Marley And Me

I've said it before - I'm really starting to love mattinees. Especially in the heat of the day, when you can sit in an air-conditioned cinema and relax, and try your best not to fall asleep, even if you are depending on a muffled nasal grunt to keep you awake.

Marley and Me is a beautifully light comedy / drama about a family and their beloved dog. My thoughts wondered to our two beloved mutts, Jock and Elibelle who one day decided to go a bit too far in their tug o' war game with a poisonous snake, resulting in their death. During the movie, I sneeked a peek at the Machinist, and observed his face, taught with emotion. Just the sight of him made me want to sob ...

Mutt love....

Anyway, here's the info for Marley and Me. Enjoy!

All in a (Random Day's) Work

Wake at 6.30am and torment myself with thoughts of sleeping a little longer. Refuse to listen to myself, get up.

Load the hungry washing machine, switch on the tumble dryer - full of the previous laundry user's clothing. In this case, Sam's clothing (and bed sheets and riding gear, including gloves). Make an Isowhey shake with 1/4 banana and skim soy milk (not my first choice, but I've adapted). Sip on shake - slowly. Take meat out of freezer for lunch.

Head to the shop for more painting with second daughter. Become a mosquito's banquet while standing on a ladder; tray of paint in one hand, brush in the other. (They know when you are vulnerable, the mosquitos do). Keep on enquiring of the time. Grandpa points to a huge clock on top of his kitchen pantry. I can just see it if I bend my knees and peer, squintingly through the kitchen window.

Almost time for morning tea.

Feel very chuffed after completing western and southern gutters and eaves FOR THE THIRD TIME. Even before morning tea ...

Go home for morning tea.

Actually, morning espresso coffee. With almond nuts and a pear.

Dragged by the Machinist into the Machine Shop office to send a quote, record an invoice and relieve business creditors by performing internet banking direct deposits. (IBDD's), as well as writing cheques.

Lunch; meatballs with oregano and five spices, cinnamon, onion and tomato sauce with garden salad.

Check emails after lunch and fall asleep at the computer. Several times. Wake up with a massive whiplash. Go for a nap under the mosquito net in bedroom. Doze off. Woken by second daughter, Sarah, after ten minutes of deep sleep, as she opens the bedroom door to drop off her dad's boots.

Return to the office to finish bookwork and print off reports from MYOB.

Head to the Shop to complete painting the gutters and eaves on the Eastern wall. West, South, East?

Done!

Go back home. Peg out (more) washing. Jump into the pool - fully dressed. Frolick in the pool with the Machinist (even learn a new trick; - how to conquer the 'Big Daddy' floating bed).

Coffee with the Machinist.

Head off to mow the lawns at the Shop and Grand's Cottage garden with the Machinist. Take over the Machinist's new toy; a ride on mower. Create many dust storms on said ride on mower (due to making 'doughnuts' and tracks on dry, loose soil with mower). Feel very chuffed and rebellious about making dust storms.

Due to the darkness of the sky (8.45pm), load the push mower and whipper snipper onto the ute. Ride in convoy home. The Machinist on the mower, me in the ute behind him.

Quote

Success comes to a writer, as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realise the heights to which he has climbed.

P G Woodhouse

Alan Marshall

After an early morning painting session, the girls and I got ready to spend the day in town. Lots of errands and grocery shopping had to be done. It was one of those days that we were able to squeeze in a few simple pleasures, like a visit to "Memory Lane", one of our favourite haunts. We all found treasures! My delight was in the discovery of a book on Quotations, compiled by Fred Metcalf. And furthermore - "The Complete Stories of Alan Marshall" by - you guessed it - Alan Marshall - 1902 to 1984:

Alan Marshall was born in 1902 at Noorat in the Western District of Victoria. He died in 1984 at the age of 82. When he was six he constracted infantile polio and walked on crutches from that time onwards. He is best known for his autobiographical novel, 'I Can Jump Puddles', which was made into a film and has been published in 28 countries. In 1972 Alan Marshall was awarded the OBE for his services to handicapped people. He received the Order of Australia for his services to literature in 1981.

A Scene from I Can Jump Puddles, by Alan Marshall

Memory Lane sure is a treasure trove of the odd and curious finds...

Endless Projects

On arriving home this evening with the Machinist, I lingered a little in the utility truck. Tall conifers on either side of me - the driveway completely hidden from the street. I looked around at the amount of projects on the go, that have to be completed within the next two months:

A ladies bicycle that we picked up at the tip, needing a new wheel and two new tyres. I can't wait to ride it!

A metal trunk which will be cleaned up and used as a prop for Metalsmithery

An old galvanised weed sprayer, with the name "Hudson" imprinted on the front. This will also be cleaned up and used as a prop for Metalsmithery.

Two wrought iron single bed headboards to be stripped and painted.

Four tressles used to support outdoor work benches when spray painting various items.

Gothic looking hinges and door supports for Metalsmithery's main door, made by the Machinist, awaiting spray painting.

An enormous hydraulic ram, which the Machinist intends to use on a piece of equipment he is going to make.

Long lengths of galvanised steel, awaiting manufacture.

A large trailer, quarter filled with garden refuse from the Shop grounds, awaiting weeds and home-garden refuse from the Head Gardener (me!)

A wheelbarrow loaded with bags of chicken poop, to be scattered and dug into the vegetable beds.

A large bag of pig poop, also to be scattered and dug into the vegetable beds.

Old wooden crates, to be chopped up into smaller pieces and used as firestarters for the Autumn months.

Various vintage metal implements, used as garden decor.

I'm sure there's more, but it will probably only come to mind as I trip over it, carrying coffee to the Machine Shop.

Comforting Early Morning Sounds

When we first purchased the old Roadhouse, the cottage (the Grand's Cottage) connected to the Shop was constructed from various materials and had many colours. The whole building looked derelict and dilapidated. Over the past few months, we've endeavoured to make the whole building look connected, as one, instead of two separate entities, with the use of the same building materials and paint colour. Over the past two days, we've been painting the gutters and eaves of these two entities to 'link' them. The circumference is HUGE! We start very early in the morning and work on the western wall, in the shade. By 1pm, we've finished the southern wall as well and go home for lunch. We return at around 3.15pm and work on the eastern wall which is, by then, in the shade.

Prime coat. Top coat. Top coat.

"Round and round the circumference, like a teddy bear ...." tra la la

On both early morning starts, I've been comforted by the sounds of early morning rising. We are there before the Grands wake and get out of bed, but they're up shortly after. As they rise and shine, there is the sound of the toilet flushing; it's waste running to the septic tank. Then the bathroom taps are used, and the plumbing groans. If the hot tap is run, the Rinnai Instant Hot Water heater clicks into action, and a faint whiff of liquid petroleum gas seeps into the crisp dewy air.

In the kitchen, a gush of cold water runs down the drain and gurgles its way to the grease trap. The kettle is switched on and works itself into a panic as it reaches boiling point. More whiffs of gas, as the tea and coffee cups are rinsed under hot water. Muffled communication. Plates and bowls clatter - cereals are being poured. A frying pan clangs on the stove top. More muffled conversation...

The click of the front sliding door indicates 'wee wee' time for the beloved Pekingnese, Blossom. It's not long before Blossom has made her way around to the west to greet us.

Life.

A new day.

What will this day be like? I wonder...

What will my future be?

Australia Day 2009

Today was momentus. For the first time, in over 20 years, we raised the Australian flag at the Shop (the old Roadhouse) - to be known as Metalsmithery & The Daily Pie. Grandpa had painted the flagpole, and the Machinist was really grateful that he did. The three men in my life raised the pole to their shoulders and carried it to where it would be erected. They marched proudly! Later, Sam brought the forklift around the building, and the Machinist and I climbed onto the platform, so that we could be lifted to the height of the flagpole bracket.

We had lunch at the Bushranger Hotel (formerly the Kimberley's Hotel) and later did the commemorative walk for Constable Samuel Nelson, one of our village's own:

"Shortly before 6pm on 26 January, 1865 bushrangers Hall, Dunn and Gilbert attacked kimberley's Inn at Collector. The local Police at the time were out searching the area for the bushrangers, and the only man on duty in town was the Lockup keeper, Constable Nelson. When news of the attack reached the Constable he remarked to his wife that he would simply "have to do his best" against the bushrangers. Approaching the hotel armed only with a Police carbine with bayonet attached, the Constable was shot by Dunn who had hidden behind a fence post. Nelson was initially hit in the chest by a shotgun blast, and as he staggered, Dunn fired again, hitting him in the face. He died almost instantly. The bushrangers then robbed the Constable's body of his personal belongings and the carbine, and escaped into the bush. The entire incident had been witnessed by one of the Constable's nine children, young Frederick Nelson, who was also fired upon by Dunn.

The Constable was born in 1823 and joined the New South Wales Police Force on 5 August, 1857. At the time of his death, he was stationed at Collector".

Here are the Ten Tenors singing "I Still Call Australia Home". Makes me cry every single time!

The Rooster & The Horse

About a week ago I wrote about a sick rooster on a friend's farm. The rooster had been bitten by a snake and while at the farm, we had helped to give him a big wallop of vitamin C. On enquiring about the rooster the next day, we learned that although his organs were working ok, the rooster's nervous system had broken down. Mr Rooster was perky and alert, but he was paralysed.

Our friend, Robert decided to put the rooster out of his misery, and considerate of his wife's affection for all animals, he put the rooster in the basket of his four-wheeler, and took him for the (last) ride of his life to their 'pet cemetary' (other beloved pets had also been laid to rest due to snake bites). Robert begain digging a hole, deep enough to house Mr Rooster. He wanted to undertake the task as quickly as possible - the sun was rising high in the sky and beating down on both of them. Mr Rooster was placed in the hole and Robert began the rhythm of scooping dirt over him: shovel, twist, drop, shovel, twist, drop. The hole was filling quickly. Shovel, twist, drop. Shovel, twist, ... what the?

Out of the soil emerged a seizing chicken foot.

And with that, Robert put the largest boulder he could find (and move) over the grave site and fled on his four wheeler for the homestead ....

* * * * * * * * * *
Our Sam loves to ride his dirt bike. It has been said that there's not a patch or mound of dirt that he hasn't covered in our small village (and surrounding Travelling Stock Reserves). He was delighted, then, when his friend, Ben introduced him to a mound, in the middle of one of their farm's paddocks. The lads spent a good half hour in a bubble of dust, sweat, petrol fumes and roaring, overheated engines - competing for the highest jump, oblivous of their surroundings. Then, out of their zone -

"Ben! Ben! BEN! What the .... What are you DOOOO..ING?" It was Ben's dad, shouting from the car.

"C'mon, Sam, let's scarper ..."
"What's the matter?"
"Don't worry about it.. let's go ..."

A few hours later, when the dust had settled (in more ways than one), the lads returned to their new and recently compacted jump in the paddock. But not with the intention to - well - jump. Sam slid off his bike to take a closer look... there was a horse's hoof sticking out of the dirt, like a conquering flag on a mountain top.

Sam turned to Ben "did you know?"

"Yeah".

Housewife

I love that name ~ Housewife. It evokes such a sense of belonging. I am the Machinist's Housewife. Although, having said that, I dabble a lot in various other things, too, like bookkeeping, advertising, design, and project managing.

I have always referred to any woman working at home, married, with or without children as a housewife. The world doesn't use the term 'housewife' anymore. It's not politically correct to do so, and some find it derogatory. The names 'home executives', 'housepersons', 'homekeepers' or 'domestic executives' are the preferred titles for women who stay at home and work.

The vacuum cleaner is my talisman. Cloths, brooms, pans, mops, buckets and DETTOL are my friends and when I have these items in my hands, my family know that I'm not merely taking the bus and going on the Summer Holiday that Cliff Richards sings about.

I am Mrs Moppit Mama.

I am ready to perform the White Lightening lickover.

I am the Retro Housewife.

Retro Housewife; A married woman who embraces the role of wife, mother and homemaker, rather than adhering to the current paradigm of women assuming roles that are traditionally male

Fruit of Labours

I've always wondered how other small business owners who work from home organise their lives. The private life from the business life. Is there a distinction, or does one simply flow into the other? Does the whole family work in the business as ours do?

For years, we've had a home & productive food garden, a home-school and an engineering workshop with an office enclosed - all on the same piece of land in the country. Three separate entities to manage and coordinate. Nowadays, we still have the home and semi-productive food garden, (Homelife / Garden) the home-school room has been turned into an office / studio, and the engineering workshop (Machine Shop) has expanded. We have also purchased an old petrol station / roadhouse (the Shop) - just up the road from our home - which will one day become a retail outlet for metal creations (Metalsmithery) and have it's own coffee shop (The Daily Pie) enclosed. Later, there will also be a pie bakery (The Daily Pie) in the same building. At the rear of the old petrol station / roadhouse (Shop) we have practically rebuilt a three bedroom cottage (Grands Cottage), where my parents now live.

Big plans and dedication. Lots of work. Enormous amounts of motivation. Many sacrifices.

You know how you go through life sometimes and wonder what you've actually done - especially on non productive days? As I write all this out and think about the enormity of it all, I can only wonder how we've done what we have, and know - truly know - whence cometh our blessings and am truly grateful and thankful.

May God give us the strength, patience, tenacity and all the rest we need to continue with these graciously granted dreams - now reality.

Amen.

The Wealth of Home

You don't have to be wealthy to be rich. A certain mindset, particularly one of gratitude helps you realise just how rich you are. I love this poem by Sarah Hale 1788 to 1879

Sarah Hale

We need not power or splendour,

Wide hall or lofty dome;

The good, the true, the tender,

These form the wealth of home.