Desertrose

I found this interesting. Especially the part about needing to go though a state of....well, to quote.... "our brightest ideas are often “proceeded by a gestation period that is inferior, murky, and completely necessary.” http://rightbrainworld.blogspot.com/2005/0...al-illness.html

Ok...the plot thickens. So.......it seems what is happening is that it's only the mixdown WAV that is all squeezed. When I convert it to an MP3 it sounds better - more "normal". You would think I could be at least pleased with this? No, I'm not.....because how do I know what it is GOING to sound like as an MP3? I might want to EQ the whole track.......or fiddle with it in other ways.....so now I have to GUESS how it's going to turn out as an Mp3?

Are you definately mixing down to 44.1 KHz, 16 bit stereo wav? Check no inline buss effects are being applied such as compression or EQ.

I've encountered a problem of late....one that never used to happen. I use Adobe audition as my PC recording program. Ok so there I go adding tracks like crazy, putting the puzzle together, then I hit "mixdown to file" - "all tracks" and I have the mixdown all nicely put together.......BUT somehow in the mixed down wav form the whole thing sounds "squeezed" compared to when it's just sitting in the session. The reverb on vocals is not as obvious, the sounds themselves sound much more tinny and it seems to lose the whole "stereo" sound....sounding instead like it's in mono. I found that if I then take that mixdown and put it BACK into cooledit and solo IT and then mix down the MIXDOWN then it seems to not do this "squeezing" thing as much........for some mysterious reason. Am I trying to mix down too many tracks into one wav and does this affect the overall sound quality? I DO go crazy adding lots of tracks. Oh heck.....now you know why I never venture in this section. I'm a complete ninny and can't speak technical speak. I think I've even confused myself writing all that.

One of my daughters came home from school and told me that her teacher had a penis enlarger in his storeroom. Actually, her and her little friend BOTH told me this with big wide solemn eyes that only nine year olds possess when they're trying to tell you something VERY important. My first stunned question was "How do you KNOW it was a penis enlarger?" And with eyes growing wider by the second they explained, "Because it had it WRITTEN on it....Pee-NIS En LARGE- ER" Well, that did it for me....How the heck would a nine year old know of such a thing? It HAD to be true...didn't it ? Though what on earth a teacher would be DOING with one AT school I couldn't fathom...except to imagine something rather sinister. I phoned a few close friends, talked to my stepmother...rang my husband of course and they all agreed it sounded very odd indeed. But, the dilemma of course was...was it REALLY what they thought it was ? I mean, maybe it was some other kind of enlarger? Pencil enlarger? Who knows...Could there be a brand name that they mistook for the word "penis" ? I mulled the options over in my mind. See, if I were to ring the headmaster (which my friends had advised) to discuss this little matter I really had to be sure of my facts first because no one wants to go making unsubstantiated accusations do they, not of THIS nature. This was serious stuff ! The teacher could be dismissed, charges layed against him if it indeed turned out to be the case. Now, penis enlargers DO actually exist, if you aren't already aware of this fact. For medical reasons they are commonly used for men with erectile difficulties. Diabetics for example, who suffer from lack of circulation in those areas sometimes use them, and this particular teacher happened to BE a Diabetic... But still, I could fathom no reason for a teacher keeping one in the storeroom. So... I did what any concerned mother would do and rang an adult sex shop. "Hello, Starlight Sex toys, how may I help you?" asked the male voice on the other end of the line. "Do you sell penis enlargers?" I asked "Yes we do." he replied brightly "What kind were you after?" "There's different kinds?" I asked , momentarily taken aback, then recovering myself I asked boldly. "Can you describe what one looks like?" He did...and to my dismay it sounded much like the children had described. A thought occurred to me, so I asked... "Does it actually have the words PENIS ENLARGER written on it? "On the box?" he asked, sounding a little curious now. "No, no....on the actual...thing, the device?" "Um, why" There was a distinctive pause, and then he ventured in an almost breathy, semi excited tone. "Would you LIKE it to?" I hung up, flustered. So it seemed that this situation really warranted a call to the headmaster, after all, I had grilled the girls to death and they did not waver in their story, except they were beginning to look positively worried, without the earlier giggling as they'd discussed the story. I decided to sleep on it and call him in the morning. "Hello, my daughter is a student at your school and I have a very unusual, and delicate issue to discuss with you." "Yeeeesssss" said the man sounding rather bored. I guessed he was sitting at his desk doodling idely on a piece of paper, after all he must be used to receiving calls from concerned parents. I had rehearsed this dozens of times and decided the best approach was total candidness. "My daughter said she saw a device in Mr XXX's storeroom with the words "PENIS ENLARGER" on it!" I blurted. There ! I had said it. There was a heavy silence for a few seconds. I imagined his head snapping up , the pen dropping from his fingers mid doodle.... "Oh!" After about fifteen minutes of discussion with me vowing that these children, MY child especially, were honest kids, not trouble makers, and asking, how on earth nine year olds could concoct such a story, he finally, sounding as concerned as I, promised to look into the matter immediately. The next morning I received a phone call from the school. It seemed there WAS a device similar to the girls description in the teachers storeroom....HOWEVER, it was some mathematical device used for measuring the volume of liquids, or something of that nature. Nowhere on it were the words "Penis Enlarger". That afternoon I received another phone call . Both girls were in the headmasters office, in tears, the accused teacher had left the school, himself in tears apparently, and my wonderful HONEST little girl, who had never in her life told a lie (not a serious one anyway) had confessed that her and her friend had watched an Austin Powers movie,(at the friends house) a week beforehand, where a "Penis Enlarger" was apparently featured in this film, and after seeing the "thing" in the storeroom they had decided to play a little joke and make up this story about their teacher. Mortified does not describe how I felt. Wanting to wring their scrawny little necks till their big solemn eyes popped out of their sockets- yes! How does one apologize for such a thing? The poor teacher.! He was CRYING for Gods sake...All the kids in the class KNEW about the story apparantly. The girls were lectured severely by the headmaster and of course by us, their parents... They were put on detention for quite some time, however, they KNEW...Oh boy did they ever, that what they had done was a terrible cruel thing and VERY serious. They had not only jeapordised a teachers career, but they had humiliated him also. If anything came out of it, for them, was this lesson. And for me, a lesson too... People and their sex toys can be really kinky! This unfortunately, is a true story. My daughter is now seventeen. It's taken me a long time to see the funny side of it.

It sure is different! My husband - Richard sticks his toothbrush in a 'hole" high up in the bathroom wall. He has toothbrush paranoia you see... Thinks the kids are using his toothbrush. They probably are....lazy sods. Spiders live in the holes too though. There is one that comes out every night near the tap in the ensuite and "hangs" there. I don't mind. We can live in harmony. I don't really know why I wrote all that.......but anyway.

According to the description the real estate site gave on the net we now live in a "medieval-like castle" built in 1919. Of course, it's not REALLY a castle. Doesn't look a bit like a castle from the outside - most of it is covered in ivy so you can't see much, but all the interior walls are made out of rough stone that's been limewashed and there are enough arches to drive a person crazy! The owner wanted to rent it furnished and he did have a lot of really chunky dark wood medieval type furniture in it, including swords on the walls etc, but we really needed an unfurnished house. As it turned out this was ok and the owner put all his stuff into storage. It's the most bizarre house we have ever lived in, which is of course why we decided to rent it. Why not? Some of the kids were not too happy at first (the spooky aspect for the younger ones and the "Mum this is too weird" aspect from the teenagers) but they have now all adjusted. All the other rentals were tiny boxes squeezed into new estates. NOT for us! I'd love to know the history of the place and WHY it was built this way. It's certainly not the norm for the period in which it was built. It's all done by hand.....there's not a "standard" door or window in the place! Some doorways are very low. Like the ensuite, and poor hubby who is very tall, keeps knocking his head on it. Some doors are very narrow. Some door ways only came with half a door, lol! The floors are all old timber floors or slate and the main area of the house is simply red concrete! GREAT for me because with dogs, cats and kids I don't have to worry about pristine carpets. I am NOT a domestic goddess you see. The less housework I have to do the better! It still has some of the original glass in some of the windows and you can tell because it's like looking through water....Glass shifts over time through gravity giving a weird "fun house" mirror type distorting effect. Apparently one of the previous owners died whilst fighting a bush fire in the local area. It is said that his body was laid out for the viewing in the main area of the house. Spooky! To be honest though not much "spiritual energy" has been experienced yet...not by me anyway, and Richard, my husband could trip over a "ghost" and still not see it! Well, I tell a lie. Two things have happened so far. Once, while in the kitchen I heard footsteps....IN THE ROOF! Like someone walking barefoot across the ceiling. Nobody was home at the time so it wasn't coming from anyone IN the house. The resident possum maybe? A big footed one. Another time I caught a glimpse of "somebody" walking through the glass front door. Just a fraction of a second glimpse though. Whoever it was they were in a hurry. I mostly just saw the top of a dark headed TALL person. No...it wasn't my husband. He HAS no hair and as far as I know he can't walk through glass doors. Maybe I'd had a few too many wines. Ok, but what about my bedroom. I can't quite explain this but there is a "wrong" energy in there. Like the feng shui is just not right. Not that I believe in feng shui, but .....well.......something is just not right in that room. It seems to be mostly in one area of the room...in a corner where the bed faces. I bought this clock...one that sits inside a glass dome and a brass "thingy" on the bottom swings around when the clock is going. When I put it in that corner it would NOT work. Just stopped ticking. When I would move it elsewhere it works fine. Not a problem. The weirdest thing was....when daylight savings started here a few weeks ago the clock MIRACULOUSLY put itself forward an hour. I swear to GOD it did just this! Nobody touched it. The thick layer of dust on top of the glass dome is testimony to that, lol! But there it sat...on my bedside table somehow mysteriously having changed the time. How can a clock that has wind around hands do that? Anyway....I have since discovered a trap door in my bedroom...Some planks of wood can be removed and there is a cellar type room underneath. At first I was excited and wanted to explore it. Take my metal detector down there even, but the other day a program on the radio talking about asbestos has now got me all paranoid... I keep looking at the house wondering..... They used to wrap plumbing and stuff with asbestos and our bedroom is right next to the ensuite. I wouldn't want to disturb asbestos...or otherwise. But, eventually curiosity will get the better of me. Anyway.....I love it here. It's certainly not everyones cup of tea. It's draughty ( like a castle!) and the rocky walls are dusty! Very "rustic" best sums it up. We even have an outside loo.....like the old days ( though there are two more toilets inside) and an old fuel stove in the kitchen. There are five fireplaces in all ( no wonder there are draughts) We have kangaroo's grazing in the front yard, possums who clamber on the roof, rabbits apparently too.....one fell in the pool and drowned and a multitude of BIG lizards who live in the garden. Snakes also visit I am told. I'm not too happy about that but what can you do. Anyway, if you're interested here are some ( a lot, lol) of pictures. The first pics are of my conversion of the "outside room" into my bellydance room. http://s125.photobucket.com/albums/p64/Des...0/The%20castle/

What a nice ( and funny) post Steve. Thanks Interesting to read from your perspective as a stay at home dad. Yeah, I can see how much MORE isolating that would be to be in that position from what you wrote. I wrote this "sweet potato" thing about eight months ago actually but I still go back and read it to remind myself that I should be doing MORE to "nurture myself". Heck, ain't nobody else gonna do it for me round here, lol! It's one of the reasons I took up belly dancing. I'm STILL trying to rejoice in all my wobbly bits! Trying to do something with music is an ongoing thing. Moving to Perth has not exactly helped, but you never know...I'm in touch with a guitarist right now. He's having panic attacks at the mere THOUGHT of performing but I'll keep working on him, lol! Whether or not there is actually somewhere TO perform over here is another thing again though we might try some writers nights...just for fun. Anyway.....Thanks again for your encouraging words. Tracy

I was standing in front of the stove cooking dinner when my eleven year old daughter, reading a form that needed to be filled in for school, asked... "What do I write for mums occupation?" "Nothing....mum doesn't do anything." said my sixteen year old. Whirling around with a wooden spoon in my hand I snapped.... "That's right, I sit on my backside on the couch all day eating bon bons watching days of our lives! Yup, that's me - she who doesn't do ANYTHING." "I didn't mean THAT mum!" said the sixteen year old rolling her eyes. It made me angry and depressed all the same. What has my life become? Who AM I? Why am I here? Questions I find myself asking time and time again as I stir yet another pan of gravy and think about the fact that I am now nearing my fortieth birthday. My boobs are determined to greet my knees, my belly is now rounded, my ass is melting down the backs of my thighs and I have completely lost touch with "me" - the person in my other life.... 20 years BC. (before children.) The other day I found a sweet potato that was growing "vines" in my kitchen. I looked at it sitting there among the onions in a bowl on top of the microwave and thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time. The colours.....lime green awash with subtle shades of dusky pink on the foliage, reaching up the wall.....(yes the thing is growing leaves) To think that left on it's own accord, with no water or earth or even much sunlight, it was beginning a new transformation, a new "life" there among the onions, seemed amazing to me! (Certainly a lot prettier than the time I discovered the corpse of an aubergine under the kitchen sink.) "Why are you taking photo's of a sweet potato?" my children asked as they caught me arranging the vines against a brightly painted wall. And in that moment.....I knew. I have lost the plot. I really have become the person I feared I would become. A dreary housewife who gets excited over "past their used by date" vegetables. What becomes of us? Those that choose to stay home and raise their children, to forgo a career where they can interact on a daily basis with their peers, get paid for their work, feel as though they have a true purpose in life as a contributing member of society, and have something to TALK about in a gathering of other intellectual adults? Do we wither away, our brains atrophying in the mundane repetition of daily household chores? Every day the same dishes sit in the sink waiting for me to wash them up, the same dirt on the floor walked in by the dogs and the kids waits to be swept up, the same tinkle drops on the toilet seat wait for me to inadvertantly sit in them, the same fluff gathers on the carpet, the same bench tops needing wiping, table that needs clearing, garbage needs taking out, washing needs folded, the same kids come home everyday with the same gripes, the same arguments, the same shoes and school bags left for me to trip over them in the hall..... At night the same complaints meet me at the dinner table, the same protests of "but it's not my turn to wash up tonight!", the same painful grade three reading books I have to sit and listen to as my mind turns to mush...and in bed at night....the same penis pokes me from behind. The same, the same the SAME! I am not the same. I am changing. I only have to look in the mirror to see that. Oh gravity! The same age I remember my parents and their friends were as I approached puberty, and thought they were SO old....past it.....their lives OVER! And here *I* am - "there" where they were and how quickly I have travelled here. I remember the first dawn I spent as a new mother lying in the hospital bed staring at my brand new infant feeling this incredible sense of overwhelming joy. *I* had made this perfect creature. ME! What I felt was as close to bliss as I have ever experienced and I knew I would love her with all of my soul and I did and I still do... all four of them. I know I have the most valuable (though undervalued) job on earth, being a parent and I would not change this whole journey even if I could, but there comes a time, in every womans life where a sweet potato brings you back to reality! I am an intelligent, creative thinking, feeling PERSON. I am NOT "she who sits among bon bon wrappers on the sofa". I DO have a life - one that needs tending. My soul that has outgrown the comfortable cloak of motherhood screams for high heels and a loud red dress! I look at that sweet potato.... Neglected and ignored it has sat in that bowl on top of my microwave. Soft and wrinkly it has become. I could have thrown it out, but I'm glad I didn't, because it has given me such inspiration in the lesson that it teaches... Even things that are past their use by date can, all on their own, become beautiful amazing things.

Wow, and you too John. I feel decidedly UNtalented! Sketching is about my limit, but they are still very amatuerish.

I have to admit that I don't vote either. Over here it is compulsory that you vote and you can get fined if you don't but because I am not an Australian citizen I am not obliged to by law. The older I get the more afraid I get as I realise the stupidity of these so called "powers" that affect our lives with their decisions and laws. In regards to obesity....isn't it ironic. They don't allow advertising of alcohol and tobacco anymore because of the health risks - and fair enough, I can live with that, but what about fast food? Just how many fast food chain outlets does one country (one SUBURB!) NEED anyway? And what about the sugar, salt and fat laden foods available in the supermarkets? It's all about convenience these days and the stupid thing is to buy HEALTHY food - fresh fruit and vegetables etc (well....God knows if it really IS fresh OR healthy these days?) is more expensive than buying convenience or fast foods. For example, if my family of six were out and wanting to buy a "healthy" lunch from a salad bar where they sell sandwiches or rolls with salads and sliced cold meats it is WAY more expensive than if we just bought some greasy fried chips and gravy or even some burgers from Macdonalds. If they seriously wanted a healthier nation then they need to look at the realities out there.

Geez, some talented people here! I'm impressed... and jealous. Every few years I get it in my head that I "can paint". I usually try for an abstract but it never works out and I just end up wasting time and paint and getting extremely frustrated.

Over the years I seem to meet more and more people who believe in "angels". Now the sceptical side of me completely pooh poohs the whole idea as to me it conjures up a far too fluffy image of etherial, half naked cherubs playing fiddles in the sky and since I don't believe in heaven or God then it's only natural that these kinds of "angels" don't really fit into my realm of thinking either. But....... I have to say that at least ONCE in my lifetime thus far, I have had an experience that I cannot put down to any other explanation, except to say that some kind of "guardian angel" was watching over me. I was nineteen years old and three months pregnant with my first child when it happened. I had just begun my nurses training which entailed a long commute (2 hours by trains and buses) from Bondi beach to the Western suburbs of Sydney. Feeling the strain of having to travel so far each day I had put in for a room at the hospitals nurses quarters I was currently working at but there was a waiting list, so it was organised for me to stay at a different hospital a few suburbs down the train line. It was the first night that I was to travel to the other nurses quarters to stay overnight. I got off the train at around 11 pm and proceded to walk to my accomodation carrying a large overnight bag on my back. Now back then, at nineteen though I "thought" I was pretty sensible , really I was like many other young people who just never expect that anything "bad" will happen to them. I think for much of your younger years you simply feel invincible! I did anyway. It honestly never crossed my mind that walking alone at that time of night was a stupid thing to be doing. I had been doing it for some months already and besides that particular night I was dead tired and simply wanted to find my bed for the night, fall in it and get some sleep before the following morning shift. So, I began walking along this long road which had another major public hospital on one side (but set a fair way away from the actual street with lawns and bushland between it and where I was), and on the OTHER side of the road there was a school which was in complete darkness. I was just trudging along, thinking about my day and the day ahead, when suddenly a voice that seemed to come from nowhere, spoke into my EAR and said in a rather urgent tone... "If you scream, no one will hear you!" I'm not sure whether it was the the voice itself or what it SAID that scared me more, but there in that moment I suddenly became completely aware of all that was around me and to my fright, looking around I realised that whoever, or WHATEVER it was that had spoken those words was exactly right! I was in a place where IF something were to happen....yeah, screaming would not do a damn bit of good because there WERE no houses....just that hospital and an empty schoolyard and that LONG road ahead. And then I saw the man step out from the darkness of the school buildings. I cannot begin to explain the terror I felt but before he even walked out of the gates I KNEW that I was in trouble. I did all I could think to do, which was to cross the road and begin walking under the street lights thinking if I were more visable.......well....it was a thought anyway. Who on earth would see me at that time of night on such a deserted street? The man crossed the road behind me and followed. Now I was really panicking and those words were echoing in my head...."If you scream no one will hear you!" I couldn't tell how much further away the hospital was but I knew I couldn't out run him, not with my heavy nurses shoes and the bag on my back, but I began walking faster anyway. So did the man. Funny how time seems to slow down in these situations. It's like those dreams you have when you try to run but your legs won't move. My legs felt like they had turned to jelly. I couldn't have out run him even if I tried. Complete panic was overtaking my senses and I felt SHOCKED at my own body for betraying me! How dare it do this to me! I felt in that moment the most vulnerable I have EVER felt in all my life. Completely at the mercy at whatever this man wanted to do to me. I kept turning my head and he was still there....closer, but as though it was a game he knew he still had time to make his move. It was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced. Finally panic won....I lost it and tried to run.......I heard him running behind me and at that VERY moment a car pulled up beside me - traveling from the direction I was running towards... The passenger door was thrown open and I heard a mans voice say... "Quick, get in!" I didn't even THINK....couldn't think. I did as he said and jumped into the car. It was all complete confusion at that point. As we sped away I burst into tears, so relieved to be "rescued", not even for a moment considering that this person could be an accomplice of the man chasing after me! He wasn't. By some uncanny coincidence this man - a nurse, had left for work earlier than usual that night. I hadn't seen him but apparently he had driven past and happened to notice me and had felt something was just not "right" with this situation even though the man was a fair distance behind me at that point. When he got to the hospital he said he felt compelled to turn around and drive back just to "make sure". Now perhaps it was all just coincidence...."luck" or whatever you want to call it, and to be honest if it weren't for that strange voice that I heard prior to everything then I might be inclined to put it down to sheer good luck as well. But that voice.......? It was like suddenly someone (something? A guardian angel perhaps?) saw the situation BEFORE it unfolded and tried to to warn me. I have the feeling that IT was responsible for intervening somehow. After all, had I have NOT been given that warning I may have remained lost in my tired thoughts, might NOT have noticed the man come out from where he had been hidden in the darkness, and probably would have stayed walking on the other side of the road where there were no streetlights and therefore may not have been seen by the man driving by. The man who had been following me bolted as soon as I jumped in the car and although we drove around trying to find him, and rang the police...well, who knows where he went or WHAT his true intentions had been that night. Deep in my gut, I feel that if it weren't for the kindness of a stranger...or guardian angels..... I might not be here today.

Fossicking can be done with a metal detector or not....basically it is searching for old relics - junk, lol.....but if you are serious you can fossick for precious stones. I think when it comes to gold though it's called "prospecting". Personally I have no interest in gold as strange as it sounds. Oh it would be nice to accidentally come across a big fat nugget but for me I just love to find old stuff . It's amazing to me to find something that was once hand crafted for example. I look at it and wonder who made it, who used it, what were those people LIKE, what were their lives like? Did they ask all the silly pondering questions of life that I do and where are they now? I don't think I can put up with all those flies either.

I think the one we have is a trackabout. It's an offroad trailer. We only went to a camper trailer as back when all four kids were camping with us we had run out of room in the car to fit the tent and all the other "stuff".

GREAT time. I don't want to be "home". We're itching to get out there again but soon the inolerable heat of summer will make camping unpleasant. Winter with a campfire is the BEST time to go over here.

I know what you mean and have had similar thoughts. We are all quite perplexingly complex.

Over the years, one of THE most frustrating aspects of camping has been the moment that we arrive at a campsite for one of our rare two or three night stopovers and deciding which way the camper trailer should be positioned. It's very important to me that the trailer should be adequately positioned in order to maximise our comfort for the duration of such a stay, particularly in regards to where the sun will set as there is nothing worse than having the afternoon sun glaring in on where you are trying to sit and relax (and prepare a meal) in front of the tent after a long days drive. Setting up close to, but not necessarily directly under trees, is preferable where the shade they afford covers at LEAST front section of the camper trailer, especially if one does not feel like spending the extra time setting up the awning. My husband and I have had many explosive moments during this critical time and it was only recently that I discovered exactly WHY he behaves like a complete ninny unable to follow my directions. We had just pulled up at a nice little campsite where there was a body of water and immediately our eight year old son disappeared through the long grass to go and investigate - water and mud of course being a little boy magnet. When my husband asked the inevitable question - "Which way should the camper trailer face?" I told him - "Put it so the front is facing the water" - the reason being, which I thought was logical - so we could keep an eye on the boy as well as have our main eating/sitting area positioned so as to NOT have the hot late afternoon sun beaming in on us. Moments later Richard starts backing the trailer in then gets out of the car and unhooks it and tells me we will have to push it around. I'm not sure why we have to do this, as it seemed logical that he would just back it in a little further and the front would open out towards the water, as I had suggested. Now, there is a couple set up in their caravan next to us, watching us, and I really hate that because I'm sure we become a great source of entertainment during these set up times. So there we are pushing and pulling the trailer - well, I am really just standing there with my hands on it not knowing what the heck my husband is doing because suddenly the trailer is positioned sidewards and I say to him....."But why have you turned it this way? When we open up the tent it will be sitting on top of the firepit!" He is beginning to look flustered and says something about the tree being in the way so it HAS to go this way because it won't fit under the tree, and "why didn't I listen to him in the first place and have it the way HE had suggested!" He continues to push it this way and that, not really making much progress and I begin to worry that the darn thing is going to end up IN the water! "Richard.......it was really simple...You just had to back it in a little way the way you had it and then everything would be fine!" "Now I have to hook it back up to the car to put it where you want it!" he says through gritted teeth. I'm really not understanding his whole thought process at this moment, but not wanting to make a scene in front of our audience I tell him through equally as gritted teeth... "Ok....well put it where you like...I really don't care either way." (It's at about this point that I would like to smack him about the head with a leafy branch.) "Why is it so difficult to understand my instructions?" I am thinking to myself as he angrily reverses the car and makes a big fuss about re hooking the trailer back up. In his temper tantrum he starts driving forgetting to put the wheel of the trailer up so it drags in the dirt. He then gets out of the car, realising what has happened and blames ME for his error. I'm standing there watching him reverse the trailer, wheel safely up this time, towards me but he's doing it so that the trailer is coming in at an angle therefore making it that if we opened the tent part up the BACK would be facing the caravaners FRONT, which to me seems quite snobbish at a campsite. Side on is ok - you still have your privacy to sit and eat but to have your "back" facing their "front" just doesn't seem very friendly....especially if you are to be there for two nights and have already exchanged pleasantries. "What ARE you doing?" I ask quite baffled and more than a little irate at this point. "Just back it in and the front will be facing the water!" "You said you didn't want to be facing the afternoon sun!" he says... "It WON'T be if you put it where I told you.......the FRONT facing the water!" I feel as though I am speaking to a martian! What does he not understand about what I am telling him! Suddenly, and somehow it dawns on both of us.... What I am referring to the "front", and has been all along, is actually what he calls the "back" of the camper trailer with his logic being that the "front" of the trailer is the part that hooks up to the car and the "back" where, when we set it up is where the door to the tent is and the kitchen opens out. This to me is ridiculous because when we are talking about setting it up it seems logical to call the "front" the place where you go in and out of the tent and have your awning up - like a front verandah and do all of your "living"- cooking, eating etc. Why on earth would you call that the "back"? We argue for a few minutes over this point with him refusing to refer to the "back" ( in his eyes) as the "front" so I give up and just tell him to put the damn thing wherever he pleases! All in all it takes about thirty minutes to find the final resting place for the camper with both of us feeling very hot and bothered. We are still arguing about it even though we are now home. I understand his reasoning - skewed as it is, but in MY eyes we are actually towing our home on wheels BACKWARDS and the point remains particularly when setting up camp, where the door is HAS to be referred to as "the front" and until we can agree on this we will continue to become confused and have these domestic spats much to the delight of other campers. Perhaps hubby should remember the little thought for the day we saw posted up on a notice board in a town called Sandstone... "Marriage is a partnership where one person is right and the other is a husband." :-X : Maybe this will make it easier ? There is the door right. See the green thing on the ground in front of it? That is the front door mat.....and I'm positive I have heard Richard call it "the front door mat" !

Our most recent (and first camping trip in Western Australia) took us 2777km to complete in a week exploring many of the old gold mining ghost towns North East and East of Perth that sprung up in the late 1900's when people came from all over the country, and overseas, in their quest to find gold. It didn't take long, a mere 100 km or so before we reached the town of New Norcia and began to be plagued by thousands of annoying bush flies even though the temperatures were still quite pleasant at that stage although the sky kept clouding over and we got the occasional rain spats along the way. There is nothing worse than these little buggers! Absolutely NO kind of insect repellant works except if you actually wave the can around to shoo them away... Unlike normal flies, the bush flies are much smaller, quicker, there are millions of them and they seem to like burrowing into your eyelids! When you prepare any kind of food they swarm the place making eating a hurried and rather unpleasant experience, and if the flies don't spoil your appetite then the dryness of the heat, turning your nice fresh bread into toast before you've even eaten half the sandwich, does! They especially like sugared tea too and yet again I spent the trip scooping them out of my mug and anticipating the ingestion or inhalation of the odd one or two. New Norcia is Western Australia's only monastic town where Spanish Monks originally arrived in 1846 establishing their mission to the local Aborigines. It's rather mediteranian style of buildings seem somewhat out of place there among the Australian bush but somehow there is a sense of peace and solitude which is rather alluring. While sitting outside the towns art gallery I noticed a dozen or so swallow looking like birds flying in and out of a little storage room and thought how nice it was that the birds could nest undisturbed in such a place. It seemed kind of fitting that they should be there. We didn't see any monks as we wandered around the town but had a bit of a chuckle when I remarked that "The monks had been there for over 150 years!" to which Jackson with big round eyes asked "How did they live to be THAT old!" Our first nights camp was at a place called Paynes Find. What did Payne find? Gold of course. What did WE find? One very dismal looking caravan park come service station and that was it! That was also when we found that Richard had forgotten to pack the gas hose fitting that would allow us to cook on the gas cooker ! (the second time he has done this!) Having prepared a delicious beef stroganoff the night before we were all ravenous and really looking forward to a quick meal heated on the stove. After much stressing out I sent Richard to go and speak to the people who ran the park, hoping they might be able to tell us where we could buy this fitting, but things didn't look promising as by now we were REALLY out in the sticks! The old guy at the front desk was SO very helpful. He took us off into his back sheds and spent a considerable amount of time rummaging around trying to find "something" that would get us out of the fix we were in. I eventually grew tired of all the technical talk and so returned with the kids to photograph a beautiful rainbow that had appeared over the outback horizon. "It's so pretty!" the kids said "Yes, if you look there will always be a rainbow!" I said somewhat hopefully. And there was.......in the form of a battered old gas bottle that hadn't been inspected for more than 6 years but this was dug up and kindly donated by the caravan park owner on loan with a promise by us to return it to his brother in law who lives a few suburbs away from us when we got home. We now had the means to cook for the entire trip and though it looked a little dodgy it got us through the entire trip with no explosions, leaks or any other hassles. What a great guy! The caravan park may have been a little unappealing asthetically, the toilets blocked and frogs living in the sinks.... ...but the hospitality was amazing. The next day took us on a long drive passing through Mount Magnet which is supposed to be famous for it's wildflowers but unfortunately it was a little late in the season and according to the locals it had not been a good one anyway. All we saw were some feral goats and the occasional emu and of course morning tea and lunch stops brought the plagues of flies. The weather had fined up though and was pleasantly sunny with no more threat of rain. We drove on and decided to camp at a town called Sandstone - another caravan park but this time the amenities were pristine and no frogs jumped out of the sink whilst brushing our teeth. The owner of the park warned us that the rooster next door would start crowing at dawn so advised us not to set up too close to the fence. After we set up we took a drive around the tiny town and went off onto the dirt track to explore a natural rock formation called "London Bridge" which at one point was wide enough for transport vehicles to pass across. Now it has eroded away but still remains a bridge though signs warned tourists not to walk across it. It was here that we saw a cave that had once been the towns brewery ... ...and further on the remains of an old crusher where there were the ruins of a couple of old cottages nearby. I kept finding pieces of what looked like old pottery. Later on I discovered ( when looking through a mining museum) that these clay pots were what they poured the core samples, perhaps containing gold into and in the museum you could actually see little tiny specs of gold stuck in the sides of the pots. If only I had known what they were I would have looked at them a little more closely! I awoke the next morning hearing the rooster crowing and figuring it must be nearly time to get up I decided not to let myself doze and have Richards phone alarm wake me. He likes to be on the road by 8 am when we travel so it means early starts in order to fit breakfast in. I went off to the toilets and freshened up, got dressed even though it was still dark and wanting a cup of tea, yet being wary of this loaned gas bottle, I decided to wake Richard up so he could take care of it. "It's bloody 4:20 in the morning! Are you insane?" he said to me looking at the time on his phone. "Well, I'm awake now." I said. I recieved very dirty looks for the rest of the day and will not be allowed to forget this incident. We headed off (early) towards Kookynie which I was really looking forward to as I had read other peoples trip reports saying that they had done some fossicking around the area and found broken bits of pottery, old horse shoes etc. I was really looking forward to spending some time fossicking and metal detecting on this trip but with the distance we had to cover time didn't allow me to do this kind of thing at my leisure. You really need to spend at least a couple of days camped in each place as it's time consuming to search and dig so it was a matter of having a quick scout around at each place we stopped at. While it was very interesting reading what information we could at these town sites it was also very frustrating to me to see the lack of importance given to preserving what little history Australia DOES have. Australia is such a relatively young country so I don't understand why we can't protect and preserve what little there IS of our history, after all it's not so old that it SHOULD have disappeared by now. Most of the sites we visited along the way were mere patches of dirt with a few old bricks, maybe an old chimney left standing and the glitter of broken glass marking the spot where these little towns once were. What was very disheartening to me was to see evidence of people having vandalised what little was left of these "ghost towns" as all over the ground were broken bottles in those lovely shades of lavender and pale blue that had obviously been picked up and smashed where they had once lain complete. It makes me wonder at the mentality of some people to destroy something that is so irreplaceable from a historical point of veiw. It may just be an old bottle to some but to me it is part of an era, and a way of life, that is incomprehensible more than a hundred years later. We camped at Niagra dam for two nights which is very close to what is left of Kookynie. A nice spot but there was a problem with the chemical toilets there and it was much to our revulsion that we discovered that "what lies at the bottom" had almost reached the top and along with that there were maggots..........Aghhhhhhhhhh! It was at this camp site that the kids were entertained by another camper who was very nice and showed them how to catch yabbies ... ... of which were dropped into boiling water and eaten, much to the dismay of Shai who gave us all dirty looks and threatened to set all the "poor yabbies" free the next day. I didn't eat any. They look gross to me and smell too strong but Richard enjoyed them. We spent a LONG day exploring many of the old town sites around the area the next day and fossicked around in the heat, driven mad by the flies but we did find some interesting old bits and pieces along the way. As we explored I wondered at the conditions in which people had to survive, in some of the harshest country in Australia all because they had been lured by the promise of great fortune to be made. You only had to wander through many of the towns cemetaries to get a glimpse of the reality of what their lives must have been like. To see the grave stones of not one but sometimes two and three children buried by their parents, sometimes within months of each other as diseases such as typhoid swept through the town made me wonder just how a mother could live with the knowledge that it was quite possible she might have to bury her own child. The gravestones telling of accidents, fires, drownings, mining accidents, death from something as simple as exhaustion or diahorreah, or those that took their own lives, and of course the tiny gravesites where infants lay buried are sobering reminders of just how much we take for granted today. It perplexed me to see many of these graves decorated with old sea shells....there, miles away from the ocean. Some of the grave stones were imported from other countries. One we noted was all the way from Scotland. Imagine how much that would have cost to transport all the way to the middle of ...nowhere! As we walked over the broken glass in the heat with a million flies buzzing around our faces and nothing but a dry desert full of prickles surrounding us with next to no shade for relief, I tried to imagine how these people could have willingly come here, with all the risks involved and hardships faced, all for the promise of gold? I can't imagine what "gold fever" really must have been like but standing in a shop later on in the trip at Coolgardie overhearing the store owner telling some passing tourists of recent gold finds in the area gave me SOME idea. For a brief moment I wished we had WAY more time, and a much better metal detector. We read signs explaining how quickly these towns sprung up, only to be abandoned as little as ten or twenty years later when people gave up and left, literally taking what they could carry and leaving the rest behind. One cemetary we visited marked with only three grave sites, said that people were leaving that particular town faster than they were dying. Of course water was scarce in these places so a pipeline from Mundaring Weir ( near where we live) that stretches the 650 km route out to these gold rich areas had been built in the early 1900's to service the areas along the way reaching all the way to Kalgoorlie. (We followed the pipeline all the way home) Before that had been built however towns relied on desalination for their drinking water and had to buy water in many instances. The amazing thing to me was reading that more often than not there was more alcohol available back in those days than water! They either had it brought in by camel or else built their own breweries on site. At Coolgardie we read out a list of buildings that had once lined the streets...a butcher, a drapery, a laundry, post office and about twenty five hotels! It's obvious to see where their priorities lay. We did come across one little town called Gualia, just before reaching Kookynie, where residents had gone to great lengths to preserve what was left of the old town site and it was absolutely fantastic and FREE! A whole bunch of crudely constructed huts thrown together consisting of wood, wire and sheets of corrugated iron stood as they once had, complete with old furnishings, some of it the original furniture, old iron beds etc. In fact it was noted in a travel brochure that the residents have gone to great lengths fitting out the remains of these homes with as much of the original bric a brack as possible making them seem just as "homely" as they once were. It really was an amazing experience exploring all the ramshackle cottages and imagining life in those much simpler times. We traveled on to Kalgoorlie for another two night stay in a Caravan park which was depressing.......not just the overcrowded park but the whole town itself. We had expected there to be more things to see and do in Kalgoorlie but there was only really the super pit (huge active open cut gold mine) with all of it's ENORMOUS mining trucks and another mining museum which we didn't bother looking at as we'd seen enough museums by that time. Here is a picture of one of the mining scoops they use to dig out the rock. Out of every truck they fill, which takes about six of these scoopfulls they are lucky to get out two drawing pins worth of gold. Adding to our dismal experience there our only full day of rest in Kalgoorlie we had temperatures of 37 - 38 and the hot wind was blowing a gale! We headed off OUT of Kalgoorlie ( just to kill time and get some respite in the air conditioned car) and found it to be a MUCH nicer little place with a tonne more information placed on boards around the town. It was still too hot to be walking around though so we drove around aimlessly for a bit before heading back to Kalgoorlie to go and sit in Burger King to escape the heat. It was entertaining at least with one customer losing her cool with one of the teenagers serving, announcing to the whole restaurant in her anger at not recieving adequite service, that there were "Flies in the red fanta!" It took about 45 minutes for us to get served....the resturant was poorly managed, the staff were heard swearing from the kitchen and the tables and floors were filthy, and yes there WERE flies inside...Not sure about in the red fanta though. We went back to the caravan park at around 3 pm and Richard took the kids for a swim in the parks pool. He returned very shortly thereafter with the kids most upset at only being allowed a quick dip to cool off but as Richard had been sitting there watching them a woman ( resident of the park) warned him that the little girl Shai was swimming with was "not all there" and had recently tried to drown another child in the pool. She said she had practically had to save this poor child from being drowned as the girl "likes to hold other children underwater". Nice! I wouldn't go back to Kalgoorlie again. The super pit was interesting and worth a look but on the whole it's a dry dusty place with very little character or appeal except for the dozens of old pubs lining the streets. Instead of heading down to Wave Rock for our last nights camp we decided to travel straight through back to Perth, stopping at a campsite along the way which boasts a rock (Kockobin Rock) that is Australias third largest Monolith. Uluru being the second largest. The flies were GHASTLY there and we were completely exhausted by now but it was a pleasant little spot set among some quite pretty farm like countryside. Too tired to even cook a proper meal we baked some potato's in foil over the campfire and had them with butter, toasted a few marshmallows then had to put the fire out as it was too windy. We went to bed at about 8:30 pm and were entertained by the kids telling US bedtime stories for a change. It was highly amusing listening to Jacksons rendition of "the three little wolves and the big bad pig!" The next morning before heading home we explored what looked like a dumping ground for rubbish we had seen on the way in and were very excited to find quite a few old-ish bottles that were still intact. Even Richard was getting right into "fossicking mode" but it was so hot and the flies were just unbearable so we didn't spend long there. Some of the "treasures" we found. All in all a rather whirlwind trip ( they always are) but it was enjoyable getting back "out there". One thing about Perth compared to Sydney is that you need only travel a day or so before you hit the red dirt ( and the flies!) and really feel as though you are in the middle of nowhere. I much prefer the "outback" to the coast ( too many other campers on the coast) so I have a feeling we will be out that way again, armed with fly nets of course!

I saw you there.....at the sports carnival.... Heard the kids shouting at you "Run! Run will ya!" And your reply........"I AM running!" I saw the way you sat with your head down, your cheeks burning furiously. I know that you wanted the earth to swallow you up at that moment. I know how you felt, and how you feel. Different. Awkward. Clumsy in your changed and ever changing body. So much more developed than the other girls your age. You're not "cool".....not "pretty enough" to belong in the "popular" group. You don't seem to fit in anywhere. You fear the awful blushing attacks, lack the words and the courage to express yourself and stand up to "them". I wish that I could tell you that this WILL pass.......that someday you WILL find the words to express yourself. You WILL stand up for yourself. I know you will. And maybe , one day, you will find yourself walking among "them" wondering what they actually THINK about.......if they even "think" at all, or just worry that their panty line is showing, and who next to tell that juicy bit of gossip to. I saw you there, after school, while all the other kids were playing, or standing round in their oh so "popular" groups talking about "oh so cool" things.... You were sitting , alone....with a book. There between the lines. Within the words. The possibility of escape.

I thought I would start my first blog with my most favourite true story....and because today, my husband finally mowed the lawn with an electric lawn mower that he got from freecycle, because he is too damned stingy to go and buy a NEW one! It cut out several times due to overheating and I had to dutifully follow behind holding the cord so he wouldn't electrocute himself by mowing over it, but I must concede that it DID do the job. Better than the goat did anyway. My husband has never liked mowing the lawn. It's just one of those things ( like all things that require physical exertion...with the exception of ONE thing) that he is adverse to doing. So, after nearly getting a divorce over the state of the lawn, and him not wanting to spend any money getting the mower fixed ( yet again), or paying someone else to come cut the grass, my husband in his infinite wisdom came up with another one of his great ideas. "I've got it!" he exclaimed beaming with excitement. "We'll get a goat!" So off he whisked us to a local animal park where they had a selection of young goats for sale. After having carefully chosen one, a female ( as the males pee over themselves we discovered)... and a very pretty brown goat she was too, extremely affectionate also, as they were used to people feeding and petting them at the park, he bundled her into the back of the station wagon, amidst my protests of "I really don't think this is such a good idea darling." "It'll be fine, you watch !" said he, chuffed with his wonderful plan. The whole way home, the goat, who was not very happy about being thrown in this moving metal box, bleated constantly and popped pellets from her behind at a frightening speed. I sat in the front seat and said nothing . Upon arriving home, my husband led the goat straight out to the backyard where he immediately began plucking up huge handfuls of lush green grass, waving it enthusiastically in front of the goats nose. "See...nice green grass especially for you...go ahead, eat ALL you want!" he crooned. But the goat just stood there looking up at her new master, nuzzling his hand and rubbing up against his knees in adoration. The two dogs, curious about this strange looking creature in their territory began sniffing around her with interest , barking when she turned to face them. Suddenly, the goat, perhaps feeling threatened, proceeded to back up a little ways and then went flying at the dogs, her head bent low in an attempt to head butt them over the fence ! And she would have succeeded ( they were only little dogs) had I not intercepted the attack ! "Maybe we should lock the dogs up...put them in the bathroom for now, until she settles in a bit." suggested my husband after the goats third attempt to send them sailing into the neighbours yard. "Let's go inside and let her explore the new environment" he said. The minute the laundry door closed a most horrific sound began. The goat, discovering her beloved master was out of sight began bleating hysterically , pounding her hooves on the back door in desperate panic. "Let me in, let me in, by the hair of my chinny chin chin!" she seemed to scream. My husband rushed back to the door in alarm and went out to comfort her. This was repeated seventeen times. Eventually he managed to quiet her by sitting on the laundry floor, with the door slightly ajar, petting her head...but that was as far as she would allow him to "leave" her. "Are you going to sit there all night dear? I asked after an hour of watching him try to shut the door, only to have the hysterial bleating resume. (By this stage all the neighbourhood dogs were howling and barking each time the goat started up, and I was very worried that the neighbours, who we were not on the best of terms with, would start complaining.) "Well, maybe JUST for tonight she can sleep in the kitchen." he said eventually. "We can't have her bleating all night like this now can we?" So, he made a bed for the goat in the corner of the kitchen,and erected a barricade between the kitchen and the lounge room to keep her off the carpet. "I promise, I'll clean up the mess in the morning" he said. The goat bleated quietly from the kitchen a few times but after a few minutes seemed to settle down. We sat down to watch a little TV. Next minute, suddenly this THING came flying into the lounge room ! "Jesus! Did you see that...It jumped over the barricade!" Said my husband struggling to push the goat off his lap, where it was trying to settle like a cat. For the next hour we built the barricade higher and higher....even using the erected ironing board, but each time, the goat backed up as far as she could go and simply caterpulted herself over the objects. Well I'd had enough! This was ludicrous! "You'll have to damn well sleep in the kitchen WITH the goat if any of us are going to get any sleep tonight!" I said angrily. "I'm going to bed !" The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was a spare mattress being dragged into the kitchen. I didn't envy him...it was the middle of Winter, bitterly cold and the lino floor would not be a pleasant place to bunk down. Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke to a quiet little noise coming from the other side of my bedroom. It sounded like something was in my wardrobe scratching around ! Alarmed I fumbled for the light switch on my bedside table lamp. To my relief I saw it was my husband hunched over, half in, half out the wardrobe. "What on earth are you doing !" I exclaimed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." he said rummaging around in the drawers. "What are you doing!" I asked again. And with that he sheepishly stood up shivering slightly, pointing to what I realised then were his soaking wet clothes, and said........ "I woke up and the bloody goat was in bed with me,....... and it's pissed and shit all OVER me !" Well, needless to say, the goat was returned to the animal park the next morning. My husband explaining awkwardly that he'd had to sleep with her to keep her quiet, ...and that the neigbours would not approve....much to the confusion I'm sure of the goat farmer who, was much too polite to ask any further questions. And now? Now we PAY someone to come and mow the lawns, and my husband doesn't complain one bit about this arrangement.

It's really not a curse To be able to enjoy and do anything creative is a gift - an outlet- an escape, and a way to express yourself. To me there is a real difference between being good at being creative and being good at the business side of things. I think when it comes to music, to really succeed in the music industry, you need to excell at both. You've got plenty of time up your sleeve to be able to work on that and truly find your direction if your aim is to sell your songs to other artists. To DO that though - to pitch to other artists, you might find you have to meet certain criteria's and some of that might mean sacrificing a little of your own personal expression for the sake of having songs conform to "what they are looking for". For me personally I am not willing to do that. I'm too selfish. I want to write exactly what I please without wondering if what I am writing is commercial or marketable enough or will suit or please whoever I was trying to write FOR. My own sense of satisfaction comes from the whole creative process. I enjoy the inspiration, the time spent in that creative "zone"....trying to make myself understood through a lyric, trying to make the whole thing come together - to me it's like putting a puzzle together. The biggest reward for me is when just ONE person writes to me or says to me something that basically means "Hey....that really made me FEEL something" and you know that whatever it was you were trying to express has truly been "got" by that person. That's what I look forward to

I suppose it depends on what you want to DO with your music. Are you in a band? Do you want to promote your band or yourself as an artist? Do you want to sell your songs to other artists to sing? Do you want to get them heard on radio? All of those things are extremely difficult to achieve. The music business is .......a business. The "men in suits" will not take risks on artists or bands unless they are pretty damned confident they can market a group or individual and make a tonne of money out of them. The music industry - I think, is in a crisis at the moment and now more than ever they are just not taking chances. But it's always been highly competitive. That's not to say you can't achieve some sense of satisfaction through writing music. If you have a song that is pretty much radio ready you could try approaching community radio stations. They will most often play new artists/bands music, especially if they are a local band. Good way to promote your band - if you're out gigging. Entering competitions is also a good idea - good learning experience as far as seeing the level of other peoples talent and skills and you never know, you might win something and it's always nice to have that on your bio To find what competitions are happening in your neck of the woods simply look on the net for songwriting or music associations relevant to your local area and/or country.... or browse music newspapers and magazines. There are always some kind of competitions taking place but be prepared to pay a fee to enter them. Most of them charge something. You can buy a book - I'm sure most countries have the same kind of book. Here in Australia it's called the Australian Music Industry directory - something like that anyway. (It's been a long time since I've bought one) In it should be a complete listing of all the record companies, music publishers, recording studios even. If you are wanting to send a song to a publisher - with the intent of finding another artist to perform/record it, you must first find publishers who accept unsolicited material. A lot don't and it's a waste of your time and money - not to mention being bad manners, to send material to people who just aren't accepting unknown writers material. You must contact them first, by writing preferably, to ask permission to send in a song and if they say you can, then you should send a CD neatly presented IN a cover with all your contact details ON the CD and ON the cover, with a short note explaining who you are and what your intention is for sending it in. Don't send in any more than three songs ( they are unlikely to listen to more than that) and they should be three of your strongest songs. Remember, most publishers ( and artists) are looking for GREAT songs.....not just mediocre "nice to listen to" songs. They want to make money and your songs are merely products to them. Most places tell you that it will be about three months before they will listen to the song ( my experience here anyway) and then you MIGHT just get a letter back from them after that time saying yay or nay. Be prepared for LOTS of nay's. Remember, there are tens of thousands of songs being sent in. If you are promoting yourself as an artist or your band then you will need to approach record companies rather than publishers. I have not done this but I am presuming that these days you will not only need a damn fine recording of your songs (remember the competition level even for demo's is HUGE and A &R people are only human and tend to enjoy songs that are decently recorded) but you might also need a video clip. After all, these days, music is for the eye as well as the ear. Maybe moreso the eye....but that's just my jaded opinion. If you take a look on the net I'm sure you'll find lots more information regarding "what to do with your songs". And yes there are probably about a million books on the subject too. Hopefully others here will have some opinions and experiences to offer? Mine might not be entirely accurate. Sometimes I think the easiest part ( most fun part anyway) is actually writing the song. Good luck!

I usually ask my husband to listen to any new creations I come up with simply because he is here. He is very critical though and brutally honest. One time he upset me deeply by saying "I'd rather poke bamboo up my fingernails than listen to THAT again." So take heart dear Rudi. If YOU like your song keep working at it.

I love the sign with the "sharp edges". Gotta watch those!