being human…

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I have just licked my forefinger in order to pick up the last crumb of date and walnut cake I made this morning. I’m thinking that is a particularly human thing to do. Dogs can lick their bowl clean, even raccoons use their hands to deftly wash food before eating, but what animal licks its digit and picks up the last crumb of tasty food? This and other strange and random thoughts go through my head.

Even as I was sleeping a few nights ago I had the strangest dream. I was standing in our courtyard and the neighbour’s very aggressive dog was in full attack mode and came leaping over our 6 foot tall fence. It happened so fast I hardly had time to panic, but as the dog landed on the paving he was instantly transformed into a dove with wings glowing in the sunlight.

Weird right? There is a recent study that says dogs dream similarly to humans so I wonder what the dog version of this might be? An angry human jumping the fence and transforming into Lassie?

The wet weather recently meant the causeways were closed several days last week limiting easy access into town, and the river was at a height near flood stage. The ground is saturated and literally running in small streams from the rocky outcrops. One night I woke up and heard it raining hard and it occurred to me getting food for Easter weekend might be a problem. But it wasn’t. It’s a random issue not easily predicted, depending where the heaviest rainfall has been. Also, while all this weather is going on there was a big ‘bust up’ in town one afternoon with about 150 Indigenous people behaving very badly. Police confiscated 50 weapons (no guns). They have now made several arrests and there is a two week curfew in place in the CBD for people 16yrs and under, which we wondered about, since the people committing the crime in this instance were mostly adults and it was at 3 in the afternoon*. They were on a rampage of destruction fuelled by disharmony between two families.  This was all on my mind as I tried, unsuccessfully, to get back to sleep that night and the next morning I realised I was feeling very stressed about it all. Tears ready to spill over, I sat down to read emails and over the radio comes Doris Day singing Que Sera Sera (What will be will be). I did loudly express my disapproval with an expletive that went something like ‘Screw the Universe’! I’m sure that didn’t help the situation, but it did help me blow off some frustration, and to be honest, Doris was right.

One of the more memorable messages I received through social media recently says that Karma is not some mystical event. It is the result of repeated behaviours and energetic responses. If that’s true, I wonder if that happens on a macro level as well as a personal level? Events we are living through are certainly nothing we have knowingly contributed to directly. And certainly we have been ‘lucky’ so far in the impact it has had on our personal lives, but it leaves a human being wondering. Where do I go from here if my actions are possibly contributing to this situation? Perhaps… not curse the Universe??

It has been a while since you’ve heard from me. It seems every day there is a major shift of some kind and just when I think I’ve adjusted to it, another adjustment is required…including rewriting this blog piece. In the latest episode of ‘waiting for workers part 27’ to continue repairs to the storm damage of 16months ago, the welder got Covid and so the work was postponed. The following week the plumber injured his back and that part was also postponed. The company supplying the capping and flashings for the modified gate are backed up so that is still waiting to be done. And last (for the moment) the pool safety officer rejected the self closing gate mechanisms installed and they must be done again. This has become my non-elective hobby for a while yet.

Don is regaining some of his energy after the radiation treatments but he has lost his sense of smell to a large degree and we are uncertain why that would be. There are several possibilities. We decided I could delay showering an extra day since he can’t smell much at the moment…but he misses out on the delicious aromas of soup cooking or the aforementioned date and nut cake. And we are back around to those unique pleasures we humans enjoy.

** A week into the curfew and things are much quieter, thankfully…thank you too for reading.

After the rain…the light

so much to learn, so little time…

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Early one morning after it had rained overnight, I went for my usual walk. I used the ‘cut through’, a small Town Council tended area that also contains the grave of one of the earliest Afghan cameleers to settle in Alice Springs. It is a leafy, shady common area used by some families as a small park for their children, and possibly the most useful easement for a gas line in the country. This particular damp morning the scent of earth and Eucalyptus, amplified by the humidity, was heavy in the air.

Joining the alchemy of nature came whiffs of coffee mingling, taunting. This was new. Not having had my morning cuppa yet, I slowed my pace to breathe deeply…eyes shut…memory emerging . I remembered a few camping trips when an experienced camper made coffee, throwing the grounds into boiling water, along with a eucalyptus leaf. That flavour did not appeal as much as the scent I was smelling. Drawn farther back to 60 years ago I could hear the percolator bubbling on Mom’s stove…and Grandma asking if I wanted a milky cup of ‘rat poison’, as she called instant coffee when I was a child. She would sweeten the milky coffee swirl and from those days on I was hooked. Coffee became my morning tradition. My poison and my elixir. Even now when I am sensitive to caffein and grind my own beans—a 50/50 mix of decaf and regular, the ritual of making it is almost as soothing as the consumption. I know how much coffee to measure and grind for my little glass pour-over jug and how much milk to heat for the perfect brew. It is one of few predictable things of daily life. These rituals anchor us.

Did you know our sense of smell has a stronger link to memory and emotion than any of the other senses? 

A few months later, the memory still vivid, we were having lunch in Adelaide at the home of good friends. I was telling the story of the smell from that morning. Their gardener friend and our hostess piped up almost simultaneously “petrichor” Me: Please repeat?? “Petrichor” they said. I had never heard the word, but then and there grabbed that wonder filled pocket computer known as a smart phone and typed in the word–not to be forgotten.

Petrichor: “A smell that frequently follows the first rain after a long spell of dry, warm weather.”

That would describe it to the letter. It was like discovering buried treasure to learn the exact word for what I had experienced. I wondered what other precise words have escaped my notice all these decades. I’m running out of time to learn them.

Often since the walk that day, I have followed the passage through from the golf course to the adjacent street. The light is nice and the signs of children and families using the area is oddly hopeful. On a morning after rain, little that we have, the Eucalyptus scent is always the foremost character of the petrichor. But the aroma of coffee is missing. Other mornings I smell the coffee that evokes a lifetime of memory for me, but the air and ground are dry so the petrichor is quiet.

If I could smell that magic combination regularly I wonder if it would seem so special? Possibly not. But every time I walk into the local bakery the thrilling scents of pastries and sourdough mingling with coffee give me a little ‘high’. I remain hopeful of experiencing aromatic magic again one day.

The steam from the hot milk fogging my lens.

my mind on minimalism…

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It’s the end of round three of Don’s cancer treatment away from home. We are back in Alice and very glad to not be in a hotel for a while. Nice as it is, it is not home and lacks some of the ammenities…like a bed that our backs like.

After a day and a half of grocery shopping, unpacking, making healthy food, washing and ironing (yes I still iron), vacuuming up gecko crap from the corners and mopping the dust from the floors I had a small burst of energy. That is what sleeping well in your own bed can do for a person. I began to execute stage two of our declutter/downsize operation. It was only small, but it’s like that two legged dog I have mentioned before…the activity wasn’t great, but that it was done at all is the thing. I’m not a minimalist, nor do I want to be but the benefits of getting belongings to a more minimal level and living more simply is proving to me very worthwhile.

One of the many things I’ve learned, without realising it is, I became a ‘prepper’. Not the kind anticipating the end of civilisation, but the kind who is ready for a small famine or the roads to wash out or a pandemic, or the train deliveries to not be unloaded  and sent to Darwin and back…were not fit for consumption…(it happened). I have been consciously trying to NOT buy food items ‘just in case’. Even though when we walked into the grocery last month the fruit and vegetable shelves were empty. Currently the oat milk I use is not available but this has happened five or six times over the last 18 months, so I do keep a stock in my cupboard of that one item and occasionally when things I use all the time, like toilet paper or laundry detergent are on special I buy an extra one to save money. The restraint I refer to are the items I used to buy multiple of, but were not necessities—spices, snacks, pasta, items I might want to use in the near future for baking…which I almost never do now that we have a lovely bakery in Alice.

Today I combined the contents of a food storage drawer with two other storage places that I had already cleared of out of date food items or no longer things we consume. It has been my downfall for years, brought on by living in a place for 40 years where many ingredients would come and go and just when I would have a bit of time to bake or cook something new, the ingredients would not be available. And by the time I had the ingredients again the inspiration had passed.

I am a recovering purchasing agent for imagined potential. 

While in Adelaide the last couple of visits I practiced my new skills of purchase resistance and non-panic buying. I actually relished walking through stores not wanting to buy anything except the items I needed. They were few. On two occasions I walked away from items I wasn’t sure I needed (would run out of before my next visit) only to return later and make the purchase, but only that well considered purchase, nothing spontaneous. I’m so used to that not working due to items running out where we live that the urge to buy while I can has shaped my thought processes, not always in a helpful way. Once a makeup item I used was out of stock and it took three attempts for me to try buying it locally. I finally gave up and we went to Adelaide where I bought it months later. Not everything can be ordered online successfully either, and freight adds to the cost.

One of many creations using beans and chickpeas.

In the last couple of years I’ve developed a few strategies, particularly with regard to purchasing food items. When the main grocery doesn’t have what they usually have and I need it I go to IGA. We are seldom disappointed. They are now owned by an Indigenous group and mostly operated by Indians who do an excellent job. Another thing I do is always have an alternative menu, or one that is flexible. We have the luxury of doing that, not everyone does. Also I include a lot of pulses in our diet. Chickpeas, beans and lentils are inexpensive and I have several delicious recipes that don’t require exotic ingredients. Also I soak the dried versions of all of these and cook them myself, bagging in freezer bags so they are ready to use on short notice. Today I am having chickpeas with marinated goat cheese, cucumber, tomatoes, celery and fresh herbs for lunch. But sometimes I make soups or curry.

Shopping at the Adelaide Markets is always a joy. The variety and freshness of items we seldom see is a good reminder of the options in life. Having no way to cook most of the vegetables while we are staying in a hotel helps me look (maybe drool a little) but not purchase. But I can, and do, eat fruit. This trip I was very specifically looking for figs. It was the beginning of fig season so there weren’t many but a favourite fruiterer had LOCAL ORGANIC FIGS. They did not disappoint. Even then I curbed my enthusiasm by purchasing only two at a time. At just over $4 each I didn’t want to waste a single bite. And I didn’t. The purveyor recognised me when I would walk up and request, ‘two ripe figs’ please. I would only order what I could eat for the next 24 hours. Our time needed to be spent working around Don’s treatments which sometimes would vary, one day by several hours when a machine broke down. Also we wanted to see friends on the days between his treatments and those usually revolved around meals.

Coming home again and walking into a house that was tidy, if dusty, and corners scattered with gecko poo, I also quickly realised the benefits of having less. In 24 hours the washing was caught up, the dusting and Gekko poo vacuumed and mopped and I was sitting down to write this piece. The advantages of having less are already making an impact. 

It’s good to be in our own home again…but those figs…

my tree and her moon…

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 Before the moment is gone I must celebrate with you. It is a cooler, drier start to the day after weeks of high temps and humidity. I’m one of these highly sensitive people who, like Goldilocks relaxes best when things are not too hot or too cold…or too humid. I’m sure I’m painful to live with, so bless my husband for his tolerance of 40 years. I have really pushed myself to extend the boundaries of comfort but if I’m honest it has just never changed. What has changed is my realisation and ability to work with it. Worthy a goal as this is, it is not what I celebrate.

Full moon January 2024

I have lived in this place, this town, this house longer than I lived anywhere else in my life. But this is also not that which I celebrate.

Photographed in 2015

I celebrate renewal. Despite age and ennui, the sight of this gum tree and the nearby moon yesterday renewed a deep sense of joy and hope. I have walked passed this tree many times on my morning walks over the 24 years we have lived here. I have never not admired its perfect balance and asymmetry, the way it reflects the light, how it has survived the ravages of storms tearing at her branches. 

I have begun calling the tree, ‘her’. She is also ‘my tree’, though I do nothing to assist her life and certainly she is not in my yard. But I have admired her, painted her and sent all the good energies to her over many years. I first realised how attached I was to her after the storm we had nearly 15 months ago. Many of her branches were ripped off and scattered across the rocky outcrop. It was more devastating in person than in photos.

Photo after the Nov 2022 storm. Note broken branches on the ground and sparse foliage.

I should have had more faith that she would survive and renew. And this is also what I am realising. We are surviving and renewing and looking forward after a stormy year.

Tomorrow we begin the third phase of Don’s cancer treatment in Adelaide. I’ll miss my tree but I carry her in my heart. My tree and her moon forever in my heart.

Photo from 25 January 2024

pretty good, sorta nice, kinda fun things…

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Two days ago I deleted the ‘6 month free with purchase’ membership to Apple Music. The trial membership came with a new pair of ear pods and the option to subscribe at the end. At first I was enthused. I listen to classical music every morning on my early walks. It relaxes me and eases me into the day. I envisioned being able to set up my Apple account with favourites as well as selections to sample or add to my listening rotation. Problem. I realised using the program meant more than paying for it with money, it meant spending time to learn how. Learning how to navigate through yet another set of screens and buttons suddenly seemed like it just wasn’t worth it. I’m saturated with needing to keep up with technology and life changes. We are very fortunate here in Australia that we have a fantastic classical music radio channel. Occasionally they play a few hours of modern music that I don’t understand and that sounds more like me bashing on the piano keys before I learned to play the piano as a child. But over all, it is great. When I need to I can play from my own library for a few hours.

But that is only part of the reason I deleted the membership. It suddenly struck me, this and a couple of other things I was exploring, were distractions. I was restless and unfulfilled. I needed to curate carefully what I was allowing to distract me from the things I really want to be doing. An instagram post  by James Clear (Atomic Habits) reflected clearly what was happening and brought me to my senses:

“Be ruthless about what you ignore. Time, energy, and resources are so precious. You have to be ferocious about cutting your priorities—more than you realize and certainly more than is comfortable. 

You can only deeply commit to a few things. One or two? Maybe three?

Every pretty good, sorta nice, kinda fun thing you abandon is like shedding a weighted vest that lets you move at top speed. You were so busy focusing on how much you could carry, you never realized you could run this fast.”

And a week or so later, this, from the same author:

“I have learned that whenever I think “I don’t have enough time to do that” what I usually mean is “I don’t have enough energy” or “I am not actually interested in doing this.”

What I need to do a better job of is not managing my time, but rather caring for myself and identifying my true interests. When I am well rested and working on something I am genuinely excited about, finding time is rarely a problem.”

I wondered if this was some kind of Jedi mind trick he was pulling and he had seen inside my head! How many times the last few years have I said ‘I don’t have time’? What I meant was, I don’t have the energy. Our energy is invisible but it powers us, and it is finite. When we don’t rest and respect our limits the quality of what we do is diminished. I knew that. I just forgot.

The bright, shiny things life offers us hundreds of times a day so easily grab our attention. They throw us off course more often than they show us the way. I have learned I need to more carefully question where I am putting my energy and attention, while remaining open to examining new ideas and experiences. Balance. It’s tricky. It’s a bit like the physical decluttering I’ve been doing of our belongings. It takes skill and practice to learn how much is enough. This is the decluttering of my mind, so that what is important has space to grow.

Yesterday I got into the studio for the second time this week. The previous few months I have ‘not had time’ . Suddenly I have the energy again.

Six months ago when I planted my herb garden, I remembered how much effort it was and so this year I planted less. It is enough.

a solstice smile…

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It is the December solstice. The morning breeze and cloudless sky were perfect for my morning walk. For months now I’ve been listening to classical music when I walk. I found podcasts were adding to my feeling of overwhelm as Don and I work through this problematic year. The classical music in the background of my thoughts punctuated by the sound of birds ease me into the day.

A bit of serendipity to this photo, which was not taken today but I love for the moon and the Little Corellas against the green landscape. I do not have the ability to organise birds so it’s a bonus when it happens to the benefit of the photo.

Still fresh in my memory was the sight of two wallabies racing across the green in front of our windows last evening. They made a beeline for the breezeway and in the process set off a cloud of galahs in the dusky light. One of my favourite lines from a book in recent years was written by Scottish author, Andrew Greig, ‘When I’m dead I will love this.’ Whenever I see something sublime I think of that line. Take time to enjoy the small things.

Again this morning a small sight made me smile as I returned from the walk and the sun glinted brightly on a modest celebration. Usually there are a few houses on our street decorated for the season. But we have had several unusual and violent small storms here in the last year or so, and combined with the crime wave we’ve experienced for the last couple of years it seems few have the heart for it this year. Except for a neighbour who has youngish children and is at the same time renovating their home which they moved into just over a year ago. It was a reminder we can still have a little corner of our heart available for some glitter and fantasy.

Two small reindeer planted amidst stones left from a previous gardening attempt…accompanied by small glittery packages (small and to the right of photo) and finally a Santa surrounded by Lantana with a price tag still attached, blowing gently in the breeze. It was delightful in its attempt.

And this friends, is my attempt to give you a smile while you do whatever you do this time of year.

Be well.

twas just before Christmas…

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I watched him walk off pushing his golf clubs on their little hand cart. I felt intensely sorry for him. It has been a very challenging year for him physically with monthly eye injections to treat macular degeneration, prostate cancer that had metastasized into his sacrum, and recently an upper respiratory virus that had knocked us both around. He has endured it all with great tolerance and mostly good humour. But today was the kicker. He lost his golf buggy keys. His only grown up toy he’s ever had. It has given him extra hours of golf with his mates, and is especially valuable now that we are in the summer heat and his body is still going through treatments.

The course was beautiful a week ago after the latest rain. It is starting to brown off again now.

When he realised this morning the keys were missing he searched. We searched. We even wore our glasses to search. So off he walked, to the club at least 20 mins brisk walk, to further walk for another 4-5 hours of golf. (in case you are wondering, a round of golf here is around 12 kilometres) He’s five years my senior and I couldn’t do it. I have my doubts whether he should be doing it, still recovering from the virus we’ve both had last week. We got the virus after being away for medical tests, then coming home and two days later having the latest COVID booster, then two days after that getting the virus. It was not COVID. There is a lovely new virus arrived on our shores to dampen any enthusiasm we might have had for Christmas in 9 days. I can assure you there was already no enthusiasm in our house. Only quiet anticipation for more quiet.

Because it rained and he was wet when he come home from golf a week ago, he uncharacteristically hung up his shorts to dry. He thought he’d put them in the wash later but the pair he put in the wash was from another day or something because I’d already washed them and there were no keys. About an hour after he’d left I thought I’d have a fresh look in his cupboard. After all I have my reputation as the understudy to the ‘Goddess of Small Lost Things’ to maintain. I thought he may have accidentally tossed them in with the gear he is keeping packed for when he has to return to Darwin for more treatment. I noticed something odd in the way his clothes were hanging. It was a pair of crappy looking shorts with the belt still on them, hanging awkwardly that I hadn’t seen before. He never hangs his shorts like that. I felt the pocket and it jangled.

My reputation is intact. It is our little Christmas miracle.

If you want to read some of my other understudy work at finding things…here are a couple. Let’s Play Spot the Glasses; Dark Moments of a Light Chaser

so far this lifetime…

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After seventy years on this earth I still surprise myself at the things I learn. Yesterday was the last day of radiation treatment for Don, for this session at least. He comes home for a break and then we are off to Adelaide for more tests. And that is not to mention the tests we have both experienced during the four weeks he has been away. 

It was a slow build. The first couple of weeks had both of us doing things out of our realms of experience, his more so than mine, of course. He had to settle into a completely new routine of living in medical accommodation and daily treatments and how to best fill the hours in between. Having experienced it myself 12 years ago I know how thoroughly it challenges a person on every level.

By week three we were both somewhat adjusted to our ‘new normal’ but that’s not to say we either one liked it or weren’t feeling its effects. When the medical staff asked him how he was feeling and he admitted he was tired, they nodded sympathetically and said ‘radiation’. Yes, that, plus headaches for a person who has had few in his life, were tiring. And then there were the occasional night antics of his fellow residents staying in the medical accommodation. He was one of only two non-indigenous people staying there. Mostly they were polite and peaceful but it had its moments. (it was the same when I was there and speaks volumes for the poor health of our indigenous population)

The edge of the latest weather pattern incoming a couple of days ago.

 Meanwhile back at home base I was having a few moments of my own. I continued the odyssey that has been supervising and negotiating repairs from the severe storm we had in November of 2022. Yes. That was and IS still continuing. In fact so miserable has the process been and so poor the results, we have asked the Insurance company to settle the remainder in cash and we will finish things ourselves. Knowing this will fall to me was not a joyful conclusion, but such had been the pain of it dragging on and on for a year that we came to the conclusion the cost was way too high. With everything that happens in life it is worthwhile to evaluate the actual cost versus the monetary outlay.

Just when I thought this final week of our separation had climaxed with one intensive 24 hour period of trying to schedule both our medical tests in Adelaide, there was more. For Don to have his in Darwin meant spending more time there and a wait of a couple of weeks at least. For me to get my yearly mammogram here meant an indeterminate wait because the Mammographer only visits here every 3 or 4 weeks and it could be months before my referral came to the top of the pile. So we agreed if we could both get our tests in the same week, two weeks hence in Adelaide it would keep things on track for my yearly check up and for his continuing treatment. After a few phone calls I was finally connected to a lovely woman who could understand our situation and advised us how to proceed. She booked my appointment for 28 November. I passed along the information to Don who was able to follow up and she booked his appointment on 28 November too. The 28th of November is his 75th birthday, by the way. But such has been this year, we are both just grateful.

Having received news the week previous that the ‘pool guy’ the insurance company had enlisted to do our repairs, was no longer available to do the job—after waiting on him for months—we had agreed it was the last straw. The day after rescheduling our medical appointments we heard from insurance that they would get together the settlement costs and get back to us. We are still waiting. The wheels of progress run slowly in ‘insurance-land’.

The next evening we had major rain (for us) which collected in the top of the spa and collapsed the cover in. This only happened because the geniuses that had been sent by insurance to do repairs, cut the rope and cover while using it to cut the fence pieces for repair. I hadn’t noticed it until days after they left, they just quietly left and never mentioned it. After we had been so careful for a year to keep the spa covered so the grout didn’t dry out and so the water didn’t turn green, my heart along with the spa cover collapsed. I had no idea what to do. The new pool guy I’d found had not responded to previous messages and this was no exception. So he is not an option, not in any lifetime I have left here on earth at least. What a nong. So rude. A very nice neighbour who insisted I call them if I needed anything while Don was away, came to the rescue.

The worker he sent around took about an hour to resolve the issue and was one of the nicest humans I’ve ever met. When it was all done just by 2 in the afternoon, and I decided to treat myself and have the rest of the afternoon off. And as it turned out, on Saturday my boss gave me that day off too. With Don coming home the next day, my whole body needed time to reset. Just when I was congratulating myself, having gotten through it all fairly well, we had an intense downpour of rain within a few minutes that caused water to be driven in under the large expanse of windows that face the golf course and I found myself mopping last night, and trying to figure out who I will call to fix this latest problem. This only happened last night so I’ll let you know the outcome when/if it happens.

So what have I learned in my 70 years?

•. I’ve learned to go with the flow when it is obvious the flow has changed and I am not in it.

•. I’ve learned (quite a few years ago) not to chase repair people who don’t return messages. It’s a special skill they have to find the vulnerable customers who are desperate and will accept whatever level of work they decide to dole out.

•. I’ve learned that some years are crap. In that case I need to go with the flow a day at a time as much as possible… and take care of myself.

•. And I’ve learned when I am totally unmotivated and not able to create anything beautiful I need rest.

There is a tiny young bunny rabbit hopping around my garden at the moment. I think it is living in the undergrowth of our Grevillea bush. If that tiny bunny can be so adorable and survive the attempted decimation of the many previous generations of rabbits in Australia, then I can move forward with some grace.

getting my mind right…

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These last five months have been revelatory, sometimes in ways I would not have guessed or even particularly thought I wanted. But life is like that sometimes. 

I sit at our dining table writing this post and enjoying the wildlife, which I now have more time to enjoy.

I have read a lot on the topic of decluttering, downsizing, minimising—several books, lots of blog posts and some Instagram wisdom here and there too. The first thing I realised was I had to ‘get my mind right’. Remember ‘Cool Hand Luke’ with Paul Newman, 1967? The officer in charge of work details said to Luke, ‘You gotta get your mind right’, not in a loving, kind way—meaning he needed to drop his old attitude and realise he was in a new situation, mostly under the control of someone else. In the case of resizing our belongings I was in control of the attitude, but life circumstances, not so much. In the situation of our health outcomes we had to remain flexible to the recommendations of others. It has been a stressful time.

Do I love it? Is it useful? Can the item perform more than one task? Am I just keeping it because someone gave it to me? Does it have use for someone else? All good questions with varying answers. Fortunately I had the time needed to yield to the learning curve. To begin with I did easy things that gave high satisfaction. This kept me engaged. Cleaning out the junk drawer was one of the first projects. Working on things I wasn’t likely to be sentimental about or overwhelmed with quantity. To halve our belongings was my goal, but doing it one drawer or shelf or cupboard at a time was my strategy. As I approached the more difficult things I lowered my expectations. For a while I sorted through things only a few at a time and added them to a box, then moved the box to the holding area so it was out of the house. Sometimes I would only add two or three items a day. I learned from reading Atomic Habits, the best way to build a new habit or change an undesirable one is with tiny moves done regularly. They quickly amount to a noticeable difference. This enabled me to see some progress and have a sense of satisfaction to keep motivated. I hasten to add, there was a time near the end that it was a hard slog to keep motivated. My friend with whom I had the lawn sale was super helpful and got me over the line.

Gradually, during the process, I started to ‘see’ things for what they really were. Many things that were at one time useful and valued were no longer either. But I realised they had served a purpose and was very grateful to have had them in my life. Things I once thought were pretty or fun, or had sentimental attachment, just didn’t hold the same attraction when I was finally able to evaluate how they contributed to my life now. It was especially easy to let them go when I realised they were still of a condition that others could get use from them as well. I tend to look after things and keep them in good condition, clean and working, which makes them ideal to re-home.

• I sold my 40 year old sewing machine to a man who wanted to buy it as a surprise for his partner. He was very impressed what good condition it was in and later sent a message they ‘loved’ the machine.

My 40 year old Elna sewing machine had made slip covers, curtains, clothes, quilts, crafts and repaired many a pocket in a golfer’s shorts! But still in good working order and newly appreciated.

• At least 50 pieces of silver cutlery went to a young woman who seemed like she had found buried treasure. She said she realised it is a ‘niche’ interest these days and so again, I was so happy for someone who would enjoy it to have it.

• A young woman probably in her late 20’s showed up at the lawn sale. She had moved to Alice recently and she was still trying to set up her rental quarters. She found a dozen things in the ‘free’ section, a few more in the 50 cent pile and when I saw her looking at clothes that I was pretty sure were her size and would suit a young person I offered her a space to try them on in the house. When she came out she was beaming, they all fit perfectly! One was a dressy top made of linen, a very nice piece that I knew I would never wear, having missed the occasion it was bought for, my 70th birthday. She told me she had a wedding to attend next month and a skirt it would look nice with. I reached over to a twice-used hand bag that went perfectly with the top and was just made for a young person and offered it to her as a gift. We were both very happy that she accepted!

THAT lovely blue top and bag, re-homed to enjoy a new life.

• There was the young man who was keenly interested in cooking and seemed thrilled at the 50 cent cookbooks on offer. We started talking and eventually he took away my grandmother’s hand-cranked meat grinder, and several other vintage or antique items as well as some newer things that he told me were very well priced.

The 50 cent table, bargains galore, things excess to need.
  • Possibly the funniest of all sales came near the end…I had two flags that had been gifts to us years ago but we had never used them. One was an American flag and the other an Australian flag. I didn’t even list them in the sale merchandise, thinking no one would want them, but I did hang them for decoration in the background and the photo ended up on Facebook Buy Swap Sell. About halfway through the sale my girlfriend who had the sale with me, got an urgent message asking us if the American flag was still available? A woman wanted it very keenly but couldn’t get there for a couple of hours. So we folded it up and put it aside. Eventually when she called around a couple of hours later we learned she was Australian but worked in the Conservation area and they were putting on a skit for which they needed an American flag. She had NO idea where she would find one and was thrilled to see the one in our sale. But the funniest part happened when she was there and paid for it. There were two men from the Philippines here buying my husband’s chain saw, which in itself was weird because his name was the same as the friend Don had bought the chainsaw from! They were telling us they had worked hard and finally brought their families here from the Philippines. And then they saw the Australian flag and asked how much the woman had paid for the US flag and could they buy the Australian flag for the same price, $5? Sold. They were so excited to be taking that flag home to show their families.
Early in the morning, the two flags hanging on the side in the back right of the frame.

Once the day was over we were exhausted but I felt lighter immediately and slept better than I had in weeks. A weight was lifted. But the lingering feeling of satisfaction I have from sending all those things into homes where they would likely be appreciated was the icing on the cake. It underscored one of my favourite lessons from this whole experience…things in boxes in cupboards or shoved to the backs of drawers that are never used are wasted resources. No matter who gave them to me or how much I paid for them if they are not used and I’m moving them around and cleaning them but never using or enjoying them, I’m still paying for them. But not any more. They are free to live another life and so am I.

4.45am the day of the sale…holding area is the back of my studio and was encroaching on my creative area!

what goes around, comes around…

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Twelve years ago I was treated for breast cancer and cured (yay). As you might expect it was a trying time in which I learned a lot. One of the things I learned is that I had the capacity to do good—even while I was being cared for by others. I also learned how to accept kindness and a helping hand when offered, though my tendency is to be self sufficient.

Fast forward twelve years, almost to the week, my dear husband had to go to Darwin, for radiotherapy for his own prostate cancer. We still have no resources here in Alice and it is still a thousand miles from where we live for this treatment. (I know some who read this blog are our old friends and some of you are new friends or aren’t friends at all, so excuse my repetition of details.) He went to the same medical accommodation to stay two nights and rode the bus to the treatment centre the same as I had done. These things are mostly a lonely journey with lots of time to think, write and rest as you can. Not always bad things. I was fortunate to have friends popping in and out of my daily treatment to drive me occasionally, to take me to lunch, to visit and to love me. But one particular friend whom I had known since my first day in Australia was also in palliative care for bone cancer caused by breast cancer five years previous. She was very brave but the irony was almost too much for me at times. I spent a lot of time alone and some of it frustrated.

Cooking a Sunday breakfast in the shared kitchen.

The daily routine could be rather challenging. I wasn’t able to eat most of the food served in the accommodation. They didn’t cater for special diets and I couldn’t eat wheat and onion. There was a communal kitchen and refrigerator and I could get ingredients and prepare my own meals. This sounds easier than it was. The accommodation was about 95% indigenous, mostly very nice people but the ones who shared the kitchen were not quite on board with having to wash their own dishes and to not walk off while something was cooking. The kitchen filled with smoke sometimes as the cook went walkabout. I eventually washed my own dishes and took them back to my room so I wasn’t at the mercy of whoever last cooked and fled.

The daily bus trip that took us from the accommodation to the treatment centre, about half an hour away, was a two hour route, picking up for cancer treatment and dropping off others for kidney dialysis and return to accommodations as well. The bus was a little white mini-bus, ubiquitous around the world! It was unmarked and the pickup spot differed from the drop-off point, and was also unmarked. There were several such buses coming and going and I was clueless which one was to take me back to the accommodation. Often the drivers were clueless as well. In the heat and humidity of Darwin, waiting sometimes an hour or longer for the right bus to come along was challenging for me. I was lucky, most of the effects of radiation treatment were on my skin, but also I found it made me tired, so waiting outside the hospital for transport, among the smokers and the various other strangely behaved humanity was a daily education.

At the end of the fourth week of regular treatment a conversation ensued with two of the radiologists. They knew I was transported daily by ‘the bus service’ and they asked me how everything had worked. (The centre had not been opened long when my treatment began in August of 2011.) I responded honestly telling them of the trials I’d experienced. To say the least they were shocked. After I finished my treatment I went to the cubicle provided to change from the hospital gown back into my own clothes. When I came out I had another little checkup and then as I was leaving the centre a man approached me and asked if I was Ardys and if I had a minute to talk to him. It turned out he was the operations manager, or something similar, and he wanted to ask me more about the conversation I’d had with the radiologist, specifically the bus transport. After I told him my experience he asked if I could write him a letter explaining what I had just told him. As it happened I could. And did. I’d been keeping a diary. Below is an excerpt of that letter:

“I have been told it was ‘unfortunate’ I was caught in a situation of changeover from one bus service (Mission Australia) to another.  But truly, this has been so badly managed it defies description.  Below is a list of the major issues, as I have experienced it.

  1. Unmarked buses
  2. Drivers who have no advanced idea of their schedule
  3. Schedules that are subject to immediate change by mobile phone call
  4. Pickups at places (repeatedly) where there is no person waiting
  5. No marked pickup outside RDH (Royal Darwin Hospital)
  6. No notification of a ‘transit lounge’ to new passengers
  7. Buses leaving early or late for pickups “

But here is the point of this story—for a lot of things we do in life, good and bad, we never know the outcome. I never knew if my input had helped, though the operations manager assured me it had…until Don returned from his stay a week ago. I showed him the full letter and he told me, every single thing on the list has been rectified. That is what I call a full circle moment of the best kind. Who would have guessed my efforts and experience would come back to help the man I love through his own experience? I often wonder about my life’s purpose. And this is a reminder. Just do my best. Stay engaged. Be vulnerable enough to learn. And be patient. It’s harder than it sounds some days, but the outcomes are unimaginable.