WRONG WAY GO BACK! Screamed the red sign with white bold writings on the other side of the road. I couldn’t help but wonder who in their right mind would drive on the wrong side of the road long enough to be warned by a sign like this.

Further down the road another sign instructed road users to watch for injured animals. I slowed down a bit half expecting to see a limping roo or dingo hitching a ride to the nearest hospital. Now that would be one for the tales, I chuckled. Then another thought hit me, I have never actually seen an injured animal by the roadside, they are usually road kill when I drive past. May all their souls rest in peace.

A “Slow users lane ahead” sign also caught my attention. If we are all going at 110 km/h doesn’t that mean that those on the fast lane are going faster, and not that the rest of us are slow? As I cruise along at 100 mm above ground level, my thought trails to a few instances where my lead-foot friends have called me grandma for keeping to the speed limit. Not Cool!

19.5559 hectares of land for sale. Strange, isn’t it? So one can actually buy a 0.1 hectare of land? Where did I get the idea that land was only sold to the nearest whole? I must seriously look into buying land, when I grow up.

“Fatigue kills, take a fifteen minute power nap now!” Oh come on! I am only 30 minutes away from my destination. Besides, I feel fine, I’ve only been driving for 6 and a bit hours straight, thanks to Regina Calcaterra and her fascinating book; Etched in the sand. I will give her a good review and rating. hmm I could probably make a career from writing reviews. I should look into that

WRONG WAY GO BACK!

The Australian Open is on and I must say I have enjoyed watching the master vs contender pairing so far; The heavy weights vs novices.

I understand that Nadal,Federer,Djokovic and Serena Williams were once in the same position as their young opponents. I also understand that nature will eventually take course and compel them to step aside and reminisce from the golden boxes like Pete Sampras,Rod Laver and Stefanie Graf, while the young ones will grow into the top slots of the ATP rankings.

However, that time is not now and that day is not today. Times have changed and it’s clear that age is whatever you make it to be. The youngins are fighting hard for the top spot and the masters are fighting even harder to stay on the throne. After all, they fought hard to be where they are. No one stepped aside and handed it to them. So why would they retire if their mind and bodies are still willing and able?

It is for this reason that I am setting aside my Nadal vs Federer vs Djokovic rivalry and swapping it for older vs younger. Obviously and proudly rooting for the older ones.

I want the younger ones to win of course, but not just yet and they must work for it! So really deep down I want the older ones to school them good and show them what it takes to be a top dog. Not just in hitting balls but in the mindset as well. To be great you have to supplement your game with good sportsmanship,hard work,charisma, willpower, mental strength and respect for your opponents,fans and yourself.These are the attributes I can relate to and understand. The rest is just extra cotton candy that can only be afforded by a certain class of people.

Are You Game? Coincidentally, is the name of the Carberet Savingion from Fowler winery that I am sipping on as I watch the Federer vs Tsisipas game.

I hope your player wins.

What were some of the things you looked forward to as a child for when you became a grown up? I had a few and they were: to drive a car, to own a wallet with money in it, to go to the movies just so I could eat popcorn, to be a hero of some sort, preferably one of those that save a child from a burning building, and not to have my rice and beans touch. Yes, having my rice and beans on the same plate but not touching was worth looking forward to. It bothered me when the grown-ups would mix them all up in my plate. Why they could not just leave the beans to the side of the rice is still a mystery to me.

But the thing I looked forward to most was to own a couch. Size, colour or brand did not matter. All I wanted was it to belong to me. I would sit on it for as long as my body would allow.

In my childhood home, sitting on the couch was strictly for grown ups and violating this rule was one of the domestic crimes punishable by thorough canning. When other kids indulged in sophisticated daring acts like sneaking out of the house at bed time to go play, we got our adrenaline fix by sitting on the couch with one eye keeping watch for the grown ups. We would bribe the maid with offers to do extra chores in exchange to letting us sit on the couch without telling on us.

When grown ups had their gatherings, we would take turns going past the sitting room entrance just to catch a glimpse of them on the couch and sit vicariously through them. Some days after a successful bribery exchange, we would sit on the couch and get carried away watching some silly cartoon like Johnny Bravo only to be jolted to reality by the door bell. In one swift move we would slide on the floor with the agility of a circus contortionist and at the same time straightening the butt dents left on the couch. This was an art we had mastered well and if by any chance you were too slow to manoeuvre, the rule was to take your beatings like a soldier. With each beating I willed myself to grow up faster so I could earn the right to sit on the couch.

As nature would have it, I did grow up, and therefore earned the privilege of sitting on the couch freely, okay, maybe semi-freely. I used this privilege as a form of getting things done by my siblings. “If you do what I say I will let you sit on the couch for 5 minutes, ” I’d say. I loved sitting on that couch! Occasionally I’d  invite my friends for a visit just so they could sit on the couch, but most importantly to see me sitting on it too because it confirmed that I was no longer a child.

One day I was enjoying this couch pleasure when a grown up showed up out of absolutely nowhere! I instinctively flinched and assumed the manoeuvre position when I remembered I was grown up too so I remained seated. Senior grown up however didn’t seem pleased. She glared at me and in a stern voice asked I had contributed any money towards buying the couch. Confused, I could only shake my head in response. She took one step towards me and in a split second I was on the floor. The message was loud and clear, these were her couches and we had no business sitting on them. Just like that my privilege was gone.

As I sat on that floor watching the television through tears, I  set a goal for myself and ran towards it. One day I was going to buy my own couch and I would sit on it all day whilst I drank coca cola. This day came was I was 26 years old. I had saved enough money to afford a couch and nothing was going to get in my way. I picked a leather couch, a white one so you could see it as soon as you walked through the door. On the day it was delivered, I cooked rice and beans, then I dialled my manager and told her I’d bought a couch and I needed two days off. I sat on my couch all day that day and the day after that. I ate my rice and beans on it, served side by side;not touching.

My neighbor today stopped for a chat and after the usual pleasantries she mentioned that she was going to the AFL grand final and she in fact is a Collingwood supporter. My response was the rehearsed expected reaction from seemingly every Melbournian: Gasp! No way! Surely you cannot be a Collingwood supporter, come on, it’s (Anyone but Collingwood)

She then comes back with the well-known implied rule in the world of Aussie Football which is; if a Victorian team is in the finals against an interstate team, then you must support the home team unless the other team is yours. Not knowing how to get out of this I say, trying to sound reasoble, “yes but you see I’m an Essendon Supporter”. That seemed to have gotten me off the hook because she thought for a second then said “ oh ok then that’s fair enough”

If my life depended on it, I could not tell you why Essendon and Collingwood do not get a long. I have never bothered to find out and quite frankly i don’t care but maybe I should find out. However, I do have personal reasons as to why I don’t care much for Collingwood and it has nothing to do with the brainwashing and initiation process that happens as soon as you step off the boat/plane/rocket or whatever means you got here in.

To those who don’t know what I’m plowing on about, allow me to explain. Collingwood is one of the most disliked footy teams in Australia. For most it’s a healthy team rivalry, and  for others they hate it because mum, dad, and everyone they know are against it, no one knows or remembers why but they just do and it’s passed down from generation to generation.

As I drove to an unknown destination, I reflected back on the conversation with my neighbor and I have come to see the similarities between football teams in the western world and tribalism.

Back in my mother land, different tribes have different features and mannerisms. They favor a certain animal over the others, they are accustomed to certain weather conditions and they have slogans and colors that sets them apart from the rest. Some tribes do not see eye to eye, no one knows or remembers why but they just do and the hate is passed down from one generation to another.

For example, if you have a bit of a swag, eat fish for breakfast,you favor orange (Not sure if the fruit also counts) and you construct a sentence or two with proper grammar and vocabulary, you will be assumed to be from the Luo tribe.

Similarly, when it comes to AFL, if every second word out of your mouth is a two dollar word, your dental hygiene is questionable, your wardrobe consist of mostly black and white, and you are crazy about the magpies (the bird),instantly you’ll be assumed to be a Collingwood fan.

There comes a time when some tribes clash and people have to pick sides. They would wear their respective colors and chant their theme songs as a pledge to their support and loyalty. During these clashes people avoid work and stock their houses with food and various beverages. There is a lot of exodus from those who want no part of it. Some go back to their hometowns, others vow to stay indoors for days, while the well to do ones catch a flight to some another country or place with coral reefs. You then have the die-hard ones who stay and fight or support.

Today in less than six hours such a clash is about to happen right here in Melbourne and the two tribes are Collingwood – Magpies and West Coast Eagles. The streets are eerily quiet, the anxiety in the air is infectious, houses are bursting with theme songs and the city is drowning in a sea of black & white (Magpies) and blue and yellow (Eagles). Then you have the other team still donning their tribal colors as if to say ” hey this is not my war, and i will not pick sides”

As much as Nathan Buckley’s story is compelling and i’d want the magpies (the team not the birds) to win for his sake. I admire the Eagles (the birds not the team) for their power, freedom, and transcendence.

My Tip? The rain is holding off so the Eagles have a chance and my washing will dry.

May the best tribe/bird win!

 

I stood behind the “Please wait to be seated sign” watching as the place buzzed with life. A staff member walked around with a clipboard calling out people’s names like a nurse in an emergency room. You had to give your name, and number of people and wait to be allocated a seat. I knew it was my turn when I heard “Catherine! table for one!” Geez! tell the whole world why don’t you!

I seat myself on 80km/h, yeah they have speed limits and road signs as chair tops. As you might have guessed, it’s one of those places where the food is served on a chopping board and cold pressed juices in a jam jar. Almond is activated, the sourdough bread is from Tivoli road and bacon is not just plain old bacon anymore It’s “twice cooked in Ikea stainless steel pan. OK maybe not that but you get my drift. That reminds me, I need to get something from Ikea.

Seated at 50km/h is a young boy about 6 or 7 yo being given a talk by his mother. I say talk and not scolding because she was speaking so softly at first I thought they were just having a conversation. ” …you made a mistake and now you are shifting blame away from yourself by blaming others. You need to take responsibility…” I was so Impressed I caught myself nodding in agreement and making that sound people make when they agree with the preacher.

I glance back at the menu, Garlic and bone marrow butter on toast.. seriously? “..you look at me when I am talking to you,” the  mother whispered. Add half a hand peeled avocado for $6, the menu said. My focus shifted completely! what?I know we have avocado crisis at the moment but that’s just a bit too extra! Plus what does it matter how it was peeled? If I offer to peel it myself does it get cheaper?

At that moment a beaming waiter comes to take my order and clearly I wasn’t ready but  I had already been waiting for half an hour to be served so I wasn’t going to waste any more time. I beamed back and murmured some pleasantries then without much thought I blindly put my finger on the menu and said ” I’ll have that!” What’s the worst that could happen? plus it’s fun to be adventurous.

30 minutes later my food arrived. Let me know when you figure out what this is. #CathyAollRambles

First Incident

Dear John,

Lately i have been feeling a bit emotional over minuscule things. I find myself overusing the words amazing and awesome and telling people that i miss them and actually meaning it!

I’m i broken? it’s too human!