On Zoning Out

Ummm, yeah.  Sorry what did you say?

On and Off Road

Really glad I didn't buy any of Bill Calahan's music when the woman at Title recommended it to me. How many times can you fit the word Buffalo into a record? Jarring, weird, American, painfully earnest and without much content, I am listening to "Apocalypse" at the moment. It will not be on ze Itunes by the morning although I will give his other two albums a shot before I completely wipe the whole idea of liking Bill. I have been told that quite a lot of woman love BC, whatever that means.
I need glasses to drive. I have misjudged two freeway entrances over the past six months and through stubborn lazyness I have become incredibly lost both times. I can't see the writing on traffic signs until it is way too late and I tend to panic before getting to a distance where I can see them. Panic usually enforces preemptive decision making, meaning I will suddenly turn left if that is the direction I instinctively feel I should be going in. Once discovering I am on the wrong path, stupidly I will continue on, not wanting to admit any kind of mistake. The first time I did this I extended my travels by an hour. The second freeway miss didn't get the better of me as I stopped after twenty minutes on a side road and employed google maps. My inner compass had me travelling parallel to the freeway I wanted to be on, so that was some sought of success as far as getting lost goes. On the last undershoot I remembered that I wear glasses for driving otherwise it has become illegal for me to be behind the wheel at all, I promptly found them in my new Christmas present hipster backpack and put them on.

I commandeered the car from my mother to take our French Girl on two day trips, the first to Mount Dandenong. I did get a little lost on the way there too but only so I could ascend the mountain via a route I was familiar with. I like to drive up the Mount Dandenong Tourist Road via Ferntree Gully so I can get my bearings when I get to the top. I find the Dandenongs hard to navigate as suburbs on the Mount are not situated in any kind of pattern in relation to each other. The suburbs are partnered by twisted squiggly roads that make my hands sweat when I traverse them. Locals zoom around the narrow blind cornered roads and ride my safe 55 kilometer arse willing death onto me through thier windscreens.  The stares of doom bounce straight off my rear vision mirror filling me with self conscious angst. The occasional steep drop to the side of the road only adds to the fear. I did wear my glasses this time and they do help quite a bit. Melanie and I went to Sassafras and had lunch. We saw a few things Nanna's would be really keen on like soap and teapots. Melanie found some tasteful Australiana merchandise surprisingly.

I tried to take us to Sherbrooke falls which I thought was off Grant's picnic ground. The car park was packed with people all there to see the Galahs, Cockatoos and Rosellas that congregate for their public feeding. M was entranced by the birds head ware and bright colours but was not too keen to get close. I explained they could all have your arm off at a moments notice. I eventually persuaded M to get close to a Cockatoo for a photo. Then the Cocky got cocky and went for her. M screamed, understandably and I thought we should keep our distance from that point on. M was motioning a semi automatic firing stance at the bird so I am sure it was all very provocative.

We eventually found the Falls after a short walk and some help from a kind couple with a beautiful Italian Greyhound. The waterfall was as small as I remembered but not unattractive. M and I jumped the bridge and climbed underneath for a closer look. We stopped for a bit by the creek and then made our way back to the car. En route we got a great show from a lyrebird who had seen a few sci fi films. The bird was intermittently interpreting a kookaburra and some kind of laser beam sound. We were also accosted by a very angry Yabbie in the middle of the path who didn't really want us to get by. The Yabbie had it's little nippers in the air and when I approached it raised them even higher in a vicious threatening motion. I was in hysterics as M had resorted to screaming once again. She asked me what it was and we discovered there is no translation to French for Yabbie. I called it "Lunch" and this she understood. I promptly engaged the animal in some taunting so M could run behind it's back, getting past unscathed.

The final meeting with the wild happened when I turned to talk to M and realised she had made a friend. A leech had attached itself to her and was desperately trying to make it back to the car with us. At this point I freaked a little, if there's one... The worst thing to say would be, "don't move", so I said this unthinkingly and then went in to remove our new friend. We made it back to the car crawling with anxiety and phantom feelings of leech attachments, then quickly got our shoes off for some serious checking. Yes there were more. M was good humoured about this and as she is in the medical profession perhaps she has a soft spot for leeches, who knows what kind of medical procedures still happen in foreign countries. Leeches could be le chic.

Smiles of the innocent and unsuspecting

Bird with anger issues

                                                            Possible provocation

Checking for the unwanted

Small Fall

Distance required to see clearly without glasses

Spare Oom

I have moved a small French girl into the spare room.  Melanie, a friend of a friend who is a great friend is hiding out in the back room on an air mattress.  Are all French people lovely?  Yes, I think they may be.  Mel has been here a week now and I find I want say, "we go sis way", "knoh" and  "yez, I it all ze chocalart".  Barkly streeters are shocked to hear stories of eating fois gras and brie covered in chocolate and that Frenchers are late eaters... dinner at 9pm??? Shock, outrage, entertainment.  Today I took Melanie to National Gallery Vic and couldn't help thinking about how much better the Louvre would be.

The Zombies

Update with Evidence

This is a special glimpse into the inner workings of the Kezzy.  Above is a CT Scan taken of the recently uncovered damage to my left hip.  The white highlighted section touching the round part is causing all the trouble.  I explained what this photo was to two separate people and failed to convey any clarity, so I apologize if the next sentence is completely redundant.  The photo is a cross section of my left hip (although it is in reverse)  and the round part is the ball joint that sits in the curvy pelvis part.  Healthy hip joints don't generally touch and don't have excess spikes and curves flaring off them.  Mine is probably due to hip displaysia at birth and a bad gene pool.  I have heard depression and stress are also linked to arthritis and I'm sure we have all had our fair share of that.
The trip to the hospital two weeks ago was monstrous having been prodded and x-rayed and frightened by the gruesome truth of what's to come.  I saw eight health workers and each one explained the complications and arduous recovery process in minute detail.  For six weeks after the operation I will not be able to pick anything up, bend toward my legs, turn my body or turn my foot outward or inward in case the new hip dislocates.
Recovery aids include a walker, a grabber, crutches and a new toilet seat.  I know i will be better off but it doesn't help the thought of what will be phenomenologically happening to me.  There is something really intrusive and gruesome about it all.  I am still trying not to think about it but it is seeping into my everyday life and contributing to a generally cranky attitude.  Sorry.
I tried to write about it on the Wednesday after the hospital trip but it made me very upset.  I thought writing would be slightly cathartic and I suppose it is well after the head on collisions of involvement.  Nicola if you didn't want to know I would most likely be posting another YouTube clip and be talking about the type of paint they use on the roads and how amazingly squishy under foot that can be in thicker sections...I do enjoy that paint, it has mica particles in it.
The op has been booked in for January so I really just have to get through the stress of Christmas shopping and the one day a year it is mandatory to spend in the suburbs being alienated by my family.
I wonder how it will be not being in physical pain all the time?   Pretty good I suppose.  Being in pain all the time may well be a hard habit to break, it has its associated dialogue and limited physical vocabulary also.  I can't imagine suddenly flinging limbs, considering horse riding as an option, or surmounting my fear of jogging/going to a festival/siting on the ground any time soon pain or no.
Thinking twice has been such guarded knee jerk closely followed by his friend "no". It will be like a a complete re-evaluation of reality.

Kareena: not next door anymore

Honey. Who else could let me know in no uncertain terms that they wouldn't be caught dead in poly/cotton?  Refer to grocery shopping as getting some delicious animals?  Remain upbeat in the face of any adversity, (as you say we are tough).  There is nothing that can't be fixed by the thought of reclining in the sunshine, painstakingly fussy hors d'oeuvres and a bottle of Champagne by our side whilst listening to non invasive light music.  Fashion magazine also?   Heaven.  Tomorrow is another better day to you with the chance of perfect metaphorical weather and that's always an epically good thing to hear, no matter what's going on.  I hope you are moving in because I need to laugh more, not less.  We could dance to Roxy Music in our designer pj's and then catch up on Next Top Model. Bangin!

Matt Looks Unconvinced