Saturday, January 31, 2009
With S away on a business trip, and the promise of a 'Tasmanian Heatwave' - this I had to see- I scooped the kids, a tent, bathers and not much else, into the car and away we went to see the East Coast. Tasmania is breathtakingly gorgeous; it never ceases to impress my inner aesthete. I encouraged the girls down a steep ravine in a Forest Reserve to see Hardings Falls. We were somewhat shocked to have the place to ourselves. Yes, it was 33 degrees, and we had to schlep it in with backpack, water bottles and food supplies, but to have not one, but two fantastic deep and bone-achingly cold rock pools to ourselves was good fortune I didn't anticipate.
And Bicheno is easy on the eye too, but I wont go on about it, as I'm sure you'll all just get jealous!
But camping? Not so easy, perhaps. To me, camping seems like an opportunity to air your dirty laundry in a public place, literally. Its a great leveller. No point whispering when you've lost your patience and you telling them for the 3rd time to 'clean their teeth and get to bed' as everyone can hear everything anyway. Just yell at them will a full throttled bottom-of-yer-lungs style bellow, cos that's precisely what everyone else is doing! Actually I was pretty amazed by how easy I have it: my two girls were remarkably independent, there was simply no need to bellow at them, which is just as well as I don't really subscribe to yelling as a parenting tactic. (Just so you know I'm not holding my own parenting skills up as a paradigm of perfection, I have been known to yell at them sometimes, although I'm not terribly proud of this) Yet it is strangely reassuring to know that other parents also get to the end of their tether at 9pm!
And its not just the campers (read lower end of the socio-economic food chain) that were lambasting their kids. The cabin dwellers (with fancy Audi station wagons) were just being more private about their disciplining. (Although those cabin walls are pretty thin too). Its pretty clear that smacking and yelling, although derided in current parenting how-to-manuals is still being practiced. But I'm not about to enter this fraught territory of parenting blogs, as there are others that do so far better than I. And really, there were many great things about living communally like this; the camp kitchen become a great site for ping-pong showdowns, the out door BBQ a great spot for a beer and a chat. And if you forgot a can opener (like I did) there were about 50 people happy to help you out.
And the kids really enjoyed the free range lifestyle of the caravan park; something I do remember doing as a child myself, so I'm sure there will be a repeat the event real soon...we still have the North West and South coasts to explore.
Oh, and a Tassie heatwave?...its really just another term for beach weather.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
ARRRRGHHH! I'm under attack!
Found this morning at 7am: 2 juvenile potaroos
Crime: chowing down on my lettuces.
Punishment: banished forever from my 30m2 of productive patch ... ;)
I really do like the little guys, and I still really don't mind sharing the garden with them. I had hoped to be able to exclude them from just a small area of productive veggie patch, and leave them the rest of the garden to munch on. They seem to like the roses and are great at keeping the lawn under control. Cute too, but not so cute when they eat your entire crop of mustard greens, chard, choy-sum, oak leaf and butter lettuce. These guys have specialised tastes in greens it seems. I should just confess that this image was taken in spring, before i planted out the seedlings, but apart from my corn and a couple of zucchini bushes, its looking pretty similarly barren. Bugger!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Steve (my husband) is an Malaysian Chinese bloke, by birth, but has lived in this country for more than half of his life. He reckons that the fact that Australia day falls on the first day of Chinese New Year cancels out the joy of Chinese NY for him. Kinda depressing really. When pressed, he admitted that he is so despairing of the attitude of many white Australians towards people of another colour that he thinks its not possible for him to contemplate NY festivities.
Happy New year of the Ox to you all , and happy Australia day!
Launceston 5-day Weather Forecast (dont laugh)
Monday 26° C 11° C
Tuesday 24° C 14° C
Wednesday 32° C 16° C
Thursday 32° C 19° C
Friday 34° C 19° C
After this, the weather bureau suggests we will be back to the low 20's, as is normal in this part of the world at this time of year.
After living in Adelaide for umpteen years, temperatures in the low to mid thirties do not constitute a heatwave. Hey, this is happy, get-out-and enjoy-it beach weather!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I have this on-going issue with my job as an architect and urban designer: as soon as I attempt to draw a building, or urban plan either on paper, or an a computer screen, the level of disengagement with the 'lived quality' of the architecture is increased. The drawing becomes an object itself to be manipulated in its rarefied state: it becomes an object of beauty. The subject, the space of city itself, is largely forgotten in the mind of the designer. Or at least this is what I try NOT to forget when i design myself. And when teaching my students, I remind them to hold the human implications of their form making in their minds as they design.
Steve and I were asked by a Chinese University to team up with them to come up with ideas for a large slab of farmland, reserved for the ever expanding city of Anyang. We designed a scheme with a giant Chinese character which we intend to be read from space, Google earth, or even an aeroplane window. The character means "trace" or more specifically 'historical trace', and I wanted it as to become a parkland, filled with cherry blossom trees. I imagined that this would be a fantastic experience for the city dweller-to have a fragrant refuge in a cheek-by-jowl urban environment. I know the scheme has been shortlisted, but the design has been taken on board by an army of Chinese design students, and office drafters to turn this whimsical design idea into a concrete proposal. I just know the parkland is being eroded, as the scheme is turned into a more economical and dollar driven enterprise.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Mum's Jam advice:
- use equal parts sugar and fruit (I didn't actually, I had half as much sugar as fruit)
- don't toss in the apricot pips as they have (very low) traces of arsenic in them
- do throw in a couple of halved lemons to add flavour
- use low heat and keep stirring, as it burns easily
- a finely chopped apple will assist in helping set the jam (it apparently contains pectin)
- you know when its set when a teaspoon of hot jam forms a skin when placed on a cold saucer in the fridge for a few minutes
- boil the jars to sterilise them and make sure they are completely dry (you can dry them in the oven) before tipping in the jam.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
My friend Ana turned up with her two boys, a tub of plums, lemons and apricots and I was more than happy to share a few figs with her in exchange. Nothing like a summer fruit swap, replete with kids to help out with harvesting.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
So it was great to break the pattern, and head out the door at 9am and drive up the road to George-town. At the top end of the Tamar River, and about 45 minutes from Launceston, George-town is small historic village. Settled in 1804, it has some incredible original buildings, and the pub is the best kind wearing a couple of lacy verandahs like skirts. The Tamar folk festival visits the village once a year and we arrived just as the Street party started. It was a homely affair with town-folk meandering the main street, gathering to listen to singers, guitar players and watch impromptu Morris Dance performances.
Its good to break those shitty routines!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Ive just resigned from a tenured position, half time. A wonderful job, by all accounts, and compatible with life as a mum and architect. A great opportunity to share my knowledge, read and research, work from home if I want to, re-write course material if it interests me. Don't get me started on the fantastic leave entitlements, I'm about to toss away into the wind.
On the surface of it, the decision is a fate accompli. Husband has moved the family to Tasmania, so wife and kids uproot and go. I cant possibly maintain an academic position travelling interstate on a weekly basis: I'm not so enamoured with the job that I am prepared to wear myself out with late night flights just to do this. Trouble is that I have no position here. Just a bit of part time work. I feel just a trifle diminished.
And yet, there is the possibility of new things opening up. Other horizons. There might well be some other field of work that suits me better, and interests me more. I'm thinking about studying again. Maybe a PhD? Thanks to 'Bluemilk' for the reminder of the ways in which mothering causes us to sacrifice our feminist principles at times. I'm not sure I feel any better, seeing this issue from a feminist perspective, its kind of tragic that its often the woman that makes the "sacrifice".
Such a shocking word as it implies the death of something, and yet it also means 'a surrender of something of value as a means of gaining something more desirable'.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Nurse (reprimandingly): Did you drink enough before you came, dear? (why am I dear? I am nearly 40...when does this nonsense stop!)
Me: Well, sort of. Its sometimes hard to remember to drink enough in the morning rush with 2 kids in tow. (This morning I was lucky to get out the door at all with my two shoeless cantankerous children)
Nurse (unsatisfied with response): Well if you are going to donate, then you need to follow the guidelines. And then the needle gets removed, and the chair Im in is tipped inelegantly backwards so the blood I have left can find a place to settle further upstream.
Grudgingly the nurse brings me a drink and a list of 'Guidelines' and circles the criteria relevant to potential 'fainters', like me.
I look around the blood-letting lab, and I realise that over three quarters of the donors are women. Ive checked a few stats on line (not sure how reputable the data is) and in 2006 apparently 25,000 more women than men donated blood. Are women more conditioned to be caring? Perhaps we deal closer with the fine line between life and death in child birth? Perhaps as we menstruate, we are more understanding of the life giving promise of blood: its ebb and flow?
And yet it is men that make more actual donations. This one gets my blood pressure up a little, as I reckon that they may get better treatment from the nurses (OK, maybe a just had a cranky nurse today). Or maybe, probably more likely, its because women are preoccupied having babies, breastfeeding, caring, or working multiple jobs. I reckon we are all too damn tired to donate any more often!
Any thoughts out there in blog-land?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
After walking up and down the aisles of raspberry canes and strawberry plants filling a tub or two to the brim, my eldest daughter (Miss E) quizzed me thus:
Miss E: Mummy, are these strawberries organic?
Me: Ummm....no, I dont think so, but the orchard owner says they are 'minimum spray'.
Miss E: Whats minimum spray?
Me: 'Well, they usually will only spray once, at the time that the pests that eat the strawberries are there'.
Miss E: So they have been sprayed by pesticides, then. Yuck! I'm not eating them.
Cant argue with that! I realised I'd been kidding myself thinking that minimum spray was OK, but really the stuff is in the plant and the soil. Miss E had caught me in the hypocritical act of extolling the virtues of home grown organic produce, and promoting less than perfect fare as OK.We went home to carefully tend our own strawberry plants, so that we can eat our own produce with confidence. Fortunately my husband and I have no such qualms about freshly picked 'minimum spray' strawberries, and have polishing them off with icecream :)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Five Helium filled black balloons were launched on Saturday night by our house guest, Michael Yuen. A small ricotta tub carrying a battery pack and a myriad of LED lights hung apparently in mid air, as the balloons rose, freaking out a number of water birds swooping low over the Tamar at the time. Our dinner guests assisted in reeling in the balloons after the line tethering them to earth became snagged on neighbouring trees.
We were lucky enough to view the first test flight! The real thing will happen in 3 cities: Amsterdam, Cologne and Paris in January 2009, as a part of an art program called "We Art The People".
To me, the launch seemed to embody the possibility of hope: a kind of optimism that derives from the release of balloons. Or it could be that the thought of creating another star in the night sky is beautifully romantic. For others on the evening, the thought of the blackness of the balloons made the project appear more sinister. An alien invasion: close encounters getting a little too close. It did remind me of an alien representation from a Dr Who episode from the 1970's, but not too scary.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
From the ‘Cake Bible’ Penguin Books 2006
First cooked by Megan on 30th July 07 for the knitting group.
1 cup plain flour
100g butter, melted
½ cup sugar
1 ½ tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 cups fresh or frozen berries (blackberries, blueberries, raspberries) (nb I used a 300g pack of frozen raspberries. I imagine cherries would also work well)
2 cups sour cream (I used ‘light’)
½ cup sugar
1½ tblsp custard powder
2 egg yolks
1 tsp vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 180C. Lighly grease and flour a 23cm springform tin.
Mix together all cake ingredients except berries. Pour into prepared tin. Cover with berries. Beat topping ingredients together and pour on top of berries. Bake for 50-60 min. Serve with whipped cream and fruit.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
What has surprised you most about motherhood?
How has your feminism changed over time? What is the impact of motherhood on your feminism?
What makes your mothering feminist?
Motherhood involves sacrifice, how do you reconcile that with being a feminist?
If you have a partner, how does your partner feel about your feminist motherhood? What is the impact of your feminism on your partner?
If you’re an attachment parenting mother, what challenges if any does this pose for your feminism and how have you resolved them?
Friday, January 9, 2009
bright River full of light
clouds mushroom above
Jack Kerouac called them "Dhama pops" which i presume makes them small, manageable bite-sized pieces of wisdom. The fact that Kerouac had anything to do with them gives me more than a dash of permission to move beyond the strict Japanes form. I should also say that I am inspired by my friend Kel's blog and her inclusion of a Friday Haiku. Thanks, Kel! http://pandragonathhome.blogspot.com/
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Happily, the kids are playing quietly in the hallway, oblivious to my heightened emotional state (why cant I just let stupid emails that piss me off not bother me so much?) The little darlings are having a moment of self sufficiency and shared imaginative game-playing. Perhaps Ill join them.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Having just returned from a 3 week trip to Beachport, Adelaide and Melbourne, we returned home to find some scarily large zucchinis lurking an a thoroughly overgrown and neglected vegetable patch. Too large for cooking, the girls have decided they are best used as electric guitars! Or perhaps stand-in dollies. I rather like the shocking enormity of them. Its incredible what Tassie soil can do to nurture young seedlings in such a short space of time.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
But if I were to ask myself what id like to be doing a year from now, then Id like to say I've found the inspiration to:
climb mountains, revel in being 40, revel generally, master that tricky yoga pose ive been working on for at least 18 months, play scrabble with ego firmly detched, be kinder to my children when they try me, be kinder to my partner (ummm...generally). Oh, and find a little more detachment from the pestering aspects of a professional life dogged by dodgy builders and the blame game.