No flies on you!

In the transition from a land where the ozone has no gapping hole located right above it to one where there is and it is only getting bigger Mister and I have noticed and found humor (at others expense) in what this does to fashion. Now I am no fashion snob, I wear my flipflops (can’t bring myself to say thongs) with pride. I have more than one bonds singlet in my underwear draw (even if it is not technically worn as underwear). And I will throw on any of one of the numerous caps that have collected in the cupboard under the stairs without glancing to see if the logo says “ Down on the Farm: Stamp Collecting Month” or “You’re the Skipper! Your Responsible! However who knew that Australians would invent a new icon to replace the corks on a string variety that Banjo Paterson sings about. But yes! And I have seen it on more people than I can count on one hand (and I thought that I lived on a “good” part of the lake!). I introduce to you the nofliesnets. Because I know you will immediately want one of your own just go to ebay and it will be yours for only $12.95! Or go to http://nofliesnets.com/ for all information on keeping flies out of your face. Other fashion oddities that I failed to capture (due to poor zoom ability of the blackberry!) have been a surf cap which comes down over the ears and is wave resistant. Practical but not nearly as attractive as even the worst alternative to sunscreen..the white zinc! The australian flag boardshorts where the blue dye has leaked across the white stars. The black bra under the white singlet (follow the debate on http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=1006050519783 if you are of strong opinion).. But I think that the fly resistant hat is truly the piste de resistance. The photo says it all!

Fun in the sun.. or not..

Sand in the swimmers. Water up the nose. A salty tongue. Seaweed strangling your toes. Tumbling in the white wash. The potential to be stung, bitten or scratched. Being future employed this is one of my favourite experiences to fill the day. Having the beach nearby there is the attitude that to bother visiting the conditions need to be the best. Bright blue skies, little amount of wind, small swells (for those swimming!), clean sand (what was with the thousands of lifeless ladybirds at cathos?) and hot lifeguards (but who’s looking..mmm). However this week despite the grey skies (or maybe because of them, have you seen Mister’s pale British skin?), the Tourist inspired me to venture out. And it was great! I had goose bumps before entering the water but could not be outdone by a tourist so I ventured forth. And here is the question.. do you face the cold water slowly..letting your toes acclimatise first then little by little the body follows? Do you hold your hands up above the water? Do you dive head first, no turning back? Do you only go in if your body is encased in a steamer? I am a runner (mm..Is this a reflection on how I face conflict?). It may start with pain but it is exhilarating. Sand in your swimmers is a great exfoliant, water up the nose clears out any bugs, coke tastes better after salt on the tongue, your toes can make sushi rolls, and tumbling in the whitewash is a cheap spa bath. I am inspired. I know some of you out there who live just around the corner (you know who you are!!) haven’t seen the sand in awhile.. Call me.. I am up for it.. cloudy days, spitting rain, sunny skies. I will just be truly glad that I can. (England: 0 Australia: 1)

Do you have a plan for those boxes?

The boxes referred to have been piled up in the garage since we first returned from England. A few had been taken down from the roof where they had been stored for the last 6 years. Others had sailed the sea from the motherland carrying our precious little items. Those imperative for life in the Hayshed were organised and given places of their own, however the rest of the untold treasures were just piled up in the garage. At first I had noble plans of unpacking one each day and throwing out the things that over the 6 years of exile had lost all importance but after the first day I realised that I hate unpacking, have to be in the right mood to throw anything out and despite having to maneuver carefully I could fit the car in the garage despite the pile of boxes. So there they sat. Until dripping with sarcasm Mister asked " Do you have a plan for those boxes?" Needless to say I was not that impressed and my plan was already in place.. do nothing, fill my days of unemployment up with other mindless activities and pretend the boxes weren't mine..or should I say ours?? Sadly though his reminder brought on the guilt and on waking to find yet another grey day (remind me again why we left England?) I felt that maybe I should take a peek into one box. I found letters. Letters from primary school mates, college pals, faceless names, students, family friends, employers, lecturers.. Letters that were generic, cards that were only signed. I had not been selective. These were not ribbon tied bundles of love letters. There were postcards not written on, letters laboured over but never sent, bubble wrap packages with no package. So with Oprah in the background I began on the first shoebox. The most beautiful was a card from a friend who I have known over 15 years. He told me how special a girl I am and what a significant part of his life. I was truly glad because from that card I can track a friendship that led to tissue boxes being thrown, yogalates, bubble tea, dossing on the couch and being inspired. The most sentimental was a poem from Mister written within the first months of dating..That I should frame! The most cute was from a student who said they would miss me forever (When did I teacher her? Maybe she could write me a reference!).

I did cull. I did not cry. But I did smile and I am determined now to send some mail for others to collect in boxes in the attic. It will be real, it will be open, it will make someone truly glad.

One box down.. a few to go!

Be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead!"

- I Peter 1:6