Root Shoot Marry #14: Live Fast, Die Young, Leave a Good Looking Corpse

There is an excellent reason for the late appearance of this week's Root Shoot Marry.

My Friday night was spent elsewhere.

With someone you know in a bloggerly way, but, unlike me, have never met...

And unless she blogs it first, you won't know more until Sunday: stay tuned or scout around the blogroll, maybe she'll publish first?

I, however, have the photos!

(Updated to add - she's blogged it!)

Ahh yes, the credo of hard rock and quick fame: live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse.
Apparently James Dean was the first to say it, with the original quote being 'leave a beautiful corpse', later changed by John Belushi to be 'good-looking', which probably says something subtle and sad about both men.

This week's Root Shoot Marry #14 is brought to you by the deaths of James Dean, John Lennon, River Phoenix, Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe and Diana Spencer - or was it Windsor?

But don't be put off by the fact that fate has already chosen the 'shoot' option for all six of our candidates this week. The fantastical bliss of Root Shoot Marry is that you start with a clean slate: they are yours for the wooing - or to kill all over again.

Rules are here or on the navigation bar below my header. Virgins welcome.

I wonder, by going with died-young-and-pretty, have I finally found a batch of RSM candidates whom no one really wants to see dead?

James Dean




John Lennon



River Phoenix


And the pretty girls...

Grace Kelly


Marilyn Monroe


Princess Di

For the record, in last week's Root Shoot Marry #13 Ugly But Interesting, a vote count reveals Neil Young scoring highest on the shag-o-meter, Ozzy Osbourne dying in agony at least 12 times and Meatloaf - repulsively romantic as he is - heading to altar more than any other victim for the week.

For the ladies, Whitney is most shootable (duh), Michelle Shocked most marriageable, and the prospect of a threesome (foursome?) with the Dixie Chicks was most likely to get players hot and sweaty.

Your died-young-and-pretty choices await: rock on.

mtc

Bec

The long and winding road...

Remember I mentioned it was this time of year for me?

Two days left to go.

I bring you this picture, the latest in an occasional series from my camera phone.

It's the path through the park just before I get to my house when I walk from the station.

I like it today because, if you look closely there appears to be a light at the end of the road...

Only two more days.

























I remember when the twins were babies and the Pea Princess was only four and a couple we'd known for years - R and D -came to visit.

They'd had two boys in 14 months while living overseas away from any family, so perhaps empathised a little more than most people.

As they were leaving, R said to me: "Hang in there kid, there's light at the end of the tunnel."

Then he paused and looked at me and said:

"It's just a fucking long tunnel."

How true.

************

This work thing that happens every year is not so long, and, as you know, I love it in my own twisted adrenalin-craving way. However, by the end of the fourth week I could be perceived by some people to be just a teeny bit crotchetty.

Snappy, even.

Short-tempered.

Oh let's farkin' face it, I'm a downright bitch.

I shouldn't be allowed near people, really I shouldn't.

And yet. Being around people and making fine-point judgments about the management of people issues is what I do.

So I shall try to suck it up and behave myself these last few days.

No matter how STUPID and POINTLESS and RIDICULOUS the things I have to deal with may be.

Then I'll go do tidy ups and have lunches with friends next week (are you free, Kim?)

And then I'm having a whole GLORIOUS week off.

Then it's one more week of relative normality at the office before we head into a seven-day stint that would make your toes curl.

I wish it would make my hair curl instead.

And then, my friends, it will be Christmas.

Now isn't that a relaxing thought.

mtc
Bec 

A corner of my home

Next to my bed.

My favourite photos (some of).

My laptop.

My phones (can you spot the second one? Hint: photo two)

The stack of books was too blurry to publish - but trust me, it's there.

Inspired by babelbabe's stones.

mtc

Bec 

Sunshine: Sydney: Seven pm.

Recognise this?

If not, you've never seen The Matrix.

Sorry I couldn't find a lady in red. Grey will have to do.




















And this? You might not know.

It's the interior of the Martin Place Commonwealth Bank.

Is it not glorious?

























And the Old GPO (General Post Office)

It has the most incredible facade, including what appears to be about seven different faces of Queen Victoria from girl to old woman.

But does anyone ever look up?

Well, hardly anyone.
























Spring flowers.










This might all be concrete and old dark buildings to you, but you should have seen how grim they were a month ago.

My spirits instantly rise with Daylight Savings Time each year.

Sunshine: Sydney: Seven pm.

mtc
bec

pics courtesy of my phone.
 

Thinking, thinking....

How do I tell the kids they're about to lose a beloved aunty to my equally beloved brother's separation?

I don't have to do it yet.

But the decision is final, so the telling will have to come some time.

And I'd really like some ideas of how to go about it, other than: "It doesn't mean she doesn't love all of you very much".

You know, and I know, that no matter how much she loves them, she's very unlikely to keep contact once the formalities are done. No matter how much we might all want it to be so.

My niece from my first marriage (neice-in-law?), who I'd known since she was just out of nappies, was the 12yo bridesmaid at my second wedding.

It was all very friendly but, as it turned out, it was close to the last time any of us spoke again. For my ex-sister-in-law and I, the second wedding was like a very late bell to sound the alarm that more than one relationship ended when my marriage to her brother died.

So.

Is it that experience which makes me so pessimistic about keeping in touch with my brother's (soon to be ex) partner? Could I be too gloomy? After all, I've known her for 16 years and she's one of the few people who came to both my weddings. We have lived through in-jokes and tragedies and birthdays and funerals and dogs (hers) and children (mine) together.

When my mother died, this sister-in-law (I have two) was the only one in the family to realise how enormous was the loss to the Pea Princess. She'd seen how much my mum and daughter doted on each other, and she made an effort to fill the gap a little. No one else got it.

I've been focused thus far on just getting my brother through this. He's a brilliant human being and I adore him. And, much as I love her, I will back him to the hilt because he believes this is the right thing for him to do. He does not make this choice lightly, or selfishly.

Inside, though, I am weeping already for all the other relationships that are about to end.

Three little ones, in particular.

Advice, gratuitous or otherwise, is welcome.

mtc
Bec