Ask A Silly Question…

A Hidden Gem in the Narrawong State Forest: Sawpit Camping Area

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One of the things I always try to do when I am out and about on a road trip or holiday is to see something new or visit a place I haven’t visited before. 

Even though we are camping at the same place we’ve camped at every January since 2014, there are still new things to explore. Last year we visited the wonderful Bay of Whales Gallery nestled in the hills above Narrawong.

Today we ventured up to Mt Clay in the Narrawong State Forest to check out The Sawpit picnic and free camping area. It’s only a short distance from where we are camping by the Surrey River at  Narrawong.

It’s really gorgeous up there. The natural bush forest is beautiful, a glorious natural canopy above the blackened tree trunks, reminders of bushfires In years past. 

The camping area is well designed, providing numerous sites for campers to spread out from one another.

Walking tracks enable visitors to immerse themselves in the environment on walks of different lengths, and the historic lumber cart and log display are reminders of the history that gave the area its name. 

Everything is clearly signposted, including a reminder for campers to take their rubbish home: given that everything was clean and tidy, it’s really encouraging to see that most of the visitors have been conscientious in that regard. 

Still, it seems that things are not always easily understood, as demonstrated by my own friend’s response to the following sign: 

Friend: “20 minutes one way. Why would you only go one way?”
Me: ”It’s a loop…”
Friend, after a few moments of thought: ”Oh. Yeah.”

What surprises me most is that many people don’t even know it’s there. It really is a hidden gem. 

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Think About What You’re Asking.

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My sister just called out to me from the kitchen while she was chopping vegetables.

Her: Are you two big vegetable eaters?

Me: If they’re big, we cut them up first.

Her: Huh?

Me: How do you even cook it unless you cut it up?

Her: No. That’s not what I’m asking.

Me: *looks at her expectantly*

Her: Do you eat a lot of vegetables?

Me: See now, that’s an entirely different question.

Her: *shows me the saucepan* Is this enough for four of us?

Me: No.

 

And she has the nerve to walk away rolling her eyes. Some people are just hard to please.

cornucopia-of-vegetables

My New Career… Or Not.

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Today I was at a potluck lunch where the guests included a number of my relatives. 

When I walked in, my sister-in-law congratulated me on the award I won this week for my book, Nova. 

“What did you win an award for?” One of the ladies asked, with a time that suggested she was surprised that I could win an award for anything. 

“Pole dancing,” I replied. 

Nobody laughed. It was such a good line, too. 

One lovely young lady, whom I didn’t know, said, “Really? That’s fantastic!”

Seriously, one look at me should have told her I am no pole dancer. Between my decrepit spine and my fibromyalgia, the only thing I can ever climb these days is the pain scale between 1 and 10. 

“No, it was for my book. I write poetry.”

“Oh. That’s… kind of cool.” 

But not as cool as pole dancing. I get it. 

You know you’re from Warrnambool when…

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You know you’re from Warrnambool when the conversation goes like this: 

Him: So, you haven’t seen much of Amanda this term.

Me: No. She hasn’t been to school, obviously, and she hasn’t been coming out for drinks. 

Him: Has she been going to Simon’s?

Me: No, we’ve been going to the Clovelly since it got cold. 

Me: Oh! That Simon’s! (Where Simon is Amanda’s fiancée who lives six hours’ drive away.)  Yeah. She has. 

There’s a Bear in There…

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Some months ago, I was driving in town with LMC in the car. 

We passed a big blue house that I pass every day on my way to work. 

“That’s where the bear lives,” I said.

“What bear?” LMC asked.

This surprised me, as she watches a fair bit of TV and I thought she’d get the joke. 

“You know… the bear in the big blue house? Like the TV show?”

“Never heard of it,” she said. 

Typical. All was silent in the car except for the sad sound of a great joke falling over and dying.
I didn’t think any more of it. In fact, I had entirely forgotten about it until last Sunday when we were all having dinner together. 

“Hey,” she said, “I told my friends about the big blue house in Warrnambool, and they didn’t even know that’s where it was. They thought it was in America somewhere.”

“What?”‘I asked. 

“You know… that TV show. You showed me the house…”

Trying not to laugh, I looked at her and said, “You do realise I was joking? It’s just A big blue house… not THE Big Blue House.”

“But I told my friends! And they wanted autographs.”

“Which you were going to ask me to call in and ask for?”

“Well… yeah.”
This kid never misses an opportunity. I’m just lucky it ends in laughter most of the time. 

Overthinking.

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LMC is at our place tonight. The weather has cooled down this week, so she’s discovered that the clothes and pyjamas she has here aren’t sufficient to keep her warm.

My husband said he’d lend her a pair of pyjamas, and walked away to get them.

Her teenage mind instantly went into overdrive.

“Then what will HE wear?” she asked me with a mischievous grin. Then she said, ”
Oh, never mind…”

I rolled my eyes, as I do so enjoy doing.

“He’s got more than one pair, you know!” I said.

“Oh.” Her laughter was a definite giveaway that she had immediately jumped to a rather bare conclusion.

So, he gives her a lovely newish pair of flannel pyjamas that he hasn’t worn since he was in hospital about 18 months ago.

“Oh,” I said, “those are the nice ones I bought for when you were in hospital.”

“Eeeerrrrrr!” she grunted. “I don’t want to wear them!”

“They’ve been washed since, you know!” I said.

“Oh. That’s okay, then.” And with that, she picked them up and took them to her room to get changed.

When she came out, she said, “It’s a good thing I’m not a boy. Although if I was, it would be okay cos these have got that awkward hole thingy in them.”

“If you don’t need the awkward hole thingy, can’t you just ignore it and wear them anyway?”

“Well yes… I was just saying.”

“Well, I’m just telling you to change the subject,” I said firmly.

And then we found something for her to do so that she has something else to think about.

I wonder if she has these conversations with her mother, or if she just saves them up for me.

Genius.

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Just now,  LMC and I had this conversation. 

LMC: “You’re a nut.”

Me: “No. You’re a nut.”

LMC: “Nutty’s a nut.”

Me: “No, Nutty’s a squirrel. I’m a genius.”

LMC: “Because you’re wearing jeans?”

Me: “Yeah. I have a jean-y arse.”
She cracked up again. Honestly, she laughs at the littlest things. 

Nothing up my sleeve…

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So, I forgot to tell the funniest part of last night’s fart story. 

After she finished laughing, she asked me, “Is that all you’ve got? Or is there something else up your sleeve?”

And I said, “That wasn’t up my sleeve, honey.” 

Riotous laughter ensued yet again. 

Posh.

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High-walled gardens and tree-lined paths. Private mansions. Beautifully presented low-rise apartment blocks. Smartly dressed people walking briskly in the soft rain when they alight from the tram. Maseratis and Alfa Romeos parked by the kerb.

“I think there’s some money here,” says my brother-in-law from the back seat.
“You think?” I reply.

We drive on.