Monthly Archives: January 2009

Podcasts

This American Life

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I don’t think I’ve raved about a podcast on this blog before but seeing as I’ve bored all my immediate circle with tales from this podcast, it’s your turn.

This American Life is a Chicago Public Radio program that Ira Glass (pictured) created back in 1995.

It is brilliant.

I wait impatiently all week for the next episode and the stories it contains.

It is so good I’ve done something I’ve never done before for a podcast – I’ve donated money to Chicago Public Radio to help keep it on air.

Yes I live in Perth, Australia and no I’m not American, but I do appreciate good story-telling and great radio and this podcast is both.

Each week Ira chooses a theme and collects stories – both written and collected to explore that theme.

Themes include Big Breaks (this week), Switched at Birth, Heretics, Music Lessons, Break-up and Matchmakers.

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Subscribe.

If you’re not in radio you will LOVE the stories, if you’re in radio – you will question your work.  I know I have.

My favourite story so far, and the one that I have been telling to anyone who will listen concerns a doll called Nubbins.

It’s a story by Elna Baker called Babies Buying Babies, and it’s on the Matchmaker’s episode.  Definitely worth a listen.

And while you’re on Elna’s website – watch the fortune cookie story – very funny.

So that’s all.  Just wanted to share with you some brilliance.

Have a good day.  🙂

Restaurants

Lunch at Cape Clairault

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For our anniversary lunch, Groover took me out to Cape Clairault, Yallingup.

OMG the food is to die for.  See menu.

This was Groover’s starter. The food is not cheap. The starters were about $20 each. They were perfect.

Tempura prawns with zuchini flowers and peach slices.

Oh and our starters weren’t on the menu as they were both specials.

I had ravioli (actually I think the pasta was that one that is shaped like a belly button) with Exmouth scallops. Every mouthful a winner here too.

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fresh fish, rich yellow curry, pumpkin, coconut sambal, fragrant salad, cucumber relish, aromatic rice – $38

I loved the way the barramundi and pumpkin was separate from the sauce. It meant that the delicate flavour of the fish wasn’t overpowered by the curry.

The salad was lovely too.

We followed with a shared dessert – a lovely light citrus thing with some kind of puff pastry and some kind of icecream that was fizzy.  It was almost like sherbert.  But not.

sticky cumquat tartlet, passionfruit curd, cointreau marshmallow, cardamom parfait – $14

And bleu de basque cheese.

As I said – not a cheap meal – but every mouthful was exquisite.

A special occasion for sure.

Random

Taking things personally

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When do you get upset with technology?

I’ve discovered that I’m quick to move to tears when it gets personal.

No, I’m not talking about that pink plastic machine that lives in handy reach under my bed, the one once described as “disgusting” by a curious child.

Even when the batteries die I know Mr Electric isn’t doing it on purpose or in some fit of pique or is sulking because I didn’t put the cushions on his side of the bed on the floor…

Same with computers.  

They can be frustrating, I grant you, but they rarely turn me into a quivering wreck, tears streaming down my face, bottom lip (not to mention bottom) wobbling.

No, what really gets me is when the piece of software or technology appears to work for someone else but not for me – even when I’m doing EXACTLY the same thing.

Case in point the GPS unit in the car we borrowed for the drive south.

Every time I tried to input our destination it refused to let me – the options on the screen remained life grey and lifeless – and yet, when Groover had a go – you guessed it – everything worked.

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I pressed destination, Groover it must be said somewhat smugly replied.

But that’s what I did!  It HATES me!

Being a girl, I turned to the instruction manual.  No answers.

It wasn’t until we hit a traffic snarl at Mandurah that I worked it out.

The GPS doesn’t let you input addresses while you are moving.

It’s not a bug, it’s a safety feature.

(and come to think of it… I did see some grey box flash up on the screen when I turned it on… but who reads those pesky boxes?)

It was somewhat galling to realise that not only was the machine working perfectly, it was even looking after my safety.

Which is more than I can say for Mr Electric!

Groover, Relationships

Smug satisfaction

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It’s a little bit embarrassing to admit this but I feel a little kernel of smug satisfaction when I’m right… and Groover’s wrong.

Take the other day.

We were on our way down south (for our 19th anniversary meeting getaway).  A friend had kindly lent us her convertible and we were excited about exploring all the features.

We set off sharing a large coffee, sunnies on, the top up and before we’d turned the corner I suggested we take the top down before we hit the freeway so we could feel the wind in our hair (well, my hair) and the sun on our sunscreen covered shoulders.

There’s a button on the overhead console.

You do the honours, said Groover magnanimously and then…

No!  Not that way!

I’m sure it’s this way, said I.

You’re wrong, he said.

But though we pressed it this way and that, the roof refused to retract.

We pulled over and I consulted the manual… what?! I’m a girl!

It appears that the luggage separator must be fully employed, I read from the passenger seat as Groover in that manly way that guys have around cars opened the boot and starts shuffling luggage.

Try that, he said, but the roof again failed to budge.
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I’ll try, I said, as Groover sat back in the driver’s seat.

On the luggage separator is a little diagram and I could see that it hadn’t been – what did they call it – fully employed.

I “employed” it, repacked the suitcases and said, it’ll work now, and it did, when, that is, he pressed the button in the way that I suggested!

I felt so good!

Yes I suppose it’s a little mean spirited but there is a LOT of satisfaction being right around Groover.

He’s just so confident in his opinion and capabilities, some inane part of being a bloke I suspect.

And, if I’m honest, it feels even better when I am right and he is wrong.

So we’re driving along, top down, wind in hair etc, and I mention this feeling to Groover.

Does it feel the same to you when you’re right, and I’m wrong?

No.  I’m just happy that the problem is solved.  It’s not a competition you know.

Yeah right.

And then the GPS incident occurred, but that’s another story.

Fashion Victim

Guitar zero

4 Comments

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Enough said. New Year’s Eve 2009.

Family, WA

The secret beach

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When we go down south our favourite beach to swim at is a beach we’ve always called Little Meelup.

As long as I’ve known it, I’ve never known it by any other name.

I think it’s what Mum called it growing up – she grew up in Vasse – and so naturally we’ve followed suit.

In fact, I thought everyone called it that, and maybe they do, but I realised that maybe they don’t when we were recently in Dunsborough.

I’d arranged to meet my friend at Little Meelup.  You can’t miss it, I said, just take the first turn off on the way to Meelup.

She missed it.
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It isn’t signposted.

And even though there were quite a few people enjoying the quiet waters, even a wedding party stopping to take photos among the rocks, I started to feel as if Little Meelup had become our secret beach.  Our private beach.

You never know, maybe our family are the only ones to call it Little Meelup.

It’s okay.

We’ll share.

Just take your rubbish when you leave.  🙂

Dippity, Hugamuga, Introspection, Parenting

No going back

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How did I look after my two kids when they were little?

Yesterday, we picked up the younger cousins (4 & 3) for a sleepover.  My sister-in-law needed some free time to pack as they are moving house soon.

The big cousins are fantastic with them.  Hide and seek, mudworld, swimming, they are like built-in au pairs who look after the two littlies with good grace and humour.

Within an hour of getting home yesterday, in the middle of the first game of hide and seek though, the 3 year old started crying, holding her neck.

There was no blood but she was in a lot of pain and couldn’t be comforted.

We all packed into the car and went to see the doctor who prescribed Painstop and thought she must have strained her neck, like whiplash.

It did put a damper on things but Dippity remembered the chocolate icecream we’d bought and the Princesses DVD and 3 decided that she wanted to stay on the sleepover!

Dippity was brilliant at cuddling her and distracting her from the pain.  Brilliant.

Of course I rang her mum to let her know of the drama but that 3 seemed okay if sore.

The rule with children is “never wake a sleeping child”, we all know that, but because of the suspected head injury the doctor advised that we should. 
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So we did, and she cried, so we gave her some more medicine and took her for a wee and she went back to sleep.

In the morning she was fine.  Her neck still stiff and putting a tee-shirt on and off painful, but smiling and wanting to go for a swim.

(We rang mum to tell her she was better, and mum reported a lovely sleep-in)

Today we’ve had mudworld, a swim, a tv show and now they are walking to the DVD library for a movie (we’re hoping it will tire them out a bit).

I’ve got 20 minutes to write this and reflect, maybe finish a cup of tea.

You know, I don’t think I could look after little ones again full-time.  They are exhausting!  Little balls of never-ending energy.  

I’d forgotton how you become the entertainment machine – always thinking ahead to the next activity, the next snack, the next meal.

It makes me appreciate my teenagers.  Sure, sometimes you only get the odd grunt out of them but they are self sufficient.

And I especially appreciate how good they are with their small cousins.

Dippity, WA

Escape to Dunsborough

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I’m in Dunsborough. Limited internet access but I confess even more limited enthusiasm for blogging, for anything technical really.

I’ve been reading, staring at the view, popping down to the beach for a dip, eating and doing sudoku… a lot of sudoku.

I’m here with Dippity, and I’ve discovered the way to Dippity’s contentment is finding her a good book, or at least, a book she’s prepared to read.

I found Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield in the bookcase.  A copy from my childhood.  It was a lovely story when it was written in 1936 and still is. 

Dipp devoured it in a couple of hours.

She is now reading City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, it will make do she says until we get back to Perth and she can read her brother’s copy of Eldest.

We’re staying with my Dad and had invited some other friends to join us for a few days.   On one of those days we went on a trail ride through the national park.  On horseback.

I thought I’d escaped lightly the next day but three days later the strain on my thighs is evident.
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I wonder how the horse is bearing up.

I’m also using this time away from my coffee machine to prepare myself for The Colon Cleansing Kit I received for Christmas.

It’s my third day without coffee (although I’m getting some caffeine from black tea).  The headaches have passed and I’m ready to transfer to green tea – or I will be when I get back.

Last night we went to a new Indian restaurant in Dunsborough.  It seems an odd cuisine for the South West – I don’t know why but I tend to think of fusion-cafe style food as more the go here.

The Indigo Pearl however is excellent and worth a try if you’re staying down south.   I recommend the India Plate for starters.   It’s in the old Bay Cottage Restaurant if you know Dunsborough at all and has been in operation since August.

Right.  Dad’s in his bathers and my little window of blogging opportunity is closing.  It’s time for a dip down at Little Meelup.

Tomorrow we’re visiting my cousin’s farm to witness preg-testing the cattle on our way back home where normal service to this occasional missive will no doubt be restored.

See ya.

Books, Random

Careless in Red by Elizabeth George

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Here’s the massive coincidence.

The last two books I’ve read have been The Islands by Di Morrissey and Careless in Red by Elizabeth George.

(I know I’m supposed to have been reading The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga – the Booker Prize-winning novel – but I just can’t get into it)

Now on the face of it these two novels have nothing in common.  The Islands is soap opera in book form and Careless in Red is detective fiction.

I read The Islands first.  It was a review copy that came into the office and I was looking for some light reading for the holiday break. 

Anyway it was Christmas and I wanted to invite some good friends of ours – now divorced – to our Christmas dinner.  Which I did and it was all very nice.

The day after Boxing Day, the male half of this couple flew out to Hawaii to have a holiday with his girlfriend.   The Islands is about Hawaii.

Then I sat down and read Careless in Red. 

Now technically I shouldn’t have been able to take this book out of the library.  It had been reserved and mistakenly put back on the shelf. 

The librarian had been giving me a lesson in self check out when it came up flagged as reserved which she over-rode I guess because I was a good student… or something.

Anyway I got the book with a “Please read it first” from the librarian (first of the seven I had taken out) and so dutifully I did so.

Get this.

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How spooky is that?!

I thought it was spooky.

And both the books had a surfing theme running through them.  What’s up with that?

So to the review of Careless in Red by Elizabeth George.  

This is another Inspector Lynley novel and I love this series.  He’s an upper class Earl who works for New Scotland Yard or did until his upper class pregnant wife was murdered randomly by a twelve year old boy.

To cope he takes himself off for a walk along the Cornish coast and finds the body of a young man at the foot of the cliff.

Of course he is dragged into the investigation along with the fabulous Barbara Havers, his former partner at the Met. (and by that of course I mean the Metropolitan Police not the Metropolitan Opera)

It’s full of intrigue and inuendo.  Red herrings and plot twists, all set on the wild Cornish coastline.

I imagined Echo Beach style surf shops, Irish cliffs (okay I know they are probably very different but they are the ones I imagined) and plump, tasty Cornish pasties.

I always enjoy Elizabeth George’s books and this one didn’t disappoint.  She’s like a modern day Agatha Christie but her novels are a good deal longer.

And I like a good doorstop of a mystery.

Film

Slumdog Millionaire

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Go and see this movie.

You might think it is some worthy foreign flick but it is not.

It’s gritty, inspiring, pacey, uplifting and shocking all at the same time.

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Compared to the last Hollywood flick I’ve seen – The Dark Knight – well, lets say I got bored half way through this supposed action movie whereas with Slumdog Millionaire I was on the edge of my seat.

It’s the story of a kid from the slums who wins Who Wants to be a Millionaire, but it so much more.  A story of the slums, a love story, a gangster film, a story of police violence, a story of corruption and a story of hope.

Most reviews have been kind to this movie with good reason – it is brilliant.