A Little Thursday Adventure

Yesterday, at 1/2 past way before the Sparrow stirs (1) I arose, grabbed my exceedingly well packed backpack, boots and overcoat, and tip-toed out the door for an adventure.

After an event-free drive to the train station (and I swear, that is because there were no events to behold and NOT to do with the fact I was on all levels bar the valuable car-driving level possibly technically unconscious.  Well, I am pretty sure), I boarded a train and sat down in D17.

See how organised I was?  BIG green water bottle!

So, for those of you playing at home and thinking "hang on, Jeanie, you have escaped our shared reality zone and I am not sure what before the Sparrow stirs looks like, let alone the view of a train station platform from D17" -

and you are welcome.  Its a Public Service I am happy to provide.

Of course, we live in a modern world, and its not all about what goes on beyond our immediate environment these days, you know...

I could have actually even put in my earplugs and listened to the accompanying silence to that graphic of where we were in relation to where we were intending to go over the next 5 hours - but I chose to remain unplugged for the initial leg of the journey...

and for all that before the Sparrow stirs offers in way of entertainment out there in the world beyond the train, you will not actually be given the opportunity to view it, as there is a strict policy of keeping all the lights on at all times and therefore only offering a never ending view of ourselves reflected rather starkly back to us - not a pleasant vision for some of us who chose to eschew the beautifucation process prior.

Eventually, that magical moment of the passer pepedi (2) comes, and in terms of all the moments of such that I have witnessed, it wasn't too shabby.

Sure, a little mute of colour, but then dawn is not as flamboyant as dusk.  The promises of the day ahead are certainly subtly made.

and as the landscape changed around me as we chugged our way South, glimpses of brilliance were mentioned.

The reality also dawned on me that the cheap seats that I had scored were perhaps deemed extra cheap because the show on offer on the sunny side also had to contend with the sunny side

and there is only so many laws of physics that you can bend with a mobile phone - and overcoming such an obstacle is indeed beyond the mobile phone.

 

On top of that, there just aren't the money shots on the cheap side of the train.

I mean, sure, there are hints at possible beauty, but when you look over

and look at what the guy opposite is sleeping through,

well, its a $28 saving each way, and its only a theory anyway.  Right?

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Still, 4.5 hours do pass, and eventually my way wended towards the ultimate destination.

There are increasing glimpses of civilisation,

indeed, it seems as if civilisation is trying to creep up towards me!

And in such a hurry, it seems!.

Sure, it doesn't always show its prettiest side towards the tracks,

although you do get surprised when beauty thrusts out at you,

sometimes it seems like we are travelling through wormholes in time as well as civilisation on the morning train...

a lot of these people perhaps think so, as they are sucked up daily from the farflung corners of this urban empire for whatever purposes or service lubrication needs of the intricate cogs and wheels.

Maybe.  I think I need coffee.  More coffee.

People live here.  I used to live here.  Well, not here right THERE here - but here in this metropolis.

Doesn't really feel like home, any more...

although there are bits where I get a tug of nostalgia - I don't think I really remember being at this platform, but there was a New Years in the late 1980s when I caught the first train from this station home after a night out.

Ah, to be young again.

Yeah, see, and then this one just reminds me of temp office roles and petty office politics and doing the time and mannequinning the moves and dreaming of not being there.  Youth, eh.  Not always what it appears on the surface.

Breathe.  My city is the city of coffee shops and cool bookshops and hip friends and share houses and good food and weekends, but that isn't the city that I am visiting today.

Exactly, mobile phone technology.   Sometimes you just need to turn away and refocus.

try and sneak up on it at an angle.

try not to gawk (3) , and just enjoy the fact that I don't need to contemplate driving and highway road tolls and petrol prices and other drivers and city navigation and traffic and parking.  I can just hop off at one platform, go across and hop on another, run into a friend from Paradise on the same train (because it is indeed a very small world), get on the next train, travel for 4 minutes, get off at the second station, ask a worker for directions, walk up a hill, enter a large building, enter a lift, press a button, walk down the halway and get to see

my beautiful sister.

And spend ALL DAY WITH HER.

What an awesome blessing - and indeed a grand adventure.

The return trip?  Well, that is another story for another time.

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1. and 1/2 hourly intervals before then for several hours - what is it about alarm clocks that I do not trust?

2  Unfortunately, my good friend Google was unable to offer me the true Latin translation of the beautiful Australian phrase, Sparrow's Fart.  I did the best I could.  All pedants will be held down and we shall offer them to the Passers to pepedi them all they want.  'kay?

3  or if you are going to gawk, do it from a different perspective

Waxing the Full Moon

What a rather unfortunate title.

It means what it says in regard to the astronomical impact, and if you are here on any other google search, please, I think you mean the link below.  (indeed, perhaps even the missing link below).

Anyhow.

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Life changes rather suddenly on us sometimes, doesn't it?

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There has been a lot about the last 8 months that has been unbloggable for me.  A job role that is ending on Wednesday, on the full moon, on the  44 month mark of Paris.

It has been uplifting and devastating, joyous and frustrating and the best job in the world with a fairly amazing bunch of people for some real characters, parts of stories that give a little bit of hope back for a few.

And, of course, I haven't been able to blog a thing.

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Last weekend, when I had my run of luck, it also offered me many blessings.

I learned, with the speeding ticket, to slow down and regard signs.  (a lesson, unfortunately, that I have to learn by repetition)

I got a chance to be fairly internet free for two and a half days.  It was just like olden times, I swear!!

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I went and stayed at my parents house, without their knowledge or explicit consent, and mucked around with all their stuff.

Mum and Dad built their dream home a few years ago, and had just spent 15 weeks doing their dream tour of "the mother country" and Europe.  15 weeks of a 16 week trip.  As it was my Dad's birthday on that Sunday, and Mum's yesterday, I had devised a cheap yet extremely heartfelt and practical gift that would possibly tick off the birthday section of the to do list.

I was giving them the opportunity to invite their friends to their beautiful home and regale with adventurous tales and amazing photos.  While I can only assume the latter factors, as they were without my control, I had in my hands the opportunity to zhush the house and plant flowers and prepare and freeze meals.

Unfortunately the whole "cheap" aspect of the surprise were busted rather poetically by the bookends of disaster that was last weekend.  Silver lining was getting the awesome laundry folding bench completely clear (although Mum - I am concerned with the final location for the eskies, so don't try to climb the stepladder and get them down yourself!  And don't send Dad up!!  Its been keeping me awake-ish).

The whole "surprise" thing was also slightly stymied, as although I had no issue with using their hospitality in their absence and without their knowledge, even I draw the line in the sand when it comes to the loan of a motor vehicle.

But the "beautiful house" bit?  Well, with the assistance of Bush Babe, 'Salina and Paris, it was right out of the pages of a magazine.

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The Insurance dude did that whole "this is the information before we officially give you the information regarding your claim, but probably the car is kaputz" which did give me a momentary lament about the cool grand I had dropped on it at the mechanic's on Thursday before I left.

Pollyanna me would like to think that by doing so I had saved a business (or at least a job).  You never know.

The Dark Side of My Psyche thinks "yes, but what would have happened if you hadn't spent that money.  Perhaps it could have been worse".  DSOMP is a real bitch.

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In other news, 'Salina is now officially the same height as her mother.  We did the check in the bathroom on the weekend, and the only difference is my butt is saggier.

I didn't realise it would affect me so much.

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We had Sarma tonight. I made it yesterday, but hadn't timed my run to the precision that I pride myself on and therefore had it on the best day possible - the day after, where the flavours really settle and the sauce blends.

Of course, I also have the opportunity to have it on Wednesday, as it is my contribution to the farewell luncheon.

And there was enough left over for both V and I to have substantial lunches today.

That it the downside with Sarma.  The amount you make is dependent on the cabbage - and the cabbage always surprises you with its ability to create a mountain out of virtually nothing.

Still, it freezes, its a great leftover, its good for you, it keeps you warm and regular and it is as cheap as all get - those Eastern Europeans know a thing or two about surviving!!

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Vignette - or is that vingette? Or vinegarette? Anyhoo, little bits of life right now...

I went to a photography exhibition and saw something that reminded me of work (and now, not the toilet part)

I stayed at the most gorgeous B&B with views (thanks Mum & Dad)

I saw rainbows

I saw this awesome lady (with this awesome lady) (and missing this lady)

I saw people who really needed help

and people who were happy to help

I have spent hours on the phone and talking face to face with people and verifying forms and filling documents and pushing with bureacracy and photocopying and photographing and driving and  folding piles and international land deals and phone calls I should have made to embassies and small organisation machinations and impossible demands and wins and water and husky voice and rusted cars and mandarines and despair and delightful roses

 ...  well, what can I say, it has been a week.

How was yours?

Mum's Magic

When I was a kid, my mother was magical.  She kept her secret potions in her red make-up case.  She also had a treasure-trove of vitamins, tonics, powders and pills (and had the skills to use them) in the tupperware container in the kitchen.

Did everyone's mother have a make-up case?  They were hard and quite three-dimensional and were often placed beneath the Mum's feet in the car on trips, or regally towards the left of Mum's dressing-table.  If you were a very, very good girl, you got to go into Mum's Room and gaze upon the wonders that were in her make-up case.

It was always "Mum's Room" in my experience. Occasionally, if he had somehow kindled a feeling of warmth and regard, you might refer to it as "Mum and Dad's Room" but you and he both knew it was a concession of love.  There was, indeed, "Dad's Side of the Bed" and "Dad's Drawers" (upon which lived folded handkerchief's, a notebook, loose change, the other watch and mystery objects), "Dad's Toilet" was a luxury we all aspired to and "Dad's Chair" (a beauty that still exists in our living room, thirty-five years after its fortuitous entry into our lives through a one dollar raffle ticket from the Eidsvold Sport's Day), but there was a definite leaning toward the "Mum owns everything in the house because" philosophy in my childhood.

But I digress.  (and Dad did have does have quite a land claim on some of my childhood memories)

Mum used Oil of Ulan.  It was beautiful.  It smelt so luxurious and the little dab we were allowed on our fingers were so smooth and rubbed in to such a soft dream of nothing on your skin.  But you must never, never, never, never, never go in to Mum's room without being allowed to.

The living room used to be right next to Mum's Room.  The house was an original design, the sort of warren that exists from the family home emerging from an outstation heritage.  One where unexpected doors offered entry into rooms that geographically should not adjoin.  I didn't know, during my childhood, that there were homes out there that didn't have this feature.  Our home did, as did the majority of our neighbours.  Cupboards that were secret passages to other rooms did exist.  Laundry chutes were of the seventies child's secret dreams, and when they were discovered, always coveted.

The doorway between these two rooms, in my memory, were double doors with square panes of that gorgeous rough glass that worked so well behind paper with decent crayon action.  It is possible that my siblings may have attempted such feats without the paper.

These doors were permanently open - however the doorway ensured privacy with a curtain of green beads - circles and rectangles and diamonds and spheres.  We were NOT ALLOWED to tug on them or race through them but these ILLICIT ACTS were so tempting - especially when you had siblings who were fun to laugh with and make noise with and play with.

Mum's Dressing Table was heavenly.  It had little drawers and boxes with treasures beyond imagination.  If ever anything was needed in any part of the house, no matter how obscure, and the finder asked "Mu-um, do you know where the (insert obscure object here) is?" the answer would more often than not be "have you tried the dressing-table?" - and so often, by magic, this was indeed the hiding place of the object required.

Wordless Wednesday - Three Years is a lot of territory

A lot happens in 3 years.

You can move from girlhood to adolescense - or from infant to girl.

Your body can go from helpless to self-propulsion.

Your mind can go from inquisitive to One Direction.

Your life can be thrown up in the air and land askance.

You can find focus and direction.

You can fail to discern when things need to change until it is forced.

But mostly, you can learn to love over and over and over again.

(This is part of Wordless Wednesday, hosted over at My Little Drummer Boys)

Delayed Gratification

I am the sort of grinch who makes my family wait (patiently) until December 1 before carols and decorations can be unearthed, eat their vegetables, say please and thank you AND wait until their birthdays before they can open their presents.

Its a gift that I have and, while not always appreciated at the time, it is darned well appreciated by the day of the actual birthday *.

Paris is having her birthday on 21st December.  Yes, that is correct, the Mayans knew that she was going to turn 3 and stopped their calendars for the occasion **.

While I have stipulated, it does not mean that the grey area around the "wait until your birthday before you can open your presents" proclamation cannot - and does not - get thoroughly investigated here in Paradise.

However, when we have loved ones living far, far away *** who send gifts in boxes with lots of foam peanuts, the sting from the whole command dissolves.

For what is a box, if it is not a car, what are foam peanuts if not art materials - and what is a sister, if not a magician?

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* Disclaimer - this is in no way proportional to the disappointment to seeing that the whole inventory of Toyworld is not awaiting them as requested on perusing the brochures.

** Obviously quite prescient, those Mayans - she is already turning on a few little tantrums that require "time out" - I wonder what the Mayans see when they decreed such a complete time out!!

*** who are far more organised than I and therefore have enough little ducks lined up to ensure that present arrival date is less than birthday date - a trick that thus far eludes me...

'Salina's Gift

When we first moved to Paradise, a lot of my decision in moving here was because of 'Salina.

I wanted to be closer to my extended family so we could contemplate regular weekend visits rather than longer but more sporadic journeys. It meant that P's family were no longer around the corner - but it is always a joy when they visit us or vice versa.

I wanted to not be stuck in traffic trying to get her to and from school. These days, I can watch her on and off the bus in my dressing gown (all too often) from the top of the stairs.

When I first met V, I must admit that a fair bit of that was for me - however, I wasn't tossing my lot in with someone who didn't have 'Salina front and foremost also. My first phone discussion with him involved the words "package deal" and we have always worked on the principle that, while the he and me things were excellent, they were only ever possible with the he, me and she thing all gelling also. Luckily, they have. Not always easy, a few teething issues and occasional maintenance required.

When I first got pregnant, we were very unsure as to how 'Salina would react, as it would be a large deviation for her.

She played it well, holding all cards very close to her chest as to her reactions to the news - trepidation was the major key with occasional hues of potential sufferance.

And now...

Well, let us just say that if 'Salina told her baby sister to jump, she would be asked how high.


All is well with her world!

Where is the time...

Well, it seems another few weeks have whizzed by - I know that the years get quicker the older you are, but frankly I am in mortal fear of the speeds they will reach if it continues at this rate!!!

We have been busy - although it tends to be busy-ness taking up our time because the checked boxes at the end of each day don't seem to reflect the huge amount of effort in getting through - and the "time spent relaxing on the computer" has been slashed hugely.

I am now working two part-time jobs while keeping a beady eye out for something more substantial (and financial) to kick in come August when the larger of these two ceases. V is now upping his study-load. His "good" knee decided that, after 2 months of wet weather it didn't really want to go back to work and so threw a hissy fit - although the report from the scans don't use the words "hissy" or "fit". We had always planned he would go back and attack his study properly - but the plan had a "when Paris is a little older" that has been kyboshed.

Currently (theoretically), Paris is with me mornings while V studies, with him in the afternoons while I work and has one day at Family Day Care.

One of the boxes ticked of late that has been looming was rearranging a bit of furniture. In all, the spare room/office is now working, 'Salina now has a real dressing table for her pre-teen preening (her great-grandmother's) and Paris' clothes are in a tallboy (the other great-grandmother's).

'Salina has grown up so much this holidays - half of it were spent at her aunt's where she got to ride horses, play with horses, plait horses manes, and plot with Dash (her words on return were "Dash and I have a bright future planned" - I believe it involves horses), while the other half have been dealing with her social life and being a huge help to us with Paris as we juggle work/study and parenting.

When we brought up the tallboy from the garage, it was rather grimy. 'Salina offered to clean it and set about it lickety-split. I asked if she needed anything to help, adding "although it looks like you are doing a pretty fair job with elbow grease". Very seriously she replied that all she had used was a bit of water - parents can be so silly sometimes, can't they?