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Angle grinding

sunny 33 °C

This morning caught us by surprise: the flame of the poinciana hidden by night, the coolness that happened when the sun turned its back, the sharp cleanness of everything as we walk around the little paradise, and me at how much coffee I need to be functional. Task one is always picking red flowers for Mike and Tanya's spa business... surely only imaginary people begin days by picking flowers?

Hanging from a gutter, a honeyeater's nest is forming. Its builder hovers to and fro so quickly I have to be patient and wait with my camera, poised.

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Today we continued transforming fallen logs. Did you know that angle grinding can be addictive? I got quite into it today... there's something very satisfying and soothing about helping a tree slough its skin and show off its heartwood, and sending white clouds into the air and making a lot of noise while doing so. Even if you do get attacked by marsh flies that rise to the drama of the occasion by exploding into red showers of your own blood when you swat them... I also got to start applying a layer of oil over one completed masterpiece. Again, weirdly satisfying - or not so weirdly. It feels good to actually do and make something physical. Mike commented that 'especially the girls get into this kind of stuff', probably because 'the girls' don't usually get to do this kind of thing at all.

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(A lot of old anger here, and hurt. I'm tired of being 'a girl' even among purportedly liberal people, who smile politely if I try to worry my little head about science, and annoyed at myself for succumbing to the art vs technology divide - I'm 'this kind of person' who 'doesn't understand that kind of thing'. Learning to use handtools and finding out how to make things myself is partly an exercise in demystification, in realising that the world is a pile of materials clever apes can rearrange, not a hopelessly complicated machine fuelled by magic and managed by Mentats).

After work, a leap in the pool followed by a trip to town. We're doing this whole Whitsundays thing soon - a 3-day cruise on a boat, a tourist thing. It makes me a 'girl' again, worried about the meeting of my body with a bikini. I'm like a big, wide log. And no matter how many times I tell myself it's stupid, I can't take the edge off and grind the thought away.

Posted by wanderingwolf 04:15 Archived in Australia Tagged australia women working

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