one confession and other sundry matters

i have something to confess. the badass robber did NOT steal princess's junior dictionary. i have found it in her room. also the BR did NOT steal my orange dolphin torch. i found that under my bed.

i feel like a dick about it, but i could have not said anything to you. could have kept quiet about my mistake. i did look under the bed and couldn't see the torch. oh well. but my big macquarie is definitely gone.

why am i banging on about the fucking dictionary?

my books are my babies. i know some of you will understand this. i do not covet much [is this a lie? let me think about it*] but i do lust for books. it started with agatha christie novels, slim and fetching, cheap and which i purchased weekly when i was working as a check-out chick at safeway when i was 16. i would get my pay, buy two peaches and one agatha christie. i lasted about 4 months in the job. it was so boring. from then on, i was buying and reading books more than anything else. more than kissing boys. more than having my hair cut. more than watching tv.

books, ah books. i cannot pass a second-hand book shop without going in. i cannot enter a second-hand book shop without buying something, or several somethings. because they are cheap i tell myself it's ok to buy more than one.

this obsession even extends to stationery items. paper, pens, notebooks etc. it is a sickness.

other matters - we spent the weekend at the wangaratta jazz festival. i haven't described my dad before other than to call him a very rude word because he bailed on princess's birthday lunch back in september. but i just want to tell you one thing about him. he is jazzman. he has been going to this festival for about 17 years, since whenever it started. and he said there has NEVER been rain like we had over the weekend.

it rained for 29 hours, with only a couple of short breaks - once in the night time on saturday night, the other sunday morning for an hour... it rained, and it rained, and it rained. our tent leaked. badly. there was mud. my brother-in-law was calling it the somme. we kept our humour which was helped by a fair amount of alcohol.

we were due home today but left yesterday. we'd had enough. we went and stayed at the new house, which was fun. i managed to watch the cup. the first time in decades that it has captured my interest. obviously to do with The Horse. and yes, i cried as i watched her win. beautiful animal, galloping along, so effortlessly. gorgeous, gorgous beast. yes, i still have a latent desire for horses, which has never been satisfied. not that, you sickos. i used to have a velvet covered riding hat, and was desperate for a pony when i was a kid. nevermind that the largest scar i have was caused by a fall when i was 7.

but i have one question. what was with those freaky masks the jockey's wife had? and the owner as well. with his emirates baseball cap, and a weird desperado bandido mask.

one last thing. i am worried about getting pulled in for questioning for 14 days by the cops because of expressing my thoughts and opinions about politics and our government and america's government here in public. who would know what had happened? i wouldn't be able to tell anyone, and no journalist would be able to report on it.

isn't anyone else really worried about this? we might become a police state. and anyone who says it's a bad idea is labelled left-wing as if that is some kind of filthy thing to be.

i just don't get it.

* i've thought about it and i do sometimes covet art work, homewares, shoes, and certain pieces of clothing. but i can live without those things. the books are different.