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Around the house

Bad luck birthday

Yalkula Station

Battle of the Bands


The photograph itself doesn't interest me. I want only to capture a minute part of reality.

-- Henri Cartier-Bresson

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)

Shut down

Tuesday’s flight was rescheduled for Wednesday. Wednesday’s rescheduled flight was set to go out at 11:00 AM. Then 2:00 PM. And then 7:00 PM. When I finally heard from Jorge, calling, I assumed, to say he had safely arrived at his destination, he was still at the airport. They were now estimating a 9:00 PM departure. He was going to forget it and head home. Two hours later, when he had not arrived, trying to discover whether or not they did indeed take off, I had to go through a ridiculous series of phone calls. The airline 800 number is only active Monday through Friday 8:30 - 5:00. No help there. A call to their reservation service, handled through another major airline, produced a drone who would not tell me whether or not the flight had actually left the airport due to “privacy policy,” despite this information being readily available online and I was stuck on the phone with her to ensure that at least, with only dial-up, I would hear the call waiting signal if Jorge tried to reach us. Another call to a slightly more helpful rep, who placed her own call to the actual desk agent at the airport, who in turn supposedly contacted the flight control tower, and relayed the information that they now expected the flight to depart the airport at midnight. Alas, four of their six aircraft were grounded for repairs, one was grounded due to inclement weather, and the only operable plane was coming in on a flat tire. We apologize for any inconvenience!

This morning, after 8:30 AM, I was told they flew out last night at 7:40 PM and the return flight, arriving at 2:00 PM today, was expected to be on time.

Right.

Meanwhile yesterday, the bus never arrived to pick up the girls in the morning for school, our local bank branch was closed because of staff shortages, the attorney was late coming back from lunch, other key airline employees were absent from work, and two of our favorite eateries were closed, all supposedly on account of the weather, yet Jorge and I were both able to navigate numerous landlslides, flooded areas, and road washouts, and Jorge reached the airport via time-consuming, labryinthine detours. Makes you wonder how much of our current weather crisis is legitimate and how much an excuse to shirk responsibility.

Phone and internet service are prohibitively expensive and internet service is still predicated on usage and contracts with heavy cancellation penalties. Even the fastest connections are not capable of keeping up with the rest of technologically advanced society.

It’s pretty third-world here, for a developed country. How do businesses manage to get work done?


Without continual growth and progress, such words as improvement, achievement, and success have no meaning.

-- Benjamin Franklin

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

Quarantined

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")

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

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

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

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

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

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)

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

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

"Cheese"

Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

-- Thich Nhat Hanh

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)

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)

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

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