Six by Six

One hundred years ago, Jeanie tagged me for a meme. Luckily it had no expiry date.

I fail at time lines.

The rules are:

1. Find your 6th photo folder (hard drive or online)
2. Find the 6th photo in that folder.
3. Share the photo on your blog and give the details of the photo.
4. Tag 5 folks to do the same.

Since I was so very clever and cleaned out all my photographs just after Christmas, I had to have a hunt on the USB stick. 6th photo in the 6th folder is this one, taken a few weeks ago – it’s the last photo in the last folder – how spooky.

**Warning – genitals on display!**

This is Sebastian, my black lab. At 3 1/2, he still has quite a lot of puppiness left in him and he bounds around madly like any puppy.   Sebastian is a ‘retired’ guide dog. Dogs are ‘retired’ from Guide dog duties for 2 reasons:

1. – their owners have passed, or no longer in need of a dog; or
2. – the dog has ADHD a behavioural issue that could endanger their sight impaired person.

Our dog falls into (surprise) category number 2.

Sebastian is gorgeous. He has a string of pedigree names longer than our street. He was bred for the sight impaired program and spent the fist years of his life in the foster family being trained for the care of his ‘person’ and then into school.  He is perfectly well trained. He remembers all of his commands, has the manners of an angel and is a wonderful dog.

He was expelled :(

Sebastian suffers terribly from  ‘doggie distraction’. Show him anything on 4 legs and he thinks it is another canine companion. He will whinge, whine and pull – hard – to get over to the 4 legged friend. It matters not if it is feline, canine, bovine, - if it has 4 legs then it sends him lupine. Whatever it is, if  it has the required number of legs then it stands to reason it must be some type of odd looking dog, and therefore a friend – so we need to go over there NOW.

Apparently there are only so many sight impaired  persons a dog can drag off their feet and along the footpath.  Poor Sebastian found it cumbersome to lead his person – pulling them along the ground in pursuit of his newest friend whilst they stumbled blindly behind him – so he would slip his harness (Houdini dog) and take off without them leaving his sight impaired person standing along the side of the road.  

So, he was retired, early. And we took him.

He is a wonderful boy, a joy to own and we love him to bits. To walk him, he wears a harness, a halti and we are wondering if blinkers might work…

Here is Sebastian doing his happy sleep. Look closely and you can see the smile. You think he’s laughing at the dream memory of that poor person being left at the side of the road?

I’ll cheat and add another pic. That smile reminds me of a crocodile after a meal.

I am sure everyone else has done this by now, but if you do want to take the challenge, then please do so.

Jeanie, sorry it took so long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chatterbugs

I love chatterbugs.

They hold our pool towels.

This one is made from recycled tap washers and wire, and was purchased from the Perth Zoo on a recent trip home.

This guy, mosaiced in Perth, another souvenir. Not sure where he is going to live, he’s a rather heavy tile.

 

These ceramic guys found their way here from the Eumundi markets. (ooops, he’s one of a pair)

    And isn’t this one cute?

 And of course, living by the beach or anywhere coastal in QLD, you have many of these in and around your home: real chatterbugs.

 

This was the name given to geckos by a girl in my class a few years back. Arriving from New Zealand, her experience with geckos was rather limited. And the noise they let out – which is MUCH bigger than their little bodies would have you believe – does indeed sound like a high pitched chatter.  It took most of the year for her to believe her classmates – they are called geckos!

They are very cute, small, LOUD and eat bugs. They occasionally fall off the ceiling and land on  us with a very startled expression. They have little suction pads on their feet. And yes, they do reside inside, outside, everywhereside, and locals are used to them. But it does take visitors by surprise!

This, of course, is my other chatterbug, who went back to school this week.

Now, if the holidaying houseguests would only leave…  ;)

I Thee Wed.

Today I received a wedding invitation in the post. It is a very fine invitation. 

Modern, edgy but with strong traditional font, and very, very elegant.  Included is an accept or decline return slip (complete with space for dietary requirements) and a gift registry tag with dot.com address and registration number.

The marriage is in a beautiful old church.  Following the wedding at a beautiful park close by, is ‘the cutting of the cake and celebratory toast’.  Then, some 5 1/2 hours later in a winery, 25 kilometers away and on the other side of the city, is the reception.  (Dress: Lounge Suit. I can’t help but consider a sofa in black tie and tails.)

Now, I do love these people. I love them very much, and totally respect their choices and am sure they will have a wonderful, wonderful day. But the invitation got me to thinking.

I was married in the 80′s. Big white wedding, billowing dress, bridesmaids in flying saucer hats. 3 tier wedding cake, Church priest bellowing fire and brimstone to the poor guests, 4 course meal at the reception. Wine, champagne, dancing. Dolls on the cake. The arch of friendship. Shoes and pots tied to the getaway car. Wedding night in a swanky hotel in the City. (Groom and groomsmen in grey suits with pink ties. I did say it was the 80′s).

There was no registry back then. Sure, we had heard of them – posh, rich or wanky  swanky families used those – usually with gifts listed that amounted into high end of 3 figures. No, we trusted the guests with their gift of choice. Their own choosing. I recall a toaster, some towels, some crockery, a crock pot (I still have that, although the husband has gone the way of the old arcoroc plates). An upright top loading washing machine was the star, alongside some Rodd silver cutlery, gifted from parents of the groom, and parents of the bride respectively. (I still have the cutlery. And the Crystal.  One of the glasses is now chipped rendering the set imperfect. I know how it feels.)

I have had a look at the gift registry wish list included in my invitation. As I thought, they have good taste. (Good, expensive taste – but very good). It includes, not surprisingly, top shelf items that I have had to wait for, 20 years after my marriage, to be able to put in my kitchen – or my home.  (Or not have at all as yet).

Starting out for us, was with whatever we had. No 9  piece Esteele saucepan set. We had mum’s old ones and some that I had saved for myself as a teenager. No country Road executive size towels. I had some from my ‘glory box’ (remember those, girls? Do people still have them?) and some from mum’s old castoffs.  No Stanley Rodgers flatware, or Le Crueset cookware. Just whatever people had gifted us or we could find. After all, back then, starting out meant just that – the idea was to build a life together (ooops, flunked that), work hard, and in time, the good things in life are appreciated, because the value of relationships, people and things – mere  material objects – are truly recognised as the years advance.

So – what’s your opinion on gift registries? Experiences? Is this  a commonplace inclusion of the noughties? Did you start out with everything, nothing – or somewhere in between?

Please Mister Postman

Recently, Meggie wrote a passage lamenting the fact that very few people write letters anymore.

Coincidentally, that very same day my mother rang me, very excited by something that arrived in her own mailbox.

It was a letter. A special letter, written in beautiful penmanship. It came from my mother’s aunt, who is in her 80′s. This would make her my great aunt, if I am correct?

 

It reads:

6 Jan 2009

Dear Joan,
          Since I rang you long ago I have been doing a bit of getting things sorted out and have found the photos I put away so carefully that I found them, so I am sending them off to you as you might like to have them.
          I had a great time with Frank and Freida as a child ~ used to go up to their place in the side~car complete with small leather helmet. While up there at Mosman Park, Freida made me an outfit like Franks ~ white coat and striped apron. I travelled withhim in his deliver van to some of the best homes in the best suburbs. Most of them had good cooks in these huge places  and your dad had quite some charm. While he was cutting their orders, it was nothing for me to be spoiled by the staff and stuffed with cookies in these Claremont and Dalkeith kitchens. Quite a life for a kid.
          Your parents were great fun people and led a pretty sociably made life with good friends from several clubs, motor and social clubs too, and free to do so. I loved them very much, and being loved, I was over the moon when they called you Joan.
          I always think of them with laughter. Your mum had a great humour and I always have a grin remembering her convincing mum that a menthol cigwould help her chest. Poor old mum nearly choked while Freida sat with a smoke in her owncigarette holder trying not to laugh.
          I always think Freida and Frank were part of the new world where anything new was worth trying, even if we were in a depression era.
        I think the last time I saw you was at the “Plympton Hotel” in East Fremantle when I was singing with the band which is now called “The Tradeswind (The Hotel).
        I hope you are enjoying life Joan, as I have done and still doing. I turn 82 in June and had a wonderful 80th with my family in the RSLat Hamilton Hill ~ my birthplace ~ but of course lived all my life till your grandmother Back died with her family. She was the best!.
        I always kept these couple snaps with me wherever I went over the years. I spent a long time in the hills beside “Araluen”. I had 9 family members – 5 brothers and 4 sisters in my own family (Dixon). They are now all gone. I did the service for my last brother Edward. It was like shutting a door as I also lost the entire Back Family also, so I have seen two generations pass on. Christ help Heaven!.

So I will stop bashing your ear and move on too. Lots of love, Joan the 1st. xxxxx

PS – I have 5 daughters, 1 son  15 years RAN
11 grandchildren, 1 grandson Lt/Col in Army in Afghanistan
10 great grandchildren.

Along with it were these photos.

 

Top R: My grandmother at a young age with her dog, ‘Frosty’     
Top R: My Grandmother on her bike.
Bottom L: Tom, Joan (the letter’s author), Cyril, Norah, Freda (my grandmother of the bike and cigarette holder fame), Olive, Grace.  
Bottom R: My own mother as a babe. (She still has that pout ;)

I don’t know this great Aunt. If I have ever met her, I have no memory.   Her mother, who was my grandmother’s sister, died when great Aunt Joan was but a babe, and she was raised by my great grandmother as was the way in those days.  This is why there are references to two branches of the family tree – one, her birth branch, and one, her sister’s branch in which she was raised.  She was a youngster at the time, and only several years older than my mother, she has strong memories of my grandparents that were wonderful to read. 

It was amusing for me to read these memories, as I, too, recall my grandmother’s smoking habits and cigarette holder, and the charm and wit of my grandfather (who these days would be noted as a harmless flirt). I remember his butcher’s shop, his work attire and the wondrous houses of suburbs around his home of Mosman Park.

These are strong ties to be reunited. My mother was so pleased and excited to hear from her long lost aunt. It is planned they meet in a few weeks. I do hope so, and perhaps I will find more piecesof my family puzzle fall into place. And my mother will have the chance to reunite with another of her family, too.

How the pieces fall into place when the edges of the puzzle are solved.

Ruined

I am addicted to anything old, rusty, antiquated or falling apart.

(I am heading that way myself.)

Some images from the northern parts of NSW taken on a few days away, post Christmas.

(Better quality and additional images on flickr)