A journal of questionable quality

Friday, February 20, 2009

the trouble with chops

Having spent most of the week looking for, and being unable to locate, chinese seal paste, the idea of doing easy things has great appeal.

Victoria burns, North Queensland drowns, and I sit in the middle worrying about what my nest chop should look like. The middle is good. Trust me, the middle is good.



Friday, February 13, 2009

and, on another subject…

Forgot to get the entire story correct. There was more to the week than I remembered. Short term memory loss; too over the top with painkillers today? Hard to arrive at an explanation. None needed I'm saying.

Taxi desire rears it’s head again. There’s making a living, and there’s driving cabs. I’m not too sure that they go together. But even if they don’t there is always room.

We all know what happens when taxi desire get’s here; must have been in this place for more than a decade then-it’s the only time it happens. Ten years in a relationship or a job is enough. We don’t do more than ten years. Never have before. Must be that time again – or is it just a bad day?



vexing times at the OK corral

To hot one end, and too wet on the other. Ferocious fire storms in Victoria, and massive flooding in the north. Hard times are upon them that live near. Us? We sit in the middle, small rain, no fires, late summer approaching – I smelled autumn in the air just the other day; melancholy appears soon, I don’t do season changes very well at all, but I would rather suffer that than getting the house razed to the ground with me inside of it.

I know his is going to appear on Soup, and appear with an invalid character, because it always does, but there ya go.



Friday, February 06, 2009

Here’s a new month for ya

Sunny, breezy, perfect weather for buggying, so I stay inside and harass Seesmic.

A thought like that proves that I have my priorities at 180degrees to the real world. 

School holidays over, done, cooked, out the door, be gone you silly little people, go back to your ingrown little schools; share headlice, learn nothing, do nothing. Pleased to see the back of you all. Six weeks was as much as I could stand. Whining ungrateful, lugubrious, smelly little bastards. 



Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Packing Made Simple DVD

I can smell it coming back to me - getting that time of life - old, infirm and in need of a jump.