The Forest would be great if it wasn't for all the trees.

About an hours drive from the house is the Tahune Forest, with its Forest Air Walk-37 metres above the forest floor. What I like best about the drive though is that we pass my favorite cherry stand. They are the best cherries I have ever eaten. Zok and house guests have all left me behind, and there are enough cherries still to give me a nice stomach ache.

"...I love Seahorses & Seashells...I love items with Seahorses & Seashells printed on them..."

Yeah...That's right...I live here

and yet still I was vaguely disappointed...where are the Sharks I ask? Where are the mermaids?

Does "Cute" really cover it?

Monte turned me on to this blog which is the best thing I have read since first reading that blog about conversations over heard in the streets in NYC.
Am I being verbose? Anyway here is the link; http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/
Okay, maybe it is not a link and it is cut and paste, but hey I've had like 4 people over, and there is a lot of rum now missing...
So in the vein of 'fuck you penguin' and cute animals in general- here is Beware the Sniffer Dog, not only cute but efficient in his job to protect our small island from SMUGGLERS.

...from a sea too intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel

This building is across from the library and secretly I wish that this was the library.

Here is my local.

My borrowed copy of 'Little Dorrit' and the kiosk I used to check the book out.

I had to do a report once on Mesopotamia and all I remember about that report was that I read they had one of the first libraries. I think that reading that sentence was the first time I ever thought about being without a library.
I love libraries. Libraries have been my haven when I am tired, or poor. I search them out in the cities I visit, because many are so beautiful.
In Australia, books are shelved in alphabetical order by the last name of the author, and divided into areas, such as 'Large Print' or 'Juvenile Fiction'. The loss of the dui-decimal system was a bit of a culture shock for me. The blow was almost as harsh as the advent of hand stamping the books to scanning a bar code. Now of course I am completely happy to check myself out via a kiosk, I have caved to the kiosk just as I caved to self-serve gas pumps, and bottled water. I worked (temped) across the street from a really grand library in Melbourne. Of course not all libraries are grand, many are just charming such as the one I frequented while staying at Zok's Moms' home.
Zok's mother lives walking distance from a tiny but amazingly diverse library in Thomastown. I even found a book on how to learn Macedonian there, the neighborhood with all its many immigrants, are reflected on the shelves and that is just plain righteous. Nearby is a beautiful looking but not nearly as well stocked library of Millpark. I feel sadness whenever I have to leave a library behind. There was a library on Melrose Ave, east of Highland (in Los Angeles) that I still miss. The libraries on campus, where I went to University in Bellingham are worthy of an older European city. I can picture myself in each of my favorite reading nooks. I can still remember the stacks of books towering over me when I was about ten years old living in Indiana. I remember that library because I couldn't get there often enough to feed my reading appetite so I would sit and agonize over which books to pick. I often thought of sneaking out an extra book or two, but I am no rule breaker.
As you might guess the selection here on the island is a bit lacking. This fact is compensated by the point that the catalog is all online and a person can order a book delivered from anywhere in the state and those books come delivered to your local library.
There are no book drops after hours but a book can be returned to any branch. Sure, many of the audio books only come on tape but a girl can't have everything. Also my library isn't cosy, I never want to hang out there, the most I can do is peruse a shelf or two if I am killing time. Usually I just grab my delivered book from the hold shelf and take the book somewhere better.
I love that my selection this week came with an inscription from 1936. This book is exactly the type I hunt for in Oxfam shops in the U.K. Tiny, tiny print and detailed illustrations is exactly how I like my Victorian novels to be presented. Although I sometime picture myself having to read these same books by use of magnifying glass in my later years.

...Left to her own devices...

The sun is starting to set earlier as January moves on, still the darkness isn't thick until 10 p.m. and the sun is blazing brightly through my bedroom window by 6 a.m. I could say I've grown accustom to the light of Summer and perhaps I have, but still there are effects. Even though my life is free form, much more than ever before, I find myself trying to hold to a work day. My mind wanders to old places at certain hours whether I consciously try to do otherwise. I still think of each day as increments of hours that need to be made worthwhile by being arranged into a plan. When I woke today the temperature was warmer at 9 a.m. then it had been in days and days. When the rain came in and my gardening plans turned into listening to records while lying on the floor, still the day remained warm. By 5 p.m. the sun was out and warm became hot so I went to the beach with my dinner.
However, all that cloud cover made the sea cold, and turned the clear water a slate gray color that makes me think of jelly fish. I do love to look at a jelly fish from a dock, but I don't want to rub up against one. This is the same sort of fear that stops me from night swimming. I did not stay in the water long. Definitely not as long as a woman I see there often (who is much older than I am, and yet has much sleeker legs). No, I surely spent much longer on the beach than in the water. Eating my sandy-sandwich and drinking my beer while lazily listening to a audio book, still I was home and showered by 7:30 p.m.
I think I'll miss something if I start watching a movie while the sun is up, yet I've no problem doing just that if I have someone around to watch the movie with. Watching movies in the daylight feels a bit like drinking alone. Often I find that I am going to bed at 2 a.m. because I start watching movies so late. By contrast, in Winter when the darkness is securely surrounding me by 5 p.m., I find myself watching all the movies I want and still going to bed at 11 p.m. I find myself wondering at how my day becomes dictated by weather and light.
I did not find the album that I wanted to listen to-some piece of childhood classic rock that only sounds real if listened to in its vinyl incarnation. I can not help but feel the nagging thoughts about the Australian governments plans to limit certain internet access via some pressuring of the ISP servers, as limitations stem from big businesses being unable to control what they perceive as loss of revenue. Revenue from peer sharing, peer sharing which could be called free advertising, or built in marketing. How many times have I bought the same piece of music? Replacing lost copies, melted vinyl, scratched CDs, buying 45s, then the record, then the cassette and later CDs. Purchasing yet another cleverly re-packaged movie or music? Not to mention the countless movies, t.v shows and music releases NOT released here in Australia. Daily I try to access some website only to find that I am blocked due to my ISP address showing I am not in the U.S.
Is the indignation that wells up inside me an American fabrication that I should be able to read, watch, or buy anything that I want? Have I not been a hardworking, correctly consuming person throughout my life? Perhaps I am not that shallow, and the root of my feelings lie in not being able to choose.
I am better off swimming with the jelly fish then worrying about missing the webisodes of Chuck. Still, I feel like the girl no longer invited to the party.

New Years Eve; Day, Night, and the Day After

For the first time since we've moved to Tasmania, Zok had a show near Hobart. Everyone arrived from the mainland in the afternoon.
Zok came over to the house with more people than have ever been in our house at one time. He was funny to watch, buzzing around, and cooking up a meal at the first hint of hunger in the crowd. I did not see much of the festival as I went to the site after dark. The band was great as always. I of course, had to make note of the composting toilets, which really are much better than those plastic stalls that are normally put on site for festival shows. Most people slept out on the festival site, European style. We stayed at a hotel in town.
I think staying at a hotel in the city where one lives is funny. We were at an apartment styled hotel which I believe is built as an addition to the main building which used to be a Wool factory. I assume that the Wool Factory was inspiration for naming the hotel bar; Baaa Bar.
New Years Day, we had breakfast in the old Jam factory. The Jam factory also houses a hotel, but the inner area is now an atrium with two places to eat and some shops. It as nice to be out, but nicer to be home again.