The Bark Hut

I got on the plane dressed in layers. I have been shedding ever since. I walked off the plane and wished that I was wearing something without sleeves, or shorts or at the very least lighter socks.

I walked off the plane and into…the Australia from all of the movies. The horizon is greyed out from smoke, but “Not anything dangerous. Just the usual fires”. The car I was in was nearly hit by a kangaroo. We slowed down, swerved to avoid it, and then it turned around and proceeded to jump towards the car.

Kangaroos are A) dumb, and B) seriously pests out here.

I’m working at the Bark Hut Roadhouse, where the staff gets to enjoy our collective pets: We have two water buffalo – Jack and Jill, three emu, Franklin the turtle, and Betty the Olive Python who lives under the staff house.

And it’s warm.


Did I mention it’s warm?



Farewell, Melbourne

Tonight, instead of packing I helped fill the Hipster House with comedians. (Seriously. This is one of the best things in life. I love it so much.)

There were puppets and wine, Louis Armstrong records and youtube.

All of my new friends from Adventures with F.I.D.O. were there.

There may or may not have been some fantastic music named the “No, I’m *Totally* Packing Blues”.

At the end of the night (meaning the beginning of the morning), we packed my stuff into “granny trollies”, and I got walked to the stop for the Nightbus.

It was the kind of farewell that leaves a person planning the next chance to come back.

So long, Melbourne.

I’m off to the warmer pastures of Annaburroo!

Adventures with F.I.D.O.

I happened to be in town for Situation Comedy tonight. My

comedy friends showed up to say hi, and we hatched a plan for a blanket fort party tomorrow night. YES!

(What? I’m sorry. Me? Sleep? Before a flight? Outrageous!)

After comedy, we went to a chip shop, where the folks at the table next to us taught everyone that it’s bad for your health to fall in love at the Copa Cabana.

I hit back with the elevator-classic Girl from Impanema.

We were all topped by a song that’s new to me: Yes Sir, I Can Boogie.

Our dance party also brought up the song “Wooly-Bully”,

which apparently put my compatriots in mind of high school, steal-the-rival-mascot-style pranks and hijinks. So, we went to spent some quality time with F.I.D.O.

Who is F.I.D.O.? Why, the Fairfield Industrial Dog Obect, of course!

I have lived by F.I.D.O. for months, and only tonight learned that this dog is filled with wires to power it’s red-lit eys and “bark” noise. (Which sort of makes me wonder if F.I.D.O.  is a missing Hellhoumd from Good Omens, or the like…)

We definitely did not try to see if it was at all possible to open up and hide peope inside, trojan-horse style.



That would be absurd.

And require more tools than a lights and a tire lever.

Jobs, Jobs, Jobs

While in Melbourne, I’ve gotten into the habit of applying for jobs en masse. Things like “Okay, I’ll send out a minnimum of ten a day for the next two weeks” or “I’m sending out thirty before lunch”.

Yesterday, I sent out applications.

Today, I got calls.

I’ve never been in this position. Usually, when I’m “shopping for jobs” it means that I’m searching for anything to apply for that I have any chance at all of possibly getting.

Today, “shopping for jobs” feels more like…purchasing a horse, or looking at houses, (or other things that I have, until today, only imagined doing).

I must confesss: the Melbourne job market was beginning to give me a it of a complex about being utterly un-hireable.

I think maybe I was just applying for the wrong jobs (or, more probably, applying in the wrong place).

Now I get to choose which job I want, instead of which job can I get.

(I asked the internet, and 100% of the people polled said “Go to Perth!” So, Naturally, I’m getting on a plane in two days to go to Darwin.

(I am so excited to be warm!!!)



Another Plane of Travel

I am getting back on a plane today, for another round of days rather than hours being spent shuffling from plane to plane, and country to country.

I love travel. It’s so amazing that I can just grab my stuff, sit in a metal tube, and cross the world.

Though today I learned: Exit Rows do NOT equal Window Seats. Also, there is no under-seat storage in an Exit Row. (Which means no place for my wonderful ukulele to live, because I have no case for my ukulele, so it would get eaten alive by overhead storage.) Conclusion: I will forever leave Exit Rows to long-legged folks who need them more.



Blogging in Real Life

I…hate my computer.

My laptop and I have never gotten along. We’ve been fighting since it has very first came into my possesion.

To explain why I hate my laptop, I shall simply put it this way: It rarely turns on and doesn’t charge.

Though this situation is due to change in no time, as one of my friends was gracious enough to give me the best kind of gift: the kind that includes a challenge.   I’ve been given a computer with the beginnings of Arch on it, and I cannot wait to dig into it.

But, as I’ve been travelling in the U.S., I’ve been staying with friends and family every step of the way, so I’ve been lucky enough to be able to borrow computers everywhere I’ve been staying.

Every computer I’ve used has had this blog bookmarked.

Perhaps it’s an arrogant thing to point out to the entirity of the internet, but it’s just…a very present thing. I feel…extremely cared for. The people that I love (who I am often really quite terrible at keeping up with), they keep track of me anyway.

 It’s been a bit surreal; me bringing up a story of something that’s happened, and someone saying “Oh yeah! I read about that on your blog!”


don’t regularly interact with…anyone, actually, who reads my blog, so it was kind of really fun to get some live-feedback from the people who know me from more than just this.




So…thank you all, dear readers, for taking the time out of your lives to read about mine. You are all fantastic.



Holding Space; Sharing Stories

I had the chance to hear a story from one of my uncles this evening.

Sometimes, it’s a bit hard for me to talk with him, because he has lived his life in a way to focus on seeing the beauty of god in the make-up of every cell of every thing in every moment.

I’m still at a point in my relationship with religion that I’m trying to edit out “bless you” at sneezes and I’m attempting to find alternative curse words that don’t somehow invoke Christianity. (Seriously. That’s freaking *difficult*.)

However, I try really hard to make a point to talk with him every chance I can, because he experiences so much beauty in life, and is always trying to find ways to share that beauty with others.

Every time I talk with him, I have something new to think about; some new lesson to try and incorporate into my own way of percieving the world.

We were sitting out, in the clear night, underneath the street-lamp bright moon, and he said it was time to share stories. He said “Every time someone speaks, it is their universal truth. It is our job to hold space for everyone, so they have a chance to share their truth.”

Because everyone has a story to tell, and every story is worthy.

Lately, I’ve become a lot more self-righteous in my judgement of people. To me, at this moment, this was as very good thing to hear. My perception of it right now is as a reminder to listen honestly and openly; to not place my own values on the experiences of others.

I have a feeling that the meaning of this might change as I revisit it, and that’s why I think it is a very good lesson to have in my life right now.



A Day at the Lake

Today was a day on the lake.

I think I might have bruised a bone (I’ve heard you can do that) from being a bit…overenthused on a jetski, but whatever. I suffer for fashion. I’ll suffer for fun, too. ;)

I love this lake. I’ve been to weddings along it’s banks, and I can’t help but think that if I were ever to get married, I might want mine here too.

It’s sun and water, and food (so much food), and beautiful people to talk with.

Also known as…pretty much everything I could ever want from life



Neighbourly Forays

Today, I got to pack into a van with my family and my wonder-twin and head up through Canada.

My dad grew up on the border, so he took us up along an old aquifer, and we detoured through towns with more horses than people. We ended our tour in a town that his high school marching band used to play in.


The official excuse for our Canadian excursion was a  winery tour. Mostly it’s just beautiful though. (Even if we *were* denied passport stamps. Lame, Canada. Lame.)