Stuff and that.

Stuff. And yeah. That

Category: Reading

Changing shit up.

I’ve been giving myself a few long hard talks lately. The kind of talks that end up with eye rolls and shifting from one foot to the other and loads of sighing and whining incessantly about how my life sucks and I’m bored and I’m totally a whiny arsed fourteen year old girl stuck in the body of a middle-aged woman.

I do have Staff for the boring bits of housework, like, the actual cleaning and the ironing. But the cleaning fairy doesn’t do the fucking washing, or tidy up the linen cupboard, or plan the meals or do the groceries. That’s still all down to me. I mean, the fam does a bit, but it’s mostly down to me to at least organise even if I don’t do all of it. But I am a true Queen of Procrastination and I’d rather fuckarse about with my phone or whinge to my friends than actually do the shit I need to do. Which is all very well, except that yeah. I still need to do the shit I need to do.

So, enough of the whining, and more of the pulling my finger out of my self-indulgent arse and even more of the just fucking DO it. Because, you know, most of the time, it takes a lot less energy and effort to just do it, cross the fucking thing off the list, and move onto the next item. Rinse and fucking repeat. Ad nauseam.

My just fucking do it approach to life seems to be paying off… Sort of. Life seems to be meandering along in a marginally less fucked up, slightly more organised kind of way. We’re still eating at stupid late o’clock, and I’m still going to bed even later. BUT… The dry washing is folded and mostly away; dinner has in fact been cooked every night. Take away only occurs when I plan it, and not because I forgot there were SEVEN dinners required in a week, and not, you know. Five. Or sometimes four. Dishes are done and bills are paid more or less on time. Give or take a day or two.

Work is even going orright for a change of pace. Like – actually getting shit done kind of orright. And by change of pace, I mean work is ticking along at a speed that is comfortable instead of insane. Although yeah, have to stop with the leaving at 6pm (that totes does NOT contribute to the eating fucking late and going to bed fucking later. Totally. Not. Probably. Um. Yeah.) I don’t seem to be able to get there on time, but in all honesty, that’s probably a side effect of not going to bed until fucking midnight half the time. And despite my protestations of never a-fucking-gain, wrote a paper. Now, that is in the lap of the gods, but still. On top of all that, I’ve been reading and cooking and doing stuff that’s sorta fun instead of filling my weekend with resentful housework. And I entered a writing competition. Actually did it. Instead of just thinking about it.

I got a multi-cooker for Christmas, so I’ve been learning how to use it. Chocolate puddin all round thank yer mother for the rabbits and that’s all she wrote. And you know those Woollies vegetables last year? Well. I grew beetroots and radishes and lettuces. I did kill a fair few things, but I’ve got a lot of spares to try again once the fucking cucumber dies a natural death. We got this thing called a vegepod, and man, best idea ever. Although carrots fucking suck to grow. Apparently, they grow them in sand and in pipes. Not actually straight in the ground. They taste good, even if you can’t peel the bastards.

Also, one only needs ONE cucumber plant. Not four. I have made cucumber relish and pickled cucumbers and every time people leave my house, they leave with a cucumber in one hand and a jalapeno in the other. Because, while I did only plant one chilli plant, it’s enjoying life in the Pod. A lot. Damn shame the damn cucumber has strangled the capsicum. And the strawberries have mould issues. I shall google it.

Last month, I cooked at least four or five new recipes. That never happens. I also read EIGHT books. That also never happens. Nice mixture of new and old and crime and not and actual books and non-fiction which I also don’t read. And the writing competition, well. Not a hope in hell of winning a prize or anything, because well. Srs competition. Although I did read last year’s winners…

So, I’ve cooked and I’ve read heaps and I’ve written stuff and I’ve grown stuff and I’ve done loads of crochet, and I’ve done the fucking housework. Like a grown up. Who would have thought? Also, who would have thought I could fit so many fucking swears in one less than one thousand word essay.

Stuff.

I haven’t been blogging much lately. No real reason, and my head is full of half started bits and bobs that I’ve not had the energy to convert to something worth reading. Like the Pants Situation. That’s the one where I found some Perfect Pants, disposed of ALL of the less than perfect pants to homes anew, then the allegedly Perfect (but actually complete and utter fuckers) Pants shrank. Did get my money back, but am left pantsless. Which wouldn’t be an issue if we were actually having a normal spring/summer rather than the fuck it’s cold I wish I had pants season we’re currently enjoying. So hey, I look professional from the waist up. And chilly below.

And the follow on from the Winter Clothes Kon Maudy business. That’s the one where I discover that I don’t really have enough “summer” tops if it does actually warm up. This leaves me with another quandary – primarily because I can’t find anything I like that isn’t ridic expense, and I’ll be buggered if I spend $60 on a fucking cotton t-shirt. And after previous Kon Maudy experiences, I’m not buying shit because it will do and it’s better than nowt. But the half arsed spring/summer we’re managing means I am surviving. Did have a Wardrobe Emergency the other day. Well, wasn’t actually a wardrobe emergency, more a trusted the weather forecast combined with the work air-conditioning set on Antarctic instead of Ambient. Easy mistake to make, apparently. Ended up with a new cardy and another long sleeved shirt (oops). Cardy is good (wearing it now. Think it’s down to less than $10 a wear. It will be free by the end of summer). Long sleeved shirt in white and linen. Can’t go wrong really.

So there’s an update on my wardrobe in two paragraphs. More than enough. I have been a tiny bit more stressed than normal lately, too. Just a tiny bit. Lots of stuff that is out of my control going on. While I can control how I react to things, when there’s lots and lots and lots of things that need controllable reactions… to be honest, it’s easier to just run around in circles flapping my hands and yelling fuck you all you fuckers and hide under the doona with a good book and hope all the stuffs goes away.

Coincidentally, one thing I have actually been doing a LOT of is in fact reading. Over the last few years, I’ve managed to read somewhere between 20 and 30 books each year. This is a complete travesty, as BC (before childerbeasts) I would read somewhere between two and four books a week (even while studying and working full time); and if I was going on The Holidays, minimum requirement for a week away was ten books. Over the last few years, I’d be lucky to read 25 books, and as long as I had two books for a week away, set like concrete, mate. This year I have already read FIFTY books, and there’s still a month to go. I started slowly, read a couple of graphic novels, read some old favourites… still prefer police procedurals and urban fantasy. But I’ve discovered Australian Noir. It broke the ice somewhat and I’ve been reading almost like the person formerly known as the Maudy who who formerly read a lot. Of the list in that article, I’ve read most of the authors, and of the ones I have read, I’ve read most of them this year.

Did read a couple of duds (looking at you, Mr Reacher. There comes a time in a bloke’s life he has to face up to retirement. Ahem) BUT there was only one book I didn’t finish. Good year for books though, generally.

The other thing I’ve done is crochet a lot. I discovered I am better at crochet than I thought. I’m now a prize winning crocheter and everything. In two competitions even. Although, it was for the same thing, so yeah. Maybe I’m not that good. Although the bit that won the prizes was pretty damn ace. Anyway, this year, I’ve learned how to do tapestry crochet and overlay crochet and how to crochet in a flat circle. I am mildly impressed with myself. Particularly the project I’m doing now. I thought it would be at the far limit of my abilities, and it’s not. Last time I checked, I was on gauge and everything – which, considering I am a “high and tight” crocheter, is a minor miracle in itself. Maybe I am not shit at crochet? And maybe you can teach a slightly more mature dog new tricks?

I also developed a bit of an obsession with my fitness tracker. I managed to do 10K steps almost every single day (missed less than five days, I think) for about 22 months. That’s pretty good really. But I was obsessed. Tracking my steps and tracking my sleep. And beating myself up over missing my goals with one or the other (ahhhh, I see what’s going on here, something to stress over that is not only in my control, but something that I can control. Who would have thought? Fuck, I’m predictable.)

Anyway, the band on my tracker broke. What was a girl to do?

  • Rush out and buy a new band?
  • Rush out and buy a new tracker?
  • Flap around in a circle a bit and internally debate ordering a new band or a new tracker ?
  • Do nothing?

Weirdly, it turns out I’m doing option 4 for the time being. My particular tracker is superseded, so although it still works fine, it’s a bit harder to find a replacement band for it. If I’m really using it as a “controlled stressor” then that’s a tiny bit fucked up and I should perhaps back away from the tracking for a bit and work out what I was actually getting out of it before I do anything more.

I have been missing the availability of having the time in an easily accessible device (as long as the light was right); so again with the who would have thoughts… I have started wearing my watch on the “wrong” hand instead. Time keeping device, easily accessible, and can read it regardless of light conditions. Unless it’s like proper dark and all. (I am some kind of weirdo right handed right hand wearing watch person. Wearing my watch on my left hand is a bit peculiar. But I will live. And the time is more useful than steps)

So yeah, that’s me. Reading other people’s words instead of writing my own. Tying ever more complex knots in a piece of string. Walking a lot and sleeping not so much. Two big ticket items on my Stress list are more or less resolved, and while I’d still like to run away to a tropical island for a little while, eh. I’ll live.

How’d 2016 treat you, mate?

Well, well, well. For most of 2016, I really felt like I was lurching from one near catastrophe to another, that I was one small step away from disaster at any moment. But, when I looked back on the year from the safety of 2017, it  wasn’t all Drama! Crisis! Calamity! It was merely a string of mild hiccups interspersed with some actually awesome moments. Pretty standard year, really. I read 35 books, I finished my Harmony blankie, I cooked a heap of new recipes, and I made a conscious decision to lose weight (which I have already banged on about).

I also got well over my “fear” of driving our hot rod. To be honest, I was never actually scared of driving it, just when you have someone in the passenger seat sucking in their breath every time you do anything they disapprove of… Pinched the keys from Reg and drove it like I stole it. Epic. And now, don’t even think twice about stealing the keys from Reg and yeah, Driving is ace. Also, now I have my *own* car, I like driving that, too. Ok, cannot/will not back it out of the driveway, but hey. “Reg, get the XP out, I’m going for a KROOZE”. Hotrodders cannot spell for shit. I also like the term “fat-arming” which is exactly what it sounds… driving around with the windows down with your arm hanging out. Makes you look like you got muscles. Also, truckie tan and sunburn if you forget that your arm is normally inside the vehicle.

Reading has been a thing again – I’m reading a book about every ten days. This is ace. I am nowhere near my BC reading rates, but after spending more than a few years barely managing to read 15 or 20 books, you can sense my excitement. I’ve come across a couple of new writers (Charles Stross, Elly Griffiths, Denise Mina) that I really like. I’ve revisited some old favourites, most of whom haven’t disappointed. Most importantly, I AM READING AGAIN. I have even lolled on the couch and read in daylight. Although sometimes I have to decide between crochet and reading. Can’t do both at once. I decided I wasn’t that jazzed with colouring in. It’s nice enough but I get bored *really* quickly, and hey, at the end of the day, I can make something tangible and snuggly warm if I colour in with yarn. (Can’t blog and crochet at the same time either. I am going to work on time jugglement in 2017). I also decided that life’s too short and gave a project I was hating the arse. And started another that I love. That I sort of want to do now, but I want to blog and um, my book’s at a good bit. Two heads are better than one.

And cooking. I love cooking a lot. It’s like chemistry you can eat. Although I srsly need an actual dishpig at mine for cooking extravaganzas. Chaos does do the dishes, but because I have to clean the bench so we can eat dinner, I do my cooking dishes. Snot fair. Chaos is also expressing an interest in learning to cook. He’s requested I teach him how to make muffins. Of course, this means I will have to actually write down the proper recipe for him. I base mine on the Stephanie Alexander muffin recipe from Cook’s Companion, then it goes a bit free-range and if this then that and I double bits and not other bits. However, if he wants to learn, I shall write it down. Another thing I noticed if I cook with my son is that as long as I don’t look at him, we have the most interesting chats about all manner of random things. I also discovered Chaos has maths homework when I creepy stalked his maths teacher to see if I knew him (I didn’t.) I’ve sort of got housework under control ish sort of if you don’t look too hard ish. Ish. But that’s possibly a blog post of its own. (While I haven’t taken Flylady back, I’ve invited her around for coffee. Ditto with KonMari))

I learned something about myself that I probably already knew. For me, the endorphins from exercise stop me from being a psychotic hose beast with a short temper and a snippy tongue. I sort of already knew that, because when I had a Madness after my dad died, it was exercise and sleeping tablets that pulled me through, and once I had one under control, I didn’t so much need the other. But that’s what works for me. Walking is enough, too. I don’t need boot camp or running or endless bloody gym sessions. I am not a team player, I honestly think boot camp is fucked up (hence my not doing it, good for you if that’s what pops your cork). So I walk every day. 11,000 steps because 10% extra is good.

Music is another thing I started to enjoy again. Like, I’ve always enjoyed music and having it on and around, but for some reason, I stopped listening to it. This year, I revisited my yoof (like, I’m talking 14 or 15 angsty teenager yoof here) and I’ve started listening to 3RRR and I subscribed. Sort of payback for all the years of enjoyment I got from RRR in the early 80s. I discovered bluegrass/hip hop fusion and rekindled my love of blues music. ANd digital radio. Crikey. I’ve now worked out how to use my digital receiver and there are quite a lot of interesting stations out there. Like, um. Aussie for indulging the inner bogan, and there’s a couple of stations that just play 80s and 90s music. Tunes and LOUD if you please. Also, can I pls have stereo for XP, ok thx. One with a remote.

OOh, and streaming. I have watched So. Much. Telly. Loads of stuff. Mostly half watched because crochet and writing (and playing silly games), but watched enough to say yeah, watched a lot of telly. Love the Netflix and the Stan and yeah, cannot wait for new episodes of my shows. Give me a good serial killer and I am happy as a clam. Although Netflix, I needs you to pop sub-titles in the blurb because I only half watch and do something else, I really need the talking to be in the englishes. Please?

So yeah, that’s a whole lot of not actually sucking going on in 2016. Dunno what I was complaining about really. Bring on the 2017.

 

 

Do Pidgeys taste like chicken?

Enquiring minds would like to know. Pinsirs, despite looking a bit angry bull like are insects and thus not very tasty. And Goldeens and Magicarps are definitely nasty fishy things. Enquiring minds like to discuss all manner of interesting things when one is driving in the car. Including the ins and outs of Harry Potter and what to do when one is ready for Book 5 and it’s a hard cover and it will probably be too heavy to bring to school each day (his teacher will let him read his copy at school. Win)

Aside from the Pokemon Go-ing (and endless debate about what different Pokemon would taste like), I too have been reading rather a lot. One of my (many) ongoing Personal Challenges is to read two books a month. I am being a success at this challenge, having read 27 books this year (in just under ten months).

I’ve managed two most months this year, and in August, I managed three (albeit two were on the short side) In September, however –  I READ FIVE WHOLE BOOKS. This reading frenzy I embarked on was aided and abetted by several journeys on public transport – Four trains, two buses, a couple of trams, two planes and a selection of taxis and hire cars. Aside from the last two, all provide ample opportunity for whipping through copious books. (The last two options would have involved spewing if I tried to read.)  But you don’t really want to hear about my travails with the Stinky Cabbie, or the Most Racist Cabbie, or fitting four comfortably built ladies into a Prius (I’m sure you can imagine that for yourself.) And I’ve read one so far in October. On to the books…

The first two I read are the second and third of the Laundry Files by Charles Stross. I would probably call this urban fantasy – magic and stuff interacting with the Real World, but in this series, the protagonist is ostensibly an IT dude but accidentally ends up being some kind of secret agent. I didn’t read them in order, which was a bit of an accident. I didn’t realise Book One was actually one book. I am old and blonde. These things happen. Then, for something completely different, Death Without Company by Craig Johnson. I got onto these after watching the Netflix series Longmire. Now, the Netflix Longmire is quite dark and angsty. The book Longmire is not so much. And has really ordinary taste in women. The characters are similar to the telly series, but some are obviously an amalgamation of two or more of the book characters. I do like both the book and the telly Longmire, but they’re so different, it’s hard to see the connection between the two. The books are quite soothing and nice.

I also read the new Val McDermid (Out of Bounds). This is the fourth Karen Pirie novel – this is more of a police procedural than the Tony Hill ones, and Karen herself is easier to relate to than Carol Jordan. She has her share of problems, and yes, she’s a bit mouthy. But I find her more human. Anyway, the story was good and the tangled ends were sort of more or less sorted out. Really enjoyed it (also, paid actual cold hard cash for a paper book. This is Quite Unusual.) At the same time, I also read The Red Road by Denise Mina. I didn’t realise before, but Alex Morrow has a similar ‘voice’ to Karen Pirie – I suppose because I was reading them simultaneously it was more evident, and maybe once or twice I got confused as to who I was reading about (and may have mentally looked for the odd person before realising I was reading one and not the other). Tip for young players, don’t read two books about mouthy lady Scottish police people simultaneously.

The last one I read was another of the Ruth Galloway books by Ellie Griffiths (A Dying Fall). These are nice, and a bit samey samey. This one was a bit different in that stuff that happened will change stuff that happens in future books. Plus, she started off being quite together in a vaguely disorganised way, but she’s become a bit of a whinyarse. I know having kids fundamentally changes you, because it can’t not; but srsly Ruth, get yer hand off it. Anyway, the historical stuff is interesting and there’s um. Another four left that I shall read at some point.

So there’s six books. In six weeks. That’s some kind of miracle really.

 

Gosh, it’s been a while…

I’ve just realised it’s been a month since I last posted. Crikey. However, I have totally been reading like a total reading machine. Srsly. Reading a LOT. Well, a lot for me. I suspect I’ve actually read four books in the last month.

Firstly, I finished The Cold Dish by Craig Johnson. I liked it, I think. The books form the basis for the Longmire series on the Netflix. I loved that series, so I was really keen to read the books. The books are different to the telly series, the characters are different, but at the same time they’re the same. And they’re sort of funny. Not uproariously HARHARHAR funny, more of a quiet snigger here and there funny. I haven’t had the burning desire to read the next one yet (although I am currently in the midst of upgrading ma teckernologies and I haven’t shifted over books from the old beast of burden to the new whiz-banger (which has a weirdarse keyboard and I keep mis-fucking typing all the things). Anyway, I probably will read the next one as I did like it enough to read more.

The secondly, I read another of the Ruth Galloway ones –  The House at Sea’s End. I really like these ones. They’re sort of cosy police procedural type books with a bit of history and a bit of lovey dovey action and enough of a mystery to be quite soothing, really. I’m not sure whether I have the next one on the trusty e-reader, so I shall have to persevere with my reading list.

Yes, I’ve set myself a reading list – I keep getting all zomfg what the fuck am I going to read next, get side tracked definitely not acquiring books by nefarious means (I do in fact acquire books legitimately as well, I am not all bad.) and end up with some trash or other that I don’t want to read. So, yeah, went through the books, downloaded about 15 or so and I am going to read them before I read anything else.

THEN I read Stalin’s Hammer: Rome by John Birmingham. It’s another installment in the Axis of Time series. This was me reading it on the train… Oooh. OH. Nooo. Ow. Ohhhh. NO WAY. No Way. Hehehahehehaheheha Oooh, no. Ow. etc. The Axis of Time series is classified as alternate history science fiction. It is in fact all that. However, that doesn’t give you the whole biffo schmako that goes down in the delivery of said alt.history. Prince Harry is in this one, and he totally is and was Granny’s favourite. Anyway, if you’re into history, don’t mind a fucking excellent stretching of your imagination, and good dose of the “what ifs” do yourself a flavour and get on the Axis of Time bandwagon. Is Don. Is very very Don.

Finally was another by Denise Mina (Gods and Beasts) I am doing a lot of series reading this year – doesn’t matter – it’s reading and that’s the main thing. I had a couple of hours on public transport last week, and slammed through this afterward. Again, I’m not sure about it… don’t hate them, just not sure. It’s only book two, so eh, I’ll persevere.

So yep, that’s four books in four weeks. I’ve set myself a challenge to read two books a month, so that’s not too bad… I am reading a book that’s more on the literature side than the trash side for a change. Nowt wrong with trash, just sometimes a girlie needs a steak. And also to stay awake long enough to consume said steak and not nod off in three point two seconds! I’ve also been crocheting like I am the Queen of Crochet (patently not, however… also, this damn keyboard is taking a bit longer than I expected to be getting used to… it’s slightly narrower than the old one, and much narrower than the one I use all the time at work. I’ve also not been using it much – too much crochet and reading =/= typing on fancy new laptop!)

Two books in a week!

Yes, on holidays. Therefore, copious reading has taken place in between refereeing children, tidying shit, carting children to places so they don’t kill each other, tidying more shit, making a fancy pants bullet journal and um. Yeah, refraining from killing my kids (in fact, I did threaten to send them both to the holiday program and go back to work because feral as. Seriously. Who would have children and voluntarily stay at home with them every single day?* Crikey.

Anyway, I’ve read a whole two books this week. I read The Crossing Places and The Janus Stone by Elly Griffiths. They’re book one and book two in the Ruth Galloway series. She’s an archaeologist and gets called in when bones are discovered (this happens in both books, so yeah). They’re written peculiarly – not so much second person but sort of. It was slightly disconcerting at first, however the story was interesting enough to keep me reading. I liked Ruth Galloway, she’s strong and feisty and intelligent, and she’s also not reed thin and drop dead gorgeous and describes herself as on the fat side (she still pulls the odd bloke despite her lack of thin and lack of gorgeous. The reed thin and drop dead gorgeous woman in the books is a bit of a silly bint, to be honest.)

The two books I’ve read are set in and around Norfolk, with lots of Roman and Iron Age ruins and the like to be poking around withThe stories are predictable in that you can certainly pick the baddies (I’ve only read the first two, and the second one was marginally harder to pick. If this continues, it will be nigh impossible by the end of the series), but they’re twisty enough that you’re not ever 100% sure that the baddies are whom you think they are, and the goodies are only about 75% good. This makes it worth reading. The two I’ve read have followed on relatively close to one another, and from what I’ve read, the rest of them do as well. So, they’re easy to read back to back. They’re also quick to read as well. Perfect if you want something mildly twisty and quite interesting.

I’m looking forward to book three and four, anyway, and it means I have now read TEN books for 2016 and the year is barely 14 weeks old.

I’m reading the first Walt Longmire book now (for something completely different…) it’s a Western with cowboys and Indians and everything. The series “Longmire” on Netflix is based on the books. While I’m not sure whether I like it or not, it keeps making me laugh so I think I’ll persevere.

*Yes, I realise it appears I am yet again bagging people who are making life choices that are different to mine, however, while I do love my children dearly, I love them MUCH more when I don’t see them every waking moment.

Reading stuff

Well, Reg was making me watch the footy, so I’ve been reading and fiddling about with my Kobo. It appears I can’t do what I want on the damn Kobo – I used to be able to sort books into reading lists on the old Sony e-reader I used to have – this was awesome, it meant I could have my to read selections in a virtual ‘pile’. Now I will have to try to remember what I want to read next, damn it. This annoys me inordinately. I am inordinately annoyed.

Ok, where was I… Right, reason why I was fiddling about with the Kobo is because I’ve read another book. This is is a minor miracle in itself, and facilitated by my spending about three hours on public transport today. Not that I could read for all of it – I’ve got to watch the train stations on the Metro to make sure I don’t get lost, and reading was not possible on the sardine can tram on the way back to Southern Cross. However, copious reading was done on the other trains I was on (five trains and a tram today. I am a legend at public transport.)

Still Midnight by Denise Mina is a Scottish police procedural. I wasn’t sure what I was reading and or why until I was about a third of the way through. The characters are all fairly abrasive and annoying (and stay that way for the entire book to be honest); and I felt as though I’d accidentally picked up book #3 in a series because there was Something going on with the interactions between the police characters that made me feel as though I was missing something (hence my desire to make folders so I can make sure I have the book in the series I am up to in one folder and move it over laters). However, something happened about a third of the way through that made me go “oh. That’s interesting.” The story was a bit whack, but hey – it was a suitably mindless diversion and I get to tick ‘read something’ off my {ahem} new habits check list. A lot of the abrasiveness of the main character becomes less murky about half way through, and clears up toward the end. As does the story. Which really is a bit peculiar. There were a couple of snorts of amusement (not actual laughs, per se – more Ha! than hahaha) when a couple of things happened. There was also a weirdarse Hallmark-y bit in it that was  – yeah. Nah. Bit like the Unicorns in Bladerunner. Anyway, I’ve popped book two on the Kobo so it wasn’t total garbage, and it was written well enough that I was interested in the characters (sort of) and the story (ditto). If I was the star giving type – probably three stars. Not shit.

Not sure what I am reading next – but as I’m actually on holidays for TWO WHOLE WEEKS and I have nowhere to be… The world of books is my oyster. There will be crime. There will be death. And maybe a history of Sydney.

Eh. Where was I…

Farmer Wants a Root is finished for 2016, so let me see…

  1. Reading (that’s why we’re here, yes?) reading has been a bit more excite than the books about tidying up (more on that later, you know you want me to!) I finished The Magician’s Land this morning  –  I actually really enjoyed the trilogy. It’s – well, it’s not all Hogwarts meets Narnia with sexy times – although, that’s a pretty damn good summary if I say so myself. There is more to it than that. Not much more to it, to be honest, but enough that it was a pleasurable read. Quentin grew on me in the end. He was still a massive dick, but any bloke who woos a lady with bacon (a little crispy) and champagne is probably alright. Apparently it’s on the telly. Might be worth a watch.
  2. Knee – well, I know you want an update on that. It’s been um seven months now. The nice bit is my patella tendon is now speaking to the rest of my body and I no longer have a slightly numb patch on the front of my shin. This is a win. The knee bone is still not really talking to me – however, will tolerate my weight on it when I crawl into bed. No more throwing myself into bed like I’m five. Although it’s fun. I might just do it occasionally.
  3. Watching the telly. Why yes, yes I have been. I have been watching Farmers try and get laid (various degrees of success would be my guess. The bloke that looked like a good looking version of Austin Powers hooked up with a girlie that looked just like him. They’ll be at it like. Assorted farm animals, probably.) Plus, this is the time of the year that all the shows I like are on the television, so I am recording loads of things. Right now, I am liking:
    1. Jack Irish (don’t normally like Guy Pearce, long story, I am old. He’s good in this.) I am an episode behind. No spoilers plz.
    2. Wanted. Well, I’m actually hate watching that. It shits me to tears. It’s so fucked up. Couple episodes behind now, not sure if I’ll catch up.
    3. The X-Files. DISAPPOINTED. Not saying any more. I haven’t watched the last couple of episodes. I really don’t know that I can watch the rest.
    4. Elementary – It’s pseudo Sherlock Holmes. It’s trashy and I like it.
    5. No Offence. It’s British police procedural stuff and it’s on after Jack Irish. Piss funny and pretty good.
    6. Accidentally watched a lot of the second half of “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here”. I was pretty sure I knew who’d come in the top two and I was right.
    7. Wallander (on the Netflix) I watched all three series. I liked it. It’s sort of mildly depressing but soothing at the same time. Very Scandinavian.
    8. VERY EXCITED that series two of Daredevil is out on Friday. I *hope* they’ll dump the whole lot again.
    9. Blacklist is recording again, but I’m not sure if it’s new episodes.
  4. I went to see a movie! Chaos wanted to see Deadpool desperately. He’s 13. It’s MA15+ so I wasn’t going to let him go on his own or with his mates. I may be a Bad Mother, but I do have some limits. We loved it! It’s very funny and meta and the gratuitous sexy times are vaguely comic-book and not too harsh for a 13 year old boy who still thinks boobies are gross, man. I am definitely NOT a Bad Mother – there was a little kid in the cinema as well, and by little, I mean under seven. Maybe five or six. Ahem.
  5. I’ve started crocheting again. I stopped for a while because it’s been so fucking hot – sweaty hands are not good for crocheting. I have four squares to go and a hell of a lot of ends to do.
  6. AND I HAVE BEEN OUT LIKE A YOUNG PERSON TWO DAYS IN A ROW. Yes. I’ve had a wee social life. I went out on Saturday night and drank the equivalent of about three months worth of beer and watched some bands. Some were awesome, some were crap. Some may have been more awesome because of the quantity of beer consumed. Having consulted Mr Google, I suspect some were in fact rather good. I went back again on Sunday. I didn’t have beer. I found more ace bands and more meh ones. I had donuts. Mmm jammy donuts are good for slightly hungover people. I didn’t spew. It was a good night and day. And you have no idea how pleased I am that today was a day off.
  7. OOH, I nearly forgot. I’ve been Complaining. I am such an Old Person. So far, I have received free sausages and a $15 voucher for a packet of dodgy taco shells. No wonder old people complain!
  8. Diet – going ok until this last week, when I hurt my back again (picking up the fucking BATHMAT of all things. Bloody hell.) so I have been s-l-o-w walking, and the whole parking close to work thing because when you’re walking like a geriatric cowboy with a foot long carrot up your clack, walking 1.5km to and from the car is best described as out of the fucking question. So, slow walking, beer and jam donuts are not conducive to weight loss. I am not expecting great things. However, today is another day and there’s been more fucking donuts because donuts are awesome. Ahem. Tomorrow.

That’s about it, really. I’ve also been doing some more tidying but separate post for that, and I have two weeks off in two weeks. I am most pleased. I have told the kiddies to come up with a couple of things they’d really like to do in the holidays. What I’d like to do is re-paint the laundry. Weird, hey. And finish all the squares for my blanket.

Reading about zombies and cleaning. Ahem.

Yep. Actually have been reading. And yes, zombies and cleaning. And magicians. I finished The Magician King – which was pretty cool. I still think Quentin is a whiny brat, and he should learn to be grateful for what he has –  and maybe once I read the third one, he will have learned his lesson and will be a more balanced individual instead of a petulant brat.

Next, I read a wee snip of a story by John Birmingham called Here be Monsters. It features a delightful Lt Watkin Trench, who is in charge of a bevy of convicts en route to Sydney in 1788. There’s a squall, a zombie apocalypse and some srs shootings. It’s only short, and it just begs to be read aloud to a pack of scruffy year eights. Complete with accents.

So, that’s technically Book #5 in six weeks. Although, it’s really four books and a short story.

In light of my other current obsession, I bit the bullet and actually bought the Marie Kondo books – the life changing magic of tidying up and Spark Joy. I picked up Spark Joy in a seriously pretentious coastal bookshop (as an aside, I have NEVER seen so many books about narcissistic personality disorder in one place. I’d never even heard of it six months ago, and now there’s an entire self help industry. Who would have thought…)

Anyway, I read it in less than a week (yay me, six books in seven weeks!) and I really enjoyed it – which is weird. It’s a book about tidying up and I am so shit at that. It’s also a bit fluffy bunny/hippy dippy, which I also hate with a strange passion. However, it’s tolerable , particularly if you consider the whole translation from another completely different language thing, sparking joy could be a bizarre translation of something else that’s much more sweary and less fluffy. (Although, I think Ms Kondo leans toward girlie and fluffy and not so much of the swears.)

Any book that has this as one of it’s ‘recommendations’ though…

‘Your course taught me to see what I really need and what I don’t. So I got a divorce. Now I feel much happier.’

My kind of book. (Not that I’m planning to tidy up Reg or anything. He’s quite nice.) Ms Kondo talks about the difference between cleaning and tidying. One is in your control and one isn’t. You cannot control dirt. It’s inevitable like tides or something. But tidying – the less crap you’ve got laying about, the less tidying you have to do. Easy peasy. And so fucking OBVIOUS. Ahem.

So far, I’ve KonMari-ed the fuck out of my clothes, accessories (such as they are) and I’m having a red hot go at my books. This has involved some lateral thinking because I still cannot kneel and cleaning out a six foot tall book case does actually involve getting down on ones hands and knees. I brought in one of the benches from the out door setting and I’m using that to rest things on. You seriously CANNOT cull books on the shelf. They need to come off and get groped.

Ms Kondo says that tidying up will transform your life… I know that when I had a massive clean out of my house, I managed to lose 20kg at the same time. And I also know that since I started on this Fly-Mari kick, I’ve stopped eating chocolate, lost four kilograms and ditched about eight bags of stuff to the oppy or elsewhere. Maybe it will transform my life, maybe it will just mean I give more of a shit about what I stick in my face, and stick in my house… Can’t be a bad thing, anyway.

 

 

 

 

Reading reading

Yep. Doing some of that, I am.

So far this year, I have finished two books and am half way through #4 and a third of the way through #3. I am enjoying reading a bit more so far this year for some reason – whether it’s because I’ve just picked the right book to read and not picked anything I hate, or whether I’m just in the Mood for Reading. Whatever it is, it would be nice if it keeps going. I’m not going to set any goals for reading this year – just that I should. I’m also taking the Offspring to explore our new library during the week, and I might end up re-visiting borrowing books again. (Although, my spooky cousin who has purple hair works there. We haven’t spoken for nearly 20 years aside from the odd mumbled ‘hello’ when we cross paths – she was working in the building next door for a while. Embarrassing. Families. Ahem.)

Plus, I can’t read while I crochet, and as my crochet buddy is at the joining the squares phase of our project, and I am still about to finish Square #10 (out of 14) and all the ends (may have mentioned ends before – 14 sets of nine squares, each with five colours, and each colour has two ends. Crikey. That’s a lot of ends), I sort of want to keep up with that as well. But I like reading, so here I am.

Book #1: Career of Evil – Robert Galbraith Now, I started reading this series before I found out who actually wrote it, and thought the first one was a decent first novel. Then, by the time the second one came out, the cat was out of the bag and everyone knew it was JK Rowling. This was sort of unfortunate, although I think people had got used to the idea she can write about things that aren’t child wizards. BUT the other unfortunate bit was that the editing got a bit looser – like, OMG JK ROWLING CAN’T TELL HER TO CHOP BITS. So, number 2 wasn’t as good as #1. It was still readable, and still a decent holiday read. Career of Evil is #3. It starts off well, although I found myself mildly irritated with the story (and for fuck’s sake, we know Coromoran is hairy, you don’t need to describe how goddamn hairy he is every five pages. He’s a one legged hairy gorilla. Ok. Got it.) for almost the first third. There was also a bit of ‘need to suspend disbelief’ here and there as well – Robin was being a bit pathetic – ok she did get delivered a leg in a box, but seriously. However, we did find out a bit more of Robin’s back story, which was useful. Somewhere a bit before half way through, it started to get REALLY good, like I’m not crocheting because I am reading. Ahem. The viewpoint switched between the killer and the story – not sure that was great as the writing in those parts seemed really stilted and clunky. But it certainly got going after the 40% mark. The end was a bit race to the finish, then a bit WTF. Like really WTF. But I’m looking forward to #4, and I’d really like it if the hairy was mentioned less than once.

Book #2: Hester and Harriet – Hilary Spiers. This was one of those random pick ups from Target while I was waiting for Chaos to get his act together. So, an actual book made of paper. Weird. Anyway, this book is everything I hate – it’s a cosy, and it’s written in an odd perspective. It’s not second person, but sort of. Like reading a play (the author is a playwright, that splains that). Anyway, despite my predilection for hard core crime and death/serial killer-y type books, this was pretty cool (although, many suspensions of disbelief required about some bits. They’re in the middle and toward the end of the book, you’ll know which bits I mean when you read it.) I liked the characters – one of them I imagined as looking and sounding like Vera from the telly show of the same name. I’m not sure that she really did, but there was something about her… Anyway, it was a nice read. I enjoyed it a lot and handed it over to my mum to read.

Book #3: The Road to Little Dribbling – Bill Bryson I’m a bit over a third of the way through this one. I’ve loved Bill Bryson for ages. Even if I did try to kill him once. Long story. I picked this up when on holidays a couple of weeks ago after sniggering like a loon reading the first couple of pages. He got hit on the head by a boom gate in a car park, and it’s hysterical. Also, something that could happen to me anyone. Reading Mr Bryson is like listening you your favourite old uncle tell stories in front of the fire. Funny and affectionate and a little close to the wind sometimes. He likes to take the piss, but he’s very gentle about it.

Book #4: The Magician King – Lev Grossman I had an epic trip to the Big Smoke last week, and because I had to lug a fuck-tonne of crap with me, I didn’t want to drag Uncle Bill up the highway because hardback books are heavy as fuck. So, I popped this one on the Kobo and got stuck in. I’m a bit over half way, and I suspect I’ll finish it before I go back to Uncle Bill. It’s the second book in a series (I read the first one last year – Harry Potter goes to Uni with alcohol and sexy times). This one is more or less what happens next. There’s a feeling that getting what you always wanted is a bit disappointing, although Quentin Coldwater is a whinger. He is probably the kind of person who can never be content. The book is enjoyable (even with the moaning) and the characters are interesting, and I whizzed through almost half of it on the train. So yeah. Looking forward to what happens next.