Found in translation

Surrounded by Books in an open terrain

2010-05-25T09:41:00.001+10:00

A stack of ten or so decorate my table. This is 'follow your nose' research where i puddle about the backwaters of "Google Scholar" looking for books vaguely related to my topic that are... interesting. God, I do love the first few months of a PhD, where there is ample time to drift in a field of literature and really think about what interests me now. Here are some of the titles on my desk:

Large Parks
Recovering Landscape
The Landscape Urbanism reader
Framing places
Non-Places
City of Quartz
Global Metropolitan

It feels to me that I am becoming less and less interested in architecture, and more concerned with the quality of landscape. That is to say, I am reconsidering what it is that the discipline of landscape might include; built fabric, infrastructure, gardens, parks, roads and wilderness are all part of the terrain of this expanding discipline. For me its not possible to consider one without the other as they are all part of an ecology that designers must be concerned with. The intereconnectedness of all these constructions spaces and places, while not the topic of my thesis, will hopefully be a part of the latent understanding of the terrain.

Alpine-ophilia

2009-10-16T07:52:00.000+11:00

I have woken up this morning with a spring in my step, and find my plse is racing a bit. I have a lovely glow of optimism that is, well, kinda unusual for 7.30am on a school morning.
And i was wondering what it was that was generating these feelings. Ahhh.....some quiet moments over a coffee and I spy my disgorged backpack in the corner of the room and I know its this! Its the promise of walking again. Getting out there. UP THERE, in the alpine highlands.
M y walking pal, described it as this: Alpinophilia. I gather its some kind of obsession with the high country.

Blog shy: thinking a little too much about the unseen public in the blogosphere

2009-09-26T19:02:00.002+10:00

Ive been a little wary of blogging lately: of projecting too much if myself into the electronic ether. Blog-shy. It might be good to get this out in the open a bit and blow a little air through some of the things Ive been worrying about.
Its the idea that anyone can offer comment on your life: that whatever is disclosed in a blogpost is open to interpretation, and often misinterpretation. You see reflected in the comments people make about your world (or what you choose to write of it anyway) at best another way of looking things, but at worst, well, I guess there is the chance that someone can be abusive. Thakfully this hasnt happened to me! So I suppose that the thing that has started to freak me a bit is that idea that when I post something, there is the chance that in another person's comments, I get to see my own life bounced back at me through the words of another, coloured by their politics, world view and prejudices. And this is fine and dandy when the person commenting has a set of values that are close to your own...but when this isnt the case, I suppose you just have to roll with it and accept the on-line community for what it is: a multifarious and unpredictable wilderness of folk that you might never meet and may well never want to.

The other issue I worry about is the fact that the minutiae of one's everyday life is up here (on here? there? ) for others to read indefinitely. Just last week I had breakfast with a colleague who happened to find my blog via my facebook page and she acknowledged she had read a bit of it, which is totally fine. Hey, I know that if you write stuff, well, peeple read it. thats the whole idea. Its just that the things I had been writing about and dealing with months ago had only just been read by her, so you have the whole gamut of thoughts from times past resurfaced as if they just happened yesterday. So it was this re-surfacing of an old post that was a little unsettling, aswell as I guess its the first time I have had to chat face-to-face with a 'reader', who wasnt necessarily a friend I had invited into my blog-world. Not necessarily confronting in any way: just a momentary weirding. If that isnt a word, it should be.

So, from this point I can either choose to disclose less. Or keep on writing, and accept the idea of this new (to me) unseen public the blogosphere presents. I'll let you know how I get on with this choice.

Post script: just re-reading this I realise that this post expresses a moment in time, and possibly a degree of paranoia. lol! There are so many lovely people out there too that read and comment on blogs, and Im lucky enough to have some kind and thoughtful people that have chosen to follow my writing, and for this I thank you!

RAIN

2009-09-25T12:20:00.001+10:00

RAIN

by Don Paterson

I love all films that start with rain:

rain, braiding a windowpane

or darkening a hung-out dress

or streaming down her upturned face;

one long thundering downpour

right through the empty script and score

before the act, before the blame,

before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone

beside a silent telephone

or the dress lies ruined on the grass

or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source

along their fatal watercourse.

However bad or overlong

such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through

or when the boom dips into view

or when her speech starts to betray

its adaptation from the play,

I think to when we opened cold

on a rain-dark gutter, running gold

with the neon of a drugstore sign,

and I’d read into its blazing line:

forget the ink, the milk, the blood—

all was washed clean with the flood

we rose up from the falling waters

the fallen rain’s own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters.

Not a Haiku, but a great poem for today as it seems to be raining buckets, at least where I am.

Sunday morning walking

2009-09-21T17:46:00.000+10:00

Havent felt like blogging this last week. I have been in a bit of a shitty ol' mood. Its a combination of things: crap weather, my back being a bit up-and-down, and well, crap weather. In fact the lack of reliable sunshine is getting me down. It honestly feels like we have had 10 weekends of torrential rain, with maybe one sunny Saturday that I can recall. I know that its taboo to complain about rain when Tassie is just out of a drought, and significant parts of Oz are still firmly in the grip of drought conditions, but here it is- I cant stand (quite so much) rain as this!

So... over this last weekend, rather than wallow in my funk and stare bleakly out the window at more grey skies and heavy clouds, I went walking with a new buddy. In fact, I started my own walking group! I emailed the people i know in Launceston with a vague or burning passion for walking, setting out an inventory of walks over the next 6 weeks culminating in a 6-7 night hike from Lake St Clair to Cradle Mountain. As it panned out only one person of the 5 or so invited could make the inaugural hike, so I dragged my family along too to keep us company. It rained (needless to say) but it WAS wonderful. The new walking buddy is a well read, chatty bloke with bright green credentials, and a happy disposition. On the drive to Liffey he pointed out Bob Brown's cottage hide-away. Its an unassuming little abode with a pretty porch facing the river and surrounded by a crowd of daffodils. We paid homage to the political dedication and charisma of this wonderful man and shared stories of our contact with the Green's leader.

Ahh, but the walk: yes, I should get to the important bit! Yesterday's walk was an easy one of just 3 hours return, so absolutely fine for the relauctant bloke (thats my bloke, not the new walking buddy) and kidlets whose enthusiasm wanes after an hour of so. The walk is a bit touristy and more populated than I would like (we met 4 or 5 groups on the trail), yet Liffey Falls are spectacular. My, how they FELL! The water gushed audibly over the precipices looking entirely wedding-cakey. Nice to witness the flow-on affects of good rainfall.

Phoenix Seeds

2009-09-15T07:28:00.001+10:00

Some semi decent weather over the weekend inspired me to get back into the garden. Unfortunately my garden still looks like Shrek's bog, as we have had soooo much rain here. The area fenced off from potaroos is a mud-bath with nasty looking green slime patches and remnant neglected veggies from the end of the Autumn crop. Suffice it to say, I didnt really feel at all inspired to dig around in it!

So Im back to pots. And wheelbarrows, as it happens. I was thinking that I needed to raise my seeds in something broad and shallow, that could be moved about the garden easily. And voila!, this old barrow proved the perfect thing. It even had a few strategically placed holes in the bottom, which will help with draining the seed raising mix.A clear sheet of plastic over the top, and Im set to wheel it into a sunny spot, or inside the shed if its likely to be stormy or frosty.

The seeds are from a Tasmanian organic, biodynamic and heritage seed producer that my Mum has used for years. He operates from a PO Box just out of a little town rather cutely named Snug, just 20 km or so South of Hobart. The good thing is he produces seeds that are nicely adapted for our chilly nights and frosty mornings, so Ive had success with getting his tomato seeds to survive the September freezing soils.
I think my Mum had a bit of a fascination (professional only...shes a horticulturist) for the guy as he is kind of elusive, but dedicated to his work. I remember her having rather lengthy chats with him on the phone (or perhaps she told me this). Anyway, anyway, anyway... as I was down Hobart way recently I thought I would go and pay homage and check out the operations. I found a vague address on-line, and as its not a big town thought id zoom about the Channel Highway and find him. I asked at the corner store, the petrol station and knocked on some poor persons front door, but no-one knew where he operated from.

The man is a mystery, but his seeds are rather fabulous.

Distractions: friday haiku

2009-09-11T09:47:00.001+10:00

my grandmother's day
must have been so slow, so calm,
fewer distractions

5 reasons not to do a PhD, and 5 reasons to give it a go...

2009-09-09T09:17:00.001+10:00

Being a mum aint healthy for your career. I've spent the last 10 years working part-time, working for myself, and teaching my craft rather than practicing it. With my youngest child going to school next year I feel the need to get back into it again. Trouble is, Im not sure what "it" is. I now live in a big country town and there are few positions for an architect and/or academic. I realise its been 10 years since I have worked, proper like, for an architecture firm. Ive had a bit of a look at the architectural practices here, and there are only one or two that do the kind of work that id enjoy, and they are, I am told, pretty blokey offices. Im just not sure I can handle the posturing egos that these kind of firms seem to foster. Its just all so tiresome and unnecessary. So, what to do????????? Ive looked at changing fields, becoming a secondary school teacher, studying yoga seriously, but neither option really grabs me as a something I want to do as a JOB.

So, the option of a PhD seems to be a good one in many ways. If I want to get back into being an academic, its vital to have one of 'em. And if I dont, well, its not time wasted, its something of value that might even contribute to the well of knowledge....who knows?

So here are the reasons I can think of NOT to do one:

Isolation. Immeasurable hours of solo researching, reading, writing.
Stipend pretty pathetic, really.
Three year target for completion impossible
Another slab of my life within the institution (and not in the real world ?)
The pain of completion....having seen someone I love go through this, im not so sure I would wish this on myself.

And on the positive side:

The luxury of time to read, consider, write in an area of interest.
Hey, its money to do the above. And its tax free. And my time would be (largely) self directed.
I could construct ways of trying to keep the scope bounded, limit the topic, early.
A PhD provides a direction, a sense of purpose and it has some value. Not exactly sure if it will make me more, or less empolyable in a professional sense, but the opportunity to reflect on and maybe even refigure the 'real world' is a fine thing.
All things worth doing have a certain amount of pain attached, certainly at the 'delivery end. (Note not so subtle analogy with childbirth...haha!)

Anything Ive missed here guys?

Living a rich life

2009-09-08T07:18:00.001+10:00

Staying in a friend's house is always fascinating. you get to see inside their life, whats important to them, what isnt, as well as just enjoy another’s idea of how to array objects in the home. The flotsam and jetsam of their existence gives you a kind of hieroglyphic of who they are and what they value.Their patterns and routines take over from your own (after all you're a guest in their space). You eat what they eat. Its great! Its a holiday from your own routines.

I love staying in this house in Taroona as it has 3 generations of creative people's stuff everywhere: books, paintings, posters photos and cards, objects, more books.In fact Ive already posted about this elsewhere.My favourite thing this time? To treat the dishes in the sink as foreign objects. Like rock stars, we all neglected their presence in the hope that someone else might do them. (This is definitely taking a holiday from our own routines). We sat in the sun and read books, painted, walked on the beach instead. It was like living in a share house all over again. Fun wins out over fastidiousness. I wish I had a photo of the mountain of dishes at the end of 3 days. Not pretty. But a sign of us all being relaxed in each other's company.

Fear not, S and I did clean up at the end of our visit. We are decent house guests afterall.

A hypersexualised world

2009-09-03T16:48:00.005+10:00

Yesterday we had a couple of tradesman come over to fix the gasline on the stove - they went outside to check the gas bottles. Miss S was fascinated by their work , and followed their progress. Then she shocked me with this question:

Miss S: (peering out the window to the two plumbers) : 'So Mum, which one do you think is hot?'
Me: Well, ummmmm, what do you mean by 'hot' ?
Miss S: well, you know, sexy and cool
Me: So, if someone is 'hot' means that they are 'cool'? (steering away from discussing the nature of sexiness with her 5 year old daughter). Thats a bit strange, dont you think?
Miss S: Well I like the one thats not fat. He's hot.

Oh GAWD. Two things get me concerned here. One, she has learnt that to be 'fat' makes you somehow unattractive. (Just for the record, he was only a little overweight). And second, where the hell did she get the words 'sexy' and in this context 'hot' in her vocabulary?
So, we talked about how a kind and loving person is the kind of person that you want to have around you. That what I see and like in a person is not just about how they look. I asked a few more questions to find out where she got this idea of 'hotness' from? But she didnt really know.

Yes, sexualised images of women pervade the media, and the pornification of young girls toys, clothes, videos etc is as insidious as it is well documented. . But i try and steer my girls away from commercial TV, and limit some of the toys they have. ( Barbies, yes but Brats, no) Hmmm....its not enough, methinks.
So this is the thing: I feel I havent done enough to protect my 5 year old from this kind of sexual language, plus she has already been sucked into the idea of objectifying the (in this case, male) body. And so I worry. What can we do as parents to keep children's play and language and way of looking at the world, childlike?

Id also like to add that it makes me bloody furious that this should be an issue at all!

Bottled water?

2009-09-03T05:32:00.000+10:00

Hilarious that they need to go to so much trouble to sell bottled water these days.

Spring planting

2009-09-02T15:13:00.000+10:00

Its only just the beginning of Spring, but it feels like an excellent opportunity to get busy planting. Especially as the sun is shining today! We have seen so little of the sun here in Launceston, with grey skies and torrential rains and even flooding being the norm of late.

Miss S loves snow peas, and its always her job to plant them, so today we hauled out the dry plants from the frame, and potted up some new seeds.

The chocolate crackle was a little celebration in the sun afterwards!

10 things in 101 days

2009-09-01T14:16:00.011+10:00

Ive been intrigued to find a couple of landscape architects on blogger, who have set themselves the task of completing a list of things, a long LONG list of things! These are, I gather, things they aspire to, that they have always wanted to do, things perhaps that inspire them. Katrine, of 'My Feet Move Forwards', and Victoria, 'Being Me' both have these interesting lists in the margins of their blogs, and I wonder how they go about squeezing these things into the margins of their lives. It hard sometimes to maintain enthiusiasm in the face of a list, but it looks like they are doing bloody well so far. It appeals to my sense of order to catalogue the things I'd like to do. But to be honest, it also wearies me somewhat to imagine 101 things! It must be the difference between being 24 and 40!

Reading their lists leaves me wondering what it is that inspires me now? What is there that I aspire to? As I review their lists, these are things that I have been doing, and loved doing over the last 10 years combining motherhood with old and new careers, and a reignited interest in the making things with my hands, and a new keen interest in gardening, bushwalking and yoga.

I love the idea of joining the 101 things crusade, but I guess I want a mini list, with more immediate results!
So I will make a list of 10 things, in 101 days. But I will consider these things most carefully and borrow one idea from each of their lists, as a thank you!

1. Walk the Overland Track (Thank you Katrine!... I havent walked the whole thing yet, and am now confirming plans to do this in November)

2. Cook something new once per month (I might make this once per week) Thanks Victoria!

3. Continue the pilates training, daily. Focusing on core strength and begining to re-integrate my yoga routine.

4. Start my weekly walking once again.

5. Floss (lol! I always seem to rush my teeth, but I really want to avoid expensive dental visits)

6. Laugh more

7. Be open to new friendships, and try not to worry too much if they all dont quite work out the way you imagine they may

8. Be open to the idea of a whole new career!

9. Listen to my students...actively listen.

10. Plant some seeds for summer veggie crops

I might even revise my list tomorrow, before putting it in the margin to keep my mind on the things im working towards, but this is a start. Oh, and I guess I made the executive decision to count laughter, listening and preparedness as a 'thing': a thing need not be a physical outcome I reckon...

pre-portioned birthday cake

2009-08-31T09:45:00.001+10:00

Birthday parties for small children call upon a rare blend of courage, organisatonal talent, tolerance, and willingness to get in there and join the revelry! They can often leave the adults stunned by the volume level, and mess, and generally gob-smacked by the sheer exuberance of small children rampaging in sugar-crazed delight. I cope by preparing well, making sure I have everything organised....Hmmm control-freakery coming to the fore. Sigh... But there is a moment of these chaotic events that i simply loathe--the cutting of the cake. its the expectation surrounding the production of the Piste de Resistance that gets me cranky. That its mummy's job to produce an amazing cake that is the favourite TV character, animal or mystical creature produced in a ton of coloured icing sugar. I like baking, dont get me wrong, its not really the cooking and cake decorating that worries me, its the expectations surrounding the cake as a performance measure of motherhood.

And so this year I tried something different: the cup-cake-pre-portioned birthday cake: and it worked a treat! Just imagine, no knives invovled, the child can take control and hand out the individual cakes, and no trains/fairies/cinderelllas in sight! I could sit back and take the photos and enjoy watching everyone eat their cake. And we even managed to not use plates.

Life and death

2009-08-30T11:42:00.001+10:00

Death and life: few topics fail to command attention like these two do, and I feel like I have had every gram of compassion, pathos and empathy weighed against the words of this amazing biography. I finished this book this morning, tears leaking from my eyes and a gut-full of emotion, carried into the worlds of two extraordinary individuals by journalist/author, Susan Wyndam. Charlie Teo is a controversial neorosurgeon, caring for his talented patient ,concert pianist Aaron McMillan who is diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a cricket ball while in his early 20's. The biography traces MsMillan's career (as well as his surgeries, relapses and recoveries) in parallel with Teo's. I could write a book review, and found myself just starting to do so (I guess its a style of writing Im familar with) but I think Ill leave that to others who have read the book before me.
What moved me is the dilemma this book leaves you with. If you knew you had a malignant tumour, and that a radical operation could possibly take it out, and prolong your life for a few years-maybe-would you do it? Would knowing that the operation might kill you, or disable you change your mind? How about knowing that there is pretty much nothing you can do about the secondary cancers that would be in your blood stream at the time of operating might lie dormant for a few weeks/months/years just waiting to lodge somewhere and have another go at killing you?

And I realised my tears were for G. My cousin G (far right) was diagnosed with a brain tumor abour 3 years ago now, and he battled it with a combination of surgery and chemo for about 2 years, with times of remission and hope, and relapses and further hope for recovery once more. How he managed to wake up every morning and continue fighting the cancer in hs system amazes me. I visited him in hospital a week before he died, and held his hand, and we talked about being children together: of playing at the beach, games that never ended, conversations that kept us awake through the night about who we might be when we group up. Bitter thoughts of the deep unfairness of the disease plagued me. Why him?
While the book tends to make heroes out of its central players, there are so many ordinary folk, facing this extraordinary ordeal and the tough decisions fighting cancer brings.

Morning chaos

2009-08-29T09:23:00.000+10:00

The preparations have been weeks in the making. Pinyata paper mache: done and decorated. Pass the parcel, organised. Lollies (yes, low sugar and no colourings) selected and stuffed into party bags. Cakes baked, yes. Icing ready, no problems. Party pies and sushi, ready to go. House is clean(ish) and all awake and fed. The birthday girl bounded into our bed this morning full of giggles and excitemtn at 6am (oh, christ...its been a while since I was up that early) and the house is full of expectant enthusiasm, well lets be honest, frenzied chaos!!!!

With a last minute dash into town still to do, its nice just to sit for a moment, blog a bit, and collect my thoughts with a cup of hot tea. This is Miss S's first big party, and its gonna be a wash-out. Its rained all night, with a constancy Ive not known (Adelaide so rarely brings on the rain this way) since living in semi-tropical Sydney. The lawns outside are super-saturated to the point that the water just cant soak in anymore, and it resembles a 2 inch green-bottomed swimming pool. So it will have to be an inside party. It will be intense, but lovely, as there are parents-a-plenty, and lots of smaller siblings coming. A house-full! I think the lollies will stay in the packets until about 10 minutes before the paty finishes!

Five alive: friday haiku

2009-08-28T14:07:00.001+10:00

five years today and here

she knows, 'im big now mummy'

I will love her fiercely

Harbouring

2009-08-27T20:12:00.001+10:00

There is something beautiful about the smooth body of water that defines Hobart's cove. One can understand why this site was chosen for settlement. Its one of the deepest harbours in the world, and so aesthetically resplendent.
Our wee family zoomed down the highway from Launceston last weekend to stay with a fascinating woman, with a mouthful of exotica as a name: Undine Francesa Sellbach. She is part philosopher, part cabaret singer, performance artist and teacher. Her house on Hobart's waterfront is a lovely tumble-down-house, filled with art, objects that have been collected across the generations-thoughtfully gathered and loved objects.
It was a pleasure to stay with her and enjoy the view of the harbour, and the fabulously mad array of THINGS that competed for attention in her home.

the beach wasnt bad either!

what to do with all the plastic bags?

2009-08-24T14:30:00.001+10:00

One of the biggest surprises for me in my move to Tasmania from Adelaide, is the apparent apathy many Tasmanians seem to show for their natural environment. It seems to me that far too many just take it for granted. Perhaps as it is so abundant and expansive, it is assumed that it is somehow wonderfully resilient to abuse? Maybe the environment is seen as a resource, rather than as having value in its own right? Maybe our capitalist need to profit from the land shifts the way we think about our environment in a fundamental way? Now before I have 100 negative comments on the subject of this blog, suggesting that I have misrepresented the masses, I suppose I should clarify that I am not talking about the many, many wonderful active members of the Greens and environmental lobby groups. They are here and they are certainly doing their bit. Im talking about the vast majority the mums and dads at the local school. The kind of people you meet at Coles on a Thursday night doing the weekly shop.

Unlike Adelaide, where there is a ban on the use of plastic bags in supermarkets, the plastic bag in Launceston shops is still in plentiful supply and I am often a little astounded at the percentage of shoppers that don't bother to bring their own bags when shopping. Id say that only about half of shoppers I see have their own bags with them in the check out queue.

Recently, the Tasmanian Department of Environment was subsumed under the Department of Resources. This act was described by the Premier as a cost saving measure, but seems to betray a modus operandi that is quite chilling. State legislation to remove the plastic bag from our supermarkets is still a while off, and with rather mediocre advice available on how to reduce your carbon footprint, like this, I think we could be waiting a while.

So what do you do in the face of apathy? How do you jolt people out of their familiar and comfortable patterns of living? One can protest, one can lobby, one can lead by example. But there is another tactic which I am seeing as quite non-confrontational, and really quite potent. Art can be used to underline a cause, and can foreground an issue. Theres a Hobart artist, Nicole Johnson, who makes rather lovely vessels and sculptures from plastic bags. Just one of these woven receptacle uses about 22 plastic shopping bags. How cool is that? A self proclaimed environemntal artist, I like the way Nicole is making her point in a subtle way: that something needs to be done with all the these bloody bags that end up as landfill. That we might be able to turn an object of ugliness into an object of beauty. Better still, the vessels are unbreakable, pliable and rather lovely to hold. Ive always hated the non-descript colours of the placcy bag, but in this weaving of the plastic the colour is denser somehow, and a whole lot less insipid.

OMG Decision Maker

2009-08-19T20:36:00.006+10:00

Wouldnt it be nice of you had a spreadsheet for major life choices? You know, those impossible junctures in life where you have a few options and dont know which is the best way to head? If you could just pin down the variables, weight them in terms of importance to you, and then just crunch the numbers and TA-DAH!.... you know exactly which way you should proceed in life based on a highest score scenario.

Well, a friend of mine has a friend who is a mastermind in the public service, and she developed this tool to help her make decisions that are complex, with multiple risk factors and fine distinctions between choices that need to be measured. The OMG Decision Maker was born! It's great for those moments when you cant see the forest for the trees and cant hear anything from your gut except the after-affects of last night's curry.

Let me know if you would like a copy!
Ive tried a zillion times to save an image of the excel spreadsheet, but failed dismally. And blogger doesnt seem to like pdf's.

Art on the back of a donkey?

2009-08-14T11:09:00.005+10:00

Another artist friend of ours produces work that doesn't have the normal mode of output. There are no paintings, rarely any drawings, and often the art only lasts for a moment. Light and sound, and public space are his materials, and he orchestrates the most alchemically wondrous moments, fragments, and sometimes journeys with his 'pieces'. This is contemporary art, just outside the confines of the "Gallery". Michael's work is always an EVENT: fun to attend and provocative, always poking thorns in the sides of the art intelligentsia. His work always seems to question the very nature of art itself.

And I smiled as I read his email to me today, and am sort of surprised, but sort of not surprised, to hear that his latest installation is a witty and naughty thought. He has made himself a mobile gallery, an equine Institute no less, and is taking his art to the people, on the back of a donkey! Check out their manifesto.

What really happpened during afternoon naptime...

2009-08-13T17:41:00.006+10:00

My 4 year old daughter was "sleeping" yesterday afternoon, but really she had high jacked my camera and was snapping a few special moments between Barbie and Ken. Maybe she doesn't need an afternoon sleep anymore. Bummer.

Humbled

2009-08-12T16:22:00.004+10:00

Continuing on from an earlier post, about my birthday walking activities, I just wanted to write about a significant moment of the big celebrations - something thats been playing on my mind. On the actual morning of my 40th birthday I woke up feeling kinda excited, and a bit like a kid with all that silly and happy enthusiasm for the day! The holiday house we were staying in was full of family and friends, we had a walk in the snow planned for the morning, as well as a swanky session at the spa, followed by an evening with more friends coming up from Launceston to join us for dinner. Nice. And it was OK that my mum and sisters had given me my present before the big day, as I'd still recieve a few presents and cards; from the kids, and my significant other. So, I was sitting in bed, with expectations of the family ritual... cuppa tea and cards and a few pressies. Right? Isnt that what should happen on your birthday? Prepared to forgo the tea in bed scenario, as S was still asleep and looking in need of some rest, I went down to the kitchen. My mum made me a cuppa, and some lovely birthday hugs and kisses were shared. So far so good. The kids were upstairs playing, so I snuck back to bed. S was up, and explained that the present was back at home as it was too difficult to bring it on holiday with us. OK. No card, no pressie from my fella on my birthday. Hmmmmm..... And then he tells me that there was a bit of a problem organising something from the kids. They had each been given a little money and a little time with Dad, to find something for me. Daughter number 1 had been unable to find a suitable present, had a bit of a hissy-fit over this, then mucked up the card she had made for me, so I wasnt getting anything from her. That news wasnt so good. Then it transpired Daughter 2 had lost her present, but was working on a card. OK. I took a deep breath.

I went off the the shower and had a bit of a cry. How juvenile is that! There were to be no presents and maybe a card, it appeared at this stage. And yet I had my family here, and some good friends had come from afar to be with me, and there were certainly lovely presents both before and after the actual day, so what was my problem? I couldnt believe that the lack of material presents, right when I expected 'em would upset me. Surely Im not that small minded. My reaction was so much like a spoilt child, and I was more than a little ashamed. I quickly snapped out of it, had some lovely cuddles with my kids (and a beautiful present from my daughter number 2, which was found) and a wee card she had coloured. Magic. All OK.

So imagine how I felt when we arrived back home, and S showed me the present he had for me? I felt very small indeed. Under a huge sheet was a magnificent artwork by a very good friend of ours, and my walking buddy M. I was gobsmacked! Partly as the painting is so huge, but also as they had managed to organise all this without me knowing, and get it into the house, and into position with me completely unaware. Even more beautiful were the ideas that inspired the work. M had folded the canvas in her backpack and taken it up several mountains in Tassie. This preparation of the canvas had taken a few years (and was done before we met her and we walked together). Im not sure when she completed the work, but it was before I knew her, and there is a companion piece hanging in the Hobart gallery. The image, well, I'll leave you to guess its inspiration. And its meanings may well be many and richly interpreted. Its certainly a painting with a story to tell!

Sky Claw

2009-08-10T18:39:00.005+10:00

I submited this image to the ABC weather department as they encourage budding photographers to supply backgrounds for the weather map on the nightly news. Apparently they make a wee exhibition of the "winning" entries at the end of 2009. Not sure if they do the same on the mainland, but this budding photographer *cough* will be on ABC tonight (well, the local Tassie edition!).

Friday Haiku : moon at dawn

2009-08-08T08:53:00.005+10:00

morning moon sinking
soon beneath the tide line
pale face rises elsewhere

Wetlands

2009-08-07T09:30:00.003+10:00

You get the feeling on reading this novel that Charlotte Roche is out to shock. Shock and perhaps disgust you too. Its rather gross account of a young woman's relentless exploration of her own body, its orifices and the abject matter that exudes from them and it is rather dreadful, really. Roche tells us how she likes to wipe her genitals on the seats of public lavatories, to eat the pus she has squeezed from her zits and to, well, all manner of pretty foul stuff that I'll spare you the gory details of. Needless to say, it generated a pretty strong visceral reaction from me. YUCK!

Whats surprising about the reviews of this novel, and I have just browsed a few, is that its actually touted as a feminist project, and maybe even emblematic of gen Y's view of the body female. Once you get past the initial disgust, then yes, I can get that this kind of novel perhaps explores the dogma surrounding hygiene, and in particular the way that hygiene Nazis (the patriarchy) might cast the female anatomy/vagina as a dirty bacteria ridden landscape. So, yes, the book challenges this idea. But really, does it have to leave us with the images of some angst-ridden chick wiping her vitals on a public toilet seat? Im sorry, but I reckon there are better ways of getting the message across...

pork saussies

2009-08-07T08:51:00.002+10:00

Ive posted quite a few recipes lately, which is a bit unusual for me as I dont really want this to be a food blog. I think of this more as featuring snippets of my life, rather than being about any one subject in particular, and frankly flitting about between subjects suits my mercurial nature. So apologies to those of you who think this might be a food blog; its not! But as food is a significant part of my life, food is featured. My favourite foods. And I do love this dish.

Its simple, and damn effective. And I have my would be brother-in-law to thank for introducing me to the recipe, which is a Jamie Oliver recipe, and accessible free from his website. I think this is a nice piece of clever marketing on his part, to provide so many of his recipes through the Internet. Generous, yes, but also clever as he gets you involved with his oeuvre. Actually Im not too sure I would like to get too close to Jamie's oeuvre...
ANYWAY...
this dish is great in summer when you have too many cherry tomatoes on the vines, and dont know quite what to do with them. Also great when you have a good butcher. Our butcher makes the leanest and most flavourful pork sausages, that are sourced from happy organically farmed piggeries, so no guilt attached.

'Preheat the oven to 190°C.. Get yourself an appropriately sized roasting tray, large enough to take the tomatoes in one snug-fitting layer. Put in all your tomatoes, the herb sprigs, oregano, garlic and sausages. Drizzle well with extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar and season with salt and pepper. Toss together, then make sure the sausages are on top and pop the tray into the oven for half an hour. After this time, give it a shake and turn the sausages over. Put back into the oven for 15 to 30 minutes, depending on how golden and sticky you like your sausages.'

Oh, and there's a website I just read about in The Australian today where you can find suggested recipes for ingredients that you might have in surplus, or lingering in your fridge. Its worth a look and perhaps a bookmark.

In case of emergency only

2009-08-06T09:38:00.003+10:00

A good friend of mine who happens to be a wonderful cook sent me this recipe as a group email. It sounds awful, but I might just get desperate enough to try it one day...

5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE
4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
A small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug (MicroSafe)

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.
Pour in the milk and oil and mix well..
Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again.
Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts.
The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!
Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
EAT ! (this can serve 2 if you want to feel slightly more virtuous).

Could be OK... maybe I will try it afterall...

Ancient Roman Custard

2009-08-05T09:48:00.007+10:00

Incredibly this recipe is over 2000 years old, but really is a just a standard custard. Its ancient name is tyropatinum, which apparently translates as 'a kind of souflee' but i dont find this dish at all like a souflee. I made this last night after dinner...its great winter fare. I cook this when I have extra milk left in the fridge nudging the expiry date. This is another fabulous recipe from my favourite cookbook by Jill Dupleix "Old Food".

500ml milk, warmed in a saucepan with 100gms of wild honey.
Allow to cool for 10 mins.

Whisk 5 whole eggs is a metal bowl.
Strain cooled honey and milk mixture into eggs, whisking further.
Pour combined mixture into an earthenware dish.
Bake of 30-40 minutes in a 160 degree oven.
Use a bain marie for extra specialness. It IS worth it!

Oh, and add ground black pepper on top. It sounds bizarre but balances the sweetness of the honey.

I use Tasmanian leatherwood honey which has a strong, dark and intense flavour that infuses nicely through the custard.My youngest daughter likes it cold for breakfast!

What happened to June?

2009-08-04T09:34:00.014+10:00

I had a bit of a break from blogging during May and June.

It was a time of lots of walking for me: physical preparation for a big winter walk timed to coincide with my 40th birthday. A few equally insane friends and family joined me for a short trek through some incredibly cold parts of Tassie, followed by some winter feasting, and some seriously lovely R&R. Heres a few photos from this time:

On the trail, the first day was so much 'up'...

the walkers...and what a motley crew we were too!

some extremely cold moments on the trail at cradle mountain

and the most rewarding sky

and a luxurious place to relax at the end of the walk

followed by the ultimate in decadence: an afternoon at the spa...mmmm

human being or human doing?

2009-08-03T09:48:00.006+10:00

I feel closest to just 'being' out on the trail, walking amongst the Tasmanian wilderness. i have few thoughts beyond the physical recognition of how cold or warm I am, the shape that the steam from my nostrils makes as it whooshes out, the sound of the button grass compressing softly beneath my boots. My body is warm with exertion, and my breath comes evenly as I move up a mountain. The weight of all the things I need to live well are on my back. I am. I simply am.

And this is perfection for me.

At home now with a strained/bulging disc in my lower lumbar I have none of this freedom of body or stillness of mind. I am bed-bound for most of the time with short forays out for working and collecting kids from school. Sitting is the worst, as the pain is most intense in this position. There is no lesson for me in this pain, only a reminder to rest and heal. So whats the problem? I'm just not content doing not much at all.
How do I find this peacefullness in myself when I cant get out on the mountain, when I cant MOVE? How can I simply just be still, and be?

A new friend of mine here in Tassie introduced me to the idea that we are human beings, not human doings, and while it sounds simplistic as a distinction, the more I think about it, the more I realise how much of our lives and sense of self worth is constructed around the idea of achivements,both small and large. Just going shopping, writing a blog, hanging out the washing makes us feel good. As does, completing a day of work at the office, delivering a lecture, writing a thesis. With these tasks, our presence is felt in the world. And when you stop (either by necessity or choice) and achieve little, it is the hardest thing to remain, well, bouyant. So I have a greater understanding of how hard it must be for my sister, who has been ill now for over 12 years with CFS to keep her head above water. This post is for you, Cat.

Making up with make-up

2009-08-02T09:37:00.005+10:00

I have a strange relationship with make-up. Its a relationship of great distrust and I have spent my adult years avoiding using it. In my early 20's, like a good feminista, I imagined that the make-up industry was a collusion. All of a bit of an plot designed to keep women poor (make up costs a lot), too busy to do something useful with their lives ( sourcing it, putting it on, touching it up, taking it off can take up a lot of the day), paranoid ('Im ugly if I dont wear it') and well, generally at the mercy of trends cooked up by the people that peddle women's magazines. And i still believe this is the case, but perhaps I wouldnt suggest that its a plot or a collusion anymore.

So whats changed? In the latest move to Tassie I left behind my (embarrassingly massive) feminist theory book collection. The heroines of my 20's (Susan Faludi, Naomi Wolf, Germaine Greer) are having a well-earned rest at our beach house on the South Australian coastline. They have served their purpose in helping me shape my views, but now do not dominate them in the way they once did.

I am older now. And Im OK with that. I look in the mirror and I see all the 'defects' that I am meant to conceal and the lines that could do with some 'smoothing'. I like these marks of age, they define me, they are me. BUT: i found myself at a make-up counter, a posh one, yesterday trying on an expensive foundation and was really surprised how lovely it looked. How lovely I looked with a layer of the perfumey and well, expensive, stuff over my skin. It was fun to try out another version of myself. A 'made-up' version. A conversion? Weird. Im still processing this idea. The sales women took pity on me I think (perhaps she couldnt believe a women in her 40's was so naive about her products) and she gave me loads of samples to try out. I had no idea there were primers, foundations, brighteners, concealers and powders that all do basically the same thing: cover up unevenness in the surface of the skin. Bizarre!

So I will 'play' with this make-up she has donated to the cause of this woman trying to make up with make-up. I'm not promising I will buy any of it though!

grand designs

2009-07-30T15:30:00.002+10:00

Grand Designs usually pisses me off. I get cranky at the supercilious 'im-smarter-than-you tone' of the ever-smug presenter, Kevin McCleod. He seems to actually enjoy the turmoil created by the naive couples who engage architects and builders to create their 'dream homes' with unrealistic expectations and impossibly lean budgets. I guess it makes great television, watching these couples squirm as their dreams get gradually eroded by the inevitable compromises that building often demands.
And so I was surprised by my reaction to a recent episode (a repeat I suppose) in which a couple built their own home in Brittany. I smiled...all the way through it. I was caught up in their dream. Even Kevin's quips and jibes failed to dash their hopes or my enjoyment.
Its long been a dream of mine to build my own house. I mean, actually build it, so watching a couple do this from go-to-whoa, in the space of a year, making the decision to sell their expensive city house in the UK, pay out the mortgage and build a home on a cheaper piece of land in provincial France with the remaining money, was inspiring. They took a year off their paid jobs to do this, and enlisted the help of volunteers for some of the labour intensive parts of the project.

They built an earthship. A passive solar home built mostly out of recycled materials. While the aesthetic is a, hmmm, a bit too 'nuts and berries' for me, I really liked the technique of using car tyres which would otherwise be used for landfill, as both wall and structure for the rear of the building. The wall was made by stacking the tyres in an open bond, packing them with dirt from the site, and rendering the interior and exterior surfaces with pise. Low cost, thermally efficient, insulative and it makes use of a material which would otherwise present an environmental problem.

Mieng Kum, finger food.

2009-07-28T10:44:00.008+10:00

Last weekend my partner and I were in withdrawal. We were seriously craving the tastes and textures of fresh Balinese food, and the summery feeling of eating raw food. Leafing through our favourite cookbook "Old Food" by Jill Dupleix, we came across a Thai recipe that seemed to fit the bill. Although Thai in origin, Mieng Kum pushed all the right taste buttons: toasty coconut, funky dried shrimps and zingy lime. Heres the recipe that we shared with some good friends as an entree. I have included the substitutions we used, rather than the full Jill Dupleix recipe.

sauce:
1/2 cup palm sugar
a 1/2 cups water
5 tbs grated coconut (dessicated is OK)
1tbs of shrimp paste
3 shallots
1 tbs peanuts
1 tbs dried shrimp
1 tsp sliced ginger (or galangal)

Boil sugar and water, stirring. Hat a dry pan and roast coconut until golden, remove coconut and dry-fry shrimp.

Pound together/blend shrimp paste 1 tbsp coconut, shallots, peanuts shrimps, and ginger until mushy. Combine paste with sugar syrup, simmer and stir for 15 minutes until it thickens. Cool.

fillings: (feeds 5 as an entree)
2 tbs finely diced shallots
2 tbs finely diced lime
2 tbs finely diced ginger
2 tbs dried shrimp
2 tbs roasted peanuts
2 tbs finely chopped chilli

Arrange these artfully on a plate, or in bowls, and encourage guests to arrange these in lettuce leaves, top with a spoonful of sauce, wrap and EAT. Its an amazing taste sensation, and transports one to a warmer climate immediately. Or maybe thats just as we added too much chilli!

Facet Joints

2009-07-26T17:13:00.008+10:00

Until last Friday night I didnt know what a facet joint was. And now I know its location, as well as its capacity to inflict pain of extraordinary dimensions. Apparently there are multiple facet joints in the spine: its the space between any two vertebrae, shown in this diagram within the blue rectangle.

My trouble is the space between the L4 and L5 vertebrae has opened up, at the facet joint, and is causing the area to become inflamed.

The fact that there are a whole bunch of nerves that reside in the joint between the bony bits, means that I can feel this inflammation. Boy, can I feel it! So, until the inflammation goes down, Ill be stuck in bed trying to type with two fingers on my side. Pretty tricky stuff.
The GP reckons it might well have been my overly flexible hip/back muscles that have caused the problem: too much pushing the envelope during yoga. DAMN! I had been trying to be sooooo careful to strengthen my abdominals with all the right pilates exercises, but still I have managed to injure myself.

Its so hard to know where the limits of the body lie, and what our capacities are. I always find this challenging in yoga: knowing how far to take a pose. When there is no pain, then it all feels OK...so why has this happened????

(Image Courtesy of Beverly Hills Pain Management Centre)

bed haiku

2009-07-24T15:18:00.004+10:00

breath-stealing back-pain
brings me back to bed and here
i rest. flattened. sore.

5 Things that drive me crazy about each of my lovely girls!!!

2009-07-23T17:19:00.003+10:00

OK: its 4pm and we have come home from the school pickup and I'm tired after a day of working, and my kids are tired from their days, so we have the difficult stuff ahead of us: negotiating the needs of 3 tired people and the dinner bath bed routine before Dad gets home.This is the stuff of everyday life, ands its going on in households everywhere as I write this. Its times like these when I kinda find it difficult to remember all the things I love about my kids. Its times like these when I need to re-read my posts, and refresh my memory a little, cos right now I'm being driven bonkers by the least appealing aspects of my children's behaviours. Its times like these, I need a reality check! So heres an appraisal of the least appealing things about the lovely Miss E:
1. Your grumpiness!! When you are tired, you find it difficult to lift yourself out of the murky mood you are in. Your 'stare of great disapproval' is a worry to me, as its defiance and gloom are difficult for me to deflect when I am not in the mood to 'laugh it off'.
2. This mood can last forever on evenings like this
3. Listening. I can ask you to do something, and you can stare at me in the face, and not take in any of the information I am giving you... arggghhh.
4. Neglectfulness and Forgetfulness: Ditto above, with the distinction that know you know what I have asked you to do, but I get ignored, or the task simply forgotten, on your way to the next thing on your agenda
5. Messiness.

And Miss S. I adore you completely, but:

1. Hanging off my arm when I am trying to write is amazingly annoying. There are times when I just want a few moments to myself, and this reliance on me for amusement is frustrating.

2. When you tell me that you are "hungry" just when a meal has been packed away and the benches wiped down is particularly frustrating. I know this is a call for attention rather than food most of the time, but perpetually making you little snacks is really not OK. If you ate your dinner/lunch breakfast, then Im sure you wouldnt need so many wee meals.

3. Your need to have me supervise your getting dressed, when I know you can do it yourself.

4. You stuff dirty clothes back into the cupboard when I ask you to clean up the floor. Arrrgghhh!

5. Why does everything need to be pink????

cutting it: taking cuttings from fruit trees

2009-07-22T11:37:00.006+10:00

I have a Mum who not only has green thumbs, but all her fingers are green as well. Or maybe she has green arms, legs, toes... the whole kit-and-kaboodle. She is champion of things green.

So Mum, if your reading this, I need some help right about now! I have taken some cuttings from the magnificent and abundant fig tree that has served so well in providing delicious produce over summer and autumn, in the hope that I can strike them into new wee trees. We may well move after the next harvest, and I would love to have a viable version of this fig in my new garden, where-ever that may be.

I used the sharpest secateurs and cut just below a growth node (ummm....what did you call this again?) trying to keep each piece about 15-20cm long. I just have wiped the sap from the cut, as I dont have any fresh aloe to coat the cut. Would paw-paw ointment do?

So, here are some cuttings that I have wrapped in damp news paper. Just 6 of them. I'll pot them in sandy potting mix tomorrow, water them once, put them on the sunny side of the house with a bag over the pot and see what Spring brings.

Let me know if any of these cuttings look crap, and i'll not bother planting them.

10 things I love most about Miss E

2009-07-22T09:33:00.004+10:00

In the spirit of the previous blog about my youngest daughter, I also wanted to celebrate my elder daughter Miss E. Ive chickened out of using their full names, but most of my readers know them anyway! I suppose I figure that their privacy is not being protected in the long term (who knows how long the blog will sit in cyberspace) if I use their names. And its always better to be safer with indemnities of kids... Its so sad that I even have to consider their safety in this ether like environment, but consider it I must.

So, here are some things about the amazing Miss E, that I love, that challenge me too (in equal measures)

1. Your energy! Miss E, you have such an enthusiasm for life, and throw yourself completely into your activities. Just this-morning, when you realised you had to get your gym gear and swimming gear together for today, rather than do this quietly, you raced like a mad-tornado through the house leaving a trail of neglected items behind you! But you did it with such a burst of wild energy. So you!

2. Your creativity: You never have "nothing to do". You constantly amaze me with the delightful things you dream up to occupy yourself and your sister. When we stayed up in the snow for Dad's birthday, you got up at the crack of dawn, ran out into the snow in your PJ's and started to make "snow guinea pigs"... and then there are those endless barbie "scenario" games... incredibly how they last for HOURS. With so many bits of paper made into props.

3. You love the natural world. Walking with me up mountains, you delight in the trees, the birds, the air, the clouds. You see the joy in this, as I do.

4.You notice the small things that other people miss, Like the tiniest mushrooms on the trail, hiding under the leaf litter. And you point these things out to your sister, and she shares in this secret world of the small details, that so many adults miss out on. I think Simone has this talent too... in fact all kids do!

5. The crazy way you dress. You dont care if your jeans are ripped: they are your favourites. You like mint green and fuscia together. You wear skirts and jeans and messy hair. Vivid Stripes everywhere one day, and all red the next. There is a wild look to you. You throw out a fashion challenge... I love the fact that this is the way you put together your outfits for non-uniform day at school. There is not much conformity in you. YOu go Girl!!!

6. You can do 6 things at once, although it has to be said, you rarely clean up the 6 things after you have finished doing them, and moved onto the next thing.

7. You are growing up, and noticing that your violent mood swings affect others around you, and slowly you are learning to flip yourself out of the darkest of these moments, to find the sunshine inside. We are working on this together! Such extremes.

8. Your sister adores you, and follows your lead. Sometimes you use this to your advantage, but always you include her in your games. Sadly, you dont quite get the fact that she needs to have a go at making up the game too.

9. Your strength, Miss E. When I was pregnant with you and worried about the birth, and being a parent, I had a dream where you visited me and told me that I shouldnt worry. that YOU would look after me, and that was how it had always been. I had such a deep sense of being reassured. I still carry that sense of confidence in you, that you will always be OK. Weirdly, because you told me it was so.

10. Your passionate love. As you do everything, you commit 100%. You feel absolutely, and you communicate your feelings with your whole body. When you hurt inside, it hurts so much, sometimes your nose bleeds! When you love, you fling your whole body into it, and cling like a limpet with your arms and legs wrapped around me.

10 things I love about Miss S

2009-07-20T09:22:00.006+10:00

Inspired by Bluemilk's honest reflection on her daughter's development, I'd like to write a little about my youngest daughter S. I've not mentioned her in my blog by name, and I suppose I had wondered if there were any 'dangers' in doing this, but I dont believe so. First and foremost, this is a blog for me, and I hope one day my children might read it too, and realise there were some interesting things going on in Mum's life, and that she really does (and did) love us.
Its so easy to focus on the things that annoy us in our children: they interrupt what we are doing, are the constant source of 'work', and require continuous dexterous and creative parenting ( a subject for which I was totally unprepared for) from 0-16 and beyond. Sometimes its easy to forget the many joys that children bring to life, and their uniqueness.

So, Miss S these are the things I love most about you, at age 4 almost 5:

1. As the second daughter, I know that you have found it difficult to assert yourself and your needs in the family, especially with a strong elder sister who has always been bigger, louder, quicker and in most things the leader. And now you are nearly 5, I'm noticing you are starting to stand your ground, and define the things you like to do in the face of opposition from your sister. You are your own person, and its great to see this equally strong will asserting itself.

2. Your love of olives, brie, capers and things that have TASTE. Never afraid to try something new, your food tastes are pretty refined. Strange that you can also be so fussy with your food. Everything must be in a separate bowl, and not messy. Peas separated from carrots etc etc...

3. Silky obsessions: you have always loved things that are silky. You still adore your 'purple blanket' which has been with you from birth. The satin edge is lovingly stroked between your thumb and fingers of one hand, and until recently your other thumb would be firmly planted in your mouth. We explained to you that now you are turning 5, it really was time to stop sucking your thumb, and told you about how it can affect your teeth growing well, and you tried so hard to master comforting yourself with just the blanket. Now you have done it! We hardly see the thumb in the mouth at all! Always good to have an 'emergency silky' just in case the blanket is not around.

4. You listen really well to explanations of how people feel, and are able to empathise with another person's happiness or pain. If I am sad, you will always come to comfort me with your cuddles.

5. I love your giggle, especially when you play the game of blowing the fringe from my face, and I from yours. Such a great happiness bubbles up from your being!

6. You can focus on drawing fabulous pictures that depict scenes from our life, or fantastic creations of your own inventions. Cats have whiskers, people have fingers, toes and expressions. You are trying hard to write all your numbers, and are starting to understand mathematics. You always ask clear questions when you dont understand something.

7. You understand that honesty is important. On a holiday in Bali recently, when everyone had a mint lolly on the car, and you missed out, when another adult requested that you respond honestly when you were queried on this, you wavered a little, but very clearly said that you had not. It was great to see you not cry or get upset, but clearly state your truth.

8. When your big sister is upset, you seem so genuinely worried for her, and that she find a happy resolution to whatever is upsetting her (even if you had something to do with the cause of the upset!) You can forgive quickly, and dont seem to hold onto sadness or moods.

9. You CAN play and draw independently when your big sister is at school.

10. You CAN put on your own clothes, and remember where your library book is. Its amazing how independent you really are

Asian Pantry Essentials

2009-07-18T08:27:00.005+10:00

Our pantry is an abomination. I guess Im largely responsible for this, rather than my Malaysian Chinese husband. I'm one of those people that feigns organisation: what you see are the clean public 'surfaces' of our kitchen, what you dont see are the interiors of cupboards which contain a private chaos of the jammed in bottles, packets and jars. I would like it to be otherwise, as I am sure if I knew where everything was, I would actually be more efficient in the kitchen. But, sadly, Virgo is not my 'rising sign' and the chaos remains until such a time as my patient and incredibly neat husband has had enough of losing the balachan behind the breakfast cereal and restores order to the madness.

But, the purpose of this post is not to attempt to re-think pantry organisational techniques. Rather, I was asked by my sister what kind of Asian essentials we keep in the pantry. SO having confronted the mess, I have taken stock of what we do have, and here's the shopping list, Liz! Its not complete, by any means, but contains the basics that we use overy other day.

Fish sauce
Oyster sauce
ABC thick sweet soy sauce
sweet chilli sauce (Thai)
tamarind paste
palm sugar
red and green curry paste (for cheating purposes)
'Hogans' laksa paste (ditto)
Chinese rice wine vinegar (shao sing)
sesame oil
white pepper
Chinese black vinegar
dark soy sauce
Hoi-sin sauce
light soy sauce
dried shrimp (add to soups/stir fries)
mirin
dashi
Noodles: bean thread noodles, rice vermicelli, soba and udon noodles
dried gelatin (in strips)
Black rice, jasmine rice, mung beans

Spices:

star anise, curry leaves (fresh are best) , yellow and black mustard seeds, tumeric powder, cummin, corriander + too many to mention....

Oh, and we keep the balachan in the freezer! (It pongs)

yoga retreat: Bali style

2009-07-15T21:53:00.012+10:00

During a 2 week holiday in Seminyak, Bali, I managed to fashion my very own yoga retreat. Not wanting to pay the $1000's of dollars for a 'big-name' retreat, I hunted around the internet to find a yoga school that would take me on an a casual basis. Actally it wasnt too hard to find: Bali seems to cater to the whims of the tourist particularly well, and Seminyak did not dissapoint. Staying in avilla with friends and family added another delightful dimension to the holiday. At times the house felt too full for the kind of focus that yoga demands, but there were quiet times to be found and this lovely deck was the perfect place for a few salutations and quiet stretching.
For serious yoga practice, i slipped off to Prana for fluid vinyasa inspired yoga classes, offered daily just 15 minutes walk away. Its was superb.
There is something so right about practicing yoga in a warm climate. The muscles loosen, the mind is softened by the heat of the day, and these two things create a suppleness of body and mind, just brilliant for yoga.
Its inspired me to attempt to organise a my own retreat. Yes, in beautiful Bali. The villa I was staying has all the right ingredients: gorgeous gardens, warm and friendly hosts, beautiful accomodation, and of course a small, but delighful timber platform on which to stretch, twist and relax. Organising this.... hmmm.....cant be too hard really? I already have a mini-list of friends that might be interested. Just need to find a yoga teacher (have one in mind), block out a week in the 2010 diary, book villa (not too hard...just an email) and then make some decisions about $ and so forth. Possible.... very possible.

Bloggin' Mojo

2009-07-15T21:43:00.006+10:00

Well Ive lost it: perhaps I should rephrase that... I felt I'd lost it, but now its back again. I hope.
There is a discipline to writing every day (or every other day) that has eluded me of late. trying to think of something worthy of a post--post worthy--every day of the week is a challenge. I like the IDEA of this discipline, but when faced with the choice of writing, or flipping out my yoga mat in the spare moments of my day, then I have most often chosen the more physical pursuit. The yoga has been good!

And so, why the change of heart? Perhaps it is discipline I need. perhaps some sense of mapping the course of a day, week, month is beneficial to me in charting a future course?

So i shall set sail and head out to sea once more and attempt an every-other-day post ( I cant quite commit to the idea of posting every single day, as I know that there are times that I just dont bloody feel like it. ANd why should one be a slave to the blogosphere.... I cant promise an ocean of witty, informative and/or poetic offerings, but will attempt to fish through the thoughts of the day to find some salt (crusty?) distillations.

Last peach crop

2009-04-20T11:08:00.004+10:00

There's an excess of fruit in the Tamar valley right now, and our garden is no exception. Apples are dripping from sagging trees, birds are swarming over the ripening figs, and we just happened to find a peach tree groaning under the weight of 20kg of fruit in the far corner of the garden, most of which we have given away.
I did keep some fruit for eating, and about 1 kg for this fantastic Byron Bay Chutney, which is really meant to have nectarines as its base fruit, but seems to work really well with peaches too. Its got a couple of big red chill is, seeds and all, 500gm raisins, 250kg glace ginger, 1kg sugar, 700ml vinegar, and, well that's about it. Chuck it in a wide based pan, stir regularly for 2 hours, and plop into jars to cool.

Its fabbo!

Thanks mum for the inspiration!

Puzzling

2009-04-13T10:30:00.003+10:00

There is something most alarming about working your way through a jigsaw puzzle, and nearing the end realising that you are going to be short a few pieces. You're not sure exactly how many pieces are missing, but there is a distinct feeling that it could be more than a few. Yet you have persevered through the 450 or so pieces, and there is no turning back or rethinking your commitment to the puzzle, and so you press on. And in the search for the final few pieces (the haze of inky-blacky-green seaweed) you never really know if the piece you are hunting for will be found. Now this may kill off the enjoyment of the puzzle for some, but I kept going telling myself this conundrum just added a new dimension to the search for pieces. And while the parallels for a life well lived are a little obvious perhaps, it was a nice reminder that while all the elements of a life may be implied, they might not always be within grasp. That it is the practice of putting the little pieces together, one-by-one, that is important. And while I tell myself this, and try not to dwell on the missing pieces, I keep wondering where they are: musta got sucked up the vacuum cleaner, or the dog ate them, or more likely they were transferred to the Barbie's doll house to become fancy coloured dinner plates. Hmmmm...Puzzling....

Urban walks

2009-04-11T18:04:00.004+10:00

This orange plate is getting a good work out, and seems to be finding a permanent home in my backpack along with regular outings at special picnic spots in and around Launceston.
This week the orange plate visited the Gorge, and Trevallyn dam. This was a suburban walk, with not a great deal to recommend it (I guess I am a fan of wilderness) apart from lovely conversation with my good friend the divine Ms M, and lunch. Smoked Tasmanian salmon, and avocado sandwiches.

My calf muscles are developing a distinctive baseball like bulge with all the hill-walking!

Ive been wondering why the walking is so RIGHT for me now: its not just the scenery or the lunch, or the search for expanding musculature (!) There is something rejuvenating in the act of covering ground, walking together. Im going through a rough patch (as some of my fellow bloggers know) and its tough for me to find a quietness of mind to practice yoga, my usual excercise choice. The physical tiredness that walking brings seems to settle my edginess. And I sleep better for it. Also there is a way of thinking that happens when my body is in motion; walking brings a special clarity to thinking. Must be all that extra oxygen!

Snow in Tassie

2009-04-10T18:01:00.005+10:00

Snow atop Mount Wellington, and apparently its not all that unusual to have a bit of a blizzard in early April up there. The girls and I were mighty impressed, especially as just 11km away in Hobart the sun was out, and the temperature 12 degrees higher.

There is a bit of a tradition here in Tasmania, that if its snowing on the mountain, one must make a snowman (crude versions are absolutely fine), sit it on your bonnet, and try and make it down to the bottom of the mountain without it melting, or sliding off your bonnet! We only made it about half way down before it skidded sideways on a hairpin corner. Interestingly, this ritual encourages careful slow cornering rather than speed.

Small Mango

2009-04-05T08:45:00.002+10:00

He's cute, yes, this is true. But he also chews shoes. Its hard to love a dog that chews your sandals for fun. But love him I do: he has a really sweet nature, and is keen please. Poor Mango was to be put down in the vet surgery that my sister was working at here in Launceston. The previous owners had said he was aggressive, but this is so far from the truth, its almost laughable. He might lick you to death, but that's about it!
Probably I should question the wisdom of introducing a pup into our house with two children and a yard that isn't fully and reliably fenced.
Add to this the fact that Mango is a deaf dog, and this makes it all a bit crazy. Yesterday he went missing while we were out, and we had no way to "call" him back for dinner time. Eventually, we received a call from a neighbour saying they had found our dog, and used my telephone number on the back of his tag (yes, I'm glad I managed to get a tag engraved with this critical information on the reverse!). Our biggest worries are two-fold: as he is deaf, and a bit of a Houdini-hound we are worried that he will escape our property and find his way to the highway at the top of our driveway. There are far too many trucks, and as he cant hear, well, its a bit risky to say the least. The other issue our youngest child is a bit scared of the puppy. She doesn't like being in the same room as Mango, not without her big sister around to fend off his friendly advances! We had hoped she would calm down a bit. Perhaps it would have been better to get a very young puppy, or maybe an older quiet dog. But when it comes to pet-rescue, then one doesn't really pause long to contemplate these issues.

So, I suppose we will have to take him back to the vet surgery. The vet in charge has said she wont put him down, and will take him home herself...

Another Thursday walk

2009-04-03T10:22:00.004+11:00

With the intention of another climb up Mount Arthur and perhaps this time to the summit, my friend M and I drove to Lillydale, just 20 minutes North of Launceston. On the approach to the Mountain, we found a for sale sign, parked, and wandered into the most breathtakingly pituresque piece of land. Rolling pastures replete with fluffy white sheep, distance views of the town of Lillydale, and the reassuring presence of the Mountain behind us.

This could be home.

A picnic was had (again!) and in the softly falling rain, a little piece of my heart was captured by this land.

Productive day?

2009-03-31T08:42:00.002+11:00

Im writing this blog post the night before, and feeling kind of exhausted, and wondering why. I felt more tortoise than hare today as I went about the daily living of my life, and certainly not as productive as I might once have been. While I havent been a full-time working mum for a while, I remember its crazy rhythms, and the sheer effort required to keep on DOING things; managing work and family required incredible endurance. So now that I am working far less, I was expecting things to be different. That I might not only find time to do things more slowly, and thoughtfully, but also that I might actually find small parcels of time in the day to do, well, not much at all... and now the hard part: not feel like a slacker!

Instead of whipping myself for not getting things done more efficiently (im not entirely into self-flagellation, but catch myself thinking unhelpful things now and again) I thought I might try and pull myself up on this kind of negative reflection, and try another approach. So, i thought i would take a minute or two right now, at the close of the day, to think about what i did manage to do.

Hmmm....this will probably only be interesting to me, but this blog is for me, right? Yeah... well maybe it will also serve to remind us all of how much we actually do get done, even when we feel like we ain't doing much at all

Getting breakfast ready, getting two kids up and dressed. Packing lunch boxes for one, and entertaining the second, cajoling her to eat something. Anything...
Check work emails. Not much there. A few quick responses
Clean coffee machine
Have breakfast, shower, get dressed.
Put on a load of washing, hang that one out, put on another
Find dog, call vet, negotiate treatment plan for non-eating behaviour. make appointment for vet
Call the wood guy to get wood delivery
Put another load of washing on, hang out the previous lot.
Tidy kitchen, compile shopping list
Clean away camping gear from deck (left there for at least 7 days...sigh)
Read 4 year old a couple of stories
Call sister
Call friend to get a referral for an opthalmologist in Launceston
Make lunch, feed little one
Read little one tow more stories and convince her to have a nap
Put on more laundry
Make a dog bed in the car, wake up grumpy sad little one
Take dog to vet, looks like he has a bowel obstruction and needs surgery. Poor little guy
Ring wood guy to get wood delivered (its getting cold here at night now)
Get a few things from the supermarket
Pick up older child from school
Speed home as it looks like raining, take of washing from line
Dealt with urgent mail
Fold washing and put away
Made a bit of a after school snack for the kids and I (just toasted croissants)
short trip to the post office to collect parcels
Suggest a clip-making exercise for the girls to get into
Clean kids bedroom, vacuum
Encourage eldest child to get ahead on some homework
Get dinner on (tom yum for S and I, spaghetti for the kids)
Rang vet to get latest on poor little guy (hes doing OK)

And its not yet 7pm, so i suppose there might be further things on the list...

But why is it that this list becomes important in making me feel better?
Why is it not simply OK to just sit still and read a wonderful book for half an hour?
Why do the guilt demons arise if I think about doing something thats just for me?

Rhetorical questions, yes, but how did your Monday go?

Picnic Heaven

2009-03-30T09:36:00.007+11:00

Only one and a half hours into a hill-walk and we arrived at the gloriously named "plains of heaven", on the summit of Ben Lomand.

A feast for hungry walker; a shared meal, thoroughly and happily scoffed by 5 happy souls on a sunny day.

Strawberries, dates and peaches: Brought by my new friends R and M. Just married, they are living proof that love exists after 60. We kept expecting them to sneak off behind the bushes...

Lots of Tassie cheeses, oat cakes home made Anzac's and biscuits: My sister and I amassed a small treasure trove of cheeses. A Heidi Raclette, Meredith Dairy Goats cheese with dill, and a stinky blue. Tasty stuff!

Homous, mountain bread, grapes and Italian Chocky: A young Sydney vet, new to Launceston and weekend walking., added her offerings to the group meal.

We were all thoroughly stuffed, and satisfied that the caloric intake was well compensated for by the climb to such heavenly altitudes.

No-fuss ice cream

2009-03-09T17:40:00.002+11:00

My mum texted me on the weekend to ask for this recipe, so rather than read it out over the phone, I thought Id share it with blogland. Mum and I made a terrific fig jam version of the icecream, with toffee bits sprinked over and through it. It was pretty outstanding. So here you go, folks. Make it, its easy: no stirring every 10 minutes, no fussing about with ice-churns. You'll love it. My yoga teacher kindly left me with this entry in my 'favourite recipes' cookbook. Lord knows I will need to do ALOT of Yoga to burn off the necessary calories!

INGREDIENTS:
4 eggs (separated)
600mls cream (500mls works OK too)
1 cup of castor sugar
vanilla essence
4 Tbs water

1. Whisk egg white until stiff peaks form, gradually add 1/2 cup sugar. Beat until sugar dissolved.
2. Beat egg yolks with water until pale and frothy. And 1/2 cup sugar and beat for 5 minutes. Add vanilla.
3. In a clean bowl, whip cream
4. Fold all ingredients together.
5. FREEZE
6. EAT

VARIATIONS:
*Add a shot or two of coffee instead of water
*Add 3 TBs Honey in with egg yolks
*Fold through fruit or jam just before you freeze
*Fold through melted chocolate or choc chips or even TOFFEE.

wrack: saturday haiku

2009-03-07T09:32:00.005+11:00

sky high dreams hover
a tangle of ideas like
small shipwrecks tumble

2009-03-06T07:37:00.004+11:00

"A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of." Jane Austen's quote for today

Well I must say that disagree with this on so many levels, but it has to be said that money does bring with it options.
Today is the first day that my resignation as a university lecturer takes effect. Having filled out the forms, and delivered them into the hands of the university administrative machinery, I know that I am now no longer a "Lecturer (Level B) in Architecture and Urban Design". Letting the position go, along with its academic kudos, is the easy part. I know I have moved far from the place of identifying with my job description, and think of myself as a whole bunch of more interesting things now: MOTHER, WALKER, LOVER, FRIEND, YOGI, ARCHITECT, TUTOR, DESIGNER, to name a few. (These are not in any particular order, just as they occur to me this morning!)

Probably the hardest thing about this is the loss of a difinitive, regular, asssured, secure income. Now i hesitate before buying somethig for myself in a way that I never really did. Yesterday I stood in the local Mountain Design Shop, knowing that I need a pair of gaiters for walking now that the weather is wetter and the leeches are coing out on the trails, and I thought hard about where the money for these was coming from. Its largely my huband's earnings that will finance these gaiters. Hmmmm.... so I should ask him? No...not necessary, he will laugh at me, surely. And chide myself for even THINKING that I should ask!!!Hmmmm....so will I not buy the best, most durable kind as these are the most expensive? (This would be my usual tactic). No, I can surely get by with a cheaper pair. I ended up being so perplexed by the nature of the decision, and the awareness that this wasnt really MY money, that I didnt buy anything. CRAP! I do need these gaiters....

walking remedies

2009-03-05T16:40:00.004+11:00

It seems that the idea of walking has become like an addiction: I'm suffering withdrawal symptoms from not walking for 3 whole days. Fortunately, Launceston is blessed with so many interesting walks to do, and my friend M and I are intending on doing them all, several times if need be, as part of a regular Thursday walking 'date'.

So today, M and I had plans to walk to Mt Barrow, another Alpine summit, not too far from where we live, but we both have suffered from too little sleep, and are nursing parallel sadnesses. She for her partner that may have a serious illness, and me for a project I am working on that has gone pear shaped, and my client has taken to attacking me personally, which I am not dealing with terribly well. I must say that my own worries seemed pretty trivial in the face of hers, but still hurt none-the-less. We chose an easy suburban bushwalk of only 2 hours through Cataract Gorge, and the Duck Reach Power station.

And so we walked with our sadnesses, sharing the depth of our fears on the trail. We both cried over our lunch. She, a woman of over 60 who has already lost one husband to an illness, and me, rather selfishly for my sense of wounded pride. The act of walking seemed to work this stuff out of our bodies, and help us find a passage across the suffering.

Next week we will climb a mountain and see if the rarefied air might elevate our spirits a little. We have decided that neither of us wants to carry this mood on another walk, but it is what we both needed to do today.

Walls of Jerusalem

2009-03-02T10:44:00.005+11:00

I have a wonderful reason for an absence of posts in the last few days: I have been off hill walking in Tasmanian alpine country.

I havent attempted such a long and arduous trek since I was in my 20's (quite a few years ago now) so this was a bit of a test. I even lost a little sleep the night before with thoughts of 'can I really do this?' and wondering how my creaky knees would hold up under the weight of a pack and a 600m climb on day one.

But it was fabulous! I felt FABULOUS! I think mountain air agrees with me.
The landscape is perhaps better described as a prehistoric dream scape. 1000 year old pines with gnarled mossy limbs, tear shaped highland lakes coloured with reflections of the ever-changing sky. Water tastes better than wine, and the air is like happy-gas.

Today's Jane Austen Quote:
'To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment'.

Resonant Words...NAME your city, town or suburb

2009-02-26T11:18:00.008+11:00

This is not a book to take too seriously! For those of you who havent read it, its about a woman who searches for happiness in her life after a messy divorce, and her journey takes her to Italy, India and Bali. Its written in bite-sized packets of ideas (108 in all) and I find this structure appealing, it suits the way I read now: a little at night before falling asleep. Its a good book, well written, and certainly a great holiday read. I think I am perhaps the last woman on earth to read it, as its sold over 5 million copies, and there are probably lots of blog posts about this novel about it already, so wont go on about the spiritual messages,etc contained therein. It touched me at a simple level, as the book invites you to ponder a basic question: are you living the life you wish to live? A big question. And then there is the issue of choices, as the author's choices unfold through the novel, I found myself asking, have I made choices that are good for my life?
And Im still thinking about that :)

One idea i did find kinda nice in the book was that all cities/places (and perhaps even people themselves) have a word that sums them up, that resonates volumes about the spirit of the place. The author suggest that NYC's word might be ACHIEVE, and LA's might be SUCCEED, and also rather predicatably, Rome's would be SEX.
I was wondering about my own home town of Launceston: what would Launnie's resonant word be? Probably PLOD, i think. An agrarian verb, that would describe the sense that most people here just continue on the path they have always been on, unquestioningly. Maybe also SHY: its a shy town, certainly. It reveals its beauty slowly; behind the folds of its valleys lie surprises!

I'd love to hear the resonant word for your home town, be that a state, city or suburb! (Please dont feel that you need to locate yourself too precisely if you are at all worried about doing that in blogland)

magic forest

2009-02-25T08:39:00.007+11:00

A stolen day; the first day EVER I have had both children in school and no work to do (well, nothing that cant be put off until tomorrow!) and a plan to walk up Mount Arthur. My artist friend M shares a love of mountains, and alpine forests, so convincing her to come with me was not hard at all. Soft footfalls on the spongy forest floor, our echo less voices lost in the tangle of trees, filtered sunlight highlighting the profile of moss covered rocks that look like ancient turtles sleeping. Its hard not to be reverent in a forest such as this. And this is one of your newer forests (we think maybe it was logged 100 years ago, and has regrown?) Only the occasional tree over 80 meteres high.

After an hour and a half of steady climbing, a short steep struggle up boulders discarded by some playful giant, brings us up above the forest canopy and into the cloud line.

House preening (continued)

2009-02-24T16:56:00.005+11:00

I think i need to follow up on yesterdays post regarding the domestic duties that befall the stay at home parent.

After suggesting that I would try to resist the frantic pre-6pm clean up (preparing the house for the arrival of the bread-earning partner) as I was suspicious of the motivation to do this house preening, I DID end up dashing about and sort of mostly cleaned up before S came home (thinking "I said I wouldnt do this...but i cant help myself as its really ME that wants this clean, actually, HEY, GUESS WHAT, Im doing this for ME, not him" and then I did some yoga. And meditated on that thought. ANd I realised that husband's arrival is just a convenient deadline... and I do LOVE the motivation of a dealine.
BUT: The washing stayed on the line, and when S came home, i finished my yoga, chucked washing on a spare chair, gathered dinner together, asked the girls to clean their room, and S vacuumed. As he did this I realsied that S and I have the well rehearsed domestic dance that we have performed for years together when we both return from work. The 7pm shuffle? Not sure what to call it, but we get oodles done in about 90 minutes. It goes a little like this: I chop the veggies, then he cooks the dinner, I bathe the kids, he cleans the bathroom afterwards, I serve the dinner. Eating happens. He collates the plates and stacks the dishwasher while I read bedtime stories, sort through the piles of toys/washing neaten bedrooms, ready bags for the morning. Strangely, the routine remains much the same with me not working as much. Hmmmmmm...

It doesnt really seem fair anymore that Steve does all this, when I can do it during the day. I really must stop bloggin, and get the dinner on!

ITS NEARLY 6 PM!!!!!

So my thinking now, after 2 posts and much pondering on the subject:
I think I will consider my domestic daytime activities as a kind of yoga seva (a service to others that is practiced with loving kindness) rather than a self imposed patriarchal role I need to adopt.

that record that keeps on spinning around in my head

2009-02-23T14:14:00.005+11:00

My dear friend Kel was writing here, about the issues surrounding expectations of the 'stay-at-home' parent when the breadwinning partner must go out into the world during the day to earn a living. [Usually, yes, this stay-at-home person is the women, but in her case, at this stage in her life, it is her loving man]. Bizarrely, her tables are turned, and she finds herself in the position of returning home after a hard day at the office, and writes about how confronting this is to find a series of loaded emotions about the domestic duties (perhaps not always?) being performed. And yes, she acknowledges all the attendant variables of small children needing attention, and how hard it is to get much done with littles about.

What Kel's post brings up for me is that I now am that person at home, the "non-bread-winner", and my youngest child (now 4) is growing up fast. For the first time in my life, I dont have a great deal of paid, proper 'work' to do (only about a day a week which I squeeze in around my home-based life). So I can do more stuff about the house now. And I do. Theres lots to do too: washing, cooking, cleaning shopping, etc . The question is how much do you do?

I hate the tyranny of expecting the kids to put every toy away, making sure benches are clean, tidying surfaces. Its appallingly trivial in the scheme of things to get het up about this shit. And yet, this feminist mum finds herself at 5pm racing about the house, asking the kids to pick up toys, tidying piles of books, maybe even vacuuming before daddy comes home. I can almost feel myself wanting to find a highball glass for the G&T, slippers, and cigar as hubby pulls up the drive. WHY are these 1950's ideals of domesticity lurking in the recesses of the brain of a women who was spent years at university educating myself, and further years professionally deploying these skills??? DO these thoughts feed osmotically from some bygone cultural ether, cosmically, quantamly perhaps from another less liberated universe? [And before you think it, yes my mum probably did show me how to do this, as she was the 50's housewife reinvested in the 70's, and my dad kinda expected the "treatment" of wifely servitude, but now she is quite a different kind of woman, openly resisting this kind of attitude, and she certainly doesnt expect it of me. My hubby kind of thinks its funny that I do this...he probably thinks its quaint. Archaic, but quaint!

So time to change the record, this brain-tune is not working for me anymore! I'm going to try not to do the crazy-mad 'run-around' tonight. I will do some yoga instead! The house is (mostly) OK, dinner is easy tonight (salad and fritata) and well. If I do wipe a bench down, I will do it beacuse I want to, not because I feel I aught.

Plastic cup?

2009-02-21T16:16:00.005+11:00

Dining out in Tassie is always a bit of a hit and miss affair. My hubby and I are FOODIES....yes siree, we like good food and we have been spoilt by living in Adelaide for many years where the reliability of restaurants is a given. You can be confident in Adelaide that if you spend $50 a head on food you are in for a pretty lovely dining experience, at a large number of establishments. Not so here in Tassie.

S and I had a belated valentines trip away to the east coast of this heart shaped isle, and spent the night in a rather lovely The view from the dining room is lovely: splendid even. But the food was a bit like my palette was staring at a neighbour's beige colourbond fence. Tasteless Sushi, poorly sliced sashimi, woeful tempura: and this was from a specialist Japanese restaurant charging much more than Adelaide's equivalent establishments.
For me, the saddest moment came when I asked for a glass of water, and the waitress suggested that I should get my own from a water cooler in the far corner. OK. I can do that. But when I looked for a glass, there were only plastic cups. I asked for a glass from the waitress (another traipse across the dining area) and she was shirty with me. Hmmm. Not only do I find a plastic cup awful to drink from (it reminds me of a dentist surgery waiting room, which is not a good thing if you read my last post!) but its totally environmentally mental too.

Wow, this post really is turning out to be a bit of a whingey rant, so I shall finish on a positive note:
Sleeping with the sound of the ocean entering my dreams, waking to the fantastic profile of cliffs below the cabins, and the morning sun shining in on the bed sheets (as well as being away with my lovely gentle and caring man) was uplifting, and restorative. Maybe there is other food for the soul worth blogging about!

Cracks in the system

2009-02-20T11:49:00.004+11:00

I am working for a dentist with an obsession about gaps. And cracks. He requires an absence of both in his picture perfect house. Its ironic that of all the projects I have managed, this project... the one that is meant to be gap free, seems to be attracting gaps and cracks at every turn. The builder, the engineer, all the consultants have worked so hard to try and deliver him perfection, only to be confronted with the reality of gaps between things, and, well, the consistency of imperfection.

I have a theory that the more anxious one is to create perfection (in anything) the greater the likelihood that impediments to this will come your way.

Head and house in a spin!

2009-02-16T16:13:00.003+11:00

Still full house, and lots going on with my mum, sister and her partner all bunking in with us. Hubby is busy preparing Courses for students who are about to return to campus next week , and Im off to Adelaide for a short work trip. Whew!

And in the midst of all the comings and goings in the house, I cant believe I am sooooooooooo neglectful. For the first time ever, I completely forgot to collect my eldest daughter from school. Can you imagine how awful I feel? I looked at my watch at 3.16pm, after driving the 20minutes from town to where we live....and I thought hmmm..... Ive forgotten something..... hmmmmmm......FARRRK! I was 16 minutes too late to collect her, and the school is back in town!
So after a desparate and deflating call to the school I burnt rubber and flew back along the highway to pay penance at the school front office. Poor darling girl was sitting quietly reading a libary book. After a kiss she says "dont worry mum: I knew you would come!"

And now I will wait by the letter box for the speeding fine I know is coming. Sigh... and it is my karmic due. Strangely enough I am happy to pay it as I think, this time, it's deserved.

The Watch

2009-02-14T09:06:00.000+11:00

Oh! Do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.

Jane Austen
quote from yesterday

Friday haiku: Full house

2009-02-13T08:58:00.002+11:00

House full to the brim!
laughter ring, walls bright with sound
cat slinks between beds

Gift debt

2009-02-12T11:09:00.004+11:00

Nothing amuses me more than the easy manner with which everybody settles the abundance of those who have a great deal less than themselves.

Jane Austen

Again, a weird synchronicity between what the subject of my post today, and the auto-cue Jane Austen quote. Although, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure that Jane is on the money here; sometimes there seems to be a bit too much Victorian meanness, or soured sentiment in her holier than though messages from England long gone. But still, a resonance non-less-less with the idea of giving and receiving.

I have a new friend here in Tassie who has 3 boys kids under 4, and her life is full with the incredible task of juggling their needs. She is lovely, I mean really lovely, and keeps on giving me stuff. Shoes for my daughter that she has outgrown, vegetables from her garden, wool from her alpacas, and now her husband has offered to help us by trimming down some bar stools with his circular saw... Lots of stuff... Nice neighbourly stuff.

Ive been struggling with the idea of being given things,and not feeling like I have to 'match the gift'. Or conversely, the idea that you should give, and then 'you shall receive'. Either way their is an expectation that a favour must necessarily be returned. Why is it so hard to accept that a gift is in fact just that. A gift freely given, and needs not a gift in return? Is it the capitalist sentiment that expects a settlement of a kind of gift-debt?

I would like to just be able to accept a gift, without a feeling of obligation (and I'm sure that its just me feeling the sense of obligation in the case of my generous new friend). So how do we begin to retrain ourselves in the art of receiving? Does this strike a cord with you? Any ideas?

First day of school

2009-02-10T12:03:00.009+11:00

If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.

Jane Austen

This is today's Jane Austen quote, which I am enjoying for its synchronicity with the material I would like to write about.
My youngest daughter was up before dawn, dressed in her school uniform, and eating breakfast with her sister when I stumbled into the kitchen at a quarter to seven. And I had thought there would be some reluctance on her part in going to school today, but no! This was something S was more than ready for. She had her bag packed and ready by the front door, and asked me if I wanted to make her lunch now, or later after my shower. Hmmmmmm....
(By the way this is a stark contrast to my eldest daughter who often goes to school minus at least one of the following: bag, hat, lunch box, library books, brushed hair etc...) So this is a new era of school life for my littley and I hope that school will be a place where her curiosity and creativity are encouraged. That's pretty much my expectation of the school system.

Anyway... reading the Austen quote made me reflect on what i could remember of my first day: a smell of solvo, the warm hand of my new teacher, my mum reassuringly beside me, the scratchy fabric of my jumper, and the first game of word fish we played. I felt scared, and I think I cried. (Mum, if you are reading this, do you recall this moment?)

But then, here is my little one nonchalantly waving me goodbye and tucking into a crafty making table (helping herself to lots of sparkly pipe cleaners) with her new best friend, and I'm no longer required. Until the bell goes at 3pm.

So, if you are reading this, how much do you remember of this pivotal moment in your life?Is it a memory that you need to dredge up from the recesses of your mind, or it freshly marked 'as if it were yesterday'? your thoughts and stories are most welcome!

Thai Yoga Massage

2009-02-09T12:27:00.000+11:00

Ive had a house guest for the last 5 days. She's been studying an ancient form of massage: Thai Yoga massage, and I have been her guinea pig. A completely willing subject, I found no problems at all in being gently moved about between basic Hatha Asanas (postures). How delightful! All the benefits of yoga without the sweat, and more besides. Apparently this form of massages works on the 'Sen' lines, I think they are a bit like meridians, but its pretty powerful stuff.

I found myself (after 3x 1.5 hr massages over the last 3 nights) feeling not physically tested so much as emotionally opened. Yesterday I was close to tears most of the time, and this is not even my time of the month. I think this kind, or perhaps any kind of bodywork like this, brings the stuff one hasn't been dealing with terribly well to the surface! People tell me this is a good thing, but at the time it feels pretty raw.

If you want to have a look at some Thai yoga massage, have a browse through u-tube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWRd0teUoRs

Wedding

2009-02-08T14:37:00.007+11:00

My beautiful friends M and R have wed, and it was a marvelous thing. Intimate, considered, and most of all simple, this was a great day. A great wedding! (Actually I have never been to a wedding wasnt wasn't great, as they are all special and personal in their own way, so perhaps every wedding deserves a few extra epithets... an effusive and happy wrap!

But I reckon this one was extra special, as M and R are both over 60, have lead full lives (she and artist and he an academic), and have loved deeply and been loved before. There are 6 daughters between them, although none were present. They wanted this to be a wedding just for their close friends (and we feel chuffed to be counted amoung them) as the complications of a few blended families made it tricky, well perhaps impossible to invite everyone, but also as they had done the 'big white wedding' deal before; they wanted this to be a more private celebration without pomp and ceremony, beyond the basic and beautiful exchange of simple vows, rings, and the all important kiss.

After aquiring her shiny new wedding band, M dunked it unceremoniously into the sink and scrubbed potates to eat for lunch: joking that the ring needed to be christened. This is no ordinary bride! While R prepared the table for lunch and refreshed glasses with Tassie champers , the guests got to know one another, and their connections to the happy couple were shared. Friends, and family were soon lazing about on couches after dining on smoked fish and veggies, while the family dogs were lolling about on the floor, woofing up the crumbs!

A lovely afternoon!

Bluey

2009-02-06T14:57:00.010+11:00

Cool scaly grey skin
quick flick o' blue and then gone
as quick as a wink

(thanks to my eldest daughter Miss E for not only being brave enough to hold the lizard, but also helping me get the number of 'sillyables' correct!)

Fig Jam recipe

2009-02-05T08:48:00.001+11:00

Ive been on a bit of a jam drivelately as the fruit is just dripping off the trees where I live. The last 3 kgs of figs fully ripened in the few days we had of 35 degree weather, so it was another all systems go, get down and jam it, jam day. Heres the recipe, which im getting some great feedback on. Its an adaption of a David Pascoe recipe, which a quick search a-la-Google provided.

FIG JAM
1 kg. of figs
750 gm. of sugar (I used soft brown sugar which tastes extra caramelly)
6 cloves and 6 cardamon pods
1 cinnamon stick
juice of 1 a lemon
zest from lemon rind

Weigh the figs after topping.
Determine the proportional amount of sugar required.

Mash or cut figs into chunks, you can choose how chunky you want your jam to be.
Ripe fig skin will soften nicely while boiling.
Add spices, lemon juice and rind.
Cover with sugar and allow to sit for 2 hours. (actually I didnt bother to do this and ts seemd fine)
Slowly bring the mixture to the boil over 15-20 minutes. Slowly boil for 1 hour. Cool and slowly boil for 15 minutes the next day. Cool.
Pour into air tight container that has been scorched with boiling water. Refrigerate.

Decandence

2009-02-04T09:34:00.005+11:00

Fascinating reactions to my post from yesterday, with friends telling me that they are a little surprised at my shifts in architecture tastes/ideology. I really just wanted to completely reassure you all that there is still a place in my heart for architectural indulgences! Ive woken up this morning with the realisation that there is still a part of me that appreciates beautiful spaces. How can I not, with 6 years of aesthetic training? It would be a bit like giving up chocolate. VERY Difficult.

This house is again a Peter Stutchbury awarding winning thing. Its designed to house the clients rather magnificent and x-large art collection; that is the individual pieces are large, and I suppose there are rather a lot of them too. I had the good fortune to go to a 40th birthday party at the house last year, and it really was a beautiful eerie, percehed high on the cliffs above Sydney's outer harbour. I do however still feel conflicted by the thought that its is only the very wealthy ( and those that are fortunately enough to know them!) that have access to this stuff.
I think also, my reaction against this high end "boutique architecture" is as I'm just in the final (death) throes of completing a 'high end' project in North Adelaide, which is getting pretty tense with time and budget over runs...it doesn't make my job very pleasant! And im looking at it, 3 years after designing it and realising my priorities have shifted enormously: I couldn't design something so over-sized, and energetically wasteful again.
Its an epiphany, and a timely one for me. There is a place I think in my architectural future for high-end residential work, but ill be so much more mindful of issues of material longevity, embedded energy, and just more persistent in pruning back spaces to be no bigger than they really need to be. (Less materials used up front, and less energy spent in lighting/heating and cooling spaces that are superflous to ordinary requirements). This is the biggest issue with clients as they often want homes to wrap around the once-a-year entertain 20 guests scenario!

The Favourite Building

2009-02-03T08:34:00.009+11:00

A bonus question: Offered as part of a Blogger Interview. Kel's final question cannot remain unanswered as its particularly thought provoking. This is a difficult thing: to isolate one building, among so many that is so fantastic I would love to be its author!
(spare question) As an architect, which well known building thats not yours would you most be willing to put your name to, or love to claim as your own?

Not much to look at perhaps, but this shearing shed near Wagga Wagga in rural australia I respect for its integrity, environmental commitment, and its expression of a contemporary Australian vernacular.

In the architects own words:

The Australian Shearing Shed has undergone marginal change throughout the history of its evolution. Sheep movement has been constantly refined; the shed was lifted to provide for undercover sheep storage and the shearing board was raised to ease the passage of wool to the classing table. In some areas technology has also contributed to the more efficient management of shed techniques. But fundamentally the shed as a building has become less decorative and more direct. Deepwater Shearing Shed has moved toward the integration and resolution of current concerns and functional requirements for such a building.

Another jury Citation, here.

More and more I appreciate the work of architects less and less. I'm finding myself drawn to projects that have a signficant public component, that are egalitarian, in the sense that the design can be appreciated by the public, not just enjoyed by the elite. So much of architecture is commissioned privately and commercially which makes the end product exclusive, unattainable by so many.

Im also loving projecs that use natural resources wisely.

Five Questions, five answers

2009-02-02T09:00:00.004+11:00

Responding to Kel's challenge to submit to 5 curly, targeted questions that probe the inner most corners of your psyche, I volunteered to give it a go:'The Interview", blogger style.
It works like this:anyone reading this can volunteer to be subjects, then Ill send you five questions by email.
Here are my answers to the five questions Kel asked me:

1) besides children/pets/partner ( all living things) if you had to take one
thing from your home due to emergency circumstances, what would it be? why?

I'm trying to think about this as if I were in emergency circumstances: not thinking too much about it, and the first thing that comes into my mind is that aside from the children/pets/partner, I am not really terribly attached to the objects in my life. I mean I haven't worked to hard on the Zen approach to living, or indeed to Buddhist ideals of non-attachment, but there you have it. I'm just not that into stuff. I suppose that might be as I have had my house burgled three times, and my stuff stolen while traveling. Things (objects) that I have loved, have been taken from me before, so I guess I'm a bit ambivalent about jewelry, photos, favorite clothing items, etc. If I did think to grab something, it would be irreplaceable work files(those on my laptop), and photos therein. Boring, but this is the stuff that would be impossible or time consuming to replace.

2) currently, what are you loving most in life ?
The thing that is giving me the most pleasure in my life right now, apart
from children/pets/partner ;) is my renewed interest in yoga. This (almost) daily practice is allowing me to make some quiet places in my life for navel gazing, contemplating beauty in all things, get to know the limits and capacities of my body, teaching me a deep connectedness of all things. At the end of a good session of yoga, my own life's worries are pretty puny, and that lovely glow of loving kindness can last all day! Better than any drug I know of, or have tried! Im also loving experimenting with my life, shaking things up a little to see if I can break some bad habits, encourage some new life affirming ones, and enjoy a slower pace of living. In the last 12-18 months I have made some significant changes: shifted state (this has nothing to do with yoga
practice!), quit my job as a lecturer, focused my energies less on my career and more on nurturing myself and my children.

3) If you could choose to be someone famous, who would it be?
I have secretly always harboured a desire to be an actor, to be a vehicle for a story, an emotion, to perform and perhaps even entertain. It would be fabulous to have the skill to move between characters, to explore the range of human types by inhabiting a world other than the one you know intimately. Its not the fame and glory thing that inspires me here, its really a kind of Geminian interest in exploring aspects of self in a socially sanctioned way.
Which actor would I like to be? Hmmmm... Ive enjoyed the skills and presence of the great Aussy actors: Judy Davis, Rachel Ward, Cate Blanchett (of course) but especially Judy Davis. I loved her portrayal of Sybilla in 'My Brilliant Career'. She exuded all the passion and fire of a willful 16 year old, which inspired me.

4) the chicken or the egg?
Look, I don't know, you know? I have wondered how to answer this conundrum. I'd like to think up a funny answer, but this isn't my forte! Maybe I could squeeze out a pseudo-philosophical response, but this kinda bores me too. The very first lecture I went to at university was a logic lecture, and this was by mistake! I was meant to be in a biology lecture and I got the room, building, and indeed faculty completely arse up. I panicked, figuring Im just too dumb to even understand basic biology: gee University must be for extremely wise and knowledgeable people, and clearly I wasn't one of them! This experience put me off philosophy! The irony here is that my husband is a philosopher, and yes, I find the preoccupations of the profession irritating. At some level the constant picking apart of semantic understanding undermines the joy of life. Hmmm... but still I have a healthy respect for those that wish to do so. And, to be honest, there are some new braches of philosophy, ecosophy that do really interest me and are challenging my view of my profession.
Chicken? Egg? Both exist: one requires the other. Why is it an either/or
question?

5) Looking at the various life choices you have made, which stand out and how do you feel about them now?

This is a biggie. With almost 40 years of life under my belt, theres alot of decisions there, and some have more resonance than others. The first one was one of those "Sliding doors" moments (terrible Gweneth Paltrow film, dont bother seeing it) where I made a decision to return home after 6 months overseas, just days before Christmas. I was 18, feeling more than a little lonely, out of money, and missing the sun, and my boyfriend at the time who had gone back to Melbourne. So instead of taking a few risks, I took the easy option and used my return flight, when what I really wanted to do was stay in London and work for a while, experience a bit of inner (big)city life. On returning to Australia I spent the summer working hard paying off my debts, but not really wanting to be back in OZ. I was listless, perhaps even depressed. My overseas fling with the melbourne boyfriend went sour. I often wonder what might have eventuated had I ripped up the ticket and stayed in London, even though I was a little scared. I would now have more courage to face my fears I think!

Another big one was filling in my University enrollment form, having received offers for several courses. I ticked "architecture" without really knowing much about the profession, what sort of life it would lead me to, indeed how hard a course it was, as it demanded a different kind of thinking--critical thinking--that secondry schooling really doesnt seem to prepare you for. My brain was dragged kicking and screaming from a world where rote learning was rewarded, to an environment where if you gave the'expected' or standard answer, this was considered banal, ordinary and
really rather boring. Architectural training has given me many things: an aesthetic training, an appreciation for literature/culture/human creative endeavour, a passion for black, and a chance to engage in a profession where you get to buy colour pencils and write them off as a legitimate tax deduction! Hey, not a bad thing at all. Cant do that as a biologist!

(spare question) as an architect, which well known building thats not yours would you most be willing to put your name too or love to claim as your own?

Ill answer this one in another post!

So, please feel free to let me know if you'd like to continue this fine tradition of the Blooger Interview, and Ill email you a set of personalised questions all of your own! Its like a session with your on-line shrink, and it doesnt cost a cent.

Thanks Kel, for some great, thought proviking questions!

Happy campers?

2009-01-31T15:09:00.007+11:00

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.

Potaroo Exclosure

2009-01-28T16:11:00.008+11:00

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!

WANTED: (x2)

Corny question

2009-01-27T17:36:00.005+11:00

Does anyone know how to tell if corn is ripe?

I have about 30 ears on 20 plants, and they seem big enough to be ripe. The tufts at the top of the ears have turned a bit brown, but i dont want to pick em if they are not really done yet.

Ideas?

Happy Chinese New Year!

2009-01-26T12:17:00.003+11:00

Usually Chinese New year is much later in February, but the vagaries of the lunar calendar means that the celebration begins this year on the same day we celebrate the birth of White Australia.
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.

I would like my children to be able to be proud of being both Australian and Chinese, so I suggested we make noodles (traditional for the first day of Chinese NY, especially on the eve) and share them together as a family and talk about both cultures. We had a low key day, without fire-crackers, dancing dragons and extended family, but we did share a lovely meal under the wisteria in the divine Australian sunshine!

Happy New year of the Ox to you all , and happy Australia day!

Cooler Climes

2009-01-26T12:01:00.003+11:00

Inspired by Mad Gnome, and her post on Adelaide's predicted 7 day scorcher , Ive checked the long range forecast for Launceston, knowing that my fellow Taswegians are talking of a 'heat wave' on the horizon here too.

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!

A slice of China

2009-01-24T20:59:00.005+11:00

The abstraction of space in drawing urban developments is alarming. At a scale of 1:10,000 a 100 home block of flats is the size of a Monopoly hotel piece. The panoptic view, or bird's-eye view seems to erase the on-ground experience of city life.

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.

Will give updates as we know more of the fate of our ideas!

Friday Haiku: Glow

2009-01-23T17:13:00.003+11:00

warm sunshine in me

handle in the darkness glows

way finding, mine

Inspired by a self guided yoga session...

Fig Jam?

2009-01-22T20:32:00.004+11:00

I love it!

My sister Squizardo has put in a special request for the stuff, so considering that she has crossed the globe to see us, dragging her UK squeeze (yes, her partner, but also a great 80's band) with her, then the least I can do is cook up a little of her favourite jam!

Squiz, if you are reading this, its looking thick and deeply purple and incredibly sticky in the pot at the moment. The smell is amazing, and I will do my best not to eat it all before you arrive! xx

Jamming

2009-01-21T13:56:00.008+11:00

Having got up at 3am to herald in a new American President and enjoy the site of the old one vacate the scene, it seemed a good time to celebrate with pancakes and a spot of jam-making!

I have to confess I did go back to bed after making sure that Bush was safely deposited in the helicopter and bid farewell, but upon rising I felt an enthusiasm for all things, that not only Americans start on a fresh page today, but we all do. It will be great to see if he can deliver what he promises, and even if only half of his rhetoric is achievable, then that may be a good thing for the world.

Anyway, I digress....back to Jam making. This is something i haven't attempted for 20 years! Apparently I made my first and only jam attempt (a strawberry kind) in my uni days. It was actually Steve, that reminded me, as I had completely forgotten this brief episode of domesticity, but he tells me the jam was good. Hes such a nice man: I'm sure he'd tell me this even if it was lousy :) I now remember constant calls to my mum, asking such things as 'how will I know when its set?' and 'what do i do if its still runny when...' So, yes, I was on the phone to mum having consulted multiple on-line recipes, which only served to confuse me.

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.

The result is rather lemony...and YES it did set!!!!

Oh, and thanks go to Kerrie from Queensland for her inspring jam making post. And also to my friend Mary for the apricots.

Flickr

2009-01-20T16:27:00.003+11:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Make It!

2009-01-20T15:47:00.009+11:00

Making things. Hmmm. Craft, double hmmmmm.....I remember the last time I wrestled with a tricky Vogue pattern, expensive fabric and my sewing machine and ended up cutting 2 left fronts of a lovely Calvin Klein dress in expensive silk. The offending pattern pieces, useless silk and the sewing machine were shoved, unloved into the recesses of the cupboard.

I am a hasty person at the best of times, and have to consciously remind myself to 'measure twice and cut once'. Look before you leap, you know, all that mindfulness stuff. And the good news is that I am becoming a more patient person: I am ready to embrace a whole new world of making crafty things with kids. I must admit I am trepidatious, but I no longer am sewing at midnight after a long day at the office. This is different. This is fun sewing, mindful educative craft, with the kids!

We are following some ideas in a book called 'Make It!': learning how to recycle stuff that appears useless, but has a whole new life as something else. We are converting old jeans into bags. What-ho! There are lessons for me in remaining calm as my 9 year old drives my sewing machine wonkily across the bottom of a pair of jeans , and lessons for the kids in thinking about how to transform junk into something to treasure.

And the results, are pretty cool too.!

Figs and other fruity things

2009-01-19T16:54:00.007+11:00

The fig tree is ripe and laden with big fat black figs! (This photo doesnt do them justice, as the fig here wasnt nearly as ripe as it should have been)

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.

It was a hot day for Tasmania, maybe 29 degrees or so, and the whole gang of 4 kids and the mums headed up the road to feed a miniature pony we feel somewhat related to, and race around Mary and Roger's magical bush garden while being chased by the cantering wee horse. Hilarious! It was hard to let a few unpleasant work calls on my mobile dampen the fun.

Back in our garden the kids continued the mad race around our garden, which ended in a few tumbles from Scooters (Finn and Simone) , a nose bleed and tears(Evie), a vomit (Evie again), and even an allergic reaction to the horse hair by one of the visiting boys (Darcey). Nothing like raging excitement to have everyone falling in a heap at the end.

Saturdays...

2009-01-18T17:02:00.004+11:00

Saturdays are funny days. We are never sure why, but the combination of energies in the house always seems to be tense. Someone gets cross, has a tanty, and slams a few doors usually by noon. Perhaps its as the

kids are more antsy, ready to get into the weekend activities, or maybe its the fact that Mum and Dad want that illusive thing, a good sleep in, and when we don't get it we get grumpy.

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.

Just outside a cafe this little troupe set up with a cello, washboard, guitar and ukulele. They had the whole street singing 'Swing-Low-Sweet Chariot'. My two girls were a little embarrassed, but joined in with the last chorus!

Its good to break those shitty routines!

Friday Haiku: Jet-set

2009-01-16T13:44:00.005+11:00

Jet-set

Jump start girly dreams

In a pink-hard plastic shell

Feminism's nightmare!

fate accompli

2009-01-15T12:01:00.006+11:00

Its easy filling out forms. Barely glancing at the bits to sign, just put the date there, yes and fill that bit out there. Sign on the line at the end, OK. Done. OHMYGOD what have I done?

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'.

Give (more) Blood?

2009-01-14T13:07:00.007+11:00

Feeling giddy, but virtuous, I looked at the Good Red Stuff slide out of the needle taped to my arm and into its rocking plastic sack. Hmmmm....feeling really giddy now. Beep beep BEEP!! chime the machines, as the flow slows and I think my blood pressure is dropping.

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?

Harm minimisation

2009-01-13T15:20:00.007+11:00

Yesterday's strawberry picking seemed like a great way to entertain the children at the same time as harvesting some of the Tamar Valley's fine produce.

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 :)

Celestial Body

2009-01-12T10:02:00.005+11:00

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.

Very Berry

2009-01-11T14:01:00.001+11:00

BERRY CAKE

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
1 egg
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)

Topping:

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.

Feminism and Motherhood

2009-01-10T09:01:00.003+11:00

These questions teasing out the tensions between motherhood and feminism interested me on Bluemilk's blog:

How would you describe your feminism in one sentence?

A constant search for the possibility of balance between a creative professional life, and the reality of life as a mother, while nurturing a relationship with a partner and finding space to nurture oneself. Its a personal and political exercise.

When did you become a feminist?

Far too late! Not until I was about 19 or 20 when I was introduced to feminist academic writings by a artist/activist/performance artist at University. Thank you Bronia Ivanchuk

Was it before or after you became a mother?

Before.

What has surprised you most about motherhood?

The degree to which my feminist principles are daily compromised! Example: I find myself at home (again) today, minding my two children during the school holidays. I try to find space between a mother's duties [adjudicating arguments, making many small meals, washing, cleaning etc etc etc ] for life affirming, creative, and enriching activities...But the really surprising thing is that its precisely because my life is jam-packed with mummy-stuff that i am forced to be efficient with the other stuff. And that's the sad thing, I suppose. Work + a creative life become the other stuff.

How has your feminism changed over time? What is the impact of motherhood on your feminism?

I was far more militant when I was in my 20's. That was me at 'reclaim the night' marches, speaking at women's self defence demonstrations, and taking men to task for the way masculist thought infuses language, social mores and the world generally. Talking to men about gender issues has moderated my views somewhat. Also, to be honest, I have found a way to be more at peace with adopting the nurturing aspects of the female stereotype. Which is not to say that the propensity to nurture should not be shared by men.

What makes your mothering feminist?

Oh, Christ! I'm not sure i would make this claim of myself and my actions. Hmmm... But why not? feminism is no longer, and should never be a dirty word. I believe that the personal is political, so, when I conduct myself in the world professionally, I include my children. I have taken them to building sites, conferences and meetings. In these actions I suppose I am saying that it must be acceptable for women (and men too) to have a professional life and a family life, and that they sometimes overlap. I think its important that I show my young girls that while it might not be possible to 'have it all', it is possible to pursue a career and enjoy a rich family and social life.

How does your approach differ from a non-feminist mother’s? How does feminism impact upon your parenting?

I'm not sure I would hazard a guess at what a non-feminist mother is!

Do you ever feel compromised as a feminist mother? Do you ever feel you’ve failed as a feminist mother?

Motherhood is a series of compromises. Ive accepted long ago that life is long, and its OK to 'go slow' with my career while my children are small. I want to enjoy the time with my kids. Cliche? Perhaps...

Has identifying as a feminist mother ever been difficult? Why?

I suppose I have identified as both feminist and mother separately, rather than bringing the two terms together. I'm still thinking through what it is that a feminist mother might be. That may be intellectual laziness on my part, or just an acceptance of living one day at a time, fulfilling my responsibilities as a mum and trying to enjoy this at the same time as working part or full-time.

Motherhood involves sacrifice, how do you reconcile that with being a feminist?

Its a realistic sacrifice. To be both mother and careerist is to find yourself an early grave.

If you have a partner, how does your partner feel about your feminist motherhood? What is the impact of your feminism on your partner?

Guilt...but then again he is catholic, so it goes with the territory!

If you’re an attachment parenting mother, what challenges if any does this pose for your feminism and how have you resolved them?

My kids are a little older now (9 and 4) , so this is not so relevant to my situation

Do you feel feminism has failed mothers and if so how? Personally, what do you think feminism has given mothers?

At best, feminism has given women choices: to pursue careers and expect equal status and/or to follow the more traditional path of motherhood. Its the 'and' part that is the worrying element in this as its a virtual impossibility to keep all the 'balls in the air'. At worst, feminism has set mothers up for failure, as inevitably those balls get dropped. I know, Ive been there and dropped a few myself!

Friday Haiku

2009-01-09T10:00:00.006+11:00

broad ribbon winding
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/

Architecture Rant

2009-01-08T13:58:00.001+11:00

Its taken 3 years of rabid negotiatiation, rejected building approvals, council appeals, out of court settlements, building delays, boundary survey stuff-ups, re-engineering, and further inexplicable building delays just to get to this stage, and the interior fitout is still not complete. Remarkably, the client is hanging in there, the architect (me) has not resigned in frustration, and the builder is still philospophical about it all.

On days like this I dont particularly enjoy my profession. Ive just had an email from a builder (on another job) asking for more constuction details, immediately (in fact yesterday, or even last year would be better) on a minor issue that should have been resolved by him yonks ago. Its an engineering issue, and not even my remit....but its the expectation that it should be something I should do something about and right now that really rubs me up the wrong way. I suppose all professions, in fact any job, has these daily dilemmas. I just wonder if architects are particularly prone to maltreatment from builders, consultants, and in fact the general public! Sigh... I know that what we do as architects is not often valued and poorly understood. And i suppose I would concede that there are alot of examples of architecture of questionable merit out there.

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.

The good thing about being a part-time mum, sometimes architect, and an about-to-resign-from-tenure lecturer (subject of another day's post) is that if one any one aspect of my life is unsavoury, Ive still got a couple of others to dip into. It helps remind me not to dwell on the inevitable merde that arises; to not 'sweat the small stuff'. And, as the book's by-line suggests, its all small stuff.

How does your garden grow?

2009-01-07T11:32:00.002+11:00

...so much for the rigour of a daily post as a strategy for life definition, inspiration, relief from the tedium of daily mothering etc...

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.

Beginnings

2009-01-01T21:12:00.001+11:00

A blog begins...no new years resolve as yet...perhaps not at all...

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.