Or should that be… There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…?
I was having a chat this morning about stereotypes and how a lot of people while striving to be unique wind up looking like everyone else. It was an interesting conversation to say the least.
While driving home from the gym this morning it occurred to me that it could be perceived that I’m living a cliche at the moment. For quite some time my friend Lloyd has called me Dorothy, it’s his quirky (aka smartass) name for me since I’m from Oz (Australia), I miss home (there’s no place like home), I’m living in the ‘Emerald City’ (Seattle), and could colloquially be referred to as a “Season ticket holding, friend of Dorothy”.
All I need now is a winged monkey and I’ll have most of the cast. I’ve already got a Scarecrow, but he’s currently at work.
Strange… my mind does run off in bizarre directions and random tangents when not kept supervised. 
Reigning it back in though… I’m halfway through my current book, and am aiming to either finish it today or come close to finishing it, have bowling again tonight, *fingers crossed* I’ll be back on my game after 3 disastrous sessions last week, and have a few things to do.
Oh, and Daylight Savings has struck again, this time in Australia, so the time difference has changed again, there’s now a 17 hour difference. Australia being in front.
Translation… 12 Midday Tuesday in Australia, is 7pm Monday here… I’m sure we’ll get at least one or two late night phone calls from someone who hasn’t quite got a grip on the difference. No matter, there’ll be a Winged Monkey waiting just for them too. *evil cackle* “Fly my pretties, flyyyyyy…”
Ok, time to self-medicate. *laugh*
Enjoy!
