For TinyDonna

When I went to Karen's book launch the other day, I had a few (only a few) minutes to wander around with camera in hand, and I was struck by how beautiful the new Eureka tower is, so here are two views of it: one with nature, and an "old and the new".

The whisper of leaves by KS Nikakis (published by Allen & Unwin)

My city trip today was to attend one of my past-student's book launch, and this must surely be one of the most validating experiences for a writing teacher. How wonderful it is to see your students making that successful foray out into the sometimes difficult waters of the publishing world. How wonderful it is to see a student who you know is passionate about her work, passionate about the genre she's writing in and passionate about the craft. It's especially nice when the writer is writing in a genre you (or me, in this case!) love. And it's invigorating to know that we as teachers have, in whatever small way, helped someone to realise a dream.

It's also lovely to see someone dedicated enough to finish something. We see a lot of talented students, but some will never take those extra steps of finishing and then polishing a draft (or re-visioning and rewriting and polishing subsequent drafts), and then sending the manuscript out! If writers don't make that last courageous move -- and it does require enormous courage -- then they will never be published. That's not to say the journey has been wasted -- the destination is not important for everyone and nor should it be, but it is extremely rewarding for those who want to get there and who do the legwork to then be successful as Karen has been.

I hope Karen finds the publishing experience all she wants it to be, and that she's on the way to a stellar career!

The chaos that is Connex

One thing I love about the public transport system is the chaos that surrounds me. Today, for example, I'm returning home from the city and board the Werribee bound train at Flinders St. On the way, I start reading my new book and am quickly immersed in a foreign land. I glance up and see that the next station, according to the flashing message inside the carriage, is Macauley. Huh? I don't ride the train very often, but I don't ever remember going through Macauley station. Probably an error, I think, and return to the book, but when I feel the train slowing, I glance up at the station sign: Macauley. I'm still in denial at this stage. The train heads out. Next stop: Flemington Bridge. Huh? So I get out, along with half a dozen other confused looking people. Here's the view at Flemington Bridge, which was different to the normal suburban views I was expecting.


Someone asks me whether I know how to get to the other platform as the ramps look a bit deceiving. I say, no, I thought I was on the Werribee train. So did they. And so did the older man who's looking worried. We head off to the other platform, and wait for a train back to the city. At North Melbourne, we're joined by about 20 other people, who've obviously jumped off at Macauley or at whatever came after Flemington Bridge. I can hear much muttering, but the really funny thing is the suspicion we all greet the next train with.

It all makes me remember those New Year's Eve fireworks we went to a few years ago. We went to the early fireworks to get the kids home early, then the train was cancelled, and then because it ran so late they decided to save time by running it express, but neglected to tell anyone. Yeah, saved lots of time if you wanted to get off at one of those bypassed stations, as we did. By the time we got off at the next station and waited for the same train to go all the way to the end of the line and back again, we'd run out of NYE, and ended up seeing the New Year in on the train. What a letdown. The journey home took the better part of two hours.

Nice sunsets

One thing about living near a westward facing swamp is that we get some great sunsets. Followers of my swamp blog may fear that it's moved from cloud appreciation to sunset appreciation, but that's only a temporary thing. Here's another view of last night's sunset. You might wonder why I chose to focus the swamp view where I did (you might not be following that blog at all, of course!), but basically while the water views are more spectacular, they don't vary much. But the dry parts of the swamp periodically fill with water, and this was what interested me: the swamp's changing face. Honestly, I could sit outside and watch the swamp all day long.

Frolics at the beach

After all the running around of the last two days, I haven't had much of a chance to get out with the dogs, so today, after Princess Sleepyhead's piano lessons, to celebrate her having passed her latest piano practical exam (she got the results today) we took the two dogs for a walk. Along the way, we seemed to pick up a German Shepherd, who was intent on humping poor little Luna. (Now she's had both ends of the spectrum interested in her, because at puppy school it was a Chihuahua trying to get at her. Boys!) In the end, PH had to pick Luna up, at which point the Shepherd put his front paws on PS's shoulders and had a go at her. It was only a pup itself (big pup!), and its owner was mortified, but it was quite funny because they looked like a conga line.



As we were coming out, some people arrived with horses, and how naughty is this dog. She chased the horses, barking, and refused to be caught. Poor PS had to wade out after her.

Trying for the Chenna look

Here's a picture post-transfusion. Beth's having a reflective moment, not sure whether or not she wants to be black-and-white and just wishing she could've done something more to help out Fox.

Unhappy endings

I picked my cat, Beth, up from the vet's today. She was okay, if somewhat balder for the experience of having given blood. Her whole chest and part of one leg have been shaved, so now it looks like I have a black-and-white cat. When I picked her up, they were just prepping Lita's cat Fox for surgery.

Sadly, Fox didn't make it through. Lita has done so much -- everything humanly possible -- but sometimes it just isn't enough. I know she worried that she might have condemned him to a life of misery had he survived, but I think we do what we can do, with the information that we have and the resources that are at hand, and she really went to heroic measures. I'm sure Fox is sitting up there somewhere, content to know that his family treated him as just that: family! Vale, Fox.