The day is humid. It’s raining today. When I walk barefoot on my floor it feels almost sticky. I put on my shoes to stop the feeling. Don’t like the feeling of stickiness on my bare feet.

 The room is dark. I turn on my new Ikea lamp. The yellow walls and the lamp light up the room nicely.

 My restlessness has eased as I’ve written the titles of new articles.

 I don’t like wearing shoes in the house. Make me feel as if I am not quite me, as if I am someone else. My professional persona??

 I hear a sound in the background. The rain is starting again. It is good rain. It is steady and ground soaking rain. Unusual for summer here in Perth.

 My dawg is afraid to go outside. She is hanging around with her tail down. This suggests that along with the rain, that there is a storm around somewhere. She doesn’t like thunder and lightening and can sense it long before I’m aware of it. A bit like the dog next door. He hears sirens long before they can be heard by humans. He lets you know they are coming by howling. I always find this funny.

 Aware that with every new idea I come up with, every new title saved, my sense of restlessness and thoughts whirling eases a bit. I’ve obviously got too many ideas for the mind to capture right now, and one by one, I’m capturing my ideas and saving enough of them to remind myself at a later date. Can’t spend all day writing. Have to work to support my habits.

 My PDA reminder dings. It’s kind of a nice, gentle sound. Reminds me I’ve got 15 minutes before my first client for today.

 Feeling glad that my last client cancelled. Today I start at 10, have 4 clients and finish at 3 o’clock. My kind of work day. Start late and finish early.

 Couldn’t find my little dawg. Feeling a sense of anxiety even though I know she can’t get out of the garden. Sense of relief when I see her. She’s gone outside, so I can close the door and leave her out there. It’s funny with animals. I know she’s frightened. I know there is nothing I can do to help her. I also know that by telling her it’s okay, patting her, I am telling her that there is something to be frightened of when the opposite is the reality. Dawg reality and human reality are two different things.

 Forgetting all the little things – turn off the radio, take the cover off the couch, spray the air so the animal smell isn’t there.

 I am aware that I am working better with my clients than before Christmas. Before my holiday, I was finding that I was moving too quickly, ahead of my clients instead of beside or behind. I’ve often found that after a holiday, or any change of routine that there is an internal shift in some way. I don’t think it is just me. I remember every time we moved, had a holiday or any change in routine, that my children had a growth spurt. Not necessarily a physical growth spurt. They might suddenly begin to do something they hadn’t done before, or their thought processes would mature ever so slightly. The same thing happens for me. I can also see it happening in my clients.

 My work day is over. It is just 3 o’clock and I’ve been finished for over an hour. Another client cancelled – she is sick. Still need to ring her and rebook the appointment. Have done a couple of little administrative type tasks.

 I’m feeling quite lazy now. I like writing. It helps to smooth me down. Gets all the shit out of my head and onto paper – there’s that word again.

 Madeleine

Thursday, 12 January 2006

So many thoughts

So many thoughts whirling through my brain. Adventures that didn’t seem like adventures at the time. Ideas that won’t come to any conclusion. Words that don’t flow. House that is in chaos. Some people say that an organised house means an organised mind. I’ve never found this to be so. My mind is usually very organised, while my house is a shambles. Maybe the shambles is too big this time. Maybe there are just too many thoughts and ideas to coalesce properly. Not even sure if that’s a word.

Maybe I need to do Johnnie’s 10 minute writing without stopping or thinking. My hands stop typing. Where to go to next? It’s like the ideas come one sentence at a time, but won’t go any further. I write down the one sentence. Nothing more comes to go with that sentence. Another sentence comes. Totally different from the first one. They come too fast for my fingers to type. They come too fast for my mind to capture.

I’m physically restless today. I walk around the house. I look at the rain outside and enjoy the cool air – unusual at this time of the year – both the rain and the cool air. I pick up something and put it away. I come back to the computer. Almost wishing the time to move so I can get organised for work. Too soon, too soon.

I read a blog comment. “Sounds like Intrepid Little Traveller enjoyed having some of those adventures that Daze talks about on her blog...I am glad you are writing this...I enjoy your adventures...Colo”. I go to Dazey’s blog and read "Go forth seeking adventure. Open your eyes, your ears, your mind, your heart, your spirit and you'll find adventure everywhere... Think of whatever you are doing as an adventure and watch your life change for the better." - Wilferd A. Peterson

My adventures didn’t feel like adventures at the time. They just felt like happenings. Why do they suddenly feel a little bit like adventures. Is an adventure only something you realise after the fact? Or do people only recognise adventurous behaviour when they get older?

So many thoughts. So little structure to the thoughts. Most unusual. Usually an article comes to my brain almost full blown without much conscious thought. I sit down and write. There, it’s done. I reread, change a few things, check the spelling (gotta get the spelling right), and it’s finished.

Maybe it’s the unusual weather. I know when the kids were little that stormy weather would hype them up. MA would often be quite excited during storms and the build up to them. I fiddle with the formatting of this article. I’m happy now with the formatting. What to do next? I’ve still got almost 1-1/2 hours before my first client arrives. What to do? How to grab onto these illusive thoughts and get them onto paper.

Now there’s an anachronism. “Get them onto paper”. These thoughts will probably never see paper. They will probably always be electronic.

I get up again, pick up something else, put it away. Then I wash my face and brush my teeth. In the bathroom is my Sunny cat. A story comes to mind. Write it down before you forget. I write it down and I’m happy. I know where that one is going. I’ve told the story hundreds of times. All I’m going to do with it is to commit it to paper. There are those words again “commit to paper”. Why? How else can I put it. Commit to computer. Electrify it? What is the new terminology for today’s writing of ideas. Computerize it? Write it? Type it? Every time I say I will write something, I feel like a bit of a fraud. I don’t write anything if I can help it. I type everything I possibly can. Fingers have arthritis and for years my handwriting has deteriorated and I’ve avoided writing. Since the advent of the computer, my fingers are happy. They can type till the cows come home. Writing – 3 or 4 minutes is all I can hold a pen for without pain. Thank you Ms Computer.

Thoughts are settling. Thank you Ms Keyboard. I am feeling more settled. Will have to get organised shortly. Will have to find my brush in all the chaos. I’ve put it somewhere it shouldn’t be and can’t find it. Can’t see clients with my bed hair. Now there’s another article. I have the most incredible bed hair I think I’ve seen on anyone. Done. Another title. Article not written, but the idea is planted and remembered.

Three more titles. All I’m doing is starting a new file, writing the title of the article, and then saving the file. It’s interesting. Once the title is there I feel happy. I feel like I can relax again. I know the article will get written sooner or later. Also helping to smooth my thoughts. Maybe it’s the weather. Time to go. I’ve written enough for now.

Writing is good.

Madeleine

Thursday, 12 January 2006

The intrepid little traveller II

The year was 1964. I know because I kept a diary. Someone gave me a traveller’s diary before I left and I used it. Funny writing: I bought, I spent. We did this. We did that. Nothing at all about how I was feeling or responding to what was happening. Just the basic details of what we did, where we went and who we met. The writing stopped the day the boy kissed me. Funny that. I guess I must have been too busy with other things.

More details, please, Madeleine. A trip to Florida from Montreal. I had my 18^th birthday while I was on that trip. Mom and I went on the bus and it took us three days. The trip was uneventful except that I remember someone commenting on my eating – 2 a.m. and Madeleine was eating hamburger and chips. Don’t know whether I could still do that. An entry that caught my eye: “Bought 2 drinks, 25c and mom bought 26c worth of post cards”. Damn!! You wouldn’t get anything for 25c nowadays. Wonder what those two drinks would cost now?

My mother was going to visit her sister, Margaret and I was to meet my aunt and cousin for the first time. My cousin was much the same age as I was, give or take a year or so. When I arrived, I realised that not only was he gorgeous, and he was related to me, but he also had a very nice, good looking friend !!!!!!!!!! What a bonus for an almost 18 year old.

The dual feelings were quite interesting. In 1964, in Montreal, the girls were still wearing skirts that covered their knees. It was only after I moved to London that my skirts shortened – but that’s another story. So not only was I showing my knees, but I was showing my tummy as well!! Looking at the other girls on the beach, I felt sexy. I felt attractive and “with it”. A nice feeling for an almost 18 year old. Also very nice for one who felt she had a big bum. Our Intrepid Little Traveller never realised just how petite she was in those days.

Surfing. Both boys were surfers. Our Intrepid Little Traveller had never seen the ocean, let alone been in it. It took the boys about a week to convince her to try surfing. Well one trip on a surfboard (and remember, we’re talking about 1964, they were biiiiiig suckers in those days), and one dump in the ocean and that was THAT!! Our Intrepid Little Traveller discovered what it was like to get a mouthful and a nose full of salt water. She did not like the feeling. Diary entry: “V attempted to teach me to surf. Got full of salt water and quit.” Quite a bald statement for an interesting experience.

One other little story about the Intrepid Little Traveller. As some of you have already deduced, our Intrepid Little Traveller is not so intrepid about spiders. We went to visit my cousin’s girlfriend. In the car, on the way there, he was talking about a joke he was going to play on her without giving any of the details. When we arrived, V pulled out a plastic spider and was going to put it down her neck. Well, our Intrepid Little Traveller took on the big guy and told him in no uncertain terms that this was NOT funny, that it was cruel.

As you will see by the picture in my gallery, he is a big boy. Anyway, V listened to the Intrepid Little Traveller and all was well in that household that day. (See photo in gallery: Cousins)

As I said earlier, the journal stops with a kiss from a boy that the Intrepid Little Traveller was having heart palpitations about the whole trip. I don’t remember what happened after. The Intrepid Little Traveller never saw the boy again. I don’t know what happened to him or my cousin. I guess if he reads this story and realises who is writing about the Intrepid Little Traveller, he might get in contact again.

And so ends another adventure of the Intrepid Little Traveller.

Madeleine

Monday, 9 January 2006

Sunday, 8 January 2006

 One of the plans for getting back into the routine, was to go to bed at a reasonable hour and then to get up at a “reasonable” hour. A night time reasonable hour for me is about midnight. Did that last night. Getting up at a “reasonable” hour is about 8 a.m. This morning it was almost 10. So much for that plan!!!

 I know I’m going to be tired my first week back. I’ve got the new routine to go back to as well. Still not sure how I feel about the new part of my job. I’ve got three months to decide whether this is the way I want to go professionally.

 Part of me is saying: “Just stay in the routine, Madeleine. You’re close to retirement. Just cruise for the next 5 or so years”. The curious part of me, the part that can get me into trouble, or into adventures says: “Why not. Life is full of changes. You’ve never turned down a challenge in your life!!”. There is also the part of me that knows I need challenges in my life. I need to keep stretching myself. I get bored and complacent if I don’t.  And in my line of work, that is potentially very dangerous. Can I spend the next 5 or so years doing exactly what I’ve done for the last 10 years, or am I ready for a slight change in direction.

 Knowing me, I suspect I will take on the new responsibilities and role.

 I studied to be a social worker/counsellor for a number of reasons. Over the years I have had people say to me: “Madeleine, I’ve never told ANYONE that !!”. One day I decided, that maybe I could actually get paid for something that came quite naturally to me. People trust me instinctively for some reason.

 I’ve also been on the receiving end of some shocking social workers and psychologists who had no idea what I was going through and who did not have the skills to discover what I was feeling or wanting. When Susan was born, the social worker would come into my house, have a cup of coffee with me, see the smiling face and the jokes and say: “you’re doing fine”. Not one of them asked me how I was sleeping. Or what I was thinking at 3 a.m.

 So another reason for taking up my current profession was that I felt I could, I would, do it better!! What arrogance!! However, I do believe my work is far better than the ones I saw at that time. I guess life experience helps a lot.

 A third reason is that it is one of the few professions where you get more status the older you get. And I was a very mature age student when I did my studies and now as an almost 60 year old, I know that I can continue with my work, part time, for as long as my brain is intact. So the decision I made all those years ago was a good one.

 Monday, 9 January 2006

Well today’s my last day of holiday. I did get up at a reasonable hour this morning and instead of getting organised, I started writing. Damn. I’m not real good at routine. Also, last night I realised that my 6’ bookcase was coming apart and was potentially quite dangerous. So out came all the books and I’ve done one side. Need to turn it over and make sure the other is okay before I set it up again. Oh, well. Now I can vacuum behind it.

 I won’t have as much time for writing which is a bugger. I’ve got thousands of ideas floating around in my brain. Probably going to work will help settle that. Don’t have a lot of time to think about writing when I’m at work. Yeah, right Madeleine. You know damn well that’s why you’ve got your flash drive, some place to put the random thoughts that come up at work.

 It’s been a good break. I’ve had some lovely time with the kids, and then some quality “me” time after they left. As I’ve said before, alone time is very important to me and seems to be more and more important the older I get.

 Anyway, enough of these ramblings. Back to work tomorrow. Less time for blogging. However, we do have quite a number of  long weekends at the beginning of the year, so got them to look forward to.

 Suddenly I feel as if 2006 is truly beginning.

 Madeleine