we are so groovy

So the lovely Susy had a seventies themed party.  I won't say what age she was turning - only that it was after 39 and before 41.  But my lips are sealed.

We glammed up in our seventies gear - mine was from an op shop.  The other girls had originals from their mother.  I personally don't think Katy wears a yellow pantsuit enough.  It's so flowy, yet practical!

One of my favourite parts of the night was the seventies themed supper - cocktail onions, kabana and cheese on a stick, prunes in bacon, prawn cocktails, chocolate fondue, celery sticks with sultanas and peanut butter and did I say chocolate fondue?  It was like all my primary school lunchbox treats had gathered together in one awesome table of tastiness.

I love that I can still hang out with these girls many many years later.  Fun!

My date for the night had the chest hair happening.  So seventies.  And groovy.

Yay.

Recovering today though from a trip to Nambour and back in one night.  I am not as young as I was.  But not as old as the birthday girl...yet.

satisfaction

I really love my slow cooker.  Yes it produces nice food - current favourite recipes include chili beef, greek lamb shanks, and beef stew with dumplings - but mostly I love it because of the smugness satisfaction I feel all day as it bubbles away in the kitchen.

It nestles within the flotsam of the kitchen bench (seriously why does our bench attract so much debris - it's like a wave has come and left a line of seaweed that looks like paper and pencils and bit of dolls and hairbrushes and random fruit and plastic containers), holding it's slow cooked goodness until we all come home and dinner is ready.

During the day if I think about dinner I have a satisfied smirk on my face.  I am sorted.  And the house smells amazing when we come home.

On Monday I even managed to go to the gym VERY EARLY (at least just after 6 am), come home and put on the slow cooker, make lunches, help with homework, feed the chooks and tidy up the kitchen all before school drop off.  I am sure this is what real morning people do, but for me it was a super achievement.  I can feel my super cape billowing in the wind behind me.  I did crash later in the day and needed a restorative cup of tea.

But dinner was SORTED.

Satisfaction.

reading

and reading and reading and reading.  I am never without a novel on the go.  In fact I cannot go to sleep without reading for at least half an hour.  Even when I had small newborn babies I needed to read.  I am fairly indiscriminate in my reading - although lately I have been reading a lot more 'literature'.  When I am reading I can shut out everything else and live in the world of the author.  Which is kind of weird for an extrovert like me.

Even though I have been reading all my life - and I cannot remember a time when I have not read - it is only in the last year I have joined not one but two bookclubs. 

The first one is with two dear schoolfriends - one lives in Armidale and the other in China.  We skype every month and take turns setting the book to read.  I have introduced gothic historical novels and weird fables - I have been encouraged to read Dickens and Tolstoy and Booker Prize winners.  I have discovered books I would never have picked up on my own accord, and shared my love of a particular novel with the other two.  Whether we love or hate characters, what we think the relationships mean, how does the setting impact the story, what did that plot point mean.  It is a wonderful high point of my month - and I hope we can continue it until we are elderly even though we do not live in the same city.

The second bookclub I almost accidentally joined - a lovely group of ladies from church.  One of them chooses a Christian book to read and then we have excellent brunch and discuss it.  I have never been one to read a lot of Christian books - well, they are not fictional novels - but this experience has been really eye-opening and interesting.  I have read books I never would have read on my own, and it is wonderful to have a shared reading experience to discuss.

I read so fast sometimes it is like I get the gist of a paragraph and keep going.  Chris reads every word and takes it in slowly - I swallow the sentences and swim through the pages.  It is like I read what is in front of me and what is to come at the same time - the same way that I read music.  I play the notes now and also know the notes that are coming. When I read I make pictures in my mind of the characters, the place, the time - it is probably why I enjoy well written fiction so much.  I get disturbed when poor writing distracts from the advancement of the story - when I can't just read it.  I want to read the story not the words.

My favourite authors at the moment are:
Alexander McCall Smith - not least because he is super prolific and there is often a new one at the library that I haven't read.  His books make me feel calm and moral, with characters I want to know.
Elizabeth Berg - smalltown American author - great characterisations and themes
Phillipa Gregory - who doesn't love a historical romance royal drama based on some real facts
Diana Gabaldon - who doesn't love a historical romance royal drama based on some real facts
Dickens - LOVED Little Dorrit - who knew!
Susan Howatch - psychological analysis like we all need based with English clergymen - intriging

and so many more....

we are artistes

This afternoon we got to do something really special.  Through a friend we were able to go into GOMA and help an artist make a soft sculpture called the 'Pistil' installation.  Hiromi Tango has been working on this since 2005, and many people have contributed to its construction.  She says 'this work represents the incomplete and unstable nature of existence and interaction - our complex realities'.  She weaves chords made by the public, local artists and herself into a 7m structure in the foyer at GOMA.  And now our little cord constructions are part of it.

We were invited into the backroom creative space and we made lots of different chords.  We used great grandma buttons, different fabrics, wool, string and bubble wrap and tied it all together.

  A pile made by the Pines.  I titled my works 'Chicken Lemur Tail', 'Medieval Ruff' and 'Teatime with Nanna' (a doily construction with lace and buttons).

Pine girls with the artist Hiromi.  She was super generous and kind and made us hot chocolates while we were making art for her!

We installed out chords into the massive structure in the foyer of GOMA.  The girls (and I) feel very special because we were allowed to stand inside the barrier and converse knowledgeably with the artist.

We also headed downstairs to the always excellent children's art section and made little birds for the Fly Away Home exhibition.  They are living at the gallery now.  Not just because I encouraged the children strongly to leave them there so we do no have so much art at our house.  Thy had lovely little nests in the wall to leave the birdies in.

We were encouraged to name the birds and give them character.  I called mine Siegfried.  He enjoys Wagnerian opera and large hens.

It was an awesome way to spend a Saturday afternoon immersed in art and interacting with artists.  I always think they are dramatic tragic types who swoon around and make imperious demands (cerise paint NOW), but our time with Hiromi was exactly the opposite.  She welcomed our little efforts and made them part of her work, and made sure we were acknowledged and the girls were affirmed.  Their creativity blossomed and they felt engaged with the art work.

And since we have come home the girls have started making their own art installation chords in their room.  I may need to build a foyer art space for them....

dressing the girls

My girls are in that awkward stage of fashion where there are very few appropriate choices for clothes in the shops.  There is the early hooker range in Target, the narcissistic princess range in Kmart, the eighties flashback range in Best and Less and the developing tramp range in Big W.  If I try to go a bit upmarket to Pumpkin Patch it costs more than my clothes.

I am not asking too much - shorts where you can't see the pockets from the bottom, t-shirts without skulls, and dresses with sleeves not bits of string.  I don't think I am a particularly prudish mum - but it is very difficult to find trendy age appropriate clothes for the modern 10 year old girl.

I loved dressing them when they were baby girls.  The clothes were so CUTE and I could just EAT THEM UP.  Figuratively.  It was a huge weakness of mine.  But they started asserting themselves at about 12 months with what they wanted to wear, and I haven't really reclaimed control of that one.  I can just guide and only have in their drawers what I think are good clothes for them.

We go to the op shop a bit and rely a lot on hand-me-downs from lovely friends at church. My girls look fine most of the time - but each season change (like now) we have a bit of a go at shopping in actual clothes shops.  And I get depressed and anxious and grumpy about it.

I guess it is just a matter of searching out what we need and drawing a line in the fashion sand.  I want them to feel beautiful and confident in who they are, and no mind too much about brands and styles.  Clothes are for wearing.  Appropriately.

Here are their party outfits chosen and accessorized by the girls.  I think I have genetically passed on my love of necklaces and head accessories.

ahh friends

Some of our favourite people have moved up to the Sunshine Coast.  Which gives us an excellent excuse to go up and enjoy the beach, kayak, hang out and relax.  And I took the dog on a very long walk on the beach which was leash off - which meant I was very startled when a council guy came up to me at the end of the walk.  He was handing out free doggie bag dispensers and generally saying 'hi' to dog owners - but it gave me a start.  I always get that funny tummy feeling when someone in authority in a uniform fixes their glare on me - even if I know I am not doing anything wrong.

Anyway.

 
We are ready to kayak!

We made it all the way to Bribie Island - saw pelicans, a manta ray, crabs and fish.

 
Awwww.  Worth the trip!

 
He learned to ride a bike!  After I ripped off his training wheels and said 'go for it'!  It is much easier with someone else's child - less emotional attachment and angst.

Nothing like spending time with your godfather.  They had a peaceful hour reading comics together without saying a word.

 Ahhh friends.

like Torvill and Dean

they glided across the ice at Boondall.  Although on the trip there I got the feeling that I always get when I go to the northside and CROSS THE RIVER.  A slightly upside down feeling.  An unfamiliarity and shift in my internal southside magnetic compass.  We had to go to Boondall Ice Skating because the one over this side is closed for renovation.

We had our fairly regular ice skating date with friends in the holidays yesterday. 

It has now reached the point where the children can skate by themselves and I have to sit on the side minding the bags.  And I have to hold a hot chocolate and gasbag with my mate.  I sacrifice sometimes.

They can also now participate in the ice rink game of red rover.  This is the smile of a girl who crossed the ice rink four times before she was tagged by those mean ice rink worker dudes.

We like ice skating.  We like siting on the side eating snacks and watching.

 The smile of a girl who can now skate into the middle and do a tiny spin.  Life skill = tick.

The smile of this girl.  It makes my day.

Disco lights on a Thursday afternoon.  All is good and funky.

Timely

I would like to share my favorite poem with you on this Palm Sunday and April Fool's Day. I read this as a girl and have adored it all my life. I love the part about 'far fierce hour', and pray that I have many of those hours as what is foolishness for the world is salvation for those who believe.


The Donkey
GK Chesterton


When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.