In no real order:
I get into some interesting conversations.
Tonight was no different. I'd done a quick supermarket run to get Ben's beer. Who's Ben? Ben is one of the catering team at the retreat. I walk into the dining room at lunch and dinner, Ben, without asking, puts a beer in my hand. I've not asked for this, but who's to say no when you're given a beer? In return, I bring beer to Ben at the start of the retreat so I'm not drinking his.
Anyway, I got the beer, and some other necessities, then did the bad thing and went into the book shop.
Book shops are evil places. Whoever put the book shop next to the supermarket needs to be severely dealt with, but that too is another battle for another day
I'm well known in there.
I took my purchase up to the counter.
As I often do, I struck up a conversation with the girl behind the desk, as I often do.
"So, what are you reading?"
It sounds like a pickup line.
"Me. Well, on my kindle I've trying to get into Jacqueline Harpman's I Who Have Never Known Men. On paper, there's the new Steve Toltz, which I'm struggling with, and on audio, for my sins, I'm getting into a John Boyne, even if it isn't quite politically correct."
"I've always wanted to read him."
"He's fantastic. But he's a TERF. I have to separate that his work is amazing from the fact that he doesn't align with my beliefs."
TERF you ask? According to Google, a definition for it is as follows:
"TERF stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. It refers to a specific group of feminists who believe that womanhood is strictly defined by biological sex and therefore exclude transgender women from women's spaces, rights, and the broader feminist movement."
We got into a bit of a discussion about this. We both agreed we'd rather face a trans woman in the loos than a bloke. That we couldn't see what the issue was with sport, with maybe a look at a case-by-case basis at the elite levels - seriously let kids play sport and be done with it.
I said that I loved Boyne's work. That A Ladder to the Sky was fantastic and I'm thoroughly enjoying The Hearts Invisible Furies. I find him hilarious. I also love how well he draws queer characters. Boyne, himself, is gay, which is why the TERF thing is a bit surprising. The way he deals with sexuality is an absolute treat.
And then again, we read George Orwelll, knowing full well he was a rapey, thieving bastard. Evelyn Waugh was allegedly a cunt. There are plenty of horrid writers out there who we read for the love of their books, but not for them.
And don't get me started on JK Rowling...
"Anyway, I love the writing of John Boyne, even if I'm not fond of some of his viewpoints."
"And that's fair. I'll get him out of the library - that way he doesn't get a cent, but I can see what he writes."
She had a very visible Pride badge on her lanyard. It is Pride month, after all.
"Are you queer?" she asked me.
I was a bit floored by that. Having been asked this a few months ago, it tripped me up then too.
"Am I queer? I'm not sure how to answer that. Umm, maybe,"
This is where I defaulted to the last time I was asked this question. Unlike the last time where I was with a trusted friend and I landed on the fact that I'm probably a pansexual but have never explored it - or maybe I'm sapiosexual, as nothing turns me on like a good mind, you're not going to go into your sexual identity in the local book shop.
"You know," I told her," I might be queer. If I am, that's great. If I'm a boring old CIS gendered heterosexual, that's fine too. But one thing I am, 100% of the time, is an ally."
She loved that.
She gave me a free book.
I left happy.
I have a vivid memory of my childhood of being told by my grandfather that watching television makes you lazy.
He might be right.
Yet ever since then, some decades ago, to counteract the laziness, I've always knitted and crocheted in front of the telly.
That way I am always doing something in front of the telly, negating the feeling that I am being lazy.
I'll thank my grandfather for that.
The only problem with this is that sometimes I get consumed with my handicraft projects. I find them relaxing - but nothing else gets done.
So, tonight is a no crochet night. There are things to do.
My neighbour is taking care of Lucifer this weekend, she's been over collect the keys and receive instructions. She has four cats, so she knows what she's doing.
The place needs cleaning. I want to get the ironing out of the way. And I need to start a batch of biscuits for our caterers at the retreat because I've been promising them a batch for a while.
So, no crochet tonight.
The biscuits are in the oven. I'll ice them tomorrow.
I've started the ironing.
The floors will get done tomorrow.
The cat might forgive me for leaving him in the capable hands of my lovely neighbour sometime before Christmas.
And all is fine with the world.
It was book group tonight, and once again, I think I'm going to be the hold out.
I didn't really like the book. I didn't hate the book. But I didn't love the book.
And you often have better conversations when you don't like the book.
The book was a popular fiction book - historical fiction with an element of murder mystery/thriller, which is fine - books mix genres all the time, but this felt like it was doing too much.
My biggest beef was that there were too many characters, none of whom had any character arc - no growth to speak for. Everybody was a caricature. The plot was somewhat convoluted, but in its thriller form, this was to be expected. I did like part of the ending in a Javert jumping off the bridge at the end of Les Miserables.
Yet the setting was great.
Also, the main character, a midwife in Maine in the 1790s was a modern woman. As much as I got her, and her relationship with her husband, it felt a bit to modern, like the writer was trying to shoehorn all of their research into this.
The names Hannah Kent and Geraldine Brooks were raised - both write historical fiction - but literary historical fiction. Their characters are better developed, not so two dimensional.
And this is why I err towards the more literary of fiction.
And as I said, I didn't hate the book. It wasn't a struggle to read, but I felt it was lacking and a bit convoluted in parts - and possibly 50 pages too long.
That's fair, isn't it. And it's what book group is all about. You don't necessarily have to love the book.
Ah well, we'll see what next month brings.
(For those wondering, the book was Ariel Lawhon's The Frozen River. Many adore it. Don't let my thoughts put you off).
I did successful adulting today. Yes, I know I'm an adult, and Ive been one of them for over three decades, but today, I was very proud of myself.
It's to do with car maintenance.
Growing up in the country (and having a bit of a useless dad) I learned to do a lot of things because ultimately it was easier to do these things myself. Also, growing up with old bangers for cars, I was very good at checking the oil, water, tyre pressure and the like. I learned that you could fix most things with WD40, duct tape, bailing twine and a thump of a spanner.
Some three decades on, I live in the city. I no longer drive down dirt roads that are half potholes. I have a much nicer car, although Edna the '66 EJ Holden was pretty special, even if she was rusty and liked to drink oil and petrol.
Normally, I ignore it, then check the tyre pressure next time I'm at a petrol station.
Saturday, I did just this. Checked the tyres (see - adult thing to do). Three were fine. The front passenger side one was sitting at around 25 psi. I pumped it up, because I'm an adult and minor car maintenance is a good thing to do.
When I got home, I called what used to be called Kmart Tyre and Auto and asked a few questions. I said I'm keep my eye on the tyre as it seems drivable, but if it had deflated again, I'd call Monday morning to have a book it in for them to have a look.
Sunday comes, I go about my day, pass by a service station, check the tyre - back down to 25 psi.
And today the guys from what used to be Kmart Tyre and Auto got hold of my car at lunchtime and fixed the small puncture. $50 to get it sorted. Much better than going down the Great Ocean Road on the weekend and finding you have a flat down at Apollo Bay and having to drive back on those lego tyres they give you instead of a full spare.
See - I adulted today.
Movie Number 24 of 2026\
The Movie: Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu
The Cinema: The Sun, Yarraville
Runtime: Two hours, 12 minutes
Stars: 4
The great thing about Star Wars films is that you know what you're going to get. The Resistance are in a pickle; the Empire are trying to get back into power and what looks like an impossible mission is undertaken, normally understaffed, seemingly deadly, but somehow, our heroes and heroines prevail. And the technology remains the same - it looks like you construct a lot of it from the odd-lots bin at Bunnings.
The Mandalorian and Grogu is no different, and that's what makes is fun.
I'll also say that I've not watched the series on Disney about Grogu. I'm not that interested.
But this was fun.
Pedro Pascal is the Mandalorian in charge of looking after Grogu, a baby Yoda arrangement as they try and claim a bounty on another member of the Empire who's in hiding. They are told that if they get in leagues with the Hutts (remember Jabba the Hutt, his family). Jeremy Allen White is the voice of Rodda the Hutt - the Hutt who's actually alright.
Then there is Grogu, who's an absolute hoot. Clever is he.
I also love the little guys who came to his rescue.
Written and directed by Jon Favreau, probably best known as Happy Hogan in the Marvel films, has done a good job with this. It has great action, great heart and a lot of laughs. Most of the time you're laughing at Grogu's antics - he's a hoot.
In all, I enjoyed this, tagging along Blarney and Barney.
You get what you pay for - I was happily entertained.
I've two projects on the go. I will be able to go back to my shrink this week (six monthly review) and tell her that I have finished some projects, but I will have to confess that I've started two more.
There is a method in my ADHD driven quirkiness.
I have two projects with different deadlines.
One is a blanket for Blarney. I'm making this for her for Christmas. I'm using Bendigo Woolen Mills Wool - proper natural fibres. Expensive wool. It can be an heirloom if it's looked after, bit it will be serviceable, useful as well. She still has the one I made with cheap acrylic yarn some 20 years ago.
I'm using 12 ply yarn with a 4.5 mm crochet hook.
And if I'm going to be certain to finish it, crocheting while I'm in front of the telly, I need to start it now.
However, my other project - and I'm not sure who will be receiving this one, is made from cheapy Kmart cake yarn.
Then I sew them into to blanket.
