Good Morning!

Harkening back to olden days when I  could scarf bacon and/or eggs benedict with impunity, I set myself down with the tasty salty snack and absentmindedly burnt toast, fried in a pan because I threw out the toaster in a fit of disgust in a culling cleaning rage months back and not replaced it, to listen to my beloved band Augie March's first released single of new album.

Eggs Benedict no long agrees with me and I can only eat if I am heading straight home from the cafe after to baptise the bowl in enthusiastic effluence (on my more affluent days when I go out for breakfast wot with coffee or tea costs $25 or more *shakes fist at the often too tempting suggestion of a hash brown*).

I've not felt the same about bacon since the bout of food poisoning, which it well and truly won, leaving me passed out and waking all warm and relaxed in a pool of my own vomit (it took ages to wash it all the little bacon bits out of my hair).

Augie however are still a blessing to my ears and brain. I find myself murmurring little inanities as I listen like they are my favourite cat who has just been particularly pleasing and winsome and cute ... aren't you a gorgegous little boy ... whose a clever boy ... aren't ya just a cute squiggy little pooky ... i love you, yes I  do, yes I  do ... etc, and swing my feet and hum happily like I do when I am eating something particularly nice.

My toes tingle in anticipation for February when the album is released and the back of my neck tightens as I contemplate how there is no way in heck I can get to the first performance, whilst I still speculate on maybe possibly if I eat peanut butter and vegamite for the next two months ... maybe? .... but toast gives me indigestion nowadays and I am already regretting breakfast, though I made cats very happy with tidbits of bacon and they are grooming themseves in a pleased fashion and looking approvingly at me from their lofty perches atop bookshelves which is currently a much favored and competed position since a little rain and the heat have produced a small flea situation until Friday payday when I can purchase the solution to my itchy ankles, since the bookcase won't hold me.

Expressing my delight would be a great deal easier if I didn't have to chicken peck this out one fingered on my tablet.  An exercise in exquisite frustration for a typist.  It interferes with my flow.

I go now to listen to the song again.

Breakfast adventures ...

The first Xmas controversy has occurred.

Met mother for breakfast at cafe.

I never go to anywhere I like with her because she is invariably rude unless she has found the place herself and is showing it to us.

The owner of the place I used to go to in Cleveland once came out to ask me to speak to my mother about her behaviour to the waitresses.  she'd made them cry last time she was there when there was a mistake on her order.

She was in one of her moods and being disparaging of her grand children.

Cafe said couldn't swap spinach for tomato as garnish. Would have to buy as side.

Step father forgot to get senior discount at time and they said couldn't do after fact.

Mother couldn't let go being denied her garnish of choice and was loudly declaring would complain to franchise.

Mother than decided her coffee was served cold.

Mother then was rude to waitress bring food.

Loudly complained she had not been given gluten free bread and declared "that's disgusting! Disgusting!" And to take it away.

I haven't had much sleep and don't cope with her behaviour in cafes at best of times.   So I left.

Have retreated home, like the coward I am, but stopped and gave my sister the headsup first.

The thing is ... The complaints were fair enough. There is no reason they shouldn't be able to swap some spinach for a tomato, and I think they should have given the senior discount afterwards.

I wonder if she decided to leave and made a scene demanding her money back?
I wonder if she ended up being asked to leave?
They are both possibilities.
Or it may have just fizzled out into weeping.

It's too early to start drinking isn't it?

Breakfast out

it wasn't exactly burnt brioche
just a small slice, slightly singed

the decor was lovely
all dark grey and pressed tin
plate shaped like an abstract tick
young neat elegant swift wait staff with lovely smiles

two wafer thin slices of fried ham
two small poached eggs
some mild hollandaise sauce
unable to compete with the taste of burnt toast
pea shoots

a pot of tea like an large egg
why do they all insist on putting the little milk jug inside the cup?

Breakfast for one in Townsville =$24

I think I am becoming a crotchety old woman  I am sure I remember buying eggs benedict and a coffee for only $12.50 in other towns not all that many years ago.

groan

Who knew one could have too much bacon?
I am going back to bed now.

Saturday Morning pre-breakfast

And lo, it is Saturday morning and I am up at an ungodly hour, or at least up before 8am, and in an internet cafe prior to buying breakfast.  It's been a while since I've done this. 

Am supposed to be taking my cats to my sisters so that I can open up my flat and spring clean prior to the rental inspection on Monday, but I didn't remember to call her last night and, though this may mean I am a faithless doubter, I do not believe she will have remembered and after a couple of long weeks at work I am just not up to the 6am or earlier transfer of kitties today. 

It all seemed to be so organised last week.  I'd get to move the cats at a reasonable time of the day and have time to try and do a good job - see if sister would take me shopping because I wanted to buy a few things that are too big to take home ont he scooter - but they have decided to go to Charters Towers this weekend and put the bollocks on that.  Certainly they are welcome to go to Charters Towers and they are already doing me a huge favour by setting up the large cage in their backyard for the day - it just would be nice - just once - for this to be easy, ey?

The usual routine is I get up at 3:30/4am on the day of the rental inspection attempt to cage all the cats (who see the cat carriers and hide in hard to reach corners and behind stoves etc), scooter over to my sister's place and borrow their car, come back, catch the cats that have managed to get out of the cat carrier - and worrying about the damage they will have inflicted on themselves in their escape - load the cats back up, gather up some litter trays and food and sheets for over the holding cage and a box for them to hide in, load the car, suffering the distressed pitiful mews on the trip back to sisters house, unload all the cats (who are huddling at the back of their carrier cages and refusing to come out) without making too much noise and then scootering back home to sweep and mop and do all the things I've forgotten to do - panic - stress - cry a bit and then go to work - is all a bit exhausting on top of a night of no sleep.

Was going to sleep in since last night wasn't a good sleeping night, but the council subcontractors turned up this morning not too long after 6am with trucks and excavator to remove cyclone debris from our street.  Which is also a good thing and I am not really complaining.   Everything will be better after I've had some coffee.

Yo

Looks like my suburb is one of the ones they are going to ask people to evacuate because of storm surge, so I am at my sisters with my cats.  Figured I wouldn't wait for the door knock.

Was rather bemused to see journalists have actually flown into the danger zone to report today.  Are they mad?

Sister was explaining how the cyclone compares against the US hurricane grading and I think we would be a high category 4 on the US scale (and if the wind was going in the other direction of course).  Yasi is about 45 kph behind Katrina.

Townsville Urban inundation map

Saturday and I've got Friday on my mind

It is 9:30 in the morning.  I am on public access internet calling itself "Xpress Internet Access" and it has taken three and a half minutes just to log into my blogspot account. 

I've had my first eggs benedict in months and now feel ill.  Bing Crosby is crooning Silent Night over the shopping centre speakers accompanied by the stadium-like echo of babbling voices, footsteps and little shopping related rattles, clangs and rusles (how does one spell russels? I can't believe I've forgotten how to spell russles) (rustles?)(argh).

I treated myself badly last night - since I now can afford to do so - and feel a little shaky, which is probably contributing to the ill feeling.

I am up to Night Four in How to Make Gravy and am finding it a pleasant way to spend time in bed.

Off to go see how little money I have left, since I have been foolish and wasteful with my money and then possibly retire back to my digs to whimper and self castigate myself, before spending more time with Paul.

What are your plans?

Morning

I could but flee in horror.

I puttered over to Palmer Street to sit in the sun and breakfast but some middle-aged/old man with a microphone and an electric piano was singing some kind of easy listening/country music song.  Swear to god it was market music (you know ... there is always some older man with a punch and a PA singing "if I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me" or "sometimes you have to fight when your a man").  Insupportable at such an early hour.

So I went to my usual place where the food is not so great and the view is of a building sight.

I feel better now.

Contemplating

Can you feel the tension?  I am waiting for 8:30 to roll around to start checking my bank account to see if I have any money.  8:30 am is usually the magic time that it appears, though not always.

I salivate at the potential lunchtime possibilities.

The possibilities if I don't got nofink revolve around the picnic bar stashed in the receptionists desk. 

I ate her snickers bar for breakfast.

Edit:  W00t!  I am going to have spanakopita for lunch :)

Edit Edit:  no spanakopita :(
but the toasted panni  with ham, sundried tomatos, olives and cheese was nice too :)

G'Morning

I am abroad ... no ... I am at a shopping centre and I am going to get some breakfast.  But not eggs benedict.  Something light.  Possibly with avacado?

First I will need to go to the bookstore for a book.  I cannot sit down to eat breakfast alone without a book.  I get bored.  I cannot just stare off into space lost in my sense of taste.  If the book is good, sometimes I don't even taste what I am eating and look at my plate puzzled during a pause in the narrative - wonder where all the food has gone.

Edit:  Breakfast was shit.  Book good though :)

Saturday Breakfast

I was overly ambitious with my order and they were generous with their serving. I feel like my eyeballs are floating on masticated bacon. I was full before I even got to it, but it was soo nice I could not stop.

My waiter asked if I wanted cracked pepper.
I am shattered.
He very nearly had an australian accent with it too.

The paranoid part of me is now worried he's seen my blog, but of course that is ridiculous and I didn't order eggs benedict this morning after all. Perhaps he thought I only don't like pepper on my eggs benedict and that he should ask.

I had coffee today too instead of the tea I've supped of late. It was half foam, which I did not mind. Sometimes its nice to spoon the foam into ones mouth. Childlike fun.

Fried eggs and bacon and mushrooms and beans.

Beans were odd. Almost sweet. Almost sour. Strange. Not what I am used to in a bean.

I had the place to myself, you see, so I ordered eggs and bacon because I am a very messy eater and place the egg on the side of toast and eat with my hands, dribbling the yolk onto the plate and then mopping it up with the corner of toast that is usually left. Crumbs go everywhere and I invariably end up with yolk on my face. I can only order it if there is nobody around.

Ditto the BLT because they serve it as an open sandwich and the mayo makes everything slippery.

But then the place became distressingly busy. Lucky I'd finished my eggs. I eat the rest with a knife and folk, in case you were worrying about it.

Sooo yummy. When food is good I cannot help but hum a little to myself and tap my feet. Perhaps I dance a little in my chair too. I try to be discrete, but the twirling of the fork and the little spinning swirls I make with the tip of the knife are probably noticable.

I am going to go waddle off to my scooter.

I need to go have a lie down now.Ciao :)

Saturday Breakfast

Perhaps I should have said yes to the pepper?
Not all the time, but just now and then?

The delightful french boy has remembered I don't have pepper on my eggs benedict, so I did not get to hear him say 'crack-ed pepper' this morning.

He did however ask a group of people if they wanted a table in the shadow. Woman said 'yes i would like to sit in the shade'. She and her two companions then sat forcfully stoic until he was out of earshot and then had themselves a giggle.

I wanted to throw my parsley at them.

I am a greedy hedionistic woman with no self control and appear to be making a determined dent into the four dozen bottles of wine my sister offloaded onto me now that she isn't drinking anymore, much to the detriment of my health. My bones protest, but my tastebuds say YES. Something red and wonderful last night. The label has come off so I can't tell you want it is, other than nectar of the gods.

I am not presenting well on a Saturday morning. Unwashed untidy hair. Heavy hungover eyes. I don't know why the french boy smiles so nicely to me, but I am glad he does *sigh*

I had the oddest dream the other week. I wasn't going to tell anybody, but anyway. Dan Kelly was in it. I think because I was looking forward to the alleged blogging of the album recording. Have read the tour diary he wrote when he was travelling with Holly Throsby and it was very funny and I have been so bored lately.

Anyway, in the dream DK was going to be performing at the civic theatre. It was not specified in the dream whether it was Paul Kelly performing and DK was in the band or not, but anyway - point being he was going to be in Townsville.

In the dream he messages me on myspace to go buy them all fish and chips and bring it to the civic theatre. Phone numbers are exchanged. Whilst I am at the fish and chip shop he txts to get calamari too. I snarkily txt back do you want bugs as well? The response is yes. I am cranky at having to spend so much money on them and being asked to 'fetch', but put that aside and get some pineapple rings too, for dessert, as a nice gesture.

A very awkward bundle to try and carry to the civic theatre on my scooter. Some packets fit into the storage compartment under the seat, but the rest I am having to put in one of thos green canvas environmentally friendly bags and sling across my back. It is a hot, painful, uncomfortable trip.

So I bring them and go to the box office area and they aren't letting me in, of course, thinking me a mad stalker or something. I txt DK and he says to bring them round the back. pfft. So then I have to trudge all the way round the back. I am being all repressed cranky. Somebody lets me in and I deliver the fish and chips and everybody tucks in and I am mostly ignored cause they are talking about set up stuff/etc AND NOBODY EATS THE PINEAPPLE RINGS. The bastards!

The End

Breakfast and Ephemera

Struggling against the affectionate onslaught of Blossom-Cat insisting on sharing lap with computer.

Felt like staying in bed, but eventually dragged myself up and out just before 8. I was undecided about where to eat. I've not been to my usual place for a while, but my scooter headed to the strand all on its lonesome. Was going to go back to the place over the water, but though it said it was open at 8 am for breakfast, at five minutes to, there were no signs of life, so I decided to give Bambini's gregory street branch a go.

Settled down with tea and feet up on a roadside garden bed. Attempted to listen in to the conversation at the table behind me, but only caught unconnected words now and then. They were Melbourne people. There was talk of organic and the price of coffee (i think) and the word brainwashing was bandied about. The unheard end of the phrase 'how can you let your senses free when ....'.

Very unlike usual overhead townsville cafe talk. One voice was remarkably like the one from the 'Listen, Now Walk' storytelling entry. But that would be coincidence gone wild, since I was cheatingly listening to the first track last night. I downloaded it from www.cadfactory.com.au cause i was curious. Have intentions of buying myself a cheap mp3 and doing this properly tomorrow. (edit: have googled them since then and definately not them - oh well - maybe i shouldn't have bought that lotto ticket afterall)

Service was prompt - too prompt. I finished before 9 and wandered down to the rockpool to read until 10 when the guided walk was reputed to start.


I have no patience. I made it till 10 to and then thought 'fuck it' and just started walking back to the bike. lol. i am a doofus.








I took far to many photos of this one, but i liked it rather a lot and it was fun to photograph.




sunburnt sharks? i shall have to look at the program and see what this was supposed to be :)



Giant crayfish climbing up the rockpool wall. Eyes like gimlets (that dwarf who runs the delicatessen on cable street?) (sorry am rereading Reaper Man and that is one of the running jokes during the beginning bit - i am such a dweeb sometimes)



There was a woman looking at the lobster with the most amazing white hair. I could only dream of having hair like that when i am old. She looked up at the trees and it was like she was looking up at angels come to claim the good at the end of the world.



Though probably I'd just had too much sun by this stage. I am not used to sun. I like the heat, but only from the cool shade of my hammock.



Lovely as a sculpture, but regretable i think she would fit into my clothes - sigh - i really need to get some exercise.



this was very pretty. it was set up in the back of a ute with 'big yellow taxi' playing. I don't know what the significance of her getting out of the vehicle and resting a bottle of water against a rock, but she seemed to do it whenever I was passing by?



Part of the 'Listen, Now Walk' entry. This little town. Cute as. When I was sitting about at the rockpool reading I tried to make a little hut out of fallen pine thingys, but failed dismally. On the way too the rockpool I saw a little old lady creakingly lower herself down laying on the grass, so that she could take a photo on the same level of the little houses. She appeared thoroughly charmed. Must have been, cause getting up again looked painful.



A bird taunted me. It was flying about trying to pick the dangling bits for nest collection, but moved on everytime I got the camera framed into the right position. Curse you nature *shakes fist*



Am battling the urge to go glue rubbish to the tree out the front of my house. I don't think the landlord would like it.

A dirty scruffy withered and weathered man was sitting in the doorway of the pub my scooter was parked outside, rolling a cigeratte. He wished me a good morning. I uncharacteristicly indulged in a short chat. He lives nearby and goes for an early morning walk everyday. He has been puzzled at all the activity over the last week. Bless him. He's probably only ten/fifteen years older than me and thought I was a uni student or something.

G'morning

microwaved packet pasta alfredo for breakfast
smelt rancid in its deconstructed state
nuc'ing magically made it as bland and tastless as all the other flavours in the range

i was grateful