Przewalski's horse

I've always loved horses, and when I was little, thanks to a science book I had, I learnt all about the progression of eohippus through merychippus to the modern horse, and one of the great fascinations was the Przewalkski's horse, the only real wild horse in the world, and the one most closely related to all those horse ancestors. I say wild because they've never been domesticated, unlike brumbies here and mustangs in the US, which both originally came from domestic stock.

I always dreamed that one day I'd see a Przewalki's horse in the flesh, but didn't think it would ever really happen because I thought I'd have to go to Mongolia to see one. These days I don't rule out that possibility.

Last weekend though, we went to the Werribee Open Range zoo and to my astonishment there they were. Two of them. Not too close to the safari bus, and my recalcitrant camera had decided to die, but did let me squeeze out one picture of them. How wonderful. What a shame the guide who asked us all sorts of questions never asked if anyone knew what these animals were. I bet he wouldn't have expected anyone to know -- though, really, the hardest part about their name is saying it. Quite tricky, but then so's the spelling.

Long break between posts

School holidays -- and there lay well-laid plans in tatters. What I planned to do:
(i) finish rewrite (done, but much later than expected)
(ii) finish editing pass of novel (er, not done)
(iii) finish writing online material for work (er, not done, three week deadline pending)
(iv) type up editing notes for classes (er, not started)
(v) prepare reader for new subject (not started)
(vi) prepare classes for new subject (not started)
(vii) keep up with blogs (not doing so well, obviously)
(viii) increase my exercise (sporadically done)
(ix) spend lots of time doing stuff with kids (done and dusted).

I find my attitude towards the holidays is almost contradictory. On one hand, I want a break; on the other, it seems the perfect opportunity to get stuff done to take the pressure off later. Now I'm back at work, and meeting with other teachers in time off, and the realisation is the holidays have passed me by, and I've achieved very little of what I set out to do. I have rested though. We've been away twice: the prom weekend and this last weekend with friends. We've seen lots of films, one live show, and been bowling several times. The kids relish the holidays -- but it does seem that no matter how much time you give them, they want more. They look jealously at any time spent working on my projects. But that's just kids, I guess. They don't want a share of the pie -- they want the whole thing.

I long for them to be back at school so I have more time to myself, and I dread it because then the stress of getting them ready for school and ferrying them to all their activities begins. Then they go from happy, carefree children all of the time, to stressed individuals that need more support. I long for time to myself, but have so much work to do in that time that I won't feel relaxed about it. I'm just like the kids: whatever I have I want more of. I'm never happy. (Actually, not true -- most of the time I feel reasonably happy. Just feeling a bit under the gun at the moment, but that's my own doing -- the price of feeling relaxed for so long.)

Here's a photo of sunset walk a couple of weeks ago. I'd post more but blogger's being funny. Maybe tomorrow?

Beach saga continues

So Princess Sleepyhead has her friend with the fractured leg around again, and I say to them that they should not go upstairs. "Oh, no," says the friend, "I'm all right getting up and down stairs." I raise an eyebrow at this, but clearly she's not listening.

Five minutes later, she's up and coming down and bang . . . Down half a flight, hurts both ankles! Arghhh. I so do not want this to be happening. Luckily, they're not badly hurt, and she can get around on her crutches still. So upstairs is now off-limits. Yes, officially, I've had enough of the school holidays. What I really want is some time with the kids at school and me at home! How cool would that be. Writing, writing, writing.

New look!

I was looking at a friend's blog the other day (hi, Claire!), and she had a new look, and I noticed the Pyzam bar and thought I'd have a look at their templates. This one was so me that I had to have it, but it did mean I've lost my links bar. If anyone wants the links that were on it, just ask and I'll post them into a reply. Otherwise they're available on my writing blog, but there's no link back to this one!

Let me know whether you love the look or hate it!

Chaos on the beach

So Princess Sleepyhead had a friend over the other day. Her friend's parents don't have a car, so in the past I've always had to drive over and pick her up and take her home again, which gets a bit frustrating because it means I have to give up my writing time, and then whenever friends are over I lose writing time anyway because the kids share my space. Grrr. So I decided last time that I would only take her one way. I mean, really, she wants to come here to swim in the pool, so why do I have to be running around? I'm more than happy to have her, but that extra 45 or so minutes of driving all adds up.

So, it's a 41 degree day, and she's coming on the train. It's an easy walk from the train station, but I usually pick up whatever friends are there because they don't really know the way. (It's a very easy walk -- they only have to cross one road.) So I go to pick her up, and her mum's there. She's not allowed on the train on her own. (Now, I should've taken my cue from this but didn't.) PS is 15 and not at all independent. Her brother, who's 13, catches buses to school and runs around quite happily on trains on his own. He's very cluey. We're trying to foster independence in PS who is happy to be mollycoddled all the time. It's part of her ADD thing, I think. She doesn't even like picking out her own clothes. So, I was a bit surprised to see the mother, and felt a bit mean for not having driven over and picked the girl up. Was I unreasonable?

Anyway, they have a fun day, she sleeps the night, they spend the next morning in the pool, and then beg me to take them to the beach -- which is to say the guest, and Sir Talkalot (who went to the beach the day before on his own) beg. Princess Sleepyhead is not so fussed, but the others cajole her into going.

So, they are only going to be there for an hour and a half. By this time the cool change has come through so I think they may change their minds, but no they're adamant they want to go. They could walk, but figuring the drive down will give me some peace to write, I agree to take them and pick them up later on. The sea is choppy, a big swell for a suburban beach. I am aware that while the guest can swim, she is not overly confident in water, so I warn my kids not to go out of their depth, not to leave her alone, and to look after her. And not to jump off the pier (which no-one's supposed to do, but which plenty of people do do.) PS says she's going to take her iPod, and I forbid her from taking it. I should act more strongly because she gives me a funny little look, a smart little look, that tells me she's going to defy me, but really I don't feel up for a war.

Later, ST meets me when I pick them up and says, "I think you'd better come."

"What's wrong?"

"Just come."

My heart's in my throat. What's happened? Clearly something's gone wrong. Is the guest okay? Then I see her limping along the street. Clearly she hasn't drowned, so that's a relief. Where's PS? Turns out she's looking for her bag, the one containing all her clothes (mostly new), her sandals, towel, beloved mood ring and, yes, of course, her iPod. Her stuff's in a Coles bag. Big mistake. About ten other people are carrying Coles bags; we try to peer into all of them, but don't see her stuff. Not sure how I'm going to handle it if we do. The guest has been pushed off the pier -- I'm still not clear about whether this might have been a diversionary tactic to distract our intrepid trio. In any case, there are complications because she's bashed her leg against a pylon (or the sea threw her against one -- the stories aren't completely clear) and ended up with a hairline fracture. Nice. If it wasn't a diversionary tactic, it was still teenage boys mucking around. No-one saw who did it, but with the sea the way it was she was lucky she didn't drown. How do you counteract idiots? I wish I could tell them what they have done, because they won't know and might very well do it again with more serious consequences. Then of course they may just rejoice in her misfortune. So, it wasn't a good day overall. Guest fractured her leg, and PS lost her iPod. I doubt that we'll recover it. I just hope she learns her lesson.

Socialising

Dinner out -- I'm in the purple. (Photo courtesy of AB)

One of the things I love about the holiday season is the socialising. I do love to get out and see people (and eat food, unfortunately!). And of course around Christmas there's a lot more of this going on. So much so that many of us put on weight not just over Christmas but in the lead-up to it.

One of the fun things I did just before Christmas was go to a friend's solstice party. I've been promising myself I'd go for years, but there had always been a conflict with some other event. This year I had heaps of notice (maybe I did other years too, but sometimes it's my lack of organisation in actually chalking things down, or otherwise that I do that and then lose my diary, as I did this year). Anyway, this year I went. Apart from our wonderful hostess, there was only one other writer there, but we all had a lovely night (despite the rain). Not that I'm complaining about rain: oh, no, no, no, no. We want more of that. We truly do. (Though perhaps not the battering that Queensland has been getting.)

A number of the people there were science-types -- mainly engineers, I think. Strange how at one stage of my life I seemed to hang around only with scientists; now I hardly ever do. Now it's mainly writers, though one of my close friends is a scientist (we used to work together), and I do see her often. So it was surprising that a lot of discussion was on literary matters, even on such eclectic topics as word etymology. Yes, really puts aside the education department assumptions they exhibit when they schedule physics against English lit. It's amazing how many maths-science students want to do lit as an "extra" subject but can't because of timetabling. Anyway, the solstice party was a fun night (no dancing naked around fires), and I was glad to have gone.

More recently (ie last Thursday) we had dinner with a neighbour, another writer. So there was lots of discussion about literary things, and some science things as well. And we got to view the latest invention: the daddle! Only Mr B called it a saddle, and when he said he had a saddle I was very jealous. I've always wanted a saddle. And a horse to go with it, of course. There's something about good quality leather, saddle soap and linseed oil that makes me go all gooey inside. I'd like a bridle too. With a snaffle bit. But Mr B's saddle, alas, wasn't leather at all. Very cute though. I'm sure my children were envious because they had to ride bareback and got tossed off quite a lot as I remember. Something about fractious horses too, especially when they're not you're own. When I'm riding, which I haven't done in years, I prefer something quieter and more reliable.

Anyway, we had a yummy dinner, and enjoyed our evening immensely. Summer really lends itself to dinners out, because you can take time to sit outside. Which we did. Our only problem was an interloper. Our cat. Clearly, she thought she should have been invited too, because she made the effort of coming over, and then miaowed all night, until we went home. (Strangely enough the solstice party also had an interloper in the form of a possum.) Anyhow, I think we all had a great time, except perhaps the cat, who I think felt neglected.

Sir Talkalot wearing a daddle. Topsy on top. (Photo courtesy of AB)

New Year

So, here it is. A new year. Kids are home. It's bloody hot. We're still on water restrictions -- so much so that I'm noticing an increasing vigilante attitude around the place. Interesting for a writer to observe, even if not always comfortable. My local rag ran a piece about an old man who was being villified for watering his garden even though he was using tank water. People driving past would stop and shout obscenities at him, and he was feeling like it was only a matter of time before someone attacked him.

We had Boxing Day lunch here, and the water restrictions were the hot topic of the afternoon, and particularly a dispute about when people are allowed to water. We all knew the times that "normal" people are allowed to water, and we all knew that the "elderly" are allowed a different time, but there was some dispute as to when. (They are allowed to water on their nominated days, according to their house number, between 6 am and 8 am or between 8 am and 10 am.) I wonder if those who had it wrong had been out watering at the wrong time, thinking they were abiding by the rules. Perhaps they were lucky not to have been reported. It's like anything: ignorance is never seen as a valid defence.

The heat is pressing on us all at the moment, whereas Queensland suffers storms and flooding. With the heat, the kids spend too much of the day niggling each other, or fighting outright. It's too hot to do much more than laze around. Perhaps a good time to catch up on some reading.

In my old house, the study was the coolest room -- a good place to retreat when the weather turned sour. But in this house, it's not too cool at all, which makes writing a less-attractive option on stinking hot days. All I want to do is sleep...