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Gisele last won the day on January 28 2018

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About Gisele

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  • Birthday September 14

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    Melbourne, AUS

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  1. Gisele


    Spring has not yet sprung so I had little choice but to hurry things up a smidge. Like all virtuous people, I get sick of ****ing waiting and as August was …. hmmm … emotionally sub-optimal we ….I mean me … or it might not matter since we and me amount to much the same thing in peak me-season … decided to fly to Queensland for a sun-drenched, surf-soaked do-nothing-athon. It had to be now. Any later in the year and you cannot swim up there without having a good amount of vinegar handy, to mute the howling agony of jellyfish stings, It isn’t hyperbole to say these are way worse than childbirth. That’s not the only peril though. I think I have learned that Far North Queensland is simply wall to wall with nature’s most vicious ****. Cassowaries and coral snakes and truck drivers and sharks and crocodiles and, of course, box jellyfish, all want you dead Melbourne could not be any less like this as the only predators here drive taxis. Despite this, it was mostly fun. The kids enthusiasm was matched by the experience and that is always nice. I really don’t know why a 10 minute trip to school can test both them and then me so much at times but there never seems to ever the same issues on a long flight. Then again, what’s not to like. It isn’t like planes crash all the time and who doesn’t like aircraft now that they have wi-fi. I think I used to like flying more but now I’m far less certain with my kids at stake. It is all I can do to not ask either of them or Alex to look at the window and make sure the wings and things are still attached. They enjoyed the reef too. So did I as it was palpably less deadly than everywhere else it seems, if you don’t count the dive operators that have a storied history of not necessarily taking as many tourists back to the mainland as they leave with. 1 … 2 … 3 … pffft … yeah, we’re good. I can’t say the danger elsewhere was apparent until afterward. In fact, I saw the most big-arse stingray you would ever want to see and wondered, aloud as it happens, if Steve Irwin might have been a bit of a hypochondriac. This one wore a big, beaming smile and said “Welcome to Queensland!” It might have been painted on a window across from where my husband was waiting for his coffee but let’s not split hairs. Just as an aside, I wonder if he will ever not need one coffee to wake up and another to achieve any sort of meaningful coherence. Even the cats don’t bother him until they are satisfied until he has found the bottom of at least the first one. I guess I will never know because I don’t imagine he’ll ever try find out if he can function sans espresso. Oh well, it isn’t that I wasn’t like that once with a different commodity. I guess the difference is Richard Nixon and the whole litany of pointy-headed thought police since have liked coffee. “Who is Steve Irwin, mum?” Ruby wondered. Now I must say I have, with unerring dedication, taught my babies to take people as they find them and see the unseen and I only ever deviate from this path when spitting venom at and about some of the mothers of their classmates. Entirely reasonably, of course, So I wasn’t quite myself when I said “Just a dead bogan, honey.” For intercontinental visitors to this blog, a bogan is a flannel-clad devotee of cheap beer and the most likely of all archetypes to a. get into a fist-fight at a boat ramp and b. run over a hapless surfer with a jet ski. If I’m honest, I should have felt a bit more ashamed than I did. Karma had other ideas though. Just as Lucy wanted to know “What’s a bogan, mum?” I noticed two of their very finest standing right behind us. One of them muttered something, probably not entirely inaccurately, about some spoilt _______-________ ____ raising the next generation of blah, blah. And, holy hell, I honestly paused right there wondered if I was going to go on with this, in front of my kids and how I have a tonne of ****ing work to do if that is suddenly a good idea. Ever. I really must have. Thankfully, that’s just a worry and not a reality as my husband (who I will love until the day I die for being so effortlessly hyperaware and the most unfussed human being I have and will ever know, rejoined us) all happy and armed with his caffeine. I don’t know how he does it but he sense enough of something to answer Lucy’s question for me. “What’s a bogan? A Collingwood supporter, like Mum” he said brightly steering us toward the beach. There you go kids, proud parents Right and Wrong. When we got home I felt instantly frostbitten but did notice my beloved roses have been busy with new growth even in the four days we were gone. I kinda like it that they put all their energy into sharpening their claws well before investing in bloom. Maybe they really are my spirit flower?
  2. If you're living vicariously through a TV character .... which is something I may have done myself before Cersei died in a freak bricklaying incident ... then get yourself a perspex screen and go hard! Like a footy fan 😉
  3. Gisele


    I know stacks about probability and likelihood. Or perhaps not really. But I should. I should because I have be schooled in it for years and years and … alright … maybe only in the context of thoroughbred racing from a husband who was then my boyfriend and not my boyfriend and then not anything until later when he was something again and then the most special something and still even now I hear all about likelihoods and how this can’t win and that one won’t ever and the one alongside is just an expensive paperweight and we dance through this time and again and I still find it more appealing to follow a number I might like or a silk or whatever because I can’t help it. Or just won’t help it. So my husband, who in an earlier iteration of himself made a very handsome living out of all that is married to me, who spent her 20’s frittering away large parts of her handsome living on the exact same thing. Science meets Guilt, you might say. Bless his heart, he still tries to appeal to my still forlorn logical side but not with any great earnest. And, let’s be honest, a lot of track wisdom is shit you can read anywhere and more so than ever in the internet age but I thank him without ever saying so openly that he has never pretended that he didn’t know more about certain outcomes than anyone could possibly have known without being intimate with darker truths and that’s probably all I’m ever going to be saying about that. The better thing I will say about my husband is that he understood my motives before I did. See, when you apply yourself vigorously and the desired outcome indeed happens, you don’t exactly get all heady and delirious when it does. You might go for a shallow high five and a knowing nod with your equally shifty mates. Polished examples of this type might even make a half-hearted effort to look merely and mildly satisfied and not at all smug. When, alternatively, you hear it all and at some length and still prefer the last four digits of your phone number to find the first four over the line and this miraculously does happen then this is no small, subdued and quiet excitement. The frisson goes nova . You might just cartwheel the length of the Flemington straight and not necessarily remember that you may have forgone underwear that day. Oh well. Just more fodder for years of conversation since. Time to straighten up because I was talking about probability before all that and no amount of education in this area could possibly explain that almost every meaningful day on my calendar happens in August. Mercifully that is now over and I think I’m about over it. For life. Let’s see … my mum (who I have tried to believe and may have come close to it and even said it here a few times that I no longer hate but have lately come to accept that I still do) was born in August. She died in August. So did my very, very dear friend and spiritual sister. Two of my sisters in law are born in August. My late and treasured mother in law was born in August. I was engaged in August and I prefer that to my wedding anniversary. A litany of bad stuff happened in August. To me and others.And so on and et cetera and it doesn;'t really end from the 1st to the 31st As important as anything, my eldest was born in August and, after a month of thinking about it, that may be part of why it seems to all feel worse in recent Augusts. She and her sister are growing up at a zillion miles an hour and I can't say I'm coping with the wash of all that haste.. in the dark solitude of quiet nights spent on the couch with my knees tucked up and ignoring the pull of a warm bed overthinking, I hiss at myself for having two children instead of an even dozen. It took so long to have one because I felt convinced I should not have any and don’t always have the wisdom to not blame a certain someone for that. One of those nights I crawled into to bed and woke my husband just so … latently, I suppose … he could talk me out of jumping into my car and driving a long way to piss on her grave and had a bit of an emotional breakdown mid-sentence and while I was sobbing even managed to apologise for not being either very imaginative and even less ladylike. How times change. In so, so many ways
  4. Gisele


    I feel sorry for the kids today that are working in retail. The world that you and I are part of does not treat them well. All they really want to do is their sh*t job with sh*t hours and sh*t pay is get through school and onto to the job they might actually want. And it seems the world that was once these kids conveniently forgets that. It used to be easy. Do you have this cut in something OTHER than lemon or chartreuse? And the girl would say either "Yes we do" or "I wish" or ...you get it. Now they have to background it or talk you into another bullsh*t loyalty scheme or get your postcode or have some freak from middle-management hovering over them or whatever. It isn't because they want to. It is because they probably just want to keep their sh*t job. I shudder to think of what a minefield "Does my bum look big in this?" has become. There were only ever two answers: "God no" and "I wish I had your bum". Easy-peezy. Now there's probably a five-point plan from HR to combat this evil Byzantine scourge. So a special mention to the young boy called Nathan whose name I know this because I asked him. Once upon a time, it might have been written brightly across a name tag. That was until some pretentious flog decided these things should be part of an accreditation stored in microfiche on a tiny laminated square dangling from a lanyard not even be of interest to MI5 at a bomb-making workshop. Nathan so,d me a new phone. And was very helpful. I told him I wanted an XS, that it be black and that whatever plan it was on was going to be paid in full in advance. Equally importantly, I told him this must come with a new number because I always change both at the same time and same time every year and that's probably because I'm strange like that. Being young, flexible and not hung up on much, he did not flinch. And was otherwise money-savingly insightful. Which is where Fred Astaire comes in. I will call him that because a. I did not ask him his name and b. Because he shuffled over creepily on two-left feet and so much so that I think his bigger, better lanyard might actually be a strangulation hazard. He was not helpful. He was a pain in the arse and took my specific, cogent, totally lucid request to be an interest in a Samsung. I said I'd rather eat sh*t and also said Nathan and I were doing just fine thank you very much. It is my civic responsibility. Leave the kids alone. Let them give just enough of a **** to keep their jobs. I admit I did not have to do this but I confided to Nathan that Fred Astaire looked like a serial killer with a zero body count. He laughed his head off. Hope he doesn't get into trouble.
  5. Gisele


    They might just be among the wisest of wise words. Quite recently, my sister in law shared some similar wisdom over a few sherbs. "Remember who you bring with you." she said. More than once. The not long after that I was watching Sense8 (which is exceptional!) and one of the other sensates lobbed up out of nowhere - as they do - and told the most obviously anguished of the sensates she couldn't quite help her because she needed to understand we need to be the best of ourselves, for ourselves, as an incidental example and not a keenly plotted one. Or something like that. With persistence, it will sink in. In the meantime, of the sensates, I'm on Team Sun Bak. She awesome.
  6. Gisele


    Six months ago I decided to have a year away from here. That's probably a fail. Or, for someone as conclusion-averse as me, a stunning success. Six months in that context is nigh on eternity. Can't say I quite know what to do though, other than sniff with haughty suspicion, like a cat, at everything that might be different. Especially at those things that manage to be exactly the same Maybe the cat would be better for knowing that the only thing discernibly different is herself. But cats aren't good at that sort of reflection. Least of all this one. As you were...
  7. Gisele

    Fare thee well

    After electrocuting me half to death on New Year's Day, my husbands best friend came over. I imagined he was here to make amends but alas the subject never came up. Probably for the best, really. Instead he invited us onto his yacht for the day. Alex and the children had already made arrangements to go ice skating and I only saw two problems with that: it is the middle of gorgeous summer and I have broken enough bones. So I'm not brimming with curiosity to know what falling face first onto an ice rink would be like. I was therefore free and said I would love to. He said they were going to be sailing in a race so I then said best I don't go. He asked why not. I said because it seemed like to much hard work doing boaty things and I couldn't be counted in doing anything in the nick of time, which seems like there is a lot of in a boat race. He said I needn't worry because there are buttons for everything. That was more or less a giant lie. I said, great, I'll go if I can sit at one end like a mermaid and offer occasional words of polite encouragement, I also offered to sledge other competitors or maybe get my top off or whatever to lull them onto a reef or whatever and he said that wouldn't be necessary. Actually, he might have made me promise not to do any of that but, perhaps unfortunately, he has known me for a long time. It was more fun than I imagined. It was also affluent people getting the ruler out but one can't be too critical when one is married to one. Oh well. He asked me later if I enjoyed the day and of course I did. I also said this sailing lark makes a fine metaphor. I said for 'life'. I meant 'mental disease and emotional turmoil' but thought better of lowering the tone. And it does. Looking for wind, tacking to find it, putting the big, balloony thing out to make the most of it, etc, etc It's all like life. He said two things. Firstly, it's called a spinnaker and the rest is all fine, but if you want to get serious, then people just need to change the boat. I warned him to not encourage my beloved to think like that. He laughed and said I had homework if I was at all worried about that. I think it's time to change a boat or two myself though. Like this one and all the other one's bobbing around, like corks, on the sea of self-reflection. I think not only have I had enough of that, it's usefulness does not feel as tangible as it once did. Therapy is down to three-monthly catch-ups so I ain't the only one seeing this. That's encouraging. So...have yourselves a ripper 2019. I won't be here and not even once. Will see what 2020 brings. Never say never
  8. Gisele


    I'n neither a physicist nor one for ten pin bowling but do like a good metaphor. If a ball was launched with sufficuent speed and found itself in the gutter, is there a chance it could fly back out? And resume course? That's probably not helpful but it appeals to me somehow 😉 Congrats on their achievement which is also your achievement. I look forward to mine doing similar one day and the good news is our surname is xloser to the start of the alphabet so we won't have to sit through the whole thing!
  9. Gisele


    A while ago now, I lived in Japan for nearly four years. I suppose I was overdue for this to bite me one more time. That's bad enough. It's worse that I primed it by doing nothing other than opening my mouth. Let's not pretend. I went there to sell my body. Despite this, Japan had an effect which is would be visible if you ever took a look at my home. Or my psyche. Much to remember and more to forget. Nevermind, where's the fun in therapy if the things you would change aren't the mirror same of the things you wouldn't. And it probably doesn't help that the children learn Japanese at school. It certainly doesn't help the the eldest of samesaid children , who takes these things seriously, learns the language after hours because she wants to be perfect. The younger is enthusiastic for different reasons. She just likes to be naughty in a language her dad doesn't understand. And he din't help when he idly asked what we're doing for New Year's Eve. Why wouldn't he when he hasn't been here for three months. And why wouldn't he when ... ah. nevermind. I just wish I wasn't sufficiently pissed off enough to say, more or less, "we're going overseas without you to see how you ****ing like it." Come to think of it, it would have been much better to perhaps not say exactly this in front of the children. Bit forgive me, both came with a built-in irony detector that I'm quite sure did not come from me. Both said Japan. The eldest, because she wanted to believe it and, the youngest, because the only other country she is aware is is Narnia,. My husband then just looked at me. Not sheepishly. Not coldly. Just a look that said good luck with that. And the reason he looked at me like that is because my time in Japan did not end well. Avoiding the less edifying detail, I was escorted to the airport, put on a plane, and told in no uncertain terms to never come back. Now Japanese justice is opaque at the best of times and, if we're being entirely fair, pointedly and deliberately murkier for westerners but none of that absolves me. I ****ed up. But since I was never charged with anything and since no one official met me when the plane landed, I have never really known how formal this has ever been. I do know I never had had the appetite to find out the hard way. I'm also reluctant to write to ask because of what might do to sleeping dogs. The one thing I would like to know is how to tell two small children they can't go where they would like to because their mother has a lifetime travel ban. If you know, please, by all means
  10. Safe travels! As a recent and, if how it feels means anything, nascent widow to wanderings of perhaps that kind, remember to Stay in touch Stay in touch Stay in touch Come home eventually Wouldn't be surprised if you need time off after trying to herd cats in the religion forum. I would have ... nevermind 😉
  11. Gisele

    Ask a Man

    I work with five women. One is sharp witted old crone but I'll leave her out of it. The crone thing is part obligation, part artifice and I get the feeling she hides behind it because she may very well have things worth hiding. And I like her. The other four, bless their hearts, are young and varying degrees of callow. Each of them is an administrative assistant. One of them is my administrative assistant; that is, if I can ever find her. She is usually off doing things for other staff despite being counselled about this (see crone above) but it isn’t that I mind terribly much. Not usually, at least. What she writes is very good and very useful. What she says is another matter, mostly because it is in the realm of shit I don’t want to know about. It is also suffused with all the worldliness of a bright kid that has seen very little of anything off the ribbon that wends its way from work to the family home. The other three are the same and what provokes them is frighteningly ordinary and conflated and just a little cringeworthy. Perhaps I can even be grateful for been thrown into a wide-eyed wilderness when still a teenager. It spared me the drowning these kids do despite never getting wet. No, not many problems are only problems. So, the proto-feminist problem on an otherwise level-playing field is I’m the only other chick there. So I get to hear it and hear it and hear it all again, And I tell them. When it comes to their crises, real and imagined, they are weekend cyclists and I am a car door. My friends count on this. Stangers and workmates (and fellow blogkeepers, for that matter) don’t need to be wandering aimlessly into the world of what I really think. But if I may be so bold, if it is about a man, why not ask a different man. I don’t mean directly, because that would be futile. I mean indirectly. Carefully. Purposefully. Men, bless this gorgeous species, are at their giving best when they think the drawbridge is up. Ask one properly and they will never remember the question. It’s not even science. Speaking of men, my own is now home. Flew in on Sunday quite a bit worse for wear and its odd how he can look five years older and ten years younger all in the same glance. All he has really done since is sleep. And sleep. I don’t mind. He can sleep until Christmas if that’s what he needs. But if he wants to be the lion of the house, he can wake up and have sex, then go back to sleep.
  12. Gisele

    Sweat and Sublimation

    So after god only knows how many days (alright, exactly 17), I finally got to speak to my beloved. Now you would think a highly intelligent man who, when pressed about his precise whereabouts by a reasonably anxious wife, would know much, much better than to say "Not sure, somewhere in Mongolia." No, not the best start I wouldn't have thought. That alone warrants marital punishment. And I'm sad to say or I'm not that I am not above committing this to long and patient memory. Fortunately though they were a day's ride from the capital it made for a nice week knowing his is soon to be coming home. The kids are getting a bit frayed also, so not a minute too soon. Am worried though I haven't heard anything since. He did warn me but I took that to just be polite understatement really said only to modulate a headcase. He could have ****ing told me he meant it . I mean, MEANT it instead of just meaning it. Rude by him. The upside is I can remember what works for me: sweat and sublimation. I swim and ride and workout and remind myself that I can't be a headcase because I am a mother and cannot be both. And I don't give a **** what anyone say, these two things work better than anything else. Then I forget. Those two things do really work and have for a long time. So how is it I keep forgetting. It's embarrassing. I thought I might take up kendo. Might be wrong,of course but I suddenly find the idea of getting bashed around with a big stick very appealing. Will see.
  13. Gisele

    Why do I even try?

    I can only say do your very best to not make comparisons with anyone that was never asked to make the same difficult decision. It's not fair on either of you, especially you.
  14. So I thought if I cannot make myself happy, despite half-hearted recent attempts at exactly this, then why not make others happy. And why not do this with American money. So I hatched a bold and brilliantly simple plan to relieve, I dunno, Whomever Inc. of their zillion, billion, squllion dollar lottery and donate .... let's see.... absolutely all of it to the People's Revolutionary Army of Puerto Rico. It's a glitch that such an organisation doesn't quite yet exist but one never knows. They might want fun things like ballot boxes or at least the imprimatur of their own sovereignty to confirm or deny and respond to natural disasters. Now this will disappoint subscribers to the theory that happiness is strictly the purview of cheap, Canadian meds but Hope is only hopeful. Empathy, however, leaves no stone unturned, The other glitch is that I didn't buy a ticket. This could be my fault. I think I'm a bit squeamish about gambling when it doesn't involve a. thoroughbreds and b. large chunks of my absent husband's money. Not everything is unrestrained, you know. Speaking of both those things, the mightiest and supreme-est and bestest ever thoroughbred in all the universes will win her 4th straight Cox Plate on Saturday. It was very kind of Alex to present me with a shimmering cherry red frock to celebrate this awesome occasion. Must acquaint him with the true extent of his largesse when he finally, ****ing gets home. Oh well, it was better than listing his most beloved and highly prized car on Ebay just for a laugh. That would not be leaving him alone to do what he needs to do and come home and etc.
  15. Gisele


    In the 21st century, it's hard to believe we still have coffins. They're not very sustainable and they look ridiculously unfair on the already mournful people that have to lug them around. And the final rinse of the religious centrifuge seems like yesterday's pomp. What was ever the point anyway? Preservation? Then why not vacuum-sealed like the meat thrifty people throw into the back of their freezer? Or be cast in a big slab of epoxy? And be like a coffee table down there in the underworld. The Egyptians did set the bar very high and who knows how standards slipped so far. I should make it clear I'm not plotting my own funeral. Nope, I wasn't ...aren't...in the tidiest of emotional spaces so I disappeared into the rose garden to give them some love and attention. I did none of that because they were in stunning, spring bloom and look absolutely gorgeous. So i just breathed it in. I thought, when I die, no wooden box for me. I think I would like to be wrapped in silk, be otherwise naked, and cocooned in a tightly bound wicker of climbing roses. The pall bearers might need really thick gloves. Or draw straws. Nevermind, the dead don't care.
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