The Daily Blog: The Petrol Head’s God

I went on the Pathways For Carers afternoon walk along Mullum Mullum Creek. Site of the day: a young guy riding up and down a grassy hill on a dirt bike (looked very much like a Big W Hyper Bike, now that I’ve done a quick google). Up and down, up and down, making a racket. The bike was a bright neon green. He stopped at the top of the hill, and parked the bike against some dark green bushes. At first it looked like he was checking his texts on his phone, and I thought: ‘Yep, gotta check those texts. Don’t you be out of communication for a moment, matey.’

I turned to the woman I was walking with and said: “He’ll be taking pics of it next.”

Sure enough, he squatted down, and started taking phone pics of his precious dirt bike, sort of crow walking around to get all the angles.

Years ago, I watched 60 Minutes episode on the marketing of footballer Warwick Capper. He was dressed in tight footy shorts and was bare chested, and the photographer was urging him: “Give us that smouldering look.”

I thought that the young guy was about to say that to his bike.

I have no doubt that Facebook, Instagram and wherever else the cool young people post their pics will have 20 shots of his green dirt bike on it tonight.

Oh to be young, and that in love with a new purchase.

The Daily Blog

I’m typing with a small yellow star sticker on my right hand. It has a smiley face. I do a beginner’s tap dance class on Tuesday late mornings. This is my 5th week, and the first week where I felt even mildly close to doing something on the beat, and with the rest of the class without fucking up after two steps. I managed 5 steps without fucking up. And because I screamed with frustration thrice but kept going, my teacher gave me a sticker. The small dance studio is usually home to kiddie ballet classes, where stickers are given out as rewards for breathing. A small girl showed me her butterfly sticker after she finished kiddie ballet, and before I went in to Tap. According to Mum, Small Girl wants to do tap, but there aren’t kiddie classes nearby. I don’t know why Small Girl can’t join in with us, unless it’s her nap time. She’d probably do better than me.

I have kept the sticker on all day as a reminder: I can do hard things. I can try something new. I can do hard things.

Are They Fishing On Street Corners Now?

Yesterday, UnicornLass and I had a Big Afternoon Out, aka a Lady Date, as UnicornLass likes to call them, and I have enthusiastically adopted. I took her on my magical mystery tour of my favourite shops and haunts in the Glenhuntly/Caulfield South/Elsternwick area. This is the date I take myself on when I’m out of sorts, and am wishing husband PizzaBoy and offspring TwentiesPerson would just nick off. I nick myself off instead.

We kicked off at The Jolimont Cafe in Vermont South, just in the next street. I’d already had my restrictive auto-immune protocol diet lunch at home, so I watched Unicorn Lass eat. No worries there. I’m more than used to watching other people have stuff I can’t.

Then, into Lulu, my little pink Nissan Micra, with Wendy Rule’s cd BLACK SNAKE playing, and off we went into the wilds of the inner south-eastern suburbs. I parked near a school, and we visited Qi Crystals and Gifts. I’ve been a long-time customer of theirs and have far too much crystal and gemstone jewellery bought from there. Now that I’m wearing more gold, I’m thinking of getting some of my favourite pieces sprayed gold. But it’s only only crystals and jewellery. There are books! So many lovely witchy, and esoteric books. Quite a few new age wanker books too. Plus, open decks of oracle and tarot decks to play with. What more could this little seeker want? We sat outside in the Qi garden, leafing through books, pulling cards from an oracle deck, and talking.

Oh, the talking. Didn’t stop all afternoon. A continuous ribbon of words flowing back and forth between us, across three dozen subjects.

We walked down Glenhuntly Rd, on our way to some thrift stores, and another bookshop, and well, this area is known for a large Jewish population. About halfway down the road, a youngish Jewish man with a large yarmulke on his head, and another man were fiddling about on the footpath. Yarmulke man looked at us(UL was wearing all black, with large silver pentacle earrings, and a big black tshirt with a unicorn and moon on it. I wore black yoga pants and a black and white striped minidress) and suddenly asked: “Are either of you Jewish?” “No,” we replied, and walked on.

I know it’s not polite to out and out ask: “Why? What’s going on? Can you tell me the whole story?” but that’s what I wanted to do. Instead, UnicornLass and I speculated on why he needed Jewish women.

“Are they spruiking on street corners now, like the Jehovah’s?” I asked.

“Door to door?”

“Maybe there’s not enough women in his synagogue?”

We giggled our way down Glenhuntly Rd. We trawled through the Posh Op Shoppes, which had the same old crap that Savers and Vinnie’s have, but at three times the price. The counter lady in Sacred Heart Op Shop tried to force a tiny pair of beige Swarovski crystal earrings upon me.
“Grab them before I put them back in the cabinet!” she said. But I didn’t want beige anything. I’m going through a passion for pink, orange, and yellow at the moment.

We visited a second witchie type shop, and then stopped at Mandoline for a late afternoon tea. A browse through The Avenue bookshop, and it was back up along Glenhuntly Rd toward my car. I spotted a pastie (edible kind, not the stick on the boobs kind) still in its microwave wrapper, sitting untouched on a letter box.

“It’s not often you see one in the wild like that, still in its baby coat,” I said.

Back in the car, and back home, and then UnicornLass took off for her own house, laden down with books from my bookshelves.

A top afternoon, and I do enjoy the quirks of life that the universe throws my way.