There was an old lady...

4.33am, and I awoke to a buzzing sound...

Do you know the buzzing sound of insects as you sleep, and the sudden terror you feel when the buzzing is REALLY, REALLY close to your ear and then inside your ear and then panicking inside your ear and then nothing?

That is the sound I got this morning.

So, serious questions:

Can flies walk backwards? Will they do so towards the light? Or the cold?

Where does one go for someone to look at and extract such things? How would they extract? Is THIS the job for which ear candles were invented?

(And at last resort) what sort of spider should I contemplate?

There are other answers I seek too (including "why does ABC Jazz play such a medley of songs that have no musical connection to one another?", "why does my husband leave ABC Jazz on to play all night?" and "why couldn't the fly at least do something useful and block out the ABC Jazz?"). Some are too gross to contemplate at this hour.

Anyhow - off to see if the cold will flush it out on our walk.

Calling a lie a lifeskill

Do you know, when I was a child I did NOT know HOW to lie. Of course, my mother may refute that claim but I cannot remember a single instance (and I remember a lot of those) in my childhood (even that long ago) where I told a lie and didn't nearly kill myself with guilt over it.

That is what being a good liar is about, right? Because, as with so many life skills, it is not just the theoretical but also the practical exam you have to pass.

And, as a child, I sucked at it BIG TIME.

There is a difference, of course, between lying and telling a story - and there are probably as many angles to the line in the sand between the two as there are people willing to examine it.

I was pretty good at spinning a yarn, but the trick to telling a whopper in story form is to overemphasise the exaggeration, therefore you will never be called on being a liar and, for me, that meant less self-inflicted guilt injuries so all was sweet.

So anyway - me, child, crap liar, worked well on the other side of the line.

Grew up a bit, and the problem with growing up a bit is that I came face to face with the truth - and the truth was that there were PLENTY of people who were far better at keeping a straight face and a hidden conscience while telling whoppers on my NO GO zone and I was plenty confused.

• Classmates did it. "You never gave us homework last week, sir."
• Roommates did it. "No, I never saw your birthstone necklace."
• Teachers did it. "There are three easy essay questions on the paper."
• ParentsSanta did it. "Here is a combined present for you all this year, as I know you will understand there are other children who need more presents than you do." (Okay, Santa wasn't lying, but it still hurt.)
• Colleagues did it. "I told the client how much work you did on this project."
• Bosses did it. "There isn't enough room in the budget to give you that sort of payrise this time round."
• Boyfriends did it. "She wasn't my wife."

And don't let me even get STARTED on professionals, politicians or pick ups.

I came to realise that there are many facets to this whole lying game. There is intent, there is outcome, there is degree of difficulty and there are mitigating circumstances.

Hey - I was still VERY crap at the whole not telling the whole truth thing, but I understood that other people used it, justified it to themselves, lived with it and maybe even enjoyed it. So, of course, I ran away from it all and became a hippie poet.

I tried, oh I truly tried to live that life where me and lies could just keep to our own sides of the street and I could hold my head up high and allow myself to be a truth-sayer. Most of the time I did that, the rest of the time I rhymed (or not) and used it as artistic expression. Oh glory days.

Then it all fell apart - I became a parent.

And all those little facets of lies started to beckon me over, offering an easier life, giving me justification and self-righteousness if I wanted to try a line or two of lies.

There were some nice ones used to camouflage pain. "He's working very hard at the moment."

There was one or two to dissolve anguish. "He is still very much involved in her life."

There were a couple to ease embarrassment. "He had an incurable illness."

Then there were those that seemed to be handed out in the classes I thought I had skipped in motherhood.

What answer do you give when your 2 year old admits to "loving Santa sooooo much" and you had never heeded his presence? You start working for the Santa factory yourself.

When you need something to brighten up a lonely Easter, don't you put your imagination to work and create a whole clue trail for the Bunny to lay for your child's delight? Especially when he has been so well moulded by relatives and friends.

When your 6 year old's best friend forever gets great presents from the Tooth Fairy - I wonder what she will bring us? (apart from the whole conundrum of yet another creature to lie about)

But, of course, now being the mother of an 8 year old, I realise that there is a whole lot more to this whole lying caper than the difference between a pork pie and a fairytale - and a lot more to being a parent than just telling the difference.

Luckily for me, my daughter isn't very good at it yet - and so I am able to pretend I don't see it when it isn't that bad and hopefully, when she lies to her mother she will continue to show her hand. Is that lying?

I now have a new partner and I sometimes allow people to believe that we are the original family unit rather than bluntly assert that her father had died (after we had separated) (of a horrible mental health illness). Which side of the line is that omission?

Last night, when questioned about whether I looked older, V replied that I actually looked "younger and sexier". Will his guilty conscience keep him awake at night?

(Oh, and I turned 29.)

I don't know that I have it all nutted out yet, and I don't believe it is all right to lie - but nor is it all wrong all the time.

(By the way - I have used the inadequacies of Blogger to lie to you all - I have written this today, April 24 - but due to creating the title of the post yesterday, I can fool you all into believing that I hmmm'ed this on Hump Day! Head over to Julie Pippert - Using My Words - for other's takes on truth and lies)

Plastic Bag Fetish - my big green environmental post

I have been thinking long and hard about the environment this morning. One reason is because Julie requested that we Hmmm it, one reason is that I read the daily chip-wrapper, and one reason is that it crosses my mind fairly often. There are probably other reasons, but they spring to mind.

The only problem with me thinking long and hard about anything is then I get all worked up looking at all angles of a problem, find new nuances, get agitated at a stance on it and start arguing with myself - it is quite wearing and doesn't solve any problems at all.

This is why you tend to find posts here about my bellybutton, my garden or my family - I just get all confused and argumentative about bigger issues and it ends up in serious therapy that blogworld cannot help me with.

(Hang on - even that requires a therapeutic moment of calm. Hmmm)

Deep breath - points I have covered this morning and WILL NOT blog about - sustainable farming; carbon offsets; cows; car travel; nappies; cities; footprints; agitating; deforestation; alternative energy; desalination plants; damning rivers or vegetarian egg alternatives. Just believe I have some very strong views on all of them and argue a lot about them within myself.

I do, however, have a take on one thing that I can focus upon and give you my view without getting too upset.

That is the humble plastic bag.

Do I believe in them? No. Do I use them? Some. Do I have an OCD hereditary thing going on with them? Heck yes.

As regular readers know, I grew up on a cattle property 50 km from the nearest town big enough to boast shops. With such a background, I failed to learn certain things. I didn't know that most people used money for shopping - everyone used accounts. I didn't know that people actually chose clothes and shoes in shops - my mother brought everything home on appro for us to try. And I didn't know that people got their groceries in plastic bags - ours always got boxed - wrapped in newspaper if it was a fridge item, but that was the extent of extraneous packaging.

Oh, I was not so naive that I didn't know of the existence of plastic bags. I had more than ample knowledge. As my mother's little helper, I got the joy of hanging dozens of them out after they had been washed in the washing machine - my mother was a great one for reusing things - and as my mother's little helper, I got the joy of reversing them and rehanging so the sun could do its wondrous antibacterial job - and as my mother's little helper, I got the joy of folding dozens of them after they had dried and sorting them into their bags to be used again and again and again until the day that they finally perished.

And as my mother's little clone, to this day those plastic vege bags get rinsed, washed, pegged, reversed, folded and stored for reuse in my house (unless V finds my stash, and then the chain gets broken).

I am not as green as I should be. I eat meat and sometimes the fruit and vegetables that I get are not locally sourced and organically nurtured. I drive a car, sometimes with only me in it, over long distances and sometimes for no better purpose than "I want to". I have been known to buy packaged materials, even foodstuffs for the freezer, my only reasoning being that it would be handy.

But I am green enough to feel guilty about it.

So I have a line that I draw in the sand. I don't OVERDO plastic.

If I buy fruit and vegetables, unless its little things like beans, cherry tomatoes or strawberries it doesn't get its own itemised little plastic bag. The checkout chicks store-employed cashiers love that approach.

I have green bags (and blue bags and even black bags) that I have PURCHASED for the intent purpose of not getting another plastic bag. Heck, I have even PURCHASED more when I have forgotten to take them to the shop and my budget allows. And double heck, I have so many that I have LENT my green bags to mere acquaintances in the shops when I overhear that they have forgotten theirs.

And on those odd occasions when both my memory and my bank balance fails me and I am absolutely required to bundle my goodies in a store offered bag, I try and make them cram as much stuff as possible into as few as possible (really, those checkout chicks store-employed cashiers welcome me warmly). And when they get home, they are tied and reused as garbage bags or given to charities.

So okay, I am not saving the planet today - but please, when you paint me brown, can you tint me with a LITTLE khaki?

And maybe we could move that spectrum a little greener, after I read this about the plastic bag - I am going to hit publish, and then put that stash of green bags down into my car and save the planet doing this weeks groceries MY WAY.