He's Dynamite

Izzy's class came home from camp yesterday so I guess while the kids are all writing up recollections of their adventures Izzy will be detailing how he spent his time at home. It's going to cast a pretty dubious light on my own parental apptitude I'm sure because, besides going to the local swimming pool with his little Bruss yesterday the best fun he had was pulling apart the insides of party poppers and discovering new and interesting ways to make them explode - the louder the better. And I'm sure he'll detail the way he rearranged his chest of drawers so he could label one of them "Explosives" and he'll probably fail to mention the contents are only harmless things like sparklers, caps and fake exploding compressed powder golf balls. If he puts his can of Brut in there I'm going to have to wring his neck.

Just yarnin'

How's this for a baby's breakfast? First he had some of his dad's cornflakes (not so good) but then he followed that up with a little plate full of assortments - walnuts, cashews, dried blueberries, dried pineapple and mini-wheats. Then he had a couple of chunks of organic paw-paw followed by a little hand full of organic mulberries, a drink of green coconut milk, some green tea, a cruskit and some liquorice as a treat. Phew - that boy takes some feeding! I was a bit less organised than I usually am on our latest trip to Cairns and he ended up dieting on a staple of sticky rice and banana's most of the time and take-aways - fried rice and omelet, fish and chips, pizza..

Speaking of take-aways I caved in big time and ate Macca's bacon and egg mcmuffin breakfasts twice over the weekend - hash browns and the lot!! So much for my boycott. Oh well - they're pretty bloody yummy after all - but only with added barbeque sauce. Sorry Jax Cavery and other local businesses, I'll try harder.

Greg played in the SuperLeague comp' in Cairns on the weekend. It's been so good to see his return to basketball after a LONG time out of action with back problems. He's been mentioned in the local paper every week here too as "Best Player". Anakin's going to follow in his footsteps for sure - he thinks about basketball all the time. I can tell. We've got a poster of Michael Jordan flying threw the air for a dunk and I taught him how to do this slamming motion and make this noise like "BUSS!" (a "u" sound like "bull" not "bus") and I can see his mind ticking over into basketcall mode and then he does it: "BUSS!" The kids life is saturated with basketball, he could hardly help it.

I bought Anakin a 50cm cuddly baby doll for XMas yesterday. I can't wait for him to have it. He loves all the babies we meet in the Mothers Rooms and out and about. He says it so cute too "Baby" and "Bubby". He's so gentle with them too.

But not so gentle with his Big Bruss! God he gives Izzy such a hard time. He totally wrestles him down and goes for all the real dirty moves - biting the skin on his back, trying to rip his nipples off, yanking his hair, poking him in the "blowhole" (throat) and whacking things into his "jublem" (Achilles tendon). He plays so dirty I've got to rouse on him.

I have to go into the primary school today to fill out paper work for my contract next year. Wednesdays will be my day with the Grade Three's. It'll be fun.

I'm doing face painting for the Under 8's carnival on Friday - I'm looking forward to that too. Face painting's been a hobby for ages. I love it.

Izzy is home for the next couple of days - all his class is at camp. Each year he never wants to go. I'm not about to force him. We like his company at home too much anyway.

Put Your Hands Up

You can tell your hungover when you crawl out of bed complaining loudly "Oh God! I'm SUFFERING!", undress and curl up in a ball on the bottom of the bathtub. That's where you would have found me this morning. I finally got to go clubbing last night with my girlfriend Dee and I'm still proudly bearing my entry stamps, 24 hours later. I told Mum I was going to drink beers and get rowdy this weekend, secretly doubting that I had the ability to have a good time getting drunk and disorderly - thinking I'd more likely pike-out early to go cuddle up to sleep with my boys. Well I had it in me after all - If, loudly toasting every person that walked by; arguing with strangers drunker and more idiotic than me; thinking it's possible to make deep personal and cultural connections with backpackers in less than 5 minutes; venturing into the smoking section to scab cigerettes for my friends; allowing myself to get grossly overpriced drinks slapped out of my hands and hogging the podium all night thinking I need to audition for "So You Think You can Dance" qualifies as being rowdy I reckon I succeeded, but I think I drank everything but beer....but seriously we did totally carve it up on the dance floor.

Men at Work

I’m thinking about Greg at work today as he has a theory exam for pressure welding and he didn’t get time to study yesterday arve because I was annoyed at the kids getting prickles in their pants and asked him to mow the lawn instead. My bad if he fails!

The nicknames I have heard over the years from Greg’s workplace never fail to crack me up. I’ll share a few of the classics:

They call one guy “Six Shits”. I suppose it’s because he spends too much time on the dunny and if that’s the case I reckon Greg could qualify for that nickname too.

There are these two mates Greg labeled “Grotty Valenotti and Sloppy Slobotski” (their real surnames) – sounds like a couple of grouches from Sesame Street. There’s some seedy stories behind those names but I won’t go into them.

One guy who is small and irritating they call “Sandfly”.

Another is “Booka” coz he’s a "booka" knowledge.

Then there’s one fella they call “Tully Times” because he’s a gossip and knows everything that’s going on around the place.

Scott turns into "Scottissues" or "Scottproblems" or "Scott-no-friends".

When tradies get together it sounds like they go to some elaborate lengths to pull of a practical joke too. Anything for a laugh.

I was pumping Anakin’s leggies backwards and forwards this morning when he was lying on the bed and he started going “ar”, “ow”, “eh”, “ee” – really sounded like he was about to start counting. He is really starting to say heaps! He’s a smart little cookie. And you can tell him to do just about anything and he knows exactly what you’re saying. If I say “That’s a beautiful flower Love. Go give Brussy a smell”, he’ll take over to his brother and hold it under his nose. Or “Anakin that’s Georgia’s, go give it back to her”, off he goes.

We’ve got the power back on YAY! YIPEE!! No more cold showers. No more peeing in the dark. No more trying to cook dinner on one little ring burner or worrying that the gas bottle is leaking and going to blow us all up. No more carting my washing up to Mum’s. No more refueling the generator. It was kind of fun while it lasted (only coz Greg kept the computer going for me!) but I’m glad it’s over.

Where I'm From

I am from Sunshine Milk Powder from Nestle and alligator clips on battery terminals.

I am from the tiny block houses strung together by well trodden tracks, handmade, secluded, names scratched into wet concrete and mortar curved with little teaspoons.

I am from the mulberry trees, the burnt she-oak forests shedding rough nuts good for ammunition.

I am from camping under blue tarps near waterfalls and trips to the dump, cast iron bathtubs with fires underneath, scorching bums. I am from table tennis champions. From Jeanne and Beatrice and Scott

I am from skinny brown legs crossed over each other, licking plates clean and making things with your hands.

From If you never did nothing you must have done something and You’re a Bad Egg.

I am from a void of spiritualism. Exclusion from Rainbow Club and never knowing the words to psalm songs sung around the school piano.

I am from the end of a long dirt road. From handsome settlers, smooth musicians and motorcycle riders. Hot chips and mayonnaise and blocks of chocolate.

I am from the flopped cakes my Great Grandma threw out of the window in her fury, the toe Dad mangled in the mower, the sixty-three thousand chords Uncle Maurrie could play on a ukulele to accompany his sister’s song.

I am from the bookshelf, the bottom draw and little piles on the shelf above the phone.

Serendipity

It was 7 years ago at a Halloween “Heaven and Hell” party that I met Greg. Izzy was only a preschooler and I was a single Mum so it was pretty momentous for me to be going out at all. I was majorly excited as it’d been ages since I’d been to a house party (other than my own) in fancy dress and my date was my darling friend Sandra who I always had heaps of good clean fun with. We had both been going to Latin dance classes and our invite came from some of the guys there. They were all into going to the gym and working out (I think that’s how Greg knew some of them?) so seeing them all dressed in nothing much but a pair of angel wings and some glitter or a set of devil horns and a studded choker was going to be all right.

I’d spent all my spare change on artificial roses. Sandra and I waxed supreme and looked like a delectable pair of seraphs. I remember on our drive to the party sending out a silent message to the universe just to let the all-knowning know (?) that I was ready to meet someone. Someone just for me that I could get all serious about. And that I did!

He wasn’t dressed up with his chest out gleaming like all the others. He did have too much of the wet-look gel in his hair, disguising it’s glorious colour. I had my video camera on record when I went up to him boldly and demanded to know who he and his friend were. He told me he was Greg the Patron Saint of Guidance and asked me if it hurt when I fell from heaven. Him and his mate Paul where probably brainstorming pick-up-lines they could use on girls who would be all dressed up like angels and cherubs. I ended up sharing my bottle of Galliano with them both and they marveled at my age (Greg has only just become older than I was when I first met him all those years ago!) He spent a lot of the night trying to convince me to join them in town via their unit down the hill in the next suburb. I think they had been invited to a 21st as well but I was adamant about staying with Sandra and they never ended up going anywhere anyway. I didn’t give him my number but he committed my surname to memory when I told him I was in the phonebook. I knew I’d met a couple of fun guys to be firm friends with and that made me smile a lot. As far as relationship material – I wasn’t quite sure.

For the next couple of weeks Greg called over home a lot and he was really welcome. We’d look through photo’s and tell each other about our dreams. We revealed personal stuff to one another instantly, I told him about my train fetish and he cried his eyes out in front of me describing a particular bad dream. We’d watch movies together, have adventures up the creek and he and Paul would come over for swims. We went out clubbing with groups of friends and I took Izzy to the basketball courts to watch his games.

Good times, good times. One day I saw this look on his face that just ignited a spark in me and then I had the hots for him bad! Which suited him fine!

I remember the first time I touched his hands, I noticed how good looking they were – beautiful fingers and perfect square nails, despite the grimy black shit he had all over them from work which I cleaned off with some essential oils or nail polish remover or something only a girl would have. Then I was amazed at his huge “chicken wings” – the muscle on your palm underneath you thumb – that on him were like, massively overdeveloped from picking up sheets of steel at work, we were both laughing at his overly-muscled-disfigurement. I remember we were cruising around in the casino the first time I slipped my hand into his. His rough strong hands where a surprising nice change to all the baby soft-muso’s hands I’d been holding on to up until that point.

Once we had each other we couldn’t get enough. We just drank each other up.

We’re both a couple of spitfires and our relationship is sometimes problematic and often punctuated with a good screaming match here and there but I’m still crazy about him – his infectious laugh and that dip above his top lip still makes me melt.

And so it’s around Halloween that I celebrate another year of sharing my life with my beautiful man. His good strong arms are still there to wrap me up and his hand outstretched for me to hold.

It’s also a time when we remember Paul. He was a beautiful honey too. Always up for a cuppa and a heart-to-heart. He was only 21 when he was taken from his huge posse of loving friends under really fucked up circumstances. But we’ll never let your memory die ‘hey Bunge?’

Happy Halloween!

Still in the Dark

Six days later and we're still sitting here in the dark. Anakin's been sleeping real good with all the white noise - the gas light hissing away and the generator purring in the carport. I haven't been able to vac the floor in a week, there's extension leads running about all over it and curled up all over the place anyway.

The Ergon inspector refused to turn our power back on until our equipment was all very legit'. We ended up buying a flash little generator, let's hope it doesn't emit any unpredictable power surges that will cause the computer to blow up. God, it's already been the most expensive scenerio ever!

Hey! Me and Bubby had our first conversation today. It went:
"Mum"
"Yes Darling?"
"I want Titty"
"Okay Lovie, you can have some Titty"
He's becoming such a good talker! And he's practically running around these days! In his little orange "croca-dillians".

I gave Iz the day off school today. Instead we went up to Nana and Grandad's and the kids got to see their Poppy and Di as well and I took them to the pool for a big swim and a play. And Iz spent more of his birthday money at KMart. Way better than school.

Speaking of school, it was good to be in with the preps yesterday. They were well behaved and engaged all day. The boys outnumbered the girls by about 5 to 1 so it was a pretty energetic day. I was so glad to have parent helpers though! Especially when one of the little guys went white and had to throw up right in the middle of his show-n-tell. Sounds a bit cliched. But it's true! They went a bit berserke at home time though - just when all the parents were rocking up. (Shame!) I'd given them a colouring in sheet I'd made up for them with "Hot, hungry horses hurrying up the hill." And they were so stoked they were hugging each other and jumping up and down on the spot. I couldn't get them to chill back out!

Anakin experienced the consequenses of his naughty behaviour for the first time tonight. He was sitting on my lap eating his dinner in Mum's hall. (She built a dance hall as an extension to her house and it has a kitchenette and shower and toilet so we have been making some use of it lately.) He knew exactly what I meant when I told him a few times not to crunch up and pull at the tablecloth. But after a couple of thwarted attempts he yanked the whole thing onto the ground along with my cup of green tea and his dinner! (He'd never be so cheeky with Auntie Nick - she just has to shake her head and gently say "No Bubby".) I marched him over to the mat on the opposite side of the room and made him stay there until I finished cleaning up his mess. It made him very miserable. Once I was ready to sit him on my lap for some more dinner he was looking at me and smiling so desperate for my approval again (I felt like such a meanie). We started afresh and had a lovely little time.

There's been a bit of discussion about racism lately, I just wanted to clarify that "The Noisy Blackfellas" is actually a band, with that name, that's what they call themselves, that's not what I called them, although I probably would, 'cause I know these guys and they are noisy and they're blackfellas too.

Power. Out.

On Friday at about 2 o'clock in the arve it went suddenly dark and a thunderstorm rolled through with heaps of wind gusts and lightning. Me and Bubby were really excited and stood outdoors with his colourful pinwheel held outstretched feeling the beautiful wind charging the air, watching the leaves roll around the yard and listening to tree limbs cracking off in the bush.

It wasn't until the next morning that we discovered our electricity service pole on the corner of our yard had crimped over at the base and was lying flat on the ground. Amazingly we still had power but as soon as we notified Ergon Energy the fellas came and switched it off. Great - thanks for that. We were expecting that they'd fix it for us...

A real helpful bloke from up the road soon came to our rescue with a generator for the fridges. But we've had no lights, no washing machine, no fans, not to mention no tv or computer (I'm up at Mum's using her's, serves me right for breaking my own rules!) One of the local electrition is doing his best to help out but we're having to bodge up the old pole so we can have temporary power until Greg's brother makes us up a new one and gets it certified by an engineer. The dramas.

Randomlings

I’m fairly looking like crap lately. My hair’s bad, my chest is all spotty and I’m kidding myself if I think the hyper pigmentation I developed all over my face while being pregnant a whole year ago has faded – coz it hasn’t! It’s still all there – all loud and proud. Damnit! Oh well, least I don’t have to deal with emphysema, three clotted arteries in my heart and a brain aneurism all at once like this patient on RPA last night. (I’m thinking she needed to exercise some forethought everytime she stuck a cigarette in her mouth 10 times a day for twenty years. Don’t worry I’ll lack as much empathy for my old man when he develops some hideous lung disease too. Surely the repercussions have gotta make you wonder.)

Bubby has crashed out early this morning. I must have worn him out with our couple of trips around the yard - down to the mulberry tree for his breakfast, to the bottom of the driveway to wave “Brussy” off on the school bus, to collect the sticks fallen from the Sally Wattles trees overnight to heap up for our next fire and to explore inside one of the neighbours gardens (great spot for a cubby I discovered). Or maybe the anguish from being bitten by one too many Marchflies just exhausted him.

They are pretty rank at the moment – I sewed up some light long duddies for him but I need to make more so he can wear them everyday. We do our best to keep them off him but he is such an outdoorsy little fella that keeping him inside all day would be far worse a punishment then the bites of a few Marchies. He’s getting better at catching them anyway and the chicken races around plucking them out of the air. We just need about 20 more chickens and we’d be right!

If Izzy neglects to give Anakin a kiss before he makes his way down to catch the bus, Anakin follows behind him puckering up and practicing for a kiss the whole way. I reckon he’d walk 200 meters for a kiss from Brussy. It’s so cute.

The school called me yesterday and I’m taking the preps on Wednesday. Wow my first day of work since I was full term with Anakin. I better get back into the swing of it I suppose. Next year will see me doing three days a fortnight. Feeling ugly or not - how good have I got it hey?

Kids, if U want my attention, just leave a comment.

Greg would agree I’m getting lost in cyber space. In the midst of seducing him last night, I found myself wondering “what the hell is a degree of separation?” My sister is explaining to me how she got misquoted at the tile shop and I’m thinking “I wonder how JT’s bird dance went last night”. A pool party is going on next door and I miss half of it coz “I just have to check a couple blogs”.

I'll even sit at the computer with my legs tightly crossed because I don't want to waste what seems like my precious little computer time going to the toilet. How desperate is that?

My skirting boards are getting grubbier and grubbier as I sit at my computer considering what to include in my bio at Thirty Voices. The bathroom is getting mouldier as I type up new entries in A Trillion Kisses. My new electric piano gathers dust as I consult the Urban Dictionary to look up the meaning of “skeevy”. I can’t even be bothered to shift the clusters of Greg’s alcohol flagons that have made their way back into the house because I’m too busy checking for comments. (Vanilla can you send you’re Cleaning Angels around here? Do they water the plants as well?)

I can’t even adhere to my own rule of No Tech’ Tuesdays (thanks Tiff for giving it a name.) Lucky I like using my swivel chair or the kids would have to talk to the back of my head on occasions and that’s just wrong.

I’ve got problems. I need to go to Bloggers Anonymous.

PS - I think you're suppose to blog about life not blog about blogging! This whole post has been a serious case of metablognition.

A Wild Occurance

happened to me today. I’ll tell you what. I went for a drive to Cairns with my sister on a whim. She had a few missions to get through so I got dropped off at the shops with Anakin to mooch around and possibly get some Christmas and birthday shopping done (my mum, dad and sister’s are all this month!) The first thing I did was go to Woolies to get Bubby some ‘sposies as I didn’t fancy the likelihood of his dudies staying dry with his cloth nappies on all day. Anyway there in the baby isle I recognised this beautiful lady whose blog I have been reading every day since I was in my early stages of pregnancy with Anakin! I didn’t know if it would be rude to interrupt her as she was in this zone checking out baby toys. I felt really strange and stalkerish just standing there watching her in my indecision, I really badly wanted to meet her, but I was totally unprepared and nervous!

I ended up paying for my things, tearing up to the mothers room to put a clean shirt on Bubby and makes sure I didn’t have some of my breakfast stuck in my teeth or some of Anakin’s breakfast in my hair and raced back to see if she was still there.

Which she was! I got up my gumption and just charged on up to her and said “Hey! Shouldn’t you be at home blogging?” Stupid I know, and I reckon I was turning various shades of red during the next few minutes as we kind of semi-awkwardly eased our way into a conversation.

Anyway I wasn’t a complete stranger to her, I think she knows about as much about me and my family as I do about hers, as she let me know she was a reader of my blog back when I started it at the beginning of the year. So meeting up in real life felt kind of fateful I spose and she was happy to talk to me. YAY! She even suggested we meet up after her Bubby is born. Double YAY! Her little fella looked so familiar (actually – sitting up like a good boy in the shopping trolley – he was the one I recognized first!) I kept wanting to smoogy him but he was looking at me warily probably thinking “Get out of my grill Stranger Danger”.

Anyway even though I’m very sorry our encounter made me late for a date with my darling friend Hayley (I should’ve known you’d head to the op-shop!) and I STILL haven’t seen her in God-knows how long, I couldn’t help but wander around with this dopey and amazed smile on my face all day long.

Unreal banana peel!

Compilation

Okay so I’m glad there’s a theme for today’s blogging episode to give me something to focus on because I need that, as you can see from my last rant (probably courtesy of pre-“blahd” - not quite sure - I’ve lost track of my cycle which is a bit of a worry, everytime I feel strange or exceptionally hungry/tired/happy Greg says hopefully “maybe your pregnant!”. Only in his dreams, I hope!)

So here goes: My life as a mixed tape.

The first couple of tracks would have to be representative of my very first memories – Mum and Dad in their matching kaftans, polished wooden floors and beaded partitions, eating melted Cadbury chocolate with a teaspoon, a fascination with guitar plectrums, snuggling up on a beanbag watching The Lone Ranger. It’d have to be something my folks use to listen to when I was a little girl maybe “California Dreaming” by the Mamas and the Papas. Or “Horse with No Name” by America.

The second track would be devoted to this time as well but more likely something that represents their sudden divorce. Probably Max Merritt and the Meteors “Slipping Away” would suffice.

Next would come a couple of tracks that I loved to sing out loud in the rusted out old bombs we use to drive around in – Mum and Pep (my Mums then man and my brothers dad) all lovey-dovey in the front and us kids half delirious on exhaust fumes in the back. Songs like “Mellow Yellow” (I called my dolly Safron), or “Golden Brown” by the Stranglers (I still love that song!) And some of the ones I remember dancing to with all the cousins on our holidays back to Gladstone “Horror Movie” by The Skyhooks or “Jesse’s Girl”.

Michael Jackson would definitely come next to signify my pre-pubescence: “Wanna Be Starting Something”, “Smooth Criminal” or “Billie Jean”. I was a fan.

The rollercoaster through the awkwardness and regret of my experience of puberty and loosing my virginity would have to be marked with The Cure’s “Killing an Arab”, The Clash’s “London’s Burning” and Split Endz “My Mistake”. (Very telling.)

Drinking and smoking way too much through my mid teens would call for something tragic like “The End” by The Doors, “The Blue Mask” by Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground’s “All Tomorrow’s Parties”.

My hitchhiking years would have to be marked with something to epitimise the grunge era - Temple of the Dog’s “Reach Down” I think. Or something off the soundtrack to The Crow. Plus there would definitely have to be something sad and beautiful like Jimi Hendrix’s “Little Wing” to signify my relationship at the time.

With my first born son I was very sensitive to the music he overheard so Rage Against the Machine was turned off and on went Johnny Cash. “Orange Blossom Special” would definitely make it on the mixed tape.

I developed big love for Nick Caves ballads in my mid twenties so a few of his would go down next. Something dirty and edgy like “Red Right Hand”,something infinitely beautiful like “Love Letter” and “God is in the House” - something just plain smart.

Then along came Greg and the renewal of my nightlife so I’d add “Freestyler” for my club days and Craig David’s “Fill Me In” for Greg and my introduction to soppy R&B. Plus I’d definitely have to include “Easy like Sunday Morning” I’ve always loved Faith No More but it wasn’t until Greg came along that I realized it was a Lionel Ritchie song!

Lastly I’d add a track from Foo Fighters’ acoustic album as a reminder of my pegnancy with Anakin. And The Killers “Where the White Boys Dance” coz The Killers is all we listen too around here lately (and I've been dying for an excuse to put a picture of Brendan Flowers in my blog - YUM!!)

“Across the Night” by Silverchair would be my encore track!

What's Good about Greys?

Man Wednesday night is awesome for TV viewing on the ABC. First we catch a bit of Spicks and Specks before Chasers War on Everything and then Summer Heights High gives me constant laughs, it has got to be the most hilarious show I’ve ever seen in my life! Chris Lilley is a genius.

And right now I wanna rag-out on Grey’s Anatomy. I don’t see what the attraction is. I hate that stupid shit. For starters I just can’t stand looking at Meridith, she gives me that same violent repulsion as Martina Hingis. I couldn’t stand her back in the day when she was Charlie’s girlfriend on Party of Five and they dressed her in long sleeved cardies that came right down over her hands to hide the fact that she was dramatically waifish and fragile looking and probably anorexic and cutting herself and she still looks like she needs a bloody good feed and her voiceovers are completely annoying. I can’t help thinking Sandra Ho just needs to get her dominatrix gear back on and get back to the Blue Iguana Bar. McDreamy is foul. It’s just a shit show that takes itself way too seriously. What’s good about it I’d like to know? I’m asking.

Shifting the furniture 'round

Last night Greg expressed his regret at never getting kissed anymore and his concern about sleeping everynight with our baby wedged between us and was wondering how long I anticipated this sleeping arrangement would continue. I'm not too good at putting babies in cots but I made a reassuring gesture by shifting the cot to the base of our bed hoping Bubby might just decide to climb in himself (as if). And then showed him just how much of a good time we can still have next to a sleeping baby...

So far this is about as close as Anakin has come to sleeping in his, very expensive, big waste of money, never been used cot.