Tree trimming tree trimming super socks and tree trimming

Contrary to the impression I may have been giving, the camp my class went on wasn't just an excuse to go to the bustling metropolis of Wee Waa and visit their IGA and public swimming pool. No, we drove eight or nine hours because it was a service camp. Where we did work in churches, schools and gardens. The first day, after I discovered I had put socks on in my sleep, I joined the work party that was walking around the block to a church that was in dire need of sweeping, sugar soap and all sorts of gardening.

We went down in the morning carrying all sorts of tools that we didn't use. It turns out they had a plethora of brooms for us to sweep the large expanse of wooden floor with and some newly purchased buckets and sponges to aid us in washing the walls with sugar soap. So being hard little workers we swept the hell out of that church and washed the hell out of it's walls. Get it? Cleaning the hell out of a church?

. . . . I'll stop that now.

So after the cleaning we went back to the primary school for recess which included much of the fruit my Dad had bought for the trip. He got this massive box of grapes that we didn't even finish by the end of the trip. As well as two other massive boxes of various fruits. So during recess I had the bright idea of actually getting my earphones to plug into my phone and enjoy some working music.

I know I have had a past of complaining on here about iPods being lame and CD playing walkmans all the way! But my walkman is stuffed and my fancy phone has an awful lot of memory. It is actually kind of annoying because I end up putting on a whole bunch of music I don't always feel like listening to. It's ok though because most of it I love always listening to. And my phone has a twitter ap.

Anyway I walked back to the church with the group, cursing myself for humming piano man on the way, and we got to work on some gardening. It's great rocking out to Fall Out Boy while pulling weeds, whistling to Mumford and Sons while trimming over grown bushes and walking to the beat of Placebo while carrying a pile of weeds to an even larger pile of weeds. The best part was when my Dad handed me a pair of big dangerous clipper looking things and told me to go to town on this over grown tree.

The garden snippy things were the kind that the kid stabbed the bad guy with in the movie Disturbia, but smaller. If you haven't seen Disturbia, or just don't remember stupid details in movies like I do, here is a picture of what I am talking about. The ones on Disturbia are more deadly looking.

So I attacked a tree with these things while dancing to Saint Motel's Puzzle Pieces. So fun because I was sent away from the gang and could dance in peace. Did an awesome job on the tree too. Then when I was done I dragged myself back to the church where almost everyone was already enjoy a much deserved break. We were given delicious frosty fruits icy poles as we sat in the shade. Then I sat there tweeting away on my phone and enjoying my wonderful treat. Prue took photos, but apparently not everyone is as alright with having their picture taken as I am.

-RachOddSocks

How's this for a party trick?

The first night of Wee Waa was pretty chill. By which I mean the air con was so freezing you wouldn't have been able to tell that we were in a place that had it's first rain in years the night before. You see, Wee Waa is really hot. Burning hot. Skin blisteringly hot. Sun burn, glare and sweating are a way of life in Wee Waa. So when there is air conditioning available, you are going to use it.

So I was on the floor of a primary school library cocooned in my sleeping bag with my head resting on my fluffy pillow, complete with the Lightning McQueen pillow case, drifting off to sleep thinking it was way too hot for socks. Everyone had different ways of dealing with the fact that we were on the floor. P.E matts, folded blankets, extra pillows, squished sleeping bags or the always sensible air mattresses, were in the variety of bed replacing items. Me? I am way too tough. I just slept in my sleeping bag on the floor with my totally butch Lightning McQueen pillow.

I was extremely comfortable and I slept like a log that had been sitting in a bus for eight or nine hours and was exhausted because of it. Sleeping bags are much more practical than blankets. They are warmer, you don't fling your arms around in your sleep and punch the wall hard enough to wake yourself up, and if you kick off your socks while you're sleeping they just end up in the bottom of the bag, not tangled in the sheets so deep that it is ages before you find them again.

The first night I didn't go to bed with socks on. I thought, "It is way too hot in Wee Waa for socks." Little did I know the air con was going to turn the tiny library into a giant storage freezer. I slept comfortably and soundly but it was getting so cold in the room that I began dreaming that I was sitting in an igloo. I looked out the hole in the curved wall that was the igloo door and could see snow pelting down outside. Who would have thought that I could dream about waiting out a storm in an igloo while in the blinding hot little town of Wee Waa?

The next day at about seven-ish in the morning, while it was still dark outside annoyingly enough, we were awoken by our History/Geography teacher, Mrs. Weatherstone, who had planned and run the whole trip, telling us to get out of bed. I was unwilling because my sleeping bag was so warm, my pillow was so soft and I knew there would not be any froot loops awaiting me when I went to the kitchen area. Unfortunately when the phrase "it's nine o'clock on a Saturday" started playing in my head I knew that piano man didn't want me to stay asleep. I still hated the song at this stage.

So after much groaning and complaint over how cold it was by everyone, I was de-cocooned from my sleeping bag. That's when I discovered that something incredible had happened. I was wearing socks. The same black and blue pair I remember folding and putting in the side pocket of my bag, which sat close by, unzipped and looking innocent. I was quick to let everyone know that I had discovered I had the ability to put socks on in my sleep. I think a couple of people were impressed but I don't think anyone could Be as amazed as I was in that moment. I am more awesome than I thought!

There I am wearing the socks that I have no recollection of putting on. That was taken when I had just finished trimming the hell out of a tree. I'll tell you about that little work party tomorrow.

RachOddSocks.

It's not 9:00 on a Saturday

I have returned from the bustling metropolis of Wee Waa with stories and photos. It was a long five days filled with interesting things to blog about, so instead of writing an incredibly long post about every single awesome thing that happened on the camp, I will make several posts dedicated to different things that made it so awesome. This one can be about the bus trip, pointless paths and piano man.

 on the bus looking at the sunset

I love long car/bus trips. I will probably think differently when I am the one driving but for now being the passenger for hours on end is quite enjoyable. Sure it can be boring sitting still for so long, but sometimes that is exactly what I need. I actually really love just sitting in a car for ages day dreaming, listening to music, reading, writing (depending on how smooth the ride is) or just enjoying the scenery.

There was a lot of singing involved with the bus rides to and from Wee Waa. I even unintentionally revealed that I know almost all the lyrics to bust a move. Had they not changed songs half way through the first verse I would have spoken every line. I shouldn't rap and I shouldn't know all the words to that song but I do.

Despite the many songs I listened to on a shuffled playlist and the many songs we sang along to on the bus, I have had the song 'piano man' stuck in my head since last Friday. I only know the first verse and the chorus so that's what was playing on repeat in my head all week. It's not playing in my head now because the night before I actually listened to the song and it like got it out of my system or something. It's really unusual having a song I have never really properly listened to stuck in my head for a week. At the start of the week I hated the song with a passion because it was so annoying. Now I love it.

 Saw that path in a tiny town we stopped in on the way. The path stretches to the front door of that house. In the middle of the path is a birdbath/hedge/garden thing. Not off to the side, not with the path circling around it. In the middle of the path.

Pointless path is pointless.

-RachOddSocks

Let's write a post on my dad's really old laptop without fixing the mistakes caused by the messed up keyboard

I love making really long titled posts. If you have been reading this for a while or have just been reading for long enough to seek out a post in which I complain about my dad's laptop, then you would know my dad has a very old laptop that is prone to typos when I don't mash thekeys like it's a typewriter. Or a potato.

can't se my trusty net book George because my dad's fancy Internet USB doesn't work for George. I don't usually blog on my dad's laptop because of the keyboard and the many mistaks that usually come from i. It is annoying hat the one time i decide to type on this thing without fxing the missing letters it hardly misses letters at all. Jokes.

The reason I amblogging despite the inevitable typos is because I won't be able to again until Saturday. Friday night if I'm keen but I highly doubt it. You see being a sixteen year old high school student does in fact mean I must go on a camp. A camp wth my class to a place called Wee Waa (prnounced wee war) to do various things such as paint buildings, trim hedges, pull weeds, teach small Aboriginal children how to read and i must deal with incredibly hot weather. I'm excited for the eight hour bus trip. nd sleeping on the floor of a school in Wee Waa! holy rhyming batman if I'm not careful I'll get THIS song stuck in my head again. Honestly right when I think i'm not that big of a nerd I get songs fro episodes of TV shows stuck in my head even though I don't like the song at all.

Let's face it I will always be a big nerd. I kind of wish I was the kind of ned that had something to show for it like straight A's or a diploma or an impressive model of the solar system. Unfortunately all I have is quotes from various TV shows and literature. Also I know enough about comic books to feel like an incredible nerd when I say something in reference to them in conversation with peple who only know of the from the movie adaptions. I mean I know a fair bit about them considering I don't own any. Well I don't own any that I talk abut. . . . . I swear it' only a few and I only rea them once! They were a gift!!!!!

Who am I kidding? I say it's time to embrace my true inner nerd and admit to things that might come as a shock and a few might not make sense to you unless you have heard the term or are an owner of the label . . . . I am a Browncoat, Caskett shipper, Stanatic, and a Nathan Fillion fan. I am also a nerd whe it comes to books, not just TV shows. Jodi Picoult, Derek Landy, Jeff Lindsay and Jay Asher are just a few of my favorite literary rockstars. Also I really want to read 'the princess bride'. I grew up watching that movie and laugh everytim i hear someone say "inconceivable"! OK if you know me well none of these things are shocking.

I say why be ashamed of things that make you happy, works you can respect or actresses like Stana Katic?
I heard she does falconry. That's when you train a bird to kill things. How cool is that? I'm going to stop now. This post probably wouldn't have made much more sense even without the typos. See you either next Saturday or Sunday with a new post! 

RachOddSocks

needalifeneedalifeneedalifeneedalifeneedajob

So I was talking to someone the other day and we somehow got on to the subject of "why did the first person to eat a pineapple think to do so?" I mean they are spiney and don't look like a fruit. So from this subject I naturally brought up the story of Albert the pineapple and even showed them some of the Albert photos on my phone. As I told them the tale of Albert and how I walked around the place with this pineapple in my handbag with a pair of sunnies wrapped around it, I realised something that has been noted and has been brought up and is quite apparent to me but is now painfully obvious:

I Need A Life.

And A Job.

RachOddSocks

Weekly Blur and music

School turns week days into a blur of paper, pens and ties. I am trying right now to remember at least one interesting thing I have done on each day of this week, not just the weekend. Brain gears start turning and loosening the cobwebs in my head. You know, if I concentrate they do. Somehow on a Sunday I can only think of my brain as early nineteenth century machinery. Rusty gears and steam pipes shifting and smoking inside my skull untill I am done stalling and can think of what I did this week. . . .

There was school involved I'm sure of it. Every morning is roughly the same. Alarm blearing the theme music from Castle at six AM till I press off or snooze. Ever since I got my new touch screen phone I always forget which side of it the snooze button comes up on and which side the off button comes up on. Which is why I have alarms go off at five different times between six and seven, each one blaring that impossibly catchy whistling. I am terrible with alarms which is why I have so many. It's probably why I find myself whistling the Castle theme at random times during the day too. It's a pretty awesome tune.

Eventually dragged myself out of bed, I'm pretty sure, and poured myself an epic bowl of froot loops. Every bowl of froot loops I have is epic. Especially when I read while eating. I try to read every day a little and I find the only time I can do that is while I eat my froot loops. The fact that I am at the moment making my way through the Dexter series, a series of books in which the main character is a serial killer with morals, makes reading while eating froot loops seem a bit odd from an outside view. I think it is very fitting to eat cereal while reading about a serial killer.

Anyway the mad rush to get ready eventually leads to me arriving at school just in the nick of time. Were I a space cowboy this would make me a big damn hero. I gotta stop quoting firefly when none of my readers get the reference.

So summary of an average week day for Rach: Stay in bed for as long as possible, eat froot loops, read part of Jeff Lindsay's awesome series, get to school right before the time in which excuses and late slips are necessary then deal with the blur of paper, pens, ties and talking teachers known as the school day.

I think there was a difference this week. . . . school photo? Yeah I got my photo taken. But that wasn't the awesome difference there was an awesome difference that was really cool. Oh yeah! Free music. Saint Motel's new song Puzzle Pieces given out by them for free with the message to spread it like a beautiful disease. So HERE it is for your listening pleasure. Makes me want to dance when I listen to it.

RachOddSocks

My socks aren't odd today but my pineapple is

Have you ever considered what it would be like to be a tropical fruit? To be chilling out in the tropics under a glowing sun, to travel to the big city to get your big break, to be hand picked out of a whole collection of fruit by someone who needs a gift for a sixteen year old? This is the story of a pineapple named Albert.

I remember when I first met Albert. I was dressed as a zombie at my sixteenth birthday party. He wore a red ribbon and totally rocked that look. The classiest pineapple around, he was. While we got along great and everyone loved him, the life of a pineapple is a sad one. He sat in my room for a while making the whole thing smell lovely. Then I moved him to the fridge where he wouldn't spoil. I gave him some sunglasses to wear so he wasn't blinded by the fridge light every time the door was opened. I tried to keep him happy but I knew that he was just getting older.

So I sat down with Albert and talked to him. I asked him if he would prefer to be left to get old and die after leading a full life, or if he would prefer that we remember him in his prime, as a delicious smelling and wonderful tasting fruit. He was quiet for a moment as he munched on his Froot Loops and thought long and hard about this.

He knew that if he just got older he would not fulfill his purpose in life. To be eaten, to be enjoyed. To make others happy with his rich juicy taste. Albert was never a man of many words but after a moment of deep thought he said to me "Is a pineapple uneaten a true pineapple at all?" I promised Albert that he would have a great last day, that he would live it up and say goodbye to all his friends, that he wouldn't go down like the canned pineapple slices in the cupboard that never even made friends before going through the processing plant. . . .  then he kind of went pale and asked about the canned pineapple. In retrospect, I really shouldn't have shown him.

He eventually came to and calmed down a little. I asked if he was still up for his last hurrah and he gave me that Albert nod that always said "I'm ready for anything." We went into town to meet all his friends. It was a hard day for all, but we were cheered by Albert's ever present good humor. He could always tell a great joke, that pineapple.

It was a day of joy, a day of sorrow, a day of friendship and a day of farewells. But most importantly, it was a day in which a pineapple rode a lion.

We arrived home that afternoon and Albert asked to be left alone in the fridge, to spend some quality time with his friends in there. I placed him on the shelf and as I closed the door he said "I'll see you tomorrow." a world of meaning threaded his words, but I faced them with the same determination as he did. Because no matter how ruggedly handsome this pineapple is, we both know it has to be done.

And we both know he will taste delicious.

RachOddSocks

Party to die for

When I asked a friend what she had done for her sweet-sixteen birthday party she told me that she and her friends had gone and gotten make-overs. I suppose mine was similar. There was a whole lot of hair styling, dressing up and make-up. There were lot's of photos of everyone hitting up the town and lovely shots of the sunset. I guess there was a bit of a difference with my party. Our make-overs were probably less. . . .pretty.

Sweet sixteen and already dead. I have never been the dress up and get make-overs type. I've always been more of a sit at home, read a murder mystery, watch a crime show, play a zombie game type. So of course when there comes an important birthday it just wouldn't be my style to have a quiet get together with friends and leave it at that. And given the fact that the awesome L.A. band Saint Motel was having a Zombie Prom near the time of my birthday that I would be unable to attend thanks to an inconveniently placed ocean, it just made sense that I take the opportunity to dress as a zombie anyway.

So we all dressed as zombies and went around terrorising town taking photos at every opportunity. We went all over the place. . . .

Gloria Jean's Coffee. . .

 Outside clothes shops . . . .

 . . . OK I saw the sign and just had to pose.

 Yeah that's a bathroom stall. Looks like album art for Evanescence or Fly Leaf if there were more than one female member of each of those bands.

 Police car . . .

Police station. . . .

 Police station with their hand picked officer posing with the zombies . . .

 At the movies in front of the Pirates of the Caribbean cardboard display . . .

In the reflection of the Glasshouse elevator. It looks like there is three of me.

See there is a sunset. A sunset with my zombie brother eating it.

That's me the zombie nerd when I received my birthday gift. My friends Jamie and Amanda got me a pineapple with a ribbon on it. I named it Albert. We haven't eaten it yet but I can't wait.

That's me the zombie Nerd with Albert the pineapple after my brother put his top hat on my head.

All in all, best birthday party ever. Zombies rock.

RachOddSocks