Category Archives: Modern Life

The best business card

Do you want my business?

This guy does:

waste1

Yes.  The pun is cute and I admit I’m a sucker for puns, but what really got me was the reason for the P.T.O.*

waste2

Now wouldn’t you call him?
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I feel good thinking about how good he feels about what he does. 

(I also like the “Pooh Mobile” truck)

I’m thinking of handwriting a whole heap of messages on the back of MY business cards… a slightly different message.

DON’T call me if your loo backs up.

The sound of silence

shhh

What I love about the school curriculum these days – no matter it be private or public – is the onus on public service.

I don’t remember it being part of my education.

There are heaps of fundraisers of course but the kids are also required to complete a certain number of hours of community service.

Hugamuga for example teaches computer skills to elderly people.  Dippity has sat on the gate of a community fair collecting money.

The thing with community work is when you do it you realise that you feel SO good which is why I shouldn’t have been surprised when Dippity came to me with  a handmade sponsorship sheet and a promise not to speak for 24 hours.

Win-win I thought.

🙂
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She came up with it herself and convinced some mates to join her.  She got permission from her teachers and went for it.

They raised about $140.

We had a very quiet night.

Community service… it’s a good thing.

UPDATE: For those of you who are interested here is the Education Department Policy.

As part of the Community Service Program students must complete a minimum of 20 hours of service in the community. Students complete their community service between Years 10 and 12.

From 2009, completion of 20 hours of service will be one of the requirements for achieving the WACE for Year 12 students. 

Schools provide students with a variety of ways in which they can complete their 20 hours of service through the Community Service Program.

Flu preparation

essoils

I’m getting ready for Flu Season.

I’ve booked in for a flu shot (April 30), free at my workplace.

And I’ve made up my flu prevention essential oil mix… which is also nice to use if you have a cold or flu.

I have great faith in my mix.  I use it all the time.  

At the slightest and I mean slightest sniffle I’m putting a drop on my tongue and rubbing it into my skin, breathing it in.

I didn’t get flu last year but more impressively I didn’t get flu when the rest of the family came down with it in the US (and I hadn’t had a flu shot).

I’m a believer.

I’m not as sure about the flu shot.  

I didn’t get the flu last year and I had the shot so I’m going to do it again.
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A colleague surprised me by saying… “Hmmm I’m not sure I don’t want the flu… a week in bed sounds nice…”

That would be okay only if you had the flu symptoms during the day.  

It would be annoying if getting the flu interfered with your life.

And why is it that I get a cold just as someone has a baby so I can’t go and visit them?

It’s happens all the time.

Am I allergic to babies?

Not going to happen this year peeps – I’m armed and dangerous.

I’ve got my brother’s baby to visit in May and a (almost) sister’s baby to cuddle in August.

Hmmm and those essential oils smell SOOOOO good.

I’d rather they smoke

I hate it when people smoke around me – I hate it.

It makes my hair smell, my clothes smell.  I feel dirty.  I could be getting lung cancer.

So who made me say to Groover over lunch on Sunday: “I’d rather they smoke”?

A group of mothers with babies.

babywoe

No they weren’t breastfeeding.

Well they may have been but I don’t find that offensive, just normal.

And I don’t have a problem with lactating women going out to share a Sunday lunch of fish and chips with their friends.   No really, good on them.

What I do have a problem with is trying to sip my lemon, lime and bitters with the cloying smell of Johnson & Johnson babywipes mixed with baby poo wafting over me.

SERIOUSLY GROSS PEOPLE!

We’d got there late.

The pub was full to overflowing and the only table free was one in the corner next to a large table of mums and babies.

Personally I’d rather sit near the lactation crowd than a bunch of yobbos or even parents with active 4 year olds, so I was pleased when they pulled their stroller closer to them, unblocking the path to the table, and we sat down.

“Ohhhh isn’t she cute”, I said to Groover as we sipped our drinks (Does one sip beer… should I say slurped?), “Remember when ours were that little…”

We gazed fondly over at the crowd as we relived those fast dimming memories, and I also reflected on playgroup lunches… the sort you have when you become a member of the Bub Club.

Hugamuga was at work, and Dippity was volunteering at a local fair so we relished this unexpected opportunity for a middle-of-the-day date.

We started chatting about this and that… Groover’s new business, holiday fantasies, what we were going to do over Easter, the grocery shopping…

When…
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“What is that smell?”

I was back – 11 years ago – that revoltingly familiar poo/babywipe combination.

I couldn’t taste the lemon or the lime or the bitters.

The window above our table was locked shut.

The stroller had slid back between the tables.

I was trapped.

And the mother had laid her baby down on the padded bench seat and was changing it’s nappy.

At the table.

In the restaurant.

While other people were eating.

How can she think that’s okay?

On which planet is that okay?

Tell me I’m not alone in thinking that there are places to change baby’s nappies and peak hour dining on a Sunday afternoon is NOT one of them!

I’d have honestly preferred her to light up a cigarette.

For one, the smell would not have been so offensive.

And also, I’d have felt less inhibited about telling her to stop.

Mothers.  They can be intimidating.  I know.  I am one.

A working boy

rooster1

My boy started work at Red Rooster last night.  I am so proud of him.

I can’t remember being so industrious when I was 14- all those years ago.

Yesterday he got up at 6am to finish his paper round before school started at 8am.  After a full day at school he arrived home on the train at 3.30pm, in time for a quick snack before showing up on time at work at 4pm.  I picked him up at 10pm, after a six hour shift.

Of course I couldn’t resist going in to buy chicken.

I arrived at peak hour – about 7pm – and there was a huge queue going through the drive through.  Inside, the queue reached the door.

Hugamuga was behind the till – looking very serious – concentrating very hard on getting the money right.

He was on his own!

No Trainee badge.

Occasionally both of his hands would touch his head but he was keeping it together – people were getting their food and paying their money.

I asked for a whole chicken.  This was good I found out because it is on the quick-list. 🙂

I got my chicken, I left.
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My heart was full.

He’s  very loyal our boy.  He got the job with Red Rooster first so even though he hadn’t started, when Coles rang, offering him a better paid gig with better hours, he said he had committed to another employer already.

I think I have raised a better person than myself.

I did exactly the opposite when I got the job with my current employer. 

The day they rang I was supposed to be heading down to Katanning to find accommodation for a job with the Department of Agriculture as an advisor.  The farmers down there definitely dodged a bullet!

I wonder how my life would have turned out if I had accepted the Katanning gig?

Maybe I would have married a farmer.

Although, I would have still been at that nightclub in Fremantle that fateful night back in 1990… so maybe not.

But enough about me.

Today I get to be a proud mother. 

Go Hugamuga!

rooster

Just saying yes at the moment

groover1

This is a photo of Groover at the top of the overbridge that we walk on during our weekend’s walk.  He nearly always beats me to the top.

These days I find it hard to find the time to exercise.

Yes I know it’s an excuse.

Yes I know that if I really prioritised properly I would find the time.

The fact is my life is full and exercise comes a long way below family time, work, sewing, bridge, twittering, blogging, reading… just about anything in fact you care to mention.

I’m playing in two competitions at the moment – State Swiss Pairs – first night last night = epic FAIL, and the Interstate Women’s Selection.

Well I’m practicing for the latter.

I’m playing with two different partners with two quite different styles so it is quite interesting.  One seems as steady as a rock, but can be quite intuitive with her bidding – in a good way, the other follows the rules strictly.

As I’ve also been described as intuitive (but not in a good way), it makes for erratic scoring. 🙂

If only work didn’t get quite so in the way…

As far as sewing goes, I’ve made Dippity an outrageously short bubble skirt, which she of course wears ALL the time because it is so revealing – and not with leggings as I suggested.
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And I ran up a pair of black pants to wear with the black and white overskirt Mum picked up at Freo Markets.  They were surprisingly simple to make.

Reading – well I’m taking an age to read the library books I’ve got out and have already had to go back and renew them.

Work is insane at the moment – I seem to be filling in for several people all at the same time – and I am so over fire season!

Family – yes they still seem to be occupying the same house… Hugamuga gets his lower braces tomorrow…

And so to exercise. LOL.

At least giving up alcohol seems to be helping control the weight.  17 days and going strong.  You never know I might even make it to the end of the month.

The other thing I’m trying this month – in the spirit of open-mindedness – is Bettina Arndt’s just say yes policy in the bedroom.

It raised my hackles when I first heard her talk about it.  It struck me as a blow for feminism and the rights of a woman to say no.

But.

But.

Okay perhaps I’m not entirely living without exercise at the moment.

Cottesloe Sculpture by the Sea 2009

We wandered around the Sculpture by the Sea exhibition, too early to buy a program, which, if I’m honest I wouldn’t have bought anyway because it cost $8 and that seems a bit rich, wondering which piece the council were going to buy.

I love walking past the sculptures from earlier years and it feels like one day walking around the suburb will be like visiting a permanent sculpture gallery.

This year, and probably because my son is so into civil aviation, I especially liked the Runway series. Below you see Barcelona, Anchorage and Shark Bay runways as art.

LOL at Shark Bay.

barcelonarunway

anchoragerunway

sharkbayrunway

This is Ben Juniper’s Orchid.

orchid

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(See, if I’d had the program I could have been more descriptive. Sorry for being tight.)

face

And one more… in the background look for the floating sculpture (for you M).

framed

There’s something about viewing art on the beach – it’s a bit like seeing art in the wild, as if you happen upon it in its natural setting.

If you think of an art gallery as being a zoo, Sculpture by the Sea is like going on safari.

Now where’s my pith helmet…

More photos

Enough with the old country

leaves

This guy rang up last week and said that he was sick and tired of people referring to England as “the old country” or “the mother country”.

It’s insulting, he said.  I’m 5th generation.  Australia has been it’s own entity for over 100 years.  

Isn’t it time, he wondered, that we stopped referring to England, that we cut those aged and fraying apron strings?

He has a point.

I imagine England doesn’t feel like a mother to Australia’s Indigenous population.

And the old country could be any number of countries from Europe, Asia, Africa or the Americas.

Sure a few hangovers of England’s colonisation remain.

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We are part of the Commonwealth – although I’m not too sure how common that wealth is.

We play cricket.

We get three months long service leave (well… if you’re a public servant.  The time was to allow you to go home “to the old country” by boat and spend two weeks with your family)

Still…

Do you ever hear citizens of the United States referring to the old country?

No.

I agree.  It’s time to move on peeps.

My Mum’s racy past

mum

This is my mum and my daughter in 2005.  We were in Italy, in Venice in fact.

I thought I wouldn’t like Venice.  I thought it would be too much of a cliche, too geared for tourism.

It was.  I didn’t care.  I loved it.

The other week I caught up with my oldest cousin.  

When she was a teenager, my mum was a young adult.

According to my cousin she was the coolest auntie a girl could ever have.

She fought back to her parents.

She travelled the world.

She slept in the nude.

My cousin tells me she once overheard an argument between mum and my grandparents.

They were upset because she’d cashed in her savings to buy a ticket overseas to follow my Dad to Canada (eventually).

Mum said it was her money and she would do what she wanted with it, cashed up and took off and the rest, as they say is history.

The effect on my cousin was profound.  
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She kept the boarding passes mum gave her and used to look at them and imagine being like my mum.

In later life she travelled far and wide and still does.

Listening to my cousin I felt a kernel of pride that this was my mother she was talking about but interestingly also a sense of wonder.

Who was this woman?

This racy, defiant, inspiring person?

She just seemed like a normal mum to me… a little vehement about me not being a teacher (she didn’t enjoy her chosen profession…) but otherwise…

It is only now as an adult,  I recognise that I grew up with a pretty radical person.

Mum was always experimenting.

From eggplant patties (don’t ask – they were a disaster – even the dog wouldn’t eat them) to Transactional Analysis, she explored her inner and outer worlds and took us along for the ride.

This year she is celebrating a significant birthday.

Dad and I were going to start planning a party but we’ve been informed that there will be several functions.

A festival of Mum.

Bring it on – you deserve it!

Nostalgic for manners

nostalgiaI went to see Nostalgia. A Japanese production which opened last night along with the Perth International Arts Festival.

It was in a space created within the Perth Convention Centre and it is an excellent production.

It is not the easiest of theatre experiences.  It is all in Japanese – apart from the titles to the various sections which are in English.

And it is quite long.

Nostalgia tells the little-known story of the migration of thousands of Japanese workers to Brazil in the early 20th century. Follow the 40-year wanderings of a Japanese family as they search for a better future through the turmoil of revolution in South America.

The company, Inshinha, rarely performs outside of Japan.  More…

There’s a large cast of singers/dancers/actors and the music is beautiful especially supplemented as it is with the rythmic chanting of the cast and their sharp movements.

The sets are extraordinary, and the visual feast is enhanced with a large screen which adds yet another dimension.

Even though I knew only the bare bones of the storyline (tip:  read the program notes), I was drawn along with the story and intrigued to find out more.

Some of the sections could have been a shorter and still made sense – it was a lot of theatre without a break – nearly two and a half hours – but Feline and I loved it.

There was even a giant puppet, which we argued over as to it’s symbolism, so I’d be interested in what you think.

So why am I “nostalgic for manners”?

Well here’s the thing.  About an hour into the production the ushers were still letting people into their seats.

An hour!
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I can understand being 5 minutes late, reprehensible though it is, I live in a glass house on this one, but an hour?!

And it wasn’t as if you could sneak in the back.  You had to clamber up a pitch black metal staircase from the front.

Stomp stomp stomp.

Perth Festival – you need to get tough.

And then there were the early leavers.

It was a long time to go without a pee and maybe they found it too hard, but I was disappointed to see people leaving part way through.

It was really distracting for the rest of us.

I think if you’re going to make a commitment to see a festival production you need to stick with it.  Reading the notes in the guide you would be able to tell it wasn’t going to be a Broadway musical.

So there’s my rant.

After the show we went to the Festival club at Becks Music Box which was lovely – such a great venue.

So far we’ve had three city Festival clubs after the Undercroft at UWA… there was the set up outside the Art Gallery, the Verandah at the Perth Concert Hall and now the Music Box in the front of the city.

Which do you prefer?  And where could it go next??