Twos-day

Two dogs, two birthdays, two years old.

Two metabolisms: One gets the high fat puppy chow, the other gets the "lite and mature" diet.



Why I don't ever get to sleep in:




We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment.

-- George Eliot

On The Move. Again.

For those of you who haven't heard yet, we are packing our bags and heading back to the other Sunshine State, Florida, in the good ol' U.S. of A.

Besides the downward economic spiral and the dead real estate market and the difficulty of being a family divided that you've seen me blather on about for the past couple years, my mother-in-law is dealing with a serious illness and we want to be there for her. But don't tell her that, okay? She would adamantly insist we not sacrifice or alter our plans in any way because of her troubles. She is very cool like that. And stubborn. But, daring to compare myself to her, I too am determined, so that's that. Only we won't let her know about it. We're just coming back for the school holidays if she asks.

Elle will stay with Jorge in Florida until Sarabelle, Grice, the dogs, and I fly back, possibly around the beginning of December.

Hey, did you notice I said "dogs" plural? Our family got a little bigger last week. Em couldn't take Lulu's sister, Asha, to New Zealand with them, and she's such a sweet dog and Lulu's best friend that I couldn't not take her. I can't wait to turn them loose on the beach at the island and just let them run 'til they drop.


Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one.

-- Japanese Proverb

Winter

The weather has been cool and clear, so gorgeous you forget for a moment the monsoonal rains and plentiful mold of the other nine months. We decided to take our school work outside. Elle dragged out the swag, which needed a good scrub and airing to eliminate the powdery mildew build-up. We also took our morning tea out in an effort to stay warm.



After the lessons were done and the day warmed, the clothes came off and there was some brief unprotected high-ozone exposure. Lulu was even allowed to briefly share the towel...



...and when she thought no one was looking, she continued her sunbathing.




I have nothing to ask but that you would remove to the other side, that you may not, by intercepting the sunshine, take from me what you cannot give.

-- Diogenes

Currents

The girls and I got a little too excited this evening picking out electric dog training collars online. Elle romped around the living room until Grice’s command “Stop!” and a loud buzzing noise caused her to drop and writhe on the floor. We compared prices and features opting for the models with the longest range. A Rhodesian Ridgeback is nothing but fast and is quickly out of sight chasing kangaroos or your landlord as she zips by on her four-wheeler enroute to the horse paddocks.

Sarabelle played her first gig on the electric bass this past Friday. One of the area dads, a musician himself, put together a night to showcase our local junior talent. While the weekend edition of the big city paper had several stories about drunken teenage parties getting way out of control, here were our kids, and their families, having a terrific night out with soda, chips, and some surprisingly good live music. It may turn out to be a regular event. Sarabelle’s friend, who is also a boy, played in another band with his two brothers. They had groupies. Screaming girl fans. It was hilarious. But Sarabelle did not find my musings as to whether her American thighs were the inspiration for their cover of “You Shook Me All Night Long” nearly so funny.

Jorge has been here to finalize some real estate dealings and help us move and was able to catch Sarabelle’s performance. Tomorrow, provided the flight is operating, not like today when it was cancelled because “the plane was broken,” and he can even get to the airport in the first place given the huge amount of rain that has fallen in the past 24 hours, he flies over to a little outback town to manage some business interests and then will return to Cairns just in time to say a quick goodbye before heading back to Florida. The plan du jour is for the girls and I to stick it out here at least until July 23, when we can finally make our application for citizenship.

Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.
-- Marcus Aurelius

Bits

I haven't posted much. Nothing much has been happening, and with the Red Sox in the playoffs and then in the World Series again, nothing I could have posted would have been more interesting than that to my family members abroad, as evidenced by recent phone calls unfortunately timed to first pitches. Look, you all had 2004. Wasn't that enough?

We are in the throes of planning another summer holiday/Christmas visit to Florida. You can imagine how excited I am about that. Jorge should be traveling over with us and then is planning to remain in Florida after the holidays to get a few contracts underway. Like last year we may have another overnight in Tokyo, which nicely breaks up the trip, but unlike last year we are expecting to bring along Grice's friend, B. We traded B's mom four weeks of a whirlwind trip overseas for her daughter for four weeks caring for our dog. We definitely came out on top in that deal.

Speaking of animals, we have noticed a frilled-neck lizard hanging around the house. Early one Saturday morning for a photo I had Grice chase him around a tree trying to get him riled up enough to show off his frill. A friend happened to mention that they were particularly nasty creatures with very sharp claws who will climb right up and shred your person if it helps them get to where they want to go. So, sorry, no pics for you. On the friendlier animal scene, we've got a pair of blue kookaburras (not the laughing kind) we've been feeding, hoping to train them to come up and eat out of our hands one day.

We have the last round of our tennis club championships coming up this weekend and then I will be officially retiring from tennis. Elle is more interested in aikido right now and Grice may want to try out AFL. Sarabelle will probably continue with tennis, but she can try out for the team at school if she really wants to play.

Interesting Australian euphemisms we've recently encountered:

"Wobbly bits", as in "Do you have cellulite and other wobbly bits?" Seen in a magazine advertisement while waiting for our visa appointment, launching us into explosive giggles while trying unsuccessfully to be all serious for the crabby immigration people. (In spite of our less than serious attitude we still managed to get our Returning Resident Visas renewed, and for five years too!)

"Special cuddles", a very innocuous and roundabout way of saying "sex."

And incongruously, how's this for a friendly how do you do: "Keepin' ya knees togetha, love?"


I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events have controlled me.

-- Abraham Lincoln

The Simple Life

Despite the less-than-rainforest-green color of our surroundings, actually it's a greyish-green with lots of brown, and the ever-present smell of smoke as wildfires and controlled back-burns smolder all around us on various parts of the station, we're enjoying the drier climate. There is no mold in sight! Things smell better! And it is exciting to think that the The Wet will not be the muddy, mildewy mess it was last year. At least until we hear the cries of, "Bushy's-gon-ovah!" meaning the creek between here and the schools has flooded. The peace and quiet is greatly appreciated too. During the day the rustling trees and birds are about the only sounds and at night it is occasionally completely still. There is very little road noise from the lightly traveled highway that is close enough to see, usually it's a huge road train roaring past when the wind is just right, and very little air traffic. In fact when we hear a helicopter or plane, it is so rare that we bother to look up and see what's going on and wonder who it is (because there are only a few helicopters around and we might recognize them) and whether they might be going to land here. Not like in South Florida where you know it's either the cops or a news 'copter and think, oh god, what now...

Being so much drier, the sky is clearer. It's pretty cool to look up almost every night and see the Mlky Way hanging right overhead, or watch shooting stars and satellites fly by. It must be really impressive, almost oppressive, out in the desert where there is nothing but flat, uninterrupted horizon to stargaze. That has been added to my To Do list.

We have made friends with the magpie family that lives here. I know now that I'll never be fit for a return to suburbia, not when I can open the back door and gleefully throw the remains of a meal, whatever the dog doesn't eat, right off the balcony into the yard. The birds love it and have become accustomed to me providing treats, unfortunately, they see my mizuna lettuce and cherry tomato plants, in buckets on the front porch, as one big buffet. To persuade them not to bother the dozens of tomatoes that have set and are trying to ripen, I sit in the living room with the sliders wide open and a handful of small rocks at the ready. They think I am feeding them and do not fly away. I'm considering a slingshot. If I ever do return to suburbia, I'm afraid I might end up as the crabby old lady with the yard the kids are afraid to retrieve their balls from.

In addition to the magpies, we've recently been visited by the black cockatoos. There are about half a dozen or so out this morning and now I will take a short break to try to capture this phenomenon...

Okay, here you go... Pretty aren't they? See that flash of red on the underside of the tail? There's another under their wings but it's not so obvious in this shot.



We used to get excited to see the clouds of white, yellow-crested cockatoos that live here, like Fred from Baretta, all cute with the "Freeeeeeze" and the head bobbing (the ones around here do not spout police jargon), until we began to realize what a nuisance they are. Farmers shoot them. A small flock can decimate a fruit crop in a matter of minutes. And they are loud. Constantly, screechingingly loud. So we are not as excited to see the big bullies as we once were. The black cockatoos so far have not lost their ability to charm. They are less common in these parts, less aggressive, and less squawky (more of a gurgly shrieking caw.)

Even though we are farther out of town than we ever were, friends still pop in unannounced. Lulu spent one lovely afternoon racing around with her sister, Asha (on the left in the brown collar), and doggie friends Muffy and Rosie. While the moms relaxed with a cuppa and and the littermates collapsed in a heap on the porch, the sweaty kids cooled off with icy-poles. Living out here where Lulu has plenty of room to roam has greatly improved her behavior, where before, at the other rental, the only flat-out exercise she got was chasing our landlady on her four-wheeler all the way down to the horse paddocks while trying to jump on the back to ride alongside landlady's dog.





Grice is off on a traveling adventure with her bestie and bestie's dad. They are at the stage when touring around with your family is not quite interesting enough and pals must be procured for back-up companionship. They are going out to see some dinosaur fossils and visit a gorge before school starts back next week. Sarabelle is planning to attend a music camp Thursday through Sunday and we are trying to figure out how to work this around the scheduled removal of her stitches on Friday. Being a DIY kind of girl, I've got my own highly unpopular ideas on how this can be accomplished. Elle, demonstrating the powerful catalyst boredom can be and cheerfully adapting to her parents' stubborn refusal to participate in the mass consumer world of children's toys, crafted her own set of building blocks from end cuts of wood Jorge was using to build us a computer desk. They were not as eye-catching in their natural state, so she took out her paint set and began decorating them. At first they were just solid colors, then some sported spots and stripes. A few became caterpillers, ladybugs, watermelons, books, others had humans on one side and aliens on the other... Her sisters thought it looked like so much fun they eventually joined in, and the three of them spent an entire afternoon, hours, out on the porch painting, sharing, cooperating, without one bit of bickering.




Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.

-- Shakespeare (Othello)

Wild Kingdom

Jorge has always been a stop-the-car-and-save-the-animals kind of guy. He found this one on the way home from work recently and rescued it from an untimely, messy highway death. The kids named it Smacky. I don't know why.





In case any of the authorities are reading this, we are not going to keep it, we know you need an "Official Government License" to possess these creatures. Relax, Smacky is merely recuperating from his traumatic near-miss and will be released one day soon.

Here is our temporary, illegal visitor demonstrating the reason for the appellation "blue-tongued lizard."



My three-year old nephew could not believe his ears when I told him we have kangaroos out in our front yard nibbling the grass every morning, so, see for yourself, B.! Aunt L is not telling tall tales. Except these three were actually in the side yard...



And here's a mama and her joey racing us down the driveway. You can glimpse our humble abode in the background.



Late in the afternoon, just before the sun sets over the mountain, it blazes the most intense orange. This shot's a little blurry, I had only a few seconds to try to capture the effect of the color blasting down our hallway (We're losing the light, people! We're losing the light!) but Lulu was on fire.



Yesterday honking horns alerted us to the fact that some of the unfenced stock were out wreaking havoc on the road. Elle, Lulu, and I watched amused for awhile and then went back inside. Ridgebacks, though they are hounds, are known for their lack of barkiness, being highly intelligent and discriminating with their warnings -- Lulu usually just jumps to attention, stands like a statue, and gives a little "BUH" when she hears something that disturbs her normally napping state -- but she started barking away at the back door so we got up to take a look. The cows were in our back yard. And fortunately Lulu was there to save us.



Then our fearless dog ran them off.




All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.

-- George Orwell (Animal Farm)

Spontaneity

We've got loads of it, you know.

The five of us set out in my vehicle which seats five almost comfortably, plus a dog and all our gear for a week-long adventure. Our plan was to start out at Undara Lava Tubes to witness some ancient geological marvels and work our way down to the historic mining town of Charters Towers to experience some not-so-ancient architectural marvels.

But, of course, it didn't work out like that.

Here we are in front of the windfarm at Ravenshoe (pronounced Ravens-hoe, not Raven-shoe), one of our Tableland neighboring towns, where the temps dipped to a record -7 C/18 F the night before. Elle explained the reason for the cooler weather was that someone left all the fans on.



First stop, Innot Hot Springs where some of us enjoyed a relaxing soak in the heated water...



...and some didn't...



...and some, namely me, seriously considered spending the entire night in a pool of water under a blanket of volcanically heated sand, the only warm spot for hundreds of miles around.

It was at the springs where I met Jane. Whether Plain Jane or Jane Doe or Tarzan's Jane comes to mind, you'd have a pretty accurate image. She told me her story while she stripped down to nearly nothing, bathed, and heated her and her daughter's pot of soup in a pool adjoining my own. She came to Australia from New York six years ago as a backpacker. She homeschools her only child and is greatly concerned about the increase in regulations and decrease in freedoms she perceives here in Australia. Something that's been gnawing away at us as well. Jane is considering a move to a freer society, but hasn't yet figured out where that might be, and may even head back to the States until she does. We had loads to talk about, being of similar minds. Elle was overjoyed to meet her daughter, both Americans, both homeschooled, both six years of age; she reckoned they were nearly twins. We had a very enjoyable afternoon sharing our common bonds.

We made it to the camp ground near Undara, set up both tents, put out a picnic and lolled in the lovely hot sun for an hour or two when we got the phone call. Remember the hush-hush stuff I hinted about earlier? Jorge had applied for a job over on the west side of the Cape York Peninsula, one that would enable us to stay in Australia regardless of whether or not our Florida property sells, one that not only pays well, but provides housing, a vehicle, and tax breaks. It seemed as if he was well-suited to the position, but so much time had elapsed we figured it must not have been a real possibility. They had called leaving a message on our answering machine to say he had been short-listed and wanted to do a phone interview. Jorge returned the call and suggested that since we were halfway there he head on over as he preferred to interview in person, and I wanted to see what we were potentially getting ourselves into, so the next morning off we went.

The Cape York Peninsula, the little triangle up on the top right of the country? It's enormous. Takes nearly 11 hours to get across the base of it, and the "highway" is a single lane road with dirt shoulders that you have to swerve onto for oncoming traffic. The oncoming traffic usually meets you halfway veering off in a cloud of red dust, unless it's a 164-foot long road train, they don't budge. You also have to watch out for livestock. Stations are so huge they're unfenceable; cattle grates cross the main highway every once in a while to mark boundaries. It was not a boring drive at all.





Because we left all our gear behind, we stayed in a motel for the night in the nearby town of Karumba where the mouth of the impossibly indigo Norman River meets the Gulf of Carpentaria. The motel welcomed dog owners, but would not allow the actual dogs into the rooms, so I spent the afternoon and evening sitting on the porch with and sleeping in the car with Lulu. You will not see any pictures of that.

The interview went well, and to celebrate Jorge and I feasted on giant Gulf prawns and seafood chowder sans kids and dog. The girls were finally advised of the situation -- the reason it had been hush-hush is that they would have had a stroke anticipating a move from this place they love so much -- but a quick tour of the town (all it takes being a tiny, remote, outback flyspeck of a place), its interesting old buildings, the house we would potentially live in, the sports complex with the giant pool and tennis courts, and the historic train station (the end of the line, which takes passengers ultimately straight into the big city of Cairns) produced no huge objections, although Sarabelle inquired about the possibility of boarding at a friend's house.

We headed back to camp and though we still had plenty of time to reschedule a visit to the lava tubes, we stayed one more night and then just packed up and headed home a day early. We saw plenty of geological wonders along the way and took an alternate route home through the mining town of Herberton where we enjoyed the charming vernacular architecture.

Jorge should hear something by Friday...


It's not just a job, it's an adventure.

-- Anonymous (U.S. Navy slogan)

Lulu

It's a little hard to see how big she's grown without a visual reference, but in the first pictures I could carry her under one arm and now I can bearly fit her all on my lap (and according to my youngest daughter, it's a pretty voluminous lap.) She comes up three inches above my knees and you can almost pet her without bending over. She is absolutely solid muscle which I discovered when I had to hose out her mouth after she went for a cane toad (Bufo marinus.)



My friend says you can look into the face of a Rhodesian Ridgeback and never really be sure what they're thinking.



Here she is trying to stalk me in the freshly mown yard...



...and here's the last thing a lion ever sees...



(She went from 0 to 60 in one spring, cleared my head and bit me on the behind before I could even turn around.)


I restrain myself a great deal. I don't say it, or I phrase it differently. But now and again I drop a lulu because I cannot resist it.

-- Hugh Leonard

Summer of (Puppy) Love

The flight home was uneventful. Our seven giant checked bags, surprisingly only one of which was actually overweight, were checked all the way through to Cairns. They came out first on the baggage carousel and we cleared Immigration and Customs in less than fifteen minutes.

The minute we arrived home, before all those bags and additional carry-ons could be brought inside, the girls called their friends, the ones with the puppies. We had to go over there immediately. But only immediately after we all took showers, because, for whatever reason, sitting on a plane doing nothing for twenty-plus hours sure can make you stinky.

In one month the puppies tripled in size. All but two of the litter of ten had been snapped up, one male they decided to keep for themselves, and our female. The friends had given her a bath and tied a green organza ribbon around her neck. The oldest daughter introduced me to our new puppy, placed her in my arms, and the little cutie began licking my face. The puppy, not the daughter.

The search for a name began.

First on the list were Zimbabwean names in the native Shona language:

Chipo (gift)
Rufaro (happiness)

...then names with special meaning:

Abeni (we asked for her and we got her)
Ataro (puzzle, upside-down)*
Sisi (born on Sunday)
Shakia (she takes after her mother)
Dafina (gift, treasure)

...and a few literary/historical names:

Sarafina
Nala (queen)
Sheba

...along with Zimbabwean place names:

Harare
Nandi
Dahlia

...names of desirable qualities:

Hasina (good)
Kahfee (quiet)
Safia (pure)
Shakarri (great hunter)
Dara (beautiful)

...and finally, any female African names:

Nia (purpose)
Zuri (beautiful)
Zari (golden)
Shakina (beautiful one)
Asabi (she is of choice birth)
Imani (faith)

No consensus could be reached. A few more lists were consulted and we eventually narrowed it down to:

Mesi (water, and pronounced like Macy) and the name we ultimately went with…

Lulu (pearl)



Not particularly African sounding, but it fits.

With one puppy (Remus) still at the home of our friends, the breeders, and another (Asha) at the home of another best friend of Grice’s, Breeder Mom joked that we, the mothers, will have to schedule “puppy playdates,” an activity she considers very silly and very American.


*When my Witness friend went on about Bible prophesies fitting together like a puzzle, I countered that you could put a puzzle together upside-down and the pieces would still fit but the picture would be blank.


Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.

-- Cicero

Gratitude is a sickness suffered by dogs.

-- Joseph Stalin

Ashaki

See the big belly? Less than a week to go...

Zimbabwe, formerly Rhodesia, is bordered on the north by the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, but the girls do not care about the literary roots of the name, nor the fact that it comes from one of their mother's favorite stories, they refuse to call their dog Limpopo.

Any other great ideas?


Somewhere, what with all these clouds, and all this air,
There must be a rare name, somewhere…
How do you like “Cloud-Cuckoo-Land”?

-- Aristophanes (Birds)

More serendipity?

Funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t it?

Just as I was lamenting my lack of support here, no family, no friends, no internet, and a husband who only humors me when I try to discuss plans for the future, we had a surprise.

The two daughters of a family in our community and our two eldest girls attend classes together, one with Grice at the primary and the other with Sarabelle at the high school, both sets simultaneously becoming friendly. The topic of pets arose and the neighbor girls learned that the new people have two cats and a hedgehog back in Florida and have been looking for a dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, to be precise. (A dog that I, crazy researching person, have been trying for years to convince my husband and children would be the perfect match and worth the wait.) The neighbor girls excitedly told their mother about the new American girls, who are very nice, don’t swear, and are looking for a dog, and the whole troop, mom, girls, brother, and their champion Ridgeback bitch came over for an impromptu visit, bearing a just-baked chocolate sour cream cake.

The mom, a German ex-pat, ex-Catholic, grinds her own flour, bakes her own bread, and makes her own gourmet cheeses from her hand-milked cows on their solar-powered, television-free, organic dairy farm. She thinks the world is going to Hell in a handbasket and was thrilled to hear of some nice girls for her daughters to befriend. She has no great affection for government of any sort so I got a “Good on ya!” when she found out we had homeschooled instead of the usual puzzled stare. We’ll be getting together again soon.

Jorge came home from work too late for a piece of cake, but early enough to enjoy some lively conversation and fall in love with the dog. The mom decided right then and there to give into requests from other breeders to mate her Ridgeback because she wants us to have a puppy.


The long arm of coincidence.

-- Haddon Chambers (from Captain Swift)