relationDips: unpalatable and indigestible

Informally, we might use the word 'yuk' to describe such food which we don't like. We don't though. 'yuk' or 'yukky' tend to be used by children as adults have developed more sophisticated ways of saying they don't like or even can't eat certain foods. Imagine a five year old, sitting at the dining table, staring at a few florets of broccoli, saying, 'Mother, I'm afraid I find these particular vegetables unpalatable and indigestible.'

                                                                    photo source

I think some foods are yuk. Some of the dishes presented to me by my wife aren't appealing at all. Okra for example, is a vegetable I have tried to acquire a taste for but I can't get past the slimy texture. Certain other Asian greens taste okay but require exhaustive chewing to get value from them, and even then there is indigestible refuse to eject. I have a thing about having to put my fingers in my mouth while I'm eating, or having to spit things out. Nothing destroys my enjoyment of a meal like a fish bone jamming itself in my gum. I used to not eat cherries because I wanted fruit to put in my mouth, chew and swallow. I didn't want to have to negotiate a stone, then spit it out once I'd stripped the sweet flesh which surrounds it.

Eating shouldn't be hard work. There's usually enough hard work in the preparation, and the after meal cleaning. For me, eating is the part of the process which is enjoyable, or should be. Even if the food isn't great which is usually the case when I cook, the sitting down and eating should provide sensorial pleasure, and it should be relaxing. I don't enjoy cooking or cleaning, although I do find a certain satisfaction in those tasks. Eating is what I like.

There is something I like more than eating, from which I derive greater satisfaction, but even then not all elements of the procedure are equally enjoyable or rewarding. I love writing, but I don't love trying to find publishers or marketing. I love writing this blog. I've been doing it for 12 years, but thanks to Blogger's decision to change its interface, I'm no longer happy with the process. The writing is great. Adding photos and publishing? Not so great any more. I can write a short story of around 2000 words in a couple of hours. I'll usually spend an hour or so editing it, but then I can spend another hour or more sometimes trying to find a market for the story. After submitting it, I'll have to wait (sometimes forever), for a yes or no. If it's a no, I'll find another publisher and send it again. That isn't fun, but it's a part of the process. I wrote the first draft of my memoir in about six months. It's taken another twelve months after that to get it ready for publication and I can't tell you how many hours I've spent on various marketing endeavours. It will be available from November 22. You can visit the page here. 

There are elements of eating and writing which I don't enjoy, on both the consumption and production side. I don't stop eating after I've had a bad meal (unless it was so bad it made me sick and I couldn't eat for a while). Neither do I stop cooking just because I don't like it, can't be bothered, or I've cooked something inedible. (Ask my children about my lemon chicken.) I don't stop writing because my work doesn't sell well, or because I get a long list of rejections; or even because, again, it's too hard or I don't feel like it. I've read some rubbish books but that's never stopped me reading, and I continue to read experimentally, checking our different genres and authors.

None of these negatives put me off doing things I love doing because in my mind it's worth a bit of pain of discomfort to achieve pleasure and satisfaction. Most people have this attitude to things they care about it, and relationships are no different.

If your expectations meter is set to realistic, you know life isn't all strawberries and butterflies. You understand that weeds grow in your garden faster than roses and that if you don't get rid of the weeds and look after your roses, your garden will be 'unpalatable and indigestible.'

Whatever metaphor you want to use, the point is that good relationships require hard work, and if you're going to do your part, you'll need to push through the unpleasant parts while still giving them your best efforts. If I want to cook a horrible meal, I can avoid fresh ingredients and ignore the recipe. If I don't want anyone to read my work, I won't waste time refining and polishing the manuscript, then trying to marketing it. If I want an unhealthy relationship with my wife, I can easily achieve that by giving up. I can pick out all the unpleasant or unacceptable parts of the marriage and focus on them, using them as excuses for not working hard to make my marriage successful. The 'too hard basket' is always an option for those who lack courage.

The thing is, I want to eat healthy, tasty meals, I want to read inspiring, fascinating books, and I want to write books and stories which move people.  All of this requires effort on my part and it won't always be fun. And more than any of that, I want the best marriage I can possibly have. Loving my wife means I need to make an effort. My relationship with her is more important than food or books. She's not food which I can spit out or throw away. She's not a book I can put back on the shelf, then choose another. She's a person who needs me to love her unconditionally and consistently, to respect her, and to make her feel safe.

Perhaps if people took their relationships as seriously as they did their jobs, hobbies, and other passions, we'd have less broken relationships.

A Dog's Eye: It's not just a lawnmower, mate.

Once upon a time I bought a house and the purchase of that house necessitated many other purchases. A great number of those purchases related to home maintenance which is not a thing when you're renting an apartment. Not only is there no lawn to mow, but any repairs which may be required are the responsibility of the owner of the property - for better or worse. (Unfortunately many renters find agents and landlords to be very diligent when they want you to sign a lease, but significantly less so when the tenancy begins.)

There are many benefits to home ownership, but there are also increased costs and, let's call them burdens, but overlook the negative connotations of that word. I bought my first house twenty years ago. My ex wife owns and lives in that house now, and since our separation I have lived quite a transient life. I'm the guy who needs extra pages for all his previous addresses on mandatory police checks for employment purposes. Before I moved to Darwin five years ago, I racked up five different addresses in about eighteen months. During my time in the Top End, I had six permanent addresses, and for the eighteen month period in which I was a house sitter, I slept in nearly forty different beds.

photo source

In all that time, six years now, I bought two lawnmowers. One, a brand new electric model and the other, five years after I got rid of the electric one because I didn't have a lawn to mow, was a second hand mower which I pushed around the yard in the tropical heat until it spat the dummy. The engine seized a couple of weeks before we moved from Darwin back to the Illawarra.

Since our return, we're already on our third address. This time, I'm hoping and praying that we can stay for at least two years or more, even until we are ready, God willing, to look at buying a home of our own. So keen am I to put down roots, I have come to see the lawnmower as a metaphor for commitment.

The house in which we are now living, and as I said, hopefully not leaving for some time, has a sizeable yard. Had we been more financial at this time, I might have considered paying someone to come and cut the grass. Firstly, to avoid having to do it myself, and secondly to avoid having to buy a lawnmower. Now don't get me wrong, I like lawnmowers and I like using them. Cutting the grass is one of those necessary chores which gives you exercise and an immediate sense of satisfaction once the job is done. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that I can think of many other things I would rather do.

I have a philosophy that getting older (I'm talking about the second half of life - post midlife crisis) is about reducing the 'have to' components. Many of them can be removed with a theoretically simple change of attitude, but others are about making wise choices. Choices aren't only facilitated by money, but whether or not you can afford to do something, or go somewhere, or hire someone to do something for you, is certainly impacted by your financial circumstances.

I tell you, if I was on a six figure income, I would pay someone to clean the house and cut the grass. However, limited money means limited choices.

So, I must cut my own grass which is certainly not the end of the world. Having made that decision, I then needed to purchase a lawn mower. I could have gone second hand again, but aligning with the 'lawnmower means commitment' metaphor, I knew a second hand mower wouldn't last as long as new one. It would also be louder, dirtier, and harder to use. I decided to show that I was in for the long run by buying a new lawnmower. The problem was, I still had a tight budget. After a brief search online for mowers I could buy at bricks and mortar stores, I was not happy with the prices, so I turned to old mate Amazon.

                                                                      Giantz 4 stroke lawnmower on Amazon

To cut a long story short, I spent a total of just under $300 for a no name brand mower built in Taiwan, where I'm pretty sure there aren't many lawns, and a jerry can, funnel, and a bottle of oil. In just over a week a big box from Amazon arrived at my door and three days later I unpacked and assembled my new toy.

It's beautiful looking machine, was easy to put together, easy to start, easy to use, it's quiet, and it did a great job. Although I was hot, sweaty, and in pain from a pulled buttock muscle, I gazed upon the finished lawn and smiled. I'll do that every time I cut the grass, even though some days will be much hotter, and I won't feel like it when I start.

I bought a new lawnmower, but it's much more than just a machine to cut a grass. It's a metaphor for commitment. I'm all in. A long term determination to make a 'have to' task, a joyful one and one for which I forego complaining to express gratitude.

Snake Oil: Seatbelts and COVID

In 1970 Victoria became the first state in the western world to introduce laws making the use of seatbelt in cars compulsory. within year and a half the other Australian states followed suit and by 1977, 90% of motorist were wearing seatbelts. Why? Because they recognized that although wearing a seatbelt could be something of an inconvenience, it also prevents death and more serious injury in the event of a car accident.  

"The Australian experience supports the view that legislation for compulsory wearing of seatbelts is the single most effective method available for the protection of vehicle occupants in road crashes."(1)

Seatbelts were first offered in vehicles by Nash in 1949, followed by Ford in 1955, but American buyers didn't initially want cars with seatbelts because they believed that needing to install a seatbelt meant the car itself wasn't safe. Apparently safety did not sell. It does now, but not back then.

The first sash seatbelts weren't much chop, and actually caused injuries in some cases but the technology continued to improve with Volvo introducing the three point belt, then later the advent of the pretensioner was brought to us by Daimler-Benz.

We, both motorists and passengers, exercise faith when we use motor vehicles. Time has proven we can trust manufacturers to make safe vehicles, but they can't do anything about dangerous or incompetent drivers. We have licensing, registration, and training to help with that of course, but when you're driving you can really only hope that other drivers are licensed and they know what they're doing.

The mandatory use of seatbelts is just one of numerous examples of governments acting to protect their citizens. There was no conspiracy to restrict our freedom or inconvenience us. The purpose was keeping us safe. Governments still run advertising campaigns to remind people to belt up when they get in car even though most of us do it automatically. Despite the initial protests and concerns, we got used to seatbelts. And they work.

Call it a long bow if you like, but I can't see any difference between seatbelts and COVID vaccinations and precautions. Governments around the world want people to get vaccinated to keep us safe. Seatbelts, vehicle testing and registration, driver training and licensing, and speed limits are all designed to keep us safe. Most people accept this, not as evidence of totalitarianism, but of natural and acceptable paternalism. Don't we want the government to keep us safe? Lockdowns, check ins, face masks, and vaccinations are not evidence of a conspiracy to control and repress us. The purpose is to keep us safe. In my opinion to see more in it than that, is to enter the realm of paranoia.

I'm double vaccinated and will happily display by certificate before being granted entry into a restaurant. When I drive, I would like to know the other drivers are licensed, and it's no different in the restaurant, I would like to know if my fellow diners are also vaccinated. I want to be safe. Who doesn't?

I have friends who have been pushing various conspiracies theories on me, and others, since the pandemic turned the world upside down early in 2020. I've never bought into it and I'm not about to. I've seen fear take the steering wheel of so many people's lives. I'm not doing that either. I've never been afraid, nor will I be. I'll do what I'm told regarding COVID rules. I don't like the inconvenience and I am definitely not a fan of wearing a face mask, but I'm taking reasonable precautions and following the advice of experts to stay safe, including getting vaccination.

COVID conspiracies are snake oil.

Source: (1) https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/466050/ 

A Dog's Eye: A Moving Story

Without wishing to downplay the stress involved in what happened, this is not a heartwarming, emotional post. It's a post about shifting: changing situations, attitudes, jobs, and addresses.

                                                     (unrelated cute dog photo to warm your heart)

If there has been one consistent theme to my prayers over the last 3-5 years, it has been peace and simplicity. These two things are not necessarily easy bedfellows, nor are they always found inhabiting reality. I would like a peaceful and simple life, but neither my choices nor the circumstances of my life - not all of which are the results of my choices - promote the achievement of that goal.

I'm forcing myself to write this because I haven't written for a while. I found a slot on Sundays before church in which I was regularly adding content to this blog. Two Sundays ago, we moved house which meant I not only didn't write but I wasn't able to attend church. Last Sunday, I was too tired which has become normal for me these days because I am having to get up ridiculously early to go to work.

                                                https://www.vox.com/2014/11/10/7184149/social-jetlag-sleepy

Wait a minute, I hear you say. You're a writer. Why do need to get up before Sparrows to go to work? You set your own hours, so why not get up later to give yourself sufficient sleep? Alas, being a full time writer remains a dream for me, albeit one which I am pursuing with much more focus and vigour than I have previously done.

We've got bills to pay so I thought a part time delivery job would help, particularly as working AM shifts means I am free to write in the afternoons. I don't work every day at this delivery job which I've been doing for a month now, so I have full days which I can devote to writing. Theoretically.

Yesterday, I had 'all day 'for example, but I spent three hours trying to do something unrelated to work; a home project to help my wife. It would not have been so bad had I actually been successful, but I failed miserably which left me thinking I had wasted half a day. So much can happen every day; thousands of other needful things, distractions and interruptions all working against my plan. 

Speaking of thousands of things, it's incredible how every day at the delivery job throws up new challenges. It's much more difficult than I thought it was going to be, and I'm certain I will grow to hate doing it before too long. However, I prayed for a job, searched for jobs, applied for many, and this is the one I got. It's not all bad. I love meeting people, chatting on porches, driving around the Illawarra enjoying the beautiful scenery, and of course, I enjoy getting paid.

The problem is I can't shake the nagging doubt that it's taking me away from where my focus should be. Writing. At times it seems like there is a conspiracy operating against me. Even my own energy levels aren't supporting me in pursuing my dream. I feel stuck, and unsure what to do.

We didn't want to move from Albion Park Rail and it was a monumental hassle; not to mention stressful as we had a very short time to find a new home and make it all happen. Despite the pain and inconvenience, we are definitely better off. The new house is better situated, bigger, and cheaper. I've even got an office. What a luxury to have my own room in which to work. Sure, I don't have any furniture apart from a camping chair and a large carton which is serving as a desk, but I have the space and the space will be filled in due course.

Lockdown has finally ended, so my wife has been able to resume her hairdressing and massage business. She's happy, so I'm happy. Things just keep on changing and I keep on adjusting, remembering to always remain thankful, but it isn't quite how I want it to be.

Out of necessity, I deliberately override my feelings, and try to move into the right space - the right metaphorical space - by being positive and refusing to let go of the dream.

I say it often because I believe it. There is always hope. Everything is temporary, everything passes in time. The biblical injunction to give thanks in all circumstances and to rejoice always requires discipline. Living by faith means sometimes ignoring one's feelings and choosing to see things the way God sees them. I said everything is temporary, but things of the spirit are not. God is not. He doesn't change. I can trust him because he's good and he's proven himself faithful to me.

Money is tight. My freelance writing career is in a trough. I have no money to advance my personal writing projects. I'm doing a job I don't really like in order to pay off a large and long standing debt as well as contribute to rent, food and other household expenses. It doesn't feel right nor does it look right, but I have no sense that it is not right.

I'm going to watch television now and come back to this tomorrow after I deliver groceries, then come home and take a nap. On we go. Did I move you?