It's fake, yes. And yet..... its branches are so lovely.
When it came to putting up the tree a week ago, I stood looking at all 7 /12' of it and sighed a resigned, tired sigh. I knew I would be the one pulling most of the decorations off in just a few short weeks. It all just looked like more work to me.
So this year, we went minimal bling, maximum lights. And whaddaya know?
It. WORKS! Like, really, reeeeally well.
A few choice obligatory kinder-made decorations,
some Santa's, maybe a sparkly silver snowflake or ten...
This year we gave Lolly a sparkly glittery fairy with butterfly wings
(I give her a new ornament each year, she has 6 now!)
Less time to put up means far less time to take down. A few favourite decorations here, a few choice strings of beads there, add a shit-tonne of fairy lights and...
Voilé! Tree is done and delightful.
Now this time is really the last Christmas post! Have a lovely one, everyone xxoo
If this ends up being my final post before Christmas, well... how very fitting.
For a special woman (you know who you are) who is feeling it this week. Come on guys, let's all get in a big group hug. Put your word-weapons down and cop a bit of Ronnie James Dio with me. Shout it or sing it, either is perfectly acceptable here. Whatever makes you feel happy.
Merry Christmas if I don't get back in here! Remember there are a lot of emotions pinging about the place, peoples. Stresses that aren't usually there any other time of year, more realisations of what you've got or haven't got (or who you have or have lost) - and if you don't think it affects you.... think again. Even if not directly, others' energies will be having an effect on you as well. As always... go gently with each other.
----------------------------
The Butterfly Ball: who remembers this? In the 70's, I think, they used to play it as a filler between shows on the ABC - The Goodies, Monkey, maybe The Tomorrow People (god that show used to freak me out...) - and I always loved it as a young child. A friend re-introduced me to it earlier this year. So today, I'm posting it for her.
Love Is All
Ronnie James Dio/Roger Glover
Everybody's got to live together
All the people got to understand
So love your neighbour
Like you love your brother
Come on and join the band
Well all you need is love and understanding
Ring the bell and let the people know
We're so happy and we're celebratin'
Come on and let your feelings show
Coz love is all
Well love is all
Love is all can't you hear the call
Oh well love is all you need
Love is all you need at the Butterfly Ball
Ain't you happy that we're all together
At the ball in nature's countryside
And although we're wearing different faces
Nobody wants to hide
Love is all and all is love and
It's easy, yes it's so easy
At the Butterfly Ball where love is all
And it's so easy
All you need is love and understanding
Hey ring the bell and let the people know
We're so happy and we're celebratin'
Let your feelings show
Love is all, yes love is all at the Butterfly Ball
Love is big, love is small
Love is free, love is all
At the Butterfly Ball
When your back's to the wall
When you're starting to fall
You got something to lean on
Love is everything
It can make you sing
At the Butterfly Ball
Love is all, I say love is all, yes love is all
At the Butterfly Ball
A live stream weathercam in Townsville that is (so far) online and working.
Facing south. Watch those clouds race by! I cannot imagine being in it. Mighty Mother Nature, 'eh? It is palpable and exhausting sitting this far away and just gnashing my teeth about everyone [and some family who have decided to evacuate NORTH just past Cairns.... Er, I thought SOUTH might have been better ??????? What would I know, though, I'm just a Victorian and don't know tropical weather at all - if I lived there and saw swirly stuff on the radar, I'd be so far out of there I'd be well into another state by now *shrug*].
I just pray it doesn't end up as catastrophic as it seems. But.... yanno. It kinda doesn't look good. Not to mention how it's looking for the poor darling wildlife and the animals who can't go with their humans. I could cry. And I probably will before this event is over.
I'll admit I have been a tad concerned for our Queensland friends - namely, my two step brothers and their young families who are right in the path of this monster Yasi - and have had the national radar loop screen up more than once today.
The LGBB had a little friend over earlier. They played in the pool and then set about being superheroes, running around the house with their hooded towels on as their 'capes'. I left them to it. At least I wasn't getting roped in to be imaginative.
The friend went home, I went about getting dinner on and took a glance at the radar image again. And Lolly, flashing past me, requested that I look on the radar for Super Bunny.
"Oooooookay," I said, not clicking at first, distracted by what I was going to cook. So I went over to the computer and searched the skies for Super Bunny. Behind me, I heard strange and exotic "whoosh"-ing and "zschooom"-ing sounds. Lolly was no longer in the house. But strangely, at the same time I started to spot flashes of pink (towel... or was it cape?) on the radar! Super Bunny zoomed this way and that, from Western Australia, across to do loops around Tassie, then up north to the Gulf.
"I'm gon-toooo saaaave the worrrrld!" Super Bunny cried as she whooshed past. No doubt, I think to myself. It's no surprise this little bunny has called herself to action again, if the recent floods and the strange illness that befell her for the crucial period of time is anything to go by.
NO idea where Super Bunny came from, nor the desire to be a super hero. It's all new to me. In this house, it's usually pink sparkle, fairy glitter, Tinkerbell-my-little-pony World. But not today. Today, Super Bunny was on a mission, apparently.
And then, almost as suddenly as she disappeared, the LGBB reappeared. Freshly "uncaped" (at the floor by her feet) and with a nonchalant "hello, Mum", she positioned herself beside me and asked flippantly what I was looking at on the radar. I tried to tell her about Super Bunny but she wouldn't hear of it.
God, I love this kid. Have I ever mentioned?
p.s. There's a new one over at the private one....
I cannot stop thinking about this monstrous testament to the change of our El Nino to La Nina weather effects that we're experiencing here at the moment in Australia. Off the back of the downgraded Tropical Cyclone Anthony crossing the coast last night and causing a bit of havoc to our northern friends (further north of the mop-up under way after the terrible floods in the southern end of the state), they now have a (currently) category 4 cyclone looking set to cross the coast over an area covering Cairns and Townsville. And it is kinda alarming me a little. I hope with all my might that it fizzles out or at least downgrades to even a 2. But it may not, even if only because they're beginning to refer to it as 'TC Anthony's ugly big sister'. They've started evacuating beautiful Hamilton Island in the Whitsundays and more are to follow in the coming days, I have read.
As of 4pm today, it was already a Cat-3, characterised in part by wind gusts near its centre of "185km/h and intensifying." And that's now. It is expected to reach land sometime Wednesday or Thursday this week - you can just see the front of it peeking in at the eastern side of the radar images as it updates on the BOM website. If it gets to what they're predicting, those gusts could get up to anywhere around 260km/h. I mean, it is almost unimaginable to me, that sort of speed from wind on the ground. Cyclone Tracey (which of course hit Darwin, 1974) was a category 4 and the stories from that are sobering. Some survivors are still reported to be living with post-traumatic stress from the disaster. And I think to myself, what would I do if faced with this? Seriously? I am not good in pissy storms, this would just about send me into a padded room. Not that that wouldn't be handy during a cyclone, mind.
Yikes. But this is fast becoming a naturally more dangerous place to live out one's existence lately, no?
News reports tonight were warning Melbourne residents to be vigilant about snakes indoors at the moment *checking under computer desk now* because of three bite cases being reported in the past 24 hours - they like to escape the heat, you see, and slither indoors to curl up in some cool, dark cupboard... Where's Harry when you need him, huh?
"It's over there... under the couch, 'arry!"
Welcome to summer in Australia! Floods in most states at the moment, fire weather warnings prevalent in at least three states, dangerous thunderstorm warning in the west, an enormous monster looming off the north eastern coast right on the tail of another smaller one.... But a bloody bewdiful country still to live in. Huh? Are you with me?
And you know what, because I don't know who knows this information and who doesn't know - and who watches the weather and doesn't in the tropical north of this country but reads this here teeny tiny part of the web - I wouldn't rest unless I just do a little copy and paste job from the Bureau..... Those who need to know, I'm sure, probably already do, but just in case:
PRIORITY
TROPICAL CYCLONE ADVICE NUMBER 2
Issued by the Bureau of Meteorology, Brisbane
Issued at 5:02pm EST on Monday the 31st of January 2011
A Cyclone WATCH has been declared for coastal and island communities from Cooktown to Yeppoon.
At 4:00 pm EST Severe Tropical Cyclone Yasi, Category 3 was estimated to be 1780 kilometres east northeast of Townsville and 1630 kilometres east northeast of Mackay moving west at 30 kilometres per hour.
The cyclone is expected to intensify as it moves west over the Coral Sea.
Damaging winds are expected to develop about coastal and island communities between Cooktown and Yeppoon Wednesday morning.
People between Cooktown and Yeppoon should consider what action they will need to take if the cyclone threat increases.
- Information is available from your local government
- For cyclone preparedness and safety advice, visit Queensland's Disaster Management Services website [www.disaster.qld.gov.au]
- For emergency assistance call the Queensland State Emergency Service [SES] on 132 500 [for assistance with storm damage, rising flood water, fallen trees on buildings or roof damage].
Details of Severe Tropical Cyclone Yasi at 4:00 pm EST:
.Centre located near...... 13.8 degrees South 162.5 degrees East
.Location accuracy........ within 35 kilometres
.Recent movement.......... towards the west at 30 kilometres per hour
.Wind gusts near centre... 185 kilometres per hour and INTENSIFYING
.Severity category........ 3
.Central pressure......... 970 hectoPascals
Please ensure that neighbours have heard and understood this message, particularly new arrivals or those who may not fully understand English.
The next advice will be issued by 11:00 pm EST Monday 31 January.
This warning is also available through TV and Radio Broadcasts; the Bureau's website at www.bom.gov.au or call 1300 659 212. The Bureau and the State Emergency Service would appreciate this warning being broadcast regularly.
Check the latest weather warnings. And stay safe, North Queensland people!
There's no better time like the present to be distracted a little by dogs dressed up as humans. But first, a recap on this past week for what an incredibly emotionally draining one it has been for many Australians:
• Two of our own blog community are burying and celebrating the lives of their dear loved ones today and my heart goes out to them - Lori from RRSAHM and Lulu from Unperfect Life, both of whom have surely felt the bottom of their worlds fall out this week.
• The floods in Queensland are receding but not after annihilating our Sunshine State. And now, Victoria is being hammered by heavy rains and flooding has already begun to cause damage. I hope no more lives are lost. Not this week.
Victoria is under there somewhere... at least 50% of the state experiencing rains again today
• And in the middle of all this outpouring and shock, much closer to home yesterday we shouldered our personal memories as we quietly celebrated the 7th anniversary of our firstborn baby girl, Ellanor, who entered the world what feels like almost a lifetime ago. It was a strange mix of emotions.
So now, I admit it, I'm in need of a bit of a shaking off of this heaviness, just for a moment.
Click away now if you don't want to join in, but I've got to do something drastic. It involves a story of a cat, too many dead birds, a daughter who's discovered dogs behaving like humans and me displaying my obsessive compulsive tendencies by finding her more and more vids of exactly that just so I can soak up her infectious belly laughs.
-----------------------
After months of dreading coming home to find what had been left on the doorstep by our cat who, going by the condition of her prey, is some kind of crazy ave lobotomist, I decided it was high time to do something about this cat of ours. She has lost two collars, three bells and my patience for her.
I discussed with Steve whether we should just get her a massive bell, but decided that would look ridiculous. We also floated the notion that perhaps the birds in this area are just a bit slow off the mark, or perhaps simply dumb or inquisitive - maybe they think the bell means dinner, we wondered. Well... I suppose it does in a way. In a ... not alive for them in a few seconds kind of way. But it didn't help us find any answers on how to stop our cat being so darn bird-unfriendly. She needs something bigger than a big bell to stop her, I said. She needs a... a doorbell!
Rather than call me unhelpful, Steve considered the possibility of attaching a doorbell to the cat's body, one that was wired to permanently "ding-dong", thereby alert any of the dumb slow birds to get out of her away.
Instead, though, I took MacGyver's biggest fan to the nearest pet store and together, we weighed up the options. None of the cat collars looked to have adequate... bell-ringage. We knew with this wily one we would need, like, the Notre Dame of bells. And they just don't make them like that.
However..... then we discovered this! The cat bib!
And doesn't this cat look proud (img: catgoods.com)
Made from wetsuit fabric, supposedly your cat can groom, walk, pounce, run and generally still be the happy-go-lucky nagger to be let in/out, whinger for food when it's just eaten puddytat it always was. Just without the killing of the birds bit.
So we tried it on Tabby. And she's hated us more for it ever since. In fact, mostly she's been sitting sulking on the front doormat. Surrounded by tufts of leftovers (you know, feathers, a bit of matted plumage, some entrails, etc.), she has just huffed there. With her fetching purple cat bib to keep her company. Yeah, yeah, sucks to be her and all that. Steve is concerned she'll get beaten up by the neighbourhood cats for being a dork. Too bad, I say.
When we looked out the window a bit later, Tabitha had gone. Hooray! we said to each other. Perhaps she is going to be okay with it after all. We had both been wondering what she would be thinking of the bib and why we were being so cruel to her. I entertained the image of our vindictive little pussy cat going around the gardens with her bib hoiked around behind her neck, pretending to be a superhero and using it as a cape as she went right on hunting and catching and killing. But when I asked Steve if he'd seen any villains lately that looked suspiciously like a black cat with a score to settle, he said he hadn't.
To be honest, we half expected to see Tabby step deliberately up to the kitchen window with a knife, a fork and a dead bird and a look that said, "This is much more civilised" as she used her bib as a proper napkin.
None of that happened. Instead, this morning I got a message of another kind. A laundry floor strewn with cat vomit. So that's what she thinks of her cat bib.
And as for the dogs dressed as humans? This is funny AND educational:
This post is dedicated to Lori today. The FYBF blog hop is currently being guest hosted by Kristin at Wanderlustlust...
In January, to escape the ongoing catastrophic money pit home extensions, we spend two very slow-paced nights down by the beach in Gippsland. That's about all we do in January. Ahhh.
January: On seeing Daddy in the ocean on his own, a blue-lipped and alarmed Lolly (the wind off the Southern Ocean was fuh-reeeezing) sat quoting her swimming classes' water safety motto to herself out loud - "Swordy says.... never.... swim.... alone." Daddy got a full reprimand on exiting the waves and rejoining us at the towels.
In February, I take the best macro photo I've ever snapped: a single dandelion seed for my sister inlaw's website. I try to burn the kitchen down by way of a pot of oil left on high flame on the stove (I don't think I ever even admitted to that one on the blog..... so ashamed... ruined a bloody good pot - and set of lungs - as well, damnit). Steve and I finish the back-breaking laying of the bitching bastard fiddly fuckers bamboo hardwood flooring and it looks spectacular. In fact, all the rooms - including the family and bath rooms - are finally coming together nicely, after works that began in August 2009. The dog gets in so many photos that I pander to her neediness for inclusion and take her very own special photo (smiling dork cutie that she is) so that she leaves me alone and stops getting her arse, waggily tail or head in all my shots. I ponder what else I could be doing with my time instead of hanging out black sock after pissing annoying black sock so much that I take a photo of them when I'm only half way through pegging duties.... The offending culprit black sock wearer poses alongside his Magna-doodled likeness (as drawn by the LGBB). Lolly starts writing her 'signature' and is very proud of herself. I rest easier at night, having finally found the right green for her bedroom walls ("Willow Tree" by Bristol, if you're wondering).
In March, on the 6th at around 3pm, a once-in-a-lifetime storm event hits Melbourne ... right over our house. After 20 minutes on the ground, the hail stones are still about 20cm in diameter even after melting on the previously warm day. The damage sustained to our home, and more to others in the neighbouring areas, reaches well into double figures in insurance. We have to replace our annihilated roof - a bucket placed on our kitchen bench yields 5 litres of water through a ceiling light in the space of less than 2 hours. It's scary and a big clean-up but not as much as many others in the area. The hail bounces off the ground to around 10ft in the air (watch the video - the sound of running water half way through is actually a leaking window that was literally pouring water in onto our floors), the hail strips paint off our fences and goes clean through Lolly's trampoline and outdoor play equipment. Steve's car is totalled (a boon, which nets him a nice brand new car... small bonus, really) and we have to replace all our outdoor furniture and toys: thank you, RACV, what a blessing to be insured. The storm puts significant halt to our garage/home office plans (final stage of extensions), so we run away to the beach again, this time to Wilsons Prom with some dear friends for a memorable short vacation.
In April, the last surviving great-Aunt on my mother's side passes away. I visit their rural property in South Australia with my brother on a hastily arranged trip for the funeral. On reaching their homestead, I am overcome and overwhelmed with the feeling of home-coming for me, the house turns out to be a stately, welcoming old family friend, with many ancestral heirlooms - including the bed our great-grandfather spent the final seven years of his life sleeping in - and I feel a deep sense of belonging to this land which I have not visited since I was barely three. I cannot quite comprehend that in every direction I look, on waking to capture the sunrise the first morning, the family owns the farming land. I am choked and humbled and feel very small as I think of the original owners who have long since been driven out by white settlers. The colours are different here. And although it is razed almost completely and there is hardly a landmark in sight, the place is captivating, haunting and stunning. When I arrive home, the new tin roof is up and it looks marvellous.
In May, we go to Phillip Island for the day and have a blast together. This is despite the LGBB's very best hand-on-hips-ish pre-four year-old behaviour throughout the day, which is tedious and confusing and full of contradictions to say the least. Still, forging on, we visit a farm and Steve milks a cow, we go to the koala conservatory and make the obligatory Penguin Parade stop to watch the fairy penguins come ashore at the end of a long, cold trek for their food. Phillip Island: A highly recommended place to spend some time, if you're ever visiting Victoria. By the end of this month, we have dismantled the wall that surrounded our outdoor deck and the garage/office wall is up and ready for frame stage.
In June, I am lovingly made a chocolate birthday cake and the cake topper is chosen by Lolly herself - something to perfectly capture the love between a mother and daughter, a timeless gift that says "I was thinking of you when I chose this"... See it there in the photo? It's a rubber dinosaur. I take a photo this month of our old dog, Pepper, thinking for sure her days of warming herself in the winter sun by the window must surely this time be numbered (six months on, I'm still taking "this may be the last photo" photos of the old battle-ax). The LGBB has her mid-year toddler dance concert (her last in this class before she moves up with the 5-7 year-olds) - her motto seems to be "better to be over-dressed than under-prepared for any occasion, dahhlinks", as the other littlies turned up in sweats and hoodies, a floral dress at best. I blink and apparently miss my leggy little blondie-girl getting suddenly all child-looking... this is the month Lolly appears to drop the remainder of her 'baby fat'. She also discovers the joys of stay-on lippy and I catch her literally painting her face with it - after this photo, she covers herself from forehead to chin, colouring in all the bits she'd missed, and it will take me almost an hour to patiently scrub it off.
In July, our little girl turns four. I almost commit hara kiri with her birthday cake on the way to the party, Scraps discovers his hot chocolate addiction is serious and Lolly perfects her portraits of her Dad, adding features such as the all-over-face stubble and toussled-hair. I walk in one lazy Sunday morning expecting to find father and daughter sharing some quality time together and they are.... on their respective Apple gadgets, happily sharing high-score results and occasionally grunting to each other. They're happy. I shudder slightly and snap a photo, assuming this is just a taste of things to come.
In August, we take the LGBB to see the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra for the first time. Steve gets arty with his iPhone4 and a bunch of My Little Ponies, I get arty with bento (Japanese take-away/snack-box lunches) and Lolly gets arty with posing dogs. On heads of other dogs. It's a slow month.
In September, Lolly inexplicably begins breastfeeding Scraps out of nowhere and it is absolutely gorgeous - she even stops play to attend to her doggy every morning and asks to see photos of herself being breastfed as a baby to ensure she's doing it realistically. I take yet another last photo of Pepper (who is still wheezing alongside me while she sleeps as I type this post), and I capture the most delightful set of images on the way home in the long afternoon Spring sunshine. Pity about the dog's piss.
In October, Steve brings home his new baby - the iPad - and we're all immediately besotted with the dear little thing, Lolly takes to using the painting app on there and is chuffed with her hard work and even more excited that she can take a screen shot of her paintings and then print them out. Our beautiful old tree begins to get its leaves back. I'm treated to a Party In The USA impromptu tutu-clad dance routine (about 19 times in a row.... GET OUT OF MY HEAD, MILEY CYRUS!). Steve gets dressed up by Lolly. And we plant ourselves a little vegie patch.
In November, surprise-surprise, yet another 'last photo' photo of Pep, standing (barely) this time. Lolly gets quite taken with the sun shade being put up for her and Pepper to have picnics in the front yard. We're so proud of our girl who has her first end of year concert in amongst the older kids - she's tall for her age at four but is towered over by them - as she holds her own and keeps up with all the moves (wearing her Best, once again). We have a guest visitor on the first warm day - a possum who falls asleep for several hours on the clothes line under our deck. And speaking of decks... it's getting there! The office and garage are finished (shells only, still plastering and painting to finish), the outdoor room is looking good. Just need to decide what colour to put on the blue-board.
In December, there are cupcakes, carols and Christmas trees! Grandpa's tickles and Mummy's kisses. Fun under the Christmas tree. Kindy graduation and baked cookies. What more to life can there be?
So 2011 begins tomorrow. I have plans. Big plans. A few things already in the works. But for now, I'm so darn tired of 2010 that I just don't wanna talk anymore.
Have a good one, please have a safe one. Happy New Year!
I cannot believe she's grown so much since I filmed this! I thought she was the oldest she could possibly get. Mental note: may be something to do with not believing we'd ever have a child full stop. It still felt surreal back then in 2008.
But, anywho, here is our good thing LGBB in one of my faaaaavourite ever bits of footage of her - please excuse the lighting, there is no time for anything like that when you've got Toddler Comedy Gold going on (lest you interrupt the gorgeousness).
I could watch this over and over, honestly. And I have in the past! Here she is, aged just 2 1/2 singing that old classic, Rudolph the Red-Nose Ray Deer:
And if I don't get back here, or around to yours before, please accept my warmest blessings for a gorgeous Christmas. I hope the days are pleasant, restful and fulfilling. NOT stressful, exhausting and crammed full of too much (unless that is what fulfils you!). Everyone who commented on this blog this year, I thank you sincerely for your humour, support and frankness.
Can't get enough of looking at our tree! It looks grand this year.
Thought I ought to post a couple of pics of where our craft ended up. It was just what we needed to add some homely touches to the place, on the mantelpiece there:
I thought we wouldn't be needing the fireplace... but I may have spoken too soon.
Yesterday was so cold, it was hot chocolate and marshmallows weather. There was snow on the Vic Alps and it was bone-chilly. Okay, so not quite anything in comparison to the UK. Possibly balmy, at 11ºC. But still. Not Summer!
The LGBB would like you all to notice her nailpolished, star-stickered fingers please (hence their strategic placement in shot):
I already told you... I just can't stop looking at the tree at night!
I just spent two days without internet. Forcibly removed from my one outlet in this home-mum life, I was sure it spelled certain insanity. The first day didn't bode well. The LGBB had obviously got up on the wrong side of the bed, at 5am, and found her way into ours so that was the time my day started. When she woke again at 7am as Steve got ready for work, she started with her... ah, "four year-oldness". It was going to be a whingey day. And I had already discovered, at 5am, that our internet was down and out for the count.
By 7.30am, Steve was ready to leave, I had had Dame Whinge-a-Lot in my ear for a solid half hour and felt like I wanted to just go back to bed to reclaim even an hour of the two hours' sleep I had lost. As Steve stood at the front door lacing his shoes, I came towards him with a demanding, belligerent and determined miss following me at the top of her voice, and I murmured over and over under my breath so only he could hear, "Don't leave me alone with her today, Don't leave me alone with her today, Don't leave me alone with her today..." It's a running joke we have with each other, whereby we turn into the kids who need our mummy or daddy to rescue us if we think it's going to be too 'scary' to handle.
Let me tell you, with not enough sleep under my hat and no internet, it was indeed a scary start to my day. But I had no choice. I couldn't run home to mother. I just had to suck it up and see what a day with no contact with my cyberworld was like. And...
IT WAS SPECTACULAR!
Away from the distraction of "just checking this blog" or "just going to hit refresh on my Ebay listings", unable to upload the latest finished site for a client (okay, so that part was a bit more painful as I despise letting people down, especially if they're paying me!) and not even able to receive emails from dear friends, I actually spent the past couple of days chillin' with my daughter.
We went to Spotlight (OH my very goodness, they are practically giving away Christmas decorations and crafting things down there!! Have you been?) and came home laden with wire-edged ribbon and wooden letters that spelled the word "MERRY", we had glitter and baubles and holly. We made a mantelpiece hanging together.
We hand made twenty-six kindy class cards, each one hand signed by the LGBB and some with very special messages that I helped her to write, like the one to her kindy teacher that read "I love you and I will miss you so so so so so so [I had to abbreviate and could only put in about five of the dozen or more "so's"] much. Love heart, kiss and cuddle..." which makes me tear up every time I look at it. And one to the teacher's assistant, "To Lisa, Merry Christmas. I put my tree up already. I will miss you." And the one she wrote to herself... using her actual name, of course (not Lolly):
"To Lolly, Love Lolly. I love Lolly so much. Merry Christmas." And then she's signed that one with her name as well.
We decorated the tree and shared turns to climb a chair and hang the higher decorations (a very favourite of the LGBB's, she thought this was an incredibly grown-up thing of her to do).
We went to the local community centre's Christmas party, an annual lunch time invitation that is open to the community. As you can imagine, there are plenty of elderly folk with nothing much to do who wander in. The staff at the centre, which is impeccably run, put on a brilliant spread, as good as any lovingly made food. What's more, only four of the kindy kids (Lolly has been with their brilliant early learning program for children which is like a pre-four-year-old kindy program with lots of structure and adorable staff and wooden toys and teacher-led songs and stories, since she was two) turned up and their teachers were there so she got to spend some really gorgeous one on one time in this casual, family atmosphere setting. It just filled my heart to overflowing hearing her teacher tell me she was "really going to miss this one" as she squeezed my daughter. Deb has been an incredibly warm and caring teacher to the LGBB and her kindy mates and we are going to sorely miss her next year.
But, ahhhh! I feel like I have been on a mini-vacation, in my mind.
I also realised that even when I don't blog so much, I'm still at this computer more often than not due to work and as a social/news portal. All very well and good. However.... what's been highlighted to me is that I don't have enough of a variety of outlets. I have more of a clue now what the balance might be and how to strike it. During the course of the day yesterday, I got really talking with a neighbour who also just happens to be the mum of one of Lolly's best-best-best friends (children love repeating words for emphasis don't they! or mine does) and as I stood and eyed off their gorgeous garden decorations, she told me she and her husband had made them. They are stunning. Honestly, I thought they had been shop bought.
So I have received a casual invitation to come over and make some of my own with them in their work shed. The girls can play in their beautiful huge back yard and we can let the guys do the jigsawing (I'm sure champagne was mentioned as part of the deal, so probably best not to drink and drive a piece of machinery, lest my hand take on the shape of Rudolph's antlers.. or something).
And today, they have Lolly again - who I think would love to move in to their house and just drop us a wave from their front porch (we can see door to door) every now and then... - and are walking to a local kids' Christmas activity day. Steve and I are spending time together alone at home. A rarity so bleedin' rare that, actually, there hasn't been a time in the past 4 1/2 years that I can recall. What a change that has been, from the days of old when we wished so fervently that we didn't have to spend another season in our big empty house alone without any children to fill it. Wow. Big moment, recalling that one.
No rushing about at the shops, Lolly and I are making Christmas baked treats for everyone (ok.... we all know it'll end up being me doing the lion's share, if not all of it). We have no desire and no need to enter into the materialism that has taken over. The kids will get toys, of course, but none of this gnashing teeth over what to get him and her and wonder if it will be received well. Ugh! Thankfully, we did away with that, oh, about six years ago - wholly and solely thanks to our very own guiding angel, Ellanor, who taught her Dad and me there is much more to life.
It's beginning to really feel a lot like Christmas. Real, genuine, people caring and looking out for their neighbours and fellow men and women, Christmas. Like I felt it as a kid. This feeling has eluded me for nigh on two decades, maybe even three. And it is seeping in to my soul in a very fulfilling way this season. Enjoyment of others, providing a home spilling over with excited kids, spending time chatting with neighbours. Now that I have allowed myself the time to step out of the life I had created, with its walls (which I hadn't really noticed were there) and distractions (which I absolutely know are there!), I'm feeling happier. Lolly is happier.
I wonder how long I can keep this going. This wave I appear to riding the crest of.
How about you? What are you feeling leading up to Christmas?
This post is loving it up with all the others this weekend over at Maxabella's place...
The first rose for the year has bloomed on Ella's blue moon rose bush. I first posted the story about it last March, 2009. It's interesting to note the various times it decides to flower - if it does at all (for in 2008, it did not flower at all) - so it's always a very pleasant and welcome surprise, then, to see it begin to bud.
I was so taken by this year's first flower that I have put it in my new blog header *up there* ^^ but here is the photo in the raw:
And one more time, for those new to my blog or anyone who missed it, here is the story again:
It's a beautiful Autumn-blooming fragrant rose, deeply coloured with hues of pinks and purples. In full flower, it looks ridiculously gorgeous.
A childhood friend gave this gift to me five years ago, on her first (mercifully short, for we were still not great company) visit to see how we were going after Ellanor died. I remember looking at her standing in my kitchen, concern etched on her face, and me apologising that I just "can't do it, I can't be cheerful this time, Treen..." and she marvelled with me then that I was actually still standing. She didn't need me to "be" anything, she assured me. I could relax then, for I heard that she understood. But I was completely bereft. Concerned that the me I knew, who she knew, who all around me knew, was lost forever. I had always been able to make my friends smile, giggle, belly laugh in fact. Now, despite my sense of humour, I couldn't do it. I was heartbroken, doubly so that I was not being for my friends and family what they'd come to know and love. Would they love the new, broken me? The pain and fear was so huge.
This girl is salt of the Earth stuff. She's just great. I am ashamed to admit, I don't contact her nearly enough. Ours is one of those enduring friendships, across miles, across faith differences, across other mutual friendships that have ended around us. And always, there is this friend. We went to kindergarten together. Then high school. Then we parted ways. I married, she moved overseas to live. But even still, she's a firm fixture in my mind.
And the gesture that day, of giving us the rose, this "Eternal Moon" - from her and her family - is something I always give thanks for each time I pass by the planter at our front doorstep.
I don't know why I didn't plant it in the garden in my already thriving rose garden of our old place. A blessing, I guess, in disguise because I would have been very sad to part with it if ever we moved. I chose a heavy, simple sandstone planter - something that made two removalists groan and curse when they had to move it here last year - and have watched it wilting in this relentless heat.
I honestly don't know how I didn't see the buds on it. It's as if they literally sprung up overnight last night. Because today, a flash of colour caught my eye. Oh wow, two opening buds! And more. At least half a dozen more. I was doubting I'd ever see it flower to its former glory again, fearing the different conditions here (it's notably cooler, not more than ten minutes' drive up the road, like a more mountain climate - odd and interesting) and the changed aspect towards the sun now had screwed it for good.
Am packing away the polar fleece. It's going to be 24ºC! Hello, old friend The Sun.
Am going to Bunnings to look for baby spinach and rocket (rocquet?? I can never tell, the spelling changes everywhere) seedlings to plant in the vegie patch.
Start Pepper on her dementia medication. The old girl has started to call me Roberta and is smelling oranges for no reason. She's losing it. She barks, as regular as a metronome ticking, and it's because she wakes and forgets where she is and what she was doing. And then I go and shush her with various semaphore arm movements (she's deaf) and the look on her sweet face tells me.... she knows who I am and she's sheepish, like "Oh. It's you. Was I making a noise again? I can't tell."
Rescued two lonely, wisened, dried up Bangalow palms from Woolies. They were getting chucked out for $10 each - they were double that price last week. Score, me and them! I love potted palms.
Will attempt to make the chocolate cake I was planning on making since last Saturday, but I reckon the weather will entice me outdoors all day. So, fat chance of cooking.
Am looking forward immensely to the rematch of the AFL grand final. Last Saturday, Steve was sick and spent the day in bed. Lolly and I had a blast watching it and eating pies, but it's more fun with Daddy to explain the rules 'cause we haven't a clue what's going on. We just cheer everybody on.
May just finish weeding the front garden. Heh. I said 'may'.
Will stand in my backyard with my face to the sun and be thankful.
This song is the only thing that will get me going today. We're heading for record rainfall in Melbourne. Just today. WHAT THE?? Hasn't it already rained a year's worth in one season? :( Poop.
Easter weekend has always been my favourite holiday of the entire year. Even including Christmas.
There is something very healing and nurturing about this weekend to me. Perhaps the significance on the Christian calendar has something to do with that. Perhaps it's something also to do with the large collective around the world who are in their prayerful and reflective states. I am a great believer in the powerful effect of, for want of a better word, prayer. And to put a less religious spin on it, the "simple" act of positive thinking. Of putting positive thought towards another or something (from your ailing pet to an entire country).
It all helps.
I'm relieved to discover that I don't have to work this weekend. I plan to play and clean and rest these next four days. A bbq with friends in a large, fantastic suburban park tomorrow and we have the makings of a fine weekend.
I hope yours, wherever you are and however you spend it, is deeply renewing for you, too. Don't forget to spend some time putting your own brand of positive thought towards something or someone!
And then we find another leak. And another. AND ANOTHER.
So, yes. Hmmm. Along with the shrapnel that is now many of our old roof tiles, our old gutters aren't up to code, people. They are just not coping with the amount of rain.
We have water damage on the ceiling in the bedroom, ensuite, hallway, the kitchen, laundry aaaaand.... actually, I think that's it. No, wait. There's a door that has a slow drip so undoubtedly, there's water damage happening there, too.
Here is the snapshot I've just taken of the BOM weather radar as at 8:20pm. Lolly calls it the Raindar. I'm with her. Oops, and there goes the CFA siren again. Poor bastards are earning their measly moula this weekend :( I feel like baking them a batch of cracking muffins (NO, Tanya, not crack muffins, dear!... Cracking good muffins) and taking them up there to the station.
Water is dribbling down a couple of the walls. Inside. We have a tarp over our roof, strategically erected by Steve today with the help of his Dad and a neighbour. There is literally nothing else we can do.
We collected 5 litres of rain water from one light fixture - read that again: a light fixture!!! - in the kitchen yesterday, in under 2 hours. The laundry ceiling now has bubbling in it in a patch that had already received water damage from yesterday's downpour and it is bowing and sagging slightly. I daren't look. I can't anymore! Am exhausted from rain. But oh... isn't it good for the garden....
It is hellishly heavy rain again now. And the next few days, I have these automatic blog posts set up. So... I could be looking like I'm posting when, really, I'm bobbing down the storm water drain on a hastily whittled life raft made out of the remnants of my house made of sticks, with Steve and the LGBB singing "Row, row, row yer boat" because they are the ever optimists, always out for a lark.
You know, it's not every day you're startled by a fireman doing that slow, almost movie-cliché walk through your home, flashing a strong torch through your house. But that's the surprise the LGBB and I got of our lives earlier today after they came inside to inspect our house for damage. It was honestly like watching a show on the telly. Except it was our house he was in and we were walking towards each other.
You know when sometimes you kind of play down something because you're pretty sure it just MUST be you over-exaggerating? But then you see it or hear it from a professional or someone with some nouse and it's not until then that you go "Oh.... oh, holy crap.... yeah, I guess that is pretty bad/dangerous. Okay, yep, we'll take that help, thanks for the gesture." The firey has called the SES for us. We're going to be waiting hours. But it's the thought that counts *playful fist on chin*
The fire brigade were doing slow laps of the neighbourhood, helping out their community and stopping to inspect at the most tarp-laden or crowd-gathered places. I had been down the "extension end" (solid as a rock, it is, and thank goodness) with Lolly, checking for any signs of water damage - there were none - and this firey must have been ushered inside by Steve, who at this point was concerned we might have a caved-in roof soon if this rain didn't stop. There was no way at that point to assess the damage of this "Act Of God".
An enormous, vicious and expensive storm swept Melbourne this afternoon.
Steve and the LGBB were on their way (in the dark and brooding weather) to have a dip in the local pool when this huge storm cloud dumped baseball and golfball size hail stones on them. In my little car!
About 2:30pm on Saturday afternoon
Having no idea what exactly was about to happen, I was working at the kitchen bench at the time. It got dark all of a sudden. Dark even for this old weatherboard [yes, yes, very funny, I mean the house, not me].
"Huh, strange looking cloud," I says to myself as put down the camera and continue working. Then the phone rang and it was Steve.
"Not to alarm you or anything, buuuuut..." and he told me what was going on, about five minutes' drive up the road, where he and Lol had been forced to pull over and take cover under a large tree. I have no idea how, but my Renault would end up with not even a scratch on it, let alone a dint. 'Assmy grrrl.
"Golf ball hailstones, you're exaggerating," I said, chortling. And then.... the first one hit the kitchen window as I was staring out of it at the eery light moving across the neighbour's backyard. "HOLY FARK! Either the kid next door has a reeeeally good pitch for a 14 month-old or they're coming!"
What followed was a noise so deafening I cowered at floor level with the two dogs, who luckily just happened to be inside - a rare treat for them. I had to hang up from Steve, it was impossible for us to hear each other. He had said to me that the LGBB was okay, not too alarmed. He was obviously doing a good job at allaying any concern about the noise in the car.
Meanwhile, back at the house, I could hear a neighbour screaming, I could hear glass smashing and the sound of the hailstones hitting the weatherboards was sickening. As if the Heavens themselves were belligerantly piffing these things at our houses with such hatred.
The force of Mother Nature again humbled me today.
Inside, I heard the sound of water running not more than five minutes after the pelting started. I had the presence of mind to grab the video camera (I was thinking Steve would NEVER believe me) and because it was so dark and I was scared of being electrocuted as there were obviously leaks in the roof, all you can hear is something that sounds like someone running a bath. Except it was just inside my front door. And too close to the wall for me to place a bucket under. I tried to trace the flow and realised it was streaming in from everywhere, around a lovely old leadlight window in our entrance, and I could hear more very fast-running water inside the wall. Gahhh!!! I raced to get towels and buckets and when I opened the laundry door, I saw a huge puddle of water careening its way across the floor in there, apparently coming from yet another leak somewhere behind the adjoining kitchen-laundry wall! Ah, the joys of living in an old circa 1940's house.
So back to the front door, I hastily dabbed at the wall, which began to bulge - the plaster shall have to be replaced, for sure - and mused, trying to compute it, that I was inside my own house but had rainwater splashing in my face. Water was everywhere. Just... everywhere. And then I saw the external hard drive. You know, the backup drive? The one you grab on your way out the front door In Case Of Emergency Evacuation? Yuh-huh, that one. It was being weed on by the heavens. I let out an expletive and dashed over to the kitchen bench, placing it safely there. Feeling quite hopeless after a few minutes, with sodden bath sheets being flung out the front door so I didn't damage the floor any more than it may already have been, I heard another (now familiar) sound. More water! This time from the kitchen.
I dumped what I was holding and raced back over and there, raining down inside straight onto the kitchen bench were another THREE leaks. These ones coming out at light fitting points. And one very suspicious-looking water stain appearing on the ceiling. My laptop, Steve's iPhone, the camera and yep, you guessed it, the already sodden hard drive, all in the line of the coursing water. All appear to have escaped damage, though (except we haven't attempted to test the drive, we'll wait for a couple of days before turning it on... I reeeeally don't like the chances....)
It was all rather hopeless. We lost our beautiful stain glass window in the ensuite, it smashed from one end of the bathroom to the other, with telltale little puddles of brown muddy mush where melted "golf balls" met their ultimate fate on the floor. The LGBB and Steve, having arrived home after a very slow drive - during which Steve also had to dodge bobbing wheelie bins as they floated across busy intersections at him from the shopping centre - held torches for me while I painstakingly swept up shards of glass. The toothbrushes and anything else on the countertop were binned, there was no taking any chances, not with this fine glass.
In the wake of the fast storm, the street rallied together beautifully - as they have done regularly already in the two years we have been living here - and we all pitched in at each others' places, tarping over severely broken windows, corking and covering roofs (like ours, with so many cracked tiles it instantly created a bit of an issewe indoors) and also just sharing stories and debriefing. It reminded me so much of Black Saturday. Before I knew it, we had three blokes I've never met, hoiking themselves up onto our steeply pitched and dangerous tiled old roof, fixing it as much as they could until the SES can arrive (they're yet to come, we may not see them til daylight, we may not see them at all). We are apparently expecting more downpours tomorrow and everybody was keen to ensure we would all avoid any further inside damage, though I hope sincerely that there will be no more damaging and dangerous hail.
But we are safe. Lolly is passed out in her bed, grossly offended that I threw out her Zoey toothbrush and exhausted from reassuring her take-everywhere buddies, Scraps and Bun, that it was okay, they could uncover their ears now... awwwww. The street, while looking like a war zone, is also safe.
Steve's car, on the other hand..... well, it bore the brunt and the passing front wreaked havoc on his paint work and windscreen, which has cracked from top to bottom and has six bullet-like holes in it. The entire body (and of course the roof) is as pock-marked as an adolescent teen.
Big mop ups going on here this weekend. And just when I thought I already had enough work on.....
Watch my big "guard dog" leap to reassure me she'll protect me *a-HERM* and when you see the quick flash of vid of the leadlight window, that water noise you hear was inside!
• 2010 is going to be known in this house as The Year Of Living Frugally. My recent op shop exploits (where I found NEW gorgeous designer label clothes for $1.... like... ohmygodareyouforreal?) were a boost to my confidence, and that it doesn't take spending lots of dosh to have nice "things" - and what's the saying, anyway? "The important things in life aren't things." So true.
• This time last year I was wishing we had the extension all finished. Some things never change.
• It's probably not a good idea to store your wallet with your spare sanitary pad for those "just in case" times. You'll prrrrobably end up pulling out said pad with your wallet to pay for your Christmas drinky-poo's and not notice until you glance down and think, "What's that bright blue packaging?" as you go to slip out your credit card. In front of the nice young boy who's already in the process of being very self-conscious because of that pesky Glee Club tryout-ruining breaking voice ("When it's time to change, you've got to re-A-RANGE").
• I can't be sure, but I've spent the last half hour with "drinky-poo's" on my mind, trying to recall who said it (and got picked on for saying it). And I have concluded, it was Graham Garden from The Goodies. I haven't googled. Some things are better left un-googled and, therefore, apparently in this internet age, unanswered. Unless any of you know? Or have googled the answer?
• This is my last post before Christmas. Sound the bugle.
And have a good one, peeps. Eat! Be merry! Laugh lots!
Now this is awesome. May be a bit on the gingery side for some (but after all, they are gingerbread cookies!) so experiment and perhaps use just 1 tsp instead of 2. They were very strong, but the icing set that off very nicely.
Gingerbread Cookies These gingerbread cookies are as delicious to eat as they are fun to make. I think my kids enjoyed making these gingerbread cookies even more than sugar cookies this year. Perhaps it's because the gingerbread people seem to have a bit of personality. Use whatever decorations you have on hand. We found red and green striped white chocolate chips and thought they made terrific buttons for these gingerbread men. Ingredients: • 1/2 cup butter, softened • 1/2 cup firmly-packed brown sugar • 1/2 cup molasses • 1 large egg • 1 tsp. vanilla • 3 cups all-purpose flour • 1-1/2 tsp. baking powder • 3/4 tsp. baking soda • 1/4 tsp. salt • 2 tsp. ground ginger • 1 tsp. cinnamon • 1/2 tsp. cloves • gel icing for decorating • M&Ms or striped white chocolate chips for decorating Preparation: 1. In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter and sugar together until fluffy. Add the molasses, egg and vanilla. Beat well. 2. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon and cloves. 3. Stir into the wet ingredients until well-incorporated (you can do this with your hands). 4. Separate the dough into three pieces. Form into logs and wrap in plastic wrap. Refrigerate at least 1 hour. 5. When ready to bake, remove dough from oven and preheat oven to 350 degrees F. 6. Roll dough out to a thickness of 1/4-inch. Use cookie cutters to make gingerbread people. 7. Bake 8-10 minutes. Let cool and decorate.
For the icing, I used this recipe and coloured it with a touch of food dye:
Confectioners Frosting 2 cups (230 grams) confectioners sugar (icing or powdered sugar), sifted 1/2 cup (113 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 1 1/2 tablespoons milk or light cream Assorted food colors (if desired) Read more: http://www.joyofbaking.com/GingerbreadMen.html#ixzz0ZMtkR6KH
In an electric mixer (or with a hand mixer), cream the butter until smooth and well blended. Add the vanilla extract. With the mixer on low speed, gradually beat in the sugar. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and beater. Add the milk and beat on high speed until frosting is light and fluffy (about 3-4 minutes). Add a little more milk if too dry. Place the frosting in a pastry bag fitted with a decorative tip and decorate the gingerbread men as desired.
Tint portions of frosting with desired food colour. Read more: http://www.joyofbaking.com/GingerbreadMen.html#ixzz0ZMtyNJMU
