Summer programming...

Oh yes, sorry to say, it's not just tellie and the daily newspapers which get all thin and (more) light on for content this time of year - it's my blog too. I have big and gutsy things I could write about right now but quite frankly am too hot. And lazy. It's hard to be melancholy or pensive or analytical in this heat, which is presumably why the Russians write good plays but were less well known for their summery cocktail creations - or something. (See, already resorting to national stereotypes and vague pointless anectdotes.)

In typical summer programming style - or lack thereof - I could resort to reruns (just copy and paste a post that I thought was interesting from another year and see how that goes down), a cheap nature doco (could post about the lizards in my garden - very little effort of observation required there as I drink coffee on the back step anyway), could just post other people's stuff (hey, transcribing a poem a day, reading it here is cheaper than buying a book and less late fees than a library), or maybe I could take some good French blog posts and remake them in English but change the ending so they are no longer poignant and everything gets explained neatly (but I can't read French so likely this would be a disaster).

So. Instead, I thought I'd just steal someone else's fun story and piggy back it. You know do an 'if you liked that you'll just love this' style post. And where the original was based on an actual story my summer programming version is mostly based on a series of 'might have beens' and 'hmm, in another universe maybe this would have hapened and been an exciting tale - but it didn't' type reflections:

MeriRisa writes about being busted in a house T-shirt out and about in the funky burb, and I must confess to having similar 'ooh, whoops, that wasn't meant to be public' moments or fear of such moments recently. These are they:
- Buying Alexander McCall Smiths' 'Friends, Lovers and Chocolate' book - the second in the 'Sunday Philosophy Club' series in the newsagent at central station whilst waiting for a train to Katoomba (and a visit to the mountains for a friend's birthday), and being sure that I would bump into some gorgeous young literary type and be forced to say 'oh, I just, you know. Um. hey. About that Kafka then'
- five minutes before buying said book, worried that anyone at all would bust me reading (some crap women's magazine name here) specifically for the article on 'let him know you like him with your body language'. 'What? Oh this? Argh - this isn't the very sensible and grown up book on relationships that I was looking for - that is actually written for an adult who has half a clue - oh ho, silly me...'
- Being busted with plastic bags or any other random eco slackness in front of my boss, who happens to live in the same neighbourhood

The only actual incident was just recently after yoga bumping into an ex lover (oh how European, do we use that word?), and being there with a workmate who is very grounded and no nonsense and spirutual. Having this bumped into person be a little bit patronising to me and even might we say self-satisfied was a little embarrassing. He was like an old t-shirt that spoke of another time and place and different interests and possibly even standards - I felt embarassed at the work friend seeing me in that T-shirt.

But as for real t-shirts... very pleased to say that I have not at all been embarassed at the wearing of tracky dackies in public (this is a good thing? you ask) as I hurry to and float back from yoga. I even have a very large sun hat with makes the whole ensemble look rather like I am constructed of anti-fashion matter, but I like it.