10th Dec

So I get in my car after Presentation Night and start to drive home.  

Right there in front of me, on the outside of the windscreen, is a big huntsman spider.   I start whimpering like a baby and close my eyes tight, willing it to go away.  

Remember I am driving a car and default to plan B: drive like a crazy lady and the wind will blow it away.  Floor it only to find that he hunkers down with his 
sticky little feet, leaning into the corners.       

Pull into my drive wondering about my Exit plan:  wipers? water? Then, while waiting for the garage door to go up, the huntsman makes a run for it right up the windscreen and across the driver's door.  Am screaming, madly swiping at the window to make it go away.

Then it disappears from sight...

I pull into the garage, stay in the car and use my mobile to phone Hubby.

Hubby enters the garage, curiously looking at the car.  I explain in loud, exasperated tones with much gesturing about the hidden monster waiting to fall on me the moment I open the door.

Turns out I'm right.  The spider is hidden in driver's door:  I awkwardly climb out of the passenger door and watch while Hubby locates the eight-legged fiend.  

Am laughing and crying.  

Curse those stickly little feet.

29th Nov

"I've ordered this for you." 

Source:  Stolen from the internet somewhere.

Thanks Hubby, but I'm already on my way.
Source:  My little cat Misty and her fascination with boxes, any boxes.

On my to-be list:
  • eccentric pink haired granny - on my way...well my hair is reddish.
  • crazy cat lady  - check
  • complete and utter nutter - check, check

27th Nov

As I finished snipping off the last of the maple leaves I felt sad about how hard my little tree was working to grow big beautiful leaves when, in fact, my purpose was for it to grow tiny delicate, size-appropriate leaves.  My bonsai maple thinks it is a full grown maple tree, thus the growing of big leaves. It doesn't understand that to be truly beautiful it needs to grow tiny, tiny leaves, and that, in the mean time, I must, for it's benefit, prune away what appears to be perfectly good leaves.

You see, my bonsai is just a little tree that doesn't understand my greater purpose.  In just the same way, we are only people and we don't understand God's purpose or plan for us.  When times are tough we can wrongly assume that God intends to harm us rather than understanding His love. We don't see what God sees and so we must trust His intentions toward us - not to harm us but to give us a future.  

My little bonsai brings me pleasure, but it lacks the capacity to choose me. We, however, do not lack the capacity to choose God.  He waits patiently.

24th Nov

1920's Fun

Dressing up never stops being fun, as does spending time with friends and meeting new people.  And yet life can get so busy that we forget to take a moment just to be kids again. When the night disappears in a blur of laughter, conversation and banter, the spirit is refreshed and renewed.  

Hubby and me, off to see if who is the victim or the perpetrator, celebrating "Zetta's" birthday (and SPOILER ALERT subsequent guilty confession!)

22nd Nov

Possibility abounds

Looking around the room as I supervised Private Study today an image came to mind.  To an outsider it was a group of students quietly working. To me, possibility.

In my one room there was a fantasy land of dragon slaying, a world of politics and international relations, a couple planning their future together as they drew stick figures, numbers vying for their turn in equations, and other worlds of love and betrayal.  In each silent student a world was at work. In that one room existed multiple doorways to the future.

And what of the doorway to my own future?  

That would involve painting one's nails red!

20th Nov

Creativity by any other name is still creative

No story. No funny little thing that happened. No poignant moment of discovery.  Just the pleasure of remembering how to cover a mud cake with almond icing and then sugar paste.  The pleasure of the soft paste under the heal of my hand and the sweet scent disturbed by the kneading. The pleasure of rolling out the paste and working it into a smooth white surface.

 Ah the potential of the blank canvas...

19th Nov

My alternate career

In a parallel universe I do something much less public, although much more visual, and am allowed, encouraged even, to be very punctual without having to wait for any one.

As I walk along my favourite walking track I hear the sound that makes my heart thrill.  It is that low rumble, that subliminal shiver in the air, that builds until it can't be ignored.  There's a train coming.

I watch it approach, and, before I know what I am thinking, my hand is in the air waving.  There's something about trains.  My students tell me that only three year olds wave at trains, but I shrug it off.  They don't know what they are missing, for they don't know what opportunities exist in a simple wave.

While my hand is still in the air the train reaches eye-contact distance, and the driver smiles as he blows the horn in reply to my greeting.  In that moment a relationship between the two of us exists: one, pleased to see the arrival, the other, pleased to be seen.  In that one moment, literally only seconds long, we have added to each other's life.

"I so want to be that guy" I say to Hubby who has stood shaking his head at my enthusiasm for engines that can only go where the tracks lead them.

I make my mind up: I am going to be a train driver.  

At home I google and read all of the notes about how to apply and what I will learn at TAFE.  So far so good. I am on schedule for my career change making plans for all of the marvellous rail adventures I will have.  Until I am suddenly derailed.

"All drivers will be expected to conduct interim repairs on their trains."  

I can hardly open a jam jar, let alone fix a broken engine.  Hubby reminds me "they teach you how", but the truth of the matter is more simplistic than that.  No upper body strength, and no motivation to go to the gym to get some.

Seems I will be a teacher a little longer then.

18th Nov 2012

The saga continues...

Those of you who have known me for a little while now will remember a happy day when I discovered that my dishwasher's response to the wrong detergent was to make a multitude of bubbles.  

Well, it seems that my poor dishwasher found this, and other indiscretions on my part, rather insulting and slowly it began to misbehave.  So much so that, in a final act of revenge, I declared it "broken" and refused to use it any more.  I know, I know, "revenge on who?" I hear you asking.

Today, puppy-dog eyes and sweet smiles in tow, I kindly asked Hubby to buy me a new dishwasher.  Hubby loves to know about things and set about researching the necessary.  Would we need a plumber? What functions are useful? What is just fluff and nonsense?

I helpfully pointed out some great deals in our weekly junk mail delivery.  He diligently googled everything.  I suggested we could just go and buy it.  He carefully considered the budget and searched for any hidden costs.  I advised that we could call the store to see if they had any in stock.  He reluctantly caved and we went to visit the store instead. Ah, the power of puppy-dog eyes and sweet smiles.

Clinton, our friend who sells these things, is very helpful. We learn about this function and that design. We learn that for this one we must wait but that one is in stock.  My heart does a little skip.  Good-bye oh vengeful not-working-how-I-want-it-to dishwasher, hello compliant my-wish-is-your-command dishwashing slave.

We take a stroll to make THE DECISION and Hubby says "You know, I've been thinking about it and I think I might be able to fix it myself.  We just need to get a couple of things and I'll go home and do it right now."

My crestfallen moment passes quickly.  I cheer myself up with a "Who cares? I'm getting a dishwasher! (back)" 

And here it is. My bubble making dishwasher not making bubbles and actually washing dishes again.  

I don't know how long it will last.  I guess I just need to see each day that it washes the dishes and I don't as a gift. 

17th Nov 2012

Since when is it right and correct for your youngest to go away for three days on school camp as a little kid and come back more grown up then ever?  I'm sorry but there should be some law of the universe that can be appealed to with "but I've just figured her out!".  

But no, it doesn't work that way.

She goes away on school camp and then straight to church for a sleep-over and this is what they do...

...remind me just how beautiful she is, and just how quickly she is growing up.  

16th Nov 2012


It's the end of the day at school and I am teaching one of my favourite classes: year 10 Art.  They are all working hard on their sketches, inspiration pages, school gossip, singing along with their favourite songs playing as "back ground" noise, surreptitiously checking US basketball scores on their phones.  I remember that I needed to photograph my painting Inside which is at school.

I make them all promise, hand on heart, to not burn the place down while I dash to my office to get my phone to take the photo.  Come back, they are all as they were, and I take the photo.  

Phone dies.  Well, actually, it turned the screen into a barcode, and I briefly wonder will it scan at the supermarket.  I frantically press all the buttons in the manner of chest compressions and speak kindly to it in the hope that it will revive.  

Wide-eyed, I tell my students "My phone just died".  They nod sadly.  They understand the loss.  All eyes watch as I plug it into my computer.

"Please little guy, don't be dead."  

We all hold our breath, and then...the little apple appears bright and sparkly as ever. 

"Woa, that was lucky Mrs B" they tell me and now I am the one nodding.  

Luck, serendipity, God sorting things out.  It all depends on the way you see the world.  

Like this photo, taken as I turned away from the painting.  A serendipitous moment orchestrated by the One who controls everything.

14th Nov 2012

Days like these...

This morning as I watched the moon partially eclipse the sun I thought about how life is like that.

A photo of the eclipse taken by my cousin Paul R.M.  (Seriously great shot!)

There are times when no matter what we do we can't control the fading that happens around us.  We know the full light will return, we're just not sure when.

And so the light faded again as I stood this afternoon by the open grave of a good man.  Looking at the native flowers and deer antlers on the casket I felt the passing of a stage of my life. I felt myself get that little bit older. I felt the cool breeze that often blows before the first light of dawn kisses the horizon.

Mt Toorongo, one of many places that my friend liked to be.

Rest in peace Ken.

13th Nov 2012


I know, I know, where have I been?  And what have I been doing?

Well, it has, admittedly been a crazy, crazy year, but here is a brief synopsis.

We went to Fiji!  The whole family, and had a wow of a time.

Me, drinking carva - not really my cup of tea!

The view from where we stayed at Pacific Harbour.

Since then teaching has been life consuming!  I suspect, seeing as I am here, that I might be starting to feel like I can breathe.  It helps too, that I missed my internet, international friends listening while I send happy thoughts into the neon.

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