Saturday 28 January 2012

Cats LOVE Tennis!

Well, at least one cat (Ms Willow) does, to which these following photos bear witness:

Watching the 2012 Australian Open Ladies' Final (Victoria Azarenka versus Maria Sharapova)



C'mon, Azarenka!



C'mon, Sharapova!


I don't think Ms Willow really minded who won, she just wanted to see a good match. Unfortunately, the match was pretty much an Azarenka stampede (6/3, 6/0), but there was some quality grunting from both players.

Tuesday 24 January 2012

One Ring to Rule Them All...

Wedding rings are a little creepy. Weddings are a little creepy. Marriage is a little creepy. Yes, I am quite the romantic. And my 20-years-ago self agrees (agreed?) with me, as evidenced by the (possibly paranoid) poem about wedding rings/weddings/marriage I wrote 20 years ago:

An unholy promise,
with your kiss on my skin,
through to my bone,
seeps bitter poison,
this crushing metal bond.
Forever is our acquaintance,
forever leaves me screaming and gasping for air...

Oh, happy day. Or at least it's meant to be happy, your wedding day, and perfect, and you're expected to vow to love another person for the rest of your life (or else!) - I wouldn't even vow to love myself for the rest of my life, even as lovable as I am. It's too much pressure. I need to take things one day at a time, reassess as I go. A promise is just an enticement to breakage.

Tuesday 17 January 2012

Now We Are Forty

(Actually, now we are closer to mid-forties, but my point is that we are no longer eight and nine years old - damn!)

What do you say to your childhood/early teenagehood friend when being re-acquainted with him 25-30 years later? I, for one, had no idea when this recently happened (though, admittedly, I often have no idea what to say to people, in general). An extra degree of difficulty was added by the looming possibility that my friend - now high achieving and highly respected in his field – would be dragged away by an over zealous colleague wanting to ‘have a word’. I had to think fast (not my greatest skill), and so I went with the (seemingly) easy and accepted topics: children, partners, career. There wasn’t space in which to find out who/where he is now; what had his first twenty-five years of adulthood given him?

I didn’t know how appropriate it would have been to recount with him tales of unhinged childhood, given the propriety of the venue and of the crowd, or if he even wanted to remember. But if it had been possible, some of my memories of us, which I would have recounted, are:
  • watching The Goodies
  • swimming in his neighbours’ pool (usually at my insistence)
  • playing Charades in his backyard (usually at my insistence)
  • his introducing me to the joy of eating Milo from the tin (which, quite frankly, I still do)
  • playing Battleship (and my cheating, and his catching me)
  • founding new territory in my backyard
  • trying to come up with a title for his spy novel
  • sailing with him and his father, on his father’s boat
  • his drawing up and signing a Statutory Declaration (complete with “official” wax seal) indicating that he would come with me to my next school disco. (NB: As I have never ‘collected’ on this document, I assume the offer is still valid).

Friday 13 January 2012

The January Digital Camera Madness Continues!

I have been borrowed a digital camera with which to play, and so, MORE PHOTOS. Yeah!

[Warning: Some photos contain images of moi]


Practising maniacal grin (left cheek):



Practising maniacal grin (right cheek):



With (a somewhat photo-shy) Ms Willow Pussycat:



The face of evil (AKA Oscar The Psycho Cat):



Cat-tooth wound, courtesy of Oscar the Psycho Cat:

Tuesday 10 January 2012

Moccasin Love

My feet shall never be uncomfortable AGAIN!

Wednesday 4 January 2012

Sunday 1 January 2012

The Spinster

Since I am single, childless, and have never been married, I'm thinking about re-inventing myself as an elusive and seemingly nefarious anti-superhero called The Spinster - (The Godfather can eat my knitted cardigans and sensible shoes). My supernatural powers would stem from my not having a husband or children. I would walk within shadows, for I am quite susceptible to sunburn. I would fight crime and injustice, when I could be bothered, otherwise I would ignore it. People would speak about me in hushed and reverent, even fearful, tones. I would often be covered in cat fur. Neighbourhood children would mock me, never knowing that I'm actually...mwahaahaa...keeping an eye on them (in case they get into trouble). I would get to work on that magic quilt I've been meaning to crochet - the one which can be used both as an invisibility cloak or as a lovely, warm blanket. I would have a motley assortment of conjugal companions; well, I don't have a husband to whom I have to remain faithful, so...mwahaahaa...