Bringing sherdie back

9 01 2007

Suck it up, kids, I’m back. Phew. We can all relax. I have the information superhighway streaming into my house again and things can go back to normal. Holy shit. How did people find things out before google? Rest assured, I have not, as some have suggested, given up the blog.

It’s been a while so let me embark on a rambling diatribe about nothing in particular to bring you all up to date. Well, there was Christmas of course, and all the guff that entails. Saw a lot of the extended family, was drooled on by baby cousins, was properly surprised by once baby but now all growed up cousin’s elopement, got a handbag in the secret Santa, you know the deal. Nice to hang out with the parents for a bit. Mum radiated maternal concern which I took as doubt of my abilities and cleverly responded by acting like a petulant brat. Reassured her no end, I’m sure. In any case, it’s very hard to sneak anything past a woman who once squeezed your head through her vagina. When I find myself wondering at her almost-psychic ability to know when I’m talking shit, I just remember that and it starts to make sense. Dad radiated health and a kind of calm I haven’t ever seen before, which I attribute to retirement and good food, not necessarily in that order. They gave me a red cantilever toolbox and red sheets to match. Sweet.

Christmas night I spent overfed and restless on an auntie’s couch, kept from sleep by the silence in the room. Top End children grow up with constant air movement – houses thrown open to invite the breezes; lazy circulation of ceiling fans. In the Dry, when the overnight temperatures can drop into the high teens, the fans will be turned to low, but rarely off. Such an intangible, constant thing, you don’t realise how essential it is to breath until you are lying awake in a Down South bed with the weight of the room pressing down and your skin gasping for some currency of air. I never got used to the stillness after I left; I recognised the idiocy of fans in winter but would regularly startle bed partners by sudden thrashing of limbs when I just. needed. to. breathe. I remembered all that at about the same time as I gave up on sleep and resigned myself to a scratchy Boxing Day.

Luckily Boxing Day started with champagne and a gin and tonic, so it turned out to be a pretty good option for not enough sleep.

What else has been happening? Living on my lonesome has proved to be not. Lonesome, that is. In fact, I’m rather wallowing in it all. There’s a Mitsuo calligraphy above my kitchen doorway:

koko ha kodoku na tokoro
jibun ga
jibun ni naru tokoro

Which I translate as:

this is a place of solitude
a place where I become

and smile a little smile when I read it.

I have a new new job, yep, blazing up the ladder with glacial speed. Heady scenes just before Christmas involving secret meetings and offers and counteroffers and salary raises equal to my annual income when I was a student (this is, and always will be, my first point of reference for income. I can live on that, if I have to). It all went to my head and I was fairly insufferable for a few days there. I’ve come back to earth now, not crashing but rather gently deflating as I read the fine print. But still. A step in the right direction. A sense of movement, not just treading water.

Looking ahead? Looking back? The start of 2007 saw me slightly tipsy, feet in sand, watching fireworks. Not the best New Year’s ever, but by no means the worst. If we see 2005 as a nadir and 2006 as a regrouping, the forecast for 2007 is good. Year of the Boar; a year of abundance and celebration. Cheers.




5 responses

8 01 2007
Saturday Night Fiver

It’s funny, but I’ve never had a better feeling about the future than now. I wouldn’t be surprised, regardless of how much nastiness there is in the world at the moment, if 2007 turned out to be the year of universal brother-and-sisterhood.And welcome back, obviously.

8 01 2007

Hurrah sherdina!How much was your student income? Just as a point of reference, right.(how many drinks you can buy me)

8 01 2007

Me too. Optimism-r-us?Anon: 15k. Youth Allowance plus shitkicker work. Drinks? Only valid in Brisbane. You’ll have to come and visit me.

9 01 2007

Your parental interactions sound just like mine. I get real attitude when my parentals come to stay. Could be constant “Why don’t you have all of the same things I have in my kitchen and have in my giant pantry that I have accumulated after living in the same house for twenty years?” when I’ve lived in my house for six months (yes, I’ve finally broken that barrier!) and have a single cupboard to house all food and pantry items.The smart arse in me always comes out, although I must admit I quite enjoy the arguments (husband seems to avoid arguing with me for some unknown reason).

9 01 2007

I know! I remember once my parents were visiting and we had them round to my grotty sharehouse for a roast. We were impressed that we’d managed to provide so much food. I brought the gravy out in a pyrex jug and the conversation went something like:Mum: “Where’s your gravy boat? Don’t you have a gravy boat?” Me: “The coffee table is made of bricks and planks, Ma, why the fuck would I have a gravy boat? Anyway do you even have a gravy boat?”Mum: “Er, no, actually, I don’t.”Me: “Hmph.”Mum: “Pffft.”Parents.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: