A full moon for the last night of 2009 but the second full moon for December, commonly called a 'blue moon'. It won't be seen as blue unless you've been siphoning the Bombay a little too much but the smoke from fireworks could turn it a red colour. Melbourne is expecting a thunderstorm about midnight, nature's fireworks and a lot less expensive.
But be careful of New Year wishes and resolutions, it's a powerful full moon and you might be forced to keep those resolutions.
I, personally, am not making any resolutions involving chocolates, Bombay Sapphire, losing weight, looking at nekkid blokes half my age, keeping my swearing to an acceptable level, playing the pokies and buying expensive books.
I will however be kind to all of my commenters because if you end up at this blog, you need all the sympathy I can give.
24 comments:
I is not primping and preening ready to hit the big parties. Working, so bed by 10.30. Happy New Year Jahteh. Hmm, just thinking, your year has been somewhat momentous.
I don't make resolutions. Why try to improve something already so perfect?
Happy New Year.
My New Year's resolution is the same as last year's...not to make any New Year's resolutions ever again.
No fireworks here in Melbourne, I'd say. The rain is wonderful though.
I don't bother with resolutions either. They're a waste of time, but I enjoy the optimism that comes with imagining a better year ahead.
I hope the same goes for you, a good year ahead that is.
Here's wishing you a bigger and better 2010, J ;) xxx
Happy New year...no resolutions here
And it hasn't finished yet, Andrew.
Not until the end of January unfortunately.
River, well said and so true.
Your Lordship, no resolutions to dig deeper and find a treasure trove instead of just a big hole in the Fylde?
Elisabeth, my spouting has holes in it near the front door so at the first sign of rain, out go the buckets plus another under the hole in the patio table. They were all full this morning.
No, no, no, Jayne, a quieter, more gentle year is what I want.
Not one, Therese, like let's be kind to snakes, or even building an ark for Craggy Island or did the downpour miss your little spot on the world?
Hello darlings, I've been down south; a place called Lara: western suburbs 'Portsea'. Came home in a rainstorm, blown across lanes. Good heavens, I thought it was the end. Meanwhile all these bunnies, gathered in the city, yelling, shrieking, doing what they're told....Once a year the bank gives them a fireworks display, the rest is interest payment.
Suckerdom, sweetiepies, not for me. I prefer a quiet night with the Arabs.
A dame called Fatima did the Dance of the Seven Veils. I was keeping count. She got down to one and rain stopped the show.
Robbed again.
Well there was a dust-storm first, then a downpour, as Fatima danced among the tractors. She trooped on through the dust, but the rain got her.
Rh, isn't Lara where the prison is?
I always remember coming back from Queenscliff along that road and it was always blowing a northwind just there. I still get the horrors thinking about those drives and the driver.
No resolutions for me either. That way I don't end up disappointing myself. Or the scales, bank account or career dreams....
Well VVB is full of all my resolutions. They make for reading.
WV=balsin: the last verse of the Hokey Cokey that they left out.
Is Lara where the prison is?
Yes, Barwon.
And the north wind blows, oh golly. You realise how Oklahoma went bald in the 1930s.
My hosts have twenty acres, they collect farm machinery. Did you get that package or not?
Robbert, Holidays, remember. I won't be near the PO until next Thursday. I'm trying to move a house and still a third to go then it's the Centrelink rubbish and then my nervous breakdown. How long do they hold a package?
Kath Chockett, your reviews have done my backside a lot of damage. I know I won't ever touch a Guylian again in this lifetime. I can honestly say I'm chocolated out.
Phil, if you put that last verse on YouTube, you'd be such a hit.
Yes well if someone sent me something I'd be down there straight away.
Wake up to yourself.
I sent Kerryn Goldsworthy an inflatable man.
She sent it back. She wanted a gorilla.
Miss Goldsworthy has consented to join me in a duet of 'If I Loved You'.
Neighbours have been alerted and police will block off the streets.
FLAT FOR SALE!
My biographical subject is selling his apa-a-a-rtment for $380,000. It's in Gadd Street Thornbury, top floor, with a beautiful view of the Dandenongs. You can see the city too if you lean out the lounge room window. Yesterday we painted all the doors with some paint he got from Laverton trash market, it's a colour I don't know of but he likes it. Meanwhile he's going around tapping bathroom tiles "They're hollow," he says, instructed by the voices in his head. Meanwhile too he's dragging estate agents up from High Street to price the joint. They offer him the world. Social workers are in and out too, knowing more about prices than anyone.
-The Twin Pillars Of Social Worker Consciousness:
HYGIENE and THRIFT.
Giggling Les Murray has asked me to marry him.
Que!?!?!?!?
And I've been asked to edit yet another anthology of Australian writing.
Good heavens!
Well I've said yes to Les, but only if the ceremony can be combined with the anthology launch.
One is just so busy!
And another semi-trailer load of books have arrived for review.
Goodness, does popularity ever cease?
Rh, you swine, we had this out last year, it takes nearly 25 mins to walk to bus stop, wait for bus, walk to post office, another 15 mins and then half an hour discussion about whether I can take the parcel since you never address it properly, like:
extremely large four-eyed redhead with vicious temper and looks far younger than her passport photo.
Where are the social workers going to house him and how much money are they taking?
I only do it to give you some exercise. Do you want to lose weight or not?
Next time I'll address it to Big Funky Woman, Looking More Femme Fatale Than Her mugshot.
He's buying a house in Frankston. (Or maybe closer -near Mentone Post Office.)
"A house in Frankston", he's won tattslotto hasn't he?
Yes, I do want to lose weight.
No, I don't want to wear out my knees.
No, I don't want to exercise, I want to hide in my bedroom for a month or two.
Yes, I do want to pick up your parcel since the last one has given me 12 months of pleasure.
Take your time, no hurry.
I remember last year's missile. This is the second. It's like Summer of the Seventeenth Doll.
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