3rd May

2012 (aged 45)
Evie is home sick - her first sick day ever. She's lying on the couch watching a movie and looking at old photos of me which I dug out for her. 'Are you going to blog about me being home sick?' 'No, of course not...!'
2004 (aged 37)
Alice (2): Let's make a boat! (How will we do that?) Out of cucumbers!
2002 (aged 35)
4am Alice crying; Mikey goes to pat her back to sleep; 'Patting doesn't work,' he announces, and dumps her in our bed
2001 (aged 34)
Heard her little heart racing away. She is kicking and wriggling around all the time, quite violently now. It'll be funny if she does turn out to be Charlie after all -- we have bags of nana presents which are all pink and covered in flowers.
My darling Mikey asked me to marry him... His mum said, 'Der!'
1996 (aged 29)
YES Taylor can be the Jordy character (can I do this without utterly destroying our friendship?)
the link is that he is doing in a more accomplished fashion what Ally does - hesitate on the edge of really connecting with other people  (a tricky line to walk) AFFECTION
1993 (aged 26)
Like a spoonful of sugar slowly slowly lowered into a cup of coffee I was slowly dissolving  where he touched me
1991 (aged 24)
Saw the most divinely beautiful boy on the Brunswick St tram last night, couldn't stop staring. He stared back a bit which was gratifying.
1990 (aged 23)
A quarter to two, feeling unreasonably pleased with myself because of seeing G &S in the Evelyn and having long incoherent chatty chats and G walking me home. Far too many beers and will be sorry in the morning but I don't care. Talk about resurrecting the past...Had a really good time and REEK of smoke.
1986 (aged 19)
Love life non existent... Scandal on Wednesday night: the fiance of the girl RW has been sleeping with came banging on his door; PF called the police but no one got carted away -- the three of them stood arguing in the gutter while the entire population of college leaned out of Eggroll's window with binoculars.
1985 (aged 18)
Saw T at lunch, listened and gazed but no communication. R & M kept bloody talking to me while I wanted to absorb... Heaps of people going to Vet Ball. T dressed as Malice ie Alice plus stud leather bracelet. Never seen him look more unutterably divine. Absolute agonies!!
1981 (aged 14)
Finally got sneezes done. Spilled pepper at lunch and inhaled it. Took about two minutes, then sneezed twice abruptly. Can't understand how people took snuff. Then Fiona B rang up and put me right off schedule. Just watched "Testament of Youth" which is really excellent and leaves Mum in floods of tears every Sunday.
1978 (aged 11)
We finished "The Hobbit" and it was sad. I'm the emergency in Newcombe. Everyone's trying to teach me. We're voting to see what to name the new car. I think "Veronica."
1977 (aged 10)
Something's happened that's so rude I can hardly tell you. Martin L wrote f*** on a desk. Tracy was away. Rotten long division. I had homework. Daddy should almost be down [from PNG] Weather: Warm.
1976 (aged 9)
Went to Lisette's. Played in their swimming pool. It was good. Got a letter from Rowena.

Slow Reading

I am a fast reader. I gobble my books down like a handful of popcorn, barely bothering to chew. Observant readers of this blog may have noticed the rapid movement of titles in my "What I'm Reading" list. For me, reading is a reflex, an addiction. My automatic response to an empty moment is to reach for a book, and race my way through it at top speed.

This means that I consume a lot of books (good). But it also means that I don't absorb what I read (bad). A couple of weeks after I've finished a book, I struggle to remember exactly what happened. And this weekend I realised that sometimes I struggle to recognise what's happening even while I'm still reading!

You see, this weekend I went to yoga camp (good). I only brought one book with me (bad). By the second evening I had only one chapter to go. Cue panic!

I finished the book. It was William Golding's The Inheritors, his novel about a group of Neanderthals and their first encounter with homo sapiens. The Neanderthal protagonist doesn't understand a lot of what he observes - to him, the homo sapiens' boats are logs, their bows and arrows are bent sticks and twigs. Most of their actions are incomprehensible to Lok, who watches dumbly, confused and frightened.

After I finished the book, I dimly realised that something Very Bad must have happened. But I couldn't quite remember it happening. I had to go back and reread the last few chapters to pinpoint the exact moment of the Bad Thing. And sure enough, I found it. But like Lok, the first time round, I hadn't understood what I was seeing.

Lok had some excuse: he is a Neanderthal. But I was just reading too fast. If I hadn't been at yoga camp, I might not have taken the time to reread; I might have just moved on to the next book.

Perhaps this is the true lesson of yoga camp: slow down. Be mindful. Pay attention. Take the time to digest what you're reading, and be nourished by it.

Om...

Bluffers Guide To the Western Bulldogs Part 3

Yay! The boys had a win this weekend. Enjoy it while it lasts because we probably won't be hearing 'Sons of the West' very often this year.

Here are a few players that every Bulldog bluffer needs to know - arguably four of them are actually our best players, though they're not my own personal favourites. But we would be a lot worse off without them...

5 Bulldogs You Should Know

Matthew Boyd (5)

He's tough. He's our captain. He gets hold of the ball a LOT - which makes him a great Dream Team/Supercoach pick. Also he came third in the Brownlow last year, so he is obviously very good. But sometimes (very quietly) even though he gets the ball a LOT, he doesn't always do great things once he's got it... sometimes he tends to give it to the opposition... but he is still very good. Very good indeed. Ahem!


Brian Lake (36)

Ah, Bri-Bri. When he's good, he's very very good -- one of the best, if not THE best, defender in the game. Has an uncanny ability to read the play and position himself under the ball. Had a terrible year last year, trying to recover from three major operations, and his body just wasn't up to it. Seems to be improving this year though... but then he has to go and whack someone get in the mouth and get himself suspended. Must have been one of those famous Brian 'brain fades.'

Adam Cooney (17)

He was a dead set superstar, bursting out of the packs at explosive speed, breaking the game wide apart... But now his knees are buggered. He can still do it, but only in spurts. Which is a real shame. But even half of Adam Cooney (COOOOOON) is still better than a whole of most players... Has ginger hair and tatts all over one leg - a leg sleeve? A leg warmer?? Noice.

Ryan Griffen (16)

GriffEN. Not GriffIN. Get it right! Another dead set superstar, but a largely undercover one. If he played for Collingwood or Carlton, people would never stop raving. As it is, he's like Batman in Bruce Wade disguise. Ssh! Don't tell anyone how good he is. Or they might try to steal him... No, wait, he's just signed a contract for the next few years. Loyal and modest as well as talented. What's not to love?


Liam Jones (19)

Look at him! He's a tall, skinny, Tasmanian baby. He has the hardest job in the AFL. Now that Big Bad Bazza has retired, Jones is the Bulldogs only tall lead-up forward (ie he's expected to mark the ball in the goal square, or somewhere nearby, and kick a goal). But now he has two or even three opposition defenders trying to stop him. Not easy. Also, he is a fantastic mark but a slightly wobbly kick. He is the future -- as long as he doesn't get burnt out first. Fingers crossed.

A Dreaming App?

I spent quite a bit of time over the Easter holidays being driven around Victoria and staring out at the landscape through the car window.

And I got to thinking -- you know those amazing apps where you can point your phone at the night sky and it tells you what constellations you're looking at? Or that one where you point it at a building and it tells you all about its history?

Wouldn't it be wonderful if there was an app that you could point at a landmark, a mountain or a lake, and it would tell you the Dreaming story that belongs to that place? It wouldn't have to give away anything secret or sacred, just the stories that children are told, just the absolute basics that anyone can know. Wouldn't that add an incredible depth to our appreciation of country? Imagine if all those invisible stories suddenly became visible; if we could all be helped to 'read' the landscape the way the first Australians can.

Just a thought.

Bluffer's Guide To the Western Bulldogs, Part 2

Okay, it's three weeks into the season and we are 0 for 3. We are officially rubbish and it's officially going to be a long, long year.

But at least being crap gives you lots to moan about in football conversations, and supporters of other teams can afford to be kind and sympathetic when your team is going badly. They get to enjoy that warm glow of satisfaction that at least their team is higher than yours on the ladder.

So here are five lines you can throw into conversation to make it sound as if you vaguely know what you're talking about:

1. 'Of course, the player we're really missing is Dale Morris.' 
(Jettison this line once his broken leg has healed and he's playing again)

2. 'You can't tell how we're going to go this year until at least Round 6.' 
(Actually, I think you can: woefully. Obviously this line is only useful until Round 6, when our cellar-dwelling woefulness will be confirmed beyond all doubt.)

3. 'Funny how our rookie picks seem to work out better than the first rounders.' 
(To be delivered with a rueful shake of the head. If pressed, mention Dahlhaus and Boyd as great rookies, Grant and Wallis as dubious first rounders. Don't worry if you don't know what first-rounders or rookies are. The other person will.)

4. 'Tom Liberatore missing out on a Rising Star nomination last year was an absolute scandal.' 
(Can be followed up with the more recent scandal of Clay Smith missing out on a nomination for his first senior game, despite kicking four goals and playing so hard his body shut down and he had to be subbed off for sheer exhaustion.) 

5. 'It's not so much the forward line I'm worried about, it's the delivery from the midfield.'
(If you get this far, congratulations. From now on, it will probably suffice to nod and smile and occasionally murmur something about 'inside' and 'outside' mids, how Liam Jones has the toughest job in AFL, and the need to give the boys time to adjust to the new coach's game plan.)

If only playing the damn game was this easy...

We Interrupt the Bluffer's Guide With Breaking News...

The CBCA 2012 Shortlists were announced yesterday.

It was a slightly surreal situation. At the time of the announcement I was attending my monthly kid lit book group with a group of fellow authors, aspiring authors and lovers of books for young people. One of our number brought in the long lists, released that morning, which members of the group fell upon with the eagerness of a gaggle of gulls on a handful of spilled chips, poring over the lists for a sight of our favourites and friends.

After that initial flurry, we were very restrained until the end of our meeting, whereupon the owner of the iPhone tried to find out who had made the shortlists. Couldn't get through... We wandered through the Convent toward the ladies' loos, still trying. No luck. I was actually in the bathroom when someone texted congratulations! and that was the first I knew that Crow Country had been shortlisted.

Congratulations indeed to all those on the shortlists and the Notable Books. There are so many worthy and deserving titles each year, there is almost always a little frisson of disappointment when a personal favourite isn't listed. So let's just take a moment amidst the celebrations to remember the other books that deserved be recognised, and congratulate them too.

The Bluffer's Guide to The Western Bulldogs Part 1

Well, AFL Round 1 has come and gone, and with it the Western Bulldogs' first defeat of the season. From here it might look as if it's going to be a long year - and it probably will.

So I'm going to make it easy for you to bluff your way through supporting the Bulldogs in what they call a 'development year' (which means we're going to be pretty terrible, but hopefully not forever).


5 Bulldogs To Love

Robert Murphy (2)

 He's smart, he's graceful, he's quick, he's creative. The thoughtful person's footballer. Played up forward until his knees got dodgy, now plays down back, which hopefully means he'll play for a few years longer. Writes a funny, sentimental, articulate column in The Age on Thursdays. The de facto guardian of Bulldog history. Puts little notes in the lockers of new players.


Daniel Giansiracusa (13)

Often underrated, perhaps because he's hot. Another clever footballer who does a lot of work to set things up for other players. Reliable goal-kicker. Never called anything but 'Gia.'

Tom Liberatore (21)

Son of club legend Tony Liberatore slotted almost instantly into the midfield. Plays with more toughness and poise than you'd expect from a second year player. Despite performing solidly in almost every game last year, he failed to attract a Rising Star nomination. Disgraceful.

Will Minson (27)

 Aka Big Will, Wilbur, Minno. Multi-talented and reputedly very intelligent, he speaks German, plays the saxophone and is fond of a purple suit. With the retirement of Ben Hudson, Will becomes the club's number one ruckman (the guy who hits the ball out from the centre bounce).

Luke Dahlhaus (40)

Cruelly overlooked in the main draft, he was picked as a rookie last year by the Dogs and has repayed their punt in spades. A pocket dynamo, the energy level of the team lifts as soon as he sets foot on the field. And just check out those dreds! Nicknamed 'Grommet' by Bob Murphy because he comes from Ocean Grove, he is apparently not, in fact, a surfer.

One More Day...

One draft, almost finished.
One chapter per day.
Two chapters to go.
Last day of term.

Why, why, why?

Attention Please

***UPDATED***

Evie is running a poll over at her blog, Evie Puppy Cadpig. She would appreciate your help in choosing a new background picture for her blog, and as she doesn't get a huge amount of traffic (well, just me really), she has asked me to ask you to pop over and help her out.

***Big thanks to everyone who's voted, you have made a little girl very happy.***

Worlds Collide

 It happens when I'm discussing the Bulldogs' chances this season at a Centre for Youth Literature event and people nod politely.

It happens when I'm listening to the sports radio station and they're reviewing the film of The Hunger Games and the commentators go, 'Huh?'

Not the same game. Apparently.

Aluminium Anniversary

It's ten years today since Michael and I tied the official knot. Apparently this means today should be celebrated with a gift of tin and/or aluminium. What does that mean? Saucepans? Tin/aluminium is the traditional marker, but in the US it seems 'tin' has been upgraded to 'diamond.' Whoah! That's quite a leap. I guess ten years these days is like a hundred years in olden times... or something...

This is what I looked like on my wedding day:

NOT!!! Ha ha ha. In fact I find the whole wedding industry and all its addentant stressors quite bemusing and slightly obscene. Mikey and I got married in the registry office at the Queen Vic building, with just our parents and our 8 month old baby as witnesses. Then we had a lovely afternoon tea at a swank hotel, organised by Michael's sister. It could hardly have been more low-key. I wore a favourite dress from Jigsaw, Mum gave me some roses to hold, we didn't take many photos because Alice started to cry.

The next night was our wedding celebration. We booked out a local cafe and had a party with about fifty friends and family. It was a great night, as far as I can remember. And then we went home and life went on as before - with the baby we'd already had, in the house we'd already bought, living together as we had done for the previous four (?) years. Nothing really changed.

But I'm glad we did it. I like being able to say 'my huzzband,' in an ironic voice, even though it's not ironic at all but a simple statement of fact. Some of my friends are married, some are not. Some, I don't even know whether they are or not, and it doesn't make a scrap of difference.

But I think if people want to do it, they should be able to -- in a garden, in a church, on a boat, sky-diving, in a fancy dress or in the nude, straight or gay. It's about love, people. A ritual about love. How can there be any harm in that?

Happy anniversary, Mikey. Love you. xxxxx

Evie's Crazy Science Lab

I'm not quite sure what it demonstrates exactly, but it's fun: take a bowl of milk, add a drop or two of food colouring. Then dip a toothpick in detergent and poke it into the mixture, and watch what happens!*

I wish we'd had activities like this when I was at school.

* Bonus points for doing it while Mythbusters is on.

12th March

2012 (aged 45)
The hunt for high schools starts next week: information nights and open days. Which school will be right for her? Which school is she right for? And how are you supposed to tell?
2001 (aged 34)
Everybody gobsmacked by the news that K (Michael's sister) is having TWINS! So pleased that Alice will have a gang of her own and won't be totally swamped by the big boy cousins... More than halfway. 21 weeks today. The obstetrician says if I haven't stopped being sick by now then I never will. THANKS.
1998 (aged 31)
I've taken to swanning around the house in silk trousers and an embroidered jacket and have a yearning for beading and brocade - a kind of 1920s exotica.
1997 (aged 30)
D is keen for New York. He rang at 11.30 last night -- "Why are you in bed? What's wrong with you?" He was excruciatingly chirpy.
1996 (aged 29)
At moments like this - quarter to 11 after a solid couple of hours work, sun shining in and feeling motivated - I don't give a RAT'S ARSE about Sony imports - sack me, ease me out, bully me around I DON'T CARE it's not real, it doesn't matter. Only this matters, the words on the page.
1994 (aged 27)
A milestone in my brilliant career - a little one! Someone wrote to me, asking for a short story to put in their magazine - never heard of it mind you - still, they pay money!
1992 (aged 25)
Breakfast with AR. Hm... Did get a croissant which is better than not getting a croissant I guess...
1987 (aged 20)
Trammed and trained and bussed out to Monash, had lunch in the Union with F and all her crowd, A & E & S & K & Bill Shorten. Got home at 6. D in playful mood, tried to set fire to me. Told everyone's tarots.
1986 (aged 19)
Put up posters for Conservation Club in sneaky and illegal places round uni...Student Club meeting. Roped in as Play Rep. O throwing his weight around. Small fuss over whether a female could be Male Sports Rep... Dressed up as Soviet Socialist for S party... Drank Kahlua and white wine & OJ with F. C & P arrived about 10.30, went up to my room and drank Kahlua & milk with frozen milk. Suddenly F, J, E & CS arrived! Chatted to CS, think I was mistaken. Fairly sloshed by now. About to go down when A brought PH up (in Army uniform) to stop him flattening O!! Monash people left, had D&Ms with PH who then left never to be seen again... Massive D&Ms with C & P by candlelight (tres atmospherique, says P), C & P smoking like chimneys, drank two bottles of cider. G arrived with Joy Division tape then went to bed. Opened Baileys & drank 1/2 the bottle. P finally went to bed, C & I strolled around the crescent talking drunkenly. Went to bed at 3.30am.
1985 (aged 18)
Went to my first ever tutorial - Philosophy. Dead loss tute, all sat mute, in fact it was fute-ile. Formal dinner (chicken and shaving foam cheeseCake). New Pres. of USSR is Mikhail Gorbichov (Gorbachev)
1980 (aged 13)
The debate was marvellous!! We lost, but I only got one point less than Athol's third speaker (she got Best Debator). I'm so happy! It is nice to do something well!!
1978 (aged 11)
Daddy went to Hagen, but came back. I meant to wash the dolls clothes, but it was too wet. I rode and read my bike and books. I didn't do anything really today, did I?
1977 (aged 10)
I stayed in bed till half past 9.  Mummy cut down branches. I made a ship. I typed a letter to Rowena. Hilly & I had a big fight. I'm sorry.
1976 (aged 9)
It was sport. Yuk! I made lanterns. Made a book list. Tomorrow night I am staying at Mireille's.

Treasure Boxes

Last week, Pip's mum alerted me to an offering on Gumtree - a collection of books and magazines about PNG, free to a good home. The family had spent a few years in PNG at around the same time as we did, in Madang and Rabaul*, and this was what was left of their father's collection, after the rest of the family had taken what they wanted.

There was one box of books, travel guides and coffee table books full of gorgeous pictures, and copies of the PNG national airline's in-flight magazine from the 1980s, all of which I was very happy to have. And there was also a box of odds and ends: 'I'm not sure if you'll want this,' said the mother doubtfully, but it was raining and the kids were waiting out in the car, so I said, no, no, I'll take the lot.

I'm really glad I did. There was a nice big map, an album of newspaper cuttings, and some files of odd letters and memos from the father's time working for one of the big trading companies: a job application from a local student, written on butterfly notepaper; a list of pay rates for local workers; a letter explaining why a policeman was late paying his bill (because all his 'gears' had been lost when he was transferred to a different post); complaints about late shipments and incorrect bills.

There could be nothing so evocative of the low-tech world of the 1970s -- letters that are scrawled in biro or typed on a clunky typewriter, carbon copied and filed in a manila folder. I wonder where the writers of those letters are now.


* a town that no longer exists - wiped out by a volcano, just like Pompeii

Workshop

A friend walked into our house the other day and said, 'Whenever I come here, there's always stuff being made.' I must confess I have become so used to being surrounded by works-in-progress, scraps of fabric, glue and craft sticks that I hadn't really thought about it, apart from tearing my hair out at the perpetual mess.

But it's true. At the moment we have crystals growing on saucers on the floor in front of the TV, seedlings sprouting in jars in Rex's tank, and a half-finished zoo enclosure on the coffee table. Recently Alice made and furnished a 'burrow' for some of her smaller toys, including tiny handmade books, sheets and curtains dyed with food dye, clothes for the toys and an elaborate water-tank and dipper system.

Last night Evie made a bird feeder from a toilet roll covered in silver foil, and a birdhouse from a box that had contained grapes, which she then rushed out to hang from the trees. Meanwhile, Alice was making bread, joyfully thumping the dough - but plain bread is boring, so this became nutmeg, lime and orange bread. (Which, I must say, is actually bloody delicious - sort of hot-cross-bunnish, but without the sultanas.) The 'sauce' which was to accompany the bread was less successful (flour, sugar, nutmeg, lime juice), but hey, for every hit, there'll be a few misses.

I just have to keep reminding myself that the flour on the floor, the newspapers all over the table, rag box spilling in the corner -- in short, the general chaos of our living space -- really is worthwhile. Who knows, maybe that's the thing I'll miss the most when they're all grown up.