Posts
In between garage sales, downpours, packing, a visit from Jorge, and moving, Grice and Elle picked up what seems to be chicken pox. Nevermind that they had both received the double varicella vaccines early on and had only a 5% chance of ever developing the disease to begin with; nevermind that no one in either the elementary or high school or entire town has heard of another case, they both got spotty and scabby and the doctor and our other medical friend agreed that it was probably a very light case of the pox. I thought they were only bug bites. Elle was not the least bit inconvenienced by her 'illness' and Grice got a letter from the doctor excusing her from school for the entire week, so she was quite pleased.
Look, look, see, see,
Coming down the lane,
Here comes Scott,
Here comes Dot,
Here comes Chicken Jane.
(from "Between the Lions")
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Little Johnny wants to play.
I remember when I was in high school how exciting it was to listen to the radio early in the morning waiting for the snow report.
...blah, blah, blah... (newscaster starts listing outlying areas, the ones people always name when you recognize that accent and ask where they're from and they say "Boston" and then you dig a little deeper and ask whereabouts, and they mention their town's name and then you both know that's most definitely not Boston, just some wussy, wannabe suburb) Boston... quiet now, here it comes... All Schools, No School! (newscaster continues listing insignificant bedroom communities as you either head back to bed or over to the cousins' to hang out)...
Well it was not exactly like that today. Except for the exciting part.
We were up, washed, dressed, fed, brushed, in the car and on our way to the bus. Wow! Look how high the water is! Oh my God! Spear [Creek] is right up the bridge! It's on the road! I wonder how high Rifle [Creek] is? Whoa! Amazing! What about Bushy...?
A few more twists and turns before a line of stopped cars with hazard lights flashing alerted us to the fact that Bushy had most assuredly "gone ovah." There was one loud groan from Sarabelle, who can't bear to miss school, two loud cheers from Grice and Bee (who had slept over), and a "Cool!" from Elle. We were 99% of the way there, we could see the principal's house at the elementary school where the bus stop is, but it was not meant to be. We watched someone tow a car off the bridge that had attempted a crossing and had been swept sideways; chatted with another high schooler about to enjoy a day off, caught up with his mother and debated whether or not our vehicles could make it through the .5 meter water and the accuracy of that roadside depth gauge; and took a wade a little way out onto the flooded bridge before turning the truck around and heading back toward the house.
If this had been South Florida, people would have been cursing out the Army Corps of Engineers or the water management district honchos or their local municipality's water and sewer crews or the DOT, wild because they can't get to where they have to go and wondering who is responsible for this fiasco?! But here? If you can't make it across you either sit tight and wait it out there, or turn around and wait it out somewhere else, preferably at the nearest pub.
After a day of errands in Cairns, accessible by another very wet but more navigable route, the water receded enough to get Bee across Bushy and back home. With more heavy rain expected this evening -- we're sitting beneath a huge monsoonal trough -- Sarabelle opted to stay overnight at Bee's house guaranteeing she does not miss another day of school tomorrow. Grice preferred to return home with me and Elle and take her chances.
Nature, time, and patience are the three great physicians.
-- H. G. Bohn
...blah, blah, blah... (newscaster starts listing outlying areas, the ones people always name when you recognize that accent and ask where they're from and they say "Boston" and then you dig a little deeper and ask whereabouts, and they mention their town's name and then you both know that's most definitely not Boston, just some wussy, wannabe suburb) Boston... quiet now, here it comes... All Schools, No School! (newscaster continues listing insignificant bedroom communities as you either head back to bed or over to the cousins' to hang out)...
Well it was not exactly like that today. Except for the exciting part.
We were up, washed, dressed, fed, brushed, in the car and on our way to the bus. Wow! Look how high the water is! Oh my God! Spear [Creek] is right up the bridge! It's on the road! I wonder how high Rifle [Creek] is? Whoa! Amazing! What about Bushy...?
A few more twists and turns before a line of stopped cars with hazard lights flashing alerted us to the fact that Bushy had most assuredly "gone ovah." There was one loud groan from Sarabelle, who can't bear to miss school, two loud cheers from Grice and Bee (who had slept over), and a "Cool!" from Elle. We were 99% of the way there, we could see the principal's house at the elementary school where the bus stop is, but it was not meant to be. We watched someone tow a car off the bridge that had attempted a crossing and had been swept sideways; chatted with another high schooler about to enjoy a day off, caught up with his mother and debated whether or not our vehicles could make it through the .5 meter water and the accuracy of that roadside depth gauge; and took a wade a little way out onto the flooded bridge before turning the truck around and heading back toward the house.
If this had been South Florida, people would have been cursing out the Army Corps of Engineers or the water management district honchos or their local municipality's water and sewer crews or the DOT, wild because they can't get to where they have to go and wondering who is responsible for this fiasco?! But here? If you can't make it across you either sit tight and wait it out there, or turn around and wait it out somewhere else, preferably at the nearest pub.
After a day of errands in Cairns, accessible by another very wet but more navigable route, the water receded enough to get Bee across Bushy and back home. With more heavy rain expected this evening -- we're sitting beneath a huge monsoonal trough -- Sarabelle opted to stay overnight at Bee's house guaranteeing she does not miss another day of school tomorrow. Grice preferred to return home with me and Elle and take her chances.
Nature, time, and patience are the three great physicians.
-- H. G. Bohn
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Come again another day
It rained last night.
I mean, it rained.
It rained so hard an inexplicable panic gripped me -- me, who has been through hurricanes, violent storms at sea, and even a blizzard. I don't really know what it was that worried me so. Was the roof going to collapse from the sheer volume of water pounding down on it? It sounded like it, but this house has been through a fair number of wet seasons. Was the water going to come up into the house? We're up too high living in a stilt house or what they call a high-set. Would we be stranded here on the property? I love solitude and there's enough food and books to last us a few days. Would we be stranded and lose power and phone service and a crazy old hermit crawl out of the bush and break into our house and try to kill us and then me, the kids, pets, and car would all be swept away in a flash flood as we tried to escape? Something like that...
So I sat up most of the night reading -- Deepak Chopra's fictionalized biography of Buddha, which, surprisingly offered zero comfort -- waiting for the rain to stop, working up the nerve to run out and pull my car back under the house where it belonged and hoping the windows were all rolled up tight.
Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.
-- Buddha
I mean, it rained.
It rained so hard an inexplicable panic gripped me -- me, who has been through hurricanes, violent storms at sea, and even a blizzard. I don't really know what it was that worried me so. Was the roof going to collapse from the sheer volume of water pounding down on it? It sounded like it, but this house has been through a fair number of wet seasons. Was the water going to come up into the house? We're up too high living in a stilt house or what they call a high-set. Would we be stranded here on the property? I love solitude and there's enough food and books to last us a few days. Would we be stranded and lose power and phone service and a crazy old hermit crawl out of the bush and break into our house and try to kill us and then me, the kids, pets, and car would all be swept away in a flash flood as we tried to escape? Something like that...
So I sat up most of the night reading -- Deepak Chopra's fictionalized biography of Buddha, which, surprisingly offered zero comfort -- waiting for the rain to stop, working up the nerve to run out and pull my car back under the house where it belonged and hoping the windows were all rolled up tight.
Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.
-- Buddha
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Thinking On My Feet, or, rather, Pacing the Floor
Our lease on this house is up today and I advised the owners of the other house on five acres that we would not be moving into it since Jorge is not coming back and until last night I was not sure where we would be come February 1. Needless to say, I have had a few sleepless nights. But yesterday afternoon the landlord’s agents finally gave me the green light to stay one more month, giving me time to liquidate and ship the balance of nearly all our belongings, and we also heard back from our old landlords at the flash, mountainside fully-furnished, easy-care cottage who are willing to have us back for a time. The only sticking point with the old landlords was the dog, not that we have one, we got Lulu while we were staying at their place initially, but whether or not she had been fixed yet -- don’t want to be attracting dingoes or the neighbor’s pig dogs -- and coincidentally we have Lulu scheduled at the vet's this morning to be spayed and get her travel requirements, rabies vaccination and microchipping, taken care of. Funny how things work out like that, eh?
So we will be completely mobile, no furniture, household items, extra clothes, tools, or tons of books to weigh us down; just what we can fit in our suitcases and trunks and jump on a plane with, back in much closer to town. With all that thinking on my feet over and done, I may begin to drag them a little now, especially as the time to make our application for citizenship is right around the corner...
In the meantime, Sarabelle and Grice are temporarily back to school (how else would they get to see all their friends and say goodbye?) Sarabelle is still adamantly for staying, Grice is still ambivalent but at least wanted the opportunity to ride the big luxury tour coach (subcontracted and passing for a school bus) down the mountain to get a small taste of high school. Elle looks forward to returning to Florida where there’s television, video games, and Disney World.
No period of history has ever been great or ever can be that does not act on some sort of high, idealistic motives, and idealism in our time has been shoved aside, and we are paying the penalty for it.
-- Alfred North Whitehead
So we will be completely mobile, no furniture, household items, extra clothes, tools, or tons of books to weigh us down; just what we can fit in our suitcases and trunks and jump on a plane with, back in much closer to town. With all that thinking on my feet over and done, I may begin to drag them a little now, especially as the time to make our application for citizenship is right around the corner...
In the meantime, Sarabelle and Grice are temporarily back to school (how else would they get to see all their friends and say goodbye?) Sarabelle is still adamantly for staying, Grice is still ambivalent but at least wanted the opportunity to ride the big luxury tour coach (subcontracted and passing for a school bus) down the mountain to get a small taste of high school. Elle looks forward to returning to Florida where there’s television, video games, and Disney World.
No period of history has ever been great or ever can be that does not act on some sort of high, idealistic motives, and idealism in our time has been shoved aside, and we are paying the penalty for it.
-- Alfred North Whitehead
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Australia Day
Initially I wasn’t really sure what this day was all about. It comes at the end of the summer break just before the kids return to school, and though it always arrives on January 26, Monday is an official day off for everybody, banks and businesses closed, so it’s a bit like Labor Day except that they have their own Labour Day in May. There is some flag waving involved along the lines of the Fourth of July, though they already have their own independence day of sorts, Federation Day, January 1. The roots of the celebration commemorate the first landing (or the first invasion to the Aboriginal residents) so it’s a bit like Thanksgiving too, including the emphasis on sports with Maria Sharapova winning the Australian Open in the living room and a ball game on the radio outside, but without the turkey and fuss.
We spent the day with a mixed bag of friends, old ones, new ones, with the Aussies outnumbering the Kiwis, Yanks, and Brits by only one, celebrating our hosts’ son’s birthday as well as the birthday of Em, Bee’s mom, grilling chicken and fish kebabs and snags on the barbie, drinking champagne and homebrewed ginger beer, swatting flies (“...it wouldn’t be Australia without the flies,” according to one partygoer), laughing a lot, admiring our host’s Southern Cross tattoo, one I’m sure he sported prior to January 26, though we had never noticed, and wrapping things up with an impromptu game of cricket.
That’s Australia Day.
Every tradition grows more venerable -- the more remote its origin, the more confused that origin is. The reverence due to it increases from generation to generation. The tradition finally becomes holy and inspires awe.
-- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
We spent the day with a mixed bag of friends, old ones, new ones, with the Aussies outnumbering the Kiwis, Yanks, and Brits by only one, celebrating our hosts’ son’s birthday as well as the birthday of Em, Bee’s mom, grilling chicken and fish kebabs and snags on the barbie, drinking champagne and homebrewed ginger beer, swatting flies (“...it wouldn’t be Australia without the flies,” according to one partygoer), laughing a lot, admiring our host’s Southern Cross tattoo, one I’m sure he sported prior to January 26, though we had never noticed, and wrapping things up with an impromptu game of cricket.
That’s Australia Day.
Every tradition grows more venerable -- the more remote its origin, the more confused that origin is. The reverence due to it increases from generation to generation. The tradition finally becomes holy and inspires awe.
-- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
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
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
Thursday, December 20, 2007
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
There are many scapegoats for our blunders, but the most popular one is Providence.
-- Mark Twain
Saturday, December 15, 2007
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
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
Friday, December 07, 2007
Pomp and Circumstance
"Miss," the principal, hands Grice her diploma.
Bee receives her diploma and "Sir," the teacher, calls Grice back for the flowers he forgot to give her.
"...and the winner of the $200 bursary from the Returned and Services League for top female student is..."
Grice with Mr. H, head of the local RSL and our former landlord.
A mother's pride, a father's joy.
-- Sir Walter Scott (Rokeby)
Bee receives her diploma and "Sir," the teacher, calls Grice back for the flowers he forgot to give her.
"...and the winner of the $200 bursary from the Returned and Services League for top female student is..."
Grice with Mr. H, head of the local RSL and our former landlord.
A mother's pride, a father's joy.
-- Sir Walter Scott (Rokeby)
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Stress Tests
Opening a whole can of worms here, but that's what I do best, I will now explain the reasons you haven't heard from me, or in the case of recent communications, heard back from me:
-- Emergency room visit (mine), that because of a family history rife with heart attacks, blood clots, aortic aneuryms, and COPD, turned into an overnight observation. Being on my own now, with Jorge back in the States, friends were quick to step in and juggle child and dog care responsibilities. Not to worry, I am hale and hearty, though they have recommended a stress test just to cover all bases.
While I was being examined, the doctor let Elle sit in her office and draw with a special mummy pen brought back from her recent Egyptian vacation. Elle floored her by writing her name in hieroglyphics. The next morning the doctor brought in a scarab necklace as a little present for Elle.
-- Meeting the Overseer, the big gun from my Witness friend's organization who annually travels to all congregations to assure they toe the line, at a special appointment arranged by my well-intentioned friend to respond to my doubts, questions, and evidence contrary to their beliefs. Her concerns were unrelieved as the Overseer failed to provide satisfactory answers. No Kool-Aid was served, Mom.
-- Emergency room visit (Elle) after a dish-washing dance party in the kitchen turned ugly. She doesn't like me to call it 'breakdancing,' and she didn't in fact break anything, but there were some wild aikido-like rolls and lots of spins. Her foot slid under the old, rusty fridge and sliced her ankle open right across the top of the joint. Not much blood, but ligaments and bone were clearly visible. No stitches were involved, they used glue and tape to seal it up with the caveat that if it opened up again within the next 24 hours, she would need to come back, probably for a stitch or two. Is tetanus one of the regular childhood immunizations in Florida?
Our thoughts were diverted on the way to the hospital when we spotted a fluffy little bunny running alongside us down the driveway. So cute, until it turned abruptly into our path: AwwwwwwaaaaaaaAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE! The bunny miraculously escaped flattening and the girls' response provoked gasping laughter for the next several kilometers.
The most frightening events of the night were the drive home in a squall, hoping we would not be washed off the unlit, unguardrailed road into a gully or run over any mysterious hitchhikers as talk turned (unwisely) to horror movies, and wondering if I had remembered to turn off the water in the sink in our hasty exit from the house.
-- Meeting with new landlords to work out moving and property maintenance details and a trip into town for boxes to start packing household items.
-- Tennis tournament that Elle, previously in the lead, was now only tearfully allowed to watch, being sidelined by her injuries. Supposedly. She took advantage of my attention managing the matches to run around and entertain the other children with various acrobatic feats.
-- Emergency room visit (Elle, again) after her ankle wound re-opened. Still no stitches, heavier applications of glue and tape. Next time I'll just visit an office supply store.
The bow too tensely strung is easily broken.
-- Publius Syrus
-- Emergency room visit (mine), that because of a family history rife with heart attacks, blood clots, aortic aneuryms, and COPD, turned into an overnight observation. Being on my own now, with Jorge back in the States, friends were quick to step in and juggle child and dog care responsibilities. Not to worry, I am hale and hearty, though they have recommended a stress test just to cover all bases.
While I was being examined, the doctor let Elle sit in her office and draw with a special mummy pen brought back from her recent Egyptian vacation. Elle floored her by writing her name in hieroglyphics. The next morning the doctor brought in a scarab necklace as a little present for Elle.
-- Meeting the Overseer, the big gun from my Witness friend's organization who annually travels to all congregations to assure they toe the line, at a special appointment arranged by my well-intentioned friend to respond to my doubts, questions, and evidence contrary to their beliefs. Her concerns were unrelieved as the Overseer failed to provide satisfactory answers. No Kool-Aid was served, Mom.
-- Emergency room visit (Elle) after a dish-washing dance party in the kitchen turned ugly. She doesn't like me to call it 'breakdancing,' and she didn't in fact break anything, but there were some wild aikido-like rolls and lots of spins. Her foot slid under the old, rusty fridge and sliced her ankle open right across the top of the joint. Not much blood, but ligaments and bone were clearly visible. No stitches were involved, they used glue and tape to seal it up with the caveat that if it opened up again within the next 24 hours, she would need to come back, probably for a stitch or two. Is tetanus one of the regular childhood immunizations in Florida?
Our thoughts were diverted on the way to the hospital when we spotted a fluffy little bunny running alongside us down the driveway. So cute, until it turned abruptly into our path: AwwwwwwaaaaaaaAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE! The bunny miraculously escaped flattening and the girls' response provoked gasping laughter for the next several kilometers.
The most frightening events of the night were the drive home in a squall, hoping we would not be washed off the unlit, unguardrailed road into a gully or run over any mysterious hitchhikers as talk turned (unwisely) to horror movies, and wondering if I had remembered to turn off the water in the sink in our hasty exit from the house.
-- Meeting with new landlords to work out moving and property maintenance details and a trip into town for boxes to start packing household items.
-- Tennis tournament that Elle, previously in the lead, was now only tearfully allowed to watch, being sidelined by her injuries. Supposedly. She took advantage of my attention managing the matches to run around and entertain the other children with various acrobatic feats.
-- Emergency room visit (Elle, again) after her ankle wound re-opened. Still no stitches, heavier applications of glue and tape. Next time I'll just visit an office supply store.
The bow too tensely strung is easily broken.
-- Publius Syrus
Sunday, November 25, 2007
While most of you were snorkling down heaps of turkey, forty-two side dishes, and pie then lolling in front of the tv in a near coma watching football and spending the entire next day in a spending frenzy, or adamantly refusing to shop, we were almost too busy to notice that one of our favorite holidays was being celebrated on the other side of the world. And, no, for those of you who haven't asked yet and just aren't sure, Australians don't celebrate Thanksgiving. They didn't have happy Pilgrims and helpful Indians. They had convicts. And I'm pretty sure they were none too happy to be here, though after their first year surviving the harsh land they may have been treated to an extra bowl of gruel and a beating.
We had a sleepover with Sarabelle's high school buddy. Yes, on a school night, Mom. There were tennis lessons and beauty appointments (not mine as anyone we visit at Christmas time will attest) and another tennis tournament. I know, I swore them off after the last one. But due to my fever-induced grouchiness and non-responsiveness at our last committee meeting, the extra surprise bonus two-week tourney was foisted on my friend who was overwhelmed and underenthused, so I offered to give her a hand setting up. I knew I would at least be treated to a top-notch cup of coffee. M never skimps and I am not even the least bit insulted when she drops by for a cup and brings her own coffee and plunger pot. Our kids, her daughter, Bee, and Elle, weren't interested in playing in Saturday's novice doubles until they got there and then changed their minds. Elle is currently in the lead so I know what I'll be doing next Saturday. Then there was a bike rally fundraiser for the school's P&C. The kids hoofed it over eleven hilly kilometers around a beautiful country loop road back to the school where they then enjoyed a barbie and a water slide. The older girls opted to pass on Sunday's open doubles and we went for a dip in the creek instead. Last night there was another sleepover with Bee, and here we are. So you can see, things are really winding down...
Bee and Grice ready to go. Bee won the Brightest Outfit prize.
Elle and the littlies prepare to head out.
Elle coming up Heartbreak Hill...
...on the home stretch.
Bee and Grice determined to come in last, and nearly succeeding.
The Waterslide
The purpose of a liberal education is to make one's mind a pleasant place to spend one's leisure.
-- Joseph Joubert
We had a sleepover with Sarabelle's high school buddy. Yes, on a school night, Mom. There were tennis lessons and beauty appointments (not mine as anyone we visit at Christmas time will attest) and another tennis tournament. I know, I swore them off after the last one. But due to my fever-induced grouchiness and non-responsiveness at our last committee meeting, the extra surprise bonus two-week tourney was foisted on my friend who was overwhelmed and underenthused, so I offered to give her a hand setting up. I knew I would at least be treated to a top-notch cup of coffee. M never skimps and I am not even the least bit insulted when she drops by for a cup and brings her own coffee and plunger pot. Our kids, her daughter, Bee, and Elle, weren't interested in playing in Saturday's novice doubles until they got there and then changed their minds. Elle is currently in the lead so I know what I'll be doing next Saturday. Then there was a bike rally fundraiser for the school's P&C. The kids hoofed it over eleven hilly kilometers around a beautiful country loop road back to the school where they then enjoyed a barbie and a water slide. The older girls opted to pass on Sunday's open doubles and we went for a dip in the creek instead. Last night there was another sleepover with Bee, and here we are. So you can see, things are really winding down...
Bee and Grice ready to go. Bee won the Brightest Outfit prize.
Elle and the littlies prepare to head out.
Elle coming up Heartbreak Hill...
...on the home stretch.
Bee and Grice determined to come in last, and nearly succeeding.
The Waterslide
The purpose of a liberal education is to make one's mind a pleasant place to spend one's leisure.
-- Joseph Joubert
Thursday, November 22, 2007
"Cheese"
Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.
-- Thich Nhat Hanh
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Economics Lesson
Elle discussing loose teeth and currency exchange rates over the phone with her father: "They're really wobbly! And when they fall out I'm going to save them and bring them back to the States...because I'll get more money!"
-- It is thrifty to prepare today for the wants of tomorrow.
Aesop (The Ant and the Grasshopper)
-- It is thrifty to prepare today for the wants of tomorrow.
Aesop (The Ant and the Grasshopper)
Friday, November 09, 2007
FYI
I'm not insinuating anybody here needs to be made aware of this particular information, but it might just give you some insight into why we do what we do.
I wish he would explain his explanation.
-- Lord Byron (Don Juan)
I wish he would explain his explanation.
-- Lord Byron (Don Juan)
Done
The Melbourne Cup, "the celebration that stops a nation," or, the celebration that ends my obligation as I have come to think of it, has come and gone. I survived the organization and execution of our final fundraiser for the tennis club, bringing in a good chunk of money, and am back to official slacker status. I wasn't inspired to bet on any horses this time around, only Black Tom jumped out at me as I penned his name across 30 or so sweeps boards, but not enough so that I was motivated to plunk down any money, which was good because he didn't come close to winning. Elle won $20 from a Calcutta raffle and then immediately spent $19.99 for a book on Egyptology at the school's book fair when we arrived to pick up Grice. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Jorge heads back in two days, and we are working to get everything wrapped up and settled before he goes. So what do we go and do? We decide to move again. The cattle station is comfortable but it's a long haul into town (and fuel is getting pretty dear) and inhibits our participation in various social events. I would also feel less apprehensive about Jorge being away for who-knows-how-long knowing that we had plenty of friends nearby for support. Things do not become available for rent very often back in Green Acres, the verdant tableland area we spent our first year in, but we've been hearing Doris Day in our heads for years, and once again, things have fallen neatly into place.
Immigrant neighbors with three-of-a-kind children who travel in some of the same musical, student council circles we do and who share a strong sense of wanderlust are packing up and moving over the Christmas holiday to another part of the state for a new job and adventures. They have a house and shed surrounded by rainforest on five and a half neat, mostly level acres with vegetable gardens, fruit trees, a creek, worm farm, and chook house, plus a cubby house, giant tree swing, and flying fox for the kids, and are not concerned as much about rent money as having the "right people" keep an eye on their place. We went over to take a look, thinking that maybe it would just be better to stay put after all, just make do with what we've got, but it was too perfect a fit. They're thinking they will be gone from two to five years and invited us to stay as long as we like during that period. Close enough to cut our drive time to town in half and with the bus picking up right at the end of the road (next year living outside the boundary we would be paying for two students to take the bus -- I estimated over $700 -- plus still have to drive them 15 minutes each way to the bus stop) it will be very convenient. With solar heated water, rain water tanks, and cheap rent we'll save plenty of money. They might even have DSL available there...
Friends have already volunteered and begun making plans to get us moved when we get back from our holiday and the landlords have said, take your time, move in whenever, we'll give you the keys before we leave.
Que sera, sera,
Whatever will be, will be;
The future's not ours, to see,
Que sera, sera,
What will be, will be.
-- Jay Livingston and Ray Evans
Jorge heads back in two days, and we are working to get everything wrapped up and settled before he goes. So what do we go and do? We decide to move again. The cattle station is comfortable but it's a long haul into town (and fuel is getting pretty dear) and inhibits our participation in various social events. I would also feel less apprehensive about Jorge being away for who-knows-how-long knowing that we had plenty of friends nearby for support. Things do not become available for rent very often back in Green Acres, the verdant tableland area we spent our first year in, but we've been hearing Doris Day in our heads for years, and once again, things have fallen neatly into place.
Immigrant neighbors with three-of-a-kind children who travel in some of the same musical, student council circles we do and who share a strong sense of wanderlust are packing up and moving over the Christmas holiday to another part of the state for a new job and adventures. They have a house and shed surrounded by rainforest on five and a half neat, mostly level acres with vegetable gardens, fruit trees, a creek, worm farm, and chook house, plus a cubby house, giant tree swing, and flying fox for the kids, and are not concerned as much about rent money as having the "right people" keep an eye on their place. We went over to take a look, thinking that maybe it would just be better to stay put after all, just make do with what we've got, but it was too perfect a fit. They're thinking they will be gone from two to five years and invited us to stay as long as we like during that period. Close enough to cut our drive time to town in half and with the bus picking up right at the end of the road (next year living outside the boundary we would be paying for two students to take the bus -- I estimated over $700 -- plus still have to drive them 15 minutes each way to the bus stop) it will be very convenient. With solar heated water, rain water tanks, and cheap rent we'll save plenty of money. They might even have DSL available there...
Friends have already volunteered and begun making plans to get us moved when we get back from our holiday and the landlords have said, take your time, move in whenever, we'll give you the keys before we leave.
Que sera, sera,
Whatever will be, will be;
The future's not ours, to see,
Que sera, sera,
What will be, will be.
-- Jay Livingston and Ray Evans
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Fun
Club Champ
Grice driving on the runway (When I discover the hiding place of the snake I may need a back-up driver.)
Boat ride to Snapper Island
Fun With Fruit, or One Hot Tomahto. Concept by Sarabelle.
(B&W photos shamelessly lifted from Vanity Fair)
Let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent.
-- Plato
Grice driving on the runway (When I discover the hiding place of the snake I may need a back-up driver.)
Boat ride to Snapper Island
Fun With Fruit, or One Hot Tomahto. Concept by Sarabelle.
(B&W photos shamelessly lifted from Vanity Fair)
Let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent.
-- Plato
Cough, cough, hack, hack
Sunburn, fatigue, fever, blisters. Those are just my main excuses for coming in dead last in the women's open. I got the chills in the midst of the finals and couldn't tell if I was coming down with the flu or heat stroke. It was probably a bit of both. And learning today at the trophy presentation that the boys' finals has to be rescheduled for Friday because one of the players is sick and that I am now also in charge of that event, well, let's just say my enthusiasm was greatly diminished. When the coach suggested organizing one more tournament and sausage sizzle before the end of the year, I'm pretty sure I just growled. Fortunately my friend and fellow tennis committee sucker invited me to her house afterward for a cup of coffee, throat lozenges, a large aloe plant, and some beautiful cut flowers from the garden.
Sarabelle ended up girls' open and one half of the girls' doubles champ, and Grice and her partner were girls' doubles runners-up. Sarabelle will go down in history as the first girls' winner in the history of the club, her name engraved on a lovely plaque for ever and ever, amen.
Jorge missed all the festivities staying home to organize the storage room downstairs, the room where he and Elle found the four-foot, freshly-shed, venomous snake skin just outside the door. No sign of our visitor. I am not looking forward to digging through the suitcases when it's time to pack.
A little inaccuracy sometimes saves tons of explanation.
-- Saki [Hector Hugh Munro] The Square Egg
Sarabelle ended up girls' open and one half of the girls' doubles champ, and Grice and her partner were girls' doubles runners-up. Sarabelle will go down in history as the first girls' winner in the history of the club, her name engraved on a lovely plaque for ever and ever, amen.
Jorge missed all the festivities staying home to organize the storage room downstairs, the room where he and Elle found the four-foot, freshly-shed, venomous snake skin just outside the door. No sign of our visitor. I am not looking forward to digging through the suitcases when it's time to pack.
A little inaccuracy sometimes saves tons of explanation.
-- Saki [Hector Hugh Munro] The Square Egg
Thursday, October 25, 2007
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
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
Sunday, September 30, 2007
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)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Trauma and Drama
Today, the first day of the two-week school holiday, we had our first blood and guts trip to the emergency room. Not bad for three kids in fifteen years, if you don’t count that one late night hospital visit for stomach x-rays when we found a two-year old Elle gagging on a Lego she had swiped unlawfully from her sisters’ room and refused to say whether she had swallowed another one or not…
Sarabelle was out speeding around on the runway with Grice’s bike, standing up coasting, when the chain snapped and she wiped out on the very sharp sealed gravel. It was not particularly bloody, road rash from her head to her feet, but the wound on her knee was gaping and meaty looking.
I was very proud of the way Grice and Elle stood by their sister, helping her up the stairs, retrieving the broken bike, even insisting they stay with her in the treatment room (at least until I noticed Grice had gone white and was on the verge of fainting during the suturing procedure.)
Eight stitches and a tetanus shot later, we are home again.
Blood is thicker than water.
-- John Ray (English Proverbs)
Sarabelle was out speeding around on the runway with Grice’s bike, standing up coasting, when the chain snapped and she wiped out on the very sharp sealed gravel. It was not particularly bloody, road rash from her head to her feet, but the wound on her knee was gaping and meaty looking.
I was very proud of the way Grice and Elle stood by their sister, helping her up the stairs, retrieving the broken bike, even insisting they stay with her in the treatment room (at least until I noticed Grice had gone white and was on the verge of fainting during the suturing procedure.)
Eight stitches and a tetanus shot later, we are home again.
Blood is thicker than water.
-- John Ray (English Proverbs)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)