Whaddaya Reckon?

I've been ten years out of Australia now and realise that the word 'reckon' is the one that confuses most other non-antipodean English speakers.

It just means 'think' or 'consider' in a more casual sense but instead of saying, "I think we should have chicken for dinner tonight," we Aussies say "I reckon a roast chook would be pretty good."

Our daughter Carly, arrived in Switzerland at twelve years old and went to an international school with friends owning a lot of different accents and backgrounds.  Now nearly twenty two years old, Carly is partly Swiss, a bit Aussie and in her third year of living and studying in Scotland.  When we facetime each other, she often points out that my Aussie accent and colloquialisms are much stronger than Dean's, despite the fact we both went to country high schools in the same state..

But today, I want to ask youse all something.  Whaddaya reckon about me starting a wee YouTube account featuring me in my Dog Walking Lady-clothed finery, sharing a few not particularly earth shattering (but certainly) true escapades, opinions or bravely revealed personal embarrassments?

Whaddaya reckon?  I'd really like your feedback.  You see, I love writing.  I write serious stuff for a 'living' but 'living' in reality is that Dean has the job that keeps us housed, fed, clothed, educated (Carly) and healthy and I get a bit of freelance stuff that I'm inordinately grateful for and then hate myself for having to politely submit my invoice, wait over a month to get paid and then overthank them for it.  To say that I contribute financially through writing is akin to letting a hedgehog hold the balloons.  Maybe I should just enjoy the opportunity to do it rather than consume my soul in anxiety about not being a contributor financially. (That's a topic often discussed with my psychiatrist).  I reckon that last sentence has lowered the mood a bit!

On a more positive level, writing and talking seem to be a similar thing in my world.  My family are bored to tears hearing my stories over and over, and the mundane or weird ones that I write about on Medium or here aren't ones that they're going to rush to read.  I'm Kath/Mum after all: they see enough of me when I shower with the door open to let the steam out or when I start ranting about 4WD owners who don't have roof racks or two bars and just use them to pick up their kids.

Very quietly, I've had a YouTube account for a few years and only used it to share some old Milly clips and two of Felix. It is, to put it charitably, very neglected and rarely watched.  Not unlike my attitude towards my personal grooming regime.

To start us off, I'll share this one of Felix with you now.  It was posted a few months back but will only take a little over a minute of your time to watch and hopefully end up with a smile.  This Spanish shelter dog that we adopted at three-and-a-half years old literally jumps for joy when it is his dinner time.

That was filmed in October and he STILL performs the same enthusiastic and energetically joyful dance for his evening meal.  Breakfast is different because Dean takes him out for a walk and I fill up Felix's bowl ready for his return. His reaction is to slide around the corner at sonic speed while skidding on the black and white mats, madly skitter around the kitchen bench to inhale his crunchies before I can say 'Hello there, Mr Speckles, how was your walk...."

You can see that I'm avoiding talking about my own old bonce being on YouTube.  I'm not famous, nor a stand up, an endearing animal or a public performer and never have been.  The world needs youth, intelligence, glamour, useful tips and not a 52 year old who still laughs when she sees French shower caps labelled 'douche bonnets.' 

It's Dean's fault, really.  He's known for saying "I love you" at the precise moment when I'm doubled over emptying the kitchen flip top bin under the sink so that only my grey marle tracksuited arse is in his vision, so he's not one for inane compliments or promising me a rose garden.

It was a genuine surprise when admitted to me that he had been reading my old blog back in the day but is also now reading the ones on Medium and right here.  I even teared up a little. He said that he reckons I could try and say 'em out loud, like a short stand up on YouTube.  

Firstly, I ain't short and secondly, the idea of stand up scares the undigested corn kernels out of me.  Vanity isn't something that would be ascribed to me, I don't think, but there's a tiny little 'give it a go, what have you got to lose' voice that sometimes emerges from behind the cacophony of self-doubt.  What if I simplified things a bit and sat down, in my normal clothes, in my own house, and just chatted for a bit?  Would that work, you reckon?

Obviously I'll need to learn how to edit and cut out the erms and ahhhhhs and incessant playing with my glasses.  But maybe we could all have a laugh at an old gal that will try not to take up too much of your time but make you feel glad to be you and not her?

If you could feel the nervous sweat and the red heat of embarrassment on my face as I'm writing this, waiting for the YouTube video to be uploaded, then try multiplying it by one hundred.  It's my first attempt at sit down.  It was done off the cuff and quite rightly needs to be tightened and better edited.  My hands are shaking.

But it's time to give it a go I reckon. I really truly would like your feedback, bad, good or indifferent.  I'm more than happy to stick to the occasional blog and keep my face of YouTube if the world truly doesn't need it.

Honesty is appreciated, but please be kind about it.  There ain't much I can do with this face!

Shpeaking when Shleeping with a Mouthguard

Sunday Stealing by Bev is a rather clever way to prevent procrastinating when writing. This might not be a novel, but the questions she poses make you think about your answer.

1 Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

Closed, for neatness and also to prevent Dean from smacking into them during his 3am wee walk.  The gap between our bed and the wardrobe is pretty slim.  New apartments aren't too generous with space.

2 Do You Have Freckles?

For someone with skin whiter than the palest foundation available, surprisingly very few.  My mother was very conscious of protecting my skin from the killer rays of the Aussie sun in the 70s and 80s, so I regularly swam with a t-shirt on and limbs and face slathered in what was the highest level of protection that a sunscreen could legally print on their bottles: 15+.

As it happens, this week I visited a dermatologist for the first time and had two basal cell carcinomas removed from my head.  With blood and antiseptic soaked hair from my right ear and dribbling from the hairline of the left side of my forehead, I looked like a drunk old lady who'd lost a punch up with some rubbish bins.  It did, however, give me a very large choice in what seats on the bus I wanted.

What worries me more is that the dermatologist has scheduled me for a FULL BODY examination in May. Look, I'm fifty two.  There are facial folds that remain in concertina mode for the entire day; an extra ten kilograms reducing me to the shape of an acorn and a stomach you could post an iPad in.  Acting out the middle-aged female representation of Leonardo DaVinci's 'Vetruvian Man' isn't going to be fun for anyone involved.

3 Can You Whistle?

I can, but not the really loud, two fingers in the mouth call that farmers can make to bring in their dogs from the fields.  Instead, I can whistle tunes pretty accurately which, if considered a skill, has provided me with no additional advantages in life whatsoever.

4 Last Song You Listened To.

'Blue' by Eiffel 65.  It was on the radio all the time the year that our daughter was born, so I used to dance with her around the kitchen to it.  Yesterday however, it was being blasted across the soccer field as a PE teacher was leading his class in step aerobics with this as the theme song.

5 Name Something That Relaxes You.

Prescription sleeping tablets.  I wish I could say physical exhaustion (which I usually have), or mental tiredness (ditto), but drifting off into dreamland seems to be a special skill that others have mastered and, like reading music or truly understanding French, I most certainly have not.  These pills are only temporary offerings but to be knocked out by midnight and awake at 8am is a feeling that (apart from hangovers) I've never experienced before.  And before you ask, yes I've tried hypnosis, meditation, yoga, bedtime habits and 'hygiene,' and herbs.  There's a buzzing streak of anxiety within me that of course aids and abets my depression.  Whenever a complex task is completed or a useful idea put into practice, the sense of relaxation is never allowed to visit me for very long.  Even if I'm reading a book I feel guilty and lazy about wasting time doing it.

6 What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

The tiny rip of thin cardboard and then the thin crackle of foil as a Lindt block is being opened.  The snore of a dog who knows he's the best boy and has had the best day. Frying onions and bacon. Our delonghi grinding the coffee beans. The tap of keys on the keyboard when you're in the zone. The pop of a champagne cork. Music that, when you hear it, takes you instantly back to the time, age and feelings you experienced when you first heard it. Laughter.

7 What Do You Wear To Bed?

Oh, I'm a stunner, me. Undies, of course, because I'd hate to be caught by a burglar or some weird 'surprise' reality/game show/Michael McIntyre film crew with my front bottom on show.  Baggy old t-shirt.  Mouthguard to prevent teeth grinding but makes it so that I shpeak shushpishishly like a shedated sheptuagenarian on shuper shtrong shleeping pillsh.

8 Do You Sing In The Shower?

More humming than singing and mostly because they're annoying earworms like - and these are all recent examples - Lemon Tree Very Pretty, Bob the Builder, Copacobana, Baggy Trousers and, most oddly of all, An English Country Garden. 

9 What Books Are You Reading?

Bugger Banksy by Roy D Hacksaw

10 Do You Believe In Magic?

That's a bit of a double-edged question.  Yes, magic exists if performed by very clever and skilled people called 'magicians' and we can't see their sleight of hand or work out the trick.  But electricity doesn't arrive into my electrical outlets by 'magic.'  So, my answer is no. All magic can be explained.

11 Can You Curl Your Tongue?

Yes.  And, like being able to whistle in tune, it has brought me neither fame nor fortune.

12 Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

No.  Last summer one flew by and landed on the top of my dog's head while he was busy sniffing the grass.  It was over in seconds and therefore impossible to get my iphone out, unlock it and take the photo.  It's a beautiful scene I replay in my mind often though.

13 Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

Watching it at a relatively young age, 'Elephant Man' made me cry a lot. The fact that it was a true story and the unrelenting cruelty shown to John Merrick shocked me to my core.  I've never been able to watch it since.  As an older person, there have been too many to single down to just one.  Schindler's List. Brokeback Mountain. The opening story of Pixar's 'Up.' Dead Poet's Society; Platoon; Sophie's Choice, The Deer Hunter, Gallipoli.  Our daughter was a baby when we watched 'Welcome to Sarajevo' and in the scene when they try to remove the baby from the bus I had to rush into her room and pick her up and hold her.

14 Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

Peanuts. Sunflower seeds are boring!

15 Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

Oh, how I wish.  Countless early AM hours have been spent either lying in bed with a too-hot pillow, wandering legs, itchy sheets or out in front of the TV or sitting on the toilet looking at my iphone feeling like the loneliest person in the world while everyone else is peacefully sleeping.  Falling asleep quickly, staying asleep and enjoying a deep restorative sleep are techniques or physical abilities that I've missed out on completely. I'm lucky to average four hours per night and can keep this up for a fortnight before 'treating' myself to a sleeping pill.

And let me add a question for you: We often say, after enduring something really awful that we 'wouldn't wish it on our worst enemy.'  What, then, WOULD you wish on your worst enemy?

You're nothing but a bunch of......

I'll be putting most of my writing on Medium, but here seems to be the right place for lists.

We've all heard of a gaggle of geese, a murder of crows and a parliament of owls.  Apart from a group or a crowd of people, we seem to be lacking descriptors of specific humans bunched together.

On the F bus from Ferney to Geneva, more commonly known as the 'Corona Conveyance,' the time was pleasantly passed by thinking up a few group labels:

A smoke of teenagers

A squeal of girls

A BO of boys

A weed of snowboarders

A spandex of cyclists

A portaloo of festival goers

A selfie stick of tourists

A bubble wrap of removalists

A latte of baristas

A lanyard of office workers

A sleet of meteorologists

A baguette of bakers

An idiocy of MAGAts

A greed of conservatives

A deckchair of caravanners

A sandwich of picnickers

A regret of binge drinkers

A corduroy of uni students

A tassel of pole dancers

An invisibility of parcel deliverers

A boredom of bus drivers

A coffee cloud of teachers

A concern of mothers

A stickiness of toddlers

An inconvenience of road workers

A tardiness of plumbers

A fright of fashionistas

An annoyance of ticket inspectors

A vape of hipsters

An armpit of backpackers

A gallop of marathoners

A testicle of share traders

A yawn of home brewers

A coloured parka of middle-agers

A stumble of day drinkers

A flab of fast food customers

A spritz of make-up counter consultants

A dread of dentists

A stirrup of gynaecologists

A skid mark of politicians

A smug of baby boomers

A splat of potters

An optimism of interns

A magnum of sommeliers

An ugg boot of Work From Homers

A depression of morticians

A loneliness of cos-players

A jolly of dog walkers

A flop of Trumps

A nope of evangelists

A tea break of council workers

An eating disorder of models

A grope of rich men

A crazy of kite-surfers

A wedgie of physicists

An ignorance of republicans

A flatulence of slow walkers

A jealous judgment of passport checkers

An inferiority of Instagram influencers

An unwanted of modern interpretative dancers

A six pack of gym junkies

A chino of dads

A punch of siblings

A celibacy of bullies

A charcuterie platter of art lovers

A fatigue of minimum wage workers

An unfortunate of Iraqis

An impotence of online trolls

An unsuccessful wank of white supremacists

A scorn of vegans

A presumption of Karens

A shame of vote suppressors

A sob of empty nesters

A malevolence of Murdochs

A Tupperware of tea ladies

A poverty of pokie addicts

A chardonnay of divorcees

A skin cancer of sunbathers

An ugliness of anti-semites

An inebriation of horse race gamblers

A tottering of nightclub girlies

A belch of buffet diners

A smegma of vandals

An unnecessary of reality stars

A useless of YouTubers

A hemp bag of hippies

A disappointment of aunts

A glee of lawyers

A disapproval of pensioners

A sigh of checkout chicks

A daydream of drama students

An iPhone of commuters

A notepad of journalists

A starvation of models

A patience of queuers

A kindness of vaccinators

A selfishness of anti-vaxxers

An efficiency of nurses

A toilet bowl of radio talk show hosts

AND OF COURSE: 

A procrastination of writers

Feel free to add your own!