Hey (hey) You (you) I could be your girlfriend

I lay in bed, my heart feeling like it wanted to burst out of my chest. I was so happy. But this was beyond happy. This was something I'd never felt before and I wasn't in any frame of mind to articulate the feeling.

The book closed and was placed on my bedside table. I got a kiss on the forehead and was tucked in a bit tighter. I squirmed. "Mum..." I wanted to tell her. I told her I had something to tell her. Oh, I couldn't possibly tell her! So she said goodnight and left my room.

A short while later, I called out to her again. She came in. Sat on my bed. Waited while I agonised and thrashed about a bit. Oh why couldn't she just guess?! That would be so much easier than having to say it out loud! She left again, a bit more annoyed this time.

Moments passed. I plucked up the nerve and called out to Dad. He came in. Sat on my bed. "I.... I.... I have to tell you something," I stammered. So he sat. He waited. He sat. He waited some more. He told me he was going now. What? Nooooo! He left.

This dance went on with both of my parents until Dad gruffly told me it was the last time he was going to come in, "yes, Mum too", and I had to stop this silly nonsense and get to sleep. Great. This just made what I had to divulge even harder! So I gulped down my nerves and blurted it out.

"I'VE GOT A BOYFRIEND AND HIS NAME IS LUCAS."

Phew. There. I had said it. That's all I had wanted to tell them. Now to break it to Lucas.....

Lucas was my first real-life, there-he-is-over-there-not-imaginary-not-on-a-poster, boyfriend. He was in Grade 1. I was in Prep. My recollection of him is that he had the lanky-limbness of Mr Bean crossed with the face of Harry Potter (before he grew older and hotter). Awkwarrrd!

Yes... this is pretty much how I remember Lucas,
without the tie.
(Image sources: here and here)

I would follow poor lanky Lucas around the playground every play lunch, every lunch time... every time I could find him. And I have this memory of him looking behind him, annoyed and alarmed as he went in ever-complicated routes around play equipment, school buildings, outdoor log seating configurations in a vain attempt to lose me. It never worked.

In hindsight, perhaps I should have voiced my intentions (to make him my boyfriend... I wasn't sure what came after that, only that that was the label I had to place on the person who was making my heart very light and fluffy), because I think Lucas thought I was quite certifiable.

I was working at the computer at about 9pm last night when Lolly came up (for the umpteenth time, which is rather unlike her). I had advised her in a previous excuse to be up that she really needed to let her brain "go to sleep and rest for the night now", something she is well used to me saying - sometimes, I swear I can see the cogs working overtime in that big solid head of hers - so I was a bit surprised to see her again.

A fleeting thought crossed my mind as I caught her sneaking up the hall out the corner of my eye. "I wonder if she wants to tell me she has a boyfriend." The little 6 year-old part of myself reminded me how nervous I had been to tell my mum and dad. It's all I had time to ponder as the LGBB was by my side now.

She squirmed and then bowed her head into me and said softly, "Umm... I have a boyfriend. But I don't think he knows." I gave her a gentle hug, in commiseration (after all, I had to tell her father that I was his girlfriend - he was so blind - and, thankfully, the feelings were reciprocated because here we are, 19 or so years later) and in encouragement. I had only reminded her that afternoon on the way home that even if she is told to keep a secret and not tell anyone something, she can always come to Mum or Dad - especially if it is something she feels an adult needs to know.

Her confidence building, Lolly announced, "I might actually play with him tomorrow."

And with that, she was back off to bed.

Awwwwwwww. My blossoming little girl. Poor confused Jacob doesn't know what awaits.... Poor bugger.

Only problem I see so far is, I now have a child who is stropping about the house because she doesn't have the "right" components of her uniform ready to wear to school this morning. Man oh man. It's going to be a looooooong thirteen years, isn't it?

Source

Do you remember your first "boyfriend"/"girlfriend"/puppy-love crush?

Disclaimer: Ok, so the kid's name is not Jacob, in an attempt to protect the innocent and clueless I've changed it.


Post title from the song "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne

Worst cringe moment - what's yours?

I remember it clearly. I still recoil with embarrassment when I think about it.

Oh, and then there was that time I called out, "I'm on the toileeee!" when I heard what I thought were Steve's footsteps coming into the ensuite. They weren't Steve's. They were the carpet layer's. You may well ask yourself why I had a) not closed the door (not that the ensuite was anywhere near where anyone could see or hear someone was on "the toilee", b) why I had not remembered in the first place that there was a tradie in the house (for I had clean forgotten), and, most importantly, c) why I had called it a "toilee".

But I digress.

That was not my most cringe-worthy moment, no. No, that moment came when I was sitting beside my three week-old daughter in the NICU with Steve, enjoying a chat with my Obstetrician who had dropped by to say hello. He did this often, almost daily. It endeared me to the guy for life. In fact, he was the most frequent visitor we had. And I will never forget his care and kindness. Willing our girl on, with us. Come on, what's not to love about that?!

On this day, as we briefly chatted about this and that - his visits were never longer than a few minutes - he was talking about his wife (whose name I will change to save myself any further cringe-worthy embarrassment).

"Helen's left me..." was all he got out.

"What!? Is she insane???" I gasped before I could stop myself. It was involuntary. I couldn't help it. To this day, I desperately hope that if he remembers the speed with which I blurted out my sentiments and how ready I was to question his wife's decision, he will factor in my heightened hormones and that I was not of clear mind.

Everybody who has ever had a baby (rather, anybody who has been under the care of a nice Obstetrician to start with), I am sure, would be well aware of the phenomenon that is being under a giddy trance and loving him (or her?) with an almost fierce protective ownership. If you've had a good rapport with him during your confinement, chances are you take quite a shine - almost a worshipping - to the fellow by the time he delivers that baby safely. Particularly when you go into spontaneous early labour, like I did.

Well, anyway. Didn't I play my Blatantly Obvious card that day? In front of my highly amused, tight-lipped "You're On Your Own"-looking husband standing just behind and to the side of my beloved Ob.

AHEM.

My Obstetrician gave a polite laugh as he continued, "No, she's left me with the kids while she goes over to England to visit her aunt."

Oh. That kind of "left you".

Why does the ground never actually swallow you up when you want it to?

Can you tell me your most cringe-worthy moment? 

You know, the one that, when thought of, causes an involuntary audible groan to escape you. And makes you flap your hands or slap your knees or run on the spot or do the "la-la-la's" to drown out the image if you think about it.

Come on, spill. Promise I won't laugh. Much.

My new crush

I love this. Love it, love it, love it. I think I laugh more than the LGBB each morning when it comes on. Timmy's just so CUTE. Not to mention his little preschool buddies - especially that kitten ("Mee-YEW").

Mind you..... Steve and I have been known to watch more than one ep of Shaun the Sheep once she's gone to bed of an evening. Come ON, how could you not giggle at that show?

I'm sorry, I realise I should "get a life" outside of Toddler World. But this is one honest injin show that just fills me to the brim. Possibly a lot to do with the joy and smiles my child gets out of it. Annnd just a little bit self-indulgent for myself as well. It's just so safe and innocent, yet cheeky and mischievous at the same time.

Have you seen it? (channel 2, 8.15 weekdays)

Epic Muse

You and me are the same

We don't know or care who's to blame

But we know that whoever holds the reins

Nothing will change

Our cause has gone insane



And these wars, they can't be won
And these wars, they can't be won

And do you want them to go on

And on and on

Why split these states

When there can be only one?



And must we do as we're told?

Must we do as we're told?



You and me fall in line

To be punished for unproven crimes!

And we know that there is no one we can trust;

Our ancient heroes, they are turning to dust!



And these wars, they can't be won

Does anyone know or care how they begun?

They just promise to go on

And on and on

But soon we will see

There can be only one



United States!

United States!

Of...



Eurasia!

... sia!

... sia!

... sia!



Eurasia!

... sia!

... sia!

... sia!



Eurasia!

... sia!

... sia!

... sia!



Lyrics Provided By ZoneLyrics.net


Community service announcement

I'm loving this local artist at the moment - Kylie Auldist. Great voice! And this is quite a snappy song, check out her others if you like it.

Something to sink your fangs into

From the moment I met her five years ago (well... if truth be told, she stalked then contacted me and we were a trifle startled to discover we were living not more than 10 minutes' drive from each other with a delectable coffee haunt in between), I knew this girl was different. In a positively disarming, refreshing, mercifully EASY to be around way.

Over time, on occasion she has ducked her head under the water to grab my collar and hoike me back up from the depths. We've had countless laughs and could talk for hours (and usually do). We've squabbled like two people who love each other. We've stated truths, no matter how scary or hurtful to hear. And still, we have continued to come back together. Like some sort of spiritual sisterhood bond that doesn't break, no matter the days, weeks or months in between laying eyes on each other, or speaking on the phone or even chatting by email - we always pick up where we left off. I'm so grateful for that and I will always have space in my life for her.

And now, she's gone and written a smashingly good book and got herself published!

I didn't know, when I met Amy, that she was an astonishing wordsmith and a genius-level writer. Her knowledge of so many subjects and the ability to furnish scenes using her mind (and getting those on paper) are just amazing. She tells me it was I who inspired her to strive to become a published author. Well... I don't know about that. But I can say one thing - I am mighty impressed and inspired myself, by her and this monumental achievement!

So very proud of you, Ms Ames xxx Love you.


Review from The Sassy Librarian:
"This book is exactly what it bills - a how-to guide - and the layout and imagery are fantastic. I think the best comparison is if a DK book and Cosmopolitan magazine had a vampire baby, this book would be it! You can take quizzes on your vampire style, get advice on how to shop for a coven you might want to belong to, or polish your vampire etiquette.... Gray does a terrific job directing readers to not only the ouevres of these popular authors but also lists graphic novels and movies and series that readers might enjoy...."

Reader's review from Amazon:
"From the moment I picked up this book, I was led deep into a dark crypt of fantastical wonderment! Amy Gray has really captured the essence of what is like (or could be like!) to be a newly-born denizen of the undead; this book is a rollickingly great read, and while both humorous and conversational in its tone, is almost encyclopaedic in its knowledge of creatures of the night. While squarely aimed at younger, vampire-mad readers, the beauty of this book is that it never for a second talks down to its audience - it speaks with an earnestness that only transports you further into its dark, magical world - and I can thoroughly recommend this to anyone who has even a fleeting interest in vampires. It is clear that the author knows her subject well, and 'How to Be a Vampire' is chock-full of ancient vampiric lore, whilst giving a nod to modern-day vampire stories such as Buffy and Twilight. Both informative and whimsical, this guide will have you longing to be transformed into a blood-sucker, and is very much a book anyone can sink their teeth into."

Backtrack: The Great Matchbox Heist of '82

This has been sitting in my drafts folder for, oh, a bit longer than it takes a plastic bag to disintegrate... Thought it was better to share it than let it drop any further in the list.


I had the most bizarre day yesterday.

I went to a really old friend's parents' place for lunch - meaning, we've been friends a long, long time (24 years to be perfectly accurate), not my friend herself is really old - and it was such a spinout to go back to the home where I'd spent much of my youth, after school, on weekends, looking after their animals when they went away, etc.

And despite the fact that her 5 year old son and the LGBB were there, I could have been 10 again, just yearning for her older sister to say she was going riding on her horse and would I like to go *swoons* They have 6 acres there and the girls, frankly, were living my fantasy life - horses, parents in love, the works.

I watched as she pulled out some Matchbox cars from a container to give to her son.... and there they were. Three of my old cars. I sat up a bit straighter, unsure then if I only remembered them because I'd played with hers so often. But they were so familiar! The green VW Gold with the roofrack and prized orange-tinted windows. The convertible orange Mercedes (sans convertible roof, mind you). The cool metallic blue Mustang. Oh, surely they were mine!! I kept the conversation light and casual as I grabbed first one, then the other, then the other and deftly flipped them upside down, looking for my mother's tell-tale nail polish daub on the underside.*

Nothing!

Still, that didn't mean much, I mean maybe these ones had been herded from the rest of my stash before The Big Fight that caused the once-and-for-all division of cars with my little bro.

Anyway. Whomever they belonged to, they were still being well loved (she says, with a tic in her eye that won't go away because she'll never know or be able to ask if they were STOLEN from me at some point of our childhood, before we stopped playing cars, that is, and started talking about boys).

And then, to spin me right out, when I got home I flicked on the telly and they were playing reruns of Family Ties on TV1 at the very after-school time that I used to watch them as a kid. It was an absent-minded after-thought, and we never usually have these in the house, but before I plonked myself onto the couch to watch it while folding washing, I grabbed a mini packet of Doritos from the pantry.

I felt like I was sneaking them because I didn't ask mum if I could.

*My brother and I fought to face-scratching point once over who had the better cars, caravans, trailers, ambulance, fire engine, you name it. We would fight over every last little roof-dented, wheel-buckled shit box we had. So mum, fed up no doubt long before the face-scratching day, finally bellowed that she'd put an end to this once and for all. She sat like a mediator at a summit, all the cars belly-up in front of her, while Timmy and I negotiated our way through whose were really whose. And then she put a daub of pink nail polish on the underside of all mine so there were no further arguments. I was mortified that I had to have the pink brand on mine (I fought so hard against anything girly and pink for the first decade+ of my life).

A clever idea, just quietly. But don't ever tell 'er that.

My say on M-J

It's been almost three weeks now since Michael Jackson passed away. In the beginning, I was trying to listen to or see any news information I could find. I was shocked. But I was also shocked about my reaction - one of shock! - because, well, I'm no avid fan. Mind you, I hasten to add that whenever I do a music playlist, at least one of his songs (the early ones or The Jacksons or Jackson 5) has always been included. I do love much of the music he delivered us.

After the first week had passed, a huge sadness came over me about it all. This culminated in me feeling like I really needed to .... well, quite frankly, pay my respects. I sat down last Saturday night and watched the public memorial from start to finish. After the rather uncomfortable (to me) duet with Mariah Carey and Trey Lorenz singing their cover of Jackson 5's "I'll Be There" was out of the way, I was swept up in the sentiments. The things the speakers said. I have read about all those who say it was a 'typical' grand performance and the family should be ashamed of themselves for 'cashing in' on Michael Jackson again and .... rah rah rah.....

My observation has also been that those who have said it was either distasteful or extravagant or otherwise just ghastly... didn't actually watch the whole thing!

Anyway. I'm not writing this post to those people. I don't think it requires an answer, for it is simply another (somewhat collective) opinion. Another misguided, ill-informed opinion about that family and their most famous brother.

Isn't that what we've all mostly been guilty of? Misguided, ill-informed, media-assisted opinions? Four years ago, when I saw MJ during that trial of his life, I thought ill of him for the first time. I wasn't sure. I did NOT want to believe he could be guilty of those things. I highly doubted he was. But I wasn't sure. Until I saw him speaking directly to the TV in that global-style address he performed. And by then, I had just become so confused and saddened by what he had done to his body and face that I was distracted by those judgemental thoughts of mine and didn't really hear anything he said. So indoctrined was I by this time, that year, that I went with the majority and just thought of him as "off the rails", "weird", "strange", "eccentric" and all the rest.

I sat and watched that memorial and I cried. Like a little, sorry kid, I cried and cried and couldn't stop. I sat and listened to beautiful memories, I saw the majority of those people get up there and speak from their hearts. And what I saw, most of all, was a fierce defending of MJ. How could so many different people have gotten him "wrong"? No, no, it was us who had him pegged wrongly. And how dare we assume? It was as if these people, mourning him and speaking about him, had finally been given the opportunity to tell "all those bastards" how wrong they had always got it. It seems that with even a world FULL of supporters and fans, he couldn't turn that media tide against him that portrayed him as so strange.

I have been listening to his/their music quite constantly for these weeks. The LGBB has "always" (if you can count 18 months of her 3 year old life as "always") loved him - another testament to the man's genius. I have said to Steve many, many times over the years that there is "something about Michael Jackson and I don't know what it is, but kids LOVE him." I first noticed this when I was working in child care about 18 years ago - kids adored him, I noticed then. I had a stint working as a babysitter - the kids I looked after also just loved him. I remember sitting in yet another house where children lived, these ones were about 8 and 6 (a brother and sister), and I sat there and listened to that bloody Black or White song about a trillion times as they perfected their "Concert With Michael Jackson" they were determined to put on. That was the first time, in 1992, that I really noticed this allegiance to him in youngsters.

As I said earlier, I have always really enjoyed a lot of MJ's music. I guess I am a fan! I don't know if I was really comfortable admitting that before - I did not know enough about him to consider myself justified in that label - and this says more about me than anything. That I probably didn't want to "go there" because I didn't want to read anything that made me not like him. And I didn't' want that to happen because then, I naively and ignorantly thought, I wouldn't be able to enjoy his music with as much free abandon. How narrow-minded have I been on the subject of MJ?

So I sat and I cried. I cried for him, for his family and his kids. I cried for those people who cried for him, knowing what turmoil and lockdown he was in - both inside his mind as well as physically, in the world.... he never led a "normal" life. He'd never have been able to go down the local shops for a carton of milk and some bread, now, could he?! Not even as a teenager or a ten year-old. There are very few people who would truly know what that would be like, and even then, those people would have some places in cities around the world where they are not recognised. He was a global phenomenon, in that regard alone.

Most of all, I cried with the guilt of allowing myself to level judgements at him that I had no right to make. I do not, will never have, all the facts about this man's life. Nobody will. They have died along with him. No, the most I have are these words from these people (Brooke Shields in particular had me really thinking, I thought her speech was divine), paying testament to their friend, their brother or associate.... they knew better than most. So I have taken those words and it has helped me form a more unbiased opinion of what I saw. And all I really saw was filtered through the media until now.

I have also these past few weeks let the words of Michael Jackson's songs be my guide to understanding him a little more. I realised what a humanitarian he was, listening to the sum total of those people speaking at his memorial. Watching his music videos as a young woman in the mid-90's, I remember thinking how self-absorbed he had become... Oh my God! How wrong could I have been?!? I had not been listening to him. I had been seeing him and then listening to what was being said about him. So very, very short-sighted of me.

And now, I am left with this feeling of heavy sadness and quite a lot of sheepish guilt. That I formed these assumptions without letting him and his lyrics be the proof and do the talking. Yes, of course, there were his fun songs - the songs that always kept him in the charts whenever he released an album. But the fame they brought were used by him to give back out.

This is what I would hope anybody would do. Just like with my experience of neonatal death and recurrent pregnancy loss - you cannot sit on that sort of ride and not give back out, whichever way you can, what you have learned. And so on and so forth, for all of us - this reaching out, this sharing of what we have (and MJ had money, so he also used that to give out), is what will keep this world from falling in on itself.

I am very humbled by the huge lesson I've learned from a most unlikely source: a person who was gifted and quietly generous (sometimes not so quietly), who burned bright and fast and left at the most gloriously timed moment in this Earth's history.

I will continue to think about MJ and all he did/tried to do. I focus on that and not on these slants and slights against him. I've done that already, for too long. Now it's time for me to responsibly accept the gifts he gave the world, using his crafts, instead of focusing on how he looked or allowing myself to continue to be caught up with other opinions (which are mostly hearsay anyway).

And above all, I will continue to love that music. Damn, he's good. Although, this morning was the very first time ever that I shed a tear while belting out Blame It On The Boogie in the car, turned up to 11. I hope in time I won't feel so heartsore about it all when I listen to his songs. But one thing is for sure, I will continue to enjoy them*. As I have always done.


* and now also with LGBB, my little boogie partner with me - I taught her the actions to "don't blame it on sunshine, don't blame it on the moonlight, don't blame it on good times... blame it on the boogie" and she thought that was great! Her favourites are the early Jackson 5 stuff and, for the moment, she is really loving Earthsong, which is beautiful - she is enraptured by the film clip (more humanitarian efforts by MJ).

Wedded bliss

(First let me please begin this post with a big shout-out THANK YOU to all you very kind and generous women who've messaged and emailed me through my 'grey day' last week. It is very much appreciated, as I am sure you'll all already appreciate, to hear from people who sound like they know exactly what you're talking about - cos they've been there too and also aren't afraid to say they're imperfect - and I am certain it makes all the difference. So again, thank you to each of you, even those who read and nodded in solidarity but didn't actually contact me - you're equally as appreciated! Back to our usual programming.....)


I smell dinner cooking.

There is something so nurturing to me (as if I've rounded out everything I've done today) when I can smell something cooking in my home during the day while I go around doing other things*. I've chopped and sliced all morning - piles of gorgeous vegies - and started my dear Russell Hobbs dual-pot going with two different meals that will last us several nights this week. A Japanese curry based one and the other a good old-fashioned soup-can-sauce trick (cream of celery tonight).

Is it wrong to have romantical thoughts about one's reliable kitchen appliance? It's just so easy to turn on. Use. And not feel guilty about doing either of those things for my own gain. Not to mention simply leaving it to do the one job I've asked it to do and trust it'll be done, to complete perfection without me having to ask it again.

Y'know? *coy*


Hey, by the way, stay tuned for a book update. I hope to update on latest thoughts and progress tomorrow!

* I'm all about finding the balance -- the yang to the yin... or something like that -- so I will proudly state here in this disclaimer that I can thank my mother for that. The same one I was cursing two days ago. She was a crockpot/pressurecooker fan in the 70's and 80's. Hey, feeding a family of six, you'd be crazy not to have enlisted its services. We had everything in that thing, including porridge that would be set to slow cook overnight.

Just have to remind myself

Ralph Fiennes. I know I love him. But in recent years, I am struggling to remember why it is that I find Ralphie-boy so attractive. Mainly because he keeps doing this to his hair. I saw him last night in In Bruges and he played such an unlikeable character who couldn't be warmed to that I felt like we'd had a falling out, me and Ralph.

So I googled him. And I remembered the movie where I was appalled at myself for becoming rather *cough*aroused*cough* during The Red Dragon, mostly due to that scene where he goes crazy in his home and sets it on fire and runs up those stairs.... without any clothes on.... I shamefully watched the movie again just to reconfirm that I had been very interested in the way he ran. Without any clothes on. Oh yeah, there was that thing about how he tried to burn his house down with his blind 'girlfriend' in it. But still. Nice bottom.

A girlfriend once sent me a dvd-loaner of a movie she bought herself. It was The End of the Affair. Inside the cover was a special handwritten note (no, not from Ralph, it was from my girlfriend) for me to pause at a particular point and take a moment to smile and sigh. It was during a scene where he and Julianne Moore are so hot and heavy that his pants suddenly... fall off.*

He's not shy of getting his kit off and showing his bottom, is he? I guess that can add to his appeal somewhat.

But I say again... not when he keeps doing this to his hair.

Ok. Just as a reminder as to why he's in my Top 5. Let's cement it in our memory, shall we:


Ahhh. That's better. I can continue on with my day now.


* GRAPHIC CONTENT - DON'T BLAME ME IF YOUR KIDS ARE IN THE ROOM: And ohmygod I can't believe someone's swaptubed it. They didn't even know how to do it like that in the '40s, did they???