What I really wanted to say…

Lacking the blog #inspo, as the kids call it these days. So I’m just going to tell you what has popped into my head today so far, and have not said because of propriety / CBF.

Wanted to say to workmate with no interior monologue whatsoever: Seriously, and I really mean this: You go to lunch! Go home! You tell that person what you think. You SEND that email. You go girl! OH you are going to the toilet? That is FANTASTIC!

To dickhead I know and had to have coffee with: Ugh. Seriously, are you trying to look like Errol Flynn with the pocket square and ironic mo? It’s not even original anymore.

To lady a mac counter at Myer: Yes, am happy to pay $41 for new lipstick. Sorry, crayon, yeah whatevers. But would prefer not to. Sigh, need pick me up. There you go.

To the hipster on his fixie riding towards Bayswater station: Are you lost? If not, why are you living so far away from cold drip single origin? Is it because you are staying with mum before you go to Berlin to pursue your dreams as a conceptual artist? And isn’t it hard to cycle with that button done up to your big pubic beard?? Surely it’s restrictive?

To our black Labrador, George: you are welcome to stay outside overnight for ‘George time’, but 4.30am is much too early to tell us and the neighbours all about the possums on the fence. Be quiet puppydogs (actually I may have said something).

Things I have learned this week

  • If you spray caterpillar killing spray stuff on a new tomato plant, said tomato plant will wither and die within 3-4 days. Fact.
  • The vet at FTG is lovely and canine vax are not actually that expensive for 65 kg of pure dog. (Although George’s provenance still very much a mystery.)
  • The hype surrounding The Force Awakens is actually rather awesome, and it’s not hard to stay spoiler free right now (although this may change in the next two days).
  • ‘Empire’ mag is still as readable as ever (see above).
  • Tony Abbott is like a cockroach you just can’t kill, or a possum you just can’t keep out of your garden. (Why TF is he still getting airtime? No one cares that he bought a fridge on gumtree. I’ve bought dozens of things on ebay. See? No one cares.)
  • There are still people, in the corporate world, who still rant, rave, send rude ranty raving emails, and think this will do minimal harm to their career / their work relationships. (I know.)
  • Bridge Road still has some good bargains but you have to hunt around a bit more than you did in 2005.
  • Stay organised, plan in advance, and you can conquer anything (e.g. fitting into red silk dress you bought for 30th, organising xmas presents, organising weddings, etc)
  • The new fitbit strap is not quite as robust as its predecessor. As a result, I am sans fitbit. The horror!

Poss. Off.

Dear Mr Possum

Look, you know? I get it. You’re hungry. And you like zucchinis. Hey, I get that. I love zucchinis too. Such a versatile vegetable aren’t they. Such a good way to greens into the kids’ meals.

I know you think you have been clever, with your sheltering in our roof, plucking off the odd strawberry from the strawberry plant (just a couple, mind, so i assume it’s a bird) or teasing the crap out of the dogs at 10pm. And yes, I get that you are native to Australia and I am not.
But Possum? You are being watched my friend. You have gone too far this time.
 IMAG0780 (2)
If I catch you doing this again, the punishment will be swift and harsh. Please join the perimeter of your cousins over at the bins at number 9. They would love to accommodate you and your needs.
Sincerely,
Bridge

Sigh, a long weekend with house to myself. Is anything quite as delicious? No races, no partying. Just hanging out with dogs, doing chores and faffing about in garden. The zukes and toms already going gangbusters with this warm weather and lots of rain.

Running update: not much to tell you honestly. Still go for a long one most weekends. 7 k on last weekend, good speed, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious I am going to have to take some weight off in order to gain momentum and save joints from dissolving into each other. Reduction more of a wip now.

Also, this is the truest thing I have read all week. Not that I am a particularly avid reader of women’s mags.

Tick Tick Tick Tick BOOM

Raced home last night (as much as one can race on Belgrave line), immediately donned walking gear and harnessed up the dogs for walk. I don’t normally walk both on my own but BBF was away in Canberra for work, and they needed the exercise (and so did I).

The dogs were his before we met, and in the early days it was quite easy to win them over – Human liked me, so I must be alright. They won me over immediately though. I wish I could explain how much I love them.

They are very different animals. Bob is a retired show dog, highly strung 33 kilo bundle of German shorthair, very handsome animal with liver coloured head and the softest floppy ears in Bayswater. Ex pound dog George is his dark adoptive twin – a large black lab crossed with god knows what, with a lovely warm heavy head that nestles into my lap after a hard day.

They are a lot of work. They (loudly) demand food, walks and pats. I relish the days I can work from home and can pay them some attention, throw the ball around and scratch their tummies during the day. They take a lot of time and effort and responsibility – but give us so much love in return. And as I walk them around the dim neighbourhood streets, as they pull and sniff; as I attempt to correct them as we pass other dogs, possums and cats; and out collective breath can be seen in warm puffs, I think…God I love this. I love these animals. But they are a lot of work and worry.

And as I inch, resisting, like Bob on his leash, towards my late 30s, that question I have been putting off for many years asks for – nay, insists on an answer.

Do we have a child?

To be completely honest, I have never felt especially maternal. I really like children, and I am happy to hold a baby, play games with older ones, be one of those fun adults, but I have never been convinced that my happiness will be influenced by having one. That said I am not convinced that having one will make me particularly unhappy either. I just don’t know. Few people actually believe me when I admit my ambivalence. They say ‘Oh, you will change your mind’ or ‘You won’t regret having one’.  Um, ok? Still not convinced sorry.

Although I hear no clocks (I really don’t, trust me on this one), and that twanging uterus other women speak of has never happened to me, the reality is, I am 36 this year, and my supply of baby making ingredients is probably dwindling, so if this is a project we want to pursue, we will have to ramp up soon. I have a number of friends who have had, or are having, expensive and draining fertility treatment. I don’t know if I could deal with that. The world is already getting overpopulated and we are running out of natural resources (a blog for another time sorry peeps) and it frightens me when I think of what the next few generations have to look forward to. What sort of life could we promise a child? I am also a natural worrier, and the worry I feel about Belgrave line / the dogs / the world already add to my innate anxiety. A child would surely make me the worst kind of worried mother.

What about my partner, I hear you ask. Well, it would probably be useful if BBF had a strong opinion on this. His comment is ‘it has never been a priority’ has been consistent in the three years we have been together and I believe him. He would make a good parent – he is the kindest man I know, as well as possessing the best vintage Lego collection in Melbourne. Taking away the emotion involved, and looking at this sensibly, I think we could be quite good at raising a family. But just because we could, doesn’t necessarily mean we should.

And anyway, how would our dogs react? My poor darlings.

Running update: Couldn’t run very far yesterday, legs like lead, couldn’t find rhythm, couldn’t find good playlist, But DO have new strength program to try up the ante a bit.