Dancing with Frogs...

New site.

2008-03-16T13:46:00.003+11:00

Apologies to all of you who have landed here. I'm here.

People on Blogger who don't allow anonymous messages don't have the option for me to put a direct link on my comments. It has to come through this old blog first.

I hope you'll click on the link above. Or this one at the end of the next sentence. It's easy to remember: http://dancingwithfrogs.com

See you!

Changed address.

2008-02-04T13:02:00.000+11:00

Apologies to people who are sick of seeing this, but I've moved to here.

Pop over and have a look at what's been happening.

Not meaning to nag....

2008-01-30T14:48:00.000+11:00

I know this is the third time I've told people I've moved, but apparently some people slip through the cracks with blogs moving during the holidays...

Here I am!

http://dancingwithfrogs.com

Come and see what's been going on.

Just in case you missed it...

2008-01-19T09:08:00.000+11:00

Apparently some people reading this through feeds may miss the big announcement that I've moved.

Yep.

I've upped stakes and gone to Wordpress.

http://dancingwithfrogs.com is where I live now. Come and see what's been happening. I've missed you.

Dancing with Frogs dot com.

2008-01-16T09:10:00.000+11:00

I know it's been a few days since I posted, but I've been really busy. Moving.

Yes. Frogdancer has now moved across to here.

I'm now a dot com! Not bad for a technophobe.

http://dancingwithfrogs.com for those of you who want to update your blogrolls before jumping over. There may be a few organised souls out there like that... who knows?

For the rest of us, come straight in. There's a Welcome mat at the front door I put there especially for you. See you over there.

Skinflint Sunday.

2008-01-13T14:14:00.000+11:00

Yes, it's that time of the week again. Skinflint Sunday, where I share the ways I stretch a dollar until it cries for mercy. This weeks suggestion is a corker. I've talked about it obliquely in a post a day or two ago. It's easily done, and the benefits to your sanity and of course your wallet are many.

Get rid of half your family.

I have four kids, so that means that I've rehoused two. What a saving. I'm not sure I want them to come back....

(Only kidding. I'm relatively fond of them, seeing as how they're relatives and all. Plus the fact that I've made very few humans in my life, if you take into account 4 vs 4 billion. So I'm a bit curious to see how they turn out, so I want to keep them under my eye.)

But by gum! The money stays in your wallet a lot more when there's only half the amount of bodies to feed, entertain and clothe. Jack and Jordan have been gone for 7 days. There's a truckload of food right there that I didn't have to find. Cha-ching! (That's supposed to be like a cash register. Work with me here....)

Pimple cream, shampoo, deodorant, hair gel and computer use more than halved. Cha-ching! No arguments, so the money that I was going to need to put aside to send me to the mental home is suddenly able to be used elsewhere. Woo Hoo! Let's go to the movies!!!!

An aside here... I rarely take my boys to the movies. It costs around $60 to get all of us seated in the cinema, which is a lot of money for a couple of hours entertainment. So unless it's Harry Potter (Family Tradition is to see each movie on the first day of release... I don't care how much it costs. Same with Star Wars, but at least they're not making them anymore), ...........what was I saying? Oh yeah. So unless it's something really really good then we just don't go. We go to Bali or Phuket instead and buy the dvds for $1. There's another priceless Skinflint Sunday tip for you right there. I have over 100 movies sitting in my room that I haven't yet watched. Imagine all the money I saved by going overseas with all the boys to get these films. Sometimes I amaze even myself with my financial expertise.

But with only TWO kids (I made Brennan scrooch down at the ticket box so there wouldn't be any debate about his 'child' status. He's taller than me, so I wasn't taking any chances. 13 is still a child ticket, isn't it?) then a trip to the movies to see "I am Legend" was only around $35. There's $25 saved right there! Cha-ching! We took chips bought at Aldi, so there was about $20 saved from not buying the rip-off food at the cinema shop. Cha-ching!

Brennan was desperate to see this film, and I really wanted to as well, so we went on Tight-arse Tuesday to see it. (T.A.T is called that because tickets are cheaper on Tuesdays, so all of the ....um... frugal people with very unsaggy bottoms choose to go to the movies on this day.) I was so rapt when Brennan turned to me in the car going home and said, "Mum, that was the best movie I've ever seen." I loved it too, so if you haven't yet seen it, it's worth a look.

But movies aren't the only bargain you can get when you only have to cater for half your family. Takeaway is suddenly instantly affordable. Normally when we get fish and chips the boys are only allowed to get a minimum chips and either a dim sim or potato cake each. But this time.......... we were able to go all out and I lavished them with an abundance of minimum chips and a piece of flake each. The luxury!! We felt like we were living in Toorak. Can't go cha-ching, because technically we didn't save money. But nice it was.

Oh. I went a bit Yoda then. Must've been the Star Wars reference above.

So get rid of half your family. I'm not saying permanently. That would be wrong. But think of Hansel and Gretel. They found their way back home eventually, and think of all the money that their father and evil stepmother saved at the supermarket while they were gone. Someone else fed them while they were in the woods, so it was all good. Jack and Jordan are being fed by their father and they're working in a fruit shop that also sells lollies and chips for the week, so I'm sure they'll come back just like Hansel and Gretel: bigger, fatter and pimplier.

It worked for me. I'm sure it could work for you too.

It doesn't take much to make me deliriously happy.

2008-01-12T07:59:00.000+11:00

This is the look I got yesterday when I asked Brennan and Connor to do all of the housework before they went to their Dad's for the weekend.
This is the look I got when I told them that they'd get $15 each if they did all the housework before they went to their Dad's for the weekend.

I'm now sitting here with a totally uncluttered-by-housework weekend stretching before me. I have a list of things that I want to have accomplished by the time the boys get back, but the list is mostly things that I want to do, not that I have to do.

*happy sigh* Pure bliss.

So this is what a normal family is like...

2008-01-11T06:47:00.000+11:00

Here is a photo I took in Phuket at the resort. It illustrates how this week has been with only two children here. Ahhhhhhhhh, so calm, peaceful and serene. (No sarcasm here. I actually mean it.) When I took this back in September it was about 10am. The air was sticky and humid. The kids were all back at the room watching pirated dvds we'd bought the night before and I was wandering around the grounds with my brand new camera having some quiet time. All I could hear was the sound of water and birds. The sea was a distant rumble in the distance. The tropical foliage was bright with flowers. Very few people were about. I had a lovely time doing nothing much, just taking a few photos.

Tony (the ex husband) has had the two older boys all this week. He has a fruit shop and he needed some help while a couple of his workers were on holiday. The boys were rapt because they're of an age where the $5 a week pocket money I give them isn't quite keeping them in the champagne lifestyle they aspire to. I was rapt because I want them to study hard, go to uni and get a degree, and nothing will light that fire more than a week of standing on a concrete floor, lifting heavy boxes and dealing with the general public. So since Sunday night I've had just Brennan (13) and Connor (11) here.

This may offend some people with only one or two children.... but you guys have a bloody beautiful existence. What are you all complaining about?? I've never had such a glorious absence of arguments, angst and racing around in my life. We've had a lovely time. Brennan and Connor get along beautifully. They wouldn't say so, but really I guess you'd call them best friends. We've gone a whole week with not a single raised voice or appeal for Mum to adjudicate. (That's because Jack isn't here. He feels that he's the man of the house, even though it's patently obvious that I am. I have the hairdo to prove it. The red toenails, mascara and skirts may detract slightly from this, though.)

This week we go with the flow. If we feel like pancakes for lunch, then we have them. If we want to stay up till 11 playing Tetris (the only game I like), then we do. (I beat the kids. Once. I'm a legend.) We've had takeaway three times this week because there's only three of us so it's cheap! Cheap I tell you! If one of them gets a call to meet mates at the pool or to go to a friend's place, they're old enough to ride their bikes. They're old enough to have their own interests, so the whole week has been a gentle ebb and flow of us sometimes spending time together doing whatever, then drifting off to do our own things before coming back together again. I tell you, you people with only two kids are living the dream. You've died and gone to heaven without actually having to go through all the dying part. You've won Tattslotto, but in a more spiritually uplifting way than having mere filthy lucre. (Though that'd be good too.)

I kid you not, this week has been just as relaxing as having a whole week child-free. It's been that level of pure calm, but with more company. Now before you fill my comments section with abusive missives, let me state that I realise that I'm lucky.

Brennan and Connor are both primary kids. Bren starts secondary in a couple of weeks, and we all know that that's where they start to drift off. This is almost certainly the last summer I'll have where he is still in love with me. (I don't mean in a disturbing, call-Child-Protection way, so calm down.) You know how little kids are born with that need to bond and be with their parents? Seeing as how I've been the only one to bring them up on a consistent day by day way (I've been divorced for 11 years), it means that I've been the main focus of all of this love.

(I in no way mean to imply that they don't love their Dad. They adore him, and he adores them. In 11 years he has never missed an access weekend with them, which is statistically unprecedented. But the way our lives have turned out it means that I'm the rock that they base their lives on. )

Brennan and Connor still have that unquestioning love and affection for me. It's a beautiful thing that I know will soon change and evolve into a different way of interacting as they move into adolescence. Jack (15) was always a little distant. He's as stubborn as I am. And as bossy. It's outrageous. But at least he's communicative. You can't get that kid to shut up. Jordan, on the other hand, was like the younger two kids are now. He's just finished year 7, and the drifting away to establish his own identity has begun.

It's bittersweet. Taking the long view; there's no way I want any of them to be a 'Mummy's Boy'. There's nothing more stomach-turning in a grown man. However, the complicated dance that we have now started will eventuate (I hope) into a mother/son relationship with each of them that is deep, funny and respectful (on both sides.)

Particularly as they will probably all be living here till they're 45, judging by current trends.

So it's been a lovely gift, having the two little ones here. There's no adolescent angst, no backing off and advancing back... just three people who adore each other, hanging out and having a good time. Kids who hug me and tell me they love me for no particular reason, just because they feel like saying it. I've been known to do the same thing too. They get along and they share. They have complimentary senses of humour, so in that regard I'm as lucky as all get out. They entertain each other.

One thing was weird though. Only putting out three plates for dinner each night. It seemed too meagre. FIVE plates is normal.

Tonight I drop the little ones off to Tony's for the weekend, and then they're all back on Sunday night. I'm looking forward to seeing Jack and Jordan today, all grown up and working in the shop. I'm really proud of the way they're developing as people (so far. The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and we're a long way from finished yet.) But this week has been like an oasis. I don't think I'll have a week like this again. And it's been lovely.

Seen at the Christmas Sales.

2008-01-10T06:05:00.000+11:00

Gee, I wonder how many of these I could afford????

Life's little secrets.

2008-01-09T20:34:00.000+11:00

To the left is a picture of my poor parched front yard. In more normal times it has flowers and colour, but now that we're only allowed to water two mornings a week, I've elected to mainly water the vegie patch and to make the front yard an example of Darwinian struggle.

But there's a reason why I love having my own place in this picture. It's not huge or profound, but it's a little secret surprise that pops up every year from the original garden that was here long before I moved in with my newfangled ideas about wide, sweeping garden beds. If you look closely you can just see it.... It's hard to do from this angle (from the driveway). From my bedroom window it's framed beautifully, just for me.

One lone gladdie. Very Dame Edna, I know, but it's a splat of colour in an otherwise silver-green world.

And my window is the only one that sees it.

I love how life has little rewards like this. It makes it worthwhile paying the mortgage!

In other news, I finally found out who started Shoestring Sunday. Those of you who have been reading for a while will know that I sometimes do Skinflint Sunday, which was an idea (ramped up a bit) taken from a blog. Someone else's blog. I read the Shoestring Sunday thing, thought "What a good idea" and moved on. But the idea stayed with me. (But I had to call it Skinflint on my blog. Shoestring is too polite a term for my frugality kick.) But I committed the cardinal sin of forgetting who had the brilliant idea to start with. Well tonight the lovely Lis left a comment letting me know that it was she who has shoestring tendencies. I'm so glad to be able to give credit where it's due. (Lord knows it's too good an idea for me to come up with on my own.)

Mojo, baby!!

2008-01-08T06:21:00.000+11:00

Phew! I think that last post really took it out of me. All of that heartfelt sentiments stuff....

It's taken me days to get back my blogging mojo.

Plus I've fallen into a very seductive trap over the last few days. A trap that those fiendish devisers of Bloglines have delicately set up, and to which I fell. The trap of hopping on and thinking, "I'll just catch up on the blogs of others before I get started on mine."

I've discovered that it's not a good move to do that. The blogs of others are a diverse mix of all sorts of things, much of which is written very well. Or photographed beautifully. Or (to be honest) simply far more interesting than what was vaguely on my mind to write about when I got up that morning. Then the boys appear before me, tousle-headed (because they actually have hair to tousle) and the day swings into gear. Before I know what's happening, instead of writing, I'm standing in front of the stove frantically flipping pancakes. Or eye-droppering the dog. Or whatever. And so my peaceful writing time has pretty much gone for the day.

Being the proud owner of the huge intellect that I possess, it has dawned on my mighty mind that perhaps I should go back to my old routine, born of the Time Of Work, otherwise known as the School Year. Where quiet personal time is sparse, so I have to get up, grab a coffee and start blogging before we have to race off to work. If there's time before 7am to check out the blogs of others, I do. Otherwise that's what the computer at work is for. (What? You thought it was for educating the young kiddies? No no no. It's there for my personal use. But I'm a professional. I'm more than willing to fit in the odd spot of teaching around my internet surfing. It seems a small price to pay for internet speeds that are far faster than at home.)

So here I am.

6.46am.

Blogging.

(I wonder what's happening on the blogs of others?)

I can hear a magpie. Maris is outside doing that weird cat growl that means there's another cat around. She's staring fixedly at the side fence. Someone just slammed a car door.

(Has Kim updated? Or Jane? Has Stuntmother reconsidered? Has that really funny teacher guy continued his post about the drunken train ride? )

The pidgeons have started cooing. I love this time of day. So calm and peaceful...

(Has Steph fixed her computer? Is it still snowing in America? Has Boo slept through the night?)

This is worse than being addicted to Days Of Our Lives....

Ah well. No point fighting it. I'm off to refill my coffee cup and enjoy a spot of reading. I'll catch up with you at your blog.

Cheers!

100 posts already?

2008-01-04T07:45:00.000+11:00

According to my dashboard, this is my 100th post. Although I'm normally a traditionalist, I'm not going to go down the path of the '100 things about me for my 100th post'. There's not enough things about me that are even vaguely interesting enough to make reading or writing a list like this anything more than an exercise in endurance. And quite frankly, a list like this would take ages and I don't want to waste precious holiday morning time on it. I'm a very busy woman, albeit a dull and boring one.

Why blog at all? What have I received from blogging that encourages me to keep doing it? I'm certainly no masochist. I'm not going to keep coming back to an activity that gives me pain. I signed off from that when I left my marriage.

That was a joke.

Well, sort of....

I think that if we were honest, we'd have to admit that when we first heard about blogging, very few of us instantly hopped on and started pouring out our innermost thoughts to the world. My initial reaction was pretty negative. Why on earth would someone want to do that? Hasn't the good old locked diary hidden under the mattress been a perfectly acceptable way to investigate thoughts and feelings for the last however many thousand years? What sort of pathetic wanna-be's are out there anyway? And most importantly, who on earth would want to read someone else's outpourings about their life unless they personally knew them (which would then be slightly stalker-y.) Yuck.

You can tell from this that I'm a very tolerant, open minded person. However, I kept my thoughts to myself, nodded and smiled and moved on with my life.

It wasn't until I hopped onto a blog via a link left in a thread on the Simple Savings forum that I realised that there could be something in this blog thingy. Rhonda Jean writes about simple living, a subject that tickles my frugality kick. She writes clearly and positively, and most importantly, she writes well. I'm pretty sure that if my first blog experience had've been a goth, emo or leather-clad bondage kitten one, then it would've been my last.

I found myself popping back to have a look. And so it goes....

I love my blog. I call it my new toy. I love the way that it has me writing again. I used to write an awful lot when I was at home with the kids ( and most of it was pretty awful, too) but once I began full-time work then the writing pretty much fell by the wayside. I enjoy the way that the blog has me shaping the experiences I have, instead of just living them, then forgetting them. I've always been a bit of a storyteller and this is just another way of sharing. (The people in staffroom 1 will be glad I have another outlet. They prefer a deathly serious working environment.) I've always liked to play with words, to muck around and get a laugh. I especially don't mind making myself look like an idiot, because in the interests of accuracy that's often what ends up happening in my life anyway. And comments! I don't know about anyone else, but I love getting comments. I haven't had any trolls leave their slimy negative thoughts yet, so that might explain it; but it's nice to hear that you struck a chord with someone, or tickled their funny bone.

However, if anyone has noticed the huge list to the side of this post, you'd deduce (correctly) that I don't just enjoy writing my blog, I also enjoy reading. At first, all I could find were craft blogs and mummy-with-baby blogs and I thought that maybe that was all there was, but gradually as I kept blog hopping from people's lists, a wider world opened up. There's a lot of puerile garbage out there, but every now and then you find a nugget of gold. I began to see how creative some people were.

The photos on some blogs I read are extraordinary, which has started an interest in photography in my two youngest boys. (Plus I've realised that I really have to lift my game.) I have seen the most incredible nature shots from the other side of the world, as well as some truly glorious shots of the most everyday items you could name. It's all in the way a person looks at things and instead of just glancing at them, really sees them...

Other people make the most amazing quilts, clothes and toys, which has inspired me to branch out and attempt things that I vaguely thought I'd like to try 'one day'. I'm in the throes of quilting 3 different quilts and knitting not only the the biggest afghan in the history of the world but also socks and maybe mittens. I'm having so much fun, and my brain is buzzing with new ideas and colours and combinations. As Mum said to me yesterday when we were in a quilting shop looking at the hundreds of different fabrics, "There's really no excuse to be bored in this life, is there?"

Other people simply write beautifully. Write so well that I could cry, if I was a maudlin self-pitying loser. Instead, I simply enjoy. There's nothing so fine as a well-turned phrase, or a piece of writing that makes an experience sing in the reader's mind. I've always been a reading addict, so words are the thing that really do it for me. (Trust me, I've been out with some absolute bastards in my time, but I kept going back because they made me laugh, or had a way of describing things that hooked into my brain with their originality. Words are dangerous beasts in the wrong hands....)

And some people are brave. There's no other word for it. Simply brave. They write about their experiences with autistic kids, or their grief at the loss of their kids, or whatever disease or event that has happened to them or their loved ones, and they write with stark honesty, with grace, with (often) humour and with a dignity that I can only stand back and admire. They open my eyes to conditions and situations that (thank God) are outside my personal experience and fill me with awe at how the human spirit can rise and thrive. These people are strong, loving and so much bigger than me, which doesn't do me any harm at all to realise. Perspective is a very valuable thing.

Others are experiencing the same things I am. Inner life vs outer life. Family. Work. Friends. Finances. Joy. Sadness. It's great when you read something and think, "Oh yeah! I know exactly what that's like!!" It's a connection thing that I think we all need.. that feeling that we're not alone, that we're all in this together.

Except for the crazy winter weather that all of those wild and wacky Americans willingly live through year after year. Oh. My. Giddy. Aunt. I can feel chilblains popping out on all my extremities at the the mere thought of living in all of that snow.

I read blogs every day from all different sorts of categories. Book blogs, Knitting blogs, Mummy blogs, Quilting blogs, Humorous blogs, Savings blogs ... the list goes on. I love the fact that I can feed so many different aspects of my life in this way. I've gained so much from my few short months of experiencing this world and I look forward to all of the further things I will learn about, laugh at and cry about as time goes on.

I'll finish my 100th post by thanking all of you who write so well, who take pictures that make my heart sing, who make me laugh, who slap me across the face with your life and make me empathise and those who open my mind and make me think. I feel very fortunate to have stumbled across this whole world of sharing that I had no idea about. So thank you all. And now I'll wave goodbye and go back to my life that, while not dramatic, glamorous or full of nobility and self-sacrifice, nevertheless is full of the people and events that enable me in my own small way to join you all.

My name is Frogdancer, and I blog.

Books read in 2007.

2008-01-03T17:54:00.001+11:00

In the interests of cleaning up the blog and not having a constipated side panel on the blog, I've put my lists of books here.
I read a lot of books in January about investing, prior to me buying some shares and taking a bit more control of my future life. Taking 10 years off work to raids kids and withdrawing my pre-kids super to pay off a block of land that my ex and I subsequently sold at a 30K loss has left my super in a ridiculous position. So I researched. What exciting holidays I had last year....
Other books show the new interests I took up after blogging. (Quilting and Jane's book on Domesticity.)
The rest are novels of course. Got to feed that addiction.
Sorry that this is a boring post, but I've been finishing off Sara's book and Brennan's quilt. God I love holidays.... Plus I figure that every year I can simple add the boring book list to this post with a link, and I won't inflict this on anyone other than the intelligent, highly personable and good looking people who love books.
I sort of promised mp I'd tell about the hows and whys of my beeyootiful hair, but the day has gotten away from me. I'll post tomorrow.
I've added * next to the books that are damned good reads.
# if these are non fiction but still interesting and worthwhile.
Again, apologies for the boringness, but I'm a Virgo and I don't like clutter...

Books read in 2007.

The Wounded Hawk - Douglass *
The Nameless Day - Douglass *
Crusader - Douglass
Sinner - Douglass
Rich Woman - Kiyosaki
Nice Girls Don't Get Rich - Frankel #
Starman - Douglass
Quilting for Dummies - Fall #
The Encyclopedia of Quilting and Patchwork Techniques - Guerrier
The Gentle Art of Domesticity - Brocket #
Enchanter - Douglass
Love and Other Infidelities - Townsend
Delicious - Pelligrino
Circle of Flight - Marsden *
The Boleyn Inheritence - Gregory ** (Ok.. I loved this...)
Your kids' money: How to earn it, save it, and set them up for life- Bell #
Your money: Starting out and starting over - Bell #
Shopping for Shares - Edwards ###########
Time and Chance - Penman *
Rage - Bachman
The long walk - Bachman *******
Cell - King
The time traveller's wife - Niffenegger ********************************* (My favourite book of all time)
The barefoot investor - Pape #
Top Stocks 2007 - Roth #
Eleven Hours - Simons
Prey - Crichton
These Happy Golden Years - Ingalls Wilder ***************** perenial favourite
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Rowling *******************************
Battleaxe - Douglass
The Spirit Stone - Kerr **********************************
The Gold Falcon - Kerr ************************
Gerald's Game - King
Sandworms of Dune - Herbert & Anderson *
The catcher in the rye - Salinger
The torment of others - McDermid *
Rich Dad's guide to becoming rich - Kiyosaki
Trading Secrets - Bedford
How I made $2,000,000 in the stock market - Darvas
What is value investing? - Cunningham
Your mortgage and how to pay it off in five years - Bell ########
The successful investor - O'Neil
Hamlet - Shakespeare
The Andromeda strain - Crichton
The tenth circle - Picoult
Vanishing Acts - Picoult
A short history of nearly everything - Bryson ###################
Oryx and Crake - Atwood
Artemis Fowl and the lost colony - Colfer *
State of fear - Crichton
The ship of brides - Moyes
The Devil that danced on the water - Forna ******** (Sierra Leone... oh my God. I never knew...)
The Kite Runner - Hosseini ************ (Same as above; just substitute Afghanistan)

Enraptured...

2008-01-02T08:50:00.000+11:00

I think I'm in love....

I just fell across a fantastic blog that has had me LOLling all over the place. (As a sideline... is it just me who hates to see LOL everywhere? Honestly, how often when we read do we really do it, yet people (apparently) spend their time LOLling here there and everywhere.)

(Ok, maybe they're just jollier than me.)

Anyway, this guy would've had me spraying my champagne all over the keyboard and screen if I had've been drinking champagne at 8 in the morning.

Here he is. I swear, if he was in Melbourne, single and older than me, he'd be number 87 on my list of eligible-men-I've-been-on-a-first-and-usually-only-date-with. Unless he's a smoker. Or wears white trousers. Or says "Woo!" when he dances. Or dyes his hair a blatantly unnatural shade of dark that just makes him look like a pathetic wanna-be. But I don't think this guy would do any of those things. Anyone who writes this well would clearly never commit these cardinal sins. The power of humour in seduction should never be overlooked......

After reading his post on ESL teaching, it got me thinking about the times that I've had similar heartwarming situations in class. I too, have had to explain to an adolescent male from Korea who had yelled out a genial greeting to a friend what the word 'cunt' actually means and why it isn't a socially acceptable word to use in a mixed gender classroom. He had no idea of the connotations, so I had to go through why 'vagina' is one thing, and the good old C word is quite another. The whole class hung on my every word. They didn't take notes, though. Obviously I'll have to lift my game.

Then there was the time that a beautifully demure, softly spoken Chinese girl in year 11 asked me to explain what a 69 was. She'd heard the expression being bandied around and she didn't understand why it was so funny when boys in her class asked her to say that she'd like it. I began to tell her, and then imagine my horror when it became obvious that she'd never even heard what oral sex was.......

We both got an education that day. She learned a few things about human behaviour that she'd never dreamed of, and I learned just how coddled and protected some of these kids are. Still, she'd never be bullied by those infantile wagsters in year 11 again. (I just asked her to never tell her mother that I'd talked to her about this. I really didn't want to have an outraged parent up at the school, even though I was clearly fulfilling my duty of care.)

Earlier this year I had a girl in my year 11 ESL class who is a bit of a tomboy. One day she thought it might be amusing to take an unused tampon, colour it in with red texta and then throw it at the boys. I came into the room and saw it on a desk. I went ballistic. In fact, I was more than ballistic. I was operatic. I practically had the viking helmet with the horns and long plaits on by the time I'd finished. After a good five minutes of me talking about boundaries, about some things being private, about how even though feminism has broken down the barriers between men and women there are still some things that women with any degree of class don't stoop to do and there are some things that guys simply don't want to know too much about etc etc.....

I stopped for breath. Then Chris from Korea (the same guy from earlier) gingerly put up his hand.

"Miss?"

"What?" I snapped.

"Umm.... what is a tampon used for?"

I looked at him. At first I thought he was trying to be funny, but he was honestly bewildered as to why I was going mental about this. My heart sank. It was going to be the 69 situation all over again. Then Jason from Hong Kong raised his hand.

"Yes Miss. I don't know either."

I sighed. Then I glared at the girl who'd started this.

"Ok, hands up who doesn't know what a tampon is for."

A few of the boys who'd been here for a while knew, as did most of the girls. Amazingly though, some of the girls didn't know either. This is 16, 17 and 18 year old here. So they had a quick biology lesson, which wended its way into the wonderful world of feminine protection products. A couple of the boys looked as if they'd been clubbed over the head by the time I'd finished. But by gum! They were educated that day.

It's not just these delicate topics that have to be covered. Melbourne isn't a tropical climate, (though after yesterday you'd be pardoned for not believing me .. 42C/108F), but we certainly have a climate where God's Greatest Invention (deodorant) is needed. Some of these kids come from cultures where they've never seen, heard of or used such a thing. So nearly every year there comes a time where I sit the class down and we talk about why daily showers are necessary. What deodorant is and why Aussies would rather step in dog poo than reek of B.O. Why their shirts have to be washed every day, not just every week. Why people who stink are never actually told about it.... people just avoid them.

These aren't kids coming straight from a war zone or anything. These are well-off, middle class kids who you'd think would know all of this from the cradle. But they don't. They're coming to a different society where some customs and values are the same, and some are pretty different. And if I don't talk to them openly and honestly about this stuff, then who will?

But I have to say.... they don't cover this sort of thing in Teacher's College...

Random stuff and birthday parties.

2008-01-01T08:44:00.000+11:00

Brennan's birthday party was 'awesome', according to what he said to Mum. Pretty easy really; just lots of food (homemade popcorn, biscuits, chips, lollies and party pies), the chocolate game, a couple of 'Happy Tree Friends' dvds over lunch (what is it about boys that they find these gruesome cartoons so funny??), drama games in the backyard and Guitar Hero. This is the third birthday party in a row I've given where we went the traditional path. Homemade food, 'homemade' games, time where they're just chilling with their mates instead of being whizzed here there and everywhere by the professional party people. The kids love it. The sad thing is that this sort of party is now a novelty. They're so used to being catered for and run around after that the traditional home style party is new to them.

Plus, of course, it's far cheaper for me. I entertained and fed 11 kids for three hours for around $30. Far cheaper than paying $20/head for go carts or a bowling party. (Which I've done in the past when my frugality kick was sleeping.)

The last day of the year was going to be spent doing lots of little jobs around the place, but a combination of blistering heat and a really good book meant that all I did was read. I've been reading a lot of Sara Douglass over the last few weeks. She's a member of a forum that I frequent (Simple Savings) and so I started reading her novels. I started at the first one and I've slowly worked my way through 8 of them so far. I wasn't very impressed with the first novel, but I kept telling myself that it was a debut one, and that she'll probably hit her straps as she goes along. Thankfully, that's what's happened. The first trilogy got better with each book, and I really enjoyed the follow up trilogy (except for the ending. It was a tad airy-fairy, and the character of Faraday got to be so annoying I just wanted to slap her.) I've now embarked on another set... The Crucible trilogy.

The idea behind these novels is interesting. They're set in medieval Europe, but it's an alternate universe, which of course basically means that Ms Douglass can use whichever parts of history she wants, and it's ok to change the parts of history that she feels she wants to. Very clever. She's using historical characters and events (Joan of Arc, Henry Bolingbroke, the Hundred Years war) but the scenario includes the premise that angels and demons walk amongst the people, just as the real medieval people used to believe happened. There's a battle going on between the forces of good and evil, but not everything is as it seems. Also the exploration of the attitudes towards women in those days is something that makes me vastly glad that I live nowadays and not back in the good old days. It's fascinating. I knocked over the entire second book yesterday, and I'm champing at the bit to finish the third.

Nicola has tagged me for a meme. 8 Random things about me. I have to link back to the person who tagged me, list 8 things and then tag 8 more people. Ok... just off the top of my head....

1. I really want to buy a female black and tan daschund. I've owned and bred Cavaliers for twenty years, and I adore them, but I want a change. But apparently if I get a daschund it'll probably boss young Molly around. That wouldn't be fair...

2. I loathe detest and despise bananas. Hideous evil smelling and revolting tasting fruit of the devil. Yuck.

3. I hate walking across dewy grass in the morning with bare feet.

4. Since my last relationship ended I've had coffee, drinks or dinner with 86 different men. I'm still single. I think it's a combination of me being a bit picky and the men in their 40s and early 50s being really screwed up. (Of course, I'm not at all screwed up. I'm delightful...) I've had a break from dating for the past 18 months, and I've loved it.

5. I have a collection of wooden masks that I've bought on my travels overseas. They live on the shelf under my glass topped coffee table.

6. When I was 40 I had my eyes lasered. I was so short-sighted that I needed to put on my glasses to get out of bed in the mornings, and the best thing ever after fixing your eyes is to be able to roll over in the middle of the night and instantly see the clock.

7. I wish that my name was Sarah instead of... um... Frogdancer. I called my first Cavalier Sarah, and if Connor/Tadpole was a girl he was going to be Sarah as well.

8. When I'm alone in my house and the next door neighbours' cars are gone, I turn up the stereo full blast and sing and dance around my lounge room. I sing and in my head I'm famous and adored. I've been doing this since I was 11, and it just keeps on being fun. I call it a 'party for one'.

I know. That last one is just plain tragic.
I tag Scott, Capello, Maybaby, Stuntmother, Suse, Kelley,Lightening and Kim.
Now I'm off to sit under the airconditioner vent and read. Or quilt. Or knit. Or something. I love holidays! So many options.

Skinflint Sunday #2.

2007-12-29T21:37:00.000+11:00

Here's another Skinflint Sunday tip:

When hosting a dinner party, be creative when it comes to items that you may lack. When looking for a tablecloth to cover your scratched and dented table, then remembering that the kids had wrecked it with the markers they used doing their homework.... don't race out to Spotlight at 4.45 on a Friday and grab the first thing you see. Simply grab a can of furniture polish instead, buff up that baby, lay the cutlery directly on the surface and tell your delightful guests that you've gone for a 'rustic Tuscan' theme.

Yes, the dinner party went beautifully. Thankfully the cheesecake was delectable, and people stayed till late... always a good sign. I have lovely friends.

I spent this morning mowing the front and back lawns in 40 degree heat in preparation for Brennan's 13th birthday party tomorrow. It's actually his birthday today, but the boys are away with their Dad and Viv, so tomorrow is party day.

Happy birthday baby.

Memory Loss is one of the first signs, they say...

2007-12-28T06:27:00.000+11:00

It's official! I am definitely turning into a nanna, just as Widget said. (In person, not on her blog.) I spent all of yesterday behaving like a doddery old fool. M mentioned a wool shop called Sunspun where she was able to order some shimmery wool from Wales, and she raved about the service. Seeing as how both myself and the shop are in Melbourne and I'm on holidays with time to burn, I decided to go forth and visit, specifically to buy a new knitting bag. This is the sophisticated, cosmopolitan life that I lead when my kids are away for a few days with their dad. Maybe I should begin dating again, but how can I fit in chunks of eye-glazingly boring time with random males who are dull when my days are crammed with full-blooded excitement like this?

This manky old thing is what I've been using to cart my knitting around in for 37 years. (I've just had a coronary. I thought it was only 27, but seeing as how I got it when I was 7.... )

Time to let go of the past and get a new bag. So the day before yesterday I hopped onto the computer, glanced at the address and then yesterday I set off. I drove up and down Camberwell road , and by the time I got home I'd wasted just over an hour. The shop wasn't where it should be.

(Though all was not lost. On the way home I popped into Patchwork on Central to have a look. Ages ago when I started getting interested in quilting I saw a pattern they had for sale. This one: The St Kilda quilt. It's now mine. Though being a Carlton supporter I'm going to use different colours. I don't understand all of the directions, but it says that it's easy, so I should be right.)

Anyway, I went home, popped back on the computer and looked at the address. It was 185.... not 420. I called myself an idiot, then had lunch and jumped in the car to drive back. It was deja vu. I was walking up and down Camberwell road for ages looking for this shop. Finally a nice guy in a music shop rang directory assistance for me....

I'm very lucky that Canterbury road is so close to Camberwell road. Yes, sometimes I remember things by their first letter. It often works well, but obviously sometimes you end up wasting two hours of precious child-free holiday time. After investing all of that time and effort, I wasn't going to give up now. I went. I saw. I bought this. It has lots of zips and no holes for knitting needles to stick out of. It cost $60, but I'm thinking that over 37 years that's less than $2 a year, so it's an absolute bargain.

I also bought this. I'm going to have the most lurid socks in the history of the world. I know a couple of posts back I was obsessing about the swirly socks, but there is no way I'm paying $23 for wool and $11 for multicoloured bamboo double ended knitting needles and then NOT have people notice my work. I watched tv and knitted like a maniac on the afghan. I have to finish it before I can start. It's getting warmer, so soon it'll be too hot to knit.

I'm having friends over for dinner tonight, so today will be a house cleaning and cooking day. We were going to have a paprika chicken thing for our main course, but with the mercury hitting 38C today I've decided to go for a cold dinner. Dessert is the apricot nectar cheesecake I promised Scott, after I mucked up the last one. I know that mid afternoon I'll probably be kicking myself for spending so much time on the Great Knitting Bag Hunt of 2007, but that can't be helped now. I'm off to have breakfast and put the final layer on the cheesecake.

What a great day.

2007-12-27T05:27:00.000+11:00

What a lovely Christmas! The boys were totally ecstatic with their presents. I can now reveal that the gifts I smuggled out of Australia, hid in a wardrobe for a week in Phuket and then smuggled back into Australia without the boys ever suspecting were 2 digital cameras and 2 Samsung K3s (like ipods but with a bigger screen and brighter colours.) Connor was so delighted with his camera. Since starting his photo blog he's been wishing and hoping for a new camera that was his and his alone. He had that thing glued to his face all day. Jack and Jordan couldn't believe their eyes when they saw their mp3s. They jumped straight onto the computer to download all their music onto them. What they didn't know is that I'd teed up with their Dad to buy them speakers, so they'll be set up beautifully (music wise, anyway). It's so lovely when Santa gets it right!

(Santa also forgot until a week before Christmas that he'd bought a sleeping bag for each of the boys back in June. He'd stored them at his Mum's place. So they each had a sleeping bag and a major present. Funny how it works ... most expensive Christmas ever, with the smallest and fewest presents ever.)

We went over to Mum and Dad's place for Christmas. My sister and her husband and girls were there as well. We had Christmas dinner outside under the weeping myrtle tree and it was just beautiful. The table was being used as a table tennis battlefield just 10 minutes before, but with a cloth and christmassy decorations you'd never know. It was just the right size for 5 adults and 6 kids to sit around comfortably in the sparkling sunshine and enjoy the meal and each other's company. My nieces were given a guitar and keyboard for Christmas, so we brought around Brennan's electric guitar and Jack's acoustic, and the kids spent hours just noodling around on the instruments, playing and singing. It could've sounded awful, but the four years of music lessons I'd made the kids do really paid off. They had a ball, and our ears didn't bleed. Got to be happy with that.

Just to prove beyond a doubt that it was a true Aussie Christmas.... here is a shot of the beach towels drying on the clothesline just to the side of where we had our lunch.
And we still have 4 weeks of holidays..... god I love this time of year!

Skinflint Sunday

2007-12-23T07:24:00.000+11:00

Someone (I can't remember who) has a thing on her blog called 'Shoestring Sunday' where she talks about things she does to stretch a dollar. That's a great idea, but speaking as someone grappling with a frugality kick that has to stretch one wage over five people, a dog, two cats, two budgies and a mortgage... then 'shoestring' doesn't cut it. Plus it doesn't have the alliteration thing happening which I feel is important to have. So I'm going to have a 'Skinflint Sunday' post.

Have you ever noticed that lovely things come and go, but ugly lasts forever? It's not just a perception; it really does because if you hate the look of something, you won't wear/use/eat it.

First thing.... don't buy anything unless you love it. I have dining furniture that I bought as a stopgap buy twenty years ago. I've never been into the country kitchen look, but my then husband had only 1 afternoon to go shopping with me, so we grabbed something. Anything. I'll probably be buried with these bloody things. In twenty years I haven't been able to shake them. I'd throw a lit match on them, but I'd probably burn the whole house down if I did that, and I'm very fond of my house. It's where I keep my stuff.

So learning from this mistake I don't buy clothes unless I adore them. Sometimes I still make a mistake. I bought a 3-pack of socks a couple of years ago, and one pair was this swirly black design on a white background. "How hip and groovy is this, man?" I said to myself, because I'm down with the current street talk of the young folk. I bought the socks, scampered home, and the next day put them on to go to work.

I'd forgotten that I hate wearing white socks under anything trousery. (It goes back to primary school, when Sally Went bullied me mercilessly for years about many things, one of which was this fashion issue. When Michael Jackson made white socks the 'in' thing over much of the globe, our school was one of the few places too scared to follow his lead.) It was hideous. Every step I took I could see a flash of white (with a bit of swirly black, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, people!!!!!) I had to go home at lunchtime and change my socks. It was interfering with my teaching. I usually perch on top of the teachers desk so I'm taller than all of the giants I teach, but how could I expose my revolting white-socked ankles to the critical eyes of teenagers? I was hiding behind the desk and skulking around the edges of the classrooms all morning. I looked shifty and untrustworthy, which isn't the look an educator of the young should have. (At least I didn't have a bag of lollies with me as well.)

So what did I do with the socks? A lesser woman would've thrown them out. But I, Frogdancer, am made of sterner stuff. I simply wear them on the weekends. Usually Saturday. Housecleaning errand running day. Often I spend the entire day at home, so no-one sees the trauma-causing white flashes as I skip around, and I am able to forget I'm wearing them because there's no one around to recoil in horror if my ankle gets seen. I'm gradually wearing them out, saving my far more acceptable dark socks a day's wear, so it's all good.

Except occasionally you can be caught out. Yesterday I drove Connor (otherwise known as Tadpole) to a friend's house to drop him off at a Christmas party. I had the socks on, shining like a lighthouse with their beacon of whiteness between my jeans and my runners. Little did I realise that I was also invited. Connor forgot to tell me. I was mingling among the general public with my swirly socks on. Imagine my mortification. I needed a couple of glasses of champagne to steady myself.

Until I realised that I was getting the benefit of my second Skinflint Sunday tip, which I will share with you all now.

Shave your head. Or at least clipper it. Most of the people at the party either didn't know me, or hadn't clapped eyes on me for ages, so their attention was on my head and not my feet. (There was another woman there who also had clippered her head, but she'd taken it a step further and had purpled her hair as well. I felt positively conservative...)

Getting the kids to cut your hair saves a fortune in hairdressing bills. It's fantastic. You save $$$ by not needing to blow dry your hair every morning, (though I'll have to spend $$$ on some beanies if I still have this style next winter, so I guess it all evens out.) But there is a small word of caution I have to give, should you be decide to follow my lead. Make sure you choose the child with the clippers carefully.

"Connor, my nimble-fingered 11 year old, I need a haircut. Will you oblige?" I said. (This may or may not be verbatim. This conversation happened days ago, after all.)

"Certainly, mother," he replied in a most agreeable fashion. "I'll go and set everything up."

"Thank you my dear," I said. "I'd like a number 3, if you please."

"No sooner said than done," and he whipped off and got everything out.

When he'd finished I inspected his handiwork in the mirror. There was an awful lot of skull showing in between the hair.

"Prithee, good son," I said, going a little Shakespearean for no apparent reason, "My hair seems somewhat shorter than I'd envisaged. Which numeral didst thou useth?"

Connor glanced down at the clippers. A look of horror crossed his face. "It's a number 2..." he gasped.

So make sure that you use a son or daughter who isn't numerically challenged. Though come to think of it, by using a smaller clipper size... I'm using the same amount of electricity for the greatest amount of hair cuttage!! I've probably saved at least a cent on my power bill. That definitely falls under the heading of Skinflint.

So to sum up....

1. Wear your ugly clothes as often as possible to wear them out, whilst saving your pretty clothes for when you're in public. Your children will love you no matter how frumpy your socks look. They're obliged to. You gave them life, after all.

2. Homemade haircuts save time, money and embarrassment at Christmas parties. Well worth the initial investment of buying the clippers.

3. Then you have enough money to buy your youngest son really expensive gifts and gadgets.( preferably Wii games and stuff like that). It's really worth it. I have to be quiet I'm Tadpole and right now mum (Frogdancer) is taking a photo of the socks. I have to hurr

YouTube - Raymond Crow's Show

2007-12-22T07:33:00.000+11:00

YouTube - Raymond Crow's Show

Have a look at this... it's amazing. Connor and I loved it.

Yesterday was a write off. All I did was sleep and read. (Actually, I quite enjoyed myself. I had no idea that I was as tired as I was. It was a real doona day. Mmmmmmmmmm...)

In between the nanna naps and the reading (I got through half of Sara Douglass's 'Pilgrim' yesterday) I also finalised my Flexirent agreement. My advice to you is never never never be stupid enough to go into one of these things. I needed a new computer 3 years ago, and I listened to my brother-in-law who said that Flexirenting was a great idea because it allows you access to the rest of your money while you still get to use the new computer. I was just about to begin huge kitchen renovations, so I thought that what he said made sense. However... I've paid about a thousand dollars more for that computer over the course of 3 years, and when the agreement time runs out you either have to hand the computer back or pay them even more money to keep it. They wanted me to pay $400, but I got them down to $200. Cheaper than buying another new computer, but considering the battery has died so the laptop is now effectively a desk top..... it's still a lot of money. Oh well, you live and learn! Considering that through work I've now got a laptop that I pay $8 a week on, and with the Flexirent one I was paying $117 a month.... I'm so looking forward to that money being freed up. I'll be rich(er)!

OH HAPPY DAY!!!!

2007-12-20T06:27:00.000+11:00

This is how I felt when I woke up today. It's the last day!!! Oh hoo-bloody-ray! O love my job, I really do, but I'm exhausted. I'm so glad the holidays are here... I'm planning a few days of sleeping, reading, knitting and sleeping, with a few nanna naps thrown in before the serious business of holidays kicks in. I have to finish 4 quilts for the boys because I told some people at work I would, and I have to do some painting around the place to stop my home looking like a slumlord's pre-renovation project, I have to catch up with people who probably think I've died because I haven't been in touch for so long, and who knows? I might even go on a date or two. I've had 18 months off but maybe I'd better get back on the horse. I've found that I really enjoy my life without the trauma of romance in it, but my dear friend Widget kindly informed me on the weekend that I was turning into a nanna. Just because I preferred to stay at home, watch 'Survivor' and knit on a Saturday night. Personally, I don't see what the resemblance is (my Grandma would rather die than watch 'Survivor'; especially a double episode) but perhaps she might have a point.

The VCE results came out this week. I was happy with how my English class went (5 kids scored over 40, which was nice, though only 1 of my ESLs did, which was disappointing). We're now busy getting class lists for next year. It looks like I'm going to be teaching the daughter of one of my besties, the blogless Sandy. I've known Kate since she was about 3 or 4, so it should be entertaining. Ohhh.... the skeletons I could drag out if she misbehaves in class..... I could bring in the happy snaps of the time it rained and she, her brother and my boys all ran out and danced in the rain in their underwear. Who cares if she was only 4 at the time? Other big school news is that we now know the name of our new principal. We're so fortunate that the current Assistant Principal was chosen by the selection committee. She is absolutely incredible at her job, works harder than anybody and I believe has been hugely instrumental in lifting the school to the current position it has. She really deserved to have the chance to have the top job and show what she can do, and I'm so pleased that she got it. It could've been a vastly unsettling year next year if the wrong person was given the job (I don't have any candidate in mind here, I'm just speaking generally), so I'm very happy that the decision fell how it did.

Here is a photo of Brennan (boy number 3) graduating from primary school last night. I snared front row seats for Connor and I, (Tony, Vivienne and the other two boys got the seats I grabbed for them 3 rows back.... well, that's what you get for being an ex husband...) and we had a lovely night. Brennan spoke really well, said his ambition was to be a guitarist and was one of the most confident actors in his little skit that he was in. I was so proud, though considering his mother is a Drama teacher you'd expect that performance would be tucked away in his genes somewhere. (I said g-e-n-e-s, not jeans. He's far too young for any of that nonsense.) I got slightly teary when a photo flashed up during the slide show of Brennan in prep. He was so gorgeous back then. How they change....

(That was a joke Bren, in case you ever read this. You're still gorgeous. Just taller.)

I'll finish with a photo of the Christmas gifts I made for the year 10 form captains to thank them for putting up with them. (No one thinks form assemblies are the highlight of the job.) Most student managers take the easy way out and buy bottles of wine or something, but I don't think form assemblies are so hideous that I have to spend half my week's grocery budget on people (there's 10 form groups at year 10) and so I made Christmas muffins instead. I invested my time, creativity and love in these gifts. I found these really stylish square china dishes and they were perfect for cradling a big colourful muffin. Who doesn't love a muffin with chocolate on the top at morning recess time?

I had a plan in my mind to make half the muffins with bright green icing and half with red, to make them all Christmassy, but my plan came unstuck when I was icing them at midnight. The school had its Presentation night to celebrate the high achievers, so i didn't get home till 11.30 or so. At that hour of the night, I made an executive decision that one colour only would do. I was also going to sift through the mini M&Ms to just use the Christmas colours, but that didn't happen either. Before school the next morning I was wrapping them with clear cellophane over the top, and that made the colours really zing! They looked fantastic. At midnight the previous night I was cursing my 'hand-made with love' idea, and if Dan Murphy's had've been open at that hour of the night I might've made a quick trip down to the bottle-o's; but once they were wrapped and I could see how bright they looked, I was rapt that I'd done it. Yes, it's true. Cooking can be fun.

Busy busy busy.

2007-12-18T06:18:00.000+11:00

What a busy few days! My weekend went pretty much as planned. I didn't see a soul the whole time, though before you think I got too antisocial I talked my my friends widget, Pitsa and Sandy on the phone. I baked so much that I can't fit anything else in the freezer... and I've got a full length freezer... I did a bit of gardening and housework, knitted and sewed. Put me back 100 years and I'd fit right in. Except for the bit where I was knitting in front of a double episode of 'Survivor: China'. Knitting a boring thing like an afghan demands a rollicking two hours of junk tv.

(Incidentally, future Frogdancer owes me a big debt of gratitude. Do you remember a couple of weeks ago I said that I'd put the afghan away for this summer when I'd knitted four out of the eight balls that this mammoth thing demands, and I'd pick it up again next year when it got nippy? Well, I was dying to get started on the two jumpers I've got wool for, but when I got up to the 'put-the-afghan-away' stage, I thought "I'll just get a little bit of next year's knitting done." So far I've knitted six out of the eight balls. Future Frogdancer had better send me some kind thoughts when she's blissfully knitting away on wool that isn't acrylic afghan yarn. I'm so bored with it, but I have to get the stupid thing finished. That girl owes me... big time.)

I went out to the veggie garden and realised that I've left the purple beans for too long. One lot are fine, but the others have started drying on the vine, and the leaves were turning yellow. What an idiot I am. So I frantically picked what I could save, and then brought the really dry ones inside to finish drying on the windowsill. With a bit of luck we'll get perpetual beans out of our one packet of seeds. (Even if the amount of seeds I harvested is a little more than I'd planned.) Ah well, you live and learn. The cucumbers are growing up to near the top of the side fence, and I'm harvesting one a day already, which makes Brennan and Jack happy, as they love to crunch right in to a whole cucumber. The lettuces are threatening to go to seed, so I'll have to pop down to Bentleigh market on Sunday to get some more baby ones. Everything is growing like crazy, and the plants all look happy.

I ended up leaving my quilt cutting and sewing till Sunday. I thought that I'd get all that I had to get done first, and then do the thing I was itching to do. So Sunday afternoon at 1pm I set myself up. The kids don't get dropped off till 6pm, so I had a huge chunk of time. I had so much fun. It's ridiculous when you step back and look at it. All I was doing was cutting out little bits of fabric and sewing them together while singing at the top of my lungs to my shuffling ipod. (By the way... I've got awesome taste in music. My ipod doesn't have one bad track. I never listen to it through headphones; I bought a thingy that lets me plug it into my stereo speakers. I love it, on the childfree occasions that I'm able to listen to it.) I was in heaven. The owl fabric I bought with the chunky, cute yet manly owls was big enough that I could play around with what I was including in the small squares. So I have owls peeping in from the sides, or up from the bottom, or squarely and chunkily in the middle. It looks so good!!!! I got most of the squares done, but then I started to run out of stash. (I can almost hear gasps of dismay coming from the quilting community....) I have about 10 more owl squares to surround with other fabric, and I'll have to go and buy a few more pieces. My rationalisation for this is that I must be doing a terrific job in using up the stash of fabric I already have, because none of the pieces I have left are big enough to use. So my frugality kick is appeased, and sometime soon I'll pop down to Spotlight and have a wander.

Anyway, there I was, singing away, happy in my own little world, when at 4.30 I heard a car door slam. I glanced out of the window, at first casually, and then with increasing shock and horror. Tony had brought the boys home an hour and a half early.!!! That never happens..... Within 30 seconds of them walking in the door my music full of awesomeness was switched off and they were in my face. "Mum, guess what happened yesterday...?" "Mum, where's my footie?" "Mum, I love you what can I eat?" *sigh*

But the extra time I had with them enabled Connor to begin his own blog. Since looking at photo blogs like 3191 , TJ Sky's Photo Journal and the photos on Pleasant View Schoolhouse he's become more and more interested in photography. Since I bought my new camera for Phuket, my old Canon digital has been for family use, and Connor has had his 11 year old self stuck behind the viewfinder, experimenting with different ways to look at the world. His blog is called Swarming With Tadpoles . If you've got a spare couple of minutes please pop over and give him a hello. Keep in mind that he's only 11, so the photos aren't gallery quality. (Yet. He's a Virgo, so he's driven to get better. I don't know who he takes after....) He has full artistic control over what goes onto his site (and it's interesting for me to see the choices he makes about what goes on and what stays off.) Who knows? This could be the baby steps of a future career...

Isn't having kids and watching them grow up the best fun? All of the possibilities they play with.... I love it. With having four kids all close together in age, I guess that this is magnified in my house. They've reached the early to mid adolescent stage where their worlds open up. They're old enough to have developed skills and tastes and young enough not to have boxed themselves off from any opportunities, and now they're exploring everything that grabs their interest. Photography for Connor, and to a lesser extent Brennan; music for Brennan and Jordan, and now Jack has jumped on board with huge enthusiasm too; art for Jordan; knitting for Brennan... who knows what will come next? I think it's fantastic. Life gets busy here but it's rarely boring.

And speaking of rarely boring... yesterday at work I moved desks. I vacated the year 10 office and went back home to staffroom 1... back with my besties. I'd forgotten how nice it is to be with a whole lot of people instead of just one. I'm back to back in the same aisle with Scott , and the rest of the staffroom is dotted with the people I really like here at work. We asked Widget to move from staffroom 3, but apparently she likes her desk because she can put her feet up on the windowsill and correct work in comfort. That sort of indecorous, wild and free behaviour just wouldn't do in our staffroom, so she's staying where she is.

Ho hum! It's seven thirty. Time to wake the primary kids and get them moving.

Cheesecake recipe for River.

2007-12-15T08:53:00.001+11:00

River, who makes awesome comments that often make me laugh, asked for my apricot nectar cheesecake recipe. Jordan's been hoeing into the one I wrecked and couldn't take to our faculty party, and I had a piece yesterday when I came home for lunch and there was nothing quick to eat. Even the 'wrecked' one is still yum. There's only a quarter left. The recipe is an old one from the Australian Women's Weekly. Tried and true recipes are always the best.

APRICOT NECTAR CHEESECAKE.

Ingredients:

Base:

155g (5oz) plain sweet biscuits.

75g (2.5 oz) butter.

Filling:

470g (15 oz) can apricot nectar.

1/2 cup castor sugar.

1 tablespoon lemon juice.

1 tablespoon gelatine.

375g (12 oz) packaged cream cheese.

1 1/4 cups of cream.

Topping:

1 tablespoon of sugar.

3 teaspoons Arrowroot.

2 teaspoons rum. (Don't let your 11 year old help, as you'll get a lot more rum than you bargained for in the topping! Still tastes ok though...)

Instructions:

Combine finely crushed biscuit crumbs and melted butter, mix well. Press mixture firmly onto the base of a 20cm (8 in) springform tin, refrigerate 1 hour.

(I'm adding an extra step here for ensured success with this recipe. Shake the tin of apricot nectar before you open it. Trust me on this one. You want all of that lovely apricot taste in your cheesecake, not left in the tin.)

Measure 1 cup of apricot nectar from the can (reserve the rest for the topping.) Pour the nectar into a small saucepan, sprinkle gelatine over.

Place over low heat and stir until gelatine dissolves; allow to cool and thicken slightly.

Beat softened cream cheese and sugar until the mixture is smooth and creamy, add lemon juice.

Beat in apricot mixture, then fold in whipped cream.

Pour mixture into the crumb crust, refrigerate 2 hours or until firm.

Topping:

Place the sugar and arrowroot in a small saucepan, gradually stir in the reserved apricot nectar. Bring the mixture to a boil while stirring constantly; then remove from the heat and add the rum. (Yo ho ho.)

Continue stirring to allow the mixture to cool slightly. Spread the topping over the cheesecake and refrigerate until the topping sets.

******************************

There you go. Great for dinner parties because you can make it a day or two before and there's one less thing you have to prepare on the day.

I'm planning a very self indulgent day today. The kids are at their Dad's, so I'll be baking, knitting (a bit) and quilting. I bought some really cute (yet manly) owl fabric for Brennan's quilt to make it darker like he said he wanted. Is he going to turn emo on me? So I'll be rotary cutting and sewing away, singing along to my ipod because MY music can now be played without any ill-informed adolescent judgements. I hope everyone else has a lovely Saturday too.

I leave you with Connor enjoying Christmas.

Second last Christmas concert ever...

2007-12-14T06:36:00.000+11:00

One more to go.... one more to go!!!!

Yes, last night was the annual primary school Christmas concert, which in these mad days of political correctness is officially known by the mealy-mouthed title of 'Celebration Concert' instead. (Gee guys, what exactly are we celebrating? What's that you say? Christmas? Then lets just call it a Christmas concert, shall we? I'm pretty sure the other denominations won't mind.)

Rant over. Back to business. The running around before we got there was horrendous. I raced home from work to pick up Jordan for his last piano lesson with his teacher ever. He's been learning with Vicki for 4 years, but she's finishing her music degree this year and her plans are very uncertain next year, so he's had to take up piano at school next year. (He passed the audition a few days ago. I was so relieved.) Seeing as it was their last ever lesson, she brought out some Rachmaninoff and they played one of the concertos from 'Shine' together. They both had so much fun. I'd cancelled Brennan's guitar lesson because of the Christm (sorry) Celebration concert, so I was able to sit there for an hour and fifteen knitting the afghan (will that thing never end?) and enjoying the music. At the end he gave her a card and a present from Phuket, they hugged, she got teary... it was all good.

Then the hell began. There was no time to cook anything for dinner between the arrival home and the concert, and I had no cash in my wallet. That morning Connor had sidled up to me with that cute expression youngest children wear when they know they're going to ask something that will cause panic in their parent. Basically: Grade 6 bomber jackets need to be ordered at $48 a pop. These jackets are individually printed every year with each grade 6ers name on the back, so they're special to the kids. Fair enough. The money was due today. He informs me of this at 8.09am. The kid was born under a lucky star. I had $48.60 in cash. Which leaves precious little to spend at the fish and chip shop. I had to think of a place that takes credit cards and will be quick. The concert starts at 6.30, and I was driving home at 6.03 with no plan for dinner.

$25 later I leave the 'Red Rooster' drive through with 4 quarter chicken and chips packs. That's a lot of money to spend on chips and a few drumsticks. I drive home. We have 10 minutes to eat, scrub up and be out the door. We walk in. Brennan and Connor are blissfully playing the Eyetoy with a sublime indifference to such mundane things as the time. Shoes and socks are off... I commented sweetly and tactfully about how I felt, considering it was their fault we were racing around like crazy.

So now we're eating a very expensive take out meal with no time to savour it.
"Just stuff it in!" I bellow as Connor delicately picks up his hunk of chicken and nibbles at it.
"Can I eat this meal with braces on?" Brennan asks.
"Swallow it whole if you have to," I shriek. "Just hurry up!!"

Connor lost his shoes and was racing around looking for them. Brennan was in the bathroom picking chicken out of his braces. Jordan had given up and was waiting in the car. I shovel them all into the car, drive to the school, which at 6.38 had cars parked all around for about 23 suburbs in every direction, dropped them off at the school gate, then drove streets away until I could find a park. Grabbed my bag with my wallet and patchwork supplies (did I forget to mention that I had a quilting class that starts at 7.30 later that night?) and hot footed it to the school oval. Half way there I realised I'd forgotten to bring the car blanket to sit on, but it was too late.

Went to the oval. The concert had already started and some very short cute looking kids were playing instruments very badly. All the kids were decked out in Santa hats, so it was hard to locate any one child in particular. I went over to the side of the oval where the grade 5s and 6ers were sitting (they were the tall Santa-hatted kids), located Brennan whose glasses made it easier to spot him and waved at him to show him where I was sitting. He showed Connor, Mum turned up with a bottle of Merlot, two plastic wine glasses and a corkscrew, and I could finally relax.

Once the wine glass was in my hand, I quite enjoyed the evening. We happened to be sitting near some parents I knew, so we were all comparing notes on how many more of these we had to endure, and having fun catching up on how everyone was going. Mum made the comment that this one was better than any of the others, and I think she was right. The younger grades still had rows of kids standing up mechanically singing to karaoke Christmas songs, but the older grades actually had a bit of choreography happening. The grade 6ers were really entertaining with their rap singers popping out from behind traditional carol singers. The weather was warm, there were no flies to bother us, the oval wasn't too prickly under the old derriere, we could recognise both boys up on stage when they were performing so we could beam fondly at them and cheer loudly when they'd finished, Mum stalked the kids when they were sitting with their mates so she could take their photos, Jordan found some old friends from when he was there last year and disappeared, so all in all it was a good night.

The current grade 5s are delivering speeches at school so the kids can vote on who will be the next school and house captains. Connor gave his speech yesterday and one of the Mums told me that her son said that Connor's was the best speech and he definitely had his vote. That was really nice to hear. Jordan was school captain last year, and at first Connor was a bit nervous about trying for a position of responsibility because of all the speeches a school captain has to make. He has gradually come around to the idea after I told him that he was just like me... we love being in the limelight and making people laugh, and a good way to be confident is to get used to talking in front of people. (After all, that's what teaching boils down to... all you're doing is performing to your captive audiences day after day after day....)

So it was great to hear that all of his hard work paid off and he delivered it well. He's the sort of kid who would do well in some sort of official role, but I don't know many of the other kids in his year level (I've always worked when he's been at school) so I have no idea if he's in with a chance or not. But at least his maiden speech was a success!

I left the kids and Mum at the end of the concert and zipped off to quilting class. I was an hour late and they'd locked the front of the shop, so I was banging on the door for a while till someone came to let me in. I learned how to put a million safety pins through all of the layers of quilt to hold it together. This lesson wasn't as much fun as last week, because most of the time I was all alone in the front of the shop working over a big table and pins, while everyone else was in the back talking and laughing. One thing I noticed was that everyone else's kids seem to go to private schools. Is quilting a hobby for the elite? I'm beginning to wonder if I'll be inadvertently bringing the tone of the quilting world down by teaching and educating my kids in the government system.....

So now my quilt is sandwiched together. My choice is now to either hand quilt it, or wait till after Christmas and use the walking foot (I thought that was what feet naturally do...) that Dad is buying Mum for Christmas for her sewing machine. I'm thinking I might do the latter. My goal is to finish 4 quilts by the end of the holidays and I'm guessing that hand quilting them would mean I'd be doing nothing else all summer. That'd be boring. But at least the quilt would be progressing. So I'm not sure yet. I'm worried if I have a pile of half-finished quilts stacked up that they'll end up not being done. Those readers who were witness to the Sudoku frenzy of 2005 will know that I focus heavily on new interests until I master them. Then I puddle along happily with them forever after.

oops. Look at the time! Got to go to work. Jordan's last day today. They're taking the year 7s to the zoo. The poor kids are going in full school uniform: black leather school shoes, ties and tucked-in white shirts in all their glory. It's only going to be 32 degrees Celsius. But they'll still have a great time.

Blog Bling.

2007-12-13T15:23:00.000+11:00

I have a spare few seconds before I race home to begin the horrendous scheduling nightmare that is music lessons/race home and throw food at kids pets and myself/end of year hideous concert at primary school (only two more to go yay!)/race away to get to my 2nd quilting class in time. Sigh. So before this all happens I thought I'd finally pick up this fetching piece of pink blog bling that has been waiting for me at lightening's place.

Kelley began it, and it's basically a 'Love' code between her and her daughters. Stand on your ear and look. You can work it out. (Hint: It's not a picture of a double scoop icecream cone. It's a red beating thing commonly found in people's chests.)

I think I have to tag others. I'm starting to panic about the time, so I'll be brief.

Maybaby
Amanda Jean
Kim

All from overseas. I thought this time I'd send the love far across the waves....

Tiny meme.

2007-12-13T11:51:00.000+11:00

I've been tagged for another meme. A short one this time, so fear not, gentle readers! This is from ...oops... I don't know her name. I hope this doesn't make me seem rude. She's a lovely girl who comments as precious_1 , but I'm guessing that wasn't what she was named at birth, unless her parents were very sugary sweet and doting. Then again, it may surprise some of you to know that Frogdancer isn't my actual realio-trulio name either.

Anyway, here is the meme:

4 Short Questions.

1. What did you accomplish this past week?
I learned how to use a sewing machine.
3 days later I sewed and finished the top of a double-sized patchwork quilt.
I finished student manager remarks on reports DAYS earlier than they were due.
I finally finished the first trilogy in the list of books by Sara Douglass that I want to read.
Helped Connor set up his new photo blog. (All will be revealed soon...)

2. Did anything not go as expected?
The tasteless apricot cheesecake I told you all about yesterday is the first thing that springs to mind. Let's leave it there, shall we? I might get crushed and sad again...

3. What was the highlight of your week?
Making the top of my first ever quilt top and having it all work out and look fantastic. Seeing Brennan in his end of year music concert up on stage playing his guitar in a band was a close second.

4. Did anything exciting happen that you didn't expect?
Lots of little things happen every day like that. That's why I love my life so much. The trouble is... they're small and fun, but I can't think of any at the moment. I enjoyed them all at the time, though. (Does this make me sound like a nuff-nuff?)
Hang on! I've just remembered one! I was sitting having a chat with some fellow staff members at Scott's place last night, when all of a sudden I saw all these beautiful Christmas lights that he's got strung out along his back fence. It looked great. I jumped up in my seat with glee, but everyone else had apparently ooed and aahhed about an hour before when they were first switched on. I must've been in the garage playing with the cats at that stage of the night. Or else I'm simply not very observant...
But at the time I found them exciting. And unexpected. You've got to take your joy where you find it...
precious_1

Christmas cheer.

2007-12-12T06:19:00.000+11:00

The tree is up! The picture is what we have at the top. For twenty years or so this little bird has nested at the top of our tree. She's getting very delicate and I don't know what I'll do when she finally falls apart, but I love that she sits up the top, peacefully surveying the surroundings every year. Not being a particularly religious family, this seems to fit us fine. I took the obligatory photo of the tree, uploaded it and put all the cameras and cords away, but when I viewed it it looked very ordinary. There's no way I'll inflict it on the general public. So you all get the bird. (I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course...)

We had a lovely time decorating the lounge room. The kids do most of the work now, which is nice, as I can see Christmas traditions developing that they'll pass on to their families when they (eventually) have them. Jordan brought in the tree from the garage and he and Connor did much of the initial tree decorating. (As a side note... apparently I lovingly tell them every year! to put the larger ornaments at the bottom, and gradually decrease the size of them as they go up the tree. Well, there's no need to snap at me. It's important to have a balanced looking tree. At least I know they're taking heed of my words of wisdom.)

When the tree is going up I always have Christmas carols playing. For years it's been a hideously sweet children's choir with unnatural annunciation singing stuff, but this year we had a treat. Scott gave me my Christmas present early. Every year he makes a Christmas mix, and it's fantastic. I tell you, you haven't lived until you decorate a Christmas tree with Angela Lansbury belting out a song about needing a little Christmas. There's a few versions of Jingle Bells... one with Barbra Streisand on speed, while Lena Horne makes it sound like the sexiest song you've ever heard. (How did she do that?? ) There's also a cha-cha version...

"Jingle bells, jing-jing-jing jingle bells,

Jingle all the way CHA-CHA-CHA!!"

It's fabulous. The kids couldn't believe their ears. Jack kept grabbing the album covers (yes, Scott gave me two!) and shaking his head in disbelief. (None of them took the music off, though.) They now know that Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra are two of my Mum's favourite singers, and who could resist a rendition of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer Mambo"? It was so much fun.

However, there's a cooking failure to report. Tonight is our faculty breakup at Scott's house, and I said I'd bring an apricot nectar cheesecake. Surely one of the most delectable things on the planet when it's made right. I was racing around after work doing a billion things at once and forgot to shake the tin of apricot nectar before I poured it into the cheesecake mix. I didn't realise until I was pouring what was left in the tin into a container to make the topping this morning. Suddenly rich, orange nectar was glolloping out of the tin, unlike the thin watery nectar I'd used. I tried the cheesecake this morning, and all I could taste was cheese with just the slightest hint of apricot. I feel like such a twit. I'll finish it off this morning but this'll be one for the kids. The Cheesecake shop will be making a sale later on today. There's no way I'm taking a near tasteless cheesecake to a gathering where there's so many great cooks. I'm annoyed with myself though, because this is one thing I really make well. When I've got my mind on the job, I guess.

Blogspot is annoying me this morning...

2007-12-11T06:17:00.000+11:00

For some reason my post for this morning seems to have been pushed down past yesterday's post. Please scroll down past the 'random meme' post and there it'll be. Gossip, guitars and a delicious list of novels....

The most random meme I've ever answered.

2007-12-10T05:41:00.000+11:00

Scott tagged me for a meme nearly a week ago, so I got up early this morning to do it, because he hasn't posted since. I don't know if it was the memeless state of this blog or not, but I enjoy his blog so much that I don't want to risk any nonaction of mine being the reason why he doesn't post. So here goes...

1. What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now?
We don't have a bath, tub or otherwise. I ripped it out during the great bathroom renovation of 2006 and put in a toilet instead. We're strictly a shower family. That being said, the soap in the shower is 'Cedarwood and Sage' that I took from the bathroom of the Marriott in Phuket. They may have ripped us off shamelessly while we were there, but by gum! I came back with 8 cakes of free soap. That'll teach 'em!

2. Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?
No. (Why would anyone want to know this??) Jack eats watermelons like a hippo, so when I buy them they rarely last long. That's something they graze on when they're at their Dad's fruit shop.

3. What would you change about your living room?
Everything except the people and animals who live here, the pictures on the walls and the ornaments I've slowly assembled over the years. I guess that makes them heirlooms... (This means that my children will have to work for a living. Any value my 'heirlooms' have is strictly sentimental.)

4. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
Clean. However, the dishes still piled up in the sink are definitely not.

5. What is in your fridge?
Food, wine, beer, perfume and milk.

6. White or wheat bread?
This is where those whacky Americans give themselves away...
White bread is made of wheat, so this is an extremely difficult question to answer, unless of course you are an absolute genius like me, and you realise that what the author of this meme really meant to ask was white or brown bread. Or possibly wholemeal.
My answer: usually the good for you stuff. However, jaffles taste far better with white bread, and there's nothing nicer than white bread slathered with butter and Vegemite. Mmmmmmm.

7. What is on top of your refrigerator?
This person is obsessed with my fridge...
there's a gift box with some white china platters that I can't fit anywhere else in the kitchen.

8. What colour or design is on your shower curtain.
It's glass.

9. How many plants are in your home?
Just one in the bathroom, I'm afraid. I want to get more, but I've been too busy with other things. There's heaps of plants in the garden, though.

10. Is your bed made right now?
No. Connor is sleeping in it, and he would've objected had I tried to tidy up.

11. Comet or Soft Scrub?
Is this an astronomy question? I pick comets... they zip quickly through the place and leave a trail of light and joy behind them. Something for us all to emulate, really.

12. Is your closet organised?
Yes. Absolutely.

13. Can you describe your flashlight?
What the ...?
Yes, I can. It's very much like a torch. Thank you for asking.

14. Do you drink out of glass or plastic when you're at home?
Glass all the way. The days of toddlerdom when plastic reigned are gone forever, thank goodness.

15. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
Is this person crazy? Why would you have this hanging around in your fridge? And if you did, wouldn't this have been covered in question 5?

16. If you have a garage, is it cluttered?
Our garage goes through a cycle of being neat, then gradually over the course of a term, it slides into total disarray. Then in the holidays I walk in, see it, chuck a wobbly and the kids go out and tidy it up again. There's two weeks of term to go, so you be the judge.

17. Curtains or blinds?
Both. I prefer to be unfettered by the window furnishing police, and run wild and free, utilising all of my choices as a consumer.

18. How many pillows do you sleep with?
Usually four, currently two. I like to billow among my pillows...

19. Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
No. I'm not afraid of the bogeyman. Or the boogieman, as he used to be called in my youth.

20. How often do you vacuum?
This is a job I hate. Jordan now does it for double his pocket money every week. (Relax... he only gets $5, so it's not too bad.)

21. Standard toothbrush or electric?
Standard. A yellow one, in case you were wondering.

22. What colour is your toothbrush?
Oops.

23. Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
No. Just a regular mat. You're NOT welcome, I suppose. Oh dear, do you think that's why I'm still single??? My lack of a welcome mat has scared off Mr Right.

24. What is in your oven right now?
It's 6.21am, so nothing except oven trays.

25. Is there anything under your bed?
Just a few dust bunnies.

26. Chore you hate doing the most?
Clipping Molly's toenails. (Molly is a dog.)

27. What retro items are in your home?
Me. I've taken up quilting, so that's pretty 'Little House on the Prairie', right?

28. Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
Too many kids. When they move out in about fifteen years, you watch me take over this house!

29. How many mirrors are in your home?
Four, counting the bathroom mirror. We're very ugly so we prefer not to see ourselves unexpectedly.

30. What colour are your walls?
A muted grey/green in the lounge and kitchen, deep blue in my room and white everywhere else. Oh, and the toilet is pale yellow. I painted it when I was at home with the toddlers and I had to mix together bright yellow and white paint because I couldn't afford to get new paint. That was a long time ago, and it's due for a face lift.

31. Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
A Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Jack used to have a cricket bat handy when he was home alone, but that was a few years ago.

32. What does your home smell like right now?
Morning.

33. Favourite candle scent?
I don't know. Jordan bought me a couple of scented candles for my birthday, and we're gradually using them. I'm not really a huge candle person.

34. What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
This meme author is obsessed with people's fridges. It's beginning to creep me out....

35. What colour is your favourite Bible?
How many bibles does one person need in order to have a favourite? Surely the story ends up the same no matter which edition you're reading? I used to have a red one that I was given at primary school when we did R.E. I'm sure it's still kicking around here somewhere. I make my kids do religious education at primary school, even though I'm on the fence with all of this. My reasoning is that the christian faith is central to the way our society has developed over the centuries, and there are so many references to biblical events in literature, art and (occasionally) conversation that kids have to know something about the bible or else they'll be out of the loop. If they ever choose to take it further then that's up to them. Faith, or the lack of it, is a purely personal thing.

36. Ever been on your roof?
Frequently. Footballs and tennis balls seem to be magnetically attracted to that thing. Plus it's a good place to hide from the kids.

37. Do you own a stereo?
A cd player? Yes.

38. How many tvs do you have?
Three.

39. How many house phones?
One. And a mobile.

40. Do you have a housekeeper?
No. But before I went back to teaching I used to be one.

41. What style do you decorate in?
Mine and mine alone....

42. Do you like solid colours in furniture, or prints?
Solid all the way, baby!

43. Is there a smoke detector in your home?
Three. I'm fairly attached to the kids, and I'd like them to have a sporting chance of getting out of the house should it ever decide to erupt in a fireball.

44. In case of fire, what are the items in the house that you'd grab if you could make one quick trip?
My laptop, which has all my photos and files on it. Any kid too slow or stupid to react in time to the smoke detectors. The dog sleeps outside, so she'd be fine. Unless she was playing with matches in her kennel and caused the whole conflagration. The cats sleep in the laundry which is a little out of the way, so they'd probably be in trouble. My jewelry box.

Phew! What a random lot of questions. I tag no one for this, because I'm too hungry. Breakfast awaits.

Bits and Pieces.

2007-12-10T05:17:00.000+11:00

Sunday was a good day. I sewed like a frantic woman and got most of the top of the quilt done before Mum arrived. She walked into the lounge room with her dog bouncing all over her, and there was a sewing machine. Something that has never before been seen in my house. She's an intelligent woman so she knew something was up. So while Dad fixed a couple of things in the kitchen that had come apart, we had coffee and talked about sewing. It was all very arty-crafty.

Mum's actually a very creative person. She's always been ducking off taking classes in different crafts for as long as I can remember.They've still got glazed pottery mugs from the pottery phase she went through when I was 13 and I still remember the drawing classes she went to where she'd put bright colours on the page, then cover the page with black and then scratch out a design. The colours show through the black. That was pretty amazing when you're small. We always wore the clothes she made us when we were growing up, both knitted and sewn. The list could go on, but it won't because I'm going to move on from nostalgia about the olden days. She's always done her own thing, and now that 'thing' is painting. After she retired she took up the paintbrush, and she goes to classes, exhibits at shows and has sales to her credit. What makes this even more incredible is that she has really bad rheumatoid arthritis that has twisted her fingers and gives her pain in every joint of her body all the time. She never complains about it, which is brave. If I had it, (which I never will. I've told the cosmos that I'm not inheriting that particular gene. I refuse), then I'm sure I'd be sitting on the couch whimpering like a miseryguts all the time. But she just gets on with it. I could go on about the quadruple bypass she went through a couple of years ago, then just when she'd recovered from all of the painful physio resulting from that, how she tripped and smashed her shoulder and had to go through it all again with such grace and bravery, but I won't. It'll sound like a eulogy, and she definitely isn't dead yet. Unless she's the most solid ghost ever seen in the history of the world.

After Mum and Dad left I finished the patchwork. I'm really happy with how it looks. I rang Sandy and we had a batting and backing expedition to Spotlight. Mum said that one of her friends who is a quilting demon told her that she prefers to make backing out of flannelette because it grips the top of the bed better, so when we walked in and Spotlight had a sale on flannelette sheet sets I stocked up. $20 a set, no matter what size. I walked away with four sets. There were two more sets left, but somehow I didn't think the boys would be too fond of bright pink fairy backings on their quilts. They're reasonably evolved little males, but the pink fairy thing just isn't a boundary any of us are willing to fight through.

After that it was time for Brennan's guitar concert. He's been learning for three years now and he's finally good enough to be put in a band to play, instead of sitting up there with his teacher, painfully plunking away at some lame song. They played 'I love rock and roll' by Joan Jett (which coincidentally is the same song that he won the school talent quest last week playing.) There were three guitarists, a drummer and a singer. They sounded good, but Brennan made me laugh. He looked like the 'cool' one.... he stood like a rock in one place and simply played. He should've been a bass player.

Nicola from Back to Books included this list of the top 100 books of the twentieth century, compiled by the good folk of Random House's Modern Library. This is a very American list, but I like skimming down lists like this and seeing which ones I've knocked over. I've put stars next to those ones. If you're not a reader, then feel free to skip the rest of this post, because there's nothing else after this.

Modern Library Top 100 Books of the Century

ULYSSES by James Joyce
*THE GREAT GATSBY by F. Scott Fitzgerald
A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN by James Joyce
*LOLITA by Vladimir Nabokov
*BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley
THE SOUND AND THE FURY by William Faulkner
CATCH-22 by Joseph Heller
DARKNESS AT NOON by Arthur Koestler
SONS AND LOVERS by D.H. Lawrence
*THE GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck
UNDER THE VOLCANO by Malcolm Lowry
*THE WAY OF ALL FLESH by Samuel Butler
*1984 by George Orwell
*I, CLAUDIUS by Robert Graves
*TO THE LIGHTHOUSE by Virginia Woolf
AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY by Theodore Dreiser
THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER by Carson McCullers
SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE by Kurt Vonnegut
*INVISIBLE MAN by Ralph Ellison
NATIVE SON by Richard Wright
HENDERSON THE RAIN KING by Saul Bellow
APPOINTMENT IN SAMARRA by John O'Hara
U.S.A. (trilogy) by John Dos Passos
WINESBURG, OHIO by Sherwood Anderson
A PASSAGE TO INDIA by E.M. Forster
THE WINGS OF THE DOVE by Henry James
THE AMBASSADORS by Henry James
TENDER IS THE NIGHT by F. Scott Fitzgerald
THE STUDS LONIGAN TRILOGY by James T. Farrell
THE GOOD SOLDIER by Ford Madox Ford
*ANIMAL FARM by George Orwell
THE GOLDEN BOWL by Henry James
SISTER CARRIE by Theodore Dreiser
A HANDFUL OF DUST by Evelyn Waugh
AS I LAY DYING by William Faulkner
ALL THE KING'S MEN by Robert Penn Warren
THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY by Thornton Wilder
HOWARDS END by E.M. Forster
GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN by James Baldwin
THE HEART OF THE MATTER by Graham Greene
*LORD OF THE FLIES by William Golding
DELIVERANCE by James Dickey
A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME (series) by Anthony Powell
POINT COUNTER POINT by Aldous Huxley
THE SUN ALSO RISES by Ernest Hemingway
*THE SECRET AGENT by Joseph Conrad
NOSTROMO by Joseph Conrad
THE RAINBOW by D.H. Lawrence
WOMEN IN LOVE by D.H. Lawrence
TROPIC OF CANCER by Henry Miller
THE NAKED AND THE DEAD by Norman Mailer
*PORTNOY'S COMPLAINT by Philip Roth
PALE FIRE by Vladimir Nabokov
LIGHT IN AUGUST by William Faulkner
ON THE ROAD by Jack Kerouac
THE MALTESE FALCON by Dashiell Hammett
PARADE'S END by Ford Madox Ford
THE AGE OF INNOCENCE by Edith Wharton
ZULEIKA DOBSON by Max Beerbohm
THE MOVIEGOER by Walker Percy
DEATH COMES FOR THE ARCHBISHOP by Willa Cather
FROM HERE TO ETERNITY by James Jones
THE WAPSHOT CHRONICLES by John Cheever
*THE CATCHER IN THE RYE by J.D. Salinger
A CLOCKWORK ORANGE by Anthony Burgess
OF HUMAN BONDAGE by W. Somerset Maugham
HEART OF DARKNESS by Joseph Conrad
MAIN STREET by Sinclair Lewis
THE HOUSE OF MIRTH by Edith Wharton
THE ALEXANDRIA QUARTET by Lawrence Durell
A HIGH WIND IN JAMAICA by Richard Hughes
A HOUSE FOR MR BISWAS by V.S. Naipaul
THE DAY OF THE LOCUST by Nathanael West
*A FAREWELL TO ARMS by Ernest Hemingway
SCOOP by Evelyn Waugh
*THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE by Muriel Spark
FINNEGANS WAKE by James Joyce
KIM by Rudyard Kipling
A ROOM WITH A VIEW by E.M. Forster
*BRIDESHEAD REVISITED by Evelyn Waugh
THE ADVENTURES OF AUGIE MARCH by Saul Bellow
ANGLE OF REPOSE by Wallace Stegner
A BEND IN THE RIVER by V.S. Naipaul
*THE DEATH OF THE HEART by Elizabeth Bowen
LORD JIM by Joseph Conrad
RAGTIME by E.L. Doctorow
THE OLD WIVES' TALE by Arnold Bennett
*THE CALL OF THE WILD by Jack London
LOVING by Henry Green
MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN by Salman Rushdie
TOBACCO ROAD by Erskine Caldwell
IRONWEED by William Kennedy
THE MAGUS by John Fowles
WIDE SARGASSO SEA by Jean Rhys
UNDER THE NET by Iris Murdoch
*SOPHIE'S CHOICE by William Styron
THE SHELTERING SKY by Paul Bowles
*THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE by James M. Cain
THE GINGER MAN by J.P. Donleavy
*THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS by Booth Tarkington
read 22/100
(that's pretty bad, isn't it? I'd better start using this list as a 'tick off' list and get me some more of that C20th lit happening.)

The devil's in the detail...

2007-12-09T06:04:00.000+11:00

No wonder I needed to go back to the shop to get more fabric for the little squares.

I finished the strips, laid them out on my bed to work out the sewing-together-order and....

what I thought was a single bed quilt is actually a queen sized one. I was gobsmacked. Just how many measurements do you have to take account of in this damned hobby??? I was appalled. It's supposed to fit on the bottom single bunk, not spill out over the sides of it and cover half the house with it's patchworky warmth. Connor, however, is delighted.

"I'll just fold it over twice, Mum. I'll be really warm."

What he doesn't realise is that it actually looks quite good in my room. Hmmmm......

I'm not posting a lot today. Mum and Dad are coming over to pick up Murphy as they're back from their month away in Queensland (gee it must be awful to be retired and able to travel), and she does quilting. I want to surprise her with all that I've accomplished while she's been gone. Of course, now I know that I've accomplished even more than I intended. Good on me.

Afghan vs patchwork.

2007-12-08T06:40:00.000+11:00

It's official. Patchworking is far quicker than knitting an afghan.
Those of you who have been following my posts for a while will know that at the end of October sometime I foolishly began knitting an afghan on very small needles with fairly thin wool. Lots of wool. I'm a quick knitter, especially in this case where it's only basket weave, and it is still taking forever. I'll finish it, but I don't think I'll do another. I'll quilt instead. Look at what I was able to piece together in one short afternoon....

Isn't it amazing? It covers a couch! Anyway, I had such a good time doing this. The pattern is very simple. I've pieced together all of the big squares in big strips, and today's job is to piece together all of the little squares that run in strips in between the big square strips. I hope that makes sense. I didn't have enough material to finish the little squares, so I popped back to amitie in Centre Road Bentleigh to get some more. While I was there I also bought more material for a quilt for Brennan, a rotary cutter, rectangular ruler and mat. So now I'm committed. The rationalisation for all of this is that I've booked in for a lesson next week and I don't have $25 to waste on another night of rotary cutting, because I learned how to do that last time. So I need to have a quilt ready to attach batting and backing on, because then I'll be learning something new. (Sometimes my frugality kick can be fooled by such blatant rationalising. Plus I suppose I could say it's my Christmas present to myself. ) I've chosen another pattern for the next quilt. It has rectangles in it. I drew the line at triangles. They still look a little scary. I'll tackle them in my next one after the current next one.

After doing this I answered the door (I tend to do that when someone rings the doorbell) and there was a parcel being delivered. My book from HarperCollins that I have to review! Listen to the blurb at the back:

"She should have remained at home with her sour aunt, but Liberty Lane was never one to obey instructions. Eager to be reunited with her beloved father, she headed for Dover, only to receive an anonymous note informing her that he has been killed in Calais.

Thomas Jaques Lane - radical, romantic, scholar, republican, gambler and devoted father- had lead an unconventional life. His movements in the days before his death are a mystery, but of one thing Liberty is certain: he would never have taken part in a duel, for it went against everything he believed in. And if the author of this anonymous note expected her to swallow this lie and meekly obey his command to stay put, he's severely underestimated Liberty Lane.

With no resources bar her own wits, she immediately sets off in pursuit of the truth - and her father's killer. And as the nation prepares to celebrate the coronation of young Queen Victoria, Liberty uncovers a treasonable plot which could lead to another vicious civil war..."

Could there be any more cliches? The writing had better be good, because I'm a bit apprehensive at the moment. The first thing that came to mind was that a young girl in Victorian times would be absolutely stuffed if she was left to her own resources. She couldn't pop into Centrelink to get a Youth Allowance to help pay for food and rent. Plus, if she uncovered a treasonable plot, wouldn't she let it be, if she's such a devoted daughter? It said that her Dad was a republican. Unless that bit was a misprint and he's just a publican.

It's called 'Death at Dawn', and I think it's one in an intended series. It has "A Liberty Lane thriller' along the bottom of the cover. I'll let you know what it's like. They want the review done by the end of December, but I want to finish 'Star Man' first. It's the third in a trilogy, and I'm enjoying it. So I think I'll knock over young impetuous Liberty Lane once school has finished. It'll be a day's read, by the looks of it. (Incidentally, did anyone in Victorian England call their kids names like Liberty? It sounds more like a black American name after the civil war to me.)

I spent the afternoon at Deirdre's house with a few of the people from work. She's just completed renovations, so there was a delectable afternoon tea and an inspection of what has been done. It was lovely. I had to leave at about 5.30. Brennan rang me to remind me that he had an extra guitar lesson to practise with the band he's playing with in his end of year concert on Sunday. I'd completely forgotten. Luckily Deirdre's son is a friend of Brennan's, so he knew where to find the phone number. So I put down my champagne glass with the strawberry and left. When I got home I rang her to say how nice it had been.

"We're still here," she said. "Why don't you come back?"

So I left Jordan in charge of dinner. He was making egg pies in the pie maker, and I went back and had another lovely chatty time till about 8.30. I love that the kids are grown up enough that they can be left for a while. I walked back into the lounge room to the blaring sounds of 'Guitar Hero 3'. I don't think they'd even noticed I was gone.

Life is Good.

2007-12-07T06:16:00.000+11:00

What a day I had yesterday! You know, sometimes I love my life. Actually, most of the time I love my life, and yesterday was one of the days why.

I now know how to drive the sewing machine. Sandy came around after dinner on Wednesday and showed me. She hasn't used it for 5 years or so, and when she sat down she gazed at it for a long moment, then said, "Gee, it would've been a good idea to bring my glasses. When I last used this I didn't need them!"

She studied the manual, apparently learned a whole lot more about what her machine can do, and we got stuck into it. I learned about bobbin threading, tension (apart from the one in my shoulders when I'd tried using it before) and I even tried whizzing around and around with the line of sewing as if I was freehand quilting. It was on an old baby's bib, so I couldn't get too far lost. It was a evening of sophisticated fun and frivolity. The boys kept well out of it and played guitar in the back room. Thanks Sandy... I'm now an expert and no doubt sewing machine mishaps will never happen to me again.

Yesterday started at 5.30 when I was up writing student manager remarks to go on the front of every year 10 child's report. Sarge, my partner in this job, and I split the classes between us, so I have 5 classes x 26-28 kids to do. The remarks go something like this:

"Ermengarde has earned a fantastic/pleasing/pitiful set of reports which show that her studies in year 10 have been outstanding/diligent/nonexistent. Blah blah blah for the rest of the paragraph, talking about specific results and problems. Good luck in VCE next year"

As is often the way, the good kids are easy to do and you can whizz through them. The lazy kids and the failing kids are the ones that take ages, because you have to tailor each remark carefully to ensure tact without totally lying. This semester I had to write Jack's remark. I found out something really interesting about how I parent. I read his report, looking at his marks and the levels that each teacher assigned him for effort and classroom behaviour, and I wrote a remark that was far harsher than one I would've done if he was some random. (He's improved immeasurably since last year, but his effort rankings were still a bit low in some classes. Understandable. It takes time to get back to speed when you've slacked off for two years, but I really sunk the boot in.) I was driving to work and it dawned on me that what I should've done was give him the remarks of a 'very good' kid, but just modify them slightly. This is what I was doing with all the other kids like him. After all, in 3 subjects he scored a 10 and a couple of 9s. (Out of 10.) Thank goodness for computers. With the press of a keyboard it was done. But how interesting. Obviously nepotism has to struggle to survive in this house!

Next year he begins VCE, which for those non-Victorians is a two year study, where the student can pick the whole course, except English is compulsory. (Naturally. It's the bestest one of them all.) I've never seen Jack so excited about school. He's chosen a year 12 Maths (which he loves), Maths Methods (again... he says it's fantastic), Economics, Music and Physics. He begged me to go and buy the text books on Wednesday, so nearly $400 later we left the shop. This week they're doing an orientation week for VCE, so they're back at school doing classes, and he's loving the work. If only I'd known this was going to happen. I've been stressing out for years about how slack and disinterested he was. If I'd only known that it was going to take a course almost entirely consisting of the devil's work (ie: maths) to make him happy, I would've breezed through the last two years with a happy smile on my face.

Speaking of $$$, yesterday I paid the school fees for next year for Jack, Jordan and Brennan. This wasn't one of the things that made yesterday a nice day. They all do music, so that adds a couple of hundred to each boy for the tuition. Hire of instruments will be paid next year. A New Year's treat. I grabbed my trusty MasterCard, walked up to the bursar and braced myself.

Are you ready? (This isn't a private school, it's a government school. So private school parents will roll their eyes and say "I wish!" The rest of us will freak.)

$1900. This doesn't include school books or uniform. It's just the subject levies and music tuition. I tottered away from the bursar's window, a broken woman. Or maybe just a broke woman. I've bought Jack's books, a mixture of secondhand and new, which cost over $400. Jordan's books have cost me $65, but I still have to pick up a few new ones. Brennan, thankfully, uses Jordan's books from this year. And Connor, next year, will do the same. I knew there was a reason why I had these boys so close together. But still! This 'free education' costs a lot of money. The hire of their instruments will be around the $400 mark, I think. Probably 3 months of child support will go towards just outfitting them for school, once I buy bits and pieces of uniform and new leather school shoes as big as canoes for 3 pairs of galumphing feet. (Yet, as Lou from the bursar's office said, "Just be thankful you're getting it." True. The days when Tony wasn't paying child support were happening when the kids were small, young and cheap. Phew!)

And now.... the quilting class. It was great! I was rotary cutting all night. It's very addictive. I was waving the square ruler around and eying up my pieces of fabric and cutting into them with gay abandon. Woo hoo! Bits of material were going everywhere. I found it hard to get the hang of all the measuring at first, but once I gave my inner Virgo a stern talking to, and told her to get her nitpicky eye out of whatever place she was burying it and come and take over, then it went surprisingly well.

And I wasn't the only beginner, thank God. Two other women were first timers, though they were more advanced than me. One had sandwiched all her layers together and was starting to hand quilt, while the other had bought a Kaffe Fasset book and was doing one of his designs with his fabric. She was having a crisis of confidence about whether she'd end up liking it. The teacher was laying out all the squares she'd already done, and was speaking soothingly and encouragingly to her. I knew I was probably seeing into my future, but as they say in 'How I Met Your Mother' (great show), "I'll let Future Frogdancer take care of that. That'll be her problem."

There were two other people there. One woman wore very thick glasses and sat quietly all night, hand sewing teeny tiny triangles and saying very little. To be fair, if I was sewing triangles that were that small, I probably wouldn't be waxing lyrical about stuff either. The other guy was fantastic. He was onto his second quilt, the name of which was 'Hectic Eclectic' with lots of colours and rectangles, and he was also making a tote bag for his partner's Mum's Christmas present. Again, he used lots of colours and it looked fantastic. He was very funny and so helpful. At the end of the night I grabbed all my scraps from the rotary cutting and was looking for a bin. He saw what I was going to throw away and nearly had a coronary.

"NO! Wait! Look, you've got so many usable scraps here. If you make a 'Hectic' next time, you can use all these strips for your little squares."

He grabbed the scraps and started going through them, measuring any that looked a bit dicey, talking all the time about what I could do with them. My frugality kick was purring like a purring thing with fur and a tail. It was fantastic. I now have a stash. I asked him and he said so. That's how I know. "I love my stash!" he declared. It was all very exciting.

So today I have the day off to complete my reports. (I'll be doing a spot of patchwork during the day, I suspect.) Something funny happened this morning. Quilty people will appreciate it. Or else I'll just look like an idiot. I was showing Connor the squares I cut out. He was bobbing up and down beside me, eyes darting everywhere observing all that I've done. I was laying them on the bench, with the 9.5" squares lying alongside the 3.5" squares. It is supposed to go 3 little squares fitting alongside each big square. The squares didn't match up. The little square row was way overhanging the big square. I was devastated. I grabbed a ruler and measured the squares and they were all accurate. What had gone wrong? How could I have made such a huge mistake? I was having a stress attack, while darling Connor was patting my shoulder and saying, "It's ok Mum. Just have uneven rows. I'm a guy, I don't care if it's not perfect." Oh, my son, but I do.

Then it dawned on me. The little squares have more .25" seam allowances. All was fine again. I was still the master of the rotary blade. This measurement stuff with quilting is really going to do my head in until I get used to it.

Tragedy has struck!!!!

2007-12-05T12:21:00.000+11:00

I've been cut off from accessing my blog from work!!!!!!

The school has a new internet provider, and it's labelling my blog as 'porn'.

I'm outraged. The only things having sweet sweet lovin' on my blog are the pumpkins... and even they don't have flowers to have nookie with, so basically my blog is as pure as the driven snow. (Though why anyone would want to drive snow anywhere is beyond me. The northern hemisphere can be quite strange at times...)

It's awful. Bloglines still works, but only in patches. Imagine my torment when I popped on to check out Crazy Mom Quilts and she kept saying "Look at this quilt I made" and "Look at this square" and "that quilt" and there were no photos allowed through!!! I had to come home at lunchtime just to have a look. Obviously this situation is totally unacceptable. If this continues for too long, all the bloggers on staff will be forced to look for alternative employment. Which will put me out no end, as I like working only two minutes from home. Still, it let through Kelley's pictures about her Christmas tree next to the toilet, (I'd be hosing that thing down thoroughly before I put it away into storage for next year!), so it wasn't a complete bust.

(Speaking of bloggers on staff, if you want to read a funny comment on yesterday's post I did, hop down and read it. I laughed myself beyond stitches. I work with some very funny people.)

Well, I'd love to stay and keep chatting, but I've got to go back to work. Hopefully my car park space will still be empty. Otherwise I'll have to park in the street, which will add at least 1 minute extra walking time to my trip home. It's turning into a day filled with the utmost tragedy and woe........................

Brennan's abandonment...

2007-12-04T06:17:00.000+11:00

Last night I sat down at the sewing machine to figure out how to drive it. Within a very few moments long-buried childhood memories of Mum swearing at her sewing machine in the back room surfaced. Now, many years later, I can feel her pain. The bloody thing wouldn't work. The thread kept snapping, the bobbin tangled up and I had to carefully ease the thread out with a knife, (don't worry Sandy. I was very careful). I'd look at the diagram in the instruction book because I am a female and I don't mind asking for help, but nothing worked. Profanity emerged. I knew there was a reason why I was scared of this whole sewing thing. Wasn't so irrational after all. In the end Jordan asked me to "Put it away until tomorrow." I think the profane language was interfering with his enjoyment of the episode of 'Heroes' we had taped. Sandy happened to ring a few minutes later, so I swore at her machine to her as well. She's coming over between now and Thursday to help me work it out. She's good with diagram thingies. Sadly, I am not.

Brennan has his Orientation Day at school today. I'm so rapt. Only one more kid to go at Primary school, and then they'll all be with me. Yay! And no, this doesn't mean that I'm a control freak who has to keep her kids under her watchful eye at all times. I'm just really over primary school stuff after 12 years of it. The day I wash my last bright yellow school top will be a happy one. Brennan's been put in a form group with his best friend Marcus. I don't think he has any other kids from his friendship group in there, but that's ok. He never has any trouble making friends. He's miserable at the moment, though. Last night we went to the orthodontist and he's got the separaters in between his teeth. Apparently he's in a fair bit of pain. (When we got to the orthodontist's, I asked if Tony had paid the deposit for Brennan's braces. Nothing. I couldn't believe it. I went home intending to ring him, but I was a bit tired so I thought I'd have a nanna nap first. Lucky I did! I was woken by the lady from the orthodontist. Tony had just rung them, and had paid the deposit over the phone. So that was one unpleasant conversation we didn't have to undergo.)

Anyway, he's in the same form group as Jordan is this year (7D), but I'm desolate to discover that Mr Abode, Jordan's form teacher, has managed to weasle his way out of being involved with next year's crop of year 7s. Was being a leader.... nay... a father figure to my second son so awful that sweet helpless Brennan has now been abandoned? Where is the dedication to the young folk that we as teachers are meant to subscribe to? The little baby year 7s are like wriggly puppies. They need someone of high moral stature and great knowledge to gently but firmly lead them along the paths of academia and personal growth and self-worth. They need a form teacher who will guide them, nurture them and instill a sense of aspiration to live up the high ideals of personal behaviour and achievement that Mr Abode embodies. When young Jordan is faced with a moral/career/personal crossroad at any time in his life from now on, I know that the first question he'll ask himself will be, "What would Mr Abode, my idol, my mentor, my ideal of all that is upright and pure do?" So how in good conscience could he deny my little Brennan the same example? I'm shocked, people. Shocked and saddened.

(After writing this, I think I understand why I have never been asked to be a year 7 form teacher. )

Yesterday.

2007-12-03T06:11:00.000+11:00

How lovely to wake up to the sound of rain. It's pouring down now, though I can barely hear it over the slurping sound of my parched front garden gulping it down. If I was living in an animation, my garden would turn itself into one big straw or cup, just to make sure it gets every drop it can. I heard on the news a couple of days ago that this is the eleventh straight year of less than average rain fall. Isn't that incredible? And here was silly me, thinking that it was only seven.

Yesterday was a postless day here, which is unlike me, but I was so busy. Not with anything major, but it was my last day before work, and I was uncluttered by all of those oafish kids with their big feet and irrational demands for food at regular intervals. It's annoying. Anyone would think they were growing or something.

So on my own for the last day in a fortnight, I went out and watered the veggie garden, and picked my first zucchini for the year. Still no pumpkin flowers. (Apparently I've got to help the pumpkins have sex by fooling around with their flowers. It's a little intimidating. It's been so long since anyone in this house (namely me) did that activity that I'm worried I'll muck it up for the pumpkins. It'll be their first time. I want to make it special. Maybe I could download Rod Stewart's 'Tonight's the Night' and play it to them. Then at least they'll know my intentions were good.) Then I tied up the tomato plants (sounds a little kinky after all of that pumpkin flower talk, doesn't it?), and picked about 15 leeks to make room for some new tomato plants. It's going to be frozen bolognaise sauce city here in a few months when the tomatoes get into gear! It's the only way to survive a full time job. I need lots of precooked meals in the freezer. After yesterday there's now 3 more leek and potato soups in there. I also pulled out two silver beet plants, and made an impossible pie full of silverbeet for my lunches this week. The dog food also has heaps of it this time.

The rest of the day was filled with pottering. I did heaps of little jobs. I went to Spotlight to get some rudimentary sewing things. I have an old lady's sewing basket that came with the house, so I delved into the depths and came up with some wins. Cabling knitting needles for one. I was going to Spotlight to buy some, so that saved me some money. A stitch ripper. Heaps of old buttons... the list goes on. I went to Spotlight, and I was wandering around with my list of things to buy. That place is so big, and I didn't know where to go. I had a few things, but others were hiding. I paused by the counter, gazing aimlessly about.

"That's a big sigh," said a lady behind the counter. "Is anything wrong?"

How embarrassing. "I'm a bit out of my depth," I said.
I explained why and what I was there for, and she took me under her wing and showed me where everything was. She laughed when I said just how ignorant I was, and how I'll be turning up to the quilting class on Thursday (all different levels of experience) with my bits of material (oops. fabric) held out to them with no real idea of what to do next. I'm worried about cutting into my nice new fabrics. What if I get it wrong?

"They'll be lovely to you," she said. "Those sort of people are so into their quilting that they'll do anything to get you into it too."

It sounds like a cult. A quilting cult. I bought a couple of nice bits of fabric for my 'stash'. I assume I'll be expected to have one of those. All of the crafty bloggers rave on about their stash and what they've added to it. To curb any more cultishness I also bought a pair of rosewood knitting needles for my jumpers I 'll be knitting. The afghan is going to be put away till next year, and I'll make a start of something smaller.

Brennan starts his braces odyssey today. He gets the separaters in today. and after Year 7 Orientation Day tomorrow he'll go back and get the whole kit and caboodle in his face. Poor kid. Both glasses and braces. Hardly seems fair. I haven't heard anything from the orthodontist's office about any lack of payment, so I'm assuming Tony has finally come to the party and paid up. Otherwise I'll have to, so that dream of installing a roller skating rink in the back yard will have to go.....

Yet another all-consuming hobby.

2007-12-01T07:28:00.002+11:00

There's no denying that I'm a very lucky person. Remember my plan yesterday to go to a quilting shop and look around, despite my (very real) fear that they'd point their fingers and laugh at me? Well, mid morning I rang my friend Sandy (she only works 3 days a week, so I knew there's be a good chance she'd be home), and asked if she wanted to come with me.

"There's a shop in Burke road I've heard about," I said. (Thanks for the comments yesterday, everyone.)

"Hang on," she said. "I think there's one around the corner from me."

And so there was. And what's even more important than it being around the corner from her is that it's just down the road from me. (It's all about me, Sandy....) In Centre Rd Bentleigh, number 281 (near Wheatley road), there's a shop called amitie. We went in. I've never been so nervous. But we had a great time. Sandy's been wanting to go there for ages but never had a reason to, so that's obviously why she has me for a friend.

We wandered around looking at all the amazing fabrics, talked to a lady who works there, started choosing fabric for a black and white quilt, when Sandy discovered some little packets of coordinated pieces that they'd put together. All up they equal 1 metre of fabric in total for $20 a pack. Much easier for a novice to work with. We chose two packets to make a boys quilt. (I needed fabric with muscles. No sissy pinks and mauves for my family!!)

When I was up at the counter getting the pattern for the new 'all boy' quilt, I asked about quilting classes. Sandy (who will one day take up quilting, even if she says she's wedded to learning to play the piano at present) has loaned me her sewing machine, so the only thing stopping me from beginning this thing immediately is a little thing called know-how. Plus I have to learn how to drive the sewing machine. So from next week Thursday nights are going to be quilting time. The poor things. Next Thursday I'm going to rock up to class, clutching my muscular fabric pieces in my small little hands, look at them and say, "So what do I do now?" I hope they're prepared for total ignorance.

(Though I read in 'Quilting for Dummies' that I should wash fabric before I quilt with it, so I'll have that step done.)

Connor came home from school first and claimed the quilt as his. So now I'm committed. Actually, I'm pretty excited about it. So is Sandy. She rang up just before dinner to talk about it again. I suppose that means that I'm doubly committed. Or should be committed....

And yet another exciting thing happened.
While I was talking to Sandy, I checked my emails and guess what? Harper Collins has a reviewer program where you register and they send out a soon-to-be-released book for you to review. My first one is being sent out even as I speak! How amazing is that? I'm going to be a book reviewer!!! I'm really pleased about this one. I can't remember if you simply get the book or if they also pay you a nominal amount, but I'm happy either way. firstlook@harpercollins.com is the place to go (I think.) I registered a while ago so I'm a little hazy on the details. (I actually forgot I registered until I got the email telling me my book was on its way.) I feel so important. My opinion matters. Whoever would've thought?

Just before I go to start another weekend full of racing from gardening to baking to housework to knitting to dog food making (thanks a bunch, Sandy. You OWE it to me to take up quilting now after getting me into the BARF food for the pets), I thought I'd share a blog I discovered this morning about quilting. Oh My God. This woman is prolific with the old needle, and she's made some fantastic things. I'm torn between being totally excited about this new area in my life and being totally intimidated.
Crazy Mom Quilts has kept me royally scared and in awe for the last hour or so. I particularly like the icy-pole quilt she has pictured on Flickr. I can see something like that on my bed. (It's too good to waste on the boys.) Just as an aside, are there any other Australians who find it really hard to spell 'Mum' as 'Mom'? It's something I have to concentrate on, and it's ruffling, because it totally feels like I'm making a spelling mistake. And making speeling nistakes is something I hate to do.

But enough of whingeing about those whacky Americans and their crazy spelling rules. (They make damned fine quilts, though!) I'm off to wash my masculine fabric pieces and dream of starting my new (all squares) quilt. Have a good weekend everybody!

My day off.

2007-11-30T05:49:00.000+11:00

Ha! Didn't I tell you that I was suspicious of Connor's sudden illness? Turns out I was right. (Thank goodness he wasn't deathly ill, because he did all the housework except for some of the folding.) Turns out that he had a "How to..." project due yesterday, and due to circumstances beyond his control he didn't do it. (I'm guessing the urgent need to beat Brennan on some PlayStation game or other was probably to blame.)

But get this.... he had the whole day off to get it done... Does he? My answer to that (non)rhetorical question is NO. We were lounging around in front of the television after dinner, and he pipes up with an "Oh no. I forgot to do my project."

After a few pithy words from me about the pitfalls of lying about being sick (he confessed) and then the stupidity of not doing the task that you took a sickie to do in the first place, he worked on it till 9.15. He'll be woken up in about 20 minutes to keep going on it. Ah well, it's how we learn. The information on the project will be the least of it.

But guess what??? My big news is that I have the day off!!!! Yay! I went into the boss's office and asked for the Correction Day I didn't take due to interviews to be transferred to Friday. Which is today. Why I still woke up at 5.45 is a mystery, though it might be because last night it was warm, so I left the front door open. Those birds sound like they are using megaphones this morning.

So what are my plans? I'm thinking first up I'll do some knitting. I've nearly finished one of next year's balls of wool on the afghan (mmmm yes, that thing), so I'll finish it. The ball, I mean, not the afghan. There's still 3 more 200g balls to go. I was knitting on it yesterday during Brennan's guitar lesson, and it got too hot to have on my knee. This means that summer is just about here. So I'll finish that ball, and then I might start on something else. Something smaller, so my knees remain cool and ladylike. The package from Bendigo Knitting mills arrived yesterday. I was delighted. I tore apart the packaging to reveal this!

I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but these balls of wool are bigger than my head. I was a little disappointed in the colour, as there's a touch more yellow in it than I thought. I was worried it wouldn't suit me, but when I held one up against my face in the mirror it was ok. I looked hideous, but no more than usual, and I've made my peace with that.

But the best thing was the colour charts they included free of charge. (My wool shop charges $17 for one of those, which is why I don't have one.) Connor's already picked out the wool he likes and I can see I'll be making a few more orders. It took 4 days for them to deliver, which is fine by me. Some of the wool shades are lovely. I chose a very plain pattern, as you can probably see. There's a cable detail in the bands and neck, so one of today's jobs is to buy a cable needle. I may have one, but I've only ever tried cabling when I was a wee slip of a girl, so I don't know if one is hiding at the bottom of the box I keep my knitting needles in or not. So maybe over the course of the weekend I might cast on for a new jumper.

But what I'm thinking of doing sometime today is to go and have a look at a quilting shop. I think there's one on Burke road in Malvern, and the yellow pages listed one in Camberwell somewhere. Should I go? I don't know what I'll do in a place like that. (I'm a bit nervous. I'm going to look like a goose as soon as I open my mouth. I'll probably call fabric 'material' and they'll throw me out.) I'm determined to learn how to quilt, so I have to go sometime. I'm a quarter of the way through 'Quilting for Dummies', so I guess that means I'm slightly less stupid than I was a week ago. (I'm not kidding about being nervous. I know next to nothing about sewing. My sister sews for a living, and mum has sewed (sewn? sewered? ooo, maybe not that last one!) ever since I can remember, but I stuck to knitting. The only thing I ever made that I was proud of was a calico doll for year 8 needlework. I embroidered a face on her and everything. But that's a far cry from doing a quilt.)

I've actually got a slight feeling of butterflies. How ridiculous. I can raise four boys on my own, tame a lawn mower and paint a house, teach masses of kids taller than me, take four kids overseas on my own not once but twice; yet I'm scared of going into a place where they'll use words like 'thimble', 'selvage' and 'mercerized'. (I don't know what the last two mean. I pulled them from the back of the 'Quilting for Dummies' book.) I'll let you know if I face my fear or if I chicken out and wait for Mum to come back from Queensland so she can hold my hand while I whimper.

One last thing.

Jordan's piano teacher is finishing her uni course this year, and she's said that she might not be able to teach him next year. She'll be working, and of course she doesn't know what when or where at this stage. Panic stations!! I don't know if the school can fit him in to the piano course next year or not. He'll be doing grade 5. Widget, if you read this before I get a chance to call you, can you ask if Jordan can be fitted in? Otherwise I don't know where we'll go. Why do kids want to do interesting hobbies that enrich their lives? All it does is create panic when their parent least expects it.

Panic notwithstanding, I'm off to enjoy my day off.

Lunchtime with the YMTs.

2007-11-29T13:50:00.000+11:00

Connor is home alone today. An upset tummy, so he says. I have my doubts... it just seems funny that every time he says he's thrown up it's always when I'm in the shower or in the loo. I come out into the hallway and he's mopping up a patch on the floor where he says he splattered on the way to the toilet, or I hear the sound of a flush and he totters out to tell me the news. I never actually see the event.

So when I left today I gave him a list of things that he had to have done around the house when I arrive home. Run the dishwasher and then unstack it, do the folding (the clean washing pile is looking horrendously large), hang out the load of washing in the washing machine, etc. If he's there, he can spend a bit of time being useful. He'll need a break from the Playstation anyway. The rules for kids at home is that everything has to be locked. No phone calls and definitely no leaving the house. I'm only two minutes drive away if anything goes wrong, and my work number and mobile number are by the phone.

I was in the staff common room at lunchtime and remembered that he was home, so I picked up the phone in there and gave him a quick call. I was near a group of teachers, most of them young males, who were sitting having their lunch.

Phone rings. Connor picks up, says "Hello?" warily.

"Hi Ugly, it's me! How are you feeling? Have you been sick again?"

"Yes...."

"Yuck! Did you make it to the toilet?"
(Young Male Teachers (YMTs) start laughing. Connor can't hear them.)

Yes, I did."

"Good! Have you eaten anything today?"
(YMT start saying things like "Well, by the looks of it I had carrots, some corn, some curry"... "I had a Big Mac, some cheesecake"... "Do you want to hear about my diarrhoea?" etc. I start laughing, and can't hear what Connor's saying.)

"Look, Connor, just cook yourself some 2 minute noodles without the flavouring. You'll be fine. Now, have you done the housework I asked you to do?"
(YMT's fall about in disbelief. "But he's sick!!" )

Connor says "Ummm... no." It's obvious he's been playing the Playstation and completely forgotten.
(YMTs say things like "Great mother you are..." and "Have you thought of hiring a maid?")

Mainly for their benefit, I say, "OK. Do this bit by bit. Run the dishwasher. Hang out the washing. Make sure shirts and Tshirts are on hangers. Do the folding. Now honey, you know I'm only getting you to do this so you don't get bored."
(YMTs start killing themselves laughing. "Gee, thanks Mum."... "Thanks Mum, cos the Playstation and the telley just weren't cutting it..." Then they crank it up a bit further. "Mum, you're breaking up..." ..."Mum, I'm driving into a tunnel. I can't hear you...."))

Connor, a little mystified as to why I'm laughing so much, says "Ummm, thanks Mum."

We hang up and the whole staffroom is laughing.

"Well, I'm bringing up my kids to be independent," I say defensively to the room at large. I go and sit down at my usual table.

"How can he hang the washing out if he's got to keep the whole house locked up? asked a Maths teacher. (Trust one of them to have a diabolical eye for detail.)

I got a mental picture of Connor at home with this list of things to do, and the rules he has to follow. I started laughing.

"Wouldn't this be funny?" I ask them. "I get home and he's done all the housework, and he's expecting to be told what a good boy he is. Instead I rip into him. "You fell into my trap! You know you're not allowed to leave the house!!! Just how did this washing get hung out???" Can you imagine his face?"

The kinder hearted among them say things like, "You can't do that to him!" while the others who know me better just laugh. They know I'm not going to do it. It'd be funny though. But I couldn't do it.

He'd never do any housework for me again....

Apologies for the Boring post to follow...

2007-11-29T06:59:00.000+11:00

Phew! I was a bit worried that Scott might be a little perturbed about my post yesterday, but thankfully he appears to be fine. I'm enjoying blogging, but sometimes I think the dialogue that goes on in the comments section is even more fun. He left another very funny comment ysterday, which begged for an answer....

Interviews at work are just about over. Today we're just mopping up the remnants of the kids who are left, (those who were too vague and disorganised to come to their first interview and so they've been threatened with death on the phone by me yesterday, and one very sad case of a Chinese boy who's been here a year, and his English is still so bad that he can barely make any sense out of what's being said to him. We've strongly recommended that he stay down in Year 10 for another year to give his English time to kick in. His parents are very reluctant, but there's no other way. He wants to do medicine, so his results have to be among the best in the state. He's failing or scraping by with a bare pass in everything at the moment.)

I am so looking forward to the weekend. My partner in the student manager job has been away riding in the Great Victorian Bike Ride with a group of our students, so I've been left with everything. (The Great Vic is a ride where hundreds of people take off for about 8 or 9 days and ride over a course that takes them over much of the countryside. They ride roughly 80 or 90 kms a day, ending up back in Melbourne on Sunday. Our school always sends a team of kids, and a couple of teachers to supervise. It's fantastic that he wants to give up his time so that the kids can experience this. It's just my bad luck that it falls when we're doing interviews.) The house will be quiet. My first totally free weekend for over a month! No kids here on my child-free weekend. Yay!

Jack's already gone. His Dad picked him up yesterday to work in the shop for a few days, and he'll come back with the other boys on Sunday night. (I haven't heard an apology from Tony about his insinuation that I was ripping him off about the braces, just a text message that he received the letter with all the bills in it, and thanking me for sending them.) Last night was so peaceful with one of them gone. We had dinner, watched tv for a while, and then Connor wanted me to lie on my bed while he gave me a neck massage. (I've strained my neck a bit. It's sore.) The others came too, so we ended up lolling on my bed watching Dr Phil with some losers who were "judgemental". What a pack of geese. (Oh no. I think that judgemental thing is catching...) Then they went to bed, and I watched Oprah who had Suze Orman on. They talked about financial rescues for people who have been spendthifts to the max. My frugality kick was beaming. I love this stuff.

Well, it's time to wake the kids up and get off to work. Only two days to go until the weekend. Whoopee!

Our Books.

2007-11-28T06:50:00.000+11:00

Connor took this shot a while back of the books that we have on the dining room bureau. There's one for each person. In them we write nice things about that person, as a record they can keep.

I'd like to take credit for the idea, but it's one I saw when I was teaching at a primary school in Clarinda for the day, before I got the job I have now. They'd been having trouble with bullying, so they called in a team of youth workers, and this was one of the things they did with the kids.

We've been doing it since April '04. (This isn't something I know off by heart. I just had a look at the first entry in my book.) They don't get entries every day.... sometimes a couple of months might go by... but gradually gradually the pages are being filled. Connor is the one who especially loves them. He writes in mine a lot, and gets downcast if his book stays untouched for a while. He wrote in mine last night. All spelling mistakes are his:

"Mum. You are the best mother anyone could wish for, and even if they don't wish for you they will still want you as a mother anyway. But there are some things that are bad about you.

1. You could kill someone by making them laugh and run out of breath.

2. Does their need to be a number two?

3. Same as number 1.

4. I can't say anything bad about you. that's why your really bad I can't put you down.

By the way congradulations on your blog. You should open a bottle of shampagne when you beat

Scott's total viewership.
oxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxo"

Sorry Scott. I laughed my head off when I read it, but now I'm a bit worried that the friendly competition Scott and I have between each other is starting to rub off on the next generation. And any 'shampagne' about bloggishness will be opened in Scott's company. Or maybe we should make that a nice bottle of red instead?

His last entry was much shorter.
"Mum how can I say enough to thank you with all the help and support you have given us. I thank you for that."

How great is that? I don't remember what prompted it. Maybe I cooked something he particularly likes for dinner or something. But there it is for me to read when I'm an old lady and he's left home and forgotten all about me.

The rules of the books are simple, if anyone out there wants to try it. Each person has their own book. Only positive things must be written in another person's book. Things about what that person has achieved, great things about their personality, acknowledgements about funny or nice things they might've done with/for someone else... the list goes on.

When I took the three younger boys away to Mt Buller for a holiday while Jack was at Central Australia with the school, we took the books up with us. The kids read them in the car going up, and they had so much fun. They were laughing at the spellings their younger selves used, remembering things that happened and generally having a real 'warm and fuzzy' family time.

Well worth the effort of the initial set up.

Purple beans and Breadcrumb patties.

2007-11-26T21:33:00.000+11:00

Look at my harvest! Enough beans to feed five people, and there are plenty left on the plants. Brennan and I ate a couple while we were picking them. Bright green inside. I made some breadcrumb patties for dinner with mashed potato and steamed carrots and beans. Look at how the beans turned out...

Green! Isn't nature an amazing thing? Who would've thought that simple beans would evolve over thousands of years into something that can change colour with the simple application of microwaves. How did the beans know that microwaves were going to be invented? Imagine if humans slipped up and missed how to use microwave technology. There all the purple beans would be... hanging from the vines, really cross that no one would be able to appreciate the amazing colour change they were capable of. "All that trouble manipulating our dna for nothing", they'd fume. How lucky that some science guy tinkering with stuff in a laboratory discovered the key that now lets them mystify and delight my family instead. Ahh, the fun you can get from simple veggies!

The bread crumb patties are something I make very rarely, but the kids love them. Mum used to make them when she was flour/egg and breadcrumbing schnitzels in the olden days. Any of the coating left over she'd mix together and fry along with the actual dinner. Absolutely gorgeous. Last night I came home at about 5 so I thought I'd use the beans and have a meat and 3 veg meal. Just like Mum used to make! I was a bit tired so I wanted to do something easy.

Breadcrumb Patties.

All I use are packaged breadcrumbs, eggs, parsley (my parsley plant went to seed, so I threw it out. I used the leaves from the top of a celery instead), salt, pepper and a bit of milk. Mix until it gets to a nice consistency, drop into a frypan in pattie sized portions, and there you go! Great with tomato sauce. (Don't make them too thick, or they might not cook in the middle. Then they're not so nice, as you can imagine.)

We're into the last stages of interviews now. The difficult ones. These are mainly the kids who wouldn't work for an ipod with $1000 strapped to it. Of course by this stage of the game they can't rely on natural ability to get good marks like they may (or sadly, may not) have been able to do in the past, so these interviews are a wake up call for some. Most end up getting a bit of a shock and walk out a bit shaken. Others walk into the room with their head so firmly buried in the sand that you can practically see the bucket full of the stuff they have on their shoulders.

There are only three kids who we simply can't promote to year 11. They are totally different, except for the fact that they've failed just about every subject. One is lazy and hasn't done a stroke of work since year 7, one just doesn't have the wattage but she's a lovely girl who tries reasonably hard, and one covers those two bases but is also covering a world of other problems. I'm dreading her interview. She is a head burier. In fact I think she's buried everything but the tip of her nose. She hung up on me yesterday when I told her it was pointless to have an interview with just her, and I rescheduled it to tomorrow so her Dad could be there "to talk about her future". She'll have to either repeat year 10 or maybe go to TAFE. Trouble is, I don't think she's mature enough to handle TAFE. But she's not mature enough or bright enough to handle the work at year 11 either. It's an awful situation. I really feel for her parents. When I called her Dad at work to organise the new interview time, the weariness that came into his voice when I said who I was and why I was calling was sad.

The other girl is a totally different story. She and her parents opened up the interview by saying that they all feel that she should repeat the year. She's new to the school anyway and she's one of the youngest in her year level, so they don't see a social problem with it. She's happy, so are they and I can't tell you how relieved I was! Problem solved before I even had to bring it up. I love clear sighted parents.

Heigh ho! With a bit of luck these interviews should be over by the end of the week. Then I just have to write student managers reports on the front of 130 kids reports (bleuch!) and then the rest of the year will be a smooth ride down to Christmas. I'll be preparing for next year's classes, moving back into staffroom 1 (I've hopefully got a desk right near some of my friends) and looking forward to the holidays. Only 4 weeks to go till Christmas!!!

My squandered day off......

2007-11-26T06:22:00.000+11:00

A photo from Phuket. It's a lump of an island.

I could have today off. I should have today off. It's report writing day and I've finished my reports already. But I put my hand up and volunteered to come in with the careers teacher to get more year 10 interviews done. I need my head read. Damn these students and their irrational thirst for knowledge and their ridiculous desperation to be placed into their chosen subjects for next year! Except for Jack. His thirst and need are totally understandable.

Just as an aside from my whinge about voluntarily giving up a holiday (I can assure you that this has never ever happened before), on Friday we had Jack's second interview for his subjects for Year 11 next year. He wants to do a year 12 subject next year, and we have guidelines about the study score average (8.5) and behaviour/conscientious/maturity levels that each kid has to reach. He has been a real twit over years 8 and 9, and it's only been this year that he's started to pull his head in and knuckle down. (With some inevitable slips back. He's a boy, after all.) He's improved a lot, but it's hard to reach egghead levels in one year from a standing start, so he was a bit short of where he needed to be.

In his first interview he was told that he had to get a certain level for his exams, to prove himself. He'd already started studying, but after that he was galvanised into study activity. He even gave up going to his Dad's on the weekend before the exams to study. (Like me with today, this has never happened before.)

Anyway, the exam results showed that in 3 subjects, he'd made it, and in 2 subjects he was only 1 mark short. In his second interview we had the other year 10 student manager, the careers teacher, and myself. For this interview (as opposed to his first) I had the Mum hat on. I went and sat on the other side of the table next to Jack, because even though I'm his student manager, in this interview I was going to fight for Jack.

(In his first one, I was on the other side of the table helping the others stick the boot into him. Well, he deserved it. He had to prove to me as well as the others that he was prepared to fight and work to get this subject.)

He really wants to do Year 12 Further Maths and he's more than capable of doing extremely well at it. He's into statistics (it's amazing that this kid has any personality at all considering the subjects he loves!) and this subject apparently has statistics all through it. After a lot of discussion, and Jack putting his case very eloquently (maybe he has inherited something from me after all!!) he ended up getting the course he wanted. He also dropped accounting to take up physics. He's thinking he might become a pilot, so he needs physics more than bean counting.

On the way back to the car he asked ,"Did I only get Further Maths because you work here?"

I was honest. "You showed that you've lifted your game, which was good. I think that they gave you more of a chance to show what you can do because I was here. But I wouldn't have gone in to bat for you if I didn't know you could do it. Now your job next year is not to make us look like idiots."

He's so excited about next year. He can't wait to have a course that's totally chosen by himself. His course is truly revolting. English (well, that's the only good subject. It's compulsory), Year 12 Further Maths, Maths Methods, Physics and Economics.

I know. Hideous, isn't it? If I was enrolled in a course like that, they'd find my body swinging from a tree with a noose around my neck. But he's a strange child. He can't wait for next year.

And as a teacher and as his parent, that's something I'm so very pleased to see.....

Gifts for the street.

2007-11-25T16:39:00.000+11:00

Here are the books I've ordered from the UK. I took them along to the Simple Savings meet up in Melbourne today, as a bit of a show and tell. It was nice to catch up with people from the Simple Savings forum, and put faces to names. Seeing as I log on every day to see what the discussions are covering, these women were like old friends. Actually... four of them are. We've met at previous get-togethers.

These books are great. I ordered 'The Gentle Art of Domesticity' after I discovered yarnstorm soon after I started blogging. (Look! I think I've learned how to link!!!! If it works... thanks lightening!)

I got hooked on the colours that she captures in her photography. Vivid, in your face colours. The book is lovely, the kind of book you should really dip in and out of. (Unlike me, who has to read a book cover to cover immediately.) It's fascinating to see the effect that the photos have on different people. Connor adores them, and he's been inspired to take the camera and experiment with all sorts of shots. Jordan, on the other hand, flipped through a few pages, then closed the book and said, "It's too bright. It's doing my head in. I think I prefer pastels..."

I've been inspired to take up quilting by seeing the things she's made, which leads me onto the other books. I've already whipped through the encyclopedia one, which has colour photos. 'Quilting for Dummies', on the other hand, is more my speed. It talks about needles, and thread, and how to thread a needle, etc. God help me when I finally get started. I doubt I'm going to set the quilting world on fire. Judith and Sylvia at the Simple Savings meet up were saying that I should start by quilting a knitting bag. I've had the same bag that Sally Went, the bully who made my life a misery in primary school for years, gave me when I was seven. She came to my party, proceeded to ignore me and made horrible comments to the other kids there. Mum told me years later that she wanted to throttle her. Still, at least I've made good use of the knitting bag. It looks a bit moth eaten and battered now. It has holes and bits are hanging off it, but my frugality kick is just about satisfied. Time for a new bag. But is a quilted knitting bag a bit weird?? (I don't want any other knitters to point their fingers and snicker at me. I don't know if my self-esteem is strong enough to take it....)

Look at this. Lovely, isn't it? It's sticking through my front fence. Last year I renovated the outside of the house by ripping off the hideous fake brick cladding, painting the weatherboards underneath and pulling down the brown brick front fence and putting up a tall picket fence. (Shutting out the world and making a haven for the boys and I after too many disappointing dates. I think by that stage I was up to about 80 or so.) There's 3 rose bushes on the fence line that were part of the original garden. Today I saw the flowers when I was waiting to pull into the driveway when I was coming home from the city. I should cut them and bring them inside, but I won't. They're my present of beauty to the street. They're close to the fence, so they're not likely to take the eyes from some unfortunate pedestrian who happens to walk past the house. They're just a simple thing of beauty.

Lovely day.

2007-11-24T22:21:00.000+11:00

What a fantastic day!! I spent all of it with a definite bubble of happiness inside me. Everything went well, even when I had to bellow at the boys for being lazy little so-and-sos for not doing any housework. I kept the bubble because they went and did all the work while I made 4 meals of leek and potato soup, 2 meals of tuna pasta sauce and 80 cupcakes/muffins with green and red icing.

I guess it began on Friday, when I got some quilting books in the mail from England. Yes, I'm putting in the research. It was all going well until it dawned on me that when you're quilting, not only do you have to sew all of the patches together, then sew the wadding and the backing onto it as well... you THEN have to sew all over it in a million different directions to keep them all together. That just doesn't seem fair. I don't have a sewing machine, so that's a world full of hand sewing to make a quilt to keep me warm at night. (Not having a man and all.... what's a girl to do? Apart from have an electric blanket.... oh how I love my blanket....)

I was almost about to give the whole idea away... resign myself to cranking up the electric blanket for 10 months of the year... (I'm a bit of a reptile)... when my friend Sandy called. I mentioned in the course of the conversation about the inordinate amount of sewing that quilting demands, and she said that she had an old sewing machine she'd lend me. Can you believe it? I'm so rapt. So the quilting/doona cover thing is all set to go. I was flicking through the quilting books today, and I'm looking forward to giving it a burl. Honestly, how hard can it be? One of my books is 'Quilting for Dummies', so if they can do it, then so can I!!

Then, after my whinge at my technological ineptitude about links yesterday, Lightening posted a comment explaining how to do them. How fantastic is that? I haven't had a chance today to get near the computer to try and follow her directions, but now I know they're there when I need them. I don't need to rush out and order 'HTML For Dummies.' I'm a happy technophobe.

Then there was the meme...

I tagged Suze from Peasoup. She was apparently pleased by this (thank goodness. You never know if people are going to like you or loathe you when you tag.) Then later in her post, she mentioned buying wool on line from the Bendigo Knitting mills. She included a link. (Obviously she's more savvy than I am.) I was beside myself with glee. I've been wanting to buy some more wool for ages, but the wool shop near me is a bit limited in range, and Marta's, while gorgeous, is a bit exxy. All of the online shops I've seen have been in the UK or the US, which made me reluctant to buy online. It seemed a bit silly to fly wool into the country when we've got a gazillion sheep here. Suddenly, there was the answer. I chortled happily and tapped the link. Fifteen minutes later, I'd ordered a pattern and some soft green wool. I can't tell you how pleased I was. I've saved the site in my favourites, so now I'm set! How lucky is that?

Then I wandered out and glanced at the veggie garden, and guess what I saw? Purple beans. No, I'm not kidding. I was pretty darned pleased, because they said on the packet that these things are purple, and then when you cook them they go green. "Get out!" I said as I looked at them in the shop. I had to plant them and see.

See? How bizarre does that look? I think it's fantastic. We haven't cooked any yet, but when we do I'll have my head jammed half way in the saucepan to follow the colour change. I'll let you know how it goes.

Sandy reminded me to update about the afghan. I should apologise to all those who have been on the point of emailing me demanding to know how it's progressing. I realise that for many of you, knowledge of the progress of my acrylic basket weave afghan is the only thing getting you out of bed each morning. Well... on Friday night I officially passed the half way mark. (I can hear a round of applause... ). I'm very pleased about it, because when I started with it a while ago, I knew I wouldn't get it finished before summer came. So in my head, I thought that if I . .. (I've just realised what a stupid thing that was to type. Where else apart from my head would I be thinking? I don't think my spleen has had any good ideas lately. What an idiot.)

Anyway, I had an idea that if I made it to the half way point this year, that'd be good. Well, now I'm at least 10 rows past that. (At 253 stitches per row, that's not bad going.) I really love the feeling that now I'm doing next year's knitting!!! I'm time travelling! Already this thing is as tall as a toddler. I'm starting to look forward to when it's finished, because it's big enough now to spread over my knees when I'm knitting, and I have to say that it's rather cosy. I have visions of curling up on the couch in the dead of night watching all new episodes of 'Boston Legal' all snuggled up in my afghan. What care I if the temperature is a bit nippy??? Under the afghan it'll be tropical.

I've got more to say but it's getting late. Before I go I'll just quickly mention a comment Scott made on the post I wrote yesterday on the 7 weird things meme. It was very funny, but he will not suck me in to his twisted plot to make the world read shockingly bad authors.

I realise I said that once I start a book I have to finish it. It's absolutely true.

However... nothing... I repeat.... NOTHING will make me read another Isabel Allende book again. (Unless it's on the booklist for work and I have to teach it.) Scott is a cruel, evil sort of person, who will stop at nothing to torment me. He's devoted to the woman and knows my views. Honestly I can't see why anyone would want to plough through one of her books unless it was superglued to your hands and someone had a gun to your head forcing you to read it. Even then, I think that death by gunshot would be a preferable fate.

So nice try, oh so-called friend of mine, but I'll resist. (It's a shame, because the opening sentence sounds interesting, but I know all too well the agony that will come.....)

7 Weird Things.

2007-11-23T11:27:00.000+11:00

I've been tagged for a meme by Phoebe at http://boegle.blogspot.com/
It's a tell 7 weird things about yourself meme, and then I have to link back to the person who tagged me, and then tag 7 others. I hope this link works, because I've never linked by myself before....

Ok. Seven things about me.

1. My pantry has to be organised. Everything is lined up, labels out, and I rotate them so I put the newest things at the back, and the oldest things at the front, so nothing gets stale. I get agitated if the kids mess things up in there.

2. Once I start a book or watch a movie, I HAVE to see it through till the end. I could probably count on one hand the books I've put down and not finished. Maybe it's the gossip in me... I have to know how a story pans out. (Now that I'm getting 'War and Peace' emailed to me each day, I think I'll regret this. The translation is a bit old and clunky and so far I've read a fortnight's worth and the only interesting thing that's happpened is the tale of a policeman who was tied to a bear's back, and then the bear was thrown in the river. I've got over 600 installments to go. The peace part is pretty dull. I'm hoping the war bit is more interesting. Bring on the tragedy!!)

3. When I was a child I was scared of dogs. Mum said I was bitten by one when I was two, and I was petrified of them since then. Mum and Dad weren't too happy about this, so when I was seven they brought home a puppy. I was beside myself with fear for a day, until it dawned on my mighty intellect that this wiggly little pup was no threat.
When I left home I bought a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, and fell into breeding and showing. Before I had children and gave up the dog showing, I had up to 20 dogs at some stages, including puppies. Does this mean I have an all or nothing personality??

4. I'm nervous around chickens. They have very sharp pointy beaks that look as if they'd put a nasty hole in your calf if one decided to attack. And anything that can still run around after you after its head is chopped off is obviously a force to be reckoned with. I like their eggs, though.

5. I love certain types of lollies so much that I can't have them in the house. I have absolutely no self control when it comes to lollies. It's like a shark feeding frenzy when there's a packet of Skittles, Wine Gums or Cadbury Caramello. It's not pretty. There's bits of wrapping strewn all over the room, snarling, slurpy gobbling noises and terrified kids backing away, in danger of losing limbs if they creep too close. That's why the only treats I buy for the kids are yucky lollies that I don't like. (But when they go to their Dad's place, I indulge. Sssshhhh. Don't tell them.)

6. I love stationery. A trip to Officeworks is delirious joy for me. All those wonderfully blank noebooks full of possibility. I love a fresh new notebook. Pure delight.

7. I love to breathe in the smell of my youngest child. Connor has a spot on his temples where I can breathe him in. I guess it's the smell of 'baby', and even though he's 11 he's still the youngest. (And always will be.... thank God for the speying I had done when he was born!) It's not kinky or strange, but maybe it is a little bit weird, so it's on the list.

Besides, it's nearly lunchtime, so I want to post this, go and have lunch, and then duck up the road to Brennan's school to pick him up to bring him back to our uniform shop to get him all kitted up for next year. I need to get his shopping done early before all of the second hand things are gone. (With 4 sons to outfit, I'm not proud. It's hand-me-down town at our place.)

I'll come back and tag people later. The bell has just gone.

I'm back!

Scott at http://scottsabode.blogspot.com
Stuntmother at http://stuntmother.blogspot.com
Kelley at http://magnetoboldtoo.wordpress.com
Widget at http://widgetgirl.blogspot.com
Darce at http://darcegoestoschool.blogspot.com
Maybaby at http://pedaling.blogspot.com
Suze at http://peasoupoftheday.blogspot.com

I can't link!!!! I'm so embarrassed....
When I learn how to put a proper link in, I'll come back and make this look professional.
If anyone else wants to do this, feel free. It's a little time consuming, because unlike most posts, you have to put some thought into what you put down. But it's interesting, all the same.

Bloggable Scandal!

2007-11-22T14:07:00.000+11:00

Isn't life wonderful? It always delivers just what you need.

I didn't blog before work this morning because I woke up with a completely vacant brain. I had nothing to say. It was awful. I was walking around bumping into things, probably drooling slightly, with a blank look on my face. So I went to work, because I can still educate while I'm in a state like this. I know, because I do it frequently.

Then something bloggable happened!!!

You may recall that I was elevated to the high and mighty rank of ESL coordinator last week. In that capacity, I was stopped in the hall by a year 9 teacher who asked if I'd heard about the year 9 ESL kids who were caught cheating in their exams. I had a look at a dictionary that was confiscated from one of the boys. I don't know his name, but by gum! he'd put a lot of work into his cheating. (If he'd channelled all of that effort into study, he would've earned an A+.) He had lists of grammar definitions pasted into the dictionary, along with introductory paragraphs for the text responses, scientific equations and chemical formulas. Yes, he'd spread his endeavours across most of the curriculum. It was the most amazingly blatant thing I've ever seen. So I hastened over to the hall to have a quiet word with these kids after their last exam. It was beautiful.

These kids are in the junior school, so I don't know them from Adam. And they don't know me. But we got acquainted during the little chat I had with the class after all the year 9s had gone, and we were left in the huge dark echoey assembly hall for me to bellow at them.

I was operatic. I harnessed the inner witch. It scared the bejeebers out of them.

They gathered around me. I brandished the dictionary at them.

"WHO OWNS THIS?" I asked.

Everyone froze. One kid slowly raised his hand.

"That belongs to my friend..." I didn't allow him to go any further. One thing I hate more than anything else is when a kid doesn't take responsibility for his actions. (Just ask my kids..)

"Don't you dare try and run that sort of garbage by me! Everything in this book is related to this year's course. Unless your friend is in this class with you, you're telling me a lie. Now did you take this dictionary into this exam???"

He nodded. I let rip. I had the pointy finger, the narrowed eyes, the shrieks of rage happening. I told them all that anyone caught cheating gets zero for the exam. They blenched, (particularly the Asian students. Asian parents are famous for putting their kids under immense pressure to perform well.)

"If I had my way I'd recommend not just zero for the exam, but zero for the whole year. I'd like to see you go home and explain that to your parents!" There was a horrified silence after that remark. "I'm cancelling the excursion to the movies that your teacher has organised." Which I was going to do anyway, but they didn't need to know that. Then I threw in the killer. The one to bring them nightmares.

"I will be teaching you next year, and I'm not impressed!!!!"

I could see that they were appalled. They obviously think I'm a harridan who'll make their lives a misery. I'm delighted. I had that audience in the palm of my hand. I've got the dictionary on my desk, and I've been showing it to everyone. I'm hoping that the kid doesn't want it back because I want to keep it as a souvenir. The most elaborately inept piece of cheating I've yet seen.

Bad things come in threes.

2007-11-21T06:17:00.000+11:00

It's true. Have you ever noticed that? So now my third bad thing has happened, I'm hereby notifying the universe that it's time to back off! I prefer to lead my normal comfy cosy life, and
that's what's going to happen. After this rant at the ex husband.

Bad things list:
1. Mr Bleep being nasty about my perfect little boy.
2. The job rearrangement. I'm ok with it now, but it was a hard decision at the time.
3. Tony (ex husband... thank God for that!) insinuating that I was trying to rip him off financially about orthodontics.

Pardon? You don't know about this drama? Hardly surprising, because it erupted yesterday. That man just doesn't learn. I may be many nasty things (I truly don't think so, that was just me being modest) but dishonest is NOT one of them.

When I left my then husband 11 years ago, we had $120 in the bank. Even though I was the one with the kids, I gave him half. For years during the first half of our lives apart, he was on the dole or he worked for cash, so he only paid $20/month child support for 4 kids.
(Those years were very hard financially. I couldn't go back to work because the child care fees for 4 kids would've been more than my wage, and I didn't want to work then anyway. I wanted to give the boys a stable home base to recover from the upheaval of the divorce and to be nice normal kids. There was no point going through the drama and heartache of breaking up a family to remove an unhealthy model for a marriage from the boys' lives if they were then left to drift rudderless while I raced back to work. So I was a SAHM until Connor went to school. I got very sick of watching 'Playschool' and listening to 'The Wiggles', but the boys are fantastic kids now, so the struggle was worth it. Plus I've got some great stories that happened during that time. But I digress.)

Dad said to me once during those days, "Tony's a worker. Don't worry, he'll get back into another business because he can't stand to sit around and do nothing. You've just got to ride out this time and then you'll be right."

That's what happened. As soon as I started cleaning houses ( Bleuch! One day I'll tell you about the Cat People and the Filthy Nurse) and then doing CRT work (emergency teaching) and wasn't dependent on the child support, he started working again.
But money has always been a big issue with him when it comes to child support. He treats child support as if it's a business deal, and he has to win. So I've always taken less than he should be giving, because he owns a cash business (a food type shop) so he doesn't have a 'wage ' that the child support agency could simply take the proper amount from. When he was establishing his current business he asked me to be patient while he built it up, and then he'd pay a decent amount. That's what's happened. As of this year he currently pays 1k a month, which I put aside to pay for school fees and music lessons. I know he should be paying more, but he and his new wife have just bought a house, and anyway I'm happy with a thousand a month. That's a sum that I can do things with and so we're both happy with it. We've been getting along beautifully for the past couple of years.

Until now. We have four children, and three of them need braces. (The fourth needed his ears pinned back, which I did when he was in grade 4, with no financial help from Tony. All of this means that the whole lot of them are genetically ugly hideous beasts who need cosmetic help. They get it from their father's side.) The orthodontist I went to is also a single parent. He looked at the motley collection of misshapen smiles I was presenting to him, heard me when I said there may be a problem with payment from the father's side and gave me an excellent deal on the prices.

Tony and I talked about it, I showed him the quotes, and we agreed that he should pay for Brennan's braces ($3850) , I should pay for Jack's (also $3850) and I would also pay for Connor ($350 for a mouth guard thing which hopefully will stop him wearing braces in the future.) I said I'd pay for all of the dentist bills (check ups, cleaning, x-rays etc) because that's what child support payments are for. Naturally as soon as that arrangement was made Jack felt an agonising pain in his jaw and have to have a root canal done. I paid. Around another thousand dollars for that little exercise. (Well, I had to. He was rampaging around like a demented wildebeest.) All up I've paid nearly $2K in root canal and other assorted dental work, without taking into account Jack and Brennan's braces.

Sorry for the essay, but I wanted to be clear that I'm not some grasping harridan out to extract every last dollar from the ex. I think I've been extremely fair to him.

So to be told on the phone that he wants... no, he demands to see every bill for the braces, because he wants to make sure that he's paying only what is fair..... well it fairly sent me into orbit.

Selected orbit-sending bits follow:

"All I saw was a hand written quote. Is that all you've got? "

"Yes, I showed you the same thing I got."

"Well that's not very professional. (*sarcastic tone in next sentence* ) That's a real educated guy you've got doing their teeth."

(What the hell are you talking about??? How is that relevant? Besides, he's the one with a degree, I'm the one with a degree, and you're the one who did one term of engineering, decided it was all too hard and went into business as a fruiterer with your brother. How can you possibly try and take the high moral ground on the (non relevant anyway) education issue? )

I hadn't worked out yet that he thought I was lying about the quotes. I was honestly bewildered that he was objecting about the legitimate paperwork that I'd already shown him, and left with him.

"I want to see every single receipt you've said you've paid for their braces."
I still thought he was asking because he wanted to see if he could claim them on his tax or something, so I went through how I'd already shown him what they looked like.

He sighed, and said very clearly and slowly, " We're not communicating. I want to see every quote and every bill from that orthodontist. I want to make sure I'm only paying what's fair."

I went cold. Then I went hot. The room seemed to go a little hazy.

"So are you trying to get out of paying then?" I asked. I probably had a slight edge in my voice.

"No, no. I just want what's fair."

That was it. I was bobbing somewhere up near the roof by this stage. "Great! " I said. "I guess that means you owe me money. A lot of money. You haven't paid a cent towards Jack's root canal work which was about a thousand dollars, you haven't paid for their x rays, check ups, mouth moulds... do I need to go on?"

He stupidly said with a tone of almost derision, "Ohhh. You've got a bit of an attitude...." (I think he thought that he had me... that I was worried that I was going to be found out in my scheme to rip him off.)

I was at work so I had to be cool. I hissed into the receiver, " Yeah, I DO get an attitude when I'm accused of stealing. Ring the dentist, get the forms and if they won't give you my bills get them to call me."

I was boiling. I jumped into the car and got the forms from the dentist/orthodontist myself. They've obviously seen this situation before. They knew everything I needed, handed them over, and I went back home, stalked past the kids and picked up the phone.

"Which address do you want me to send these things to? I've got them all. And after you've read them I demand one hell of a big apology."

Again he made a comment about my attitude. He tries to take the high moral road when he's in the wrong. It used to drive me crazy when we were married. Apparently it still does. I have the address, I told him that they'd be in tomorrow's mail and hung up.

After 11 years.... actually, he's known me since I was 17... surely he's have twigged by now that I'm not out to get him? One thing's for sure. I'm so glad that divorce was invented, because at least now I only have to deal with his Persecution Dramas every once in a while. It's his new wife that has to deal with them every day. That used to be my job, and I'm so very glad I'm not in that position any more.

(Plus, when he reads the bills and realises that he's pissed me off for no good reason, he'll be kicking himself... )

I hate Primary schools.

2007-11-20T06:18:00.000+11:00

You know, just between you and me, I'm slightly regretting the suggestion I made to Jack about baking biscuits (cookies) for his business venture at school. (I posted about it in one of my first posts. I don't know how to link to it. Quick summary.... he had to do a stall and sell things at lunchtime as part of Business Studies. He wanted to sell fish n chips. I could see that turning into a logistical nightmare plus not being cost effective, so like the good little frugality kick girl that I am I suggested we make biscuits. I included the recipe on the post. We made over 200. He sold the lot for a VERY tidy profit. He had Phuket spending money. All was good.)

Then Brennan came home from school last term (he tends to do that... I think because home is where I keep the food) and he had a 'Healthy Snack Project.' I hate projects with a passion. Why do primary schools continually inflict them upon us? He wanted to do some hideously complicated and expensive snack. I suggested the biscuits. At first he objected.

"They've got chocolate in them. The snacks are supposed to be healthy. I can't run a selling campaign like that."

I pulled out all my cunning and persuasive wiles as a Drama teacher, a woman and a frugality kicker. "We put wheatgerm in them. You can run a slogan like 'The kids will see the chocolate. YOU"LL see the natural wheatgerm goodness!' "

He was sold. So were all the biscuits when he took them to school. He passed with a glowing report from his teacher. All was good.

Until he came home (I know... again!!) and proudly informed me that the school was holding a stall at lunchtime to sell healthy snacks to raise money for wildlife rangers. The grade 6ers voted for the four best snacks. Guess who won? He was over the moon. As for me...

Now I'm all for success at school and feeling good about your work and all that. I have to be. I signed up for promoting all of that when I became a teacher. It's clause 2.45, right after the vow of poverty. But this recipe uses 6 eggs and nearly 2 kilos of flour. The mixture is hard to mix because there's so much of it, and baking nearly 100 biscuits takes a fair chunk of time, because you can't wander far from the oven in case they burn.

Brennan looked up at me with his big brown eyes blinking trustfully at me behind his glasses.

"The teacher said you don't have to do it if you don't want to...."

Shit. "Alright, I'll do it," I idiotically said. "But I won't do it again."

The stall is today. The biscuits are made. I gave him around 60 to sell at 50c each. I made them last night after dinner. For those of you not currently living in Melbourne, yesterday was so hot you could've fried an egg on your forehead. It was 37 degrees Celcius. (I don't know what the American equivalent is... I converted biscuits to cookies for you guys, so now you can do the maths. Ok, I'll give a rough estimate. In American degrees, it was probably a billion.)

I had the aircon on, but it's evaporative. It was gently puffing out of the ceiling vents keeping Jack in his room cool (Maths and Science exams are today. Crucial for him (maths nerd) so fingers crossed), but in the kitchen it was no match for the might of the oven. In and out went tray after tray of biscuits. Every time the oven door opened it belched blistering burps of 220 degree (celcius) air into the room. (Did you notice the discreet use of alliteration? ) I'd take two trays out, another two would be loaded up and in they'd go. While they were cooking I grab a spatula and pile the biscuits on cooling trays, then put balls of dough on the trays ready for the oven. Connor was M&M guy, putting them on the tops of each ball of dough. When the cooking biscuits were done, out they'd come! In went the next two trays! Spatula waving! Biscuit piling! Balls of dough plopping on trays! Helping Brennan with his other homework! M&Ms being stolen by Jack! Chasing Jack out of the kitchen and back to his room, waving the spatula and shrieking! Back to the oven! Again! and again....... !

I don't know about you, but I know that this isn't high on my list of fun ways to spend a hot night. Connor took some photos for the blog and when he took this one...

... he said "Action Mum!" I don't want to be moving this fast on a hot night. It's not relaxing. I was in the kitchen from 8pm till 10 pm. Do I look happy? That light near my face is NOT a twinkle in my eye.

Still, it's done. I have biscuits already bagged up and frozen for kids' lunches, and an ice cream container full of them for after school today, so that's good. Brennan also brought home a notice from school asking for cakes to be donated to the school to sell on election day as voters are queueing.

It's in the bin.

A peaceful Sunday.

2007-11-18T17:09:00.000+11:00

Look at what I made yesterday!! Along with everything else, I thought I'd try my hand at playing with food colourings. I made aqua icing. (4 drops blue, 2 drops red.) It sounds like a better idea than it turned out. It's not terrible, and it looks effective, but it reminds me of the aqua colour in toothpaste/gel combinations. (It could be a subtle reminder of what you should do after eating these. There's so much icing sugar in the icing that it turned my teeth on edge. But the kids are excited.) I had some white chocolate buds so I whacked one in the middle of each cake. They needed an extra something for pizzazz. So instead of biscuits, the kids get these for lunches and after school tomorrow. They're happy. Everyone loves a cupcake.

Then I went and picked the last cauliflower for dinner. Not a moment too soon. It had tall stalky lumpy bits growing out of the top of it. If it was in a shop you wouldn't go anywhere near the obviously mutant love-child of a caulie and a snail. But unfortunately this vegetable wasn't from a shop. I've nurtured that cauliflower. I've fertilised, watered and gotten (is that a word? getten? gooten?) up early to water it for too many times to let a few hideous growths stop me from eating it now. I remember the time Brennan and I realised that it was actually sprouting something we could eat. We jumped up and down. We squealed with joy. (Well... I did. He's nearly 13. He's too gruff and manly.) I've invested a lot in that bloody caulie. Hopes, dreams.... dare I say.... love.....

Plus the fact that it's sometimes a big pain in the proverbial to have a veggie garden. How many times have I dragged myself out of bed at 6am to water the damned thing? I wouldn't do it for flowers, that's for sure. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to have the water-logged hem of your bathrobe flapping around your ankles at that hour of the morning? Ankles aren't the most insulated part of the anatomy, and it's bloody nippy at that hour of the day. And sunburn. You go out to throw a spare cup of water on the leeks and you see weeds. An hour later you realise that yes it is a bit sunny and you're getting a beautiful cancerous glow. Nothing like a melanoma on the face to set off that gorgeous smile.

So that cauliflower was going to be ingested no matter what it looked like. Actually, here is what it looked like..

Yum Yum! The stalky things swivelled around to watch me as I walked up to it, but I didn't let that bother me. It's organic, so that means that everything about it is good. I yanked it up out of the ground and ignored the shriek as it twisted and writhed in my hands. I sprinkled salt on it and laughed as bubbles came out of it. The stalks waved frantically... I knew I couldn't let the torment continue. I am a pacifist, after all. So I banged its head against the ground until the tortured movements subsided. Oh the mighty hunter!

(Ok.... I'm going a bit mental here. I walked over, pulled it out of the ground and brought it inside. But imagine if all that stuff DID happen??? It'd be freaky as!)

I made the thickest cheese sauce you've ever seen, to disguise its lack of comeliness from the kids.

It went down a treat.

One really nice thing happened to end the weekend. Normally my boys travel round as a pack. They're here with me all together, they go to their Dad's all together, so they rarely have time apart. The Virgos were at Tony's this weekend, (that's boy 2 and boy 4 for the Astrologically uninitiated), while the Capricorns were with me. (I have 4 boys. You work out who the Cappies are.) When the boys came home after 'boys' weekend', it was lovely to see how pleased they were to see each other. Jack and Connor went out to play a game of cricket in the backyard, while the other two sat in the lounge room and chatted about stuff. I wonder sometimes how often the boys will choose to see each other once they've grown up and moved out (OH happy day!!!!) When little things like this happen it makes me optimistic. They like each other, and that's a good start.

Yesterday and Today.

2007-11-17T16:34:00.000+11:00

Did my washing yesterday! I've been making the boys use these for their lunches. The theory is that over time we'll save money on Glad wrap by reusing these. Plus we're saving the planet, which is an agreeable bonus.

Every time I hang these out on the line I have a chuckle about a conversation I had with my friend Ian. He was visiting, and I brought him outside to see the veggie garden. He saw the bags on the line, stopped dead and asked in a horrified tone, "My God Frogdancer, what are you doing?"

"They're for the kids' lunches," I said. "I just wash them out and reuse them."

"Thank God for that," he said. "I thought you were selling drugs!!!"

Something I'm SO not into, let me hasten to add.

Yesterday went pretty much according to plan. Brennan waited patiently until I'd finished making the breakfast pancakes (he ate 5) and then asked me if now was a good time for me to teach him to knit. He got the hang of it surprisingly quickly, and he's knitted about 12 rows of his North Melbourne footie scarf. We went through the stages of knitting so tightly that he couldn't get the needle through the loop, to knitting so loosely that the stitches slipped off the end of the needle if you looked at it sideways, dropping stitches and looping extra loops to create unintended extra stitches, but by the end of a couple of hours of work he was garter stitching away as happily as you'd like to see. He'd keep coming back to it and knitting more. Even at this early stage he's discovering knitting's uncanny ability to be addictive.

Until the phone rang at 1.30. It was James, one of Brennan's friends, wanting to know if he was still coming to the party (Luna Park and a sleepover) that started half an hour before. Oops. The knitting gone thrown aside, and he was packed and out the door (though we had to go back for his sleeping bag that he left on the kitchen bench). James' mother works at the same school I do, and she's lovely. She opened the door with the words, "So, English teachers can't read numbers on an invitation?" If she was a Maths teacher that would mean war, ("Them's fightin' words!!!") but she's also English. I had a quick look at the new reno they've done (upper storey, new kitchen and rumpus room.... really gorgeous) and then I was back to keep an eye on young Study Guy, previously known as Jack.

He's done a lot of work this weekend. He started off yesterday with 'Romeo and Juliet'. His teacher told me what she'd told the class to do to prepare, so we talked about the play and I helped him look for short snappy quotes and I showed him how to embed them in his sentences. I was really pleased by his depth of understanding of the play. His teacher has really taught them well (or maybe it's just pure natural ability.... she starts laughing hysterically... the kid loves numbers and only reads a book if its stapled into his hands). He wrote quite a good essay, with me standing over him and reminding him to expand on his points. He doesn't show enough detail, and that's been his downfall in English this year.

His Science cheat sheet was the afternoon's work, and I think he also did some work on History. His English and History exams are tomorrow, and Maths and Science are on Tuesday. Then he's a free man. Until Year 11 Orientation week in December. (I wonder how much housework I can get him to do when he's at home all day? Hmmmm....)

I finally mowed the lawn yesterday. The whipper snippering didn't get done, so some parts of the garden look as if they're growing a fringe around the outskirts, but at least the long wavy grass is a thing of the past. My Roma tomato plant that I put in 2 weeks ago is growing a couple of tiny tomatoes, so that was all very exciting. I went and bought some salad things for dinner, and the cucumber was really spongy. Edible, but nothing like the ones we were eating last year from the garden. I can't wait until we're eating our own again. (I went out and put some extra shower water run off on the cucumber plants, just to give them a bit of encouragement.)

This morning was very pleasant. It was raining, so I didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn to water. I sat up in bed knitting the afghan (mmmm, the afghan) and getting enthused about it again. I'm just a few rows off being half way through. 4 balls down, 4 to go. It's already looking large, so who knows how many tv watching Frogdancers it'll be able to shelter next year when it's finished? Twenty seven or so is my guess.

So far today I've made 4 cakes, hung out 2 loads of washing, picked up Brennan and had a coffee with James' Mum, knitted 13 rows of the afghan and started mixing up a huge batch of biscuit mix. The dogs are NOT smelling deodorised and homogenised, so I'll be hurling them into the laundry trough soon and ruining their day. I want to make some more leek and potato soup, because the leeks are looking thick and yummy, and I'll freeze them. We have one more caulie that needs eating, so tonight will be macaroni cheese and cauliflower cheese night. Come to think of it, I'd better go out and feed the budgies. I'm sure they'll appreciate it. It's been two days since my last visit. (Don't worry, I'm fairly sure they're both still alive. I saw them from the kitchen window this morning. They were on a perch, not lying down on the bottom of the cage with their pathetic little feet stuck imploringly in the air, so I think that's a good sign.)

Molly and Murphy are having a very different morning. I gave them both a bone yesterday, and I think the strain of guarding their bones from both the cats and each other has told. That's Murphy on his back. If I could include the oceanic rumbling of Molly's snoring, I would.

Just when you think you're settled....

2007-11-17T07:33:00.000+11:00

Well, things at work are certainly happening!

The list for the extra jobs that teachers have to do came out yesterday. I am now running the ESL faculty. It's not a large faculty, but it is certainly looking a bit shabby around the edges, so I (reluctantly) put up my hand for it. The downside is that I have to kiss the student manager job goodbye.

Annoying in one way, because I've been doing it for 18 months and I feel like I've just got a handle on it all, but in other ways it'll be good. I don't have to be at work at 8am and leave at 5pm, reports are FAR easier when I just have to write my own and not also collate and write comments on the front of the whole year level (do you realise how time consuming that is???) and I no longer will have to deal with parents. Most are nice, but occasionally there's the odd one who can be a bit of a fruitcake. (And I don't eat fruitcake. It's yuck.... the devil's food. Like bananas.)

The best reason, though, is the house and kids. They've been running on autopilot for a year and a half, and they're looking shabby around the edges too. Well, the house is. So next year it'll all run on an even keel again, which will be a good thing. I find that if things get cluttered and too dust-bunnyish at home then I feel like I'm not coping and I get snappy at them. It'll be nice to get back to creating the kind of home environment that the kids and I will look forward to coming home to. (I'm coming over all nesty. Don't be concerned. There's no possible way I could be pregnant. The speying and the 18 month (so far) break from dating make sure of that!!)

The funny thing will be watching how the two people who will be doing the job next year will share the office space. The woman who is taking over from me is incredible efficient and anal. Everything is lined up, colour coded, filed to within an inch of its life and regimented. The guy who shares the job makes the office look like a tip. His desk is a glorified pile of paper and there's absolutely no space for him to sit and work at it. As days go by a wave of paper comes from it and advances towards the desk where she'll be working. It really started to do my head in, so every time he was out of the office for the day I'd do an emergency paper throw. I'd put important things in a box by his desk, and the rest I'd chuck. I used to find stuff dating back to 1995. I'm not exaggerating. It might be entertaining to step back and watch the fireworks. The mess drove me crazy, but I'm not as neat or as ...um.... up-front about things that bother me as she is.

Scott and I have come to a civilised agreement about the NaNoWriMo challenge. We're not doing it. Technically I beat him, because I reached 20,000 words, (yay!) but I've reached the conclusion that with these interviews happening in year 10 at the same time, I will definitely not finish my novel in a month. So we agreed to be merciful to each other and desist. (I've just realised.... maybe next year I could do it. Unless I decide to mark VCE exam papers to get some $$$. All may not be lost....)

Today will be a teaching Brennan to knit day, a tutor Jack in Romeo and Juliet day and a BARF day. I have to make biscuits and cakes, and sometime this weekend I want to go out to Diacos nurseries in Dingley and get some tomato plant cages. The stakes I bought last year didn't work so well. (Got to stop those damned tomato plants from roaming all over the backyard!!) I've got Brennan in my ear asking about when I'm going to make pancakes for breakfast, so I'd better get off here and start the day. Hope everyone has a lovely weekend.

Happy again!

2007-11-16T06:15:00.000+11:00

Sorry for my rant yesterday, everyone. Here's a flower for all of you who waded through the venom and invective. I am now all unruffled and ready to go forth and conquer the day. And weekend. I will rise above the petty vexations of day to day life, and glide (ruffledless) serenely through.

Actually, I don't have time to do anything else. The year 10 interviews are sucking the life out of me. Seriously, it's as if the little darlings are psychic vampires who come into the room and one by one extract all the energy and will to live from me, so by the end of the day I stagger home and fall, lifeless but for one small spark, on the bed.

Truth in that last statement? Well, I am having a 15 minute nanna nap when I get home, before I get up and make dinner, etc. These interviews do take a lot of energy. But they're interesting, and it's good to catch up with the little vampires/students and see what they've picked for next year, and whether or not we can help them with better subject choices to get them into the courses they want to do. We`allow 15 minutes per interview. Some (usually the good kids) are over either a little earlier or on time, but some go longer. They're the ones who have chosen subjects that either they shouldn't have if they want to fulfill their stated goal of becoming a doctor/engineer/rocket scientist/whatever; or the ones who want to do the real egghead subjects that they clearly shouldn't attempt because their marks so far have been ... well.... not flash. So we have to design new courses. Ho Hum! There's a couple of weeks yet of this. A sushi train of students every day.

An update. Remember when I was caught on camera 'kicking' a student on the news? I was in the background of a news report while our assistant principal was talking about the VCE exams being the culmination of 13 years of study, etc. Anyway, I was talking to the assistant principal a couple of days later and decided to tell her about it. I'm a big believer in admitting up front when you've mucked up. I'd rather do that than have trouble lurk around and leap on me all unexpected. She laughed like mad and said, "There's the difference between theory and practice!" So that's ok. I live to teach another day.

This weekend is supposed to be child free, but I'll have half the kids with me. Brennan has a sleepover party to go to on Saturday night. Jack, on the other hand, is one of those problematic students I was talking about. Exams are on Monday and Tuesday, and unless he blitzes them he won't get the Year 12 Maths subject he wants to do. He was one of the kids who left the interview very quiet and somewhat shaken. So he's elected to stay at home and study. I'm (cautiously) a very happy mother. I never thought the day would come. Tony's happy for Jack to do it. He and Viv are having the kids for a full week between Christmas and New Year (but not New Year's Eve), so he knows he'll catch up with Jack then. Plus Jack wants to work at the fruit shop over the summer to get $$$$.

(I wonder if Viv is aware of what it's going to be like to have 4 lumpy lolloping teenagers around for a full week? All she'll hear is Playstation, Wii, Evanescence and other assorted music blaring from their rooms all week, and she'll be constantly having to insert food into their mouths. I'm used to it, but she doesn't have kids. Hmmmm.... I wonder if there's a cruise leaving Melbourne for a week on those dates??? I'm looking forward to a few consecutive days of peace and quiet.)

So this weekend I'm looking at yet another sophisticated social whirl of veggie gardening, study buddying, housework, writing, exam marking (year 11 ESL) and knitting. I know, people, I know. Curb that envy you're undoubtedly feeling. Jealousy's a curse.

Ruffled feathers.

2007-11-14T22:18:00.000+11:00

http://pages.prodigy.net/hpdevo/quiz/

My friend Widget had this quiz on her blog. She's Hermione (explains a lot) and to my complete surprise (and joy) I'm Harry. No wonder I love the books so much. It's all about MEEEEE!

Something happened yesterday that has me a bit ruffled. I'll preface it by saying that I'm not a sooky-la-la about my kids. I see them pretty clearly, and I have no hesitation in admitting their flaws. (It's easy for me, as I don't have any flaws myself. Naturally.)

I'll be the first to say that Jack was a hideous beast when he was in years 7 and 8. He was very immature, loud and didn't fit in with the other kids in his classes. He had a very lonely two years until he started to grow up a bit towards the end of year 8 and met some mates. He's thriving now. Thankfully, the alchemy that occurs in year 10... the alchemy that instead of turning lead to gold turns revolting adolescent kids with raging out of control hormones into reasonably human-like people by the end of the year has occurred with him. He has turned into a funny, creative kid who is good to be around. (He still has his moments, but he confines them to home, a gift of love to his nearest and dearest.) Other teachers who have known him over the last four years are also very complimentary about how he's turning out (though they'd still like him to do more homework with greater detail), so it's not just me. He's turning out ok.

Unlike some other teachers' kids who also go to the school. Who are in the same year level. Who are female. Whose parents don't have the same degree of clarity when it comes to their offspring. Whose parents have no hesitation while talking to another parent in insulting said parent's child while insinuating that their own female child is vastly superior.

Am I speaking in vast generalities??? Or do you get the impression that this is probably not a very large group of students I'm referring to?

We're doing interviews with the year 10s at the moment, which I've referred to in an earlier post. This particular girl had her interview yesterday. She wanted to do an enhancement subject (a year 12 subject) and after a lot of see-sawing and humming and harring we let her. Her behaviour and attitude (she's a real little 'miss') and her marks were borderline, and during her interview she talked as if she was one of the teachers instead of a student, which got up our noses a bit. She loathes Jack and ignores him totally, so he finds it amusing every so often to greet her with a cheery "Hi Bleep! How are you?", just to watch her turn her face away.

(She's not really called Bleep. That was my subtle way of disguising her identity. I don't care that they're not fond of each other. That's none of my business. As long as they're not being openly nasty to each other, bullying or beating the living daylights out of each other, then I'm keeping out of it. I think they've got a delicate balance and routine worked out, so good on them.)

After school I was tutoring a year 9 girl, and I saw...(lets call him Mr Bleep) walk past the door. I'd heard another teacher say something nice about the daughter he has in a junior level of the school (I'm not giving that kid a pseudonym), so I ducked out into the hallway to tell him. We all like to hear nice things about our kids.

"Yes, my child who doesn't have a pseudonym is very different to Bleep," he said. "Bleep and I are very similar; almost too much alike."

I smiled, because he evidently thought that was a good thing, and then I told him about something that was said in the interview before he got there. Bleep had said something that absolutely sounded like something Jack would say. I knew she'd hate that, (who likes to hear that they're similar to someone they don't like? ) so as a joke I said, "You really shouldn't hate Jack so much, Bleep. In some ways you think alike. He'd say the exact same thing that you just said." She shuddered and laughed, I laughed and we moved on.

I told that to Mr Bleep, expecting that he'd have a chuckle. Instead I get a genuine shudder and a remark that was delivered in a way that implied that I would totally understand where he was coming from.

"Oh dear. That'd be terrible if it was true.... Bleep's nothing like Jack."

Umm... pardon?

Would it have been impolite to say "Thank Goodness, it's such a relief to me. Jack doesn't have teachers handing me written complaints about his attitude and his inability to shut up in class. He doesn't walk around the place with his chin jutted up at a very slight but discernable angle that shows that he thinks he's a cut above the rest. He doesn't go up to you and make bitchy sly comments about what a pain Bleep is. (yes, she does this occasionally. The next time she does it I won't be very polite.) It makes me wonder what Bleep says about Jack to you, because you've never even taught him, unlike me with your daughter. Jack never mentions Bleep. She's not even on his radar. Yes, Mr Bleep, I'm very fortunate that Bleep's nothing like Jack. How glad I am that you can see the difference between the two."

(Don't get me wrong. I actually don't mind Bleep in a lot of ways. She's a nice enough kid when she wants to be, and she has a good sense of humour. But she's certainly not vastly superior to Jack. Or anyone else in year 10, come to think of it. It's just that I'm a bit miffed at Mr Bleep at the moment.)

Fortunately for the sake of good working relations I have manners. I smiled politely and we kept talking, then I ducked back in to my tutoring kid to see if she'd finished her story.

I know it was only an off the cuff comment, and he meant it as a joke..... well, half meant it as a joke...we get along really well and I like him a lot.....

but there was something in the delivery that I really don't like.

I don't think I make comments about other people's kids to them with an undercurrent of criticism and dislike. I've discovered that I really don't appreciate being the recipient of remarks like that. As I said, my feathers are a bit ruffled. I understand that Bleep is probably the president of the "I Hate Jack " club, and that her dad is probably an honorary member. That's fine. I approve of family loyalty. But don't expect me to join in with jokes that cut him down. I'm not a card carrying member of that club. Never will be.

Now I wish I didn't duck out into the hall to make his day brighter with a remark about his other kid, the one with no pseudonym. Next time I think I'll keep it to myself.

Whinge over. And out.

I was going to live forever...

2007-11-14T06:19:00.000+11:00

I went on a site this morning and did a life expectancy test. My ambition/goal has always been to live to 120 with all my brains (such as they are) and body intact.
Imagine my distress when it said I was only going to live to 89.
http://livingto100.com/
What a gyp! In the title it already promises me 100 years. What's going on?

Apparently exercise is fairly important, and I don't do any. That may be why Molly's rump is looking a bit matronly. (I'm too scared to look at mine now, after doing this test. But hey! I'm sure it's delightful.....)

I drink a glass of wine too many on some nights. I already knew that, so I'll cop that one on the chin.

But coffee. Coffee. I have 3 cups in the morning before work, 1 when I get there and then that's it. Except sometimes I have one at recess if I want to. I'll cut that one out. Then I drink water for the rest of the day. I used to drink about 12 cups of coffee a day when I was at home with little kids. (I was jazzed, baby!) Do I get credit for cutting down? Oh I don't think so. I get the cyber finger waved at me and get told the benefits of switching to green tea. Now I don't mind the odd cup of green tea. I prefer it to normal tea. But I don't think that waking up to the insipid aroma of a cup of tea is going to feel anywhere near as good as smelling the full blooded richness of that first cup of coffee in the morning. Or second. And I'm only drinking instant coffee. I'd probably be even more outraged at the prospect if I was a coffee bean pers

I'm back. There's something screwy going on here. I think that the computer doctor guy has installed something on my computer to make me smarten myself up. I just spilled my second cup of coffee all over the table next to the computer. I'm not making this up. There was coffee under the modem, all around the phone and dripping down the back among the power cords. I've got towels everywhere, mopping it up. I have my coffee black, no sugar, and it's making the towels a yucky smelling brown colour. How come it smells so lovely when you're about to drink it, and so horrible when you're frantically trying to mop it up before you electrocute yourself?

Should I be freaked out? Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe I shouldn't have bought the coasters from Phuket that have a lip on them. (That's what caused it. I put the cup down on it without making sure that it was centred.) Or maybe that doctor guy who is at the top of each page of the test isn't just a simple picture. Maybe he was looking at me, watching me slurp down my morning cuppa with evident enjoyment and decided to make an example of me. I didn't think to check to see if his eyes moved when I did....

I'm still not giving up coffee. The cup's empty now, so what else can he do? Except give me a heart attack or something, but I'm prepared to risk that......

He should cut me some slack. I don't do drugs, eat (much) crappy food or have risky sex. (Who knew being celibate was good for me? I guess millions of nuns and priests over the centuries were on to a good thing after all. Who knew? This break from dating could add YEARS to my life.)

Take the test. I dare you. It's actually pretty detailed and it's got a lot of good stuff in it. It doesn't take long to do. Take the test, pop back and we'll compare ages that we're going to cark it. It'll be fun. Maybe we could start planning our funerals. The kids have already told me that if I get run over by a bus or something they're going to have the theme music from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' playing as my coffin glides out of sight towards the crematorium fires. I thought that was a brilliant idea. Go on! Do it! Just make sure you remove your drug of choice from where the computer is before you start.

Out for blood.

2007-11-13T06:16:00.000+11:00

The house is up early this morning. It's all my fault.

I was chipping away at the old novel because I woke at 5am and couldn't submerge back down into sleep. At 6 I decided that it was time to feed the animals, so I passed the chicken wings out to the dogs and put the chicken necks on plates and served the cats in the laundry. So far so good.

I always leave the back door shut until the cats have finished, otherwise the dogs will come in and demolish the lot. So when the cats saunter out into the lounge, I get up from the computer, switch the kettle on for another cup of coffee and go to the back door and open it. The dogs surge in. There isn't much room because I've got a huge pile of clean washing that has to be folded near the back door, so I step politely back to let Molly and Murphy through, and in doing so step squarely on Daphne's foot.

She lets out a blood curdling sound the like of which I've rarely heard, and as soon as I realise and step off her foot, she shoots past Maris and into the lounge room. Maris, meanwhile, assumes that the dogs are attacking, and goes in for the kill.

The poor dogs, intent on reaching the laundry to clean up any minuscule scraps of chicken neck the cats might've left, suddenly realise they're heading straight into a full blooded attack, and start yelping and trying to retreat. I'm in the way. Maris herds them towards me, spitting and clawing. The sound is incredible.

I react like the pacifist I am and kick out at Maris, yelling, "Stop it! It was me, you idiot!" which didn't seem to defuse the situation much, even though it was true. Murphy is terrified and tries to crawl up my leg. Maris bypasses Molly and keeps coming, batting at Murphy and hissing until my foot connects with her and she shoots around the other side of the island bench.

The dogs come for comfort and I pat them. Maris, meanwhile, emerges from the other side of the bench and balefully regards them. It's clear who she blames for the upset. I try talking to her but she goes outside. All puffed up and in a huff. Daphne is nowhere visible. I follow Maris outside, but when the dogs come too Maris slinks under the steps. She lets Molly go down, but when Murphy follows she sticks her paw out from between the steps and has another go at him.

It's clear she's a Scorpio. She'll get her revenge.

When I go back inside, Molly follows, but Murphy is too scared to come back up the steps. Finally he makes a run for it. They curl up together in their basket in the lounge.

As I was typing this, Maris came inside, smooching and asking for pats. She'd shrunk back to her normal size. She looked at the dogs in the basket, and walked over to them. I could see Murphy, at the front, tense up. Molly just opened and closed her eyes again. Maris touched noses with Murph, then turned and walked away. What an idiot. (In the photo Maris is the one with the glowing eyes. )

Crime in our quiet suburbs.

2007-11-12T16:17:00.000+11:00

This palm was right near our apartment in Phuket. I liked it because of the square ends on the fronds. I've never seen this before. It looks as if someone has snuck out in the dead of night with pinking shears and done some creative gardening, doesn't it? (Or maybe that's just me who thinks like that....)

Big news last night. My Dad caught a burglar!!! Seriously.

(I mean... seriously... I'm not joking. Not that he caught her without a smile on his face. Though now that I come to think about it, that's probably true as well. )

She broke into the house next door, and was coming out of the front door as the owners arrived home. How lucky was that? The old guy grappled with her, but she fought him off and raced down the street. The guy came running next door to Mum and Dad's place. Dad, being a bit of an impetuous Aries, jumped in his car and went off looking for her while Mum rang the police with a description. Of her, not him.

Dad drove around, couldn't see her, and was on his way home when there she was, trying to hitch a lift. He pulled up, she started to walk over, then a police car pulled up behind him. Dad leaped out, pointed to her and yelled, "She's the one you're looking for!"

She started to protest, but the cop wasn't going to have a bar of it, so away she went in the divvy van. Now Mum and Dad are a bit worried that she'll target their place. The police said that she was so off her face with drugs that she probably wouldn't remember which street she was in, so let's hope that's true. But what a bit of excitement! They came around here to tell us, so I broke out the champagne and we all got tipsy. Just what I needed after all of that spinach chopping.

Now I'm going to take Brennan down to Spotlight for some wool. He's been wanting to learn how to knit for ages, so I'll give him a surprise and let him start. He'll be rapt.

Whinge, and Super hero stuff.

2007-11-11T18:02:00.000+11:00

I'm tired. No, scratch that. I'm exhausted. I think I need a man.

No, not for that! Get your minds out of the gutter. (Though, now I come to think about it... it's been a long time .....)

It is an impossibility for one woman to maintain a house, full time job, car, lawn, whipper snipper, garden, veggie patch, kids' extra-curricular activities, novel, afghan and also attend to various motherly/daughterly/friendy/pet-ownery/'selfish' creative-y things and do them all well. As a Virgo this seriously messes with my mind.

I love my job. Seriously love it. Plus it pays the bills, which is very considerate of it. The downside to working full time is that it only gives you the weekend with any serious chunks of time to do everything that needs to be done. I realise that this is BIG NEWS to anyone reading this, because naturally no-one else has to juggle anything.

But it's weekends like this that make me wish that I had another able-bodied adult around. (Not enough to do anything concrete about it, but those of you reading this that know about my massive tally of internet dates will understand. I'm still on a break.)

This weekend I had to do all the housework, mow the lawns, do the edges, harvest the spinach before it went to seed, novelise, knit, bake cakes and biscuits for the kids for next week, go to the butchers and buy cat meat and make the patties for them (I feed my pets the BARF diet... great for them but a shitload of work for me), do all of the laundry/bedding washing/hanging/folding, take Jordan to a sleepover, come home and welcome one of Brennan's mates for a sleepover here, go to Mum's for a birthday party, take possession of Murphy while Mum and Dad go away for a month, finish off my year 11 correction, anything else I've forgotten to list ... etc.

I did some of the edging, until the f%ck*&g whipper snipper ran out of line. I have plenty. Unfortunately the kids cleaned the garage a few weeks ago and now no-one knows where it is. I didn't mow the lawns. Around the sideway the weeds are as big as triffids. I was wondering where all of the dandelions in the veggie patch were coming from. Now I know.

I made 6 cakes. Four are still around to be frozen and used for after school fodder for the hordes. No biscuits.
I knitted yesterday. Star Wars 2 was on tv, so I had a chuckle and a knit. Good times.
Cat food got made. Only because they would've starved next week if I didn't.
Washing got done. It's still on the line at 6.30pm. The kids don't know it yet, but they're about to be my laundry boys when I get off here. They can do the folding too.
Correction? No way.
Novel? You jest.
I harvested the spinach though. To look at it growing, you'd swear there was enough to feed an army. But once I'd cut, washed, blanched, chopped, weighed and bagged the leaves, I only had four 250g bags. For three hours work (plus a possible sunburned scone) (that means scalp for those who aren't Australian) I wasn't happy. Then I looked at the stalks. Green, fibrey and organic. I bet Ma Ingalls, who you all know by now is my personal hero, wouldn't have wasted them. So I chopped, blanched, bagged and froze them too. Four more bags. I've doubled my yield! Good on me.

I haven't stopped all weekend. No housework, no correction, no nothing. How long is it till the summer break?

But I have to tell you something funny that happened yesterday. Brennan's mate Marcus came over, and they went to 7-11 for a slurpie. They were gone for quite a while, and when they came back they said that a couple of teenagers had thrown waterbombs at them, disappeared, and then five minutes later came back riding bikes and chased them all the way to the oval near 7-11. The kids hid near the cricket players until the coast was clear, got their slurpies, and then came back home via a massively roundabout route so they'd avoid the little shits on the way back. They were terrified.

I listened, asked if they knew where they lived, and when they said yes ( Brennan said they were the same kids who tried to drag Jordan off his bike a year ago) I said, "Get in the car."

We drove around. The kids were in the back seat, and I heard Brennan say to Marcus, "We don't normally do this on a Saturday. This isn't a normal day!"

The kids stayed in the car while I knocked on the front door. I wondered if the door was going to open and I'd be confronted by familiar faces from the school I teach at. I wondered if I was going to get the crap beaten out of me. As I was standing there, a car pulled into the driveway and there were Mum and the two boys. Bingo!

For those of you who aren't teachers, I'll let you in on a little secret. Come closer, because I'm going to whisper this. We don't mind telling off other people's kids. We do it every day. We're professional at it. We do it every day, sometimes for entertainment. It was beautiful.

I smiled at the Mum, but spoke directly to the kids. Asked them if they'd been home in the last half to three quarters of an hour. I'll say it again. It was beautiful. Their Mum was there, so they couldn't lie. You should've seen Mum turn purple when I said they'd chased primary aged kids all the way to the oval.

"How old are they?" she asked. It made me wish (briefly) that Brennan was still in prep.

"They're grade sixers", I said, but then to make up ground, I hastily added in a grave tone, "They were very frightened. You boys are so much bigger."

"We were just having fun. We didn't know they were scared," said one foolish boy. He didn't know he was dealing with a fully trained Drama teacher.

"You didn't know they were scared???? Were they running away and laughing? I don't think so." Mum turned even more purple, and glared at them. Any more purple, and she'd be needing those heart starter paddles.

Then I decided to gamble and said, "My kids say that you're the kids that tried to drag my older son off his bike last year."

They turned pale. "No no, that wasn't us!!"

I wasn't prepared to fight that battle, so I took the high moral/teacherly/motherly ground. I practically waved a finger at them.

"See what happens when you do something wrong? You start to get blamed for things you haven't done." Their Mum nodded.

"Do you go to (bleep)?" I asked. (Bleep being where I teach.) They shook their slimy little heads.

I looked at Mum and laughed. "Probably just as well. They wouldn't want to have me as a teacher after this!"

To their credit, they volunteered to go and apologise. They went up to the kids. I followed closely behind, just in case they were going to threaten them with death or worse. But all was well. They apologised, the boys said "That's ok", their Mum said to me, "Little idiots", and we left.

I'm now officially awesome Mum. I'm reasonably happy with that.

IMPORTANT QUESTION:
Does anyone know if we can post an audio thingy from Limewire on our blogs? Jordan played us the funniest thing I've heard in a month of Sundays, and I'd love to post it. However, he seems to think the police will send me to jail. Is this true? Please let me know one way or another....

I'm an intellectual, I am.

2007-11-10T06:47:00.000+11:00

I'm so excited! I'm reading 'War and Peace'. I was joking with one of my Russian students about it yesterday. He brought up the title, I said I liked the idea of reading it but it's too long, he said that it's easier to read in Russian (yeah, thanks a bunch for that helpful advice, Alex!) and then a serendipitous thing happened. (Should I get all philosophical and muse that maybe there are no coincidences..... ah; no. It was a coincidence.)

I was blog hopping in the quiet time after the hurley burley of interviews (my head had a stuffed with cotton wool feeling) before I went home to the hurley burley of chiropractor appointments and Mum's place for my niece's birthday and I came across a blog about a chicken doing something. I've saved it to my work computer, so I'll have to jump back on Tuesday and put the name in. I know that the chicken wasn't angry. Maybe it was dancing. Anyway, she was talking about this site that emails portions of books out to you, so that you can read them in bite-sized portions while checking your emails. Woo Hoo! I thought, and I clicked on http://dailylit.com/ to see.

It's a fantastic idea. There's a big selection of free books, so my frugality kick is purring like a kitten, but even the books that you have to pay for are just a few dollars. They even come with a few free installments, apparently, so you can try before you buy. As far as I'm aware they're not abridged. There was nothing on the site to say that they were (and anyway, a book like 'War and Peace' could probably do with having a few sentences shaved off here and there.)

And there was 'War and Peace'. (Insert the Twilight Zone music here....)

So now when someone asks me what I'm reading, I can say "Tolstoy, my dear" without a word of a lie. If I stick with just one installment a day, it'll only take me 680ish days to finish. Though if the book starts to grab me, and I have a bit of free time, I can ask for the next installment to be sent immediately, so with a bit of luck it might only take me a year to read instead of two. (This is anathema to the girl who normally finishes a book in a day. I finished the last 'Harry Potter' by dinner time the day it was released. But somehow I don't think 'War and Peace' will have the same 'gotta find out what's going to happen next' as young Harry's story had.)

If anyone out there decides to join me and read a snippet of a book a day, please leave a comment here. I'd love to hear the different selections. :)

Weak minded? Or simply Creative?

2007-11-09T06:32:00.000+11:00

I must be very suggestible.

Ever since discovering the wonderful world of blogs I've been hopping around, sampling what's on offer. I entered this world via some blogs of people who belong to Simple Savings, so there were a lot of craft oriented, knitty/quilty/gardeny ones out of that lot, and of course people prefer to read the blogs of people who share their interests, so when I go down the list of 'blogs I read' ... what do I find? More of the same. I had no idea there were that many quilters in the world. And they're all doing quilt swaps, and sending each other fabric and buttons and care packages when someone's sick or pregnant. It's amazing. I knit, so I'm all enthused about beginning 47 new tasks, once the afghan is done. (Almost at the half way point!!!) But now I want to make a quilt.

Do I sew?
No.
Do I own a sewing machine?
Years ago I did, but I sold it.
Have I any experience in anything like this?
I sewed together knitted patches for the afghan I made for Jack last year.....

But yet I want to start.
Jane at Yarnstorm, and all of the other ladies out there (you know who you all are) have a lot to answer for.

The trouble is that I can so easily rationalise this as being a practical decision. About 5 years ago I painted the walls of my bedroom a deep, dark blue. I had visions of crisp white voile curtains, blue drapes and a vividly coloured doona cover to make this room my haven from the world. I've got most of it, but do you think in all that time that I've been able to find a doona cover that works? I should go with plain white, but the cats sleep on my bed, so plain white with dark grey cat hair is sadly not the look I'm going for. I found a $30 doona cover in Harvey Norman 4 years ago that I thought would work. I brought it home with great excitement and put it on the bed.

Do you know the feeling you have when something almost works? So that's been the 'stop gap' doona cover until the perfect one comes along. But it's been five years..... actually, it might be even longer, come to think of it. So either I paint the walls again, which I don't want to do, kill the cats and buy a couple of white ones who'll get their ears burnt off by skin cancers and look hideous (eeeww), or make my own doona cover. See? It's really a very practical decision.

I'm thinking a log cabin quilt. If Laura (or was it Mary?) in 'Little House in the Big Woods' could piece one together by hand when she was only 9 years old, how hard can it be? Working by candlelight too. With wolves and bears outside, which would have to take your concentration away a bit. And let's face it; patchwork has GOT to be quicker than knitting. I can hear the roar of the sewing machine now as it speedily eats up the seams.

I'm wondering if there's a book anyone can recommend. Mum does patchwork, so she'll know about fabrics and whatever other quilty knowledge I need to learn. Is it better to start hand sewing, or should I hijack Mum's machine one day?? (Hi Mum....) I'm thinking blues, oranges and whites. Should I just go to Spotlight or should I go to a patchwork shop?

I should finish my novel and the afghan first, I know. I am a good finisher of projects I start. But that doesn't mean I can't do a little preliminary scouting around and work out whether this is doable or not.

Quick note: had my last class with the year 11 ESL class. We had a drama lesson. They had fun, and it was hilarious to see most of them come out of their shells. I've found that it takes them (particularly the asian girls) almost a year before they'll relax a bit and become more open. The best part of the lesson? Seeing Doo Rhi... the shyest, most withdrawn kid I've ever met... laugh so hard and so openly that she had tears streaming down her face. Yay! It only took two years!!!!

Interviews begin....

2007-11-08T06:59:00.000+11:00

The afghan is growing. This means that the story is not. I woke up at 5.30, and knew that I should toddle off to the computer like a good girl and churn out some more drivel. Instead I knitted 3 more rows. I'm kidding myself that I'm still being productive, and indeed, it's exactly the same sort of obsessive activity as NaNoWriMo. One has a word count, the other has 30 rows of pattern before you can change onto the next pattern block. (I'm up to 21 rows on the current block. Did that since Tuesday. Word count: 18000.) It's not a good sign when writing on my novel.... my beautiful child of the imagination..... is less enticing than doing a few rows of glorified stocking stitch. But here's why I've been writing as much as I have:

Today is the day we start interviews at work with all of the year 10s. Me being a year 10 student manager (Oh bow down before my awesome power) I have to be there at them all. Hmmm, let's see. 250ish kids @ 15 minutes each + intense discussions of which subjects will get them where they want to go in two years time = my life being sucked away by these students and their maniacal ambitions of qualifying for high status courses and ultimately ruling the world.

Whatever happened to the three R's? Don't these selfish adolescents know that I've got a novel to write? (Or an afghan to knit?) Actually, once I'm embroiled in the whole process it's interesting, and it's good to touch base with every kid. Some of them have done brilliantly, and it's lovely to be able to congratulate them on how they've done and rubber stamp the courses they've chosen. Then there's the bulk of them, who have done ok and are really nice kids, but who may lack direction and need some help tailoring their courses. Some of them want to do subjects that blind Freddy could see are beyond them, so there's a bit of negotiating involved. Jack is in this group. He's done far better than last year (straight C's.... and C = crap.... so boy did he get into trouble. One of those kids who should be getting A's, especially in Maths and Science, but took things a bit too easy.) He's lifted his game, but not enough to be in the first or second round of interviews.

Then there's the group of kids that are heartbreaking. They're the ones who have either slacked off during their whole school lives, or who just don't have the wattage upstairs to be able to cut it in VCE. Actually, the 'low wattage' kids aren't so much of a problem. By the end of year 10 they know that a glittering career in rocket science is beyond them, and they don't care anyway. Their interests lie in other, usually more practical areas. They're fine with that, and so are we, as long as they're happy. It's the smart kids who haven't lifted a finger for 11 years and have nothing but shocking marks and bad behaviour on their records. They swish in with their high falutin' list of subjects they want to do, and the look of absolute shock in their eyes when they're told that they can't do Chemistry or Maths Methods or whatever is awful to see. They've finally run up against the brick wall of consequences.

This is why I really hate the state of affairs when kids are automatically promoted every year. It's a really hard one, because to be kept down does nothing for them socially or emotionally; but when year after year a bright but bone lazy kid gets put up in the next year level when his results are mediocre he gets to believe that having a good work ethic is a waste of time, because you get what you want anyway. It's like seeing a kicked dog when they get the look in their eyes that says "oh shit. I can't get out of this one."

Sometimes they cry. Sometimes the really smooth talkers negotiate a position where they get at least some of what they want because they're going to reform and become saintly. Sometimes that actually happens, because usually it's all a maturity thing. By the end of year 10 they're well on the way to growing up, and over the next two years there can be an enormous change in kids. Or not. We've got to have a crystal ball to peer into the future to decide....

So my life at work over the next month will be full swing boogie-woogie. It's interesting, because I really love the kids we have at the school, (well.... most of them, anyway....) but it's tiring. And today I say goodbye to my year 11 ESL class. I've had these kids for two years now, and they're fantastic. They don't know it yet, but they'll be getting another teacher for year 12. There's only one class of year 12 ESL next year for 20 students (don't get me started on the stupid state government and their pathetic cost-cutting measures for education), so the teacher who has taught this level of ESL for years naturally gets them. That's not me. I'll be sorry to see them go. I've trained them up beautifully in the art of sarcasm as humour, the Aussie vernacular and an appreciation of Vegemite.

I'm lying about the Vegemite. You really have to be born here to appreciate the glorious taste. They call it 'kangaroo poo.' I'm going to miss the little horror-heads.....

My son the artiste.

2007-11-07T06:38:00.000+11:00

Here's what Connor and I did last night............

we cut each other's hair. He looks so bizarre in this photo. He's got his orthodontic plate in, and he's enjoying the power rush. There's something a little unnerving about handing over your appearance to the tender hands of an 11 year old, but he behaved himself and it turned out fine.

Look at these fine leeks! I put them in the ground in July or August, and they're STILL not huge and fat, but they're getting there. Yesterday I read somewhere that there was a nun who was interviewed on tv who said that she experimented with cutting the leeks off at ground level, and so far she's got 3 crops out of the

same leeks. I got wildly excited. That's my sort of gardening. It's kind of like the gift that keeps on giving.

But I tried this a while ago with some spring onions. My friend Judy told me to plant the root bits and they'll sprout and voila! more spring onions. I did this, and now they've got pompoms on the top of them. They don't look like this in the shops. Maybe I'll harvest the seeds and start again.

Here's one bed of the veggies. The caulie at the front gave its life last night so we could live. It was beautiful.

My friend Sandy came over yesterday for a coffee (Hmmm. Maybe she's in cahoots with Scott too? But it was all to no avail. The novel has lurched itself off again. 15000 words. I want November to end so I can get some sleep.)

Anyway, she said that her 15 year old daughter was talking to her, and said that she wanted to have kids one day, because "after all, that's what we're here for." Sandy was pleased, though she did mention to her that she didn't have to start sprouting them right away!! Her feeling was that if her daughter was wanting to one day be a Mum, then that must mean that she is doing something right as a parent.

I nodded, and said something appropriate. How could I tell her that Jack keeps saying that he NEVER wants to be a parent? What a good job I must be doing........................

Growing dinner.

2007-11-06T17:26:00.000+11:00

Here's my answer to 'Yarnstorm". I may not have vivid colours on my walls and cupcakes, but by gum! the chard is doing well.

I don't know why I had children. This is the second day of no work on the novel. Jack decided that he needed the computer to write a song. He had his guitar and he'd noodle around on it, and then he'd whack it on a program he uploaded (that'll make the computer go even slower) and then tinker with it some more. After FOUR HOURS he was satisfied. I could've written 'War and Peace' by then. Still, I got more knitting done on the afghan (3 balls finished... 5 more to go. ) This rug is already covering my lap and is half-way down my shins. I'm not a particularly tall person. I'm thinking that this thing will be able to shelter a family of refugees and a ute when I'm done.

Before we went to Phuket I planted out 2 beds of potatoes that were sprouting. There were a fair few of them, so I went mental. I was jamming them in 1cm apart, saying "They'll be right." There are 2 beds of them, a small one (pictured) and one double the size. Yesterday I went to the grain store and bought 10 bags of mushroom compost to cover both sets of plants, so they'd grow lots and lots of lovely spuds. $45 worth of soil didn't even half cover the small bed. Here they are after the 'burying' has been done. Now I don't know about you, but I think that $45 can buy a fair few potatoes.... What's the point of spending buckets of money on compost when spuds aren't that expensive? So I've decided to ignore the huge bed of spuds, and go with what the little bed produces. What I really want to do is grow them in a container. No mess, no waste and easy peasy. I just have to find the right container. I want something that I can reuse every year. I hate having to redo a job.

Jordan's now hassling me about using the computer for his Science homework. I'm over having kids. Anyway, I have to go out to the garden and select a victim for the cauliflower cheese we're having. There's something deeply satisfying about growing your own food. It's a shame that it took me till I was now to discover it.

YouTube - Bonds Kaleidoscope Ad

2007-11-05T07:14:00.000+11:00

YouTube - Bonds Kaleidoscope Ad

This is a little something to show why we get up and go to school in the morning. How could we not, when we're teaching such twits?

This is one of the clips that the year 12s put together for their end of year assembly. It makes me laugh every time I see it.

And in other news...
I wrote my fingers off yesterday. 12000 words...
That's the overall word count; not the amount I wrote yesterday. If that was the case I'd be drooling and banging my head against the floor. Though I felt like doing that at some points.
I'm so sick of looking at the keyboard. (I'm a two fingered typist.) All the kids except Jordan were at their Dad's, so I knew I could kick it along when the house was quiet. Every now and then he'd want to get onto the computer for irrelevant boy things like Limewire and research for his Science homework, so I also made 6 cakes, knitted a bit more of the afghan (mmm, the afghan. It's as long as my arm now) and had a twenty minute nanna nap. I was planning on sleeping longer but I got an idea for the novel and had to get up and start writing it before I forgot. (I'm a bit over it.... luckily Meg is coming over this morning, and I've got to take Jordan to piano this afternoon. I can have a break.)

We have a long weekend in this house. Tomorrow is Melbourne Cup day ( I love living in a city that gives everyone a day off because of a horse race!), and today is a teacher PD day. I must make sure to think of something educational as I drive Jordan to piano.

Little tests while I'm novelising.

2007-11-03T22:49:00.000+11:00

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Look at me! This is the movie I'm supposed to be most like.

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

And this is the world leader I'm like. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing....

What and who are you???

(6000 words. I'm still behind where I should be, but I'm working on it.)

If I could turn back time....

2007-11-03T13:31:00.000+11:00

Why do these things happen to me?

Yesterday was the day our year 12 kids had their English exam. Every year when it's time, all the teachers wait outside, and when the kids come out they all swirl around and debrief. There's people everywhere, all clustered around their teachers, smiling and waving their arms around (or quiet and downcast if they felt they botched it... one of my girls didn't finish and she was nearly crying). However, apart from that, it's a good time. They've finished 13 years of English classes, it's the first and most important exam behind them, and we all touch base and connect. I had one of my students give me a hug and say that this is the first year of English that he's really enjoyed, he thanked me and that he felt he'd nailed the exam. It was a lovely moment. So what could possibly go wrong?

The media, that's what. Those cameramen and their all-encompassing lenses. We had the minister for education at the school opening a big computer centre that we've built, so tv cameras were there to shoot her making a speech, and to show our kids writing their exam and celebrating afterwards.

When I got home last night from taking the boys to their Dad's place for the weekend, there's a message from my friend Meg on my answering machine. She's laughing so hard I can barely make out the words.

"Frogdancer. I've just seen the most hilarious thing. I was just watching channel BLEEP news and saw you kicking a student."

(Now before you all jump onto the comments page and demand my immediate sacking... let me explain. It's true and it's not true. There was no mayhem or violence. But I did kick. I remember what happened, but I don't remember who the student was or what he actually said.

A lot of my mainstream English kids and I were mucking around and laughing, when someone walked past and made some sort of Smart-Alec comment. Nothing rude, but just cheeky, because he knew I'd see the joke. I laughed back and said "Why, you naughty rapscallion!" (or something) and as he raced past me I aimed a joke kick at him. I didn't connect with any portion of his anatomy, and I never meant to. You've gotta believe me....

As soon as my foot left the ground I remembered the cameras. I glanced furtively around, but they were all focused on our Assistant Principal as she was doing an interview. 'Thank God!' I thought, and then went back to debriefing the kids. Promptly forgot all about it until the phone call.)

Of course I rang Meg straight away. She is a cruel, heartless sort of person who thinks that my embarrassment on national television is a source of merriment. Apparently I was in the background of the Assistant Principal's interview. Our A.P is talking earnestly about how this is the culmination of 13 years of educational achievement, while over her shoulder Meg could see me laughing with the kids, and then the teacher brutality was there in all its glory for the world to see.

Fantastic. I'm going to be in so much trouble. The admin normally have a good sense of humour, but they're a bit sensitive about how the school is perceived by the community. I thought that maybe I'd be ok if I went in with the defence of
"He told me he'd mucked up the exam. What else was I supposed to do?"

But then again, that mightn't be such a good idea. It's not fair. Scott and Meg would never be caught on camera kicking students willy-nilly. Scott is too dignified and Meg is too crafty.

But hang on. I've just had a thought....

Since I've had this haircut Scott and I are virtually indistinguishable. Well, maybe not close up, but I bet we are from a distance. I was wearing long dangly earrings and a pink roll neck jumper, but if I swear that it wasn't me, I bet the admin will blame him. They're sure to overlook the fact that he's dressed like a girl, is at least a foot shorter, has aged 10 years and has make up on, (probably to disguise his rapidly advancing years). He'll be caught up in a world of trouble, unable to write his novel by November 30 due to the stress, while I can calmly type away and BEAT HIM.

It can't fail. Anyone who doesn't know what Scott looks like can jump onto his blog, (Scott's Abode... it's on the list of blogs on the right) and see. I'm feeling much happier now. And the best thing is that he'll never see it coming.... so ssshhhh... don't tell him.

Anyway, I'd better go and get started, because this novel won't write itself. I know that this is a scientific fact, because I didn't write a thing on it yesterday, and the word count is still 598.

Why I'm a technophobe.

2007-11-02T06:09:00.000+11:00

Oh, I'm loving writing this novel. Here's a picture of me doing it.

I woke up at 4.30 with characters nibbling at me. (Well, I guess I should look on the bright side and be grateful that something was having a go at me!!) I lay there and drifted till 5.20, then gave up, got up and switched on the computer. Maybe I'm still a little sleepy, but a 5.20 - 6.10 ability to get onto the internet and onto Word seems a tad slow to me. Lord knows I'm no computer expert, but methinks the kids have downloaded something that has constipated my computer. By 5.40 I was swearing black and blue that I was going to dash down to the computer shop and get my own laptop. I'd hide it from the kids and dust it for their fingerprints every other day and laugh maniacally as I watch them cry in front of this bloody slow old crock of a thing. Then I thought maybe I could kill the kids, get a computer guy to give the computer an enema and then I'd save myself a couple of grand. (I'm on a frugality kick, remember?)

But now I'm happy. The kids can live. I can't remember what I was going to write, but that's ok. It was going to be brilliant and those words were going to live forever in the annals of Great Literature Of The World And Indeed The Universe, but never mind. I'm sure it'll come back to me. Meanwhile Scott has scooted ahead of me in his word count. I cannot let this continue....

My year 12 kids have their English and ESL exams today. Whoopee!!!!! Yesterday my office was wall to wall kids brandishing practise essays under my nose and having mini meltdowns of anxiety. They all left convinced of their genius. Without fail, the day before the exam, the words each kid hears is something along the lines of...

"Wow, these essays are some of the best things you've done this year. I'm so happy that you've peaked at just the right time. If you're writing like this now, you're going to cope with the exam just fine. Maybe there's a couple of things you could look at...(insert minor instruction here such as :add a little quote after your topic sentence to back up your opinion; use more emotive words in your persuasive piece; spell Hamlet's name correctly... that sort of thing), but they're easy to keep in mind. Go home, get a good night's sleep and I'll see you tomorrow." Big smile, couple of pats on the shoulder.

Translation from teacher talk is:

"Wow, I'm surprised to see you here. You haven't worked all year. It's too late to suddenly decide to learn to write an essay the day before the exam, but at least it shows you've hit a peak. I'm not saying how big this peak is, but you've written an essay of your volition, so good on you. The essay shows that you've at least read the text, or possibly just watched the movie, so you have a sporting chance in the exam of at least writing something that won't make a fool of both of us. Here's an instruction or two so that you feel the effort of climbing into school uniform and walking to school during swot vac wasn't a waste of time, but frankly at this stage of the year, you've got to go with what you already know. Go with God, my son/daughter." (put sign of the cross over them even though I'm not Catholic.)

All of my good kids have been in to see me, but they tend to be organised and come in before the hysterical brigade arrive. The best quote from a practise essay this year surprisingly comes from one of my best kids....

"When the ghost of Hamlet's father exposed himself to Hamlet...."

Phew! No wonder Hamlet was so traumatised for the rest of the play.

Nagging is good, isn't it?

2007-11-01T06:54:00.000+11:00

I've begun! My evil friend Scott persuaded me with many wiles and machinations to join up to the NaNoWriMo challenge (National Novel Writing Challenge) to write a 50,000 word novel over November. Actually, all he did was dare me, but be that as it may, my current plight is all his fault. I woke up at 5.30 this morning in a cold sweat.

"It's the first of November!! Get up, you lazy cow and be creative. You have to start now... the year 12s will be beating down your door today because their exam's tomorrow... the kids have their music lessons tonight so you won't get home till 6.45, and by then you'll be too tired to think because I'm here waking you up at this ungodly hour of the morning to nag at you." Sometimes I wish my inner nag would take a chill pill and give me an extra half hours sleep.

But inner panic has a way of waking you right up. So by 5.36 I was sitting down at the computer, cup of coffee by my side, contemplating what lay within me, bursting to be expressed on the page. My inner panic had gone, obviously soothed by the fact that I was up and about. It had been replaced by not much, actually.

I hopped onto the Simple Savings website to see if any goss had happened in the forum. I posted something, and then realised I'd wasted precious keystrokes. The clock says 6.30. Shit. So back I hopped to My New Word Document.

Isn't a new word document such a pristine thing? Like fresh snow. I've seen snow three times so I know. It's almost a shame to walk all over it with my muddy footprints of novel writing. But disturb it I must.

Thirty minutes later I finish. I interrupted myself a few times to feed the animals and give Molly her eye medication. I also made another cup of coffee. But I was flushed with achievement. During that time I'd written 598 words of the worst drivel you've ever read. Don't worry, I'm certainly not going to post it here. Or anywhere. But it's scaffolding. Maybe. But the fact remains that after a break of three years, I'm back writing something that isn't for work. I think this challenge will be good for me. It'll put hair on my chest. Trouble is, the goal is to write 1600 words a day, so I'll have to jump back on at some stage today and keep drivelling.

However, the fact remains that I'm a lucky person, so now that I've started the process, the Great Australian Novel will undoubtedly reveal itself to my inner eye in all its glory. I've also signed up to the challenge where I post on this blog every day. We'll see if the length of the blogs is in inverse proportion to the amount of writing I do on the novel. (I think that's right. I'll have to ask one of my Maths kids today. 'Inverse' is Maths, isn't it?)

It's time to wake the kids now. I'm feeling a bit tired. I could do with a bit more sleep....

What is an emo?

2007-10-31T06:31:00.000+11:00

I was having a look on the Simple Savings site this morning as I normally do, and I came across this link. I had never heard of videojug before. It's incredible. It has all these short videos explaining how to do things. I downloaded instructions on how to get a podcast, how to take a shower, how to pitch a tent, how to be a good neighbour.... the list is endless. (And just so you know... I DID know how to take a shower before I saw the clip. I just wanted to see if I was doing it right.)
It's a handy site to know about.
http://www.videojug.com/

Here's a helpful instructional video on how to identify an emo.
http://www.videojug.com/film/what-is-emo

I've noticed at work that there's more and more of our students evolving into these creatures, particularly in the upper levels. I find it helps to stay alert to the newfangled trends of the young folk.
Now I'm off to water my veggies.

Bamboo and wheatgerm.

2007-10-30T06:20:00.000+11:00

Well that was a bit of fun. You should've seen Brennan's face when he saw the expression on 'his' face when he was dancing. What fun technology is!

I popped into Spotlight yesterday to buy a cushion insert for a silk cushion cover I bought in Thailand. (Incidentally, when I got home and took the cover out of the wrapping, I found that a seam had popped. I'm outraged. Do you think I should get on a plane and fly back to Phuket, go to the market and track the seller down and get a refund? It cost me all of $3..... or is that taking rationalisation to go on a new holiday too far?)

Anyway, while I was there I went to the wool section. I got wildly excited when I found some bamboo and cotton yarn. I love the idea of wearing something that would make me delicious to a panda. The question I have is... where would I find a pattern for yarn like this? I'm assuming that I couldn't adapt a pattern for wool, given that wool is stretchier and... well... woolier than a cottonish thread. I like the idea of knitting a simple jumper for summer days that get a little cool. For when the drought breaks. It has to soon, because I've planted my veggies. So I want to get cracking, while not forgetting the afghan (mmmm, the afghan.) So does anyone in internetland have any ideas? Spotlight didn't seem to have patterns for this type of yarn, though admittedly I only scanned the shelves briefly. I had a couple of cakes in the oven, and I knew I had to get back. I sound so domestic, don't I?

Yesterday turned into a bit of a baking day. Usually I bake about 4 cakes on the weekends, and the kids have one a day when they come home from school. It's easy to divide a cake into quarters. I also bake huge amounts of biscuits every fortnight or so, and freeze them for the kids lunches. But since coming home from Thailand (land of inadequately sewn cushion covers and elephants.... I still love the elephants) I've been knackered, to use an elegant phrase. The kids have been eating toast, popcorn and uncooked spaghetti (pasta) after school, and using shop bought (gasp!) biscuits in their lunchboxes. Obviously this shocking state of affairs cannot continue.

4 cakes, and 120 biscuits with wheatgerm and chocolate chips made. Wheatgerm for inner health because I am now a Good Mother again, and chocolate to get them to eat the darned things to get the wheatgerm in their colons. Especially Connor, the eat-no-vegetables-except-chips kid. I feel in control again. What a legend. Brennan has to take 60 of those biscuits (cookies to our American mates) to school for a project he's doing about healthy food, so I'll have to make more on the weekend, but now the snack situation is organised. I also made an impossible pie at the same time as making dinner, and now that's cut into portions and frozen for my lunches for the next week. It's amazing how much better I feel now that I've done this. I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with everything, but now I'm back on an even keel.

Ma Ingalls has nothing on me!

The kids are going to kill me...

2007-10-29T16:39:00.001+11:00

Star in Your Own JibJab! It's Free!Nimble, aren't we?

An explanation of my blog name.

2007-10-28T09:16:00.001+11:00

Star in Your Own JibJab! It's Free!

Productivity.

2007-10-27T11:47:00.000+10:00

After I uploaded this I realised that I should've made this a LAAAAARRGE photo. The afghan (look, the afghan!) would look far more impressive. I've been knitting feverishly, and according to the pattern I'm a quarter of the way there. Yes, gentle readers, I've done four rows of squares. With very few mistakes, considering I've been knitting in front of the tv and blogs on the computer screen. But here's the thing.... how come in all of the knitting blogs I've wandered through, the people start a major project and then five minutes later post a picture saying "oh look. I've finished. And by the way, here's some shots of the forty-seven hats and scarves I completed while I was doing this major project. Just so I didn't get bored." How do they do it??? Do they have an extra pair of arms, so they can casually keep knitting while they're cooking dinner or driving to music lessons or working in the garden? Are they insomniacs, knitting quietly away in the dead of night by the dim glow of a night light? I wish I knew their secret. They're making me feel very inadequate.

Speaking of works in progress, look at this life sized portrait of a cauliflower I grew. I'm so excited. I bought a punnet each of cauliflower and brussels sprouts plants, and bunged them in at the end of winter. It was supposed to be too late to get anything from them, but I thought I'd do an experiment and just see. I was planning to pull them up this weekend, but when I was watering on Wednesday I saw two golf-ball sized caulies. I squealed and jumped for joy. Brennan came out (he's the other cauliflower and brussels sprouts lover in the family), and he said that he found them a couple of days ago, but decided not to tell me because he didn't want to spoil the surprise. What a sweetie. So we squealed and jumped up and down together. Nothing's happening with the brussels sprouts as far as I can tell, so they're living on borrowed time.

After lunch I'm popping on a sunhat and planting the seedlings I bought last weekend. They've been sitting in the laundry trough all week. Heaps of tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis and lettuce. Mum noticed two of the tomato plants were optimistically putting out flowers, blissfully unaware of the bee-less state of the great indoors, so before school yesterday I raced out and put them next to the pigface so they could live it up. Yummy little yellow cherry tomatoes.

I take my history in novel form.

2007-10-26T06:50:00.000+10:00

I wonder who was the twit who saw this pretty plant and said, "Let's call it Pigface." I've planted some along the side of the main veggie patch with the thought of pollination in mind, and I was appalled when Mum said that's what it was called. I suppose if you squint, stand on your head and look sideways at it then the flowers might appear to be pigs' snouts, but honestly I think there'd also have to be a major amount of chemicals running through your system at the same time. I really likes this plant, but now I've gone off it a bit. Maybe this proves that a rose by any other name DOESN"T smell as sweet.

I'll be writing more about books, after a fabulous comment I received on the last post. She reminded me about Jean Plaidy. Every Saturday morning I used to walk up to Highett library with one of those old lady wheely shopping carts filled with books and spend a halcyon hour or so browsing the shelves for my fix for the next week. Jean Plaidy was one of my favourite authors. Prolific! My God the woman could churn them out. She also wrote gothic romantic fiction under the name Victoria Holt and I sampled a few of them, but my true love was for her historical 'faction'. I learned so much history from reading her work, and I'm sure that she's coloured how I regard historical figures even today. Catherine de Medici, for example. The woman was a queen of France and poisoned people left right and centre. Towards the end of her life people got nervous if she looked at them for too long. Yet I regard her with a tinge of fondness. She had it tough when she was a girl....

Am I the only one who learned history through reading fiction? At school the only interesting year of history we did was in Year 7. Egypt, Rome, etc. Then for the next 5 years it was set down that we had to do Australian history. For the first couple of years it wasn't so bad. There's Ned Kelly, the Eureka stockade, explorers trudging off into the deserts and carking it, the gold rushes....
But we've only got about 200 years of history. There's only so much sensational things you can learn about before the mundane and dreary take over. (And yes I know the Aborigines have about 40,000 more, but they didn't write any of it down, and so we poor school kids were forced to learn about squatters and Federation year after year.) In my last year of high school I rebelled and ended up learning European history by correspondence. Yes, that was probably the extent of my teenage rebellion that year. I lived life on the edge, baby...

European history, even by correspondence was more interesting than sheep farmers and explorers dying in the desert (again). It was this subject that introduced me to Renaissance art. I still remember being blown away by the sculpture, the paintings and the absolute attention to detail. But the lesson content was still a bit dry, full of legislation for this and negotiations for that. I wanted Henry the eighth striding down a hallway in Hampton Court with his retinue around him. I wanted colour, movement and passion. In short... I wanted my historical novels.

I'm still a sucker for them.

Addicted to reading.

2007-10-25T13:48:00.000+10:00

I was blog-hopping during detention a couple of days ago, and I came across a book challenge. Young Adult novels reading challenge
Hopefully this link will work. It's my first try. Scott showed me how to use HTML ten minutes ago.

Basically, all you have to do is read 12 Young Adult novels over 2008. I really like this genre, and not because I'm an English teacher of Young Adults. (At least, that's what they say they are, but sometimes I take the liberty of doubting it.) I enjoy that these books tend to deal with some challenging themes, and they stick to the point, which can't be said for other genres. The plot has to grab, otherwise kids won't persevere, so it forces the author to be less self indulgent. I realise I'm speaking in massive generalisations here, so don't leave comments saying I'm an idiot. (But feel free to leave comments about anything else!!) Also, next year I'll be looking for new texts for our ESL kids, so doing this challenge will be like a tax deduction for the mind. Work + Fun = a happy me.

Another reason I'm happy to take part in this is that these books are going to be a part of our kids' lives. They'll be shaping their literary memories and forming part of their view of the world. I still have incredibly clear memories of the books I loved as a child.

The 'Little House' books still stay with me today. I even named one of my dogs Laura. When I'm being frugal I channel Ma Ingalls.... what would she do?

And what about 'Go Ask Alice'? My cousin and I read that book together over the summer holiday I spent at her house while Mum and Dad were in Europe. I read a page aloud, then she'd read a page.... I'm sure that book is one of the reasons why I steered clear of drugs. (Scared the bejeebers out of me!)

I read the 'Anne of Green Gables' books over and over again in my early teen years. Who wasn't captivated by the little red haired orphan and her imagination? Remember her walk through the haunted woods? Remember the reenactment of 'The Lady of Shallott'? The puffed sleeves she coveted?

Later on when I was 16 or so I graduated to Georgette Heyer. I own the complete set of her works. I have them parked on the bottom bookshelf in my lounge room, partially hidden behind a chair. (Well.... they're not exactly literary boasting material. But I love them nonetheless.) 'These Old Shades'... top read. I just loved Leonie. Sophie, Hero, Ancilla and all of the others were just fabulous. Heyer was also funny. Every now and then there's a dry line that's hysterical. And the interesting thing is that even though my literary tastes have moved on over the past twenty years, I find that if I'm particularly stressed, then I'll gravitate to reading one. I know what's going to happen after reading each one hundreds of times in my youth, so it must be somehow soothing to switch off and just let my eyes run over the pages full of muslin clad, high-spirited heroines and their cleft-chinned men who can control a team of highly strung horses with one flick of their wrists. (sigh! They don't make them like that anymore...)

The 'Silver Brumby' books by Elyne Mitchell are also fantastic. Following these horses through the bush, watching the generations grow and move on, watching Thowra become more and more of a legend the longer time went on... fabulous stuff. Although they are about horses, these are no Pony Club books with spoilt little missies whingeing about missing a jump at the last gymkhana. These horses are wild brumbies....

When I was a SAHM in the depths of nappies, poverty and a bad marriage, the kid next door introduced me to the 'Tomorrow When the War Began' series by John Marsden. Hands down one of the best series I've ever read, either for Young Adults or for those of us more Geriatrically Challenged. I gobbled down the books that were written, and then haunted the bookshops waiting for the next one to come out. By this stage I didn't classify as a 'Young Adult' type of reader. I was 33 and had three-and-a-half kids. These books have a wonderful plotline (what if Australia was invaded? What would happen? A group of teenagers from the bush escape the initial round-up of Aussies. What do they do now??) I love them. Even Jack has started reading them, and he's no reader.

So bring on the challenge!! I'm looking forward to it. It's taking my mind of the looming pressure of having to start my NaNoWriMo novel. Scott's upped the ante by bringing genre into it. (I'd be happy to have a singlecharacter, let alone a whole genre.)
Maybe I'll make mine a Young Adult one.....

The early bird shouldn't knit.

2007-10-24T06:21:00.000+10:00

(This photo was taken during the Christmas holidays, before I shaved my head. I look much more aerodynamic now.)

Woke up at 5am AGAIN this morning. I don't know why. Mum says that it's because we're all waiting for daylight savings to start. I wouldn't mind so much if an early start was all I got. It's lovely to quietly paddle around, read the computer, have breakfast, feed the animals in deathly peace and quiet. I talk to myself, and I don't mind saying to you all that I'm damned good company.

But it's the early night you need to have at the end of the day. By 8pm last night I was yawning my head off. I retreated to bed with my knitting (just how old am I again??) and The Simpsons. Soon all the kids were in there with me, lolling all over the place and watching the show with me. When it finished Connor brought his book and snuggled in beside me, then Jordan went and did his piano practise in the room next door. Jack and Brennan were doing homework and coming in and out to talk about it with me. Meanwhile my eyes were rolling around like a crazy woman's. I was looking at the inside of my skull more than looking at the kids, and my opinions about their homework had more vowel sounds in them than actual words.

Nobody seemed to notice. They continued on with blithe indifference to my pain. I tried to do the right thing and be A Good Mother and an engaged listener to my four favourite people, nodding and showing that I was awake by grimly knitting row after everlasting row (oh, the afghan!). This went on for a while, until I blearily checked my knitting. I'd made a mistake three rows back. Only one stitch, but in a basket weave pattern it's noticeable. And with 252 stitches in each row, I'm not about to unstitch. I may be a perfectionist Virgo, but there are limits.

"Alright, everyone out! I've hit the wall." (Not literally... you know what I mean).

I got up, put the cats away, got ready for bed, then snuggled back in under the doona with the electric blanket. At the very late time of 9.20pm. Even the eleven year old was still vertical. This is the life of the single woman in the suburbs. Woo Hoo baby!

Just a normal day.

2007-10-23T06:36:00.000+10:00

Now that the year 12s have gone, my only 'official' teaching was a double period after lunch with my year 11 ESL class. I knew I'd be spending the first four periods wading through emailed essays that my year 12s would send, so I'd be slightly brain dead by the time my year 11s rolled in. I wandered in to work, vaguely thinking that maybe I'd get them to do individual work on their writing folios. I could help them if needed, and I could correct some more of the torrent of year 12 practise essays that are pouring in. It would be a quiet time, a civilised time, a time for quiet reflection, creativity and brotherly love....

Then I get asked if a student teacher could observe my class. Shit.

"Yes!" I say, big smile plastered all over my dial. "The more the merrier."

Shit. Now I have to come up with a lesson that is vibrantly exciting, something to whip up enthusiasm in both her and the kids for this magic thing called Education. In effect, I have to show her How it's Done. ( Well, that's not strictly true. I could run a really awful lesson to show her How it ISN"T Done... she'd probably learn a lot more if I did... I did think about it... but pride got in the way. I'll teach those kids something. Dammit.)

The paper. They're doing language analysis on their exam. A bit of ploughing through the opinion pages picking out persuasive techniques will be just the ticket. Done!

A flying trip to the common room, a purloined paper, scissors and glue and I'm set. Just have to photocopy a class set, hand them out, a bit of razzle-dazzle up the front to get them started and it'll be great. Good on me. And its only half way through lunch.

Just as I pick up my 3 master copies to take them to the photocopy room, Sarge mentions that a certain committee is meeting tonight after school. A committee that I need to have an important letter about class sizes for ESL in front of. A letter that I haven't written yet. Shit.

Why does procrastination always bite you in the bum?

Throw down the master copies. Start tapping away on the computer with feverish intensity. Shit. It's half way through lunch I have NO time!!!! Keep going. Finish it. Race up to the common room to find the other year 12 ESL teacher to run it by her. She makes a suggestion to add. Then we speak to another teacher who has the inside goss on class numbers for next year. It was worse than we knew. (Is it time to use the "f" expletive yet? Don't have time...) Back up the halls to my office. Keep typing. Bell goes. Shit. I haven't photocopied the opinion pieces.

Knock knock. There's the student teacher. Fine. Deep breath.

New plan. Teach her how to work on the bleeding edge of teaching. The 'make it up as you go along' lesson. (Actually, some of my best work has come from this. But it's not recommended as a usual thing.)

I breeze into the class "Hi Horror heads!" Mark the roll. Introduce the student teacher. Then start talking. I glance over. She's taking notes. Oh MY GOD!!! That's never happened before. Now the pressure's on.

My brain races. I can split them up into groups to work on the pieces. I was going to let them do it in pairs, but I only have three bits of paper. Three into 17 goes.... whatever. They can work it out. But I have to use up time....

I know! Spontaneous speeches!!! Yay! For thirty seconds each kid had to stand up and talk off the top of their head about a topic I gave them. This can be hard for ESL kids. It can be hard for anyone, if it comes to that. But... it was fantastic.

Jason the soccer nut had to talk about how much better AFL was than soccer.

Denis had to talk about soft toys.

Shwuang had to talk about the joys of owning a little sister....

Sun Li talked about why she sits by the window every lesson.

Michelle talked about why Australia was the best country in the world.

Dom talked about why Australia was the worst country in the world....

...and on it went. A good twenty minutes gone. Yay. Only an hour to go.

I talk about the task. I'm funny (the student teacher was laughing. She wasn't taking notes. Good.)

The kids split themselves up. I have a brainwave. When the bell goes for the break between periods 5 and 6, they all have to go outside and scamper around for 5 minutes while I go and photocopy. They agree.

While they're working I answer any questions and define any words they have trouble understanding while frantically working on the letter. Bell goes. Shovel them out. Student teacher and I race up to the photocopy room, me spouting jargon about the educational validity of the task as we go.

Back to the room. Let them in give out sets of the work answer more questions finish the letter.

Look around the room. The kids are really engaged with the task. All three groups are talking about the language, debating about how the writers are twisting the words for various effects..... there is actual learning going on!!! The student teacher is taking notes again. I don't care. This is turning into a great lesson.

Twenty minutes before the bell, the groups have to stand up and report what they've done. (Welding written and oral skills together.... write that one down, student teacher!!) They nailed it. I was rapt. They've really got a handle on how to analyse English. I love these kids.

Bell goes. "See you later, twit faces!" Quick chat to student teacher, go and hand in letter to committee head, go and cross mark year 12 essays with other year 12 English teachers, go home, go to doctor for medical so I can become a permanent teacher at the school (after today,... do I really want to? Yes of course, just kidding), back home make dinner, Mum and Dad come over to drop off the dog....

I love my life. It's not often dull.

By the way, Jack got a distinction in a big Maths competition run by Westpac. Top 4% in the state. Not bad, hey?

Treasure hunt in the dark.

2007-10-21T22:12:00.000+10:00

Something happened tonight that was really gross, but also funny. Especially if you're a parent on a frugality kick, such as myself.

It was a quiet weekend in the Frogdancer household. The children were at their fathers, and I used the time for some gentle pottering around and some mild housecleaning. I threw out some raw pet meat that the animals weren't eating, knitted some more of the afghan (ahhh, the afghan), did the vacuuming and ate lollies. It was during this domesticity that I noticed to my annoyance that Connor had left his dental plate out of the case. I had an empty case, but no $350 plate. I tutt-tutted, and resolved to ask him to locate it when he arrived home.

My annoyance expressed itself in rather high decibels when he confessed that he had no idea where it could be. He searched high and low, somewhat more thoroughly when I told him that he'd be the one paying for the next one. Still nothing. I heard him say to Brennan, "I remember wrapping it in tissues...."

When he said that, I remembered that during my domesticity day I threw out a pile of tissues that were left on the bureau, while muttering about the slovenly, lazy kids I owned. I went up to him, and said, "If you think you might've wrapped it up, you've got to let me know now. The rubbish bin is out the front, and tomorrow it'll be too late."

The kid had no idea. He's not very bright.

So there we were, three of us out on the front lawn with a wheely bin, a torch and a dream. When I mention that it was over 30 degrees Celsius today, and there was raw meat in a garbage bag.... I don't think I have to elaborate on the smell. I ripped open two garbage bags. Nothing. It wasn't looking good. But underneath the pile of weeds I'd pulled from the veggie patch I could see another bag. Dry retching, I pulled it free, ripped it open with a flourish to reveal..... maggots. Hundreds of 'em. Writhing in maggotty delight in the torchlight, all over the pet meat. Brennan was nearly sick.

But I was not to be deterred. (I did think about it though.) I gingerly poked and prodded bits of rubbish that looked to be maggot free, and there it was! A lump of tissues. I picked it out, shook off anything that needed to be shaken off, and felt the outside. There was definitely something in there. "Oh no," said Connor. "Not from this bag..."

I was happy. I looked like this.

Connor looked like this.

Half an hour of vigorous disinfecting and scrubbing with toothpaste later, it was in his mouth.

I don't think he'll be so careless again.

And I saved $350!!!!

Meme.

2007-10-20T16:17:00.000+10:00

Lightening tagged me for a meme a while ago, so naturally I thought "I'll get right onto that....."

Better late than never.

The Actor's Studio 10 Questions meme.

1. What is your favourite word?

Twitface, closely followed by Horrorhead and Idiot. (I can't help it if my students are hideous looking and a little slow.... )

2. What is your least favourite word?

"Should".... especially if it is immediately preceded by the word "You".

(Don't tell me what to do!!!!)

3. What turns you on? (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)

Oooo, babybaby!!!

A full bag of lollies. (Have I been single too long?)

4. What turns you off?

An empty bag of lollies that some selfish bastard didn't share with me.

5. What sound or noise do you love?

The end of day/end of year school bell.

The pop of a champagne cork.

My kids laughing.

"Ms Frogdancing... You've Won Tattslotto!!!!" (well, ok. This one hasn't happened, but I bet I'd REALLY REALLY like to hear it.)

6. What sound or noise do you hate?

The sound of one of my kids vomiting, and the splat! sound which means that said vomit has unfortunately hit the floor instead of the toilet. Add a 'hate the sound score' of x100 if heard in the middle of the night.

7. What is your favourite swear word?

Fuck. All out top favourite word, especially when I've lost my car keys. No other word will do.

Bugger. For more sedate, garden party situations when an expletive is called for.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to do?

Writer.

Trophy wife.

Travelling minstrel.

9. What profession would you like not to do?

Food tester for a despot.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Well, first off, I'm not terribly religious. I've been known to describe myself as a godless heathen to people who are strange enough to ask about my spiritual standing with the Lord, but I guess that's not strictly true. I think that God and I are on pretty good terms. I don't bother him with tuneless hymn singing on Sundays, and he doesn't bother me. Besides, I always thought St Peter was at the Pearly gates. By gum! I MUST be important if God is there to greet me!

I'd like him to say....

"Welcome. We have a special come-straight-in-regardless-of-your-lack-of-churchgoing rule if you die in your 127th year while dancing the tango at your great granddaughters wedding with your much younger, madly in love with you, wealthy husband who makes you laugh. You qualify. Go right on through."

This was more fun to do than I thought it would be. Thanks Lightening!

I'd tag people, but I don't know how to link yet. It's Scott's fault. He hasn't shown me yet.

So I tag everyone in internetland who feels like doing this.

Child free Saturday morning.

2007-10-20T07:32:00.000+10:00

Still no Daphne...

but in good news on the pet front, we took Molly back to the canine eye doctor and her eyes are SO much better. No operation needed, the ulcer is nearly gone. Yay. So there's different pills to shove down her neck, and the saga continues, but it's looking good.

The afghan... ahh, the afghan. I did quite a bit yesterday. I was exhausted when I got home, so I had a packet of potato chips for dinner, (they were chicken ones, so that's good for me, right?), and went to bed with my knitting, Oprah and Dr Phil. Sounds like it's lucky no-one got their eye poked out with the knitting needles doesn't it? I know that anyone married will probably be aghast and would think that spending a child free Friday night like this is a wanton waste of precious time. But trust me... it was bliss. I've found that after having a trip overseas (first Bali last year and now Phukhet) it takes me about three weeks to recover my bounce. It's still worth it though.

This weekend is earmarked for the usual pursuits. Veggie gardening, ( a trip to the local market for seedlings is happening tomorrow. Can't wait!), biscuit and cake making for lunches and after school, veggie soup making for lunches for me, mowing the lawn so the cat doesn't have an unfair advantage when stalking the pigeons, (I should've said cats. But I'm a bit pessimistic about Daph...), knitting, reading AND vacuuming. Some of the dust bunnies are bigger than Molly.

On a slightly different tangent... why are some house keeping jobs appealing, and others are blah? It's different for everyone. For instance; I could hang washing on the line till the cows come home. But as for folding it, yuck. You've heard of dumpster diving? We do jocks diving, otherwise known as Lucky Dip In The Clean Clothes Basket. It's no way to live, but I do it to us nearly every week. It's got to the stage where the spot in the walkway where I park the basket looks strangely empty if I've been organised and done the folding. The crazy thing is that it's not a big job. I fold the clothes into piles, and then each kid puts his clothes away.

Does anyone like vacuuming? I hate it. And yet, when it's finished I love the way the house looks. All dust free and shiny. (I have wooden floors.) Without fail I say to myself, "That wasn't so bad. The house looks great. I'm never going to leave it so long between vacuums again." Then I empty the bag into the bin, put it away in the hall cupboard and avoid it like the plague until we either
a) have guests or
b) we start giving names to the dust bunnies. We're at this stage now.

Open the door to my pantry and you'd be amazed and so impressed with the organisation. Everything is lined up, labels facing outward. Same with the fridge. Every time I shop I rotate everything, so nothing goes off. I have a list on the outside of the freezer so I know what's in there at any given time, (ok, it's little out of date, but it's easy to see how many tubs of ice cream we've got. 4 litre tubs are hard to miss, even in a freezer my size). My friend Sandy said once, "I know why we get along so well. You're as meticulous as I am. You just hide it better!"

My bookshelves are organised. I can lay my hand on any book I own at a moments notice. I actually love ironing. It just takes so long to get it all done, but I find it a pleasurable job to do around the house. Mowing the lawn is also good. I can go into the happy place inside my head and mechanically mow away.

OH MY GOD!!!!! Daphne has just walked through the door!!!!! Seriously!!!! Right now.

I've plonked a bowl of food in front of her for a reward and shut her in the laundry so she can eat it without Maris's help. I can't believe it. She just strolled in the lounge room behind Maris, nonchalantly miaowing "Hello, where's breakfast?"

Now I know she's safe, I want to kill her. I've got to go and text the boys to let them know she's back. They're at their Dad's this weekend. (Hence the chicken chips and farnarkling with Phil and Oprah.) Hooray! My family is all safe and accounted for again.

Where's Daphne?

2007-10-19T05:51:00.000+10:00

I'm worried. Daphne, pictured with Brennan and Molly on the couch, didn't come home last night. I hate it when cats do this.

Maris was at home waiting for dinner when I got home at 6.30 after Jordan's piano lesson, but no Daph. This, of course, brings up everything that happened with poor little Daisy. She's the cat we had before the two girls we have now. I don't have a picture of her I can post. She was pre our digital camera.

She disappeared for a couple of days. In the end, Connor, who was 8 at the time, went looking for her next door in the empty house. He thought she might've got locked in the garage or something. He found her under the house. She'd been attacked by another cat or a car had hit her. The vet wasn't sure which. But the bones inside her hind leg weren't hidden anymore, and there were maggots writhing around on her. She was so glad to see us. I knew how to move her, because when I was a child I'd seen the neighbours move my dog Bonnie into a car after she'd been run over. I sent Connor racing back home for an old towel, and eased her across to it. Then we held it as rigid as we could underneath her and everyone jumped in the car.We had to have the windows down on the way to the vet. The smell was truly awful.

The first thing the vet did was give her a pain killer. She was so cold. We agreed that if she survived she'd have her leg amputated. She was only twelve months old. As I left the vets I could hear her calling for me. She died at ten that night. At least she was warm and comfortable.

So now, of course, I get antsy if the girls aren't home in time for dinner. When we first got them I said they'd be indoor cats, to avoid another Daisy episode, but they wanted to be outside. When I saw Maris trying to climb the curtains that was it! I don't want to live in a wrecked house, so they had their way. They sleep in the laundry at night, and everyone is happy.

Except me this morning. Yesterday, after a late night at the year 12 Valedictory dinner, I woke at 5.30. Sleepily I opened my eyes, only to be eyeball to eyeball with Daphne. Scared the bejeebers out of me. The kids had forgotten to put the cats away before they went to bed. I woke this morning wishing I could wake that way again today.

My favourite class this year.

2007-10-18T06:43:00.000+10:00

Yesterday.. last teaching day for year 12s. Hooray! I had my ESL class for a double, and the only constructive thing I got done was to hand out about 7 practise exams for them to do over swot vac. (Had to explain to them what swot vac means. Sometimes English slang goes over their heads.) For the rest of the lesson we took photos.... many of them. I was snapped with every kid individually, then in group shots, pairs... on and on it went. Then I had to sign everybodies dresses and shirts. I personalised most of them, but they all ran along the lines of
"Put down that calculator and pick up a book. It'll save you from losing your personality." (That was for a kid who wants to be an engineer.)
"English = Good.
Maths = Evil."
"A book a day keeps nerdiness at bay."

I'll miss my year 12 ESL class. It's ironic, because when I was given my teaching allotment at the end of last year I wasn't all that enthused about having to teach them. But fortunately, a lot of these kids are absolute idiots, which is always entertaining. ESL (English as a Second Language) kids are usually very good at Maths and Science, because numbers go across language boundaries and so they can understand what's going on more easily than in a more language based class. They catch up after a couple of years of being surrounded by English, but Maths is always their first love.

They caught on quickly that I'm allergic to all forms of Maths, (maybe because I told them so... see? I told you they were smart), and every now and then they'd co-ordinate themselves. I'd be writing something educational on the board, turn around and they'd all be waving calculators in the air. Of course I'd immediately put my index fingers together in the sign of the cross warding off evil and say "Back! Back! Put down those Devil's machines!!"
Or I'd be raving on about a novel we're studying, and I'd use a word like "estimate" or predict". Someone, usually Ali or Ilan, would point out that I'd used a Maths term, so obviously Maths was good for something.... I'd reply that they must've stolen it from English.
Or the time that I was waiting for some of the kids to arrive, and I was whingeing about having to wait for them. Where were they? Ilan replied that they were walking to class. "But you should see them RUN when it's spesh!!!" (Specialist maths... the hardest maths ever.)

It was a very small class, only 10 guys and 2 girls. There were three from Israel, one from India, one from Italy and the rest were from China. I don't know why I'm using the past tense. They're not dead. But they are now pretty much in the past, and they were a funny, very likeable group. They'll be in my list of the list teachers keep in their heads of memorable classes.

My mature response to a dare.

2007-10-17T06:49:00.000+10:00

Big news, people!!!! My afghan has now doubled in length!!!! Yes, amazing as that may sound, it's now....wait for it ....... the length of my little finger. I can hear the sound of your rapturous applause now....

ok, it's not that impressive, but this wool is really thin. I took it to work, and during after school detention I took it out and was knitting away while staring disapprovingly at all the naughty kids. I felt like Madame DeFarge at the steps of the guillotine.

Imagine if every day I was able to post and say it had doubled in length,,,, it'd be finished in no time. Ahhhh.. the dizzy heights that my daydreams reach..... I really am impossibly suburban.

My friend Scott has written on his blog (Scott's Abode.... it's listed in the interesting blogs list on the right) about National Novel Writing Month. I haven't jumped onto the website yet, but apparently you sign up to start a 50,000 word (175 page) novel on the 1st November, and you have to finish by midnight on 30th November. It's all first draft/don't agonise over every word/just plonk them down and keep going until you finish kind of writing.

He's persuaded me to do it. Probably because he's evil. I'm kicking and screaming about it but I'm going to do it for three very good reasons.

The first one is that I haven't done anything creative with my writing since I started full time work. This is no good for me. It's making me weak and dull. So, in effect, doing this will put hairs on my chest. (In a purely metaphoric sense, of course.)

The second reason is that he dared me to. Maybe not in so many words, but I get the feeling that he's probably as competitive as me, so once the challenge has been put out there then there's no other option. This is why I said he was evil.

But then again, it'll be good for both of us. We'll egg each other on. The fact that I'll be frantically doing Year 10 interviews for their VCE courses during the day, whilst he lolls around in his office with PLENTY of time to spare for his novel is irrelevant. I'll still beat him. Maybe not in quality, but by gum! I'll beat him in quantity. (Is that a good thing for me to be aiming for? To bury my very good mate in a pile of illiterate crap? But then again.... how good will his novel be? He adores reading Isabel Allende, for God's sake! Maybe the bar won't be as high as I fear.)

The third reason is that he's a boy, and I can't let him saunter away believing that he's more creative than me. Even though he is. So I have to creative-ise my life, and make it appear as if this frenzied imaginative activity is perfectly normal for me. After all, I am a woman and a Virgo, and I can do everything perfectly.

After writing this, I think I want to kill him. But I'll get over it. (Connor's reading this over my shoulder as I'm typing, and he said, "If he dies on the first of December, will you be looked at?" My reply is.... "Only if I haven't finished this bloody novel.")

So that's my next challenge. Anyone else care to jump on board? Your stuff couldn't possibly be as bad as mine is going to be, so you'll be able to write with the comforting knowledge that your novel is scintillating next to mine.

Rows on the throw.

2007-10-16T06:40:00.000+10:00

My computer is running really slowly this morning. I'd tear my hair out if I had any, so this post will probably be brief.

I started my throw/afghan last night. I bought about 6 circular knitting needles at the op shop at the end of my street for $3 total, and luckily one of them was the correct size for this project, so my frugality kick is happy. The word 'project' was deliberately chosen. It's 254 stitches a row, knitted in 8 ply wool on 4mm needles. I estimate the finish date to be in the vicinity of winter 2010. I knitted during '50 First Dates' last night, and got a grand total of 9 rows done. It's half the length of my little finger. And no, I'm not a slow knitter. It's not a complicated pattern, just plains and pearls. But I will finish it. I'm channelling Scarlett O'Hara... "As God is my witness, I'll finish this damned rug...."

Have to say I'm loving the barefoot investor book. I'm half way through, just got up to the Mojo account part, which is the part I'm really interested in. So far, I'm already doing all of what he talks about, so of course that makes me feel good, but most of my enjoyment comes from the way he's written it. He has a conversational style that's funny and easy to read, so the information gets absorbed painlessly. Now how to get Jack to read it? If he thinks I'm desperate to put it into his hands he won't touch it. Whereas Brennan is absorbing investment like a sponge... weird how kids brought up the same way, with the same genetic heritage can be so different. Why can't all my children be just like me????

The environment and Aldi

2007-10-15T06:18:00.000+10:00

Apparently it's Blog Action Day today. I just found out five minutes ago. I feel compelled to take part, in case people who know about B.A.D read what I was going to write about and think I'm an ignorant pig for not writing about the planet and putting it first.

Growing a veggie garden in the middle of a drought is a pain. I wish I'd started years ago, when you could water every day if you wanted... hell, you could switch a sprinkler on, get into your bathers and run giggling through the water.... how easy would that have been? (By the way, the picture is not an exotic vegetable I'm growing. It's just a random one from the holiday.)

Water restrictions where I live (Melbourne, Australia) are the biggest pain. I live in an odd numbered house, so I can only water my garden on two days a week, those being Wednesday and Sunday. The evens have a different two days. You can only water in the morning up until 10am (I think), and the hose has to be one of those trigger nozzle ones, so not a drop is wasted. Our dams are only about 30% full (give or take a couple of percentage points), and this is in the middle of Spring, when usually we get LOTS of rain. So the situation looks pretty dire. In the country they're even worse off.... in some places they can't water outside AT ALL, so the choice is either shower with buckets, trudge out and hand water, or let the garden die.

We've been doing the bucketing off and on, but do you know how heavy a bucket of water is? And I don't have time in the mornings when we have our showers to get everyone organised AND trundle in and out to the garden with ten buckets of water. But if the drought gets worse I'm going to have to. My front garden has been left to the elements.... whatever survives survives. It's looking surprisingly good. By good luck, most of the plants I put in seem to be drought tolerant. They weren't selected for that seven or eight years ago... but it's worked out pretty well so far. It's the veggies in the back I worry about.

At the moment I'm growing potatoes, pumpkin, leeks, onions, lettuce, silver beet, spinach, rainbow chard, and a few brussels sprouts and cauliflowers that were put in too late and are probably going to go straight to seed. This is the second year I've tackled growing our own food. It's fantastic... the taste! the crunchiness! the unchemicalliness! There's nothing like seeing your son devour a home grown cucumber in one sitting that is as big as your arm. But the drought is a big fat pain.

Global warming? I don't know. What I do know is I want some rain water tanks and some bloody big storms to fill them....

Now that my bloggish civic duty is done.... (hopefully a few photos of Thai plants and a whinge about water counts),

we finally did the big Aldi shop yesterday. Whoopee! I'm stating here for the record that I adore Aldi. I like to take the whole family, because if the boys help we get in and out of there in a little over an hour. If I'm by myself it takes forever. We went in yesterday, and got two trolleys. Brennan drove one, and Jordan had the other. We filled those suckers to the brim. I bought 18 packets of bacon/ham bits, 20 tubs of margarine, a case of spaghetti (Only 49c a tin, so I don't mind if the boys use this sometimes as an after school snack), 20 packs of pasta, enough mince to make 16 meals @ 500g a meal, 8 kgs of rice, 8 tubes of toothpaste, 3 packets of dishwasher tablets, 10 packets of skim milk powder.... etc etc. You get the picture. When I go to Aldi I buy BULK!

I save a lot of money on my food bills by doing this. Two massive trolley loads, with things piled under the trolley as well as in it so high that Brennan could barely see over the top cost me $618.

The first time I shopped like this it took 8 weeks before I had to go back to Aldi again. In the meantime I had to pop into my local supermarket a few times to top up on fresh items and things Aldi don't sell, but my visits there dramatically decreased and so did my spending. The next time was twelve weeks between shops, and for interest's sake I kept a record of everything I spent on food. My weekly food bill (including wine, pet food, toiletries.... everything) averaged out to $118/week. Before I did this my food bills were anywhere from $160 - $240, depending on whether I bought meat. I was flabbergasted. (Never has my flabber been more gasted!!)

This time around, what with the holiday and all, I've pushed it back to 15 weeks. I haven't done the figures yet, but in any case I know that I'm saving heaps. I love having my pantry, fridge and freezer full. I feel like Ma Ingalls with all my preparations done for winter. (Actually, she would've had to bucket to water her veggie garden, so I should stop complaining....)

The kids are pleased. Now that there's 10 kilos of self raising flour in the house, they'll get cakes to eat after school again. Just got to make them first....