The Brisbane Adventure, and more
SO: Friday, we went to Brisbane. The plan was to visit the Queensland Museum at Southbank, then have a wander through the galleries and meet up with some friends from an online forum.
The one exhibition I really wanted to see was well worth seeing – but alas, due to the fragile nature of the objects, no photography was allowed – and I didn’t want to spend $10 on a booklet (I would have bought 2 or three postcards, had any been available, but ten dollars is just too much. AH, the life of the pov!)
Maybe I’ve just been at home too much, but I found the hoards of screaming children utterly exhausting. After 20 minutes (which felt like an hour!) I had to retreat to the cafe for a cold drink. I’m glad we avoided school holidays, I can only imagine what hell that must be.
I thought that the museum was very … empty. Mr Beloved was also quite disappointed. It was as though the entire centre was set up purely for small kids. Fair enough as far as that goes, but not the Museum experience we were after. I strongly suspect that the days of quiet contemplation of exhibits in cases are gone for good, more’s the pity. Interaction schminteraction. (And you kids, get off my lawn!)
We then wandered outside for lunch (mmm, love that zucchini slice – it’s even good cold!) then down to the Queensland Art Gallery. I’m very pleased I got to see the “Hats: an Anthology by Stephen Jones” exhibition, even though that was quite busy too. Mr Beloved noted that Stephen Jones’s own designs were very skillfully and beautifully made – often the best thing in the case.
By the time we left the Queensland Art Gallery and headed over to the Gallery Of Modern Art I was getting reeeeaaaaallly tired. We didn’t bother with the Ron Mueck exhibition because even the concession tickets were $10 each – and to be quite frank, his work totally creeps me out anyway.
I think we really tried to do too much in one day – about half an hour after this photo was taken (it’s at the end of GOMA, looking out onto the river) I just Could.Not.Go.On and so even though we were about an hour early for meeting the friends, we decided to go to the cafe and just sit.
Mr Beloved was wearing a recognisable hat – and was recognised (it was the first face to face meeting with online friends).
We made quite good time out of the city, and got home around 6 pm. On Sunday night the police came knocking on the door at about 20 to 9 – the business over the road had been broken into some time on the weekend, a big safe had been removed (probably with the aid of a circular saw) and had we heard anything?
Well, the neighbourhood dogs pretty much bark non-stop, every night, so the barking I heard on Friday night might have been relevant – or not. Talk about crying wolf…
Maybe now the business will invest in some proper security (although I doubt it.) As I remarked to the nice policemen, we get all sorts of cars and stray people down the end of the street because there’s no street light.
I called Mum and Dad at their new Adelaide house last night, too. Week one, so they’re still trying to unpack, but they seem to be going ok.
I’m still trying to get rid of STUFF – there WILL be books leaving via Bookcrossing this week!
So, where were we up to?
Ah. I see I haven’t posted anything significant for quite a while.
Well. There’s a reason.
I now have a brand spankin’ new OFFICIAL diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. (Something which had been suspected for a very loooooooooong time, as in, since I was a teenager…) Which means: new medications. And going off old ones. And so far, we (Mr Beloved and the support team: the Nice Psychiatrist and the Wonderful GP, and the Friends Who Are Team Caity) have managed to avoid going inpatient for the changeover: it’s still an option, but one I really don’t want to take up.
But sheesh, it’s not easy. There are definitely times I would like my old head back. Times when feeling EVERYTHING TOO MUCH is – well, too much. And the ANGER, the RAGE at things is Not Fun. And my immune system is not co-operating: in all this turmoil, I’m catching every little bug that goes ’round (And I’d like to especially thank that $&*%^ cow who COUGHED EVERYWHERE, with no attempt to keep her germs to herself, in the doctor’s waiting room last Wednesday. Your lack of consideration was *really* not appreciated.) I feel like my head is TOO FULL, and not just of snot from the sinus infection. (Ok, TMI, perhaps. But true.)
Also, panic attacks? I know how to deal with them (count breathing s l o w l y , breathe into paper bags, whatever it takes to get more CO2 and less O2 happening) but I don’t LIKE them. (Not that I can think of anyone who WOULD like them.)
Six weeks, apparently, is the length of time it takes to know if a particular drug is working. Two down. Four to go. Unless the dosage is upped when I see the Nice Psychiatrist on Wednesday.
And did I mention the other inevitable side effect of increased appetite? No shit, WHY couldn’t just ONE of the drugs I have to take be an appetite SUPPRESSANT, huh? Nope, EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. makes me crave carbs. It’s almost enough to make one believe in a conspiracy between Big Pharma and Big Agribusiness. Bread? Sure, I’ll have another slice. Or three. With butter, and maybe some jam. And are there any bikkies left? How about some pasta?
Thank goodness that I am no longer enslaved to Diet Coke: if every glass of (fizzy!) mineral water I have was the Evil Black Drink, I’d be (a) broke; (b) addicted and (c) sweating aspartame. (Is that possible? I swear, I can get back on that stuff so fast that my endocrine system gets whiplash.)
Not much art journalling getting done; not much of anything, really. I’m sleeping more deeply but when I’m awake I’m too scattered to achieve much. Not sure I like this version of me at all. The drugged up depressed version was easier to manage.
ANYWAY, I am looking forward to baking on Wednesday – I’ll be making one of my all time favourite recipes, the banana variation of Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Cordon Rose Cream Cheesecake. (I can’t believe I forgot to put her new book on my wish list for my Birthday! ARGGH!) On Thursday, I’ll take it to Social Cre8te, as my birthday cake. These days I try to only bake if the results can be sent out the door so I don’t scoff the lot. (But the leftovers of the banana cheesecake are definitely coming home so Mr Beloved and I can share it – his birthday is the day after mine.)
In other news: Mum and Dad got the house in Adelaide they wanted; and now their Wagga house is on the market. ( I confess to being just a teensy bit jealous that they’re going to live near my brother, and not me, but Adelaide is really a much better fit for where they’re at.)
And that’s all the news that’s fit to print… oh, except that one of the Neighbours from Hell has an “UNDER CONTRACT” sign on the realtor’s board outside his house (yay!) and another Neighbour from Hell has had a ginormous loud breakup in their relationship and seems to be moving out. (And since they’re the ones who tend to be REALLY LOUD just outside our bedroom window at 3 am, he can’t leave soon enough for us. )
Time to take the next handful of medications…
Happiness!!
One of the Neighbours from Hell – the one with the Houdini Rottweiler (who beats up his other dog frequently); the one with the suspected drug connections (one day a week with lots of short trips out in the car then returning to base… just a BIT suss!) the noisy car driven like a madman, and who in the past has been quite troublesome – has MOVED THE DEAD CAR FROM HIS BACKYARD! It had been there over two years. He’s also moved another dead car from his carport. And I just saw him – for the first time EVER – spraying the weeds near our fence.
HaPpY DaNcInG – I reckon he’s moving out, don’t you?!
Yeah yeah, I know, better the devil you know – but at least a DIFFERENT devil will be a change. And I won’t miss him being self-important on his mobile phone in the backyard at all hours of the day or night; nor will I miss him screaming across several house blocks at somebody else’s dog to “SHUDDUP, YA MONGREL!” while he nurses his breakfast beer.
Now, if we could just get the other annoying lot with the psycho (and notified dangerous) dog to move…
Just another night in the suburbs…and some pages
So where have I been? Around. Just not doing much. This time of year is always a downer – the CROWDS, the relentless Christmas music… as I was driving back from my chiropractic appointment yesterday I had the local commercial radio station playing in the car. They played Weezer’s version of “O Come All Ye Faithful” – immediately followed by Bloodhound Gang’s “you and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals so let’s do it like they do on the Discovery channel.”
Uh – right. Am I the only one to notice that’s a bit of a WTF moment?
Last night (well, early this morning, since this all started at about 1:30 am with a cascade of barking dogs as the youths in question ambled down the street) we heard breaking glass, lots of thumps… Mr Beloved reported the suspicious behaviour of the three kids, turns out so did a neighbour, also alerted by the dogs… and this is something of a miracle in itself, since usually the neighbourhood dogs bark unheeded for hours…
Young thieves, stolen Christmas presents including a block of very big new knives, and break and enter of commercial premises. Yikes. 4 police cars at one stage. Policeman with very powerful flashlights.
And next to no sleep.
Here’s Mr Beloved’s (much better and more coherent) version:
The dogs tell me first. The right sequence of barks, from Scruffy at the top of the street, down through Hamlet the Dane, Gillis the Dobermann, Psycho Bitch, Ugly Dog, Fat Staffy, Old Black Lab, and now my poodle… I can almost plot the intruders coming down the street.
Forewarned is forearmed. I was almost asleep when Scruffy started barking, a few hundred metres away. That was not just a bark: it was a serious let-me-at-’em, and Scruffy’s not normally a gung-ho kind of dog.
We’d gotten to bed late anyway. My partner’s reading light was turned aside to let me doze off. I wave my hand sideways with a cut-off motion, and now it’s dark.
I move as quietly as I can, given the old, creaky, wood floor I’m trying to cross . Damn it, I’m getting a bit old and creaky myself. Still, the instinct and reflexes haven’t let me down: I’m in time to see three kids go by, crouched forward and moving like Guilt itself was after them.
Two are about fifteen by appearance, not tall. One carries a box that looks like a carton of canned beer. Another has a light-coloured, almost cube-like carton: I make the assumption that is is a six-pack of premixed bourbon and cola.
The third kid is smaller, perhaps twelve, or a girl who doesn’t curve a lot. There’s a bundle in his/her hands. Moonlight makes spotting detail at even twenty feet a difficult job, but it looks like one of those eco-friendly shopping bags.
They’re headed for the park at the end of the street.
So, a spot of underage drinking is nothing to worry about? I dismiss the idea of letting it go: if they’re going to spew, make loud noises and leave broken glass, I’d rather it was somewhere else.
A quick phone call to Plod, and I wander down to the backyard. Across the fences, I can see a small white light in the bushes by the creek.
I relax. Even if the kids have night vision as good as mine, the LCD of that mobile means I’m as good as invisible, and I have them pinpointed.
Back to the house, and a follow-up call to the police operator. When that crew arrives, they now have an exact spot to shine those blinding lights. That will be demoralising for the kids in the bushes, provided a crew gets there on time.
Time is always crucial.
I’m ready when the first car arrives, about five minutes later. Plod doesn’t have the home advantage, so I shine a large torch into the area where the kids were.
Past tense is the thing. Even as the second patrol car arrives, thuds and breaking glass can be heard from a business across the road.
One of the police and I talk briefly, I give him some details of how many, approximate appearance, what they were carrying. Attention shifts to the source of the noises.
There are four cars, each with a couple of officers. From the look of the torch beams, they are inside the business premises, which means that the private security guys are on-site.
They’re taking this very seriously: individual cops are patrolling on foot in a number of areas on two blocks. I stay out of the way for over an hour and let them get on with their work.
My partner has stayed well out of the way. The dog knows her job: she’s looking after her Mum, staying quiet and looking for any hand signals to bark, search or whatever.
Eventually I leave the house and speak with the constables who are re-examining the area where I saw the kids hiding. I direct them to the exact point, and one cop exclaims, “Look! There’s a bit of gear here.”
There is. It’s most of a chef’s knife kit, new, in an aluminium-finish case. So there’s my assumption about a pack of bourbon tinnies shot down. Or stabbed.
Oh joy, there are some knives missing.
By now, it’s about 3:30 AM. I’m so heavily into hypervigilant mode, I can hear individual birds moving about restlessly as the humans invade their dark scrubland.
I give my name and details to one of the police and go back inside. As the police leave, I wait. So often the departure of Plod is the beginning of “Give it ten minutes and we’ll leave.”
This time the kids have all departed. It starts raining. I wait as dawn breaks, and have a walk around the block. There is a window broken at one end of the warehouse, but from my outside-the-fence viewpoint, I can’t tell if it was pushed in or out. That thumping and glass-breaking may have been the eastern side, and invisible from the road.
It may have been indoors. Forensic police spent a considerable time at the business premises later in the morning.
With the benefit of full sunlight and two hours’ sleep, I went back to the scrub at the end of the park. There were a few items further down the slope, missed in last night’s search.
The kids must have done a quick raid on somebody’s outgoing Xmas presents. There are tags “from Grandma”, a few cheap stocking-stuffer toys (discarded by the little thieves, who are obviously too sophisticated for anything less exciting than a long knife), hand-crocheted doilies, an address book with the crabbed writing of an older person.
I bundle the dew-soaked finds up, for handover to police.
I love the special feelings this time of year brings out in people.
***************************************************
So today: migraine. Yuk. And a heightened feeling of unease and danger. Doors and gates double checked. Triple checked. Rattled as I go past just to check again. I try to sleep away the migraine but mostly I’m restless and over-tired. Another day of feeling like I haven’t been able to achieve anything.
I did make a few (physical) scrapbook pages last week.
[clicky for biggy; paper is hand painted by me (inspired by some I can't get!); mask on photo from Paislee Press; background on photo is paper from Thao Cosgrove's digital kit "Beautiful Life" from scrapgirls.com]
[clicky for biggy; cardstock is Bazzill; paper by Teresa Collins; chipboard by Maya Road; Glimmermist by Tattered Angels.]
Quite enjoying that. Please excuse quick and dirty photos with parallax error. Oh, and did you know you can buy COLOURED staples? Who knew?! Now I just have to find a stapler (it’s somewhere in the house…)
This time of year makes me want to clean out the house. I got rid of an armful (heavy!) of magazine scraps today, ones that I’d already mutilated in my search for faces and alphabet pieces for my art journal. I’m planning to get into the sewing room SOON and move a lot of things OUT -as in, to the op shops etc – they are eating my physical and spiritual space. There’s little point in trying to flog small pieces of quilting fabric on ebay – the only people who make money from that are Australia Post.
Speaking of the art journal, here’s a quick pic: It’s actually too bulky to work in now, after painting and border-collaging the pages.
Most of the pages don’t have their main image or journalling yet but I am quite overwhelmed by the COLOUR and might have to start a new, more spontaneous journal. I haven’t been able to do anything in this one for at least 10 days and I hate feeling this STUCK.
Also, I think I need to go back to a smaller format, that fits in my bag. This A4 size is fun, but cumbersome.
Think it might be another bed day tomorrow.
INSOMNIA
Grrr. Haven’t slept yet. Not happy. Been awake since – hmmm, got woken up at 5:45 yesterday morning (after 3 hours of sleep) by some IDIOT across the road thinking that because HE was at work, everyone in the suburb should be up and at ‘em too. Slept through to about 9:30, then slept again to about 2 pm… and awake all damn night.
And of course tonight is the ONE night when I actually want to go out (to the local scrapbooking shop for play night)! Oh well.
Hoping the chiro treatment today lets me crash for a few hours. I actually have to go for at least a 10 minute walk after each appointment, so that all the manipulation doesn’t just settle straight back in to the bad places.
Outside there is the lightest of misting rains, so gentle… a grey morning. Broken by the ^&*($$**^ neighbour’s psycho dog (yes, it’s officially a Bad Dog, according to the local Council).
See, I was TRYING to be positive…
*sigh*
I haven’t been taking photos lately. Will try to remedy that. The camera is one of the gazillion things I lug around in my handbag, but I’m not inspired. Bloody depression.
Time for my thyroid pill.
Update on Constance J. Woodle
You know we don’t have human kids, right, and that Connie is our baby girl? We’re both finding having her in hospital quite traumatic! So I suspect it was more for our benefit than hers that the vet suggested we pop in to visit her this arvo (What? it was only the 2nd time I’d phoned to check on her today, I thought I’d been remarkably restrained.)
She’s hooked up to an IV pump, and has a sign saying ” I BITE!!” in big red letters on her door. She nipped the junior vet nurse today (Dr Bob was less than sympathetic, the girl obviously needs to learn to read!) but didn’t draw blood. I reckon the poor pup is only about as grumpy as I was last time in hospital …
Anyway, she was very glad to see us, and even happier when she got to be cuddled on Daddy’s shoulder – her favourite place in the whole world. Put her little head down and snuggled. Lots of kisses for us both.
She hasn’t vomited or had diarrhoea all day today – very good signs. She’s been given long acting antibiotics and regular pain medication. Still refusing to eat her special food (but hey, she does that at home sometimes too – she’ll eat when no one’s watching and she’s hungry enough.) Oh, and she’s spent most of the day glaring RESENTFULLY at everyone in the room.
So she’s doing a lot better but still not out of the woods yet. At least another coupla days in hospital.
Guess who’s going to be selling off whatever spare sewing machines she can? Anyone want a Sinnger model 221 featherweight (one still on American voltage, one for Australian) an Elna SU, or a Pfaff Expression 2034? Make me an offer… I wonder if I should put an ad in the sewing guild newsletter?
It’s been very hot here today – around 36 degrees. No computer use during that sort of heat – the computers can’t cope and it’s just not pleasant to be working on them. So I had a big sleep (catching up from night of worry) and cut out lots of bits and pieces for collage. Found I was being too literal in what I was cutting out until I remembered the trick of turning the magazines upside down so your eye sees colour and pattern, rather than assigning objects to what you see. Neat, huh?
OK I think it’s cooled down enough to go eat tea…
Noooooooooooooo!
Scene: a backyard adjoining ours.
Time: This morning, around 10:30 (although, this is not the first time…)
Dramatis Personae: Two Evil Dogs Who Bark A Lot (one of whom is completely psychotic and charges the fence); One Evil Neighbour; Two Not Very Amused Witnesses.
Props: Lots and lots of dog poo, small hand held shovel, plastic bags (multiple).
Costume: Evil Neighbour – the PINK livery of a Certain International Donut Store with regal pretensions.
Suddenly, this journal page will NEVER APPLY AGAIN:
