Green Eggs and Ham

Actually boiled eggs and no ham. As we didn't host Christmas, and failed to steal leftovers from lunch, yesterday we had to pack a very meagre picnic before heading off to watch the start of the Sydney to Hobart race.

Christmas was exactly as you would expect - loud, chaotic and fun. Holden is permanently glued to his new mobile phone, and Phoebe is trying valiantly to tell the time on her new watch. I have watched part of my The Cook and The Chef DVD (at the same time as failing to cook anything at all). Andrew is reading Into the Wild and hoping to see the movie soon.

This food hiatus all ends tomorrow, however, when we host our famous Chilli Crab lunch. I will spend tomorrow morning doing icky things with crabs, and then spend the afternoon eating them messily.

A Christmas Carol

There has been controversy raging around our Christmas tree this year. First, I suggested to Holden that we might get an artifical tree. Outrage! (Holden likes things to STAY THE SAME. ALWAYS. AND FOREVER.)

So then I decorated the (live) tree the way I wanted. Lights, gold baubles and clear glass balls. Andrew accused it of looking like a RETAIL tree. He said it wasn't ugly enough to belong in a house with children. Now it has two red felt stockings on.

Then I also decided that I was tired of pretty wrapping paper being ripped and going in the bin. I have wrapped everything (bar one or two things wrapped in cheery leftovers) in brown kraft paper, and used pretty ribbon ... (which I can recycle). OTHER PEOPLE (ie not Andrew) think it looks nice.

The gravlax is doing its thing in the fridge, the final batch of cranberry cookies for the neighbours is baking (it's not because I'm nice, it's because I like to make them feel guilty about complaining about children having fun on the street), and I've edited 200 pages of a book. I think that counts as a productive weekend.

An Angel at My Table

It's a long story. And a big table. I like to eat, and I like to cook, and for years we've had the same little table that really only sits four comfortably. It's a lovely table - Scandinavian, from the 60s - and Andrew bought it for me spontaneously one day when we lived in Bondi, and it's the only dining table the kids have ever known. But dinner parties are squishy in our house, and homework is beginning to sprawl, so the time had come. I dithered and pondered and weighed up options (all very unlike me) and went here and there, and also somewhere else. Finally, I ordered my French Oak dining table, made from 200-year old timber, in October. I was told 6-8 weeks till delivery. I spend the first 6 of them worrying about 1. spending so much money 2. so many air miles 3. everything. So by the time it eventually arrived, on Wednesday, I was almost bored with the whole idea.

But I really love my table. It is pre-loved in every sense, so I will never care if anyone spills, burns, smears or tips anything on it. It extends to seat 12. Wow. If only we had more than four chairs.

I would take a photo, but it is covered in stuff. That's the other thing, it's a really excellent size for wrapping Christmas presents on.

Gone with the Wind

Reason for the blog title? Well, for reasons known only to himself (actually, probably the article in the SMH today about some sequel to the book), Andrew got out the DVD today. 'Have you seen it?' he says to me. HAVE I SEEN IT? Lordy, the only video me and my dear flattie John used to watch more was probably ABBA: The Movie. Happy Darlinghurst days indeed. It was fun being 20. I think.

And now back to our regular middle-aged suburban screenings. This week's line-up featured: Mummy Finds Work Kriss Kringle a Dispiriting Experience; Holden and Mum Cry at His Last Day at Orange Grove Public School; Phoebe is a Complete Star in OGPS Idol; and An Angel at My Table. Correct, the last is in fact a REAL MOVIE. Well spotted. You'll have to read the next post to find out what that's about ...

Hol's last day was a very teary experience. In the morning, as we were having quality time with a pillow fight, I said something about Holden having been at his school for five years. 'That's half my life, Mum', he said. I might have had a sniffle at that. When it came to the actual farewell, I couldn't even take a decent photo, and Holden almost refused to do the 'Tunnel of Friendship' (strange but sweet ritual).




Flippancy aside, I do hope that we're doing the right thing. That's the hard bit (not the only one) about being a parent - you do what you think is the best thing, but there's no going back if you get it wrong.

Of Mice and Men

My weekend in list form.

To do (written Friday afternoon):
1. Bake shortbread for 8 teachers.
2. Make chocolate truffles for 7 teachers.
3. Make chicken liver pate for 3 teachers.
4. Package the above.
5. Cut out and sew 47 red and white felt stockings for class Christmas gifts.
6. Edit a thesis (no, not Andrew's, that's been and gone and he has now got his Masters of Politics and Public Policy).
7. Edit several chapters of a book.
8. Do my writing homework.

Actually done (written Sunday night):
1. As above.
2. As above.
3. As above.
4. Not quite.
5. As above.
6. Watch Holden play baseball (they lost by one point but it was a great game).
7. Go to the neighbourhood Christmas party on Saturday evening.
8. Have lunch with my brother on Sunday.
9. Look at a house we want to buy but probably can't afford ...

So I sense a strong theme. NO WORK. Which means it's now Monday and the week ahead looks very scary. But at least I had some fun in amongst the endless cooking and sewing.



For Phoebe's class we hung the stockings on a branch of one of our gum trees (this is Australia, after all. Hol's we just strung along a length of dowel, as I had run out of ideas/patience/appropriate receptacles ...

The Grinch

This is me. Not it's not. I LOVE Christmas, almost more than I love Halloween. Anything that involves an excuse to cook silly things, decorate the house, make time-consuming and tedious cards, indulge my childish side, hide things in cupboards, etc, is my idea of fun.

I want to make a new Advent thingy (well, it's not a calendar, so I have to call it a thingy) but the idea I have set my heart on requires sewing and the machine is STILL dead and will not be re-animated until next week. Too late for 1 December, obviously. Time to beg, borrow or steal a machine, then find some time to sew.

I must also mention how happy I am about the election result, although I'm still curious as to who Rudd will turn out to be. Turnbull's self-serving speech about egalitarianism, from the richest electorate in the country, was truly nauseating. And I am thrilled that we have a female deputy PM. Ok, that's enough from me.

16 Candles

Plus another 24. So, yes, I turned 40. On Saturday my friends Casey, Jen, Justine, Sharon, Simone, Megan and Amy came over for lunch in the garden and we had a gorgeous afternoon. And I got lots of beautiful presents (artfully arranged by Jen the Stylist, of course).

On Sunday we headed over to Andrew's parents' place and had a picnic on the beach - Moet, prawns, oysters, etc - with family. Very civilised indeed, but I don't have any photos yet.

You may notice that there is a tiny Tiffany blue box in my stash pile - my mother gave me a beautiful little blue enamel pen from Tiffany & Co, which I shall probably rarely use outside the house for fear of losing it!

And I am also now the proud owner of a garden fishpond/bowl with a Tiffany blue interior, thanks to Casey (photos to come). We filled it with feng shui fish (7 gold, one black), who we called Snow White and the 7 Dwarves, but sadly Snow White has already gone to the big pond in the sky. Phoebe had a very touching burial service yesterday afternoon. I want to know if that means our feng shui is now BAD.

Shopping

In case you doubt that every blog title is a book or movie, I'll link them from now on.

So ... shopping. I hate shopping. My idea of a perfect shopping trip is looking in a window while on my way somewhere, seeing something lovely, trying it on there and then and buying it for not too much money. And this all happens in less than 10 minutes.

Anyway, at lunchtime today I went to look for a frock for my birthday lunch (not to eat, JUSTINE). Here is my summary:

1. Maxi dresses are wrong. I don't care if you're tall.
2. 40-year-old knees are wrong. I don't care if you're Demi Moore.
3. I hate shopping.

I will probably be wearing my favourite Lisa Ho dress that I wear to all special occasions. It's 10 years old. The upside is that it still fits.

The Shining

Do I ever do anything except photograph my children? Well, yes, mostly I work. But that's too excruciatingly dull to talk about. And I cook. But I've been bored with that too ...

So I did something I've been wanting to do for years and signed up for a writing course. Yes yes yes, I write for a living, but that's horrid commercial writing. I mean 'creative' (choke) writing. I'm doing it online - a) because I hate people (and I don't want to sit in a circle reading things out and being embarrassed); and b) because I can do it any time it suits me. I have finished the first week. I'm not sure what I think of it. There is some good writing being posted; and some utter shite, I am sad to report. We get feedback a couple of times a week from our 'tutor', and we also have to write two lots of feedback on other people's work for every piece we post ourselves. My question is - because I'm a horrible cynic - if we have to say nice things (even when we may not be thinking them) - why should we believe anything our tutor says about our writing? Surely HE'S just being nice too ...

Oh yeah, I called this post The Shining because I have been re-reading it. As Stephen King himself has said, it has its flaws, but geez it's scary. The other night I had to get Andrew to escort me to the loo because I was too damn scared to go by myself. Imagine being able to scare someone that much with your writing. Cool.

Tom Brown's Schooldays

Or Flashman. Depending on your reading tastes.

Hol is not very happy about being sent to Edgecliff Prep next year. But his dad, both his uncles and both his grandfathers went to Big School (no, truly, that's what they call it), so he was doomed from the start.

Yesterday was the day we went to get uniforms. Holden was thrilled because he overhead some boys talking about Runescape, this game he and all his buddies play online. Obviously it hadn't occurred to him that the others boys at Prep might be like the boys he knows.

We got: shirts, shorts, socks, garters, ties, hat, tracksuit, schoolbag, sports bag and sports shorts. And we ordered the blazer. My wallet is now considerably lighter.

But the best thing is that when we got home from school (ie Orange Grove) Holden declared that he wanted to try on the whole outfit. He EVEN grudgingly consented to being photographed. I'm afraid he looks a little gormless, and the shoes are wrong, but at least khaki suits him.

My Beautiful Laundrette

It's my 40th birthday soon, and I'm completely underwhelmed by the whole concept. But presents are always good. On the weekend we went and checked out the Balmain Art & Craft show and Andrew bought me some laundry.
There was an exhibition of this artist's work in a gallery close to us, and I kept driving past and seeing this particular painting. I kept meaning to find time to drop in, but naturally missed it. So when I walked into the Balmain show and saw the very same painting, I decided it was meant to be MINE.
Andrew says it's very me. It's sort of drab and domestic is probably what he means. Anyway, I love it, and it now sits above our Parker sideboard and looks fabulous. I might take a photo of it in situ ...

The Ring

I'm not quite sure why Phoebe decided she had to be the girl from the Ring, but she was very scary. When I told people what she was dressing up as, everyone said 'has she SEEN the movie?'. Now, I know I may not be the world's MOST responsible mother, but even I don't let a 7-year-old watch movies like that.


And Holden was Freddy and NO, he hasn't seen Nightmare on Elm Street either. Although bought costumes are normally not allowed in this house, I did relent and buy the Freddy mask, as I just wasn't sure my skills with latex (none) would cut it.

Jen and I (we do Halloween together every year) had decided that as there was no party, we weren't dressing up. Then we both decided at the last minute that it just would not DO. So this is us.

Nightmare on Elm Street

Every year I make silly stuff for Halloween, but the only thing that ever gets photographed is the jack o'lanterns and the kids. So this year I decided to take photos of our sheltered workshop. Jen was sticking things on lollipops (as you do) to put in the treat bags ... I was making cookies and white chocolate lollipops (courtesy of Martha, of course) for the kids to take to school. And I couldn't resist making tags with the gorgeous scary tree punch and teeny weeny Halloween brads ...

Hair

OK, last photo of Phoebe for a while, I promise. But she just had her hair cut, and I can't help thinking she looks eerily like my mother (1960s, can't you tell?).

Bee Movie

Phoebe had to go to a bee party a couple of weeks ago. My sewing machine is on the blink (I think the sequins on the party dress I made for her birthday might have been responsible), so I had to come up with an alternative very quickly. Two pairs of black tights, some yellow crepe paper and some pipe cleaners, plus some stuffing for the belly ... and we had something that might be related to a bee (if not closely).

Dead sewing machine means Halloween is also going to be a bit of a fudge job this year. Thanks to me working 7 days a week at the moment - and some nasty people on our street - we're not having our usual huge Halloween party. But the kids will be trick or treating, and there will be jack o'lanterns and bats and everything else out the front of our place. That's if I ever find any carving pumpkins - every year I assume it will be easier, since Halloween seems to be catching on here, but every year I end up running around trying to source them. I found somewhere that sells the seeds for them, but it's a bit late now!

Lilo & Stitch

The party went well and we survived, even if the little monsters were all up at FIVE THIRTY.

This is them about to watch the second movie. They are wearing glow in the dark glasses; in the second photo, I've turned off the flash!

Hairspray

Why Hairspray? Well, the kids had their school musical last week (which I co-wrote the script for, believe it or not) and I also gave Phoebe the Hairspray soundtrack album as one of her birthday presents. The little monster turned SEVEN on Wednesday. I still think of her as the baby. Clearly she's not.

Birthday celebrations are taking place tomorrow (Saturday) night, with a 'space movie slumber party'. Everyone comes over, we project movies onto the wall of the living room (Lilo & Stitch and ET), feed them during interval and then feed them again when they wake up in the morning. And then we hope the parents turn up to take them away.

I am not very organised. I still have to finish sewing lolly bags, hem the special silver sequin dress I made Phoebe, make the cake (oh yeah, design the cake first), etc. Never mind. I'm sure it will all work out. And when it does I will take photos and post them.

To Kill a Mockingbird

From which this cat, Atticus Finch, gets his name. He was once a sleek and handsome cat. He is now 10, and very, very, very fat. I blame Andrew, who insists on feeding him 'special' food.



So anyway, nothing is happening as usual. Except that it seems to be spring. The plum tree is a mass of white blossom and bees are busily ensuring that we spend all summer sweeping squishy plums off the ground (they are full of fruit fly, which is why we don't eat them or turn them into jam). My bluebells are a bit stalky, but pretty, and the kaffir lime tree has an abundance of purply new growth.

Tomorrow I am going to Perth for a few days for another 40th birthday party. My friend Casey has been living in Perth for a while now, but I've never been there, so it will be interesting to see what it's like.

Under a Blood Red Sky

Actually, it was more orange than red.

At about 7.30 last night we were gearing ourselves up to wander around the suburb a bit to find a good vantage point for the lunar eclipse. But as we walked out the front door we discovered half our neighbours parked in front of Number 12 (over the road), with a perfect view. So it wasn't much of an expedition, but we did see the eclipse ...

Larry's Party

First up, I changed my mind about blog titles. I'm going to include books as well as movies. And maybe even songs if they take my fancy. So there.

On Sunday evening, Andrew and I frocked up (well, I did, he didn't) to attend the 40th birthday celebrations of our dear friend Sharon, author of It's my party and I'll knit if I want to and Being Married and general cool chick.

The theme of the shindig was glamour, so naturally enough most of the guests turned up in jeans. Clearly they hadn't read the books we gave Sharon as a gift, the delicious Style and Occasions by that doyenne of fabulousness herself, Kate Spade.

I got to wear my new (vintage) snakeskin shoes that I accidentally bought one Friday lunchtime in the city. It's not my fault they were my size. Sadly, I can't walk in them. But I can stand and sit very stylishly in them, especially with a glass of champagne in my hand, and fortunately that was all I was required to do.

The presence of several babies under the age of two months also lowered the glamour quotient somewhat, I'm sorry to add. Especially when they vomited. However, Andrew very bitchily came up with a theory that someone we know might be having an affair, which made things a bit more exciting and grown-up again.

Anne of Green Gables

Okay, so probably enough pictures of Holden enjoying sporting victory. Phoebe's turn. Phoebe, like her mother, is not really that interested in sport, although she is excellent at yelling her support. She's more into drama and music, which brings me to these pictures of the annual school book character parade - in Preschool she was Angelina Ballerina, and last year she was Pippi Longstocking.
This year she wanted to be Anne of Green Gables, but my limited sewing skills (and patience) weren't up to the puff-sleeved dress that was going to be required. So instead she was Lesley from Bridge to Terabithia (yup, the recent movie version), but I haven't got a photo up yet ...

Bend it like Beckham

Yeah yeah, say all you like about soccer moms, but Holden's under 10s Grand Final on Saturday was a corker - they won 3:0 and we had a big party here afterwards to celebrate. Please note that this is non-alcoholic champers being sprayed around by the infants (and a rather pleased manager).

Marathon Man

So, the first decision I've made - unilaterally, I might add - is that we are to continue the film name blog title rule.
Conveniently enough, last Sunday was the City to Surf, the famous Sydney run. Back in the day, when we lived in Bondi, we always had a party after the race. Andrew would do a ridiculous time (like 56 minutes), drag himself home and drink beer for the rest of the afternoon. Ah, the good old days.
Back then, Hol was a tiny thing. Now he's 10, and this year he ran the City to Surf for the first time. I should add that he's never run more than 5km at a time before, although he does always win his school cross country.
So, the little so-and-so ran it in 87 minutes. That's 14km, including the reknowned Heartbreak Hill. By the time I had crawled to the end, he was already planning next year's run.
Here's a photo of the champ, taken by The Bank's photographer - yeah, there are some advantages to working for a large evil corporation, like 'hospitality' and photographers at the end of a run.

Oh, and just in case he sulks because I haven't mentioned him enough, Andrew was a PREFERRED runner this year. Unlike normal people, he got his name on his bib. Very special.