Steve’s had a tough week.
Last Saturday we had to do a shoot in Mudgee and during the course of the afternoon we met a lovely woman called Angela who, it turned out, had stayed with our new next door neighbour a few days earlier. He’d been describing how the old man next door had been giving him tomatoes and from his descriptions Angela had envisioned this little old Italian man. She was quite surprised to discover it was Steve. And let’s just say Steve was more than a little surprised to be described as old.
A six pack of beer from our neighbour and lots of cross-fence jibes and laughter are slowly restoring his wounded ego. Men are such fragile creatures.
So upon discovering that I’ve been living with a little old Italian man all these years without even knowing it, Stefano and I did what all good Italians do at the end of autumn – we spent the day in the vegie garden.
How can one man grow so many bloody tomatoes.
Home made tomato sauce … pity I don’t have any jars to put it in.
I don’t know about you but we don’t think of ourselves as old. I have 80+ year old friends who I never think of as being old. Maybe we’re deluding ourselves. I do know I’ve entered that awful phase when women become invisible. I do feel that at times. Australian actress Ruth Cracknell wrote a beautiful piece about that in a book some years ago. Set in Venice. So poignant. I know my friends are feeling it too.
Hey you young male shopkeepers, behind these glasses there’s the spirit of a 24 year old girl!
Anyway I digress. I haven’t had much time for anything lately let alone making vats of tomato sauce or abusing young male shopkeepers. My main computer has been crashing over the past couple of weeks and that explains in part why I’ve been a bit absent from the blog. I’m also trying to change the focus of the business and that’s meant doing lots of training and climbing another mountain or two. So much for getting away from the computer.
Steve just walked in looking at his phone and one of our friends just alerted him to the fact that he’s won the Bathurst Waste to Art 3D section for the second year running with this sculpture which is one of my faves … The Strongman and the Acrobats.
We completely forgot about the opening.
Hopeless.
What was I saying about getting old … personally I think we just have too many bloody balls in the air. And tomatoes in the garden!
Why you need some old girls in your life
It’s easy to overlook them, the old girls.
Especially when there are pretty young things around.
But it’s important to have some old girls in your life.
They can surprise you.
We have lived where we live for 18 years and there’s a non descript old girl up the back called Ellie Agnes.
I’ve always loved her leaves, particularly when you lift up her skirts and explore what lies below.
But up until this autumn I’d never realised she bears flowers.
She keeps them hidden but oh what tiny, precious, giftwrapped flowers they are.
Secrets … stories …
Wise words and laughter.
They were always there.
I just had to look …
I’ve lost some of my old girls along the way, including my mum two years ago.
Thesedays my gang of old girls is very small. But it is enough.
In years past when I’ve sat on a back step crying lonely tears in one of life’s troughs, I’d go and visit them and I’d ask “What was it like for you when you were 32 or whatever?” and one of my old girls would reply “Oh .. mmm.. well that would have been The Year of Tears. Two miscarriages and we were declared bankrupt.” Right. Suddenly my problems were put in perspective.
Old girls will be there for you because they’ve been there themselves.
I love my old girls.
They love a drink and they love a good laugh.
And best of all, I know they love me.