There are enough chips in the meal below to feed a small army, and the burger, whilst scrumptious (even if there was no beetroot) would have been more than adequate for two hungry adults!
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| I'm the small figure behind the fence! |
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| Huge fire scars |
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Tuesday, April 9, 2013
H is for Huge - images of America
I discovered the word small seems to have evaporated from the American vocabulary. When I asked for a small cup of coffee and indicated the size I wanted with hand signals I consistently received what I would refer to as huge. This is perplexing for a tourist. How does one order something in the line of food and beverages which is small?
There are enough chips in the meal below to feed a small army, and the burger, whilst scrumptious (even if there was no beetroot) would have been more than adequate for two hungry adults!
Some trees are huge!
... the landscape is also huge
as are some strawberries
Cans of Aussie beer were not only larger than at home, in fact they were huge, and cheaper than is Oz. How can that be? Mind you it was Foster's which isn't one of our best ;-)
There is even a HUGE Marilyn Monroe, but she'll appear when we get to M!
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There are enough chips in the meal below to feed a small army, and the burger, whilst scrumptious (even if there was no beetroot) would have been more than adequate for two hungry adults!
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Monday, April 8, 2013
G is for Guns - images of America
Gotta love my friends!
What's the first question I'm asked about my recent trip to the US?
I'd have expected something along the lines of "How was the training?"
or
"Did you have a good time?"
or even "How's the jet lag?"
But nooooooo, so far it's been "So, did you see lots of guns?"
Coming from a relatively well regulated country in regards to gun ownership, where in theory you need to be licensed to own one, it's difficult to relate to the passion surrounding gun ownership in the US. The perception here is that there guns are dropped carelessly into handbags, propped casually on the back seats of cars and generally left lying around ready for the nearest person with an anger issue to use at will. To be followed of course with an honest and wide eyed statement along the lines of "Gosh, how did that mass shooting happen?"
I've been told, "You need to understand, it's related to our rights." Hmm ... don't rights and responsibilities go hand in hand? However, in the spirit of attempting to bridge the gap I brought the subject up at dinner with some locals one night. I was introduced to the concept of hunting for food - not for pleasure. This man had been taught, as a child, to hunt and butcher a deer to supplement the family's food supplies - that I can understand though it's not common in Australia.
However, when we discussed if some restaurant patrons would have guns in their bags, the answer was a long, convoluted "yes". I don't pretend to understand the need for carrying a lethal weapon to dinner, I doubt I ever will. If you want to live dangerously, try the fugu! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fugu)
I've often found that Terry Pratchett covers complex social topics in his books, and is able to explore the issue without an emotive overtone. In Men at Arms he introduces the first and only handheld firearm to Ankh-Morpork. The gonne has a strange allure and appears to have a mind of its own, there's the attraction of power. It wants to be used. It wants to kill ... not so dissimilar to what happens to some humans when they get their hands on one as far as I can see. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Men_at_Arms)
The only store we went in to where I felt distinctly uncomfortable and unwelcome was a small sporting goods store. Our binoculars had broken and this store had been recommended as the spot to replace them. The belligerent, scowling owner was leaning heavily on a cabinet of guns, and displayed prominently on the wall behind were posters advertising assorted fundraising events for the NRA as well as slogans along the lines of "proud to be a gun owner,""my rights, my guns" etc etc etc.
We were clearly unwelcome even before we'd opened our mouths, and his attitude became more negative when we asked to see his meagre range of binoculars. Presumably, something in our looks or dress offended this man, but ... UGH. May Australia forever maintain strict laws regulating gun ownership! Our laws aren't perfect, people still get killed, but in my mind they're great.
...
G is also for Gambling which has nothing at all to do with games or fun and seems to be a way to anaesthetise the zombie-like people who stagger in and allow themselves to get super-glued to whatever they've sat on. Nobody ever looks happy ... there must be some strange attraction that I'm missing.
G is also for Grow-suits, the practical little all-in-one garment for babies and toddlers. Here's some cute ones in camouflage patterns - which seems kind of odd - surely parents don't want their kiddies to blend into the undergrowth? Wouldn't it make them harder to find if they wander off? Wouldn't day-glo be safer? I'm not convinced this is the best marketing idea out there, but presumably there's a market for them or there wouldn't be racks and racks of them.
.
What's the first question I'm asked about my recent trip to the US?
I'd have expected something along the lines of "How was the training?"
or
"Did you have a good time?"
or even "How's the jet lag?"
But nooooooo, so far it's been "So, did you see lots of guns?"
Coming from a relatively well regulated country in regards to gun ownership, where in theory you need to be licensed to own one, it's difficult to relate to the passion surrounding gun ownership in the US. The perception here is that there guns are dropped carelessly into handbags, propped casually on the back seats of cars and generally left lying around ready for the nearest person with an anger issue to use at will. To be followed of course with an honest and wide eyed statement along the lines of "Gosh, how did that mass shooting happen?"
I've been told, "You need to understand, it's related to our rights." Hmm ... don't rights and responsibilities go hand in hand? However, in the spirit of attempting to bridge the gap I brought the subject up at dinner with some locals one night. I was introduced to the concept of hunting for food - not for pleasure. This man had been taught, as a child, to hunt and butcher a deer to supplement the family's food supplies - that I can understand though it's not common in Australia.
However, when we discussed if some restaurant patrons would have guns in their bags, the answer was a long, convoluted "yes". I don't pretend to understand the need for carrying a lethal weapon to dinner, I doubt I ever will. If you want to live dangerously, try the fugu! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fugu)
I've often found that Terry Pratchett covers complex social topics in his books, and is able to explore the issue without an emotive overtone. In Men at Arms he introduces the first and only handheld firearm to Ankh-Morpork. The gonne has a strange allure and appears to have a mind of its own, there's the attraction of power. It wants to be used. It wants to kill ... not so dissimilar to what happens to some humans when they get their hands on one as far as I can see. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Men_at_Arms)
The only store we went in to where I felt distinctly uncomfortable and unwelcome was a small sporting goods store. Our binoculars had broken and this store had been recommended as the spot to replace them. The belligerent, scowling owner was leaning heavily on a cabinet of guns, and displayed prominently on the wall behind were posters advertising assorted fundraising events for the NRA as well as slogans along the lines of "proud to be a gun owner,""my rights, my guns" etc etc etc.
We were clearly unwelcome even before we'd opened our mouths, and his attitude became more negative when we asked to see his meagre range of binoculars. Presumably, something in our looks or dress offended this man, but ... UGH. May Australia forever maintain strict laws regulating gun ownership! Our laws aren't perfect, people still get killed, but in my mind they're great.
...
 |
| A gift from my training buddies |
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Saturday, April 6, 2013
F is for Flying - images of America
Travel to the United States aboard the flying kangaroo (aka QANTAS) isn't for anyone who gets twitchy after oh, around 7 hours cooped up next to coughing, farting, irritated adults, cuddling whinging, coughing, farting, screaming and/or vomiting toddlers. By the time you're nudging 10 hours it's become quite tedious. And at the 14 hour mark you've either entered a Zen state or ....
It's not fun, not even mildly entertaining, no matter how many movies you can watch without going stark raving mad. It's amazing how long you can make a meal last and how you can entertain yourself with the dinky pre-packed items before even that loses its appeal!
.....
Flying flags on private properties is something that is relatively rare in Australia. A few businesses might have an Australian flag out, the local council could have the state flag, the aboriginal flag and possibly the Australian, or a local flag flying, but you sometimes wonder if it's simply so they can have something to lower to half mast on sombre occasions.
Sometimes you'll see the flags of different countries flying, and know that the occupants of that home were born somewhere else. There could be a pirate flag on a beach hut, a footy team flag, but more commonly, nothing at all.
In the United States, flag flying appears to be the norm, not the exception. Some flags are large and attention grabbing, some small and tucked discretely into verandah posts. In my more jet lagged moments, I imagined some confused people could use the flag to remind themselves where they live. They might wake up in the morning and say, "Now, let's see, where am I?" "Hmm, I'll look out the window and see what flag is flying." "Oh, yes, of course, silly me, it's the United States! Thank goodness I had the forethought to put the flag out!" Or could it be along the lines of "Whew, thankfully I'm not in .... (insert name of undesirable country here), what a relief!"
As a patriotic expression showing that you're proud of your country, it's really rather lovely .... unless that is, if you choose not to have one fluttering in the breeze and some people assume that means you're not proud. That wouldn't be good at all.
.
It's not fun, not even mildly entertaining, no matter how many movies you can watch without going stark raving mad. It's amazing how long you can make a meal last and how you can entertain yourself with the dinky pre-packed items before even that loses its appeal!
Flying flags on private properties is something that is relatively rare in Australia. A few businesses might have an Australian flag out, the local council could have the state flag, the aboriginal flag and possibly the Australian, or a local flag flying, but you sometimes wonder if it's simply so they can have something to lower to half mast on sombre occasions.
Sometimes you'll see the flags of different countries flying, and know that the occupants of that home were born somewhere else. There could be a pirate flag on a beach hut, a footy team flag, but more commonly, nothing at all.
In the United States, flag flying appears to be the norm, not the exception. Some flags are large and attention grabbing, some small and tucked discretely into verandah posts. In my more jet lagged moments, I imagined some confused people could use the flag to remind themselves where they live. They might wake up in the morning and say, "Now, let's see, where am I?" "Hmm, I'll look out the window and see what flag is flying." "Oh, yes, of course, silly me, it's the United States! Thank goodness I had the forethought to put the flag out!" Or could it be along the lines of "Whew, thankfully I'm not in .... (insert name of undesirable country here), what a relief!"
As a patriotic expression showing that you're proud of your country, it's really rather lovely .... unless that is, if you choose not to have one fluttering in the breeze and some people assume that means you're not proud. That wouldn't be good at all.
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Friday, April 5, 2013
E is for Emergency supplies - images of America
E is for emergency supplies, but it's also for energy, the kind generated from the thousands of wind turbines we saw in the Tehachapi Pass. Oh how I wish our government wasn't so antiagonistic towards these wonderful inventions. They make far less noise than a coal fired power station, create less pollution and illnesses (more about illness related to coal extraction and coal fired power stations here) and are strangely beautiful arrayed throughout the hills and valleys.
Watching the blades turning and seeing the shadows cast on the ground is mesmerising. Not good for a driver trying to concentrate on driving on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD, but fine for a passenger desperately attempting to relax in what should be the driver's seat!
As for the Emergency supplies ... what else would a dinky-di Aussie tuck into her pack, but a few little sachets of Vegemite.
When foreign food has lost its charm, there's nothing like a cheese and vegemite sanga to warm the cockles of the heart, soothe the frazzled nerves and put all right with the world again!
As for the Emergency supplies ... what else would a dinky-di Aussie tuck into her pack, but a few little sachets of Vegemite.
When foreign food has lost its charm, there's nothing like a cheese and vegemite sanga to warm the cockles of the heart, soothe the frazzled nerves and put all right with the world again!
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Thursday, April 4, 2013
D is for Death Valley - images of America
What image does the word desert conjure up in your mind?
An endless flat expanse of sand and scraggly plants?
yellow rolling dunes?
a boring grey landscape devoid of life?
barren, rocky planes? or something else entirely?
I had no idea what to expect when we decided to visit Death Valley. I knew it was hot and dry, but what I hadn't expected was the huge range of rich colours, the wide variety of landscapes, the stark beauty and deep, deep silence of canyons, the wavelike ripples atop large hills as if the land had been scrunched up like a piece of stiff paper and discarded to catch the sun and create glorious shadows!
In short, it was magnificent. The kind of place you say, "Yes, I could go back there". But next time, I'd camp and gaze at the stars and wake to the rising sun hitting the peaks and making its way over the majestic landscape, changing it minute by vibrant minute.
I'd allow time to don a backpack and carry enough water for a decent walk. And coming from a land where skin cancer kills, I'll be aware that I'll stick out like a sore thumb, with my wide brimmed hat, long pants and sleeves, because I only have a one in three chance of not being diagnosed with skin cancer in the next few years, and covering up is cheap insurance!
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I'd allow time to don a backpack and carry enough water for a decent walk. And coming from a land where skin cancer kills, I'll be aware that I'll stick out like a sore thumb, with my wide brimmed hat, long pants and sleeves, because I only have a one in three chance of not being diagnosed with skin cancer in the next few years, and covering up is cheap insurance!
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
C is for coffee - images of America
A slightly tongue in cheek reflection on coffee, vegemite and two countries.
Americans and Aussies might speak a similar language, but when it comes to these two basics of life, we seem to be poles apart.
Aussies are often partial to Vegemite, the thick brown goo I've heard referred to as "disgusting" by Americans. It's wonderful stuff! A magical reviver when life is stressful, a useful condiment for scrambled eggs, (recipe here), a handy addition to stews and a flavourful enhancer in assorted exotic dishes. A mere scraping, nay a waft of the knife across a piece of buttered toast simply doesn't do the trick. Thick and tasty is the way to go! If you don't believe me, try it sometime. Wonderful stuff!
The same applies to coffee. Insipid, virtually tasteless brownish dishwater is a pale imitation of the real thing. Whether made in a motel room in desperation, or purchased by the gallon from a prominent chain and presented with a flourish in a paper cups as if it was manna from heaven, this dilute, namby-pamby liquid barely raises the heartbeat. To call it coffee is an insult to the beans, so carefully grown and transported, then roasted by the container-load in what seems to be a forgotten warehouse in the backblocks of the never never. Then (sacrilege) ground into a dusty powder and marketed as if it was the real thing.
Goodness gracious me, what are they thinking to then add insult to injury and present multi packaged sachets of a substance that looks, for all intents and purposes, like powdered melamine. Was this a joke?
Others prefer a milky brew, a cappuccino - fresh milk, not that long life or low fat stuff - whipped into a frenzy by hissing steam until it swirls and foams into a dense, almost solid mass. The froth to be enjoyed by the spoonful ideally topped with a delicate sprinkling of freshly grated dark chocolate flakes. Swoon!
Americans and Aussies might speak a similar language, but when it comes to these two basics of life, we seem to be poles apart.
Aussies are often partial to Vegemite, the thick brown goo I've heard referred to as "disgusting" by Americans. It's wonderful stuff! A magical reviver when life is stressful, a useful condiment for scrambled eggs, (recipe here), a handy addition to stews and a flavourful enhancer in assorted exotic dishes. A mere scraping, nay a waft of the knife across a piece of buttered toast simply doesn't do the trick. Thick and tasty is the way to go! If you don't believe me, try it sometime. Wonderful stuff!
The same applies to coffee. Insipid, virtually tasteless brownish dishwater is a pale imitation of the real thing. Whether made in a motel room in desperation, or purchased by the gallon from a prominent chain and presented with a flourish in a paper cups as if it was manna from heaven, this dilute, namby-pamby liquid barely raises the heartbeat. To call it coffee is an insult to the beans, so carefully grown and transported, then roasted by the container-load in what seems to be a forgotten warehouse in the backblocks of the never never. Then (sacrilege) ground into a dusty powder and marketed as if it was the real thing.Goodness gracious me, what are they thinking to then add insult to injury and present multi packaged sachets of a substance that looks, for all intents and purposes, like powdered melamine. Was this a joke?
No, no, no, no and NO! Coffee, real coffee, is made with tender loving care. Each cup nurtured attentively, encouraged to give the best from the freshly ground beans - ground for each customer as they wait. Individual attention is the key. Fresh water must come only from the purest of sources.
Some like it unadulterated and intense - just one shot with no additions for those weaned on it from childhood.
Others prefer a milky brew, a cappuccino - fresh milk, not that long life or low fat stuff - whipped into a frenzy by hissing steam until it swirls and foams into a dense, almost solid mass. The froth to be enjoyed by the spoonful ideally topped with a delicate sprinkling of freshly grated dark chocolate flakes. Swoon!
The joy of walking past one, two, three or more closely spaced coffee shops, slowing, pausing, inhaling delicately. Are the beans fresh? are they well roasted? what brand are they using? (The generic no-name brands aren't even registered by the nose), then checking - are they using full cream milk? Or horror of horrors, some (gasp) shameful substitute?
Oh, the pleasure of watching a professional barrista at work! They take their job seriously, after all this is business, and keeping your finicky customers happy is as important as the banter and quality of the crockery and cutlery. No paper cups and plastic spoons to be seen. That would be the kiss of death in this coffee shop 'dog eat dog' world.
Can you see that croissant back there? Delightfully flaky pastry! Individually, the flakes would waft into the ether if you had the temerity to blow on the wonderful structure. Yet, in its entirety, dense, heavy and coated with a generous layer of icing sugar, lovingly dusted just prior to being served. Full of almonds and almond meal - half is a succulent feast!
Is it possible for our cultures to meet and agree over these essentials of life, or are we doomed to be forever speaking a different language? The old song goes something like "you say tomayto, I say tomahto" but the object being discussed is the same. But the product named coffee and purchased in the US as such, is, sadly, worlds apart, and an Aussie craving a cappuccino is bound to be disappointed and left longing for the real thing and not a sad, pale, insipid imitation...
.........
BTW, for any Aussies visiting the west coast of the US and wanting to find accessible, drinkable coffee, Peet's isn't bad. They have outlets at Raley's supermarkets and the quality of the coffee, especially cappuccino, is closer to what we're used to than the more prominent chain. Don't get caught by assuming Maccas McCafe's are the same as here, they're not! Ours have adapted to local tastes and offer a wider variety of coffee and foods and generally have pretty good barristas. (I never thought I'd say something so supportive of Maccas - but give credit where it's due, they're good!)
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Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Images of Reno - "The Biggest Little City in the World"
A city known for drive-through weddings. Do people still feel a sham wedding is preferable to living together? No one around, so Monday mustn't be popular!
The lovely Truckee River gurgling along, rushing over rocks, crossed by pretty bridges. The perfect spot for sidewalk cafes, coffee vans, buskers and general community happenings, but totally devoid of pedestrians at 10 on a Monday morning. Could it be a public holiday and everyone is sleeping in?
Locals directed us to the BEST breakfast spot at Peg's Glorified Ham n Eggs. The service was fast, the food arrived quickly and was well presented, fresh and tasted great!!
- now for an Aussie barrista to set up business and provide the coffee to match!
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| Nobody this way either! |
A climbing wall towers over what looks
like it should be a busy street, but it's devoid of traffic and pedestrians at 10am.
Where is everyone? Have some pesky aliens spirited everyone away?
Six bright, welcoming chairs are patiently waiting for customers. No one here either - perhaps evening is the busy time?
Interesting sculptures await tourists with cameras. We feel rather conspicuous and vaguely out of place sauntering around with no one else about.
And lastly, a hole in the wall shop with assorted poker machines crammed in the front sells great hamburgers and mounds of chips. Far too many for one person! This was a meal suitable for two, or perhaps three! Was it obvious that I completely misunderstood the name of the outlet? I thought I was being taken to "Offal, offal" or perhaps "Aweful offal" but nooooo, that darned accent got me yet again! It was called "Aweful aweful" and it didn't live up to its name :-)
I'd visited Reno to extend my professional skills in ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy). There's more about the course over at traverselife
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Monday, April 1, 2013
A is for Aliens - images of America
Where would be we without a good alien story!? The USA does these extremely well, including laying out the welcome mat in the form of a beer advertisement at a casino just outside Death Valley - where else would an inquisitive alien land? I think they leave the overhead light on in case they arrive after dark!
Of course, we're not talking about the sort of aliens who are people very much like ourselves. People who are treated as criminals in Australia because they come from a different, often war torn country, and are shoved unceremoniously into a remote detention centre for years without hope of being released. No welcoming beer for them.
No, these are the sort of aliens who are truly fearsome, and who can execute acts that we can only dream about. Like maintaining the same pose in the corner of a store for eternity... gathering dust and not sneezing! That'd give the game away immediately!
What struck me most during my visit to Alien Fresh in Baker wasn't the fabulous alien posters, wonderful as they are! Or even the fascinating newspaper articles - of course the story must be true if it's been published in the paper ... mustn't it?
or the heavily defended "Peace Patrol" car, complete with moving aliens whose toxic green heads seemed to follow you around as you walked past (although maybe I was becoming a tad paranoid?)
but the implication that aliens were being processed to become jerky. Surely not! that's not particularly welcoming imho.
In the picture below you'll notice the cheerfully waving aliens atop the store. They seem welcoming. Don't be taken in! In hindsight I suspect they're luring tourists inside and processing them into jerky ... I'm confident that more people went into the store than exited. If anyone is missing a relative or two, you could start your search here.
Jerky is a taste I haven't managed to acquire, although I plucked up the courage to nibble warily on a piece which resulted in a screwed up face and muffled, choking response somewhat along the lines of "you've got to be joking, this isn't food, it's used shoe leather and it pongs". Perhaps if it was made out of aliens it would taste better, though I doubt it ;-)
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No, these are the sort of aliens who are truly fearsome, and who can execute acts that we can only dream about. Like maintaining the same pose in the corner of a store for eternity... gathering dust and not sneezing! That'd give the game away immediately!
In the picture below you'll notice the cheerfully waving aliens atop the store. They seem welcoming. Don't be taken in! In hindsight I suspect they're luring tourists inside and processing them into jerky ... I'm confident that more people went into the store than exited. If anyone is missing a relative or two, you could start your search here.
Jerky is a taste I haven't managed to acquire, although I plucked up the courage to nibble warily on a piece which resulted in a screwed up face and muffled, choking response somewhat along the lines of "you've got to be joking, this isn't food, it's used shoe leather and it pongs". Perhaps if it was made out of aliens it would taste better, though I doubt it ;-)
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Monday, March 4, 2013
Book review: The Scent of Belonging by Rosie Abbott
This gently paced novel The Scent of Belonging by Rosie Abbott is set just prior to and during the Second World War in Gippsland, south eastern Victoria, Australia.
We're drawn into the story of a recently qualified primary school teacher Ellen, and the challenges she faces moving to what was then a remote location. She struggles to fit in, not only to the family with whom she is boarding, but to the school and district. We learn about the farming community she has joined, teaching, the looming war, love and loss.
Rosie Abbott has captured the spirit of the era beautifully; the remote Victorian farming community, as well as the frustrations of women teachers after the war. When the men returned, the women were expected to go meekly back to the kitchens, as if nothing unusual had happened. This affected not only them, and many had difficulty adjusting, but their students and the region often suffered as well. Some of the men who'd returned from war were completely unsuitable for teaching, and far too many were dreadfully emotionally scarred and had trouble adjusting to civilian life. Ellen tackles these and other difficulties in her community with strength, courage and grace.
The challenge for me in reviewing this novel is that I have known Rosie for many years, stayed with her and her husband, and walked the beautiful Gippsland hills smelling the wattle. I heard her voice throughout the pages, saw the farmhouses, felt I knew the characters.
However, the novel also resonated with me deeply, not only because of our friendship, and having heard Rosie talk about her writing, but I've known women whose primary school teaching experiences during the war were similar to the character Ellen. I felt I understood their lives more than previously and wished I'd known them better and talked to them about how they'd adapted to a life without the teaching career they'd loved so dearly.
Rosie worked for a number of years on The Scent of Belonging and has shared her well researched knowledge and love of the region and its inhabitants with sensitivity and warmth.
This book could be useful for English and History students as well as for those interested in gaining insight into an era long gone. There are good themes for book club discussions including belonging, knowing ourselves, displacement, love and loss, as well as the legacy of war.
Congratulations on your debut novel Rosie! Well done :D
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Thursday, February 28, 2013
On turning 60 - to celebrate or not?
I wasn't sure that I wanted to celebrate turning 60 with a birthday party. To be honest I thought I wanted to ignore the event entirely. I thought it didn't matter.
But I was wrong.
When I remembered my friends and family who hadn't marked the event, I realised it did matter to me. I'd felt a bit lost when people precious to me hadn't "done something" - something was missing, and I eventually acknowledged that I wanted to get together with others, raise a glass and acknowledge the important part they'd played in my life.
And if I thought that, then surely it was only fair to celebrate as I wished others had.
Okay ... but how?
Low key. Down to earth. What do I want to do with my life next? How would I like my wonderful friends and family to be involved?
I'd been dreaming of getting some advice about setting up a permaculture garden. We have a lacklustre garden, unproductive and a bit sad, so maybe ....?
Belatedly the invitations were sent out; the celebration set for afternoon tea, and gifts as such were discouraged - but a cutting, seeds or strike from my friends' own gardens would be wonderful! The logic - I enjoy giving gifts and would totally ignore a "no gifts" request, I assume others would too, so surely it's ok to acknowledge that and give a hint?
And it turned out to be the best, most fun birthday celebration I've ever had!
The little kid down the road was celebrating his birthday on the same day, and his parents had arranged for a jumping castle and a petting farm with baby animals to be set up in the front yard. Admittedly, this was a bit of a distraction for my guests, many of whom were somewhat envious. But who could argue that a scarecrow made especially for me trumps a jumping castle and cute animals any day! And the possibility of injured aged hips and ankles getting twisted with the unaccustomed leaping might have been a disaster waiting to happen.
Oh darn, time for a smidge more honesty - I wish I'd thought of a jumping castle! That would have been so much fun ;-)
But back to the adult party. Can you see in the photo? I received flowers, seeds, seedlings, snail bait, a self-sown bay tree, a subscription to The Diggers Club, books, vegetables and even chocolate (for after all the energetic gardening I'll be doing!)
And mounds of cards and an abundance of cherishing, loving hugs, comments and words and even a poem!
One of my artistic relatives encouraged me to choose one of his paintings. Thankyou so much Ben. I was nearly in tears when you offered me something you'd created and even writing this now brings a lump to my throat. It was hard to choose from your folio, but I loved visiting Edinburgh and your painting of that city feels so at home here. I'll enjoy arranging for it to be framed!
I think what I'm trying to say in a somewhat clumsy manner is - many of us like to give, but we have trouble receiving. We shrug off compliments, we're flippant about our skills and talents. We pretend we're strong, even though we're crying inside. But sometimes it's important to slow down enough to let others show they care and bask in their love and revel in the luxury of their hugs.
And now, a question. How do you allow others to show they care?
.
But I was wrong.
When I remembered my friends and family who hadn't marked the event, I realised it did matter to me. I'd felt a bit lost when people precious to me hadn't "done something" - something was missing, and I eventually acknowledged that I wanted to get together with others, raise a glass and acknowledge the important part they'd played in my life.
And if I thought that, then surely it was only fair to celebrate as I wished others had.
Okay ... but how?
Low key. Down to earth. What do I want to do with my life next? How would I like my wonderful friends and family to be involved?
I'd been dreaming of getting some advice about setting up a permaculture garden. We have a lacklustre garden, unproductive and a bit sad, so maybe ....?
Belatedly the invitations were sent out; the celebration set for afternoon tea, and gifts as such were discouraged - but a cutting, seeds or strike from my friends' own gardens would be wonderful! The logic - I enjoy giving gifts and would totally ignore a "no gifts" request, I assume others would too, so surely it's ok to acknowledge that and give a hint?
And it turned out to be the best, most fun birthday celebration I've ever had!
Oh darn, time for a smidge more honesty - I wish I'd thought of a jumping castle! That would have been so much fun ;-)
But back to the adult party. Can you see in the photo? I received flowers, seeds, seedlings, snail bait, a self-sown bay tree, a subscription to The Diggers Club, books, vegetables and even chocolate (for after all the energetic gardening I'll be doing!)
And mounds of cards and an abundance of cherishing, loving hugs, comments and words and even a poem!
 |
| Edinburgh. Ben Warner. |
I think what I'm trying to say in a somewhat clumsy manner is - many of us like to give, but we have trouble receiving. We shrug off compliments, we're flippant about our skills and talents. We pretend we're strong, even though we're crying inside. But sometimes it's important to slow down enough to let others show they care and bask in their love and revel in the luxury of their hugs.
And now, a question. How do you allow others to show they care?
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Tuesday, February 5, 2013
I won a prize to Cirque du Soleil - Ovo!!
A real prize! Not one of those unpleasant fake ones that make you think something exciting and fun has happened and it turns out it's a con or a scam of some sort.
It was entirely unexpected. You see, I rarely enter competitions so it's a bit hard to win anything at all. So when I received a call saying I'd won something I think the caller could hear my distrust and disbelief and quickly identified himself. Adam Grusaukas was the Marketing Manager from Minzenmay a reputable, local, family owned jewellery store, which I've been known to frequent from time to time. "Just looking" of course ;-) They occasionally run competitions, business card draws and the like, which I enter, and promptly forget.
The prize included a double pass to the afternoon session of Cirque du Soleil's "Ovo" on Australia Day, AND popcorn AND 2 softdrinks AND chocolate :D
A feast for all the senses!
Wheeeeee! Something fun was just what I needed - this prize couldn't have come at a better time!
Precariously balancing a massive carton of popcorn, drinks and chockies, we found our seats which were in a prime spot.
While waiting for the show to start we watched black clad stage-hands scamper expertly up tall pylons disappearing into the darkness as the music entwined around a massive opaque egg centre stage. Chirrups, squeaks and clicks provided an auditory background for the performers as they moved through the aisles and interacted with the audience, dressed in fantastically detailed and often sumptuous costumes.
The egg became a molten orange-red; colours swirling and pulsating ... then vanished.
Lithe, sinuous characters dressed in iridescent gauze costumes, some figure hugging (oh to be as energetic and fit as these people!) others reminiscent of armadillos, moved with balletic poise and control, at times seeming to defy gravity and be held up only by the "ooooohs" and "aaaaahs" of a spellbound audience.
Words like sensuous and voluptuous are apt for the main female character. A ladybird perhaps, coy at times, vampish and feisty at others. Her costume enhanced and celebrated her apparent size - fit, feminine and joyous - what a gorgeous role model! You're not allowed to take photos during the show, but you can see some of the characters in this promotional few seconds of Ovo here. The fly is wonderful!
The performance showcased the skills you'd hope to see at a regular circus, but enhanced into a fully self-contained show with a story line running through linking the separate parts into a satisfying whole.
To refer to these performers as a circus troupe doesn't in my mind do justice to the incredible professionalism of everyone involved. From the engineering, enabling characters to appear in part or whole from within the stage or appear to slide across it as if on skis, to the precision and amazing body awareness of the performers to the designers and makers of the exquisite jewell like costumes, it is an extraordinary celebration of skills, honed to perfection.
Someone asked me which act I liked most. That's a challenge! Using one diabolo is ok, two is pretty good, by the third my eyes were crossed with the effort of working out how it was possible for it to appear so easy. That's the mark of an expert - to make a challenge appear effortless!
The group of red clad Chinese women: precision, co-ordination, and wonderful synchronisation with balancing, twirling, spinning and throwing "kiwifruit" barrels between and across the performers, but not content with that, they then juggled with each other.
The clash and clang of a sword fight; whimsical, witty, energetic and believable - without swords!
And the giant slinky! Oh my! That was absolutely amazing - Which way is up? Which way is down? Is that a head, or foot, or arm ... or just a slinky? Expanding and contracting, bits appearing and disappearing. I suspect I was shaking my head in disbelief and I know I experienced more cross-eyed concentration as I tried (and failed) to work out how it was done.
Then there were the slaters. Beautiful, controlled, precise. The incredible strength and concentration of the slack-wire artist and the high wire troupe - my stomach muscles still twinge in sympathy just thinking about them.
The beauty of the giant brightly blooming flowers - reminiscent of the Western Australian fire wheel tree. Glorious! Mesmerising spidery legs, emerging, languid from the floor, all fur and glittery sparkles - what a mind that can conceive of this! At one stage a cream silken cocoon dropped from the ceiling and broke open to expose the chrysalis, twisting, falling and eventually emerging into a butterfly.
The finale was stunning, jaw dropping, and for me, the stuff of dreams. Trampolining at it's most elegant, gravity defying, glorious best. A multitude of trampolinists dropping from a high rock wall onto a trampoline placed along the length of the wall a bit like a river. As some were dropping others bounded upwards and appeared to walk UP the wall, not only vertically, but weaving across each other like a human tapestry being constructed before our eyes. Linking this complex movement was another figure, a woman, moving slowly and gracefully between, on, underneath and around these precision performers, high, high on the wall. She was like a beautiful slow moving, and at times sensuous limpet. Absolutely mesmerising ... wow! Did they really move in slow motion at times, or is that the eyes playing tricks due to the intricate movements and upwards momentum?
Applause for the musicians, applause for the artists, costume designers, engineers, and especially for Minzenmay Mornington for the wonderful prize. Thankyou so much. We had a wonderful time!
And after that amazing feast for the senses and stomach, you'd think we'd have been satisfied - but no. To support the One Drop Foundation we purchased handbag sized reusable water bottles, a stylish and useful memento of a fantastic afternoon at Ovo by Cirque du Soleil.
(From Wikipedia) The One Drop Foundation is a non-governmental organization (NGO) based out of Montreal, Canada. an initiative of Cirque du soleil founder Guy Laliberte, the foundation's mission is to fight poverty worldwide by supporting access to water and raining individual and community awareness of the need to mobilize so that safe water is accessible to everyone.
Convinced that a comprehensive, planetary approach is required to pursue its mission. One Drop works on three levels:
1. Making water accessible to those deprived of this resource;
2. Raising awareness among individuals and communities of water-related issues, the need to mobilize and the importance of adopting responsible water-management practices;
3. Helping put water at the heart of public debate and international agendas.
More about One Drop http://www.onedrop.org/en/default.aspx
.
It was entirely unexpected. You see, I rarely enter competitions so it's a bit hard to win anything at all. So when I received a call saying I'd won something I think the caller could hear my distrust and disbelief and quickly identified himself. Adam Grusaukas was the Marketing Manager from Minzenmay a reputable, local, family owned jewellery store, which I've been known to frequent from time to time. "Just looking" of course ;-) They occasionally run competitions, business card draws and the like, which I enter, and promptly forget.
The prize included a double pass to the afternoon session of Cirque du Soleil's "Ovo" on Australia Day, AND popcorn AND 2 softdrinks AND chocolate :D
A feast for all the senses!
Wheeeeee! Something fun was just what I needed - this prize couldn't have come at a better time!
While waiting for the show to start we watched black clad stage-hands scamper expertly up tall pylons disappearing into the darkness as the music entwined around a massive opaque egg centre stage. Chirrups, squeaks and clicks provided an auditory background for the performers as they moved through the aisles and interacted with the audience, dressed in fantastically detailed and often sumptuous costumes.
The egg became a molten orange-red; colours swirling and pulsating ... then vanished.
Lithe, sinuous characters dressed in iridescent gauze costumes, some figure hugging (oh to be as energetic and fit as these people!) others reminiscent of armadillos, moved with balletic poise and control, at times seeming to defy gravity and be held up only by the "ooooohs" and "aaaaahs" of a spellbound audience.
Words like sensuous and voluptuous are apt for the main female character. A ladybird perhaps, coy at times, vampish and feisty at others. Her costume enhanced and celebrated her apparent size - fit, feminine and joyous - what a gorgeous role model! You're not allowed to take photos during the show, but you can see some of the characters in this promotional few seconds of Ovo here. The fly is wonderful!
The performance showcased the skills you'd hope to see at a regular circus, but enhanced into a fully self-contained show with a story line running through linking the separate parts into a satisfying whole.
 |
| Detail of head dress |
Someone asked me which act I liked most. That's a challenge! Using one diabolo is ok, two is pretty good, by the third my eyes were crossed with the effort of working out how it was possible for it to appear so easy. That's the mark of an expert - to make a challenge appear effortless!
The clash and clang of a sword fight; whimsical, witty, energetic and believable - without swords!
And the giant slinky! Oh my! That was absolutely amazing - Which way is up? Which way is down? Is that a head, or foot, or arm ... or just a slinky? Expanding and contracting, bits appearing and disappearing. I suspect I was shaking my head in disbelief and I know I experienced more cross-eyed concentration as I tried (and failed) to work out how it was done.
Then there were the slaters. Beautiful, controlled, precise. The incredible strength and concentration of the slack-wire artist and the high wire troupe - my stomach muscles still twinge in sympathy just thinking about them.
 |
| Intricate detailing on boots |
The finale was stunning, jaw dropping, and for me, the stuff of dreams. Trampolining at it's most elegant, gravity defying, glorious best. A multitude of trampolinists dropping from a high rock wall onto a trampoline placed along the length of the wall a bit like a river. As some were dropping others bounded upwards and appeared to walk UP the wall, not only vertically, but weaving across each other like a human tapestry being constructed before our eyes. Linking this complex movement was another figure, a woman, moving slowly and gracefully between, on, underneath and around these precision performers, high, high on the wall. She was like a beautiful slow moving, and at times sensuous limpet. Absolutely mesmerising ... wow! Did they really move in slow motion at times, or is that the eyes playing tricks due to the intricate movements and upwards momentum?
Applause for the musicians, applause for the artists, costume designers, engineers, and especially for Minzenmay Mornington for the wonderful prize. Thankyou so much. We had a wonderful time!
(From Wikipedia) The One Drop Foundation is a non-governmental organization (NGO) based out of Montreal, Canada. an initiative of Cirque du soleil founder Guy Laliberte, the foundation's mission is to fight poverty worldwide by supporting access to water and raining individual and community awareness of the need to mobilize so that safe water is accessible to everyone.
Convinced that a comprehensive, planetary approach is required to pursue its mission. One Drop works on three levels:
1. Making water accessible to those deprived of this resource;
2. Raising awareness among individuals and communities of water-related issues, the need to mobilize and the importance of adopting responsible water-management practices;
3. Helping put water at the heart of public debate and international agendas.
More about One Drop http://www.onedrop.org/en/default.aspx
.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Mornington Peninsula Toy Run
The goal is to help underprivileged families on the Peninsula to enjoy Christmas with food and gifts which have been donated. In 2011, 1500 hampers were made from donated goods, though it's sad to realise so many families are struggling financially.
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