Totally Australian, Mate!

This is a close-up of part of Sarabelle's English assignment to create an ad campaign for an established product. Her team took its inspiration from the controversy over a private consortium's bid to take over QANTAS, Australia's iconic airline.

See how many other Australian icons you can identify.


Ah, well, I suppose it has come to this. Such is life.

-- Edward "Ned" Kelly

Tennis, anyone?

When Sarabelle wanted to get back into tennis, though we have a perfectly good court just down the road at the park, the only organized events and lessons available were 30 minutes down the mountain. I inquired into the possibility of private lessons with the coach who teaches primary school students up here before classes on the school's court. It turned out he has been trying to get a formal club going up here for some time and before I knew it, I was secretary of the tennis club, and Jorge handyman emeritus. At first Sarabelle was a little put-off by Coach A's technique after the kinder, gentler, friend-of-the-family British coach she had in Florida. Coach A is Australian. I must say his style, loud, commanding, demanding, and funny, is a good motivator and her skills are definitely improving. He got me playing, even with my preference for sedentary activities, first as a shill to attract other adults to the evening lessons, and now because I enjoy it. I might actually be able to play without looking like a complete ass. One of these days. Maybe.

Our second multi-week, mixed doubles junior tournament wrapped up yesterday. Sarabelle placed second runner-up. She has been invited to join the team that will compete against a group from the Cairns area, and has accepted the challenge to enter a regional tournament in conjunction with the resort town's spring carnivale festivities.

Here is my hillbilly eldest daughter receiving her award barefoot. She forgot her sneakers in the big rush to leave the house. No worries though, only about one-fourth of the kids wear shoes when they play.



Grice, a natural but disinterested player, made it through the three-week event, but then bowed out of yesterday's later matches with the legitimate excuse of ill health. (It's just a cold, Mom.)

Elle, as they say here, couldn't give a stuff about tennis and besides she had found her own trophy, someone else's discarded ten-year old soccer statuette, on a trip with her dad a few weeks back to the Refuse Tip -- that's the dump, not advice to serving staff or the task a demolitions expert performs when rehabilitiating an old explosive device -- and was perfectly satisfied with that. But after seeing the fun her sisters, especially reluctant Grice, and her former schoolmates were having, she decided to start taking lessons and to participate in the tournament as well. The only problem was that in the last junior tournament, right before the Christmas break, she had been competing against the B group of novice players. None of those kids signed up this time, so she was playing doubles (which if you were her partner was really like playing singles against a doubles team) with the advanced kids 4-9 years her senior. The coach decided at the beginning of the event she would get an Encouragement Award just for participating. I kept mum about it. The trophies came out much bigger than we expected and when the kids saw them they wondered if these were display trophies that would only have their names engraved on and would sit enshrined in a case somewhere like a holy relic; they could not believe they got to take these home. Elle was in such awe of the presentation table contents she did not believe me, lowly secretary that I am, when I said the winners would keep these. When the coach presented her with her very own gold colored plasticky prize, she whispered something to him to which he smiled and replied, "Yes, forever!" She reckons it's worth about 5,000 dollars. She's also been invited to play on the junior junior squad which will play against a team from the resort town, and has readily accepted.




We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
His present and your pains we thank you for:
When we have march'd our rackets to these balls,
We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
With chaces. And we understand him well,
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.
We never valued this poor seat of England;
And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common
That men are merriest when they are from home.
But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state,
Be like a king and show my sail of greatness
When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
For that I have laid by my majesty
And plodded like a man for working-days,
But I will rise there with so full a glory
That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his
Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows
Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands;
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
And some are yet ungotten and unborn
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
But this lies all within the will of God,
To whom I do appeal; and in whose name
Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on,
To venge me as I may and to put forth
My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.
Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.

-- William Shakespeare (Henry V)

Blind-sided

After I wrote a very pleasant, "Thanks, but no thanks" response for the position of the primary school's P&C (Parent and Citizen) President, Jorge and I attended the annual general meeting to participate in the election of a new board. My heart was light. I was off the hook.

Until sealed written nominations for the position of Vice-President were opened.

Me.

Speechless, someone suggested I take a moment to review the Help! I've Been Elected P&C Vice-President booklet listing the responsibilities of VP, which I eagerly grabbed, not truly considering, stalling, and finding a convenient hiding place for my burning red face.

They proceeded to open sealed nominations for Secretary.

Me, again.

By now my face was magenta.

Repeating the mantra in my head: I'm-homeschooling-my-daughter-I'm-already-secretary-of-the-tennis-club-I'm-homeschooling-my-daughter... I politely declined to the large group of people around the table staring at me, and stuck to my guns even after a very awkward, painfully prolonged period where other nominations were sought and finally extracted from the gathered masses.

If they had opened the nomination for Treasurer and read my name, I'm sure I would have either burst into hysterical laughter or keeled over.


Politics are almost as exciting as war, and quite as dangerous. In war you can only be killed once, but in politics many times.

-- Winston Churchill

What passes for fun...

This is an 11 x 14 " sketch pad Sarabelle decided to practice her Japanese hiragana on. Not an assignment, not extra credit, just for fun.



Sarabelle signed up for school-sponsored music lessons, choosing the very-difficult-to-lug-home-on-the-bus-and-up-the-mountain double bass. Not a core class, not an elective, just for fun.


It were not best that we should all think alike; it is difference of opinion that makes horse-races.

-- Mark Twain

Mortein is a Girl's Best Friend

That can is never out of reach.

Unlike a kinder, gentler blogger I know, I have no qualms about blasting Charlotte or any of her progeny into oblivion; there are just too many of them to elicit any sympathy from me. This week the cockroaches made their scheduled mid-Wet appearance, a few flying ants have made their way back inside, and to add to the plague-like manifestations, we had a mouse.

We arrived home from our overnight at the resort to find one of the Roma tomatoes left on the windowsill neatly hollowed out. That night the intruder was spotted dashing across the floor of the living area toward the kitchen. Bushcraft books were consulted for information on homemade mousetraps, including one with a greased beer bottle cantilevered over a bucket of water. My more compassionate housemates would have none of it. He'll drown! they whined. They were not appeased by my assertion I would wake when I heard the splash, rescue him, and release him outdoors. And it had to be a "him," because considering the possibility it was a "her," and a potentially pregnant "her" at that, would have sent me hightailing it back to the resort. (Not a bad plan, actually.)

Without anywhere to hide other than behind the dishwasher, he was easy to spot as he darted along the wall under our suspended lower cabinets like a duck in a shooting gallery. I set a bucket on its side with a peanutbutter-covered cracker as bait and stationed Jorge nearby with a broom to sweep him into the bucket when he approached. Jorge waited for about five minutes before abandoning his post, mumbling something about him being an idiot to consider such a plan. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Out came the Mortein. A shot behind the dishwasher sent him out of there in a hurry. Without Jorge on duty, he tried to make it to the bedroom, unsuccessfully, as I had the forethought to block the gap below the door with a towel. Back to the safety of the dishwasher where I gassed him unmercifully. For two days we waited for a tell-tale odor or the appearance of blowflies and considered how in the world we would extract the rodent's remains from deep inside the machine.

Nothing.

As I'd feared, the insecticide had probably only given him a tremendous buzz and, I suspected, changed him into a mutant killer mouse waiting for me to fall asleep to eat my face.

Elle's scream and a door slam announced his appearance in the pantry last night. The new plan was to keep the pantry sealed off until Jorge could bring home a trap. A humane trap! they whined. Jorge had already left work and could not be reached in time to communicate the need for the equipment. Fortunately he had picked up a six-pack on his way home, and when he opened the pantry door to throw out the bottles' shrinkwrap, there was the mouse distractedly munching garbage. Jorge easily reached down, picked the mouse off the top of the pile with the plastic wrap, and tossed him out the door.

He'll be back.

And I'll be waiting.


Behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.

-- The Holy Bible (Revelation 6:8)

Let The World Stand

Not having any luck getting the audio file linked here, but if you want to listen I can send you the file as a giant inbox clogging email attachment.

Just drop me a note: marlynnemail-roadschola (at) yahoo (dot) com (Substitute the usual "@" and "." symbols.)


With your whole body, with your whole heart, with your whole conscience, listen to the Revolution.... This is the music everyone who has ears should hear.

-- Alexander Blok (The Intelligentsia and the Revolution)

Busy Girl

This morning was a very special parade. After she announced the week's merit award winners, Grice was recognized along with a classmate for celebrating a birthday this week with a traditional rendition of "Happy Birthday" followed by the Aussie, "Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, HOORAY!"



Then she was called back up and recognized for her participation in the Muso Magic program. At the end of last year several students from the area schools were invited to join in a two-day workshop hosted by Adam Thompson of the Australian rock band Chocolate Starfish. In two days the kids brainstormed a melody, lyrics, and a name for their band (Tropical Rock), recorded a song and video, and presented a fully produced single to the public. Here Grice is receiving a certificate and a CD of their song from her principal.



(As soon as somebody explains to me how to link to an MP4a file you can hear it...)

Finally, she was called up yet again to receive her School Captain pin from the state representative for our area.



Wednesday she is off to Leadership Camp, a three-day, two-night seminar for area schools' School Captains and their Student Council associates at a nearby environmental center. She gets back Friday and Saturday/Sunday we are celebrating her birthday at the five-star resort her dad works at with a few of her friends in a room adjoining ours. The following Tuesday she returns to the same camp for a four-day, three-night extravaganza with her entire seventh grade class where she gets to go hiking, swimming, canoeing, and abseiling.

Not a bad way to kick off the new school year, eh?


So far away
Yet so close
Just be yourself
Like no other
When we are strong
Show no fear
Some lines are blurred
Make them clear

Sometimes a dream
Is all you need
Come take my hand now

Chorus:

We'll stand united
'Til the end of time
No one can stop us
Life is yours and mine
We can be anything

One perfect day
We stood up
Now the whole world's
Standing with us
We won't forget
How we were
Now it's all clear
Not a blur

Sometimes a dream
Is all you need
Come take my hand now

(Chorus)

When you just can't do this
On your own
You need us!
Take my hand by your side
You are not alone
We're with you!

(Chorus)

-- Let the World Stand (Tropical Rock)

The Bold and the Beautiful

This fellow, a giant rhinoceros beetle, sent Grice screaming to the back of the house where she slammed the door behind her in terror after it emitted its trademark defensive hiss. The twenty-cent piece is slightly larger than a quarter.



This little critter didn't make it. It expired out on the porch, but was so pretty we kept it around for a few days just to admire its gorgeous machine-like exterior. You can see the reflection of the ceiling's flourescent light fixture, as well as the photographer, if you look closely.

---

UPDATES: Cyclone Nelson fell apart and we had, instead of torrential rains, two spectacularly clear, cool days. After about a week straight of rain, it was a pleasant change. Today is also very nice, breezy, less humid, like winter in Florida.

Lulu has had her collar moved back two notches, so she is definitely growing, though you probably wouldn't notice much in a photo yet. She is what our friend calls "a goer," meaning she is full of pep. Playing with her littermates, she is still going strong long after the others have collapsed in puppy piles of exhaustion. Unfortunately, sometimes she mistakes Elle for a littermate. Housebreaking was not all that difficult. She lets us know when she wants to go out, practically pees on command, and is very private about leaving any hard evidence around. We tried crate training as a means of preventing any nighttime accidents and she adapted fairly well. She still sleeps inside the house, right at my feet, the crate mostly forgotten, but we do use it when, say, I have to go grocery shopping and she would have to wait in the car for too long a time. When she's full grown and there's no chance of someone swiping her, or of her going AWOL, she can come with us and wait in the car, windows down, like a proper Aussie dog. She obeys "sit," "down," "drop it," and the ever popular "no biting." We're working on getting her to come immediately when called, but she is still a puppy after all.

Oh, and re: The Wet, I forgot to mention the leeches.


Information is not knowledge.

-- Albert Einstein

Wetter Than Wet

Cyclone Nelson is headed our way. We haven't paid much attention to it until now since we no longer live on the coast, but it looks like we'll be feeling the effects of it by this evening. The stores are out of everything, they already were this past weekend when high water made many deliveries impossible, so there's no point going out to stock up. We'll just sit tight and see what happens.


Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.

-- Oscar Wilde

The Wet

The weather is now full-on. Bridges under water, creek crossings impassable, mold and mildew in great supply, mud everywhere, and four-wheel drive necessary to get up our driveway (which, if it were a ski slope, would be a good blue run.) We have had two major infestations of bugs escaping the rain outside, wasps and flying ants. Both times our landlord scoffed, they wouldn’t be living inside the house, they only swarm outside this time of year and are drawn to the light, maybe you left a door open, but after two bug bombs up in the attic, a whole can of insecticide up under the eaves, and lots of sweeping and vacuuming, they are gone. Next will be the snakes. They also prefer dry spots this time of year.

On the positive side:

It’s very green.

The rain comes down mostly in a steady soft fall, or at least a persistent drizzle, with an occasional downpour and rarely any lightning or thunder; it’s very peaceful. Nice weather for curling up with a book, or watching the pages in your book curl.

Temperatures are comfortable, not hot and humid, and not cold and damp, somewhere in the middle, so that if you are caught outside without rain gear or an umbrella -- which is always, kids play in it, people shop in it, there's no avoiding it -- it’s not unpleasant. You will eventually dry out. Possibly in May.

We can hear the waterfall on the property and one of these days we’ll go take a look.


Stones are hollowed out by the constant dropping of water.

-- Ovid

Vale, Jack

December 26, 2001 - February 2, 2007

***

Jack Emerson, beloved pet and official principal of our homeschool, passed away peacefully in his sleep after suffering a tragic eye injury.

Thank you C, C, and N for loving him and taking such good care of him while we were away, and for keeping him comfortable his last few days.


The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one great thing.

-- Archilochus

Biology 101

Just because we aren't presently homeschooling doesn't mean I could pass up a valuable learning opportunity. No, siree. Our friends had their steer, Prince, butchered and we came over to watch and lend a hand. Prince had been dressed the day before and had been hanging in cold storage over night.

Here is the mobile butcher's well-stocked truck as seen from our front row seats...



The heart...



A kidney...



Sarabelle packing up some fat...



The team at work at the packing table...



Our friend doing his Rocky Balboa imitation...



And, finally, Bill the Butcher takes a smoko...



After observing the business from the middle stage, and now being somewhat comfortable around large quantities of dead cow, we followed Bill down to the cattle yard to see the first step in the process, the slaughtering and dressing (or undressing, if you will) of another cow.

Sorry, no pictures for you.


I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.

-- William Shakespeare (Twelfth Night)

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

Hunt and Pack

[ Still adding thank yous below...]

My mission today is to hit the local thrift shops in search of one more giant suitcase -- I sure hope the airlines still allow two checked pieces of luggage per passenger as the two trunks, two enormous backpacks, and large suitcase I presently have stuffed just aren't enough -- and to find Jorge two pair of pants that he just now, after we’ve been here almost an entire month, and with less than twenty-four hours remaining prior to departure, decided he absolutely must have.

Besides of course our hosts, my mother-in-law (Gabby) and my parents (Nana and Papa) who put up with the mess and noise and expense of four extra people for nearly a month, I would like to say thank you (in no particular order) to the following:

The anonymous host of “ed”, the wireless connection that appears in my mother-in-law’s condo when my laptop is placed on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, even if it requires typing and surfing one-handed in a prone position.

The Boca Grande moms and dads who gathered their kids together for a great day at the beach and pool. The kids were glad to see their old classmates.

Betty, for having Elle sleep over. She was so happy to spend some time with you and S and it gave me some much-needed time to get organized.

Diane, for having Grice and Sarabelle over for a couple days and taking them to the homeschool park day, I accomplished a lot in that time, and the extra suitcase is definitely appreciated.

Chris, Housesitter, and now Hostess, Extraordinaire, for all you do but especially for inviting the office over for drinks after work; and everybody who came. It was a treat to see you all. I miss you guys.

Carol, for lunch and the nice visit. Come on down! Seriously.

Robert at Royal India and Gul and Hassan at Istanbul for your hospitality and outstanding food. We really miss being able to drop by for dinner several times a week.

Uncle B and Aunt J for the night at the ballet, the girls had a delightful time. J, we’re so sorry we didn’t have more time to visit with you, hope you’re feeling better soon.

Julie S., you totally pulled it off! Good on ya mate! It was so much fun to get together with you and the girls (and the guys and the boys too.) I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

Aunt J and Uncle J., for the extra suitcases when the thrift shops didn't pan out. Elle had the best time with Uncle J at lunch Sunday. Be sure to email some pictures!


Hello, I must be going!

-- Phil Collins

Due Time

As my friend Jose whispered to me when a co-worker arrived to an opening night party years ago wearing the same little black dress I'd just purchased from Victoria's Secret, "I guess it's not a secret anymore...!"

The girls and I are here in the States. We came over for Christmas and the girls' summer vacation and have been here since December 17. Poor Jorge couldn't come because he is working two jobs and because he was recently issued a visa that has since expired; to request another so soon might be pushing it. Yes, sometimes it feels like we are being held hostage by the Australian government, but it's all worth it. We had some friends, readers of this blog, to surprise and so only infrequently posted the most general stuff. By the way, Judy, I'm not pregnant, but thanks for the laugh.

Our trip over included one night and most of one day in Narita, Japan, where we visited this Buddhist temple complex. This was a great way to travel: Seven hours to Tokyo, stay in a hotel, sightsee, ten hours to Detroit (I know what you're thinking, I thought the same thing. Detroit?!), stretch the legs, and three short hours to Fort Lauderdale. Practically a hop, skip, and a jump, right?

As if a stop in Japan wasn't exciting enough, Elle lost her first tooth somewhere over Papua New Guinea. The Tooth Fairy managed to track us to our hotel in Japan and left her $1.00 (US.)





Here's Sarabelle getting in the spirit, blessing herself in the giant incense burner's smoke at the temple entrance...



The girls were most enthusiastic to try out their newly acquired Japanese conversational skills. I was admonished several times, instructed to use konnichiwa instead of "hello", domo arigato in place of "thank you", and sayonara for "goodbye", which in my defense resulted in either cheery replies of "Hello!", "Your welcome!", "Bye!", or was the beginning of an incomprehensible, rapid-fire, mostly one-sided dialogue with our only contribution being a bewildered look and a hasty gomen-nasai, or "sorry!"

Sarabelle, our goodwill ambassador, excitedly returned bows to each and every one of the monks who passed by us outside a shrine and we collapsed into giggles when we realized that rather than greeting the Americans, they were probably honoring the statue of Buddah in the doorway directly behind us.



Sarabelle also thinks she would like to be a translator, which, as this sign on the side of our hotel tub clearly indicates, is a wide open field.



Everyone wanted to know if we ate anything interesting while we visited. We had breakfast at the hotel buffet which was mostly Continental, as in Europe, with a few local delicacies thrown in. Every shop window had the most exquisite mystery meals on display, but after snacking on sweet sesame crackers we just weren't hungry. The beer vending machine was especially tempting.






In two more days we head back to Australia. While we have had a wonderful time visiting family, friends, and co-workers, racing around trying to catch up with our dear ones on both the east and west coasts of Florida, and scrambling to retrieve more clothes and books from the green house and the island house, I'm about exhausted. The girls are attending a performance of the Miami City Ballet with their aunt and uncle this evening which entails finding suitable attire for my little redneck children (dresses and ill-fitting shoes on the west coast, jewelry on the east, and stockings or tights still in the package at some unspecified department store.) After that, I'm actually looking forward to sitting for another twenty hours on a plane.

Flying into Lauderdale at the height of the Christmas frenzy was pure culture shock and my impressions best summed up by the reading material chosen to accompanying me back to Oz in my extremely overweight baggage:

The Twilight of American Culture -- One I've already read, and one I look forward to reading again, mostly as a prelude to his follow-up...

Dark Ages America: The Final Phase of Empire -- I have a thing for Morris Berman. He makes me think I'm not crazy.

God's War: A New History of the Crusades -- The Dark Ages and theocracy, still timely subjects.

Dumbing Us Down -- John Taylor Gatto's classic. Again, one I've read before, and one worth a second read.

Homesteading: How to Find New Independence on the Land -- Another classic that's been sitting on my shelves, unread far too long.

Handbook of Nature Study -- This being preferable to the study of the unnaturals I studied in Boca Raton yesterday.

Since Berman postulates that those of us who choose to preserve the finest bits of our culture are the monks we hope pull us through the new dark ages and would include home educators (as well as those of us with small private school plans up our sleeves), I packed the following:

Paideia Proposal: An Educational Manifesto

The Paideia Classroom: Teaching for Understanding

And lest you think my list implies a distaste for American politics, culture, and education -- for the most part you would be correct -- my choices for the bits of American culture not just worth saving, but sharing:

Soul Food: Recipes and Reflections from African-American Churches

Soul Food: Classic Cuisine from the Deep South

John Willingham's World Champion Bar-B-Q

Legends of Texas Barbecue Cookbook: Recipes and Recollections from the Pit Bosses


The World is a book and those who do not travel read only a page.

-- Saint Augustine

Happy New Year

Why haven’t I posted in so long? I’ve got my reasons, which will be revealed in due time.

Christmas Down Under is a wonderful thing: No traffic jams with scowling faces cutting and flipping you off, no crowds shoving and slamming doors in your face. A few stores were modestly decorated, a few houses along the highway too. Only one person we know bothered with a tree. The Cairns Post published a list of typical holiday activities and compared the numbers of those participating to years past. Fewer people, and there were not many to begin with, do Santa Claus or listen to the Queen’s Christmas Day message anymore. Only a few gifts are given and most often those are just for the kids. The big events, the ones that remain high on the participation list, council-hosted street festivities, company parties, and big dinners with friends and family, are the reasons for the season, after all, it’s summertime.

People unafraid of political incorrectness cheerily wished each other a merry Christmas and if you didn’t celebrate that particular event, no worries, it was the thought that counted. Cards were exchanged between the kids at school like valentines instead of a mass-mailing campaign. We’ve enjoyed a number of visits to various neighbors’ houses for some holiday cheer. It's a simple holiday, only nominally resembling our old consumer-driven, overblown, obligatory gift-giving, empty American Christmas and we are loving it.

Aussies are still testing the waters with Halloween, it doesn’t seem to have caught on very much, and obviously they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, though they are curious about the extra holiday the Americans have sandwiched in between the end of October and their delightfully low-key December 25th affair, and they even have an extra special day added in there, Boxing Day, a quiet sort of government sanctioned re-gifting day, but the big question is: Do Australians ever really cut loose and party? Definitely. First there’s the Melbourne Cup and then there’s New Years Eve. Both involve restaurants, reservations, booze, and fascinators.

As is the case practically every year since we’ve had kids, we stayed home and watched the countdown and chaos on television, and some of us ate a traditional bowl of Hoppin’ John New Year’s Day for good luck, but I’m thinking next year it might be time for a new tradition, maybe a trip down to Sydney to see the fireworks over the harbour.


Holidays are in no sense an alternative to the congestion and bustle of cities and work. Quite the contrary. People look to escape into an intensification of the conditions of ordinary life, into a deliberate aggravation of those conditions: further from nature, nearer to artifice, to abstraction, to total pollution, to well above average levels of stress, pressure, concentration and monotony -- this is the ideal of popular entertainment. No one is interested in overcoming alienation; the point is to plunge into it to the point of ecstasy. That is what holidays are for.

-- Jean Baudrillard


Nothing says holidays like a cheese log.

-- Ellen Degeneres

Join the club

When we first moved up to our little rural environs, we were continuously quizzed by the coastal residents about the other people who live waaaaay up here on the mountaintop. There are persistent rumors -- similar to the type you hear in certain areas of the States about the kinds of places brought to mind when you hear the Deliverance soundtrack for example -- but we’ve determined that tales of swinging farmers are a combination of the townies’ ignorance about country life; they simply can’t imagine what passes for entertainment without shopping, dining, and pubs to occupy their time, and a heapin’ helpin’ of plain ol’ xenophobia. I’m happy to say we’ve met quite a lot of people and haven’t yet been approached to join any secret society (though this may be a result more of our general physical appearance and less our neighbors’ morality) however, we are definitely members of another local club: The Ex-Pat Club.

I initially worried residents might resent foreigners moving in on their turf, much as I did the flocks of newcomers perpetually descending upon Florida, but no worries, mate, we are in the majority here. Off the top of my head I can name a dozen or so German, Swiss, and Austrian neighbors, two Brits, a Canadian, a couple Kiwis, a handful of Thais, a Torres Straights Islander, a Zimbabwean, an American or two, even an Iranian, and most of the other Aussies here hail from other regions as well. There are still a few old-timers around, third and fourth generation families easily recognizable by their surnames posted on all roads not named after creeks or mountains, and they have been friendly and welcoming. Basically, if you're not Aboriginal, you're an immigrant. Admission to the club, what passes for the secret handshake, is as simple as answering two questions: 1) Where are you (or your accent) from? and 2) How did you end up here?


We have learned that we cannot live alone, at peace; that our own well-being is dependent on the well-being of other nations, far away. We have learned that we must live as men, and not as ostriches, nor as dogs in the manger. We have learned to be citizens of the world, members of the human community.

-- Franklin Delano Roosevelt

What next?

After working a couple oddball jobs, Jorge replied to an ad in the paper for a construction manager. He emailed off a general resume with “references and additional project details upon request” and received a prompt email back requesting an interview and those additional project details and references. After the interview, where he was happy to learn the position was more administerial and not running a crew, something he hopes to never suffer again, he was offered the position which includes housing, food, and travel allowances and told to name his salary and preferred schedule.

Sound too good to be true?

It’s in Papua New Guinea.

The girls don’t want to go and I can’t say that I blame them. They love their school and new friends too much to move again and have really have blossomed these past few months. We’ve all settled in quite nicely; however, we don’t have an endless supply of the green stuff. We initially planned for a six-month stay and recently juggled finances to accommodate our new extended plan with the knowledge that the sale of our properties would afford an investment in a permanent situation here.

Have you been following real estate trends lately?

Jorge chose a six-week on and two-week off roster. His two weeks off would be paid and the company would fly him back and forth, or fly us all up there when desired.

We came here with the goal to spend more time with each other, working together as a family, and this certainly runs contrary to our plans. It comes down to the money because that is a finite resource (the Melbourne Cup is only an annual event, after all), and this opportunity affords infinite new possibilities. I mean besides earthquakes, cannibals, malaria, tsunamis, dengue fever, volcanic eruptions, headhunters…


Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns driven time and again off course…

-- Homer

The Kids Are Alright

Everyone wants to know, how are they doing, really?

For your consideration:

Exhibit A

The big crack you heard, that was Grice coming out of her shell. She nominated herself as a candidate for School Captain (a move which surprised us all), spent three weeks agonizing over the content of her speech, presented it Monday along with ten others vying for the position, and Tuesday was declared the winner in a landslide election. Next year she and her male counterpart will announce and present the weekly award certificates at the student assemblies Monday mornings, and perform the duties of Student Council member: organizing fundraising efforts and dances, and representing the school at formal events.

Exhibit B

Elle voted for someone else.


Secrecy and a free, democratic government don't mix.

-- Harry S. Truman

Turkey Day

As an ex-pat, I’m feeling a tad left out this time of year, especially when my Yahoo page loads and the first thing I see is Martha’s glistening gravy boat and a link to six troubleshooting tips for the perfect mashed potato topping. I’m not knocking Martha, some of my best non-traditional Thanksgiving traditions were inspired by her, like Pommes Anna and sweet potato fritters (met by my father with a weak smile and a look as if awaiting a punchline or the appearance of some REAL potatoes), cranberry upside-down cake, and haricot vert with garlic and almond slivers.

As I was typing that I thought: Wow. With all this Thanksgiving talk I can almost smell the turkey cooking now. Wait. I do smell it. Or something…


(A BRIEF INTERLUDE WHILE I CLEAN UP THE CHICKEN SOUP THAT BOILED OVER)

Anyway, getting into the holiday spirit, I decided to list a few things I am thankful for today:

SELF-MOTIVATION

I haven’t got much, but I appreciate those around me who do.

-- Sarabelle surprised me this week by announcing she had gone in to see her principal to request taking advanced courses next year in order to graduate earlier. The principal will speak with her teachers about it.

-- Grice is presently working on an assignment to create a book for the first graders on energy. Her classmates’ efforts average around five pages. Grice is engrossed in the subject and has a rough draft comprising twenty fun-filled pages thus far.

-- Jorge has three jobs, like a proper immigrant. This morning he began with the second coat on a paint job for a neighbor, then went off to his regular daytime employment at a resort, and when he is done there he goes on to pull an overnighter as a security guard. We nearly laughed ourselves silly over that last one. The girls wanted to know if he had to wear an embarrassing uniform or got to carry a gun (no and no.) He is actually guarding the costume department and wardrobe for a movie that is shooting in town. Fool’s Gold stars Kate Hudson, Matthew McConaughey, and Donald Sutherland, and is partly set in Key West with Port Douglas standing in for the southernmost isle. Imagine that, it’s cheaper to film halfway around the world and pretend its Key West than to actually do it there. Sure he has to stay all night with creepy mannequins staring at him, but he gets to sleep (his snoring scares away the bad guys), help himself to the food in the fridge, work on his real estate course, make more money than at his day job, and is privy to all Kate Hudson’s measurements. When he finds some extra time, he will finish his volunteer work cleaning and repairing the elementary school’s tennis court.

A DECENT HAIRCUT

I took a big chance today and got my hair cut by a complete stranger. I had been holding out for a return trip to the States so Todd, the guy I had been happily going to, could have at it again. Even if I had to wait another six months. See my photo up above? That's Todd Hair. He seriously scared me at my first appointment after I requested he just “do something with it,” flinging hair up in the air over my head as he sliced away, keeping up a constant chatter and rarely taking his eyes off himself as he spoke -- you couldn’t blame him, a big strapping lad who beautician’s license photo reminded me of a young Richard Grieco, though Todd’s eyebrows were more devilish – but the results were wonderful. Of course, Todd was a stranger when I first went to him, but our mutual friend, J, spoke very highly of him and her hair alone was a big endorsement.

Then J told me that Todd was killed in a car accident in September.

I got a little teary while the new hairdresser shampooed me today. She did an adequate job, didn’t get any soap in my eyes, even did a relaxing massage-y kind of thing, but it wasn’t nearly as invigorating or as fun as having your whole scalp rearranged like Elmer Fudd’s in The Barber of Seville episode, while listening to Todd’s latest exploits and his big, booming, contagious laugh.

Her cut was very precise, not exactly a bad thing when it comes to a haircut, and though she asked far too many questions instead of delivering a cheery, snarky monologue, to her credit she didn’t try to sell me any fancy skincare treatments even if my complexion currently resembles someone in a Faces of Meth “after” photo (it’s just hormones and humidity, Mom), and for that I am especially thankful.

FRIENDS

Old ones, new ones, ones who surprise you with a bottle of hard-to-find ant juice.

NEWSAGENTS WITH LARGE SELECTIONS

Went in for a few school and office supplies, came out with The Thirteenth Tale: A Novel; Lisey’s Story; Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation (wherein I have discovered I am an Oxford comma kind of girl); and another Lynne Truss effort, Talk to the Hand: The Utter Bloody Rudeness of the World Today, or Six Good Reasons to Stay Home and Bolt the Door. I also noticed Carl has a new book out, Nature Girl, but I decided to show some self-control.

THIS

...along with the built in iSight camera on my laptop enables me to scan in all the UPC symbols from all my books and get my library under control. Best program ever.

HELLMAN’S/BEST FOODS MAYONNAISE AND THE ONE GROCER IN ALL OF FAR NORTH QUEENSLAND THAT CARRIES IT

There is no substitute. Slap some on white bread, add a little stuffing and a lot of black pepper and think of me.

Happy Thanksgiving!


'Twas founded be th' Puritans to give thanks f'r bein' presarved fr'm th' Indyans, an' . . . we keep it to give thanks we are presarved fr'm th' Puritans.

-- Finley Peter Dunne [Mr. Dooley]