Hollie told me that it’s okay to jog a bit and then walk a bit and then jog a bit and then walk a bit… so today, I did that – and it actually wasn’t too bad. Admittedly I only jogged about 200 metres in total – but it didn’t totally kill me. I mean I wasn’t lying on the ground with the white light shining down and paramedics and that blonde Jennie girl from All Saints trying to get me going. Nope. I was just huffing and puffing a bit. And grinning. And listening to this.
See, the thing about jogging is the cheeks. In this case, the whole ‘I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly’ Beyonce-ness is more about my FACE then my derriere. I mean when you jog – unless your cheeks are CUT like an 80s Russian supermodel – your cheeks sort of flub up and down. Like a chipmunk sitting on the tumble-drier – there’s a heck of a lot of movement there. It made me feel quite insecure. I felt the urge to suck them in – but then with every step I nearly bit the insides of them. And that would be equally alarming.
So I just flubbed. I’m sure those yellow-vested workmen were pointing at me. Yep. Whilst they righted the tipped-over bins for the millionth time this year, I’m fairly sure they were saying… ‘check out that chicks chipmunk cheeks’! (3 times fast). I’m sure they were. I wonder if that’s why people wear iPods. I mean apart from choosing your own soundtrack, it’s kind of nice to not have to hear the giggling and things, isn’t it?
Most excitedly by the ponds, I spotted two very cheery picnic rugs. Not so excitedly they were concealing the forms of two big, cold hairy men. I’m thinking it might be nice to stow a sleeping bag or two pond-side. I’m keeping my eye out at the op-shop. If you have any that are kind of surplus at your house, let me know and I’ll make sure they get to the right people.
I saw a possum too. Not under a picnic rug, though. This one had obviously missed the 2am curfew recently put in place in our city – and was absolutely barrelling across the lawn between the dew-filled lambs-ears at 8am! I think he was lost. He looked naughty and flustered. Big night at the Possum Pub, perhaps?
The other thing I’ve been wondering about is the little cottage in the Gardens. Someone actually lives there. In my park! There’s a couple of cars in the driveway – so weird that they get to DRIVE through the park whenever they like. I wonder if that’s good. Because I don’t really like to worry about cars in the park. I have enough trouble with the people with nets, and the chipmunkness, and the nude elderlies and Pink Jumper Lady and things like that. I don’t want to worry about the traffic.
I haven’t actually seen them driving around though. I wonder if they kind of hang their elbow casually out the window and wear Raybans and just act really normal with their fluffy dice blowing in the Parky breeze… Because I’d find that embarrassing. I mean, if I lived in that little house, I’d actually park on the street and walk through the park like a NORMAL person. Because I think that’s just nice manners.
Mmm… It’s a shame about the rude people who live in the park, isn’t it? Or maybe they’re not rude. Maybe they have a possum shelter in their house. And it’s like a dolls hospital. And there are tons and tons of tiny little possum sized beds all lined up in a row. And they look after the possums who have been out all night and are so late home they are bumping into the trees, rather then running up them. Maybe that’s what they are all about. Do you think? Maybe that’s it.
xx Mikes