I used to think I was smart.

Do you ever feel like you are sliding uncontrollably into the mire? And it doesn't matter what you try, you just can't stop it? And all your knowledge about gradients and soil types and friction and stuff are fucking useless cos what you really need to know is how to play a video game and what tools you should have collected along the way, yeh that's right when you were given the option of grabbing that shovel you should have taken it, but you thought it was too cumbersome and couldn't imagine how you might kill the baddie with it so you left it behind. Does that sound like I belong in this century? Well if I have fooled you it is only cos I have listened to a 9 year old and absorbed some of the banal chatter.

I want to have my own proper website. Now don't think for a minute that I actually know what that is. But I want people to be easily able to leave comments and I want to put all these posts into some sort of order - some categories You know so when I am banging on about Zig's birthday, John Howard can skip over that to my opinion on the never ending vote counting for the Queensland election - don't go looking for that, I haven't bothered. And I would like it to look better, like it was put together by someone who has a brain and a sense of the aesthetic.

Anyway I started looking about for some help.

I quickly discovered that the going rate for building a website is between 4 and 5 THOUSAND dollars.  Well that's a fair chunk of wonga and when I don't quite know what I want, it'd be like walking into Tiffany's and trying to buy a chicken and wanting to pay for it in passionfruit. Before you spend the money it'd be good to know what you want.

Then today a friend sent me some webinar links. Yeh I know it sounds like I am speaking MOD MOD. (Seminars on line for those of you older than me.) Anyway I had a look and there are all sorts of cheaper possibilities where you build your own website, but it seems still to be rather formulaic, and then there's the problem of an ongoing weekly charge for using the format. Steve is not keen on renting that bit of cyber ether and I am not sure that it would ever be possible to shift my stuff outta there, so I am not sure who would own it.

So I am stuck where I started which is slipping down that slope into oblivion cos I just do not know enough, and if I am honest, I am not sure how keen I am about going back to school to learn something. If the teacher assumed I know the jargon I would very quickly get to be silly naughty, much like a slow year 9 boy, probably carving my name into the desk and eating bits of the computer, and if the teacher went too slowly I might have to throw stuff at them like a snarky year 9 girl. I was never the easiest of students. I only got by because mostly I knew the answers or could make a good argument and in this instance I would be good for neither.

Any advice about how to get what I don't know I want, would be cool.

Simple Sundays

Sundays are all to often just a slide closer to dead, but today has been lovely.

Well if you don't count the ridiculous rising at 4 am . Insomnia really is a bitch!

Up and out to the Local Markets for a ginormous 4 shot coffee which would get even the most sluggish of hearts started, and a bacon and egg burger thing which was ok. The push and shove of people and their lack of spatial awareness was comment worthy but not swear making irritating and the ripe fragrant strawberries will bring smiles all week as I add them to the frozen smoothies for breakfast.

Then off to the Spit for a dog morning. It was simply spectacular today. The surf was rough and the water as clear as I have ever seen it. The panorama was filled with exactly the colours I love to paint.
Dog played chase the sand and I ventured into the surf to test out my new knee. It worked fine. In the end though because I am a bit of a coward and Dog is surprisingly not all that keen on being in the surf when she can't touch the sand, I took to sitting close to the waters edge and just enjoyed getting bashed around by the baby waves and playing with Dog. Yes this meant a sand mine in my knicky-noos but I just didn't give a damn. Certainly not at the time, however I willingly admit that sand up the wazoo driving home was less than comfortable.

Into the pool and I dropped the sand, thinking that the vacuum thing would do it's job and that would be better than trying to sweep all the sand down the drain hole in the shower, but as Steve pointed out, no one knows where it goes to once the pool thing eats it up. That it one of life's little mysteries.

Dog is broken and asleep and I very much doubt we will see her til dinner time. She just has no 'off' switch. Me on the other hand, well I am ready for a nanny nap and another swim.

'The Theory of Everything'

This is a very 'nominated' movie and I can easily see why.

I knew that it was based on Hawking's life and that's about it. It became clear early on that whilst it was about the Professor, it was definitely from the Mrs' ie Jane's perspective. And NO this does not mean that it is a girlie pic, or a chick flick.

There was stuff about Motor Neuron disease that I rather doubt is common knowledge but again that is not the main thrust of the movie.

Mostly it deals with struggle and success and determination in a rather understated way. There are hints of an argument about God and the Bang theory, but it didn't bang on about either.

The Professor's physics theories were skimmed through in such a way as even this Arty - Farty sort of understood and as the movie was loosely based on Jane Hawking's memoirs and she too was an Arty - Farty so I supposed the portrayal should come as no surprise.

I liked it!

As an aside though, a debate started this week, from the disabled camp about why an able bodied actor was chosen to play the lead. I wanted to humph and punch the table. Have we gone this far down the track of political correctness that an able actor should have be given the shove in lieu of a disabled actor who would no doubt have been unable to carry the scenes of Hawking's early university days prior to the onset of this shitful disease, so necessitating the chunky editing of all the able years? Surely NOT. Eddie Redmayne was excellent and presented a most believable transition from well to very unwell. Oddly enough no one complained that a young woman, Felicity Jones, was cast as Jane, even though it meant that she needed to be artificially aged through-out the movie.

And even with this nonsense I say again, I liked it.

Michelin Star Masturbation

We are pretty brave about different tastes, even though I am happy to admit that I am not up to eating weird shit like kangaroo balls or koala penis. Anyway we have tasted some cool stuff at Degustation meals and as the night usually includes lots of wines the photography is sometimes a bit iffy.

I got Steve a Groupon Coupon for Christmas for Absynthe at Surfers Paradise and after we had fulfilled all the pre-requs for booking, and we tried hard to find a parking spot we stumbled into the place just a few minutes late and when the Maître de set eyes on the coupon  his shoulders drooped a little and he sent in the 'girlie from the Czech Republic' who wondered if we could understand her well enough.

We started with a beer. Steve tried a FAT YAK. He needed to pour it into a chilled glass cos it tasted a bit weird in the bottle. It was an OK brew.

And so to food.

6 courses and unusually only 3 wine tastes. Immediately we were told that there was no lamb rack and that we'd be given poached chicken instead.

1. Bite Me

Tomato soup made mostly from cucumbers in a shot glass. I should have stopped after my first little sip but I was hungry so downed the lot, or little bit as was lucky and it was the soup that kept on giving for the whole of the evening, into the small hours of this morning.

Yeh it bit me alright.

2.The Earth

That plastic stuff over the beetroot lump was I think vodka gel. A real squirt of voddie straight into my gob would have been better.

Beetroot stuff and the tiniest squirt of really nice blue cheese dip. Yeh there was other stuff on the plate but it didn't taste of anything so it was just empty calories and exercise for my jaw.

I didn't feel too grounded after this morsel fest.

3. Macquarie Harbour.

Scale needed: Salmon = pointy finger

A slither of very yummy salmon and 2 squirts of pumpkin mash and 2 squirts of cheesey dip. It was all pleasant enough even if so laden with salt that it drove even Steve to dive into the water glass instead of the wine. There was just soo much squirt that I wondered if the underpaid apprentice chef had gone a bit spastic with the piping bag.

4. The Farm.

Tasted just better than it looks.

Poached bit of rolled chicken which was salty but ok and green cabbage stuff which was ok but salty and some olive bubble goo which tasted of nothing at all.

Farmer Joe would not have had cause to be too proud of this lot.

5. The Sweet Start.

Those are squishy grapes and the orange stuff was nasty.

I ate the icey treat and Steve left the lot.

6. Heavenly Sweet

Yummy

A Chocolate fondant served still in the metal ramekin thing that we needed to burn our fingers trying to decant onto the plate. And even though the centre was not gooey like it should be, this was the hero dish of the night. It had some raspberry splodge on the side that was also pretty tastey.

All I can imagine is that this place does a bit of a poncey trade in unsuspecting posh type tourists who will never be in a position to come back and who want to be able to boast about some gastronomical greatness while on hols. It sure as hell cannot be relying on repeat local trade.

No we will not be back.

Manner manners my kingdom for some manners. - Sorry Will.

My first job was at Coles, or maybe it was Woolies at Wynnum. It was the only supermarket in the place back then so that's where I worked.

I started in the Deli and on any Saturday morning I could be found with my arms up to my elbows in coleslaw, mixing in the mayo by hand and trying hard not to slop it all over the floor cos otherwise I would have to clean it up 'spit spot' before I could get onto the counter and sell the Devon or the Chicken Meat or in deed the coleslaw. That was the fun part of the job - interacting with the punters, being very polite and asking with actual intent, ' It's a bit over / under, is that OK?' Back in the day if someone wanted 200gms of bacon bones then that's what they got. It was all a matter of giving the customers what they wanted.

I admit that I had shortened my uniform to the length of a wide belt and if I moved sidewards at any pace, or god forbid bent over ever so slightly, the colour of my knickie noos was no longer a secret, but apart from that I did exactly what was expected. Please / Thank you so much / Yes Sir / Can I help you Madam. I didn't mind at all and I didn't have to work too hard to remember it or practice it. It was second nature, anything less would have had Nanna scowling and she didn't do that too often.

But sadly this is no longer.

And now I feel like a grumpy old woman.

Shit.

At the bakery today I went in to get Dog a treat cos we left her all alone yesterday and I felt a bit guilty.

Me : Morning. Could I please have a small cold pie for Dog? (They know me and so it is not a
         strange request.)
Girl: Stuffing a wee pie in a bag and throwing it on the counter, 1.60
(not 'That'll be a dollar sixty please', or 'A dollar sixty please' or even 'A dollar sixty' just 1.60.)

It was like saying an extra word or 2 was just too much to ask, too much trouble. Perhaps text speak has brought us to this point.

For almost 30 years I insisted on manner in my class room. Kids learnt quickly that manners drew a helpful smile and rudeness or a general lack of 'em more than a bit of a growl. I led by example and as it has always just been habit, today when there is so little civility, I can't help but notice it's absence, and mourn its loss.

I took Dog to the beach this afternoon so I could see the rough surf and she could play and together we could test out my knee. I know that Dog is meant to be on a lead and not anywhere near the flags...no but, I know this, so when I flaunted the rules I was waiting for the consequences.

As we walked close to the flagged area, where there was NOONE swimming cos of the dumpers and the huge jelly fish, the Life Saver came running at a pace. He did startle a little cos I had my hat wedged far down to save it getting carried off by the wind. When I looked up the hat flew off and he immediately chased after it, grabbed it and returned it to me. What a gentleman! Then he needed to do his job and tell me about the rules . He warned me that Dog not only was not allowed at all between the flags but she needed to be on a lead at all times and the Animal Control people would happily fine me if they saw her running free.

It was not possible to be cross with him. He was so pleasant. Bad news delivered well.

I am sure if this fella had a mind to work at a bakery he would manage more than  1.60.

So again I am banging on about manners. I rather doubt it will be the last time. I just cant help lament the loss of that which costs nothing and makes such a difference. 

It's driving me nuts - some would say that's not a long road.

Who was it that said, 'The definition of insanity is doing the same thing time and again and expecting a different outcome.'?

We have been trotting along beside a bloke we liked who we appointed as our agent to sell the Big House. Well when I say we have been trotting along, well that is quite the exaggeration, more like we have been dragging our toes as if we were on our way to the electric chair. To say that progress has been slow, is an overstatement.

In more than 2 months there has been no progress and I am tempted to think that the one couple who has actually been through the place could more than likely have been paid a bung to do so. They ooohed and ahhhed and booked a second viewing and bugger me if they didn't cancel an hour before they were due.

So I wonder why that agent didn't change things up. He could have changed the photos on line and he could have changed the text. He could have added some quirky fun or funny headlines which might have attracted attention. Instead he took the price off the ad for the last week or so and finally changed the front photo in the last day or so. He clearly was testing the insanity definition.

It's no secret that I am reasonably forthright - yeh that's estate agent jargon for pushy bitch, but I really didn't want to tell him how to do his job. Stuff has gone on that was counterintuitive but as it is not my area of expertise I chose not to 'go in hard'.

The lesson is to always back yourself, unless you happily put your hand up to admit that you are a bit slow.

So no as we don't fancy the label of insane, even though there could be a line as long as the Centrelink line is gonna be with the change of government, of folk who might vote for that, we are looking for a new agent.

This is NOT how I like to spend my time. Shovelling through bullshit and trying to interpret 'agent speak' brings no joy.

But changes are in order as to do nothing would simply be bat shit crazy.

Oh shit it's Labor.

No not a spelling mistake and no I am not pushing out a baby, even though the agony of that could well be similar to another 4 years under a Labor Government in Queensland.

Oh woe is me! The woman who doesn't know the GST percentage is more than likely gonna be Queensland's next premier. Yep that's the same one who can often barely string 2 sentences together and has wandered around for 3 years with a dumb struck gormless look on her face.

How much is the GST - Oh shit I should know that one shouldn't I?

I suppose the one definite, if in deed there is such a thing ever in politics, is that there will be no assets sale, so all the Labor scare mongers can rest easy, until they try to work out how to pay for everything, and we all know how Labor likes to spend our money and borrowed money and money in the ether.

I am not shocked by the result, especially after yesterday having coffee with a bloke with his own business and his Mrs has her own business and still he was worried about the assets sale and if he can be a swing voter then I guess anyone can be.

So we will head back to expensive governing, where the well to do will be gouged and the less so can go the big grab. The trouble of course is that folk who might have been tempted to take a chance and test the business waters will be understandably less keen to dive in, and as the gouged cash barrel empties and the hand outs increase, the services the government wants to provide will dry up, or else the State falls into a financial hole yet again.

It is true that a few thousand public servants lost their jobs, I suppose many lined up to take the healthy redundancy packages and others fell into early retirement and maybe some left because they were just bloody useless and no good at what they were supposed to be doing. But in all honesty I saw no difference. So a chunk of people left and their government jobs disappeared and that did not impact on me at all. How can anyone argue then that these jobs were ever necessary when their absence was not noticed, and why should it be that the government uses our money to pay for unnecessaries?

In the short time they were in charge, the LNP reduced the hospital waiting times to NIL. What a great achievement and all the while reducing their staff numbers. I am not at sure why being efficient with our money is something that should cause shame.   

So I am just venting as we head into the financial black hole which Labor is always happy to dig. They will shovel business owners out of the way and steal their machinery and employ people who cannot operate it and pay them penalty rates for doing a stinky job badly.

I very much doubt that teachers, nurses, police officers, ambos or firies will see any improvement as they are already seen as being well to do. The drive to even things up, to distribute funds equally to all regardless of ability will be on again.

How very shitful.