Category Archives: Personal

Extracurricular, Introspection

Saturday afternoon drinking

Creative Commons License photo credit: Matt Callahan

Today we went over to an old friend’s house to celebrate a milestone with them over lunch. In the olden days parties at their house were long, alcoholic affairs with the red wine flowing faster than the white. These days they still are unless you, like me, are on call, in which case the water flows faster and eight hours in you’re kind of hoping that it isn’t too rude to go home.

Stay! Stay for dinner. Don’t worry about driving – get a cab – I’ll drop off your car in the morning.

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The food was lovely, the wine was fine and flowing. It was eight hours people.

We left.

Family, Parenting, Personal

The Pillow Wall: What they don’t tell you about falling pregnant

4 Comments

A number of people I know are pregnant at the moment and they’ve reached that happy stage of the third trimester where everything is oh so slightly uncomfortable, including sleep.

Slowly over the months they have been collecting pillows one by one. Arranging one behind their back, one between their thighs, one under the belly – now full and heavy – until it takes at least ten minutes to settle in the right spot – cocooned on what was once Passion Central and is now divided by… The Pillow Wall.

pillow wall

It’s in fact remarkably comfortable as I discovered when posing for this photograph to illustrate my point, but does tend to exclude the non-pregnant other.

My friend the other night complained bitterly that night after night he was slowly edged to the side of the bed until now his head rests on the bedside table and it is only by the most precarious of balancing acts that he sleeps – and he’s got six weeks to go!

(How is it that men hijack the most female of journeys? Once again – it’s all about them!)
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He was slightly hysterical – not coping with the musical experience that was Miss Saigon.

In fact, just after the big chorus girl number his girlfriend got up and left rather quickly during the applause as if she was in the midst of a medical emergency. A minute later, my friend, acting all worried and concerned, followed her out. It was a performance that left us gasping with laughter.

The conversation at interval though did take me back nearly 11 years to my last pregnancy and my pillow wall.

Did you have one?
PS: An historical note. The pyjama pants I’m wearing in the photo were bought for me to wear in hospital the day Dippity was born. Groover had learned from Hugamuga’s birth, when he bought me the foulest, most unattractive, nasty nighties – a bit like surgical gowns without the gap in the back – to TMATP! The tee-shirt we bought on our honeymoon when we visited Eurodisney – which puts it at circa 1992.

PPS: TMATP=Throw Money At The Problem

Introspection

The dying age

Heath LedgerIs it just me or are you overwhelmed by the numbers of deaths lately? This last two years in particular seem to be a never ending procession of young deaths – and not so young but they are kind of expected.

I’m wondering if it is my age. I’ve hit my 40s. Do I notice it more now?

In the last two years there doesn’t seem to be a month go by without another significant person dying.

Today it was Heath Ledger. Now I didn’t know Heath – yes even though I live in Perth, small as it is, our paths didn’t cross – although my friend’s girls went to the same school as his niece – but I was shocked just the same.

A fortnight ago Clinton Grybas died – sleepwalking apparently. I knew him about – crumbs – must be about 8 years ago or more.

Before that Matt Price.
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Before that a colleague’s wife.

Before that George Grljusich… okay he was a bit older but still not old.

The list goes on.

Perhaps it is just because I’ve lived longer and I know more people. Perhaps I’m more aware.

Can it stop now please?

Introspection

New Year Resolutions

newyearIt’s still January so a review of my New Year’s Resolutions seems to be in order (last year I did this in March).

So without further ado – the audit:

1. Return emails efficiently

I reckon I’m pretty good at returning emails. Mostly. Except when I’m on holidays. Today at work I had to go through over a 1000. I deleted anything sent to me more than a week ago. I figure if it’s really important someone will tell me. It’s not as if they wouldn’t have got an email saying I was on hols. I’m prepared for this to bite me on the bum.

2. Play bridge once a week

Well I tried. I still need to find a regular partner though.

3. Love my children

Well they are pretty lovable – this isn’t hard unless they are being very trying!

4. Love my husband

See 3.

5. Love my job

I haven’t been good at this. This year I’m changing my attitude. Life’s too short eh?

6. Be better at keeping in contact with friends

This is hard to measure. And I’ve made a heap new friends via this blog. I think I’ve been slightly better… 🙂

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Finally one I can say I did live up to!

8. Say yes

No.

9. Save

Very rubbish at this one.

10. Explore new opportunities

Haven’t really done this either. 🙁

But lets not dwell on the past! This year I resolve to:

1. Begin each work day affirming why I love what I do. I figure that all jobs have bits you hate but I mostly like my job so why not start from a happy place.
2. Review every book I read.
3. Keep my mobile phone charged.
4. Buy a laptop.
5. Put money aside for savings every paycheck.
6. Find a regular bridge partner.

I know I should have some fitness/diet things in there but hey, I figured I’d set myself some realistic goals!

Fashion Victim

OMG I’m a D-Cup

7 Comments

If only it was just the breasts that put on weight.

Don’t you love those lingerie ladies in the big department stores? Mine would have been in her mid fifties and an E cup she told me.

I knew my old bra – a B cup push up – wasn’t really fitting all that well – so I decided to invest in some new scaffolding.

The first thing you do is find the most senior looking assistant over floor – the older the better – they’ve seen it all. She will come in and measure you and then bring you a couple of bras to try on. Then she will “fit” you. She will make you lean over at the waist and “drop” your breasts fully into the cups. Then she will assess the fit.

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If you get on with your assistant this is the best. She will treat you like a long lost daughter and it will be a fun, positive experience.

I came away with two bra and pantie sets and some “guaranteed to take an inch off everywhere” undergarment thing.

Which I’ve bought for “thermal” purposes of course. 🙂

Family, Introspection

Why I should learn the cello

Yo Yo Ma playing celloYes I know you all think (those of you who haven’t read my me page) that I must play the cello being as I am, called Cellobella.

Well the truth is that I can’t play the cello.  At all.

In fact in my earliest days online I used to call myself Weathergirl because well, I used to occasionally present the weather – the last time when I was 8 and a half months pregnant so you know it was a long time ago.  Anyway for some reason that handle fell away and my eldest was 3 and I started him on Suzuki Cello.

This was mainly because my new friend The Poshi had enrolled her son, also 3, and thought it would be cool if we shared lessons.  I, not wanting to be outdone by someone clearly a more organised and therefore better mother than me, agreed and so it was that we’d travel to Palmyra every week with an overgrown viola in the back seat to sit through half hour after half hour of agonising Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Of course he wouldn’t practice.  He.  Was.  Three.

So I thought – because I was clearly going to be A Good Mother – I would buy a cello and practice along with him.  It was a win-win I thought.  He would be encouraged to play and therefore I wasn’t wasting my money, time and petrol AND I would learn the cello, an instrument I’ve admired since The Witches of Eastwick (go and get the DVD if you don’t know what scene I’m referring to).

My plan was to learn the first cello suite by JS Bach – as played by Yo Yo Ma. Play the video to get the full surround sound experience.

Oh this just sends me.  I want this played at my funeral.  Okay maybe not by Yo Yo Ma (he’s way too famous), but by someone else who can play it.  I love the bit towards the end where he sounds like he’s playing two cellos at once.

In fact what would be my dream is to find someone who will teach me just this piece.  I don’t want to play anything else – just this one 2 minute 38 second piece – really well.  It is so beautiful.

Of course, my son hated me playing my cello – it was too loud compared to his little one – he refused to practice if my cello was out of its bag.  He gave up aged 5.  But my new handle – Cellobella – stuck.

Anyhoo I saw my cello, out there in the backroom where it has languished now for nearly 8 years, when we cleaned the guest quarters last weekend for The Dark Horse. 
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Why don’t you sell it?  Asked Groover for maybe the hundredth time.

But I can’t sell it.

Because that would be like selling out on my dream.

And while that cello is sitting there, my dream is still a possibility.

Which is all a long-winded way of saying to Meg how much I loved receiving this link via email today. 🙂

This is me practicing all those years ago…

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This is my son’s reaction…

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Groover, Introspection

My husband is a woman!

We were discussing traditional roles today and we decided that in fact Groover is a woman and I – or at least – apart from the grunting, screaming childbirth thang – I am a man.

Let us review the evidence together:

Groover loves cooking, can keep a fantastic house, makes the bed like a nurse, disciplines the kids, manages the money and irons beautifully.

Whereas I, well I don’t really excel at any of that but I do play Set – a brilliant game based on spatial relationships which everyone knows is a blokey attribute.
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Ipso facto: I am the bloke.

Only one piece of evidence stands out as proof of my femininity! I’m the one who ALWAYS organises the babysitter!

Back in your box Groover! Oh and while you’re there… would you mind ironing this?

Fashion Victim, Modern Life

What are rashies?

River asks following my last post: “What are rashies?” I wrote a reply in comments but since a picture really is a thousand words I thought I’d illustrate with a couple of pics.

Adventure World Dec 22nd 2002 021

Adventure World Dec 22nd 2002 005

Now you’ll note that the children in this photo look quite young – that’ll be because these photos were taken in 2002 – 5 years ago. In those days my boardies fit and I wore skin tight rashies… 🙂

Anyway you probably get the idea.

I really don’t know why I stressed out about tight fitting boardies and my muffin top breaking loose. Once there we were treated to a great number of fashion victims people who just didn’t care.

Part of me was rejoicing. “You go girlfriend!” I thought Marcia-style as a woman who as a clear muu muu candidate chose instead to wear a bikini, sat eating her lunch not 20 metres away.

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At this point you are probably fairly pointing out that the kettle may be calling the pot indigenous. And it would be a fair point.

Then we noticed another lady who had obviously come straight from the office. She was wearing a knee length skirt, a singlet and one of those little V-necked tops with three quarter sleeves and the ties that go round the back. Down the Aqua Racer! Of course she might have thought to herself that she wasn’t going to go swimming but was tempted by all the fun we were having and decided WTF I’m just going to swim in my clothes.

But perhaps she tried on her boardies that morning – like me – and found they were a little snug. Maybe she went down to her local surfshop – like me – and the shop assistants were so unhelpful she thought “fuck that I’m just going to wear my smart casual clothes to Adventure World”. Maybe.

The blokes of course don’t care at all.

 

Introspection, Modern Life

Reflections on a good person

I went to Matt Price’s funeral today. It was beautiful. St Josephs was decked in Christmas decorations and white lillies and the sun shone sweetly in through the stained glass windows. I sat towards the back of the church and I couldn’t see the band but they had live music playing some beautiful music. He was a man who liked his live music.

It was a who’s who of politicians and media, familiar faces both, but they took second stage to Matt. It was, as the priest said – Mattstown.

I’m finding it hard to write about. I feel I can’t do him justice. What effrontery! Attempting to match him with words. It ain’t going to happen. 🙂

I didn’t know Matt well. He didn’t know me well but I felt I owed him the respect of being there. I wanted Sue and her children to know that he was worth making time for. They do know that of course. And I wanted to support my colleagues who did know him well.
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Death is the great leveller. As we filed into the crematorium I found myself walking in just in front of Kevin Rudd, who was just one of the hundreds, there to say farewell to a great Australian.

And Matt’s legacy? His writing? His books? Film of his television work? No. I think it’s love. Shining strongly from his wife and his kids, his family and friends. They are his true legacy.

Perthnow, The Australian, The West, ABC News

Introspection, Work

Vale Matt Price

thanks to The AustralianI just wanted to express my sadness at the news of Matt Price’s death over the weekend.  Matt has been a part of my working life for a number of years.  I didn’t have a lot to do with him but knew him and loved his work.

At a party recently I had the chance to meet his wife Sue and we had a lovely chat about her moving back to Perth.  She seemed a very nice person.

Eight weeks ago her world collapsed.  Eight weeks ago Matt was diagnosed with brain cancer.  Yesterday he died.

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Vale Matt.  Your words entertained us and my heart goes out to your family.

Go the Dockers!