my writing space. A moveable trolley.  I wonder if Hemingway thought about a moveable Trolley rather than a Movable Feast.

All the other writing bloggers out in blog land have not been far from my throughs. How is your writing going? Doing much during the holidays? Perhaps you moved  two days before Christmas as well?

Happy New Writing Year to you all and I look forward to visiting your blogs and see what you’ve been up to.

S.E