Happy Gotcha Day, Lucifer

 It was six years ago that I saw your Tinder profile.

It was love at first sight, for me anyway. 

It's a Monday Problem

 Everything will be reset on Monday, because Monday is a good day to start. 

On Monday, I have six weeks left at mu current job. As the system is live in three weeks, then there's three weeks of hypercare, after that, I'm out of a job. 

So, Monday, I start the job hunt in earnest. I've got my list of needs. I've got the course I'm taking about keeping yourself relevant. I know how to get a job - just have to go and get one. \

This is on top of my already crazy job. But it must be done. 

On Monday, I got back on 'The Regime."

After a fortnight of being sick - ear infections, antibiotics, sinus infections, coughing and general misery, I need to do a complete body reset. So, it's out with the gluten, dairy, sugar and caffeine. I don't drink enough to count cutting that out. The Regime works for me, but as I'm away this weekend, there is no point starting until Monday. 

Oh, and part of the regime is getting a half an hour walk in before work. I'm not moving enough. This job has me strapped to my desk from 8.30 until around 6 - I need to move. It will loosen more of the phlegm. 

It all changes on Monday. 

Can't wait (other than giving up caffeine again - I've grown dependent on Coke Zero and I don't want to give it up. )

I also wish the neighbour wouldn't smoke weed outside my window. I'm two floors up. Bah. 

Today's song: 

Passing

The message came just after lunch. My friend's mother had passed after a long illness. She was sitting beside her. Her passing was peaceful. It wasn't unexpected, in many ways, it can be seen as a relief. 

I'm not going to go into details, as the story of my friend and her mother is not mine to tell. 

We've been messaging over the last few days. Nothing big, just the odd, "How are you doing?' and "Yeah, okay. This is hard, but an honour," type notes. Little niblets every few days. Nothing intrusive, just gentle offers of support, providing her with the offer that there is a person on the other end of whichever platform there with an ear, if she so wished. She is away from her family, as she lives interstate from where her parents reside. 

We haven't seen each other in years - but keep in touch over the web. Our parents also live in the same town, and I've been chancing a meet up for a few years, but it wasn't meant to be. 

Today, a little after the news, I gently asked if she'd like me to pass the news to a few mutual friends. One less job to do for her - and more gentle support, albeit online. "Yes, please." Came the reply. The mutual friends were messaged.

I've had a few friends lose a parent in the last few months. Geetangeli's beloved father died a few weeks ago. At 91 and after a stroke, he went quietly, peacefully after a long and well-loved life. I've always admired the relationship Geetangeli had with her father. He was a lovely man. 

And as many of my friends are in their 50s, this is the time that our parents start to ail and fail. Some quickly and with grace, others fight all the way. Some don't know what's happening at all. It's something we all have to face. 

On my end, I'm not one to ignore friends whose parents are ailing. I'm not in their face, but I do try to drop the odd message. Or some friends get a cat or dog video to give a smile. (I did this for my sister when my niece was dying - it's like "Here's 10 seconds of joy - nothing will make this better, but this is a small reprieve.")

It's letting them know they're being thought about, while not going over the top. 

It's a kind thing to do. 

There's also a reason I do this.

My father died 29 years ago. I was in London, I couldn't go back for the funeral due to the circumstances I was in at the time. 

My mother called once to let me know what had happened (again, not an unexpected death). A couple of friends called by once. I took a week off from work and painted out the lounge room because I couldn't be at work, but I needed something to do - and for me, keeping busy was the best thing. I'm not religious. I'm not cold. I was also single. My flatmate, bless him, was an absolute muppet. 

The kindest thing a friend did for me was to come over with a couple of joints. She said, "Smoke them, don't smoke them. I'll come back in a week." She did. She got about half her stash back. I have never forgotten that kindness, the odd puff of weed took away some of the pain, if only for a little while. 

It was the loneliest time in my life. 

I don't want anybody to ever feel like that. Even if it is the odd virtual message. They are told they are not alone. 

The grief will come. The ifs and whats and whens. The considerations. The reminiscences. The plans. The re-considerations. Once the shock passes, there's the processing. The feelings that will come lapping at your feet one minute, and with the force of a tsunami the next. 

But she knows that she's not alone. 

And that's all that can be said for now. 

Today's song: 

$2.29

It is 18 March 2025. 

Regular unleaded petrol costs around $2.29 a litre where I live. If you shop around, you might find it a little cheaper. In the last few weeks I bought it in at $1.59 a litre, but that's what a war in the Middle East gets you. Deisel ins around $2.79 a litre. Hmm.

An interest rate rise came into effect yesterday. 

I'm not sure how people are supposed to pay for all that. 

Donald Trump is still alive. Take that how you wish.

I have about six more weeks in my current contract and have started looking for work.

I've been battling an ear infection for about two weeks. The stuff from the naturopath works far better than antibiotics. Still, I feel horrid. My temperature is 99.2 degrees fahrenheit - or 37.2 in the new scale - a touch warm but not badly so. The nurofen will kick in soon. 

I did not go to the gym tonight. 

I've done no housework.

I'm going to bed now. 

Today's song: 

Heavens Bless the Naturopath

After a fortnight of snot, ear pain, tinnitus and generally feeling crap, I went back to the naturopath. 

Naturopath, you ask? Yes.

Here is my rationale. 

I went to the doctor ten days ago about this ear infection. After a round of antibiotics and I'm still not right. I'm popping nurofen daily to help reduce the face ache, the earache and the sinus pain. My eyes are weeping. There's a pain in my throat and jaw - and I'm over it. What's a doctor going to do? 

My naturopath has other ideas. Rather than blitzing me with antibiotics, he's gone another route. Herbs. Which have done the trick in the past. 

First up, there's the green horse pills. Something called Armaforce, which will hopefully start getting my immune system where it needs to be. 

There's a herbal mix, which needs to be taken twice a day. This one doesn't taste like arse as much as other ones I've had. It's called snot-blaster. Here's hoping it works quickly. 

To drink, to help soothe the throat, I'm on ginger and cinnamon tea - made by putting a cinnamon stick and some sliced ginger root in boiling water, This one I like. 

Not so much fun is bathing my eyes, which are weeping and bloodshot thanks the stuck sinuses, in weak chamomile tea. I hate the stuff, but after two weeks of all of this, I'll give anything a go.

I also like that my naturopath calls me comrade. I've been seeing him for years... he's allowed. 

Anyway, another early night for me. Need to go and take my horse pill and snot blaster before I go down. 

I really want this to work. I'm over it all. 

Today's song:

The Big Whinge

 I shut my work computer off at 9 p.m. This doesn't happen very often and I don't resent this - I now have a clear runway for tomorrow, 

Regardless, I need to have a whinge. I try not to do this very often, and I'll keep it short. I'll put it in bullet points so I don't overcomplicate things. 

<whinge>

• I'm sick of snot. 
• I'm sick of being deaf in my left ear - it is showing signs of improving, but still. 
• I woke up with a sore throat and my left eye soldered shut with muck. Bloody snot. 
• I'm waiting for the naturopath to come back to me. 
• I just want to feel healthy enough to really get exercising (though I did do a good workout tonight when I took a break).
• I have to start looking for another job. I've got plenty of time, but I don't feel enthused. A lot of this is due to the snot. 
• I need to cook, but I don't feel like cooking. 
• I wish my cat was cuddlier. He is thawing, but it's only taken 6 years. 
• I'm a bit miffed one of my book group told me about the twist in our current book group book, even though I said I was only halfway through. Ten pages later, the twist came. Oh well, no drama - this is a small miff. 
• I'm travelling again next weekend. Another case of I want to, but I don't want to. Two weeks in a row is a lot.
• I wish the cat would eat the treats which are scattered around the lounge room.
• MAFS is really shite this year. It's always shite, but it's extra shite. Like where do they find these people. 
• I would love a roast lamb dinner cooked for me - with lots of mint sauce. 
• I don't want to give up coke zero. I know I shouldn't drink caffeine, but I'm addicted again. 

/<whinge>

Thanks for listening. All is well. I'm just over feeling under the weather. 

Today's song: 

Movie Review: How to Make a Killing

 Movie Number 11 of 2026

The Movie: How to Make a Killing

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: One hour 47 Minutes

Stars: 4

Fun fact. Hoyts is currently doing $12 tickets for sessions that are on before midday on a Sunday. Result!

Especially as there are films I don't want to pay full whack for, especially if they're a bit of an unknown quantity. How to Make a Killing looked a touch dodgy, but paying to lower amount made it feel fine. 

And yeah, it was fine. More than fine. As a bit of time out at an eleven 'o' clock session on a Sunday, it was great. I'd go on to say this would be a great date night movie. it's fun. It's also got Glen Powell in it - he's everywhere - and there's a reason for this - he's fun. Oh, it\s dark humour tickled my funny bone. 

This is dark, but in a good, funny way, with limited sex and violence, it's really just a big shaggy dog story. 

We meet Beckett Redfellow (Glen Powell) at the start of the film as he awaits his fate on death row. A priest has come to visit him to offer solace. Beckett tells him his story. See Beckett is the illegitimate son of a Redfellow daughter who was kicked out of the family for getting pregnant. Raised by his single mother, he's always told that he has a large inheritance coming his way if he lucks out. Otherwise, he should live a good life and do his best. 

What's explained is that his grandfather Whitelaw  Redfellow (Ed Harris) has set up an irrevocable trust, and on his death, the 28-billion-dollar fortune will go to his oldest living relative. Beckett is a way down the list, and even with his mother being excommunicated from the family, the trust has not been altered. 

A young Beckett also meets Julia (Margaret Qualley) a precocious young girl who can't work out why Beckett doesn't have any money. They talk and bond, then Beckett's mother dies and he has to fend for himself. 

Fast forward around 15 years, Beckett is working in a suit shop, still living in New Jersey, and the mysterious Julia, recently married and Chanel clad gets in contact - and drops a hint that his life would pick up if he started knocking off his family members to get the inheritance. 

This is where the fun starts. 

As much as I don't condone murdering your relatives, Beckett did this with style. They were odious cretins anyway. Raf Law (Jude Law's son - he's the spitting image), Zach Woods, Bianca Amato and Topher Grace are all dispatched with a lot of grace and humour. He was merciful towards his uncle, who gave him a job in Finance and did look after him. See, he's not all bad.  

Oh, and he took up with hid dead cousin's girlfriend, Ruth (Jessica Henwick), which seemed to be working out until the mysterious Julia gets rather demanding. 

I'm not going to tell you how Beckett ended up on death row. Nor am I going to say what else happens. But this is a good laugh. It's not going to win any best film awards, but it's very entertaining. Glen Powell is the most benign of leading men - good to look at, a bit goofy and he doesn't take himself too seriously. 

John Patton Ford's script and direction are fine as well. As I said before, it's one big shaggy dog story told in a fun way. 

I'm glad I saw this. I wouldn't begrudge paying for a full price ticket. It's fun. If your sense of humour is a bit bent and dark, even better. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing: Thanks Redux

 I have come home from Sydney to a recalcitrant cat. Oh well. The business in Sydney went well, and I got back to the airport early enough to get an earlier flight home. The ungrateful critter is now using me for a scratching post. It seems that ensuring he's been fed is not enough for him.Oh no. I went away for a night and I am to be punished. 

Blooming cats - who would have them?

Regardless, today's questions have been brought by Sunday Stealing. I'll be quick. It's been a long day. 

1. It's the middle of the night. There isn't another car in sight. You're stuck at a red light that just won't change. How long do wait until you run it?

Umm, it depends on a few things: 

• It there a known red light camera at the intersection?
• Can I back up and try run over the sensors again - I've done this in the past. 
• It the last point fails and there is nothing around, I'd say about two minutes. There are some intersections in East Melbourne which do my head in - backing up and running up the intersections seem to get them working again. 

2. What's your favorite recipe?

My grandmother's yoyo biscuits, and I do a really cool roast pumpkin, mange tout (snow peas) lime and chilli stir fry. 

3. When did you last ask yourself, "What the hell was I thinking?"

I ask myself this all the time. Normally when I find myself in one of these situations: 

• Stuck in a mosh pit (don't do it after you turn 30 - daft move)
• Going into anywhere really noisy. 
• Getting on a too crowded tram instead of waiting for the next one. 
• Taking Punt Road at any time of day or night. (If you're in Adelaide, think of the Dequetteville Terrace roundabout, in England, the Swindon Roundabout or the North Circular)
• Trying to clip my cat's toenails - that is just asking for trouble. 

4. Have you ever had a mole removed? If yes, where on your body was it?

I've not had a mole removed per se, but I get cysts cut out regularly thanks to a genetic trait passed down through my mother's line where I grow sebaceous cysts in my scalp, They feel like little horns. I've got a couple that need to go. I also had a small skin cancer taken off my temple a few years back. Other than a fine scar, it's been dealt with. 

5. What website do you faithfully check (other than email)?

Most mornings I go to the New York Times website just to answer the questions, "Is he dead yet?' and 'What's he done now?'

Other daily searches include:

• www.reg.bom.gov.au (the old Bureau of Meteorology website)
• www.theage.com.au (Local newspaper)
• www.theguardian.com (Good for international news)
• Various banking websites. 
• Facebook
• Instagram
• Substack - to set the daily haiku topic.

Today's Song:

Placeholder

 I have so many feelings about Sydney. I shouldn’t, but I do.

Sydney to me, is a bit of a lawless place. The people are hard. The streets are difficult to navigate. It has a rundown field of it once you get out of the CBD, which only recently had some money injected into it to make it look a little bit better. Like many other big cities you can turn a corner in the atmosphere changes. 

I could never live here. It’s far too humid.

Regardless, I am in Sydney. My plane was late. Not too late but late enough. My friend was waiting for me at the gate, she had just arrived from Adelaide. We’re going to the same meeting tomorrow.

She’s staying down the hall. I reckon she’s doing the same thing as me ironing a white shirt for tomorrow. Yes, we are going to look like hospitality workers. It’s okay it’s all part of the plan.

She was a bit worried about getting her masonic apron through the scanners at the airport. It wasn’t a problem. Mine didn’t set off the alarms either. It might be a bit drifting if you’re trying to get through a ceremonial sword. I wonder what the airlines think about getting those through. You definitely have to put them into the hold, if they let you take it at all.

We’ll get up in the morning, get some breakfast meet the third of our contingent and make our way to the Sydney Temple, which is set in an industrial estate in deepest , darkest Yagoona (It’s alright, I don’t know where it is either).We will do what we have to do then head back to the airport and get a plane home.

The hotel room is fine. The iron is very good even if the ironing board is tiny. I have ironed my crisp white shirt, noting that I have  not worn a button down shirt for a very long time. You can thank Covid for that. My only gripe is that I cannot connect to the streaming services. Nevermind. The hotel room is spotlessly clean and the sheets are fresh, white cotton.

But, it’s 1130, and really it’s going to be a big day tomorrow so I have to have a shower and go to bed.

I can sleep away by differing feelings about Sydney. 

It’s only for one night.

Today’s song:

Habit

 I'm packing once again. Just an overnight trip, but I've got to make sure I've got everything I need for Saturday. 

The list isn't too bad. 

• Travel computer and accouterments
• Mason's apron
• Mason's dress code wear (think waiter)
• White gloves
• Undies
• Light change of clothes so I don't have to look like a hospo going back to the airport
• Sponge bag
• Charging cables
• Meds
• Book
• Glasses / sunglasses

There will be a few other things that will get tossed in the bag before I go. 

But my big habit. Packing and repacking the toiletries bag. With the travelling I do, why is it that small pocketknife always gets in there? How is it I always take two lots of eyeliner and mascara, but never a hairbrush? Why does it always take three goes to get it right?

It's strange.

I'm nearly packed. 

Today's song: 

Not today

 I think I need to go to bed - I'm not feeling anything tonight. 

I forgot to take my afternoon meds and I felt it. I think I should be setting myself up a reminder on the phone - I really felt not having it in me - and I craved sugar. And felt a bit all over the place. 

I'm sick of my left ear ringing - I'm a bit deaf in my left ear - but it's showing some improvement. 

Nah, sod it, to bed I go. 

Today's song: 

On Zadie Smith

The Event: Zadie Smith: Dead and Alive, in conversation with Benjamin Law

Location: Melbourne Town Hall

Produced by The Wheeler Centre

Zadie Smith's first novel, White Teeth was first published 25 years ago. Argh. 

Part if me can measure my life by Zadie Smith and her writing. 

I remember reading it on a beach in Greece around the time wondering what the fuss was all about. Smith, born to one Jamaican parent and one white parent, the first person from her North London family to go to a university, and that university being Cambridge, she's inciteful, funny, deep thinking, up-to-date and culturally aware. She's great. I remember reading White Teeth and recognising a lot of the areas - having lived around NW3 and NW6 while I was there. She was relatable. 

My other memory of Zadie Smith involves Andrew O'Hagan, a Scottish writer cut from a similar cloth. I was doing some driving for the Writer's Festival and we were stuck in traffic. He was texting somebody while we were chatting. The next thing he tells me is, "I'm having a chat with Zadie Smith. Told her I'm stuck in traffic with a woman called Panda who is also a writer who's driving me about." 

That's my six degrees of separation story with her. 

Tonight, she was in conversation with Benjamin Law at the Melbourne Town Hall. The stalls were sold out, the gods were half full. For an hour and a half,  I got to be blown away by two people having a deep, fun, exploring conversation about writing, life, the joys of change, process and the extraordinary luck she's had (which you can clearly see has been set of with an extreme amount of hard work). 

Both Smith, and by extension, Benjamin Law are very generous in their conversation. I get the feeling Law was a little star struck, just as Smith is down to earth. 

Part of this talk was looked at her writing process, the ever-encroaching role of AI, what it was like growing up as a literary darling... the chat was as fascinating as it was fun. 

A large span of the chat was spent talking about her new book of essays, Dead and Alive. Part of Smith's greatness is her ability to write fantastic non-fiction alongside of her fiction. And I agree with her, the great thing about writing essays is that you can finish them easily. 

And then it was back onto the tram and home to the cat. 

I do have one question, though. In the audience of around 2000 people, about 85% of the crowd were woman. I wouldn't call Zadie Smith a woman's writer. She's a literary writer. She doesn't write romance or chick lit. Nor does she write commercial crime novels. I was just a little floored at the lack of men in the crowd. Don't they read any more? Where are the men and why aren't they showing up to listen to ideas and engage in discourse about the world. Is this why there's a male loneliness crisis? Just an observation. 

I've downloaded her book of essays onto my kindle. Looking forward to that. 

Today's song:

The Can and Bottle Bank

 I'm on a recycling kick. 

If I'm honest, it's something I believe in and participate in as much as possible. I've got a large bag of aluminium coffee pods waiting to go back to Nescafe. My rubbish is sorted and put in the correct bins. 

And today, for shits and giggles, I took two bags of cans to the recycling station just to see what it was like. The interwebs had been telling me of these new-fangled machines where you could recycle your cans and bottles. All they need is a recognisable bar code. Simples. 

In the scheme of things, returning around 40 cans to a machine which will give me a voucher for returning them seems like a fool's errand, but I was curious. I drink a bit of fluids which come out of cans. My nightly Sodaly. A bit of coke Zero... why shouldn't I return my cans and get 10 cents back on each. 

I also wanted to try the experience. 

A public holiday is a good day to do this, making my way to the recycling station in Camberwell. 

Things I found out. 

Lots of people do this. When I left, there were five people waiting patiently to use the machines - most, like me, had two or three shoppers with them. There was no average demographic - a young couple, a woman my age, a dad and his two kids were in the line.  

Well, there was a queue. I was first in the queue behind a family group who seemed to have five barbeques worth of bottles and cans in front of me. Also, there were two machines - one wasn't working. One was. 

It was a nice day, and a ten-minute wait with my audio book and some good pokemonning make the time go quickly. 

Finally, it was my time. I scanned the app. I put my cans and bottles in once at a time sending them down the scanning conveyor. Took all of about 5 minutes, a couple of cans came back - most went through on a second round - and at the end of it, I got a voucher that can be redeemed at Coles for about $4.00. 

Is this a worthwhile activity, collecting cans so that every few weeks I can go run them through the machine for a few buck - possibly not, but I like that I get my money back on the cans and save the funds, after a while, I could put the pin money towards something. 

I just think it's a worthwhile thing to do. The cans can live in my car boot until I send them on their way - and if I'm honest, coming from a state which has always had a 10 cent refund on cans, I never could work out why more places haven't done this to try to get more glass, aluminium and plastic back into the recycling arena. But as much as we've had this scheme, finding places to recycle has always been difficult and time consuming. 

I think I'll keep doing this, even if it's a just for me thing.  

Today's song: 

F*ck the Scammers

I got scammed yesterday. Thankfully, they got away with nothing, the debit card has been cancelled, and my accounts are secured again, I've not come across this scam before - and I'm just happy that I spotted it and rang the bank immediately as soon as I realised. And that nothing was taken. Still, may they have a 1/100 chance of stepping on a Lego brick every time they take a step. 

So, here is the anatomy of a scam. Learn from my mistakes.

1) List some things on Facebook Marketplace. I've done this hundreds of times with no issue. 

My adds are fairly non-descript. Pick up from the Inner East or post at the buyer's cost. I use postage satchels. I also have the big words, PAYPAL preferred. No bank accounts, no other information given other than an email address. I've not had trouble with this before. 

2) Somebody contacts you about the item. Appears legit. The intended buyer asks if this is the item. Yes, I say. And what about shipping. I explain that I'm using postage satchels and will not be able to give tracking numbers and postage until Tuesday. They get irritated by this. First red flag. Most of Australia is on a Public Holiday on Monday - but they kept on. Okay - a bit strange, but I leave it. 

I must also preface this with the fact that I was in the hairdresser's chair at the time and I've not been feeling great for the last few days thanks to an ear infection. So rundown and distracted. Still, there is no excuse. 

3) Next thing I know they say they've paid me through some AusPost app. I explain that I'd prefer them to use PayPal, because at least with PayPal, things are anonymous and secure and no account details are shared. They keep at me that they've paid me and tell me to look at the link. I said this wasn't how I did business, but they kept at me. 

A message came up with an AusPost Banking link. Looked real on first sight. Maybe the post office had a banking app now?

I've done enough scam training. Things weren't sitting right. But stupidly, I clicked on the link and entered some details. 

4) The buyer was keeping at me. I kept telling them to hold their bloody horses. I asked if they could cancel this payment and use PayPal. They were most affronted by this, saying that they'd spend all their money and if they cancelled, they wouldn't get all their money back. They also wanted postage details. I'd explained - public holiday. Post Office isn't open until Tuesday. This chick is pissing me off. 

I call bullshit. What do they say about this? Create a sense of urgency? Yep. Alarm bells are ringing. My darling hairdresser keeps working on my mop. 

5) Then I get a text. Somebody called Jessica Gonzalez has added their details to my ING account. They want me to clink another link and verify that I was going to put $689 into some Crypto account. What the! Shit. Scam. 

Here is where my luck came in. The details they received were for a debit card which has about $50 in funds sitting on it, so they wouldn't get any funds. Secondly, without the verification number, nothing was going to be authorised - I've got secondary verification set up. I got onto the app, cancelled the card and then immediately called the bank. 

And I felt like an absolute fool. 

In the meantime, I let the scammer rant away at me... may as well let them think they're getting something. 

6) The woman on the phone at the bank, Rebecca, was fantastic. I was also wandering around Aldi checking out crap as I was doing this. She was ordered, kind, conciliatory and very thorough. My pin numbers were changed, a new card ordered, extra security put in place, the banking app deleted, my phone checked for malware, and as for Jessica Gonzalez, her details were wiped from my contacts.

The scammer was still ranting at me to accept the payment over Messenger. I used a patient tone saying I'd get to it when I was home from running my errands. They didn't like this. Sucks to be them. 

7) Once my banking was completely sorted, went back to Facebook Market place, blocked the scammer, reporting to the powers that be for what they were, and the dress went back to being available. 

Phew. 

Yes, hands up, I was distracted and foolish - NEVER CLICK THE LINKS. It's the first rule. 

Secondly, I'm vigilant with regards to monitoring my accounts. It's done daily and it takes a few seconds. I've picked up scams on my main credit card quickly. It was also good yesterday when asked about items on the card I could say what they were and when they were - and that all of this palaver had happened in the last hour. There are people who don't see this stuff for weeks and have their accounts drained. 

Thirdly, trust your instincts. If a buyer is acting pushy, going against your boundaries (I said PayPal! You don't have it - get it or find another seller to harass.) cut them off. Which in hindsight, I should have done immediately.

I'm feeling lucky. Stupid, but lucky. 

Lesson learned. 

And to the scammers, may the fleas of a thousand camels nestle in their pubes. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing is Yummy

 I'm counting my blessings. I got scammed today. Thankfully, I caught it quickly, stopped all my accounts, cancelled the compromised card and lost nothing - but I'm still angry - more with myself, but I'm pleased that all is in order now. Still, may the fleas of a thousand camels nestle in the pubes of the scammers. 

So, it's nice to have something better to write about. COOKIES!

Questions, as always, come from Sunday Stealing. 

Allegedly it's National Oreo Cookie Day. Hand on heart, Oreo's aren't a big thing in Australia and I find them very boring. We have far better biscuits here. Seriously, American's don't know what they are missing. 

1. Are you able to pass by a plate of cookies and not take one or are you a bit of a "Cookie Monster?"

I used to be a cookie monster. Now, I try to stay away or just have one. There's too much sugar in them for my liking. 

2. Tell us about your favorite cookie. Have your tastes changed since you were a kid?

I'm going to talk Australian biscuits (cookies) here because we have a completely different culture. 

My favourite biscuits are my grandmother's recipe Yo Yo biscuits, also known as Melting Moments. Butter, icing sugar, custard powder, a bit of flour and vanilla, held together with some almond icing. They are the bomb.

My next favourite are Anzac biscuits, but they have to be very thin, crunchy on the outside and a little bit chewy ion the inside. I had a colleague in Darwin who made they and they were life changing. I still think about them.

Of packet biscuits, I'm a big fan of Arnott's Venetian biscuits.

 Though the lemon crisps are very good too - a little salty, a little sweet. 

And if I can find them, The Cookie Man's Harlequin biscuits remind me of my grandfather. 

3. Enquiring minds want to know if you are a dunker and, if so, do you dunk in milk, coffee, or tea?

Yes, I'm a dunker. Preferably in milky hot tea, though I can do a Tim Tam Slam with coffee. I used to get told off for it when I was a kid. 

Then there is the Time Tam Slam. Tim Tam Slams, you ask. Tim Tams are an iconic Australian chocolate biscuit. What you do is you bite off opposing corners of the Tim Tam and then suck your coffee through one corner. It's a very Australian thing. It's good. You need to demonstrate one to get through your Australian citizen ship test. 

4. It is that time of year and they are selling them on every corner and in front of every store!  Do you buy Girl Scout cookies and if you do, which is your favorite?

Alas, girl scout cookies aren't a thing over here. They used to have these really good plain ones when I was a child, but I've not seen them in decades. 

5. Raw cookie dough.  Yay or Nay?

Ah yes, but only in Ben and Jerry's ice cream. 

Today's song:             

                                              

I hate Public Holidays

 I'll do this in dot points:

• Public holidays irritate me because I don't get paid. 
• Even more so when you've had to take off a day the previous week. 
• See, I have an ear infection - and yesterday, I felt like utter crap. 
• I am on antibiotics. 
• And thankfully, this time, my eardrum didn't burst. 
• Still, I'm running at around 75% batteries. 
• It will be better again tomorrow. 
• I still don't like Public Holidays. 
• I may do a little work over the weekend. 
• I have meditation tomorrow morning. 
• And my hair's being cut and coloured tomorrow. 
• I might take my writing laptop with me and find a library between the two sessions.
• My ears are ringing. Seems ear infections make low-grade tinnitus worse. 
• I'll need to go and see Blarney to pick up the book group book for the month.  
• I've got lunch with a friend on Monday. 
• I want to do the floors sometime over the weekend. I hate doing floors. 
• And finish my current book (Margaret Atwood's Hag-Seed. I love Margaret Atwood. 
• But generally, I don't like public holidays. They make me lose money. 
• And I never do anything constructive with them. 
• I'm going to take my ringing ears to bed now. 

Today's song: 

Unpopular Opinion - Hot Cross Buns

Many people have an opinion about hot cross buns, those Easter treats which appear on Boxing Day and hang about like an unwanted cousin at a wedding. There are also so many flavours to choose from now. Gone are the days where you received your obligatory spice bun with a cross on top on Easter Sunday (with or without mixed peel). 

Checking the Coles app, you can currently get hot cross buns in the following flavours: 

• Traditional fruit 
• Fruit free
• Gluten free
• Apple and Cinnamon
• Chocolate Chip
• Arnott's Mint Slice (eww)
• Raspberry and Matcha
• Vegemite and Cheese
• Doritos (double eww)
• Arnott's Pizza Shapes (this is getting silly now)
• Coles Finest Luxurious Fruit (In wonder if they have mixed peel in them)

Woolies, not to be outdone, also has: 

• Caramilk
• Brioche Fruit
• Mudcake
• and Cinnabon whatever that may be.

See, I think this has all got a bit ridiculous. I reckon they should limit Hot Cross Buns to the traditional ones and maybe the choc chip ones - and if you're really lucky and swing by a Baker's Delight franchise, you might be lucky enough to get their Mocha Crack buns (seriously addictive).

These should be available from Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, 40 days before Easter, giving people something to give up, long for and resolve to miss. You can buy them and put them in the freezer, ready for Easter Sunday, and then you can enjoy them afterwards. 

But this hot cross bun availability from Boxing Day is just silly. 

As are all the stupid alternative flavours. 

And I know that many won't agree with me, but this is capitalism gone mad. Besides, there's probably not enough butter go around - because what's a hot cross bun without lashings of salted butter? (the real stuff, preferably French, never margarine.)

Today's song: 

Stimming

Love is having friends who understand your stimming. 

Stimming? 

According to A.I. stimming is:

Stimming is short for self-stimulating behaviour. It refers to repetitive movements, sounds, or actions that help someone regulate their emotions, energy, or sensory experience.

What does stimming look like?

It can include things like:

• Hand-flapping
• Rocking back and forth
• Repeating words or phrases (echolalia)
• Tapping fingers or feet
• Spinning objects
• Humming
• Playing with hair or clothing

Some stimming is very noticeable, and some is subtle (like clicking a pen or bouncing a leg).

Why do people stim?

Stimming can help with:

• Managing anxiety or stress
• Processing strong emotions (excitement, frustration, overwhelm)
• Focusing or concentrating
• Coping with sensory overload
• Expressing joy

It’s often discussed in relation to Autism spectrum disorder, because many autistic people stim regularly. However, everyone stims to some degree. For example, biting your nails before a presentation or pacing while thinking are common forms of stimming.

My particular stim is keeping a bit of satin ribbon in my fingers. 

I've been stimming since I was a baby. My parents dropped me with my aunt, uncle and cousins out the back blocks of Keith, South Australia as they went off on a skiing holiday. Being the resourceful baby, I raided the satin lining out of my uncle's hat, started rubbing my nose with it, as a self-soothing action because my parents had deserted me with this raucous family of seven, two of whom took me to show and tell one day... (family lore - my cousins still talk about it). Regardless, for the last 50 odd years, I've carted around a bit of satin ribbon. One is often in my handbag or pocket. It's not taken to work, but most other cases, when I'm on my own, I'll have my ribbon with me. 

It's cheaper and less invasive than Prosac. 

Anyway, I took my ribbon with me to the retreat. I'm around a lot of other neurospicy people, I don't need to explain stimming. 

Regardless, I was going home, a passenger in tow, and I realise I don't have my ribbon. Hackles rise. Anxiety passes in a minute as I realise there is nothing I can do. I'm going have to raw dog it without it. 

Never to mind, I tell myself. I couldn't turn around to look for it; I had to get my retreat mate to the airport. Besides, I have a spare at home. 

The next day I noticed a post from my mate, Jazz, who'd stayed at Seacroft for an extra night. There was a flash of red in the background.  I messaged her. 

Pand: Mate, is there a red ribbon on the table where I was sitting? Asking for a friend. 

Jazz: Yes, there is. 

Pand: Oh, bummer, there it is. It's my stimming ribbon. 

Jazz: Are you okay?

Pand: Sure. I have a spare, but it's not my favourite. 

Jazz: Can I post it on to you. 

Pand: I owe you dinner or something. Thank you.  

Phew. 

See, Jazz has three neurospicy kids. She gets quirks and stims and the small elements that can be the difference between peace and quiet or an utter meltdown. It's a bit different when you're an adult and can regulate a bit better, but still. 

It turned up in the mail today. 

I had another conversation about stimming with another retreat mate, also the mother of neurospicy kids, who admitted that one of their children carted around a ribbon too. 

Frankly, I feel a little vindicated. There are people who understand!

And I love them for it. 

Today's song: 

Theatre Review: Black Light

 The Production: Black Light by Jada Alberts

The Theatre: The Merlyn at The Malthouse

Runtime: 90 minutes

Until: 7 March

Stars: 4

I wasn't supposed to be going to the theatre tonight, but a friend had a spare ticket and I thought why not. 

I'm glad I went. The production was plagued with some difficulties. One of the main characters was on book, and the understudy was playing another character - but they did exceptionally well, and I can't imagine how they did so well. Also in a crucial part of the play an audience member had a serious medical episode meaning the play had to stop while the ambulance was called and the audience member was taken out of the auditorium. 

Regardless, the four actors did a great job. 

According to the Malthouse website, "Black Light is a play about finding our way back to ourselves, to Country and to the people we love, when everything else tries to tear us apart. 

Things are uneasy in town. No one’s sure what’s going on, or how long it’s going to last. Fuel is scarce, so is water, military jets fly overhead and all other flights are grounded. The only choice they have is to wait it out. Together. 

The eldest in the family is Nan – she has dementia and finds it difficult to make sense of the world. The youngest is Bub. Recently separated from their wife, Bub is struggling to find stability and parent alone. Aunty and Mum are sisters and yet polar opposites. They nitpick at each other, barely able to conceal their disdain. There's so much history between them all, so much water under the bridge, and none of it clean. 

What emerges while they wait, are the deeply ingrained fears they're all carrying. The pain and the wisdom. In the stillness, it all seems ever-present. But Country is speaking louder now and it cannot be ignored."

This took a bit to get into. The mix of near-dystopia, mixed in with the dreaming stories, mixed with the Larrakia vibe was unsettling, but very interesting. 

The First Nations actors were all great. Sisters Liza and Rachael Maza as Mum and Aunty. Ella Ferris did a great job standing in as Bub, and Paula Nazarsky's Nan was on point despite being on book. 

For me the thing that hit home the most was the set, which portrayed a normal Northern Territory verandah in the wet season, with a beach and rocks that are so like the Darwin foreshore. I didn't realise how much I'd missed it. It was exceptionally well done. 

As I said, I'm glad I got to see this. I'm glad it took me out of my comfort zone and made me think. That's never a bad thing. 

Today's song: 

The Trading Table

A lot of what goes on at the writer's retreat stays on the writer's retreat. 

However, I'd like to share something about the trading table.

Most retreats we have a trading table - a place where you can off-load some of your old clothes, books, shoes and other accouterments, the proceeds are always sent on to a worthy charity. This time, we raised over $500 for a Palestinian children's charity. It feels nice to do some good. 

I've picked up some awesome pieces over the years. My pink sparkly wellies, denim jacket and a number of t-shirts have come off the rack. Most retreats I'll take down a few books of reasonable quality and will come back with one or two. I found something I've been wanting to read on the table, donated $5 - done. 

We've had cushion covers, hair bobbles (you know, the ones that used to leave craters in your skull as a kid) bathers, scarves. All sorts of decent stuff that people want to move on. 

This time, there was one item that nobody was wanting to take. Everybody picked it up and had a look, but nobody was buying. 

"Who put that there?"

"No idea."

"What the..?"

"Yes, it is what you think it is."

Somebody put a vibrator on the trading table. 

It was in its box. Allegedly unused. One that works on the outside rather than the inside (think of "The Rose or The Lemon").

Did we ever find out who left this as a charity donation?  No. 

Did anybody buy it? No. 

Did people pick it up, smirk and audibly ponder how it got there. Absolutely. 

"I wonder if it's any good?" Somebody asked. 

"It is. I've got it's brother at home." This came with a wry smile.

"You know, this is tempting," said another, "I left mine at home."

"I'm not sure if it's charged up," I provided. 

"It doesn't take batteries."

"It does not. Comes with a charging cable. Most do now."

"You know about this?"

"I might do."

"I wonder what they want for it?" was another question. 

"Well, it retails for around $100."

"You know this?"

"I might do."

The item remained on the table, continuing to provide an element of mirth. 

I do wonder what you'd pay for a second hand vibrator. 

It didn't sell. I'm not sure what's going to happen to it. Often the remnants are dropped off at a local op shop. 

I wonder what Dorothy or Gladys or Gwen might think as they pull it out of the charity bin....

Today's song:

February Reading

I've been reading a lot this month - on purpose as it's a reprieve from a busy life. I've consumed eight books of variable quality across a number of genres. Here's a short review on each book to demonstrate what a contrary reader I can be. 

1. The One and Only Dolly Jamieson by Lisa Ireland

Format: Paperback  

Stars: 3-ish

This was our February book group book, and if I'm honest, I wasn't enthralled with it. Dolly is a bit down on her luck. Once a famous actress she finds herself between abodes. She's in the library, her place of refuge, when she meets Jane, also in the library, seeking solace. Both women have a story to tell. 

If I'm honest, as a book group book it was a bit light on, and some things needed an elastic imagination to get around some of the scenarios, but the themes were good, particularly around older women and homelessness. 

It was okay. 

2. Late Bloomer by Clem Bastow

Format: Audio  

Stars: 5

On the other hand, this book spoke to me. Clem Bastow, Melbourne academic and writer has produced this wonderful memoir about what it is to be diagnosed later in life with autism. I listened to her read this on audiobook and it was brilliant. As I've got a late-gotten AUDHD diagnosis I found myself listening and nodding, relating, and hard relating to a lot of the content. 

I reckon this is required reading for anybody finding themself on the spectrum later in life, coming to terms with the diagnosis and all that it brings. You are not alone. 

Bastow is incredibly relatable. 

3. A Lifetime of Impossible Days by Tabitha Bird

Format: Audio  

Stars: 4

I picked this up in an audible sale and loved it a lot. 

In this wise, funny and sometime baffling book you meet three versions of Willa. 8-year-old Super Gumboots Willa. 30-year-old Middle Willa, mother of two who's dealing with the fallout of a dysfunctional family. And we meet Old Willa, 91 years old and desperate to not go into the "plastic sheets home." The three Willas can meet through the ocean at the end of the garden. 

The magic realism takes a little bit to get used to, but once you work out what's going on, you get to where the author is taking you.

Ostensibly, this is a story about healing from the effects of domestic violence, and because of this, I'll add this gentle trigger warning.

However, I loved the authors use of language and idiom. It's quirky and effective. As Super Gumboots Willa would say, "AMAZE-A-LOO!". 

4. The Temperature by Katerina Gibson

Format: Paperback  

Stars: 2.5

I was recently asked why I persist with books. 

I started this last year while in Darwin and I abandoned it at around 100 pages. I picked it up again and tried to like it but didn't. I persisted. It took forever to finish. Yeah.  

It's all over the place. There wasn't a likeable character in the novel, although there is some very good writing in places. I could see what the author was doing, but for me, it was too convoluted. 

Already, it's been relegated to the street library. It doesn't come recommended. 

5. An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn

Format: Kindle

Stars: 4

As the antithesis of The Temperature, I broke out the book of the latest Bridgerton series. 

Julia Quinn is fun. A friend of mine says that she's soft-core porn in a lot of ways. 

Benedict Bridgerton has always been my favourite of the tribe, and in this he's a lot harder and less self-reflective than the Benedict we see on television (and Luke Thompson who plays Benedict in the series is like... phwoar!)

Regardless, this is a reworking of Cinderella and on the second reading, it held up. It's light, fun, easy to read and so much more engaging than the last book I read. 

It also goes to prove that I don't always go high-brow. 

6. Heart the Lover by Lily King

Format: Audio

Stars: 5

From the slightly ridiculous to the sublime, Lily King's Heart the Lover is incredible. It's not a long book, and I listened to this over two days. I was driving around, finding places to go so I could listen to it.  It's a stunner. 

This coming-of-age novel is in three parts. You meet our unnamed protagonist, and her friends Sam and Yash. All three are at university in New England. All three are writers. Our protagonist embarks on a relationship with the staid Sam, although she feels a connection to Yash. And then things go to crap things change. Sam goes back to Florida, Yash remains. Our protagonist gets some opportunities to move abroad and find another life. Yash follows her. And then more things happen. I'm not going to spoil anything. 

I absolutely loved this book. I can't wait to read it again. Accessible, glorious prose. Loved it. 

7: Calls May Be Recorded for Training and Monitoring Purposes by Katherina Volckmer

Format: Paperback

Stars: 3

The best thing about this book is that I bought it at Shakespeare and Sons in Paris on the banks of the Seine. It was light, small and looked amusing. And it was light, small and reasonably amusing, and rather surprising and a bit blue in places. 

Did I like it? Yeah... nah.... If found that feels like it was written for a bit of shock value.

For anybody who's worked in a dead-end job, you'll get some of the pointlessness of Jimmie's job. 

But this did not light me up as I would have wished it to. 

8. The 5-Second Rule by Mel Robbins

Format: Audio

Stars: 3

I try and read a non-fiction book a month and I've been seeing Mel Robbins books everywhere. This one relates her guiding rule that helps her get things done. The 5 second rule. 

As much as I like the theory of this, the book was repetitive and preachy - which, from what I gather, is what Mel Robbins does best. 

I'm glad I've read this, but I won't be reading it again. 

Today's song: