… Betcha you thought that song was out of your head didn’t you?
Back from the Interior actually, where I attended a lovely heterosexual wedding, accompanied by my wonderful wife. (Some straight friends of mine proudly announced a while ago that they were going to a gay wedding, rather than just simply a wedding of folk they knew, so I thought I’d return the favour)
Events occurred there that were post-worthy, but as quite a few of the rellies* read this blog, I’ve decided to wait until the guilty partys are safely deceased (or have moved to an alternate reality) in order to protect the innocent.
A bit like that bloke who wrote, or produced/directed (can’t remember which) The King’s Speech, and waited until the Queen Mum had turned up her toes before going ahead with the project. Quite respectful I thought (if it’s a true tale of course)
*rellies is Aussie slang for relations.
So, yes, I’m back in time to visit my dentist this afternoon. I had a very unfortunate series of dentists and appointments when I was a child that left me with a rather horrific terror of them.
That slightest anesthetic-y smell is enough to send a frisson of adrenaline into my bloodstream even today. Which is ironic since I’ve been in and out of hospitals (which are veritable dens of anesthetic-y smells) over the years putting my knee back together after that motorbike accident a couple of decades ago.
However I eventually faced my fears and had gazillions of dollars worth of work done, (teeth, not knee) and can honestly say, that now I don’t dread my six-monthly checkups.
However that’s not the point of this story.
I was walking to the train station on my way to the dentist and crossed a street that had recently been dug up in order to replace our aged sewer pipes.
The street used to be paved in cobblestones that dated back to the beginnings of this city’s existence. (maybe not quite that old, but close enough) I had wondered whether the old stones would be replaced or the public works dept would just smack down a layer of asphalt and be done with it. The asphalt won. Not long after I noticed two hand-painted parallel lines running the length of the new sparkly black surface.
“Oh dear.” I said to myself. “They wouldn’t.”
But they did. Today I saw what looked like a bench saw on GMO steroids (is that a tautology or just redundant?) cut very precisely into the new surface right along the yellow guidelines. They dug up the cobblestones and replaced them with asphalt only to dig up the asphalt a week later to lay some more pipes!
I want my taxes back!
After my dentist appointment, with teeth all smooth and polished, I headed off to my local library which is housed in the same building as our community center. It’s a hub of activity, a well used and appreciated resource in our very mixed income community.
I was standing on the opposite side of the street waiting for the light to turn when I witnessed a rather extraordinary sight.
Right in front of the generously sized glass doors and floor to ceiling windows of the neighbourhood center/library, stood a young man who thanks to genetics and a lot of time in a gym possessed a very impressive set of upper body muscles.
How could I tell this? Because he quite casually took his t-shirt off, completely unaware of a gaggle of young women who stood nearby being just as completely unaware of him, of course. His dilemma came when he had to decide where to store his t-shirt about his person. He tried first the left rear pocket of his board shorts, having flexed all his muscles whilst doing so. But that wasn’t working for him so he tried tucking it into the other side, also flexing muscles. I didn’t know these things took so much flexing. I was receiving an education.
Finally he gave up and walked right past the gaggled young women and placed the shirt on a bench, perhaps for some homeless person to make good use of. How generous, I thought.
Then walking by the young women one last time he sauntered up the street as a true hero should. I was certain neither the young man or the young women noticed each other. Really.
I’m sure I could turn these observations into a writing metaphor but I think I’ll just leave them as observations … of life.
P.S. Mabel – Blogger won’t let me comment on your blog. It appears that it doesn’t approve of the fact that I blog over here at WordPress. But rest assured I do read it every day.
“That which seems the height of absurdity in one generation often becomes the height of wisdom in another” – Adali Stevenson