Schooling?

I recently received a few sample copies of a (US) magazine called Life Learning. It makes for rather inspiring reading, with stories from both parents of home-schoolers and the adult products of home-schooling families. Ever since the wee man was quite small, I've ideally wondered about home schooling & unschooling, as an option to the conventional schooling options.

For me, it's not a matter of any firm convictions about one way or another being better, it is more about which is better for us.

There are aspects of the structure and society of many schools which are absolutely not appealing: bullying (both from fellow pupils and teachers); cultural and peer pressure; rigid structure and narrowly focused curriculum; and poor student-to-teacher ratios which mean that individual needs and talents can be missed or neglected. I've looked at the philosophies and curriculums of local Steiner, Montessori and humanist schools...and the fees. Whatever I think about the philosophies, those schools are just not economically feasible for us at the moment. The local primary school here in the village actually has a fantastic reputation under the headmistress of the last couple of years, and is just 3 houses away from us - it's got a lot going for it.

In my own childhood, I had an unconventional and highly varied schooling history. I started kindy at age 5 in Melbourne, but less than a year later my parents had fitted out an old Kommer van and we were on the road, travelling up the east coast of Australia. Most of the next year or so we did correspondence school, supervised by Mum - as an avid reader and learner, this suited me just fine, but my 3-years-younger brother just wanted to play.

The next few years were very nomadic, as my parents split and Mum continued to travel Australia with us kids, as she worked and saved to make her dream trip to SE Asia. I actually don't know how many primary schools I attended - I lost count. Usually, we were enrolled in whatever state school was local to where we lived at the time, though I remember one notably-horrifying occasion when she enrolled us in a famously progressive "free school" (free from rules, not fees!) where the little monsters ran the school and made the lives of newcomers like ourselves an absolute misery. (I had to defend not just myself, physically, mentally, and emotionally, but also my little brother, especially when they realised that hurting him was the best way to get at me.) We lasted a term, before I finally told Mum what a horror it was - I was devastated (so was she!) as it was my dream school, beautiful grounds and incredible facilities with a big focus on creativity.

Once overseas, we travelled through Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, Nepal and India - we ended up living 6 months in India as Mum joined the Rajneesh Ashram in Poona, which had a great school for the many children of the Westerners who had come to study with the guru. It was a magnificent experience overall - as children do, we adapted to the needs of the moment, communicating with the locals in sign language and smiles and rapidly-shared snatches of each other's languages. It was the mid-seventies, and western women travelling alone were still uncommon; women with white-haired, blue-eyed children were such a delicious novelty that we were almost universally treated beautifully, and welcomed and treasured wherever we went. I could wish that the world would feel so safe today...

We returned to Australia, and I eventually came to live with my Dad in the very region I live in now, and spent the last 3 years of primary school at a local 2-room school run by an inspired and inspiring man - god, I still feel so lucky about that experience! Then 6 years of conventional high school - it was a mixed, mostly positive experience for me, but even then I knew I was never really tested or stretched...I coasted along, had fun with my friends, and achieved well enough to not be pushed to make any more effort.

I wouldn't be me without the amazing experiences I had outside the conventional schooling of many of my peers. And yet, much of that experience marked me as "different" and I often had to struggle to be accepted and certainly became a bit of a chameleon to make friends. I still think of myself as a shy person with a confident outgoing exterior - it's not front, but it is certainly hard-won skills in action.

I read articles and web-sites about schooling alternatives, talk to people who are home-schooling, and was even surprised when the Big Feller raised the idea first. I can see that in many ways the wee man would be suited to leading his own learning - he's inquisitive, constantly questioning, articulate and confident. A lot like me mentally, I think - another magpie mind in the making!?!

But he also loves his preschool, and has obviously been very happily and positively stimulated by his time there this year. I joke that he'd be happy to go there 7 days a week, because he wakes up every day and asks if it's a preschool day.

And to be frank,I don't know if I can make the necessary mental shift to put aside my own personal wishes and plans for my time if he was at home full-time (I feel incredibly selfish, writing this). I love it when he goes to preschool - those 12 hours every week are precious me-time. Though they are rapidly filled with housekeeping, preschool and playgroup administrative tasks, I always manage to spend some time reading or looking at the Net or a few favourite bloggers. Or just doing nothing at all for a little while, sitting on the deck having a cuppa and talking to the dog. Precious, sanity-saving time that a true introvert can't do without.

And then there is the economic reality that my family really could do with the income I'd generate if I returned to the paid workforce. Let me not, today, get on my soapbox about what that kind of pressure is doing to our kids and the society of their future.

He's only 3 1/2, and I'm happy that the preschool experience is right for him now, so this is not an urgent decision. Merely musings, triggered by the thoughtful articles I read last night. What decisions have you made for your children, and why?

Magpie Mind

I have a magpie mind. I like anything that glitters.
Lord Thomson of Fleet

When I described myself in earlier posts as having a magpie mind, I wasn't making any kind of literary reference. At least, I didn't think I was. That's the thing with having this kind of mind - you collect all sorts of glittering, precious trophies of information as you rove the world of books, movies, media and 'Net over a lifetime...and then you pile them all in a glorious heap, where some of them will never see the light of day again. I'm sure it is literally true that I have forgotten more than I will ever remember - so much of my schooling, the human resources, psychology and aromatherapy I studied as an adult and the gleanings of a voracious reading habit seem to have slipped away.

Sometimes I think all I remember is the useless and crap. Take me to a Trivia night - that might make me a feel a bit useful.

Hmmm, that sounds a bit self-pitying, and I don't mean that. I adore learning things, and a new passion (eg. blogging) can send me scouring the library and the 'Net for information and inspiration. Of course I'm not going to retain it all, nor do I want or need to try. I just love the seeking of knowledge.

Witness my Favourites file. I've been on the 'Net for about 6 years now (with a 12 month break in the middle when we moved to the mountains and were very technology-free for a while...until my brain screamed out for external stimulation!). When I first got online, I went on a kid-in-a-candy-store frenzy of surfing, with a little list by my side of all favourite subjects and hobbies to trigger my searches. My Favourites file rapidly filled with all manner of things, many of them repeatedly visited but some compulsively filed "just in case". This is the second computer I've had since then, but I had discovered one of those handy bookmark-storing sites and had stored all precious links for transfer to my new computer. Since then, I've become a bit more discerning (and have also become a mother, which has taken a fair bit of my free time *wry grin*), and have even had a stab at going through the files, checking the links and deleting any that were out of date or no longer of interest to me.

Out of interest, before I wrote this post I checked on the current total.

I have 1314 links in my Favourites files, in 152 folder headings.

See what I mean?

Getting serious

With the new demands of a daily post (for NaBloPoMo), I've cast my eyes over the bounty of the internet, finding really useful blogging networks, forums and carnivals in the last couple of weeks, and sourcing some great advice about generating ideas for bloggers and developing good blogging habits. Some of those I've found useful have been:
"Seven ways to find the time to blog" from Will's Thoughtstream
"7 Habits of Highly Efficient Bloggers" from Daily Blog Tips
"10 Sources For Blogging Inspiration" by average joe blogger
"Who Do You Think You Are" by Chris Garrett (my favourite - I love what he had to say about bloggers and readers getting to know each other.)

I'm never lost for words, but there are times when I feel pity for my audience (irl or online). I know I can get excited about a particular subject or passion, but am I really framing it in a way that is interesting to the listener/reader? And what about the days when I gaze at the blank screen and wonder what happened to all those great ideas I had...when I wasn't gazing at the blank screen?

I've opened a folder in my favourites Blog file, for post-worthy links I come upon, and I'm starting to jot down post ideas in my ever-present desk notebook. I am one of those who says, "If I write it down, it happens, or gets done...If you want me to do it, write it down for me!", which covers household matters like why cordial wasn't bought in the shopping (I don't drink it so Big Feller needs to write it on the list when running low), or why the rego on the new/old car wasn't changed over within 14 days (Big Feller didn't write it down nor give me the paperwork).

Not that I need or intend to plan this blogging thing to within an inch of its life either, but I felt disappointed with myself to have only posted photographs over the weekend...lovely and all that, but when I'm reading a favourite blog I feel vaguely unsatisfied if they've only posted pictures. I'm there because previously their words, ideas, philosophy of life and/or warped sense of humour have snagged my interest - I'm back for more of the same. I love the ability to dip into other people's lives and worlds, no matter where on the planet they are, and the images are a part of that, but it's you I'm interested in: your thoughts, your ideas, your dreams, your crazy world view. And if you are here reading me, I guess it's because you feel much the same way, too.

So, while I will certainly be posting lots of images (because taking and sharing photographs is one of my passions!), I hope that with a little thought and preparation I will be able to write daily posts that will continue to make you think, to laugh, to nod in acknowledgement, and keep dropping by to see what my little magpie of a mind has latched onto now... :)

Loved ones

We're friends again, Blogger's uploading tool and I, so here are some images of me (before and after haircut), my family, friends and places dear to me.

Get in and get out

Sorry, folks, but this is going to be the complete opposite to my last couple of posts - brief to the extreme, as the thunder and lightning that have become so familiar in my part of the world the last few weeks are rolling in swiftly, and I am scrabbling to get in here and make my mark here today for NaBloPoMo.

Last night, btw, went swimmingly well. Nice turn-out, great response to both the documentary and the local footage, and all the baked goods sold a treat. Didn't make squillions after costs, only a couple of hundred, but I still consider it a success...every little bit will help.

To go with the getting-to-know-you theme of recent posts, here to replace words are some images of me and mine:



Well, maybe just "mine"....after half a dozen attempts, that is the only photo I can get to load tonight. Blogger took me seriously when I said I'd be brief!

Crazy day

It's a crazy-mad day for me today. I don't want to think to hard about it, just hope that all goes to plan. Hence this first-thing-in-the-morning post; the wee man is eating breakfast and watching The Upside Down Show (the Umbilical Brothers are made for children's television, don't you think?!), and I have this small window of opportunity.

A little later the wee man and I are off to our playgroup, which I co-coordinate, then back at lunch-time.

The rest of the day is about the fund-raising film night our community preschool is hosting at the village hall. The movie is a fabulous documentary called "The Power Of Community", about Cuba, and how the Cuban people coped, adapted and triumphed over the challenge of reaching "peak oil" when their Soviet oil supplies were cut off after the collapse of the USSR. This was achieved through "cooperation, conservation and community" (80% of Cuba's agriculture is now organic), and is a really inspiring tale told by the people themselves.

I'd originally proposed this as the last fund-raiser of the year for the preschool - an economic necessity for community preschools, fees and government funding do not cover all expenses or provide sufficient resources.

However, after last Friday's tornado I kept thinking how lucky we had been at the preschool to be left untouched, when the school had lost two of its three buildings and numerous materials and resources. The committee met and we agreed unanimously to make the primary school the target of the fundraiser, so we've been running around like mad things ever since, changing posters and flyers and getting it into the local media to let people know, and hopefully tap into that amazing community spirit that buoyed us up over the weekend as the village cleaned up after the storm.

So, after I get back from playgroup, I've got to: finish putting a slideshow of photos from the tornado and aftermath together (along with any images or footage anyone emails or drops off this morning), burn it to disc, test it; bake some cakes or slices to sell after the movie; go down to the hall and help air and clean it, and set up and test the borrowed projection equipment; come back and clean up my house fit for the babysitter who is arriving to mind the wee man for the first time ever (fingers crossed...the beginning of life after 7.30pm for mama and daddy again!?!); cook something for them to eat, then go back to the hall 2 hours before the screening to get the final set-up organised; screen the movie at 7pm, hopefully with no hitches, then sell & serve coffee, tea & cakes afterwards before finally trudging home. I'm voting for cleaning the hall in the morning!

I know there is something I should be doing right now, and it's not this....!

Easing into it

First day of November, and first day of NaBloPoMo...if you don't know what I'm talking about, have a look here...

So, with the pressure firmly on myself to commit to regular, breezy, entertaining, informative posts (which will rapidly degenerate into brief, hurried, cryptic rants...!?!) I've thought I'd kick off the month sharing a little about myself.

Otherwise known as:

Ten Things You Didn't Know About Me

1. I was born in Tasmania, am fourth- or fifth-generation Tasmanian, though I haven't lived there since I was 10 months old. (I think that has a lot to do with my tolerance of cold, and my total distaste for the heat and humidity of summer. Give me the budget, and I'd cheerfully spend the 3 or 4 months of summer in, oh, I don't know...Banff? Nepal? the Italian Alps?) I love visiting Tassie but my roots, and most of my family, are firmly planted on the mainland these days.

2. I lived in England for 3 years, and was so totally immersed in the place and the culture and the life that when my visa ran out and I had to come home, some of the people I farewelled couldn't believe I was "going home" 'cos I sounded just like them! I had a surreal and amazing experience when I took myself to Scotland before I had to come home; I stepped off the coach in Edinburgh and had the most intense deja vu experience, which lasted the whole time I was there - then I came home and discovered that both my maternal and paternal ancestors had mostly all emigrated from Scotland, and mainly from the south near Edinburgh. Took me years to feel at home back here. Part of me still misses Ol'Blighty.

3. We lived in a television black spot for the 3 years we were in the Border Ranges before we moved here, and went happily without television. We watched movies on DVD, and I read lots of books and magazines and did Lovatts crossword puzzles, and did a little painting, and watched my baby grow. Now I have to confess a slight addiction (can you be only "slightly addicted"? Isn't addiction by definition a total compulsion...?) to such crap TV fodder as House and Australian Idol. Does telling you this count as my first step to healing?

4. I have a problem with writing the word "disability" in relation to my wee man, on any forms or documents that require that kind of definition. He was born without a lower left leg or foot, but in no way, shape or form has it rendered him disabled. Sometimes, other people's attitudes and preconceptions are the biggest handicap. He's made his own way capably from the beginning, doesn't let anything stop him, and is so chock-full of personality that many people don't notice anything missing.

5. I've allowed the habit of procrastination to overtake the habits of an artist and writer over the last few years. I could make various explanations and excuses of circumstances and events, but the bald truth is there in the first sentence. Committing to this blog is an act of therapy for me.

6. I love food, preparing and eating it, especially baking. That's not really news, but news to me the last few years is that my metabolism had finally slowed down, and I'm carrying a bit of weight I could do without. You see, I was one of those dreadful people everyone loathed when I was younger, who could eat absolutely anything (and did) and remain stick-thin. It used to be a bit of a trial for me to keep enough weight on to look healthy, else someone would accuse me of anorexia (which made anyone who knew me laugh out loud!). Time, age, hormones and one too many pregnancies have caught up with me, and there is a bit too much belly for my liking. But I'm struggling - I have never had to diet in my life, and I actually have really healthy eating habits (though could probably cut back on portion size). I also need to get off my arse and exercise - incidental cleaning-time workouts and walking up and down the village through the day are just not doing it anymore.

7. The wee man is a bit of a miracle child for myself and the Big Feller. In the last 6 years since we decided to start a family, we lost our first little boy Jack (a stillbirth at 32 weeks) and have had 8 miscarriages in total, some before and some after the wee man's birth. And no-one can identify a reason for any of it!? BTW, please don't feel sorry for us - these things do happen, and we've got our little miracle man when so many struggle to conceive at all. I'm so totally over it all now - I know the Big Feller still has a lingering dream of a little sibling for the wee man, but I am not interested in being pregnant again, and the last few times I fell, the idea of another baby just made me feel bone-tired. To all of you with big families, I take my hat off, and sweep a bow to your capability and necessary selflessness. I'm too selfish - I love my little guy (and the bigger kid, too!), but I'm only just beginning to scrape a little time for me out of my life and I need that to remain human and myself.

8. I tend to talk a lot. Can you tell?

9. I'm a tea drinker, mainly green tea. My current favourites are green tea with jasmine and green tea with Earl Grey flavourings (bergamot). I used to drink coffee, but it really doesn't agree with me, gave me too many headaches (going through the withdrawal headaches at the end was murder!). I still love the smell of coffee, but I have always (even when I drank it) felt that the taste was never as good as the aroma. I have even worked as a barista in the years since I gave it up - apparently, I make quite a good cup!?

10. I studied aromatherapy a few years ago, as I began to break away from a career in retail management which never fulfilled me and often frustrated me (I'm all about people and customer service, which often put me up against my bosses and their bottom-line profit focus). I love the beauty and power of the oils, and their mysteriously synergistic effects, which science can only grasp the edges of but not totally explain or understand. I didn't fully finish (one subject to go when my father died, and my life changed trajectory), nor practise (and the Big Feller fails to understand how he can live with a qualified masseuse who fails to have the massage table set up and ready to go at a moment's notice...or moan...) but I still love the oils, am now lucky to live somewhere I can buy locally produced quality oils, and use them in my everyday life for the health and wellbeing of my family.



Phew! That went on a bit longer and took a bit more of my morning than I expected - thank heavens for ABC Kids!

In tribute to my gorgeous wee man, my first page on my new find/timewaster, ScrapBlog:


(Note: Sorry, still working out why this embed won't work...bear with me and I hope to have it running soon.)

Yes it was a Tornado. 29 Oct 2007. ABC North Coast NSW. (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)

Yes it was a Tornado. 29 Oct 2007. ABC North Coast NSW. (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)

After the tornado...

...I think I'll let the images do the talking for me today.

Blown Away

...Or not quite, in our case.

This morning, as we wandered up and down our village and wondered at the varying degrees of destruction and damage, it dawned on me how incredible lucky we had all been.


Looking at the double-brick church, three of its four sides punched out as if by a giant fist, or the pancake-flat school building, or the roofing tin wrapped around tree trunks like contemporary sculpture, I had to marvel that no-one was injured or killed.

Yesterday afternoon at 4pm, as kids still ambled down the street from school, and parents waited in cars for the buses that usually arrived with the students who travelled to town for school, a mini-tornado tore through our village, Dunoon.

One minute, we were eyeing off an approaching thunderstorm. Another, and I began to sense something was wrong, shutting doors and windows frantically while taking the wee man and the pooch into the living room at the core of the house...and putting the wee feller under the (very sturdy) coffee table. Before I even had time to wonder at this instinct, the roaring fury of the storm took all thought. I looked towards the french doors that led onto the verandah, as almost gently the trees outside fell towards us, blocking much of the light and force. The rain was being driven under the doors, straight across the floor.

I realised our bedroom windows were still open, and struggled into the room to close them. The rain and wind were driving sideways through the room, soaking the bed in the minute or so the storm had been over us. The door latch stuck when I tried to go back out, and for a fraught moment I thought I might be trapped in the room - luckily another desperate tug, and I was back out to my boys who were bravely cuddling together and happy to have me back.


Minutes later, the worst was over, and we began to peek out. It was astounding how much damage was done in that short time, and how little of it we had heard or expected - the storm was just one great roar, and the thuds and thunder you'd expect with trees uprooted and flung were lost in its immensity.

We've had 24 hours of living in our own little Ground Zero. Emergency services, SES, and volunteers worked till about 10.30 last night clearing the roads, the downed lines, and the most dangerous of the debris. First thing this morning, we emerged to look at the new face of our world, reworked by nature.

(I would write more, but am more than a little tired...wonder why?!? Spent the day taking these photos and waiting for the electricity to come back so I could get on here and blog it...!)

Let's Talk About Lunch

I've realised a few things about this blog, especially since I've been thinking about it in the context of other blogs I love, and with the shadow of NaBloPoMo looming over me (see here - actually I'm really looking forward to it, on a number of levels).

I haven't talked about food yet.

Since there are still a lot of things you don't know about me yet (there's a few more subjects for posts yet to come..!?), you can be forgiven for not knowing how much I love making and enjoying good food. Discovering the world of food blogs was one important aspect of my renewed love-affair with blogs and bloggers - if you look at my list of fave bloggers on the right there, you'll notice a certain bias towards people who are into talking about/writing/about/eating good food (though not exclusively - my magpie collection of a mind covets all sorts of fine and glittering objects).

But when I think back on the sort of content I'd envisioned for my blog when I started it, food, cooking and recipes were certainly high on the list.

Sorry it's taken me so long. That old devil Procrastination again, perhaps. I keep thinking of how certain things are going to look as a blog post, I take the photos, I read other bloggers and think "Yeah...I've got a great one you'd probably like..."...and it's taken me till now. Ah, well...

I made these for dinner last night, served them hot with creamy mashed potato and a green salad. Today, I ate them cold for lunch, with the mixed salad of fresh vegetables from our wonderful local markets, and the scrumptious Peri Peri Sweet Chilli Sauce with Lime.

The recipe is from the November edition of Super Food Ideas:

Vegetable Rolls
Serves 6
1 red onion, halved
2 garlic cloves, peeled
2 medium carrots, peeled
2 small zucchinis, trimmed
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 corn cob, kernels removed
3/4 cup cottage cheese (I didn't have any - substituted ricotta cheese)
1 1/2 cups rolled oats
2 tsps dried mixed herbs ( I used za'atar, the yummy and versatile Middle Eastern herb blend)
3 tsps hot chilli sauce
2 eggs, lightly beaten
3 sheets frozen ready-rolled puff pastry, partially thawed
1 tbsp sesame seeds

1. Using a food processor with a grater attached, coarsely grate onion, garlic, carrot and zucchini.
2. Heat oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. Add grated vegetables and corn. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes or until veges are just tender. Drain liquid and transfer to large bowl.
3. Add cheese, oats, herbs, chilli sauce and half the egg. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Stir to combine. Set aside for 10 minutes to cool.
4. Preheat oven to 220 degrees C. Line 2 baking trays with baking paper. Cut each pastry sheet in half. Spoon on-sixth of the mixture down 1 long side of 1 pastry half. Brush opposite edge with witha little of the remaining egg. Roll up pastry to enclose filling. Cut roll into thirds. Place on prepared trays. Repeat with remaining mixture and pastry. brush tops of rolls with egg and sprinkle with sesame seeds.
5. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until puffed and golden. Serve with salad leaves and sweet chilli sauce.


Couldn't get the wee man to eat them last night (I think he had too much involvement in the preparation, and knew too well what was inside!), but the Big Feller liked them, and he's taken them cold for lunch, today, too.

I finally had broadband connected last week (actually, using dial-up is probably one of the reasons it's taken me so long to get my own blog-thang happening...I just don't have that kind of patience...!), and I'm loving the way it has increased my use of the internet as an everyday resource (I know, I know - I'm sure I'm preaching to the converted here...).

I have a sudden glut of over-ripe bananas and a new food processor, so I chucked those elements in a Google search and found this amazing, highly-commented-upon banana cake recipe - and a great new foodie blog for my collection. The cake is cooling on the bench at the moment, and I have yet to ice it. Smells fantastic...

Guess what I'm posting about next...?

Conspicuous consumption

I've just come from drooling over my new fridge. Actually, no, I wasn't actually drooling over it, since no drool is going to be allowed within 5 feet of it for the next few weeks (until the novelty wears off)! Let's just say I was looking at it lovingly...

I've been waiting for this fridge for a long time. In fact, it was promised to me as a birthday present last year, but, well, shit happens...and the fridge got put on the back burner.



You couldn't exactly call it a birthday present this year. Well, yes, you could - this is my birthday present to myself. My husband did initiate the enquiries, but in the end I decided to go for the rent-to-buy option from the very nice hire mob we use for our washing machine, to get exactly the fridge I want NOW for which I will have the privilege of paying too much money. In other words, I got tired of waiting. (There also a raft of reasons why we really needed a new fridge now...the old one was tiny, seals cracked and harbouring goodness-knows-what, chewing electricity, leaking all over the timber floor etc etc.)

I've actually done incredibly well this birthday. As an example of manifesting wishes, I'm a bit of a shining light at the moment.



I'd had the idea, a year or two ago, of having three little Wish List pages up on our kitchen cork board, one for each of us, to scribble down ideas (large and small) for birthdays and Christmases and so on...the sort of thing to refer to when the mother-in-law or the nana ask for gift ideas, more than as a manifestation tool. But, hey, it works...well, at least it seemed to work for the boys. Their lists kept getting crossed off. My list remained the same, or rather the only change was me adding a couple more things to it (hey, a girl can dream).

All of a sudden, as I'm gleefully crossing off "fridge" this morning, I noticed how incredibly blessed I've been this birthday. My mother and brothers bought me a half-day spa package in Byron Bay (no, I am not smirking), my husband paid off my food processor layby, my best friend bought me a subscription to one of my favourite magazines (Notebook), another close friend bought me a timber photo box frame and album...suddenly my list is almost all crossed off.



Yes, I know - it's all just "stuff", and "stuff" is not important in the big scheme of things...I know that compared to so many people in the world we are incredibly affluent, and that even though we feel we have been really struggling for a long time, compared to many others we live in luxury and comfort.

But allow me to indulge myself in the pleasure of all this wish-fulfillment for a little while, to wallow in conspicuous consumption. I'll be back to the consciousness of recycling, and budgeting, and making too little go too far again shortly.

Right now, I'm going to make an excuse to go look at my fridge again...

Reflections on turning 40...

Not that I have been feeling particularly reflective or melancholic...far from it, actually, I've been having a ball this week...but the nature of the conversations I have had this week with friends, old and new, has been on what it means to turn 40.

To quote a very dear friend, from a wise funny email he sent me today:

" I think we’re at that age too when our perspective sharpens quite drastically. As my brother James says, at 40 you’re at the peak – you can see the other side and your fate. But you can also see and vividly remember where you’ve come from. There will be no other time in our lives quite like this one..."

And that very much seems to be the theme of this birthday week for me - the convergence of my past, my present, and the people and elements I imagine will play a major part in my future.

I have not seen my wise friend for many years, a dozen or more. He was my best male friend in high school. He teased me, tested me, tantalised and infuriated me in equal measure. He was very honest, articulate, a bit pompous and very honourable - he set such a high standard for my male friendships that it took years before I realised what a gift that friendship was, and what it had taught me.

He held a similar place in my best girlfriend's life, too, so you can imagine how strange and funny and exhilarating and refreshing it was to be sitting together on my deck eating and laughing and reminiscing with them, plus her partner and my husband, last weekend. Everything had changed - yet everything was exactly the same. The bond remains - "...there’s something special about a friend who got to know you at the same time that you got to know yourself. Don’t you think?" (My wise friend again).

Last night, recent friends joined us for a birthday dinner at my favourite local restaurant (Fire In the Belly - voted the best pizza in the country, and I'm happy to agree with that). My caring but normally undemonstrative girlfriend bought me a couple of things including a lovely photo box, but the gift that most touched me was a cheesy but cute fridge magnet with 2 baby monkeys shmoozing and the caption "Pals forever". I think she's right - she's part of my future, too.

So here I am, standing at the peak, looking forward and back. There's a lot to treasure, to appreciate, to savour, whichever way I look - sure, there's some crud, too, but you don't get to this point without being forged in the fire a few times and look what that does to steel.

This Sunday, friends old and new, family of birth and of love, are gathering here in my garden. "Help me celebrate my next 40 years", I said on the invite.

It's going to be great...

One of my love affairs...

...is with this house we live in.


Unfortunately, we don't own it. Our landlady knows we want to be long-term tenants, and has instructed the agents to take care of us. I am conscious that she is a bit stretched and anxious about her finances, and I sooooo don't want to spend another summer sitting through open house inspections while we wait to see if the right person comes along (ie someone who wants tenants like us, not a family looking for a home)...we got lucky this time, but it would be heart-breaking to do it again.



It's cosy. It has character. It enfolds everyone who enters it with a gentle hug. Our furniture, both the old and husband-made, our "treasures" and our pictures were made for a house like this. My wee man adores the place - he says we should stay here "for all days". Ah, the wisdom of youth.



I had such a nomadic early life. Actually, when I mentally quantified that, I realised that I've had a nomadic life...full stop. There are many forces, emotions, biochemical triggers, and logical reasons why I feel so rooted here. Apart from the fact that I love it.



Maybe I should start one of those websites where I put it out into the world of web that I need this house and do swaps or collect donations or something...(*smiles*)

Anyway, here is my love, for you to see.

Well, that's done it...

Now I've done it. I've signed up for NaBloPoMo, and have to stop making excuses to myself as to why I haven't written the blogpost that has been floating around in my head. Procrastination is an old acquaintance of mine, and I thought I would put myself on notice, have a laugh and get stuck into this whole blogging/network thing.

So that's it now. I'm committed. A blogpost every single day for the month of November. I was thinking about signing up for NaNoWriMo (which I have signed on to 3 or 4 times over the last few years...and always been "too busy" for) - but I don't want to give myself any excuse for not posting!


Visit NaBloPoMo

BF activism - get 'em out, ladies!

As a proud breastfeeding mama, I have to say a big raspberry to Facebook for banning BF photos. I have a very tiny toe-hold there, mainly to keep in touch with a UK-living friend of mine, but think I'm just going to have to give it the old heave-ho.

I'm just about at the end of the breast-feeding thing now - no day-time feeds any more, just a micro-suck at bed-time, and the morning milkshake - but I always made conscious choices to feed the wee man where and when I felt it was appropriate ie. not in a toilet resembling a bus stop labelled "parent's room" to keep bf-ing mums out of the public eye. I didn't try to be in-your-face, just being a normal loving mama doing the completely natural and non-***ual.

So breastfeeding mamas, don't be embarrassed by other people's PC hangups and twisted morality - you know you're doing something right and special and wholesome. Get 'em out and give the bubba one for the home team...better yet, give 'em two!

The Gratitude Dance

Good old Dr Mercola....apart from his impressively informative website and newsletter, he's a great Net surfer with lots of interests I can relate to, and he often includes great links like this in his newsletter. I definitely had to smile at this clip...though, despite being a morning person, I can't see myself jumping around like this as soon as I get out of bed every morning. Maybe that's what I'm doing wrong?!

Matters green

There's all sorts of little ways that I'm helping the planet, and I'm always pleased when I discover another. This fantastic community/website, LocalCooling.com and the handy little computer application that comes with it, is well worth looking at and getting into, especially as computers become ubiquitous in every household.

Just call me Queen of Volunteers...

...Not that I think I'm doing more or better than anyone (there are some truly amazing people out there who commit their heart and souls to doing for others, and I'm not in their league), I just seem to be in a place at the moment where if there is a need, I step up to fill it. So I was door-knocking for the region's rescue helicopter a couple of weekends ago, and I'm now secretary for Zone Committee for PlaygroupNSW, on top of all the regular activities. It feels good to be useful and stretched and challenged, without the commerce aspect of being paid for what I do.

I like the sense of weaving my way into the weft and warp of this community, knowing and being known, supporting and being supported. I think I must have felt very useless when I was out in the mountains without even being aware of it, because my soul is drinking up the sense of purpose and needed-ness (I know, dreadful word creation...*rolls eyes*) that I receive every day in the work that I do now.

Economics of our situation is tough right now, and doing some paid work might be a good thing - the Big Feller has certainly suggested as much in harsher moments. Funnily enough, when I went for a job interview last week and really thought about what it would entail, I began to realise I couldn't justify the cost - in additional child-care and preschool fees, transport costs and associated expenses. More importantly, in time lost with my child and my family and my community, doing the things that mean most to me. This is a special, and finite, time in my life - a time to contemplate the shape my future might take as the wee man grows and needs me less.

So call me the Queen of Volunteers, and tell me how I can help...

Coming out of the fog

After a long time in the home-and-child focused haze that has enveloped me, I'm coming back out into the world. The wee man has just turned 3, started preschool and family daycare, and I am clawing some space for me in my life.
In fact, things have become a bit hectic after the dreamy drift of days of the last few years! I've leapt into the whole community volunteer bit, taking on the role of co-coordinator for our local playgroup, plus secretary of the preschool management committee...plus I've committed to writing something weekly as a "community correspondent" for our local rag. I'm busy, sometimes a bit stretched - and I'm loving it.
I'm still unsure what direction I'm moving in as the wee man moves off into the world of school etc...but there is a sense that things are going in the right direction. For the first time in a long time, I am genuinely happy on a day-to-day basis. Life is never perfect, but I like the shape it's in.