Post Christmas Post

I shortened my sights a bit. Didn’t find a Buddha under the Christmas tree-ish dried floral arrangement thing in our room, and decided I’d be happy if all I got for Christmas was not a case of head lice. (So far so good. I think.) But I still may buy one for myself before we leave.

Looks like our return flights are going to be even more inconvenient with all the additional security measures. We came over with five carry-ons, but I’m guessing it’ll be easier just to check the whole lot on the way back. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for creating an international incident when airport security discovers Elle’s Crayola Explosion Glow Board in our hand-luggage. I’ll keep my laptop with me of course, and if I end up with a hefty but fragile wooden icon, I’ll keep that with me as well, although I’m not sure if that additional attention will be a good or bad thing. I’m pretty sure Aussie law enforcement would shrug off charges of politically incorrect racial profiling (ya gotta start somewhere, mate), so will I slide through as an obvious non-Muslim or receive extra scrutiny for my potential decoy? And if I get on the plane without any challenges, will I then just incense any onboard fundamentalists?

Generally I am not afraid to fly. There has been only one really bad landing in my lifetime of travel (wind shear slamming us down with a nice little sideways slide down a rainy runway in New Orleans) and I have reconciled myself to the fact that if I survive a mid-Pacific crash, no help will arrive until long after I’ve been devoured by sharks. I’m okay with that. But now I have kids to worry about. And crazies. And I don’t like the fact that Jorge changed his departure and is leaving earlier, because when we reach Los Angeles we split up: Grice flies with me to Miami, and Sarabelle and Elle, who were meant to be accompanied by their father, fly on a different airline back to Fort Lauderdale. Now I’ll be sticking the two of them on a plane by themselves and hoping they’ll be in Miami with their dad to greet me and Grice after the cross-country leg of our trip. Can I request they be seated next to the secret (wink wink) air marshall?

I like to test the TSA employees, see if they’re on their toes or not, by traveling with little surprises. Among other things, I’ve taken a box cutter disguised as a key on a keyring several times without notice and flew over here this time with a long, sharp bamboo stick holding my hair up in a knot. Bought a second hair clip at the same shop that sells the Buddhas after I misplaced the first, then relocated the original so now I have two. Sarabelle looks good with her hair up. I would probably not be the passenger to jump up and subdue a would-be terrorist, but I’d be happy to be able to pass the braver passengers a little something to help out.

Oh, yeah, and if I have to go to the bathroom, just try and stop me.


Those who desire to give up freedom in order to gain security will not have, nor do they deserve, either one.

-- Benjamin Franklin

We're Back

The flight, the 14-hour one, was not too terribly uncomfortable and we had our own little TVs to watch. I got to enjoy Bruno, though I had to keep leaning over checking to be sure the kids could not see my monitor, and am even more in love with Sacha Baron Cohen; Julie and Julia (didn’t have to worry about the kids getting a peek at this one, and I also love Meryl more than ever); The Boys are Back, a sweet little Australian movie which caused a big fat tear drop to fall out of my eye (I was tired, okay?); and about the first hour of Funny People, which I hope to finish on the return trip.

The holiday apartment Jorge rented is pretty comfortable and has a nice pool and cafe for snacks but terrible WiFi service. At different times during the day the signal appears in different rooms, the kitchen table in the morning, the coffee table after noon, and never yet at the supposedly strongest spot down by the pool. We chase around with the laptop and argue over whose turn it is to get on when the little bars finally appear (seems like Grice wins more often than most), or give up and go downtown to the local internet/smoothie shop. It wouldn’t be so annoying if we weren’t paying extra for the service.

Even though we’ve been traveling in an area of a roughly 20 mile circumference encompassing three distinct areas (rural, mill town and resort town), in the short time we’ve been here we’ve seen dozens of friends and acquaintances at planned get-togethers or bumping into them while sitting at cafes, filling up at the gas station, or buying groceries, and everyone has time for a little chat. It’s what I love and missed most about this small-town laid-back place.


I hope that posterity will judge me kindly, not only as to the things which I have explained, but also to those which I have intentionally omitted so as to leave to others the pleasure of discovery.

-- Rene Descartes

YOP!

We are here, we are here!

Made it back relatively unscathed. An early morning flight plus twenty straight hours of on-demand movies and food, and arriving at your destination on the evening of the same calendar day you left equals no jet lag. The dogs made it into Fort Lauderdale two days after us and after visting Gabby (my mother-in-law, who is doing exceptionally well) we headed over to our house on the west coast. Still waiting for the miscellaneous furnishings and the Landcruiser to arrive, but if it all happens to fall off the ship and never gets here, really, I'm okay with that. Doing my best, which is admittedly not much more than hibernating, to get through Christmas.

We're all missing our friends down under. Facebook and Skype help.

Jorge, the girls, and I buzzed out to the island Sunday with the dogs and some friends who dropped by. It was a delightful couple of hours and I'm looking forward to spending many more days out there once the holiday obligations are over and done with.














In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer.

-- Albert Camus

Ta.

I first saw this video when we stepped onboard a Qantas flight about nine years ago headed back to Florida after deciding Australia was where we wanted to live. It was playing in the background as we streamed into the cabin and settled into our seats. It made me all teary.

It still does.

I'll be wearing my sunglasses on the plane in the morning. Just in case.




I've been to cities that never close down,
From New York to Rome and old London town,
But no matter how far or how wide I roam,
I still call Australia home.

I'm always traveIing, I love being free,
And so I keep leaving the sun and the sea,
But my heart lies waiting over the foam,
I still call Australia home.

All the sons and daughters spinning 'round the world,
Away from their family and friends,
But as the world gets older and colder,
It's good to know where your journey ends.

Someday we'll all be together once more,
When all of the ships come back to the shore,
I’ll realise something I've always known,
I still call Australia home.

-- Peter Allen

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

The Cone of Uncertainty

It's hanging over my head. Sort of looks like a dunce cap, doesn't it?

Tropical Storm Fay: You can actually see this cone graphically projected continuously on any South Florida news station and it's raining on our parade, threatening Jorge's travel plans. Will it develop into a full-blown hurricane? Will it follow its current projected path? Will it flatten our unsellable but fully insured house? Could we be so lucky?

Rental House: The owner of the rental house I left a deposit on is now considering putting it on the market for sale instead. Needs a week to think about it. There is another house available immediately, an older crummier house on a barren lot in a lesser neighborhood, and though I'm no fan of new-development cookie-cutter houses, they are the same price so I'd prefer the sterile, contemporary, landscaped one. Will she decide in our favor? How much longer will our current landlord put up with us?

Elle: This uncertainty more approaches dread. Jorge is planning to fly her back with him when he returns to the States for a couple months. I might have lost my mind. I certainly will when she is gone. But, fair enough, he misses the girls terribly and Elle is the only one not stuck to a school schedule. What about her studies? What will I do without her? What will she do without me? Will it be 24-hour TV, Toontown, and takeout? Will she even want to come back?


If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.

-- Lewis Carroll

Catch-up II

Next Jorge came for a nearly two-week visit. We all took a break from our routines and headed down to Dunk Island for a few days.

Just as we made it to the bottom of the southernmost range, about a three hour ride from our place, the clutch went out. Completely. And we also discovered the fan had somehow chopped the radiator hose to bits. We had three and one half hours to catch the last ferry to Dunk, and we were still nearly an hour away. But the Fates and a very helpful Toyota service manager smiled on us, and we went from this...



(That's actually Craig the manager under there. In the driveway. Doing the work himself. In his good shirt. When he found the only hose available would take several hours to be delivered, he cobbled one together from bits and pieces. A real MacGyver, that one is. If you're ever in Innisfail and your car falls apart, go see Craig at the Toyota dealership.)

...to this...



...and this...



...with 30 minutes to spare.

While on Dunk we enjoyed some of this...



...some of this...



...a little of this...



(You can only go without a television and Sponge Bob for so long, you know.)

...and a lot of this...



(the view from my semi-permanent lounge chair.)

After Jorge headed back to Florida, the girls and I once again participated in the local Trivia Night fundraiser. I thought we were pretty international last year, but this year's team included an American, New Zealander, and Australian (me, Bee's mom and step-dad) with the new additions of their neighbor, a Finnish retired nuclear physicist (a Manhattan Project contemporary) and his two WWOOFers, a Japanese girl and a French guy. We also had another Australian, a music teacher, to help overcome the language barrier and physical handicaps (a faulty hearing aid and two players who left their reading glasses at home.) I am happy to report we correctly answered all the American questions this time, including my being able to name Pablo Escobar as "Drug Czar." I am from South Florida, you know. This year we held our own tied for second and third mostly, until the end when we made a big move catching up to the top team, losing to them by only 1.5 points in the bonus round.

The girls were on their own team with Bee and some other schoolmates. They determined they couldn't win early on and decided to go for notoriety and place last instead by intentionally giving silly answers (Q: What Latin phrase associated with universities means "nurturing mother"?; A: Mama Mia.) They still beat one of the adult teams.


I've taken my fun where I've found it.

-- Rudyard Kipling (The Ladies)

Catch-up

Let's see... Since my last post, erm, last month, what's been going on?

Well, first there was ANZAC Day. Here is Sarabelle with a couple band friends pre-performance...



and Grice and Elle checking out the local pride on display at the Courthouse Hotel before the parade and memorial.



Lest we forget...



Afterward we stopped by our Witness friends' house for tea. M (aka Dr. Dolittle), has a kookaburra family she has hand-fed for years. I gave it a go, hoping I would not lose an eye in the process.





Horrible photos, I know, but in my haste to get the girls down to town I left my camera behind and was forced to purchase a disposable.

Then the rollinias came in.



We have two big Rollinia mucosa trees, just outside our door. Last year the landlords came and took them all, passing a few on to us. This year they left the harvest to us and we passed a few on to them. Not many though.



The fruit tastes like a lemony vanilla custard. They're beautiful when you pop them in the fridge for a bit, but even then they don't have a very long shelf life, 2-3 days tops. I think I will go have one right now, before they go off.

Here's what happens when you leave them on the tree too long.



We have been battling the birds ever since.

(That's not a little furry animal in there peeking out by the way, those are seeds left over. And yeah, time to trim those bangs.)




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

-- Abraham Lincoln

Up to Speed

So yesterday we finally get our high-speed internet hooked up and what do we do first? Catch up on long-neglected correspondence? Check bank account balances? Search for and install necessary software updates? Upload photos for friends and family? Nope. Our priority was to download and watch the first four episodes of LOST Season 4 back to back. We ate up all our allotted high speed limit for the month in one shot and have been knocked back to a slower rate. But it was so worth it. And we still have two episodes to go before we catch up. Don't think that just because we now have to wait 17 hours for each remaining episode to download we won't do it either. At least we can use the telephone at the same time.

In the meantime I am slowwwwwly uploading bunches of photos to my Flickr account (beginning with our Christmas trip to Florida), checking account balances, and sooner or later, though later being more likely, I will get caught up on all my correspondence.

Here are some pictures to get you started...


The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre
Observe degree, priority and place.

-- William Shakespeare (Troilus and Cressida)

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

Stage Four

Five weeks flew by and now we are packing up to return to Australia. Nearly all books and most articles of clothing have been jettisoned as plans remain to fly back to Florida once we tidy up all those loose ends. We finally told the girls and it has been a very emotional 48 hours.

For those persons residing in the States, please, when you hear of our pending return do not reply with “Oh, Good!” or any variation of that thought. Though it’s tempered with sincere delight at seeing us once more, you may end up on our list of people to never speak to again. Just a friendly warning.

I have been trying to convince my head that this is the right decision (and that I ever had any real say in the outcome), but my heart tells me we are making a horrible mistake.
We are rapidly working through Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s five stages of grief, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance, but seem to have stalled out at least one step before Acceptance. It will be a long time coming I’m afraid.

Despite all my rage
I am still just a rat in a cage.

-- Billy Corgan/Smashing Pumpkins

Works for me.

Nana requested a Christmas photo this year and while the thought crossed my mind on several occasions during the past two months, I was left waiting for inspiration to strike. Fortunately, on our half-day sightseeing in Japan, the girls just happened to be wearing green, red, and white sweaters and were in a mood that they did not mind putting their arms around each other in a way that did not suggest intentional bodily harm. Voila! Christmas photo.




There are many scapegoats for our blunders, but the most popular one is Providence.

-- Mark Twain

Happy Christmas

I'm generally not a big fan of Christmas, the pagan celebration co-opted by the Church and ultimately transformed into a secular shopping spree with its greedy commercialism and schmaltzy sentimentalism...

But this year is different. It might just be the best one yet.

The bags are packed, the house is boxed. After days of lifting and straining, and in anticipation of 30 hours bent into a V with my feet up on the seat-back tray trying to get comfortable, Bee's mom, soothed my aching back with a gratis massage treatment yesterday. That was followed by a feast of pastries and candy for dinner at another friend's Not Christmas Party.

In addition to the mid-air movie fest and overnight in Japan, we are looking forward to reconnecting with friends and family, especially long-distant cousins, meeting the slew of new babies, and treating the kids to a few big surprises. After sleeping on a cot for one and a half years, I am also eagerly anticipating sleeping in my own king-sized, Tempurpedic, Tommy Bahama bed with super high-thread count sheets. Jorge will even be returning to Australia with us briefly to ensure we are safely and comfortably tucked into our new rental.

I am dashing down to the markets this morning for a few last-minute Chrissie prezzies for the rellies before we head east tomorrow.


We tend to forget that happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.

-- Frederick Keonig

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

Catch Up

Sarabelle's first public appearance with the strings ensemble last night went very well, in spite of an attack of pre-traumatic stress syndrome when Grice commented that her sister makes weird faces when she plays and the uniform she had to wear made her "look like an old lady." After the music when the group took their seats for dinner, I gave her a subtle but enthusiastic thumbs up and in reply she shook her head slowly back and forth. She confided later that she had faked it on one piece, one she had not yet learned, and her friend the cello player teased her about playing the tune so well without ever touching the strings. Only they would have known. Sarabelle is very excited because her music teacher invited her this past Friday to take up the electric bass guitar after another student dropped out. "Can you see me in a rock band, Mom!" Um, er, I hadn't really considered it, honey (even though this was always a secret fantasy of mine and even knowing the late, legendary Jaco Pastorius as a friend of friend.) Uncle M will at least be glad to have someone to jam with, and I will at least be thankful that this instrument is slightly more portable. The music teacher, who sat next to me during the remainder of last night's dinner allayed my fears slightly explaining that the instrument is part of the main orchestra and the jazz band. Okay then. Exhale.

She's been on another creative tear lately, running back and forth from practicing her double bass in her bedroom to painting in the kitchen. She made a beautiful wooden tray with dovetailed joints at school and decided to paint it in a mosaic design patterned after a skirt of mine. She would love for me to post a picture of it, and I might, if Lily Pulitzer promises not to sue us for copyright infringement.

Finally, here are some photos from the Broker's visit. Most of mine seem to be from The Blue Hole, where the swimming hole is 99% Croc Free (TM), our cave art bushwalk with Willie up near Cooktown, and the fateful excursion to Chillagoe.


I have no particular talent. I am merely inquisitive.

-- Albert Einstein

The Trip of Lifetime

It's been a while between posts, I know. We've been all over Far North Queesnland with the Broker and his crew. There are thousands of pictures and loads of good stories, including a few that everyone will no doubt laugh over a few years from now, though I was given over to an unfortunate fit of nervous, inappropriate, uncontrollable giggles right away. One had to do with a suspected case of food poisoning. Who eats seafood in the Outback? Need I say more?

Well I will.

And I wish I had pictures to show the condition of the troop carrier when we finally pulled into town, with its twin set of chunky racing stripes.

I'm sorry, I'm giggling again.

We're in the midst of moving so while my laptop and camera are here, my USB cable is there. You'll just have to use your imagination for a little longer.


Laughter is an interior convulsion, producing a distortion of the features and accompanied by inarticulate noises. It is infectious and, though intermittent, incurable.

-- Ambrose Bierce

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)

Get your motor runnin'...

Jorge is off buying a tent and a couple extra swags, while I, rather than spending time dawdling on the computer, am supposed to be washing the dog and her pet futon cover because we're all going camping.

Due to our chronic disorganization -- the school holidays are half over and we were able to get the car inspected and serviced only yesterday -- and the acute lack of hotel accomodations, and particularly ones that accept dogs, and our reluctance to dump Lulu at a kennel, and, let's face it, our budget, we are just now, all six of us, heading off for a mini, less-is-more vacation.

I'm a little nervous. I've roughed it with Jorge, and Jorge has taken the girls on several soft camping trips of his own, but I have never camped with the children.

This ought to be fun.


We should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character.

-- Henry David Thoreau

Where the bloody hell are you?

We've been here over a year now, I know, hard to believe, and while it's beginning to really feel like home, there's just one thing that's missing: company. Growing up in Florida there was always someone down from up north wanting to stay in your house and swim in your pool and take them to Disney World and we miss that (mostly because we always scored their leftover ride tickets and had a four-inch thick stack banded together ready for the next trip, but still...) Sure, people say they're coming to see you, and insist they've always wanted to go to Australia, and if they know us at all they'd know they better hurry up and take advantage of our hospitality before we up and move again, but so far, nobody. I'll admit, the airfare is a little pricey and the trip itself requires incredible endurance (like the poor perfectly poised supermodel and her escort who had to sit next to me, rumpled and smelly with grungy cranky kids crawling all over me during one particularly awful fourteen-hour stint -- she only moved to spritz water and apply moisturizer to her hands and face and somehow managed to arrive in her white linen suit without one stain or crease.) Break the cost down by the number of hours involved in traveling and you're probably getting a fairly good deal, but even with those economics, actually getting someone to commit to make the journey has been fruitless.



Until now!

My former boss, our real estate broker, is bringing his new companion and her three kids along for a two-week visit in August. He wants a real Aussie family experience, though staying with us is out of the question unless camping in the backyard appeals, so we are eagerly making arrangements to accommodate them. When he said to his friend, "If I know Jorge, he's probably living in some tiny little place..." he was absolutely spot on. Although in our defense, it is nearly twice the square footage of the island.


Every man is like the company he is wont to keep.

-- Euripides

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