So my dream house would mean waking up in my nice ranch style home set on several acres of lush bushland with the symphony of birdsong nearby, but also close enough to all of the conveniences of the city with none of the smog, rush hour or crime problems.
The reality is waking up in my three bedroom house on a quarter acre block miles from the centre of the city (because housing is cheaper in the 'burbs') and closely surrounded by other similar houses. The gardens could use a little TLC and to avoid the issue of smog, rush hour or crime, switching off or ignoring it are probably the only options.
My dream job would be writing best selling novels and getting paid ludicrous amounts of money for them but I would also dabble in consulting work doing all the sorts of things that I'm doing now.
The reality, I fight rush hour every morning to drive the forty five minutes to my job as a communications lead on a project. The work is great, the people mostly okay but ohhhhhh give me the freedom of not having to answer to twits who have no idea of anything other than their own self importance. Besides the fact that I'm seriously underpaid I'm soaking up every scrap of knowledge humanly possible to enable at least the second part of my dream life to become reality.
My dream family is happy, contented and there's no fighting. Everyone is understanding and respectful of each other.
Tee hee - the reality, I've got the right family members who I love dearly but boy do we fight and argue and then all kiss and make up and then we do it all again. It's obviously a case of too much testosterone.
My dream holiday occurs every year like clockwork - somewhere overseas, exciting and adventurous and always a new place. Plenty of time and the finances to really relax and enjoy the holiday.
The reality, a four hour car trip to Renmark when I can get a few days off work to visit my family members and the rest of the time spent begging and pleading with hubby (okay make that nagging and whining) for an overseas holiday. Note: the well paid dream job would probably lessen the need for so much nagging and whining.
My dream life would in truth bore me stupid and on the down side would give me nothing to write about here on this blog. After all who likes reading about perfect people, living perfect lives and being perfectly happy. Perfectly pathetic.
The reality - I love my life with all its ups and downs, the good times and the bad times. Okay, so maybe a few less downs and bad times wouldn't be such a bad thing.
It's only occasionally that I have to shake my head a little harder to dislodge the image in my head of me lying on a recliner beside the pool on a tropical island and being told that my tenth novel has just hit the best sellers list.
Disclaimer: the writer of this post reserves the right to point out that dreaming about being all that you can be and setting out to get it is quite different to the 'dream life' portrayed in this post.
Now here are the photos as I promised, of our baby magpie ' Boss' who has become youngest MM's best buddy. Son has rigged up a perch by clamping a stick to his desk and now the magpie sits and watches him play x-box. Without the perch, 'Boss' clambers all over his desk and keyboard and disturbs his gaming.
He'll sit for hours and he's fascinated by the action on the screen (that's the bird I'm talking about not my son and I'm assuming the bird is a boy because every other living thing in my life is male) In case anyone is concerned, a strategically placed box on the ground beneath the birds butt deals with the nasties - we haven't quite figured out how to toilet train a baby bird yet.
He's actually got lots of downy grey feathers on his belly which you can't really see in these pics and he actually looks like he's listening when you talk to him. Even puts his head on the side and looks at you. Okay so he's probably saying to himself 'what idiot humans these ones are', but I can pretend he looks like he understands. So how do you say 'do your poop in the toilet', in bird talk?
Also, while I think of it - Happy first blogoversary to my fellow blogger in crime I am not Superwoman. A blog birthday is truly worth celebrating, especially your first. Why not pop by and say hi.
Hope you all have a super weekend.