I'm grumpy and I know it! Growl, grimace, grumble, etc, etc.*

I was told yesterday, for the fifth time in six consecutive years, that I have a concussion.

I was also told yesterday that I "need to be more careful on the road", because apparently it is somehow my fault that somebody was reversing out of a parking lot and didn't check his blind spot before smashing right into the car I was driving. Fortunately, I was belted in. Fortunately, he wasn't going that fast. Only fast enough to put a big dent in said car and, it seems, a not-too-serious-provided-I-rest-quietly-for-a-few-days bruise in my head.

And today, because I finally have the time to investigate ways to get all of those beautiful photographs from my super advanced camera phone onto my blog without involving Blogger's decidedly primitive and user-unfriendly app, I find that I am still unable to do so in a way that suits both my schedule and my aging but still stable laptop, which is why you will find this post devoid of pictures because I am determined that there is more to life than Instagram and I will not inflict any more of those painfully hip, artfully filtered square photographs on you, my gentle readers of my gentle blog that has seen me through nearly seven years now of Life. Blog is blog and Instagram is Instagram and I will not, will not allow the two to merge as so many of my blogging friends have done. So there. And if I cannot get any pictures up here other than my Instagram shots, well, that'll be that for now.

But I will find a way to master you yet, phone-picture-camera-cranky old computer conundrum. Oh yes, I will. Maybe another day, when this great hulking piece of Life Challenges I see hurtling towards me has hurtled itself away.

While I'm in a ranting mood, just a couple more... don't take it personally, now, dear reader. Most of you have been very kind to me, and the people who do the sort of thing mentioned below most likely never come here so I might be preaching to the choir, or maybe to the native wildlife skittering about in the bush out behind the church (I mean that as a compliment; native wildlife in Australia tends to be ah-dorable), but still, I gotta say it.

Kindly refrain from telling people to "be more careful" when they are already nursing head injuries from accidents that were in no way their fault. It does not help with the inherent grumpiness that tends to come packaged with head injury, and it does not give them automatically warm, appreciative thoughts towards you. Oh, I appreciate the concern; just not the assumptions. Have I ever mentioned before that I detest assumptions? I'll say it again, bearing the risk of repeating myself. I hate assumptions. Get the facts before you make your conclusions. Makes you look that much more deserving of your IQ score.

And secondly: would it take so much effort, really, would it take so much effort to dash off a one-line note to accompany things you send in the post? Whether it's a DVD-ROM of your wedding photos or my reusable grocery tote that you neglected to say had been accidentally packed in your luggage following your visit here, a note would be good, because we're not all mail-opening machines and sometimes it's nice to see a few friendly words in another human being's handwriting.

I used to expect stickers, and hand-drawn smiley faces, and beautiful penmanship. The fact that I've ceased to, well, I guess means that I have officially given up my passport to Snail Mail Never-Neverland.

I wouldn't be too alarmed, though; it seems I might have found a porous border to slip through, and I am far from alone there.



*I have not been so grumpy in a very, very long time. I expect normal transmission to resume... oh hello, wait, about five minutes ago. But I was already nearly through the post by then, and the blog could use an update, so I'm just going to post it, but really, I'm all sunshine and rainbow sprinkles again by the time you read this. So please don't picture me as Grumpy Ren, all right? Because I've been told the sight of her inspires nightmares in young and old alike.

I'm still here

I have not spent the past month and a half in shock over a broken two-hole punch.

No, I'm ashamed to say it's happened again: I've allowed this blog to grow quiet, deserted save for perhaps the occasional scuttle from a virtual spider. Although it seems people are still visiting, in trickles. Thank you for keeping the blog aired out; it's so unpleasant when spaces acquire that musty smell of forlorn neglect. Even if it is a virtual musty smell of forlorn neglect.

Unfortunately, in large part my silence here is due to the fact that I've taken to microblogging. I upgraded my phone at the end of last year, downloaded Instagram and whoosh, suddenly I was getting my pictures and (brief) thoughts out into cyberspace practically as soon as they'd formed. I, who had been so disdainful of those people who update their Facebook with news of what they'd eaten for breakfast,

morning tea,

lunch; I have become those people.

But I hope I'll still have things to say here, because sometimes a picture -- and 160 characters -- doesn't explain what 200 well chosen words can. Besides, I know many of you don't use Instagram and I will not become one of those people who adopts a new platform and abandons all those who don't have access to it. I have a great deal of sentimental attachment to this blog and the people who've faithfully, if silently, read it all these years.

If you're on Instagram too, please follow me if you like. I'm -- who else? -- royalshyness. I post about things other than food. For example:

Sharing the beach at sundown;

completed craft projects;

the perpetual goldenness of the hours in some places.

If not, we'll just keep meeting here: brushing past each other soundlessly, unaware of each other's presence except that you know when I've posted and I know when my stats are telling me that I have readers in the Ukraine.