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.