Dead photos and some Easter ramblings

I recently got an I Phone, which Michael thought I would never get much use out of. You can buy and download books onto it, recently at dinner we hated the music in the restaurant so we downloaded songs and played them on it, you can also download funky camera programs which allow you to alter your pics with all sorts of 'filters'. Here are a couple of shots that were my favourites after applying the filters.

Some of them are a bit eerie, but it was the effect I was intending, its mesmerising how scary some of them are. Sorry of these offend anyone.  I was joking to Michael after I'd taken them, that if I'd died in the night, someone would pick up my phone to look at the last things I'd taken photos of,  and think that some sicko has taken photos of a dead body. Luckily I'm not dead, so rest assured.

I have been looking at SLR cameras lately, as I feel I am starting to outgrow my little compact. I've started to experiment with all the settings and have actually improved my compositions by reading a few good magazines and taking on good advice.  Last week I left the house an hour before I started work, just to take photos of the light at this time of year that hits the dew (its heavy now, soon it wil be outright frost). There are amazing fog banks that start to settle in our valley around 6:30am and the light that shines through the fog is mesmerising.  Last year I always promised myself that I would stop and take photos but I never did.

I'll put up my shots in the next blog, but I'm hoping to head out on Good Friday to get some more (they have to be Good shots).

A weird thing today, we got paper wrapped books delivered in plastic freezer bags in the mail box from the Adventis people.  Michael usually has the Morman or Jehovahs Witness person come 'round once a month or so to drop off the Watchtower magazines.  He is too polite to tell her that he's Catholic. She even came out during the flood aftermath in our quagmire of a driveway, but I haven't personally seen her since the day I answered the door in my dressing gown at 10am (we live in the middle of nowhere, we never get people just dropping by). She knew Michael by name and was shocked to see me (I think she thought that I was the bit on the side- his downfalling).

 I offered a book to each of the cats but they declined. It seems that the books didn't smell right to cats. Not surprising though, I was just astounded that they delivered two books.  As if Michael and I would go into solitary reading separately over easter while he is pumping out 150 + meals a day and I am entertaining like there's no tomorrow.

They will join my book shelf of Hare Krishna cookbooks, the bible, the "Survivor' book (I think its by the Mormons as well) and the other religious stuff we have somehow accumulated.  I am however an avid fan of hot cross buns, but you you dont get many of them shoved in your letter box. Pity, it would make a better impression on the cats.

A Day on the Green

Rosewood Bowls Club at sober o'clock



If you live or know of Australia you'd be picturing some kind of music festival with a title like this. If you live where we do, there's no other kind of green, especially on a staff outing.  Tearing ourselves away from work recently on a Monday we startled the older folk of the local bowling club by booking them out for a bowls afternoon. 

The invites stipulated 'best bowls gear'.  For some that meant all whites, grey hair spray, hats and the whole caboodle. The first boy that walked into the bar with his hat on was told off by the barman for wearing a hat in the clubhouse (ladies can wear hats, so I did).

We were given our scorecards to fill out, told the rules, provided with bowls and shored up with drinks, then taken outside to actually play.  In 35 degree heat, it was last thing we expected - to actually bowl. The karaoke machine we'd hired beckoned, the cheap vodka mixer drinks, the dip and crackers, the wheel of cheese and above all, the conversation. The ladies room is what impressed me the most, tucked away in the back corner of the club, just before entering the ladies bathroom, is the ladies room, with 4 pink armchairs, pink walls, surely a refuge away from the men on play days.



The white wonders

All afternoon long, one of the two older (is it polite to say elderly?) men who were waiting on us, started to prepare our dinner (all inclusive bowls and dinner package for $15, bargain - we blew our budget at Christmas). He lovingly peeled every potato, carrot, chopped finely all the other things for our dinner.  We all felty guilty but joyous at the surely wonderful roast dinner to come.

County folk dont wear white, just hats

 Out on the green we were all a little bit crap.  My sister was there, 'the bowls nazi' as known by some by the end of the afternoon.  She kept everyone in check,  Which was good because for an hour we didn;t realise that we were all playing with  mixed sets of bowls and scoring may have been a tensy bit biased (no pun intended). By the time all of our party were there, it was well on 3 drinks o'clock, and in the hot sun, it meant that someone in every round kept 'accidently' bowling the wrong bowl, which really pissed Alysia off.

I made a very fluky good bowl, which was noted within the club house by a lady bowler at the bar (the same lady later did a head spin on the dance floor, followed by the splits - no kidding, she was one of the original white hairs who we had orginally felt precious about). All in all, it was a hysterical afternoon.  However, all was not yet done.


Some folk think its the other kind of bowls

 The roast dinner which had lovingly been prepared over 4 hours was delicious, with potatoes only like Nana can make, with a fantastic crunch (oh so naughty). Jelly with custard and fruit followed. Then...karaoke.

It started innocently enough, but after 'Vanilla Ice' performed, we had the drag show, followed soon by the head spinning senior citizen. Flanked by backing dancers in all white, every performer brought something new to the floor until the giggles meant everyone was thirsty again.

By ten o'clock (approx 12 drinks o'clock in the old time), the fridge of vodka mixers was down to the flavours that no body liked. Then the maxi taxi turned up.

All tucked into bed by 10:30pm.  The lady 'nazi' bowler had to leave early the next day for home.  However we had the sweet sense of satisfaction that Pop would have been proud, but not of the singing....

Its a beautiful day

The morning sun over our paddock

This morning was my first day off after bit of a stint.  I've been working live a slave (self-imposed rather than having a whip-cracking boss over me, though we do have whip cracking on the property on a daily basis - but more for guests).  In the last week I think I've not so much saluted the sun as asked it to meet me later for coffee.

We had the wedding expo in Brisbane this weekend and for the first time ever, a bridal expo left me cold.  It wasn't so much the same old people exhibiting or the thousands of people all looking for the same thing, or even the 14 year old child-bride models.  It wasn't the fact that we had to wear oh so sexy fluro yellow vests to set up and pack down, or even the disastrous day we had on Friday in getting there (it poured- open trailer - two haybales...). Nor was it even that we spent the whole weekend across from a diamond stand and I saw nothing I liked. But its all over now, like a bad dream.

Today was a blissful day, full of purpose.  Last week I got cranky because I have nothing especial to look forward to, and on a random errand in Toowoomba, we stopped in at the travel agency and started to seriously consider our next holiday.

Today, armed with all of our propaganda, full of astericks for the places we really liked, we brought a couple of lonely planet guides and set off for lunch.  We studied our guides and wrote our lists, and then fortified, went back to the travel agent to get quotes.

I felt like the biggest snob.  The agent immediately started to work out the cheapest deal, the family friendly 4 star resort full of crowds of people and pools and water sports that active people like to enjoy. He suggested a 5 day all inclusive tour, on a bus. He recommended that we cut out the most interesting city of the three that we wanted to visit beacuse it is expensive to get there.

I found myself asking the agent to look for hotels that were less child friendly, insisting on the fancy beach hotel on stilts over water because it looked nice in the picture (even though it is probably far above our price range).  I also had to explain that we weren't looking for a trekking holiday and when he suggested a train, all I was concerned about was whether it was rickerty and Michael asked whether its the kind of train that people sit on the roof.  We put our foots down - no bus tours (at least the kind that are more than half a day loing). We have become so old before our years, we should be embracing hostels and backpacks and mud and the best deal possible, but all we could think of was comfort and doing as little as possible.  Is this so wrong?

As it turns out, the places we are looking to go have a pretty good exchange rate at the moment, and the fancy hotel on stilts is cheaper than where we work now because they are in the middle of their soft opening (which means that you are guinea pigs). We are pretty excited about the prospect of the trip and I have already started thinking of titles for my travel book (Michael finally bought me Microsoft Word so that I can start writing my award winning novel that will fund this overseas adventure).