personal political

garbage

A few weeks ago our council (belatedly, compared to many others) introduced wheelie bins for garbage collection, at the same time as they cut the garbage collections from two to one a week, in an effort to cut down on energy expenditure. A few months before that, however, they'd sent round a questionnaire about garbage, which I filled in, and we were given the choice of keeping our old 'small' garbage bins or opting for wheelie bins. Even though these are a miniature wheelie bin compared to some, I opted to keep our old garbage bin: firstly because it's perfectly okay, so why throw it away; secondly because it's shorter than the wheelie bins and living in a terrace house with a small front porch, space is at a premium and has important aesthetic consequences, so the smaller/shorter the better, the less obtrusive. Thirdly, and most importantly in my eyes, the smaller old-fashioned garbage bin is perfectly adequate for the amount of garbage our household produces.

beliefs

I drove Olle and Tilly to and from a birthday party on the weekend and enjoyed eavesdropping on (and occasionally participating in) their conversation.

launch

This week was the 30th anniversary of the original Mardi Gras and on that night I went to the launch (by Sydney Mayor Clover Moore) of a small book of oral history of the first years of the Mardi Gras.

These sorts of events are strange ones for me and probably for most of the others who were there. Here we are, a bunch of middle aged grey-haired people harking back to a street-fighting time which has become fixed in legend - but the reality of that time isn't an easy thing to convey. I was pleased that most of the speakers directly addressed not only the 'diversity' of the Mardi Gras participants, but the overt conflicts and tensions that ran through what was a highly politicised movement.

busy

My life doesn't often get busy in ways that take me outside my usual routine (though the usual routine is pretty busy), but this week has been flat out in the kind of way that means I've barely a few minutes to glance at email each day. (That's the litmus test for busyness in my life, as I'm sure all you other computer-users will relate to.) (I live with someone who barely ever goes on a computer, so I'm aware that having some of my mind in virtual reality is a particular type of reality.)

dreamer

Dogs are very cute when they dream - those little high pitched barks (it always fascinated me that Lotlot barked in her dreams when she hardly ever barked in waking life) and growls, the shivers and trembles.

Today Mr V did something I've never seen before - he wagged his tail vigorously while sound asleep. He was lying spreadeagled across our bed while I was reading. Suddenly his tail lifted up and moved to one side. Then it went back to the middle. Then it went wag, wag, wag, wag, wag, wag while he otherwise lay perfectly still and silent, eyes firmly shut. What a happy dream! Maybe he was remembering something like this.

exercising while the world burns

I did three yoga classes this week and yesterday I finally made it to the outdoor heated pool which goes with my new borrowed free gym membership and swam a kilometre in 30 minutes and got out and felt absolutely fine - not even tired. So I'm feeling pleased with myself.

I realise I haven't kept to my post-every-day-in-June intention and I realise there's a lot of serious stuff I should be blogging about, but I have an exam on Monday so won't be posting much before then.

just because...

... I love Jo's blog (I met Jo last year at an election party), here's a link to it. She takes photos, mainly of Waverley Cemetery, which overlooks the ocean a few kilometres from where I live - we've often been for walks in the cemetery or along the ocean path, so it's very familiar to me. It's endlessly interesting - there's a big memorial to the IRA hunger strikers, numerous interesting gravestones (including Dorothea McKellar, who wrote 'I love a sunburnt country') and even one of my relatives, from the early 20th century.

pi

Apart from my book group books, I've been reading my way through a list of books for a course I'll be taking later this year. Then today, I had an email from the university in question, which mentioned that that course is no longer offered. Aaaargh!

yoga

I went to a new yoga class yesterday. Today I'm very sore, but in a good way.

revelations

Riding my bike to work this morning, I was passed by another older woman ('older' means over 35 in this context) who was wearing cycling gear. I looked at her receding back - more specifically, my eye was drawn to her receding bottom, as her cycling shorts were so worn in the middle that her pink skin could be seen through it, including what looked like the crack of her buttocks. Possibly this was the seam of the shorts, but the overall effect was definitely visible bottom with 'crack' up the middle.