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From the Ashers - Stories from us, The Ashers
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Writing

Confession Time

19/11/2014 by Alison Asher 6 Comments

Confession Time:

I want to write a book.

There, I said it, and in a little while, I am going to press publish on this blog post, and anyone who casually stops by my little haven in the internet will know too. I have written a lot of things on here since I started blogging, some of them quite personal I suppose, so much so that I now think of myself as one of those over-sharing people, for whom life doesn’t seem to happen unless they tell the world about it, whether the world is listening or not.

You RRs know I’ve been reading a goal setting book, and one of the things that Matthew says is key to realisation of goals, is telling others about them. And I think he is correct in that. Usually if I want to do something I parp on and on about it, boring everyone around me to dust until the groundswell is such that I can’t help but do the thing in question.

Writing has never been like that for me.

I read something by Stephen King (the greatest modern author) years ago where he said that he often has people approach him saying that they too want to write a book. They even outline the plot to him, (as if he could care), talking talking about their amazing book idea, but never doing any of the actual writing. He said that writers don’t talk about writing a book- they just write one. And if my memory serves me correctly, he says they write not so much because they want to, but because they must.

So forever I have kept my secret hidden.

I have always written little bits and pieces for my own amusement, or for a small audience, and I have been kindly received. People who already know, and I assume, like me, have said nice things. Some of them have compared my scratchings to proper authors they have read. Others have said that my scribblings could be a book. I have just smiled a sanguine smile, thanked them and said, “No, I’m a chiropractor.” As though having a real job precludes me from ever doing anything else.

I think it is telling, that a close friend once read this little blog, looked me in the eye and said, “You were born to do this.” I have done lots of cool things in my life. I have had a flukey and fortunate existence, with minimal trauma, and much success. But when my friend said that, I grabbed and clutched that precious gem and squirrelled it away, burying it deep in my heart, just behind the first ventricle, where it could sit, safe and heavy, so I could always know where it was.

 

Confession Part Two:

I started this blog as writing practice.

That’s it. I didn’t really do it to entertain and interact with you. I didn’t have a great product idea. I didn’t want to be useful to you. I’m sorry lovelies, but as usual. this blog wasn’t all about you, it was all about me. The very idea behind it was to start exercising my writing muscles, for as you know, neurones that fire together, wire together, and I suspected that getting into a regular writing commitment would make the words flow. Which is true. They do mostly, sometimes spilling forth like so much frothy diarrhoea, my fingers flying across they keyboard in a frenzy as the words jostle to be heard.

A friend told me that an author (I think it was Bob Hawke’s wife, Blanche) was asked when the best time to write. She said, “The muse shows up when you show up.” I think she might be right. The problem is eeking out a time to show up. I sometimes feel like making time to write steals from my family, which I cannot do, and also other important and fulfilling tasks like paying phone bills and cleaning bathrooms.

I read a book recently by Cartoon Dave (Dave Hackett) a local guy who I know to be full of energy and fun. I think I kind of assumed he sat down every morning, did a few cartoons, maybe organised his next shoot time for his television show and then put in some good solid writing hours before doing the school run. Then I read in the acknowledgements that he thanked coffee, for all the 4am starts. So writing the book wasn’t necessarily easy for Dave, but he found a way to make it happen.

 

Confession Part Three:

I hate early mornings.

Always have. I’m a night person, but somehow I don’t think I’m going to get a book written by staying up after midnight every night. Even for me, Night Owl in Big Glasses, it might be too much of a stretch. I am part of a whole lot of closed groups on FB, and one of them is with a bunch of incredibly motivated people who are in a 5am club. They get up every morning at 5am and do STUFF. I am never up at 5am. However, lately the idea has been kicking around in my temporal lobe I think, and it has taken to communicating to some melatonin, and for the last week I have been waking at 4.45am. I don’t like it, not one bit, so I roll over with a huff, and try to go back to sleep. But the idea keeps tickling away at my corpus callosum.

So today, this blog is brought to you by the number 5.

I did it. I got up at 5am (which is not really a big deal- in Queensland we don’t have daylight savings- it would fade our curtains- so at 5am it’s perfectly light, and already warm). Still, it’s a start.

So if this post is particularly long and winding, it’s because I’m partly delirious and mostly still addled with the stuff of my dreams.

Hence the confessional.

I guess it’s like being in the little box, with the priest next door. You know he’s there, you know he’s probably listening, but still you go on. Still you say things that afterwards you wonder why, but somehow the safety of the darkness and the sweet invigoration of getting something off your chest and into the world makes you jump off.

So here goes.

I’m not going to edit this post, or even re-read it, lest I chicken out. Apologies in advance for typos. I’m about to jump. I hope I can fly.

 

 

…From The Ashers

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Life

Number Three Forever

Uberkate necklaces
17/11/2014 by Alison Asher 10 Comments

Uberkate necklaces

A long time ago, one of my friends told me a story about how she only had five friends. We laughed at the time, but as the years passed I began to think that perhaps that was about right. We know more people than that of course, and we often have friends for various activities in our lives: the exercise friend, the straight-talking friend, the partying friend, but really, when you think of the people in this world who really have your back, the ones who know all about you, and somehow still like you anyway, there’s only a handful, isn’t there? Five, six, maybe eight tops.

Last year one of my top five died. You RRs know her by now of course, but if you’re new here, her name was Hayley and she bloody lit up the room whenever she entered. I wish you could’ve met her. She called my on my nonsense and she somehow knew just what to say to lift me up, no matter what the cause. A friend like that is rare and valuable. If you have one, cherish the fuck out of them. Because you are lucky.

So, in many of our long languid Queensland days, where we would chat and laugh for what felt like forever (we thought it would last forever, why couldn’t it last forever, dammit?), we named our top five, and, just for fun (and because we were sometimes assholes) we ranked them in order.

I was Hayley’s third best friend, and there was always much banter around that. I would joke of how I would knock Number One and Two off their perches one day.

But my friend Hayley died, and I never got the chance.

So now the rankings are set in stone, forevermore.

 

A little while ago BabyMac ran a competition for a gorgeous Uberkate silver banner necklace, stamped with the words of your choice. On a particularly grievish day I entered, boring poor Beth with the story of my sadness, yet one more time. I wanted to win so badly I even pulled out the Jamie Oliver card- sending her a pic of all three of us girls; Numbers One, Two and Three, and Jamie, relegated to a zero these days, with no Hayley around to shuffle the rankings.

And because Beth has a heart that is as kind and as sweet and full of substance as an Anne Cake, she let me win.

Jamie, Carlsy, Jo and I

So the rankings shall stay as they are: Carlsy (and James, yes I know, you are 1b Jamesey), Jo and I. And now we have necklaces to prove it.

They don’t fix anything.

In fact, they might make things a little worse for a time. Because in wearing them, we recall our missing friend even more. The heft of it pressing on the sternum makes it a little hard to breathe at times. Perhaps it is heavier than it’s actual weight. It feels like it. But after a while, I hope it will get lighter, or perhaps I will adapt to the feeling.

I’m not sure if I want to.

And people will probably be attracted to it’s lustre. They will read the words, and they may ask what it means. And I will be able to tell them about my friend, talk her back into the world a little, make a space for her in the days that go on, even though she does not.

Lest we forget.

They are beautiful and shiny and bright, these necklaces. I am grateful to Beth and to Kate for them.

They reflect the light in a way that reminds me of my friend.

Uberkate necklace

 

 

…From The Ashers

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Music

Countdown and World Order

16/11/2014 by Alison Asher 2 Comments
Records, Skyhooks, Leo Sayer, Rod Stewart, ABBA

Aplogies to the neighbours, but I’m stuck in the 70s tonight

 

Today we had Double J playing, and “Size of a Cow” by The Wonderstuff came on. I was singing along, I guess I know most of the words (or at least my version of them, which may vary from the intended, but that’s not a new thing) and Nath was just looking at me. He said he’d never, ever heard it.

That was weird. We are the same vintage, had lots of the same friends, and came from the same town, so usually we know the same songs. We varied a bit in taste, back in those teenage days- I was more Billy Bragg and Bob Dylan, he was more Rolling Stones and all of the other headachy Blues stuff that makes me doubt my ability to be happy ever again. But usually we kind of cross-over a little.

And a similar thing happened last night- we were doing the random scroll thing on our iPods- you know where you close your eyes and flick and point and then have to listen to whatever comes on? Well, “Death of a Disco Dancer” (The Smiths) came on. Nath didn’t know it at all. I can understand why- Morrissey is painful at the best of times at that is a particularly moan-ey song- but still. Never, ever? That felt a bit wrong.

So if he doesn’t know those two songs- I mean, to not even have heard them- then what else doesn’t he know, that I do? Of course there is all of the professional information that we each carry- I don’t think that either of us knows the intricacies of each other’s work- but what other world stuff?

When we play Trivial Pursuit we are fairly evenly matched- I know a bit more Science and Lit, he knows more History, and don’t even talk to me about the Geography (I’ve been waiting for Google Maps my whole life), but we are fairly similar. I sometimes say, “How did you know THAT?” quickly followed by, “and who wants to know anyway?” Because I don’t like to be wrong.

When we talk about tv shows, movies, places, pubs, people, there is a calming reassurance that is like coming home. We nod our heads at the same bits.

We know the same jokes, the same streets, the same beaches.

Familiar.

And comforting.

This afternoon I did that thing where you twist a wet towel into a whip and then flick someone with it. I was going to show the kids, because: life skill. I said to Nath, “Remember how there was that Collingwood footy player, maybe like Des Tuddenham or someone, who they said got testicular cancer from a towel flick?” Nath was very adamant that it was Peter Crimmens who played for Hawthorn. I don’t know anything much about footy, and I don’t have testicles, so I suspect that Nath is right, but it bugs me that something is off. That something happened in the world, and we have completely different representations in our brains about it. I know it is most probable that I’m wrong, but my neurology has created a very clear picture of a Tuddy and a Collingwood jumper in my head. So I guess I’m muddling up and mooshing together some news item/ Urban Myth, and a scene from The Club.

How often does this happen?

I bet it happens a lot.

I find that disconcerting.

So tonight we watched Countdown together, and, quite frankly, it was a relief. We knew the same songs. We thought the same outfits were ridiculous. We reminisced about cold Sunday nights in Melbourne, huddled around the fire, having Heinz tomato soup (with white bread dunked in it) and watching Countdown with our families. Waiting to see what Molly would do wrong. Hoping to see our favourite band in the Number One spot.

Tonight we sat in our own home. Sweltering in the Queensland Spring, singing along to the songs of our youth. The songs that everyone knew. Back in those days there were no obscure bands, or at least not in our suburbs. Everyone watched Countdown (except Joanne Mifsud, because her Mum said it was too rude), and everyone knew all of the words, all of the music. Countdown made us part of a gang. We could recognise each other in the harmonies. It felt just right.

Tonight I sang along with the Skyhooks in their crazy, theatrical over-the-top, splendour: “Horror movie, Right there on my tv, Horror movie, Right there on my tv, Horror movie, And it’s blown a fuse, Horror movie, It’s the sex they don’t use.”

Nath just looked at me, eyes a little wide, and didn’t say a.single.thing.

I think he knows I’ve had enough shocks for one day. There’s no need to tell me what the words really are, no need at all. I might blow a fuse.

 

 

Excuse me whilst I give these old records a spin. How RUDE were the Skyhooks?!!

Did you watch Countdown? Who was your favourite band?

 

…From The Ashers

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Hitwave Alison

Hitwave Alison

13/11/2014 by Alison Asher 2 Comments

Here are the hits of the week…

1.  Booking tix to go to the US for Christmas. This it the first Chrissy we will all have together since my Dad was crook, and almost gone. It was lucky thing to have us all together like that, but it was a horrid time. Watching him deteriorate day by day by day. This time there will be no impending death. Just laughs and bad Christmas sweaters. Bittersweet times. Bitter and Sweet. In equal measure.

 

2.  The big fuck-off bowls of pasta Nath has ready for me after I finish my late nights at work. They’re bloody big and bloody good. Just what the Doctor ordered. Thanks Nato. You rock.

 

3.  These grouse new cushions from Alisa of Plump Homewares. Not only has she donated a shitload of fabric for my Softie Sew-a-thon Wednesday (7-9pm at Noosa Christian Outreach centre if you are a local), but she gifted me two of these cushions today. What a legend. How fresh are they? You can visit her at Eumundi Markets every Wednesday and Saturday, or shop online here. She has a brand new range coming out this Saturday- go check it out.  *Not a sponsored post, but she did give me these cushions for nix. (She meant them as a gift, not as a blog post.)

Plump cushion

 

4.  The hottest weekend in the world (well in my part of the world anyway) scheduled for Friday and Saturday. I’ll be spending a fair bit of it safetly ensconced in this seat, looking at this. Hopefully with a couple of small people, and one big one in the pic too. Weekend,  you’re looking good from here….

pool

How’s the serenity?

 

5.  A special delivery I got from Uberkate this week. I can’t tell you much more just yet, as it’s a surprise, but let me tell you the lady doesn’t disappoint. Thanks Kate, and thanks BabyMac. May lovely things come your way. You are both such beautiful people. I’m grateful for you. And I promise pics will be posted once the cat is out of the bag.

**This is not a sponsored post either; I won a competition. But I do want to share that I saw on Uberkate’s website that if you spend 250 smackers you get a free ring. Good incentive for a Chrissy gift with some meaning, I reckon. Love your work Kate.

 

So what were your hits of the week? Do you have plans for Christmas yet?

…From The Ashers

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Beautiful Things

New Dawn on Twilight

12/11/2014 by Alison Asher 2 Comments

A most wonderful thing has happened.

Thankfully I wasn’t writing this blog during my dalliance with Edward the Vampire, for it may have very embarrassing. All the swooning, all the gushing.

I will now freely admit that I was obsessed, for he was the love of my life. For a time at least.

Then by and by my love for Edward waned, and I thought it was because I no longer loved his immortal wisdom, his porcelain skin, his immeasurable strength.

ABC2 has a done something amazing: they are showing the Twilight movies every Wednesday.

And I have found my love for Edward was not a fleeting infatuation.

My love was true.

 

 

Hence. This blog. Can’t write. Watching.

 

 

…From The Ashers

 

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Life

Shopping for Succes

11/11/2014 by Alison Asher 2 Comments

It has come to my attention that I might be a bit competitive.

I have two children, and I never let them win at games, because: character building. In fact the eldest just got his first pair of contact lenses, and we may be having competitions to see who can pop them in first. I have the very slight advantage of wearing contacts every day for the last twenty nine years. (But if you want to know, I am whipping that kid.)

Tonight I went to Coles, and I was doing that thing with a nubile young thing in tiny exercise shorts and taut brown skin. You know, when you pass each other in the middle of each aisle as you approach from opposite directions, because you are shopping at the same pace.

So I picked up my pace a little. “In your face, young thing”, I thought, as I prepared to intersect, not in the middle, but more up her end, near the salsa.

But she had mysteriously sped up too.

As soon as I got out of her eye-shot I hot-footed it around the bend only to find she was also moving quite swiftly. “I’ll show you, youthful one,” I sneered to myself, “I’ve been shopping a lot longer than you, and I already know which brands contain the dodgy numbers and which ones are the best value, I’ll sort you out once you have to stop and check where Greenseas catch their tuna. Or something.”

The thing was, as I picked up more and more speed, so did she. My old legs were beginning to tire. Hers were showing no signs of letting up. In fact, I think she was just coming into her stride. Faster and faster I went, grabbing any old stuff on the fly, filling the trolley with honey (I think we need some), toilet paper (we’re sure to need it someday) and eggs (we always need those little chicken menstruations to feed the ferals).

Finally, we had a little sprint at the end and arrived at the registers at the same time. I looked at her, she looked at me. I made the controversial decision: Self Scanning.

And you better believe I scanned those goodies like an Aldi checkout chick on cola. My biceps were bulging with the effort, my brachioradialis was burning with the speed. People were turning their heads, and staring in awe and disbelief. Or they were just looking around to see what all the grunting was about.

Finally, I escaped out of the refrigerated muzak box that is our local Coles, and into the freedom of the humid evening, basking, basking at my success. Shopping Superstar, 2014: Beating fit young chicks at the shops since 1991

I waltzed along in the afterglow of elation, secure in the knowledge that I may be ancient, but I can still pip the next generation at the post.

When suddenly, from behind me, there was a clash and a clatter of a trolley. And not any kind of trolley. I could tell by the cadence of the casters it was one of those svelte new mid-week shop specials, you know the ones with the wheels that actually turn and the smaller baskets? I turned my head as if in slow motion: my nemesis. She had a swift trolley, muscular legs and the eye of the tiger. I stepped up the pace as she caught up and passed me, racing to her car, which happened to be parked next to mine.

I pushed and pulled my dinosaur trolley as fast as my creaking articulations would allow, sweating now with the effort and keening internally at the anguish of being stripped of my prize.

We opened our car boots, me with an automatic push button thing, her with an old school key. We unpacked our trolleys bag for bag, hearts racing towards the goal. (Well mine was racing like I was about to have a coronary- her’s was probably beating at an even 68.)

Finally we were done, at almost the precise same moment. The moment of truth was upon us. To return the trolleys, or not?

I eyed off the distance. I questioned my ethics. And as I always do in these moments, I asked myself: What would my Dad* do? There really was nothing else for it. Trolley Return. I ran with the spirit of my deceased father spurring me on, I ran for all old ladies everywhere, I ran to prove that we are NOT old and irrelevant. I ran even though my shrivelled menopausal uterus was threatening to prolapse onto the asphalt. I ran for freedom. (Well, maybe not freedom. I may have been getting carried away. But I AM pretty sure Chariots of Fire was playing softly somewhere.)

I chanced a glance over my shoulder, only to see my competitor safely ensconced in her vehicle, trolley pushed haphazardly over near the planter boxes. SHE CHOSE NOT TO RETURN IT. As she slowly reversed her 1992 Fiesta into the traffic, she wound down her window (manually of course), and our eyes locked. Hers: bright and twinkling with victory, mine: rheumy and faded with defeat. She turned up her radio and the sound of some doof-doof-doof tune of success filled the night air.

I hung my head, with the shame of defeat and the heaviness of ethics bearing down on me. I shuffled back to my car, glancing at her abandoned trolley as I passed. In it, was a bag. I went over to inspect it, and, lo, she had neglected to unpack her final bag. It contained a few boring things, and then, the bounty:

Cadbury Bubbly

Dairy Milk Bubbly, on special today for $2.

So I have some final words for you P-Plate-Princess, some pearls of wisdom from the older generation, something perhaps to enhance your life and make you a better person:

Suck Shit.    (To the victor goes the spoils.)

 

 

*AKA the most ethical man in the Universe.

 

Do you return your trolley?

 

…From The Ashers

 

 

*AKA the most ethical man in the Universe.

 

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