A brief update

Hello to my two followers (and counsellor, if you are keeping tabs on me)!

I am absent only because I have knuckled down to write, and read, and re-write. My thesis is due soon and I have miles to go. I look forward to having more time to blather and muse once I am finished, but I do enjoy reading your posts.

In the midst of this I have most inconveniently fallen in love, yes, with The Lodger. Fortunately it is reciprocal and all is well.

The Teenager returns soon, in just a few weeks after seven months away, and no doubt there will be many tales of her re-entry and the reconfiguring of our relationship. Not to mention the introduction of The Lodger, from here on known as The Boyfriend!

Until then, I wish you all a fabulous 2010.

x Sunday

Learning slowly

Things are never what they seem. After two dreadful nights sleeping separately, with, to quote Bruce Springsteen,‘ a freight train running through the middle of my head’, and a stomach churning with anxiety and distress, The Lodger and I are back on.

What do you do when life throws something unexpected at you? I certainly wasn’t expecting a paying guest to become a lover, and a friend. And recently out of a marriage I’m sure it was the last thing he was expecting as well.

So, I have learnt to relax, and chill. I have had it with stressful relationships. I have learnt to take it one day at a time, that the less you expect, the more you receive, and the more you value what you have. I have spent years in relationships worrying needlessly, when things have a way of working themselves out anyway.

Things are good, I have no idea where they are heading, but I am attempting to,live life with grace and calmness, one day at a time, and it feels good.

The interference of feelings

Somewhere along the line during the last month I have fallen from being smitten to being bemused, besotted and finally, broken. Yes, I fell totally for the lodger. I have spent the last four weeks with a man in my bed who has made me laugh, think, eat and drink, and it has been bliss.

Unfortunately we are not in the same place, recently single he is in no way ready to leap into another relationship. And I would be deeply wary of anyone who was. But it seems that I appear to want more than he does, and perhaps I do. Not today, not this month, but maybe later, when he is ready. Sadly today my growing feelings have made him feel cornered, he has withdrawn, and I am left feeling confused and abandoned.

It seems after one marriage, one great love and numerous short-term relationships I still understand very little about men. However I do know that I am best to look after myself, continue to live well, live in the moment, and be positive about all that I do have. But it still hurts, and even though he remains under the same roof I miss him madly.

The Teenager

Despite it now being five months since the teenager set off on her Grand Adventure, I feel very much like a part of her is still very close to home. It doesn’t really change that much. Instead of receiving calls asking what’s for dinner and what time will you be home, or can you pick me up/drop me off, now I get texts and emails, a sample of which are below, they arrive at all hours. It’s astonishing really.

• I can’t check into my hostel for four hours, can you Google where I can leave my bags?
• I’m lost; can you tell me where I am?
• I love you.
• The train lurched whilst I was peeing and I slipped on the seat, will I get Aids?
• I’ve lost my bankcard and have no money.
• What’s Western Union, stop talking about it, I don’t know what you mean.
• Thanks for sending the money through Western Union.
• Can you please stop texting me, it’s costing me too much money.
• Why don’t you text me, don’t you care?
• How many calories in a sweet potato, can you please Google it?
• What thank you present should I buy great aunt P for having me? (3.50 am)
• There’s no florist near here. (4.00 am)
• Sorry for waking you. (4.40 am)
• I don’t have my new pin number, and have no money. (3.25 am)
• The bank has given me an advance, I’m ok. (4.15 am)
• Sorry to wake you, I love you. (5.00 am)
• Skype me now. You look tired, what have you been doing?

I am exhausted.

Signs of the times

I have always loved my neighbourhood for its diversity of residents, workers and visitors. Originally a poor working-class inner city suburb, and largely industrial, it has over time given way to migrant families with front gardens full of vegetables rather than flowers, artists looking for affordable space in which to work, and young urban professionals who fancy the cool edginess of it all. Cafes, bookshops and uber cool restaurants have moved in and our neighbourhood is slowly changing.

When I first moved in heroin was cheap, readily available and it’s users highly visible on the street. Needles were often left on our doorstep, and frequently littered the gutters. The users were a part of our community, and for the most part either walked the streets, or sat nodding off on street benches. They in no way ever threatened us or our sense of safety. I have always felt that witnessing that part of our community put my daughter in good stead, and it has. She is street-wise, safe and smart. At nineteen she is often offered an array of drugs at parties and clubs, and any parent that thinks this does not happen is deluding themselves. Unlike some of her friends who have lead more sheltered lives, she has no desire to take part in it.

For whatever reason, the last ten years or so the users, along with the needles, have for the large part, disappeared from our neighbourhood. Possibly the methadone programs available have provided an alternate solution, rent and housing prices have gone up, or it’s just been too expensive or hard to get. I don’t know. What I do know is that this week I have noticed a return of the spaced-out wandering our streets, and the occasional needle in the laneways. Is there a parallel to the slow recovery from the GFC? Is heroin plentiful and cheap again? Is it the thought of the holiday season looming, or is life just getting too hard?

Today I saw one of our regular homeless men wandering in the street, rake-thin, dishevelled and out of it. I was saddened to see him in this state as he’s always been a bit of a curious hero to me. He is handsome, cheeky, smart, and has a devilish smile. If there were a film made of his life, Johnny Depp would play his role. For years he has taken it upon himself to collect rubbish in our streets, bagging it and binning it like a man possessed, his only reward the occasional bit of spare change from a passer-by. If you stopped and talked to him, it was always a treat, listening to his views on politics, philosophy and music. Once I saw him drive past in a convertible sports car with the top down, and grinning from ear to ear. As I said, he is a curious man. Seeing him today so thin, so out of it prompted me to write this post. As I watched him barely managing to walk a straight line, he stopped to pick up a stray leaf from the road, and put it in his pocket. Bless him.

And for the record, yes I remain smitten with the lodger.

On being smitten

I admit it. I am completely smitten. It's ridiculous, but I have a schoolgirl crush on the Paying Guest. I blush, trip over my words, squeak, and generally fumble about. I'm sure that he thinks I'm completely mad. Fortunately he is away for a few days, so I will try to collect myself and regain some composure.

But it has made me rethink men. More specifically what is it that attracts us? I know we compiled a fantastic list of the things that we DON'T fancy in men (see the lovely notSupermum for the complete Harry High-Pants No-No List), but what are the things that DO attract us?

Clearly in my case I have thrown all, or most, of my tick-list out the window on this one. The PG is not George Clooney, or Johnny Depp. He is dishevelled, bumbling, pudgy and should seriously rethink his sideburns. But he is kind, funny, intelligent and interesting. He is passionate about food and the cooking, eating and ethics of it, and has chosen to abandon a 'sensible' career in order to follow his passion. I think I fell whilst watching him cook, mixing the salad with his hands. Talk about sexy.

So, what really turns us on? For starters I propose the following:

• Good personal hygiene. Not obsessive, just clean and nice-smelling
• Kindness
• Humour
• A passion for something
  
• A good smile
• A good mind
• (a new personal favourite) the ability to cook
  

I could go on with the more superficial items such as crumpled linen shirts NOT tucked in, and dark jeans, but I am more curious at my own abandonment of the things I thought usually matter. It's certainly been food for thought.

Tales of the lodger

I suspect this blog may turn to regular tales of the lodger, and I wonder how long he will last. So far he shows remarkable patience and good humour, bless. On his first night the cat peed on his clothes. On the second, in his shoes. He now knows to put them away.

Last night at dinner I failed to notice that one of the candles had burnt down to stumps, and the table was on fire! And the cat threw up next to us, for good measure. Fawlty Towers? I can't wait to see what happens next!