Strange lights in the sky that weren't fireworks.
I took Mikaela out for her piddle break last night at 11:30. The sky was clear and cloudless. Stars bright all the way to the horizon. While she was doing her business I saw a flash with my peripheral vision, rather like weak heat lightning. I looked up and saw thin illuminated cloud like shapes: round, oval, losenge - traversing the night sky. The 'clouds' came from the north. They sailed or jiggled, hovered, swung side to side or wobbled then disappeared to be replaced by another. Mostly they were visible one at a time but sometimes there were two, one 'coming' one 'leaving'. They didn't seem to move in a 'natural' way which made me think a new gadget has been invented which makes shapes in a clear night sky. And that was another odd thing. If there had been clouds then the explanation would be that lights were being reflected off the bottom of them - but there were no clouds. The illuminated clouds appeared then disappeared seemingly from thin air.
The only other explanation I can think of is that through some weird atmospheric refraction these were reflections of fireworks going off - before midnight - somewhere else. Except. Fireworks tend to shoot up and then dissolve slowly downwards. These clouds - translucent, not opaque, defined but fuzzy around the edges, sometimes striated along their length - did not move consistently in one direction.
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Post 45 of 92
Have just found a way to back up the work. I'm not motivated or switched on enough to truly get the hang of computers. And I have a short fuse. So it's only taken about a two weeks to find a writing software that I like and can actually use and another week to find a way to back up the writing - not trusting that computers won't crash at some point - as they have in the past.
Bought a USB thingy and can't figure out how to use it - every file on my computer already seems to be there which is unhelpful because I can never find what I'm looking for amongst all these random files. Often I try and look at a file which has a name which is redundant and there's nothing there. Or it won't open. Other files I don't dare delete because no doubt they are necessary to the smooth running of the computer. Makes me crazy as it's like having a desk piled chin high with scraps of paper. I'm one of those anal retentive types that has to have a clean workspace to get anything done.
And it all gives me the shits really. I would rather just do what I want to do, look at some sites, write and read emails and not spend hours cracking on with stuff I don't give a fig about.
So I've started another blog and each blog will be a chapter. Simple really. Couldn't figure out how to start another separate blog on this site so have found another free blogging site and downloaded that. Have all this stuff on the blog I don't need and can't seem to get rid of but that's okay. Seems I do have to publish, ie make public, in order for the work to be saved but as the blog is not being promoted in any way I very much doubt, with all the millions of blogs out there, that anyone will stumble upon mine. Even if they did, why steal the work? To be tempted to steal something that something has to have value and this is a first draft of something that I would like to make good but surely isn't now - nor may it ever be.
So it's a bit of a celebration.
I am putting off doing anything of note because ABC Classical is on with the harpist, Marshall Maguire ( http://www.marshallmcguire.com/about ). The guitar is fun and frustrating and quite beautiful but truly my first love has always been and will ever be, The Harp.
Today has been a good day. I climbed WAY up on the roof, happily not a steep pitched roof like our former house, to saw off overhanging branches. As the house is built atop a hill with cantilevered decks overhanging the side, I was quite a way up. I wasn't 'pulled' downward by looking down but I sure did plant my foot while sawing away. Especially while pruning the last branch which was quite heavy. Didn't want to let them drop onto the steep ground below as they would be difficult to retrieve - and I wanted to save them for the birds who get so few branches now. But I really didn't want to be pulled over the edge by trying to hang on to them either.
Have also attached more thick styrofoam panels to the aviaries. The difference between bare metal exposed to the sun and the insulated metal is profound. Nearly burned my hand on the bare metal - and of course the birds are feeling that radiated heat. But the insulated metal, although not cool to the touch, was barely warm. Have more to do but not much more gluing, mostly painting although there are still some narrow strips needing styrofoam. Although the current colour of penis pink is not attractive (that's the colour you get when mixing together all the free leftover paint given by a friend) it is much neater than the brothel mess of fraying carpet attached to shiny insulation paper. The last of that has gone in the bin.
Looked up when R was first diagnosed with Parkinsons. May 22, 2013. The Parkinsons hasn't progressed all that much in 5 1/2 years. The dementia has. Know it pains him that I am on the roof sawing off branches, that I am the one that manhandles the extension ladder into place, that I am the one that does the measuring and cutting of the styrofoam (not that I did a stellar job there!). His ability to communicate his thoughts grows more difficult. Words are being taken away from him. Oh, he still has words just not the right words. Sometimes we are truly at a loss. Mostly I can guess what he's trying to say but sometimes not...frustrating for both of us. I prattle on about things but have accepted that a) he mostly doesn't hear me (I no longer nag about the hearing aids) and b) even if he does hear me, he doesn't understand. But I have to talk still. Maybe that's why I've started writing a book.
Bought a USB thingy and can't figure out how to use it - every file on my computer already seems to be there which is unhelpful because I can never find what I'm looking for amongst all these random files. Often I try and look at a file which has a name which is redundant and there's nothing there. Or it won't open. Other files I don't dare delete because no doubt they are necessary to the smooth running of the computer. Makes me crazy as it's like having a desk piled chin high with scraps of paper. I'm one of those anal retentive types that has to have a clean workspace to get anything done.
And it all gives me the shits really. I would rather just do what I want to do, look at some sites, write and read emails and not spend hours cracking on with stuff I don't give a fig about.
So I've started another blog and each blog will be a chapter. Simple really. Couldn't figure out how to start another separate blog on this site so have found another free blogging site and downloaded that. Have all this stuff on the blog I don't need and can't seem to get rid of but that's okay. Seems I do have to publish, ie make public, in order for the work to be saved but as the blog is not being promoted in any way I very much doubt, with all the millions of blogs out there, that anyone will stumble upon mine. Even if they did, why steal the work? To be tempted to steal something that something has to have value and this is a first draft of something that I would like to make good but surely isn't now - nor may it ever be.
So it's a bit of a celebration.
I am putting off doing anything of note because ABC Classical is on with the harpist, Marshall Maguire ( http://www.marshallmcguire.com/about ). The guitar is fun and frustrating and quite beautiful but truly my first love has always been and will ever be, The Harp.
Today has been a good day. I climbed WAY up on the roof, happily not a steep pitched roof like our former house, to saw off overhanging branches. As the house is built atop a hill with cantilevered decks overhanging the side, I was quite a way up. I wasn't 'pulled' downward by looking down but I sure did plant my foot while sawing away. Especially while pruning the last branch which was quite heavy. Didn't want to let them drop onto the steep ground below as they would be difficult to retrieve - and I wanted to save them for the birds who get so few branches now. But I really didn't want to be pulled over the edge by trying to hang on to them either.
Have also attached more thick styrofoam panels to the aviaries. The difference between bare metal exposed to the sun and the insulated metal is profound. Nearly burned my hand on the bare metal - and of course the birds are feeling that radiated heat. But the insulated metal, although not cool to the touch, was barely warm. Have more to do but not much more gluing, mostly painting although there are still some narrow strips needing styrofoam. Although the current colour of penis pink is not attractive (that's the colour you get when mixing together all the free leftover paint given by a friend) it is much neater than the brothel mess of fraying carpet attached to shiny insulation paper. The last of that has gone in the bin.
Looked up when R was first diagnosed with Parkinsons. May 22, 2013. The Parkinsons hasn't progressed all that much in 5 1/2 years. The dementia has. Know it pains him that I am on the roof sawing off branches, that I am the one that manhandles the extension ladder into place, that I am the one that does the measuring and cutting of the styrofoam (not that I did a stellar job there!). His ability to communicate his thoughts grows more difficult. Words are being taken away from him. Oh, he still has words just not the right words. Sometimes we are truly at a loss. Mostly I can guess what he's trying to say but sometimes not...frustrating for both of us. I prattle on about things but have accepted that a) he mostly doesn't hear me (I no longer nag about the hearing aids) and b) even if he does hear me, he doesn't understand. But I have to talk still. Maybe that's why I've started writing a book.
Monday, December 17, 2018
Post 44 of 92
What's changed? It seems I'm having another crack at writing a book. That writers group has tickled something into life again. I used to want to be a writer and for years I wrote and wrote and wrote so that it was as much a part of me as breathing - but always, save for the two book attempts, only and forever journaling. Keeping a daily journal kept me sane at times when I made a lot of bad choices. Not sure how I would've coped if I hadn't been writing things out every day.
As for writing? When I was with the writer, that particularly disastrous relationship, I tried to write for publication. Old dried stick writing. Bloody awful. Yet my love for making things that weren't there before never died - still do that with art but writing? I'm not original or intelligent enough to do more than cover the same ground, awkwardly, that others have done. I used to be able to think about things more deeply than I do now. I don't read my old journals for that reason (and for the fact that they stink like mildew -shut away in that trunk as they are).
Yet here I am again several thousand words into another world that started with the words, 'the buildings were tall'. Not a very prepossessing phrase to start a book with but there you go.
Have spent an inordinate amount of time trying and discarding writing software. Notepad doesn't cut it. Used yWriter before and remember why I hated it. After trying it again thought I might check out the reviews. One reviewer called it 'intutive'. His intuition must be very well developed! Write Monkey was another that I used before. Know I'm not IT savvy but surely directions followed should elicit a successful outcome. Used Office Libre for awhile but it's really not for novels. Discovered I couldn't (easily) find a way to start another chapter which started me on the quest for the near perfect FREE writing software.
Now have Freewriter and save for a couple of niggly bits it works well. It's straightforward and not too weighed down with, for me, unnecessary bells and whistles. Now if I can only get the backing up onto USB sticks sorted. Keep getting error messages. Have bought a brand new one today so here's hoping. Having lost one and a half books to dead and dying computers I am a Backing Up Convert.
Making no promises to myself about the book. If I don't finish it, fine. If I do, wonderful!
Realize part of this is trying to make a life for myself for the future when I won't have the freedoms I enjoy now. There will come a time when zipping around the place like I do today won't be possible. I don't give the job Full Time Carer as much thought as perhaps I should. I'm too busy and it will come soon enough. Bugger.
As for writing? When I was with the writer, that particularly disastrous relationship, I tried to write for publication. Old dried stick writing. Bloody awful. Yet my love for making things that weren't there before never died - still do that with art but writing? I'm not original or intelligent enough to do more than cover the same ground, awkwardly, that others have done. I used to be able to think about things more deeply than I do now. I don't read my old journals for that reason (and for the fact that they stink like mildew -shut away in that trunk as they are).
Yet here I am again several thousand words into another world that started with the words, 'the buildings were tall'. Not a very prepossessing phrase to start a book with but there you go.
Have spent an inordinate amount of time trying and discarding writing software. Notepad doesn't cut it. Used yWriter before and remember why I hated it. After trying it again thought I might check out the reviews. One reviewer called it 'intutive'. His intuition must be very well developed! Write Monkey was another that I used before. Know I'm not IT savvy but surely directions followed should elicit a successful outcome. Used Office Libre for awhile but it's really not for novels. Discovered I couldn't (easily) find a way to start another chapter which started me on the quest for the near perfect FREE writing software.
Now have Freewriter and save for a couple of niggly bits it works well. It's straightforward and not too weighed down with, for me, unnecessary bells and whistles. Now if I can only get the backing up onto USB sticks sorted. Keep getting error messages. Have bought a brand new one today so here's hoping. Having lost one and a half books to dead and dying computers I am a Backing Up Convert.
Making no promises to myself about the book. If I don't finish it, fine. If I do, wonderful!
Realize part of this is trying to make a life for myself for the future when I won't have the freedoms I enjoy now. There will come a time when zipping around the place like I do today won't be possible. I don't give the job Full Time Carer as much thought as perhaps I should. I'm too busy and it will come soon enough. Bugger.
Friday, November 30, 2018
Post 43 of 92...yeah, I know
Well, I'm writing again. Joined a local writers group and have 'assignments' using writing prompts. So a story is forming. Very loose and already full of loose ends which will have to be tied up but must admit it is good to be writing again. It won't be like before when I would sit down first thing in the morning with a cuppa and punch out 1000 words. Life just doesn't work like that anymore, other commitments, different schedule - but I am starting to carry a small notebook and a pen on our afternoon walks as that's when the best ideas come.
It's fun.
No pressure.
Like the guitar. Have started over. Somewhere I read that one should use a mirror to help with placement of the left hand. That however has turned out rather awkwardly as I became dependent upon it and couldn't find the notes without it. So have put the mirror away and am retraining without it. It's muscle memory. Finding the exact positioning of the fingers near the frets; too far away and the note buzzes, too close and it's dead. Really difficult. Odd too as a song came on and I grabbed my air guitar and I STILL hold it the opposite way to the way a guitar is to be played. Thought as I had no bad habits to break I may as well learn to play with the left hand fretting and the right strumming. But my air guitar is exactly the opposite; right hand fretting and left plucking. Oh well.
Still drawing too. Have one I rather like up on the easel and another on the floor waiting for the final touches. Two people keep insisting I apply to have a show at Art Post Uki. Thought no no no, as I don't do Opening Nights - get quite anxious and claustrophobic at other people's opening nights. It's such a small space and it's always packed. How would I cope if it was mine and I couldn't run away as I usually do? That is if my work was accepted in the first place. One makes an application which goes away to be independently evaluated by artists not associated with APU.
Actually got on their website to have a look for an entry form. I could have an opening night where I wasn't there - but it all seems so childish and precious - and a bit pretentious - to not attend my own opening night.
The idea of showing my work? No worries! Either people like it, don't like it, or don't care either way. That's fine. Because as conceited as it sounds, most of my work I like. Sure I recognize the failings of them but they speak from and to me so I'm fond of them.
Time to walk Mikaela.
My birthday yesterday and my birthday wish was to take Mikaela to the beach. A grand day. She is such a good and funny dog. She runs and grins and leaps and bounces, crashes into me or cuts me off while running. But whatever she does she doesn't run away and comes when she's called. That's with no dogs on the beach. Not sure she would be so amenable if there was a white fluffy within chase distance. Hopefully we'll never find out. Find if we go on a weekday there are hardly any dogs!
Anyway, 63 years old and life is god.
It's fun.
No pressure.
Like the guitar. Have started over. Somewhere I read that one should use a mirror to help with placement of the left hand. That however has turned out rather awkwardly as I became dependent upon it and couldn't find the notes without it. So have put the mirror away and am retraining without it. It's muscle memory. Finding the exact positioning of the fingers near the frets; too far away and the note buzzes, too close and it's dead. Really difficult. Odd too as a song came on and I grabbed my air guitar and I STILL hold it the opposite way to the way a guitar is to be played. Thought as I had no bad habits to break I may as well learn to play with the left hand fretting and the right strumming. But my air guitar is exactly the opposite; right hand fretting and left plucking. Oh well.
Still drawing too. Have one I rather like up on the easel and another on the floor waiting for the final touches. Two people keep insisting I apply to have a show at Art Post Uki. Thought no no no, as I don't do Opening Nights - get quite anxious and claustrophobic at other people's opening nights. It's such a small space and it's always packed. How would I cope if it was mine and I couldn't run away as I usually do? That is if my work was accepted in the first place. One makes an application which goes away to be independently evaluated by artists not associated with APU.
Actually got on their website to have a look for an entry form. I could have an opening night where I wasn't there - but it all seems so childish and precious - and a bit pretentious - to not attend my own opening night.
The idea of showing my work? No worries! Either people like it, don't like it, or don't care either way. That's fine. Because as conceited as it sounds, most of my work I like. Sure I recognize the failings of them but they speak from and to me so I'm fond of them.
Time to walk Mikaela.
My birthday yesterday and my birthday wish was to take Mikaela to the beach. A grand day. She is such a good and funny dog. She runs and grins and leaps and bounces, crashes into me or cuts me off while running. But whatever she does she doesn't run away and comes when she's called. That's with no dogs on the beach. Not sure she would be so amenable if there was a white fluffy within chase distance. Hopefully we'll never find out. Find if we go on a weekday there are hardly any dogs!
Anyway, 63 years old and life is god.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Found!
Just after we got home from walking the street in case he'd been hit by a car I received a text from our neighbours on the ridge above us. A text with photo. A photo of Matisse sitting on their wood box, looking sleek and at ease.
By the time I'd rung them back he'd disappeared. Disappeared because they'd chased him away. Or tried to. To protect the many little birds which live there. Matisse, people lover that he is, couldn't understand why these people were chasing him around the house shouting. So he hid.
I combed their hillside looking for him, calling and calling and calling. My usually voluble Meezer Cat stayed silent. After an hour I gave up and came home. At least he was alive. Whether he'd find his way home or to another house was the question. To make matters worse we had severe thunderstorm warnings. I could see muscular clouds swelling on the horizon. My poor coddled cat.
But we had things to do so Richard and I drove to Bray Park for fuel, intending to carry on to town for groceries. Then the phone rang. It was Tina. She'd found him. Would we come right away?
You bet!
Poor Matisse was hunkered down behind some yoga mats right next to the house. He hadn't gone anywhere after all. He was stiff with fear. Even his tail was fluffed. After all that time had elapsed, still a fluffed tail and dilated pupils. I carried him to the Caddy and we came home.
It's taken him almost 24 hours to return to normal. His faith in humanity has been severely shaken. His entire life has been one of love. Even going to the vets he has been treated with kindness. No one has ever chased or shouted at him. He has always been a People Cat. Loving attention and giving attention.
I thought when he came home he would, after eating, go to sleep. He didn't. He stayed alert and on guard for most of the day, only falling asleep in late afternoon. He was also a little distrustful of me. Wanted to be near me but not too near. He wouldn't purr for me until late afternoon. Happily he did sleep with us last night, even changing his usual sleeping position from the bottom of the bed to the middle.
I lock that door now.
By the time I'd rung them back he'd disappeared. Disappeared because they'd chased him away. Or tried to. To protect the many little birds which live there. Matisse, people lover that he is, couldn't understand why these people were chasing him around the house shouting. So he hid.
I combed their hillside looking for him, calling and calling and calling. My usually voluble Meezer Cat stayed silent. After an hour I gave up and came home. At least he was alive. Whether he'd find his way home or to another house was the question. To make matters worse we had severe thunderstorm warnings. I could see muscular clouds swelling on the horizon. My poor coddled cat.
But we had things to do so Richard and I drove to Bray Park for fuel, intending to carry on to town for groceries. Then the phone rang. It was Tina. She'd found him. Would we come right away?
You bet!
Poor Matisse was hunkered down behind some yoga mats right next to the house. He hadn't gone anywhere after all. He was stiff with fear. Even his tail was fluffed. After all that time had elapsed, still a fluffed tail and dilated pupils. I carried him to the Caddy and we came home.
It's taken him almost 24 hours to return to normal. His faith in humanity has been severely shaken. His entire life has been one of love. Even going to the vets he has been treated with kindness. No one has ever chased or shouted at him. He has always been a People Cat. Loving attention and giving attention.
I thought when he came home he would, after eating, go to sleep. He didn't. He stayed alert and on guard for most of the day, only falling asleep in late afternoon. He was also a little distrustful of me. Wanted to be near me but not too near. He wouldn't purr for me until late afternoon. Happily he did sleep with us last night, even changing his usual sleeping position from the bottom of the bed to the middle.
I lock that door now.
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Matisse is Missing
My darling 15 year old Siamese cat, a strictly suburban cat with no street or bush smarts, cracked open an unlatched door and got out some time during the night. This is a cat who loves his food and when he didn't turn up for breakfast it got serious. It's 8:30am and no sign or sound of him. I am very worried.
Friday, September 28, 2018
Post 42 of 92
Have no idea why I am still numbering these posts as the original purpose (getting me to write regularly) has fallen by the wayside.
Am writing today as I want to record - just in case it is of interest later - just when I started trying to learn classical guitar. A couple of weeks ago, at a garage sale, I bought a beat up (broken bridge with screws to hold it together) Valencia guitar for $50. It had steel strings so found a reasonable website devoted to teaching beginning acoustic guitar (justinguitar). After a few days and excruciatingly painful fingers, realized I didn't have any desire to learn blues or rock or jazz - that what I've always enjoyed is classical guitar - a cousin to the harp - my real but unattainable love. So off to the local music shop where I looked at $300 and $400 and $1000 guitars. Then I looked on ebay and found a beautiful (to me) Yamaha G-55 guitar for sale in Brunswick Heads. With nylon strings and good, to my uneducated ear - tone.
What is surprising is how much I am enjoying this. It's been 50 years since I read music while taking piano lessons - so that is as good as never knowing. Yet there is no pressure. My fingers get tangled, the tips of my fingers are sore - my mind hurts with trying to memorize things but because I can stay on the same 'page' virtually forever, it's enjoyable and oddly relaxing. A friend said when she was going through a particularly bad time learning the guitar helped her cope with the stress.
Another good thing is Richard. For a very long time now he wages war during the night, or attends parties with lots of conversation and laughter, or runs half marathons, or practices boxing. He wasn't sleeping a restful sleep and I wasn't sleeping much at all. Even bought a cheap single bed so I could have a place to crash after an unsuccessful night on the couch.
On a punt, reduced his Madobarb by a quarter of a tablet every four hours. Voila! He's sleeping through the night and I, although still coping with insomnia, am sleeping better too. He also said he feels 'lighter'. Know when the specialist increased his dosage Richard was affected badly, became 'lumpen', even sitting at an angle for minutes on end, or not moving at all during the night - fairly unresponsive during the day too.
It's only been this week but I notice he's been busy in the shed, doing odd jobs and generally exhibiting more energy - and interest - than he has for awhile. So life is good again. Sleep makes all the difference in the world. Even spurs one on to learn something completely new!
Am writing today as I want to record - just in case it is of interest later - just when I started trying to learn classical guitar. A couple of weeks ago, at a garage sale, I bought a beat up (broken bridge with screws to hold it together) Valencia guitar for $50. It had steel strings so found a reasonable website devoted to teaching beginning acoustic guitar (justinguitar). After a few days and excruciatingly painful fingers, realized I didn't have any desire to learn blues or rock or jazz - that what I've always enjoyed is classical guitar - a cousin to the harp - my real but unattainable love. So off to the local music shop where I looked at $300 and $400 and $1000 guitars. Then I looked on ebay and found a beautiful (to me) Yamaha G-55 guitar for sale in Brunswick Heads. With nylon strings and good, to my uneducated ear - tone.
What is surprising is how much I am enjoying this. It's been 50 years since I read music while taking piano lessons - so that is as good as never knowing. Yet there is no pressure. My fingers get tangled, the tips of my fingers are sore - my mind hurts with trying to memorize things but because I can stay on the same 'page' virtually forever, it's enjoyable and oddly relaxing. A friend said when she was going through a particularly bad time learning the guitar helped her cope with the stress.
Another good thing is Richard. For a very long time now he wages war during the night, or attends parties with lots of conversation and laughter, or runs half marathons, or practices boxing. He wasn't sleeping a restful sleep and I wasn't sleeping much at all. Even bought a cheap single bed so I could have a place to crash after an unsuccessful night on the couch.
On a punt, reduced his Madobarb by a quarter of a tablet every four hours. Voila! He's sleeping through the night and I, although still coping with insomnia, am sleeping better too. He also said he feels 'lighter'. Know when the specialist increased his dosage Richard was affected badly, became 'lumpen', even sitting at an angle for minutes on end, or not moving at all during the night - fairly unresponsive during the day too.
It's only been this week but I notice he's been busy in the shed, doing odd jobs and generally exhibiting more energy - and interest - than he has for awhile. So life is good again. Sleep makes all the difference in the world. Even spurs one on to learn something completely new!
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