The Shuttle Bus

Today I went to a specialist follow up visit at the local hospital and decided to catch their convenient shuttle bus service from the nearby stadium. This free service saves on a $10 parking fee, $50 in wasted fuel while you search for a non existent park and takes the stress out of the endless car queues and traffic snarls.

Although the service is useful it does have its drawbacks.

You don't get to choose who gets on the bus.

There was only a couple of other people waiting to board when I arrived - nice, normal looking people. I managed to get the seat behind the driver which is close to the door for a quick getaway at the other end. It looked like today was going to be a pleasant little trip.

Then the circus folk started to roll up.

The first one up the steps was an ancient man with wild, white hair, a beard and black leather gloves. He plonked himself down in the seat behind me while his wife slid into the seat on the other side of the aisle and shut her eyes. A rather big lady asked if the seat next to me was free and I reluctantly nodded - there goes the quick exit. As she parked herself in next to me I saw the little black gloved hands of the old man in the seat behind. He was holding on to the back of the seats and had jammed his face in between the gap. He was staring at me. I figured it was because I was turning blue - the lady in the seat next to me had squashed me up against the window and I was finding it hard to breathe.

The next ones on were by far the largest couple on the planet. The axles groaned and we listed to one side like the Titanic taking its last breath. I think as a safety measure the driver should have put them over the back axle to spread the load. Then I heard a strange noise and it takes me a moment to realize the old lady in the seat across the aisle is snoring. I thank a higher power that it's only a ten minute trip.

The driver is a no nonsense, 'I'll make my timetable no matter what' kind of guy. As soon as the clock ticks over to departure time, he folds his paper, slams his window shut and pulls the lever to close the door. Ready or not we're on our way. As he swung out onto the road the extra weight in the back had the front end of the bus rearing up like some demented pony performing an intricate dressage move. I'm lucky I'm sandwiched in, otherwise I'd be splayed on the snoring lady's lap.

 The bus driver seemed oblivious to our lopsided load and hurled down the main street and flew around the corner. The woman next to me leaned into every twist and turn as if she was riding a roller coaster.  She's bug wide-eyed, her hand is shaking and I swear she is passing wind in fright.The only one not bothered by the driving is the bus driver. Or the old man. He's still staring at me.

We finally arrive at the hospital and the woman next to me is too slow getting out of the seat and the circus parade beats her to the door. That is, all except the old man and his wife. She would have waited for them too, but it was the words of the wife that made me urge the woman to get moving before we got caught in the vortex.

"Oh my goodness .......you've wet yourself again."

And I have to catch the bus back......

The Bucket List Take 2 - Sam Neill

Okay. After much thought, I have revised my albeit non existent bucket list. To start with, here is number one:

1.  Arrange a sitting and paint a portrait of New Zealand actor Sam Neill.

I was recently asked if there is anyone I would really like to paint and Sam is the man. You will remember him from films like Jurassic Park, Dead Calm, The Horse Whisperer, The Piano and more recently, as the face behind the 'eat more red meat' advertisements gracing our television sets here in Oz. You can't miss these memorable ads- Sam is the tall one, not the orangutan. You can check his and the orangutan's dancing skills here http://youtu.be/gOeApUseYnE

He has a face full of character and a subtle wit. Now soaking up the vines at his Two Paddocks winery in New Zealand, he recently, in conjunction with a few friends, opened a wine bar in the heart of Sydney. Probably an unobtainable No 1 on my bucket list, but I'll never know if I don't ask. I have sent out the appropriate pinot soaked request messages and now all I have to do is wait.

And wait...

The Bucket List

One thing I have never really had is a bucket list. I've had all the usual wish lists over the years like everyone does and probably the most common items are on it, like winning the lottery, being successful, being happy etc. etc. But I haven't had the list of things I want to do before I die, never written down those special things that are at the core of my heart, dreams and aspirations. After all the health dramas of the last 12 months, I thought it appropriate to start one.

So here is - my bucket list.

1. Ummmmm.......

How hard can it be?

I need to give this more thought....

The Ultimate Devil Cat

Well, here it is. The Grand Poo Bar of Devil Cats. The be all and end all. A bit like salmon really - they change color as they reach the pinnacle of power. I'll never look at my ginger cat the same again....

The Trash Pit

Our other dog is a tiny Chihuaha called Holly. While she lacks size she makes up for it in attitude and heart. She is a good natured, non yappy, affectionate, child proof, spoilt rotten member of our family.

She is also a connoisseur of fine foods. No burritos for her. Her day usually starts with a cup of tea and her toast and Vegemite. She also has a penchant for pasta and baked beans. If it's on our plates, she thinks it's good dog tucker.  

Her basket is known as the Trash Pit. She puts everything she finds around the house in there - shoes, dog treats, rubber bands, pens, coins and any other shiny or desirable object. If there is food or treats around she turns into a squirrel, hiding bits in shoes, under cushions, anywhere she thinks the old dog or the cats won't find it. Usually these morsels end up in the tried and tested Trash Pit as well. She will stand guard for hours and woe be to any animal who goes near.

The other night the grandchildren were around, and after some excited play she sat down with them to enjoy the pats and endless attention. Then, after dinner, Holly disappeared. We called, checked she hadn't been locked outside by accident but she was nowhere to be found. Then one of the kids spotted her behaving strangely in the Trash Pit. I thought she may have hurt herself while she was playing. She was reluctant to leave her bed and it took a moment to realize what the problem was.

See for yourself.

 

There it was - the prize of the night - stolen from some unsuspecting child's plate. Her very own hot dog.

I'm glad this didn't end up in my shoe.....

Turning Up The Heat

The bane of my life is the air conditioning control in our office. There never seems to be that happy medium within a group of people when it comes to temperature - there is always someone complaining it is too hot or too cold.

I am in control of the temperature - not through any sort of democratic vote but essentially because the box is conveniently placed on the wall behind my desk. It's an odd sense of power - having control over the comfort levels of my colleagues. I can tip it up or down, depending on my mood or my own comfort levels. Personally I like it more on the cool side - there is nothing more invigorating than working hard to keep the blood flow going to the fingertips. However, the rest of the office seem to be in conflict with my comfort levels and have banned me from making any minor adjustments to the scale.

So leave it alone I have. And now they're squawking again.

The last couple of days have seen a cool change hit and the temperature outside has dropped. This in turn has impacted on the inside temperature and what was comfortable before is now a little on the cold side. There has been a chorus of coughing, a reinfection of man flu and a call for everything from jackets and mittens to blankets.

I feel like I'm trapped in a bizarre air conditioning version of Goldilocks and the three bears. After today, I really have sympathy for the bears.

I finally gave in and turned it up. They're still not happy. Now they're too hot so I turned it down. Now there's a discussion on how to booby trap the control - putting a big spider in there to jump out at me when I touch it etc. etc. Now they're moaning about the temperature before it even gets there - "it's gonna be too cold soon", "I think I'm starting to sweat"....."At least the sauna at work is free"..."It's freezing!

Such babies.

The gauge is sitting at 22 and it should be at 21, which is what they originally all agreed was the perfect temperature. A hot flush is creeping up my neck and my fingers are sliding off my perspiration-soaked keyboard. I can feel a dry cough coming on. I sacrificed my comfort to please others and what thanks did I get?

None. Nada. Zilch.

So now I have worked out the perfect solution - all it takes is a little adjustment, a small tweak to our errant control. Everyone can whinge and whine until their heart's content. The temperature is going to be perfect. A small, well placed dab of superglue should do the trick.

By the way, is it hot in here?

In Control

It's been a while since I put up a proper post - life is steadily getting back to normal after my heart attack. I regularly attend cardiac rehab classes at the hospital where they put you through a rigorous exercise regime that leaves an army boot camp for dead. I guess if they overdo it and push you too hard, you're in the right place.

I'm back into my painting full swing as well, which is wonderful. For a while I lost interest in going out to the studio and really didn't have the energy or the motivation to do much in the way of art. But all that has changed. I am nearly finished a major work and catching up on works that have been on the backburner for a while.

Also, in cahoots with a good friend of mine, we opened a working artist/gallery studio. Opening night was packed, paintings sold and a great time was had by all. Especially my partner. His celebration of a successful opening with nearly 3 bottles of red during the evening ended badly when he was left driving the porcelain bus at 3.00am.

On the home front there have been a couple of incidents worthy of mention. They are as follows:

1.   My partner finally got his drivers license on attempt number 2. 
We won't mention the dramas of attempt number one and the speed limits of school zones and how you need to look when changing lanes. He has now been let loose on society to wreak havoc on unsuspecting motorists.

2.   We no longer sniff when meeting other walkers.
Sniffing has been replaced by a loud chorus of "Bananas in Pyjamas". Most walkers turn the other way and run.

3.   My old dog's last hurrah
My old dog Katie, a small maltese cross, is turning 17 next year. She has decided to come on heat, just to show us she still has a little spark of something left in her.

4.   Rodney has laid another egg.
I don't know what to say about this. Rodney just laughs.