Book Group

Hi Von....thanks for the gentle boot up the backside.....I write ALL THE TIME in my head, so I may as well do it here, hey.

I just came home from book group.  Love it.  We are a relatively small group of six people who meet in one of our local cafes once a month for coffee and rigorous discussion that does not necessarily have anything to do with books coz sometimes we forget to read them.  Or in the case of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', read three chapters and not like it so don't bother finishing it.  Turns out you don't have to read a book in order to have an opinion on it.  Who knew?

We had a new member, A, join us tonight.  I invited her to join because I just so happened to be standing in my favourite local bookshop at the same time that she was asking the person working there if they knew of any book groups she could join.  After it was explained to her that they didn't co-ordinate book groups any more, I piped up and said she was most welcome to join ours.  The beauty of our book group is that it grew out of a notice a friend and I posted on our local community board at our local shops asking anyone who walked past the notice, if they would like to join.  We figured it would be a fun way to both be part of a book group, and also meet some new people in our neighbourhood.

Our group is a great collection of people, and as it's a community based group it was great to be able to just invite a new person and know that everyone would be fine with it..  And...she's a retired English Lit teacher, currently doing a fine arts degree.  A is a wonderful new addition.

The book for tonight was one of my suggestions...... Ransom by David Malouf.

The first few pages I read of this had my heart sinking.  I suggested it after seeing David Malouf appear on the  First Tuesday Book Group on ABC1.  He struck me as being very thoughtful and insightful, and I realised I had never read any of his work.  This is his latest so I thought...why not.  Turns out this is his imaginative retelling of the story of the Iliad; of Hector and Patroclus and Achilles and Troy and other historical literary figures and places of which I know just about nothing.  Classical history settings aren't my usual ilk, so I thought at first that I might be in for a long, dry read.  I am very glad that I decided to persevere beyond those first few pages, because this poetical book drew me in and opened up for me with beautiful language, a tale of a man throwing off the mantle of who people think he should be, in order to be who he really is.

Everybody in the group really enjoyed this book, and it made for great discussion...lots of different metaphors, images, parallels and questions to be debated.  I could tell you more, but you should probably just read the book.!  Ha Ha.

The boys

Here we have 'the boys'.  At the top of the bird play-pen (yes you did read that correctly), we have Archie.  He is a typical grey cockatiel, relatively smart, knows a few tricks and whistles, and manages to fly around even though he is still very young.  Then on the lower level we have Hugo.  He is a lovely mottled yellow, and is my special needs weiro.  We bought Hugo from a breeder when he was still quite young, and he has proved to be very special, in his own little ways.  Archie is only a recent addition to the family, and Hugo has learnt a lot from him about how to be a real bird.

For example......I don't think that Hugo realised until we acquired Archie, that when birds jumped and flapped their wings they should become airborne and move forwards.  Hugo's attempts at flying have always been referred to by us as 'doing a tumble-weed'.  Hugo would, at irregular intervals, jump off his cage and become a rapid revolving mass of squawking feathers before hitting the floor.  Luckily we have sprung wooden floor boards so he has always bounced to relative safety.
His latest attempts however, have involved if no actual steering, then at least some sort of  a discernible flight path before skidding his landing.  This is a vast improvement, and if he can manage to grow some tail feathers without mashing them (another quirk of his) then he will really start to acquire some air time!!

This is the first time I have had two birds rather than just one.  I must admit I am really enjoying listening to them burble away to each other, and given that Hugo hadn't really been bird socialised before we bought Archie, they are learning to get along with each other quite well.

The Easter long weekend was rather quiet around here.  We don't really enjoy going away when it's hard to find an unpopulated place to go to.  We pottered, ate chocolate, did some washing and gardening, and booked tickets to go to Malaysia in the next school holidays...oh yes we did!!  Yeeeeharrrr!


We are suitably excited, and for Jojo and I it will be only our second ever trip overseas.  We all still have valid passports, the flights and most accommodation is booked, so all that is left is the fun part..... pouring through this.....

We used the lonely planet guide to great effect when we visited Singapore.  In Singapore we were each allowed to pick something that we really wanted to do, for example Jojo really wanted to go to Sentosa Island, and Bretsky wanted to ride in a bumboat.  Whatever else happened, we made sure that we were granted that one wish each.  We are going to do the same with Malaysia, except we get one wish each for Malacca, KL and Penang.  It's a great way to get Jojo reading up about the country, and certainly means we all find out a fair bit about the history of the regions we will be visiting.

Only about 67 sleeps to go!

Good (Grief) Friday

So, today has had it's ups and downs.  We all started the day by sleeping in until after 9.30am...a definite up because I think we all have a sleep deficit (and Bretsky almost never sleeps past 6.00am).  Had coffee in bed, showered, discussed plans for our upcoming holiday and when/how we should go about booking tickets.

Then followed a day of cleaning up without ever actually managing to make anything look any better.  I hate those days....down we go.  As an enjoyable activity, Jojo and I decided to make our own hot cross buns, something I had never done before, and I have to admit they were a raging success.  See how pretty?

My hot tip for helping yeast driven baking to rise, is to put your bowl of dough, tightly covered with gladwrap or some other such plasticcy thing, and pop it on the roof of your car which has been sitting in the sun all morning.  Works a treat.  They taste great, and were a definite up.

We also tried a bit of simple solar oven baking with the little pizza box solar oven that Jojo constructed at school two days ago.  We tried making damper in it yesterday...didn't work, but we also didn't start till about 4.00pm so we can forgive the sun for not being at her most powerful.  Today we set our sights and the clock a little lower.  We tried to cook an egg.  We set up the box in full sun, with the plastic cover newly and securely taped down.  Bretsky got out his digital thermometer probey thing and inserted the wires so that we would know when we had the optimum temperature.  We even put the little glass dish inside so it too would pre-heat.  Fat lot of good that all did, as you can see for yourself....

This is the result after about 3 hours of baking!!!  I don't know if the photo is quite clear enough, but we ended up with an egg that has ever so slightly congealed.  Yum.  Couldn't quite bring myself to pop it on toast, but then I am known for being a picky eater.  Slight downer, but it was fun trying.

Whilst Bretsky and I were preparing dinner, Jojo was busily cleaning up her room, and clearing out her wardrobe and bookshelves in order to get ready for the domestic makeover blitz that she and I are going to undertake these holidays.  She was constantly coming into the kitchen to ask what she/we should do with this, that or the other.  On one of these little visits she handed me a yellow manila envelope that had King Edward Memorial Hospital / PMH stamped all over it.  I knew that it must be something to do with Eliza, but couldn't remember specifically what it might be.  I opened it, trying to steel myself for......I don't know what.....sadness, laughter, longing,....I don't know, but I wasn't prepared to be looking at an envelope of her hair.  It was the hair I had saved when it all fell out just after she started chemotherapy.

I remember her hair falling out so clearly.  I remember watching for the beginning of her losing it...dreading it because she had such pretty, thick, ginger/brown hair and it would be so sad to see it fall out, and also because it was more evidence that she was a child with cancer, and I DIDN'T WANT MY CHILD TO HAVE CANCER.  The flip side of her losing her hair was that it meant the chemo was starting to work and SHE MIGHT SURVIVE.  Eliza herself was quite unconcerned about losing it.  She didn't mind having a "cute, little bald head", as she put it herself.  I didn't realise that she wasn't worried about losing it, and when it started to fall out I tried to find some small, creative, positive way to help her cope, by assisting her to carefully collect up all of her hair as it fell out.  We used some of it to construct a small bird's nest, and asked the oncology OT for some playdough.  We made small eggs, and arranged them carefully in her nest.  Eliza thought this was wonderful, and spent days proudly showing her hair nest of eggs to all of the doctors and nurses as they rotated through her room.  Funnily enough, no-one had ever undertaken this activity before, and Eliza got some great reactions, so she was very pleased with the outcome.

Anyway, back to the envelope.  I looked inside the envelope, and all of those memories of Eliza and her hair and how glorious and unruly it was, and she with it, hit me.  Again.  I didn't react too much at first...Jojo was watching me, and quite frankly I didn't know what I thought.  I walked into the study to put it away somewhere, and then it hit me, that I was actually holding a part of her.  Clutched to my chest in that envelope, were those strands of glorious, mischievous Eliza.  I clutched that envelope and cried, and cried, and went to Bretsky and cried and held and held that envelope.  It's just so freaking hard.  I miss her so much, and I just want to cuddle her....an envelope is a poor substitute.

Anyway, even though I was no longer hungry we had dinner....a whole Nannygai fish, placed on banana leaves and barbecued, served with coconut rice (with pandan leaves in the coconut milk), plain tossed salad and a sauce made of shrimp paste, chilli, lime juice, palm sugar etc.  Wonderful, wonderful flavor.  The only freaky thing was when Bretsky did a "Bear Grylls" and decided to eat one of the fish eyes.  Yes it was cooked, but I also told him that he wasn't allowed to kiss me again until he had spent the next five days vigorously brushing his teeth and flossing.  I averted my eyes during his new foray in tasting, (something I regularly do whilst watching Man vs Wild) but Jojo stared at Bretsky in horrified fascinated awe.  For the record, he declared that eyeball is not his favorite part of the fish.  Perked up just a tiny tiny tiny little.

Had a quiet evening after that, recovering from crying and watching my husband eat a fish eye.  Had coffee, watched the Friday evening murder mysteries, and painted my nails a rather fetching shade of midnight purple (thought I might let my inner gothic out just a bit)!


Lastly, I'd like to reflect a little on the fact that it's Good Friday, the day when we in this house (as Christians), and many millions of others remember that Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice by dying on the cross.  I don't intend to use this blog to preach to people or to try to convert anyone.  I don't like having religion rammed down my throat, and don't intend to do it anyone else....however.....this is my blog, and you came to me! God and I are not really on speaking terms at the moment, in fact you could say that I'm really incredibly cross with him.  Miracles apparently happened in the bible, and some believe they still happen.  All I know is that Eliza didn't get the miracle that she so desperately needed, and our lives have never been, and will never be, the same.   That said, I still totally believe in God, and feel a little softer towards him on days like this, because he and I both know, as parents, what it is like to watch our beloved child die.  I also think He must love you/me/us a whole heap more than I could, because there is no way that I would have been able to make that sort of sacrifice.  I would have pulled my child off that cross faster than than you could blink. Just something to think about is all.

It's nearly 1.00am now.  I've finally written myself sleepy.  I wish you all a quiet, peaceful, night.  

I think I can I think I can I think I can

I noticed when I logged in to blogger that my last post was January 17.  Disgraceful.  Actually, not disgraceful, but it does give you some small indication of the amount of fear I experience about being/writing anything less than perfect.  This blog is yet another part of my lifelong battle to actually achieve rather than just float around in my own head where everything is cozy and warm and interesting (well, to me it is!).

I want to be a writer.  I really do.  I've been an avid reader ever since I was six.  I vividly remember feeling relieved when I was taught how to read in grade one.  Now I could read for myself, and didn't have to rely on others to feed my inextiguishable thirst for stories and other peoples lives.  I was the kid who read at breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I was the kid who read under the blankets at night with a torch.  I was the kid who had a special arrangement with the school librarian that allowed me to take sixteen books out of the library at holidays when everyone else could only have two.  I was the kid who sometimes had a vitamin D defficiency.

I still love reading, and still do it all the time  whenever housework/work/child/cooking/husband/pets permit, but I want to add my voice.  My voice.  My thoughts.  My not perfect and voice and thoughts, but mine all the same.  I constantly think about things I could write; stuff that happens in my life and in my head, and in this amazingly beautiful and sad world around me.  So I will add.  I will write.  I will not be scared of writing.  I will weave my own stories, whilst still enjoying the stories that others weave.  I will.  Big breath.  OK.

I'm back!

Actually, I've been back for a while, it's just that I haven't been energetic enough to drag my too relaxed body to the computer.  Holidays were good......in fact they were great.  I love being away from home.  Even if it is just for a weekend, I always come back feeling mentally refreshed and ready to take on life again.  Except that this time I have had to sleep in a few days in a row first!

No more sleeping in as from tomorrow though!  Jojo is starting surf school, and has to be at Scarborough Beach at 7.15am.  This beach is a decent distance north of the city...and we are southsiders.  Crikey x 5.  It's my own fault really though.  Guess what we gave Jojo on Christmas Day whilst we were staying at Palm Beach on the Gold Coast?

Doesn't she look gorgeous?  What twelve year old wouldn't want to take their first surfing trial at the Gold Coast on a pink (with redback spider) surfboard on Christmas day I ask you?  Getting it home across the country was something we decided not to think about when buying it.  Jojo loved it.  Thought we were insane, but cool.  She has been wanting to learn how to surf for a while, so we bought her the board and threw in a week of lessons to be taken once we were back home.  I will be the one to take her there and supervise, but am hoping that they have lots of lifesavers there coz Scarborough = waves and I don't 'do' waves.  Will let you know how it goes.


And in a life time first.  This is (if you knew me) truly astounding.  Today is the 17th of January and I have only just completed reading my first book of the year.  I have about four others on the go it is true, but to only complete one by today's date is very very slow by my standards.  It was 'The Mephisto Club' by Tess Gerritsen, and a very satisfying little murder-mystery it was too.  I'm very proud of myself for not flicking to the end at any point to find out what would happen (as I am ashamed to admit I sometimes do).  There were a couple of nice little twists at the end, that I did not see coming, so all in all I am impressed.  I have read other Tess Gerritsen books, but this one is my favourite so far.  I'm going to start a 2010 reading list as a side bar to keep track of this year's perusals.

I have lots of things from our holiday to show you, so shall sign off with another photo.

Feet up, cricket on, waves rolling

If this sounds somewhat idyllic, it's because it is!  We are currently holidaying on the Gold Coast in Queensland, about 50m from the beach.  We arrived on the 21st of December, and don't leave until the 4th of January.  It has been just wonderful.  We are staying with Bretsky's dad and brother in a unit, swimming nearly everyday, putting our feet up on the balcony to sip a G&T, read, play mahjong on the DS, so on and so forth.  I know it's hard, I'll fly the flag for you.

We have been taking lots of cool photos on our new tiny canon camera, but the seaspray in the air is starting to play havoc with various electrical gear, so I might wait until we get home to upload them.

To all three of my readers, Merry Christmas, Love you.

A hard day

So.
Sunday was a hard day.
Every year for the last four Christmases we have attended a service at Kings Park for the families of children who have died from cancer, children who went through ward 3B at Princess Margaret Hospital.  The service is organised by staff from 3B and a few berieved parents, Bretsky being one of them.  The service starts with this song by Karen Taylor-Good, 'Precious Child'.

In my dreams, you are alive and well
Precious child, precious child
In my mind, I see you clear as a bell
Precious child, precious child

In my soul, there is a hole
That can never be filled
But in my heart, there is hope
'cause you are with me still

In my heart you live on
Always there, never gone
Precious child, you left too soon
Tho' it may be true that we're apart
You will live forever.....in my heart

In my plans, I was the first to leave
Precious child, precious child
But in this world, I was left here to grieve
Precious child, precious child

In my soul, there is a hole
That can never be filled
But in my heart there is hope
And you are with me still

In my heart you live on
Always there, never gone
Precious child, precious child
Tho' it may be tru that we're apart
You will live forever in my heart.

So.
I start crying when that song starts, and barely stop for at least the next hour.  Prayers are said.  People get up and read things they have written for their children, more songs are played.  Siblings get to release white doves, and we all watch them spiral upwards, get their bearings and fly away free.  We all release helium balloons, ours are brightly coloured, because Eliza was so brightly coloured.  Bretsky, Jojo and I all write messages to Eliza on ours.....Mummy loves you Mummy loves you Mummy loves you Mummy loves you.  By the time we release them, all three of us are sobbing.

Believe it or not, although it is hard and incredibly tiring, it is a very good and probably therapeutic thing to do.  Christmas can't go past without us dedicating time to Eliza, and this way we can do it with the only people who can truly understand what it is like to see your child die from the effects of cancer.  Everyone cries, no-one apologises, lots of hugs.  I like to imagine that Eliza gets my balloons.

We went to one of our favourite cafes afterwards for a late breakfast, and then we went home.  All three of us collapsed into bed, so utterly wiped out were we with the emotional stress of the morning.  It's somewhat tiring even writing this, so now I will drink coffee with Bretsky, and go to bed again.  Grief =marathon.