Roadtrip

Last Friday, two of my colleagues and I did the inaugural PWE (Prof Writing and Editing) roadtrip to Castlemaine to buy soap. When I told my husband I was going on a two-hour drive to buy soap, he looked at me as if I'd gone slightly loony. Well, perhaps not slightly!

My boss had been talking about this divine soap for ages, and the three of us (her included) talked about putting in a big mail order, but then it was going to be too big, and in any case we thought it might be fun to all go together. And it was!

We talked work all the way up, of course, and had a bit of a singalong to "O Fortuna" on the way back. Well, there were some actions and stuff from one of us, but the rest of us didn't sing! And we bought soap. Oh, and books, but that goes without saying. Every country town has to have a bookshop, yes?

The soap shop was ... wow! So many colours and fragrances. And unfortunately so much sneezing on my part! Didn't stop me from buying though, and above is my haul -- minus one soap I gave to my mother, but it was one I had accidentally doubled up on. My one regret is that I couldn't get the vibrant blue-and-purple one I'd been given as a prezzie last birthday. Oh, but I lie: there is one other regret, and it's a writerly thing. As two of us sat outside the shop while the third member finalised her purchases, I couldn't help thinking about how much writing time I'd given up -- even though I was enjoying the trip. There's always that tinge of guilt -- the what-if-I'd-stayed-at-home-and... But that just shows that the writing (or in this case editing) is going well!

Now, I have them (back in the bag) sitting next to my novel on the kitchen table, and periodically I pause my work to have a smell of one or two or three of them. Seriously, I am in love with soap. My other fetishes are towels and coloured paper (stationery in general, really), but now I have added soap to the list. Oh, and books are on that list too, of course, but that goes without saying!

Five fave things

Hmm, Claire has tagged me, so here's my response:

Five favourite snacks:
(i) chocolate
(ii) chocolate
(iii) chocolate -- can you guess where this's going? Oh, okay:
(ii) chips, preferably chicken flavoured, or sour cream and chives or chili flavoured
(iii) Twisties -- must be cheese flavoured. Hate the chicken ones. Otherwise, love Cheezels too.
(iv) corn chips -- must be cheese flavoured, or tangy cheese. Nice with guacomale, sour cream and hot taco sauce.
(v) cake -- preferably chocolate.

Hmm, I can see a serious problem here. Here's some others that I do enjoy:

(i) grapes
(ii) bananas
(iii) oranges
(iv) cantaloupe
(v) apples -- if tart and crisp

Five favourite quotes:

(i) Today is a good day to die. (Hmm, now I'm quoting Klingons. That is a worry.)
(ii) You only fail if you quit.
(iii) If you shoot for the moon and fail, at least you'll end up in the stars.
(iv) May the force be with you. Well, I could have said: "General Kenobi, years ago my father served you in the clone wars ..." Or quoted the whole movie, really.
(v) I am Locutus, a borg. Resistence is futile. Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will service ... us.

Five things I love about my current job:

(i) I get to think about and talk about writing. When I'm doing research, it's about writing. Writing, writing, writing -- how could I not love my job?
(ii) If I muck something up, someone doesn't die. (Yeah, a legacy from my old medical laboratory scientist days, not that I killed anyone, but I did almost burn down the lab! And I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I had worrying about a grainy crossmatch (a check that blood is compatible). And I don't now get called in in the middle of the night.)
(iii) I get to work with people, rather than bits of people. I am a people person, and I enjoy interacting with the students. Really. I love it.
(iv) The team I work with -- man, are those girls dynamos! And fantastic to work with. Can't say that often enough.
(v) I feel like I'm making a difference -- that I'm helping my students realise their dreams, and that's an amazing feeling.

Five places I'd like to live:

(i) in the world of my novel. Hmm, would I really want to? All that violence? But the horses ... the horses ... And my protagonist ... So, yes, the city of Plinth.
(ii) Somewhere that's both rural and coastal -- on an estuary.
(iii) Jerusalem -- my favourite city in the whole world. At least to visit. An amazing city, so rich in history and in culture. The most extraordinary place I've ever visited.
(iv) London. Okay, I've lived in London and thought it sucked, but it would flag a return to my travelling days -- when London is not so much home but home-base.
(v) The Greek Islands -- Santorini, particularly, because how can anyone go past Santorini.
(vi) The moon. Am I joking? Of course not. Luna Base. Low grav, all of that. The view of Earth rising ...
(vii) Carcassonne -- beautiful medieval city, a chance to sharpen my very poor French.
(viii) Delft -- my father's homeland, one that is part of me (though he is from Druten, near Nijmegan, and my aunts are in Arnhem and Wijchen). Time to absorb the canals, the lifestyle, and research the time-travelling novel I'd like to set there.

Oh, did I say five? Clearly I'm mathematically challenged!

Five fave current TV shows:

This is difficult because I'm not sure I'm currently watching five, but here goes:

(i) The Sarah Connor chronicles -- nothing like a bit of SF in the mix, and I am enjoying this one. (And waiting eagerly for Battlestar Galactica -- as one of the few fans of both the old AND the new series -- and Dr Who (and Torchwood))
(ii) Grey's Anatomy -- love that McDreamy ...
(iii) Desperate Housewives -- I AM Susan. Well, Susan crossed with Lynette. (Ha ha, in looking for Lynette's name because I couldn't remember it I did a quiz to find out which one I am, and I'm ... Susan!)
(iv) Dirty Sexy Money -- my new guilty pleasure, which I only started because Nate from "Six Feet Under" was in it -- and didn't that show have the best ending EVER?
(v) Toss up between two shows that I'm watching on an occasional basis: The Biggest Loser and Medium. Like 'em both.

I tag whoever wants to run with it!

No chaos to report

What? I hear you say. What?

Yes, that's right: things are quiet in our household this weekend. As they were last weekend, only I wasn't around to know about it. (And so here are the obligatory photos of my weekend away.) So what is the trick? I hear you say. Well, the mothers and fathers of you.

Easy. Get rid of one kid.

Last week it was Sir Talkalot. His was actually an extended stay because he went to school camp Tuesday, came home Thursday and then, the same night, went to scout camp for four days. This week it's Princess Sleepyhead's turn. She's on a training camp for her World Challenge expedition at the end of the year.

I love camps. The house is peaceful. No-one is shouting, "You're a bastard" or "You're a bitch". I don't have to admonish a shouted "Fuck you" with a "You can't. That's incest!". (And don't they hate it when I say that!) There are no fists thumping into flesh, no sly pinches, or hip-and-shoulders. Honestly, I think I'm training them to be AFL recruits. I guess it's lucky it's not rugby! Anyway, peace and quiet means I can work on stuff for school and, even better, on my novel!

Away for four days

What I love is how I can't go away for four days without all kinds of chaos reigning in my absence.

#1 The Gadget Man gets pruning
It's one of the great inevitablilities in life that if I go away the Gadget Man will do one of two things: prune or move all the furniture about. The Gadget Man is not Mr Greenfingers. If he were, he might be called Mr Greenfingers instead of the Gadget Man. But he's not. One time he came into the house to get me to come out and admire the great pruning job he had done. I came out. I looked around. I said, "Where's the plant?" It had gone from being two metres across to a stick poking out of the ground. I'm not joking. He said it would recover. It didn't.

This time our neighbour, Mr Brickaday (not my name for him) came over, scratched his head and pointed at the tree the Gadget Man was pruning, and said, "Thirty years to grow and thirty minutes to destroy." Yes, indeed. I think I love Mr Brickaday.

#2 Let there be a disaster
This time it was the hot water service blowing up. I thought it might be the washing machine since it definitely is on its last legs, but no the hot water service was the one. Now, I did say to the Gadget Man all week that I was worried about it because I could smell gas, and he kept assuring me that was just the nearby factories, and I kept assuring him it was not, that I could only smell gas around the hot water service. Guess I won that one, right? And I wasn't the one who had to live with cold showers. Ah, the joys of staying at home.

#3 Let there be another disaster -- one involving pets
So the poor lonely male quail has been alone a long time -- calling and calling for a mate. Finally, he gets his wish, has his mates for a few weeks and what does the GM do? Lets the male out of the aviary by accident, and he's such a panicky, flighty bird that he's immediately away. Gone. For good. Now all the GM had to do was figure out how to tell Sir Talkalot who was away on scout camp.

Ah, yes, the joys...

Those poor girls/teachers

You know, when a school plans out a two-week bike ride they take everything into consideration, including traffic and the weather. Who would've predicted such a prolonged heatwave so late in the season?

Princess Sleepyhead came home from school a few days ago with her report on the bike ride: six girls in hospital. Heat stroke/exhaustion, I think, and the poor PE teacher is having to ride non-stop, no doubt to keep the teams going. I'm not sure whether the plan was for him to do this or not, originally.

Those poor girls. And being six short likely means everyone else has to do more. Those poor teachers -- not just for the stress of having to keep it all going, but for feeling perhaps some measure (unwarranted) of guilt, and dealing with the worry of should they or shouldn't they go on. I hope the parents of the girls will all be forgiving! And now I'm not feeling quite so bad about PS not being allowed to go -- not that I would wish this on any of them. I hope the weather brings them some relief in their second week on the road.

The trials and tribulations of Princess Sleepyhead

Poor old Princess Sleepyhead -- she feels the world is against her. And in truth, I'm left feeling the betrayer, the one who has done what she always said she wouldn't.

Wind back the clock twenty years (or thereabouts). I am studying at RMIT, doing my science degree, and my friend Rose tells me how she wanted to become an exchange student, and her parents said yes. But then she was accepted into the program, and her parents said no, and that they'd only agreed to let her go because they thought she wouldn't be accepted. And when she told me how devastated she was, I sympathised and said I'd wanted to be an exchange student too, but my parents hadn't let me apply. I had never seen how this could be a plus until I considered how upsetting her parents' refusal must have been. I vowed I would never do that to my children. And I can't think that I have. Until now. Now I have become Rose's parents: I have done the terrible turnaround.

My turnaround centres on her school's fundraising bike-ride from Adelaide to Melbourne. It's a team relay, with girls riding legs of a certain length, depending on their fitness level. Originally, PS asked me about this last year, and because she's already going to Vietnam at the end of this year, and missing a substantial amount of school, we said no. If she were up with her school work and endeavoured to catch up on missed classes, things would be different, but we have to plot around the realities of her life -- the life she has made for herself.

So, the girls all started their training over the holidays, but not PS because she wasn't going. All's good so far. But then she nagged and nagged, and we said no. But then she dragged me into the school to talk to the PE teacher, who I suspect could sell ice to an eskimo. He was very persuasive -- almost had me wanting to go, and considering how I hate cycling...

I outlined my concerns: her being behind at school and missing two more weeks, her refusal to catch up on missed classes, her bad back, and he talked about how they could help her with school work while she was away, and how sometimes experiences like this instill kids with new confidence that affects the way they face the challenges in life, and how this could be the most fantastic experience and was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I imagined two weeks without the siblings trying to scratch each other's eyes out: peace!

The Gadget Man had said that I should go to the meeting with the teacher, and that he would support whatever I decided: the final decision was mine. And so I listened to the PE teacher and relented. (Note to parents: be consistent in what you say. We've all heard it a thousand times, and know there are good reasons for it, but sometimes that relenting is just so seductive. Don't go there.)

So I went home and told the Gadget Man that she was going, and he looked at me aghast and asked what I had done.

I said, "You said the final decision was mine."

He said, "Yes, but you were supposed to say no."

There's a lesson there on communication, but I don't think many husbands read this blog so I'm not going there today.

So, PS was happy. The following Wednesday (two days hence) was training after school. I dropped in to pick up her bag.

"I feel sick," she said. "I don't think I should go."

"I think you'd better," I said. "They'll think you don't want to go."

"But I might throw up," she said. So I spoke to the teacher, and he said she should go but could sit out if she felt she had to. She went. She rode. She fell off. Twice. But she did ride, at least.

Then they had Beep (fitness) tests at school. She missed the first one because she decided she had to go to the toilet in the middle of it. I told her she should have held on and completed it. Then she had a vocal ensemble meeting -- the first -- and as we'd just signed her up for singing lessons, conditional to her joining the vocal ensemble, I said she should go. I also suggested she see the PE teacher first, in case that was going to be problematic. Instead, she sent a message with a friend, and needless to say the message didn't get passed along, though none of us knew this for a while.

So, a few days later, they had a meeting after school. PS didn't go because she had piano lessons, but her dad went and one of the other teachers collared him, saying she had concerns about PS going. Her concerns were: PS's back (not just for the riding but for the sleeping on the ground), that she's always late for school (true) and as they have 7 am starts were worried about her not being ready in time (and she didn't know the half of it -- this kid takes two minutes (really) to put on two socks), also that she's not a team player (she hadn't turned up to meetings like that one (PS said she had attended others) or to her Beep tests, that she didn't seem too keen as evidenced by her not wanting to attend the training. The Gadget Man said we'd discuss it at home.

We decided, in the end, that it wasn't fair to let her take someone else's spot when she did seem half-arsed about it. She was devastated, but as my brother said, when I phoned him, she was saying one thing but all her actions were saying something else. For example, I asked her to give me a commitment to say she would endeavour to catch up on her missed work, and she refused to do that. So I rang the other PE teacher, and I think he was quite relieved, even though he'd been the one who had talked me into it in the first place. He said, "Look, if it goes well, it could be a terrific experience for her, but if it goes badly it could be terrible for her." And I did say in her defence that she wasn't a quitter. She would give 100%, and she would. I've seen her run cross-countries and, exhausted, slogging the way home, never pausing, just running like a knackered old workhorse fit only for the knackers! She passed many a girl who'd given up or who'd dropped to a walk. Not her. She just kept going. But this time there was going to be no going on.

So, here I am, feeling like my friend's mother and wishing I'd never said yes in the first place. Or that I'd never turned around and said no. I'm not sure which. Oh, well, no-one said bringing up kids was easy!

My silly, chaotic family

So, today, I have to take Sir Talkalot into school with his model of a motte and bailey castle. It's too big for him to get on the bus, especially as he has to take his violin, his laptop and his sports gear... So he has those all packed. And I tell him we have to leave at 8 a.m. because I need to be in at work early because the parking has just gone nutty this year (yes, thanks, facilities or whoever you are who have marked all the overflow parking areas as no-standing zones). I tell Princess Sleepyhead that she won't be able to get a lift today because we're going early. Her school is easy walking distance. 8.20 am Sir Talkalot finally tells me he's ready. There has been the appearance of the crazy harridan woman (i.e. me) in the meantime. What is so hard to understand in the must-be-ready phrase?

So, by this time PS is just about ready and begs a lift. She brushes her golden tresses (read birdsnest) in the car. We pull over at the kerb, and I scream at her to get out because I have to go and she's not moving, but she nonchalantly continues brushing. I'm gritting my teeth now. Any harder and my jaw will ache. She leaps out, and ST and I sail away, if not happily, at least away. We get caught at the train line, end up behind a slowwww truck, but at least the traffic is good. The traffic going the other way is horrendous.

I drop him at school, and he picks up his violin, his laptop, his project and... Not his bag.

His sister has taken his bag. With his art assignment. (He gets a demerit for this, and the teacher says she doesn't want to hear any more excuses, which is a bit harsh as it's his first late assignment for her.) He also loses marks on his oral presentation in another subject because his cue cards are in his bag -- he loses marks for not having them, and for his presentation being too short. (He later realises he left out two paragraphs, but as the whole thing was in his bag, I suppose he did well to remember what he did.) And could have been in trouble as he didn't have his sports uniform, which meant he had to sit out of his interschool sports.

And then to top it all off, I got lost in the extended car park. Don't ask. That's just too much information!

Brother update

Thanks for all of those who have put comments on my blog. I'm happy to report that he's doing really well. I think the time has almost come when there can be some serious teasing about how he could fit a tumour the size of a tennis ball in there without any serious (scratch that) -- without any side effects whatsoever...

He's going to be at home for a little while yet, recuperating. I might just see if I can get myself up there for a visit soon!