Sunday Out And About

I woke up this morning with a case of cabin fever. It was time to get out of the house. I think I have spent nearly every weekend for ages inside or at the supermarket.

My son was in a vaguely shitty mood which matched my own headachey grim demeanour and getting out of the house was a tense episode.

Firstly, I wanted to go to the art gallery to see a Salvador Dali exhibition but my son expressed a strong disinterest. Moan, moan and more moaning at the prospect of being forced to see any art. We got in the car and my mood was put onto high grump alert as I thought of what a selfish and ungrateful pratt a child can be. Always thinking about what they want, not anyone else.

But, I held my tongue and waited until my headache dissapated and my mood settled. No point in having a heated discussion about "my needs" with a twelve year old boy.

As we drove toward the city I said to him that it would mean a lot if he could put aside his obvious boredom at the prospect of seeing Salvador Dali and come in with me. He agreed, and really that was all I wanted to hear.

By the time we got into the gallery car park I had calmed down and decided that it would be best if I went to the exhibition on my own at a later date because I would want to spend a few hours walking around and listening to the audio about each painting. So we decided to just go for a meander around the gallery anyway.

My son really enjoys contemporary art, even though I don't think he realised it until we were looking at some great paintings and sculptures. His entire mood changed and his eyes were wide open at the strange paintings on show. At one point we were looking at a series of black and white photos from the 1960's, all abstract, and he was totally engrossed in them, sitting down in the semi darkness to stare at them. In the end I had to go back and get him out of the room to keep moving.

He got his wish to sit in a MacDonald's store and use his iTouch to surf the net.

We went to a cafe later in the afternoon where he indulged in a hot chocolate made with melted chocolate, cream and milk and I lied about my age. This little cafe has been around for so long. My mother used to take me there when I was a little, little girl and it was one of the few places you could get good, strong European coffee outside of home.

The decor only recently got completely updated and it now specialises in great coffee, hot chocolates and Belgian chocolates to indulge in.

During the day we came across the odd street performer. I love these ones that look like statues and move every so slightly. They stand there for so long. Street performers are so professional now, a great form of entertainment. In Winter there are not so many, but in Summer you see many of them attracting big crowds. I have to admit, it is a tough way to earn a dollar, but they do well when the crowd is big.

For the first hour in the city my son was completely into his iTouch, but after a while he decided to engage in some conversation with me. At the end of the day, nothing beats a good old chinwag.

A random shot of a happy boy as we headed back to the car to go home.

On Sunday, just near the art gallery, the city is full of market stalls. Some of the stuff on sale is okay, but most is for tourists who want some quality Australian souvenir's to take home. Personally, I would rather walk naked than wear an Akubra hat, but each to their own.

It was a relief to be out of the house, away from work, just out and about. I intend to take an entire day off work and go in to see some exhibitions at the gallery. I realised that now and then I just have to be on my own in the environment that feeds a hungry soul.

All in all, a good Sunday jaunt.

Ciao

LC

Saturday The Fourth Blab

I have been blogging less lately as my wife, life and mothering duties seem to have taken a priority for weeks on end.

Especially at work. I have been thinking about work when not at work. Which is usually not an issue, but because we went through a tight and tough time, it was getting a bit intrusive. However, we seem to have gotten past that enough for me to feel a sense of relief.

Also, I have been so tired for weeks on end and finally picked up some iron tablets as about fifteen months ago I was diagnosed with low iron levels but did nothing about it. Hopefully things sort themselves out now. Plus I had slipped into a level of inertia about looking after myself emotionally. I know that sounds a bit precious, but I feel as though I have been just going to work, exercise, supermarket, washing and ironing and sleeping. Then on the weekend just not getting enough done that was enjoyable.

Maybe just a rut that needed derutting (is that a word?). Now I am working out of it.

I took two days off work this week. Wednesday was my son's twelfth birthday. I could not believe it. Twelve years ago he arrived and change our lives, in a great way. Talk about a learning curve.

Now here is this boy on the brink of teenage hood. His feet are big and they stink at the end of the day. I think that is a boy thing actually.

For his birthday he went to Gold Class cinemas with a friend to see the new Transformer's movie. Gold Class only has about twenty or so seats in it that are very comfortable. You can order yummy food that gets delivered to you once the movie starts. It costs more, but it is a nice birthday treat.

Whilst they were both at the movies I went shopping and just enjoyed myself. Spent a little bit of money on moi, not much, but enough.

Made a cake and decorated it in chocolate (his request) and was one candle short so we used a match stick for candle number twelve.

At the end of the day I worked on my beauty regime. It is a work in progress.

I ought to warn you, a close up of the photo below is totally disgusting. The honesty of digital pictures.....

Friday I dedicated myself to getting all the laundry sorted once and for all so that my weekend was just for relaxing. Having a day off now and then makes a big difference. This morning when I woke up I felt at ease for the first time in a while.

My husband and I bought my son an Apple iTouch for his birthday along with a docking station. To me, twelve is a special age and I wanted him to have something he would remember. He never asks for things like an Ipod or iTouch. About a month ago he had asked me if he had saved up enough pocket money for one and I said that he was almost there. So he just left it at that with the idea he would buy one in a few more months. Even when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday he just said that he wanted a surprise and anything I gave him would be great.

So, he gets the Itouch and is so pleased with it. Loads his songs, sits and surfs the Internet with it. Later on we had the following brief dialogue.

"Mum, on the weekend can we go to MacDonald's?" he asks.

"Why do you want to go there, you don't eat that rubbish?" I queried him.

"No, I know. But I want to take my iTouch and use it in there because they have free WiFi," he told me.

"Oh, okay," I agreed thinking to myself that, once again, MacDonald's have worked out a way to get customers in. Tomorrow we will go to one and try it out. Just sit at a table without food or drink just to try free Internet access.

Bit strange when I think about it.

Tomorrow my son and I are off into the city to go to the museum and just do a few things together as my husband has a music job on. I am looking forward to just being out and about more than eleven kilometres from my front door.

Sometimes you have to watch out, the world can suddenly get small if you don't keep moving outside of the safety zone.

By the way, I am growing out my fringe. Does it make me look older? Or mumsy? Or like I have a big, big forehead? Or a big face?

Ciao
LC

Reality Versus Fantasy

Nuff said.

Ciao

LC

School Talk

Last week my husband and I had to go into the school for the usual half year parent/teacher pow wow.

The day before my son had been sent home with his mid year school report that outlined where he was at and how that averaged out in education expectations.

There is an awful lot of blab that goes on in these reports. Lots of big fat paragraphs that outline what the child is expected to be able to achieve and if he achieves it.

My son met the criteria of where the normal twelve year old child should be, except for two small areas. One was personal learning and the other was LOTE.

We asked him what subject is LOTE and he said he had no idea. I read deeper into the report and found out that LOTE is a subject where he learns Indonesian.

"Are you learning Indonesian?" I asked him, really surprised as there has been no mention of it.

"No, I'm not learning Indonesian," he told me.

"Well are you sure? Because it says here that you are learning it," I pointed out the details to him. He was adamant he was not doing it.

The next day we went to talk to the teacher and went through the report. My husband asked what LOTE was.

"Language other than English. They learn Indonesian," she informed us.

"Really, well he says he isn't," my husband told her.

"Well, he goes to that class for forty minutes every week. So, he is in the room. But don't worry, everyone is asking the same question. Something is not being made clear in class about what the children are actually doing," she told us. Oh, really.

Anyway, we talked about how my son is going in class, in particular the personal learning issue, and she told us that he was, well, a bit lazy. It was hard for her to find what motivates him. Don't I remember that feeling at school.

Once a week he has detention at lunchtime to finish work he has not finished during class times. Needless to say, we had no idea of this happening. She expressed a concern that he seemed totally unconcerned about having detention and treated it as a lunchtime get together with the teacher (being her).

We agreed that from now on, any work he did not finish during the day would be sent home with him as extra homework in the hope that he would realise that getting it done at school would be a better idea. He does need a bit more of a push from us. His teacher said that he has the intelligence and is full of fantastic ideas, but getting him to use it was quite another.

I asked her if he was talking in class to other children. Was that the problem?

"No, you son can occupy himself quite happily with a pen. Or drawing cartoons. Or making little notes in the back of his maths book. When I tackle him on it he says he is "thinking about his work," she was trying not to laugh, but it was funny.

I was laughing at this. Not because it was funny (I reassured the teacher), but because he reminded me of me at that age. His teacher asked me how my teacher managed to help me overcome this behaviour as she would be happy to apply it to all students.

"It took forty years. I grew up, although I still have those moments at work," I answered.

Some things about school have not changed at all.

Daydreaming is one of them.

Ciao
LC

Deconstructing The Boy

Tomorrow (July 1st) my son turns twelve.

Last year I asked Kat from Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes, to write a poem for his eleventh birthday. At the time I did not post it because, well, I just didn't.

But I think it is so lovely that I want to keep it here on my Blog. It really captures that little boy's essence so well.

First of July, a winter’s night
In nineteen-ninety-seven,
A boy called S*****, came to light,
Time’s flown, he’s now eleven.

Complexion pale, and up-stuck hair,
He looks you in the eye
Python has him laughing loud,
But nightmares make him cry.

He loves when people pull a face,
Lost items make him mad,
When others are unkind to folk
And creatures, he feels sad.

His favourite friend is Alan
His folks are his mates too,
With silly walks and talks for
Entertaining “Mr. Moo”.

At school he’s just a dreamer,
Not really organised.
Already likes the pretty girls
In class--Mum’s not surprised.

He’s moody and creative,
Is bothered when things change,
Likes no lunchbox surprises,
His day, don’t rearrange.

Don’t dare put him in clothing
That rustles, or noise makes,
Just give him brand new boxers
Not briefs, for goodness sakes!

He watches Harry Potter
On screen and dvd,
But Springfield’s Simpsons
Dominate the family t.v.

You’ll find him often mesmerised
By Runescape’s magic tricks,
Or buried in adventures of
Tintin or Asterix.

He listens to strange music
For lad so young in age;
Weird Al’s a little wacky
Alongside Jimmy Page.

Like most boys, S***** loves to eat
And pasta is his dish;
To marry an Italian girl
Who’ll cook, is his great wish.

But Mum knows what’s important--
Not only food he needs,
Nurture talent that he has
Ensure his soul, he feeds.

He truly is a lucky lad;
Mum’s love for him’s so pure.
She’d give up everything she has,
His joy just to secure.

Kathleen Mortensen © 2008

He has grown up a bit since then. I could possibly add Xbox to his list of loves. I just think this poem says it all.

I am taking the day off work just to spend time with him and his best friend. Actually, I should say that I am going to ferry them all over the place to have fun.

Ciao
LC

Changes

When I was born in 1963, the surroundings in which I arrived had not changed in years. By surroundings I mean the suburbs, the streets, the cars, the shops, the parks and the houses that nestled all amongst this static place.

My husband, who is ten years older than me, arrived in that same sort of still world.

For a long, long time changes just rarely happened. Or, the changes were too irrelevant for me, as a child, to take notice of.

Small things like bakeries opening up on a Sunday morning, the day of rest, made the evening news on the big black and white television that sat in the corner of our small lounge room. I remember the baker being hounded by the news reporter and having to defend his dreadful crime of opening on a Sunday morning to sell bread to locals who chose not to go to Church.

People drove the same car for years and years. Kept their lawn mower for a lifetime. Stayed in the same house for most of their life. Fixed things that broke. Made things out of the unfixable. Took a shopping trolley to the local grocer so often that they knew each other by name and talked about mutual goings on each time they met. Life just had some sort of silent continuity about it that left one with a sense of being part of that process.

Even the shows on television stayed the same for years.

Changes were incremental for many, many years. The odd old house started to disappear from a side street and was replaced by a more modern home, making a statement by showing those around that they owners were "different" and "progressive" and "with it". Then, as the owners have grown old their own modern house has been pulled down and replaced with a more "now" home.

For years I could drive past places I remembered seeing as a child and never did that place change. Same butcher around the corner from where I lived as a six year old. Sawdust once on the floor, soft under my barefeet. Wooden butcher's block in the corner, the top misshapen by years of sharp knives striking the surface as the butcher chopped slabs of raw meat. My mum would sometimes ask for a few sheets of butchers paper to take home for me to draw on.

One day I drove past that butcher's shop and it was a florist. A couple of years later I drove past and it was a gift shop. Then, when my son was about three years old, I drove past and the butcher was now a furniture shop selling fashionable "hand made" shabby chic homeware.

I stopped the car and took my son with me to take a look at what they sold. I bought a small lidded box which holds lots of personal items relating to my son. His candle that was given to him on his day of christening along with a letter written by the minister which is for my son to read when he is older. Baby cards, birthday cars, ribbon that wrapped presents given to him when he was born and small items collected over the years and slipped into the wooden trunk for purely sentimental reasons.

I have not been back to the shop since. No reason, other than things I do now do not take me anywhere near there anymore.

About a week ago I drove down to the supermarket that is situated in the suburb of Hampton which is where I moved to when I was twelve years old and spent my teenage years, and in fact, is where I lived until I moved out and left the family home for good. I like going there. Despite the fact I have not lived there since I was nineteen, I feel it is still home for me in a way. Not that I even know anyone who lives there, except my father and it is not likely I am going to knock on his front door ever.

Anyway, I was driving along and it was a Sunday and the traffic was so busy. On a Sunday. It seemed liked a week day. This is a fairly recent thing. And by recent, I mean that it is in the past five years that the traffic on a Sunday has become so busy that it makes a trip to the shops an almost stressful event. Everyone seems to feel the need to be somewhere other than home. They are not at the supermarket, so the occupants in the cars on the road must continue on to other places.

On the way home from the shops, I was driving down the road that eventually takes me to the big local strip shop near my home. When I moved to here in 1991 (thereabouts), this local shopping centre was small. Mostly full of older people. Not so many young people. You could cross the road anytime without fear of being skittled over. Now, almost nineteen years later, it is long, busy and full of many shops. Lots of teenagers. Full of cars. Busy, busy and busy.

I sat in the car waiting for the line of traffic to move and wondered why I did not notice all this change going on sooner. But I then realised that the change is non stop now. Like a big snowball. Just rolling and rolling and getting bigger. Just keeping out of it's way is nigh impossible.

I see so much change now that I find it very disconcerting. Is it because I am older? I don't think so because my husband notices the same constant change. My brother also finds that constant change in the local area very irritating. It unsettles him and at the end of the day when he turns off the busy road and drives down his long and quiet street he finally relaxes. I feel the same way when I turn my car into the driveway at the end of the day.

It made me think about what my son thinks of the world now. So I ask him. I ask him if he thinks his world, his school, his streets change? He told me that the world seems to be always changing. Outside changes all the time. Lots of traffic. The school is bigger and more kids are in it. Two things have stayed the same he told me. Two things that make him feel relaxed and so happy. I leant forward in anticipation.

"Soft drink is one. Pepsi and Coke have never changed", he tells me, a big smile of delight on his face.

I stare at him. How interesting. Soft drink. Well, not quite the comfort food of my childhood years, but obviously meaningful to him. I wait for his second revelation.

"Getting home after school. I walk in the door, drop my school bag on the floor and feel so relaxed. That never changes", he leans back into the couch and crosses his arms. I silently agree with him.

So, if at his young age he thinks the world it constantly changing does that mean he will never know a life without change? Will he have to keep that stillness, that continuity happening in his own home and just step out into the chaotic world of change? Will he be so conditioned to it that it will seem normal to him. Just the way children grow up now?

I suppose that children are just like new trees. Take root and work in with the environment around them. Bend with the change. Quite different to an old and rigid tree like myself. I can only sway a little bit. Then it gets a bit hard.

Maybe I am just getting old.

And that is all okay as well.

Just another change.

Ciao
LC

Buying Bits Of Lives

When I go onto Ebay and search the vast data base for tempting things to bring into my already crowded house, now and then I feel like I can get a vague idea of what group of people are starting to leave behind their mortal remains.

Not just their mortal remains, but all their things that they bought, accumulated and collected over a lifetime.

You see, on Ebay, people will generally search for something for a relatively small range of reasons. Specific and useful items at a low cost. Such as shampoo, conditioner, perfume and make up. Then, some search for second hand clothes, shoes and furniture. Looking for something that is unique and, hopefully, cheaper than buying it in a store.

There are those who search for the unattainable. Or things that are so hard to find in any shop they may have been in many times. Dinky toys, vintage toys, collectible items, parts for old bikes or old editions of comics and other books. People who buy and sell these collectible goods know their stuff. These sorts of things get traded back and forth all the time and people constantly improve their collection.

Now and then though, one will search for items that generally only appear on Ebay when someone has died and their goods, not wanted by children or other relatives, get bought in bulk by a dealer who will sell it for profit. Maybe they have not died, but are too old to live in the home with all their familiar items and have to make decisions that involve getting rid of things they have had around them for a long time.

These things are not always particularly valuable, but they have a nostalgic feel about them because they remind one of things they had when young.

At the moment, things like retro kitchen ware that was bought in the 1960's are everywhere on Ebay. Bessemer plates, anodised cups and plastic picnic sets in little brown cases. Things that my mother would have bought new and enjoyed putting on the table at lunch time. Things that got hidden in the back of a kitchen cupboard and forgotten about until, one day, that person got old and either died or moved into a smaller place.

I am guessing that when lots of these sorts of items from a particular era suddenly appear on Ebay, it is maybe because a few more houses were emptied of unwanted personal items.

Perhaps I am reading more into it than there is. But, I recall that there was a stage where for ages and ages there was a huge amount of Bakelite, from the 1940's and 1950's and enamel ware appearing on Ebay. It appeared and was cheap as there was a lot of it around, then, it died off and soon became not as easy to find. Then, once in the hand of hungry collectors, the value increased.

Other times, you might suddenly see, from one dealer, an amount of new vintage Italian bedspreads or quilts for sale. Usually from the 1960's, popular in a young girl's glory box or given as a wedding present. Often Italian weddings are huge with many gifts given to the couple and many things that a girl had in her glory box go unused for decades so it is not rare to have lots of these "new" old pieces of linen appear online for sale now and then.

Well, I wonder what will be the next batch of goods flooding the Ebay market. I think lots of 1970's lifetime collections will soon appear. People who modernised their homes in the 70's perhaps? Now in a house too big to keep, or is not just dated, but needing so much work done it is more prudent to move out to a smaller place.

I just wonder about it all. Why people buy and sell. What is the motive behind it all.

Why do I have four sets of those Bessemer plates in my kitchen cupboard when one set is fine? But they remind me of being small and sitting at the table to eat from the orange plate. My sister had the red one. My dad did not care what he had. Maybe I bought four sets and thought that one day I might give a set to my brother and two sisters. I still want to buy some more. I want to own them and look at their bright colours and think about what cupboard they were kept in for years.

Why do I buy another Marcella bedspread when I have three already? But when I lie in bed and feel the weight of the thick white cotton, run my hands over the patterned, uneven surface of it I think about who owned it and how they washed it and ironed it and lay under it each night just as I do. Perhaps by owning more than one I feel that I am keeping something alive. I don't know.
Maybe I think too much about not very much.

Essentially, Ebay is just one big online shop. If you look at it in a practical manner.

I think of it as a trading place of people's lives.

Random ramblings here.

Ciao
LC

Thinking Of.....

Where the rest of the world is in relation to where I am. Especially since I made a few comments to the travel agent that elicited the response of "Linda, go home and look at the atlas. Prague is not near Italy".

Also wondering why I bought that green cardigan. My son calls me Ned Flanders when I wear it. Worse than that, I was wearing grey pants as well. However, I was minus the moustache so fortunately one could tell the difference between us.

When I am wearing it and tell that child of mine to do something he replies "Okaly - dokay - doo" or "Sounds spine tingly dingly" and some other thing that goes like "hey diddly whatever".

I have been wearing it less. My brother said it looked like grass.

My husband is colour blind, he just thinks it is brown.

Who would think that a cardigan could evoke such responses.

I should have bought two of them.

Hey diddly hi ho hum.

Ciao
LC

Blogging Break

I am taking a blogging break for a week or more.

Busy at work and home and not feeling very inspired.

Lately, every day has become Groundhog day and I need to address that.

End of financial year at work is less than a week away, school holidays start, my son turns twelve on the first of July and I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Must be Winter blues.

Ciao
LC