Sometimes life is just annoying

24 Aug 2011

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It is true that sometimes, I resemble Zorg from the film Fifth Element. Not the evil, world domination parts, but they part that likes control of the domain he occupies, the clean, tidy desk he rests his feet on. As he tells Cornelius ‘Life, which you so nobly serve, come from destruction, disorder and chaos.’ He has clearly never heard of the ‘broken window fallacy’ but I digress.

I like it neat. I like it organised, smooth, well ordered. I like to be on time. I like things to just work. For plans to come together. I have been writing a post about this, but it is taking too long. It is full of huge concepts that I am trying to unpack. Read More

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Piqued … write on Wednesday

17 Aug 2011

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Write On WednesdaysPiqued by the absence of wallet, the dark formal shoes, she waited impatiently for the evening.

For the actual date, the one they had arranged a week ago. Not the accidental, impulsive coffee date, which wasn’t a date, but it was.

The order of things was not quite right but the intrigue level was high. She rang one of her friends. Do I have to dress up? There was an audible intake of breath and then a shriek. YES, of course you do. Why are you on the phone? Go and get beautiful. Get dressed. Go now! Goodbye.

For weeks she had been trying not to think about the possibilities. Now, after coming back here to face the new life she had haltingly started only a few months before, romance was the furthermost thing from her mind. Now, mind racing, she had to think about it.

 

 

 

This week’s Write on Wednesday idea comes from this lovely place.

Thanks Felicity.

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Dragonflies with magic steel wings

17 Aug 2011

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By popular demand, here is the latest installment from my writerly nephew.

He has recovered his mojo after the last battle with the definition of ‘narrative‘.

Thanks to everyone who commented and buoyed the boy!

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Farmers and their markets

13 Aug 2011

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All the good stuff - especially truffle (front and centre)

 

Food has been on my mind lately. When is it not? Some would say I was quite obsessed by it. Sometimes I have been thinking about feeding my child. I didn’t completely understand the amount of time and energy that would be put in, usually by me, to plan, cook and arrange, meals for my child. Not always by me. Every morning, Benedict’s porridge is served by his daddy. It’s their time, breakfast. It is a two-fold joy. Usually, it is a smooth, easy time. It allows them to bond over AM and the news of the day and have a bit of time together. After Benedict has finished his own porridge, he usually helps himself to mine too, no matter how much he ate of his own. Read More

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Write on Wednesday … character …

10 Aug 2011

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Write On WednesdaysRight. Down to business. This week’s Write on Wednesday is really truly a writing exercise. As a blog post, it may not be that interesting. I don’t know, I haven’t written it yet. If you get bored you may like to read this or this or this.

This week there were a few choice words of advice provided by Kylie Ladd over at Life In A Pink Fibro. To help. Or make us more intimidated by her excellent characteristion, depending on your point of view. This week too, there is a little more explanation required. The instructions the lovely Gillian has given for this week’s Write on Wednesday are ‘Think with Character’. I am going to write about the character from this post. Read More

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When is a narrative, not a narrative?

10 Aug 2011

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My nephew Patrick is nine. He is in year 3. He is my first nephew. Needless to say, I love him to bits. Today I heard some news about his school work that made me furious.

This lovely, conscientious boy recently wrote a story for homework. It was rejected by his teacher. Why? It was rejected because it was considered not to have met the requirement for narrative. The NSW Education K to 6 syllabus definition of narrative that is. Read More

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Write on Wednesday … the clock winked

3 Aug 2011

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Write On WednesdaysThe clock winked. In the dark room as she turned over, the green panel glowed and illuminated one side of her face. As she turned, she saw it over her shoulder. It was dark and quiet. A winter early morning, the sun wouldn’t make it over the mountain for another two hours. She was still but not asleep. She could see perfectly well by the glow of the clock, 2.56 it told her. It was mocking her again. Why was she awake? Again? All these freezing dark nights, with no early easterly sun streaming in. Too cold to get up early, it was the perfect weather for sleeping til the last possible moment. Yet here she was not asleep.

Over and over in her mind she turned the conversation. Just wait here, she had said. Wait? Here? Why had she tried to reconnect. It was finished. In the dust of the past. And then, suddenly, she re-opened it. Now here she was, in the glow of the clock, awake, in the middle of the night.

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On holidays

20 Jul 2011

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South Broulee

Here we are on holidays

And we are doing a bit of this

Rock pools

And a bit of this

Kiss blowing practice

And even some of this

South Broulee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Write on Wednesday … losing

7 Jul 2011

8 Comments

‘I can’t stress how important it is that we behead this fiend.’

Write On Wednesdays

‘I can’t take it anymore, it’s ruining my life.’ Read More

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Tense day in mamaland

6 Jul 2011

5 Comments

Yesterday I was tested as a mother.

This morning, as I was preparing to listen to two lovely people on the radio. I was also in the bathroom, before nine, trying to unblock the sink. While I was trying to do this, my toddler was opening cupboards. He opened the cupboard which contains, among other things, a plastic box full of small ramekins and pyrex dishes. These are great things to bang together, they make fantastic noise. Until they break. And I heard that noise and bolted to the kitchen. I was too late. Toddler was griping the broken piece of glass in his fist. I was there two seconds too late. He gripped and it cut into his thumb. Read More

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The wood AND the trees

4 Jul 2011

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I have been in a persistent funk lately. Since Easter really. It’s a bloody long time. Read More

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Write On Wednesday … He filled his glass

30 Jun 2011

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He filled his glass, emptied it, and fell silent, immersed in his own thoughts. Just wait here, she had said. Wait? Here? For what? It’d been more than five years since he had seen her. Six years? Maybe seven years? Long enough to have thought he’d never see her again. Long enough to have forgotten all about the promises he had made. Wishes they had long ago left behind unfulfilled, bubbled up in his mind. Read More

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