The Pursuit of Happiness

I love bad blogs. The more inane and the more obscure, the more I like them. To me, bad blogs are the whole point of the Internet– a platform for the left of centre, a voice for the far right, a soapbox for the underdog and a visual megaphone for the otherwise marginalised.

But I love good blogs too. The ones that have something true to say. The ones that tickle all my fancies simultaneously. The ones that I thank all the computer nerds for inventing RSS for. Tap dancing at the top of that list for me is Maira Kalman's And the Pursuit of Happiness, which she updates on the last Friday of each month and which I look forward to with Ghostbuster's anticipation.

If you have the inclination, there's an interview with Ms Kalman over at The Bygone Bureau and a talk she gave at TED over here.

Well, that's it for today's post. Thanks for making the effort to come and share some time with me in the Land of Meg. I hope you found something to take away with you – you over there at your computer being alive.

Today I Can

Down and Dirty

I have an article in the current issue of Bicycle Victoria's Ride On magazine. It's for a section called Women's Spin, aimed at raising the profile of cycling among women.

This is the photo of our chook Louie that accompanies my words:

The gist of the article is that when I lived in Melbourne, I considered feminine to mean unruffled, neat and delicate. "If I could have sat side-saddle on my bike I would have."

But now that I live in the country where I grow vegies and keep chooks, you will often see me pedalling around in my dirty gardening clothes. "In the city I would check myself in the mirror before going out in public, but now I wear my soil-covered clothes and straw-filled hair like a flag I wave proudly to proclaim who I am."

I hadn't thought twice about it, until yesterday afternoon when Z and I were talking about the men and machines that have been working opposite our house for the last week. It has rained every day that they've been there and I commented to Z that I would much rather be warm and dry and working from home than drenched and cold and slipping around in the mud.

'But don't you like getting dirty?' Z asked me, stunned. And that’s when I realised that although I love the dirt and may even define myself by that love, I can't actually say that I like getting dirty. Not in the same way that a seven year-old boy can, anyway.

Stack

Happy Father's Day!

dn ʎɐʍ sıɥʇ

˙ǝɹǝɥ ɯoɹɟ

Hand Me Downs

This time last year, when PJ's grandmother died, I drove from the funeral to the wake in the car with PJ's parents. Next to me on the back passenger seat were some of his grandmother's possessions, including her sewing kit. It revealed much about the kind of woman she was: efficient, competent, frugal.

Not long after, PJ's sister wrote a beautiful blog post about inheriting this sewing kit. Of course the kit should have gone to her, but I must admit to feeling pangs of jealousy, even though she wasn't my grandmother.

There is something about a grandmother's possessions, for me anyway, that acts as a kind of direct line of communication to my female collective unconscious. It doesn't have to be my grandmother's things, I'm not that fussy.

Which is why I was so touched to receive the red case two days ago, a gift from our friends Ian and Vivienne. Inside it, Ian's mother's knitting needles and old patterns and Vivienne's balls of gorgeously soft alpaca wool.

Such a gift doesn't feel like it's merely been given, it feels as though it has been bequeathed – for me to use, enjoy, learn from, then pass on to the next person in line.

Which Reminds Me

Yesterday's post reminded me of a story my sister Emily once told me about a friend of hers. Several years ago, around Easter, he sent a large spanner and a broken Easter egg to a well-known commercial chocolatier, claiming that he had found the large spanner inside the much smaller egg.

Instead of laughing at the silliness of his practical joke, they sent him a card of apology and a basket full of eggs.

What's In the Red Case?

Bad Decisions Make Good Stories

It used to be that when people forwarded me humourous emails I would usually find them funny enough to forward on to other people. That's a rarity these days. But. The other day my friend The Dooch forwarded me these in an email that I think are worth sharing with all of you.

From ruminations.com:

• What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

• Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

• Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realise you're wrong.

• I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

• Is it just me, or are 80% of the people in the "people you may know" feature on Facebook people that I do know, but I deliberately choose not to be friends with?

• Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQs. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.

• There is a great need for sarcasm font.

• Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realise I had no idea what the fuck was going on when I first saw it.

• How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

• I would rather try to carry 10 grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

• I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

• LOL has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".

• I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

• Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies".

• I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

• I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

• Bad decisions make good stories.

• Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem …

• You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

• Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to have to restart my collection.

• I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

• "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this. Ever.

• I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dammit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

• I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

• I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

• I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

• Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time...

• I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

• I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

• My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?