#146: Barefoot for a Whole Day
Well, I did it.
I gotta admit, I thought my feet would be way dirtier. I guess the late-stage grass and/or carpet neutralised some of the filth.
In the morning I hung out washing, then took CJ to the Carillon island (at one stage he attempted to carry both me and all our picnic supplies out of a patch of prickles). I mentioned death-defying stunts. Here they are:
It’s a lot scarier than it looks. Observe the terror in my eyes:
After that we went home, and then at night we went out to the movies (still, in my case, barefoot). Then I checked the oil level in the car (perilously low, thanks for asking), took a foot photo, washed my feet, and went to bed.
The End.
Within the next few hours, I’ll find out if anyone real is going to buy any of our surprisingly valuable jewellery. Drum roll please. You’ll all find out tomorrow. At the moment, two of the twenty items are being “watched”, and another one has had a question.
And, while we’re on the topic of barefootedness, here’s today’s scurvy villain (in terrifying statuette from wholesalecentral.com):
What kind of person would buy a statuette with skulls?
Just saying.
Speaking of barefootedness, Canberra is having a genuine Zombie Walk on November 27! It looks like hundreds of people are coming – including me, of course. Here’s the details: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=120640534658762&index=1
Will you be there? Want to arrange a place to lurk together?
Probably NOT a good idea for children. You might not be scared of zombies any more, but I certainly am. “Shaun of the Dead” gave me nightmares (nighmares with a zeppelin, but nightmares all the same).
PS: Alternate titles for “Lord of the Rings”. Read the comments; they’re just as good.
http://www.tor.com/blogs/2010/11/alternative-titles-for-lord-of-the-rings
#222: Kidnap Your Date
You know it’s gonna be a good date when you take your partner in the car looking like this:
I took a circuitous path to the secret location, and CJ was soon lost.
My cunning plan was to walk him onto a certain island at just the right time, leaving the blindfold on until a certain sound happened, when he’d suddenly know where he was. Sadly, the route I’d taken was too circuitous, and we were about five minutes late. CJ didn’t mind. He realised where we were the instant I opened the car door.
Yep, the National Carillon. It’s usually playing from 12:30-1:20 on Sundays (pause as Louise casts a subtle eye toward the followers of this blog who have brand new boyfriends*). They played, among other pieces, “Yellow Submarine”, “The Addams Family” and the strangely appropriate “He Had It Coming.”
I’ve written about the Crillon before, sometimes even for money (go on, click the link!)
The island itself is beautiful, and we walked all the way around (something I didn’t dare do by myself, since there’s a strong possibility of stumbling across a pair making out in one of the dozens of semi-secluded spots). Along the way we spotted a Mysterious Rat-Like Creature (sleek, furry, and about a foot long – not including a presumed tail) diving into the water. That was definitely a highlight. Was it an otter? Was it really a rat (it didn’t appear to come back up)? An escaped ferret? A secret governmental water camera?
Inquiring minds want to know (but never will).
I did at least get a photo of this guy, who obligingly posed for about twenty minutes. Sit, Bobo! Stay!
We passed three patches of rose petals. I’m pretty sure that if CSI wanted to, they could analyse the rate of decomposition and work out exactly when the weddings occurred. Then they could analyse the level of sweat on the petals to determine how stressed the bridal party was, and extrapolate that into predicting whether the marriage will succeed or not.
With SCIENCE!!
CJ and I found a nice patch of grass, ate our lunch, and watched pleasure-boats pootle by.
I apologise for the above photo, featuring the High Court building. Lake Burley Griffin is surrounded by beautiful and/or intriguing buildings, and that’s just dead ugly. CJ said it was a product of its time – and that’s certainly true. There was a time when sheer naked concrete was considered special. But this is not that day. THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!!**
I feel a little sorry for those who paid to go on a ferry and meander past all these gorgeous islands without the fun of being able to dig their bare toes into the cool grass.*** Suckers.
Once we’d had lunch, CJ promptly and picturesquely fell asleep.
Tomorrow’s awesomeness is a reader suggestion – “Go entirely barefoot for one day”, which I’m actually still doing today. I’d forgotten that the island of the National Carillon is built entirely on duck poo and prickles.
The things I do for you people. And CJ and I are going out again after dinner.
So tomorrow’s blog will include pics of my death-defying Carillon island tree climb, and a fashion shoot of how dirty my feet end up after all our adventures.
Coming soon: Tomorrow is also when our initial ebay time runs out, and we may or may not (probably not) get money. I’ll let you know. Also coming soon: Archery. ZOMBIE WALK!! Watchwords. Facebook friends. And more.
In completely different news, here is an article on modern piracy (the kind with cellphones, governmental corruption/weakness, and weapons that kill innocent people). Modern piracy costs around $13 billion a year.
http://www.criminaljusticeusa.com/blog/2009/10-shocking-facts-about-modern-day-pirates/
*Two, that I know of.
**And duck poo.
***Ask Aragorn. He knows.
#221: Dream Big
Thanks to our (still theoretical) wealth, my mind has been scurrying away into bright paths of, “What if we could build a house, instead of buying one?” I’m fairly sure it’s insane – $11,000 (even if we were able to sell the jewellery at its full price) is not going to make us the kind of people who can have any kind of house they want – but my capacity for logic is long gone.
Yesterday I was able to make a deposit into our bank account that means we’re slightly closer to being on track for our savings goal 2010 – without even allowing for the jewellery to make a profit. The remarkable thing is that I made that deposit from my income, rather than CJ’s. Generally once we buy groceries and petrol and pay our tithe, my income is gone. The power went to my head and I drew a house. I don’t mind saying that I love it.
The house faces North (very important in the Southern hemisphere), the laundry is close to the washing line (with a door outside), and both bathrooms have separate toilets (which will be handy when we have kids – and if/when either bathroom is used for food preparation). The kitchen, dining, and living are all open plan, but there’ll be an internal floor-to-ceiling curtain if we only want to heat one section. And an arched driveway, so almost no reversing, and plenty of room for friends’ cars.
The green section is (just) liveable while the rest of the house is getting built – and in the future it could be rented out (possibly to one of our children). There’s plans for future extension – a double garage linking to the laundry (so we don’t need to go outside to get to the car – what luxury!), and ultimately a two-storey hexagonal tower (the top room will be a sunroom – still North-facing, but with Western windows for sunsets – and basic kitchen plumbing below so that we can link it to the kids’ bathrooms and make it another flat in its own right).
I think bedsitters are the best thing ever – first you get to let your kids get used to independence without risk, and then once they’re long gone, you can use it as an ever-increasing retirement fund.
I have a completely plausible plan for making this happen, which I’ll express here with a simple picture (from hapfairy.co.uk):
In other news, Scott Westerfeld is an excellent author, and it turns out he’s also the kind of person I’d love to hang out with. Check out what he wrote in response to somebody whining about how unrealistic and shallow steampunk is. (I read the article he refers to, and that was precisely my reaction.)
http://scottwesterfeld.com/blog/2010/11/genre-cooties/
“Leviathan” is great steampunk stuff, but very much the beginning of a series. The second book, “Behemoth” has just come out. CJ begged to buy it in hardcover, and as soon as our heads are financially above water, we will.
S#26: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
If the rain in Canberra continues much longer, we’ll all drown. The sky is bleak and the wind is cold. So much for Spring. All my instincts are telling me to get back into bed, avoid all possibility of exercise, and eat nothing but chocolate. But I won’t. The next-best option is sitting on the couch watching “Gilmore Girls” until I have to go to work, which is fundamentally what I’m doing (I already went for a swim, and am now able to VERY CAREFULLY get in and out of the pool without flashing anyone via my velcro fly) – with one exception: Awesomeness must occur.
Today’s awesomeness was to ride on a swing. Brilliant, I thought. It’s free, I can walk to a playground from here, and it’s a little bit like flying. This will be the best “play along at home” ever!
I forgot one tiny thing: I’m too big.
I shoved my bulk into the swing with considerable difficulty, and swung cautiously so I didn’t fall over backwards. The swing I chose is overlooked by a block of flats, with about a hundred windows pointing toward the overweight girl with unbrushed hair and crocs. I’m pretty sure the chains on the sides will cause bruises to flower on my legs over the next few days.
And then I walked home. If I wasn’t newly confident of my journey into the healthy weight range, that would have been horribly depressing.
But it was still worth doing. 99% of awesome activities make me feel happier, regardless of whether they’re successful or not.
If you’re a writer, you’ll know that your main character must be proactive, or the story flops. It’s something hardwired into human nature. Whatever it is that makes us need proactive heroes also makes us feel better after the simplest activities – going for a walk, buying a Christmas present early, or stealing the neighbour’s flowers. Try it, and see if it works for you.
In the meantime, from concurringopinions.com, a semi-realistic pirate:
Coming soon: I’m kidnapping CJ and taking him to a secret location on Sunday. Also, hopefully selling some jewellery on ebay on Monday (but it’s not looking good). Archery (hopefully the non-fatal kind). And more.
“The Captain’s Daughter” so far
In theory, I post the current twittertale so far each Friday (immediately before posting that day’s awesomeness). Today, I actually remembered.
The Captain’s Daughter
1
I curled my toes around the narrow foot-rope, and dug my nails into the knot tying up the sail. No good; I bite my nails too much.
On the up side, my teeth are good. I leaned into the wind and pulled at the knot with my teeth. Spitting fibers, I pulled the rope free.
Da’s first mate, Hank, met me on deck. He said, “You’re disgusting, Gail. Biting at ropes like a dog.”
“At least I don’t look like one.”
2
Da called me to his cabin. “Sir?” I said.
He said, “In here, call me Da.”
“Yes Da.”
“You’re old enough now to think of your future.”
“Oh.”
My heart sank. I bit my nails, wondering if he’d marry me off. He cleared his throat: “I want you to be captain after me.”
“What?”
He said, “The men know you – and I won’t live forever.”
I said, “You WILL live forever, Da – I order it.”
He grinned: “Whatever you say.”
3
We neared a familiar port. I held the lead line – mainly so I could sit apart from the rest and wonder if they’d really obey me one day.
The cord ran through my hands and stopped. I stared for a second before realising the harbour floor had shifted. “Avast! Turn about!”
My friend Jim was on the wheel, and he pulled hard. The ship wailed as it turned too hard, but we made it safely. Jim, at least, obeyed me.
4
I still wanted to think, so I stayed on board while the rest went to spend their gold or line their pockets with other people’s purses.
Da came back with a red-faced and slouching boy who wouldn’t meet my eye. He introduced my brother, Al. Al said, “I’m gonna be captain.”
“No you ain’t!” I said. He threw a punch and I threw it back, giving him a nice bloody nose with his own fist. Da sent me to the hold.
5
Da came to me: “I didn’t know about Al until now – and Hank said the men’d be ashamed to let a woman lead them. He knows the crew, Gail.”
I shook my head at him, too furious to speak. Da said, “It’ll be better this way – you’ll see. We’ll find a place for you.”
Da left, and I fumed. The ship was mine, and no long-lost landlubber kid was going to take it from me. I was NOT going to be married off!
S#21: Hydration
As per steffmetal.com’s suggestion, I changed my water consumption method from an ordinary glass to this one, which my mum painted for me several Christmases ago (the flowers were a Steampunk Earth Day gift):
It’s always a good feeling to drink from a nice glass. It’s also adds a hint of danger, since you know that if you sneeze unexpectedly, you’ll not only shatter your mum’s handmade gift, but also probably get glass shards in your eyes.
Fortunately, I eat* danger for breakfast.
Today’s picture speaks for itself.
Thus far the face of ebay has not blessed us (unless you like really elaborate, detailed scams and/or getting insulted by randoms**). Most of the items run out of time on Monday, so if anyone actually buys anything, that’ll probably be the day. In the meantime, we remain on rations.
Speaking of rations. . . I’m hungry, shaky, and shivering, so evidently the diet is going swimmingly. Feeling grumpy but mentally strong, which is about as good as can be hoped.
Go eat a chocolate for me. But don’t report back this time.
*drink
**I know I do
S#3: Send cards
Steffmetal.com recommended sending cards to all your friends telling them how much you love them – or, failing that, how much they smell.
After carefully choosing six friends, I sent the following on extremely cute kitten cards (you’ll notice a steampunk theme, excluding the last one):
Your mental clockwork wouldn’t work even if Isambard Kingdom Brunel himself came to fix it.
The perishable matter within your skull lacks proper refrigeration.
The synapses of your brain represent London’s sewerage system in 1858.
Your upstairs candles have long since drizzled away into puddles of rapidly congealing wax.
My difference machine has calculated that your intelligence quotient is an imaginary number.
Your mental icecream has a few too many pistachios.
Isn’t it nice to get something in the mail?
I bet there are plenty of you with far more original insults (steampunk, piratical, or otherwise). Please share them in the comments.
S#87: Sleepy Time
From Steffmetal.com, today’s mission of awesome was: “If you can spare the dough, buy new sheets and a duvet* for your bed. Find something completely luxurious in your favourite colour. Make over your bed, and you make over your sleep.”
CJ and I went shopping for new bedlinen, and were severely underwhelmed by the options we found. So instead I employed an old marrieds’ trick: I looked deeper into the linen cupboard.
We have a lovely white sheet set in sateen that my Mum gave me one Christmas, and I discovered the blue pillows and sheet under an excessive number of towels (among which I also found three nice items that I had thought were lost forever).
Today’s model is my 13-year old cat Indah, who doesn’t pose nearly as much as the 3-year old Ana.
*Is a duvet a doona? I assumed it was the cover, but I’m unsure. I shoulda paid attention when I was learning English.
I put an awesomeness into motion through the mail last week. If you’re someone who knows I know your address – check your snail mail. You might just be one of my victims lucky recipients. The rest of you will find out what it is tomorrow.
And, to get you feeling nautical for “The Captain’s Daughter”, here’s a little bit of Jack Sparrow.
My favourite part of this photo is the implied confusion in his expression.
I weighed myself this morning, and I’m feeling better about life. I’ve lost three of the necessary ten kilos. That meant I was able to fit into my swimmers (somewhat useful, non?). . . just. They’re very uncomfortable, and the fly on my board shorts is velcro, which means that if I bend at the waist (say, for example, while getting in or out of the public pool) it flies open.
May I never put on this much lard ever again. Amen.
#46: Stilts
Step 1: Let Ana outside to look picturesque.
2. Produce stilts.
3. Fall over (repeat as needed).
4. Gradually get the hang of it.
5. Let CJ have a go, and glare at his instant competence.
6. Sit frozen in terror as CJ loses control of a stilt and nearly brains you.
7. Photograph CJ’s, “Sorry I nearly gave you brain damage sweetie” face.
8. Smile privately as he loses one stilt in the mud.
9. Collect an even-more-paranoid-than-usual kitty on the way home.
10. Blog about it.
This is another good one to play along at home – all you need is two long bits of wood glued or nailed (or whatever) onto two short bits. And time.
To welcome you to “The Captain’s Daughter”, here’s a page of truly awful pirate jokes (a tad naughty in places):
http://www.piratejokes.net/jokes/top20?pg=1
Once you’ve gone through the pain of reading those, nothing in the deep can frighten you.
Speaking of unspeakable horrors, my diet is continuing. I weigh in for the end of week two tomorrow. Having untold riches helped a lot, but I’ve come down off that high now (in part because we have no actual money) and it’s difficult to get up the motivation to do anything except lie down staring at the wall. In one more week, I’ll be halfway through the absolutely-no-chocolate six weeks.
Felicity Banks 