We have lift-off on Push My Buttons!

Go here to see the first of the button badges...

and...

...he was actually due today!

A Labour of Love!

How timely, that the day after I resign myself to a 40-week pregnancy, the baby decides now is as good a time as any to get out there and into it!!

Saturday, January 12:
3am. Waters break.
2.09 pm. Little boy born.
2.10 pm. I say "Fuck!! Oh fuck!! What do I do?!!"

So what do I do?
I feed, sleep, gaze, stroke downy skin, and endlessly ponder the state of my beleaguered bazooms.

My lovely little J E P.

Putting the 'crap' into 'carp'...

How do you like my 2008 diary cover?
Last year was first in a good decade that I didn't do anything to cover my plain blue diary, and whilst it turned out that I survived with it like that, I prefer a diary that is a bit memorable and unique. So this year, I thought I would attempt one last creative project before baby-land.
I can't take the credit for the originality of the artwork - I basically did a fairly dodgy knock-off of a piece of tattoo flash from the net. My painting skills were very rusty, and while they developed along the way, on the whole it is a decidedly slapdash affair (note the streaky shellac!!)- but hell, it's only a diary! It only has to last me the year!

Fad no# whatever...Nostalgia TV

In the infinity that is the last weeks of pregnancy, the Groundhog Day of weird aches, spasms, bodily fluids, naps and tears, I have found solace in rewatching a favourite from adolescence: Press Gang! The dialogue stands up after all these years, the characters are strong, the rapport comes across as genuine, and the spark between the gorgeous Julia Sawalha and Dexter Fletcher (who I must admit, still does it for me!) is as fresh and dynamic as ever! God bless the local library's teen section!
If my library stocked early Grange Hill, Degrassi Junior High (the original) and the Goodies, I would be a happy couch potato!

Ah...
Dexter....

Eating humble pie!

I am hereby officially retracting my previously disparaging comments about blogging... as I think it very likely that I am going to take it up again myself! I realised, reading back through old posts, that I rather enjoy the process of composing a post, of posting pictures of stuff I like or have done, and generally journaling stuff as I see it. I think that in the time that is coming, that of new parenthood, I may feel the need to use my brain occasionally for more than just working out the shopping list or sorting the laundry. Of course, I have creative plans to be getting on with as well, but for those in-between times, I might as well keep my language skills above 'A-goo! A-booh! A-brrrrrrrr!' and the like (baby-talkin'... for those who might be reading and wondering if I have already lost my mind!)

And in the meantime, until I think of some clever and funny things to write about, here are some pictures of stuff...

My excellent Xmas presents from Dan: a fabulous badge-frame handmade by Him (no, not god), a spiffy Crumpler camera bag, and the coolest retro radio!!!


A self-portrait I made for a subject at Uni... quite pleased with this! One of the few bits of art I made in 07, what with doing lesson plans and teaching rounds!



A cut-paper collage birthday card I made for Dan... note how I cleverly (read: utterly stupidly) made the hammer the wrong way around - unless you're s'posed to strike things with the claw?

I never said I was a GOOD poet!

Late pregnancy haikus:

High summer in urban Melbourne...

Chilled water, ice and fan
Next door's aircon blows warm winds
Panting on the couch

Conversations with strangers...

How long ya got, love?
Size of you, must be a boy!
Gotcha names picked yet?

Me and it...

Hullo Fidget-Kid!
Don't poke me in the bladder!
Wait til Dad gets home...

Housebound...

Surf the internet
Check my facebook, write emails
Wander 'round the house


See, I am clearly pretty bored! Have a sneaking suspicion that a haiku requires more than just filling in the syllables.

Productivity!!!

Yes, despite being mere weeks away from delivering my first child, and in the grip of the early stages of a cold, I have actually managed to have a productive day!

I've been making some badges and exploring some new ideas which I think have come out pretty well. I've also created yet another blog, this time to push my wares, hence its name: Push my buttons! Don't get excited yet, there is nothing there so far, but pictures will be coming!

Eventually, when I get into production, I will list them for sale on etsy, but who knows when that will end up being, given the pending motherhood that is looming!

For now, I will be happy with having made some progress and laid some groundwork for future craft products.

Dropping in for a quick cuppa...

My, it's been a long time.
Having pretty much decided that blogs were the domain of the tediously self-indulgent, I went cold turkey on looking and posting.
But I recently got roped onto bloody facebook, which is living up to its stalker reputation (!), and it has renewed a vague interest in my sad, self-indulgent little blog, languishing all alone and unloved in cyberspace, and I thought I'd check in on it.
I think, Faddsy my old friend, that it might be just you and me here together. I think we can speak frankly without fear of being overheard. I'd guess that visitors to this cave have long since stopped when all they found were bleached bones and scattered remains. (I really shouldn't reread Clan of the Cave Bear. It's bad for me in so many ways.)
Fadds, I confess, I have been attacked anew, but not by a fad this time. After all, fads are for Christmas. Babies are for life. Babies are life. I have new life. In me.

I am 22 and a half weeks into pregnancy, and loving it!
The baby is constantly squirming and rolling and thumping me from inside. It's really the most awesome sensation!

Whoops...I am turning back into a self-indulgent blogger who thinks everyone is interested in what, although it is new to me, is merely a fact of life and not the most original thing I have ever embarked on, as lovely as it is.
So, that was just my catch up session with you, Fadsattack.

xxx

Phew!

Aaah! The sweet smell of a plan coming to fruition!
I am at the end of my first week of teaching rounds and I'm delighted to report that I loved it! Sure, I've made plenty of cock-ups and finished lessons with big gaps and empty spots in the kids' understanding, but I figure it's as good as I can get at this stage, and I'm working my bum off to do a good job, so I can't ask to do more than that!
I'm so pleased that I've finally reached a point where I look forward with happy anticipation to a time when I might have my OWN class one day...hopefully next year!
......
The honeymoon period...aint it grand?!

The bittersweet smell of ennui.

I have major assignments coming out of my ears, my first teaching round coming up in a fortnight (school still unknown) and all I want to do is curl up in bed and read a (non-study-related) book.
I'm not in a teapot-panic...I just can't be arsed.

Unlucky only for SOME...

Friday the 13th has blessed me!
I finally finished the puzzle that has been languishing in pieces all over the kitchen table this week! Hazah!













Why is it that a puzzle that was obviously a promotional gimmick is okay and pop-culturally cool when it is a daggy icon of my generation's childhood, but were it a Hamburgler game or KFC jigsaw it would be very NOT cool and a terrible attempt at brainwashing our children?
Dunno, but you can't deny the coolness of a plate of tinned spaghetti pieces as a jigsaw puzzle!
(Credits to Dan's family treasure chest for this gem.)

old

...and yes, I know I sound OOOOOLD when I complain about too loud punk bands. I know. What can I say? Too loud punk bands make me FEEL old.
I am becoming a person who takes earplugs to concerts.
When my parents use to put their fingers in their ears during the extra-loud Hollywood on the Gold Coast ads at the movies, I used to die inside. Now I see their point.

At least the tickets were free...

I'm on a mailing list for a local burlesque troupe, and last week won free tickets to the High Society Ball at the Regal Ballroom in Northcote.
"Kewl!" methinks. On the playlist were The Wagons (always worth a see), Bob Log the third (had never seen but heard was kinda funny), Legends of Motorsport (one Dan had heard were good) and various burlesque acts throughout the night. We went along, relishing the fact that everyone else was paying $34. The venue is awesome, a grand old ballroom. If I were a wedding type of person, it would be a cool place to do a thing like that. The Wagons were up first, and they were excellent, as usual. Then there was a tap-dancer, who I think was probably fairly good, but given that all I could see was the back of tall people's heads, I'll have to trust that what my ears heard was capable tap-dancing. Then the night began to slide downhill. The utterly inept DJ filled in the gaps between acts, and the patrons gave it a red hot go at ignoring his shoddy work and had a bit of a boogie, but then Legends of Motorsport came on and the fledgling mood of the night just leaked away with the thrash and scream of punk. Now, their music isn't my cup of tea, so I can't really criticise it given that it just aint my genre of choice, but it seemed so out of keeping with the proposed vibe of the night, and judging by the number of people who legged it out to the bar where it was slightly less painfully loud, that was the majority opinion. Finally they finished and we all trooped back in hopefully, where we waited and waited for the next burlesque act to start. When the work experience DJ cocked up the burlesque dancer's music for the tenth time (I shit you not) and she cracked it and left, Dan and I looked at each other and knew that the evening was drawing to a close for us. We pushed on a bit longer, but come 12ish we'd had enough. All I can say is, thank christ the tickets were free. I think we'd have had some 'give us our money back' argy bargy if they hadn't been.
Gift horses, eh? Sometimes they shit on your foot when you're not looking!

These are a few of my (new) favourite things!

1. John Marsden's the Tomorrow series. I devoured the first two books over the weekend and I'm hooked. I've always been drawn to the post-disaster/apocalypse/nuclear war genre. I guess it comes from growing up with the ever-present threat of the man pressing the button. Whilst the Tomorrow series are not post-nukes, merely your garden variety domestic invasion, the first two books have proven to be a gripping, thrilling exploration of the effect of this almost unthinkable (in our country anyway) event. The characters are wonderful - thoughtful and emotional and human. I've heard criticisms of the notion of teenagers becoming soldiers, but I think the way that Marsden handles this delicate and complicated subject is brilliantly done. These kids perform acts that would have been undreamt of to them prior to the invasion, but now they feel compelled to act, and it is not something they take on lightheartedly. They are changed people. And there is real food for thought in this story. More than once since finishing book two (I am not allowed to go to the library for the next until I have finished more Uni work) I have stopped mid-washing-up to reflect on how much of an impact a national invasion would have on my own life, and this reflection leads to the thought that there are plenty of people out in the world who have been living this reality for years, and will continue to do so despite my sheltered, comfortable, ignorant existance here. It's potent stuff. I just have to ration the reading and not glut on it and end up OD'ed in a corner somewhere.

2. Wilfred. We caught this little gem on SBS last night. It's only an eight-part series, and I'm not sure how far into we are, but I sure hope it's early days. This is comedy gold. Wilfred the dog, basically a bloke in a crappy rent-a-dogsuit, wanders around the house, ciggie dangling from his mouth, bored look on his face, tormenting his owner Sarah's new boyfriend Adam. Sarah only sees her wittle Wilfred, but Adam knows Wilfred's real self, and the battle-lines seem to have been drawn. I loved it.
3. The new kitchen butcher-block, made by the brilliant male I have the honour to live with.

Snippets of a life

• Our rubbish-bin water tanks work a treat - two were filled to overflowing from Thursday night's lovely rain!
• It takes the first rain of the season to remember how not to ride your bike (ie: in sloppy trackies and a white tank. A day spent in classes wearing damp, clownishly baggy tracksuit bottoms and a virtually transparent top could've been better thought out.)
• There is a new kitten in the 'hood. She is small and black and super soft and fluffy, we don't know where she comes from, but she marched up to our two old timers with utter aplomb and demanded company! Ours don't want a bar of it (too small to fight, too big to eat - they can't figure her out) but Dan and I had a lovely kitten-fix. We also had some serious Kitten-Kong flashbacks, picturing her marching up one day towering over Amos and Sabre and their sheepish retreats! (Yeah, it's alright to snarl now when she fits in a shoebox! Toughnuts!)
• My brain is breaking. How many factoids and research papers can one brain safely consume in a 24-hour period? I've got learning a'plenty, but it hurrrrrts! And I'm already bored of being diligent. I want to go to the movies, go to the park, waste my time! Waaah! In fact, this post is a precious moment of scheduled 'relax' time. I have to hit the handouts again soon..... I only have a few more hours of viable brain-activity time left in the day before I truly meltdown.
• I'll make a cup of tea. That's a valid getting-back-into-the-study activity. Then I'll really quickly clean the whole house from top to bottom and alphabetise my shoes and perm the cats and polish the drive, and then I can get back into it...might go see what the new kitten's up to as well...
  

I am...

...the proverbial teapot.
Now that I'm at uni I do this:
runaround in circles like an airplane play relay races make quizzes on the web read photocopies with a highlighter in hand plot timetables write reading logs squeeze modelling jobs in around everything else worry about money worry about teaching prac worry about whether I am committed enough to be a teacher or simply should be committed worry about the future wish I had more time to pursue the etsy projects I haven't had a chance to get off the ground wallow in waves of guilt pick myself up and try again and so on.
Great, innit?!

Now I have to go off and feel guilty that I spent 5 minutes blogging instead of doing something else more worthy.

Oh baby, let the rain fall!

Dan did what we've been talking about doing ALLLL summer... and it took all of ten minutes in the end! With a little creative licence over our rental house, and a small amount of remodelling (no-one will miss a coupla feet of downpipe!), we now have, in addition to the present rainwater tank of roughly 200L capacity, an extra 18oL of rain harvesting potential! I think watching me run around in sopping pajamas on Saturday morning gathering small tubs of rainwater and filling every available vessel with it was the clincher! He then proceeded to do manly things with sawhorses and tools! I had a turn, just to say I helped, but after a few (wonky) slides of the plane, I announced that I was bored and wandered off to the study to organise stationery!






















I may be a bit limp-wristed with tools and furniture-making, but I make a mean chicken tagine!

(It's also becoming clear that I am now a student with time on my hands! Wait with baited breath for the procrastinatory [spelling? actual existance of word? care factor?] blog-posts as deadlines arise...)

First day at Big-School!

I am a student again!!!!
Except, the lecturers keep telling us to start thinking of ourselves as teachers. So, I am a student-teacher! Eep!
Okay, I know it was only the first day, so there's not yet any pressure of assignments and teaching rounds (and trust me, I shall be shitting my proverbial pants when the time comes!), but I had a great day! It rocked! The bike ride along the Darebin Creek trail, the meeting of friendly new people, the sitting in lectures and trying to extract the most succint and pertinant elements to scratch down in my now appalling handwriting (typing has improved vastly at the expense of my penmanship, I fear!)... the not being at work anymore! Yes, I've moaned on about that job for long enough, and being free from it really IS as good as I thought it would be! Even the impending poverty isn't too daunting just yet... (yeah, yeah, give it time!)
And just a thought from the nerdy-spock mature-age student... if you're going to be 45 minutes late for a 1 hour lecture, do you really think it's worth stumbling in? And can people PLEASE TURN OFF their freakin' phones?!!!

Road-Trip

Heat roils up from the tarmac, shimmers in waves from the car and hangs heavy in the air. Trailing a hand from the open window and tracing the brown horizon line with a moist fingertip, I can almost feel the claydust and dessicated grass husks sticking to my sweating skin. Hot wind rushes in and cracks my parched lips. The swill of water in the bottle is hot and tastes of plastic. The dry hills roll past in thirsty waves of hard-baked earth and stubbled fields, drooping grey trees and crumbling gutters of erosion where once creeks and rivers ran.
Victoria. February. Hot.
Heat from the sun, crisping my skin like cooking chicken. Heat from the air, sucking moisture from every breath. Heat from the motor, thrumming under my feet through the hot metal. The heat and the endless black track reeling in below us and streaming out behind are so mesmerising that passing slow trucks and cars pulling caravans feels like a game. It's hard to believe we are flying along at a real speed, one wrong move away from crumpled metal and blood and death. This isn't a badly air-conditioned game of Daytona.

We went to the NSW coast for a family wedding. We drove inland on the Hume to get there as directly as possible. Four hours of monotonous arid Victorian countryside, the drought in all its brown-skinned, blue-eyed tragic glory. A night in a caravan park in Albury, lolling in the pool - sheer luxury - then limbs flung asunder in the stifling tent, listening to the trucks passing by the whole night through. (If you close your eyes and imagine really hard, it almost sounds like the ocean!)
The next day, the rest of the journey... more dryness, then a few hours from the coast the drought hid itself ever more slyly until we were coiling down ferny mountain roads, breathing in warm, moist rainforest air and marvelling at the green - a salve for our eyes. The NSW coast... what an eden! Picture-perfect green hills, lush juicy grass on the roadside like set decorators had just been through, parrots, white-fenced stud farms, the stuff of dreams. The idyllic countryside from the stories of my childhood, usually set in England, was laid out like a fresh picnic on a crisp cloth.
The weekend itself was lovely, although the eden, with its ceaseless humidity had me constantly clammy-feeling. But there was bonding with family, jive-dancing with my awfully proper British Airways pilot uncle, holding of the baby until my arms cramped, sleeping in twin beds (just like Basil and Sybil...not a highlight, nor portentious I hope!), thrashing and being thrashed in the robust surf (my $20 kmart bikini struggled to rise to the challenge!) and the general feeling of holiday, albeit crammed into one weekend. We did the return trip in one long day, getting increasingly snappish as the heat, the fucking heat, drilled into our very cores.
At one point, the comment was heard to be made, "Why would you buy land in Victoria? Victoria sucks dicks!" No, not an overly mature commentary on the state of the state, but one that felt succint at the time. And I have to say, these past months enduring this horror of heat and beating sun have me muttering more and more, "Melbourne - I can't do it anymore, the heat, it's doing my head in".
As it is today. Again.

Please let it rain.