BBQ stories

To continue on in the series of stories that get triggered by words said at a gathering, usually at a BBQ, this story gets told when the topic turns to haircuts and children.

I had got my hair cut and coloured while the girls were at school.  Gab was in grade two at the time, and I went up to the gate to wait for her with the other mums.  I graciously accepted the compliments on my new haircut I was sporting straight from the hairdresser (by the way, it never ever looks like that ever again).

Both my girls often don't react to me getting my hair cut very well.  I remember also being a bit startled when my Mum got her hair cut - you have to quickly change your mental image of your mum.

Annika came out of the gate and said 'What have you done?!' with her face aghast.

Gab came skipping up with her bag, then stopped in her tracks.  She took one look at my hair, and then said, 'Can I go camping with Dad this weekend?'

'Sure', I said, a little dubiously, 'Why?'

'So I don't have to look at your HAIR.'

Kerslap.

Lesson learned: warn your children about possible haircuts.

And for the record, I had about three centimetres trimmed off and it was coloured a lighter blonde.  Not that dramatic a difference.

performance adrenalin

Last week the girls performed in the school musical.  Annika was a pink dancer - she absolutely shone on the stage and completely pulled focus.  This was not just my opinion, every teacher and parent came up to me afterwards and commented on how she just glowed in front of an audience (possibly pulling attention from their children).  I am looking forward to highschool where she can get marks and academic credit for drama, and put all this stage charisma to good use. 

Unfortunately she was on such a performance high she did not sleep for hours.

Gab was a scary pirate and a floaty jellyfish.  I was so proud of her.  This is a girl who did not talk at school until the end of grade two - and at the end of grade four she is in the school musical singing and dancing in front of hundreds of parents and students.

Grandma and Grandad came  - and even danced at the end with everyone.  Grandma's got moves.

That jellyfish costume took some thinking.  It is a bit of sleeping mat off cut foam from the foam shop painted white, with some parts of a white hula skirt glued along the bottom.  We attached strings on the shoulders and around the waist to keep it on.  It was quite robust (which was good as she had to transport to school and back for a week).

The whole performance from everyone was excellent.  I think the tag-line for the musical should have been 'how to get as many kids as you can into a musical'.  The basic plot line was two characters trying to find a treasure, and they sailed to many islands looking for the treasure.  On each island there were a group of kids who would sing and do a dance.  Such fun.

Claps to the teachers who went above and beyond to give the kids such a wonderful experience.

BBQ stories

I was going to write a blog about the musical the girls were involved in last week - but I can't get the awesome photos up of a jellyfish, a pirate and a pink dancer, and the story is not the same with the visual illustrations.

So here is another story I might tell at a BBQ when the conversation turns to driving in the outback, getting lost, crying, and auditory processing difficulties.

One of my first speech pathology jobs was working in Longreach for both Education and Health.  So pretty much everybody in a large swathe of Queensland.  I had to travel by plane to some schools, and one trip I made was to Hughendon and Richmond.  I had visited Hughendon SS one day, slept overnight at the pub, and was due to visit Richmond SS the next day.  An hour's drive west.

The guidance officer gave me some directions about how to get out of town and on the right road to Richmond.  I kinda listened, but mostly heard the last part of the directions when she told me to get petrol on a particular road.  So off I set down this road in the government 4WD, tidybox packed full of speech therapy assessments, games and stickers.

East.

I drove for about an hour and a quarter with no signs to Richmond anywhere.  I optimistically drove another 20 minutes, then thought 'surely this town must be soon'.  Spotting a property on the side of the road I pulled in to ask directions.

This was before mobile phones, GPS, you know, stuff that might help you know where you were. (And being a city girl I didn't read the stars, sun etc).

The very kind lady at the property sat me down, put the kettle on, and possibly even gave me a lamington (memory hazy on this detail), and explained to me that Richmond was now 260km in the other direction. 

I think I might have cried a little.

I rang the school and apologised, explained I was still close to three hours away, and did they still want me to come.  Of course they did, it was their one speech pathology visit a term, and I was going back on the plane that night to Longreach,

So I go back into the car, thanked God that I hadn't run out of petrol or hit anything, and drove to Richmond SS where I did an assessment on a poor child that had been waiting for me all day.  Then drove back to Hughendon again where the Guidance Officer had the police on standby on the lookout for a lost Speech Pathologist.

Life lesson learned - draw a map when people give me directions.  And Richmond is west of Hughendon.

BBQ stories

I have decided to start writing down some of the stories and memories I always seem to tell when people gather - at my house, at a party, at a BBQ. The stories that get triggered by someone else's story - 'I remember the time when.....'.

Here we go. I told this story to a friend this morning, and it often gets triggered when the conversation turns to snow, or wee, or long car trips when busting, or clueless travelers. I could tag all those words for this story.

Chris and I lived in Krygyzstan for about 7 months in 1999. We had heaps of exciting adventures on that trip. This is not one of them.

We were traveling back from a village in a minibus- Chris, me, and about 8 Krygyz guys. It was winter, and the fields were covered in snow. About halfway through the trip I started to need to go. Further down the road I thought my bladder was going to explode, so I asked if we could stop the bus for me to do a bush wee. Growing up in Australia I was pretty ok with the concept of weeing behind a bush, so I started trudging off across the fields to the solitary bush in the middle of the paddock. Growing up in Australia I was completely unfamiliar with snow, and how it works. I squatted down behind the bush, subzero winds whistling across my behind and started my business. Little realizing that the snow around bushes is only a thin crust supported by branches. As the warmness hit the snow it started to melt, and I began sinking into the snow, the bush, and my pants. I ended up floundering in a snow hole created by me and my toileting attempts.

Needless to say, when I got back to the bus everyone was hooting with laughter having watched the free entertainment of the Australian girl disappearing behind a bush into a hole created by her own doing.

Lesson learned - when you need to go on a snowy drive back from a village, go behind the bus.

I'm glad I can help you with these life lessons.

all rounder

I have been watching Annika do a lot of stuff over the last couple of days.  It is my role as spectator-mum - encouraging from the sidelines (but not too loudly because that is SO embarrassment), driving her to events, making sure she has all the correct equipment.  I feel so proud of her and get excited about who she is becoming.

Band girl.

Softball girl.

pitching!  a softball!  Aunty Gen (who had come to watch as well) was beside herself (probably with eagerness to get on there and show them how it was done)

hitting! a softball!

catching! a softball!

Friend girl!

My girl.

And did you notice my tricky 'Paint' techniques with the photos?  I thought so.  Classy, hey.

a ballet bun and new chickens

Amongst other things in the last week I have prepared a child for a grade three ballet exam.  For me it is all about the bun.

If anyone needs to know how to get curly hair into a bun - I wet it, then gel it, then ponytail it, then bun it, then hairspray it, then talk to it firmly and tell it not to dare to come out.

Those legs!  They go on forever!  And they are hollow - she is always hungry.

She reports she thinks she did well in her exam.  Her bun did not fall out.  Are my priorities right here?

 Also in the last week we got five new chickens after the last ones were disposed of by a fox.  Brown ones.  We have nominally given them names (Tracey, Stacey, Lacey, Louise, and Bruce), but I can't tell them apart.  I am waiting for them to settle in and start laying.  I clipped their wings while singing to them 'Take these broken wings, and learn to fly again...'.

Clipping off the bottom layer of feathers on their wings with kitchen scissors. I don't think my future is in hairdressing.

Scooter the dog is very interested in our new arrivals.  She watches them closely.

It is the pointy end of the year where events cram up against each other like the finale part in a fugue.  Tonight we had mystery meat from the back of the freezer in the slow cooker for dinner, because I have no room in my brain to plan actual grocery shopping.  Everyone says 'shop online'.  But that would mean actually knowing what I wanted hours or days before I needed it.  I have poor motivation for shopping and cooking at the moment.

Besides, the mystery meat was delicious.