Fool's Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring Gender: Male (last time I looked); Writer; Thinker; Studier of the Human Condition (and chickens' entrails); Wonderer; Laugher; Listener; Character; Recent Optimist; Part-of-the-Solution Aspirant; Sarsaparilla, Cocoa, and ex-White Black Tea Imbiber (no sugar - plenty sweet enough); Twenty Eight Thousand and Twelfth Living Wonder of the World; Amateur Worm Farmer Extraordinaire and Professional Worm Admirer; Humus Assist and Humorist; Play Up; Yes-Hoper...
And I reckon: Reality is actually far better than the best any of us can imagine, the universe is friendly and funny, laughter is a powerful medicine as well as an efficacious antidote for self-importance, and the best is yet to come, despite any and all appearances to the contrary...
Tuesday: I slept badly most of the night, despite being incredibly tired. I know the reason this time: a 'distant' family member, the same one whom I spoke of back in the posting of 24th August, has continued applying pressure to a close family member to hassle me for a particular immature, and, I'm highly convinced, disingenuous goal, and this close member is far too emotionally fragile to be involved.
This occurred very recently, spoiling an otherwise most satisfying time spent with the close family member. The tension and stress resulting from it was very difficult to bear for both of us, and the inner turmoil has continued troubling me for too long.
So, another non-rejuvenating sleep, as if I need another one of those…
It was so nice that a little rain came today, and I had the opportunity to curl up on the Player recliner with Cadbury on my lap, and watch several hours of the news on the ABC, covering the decision of the three federal Independents, Katter, Oakeshott, and Windsor, which delivered the election to the Labor Party. Another little piece of history I've managed to catch as it unfolded; now just how much additional good will our nation manage to draw from this minority government situation? – the first in 70 years or so, so they say.
Very late in the day, after Missus Inkletter returned from yet another marathon out and about with The Dear Leader, during a spell between showers, I began cutting the weeds with the electric mower in the front yard, getting maybe a quarter done by dark. I used the catcher and put about four loads of clippings out onto the worm farms in the backyard, which will thrive on the stuff.
Oh, before I forget to mention, poor Missus Inkletter badly scalded her left hand on Saturday, when she was filling a thermos pot for a picnic we went to with sister Mary and Mum at Wireless Hill, where we saw about six or seven varieties of native orchids. Anyway, back to the scald; almost the entire top of the back of her hand and most of her fingers got a drenching with boiling water, and three days later, despite copious amounts of aloe vera applications, the hand looks like it has been roasted in the oven. It hurt her terribly at the time, and has been very tender and sore since.
And also, before I forget to mention, Mum and I visited my dear Uncle M yesterday, who is in a nursing home in Midland (which I did not know until a few days ago, believing it to be in a suburb to the south of there). I first mentioned him back in a very early entry on my Main Site, on Monday, August 20, 2007. Later this month he turns 90, and his life imploded just over three years ago just before the date of that posting, when he went from a fully active life, still driving, to being in a wheelchair, from a serious car accident which almost killed him. We had a chat for over an hour, and he was close to tears when we had to leave.
He amazed me with his sharp mind, and most particularly his kindly disposition given his unpleasant circumstances; the conditions at the home could be worse, but they could be far better, and the states of mind, ethics, and health of some of the residents swarming around him are, frankly, very distressing. I am left convinced, if I needed it, that I have here an uncle of remarkable character. He was a delight all of my young life, and given what has happened to him in recent years, he could have gone two ways; while we were with him he did not complain about his lot once, and was inspiringly cheerful. I look up to him for his wonderful achievement in awful circumstances.
I enjoyed an evening in front of Aunty with Cadbury on my lap again (she has been uber spoiled today). Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: there definitely are advantages for a journalist being on duty on a momentous news day, and this was Leigh Sales' lucky lot today, given the long awaited decision from the three federal Independents, which has handed ongoing government to Labor. Ms Sales' appearance was simply spectacular tonight (as it was last night by the way, don't you agree?:
Did Leigh Sales make Professor Hugh White see red or gold?
), with a high necked grey jacket over a black camisole, subtle effect makeup, tiny pearl earrings, and a divine convex flaring hair style:
Leigh Sales looked spectacular. (It must be a pain in the bottom to have know-it-alls like me commenting on your appearance all the time!)
Her first interview was with the incomparable, for all the right reasons, Tony Windsor, Independent for New England. Mr Windsor looked excellent, his dark suit and white tie conservative combo set alight superbly with a bold striped tie of black and gold:
It's either this or cry… Tony Windsor after a momentous day in Canberra, still down to earth, still fragrant
Wednesday: Did I speak yesterday of day night day blurring? Yes I did, and ditto for today. I was so involved with producing the latest blog entry that it was around 8 in the morning before I got to slip between the low thread count polycottons. I chatted to and annoyed Janny for a little while, then she got up and soon was off to her Dianella Spinning Group for the first time in quite a few weeks, due to the interposition of her break at Balingup and the assistance for a couple of weeks to The Dear Leader to prepare for his house inspection.
And so I dragged myself up when Janny returned at half one and went like a relative whirlwind (for me!) to get ready to take Bob swimming. I left about ten to three, almost a world record for me in recent years. I hadn't seen Bob for a week, and he was keen to go walking before his swim, and so we strolled the riverside from Woodbridge to Viveash for an hour and a bit. The temperature was cool, the day fine and sunny, and it felt like being in paradise.
Up at the Viveash end, at Reg Bond Reserve precisely, we saw two women walking with the longest of hair. The one had hair to her waist, while her walking partner had brunette hair to below the back of her knees. I was almost spellbound, given my adoration of long hair on women. Our paths didn't spontaneously cross in the two near encounters we had, but I wish they had, for I wanted to speak to them and share my admiration, as carefully and fragrantly as possible, lest they took it wrong. Bob was oblivious, but then he only has one eye…
I can only imagine the work the longer haired woman must have on a daily basis to care for her crowning glory, unless she has assistance.
At the pool at Swan Aquatic I finished my second reading of Anne Enright's The Gathering. This is possibly the only fiction book I've ever read twice, and definitely the only one I've read back to back. And I have a strong feeling that I'll read it a third time sometime. I have been swept away with Anne Enright's achievement with this book; her mastery of writing is magnificent, while her grasp of human relations and the human condition is strong. There is a magic in reading great literature, a transportation from the ordinary to the extraordinary, even when the subject matter happens to be ordinary.
I was pretty tired when I got back after 8 this evening, having got petrol and money on the way home. Janny fed me, bless her gorgeous self, and then I settled in with Cadbury asleep on my lap to watch Aunty all night before Letterman.
Lateline: The (Tony) SilverToes aka Tojo (Jones) Assay: Tony Jones never fails to look resplendent when he fronts the Lateline cameras, and while his grey tie on a white shirt within the ambit of his dark pinstriped suit was rather conservative for him, at least his tie had a sheen, and his shirt collar points were the long and attractive type.
Sartorially as resplendent as always, Tony Jones brought us interesting interviews with Senator Nick Xenophon and MHRs Adam Bandt and Bob Katter
Mr Jones brought us two very interesting interviews tonight, the first by phone with Bob Katter, Independent MHR, the second with newly elected Greens MHR Adam Bandt and Independent Senator Nick Xenophon.
Nick Xenophon lends his support for a less partisan democratic model for Australia in his interview with Tony Jones
Adam Bandt kept some of his powder dry during his interview with Tony Jones
How refreshing to hear a new style of politics coming from politicians who are more interested in substance than spin. This new evenly balanced situation in federal parliament may prove to be the best thing to have happened to our nation politically in a very long time. I am buzzing with the presentation of the refreshing ideas to make our parliamentary government actually grow up substantially and work more effectively for the good of our people. I won't hold my breath that it will happen, or if it does, that it will last for long, but it is a very hopeful sign.
Is there anything more boring than listening to a diehard Labor or Liberal politician spruiking themselves and gutsaching about the other side? What an invigorating change to have the likes of Katter, Windsor, Oakeshott, Xenophon, and even Bandt (I say 'even' only because he is beholden nevertheless to a highly ideological party, the Greens) speaking to us about lifting standards of governance. And the contrast is driven home when on the same night we see on the news the old school style still entrenched by the likes of Gillard and Abbott. I think Julia Gillard has more credibility than Tony Abbott when she indicates that she is prepared to try a new and more mature style, but then only eating the pudding will tell.