Heroes and Villains

In most superhero movies once the hero has moved beyond the second, or sometimes third film in the franchise, he, (it’s almost invariably a ‘he’) has a crisis of conscience. The supporting characters reflect this dilemma in various ways.

One such way is to question the adjacent rise of super villains. In terms of  the story the question is framed thus; the villain arises as a response to the hero, checks and balances, that sort of thing. The hero then has to justify his existence, at least to his own satisfaction, and carry on doing superhero-y things.

But in our world the villains have and are always there.

Of course superheros, and villains, are one of the great allegories for What Lies Within; our human capacity for choosing behaviors and actions that hurt and/or support our Selves and others.

Anyone who spends any time on this blog will know that I enjoy a good superhero movie. (who’d’a thunk!) I love watching the spectacle, the ‘splosions, the fantasy, that CGI can create. (it also helps if there’s a decent story, good direction and acting, etc, but if the effects are good, I’ll muddle through the rest) It’s a much more satisfying way to defeat the villain than small ordinary successes of our ordinary lives.

There are days when I don’t want to do those ordinary tasks that enable me to survive and thrive on this planet. Some days I just want to watch an impossible dream come true, even if it is only a celluloid dream. (yeah, I know, no-one uses celluloid anymore)

And afterwards, the storm of my rebellion cleared away, I find myself inspired to attend to the rituals of my life with a bit more of a smile than I had before.

The Hero of What Lies Within

Menstruation Blues

This morning I was sitting up in bed with a pot of tea and a hot water bottle, because I’m menstruating, for the first time in five years.

I’m supposed to be POST menopausal. I have the hairs to prove it.

You ever wonder where the hairs on your legs go as you age? I know where. Ears, chin, and one very fine one that pops up in a different part of your body immediately after you eliminate it from somewhere else. Apparently this is normal.

Also ‘normal’ is menstruating like this … unless it ‘continues’.

How the hell does one define which side of the ‘continues’ continuum one is on?

Is it the number of tampons one goes through in a day? Which incidentally I don’t recommend using (after a five year break) without some sort of preparation. (the details of which I won’t go into here because even for a post as ‘menstrual-y’ as this one, that might be just too much information)

Is it a compilation of the kinds of emotional meltdowns one can go through into a single hour? Perhaps calibrated to the number of hankies one uses?

Or the intensity of cramps? Which sucked when I was 15, sucked when I was 35, and damn me if they don’t still suck at 58!

**pours Self another cup of tea, whimpers at Mrs Widds for another hot water bottle, and slides further under the covers**

I’m consigning the rest of today to the ‘hell-and-gone’ basket, and …

**looks our the window with a pale and wan melancholia**

…well … would you look at that? It’s raining … again …


‘Menstruation Blues’ is the title of a song by Robyn Archer. If you’ve never heard of her, go check her out. (who could resist such a cheeky grin?)


There are so many sad (and melancholic) songs about rain, and I couldn’t go past my favourite diva of all time … the Divine Miss M


Left Behind

… continuing with the theme of my last post … from a certain point of view. (to quote Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Every now and then our local library has a book sale to get rid of old, and probably not-very-popular, stock. They have books for sale individually, or for $5 you get a sturdy paper carry-bag that you can stuff to the gills.

Mrs Widds scored these …

Something for everyone

As she was leafing through this one …

Not my cuppa tea, but looks interesting none-the-less

…a slip of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor.

Was it a bookmark, forgotten casually or deliberately?

It reads:

‘Hi Dad & Betty
I just cruzed out to show you my new car but you weren’t home – thought you said you were always home
I was here at 5:40
Anyways I’ll try to stop by again
Take care
Love Crystal’

Who was ‘Crystal’? Who was ‘Betty’ and what sort of relationship did they have? What was the real story behind why she underlined ‘home’? Was she disappointed, or resigned, or relieved, they didn’t get to see her new car?

Oh, the stories that are within this little piece of paper.


Communiqué from Coco, the Community Cat

I is being watching the snow go from this …

Snowing again

… to this

One last snow-shower

… to this …

That’s just sad

… Now, is mah job …

… to watch the rain fall



For the newcomers to my blog, (Welcome!) Coco the Community cat adopted us after Widdercat died a few year ago. Actually Coco wanted to adopt us the minute we moved in but Widdercat would have none of it. Two fluffy Grande Dames going at it hammer-and-tongs, fur a-flying, all hissy and spitty, is a sight to behold, but not to be repeated, so Coco was hugged and cuddled when we went for walks, but studiously ignored when we were at home.

After Widdercat , we decided our lives were too transient (and dealing with the home owners association politics as lowly renters too futile) to give another cat a forever home. (we intend to have gazillions of them when we next move to our forever home. It’s been Mrs Widds and my experience that our cat companions have always found us at the right time)

In the absence of fur-fights Coco decided that, as absurd as our decision was, she would respect it and invited herself into our lives for cuddles, pats, and ‘now let me out’ visits.

We’re not the only cat-orphans she’s adopted. The four houses at our end of the driveway are all blessed by her Most High Fluffyness.

So, my finest Winter, to date, (3 months of snow on the ground) is now done and we are back to our usual Spring, Autumn, and Winter, rainforest-y climate – rain.

Let’s Try This Again … Going, Going …

It seems my ‘chitis likes it here on Widder Island. I’m on my third week of antibiotics and I feel crappy, and if La La Land wins Best Picture, I’ll feel even worse. It wasn’t … terrible … but come on people, if you’re going to have a film about people who sing and dance, hire actors who can sing and dance above a B-movie level.


We return you to our regularly scheduled snow report.

Going …

How the mighty have melted

How the mighty have melted

Going …

Poor rosemary looks like a bunch of frozen twigs

Poor rosemary looks like a bunch of frozen twigs

Midnight at the Oasis …

Midnight last night ... Yep ... that’d be more snow! ( shot from the front door, cos there’s no way I’m going out there)

Midnight last night … Yep … that’d be more snow! ( shot from the front door, cos there’s no way I’m going out there)


Remember this song?

The Snows of Widder Island

It snowed for five days …

The second night

The second night

Our front yard looked like this …

30 centimeters of snow dug out three times

30 centimeters of snow dug out three times

… and this …

Poor Rosemary is somewhere underneath all that

Poor Rosemary is somewhere underneath all that

Neighbours pitched in to clear driveways, and cars, and a way out to the main road …

A posse of six women did most of this

A posse of six women did most of this

But, the day before yesterday came the freezing rain …

The sound of cracking branches reverberated across the island

The sound of cracking branches reverberated across the island

Ice, everywhere …

Our driveway marker. The top meter or so anyway

Our driveway marker. The top meter or so anyway

Then the inevitable happened. No electricity. Mrs Widds and I were prepared …

Kerosene heater – with supper in the pot on top – light and warmth

Kerosene heater – with supper in the pot on top – light and warmth

I love Winter!

A 40 Year Old Rumour

40 years ago today, Fleetwood Mac released Rumours.

I actually refuse to believe it’s been 40 years. 20 at most, I’m certain. Probably only 15.

Here’s my Fleetwood Mac/Rumours story:

I was barely 14 when I left high school (in Australia) and got myself a job (lied about my age. I was tall for 14)  so that the remnants of my family would survive. Good old dad had absconded in the middle of the night with the other sibling and the wife of a neighbour, who he’d been bonking for months/years/? and her kids.

After food, utilities, and rent, there wasn’t anything left over for things like entertainment. (the nearest public library was in town, over 20 kilometers away, and no way to get there on a regular basis) None-the-less I managed to save up enough to get one of these little beauties …

The giddy height of audio technology

The giddy height of audio technology

… I was tired of listening to the radio playlists in order to hear my favourite songs. I was gonna make my own.

I’d listen to the Top 40 Countdown shows with my fingers hovered over the Play/Record buttons, then mash them down in time to capture the very first notes of my chosen songs.

The very first one I recorded was Rhiannon off of Fleetwood Mac’s 1975 self titled album.

I was hooked. A Fleetwood Mac fan for life.

When ‘Rumours’ was released in 1977 (the same year as Star Wars: A new Hope!) I bought the cassette version and a ten-pack of blank cassettes. There was no way I was going to wear out my precious original.

I went through at least 5 copies (that I can remember) before I upgraded to a turntable and the vinyl version.

My favourite track? I loved ‘em all equally so I tossed a dice …