Party On Dr Zeuss

I had the most bizarre dream a couple of nights ago.

It was in a waiting room waiting to have an operation with a bunch of nurses (the girls from Sabrina Teenage witch – how scary is that already?!) who were bickering about personal stuff. Very soap opera - this whole dream.

A middle aged in one of those fifties-style nurse outfits (I knew I could trust her for some reason) told me she will be putting this massive needle into my chest and then proceeded to do so twice, dropped the thing, picked it up and jabbed me again. I just lay there staring at her with wide rabbit eyes thinking I can handle this, I can handle anything, oh tough me…

A cute, male nurse came by and and wheeled me into the theatre, then this doctor – also very nice to look at (when in Soap Opera World, you might as well have the involvement of an occasional hottie) came in an started talking to the nurses (how true to my life is that!). I was feeling brave but couldn’t breathe so I asked for help. I kept in mind to keep my mouth shut so as not to say anything stupid because I knew the anaesthesia was starting to work and I had no idea what I was there for. The hot doctor then said something like, ‘So, what are we fixing?’ (!!!!! Oh Great…)

I resigned to let them deal with it. Curled up in a foetal position and went to sleep only that’s when I woke up.

I love crazy dreams. You always try to dissect them and then you realize it was really just what you ate the night before!

On the other side of Christmas. How exciting. It’s a lovely time of year but I spend a lot of time smiling like a chimpanzee and usually by New Year I start acting like one. For this reason I opted to have a ‘quiet’ New Year this year and agreed to babysit my friend’s five year old son. Quiet, you ask? Come to think of it...

So far, it’s been very entertaining. We’ve painted pictures before the heat set in. We’ve watched a movie. At some point my little five year old mate, asks me why my daughter, also five, does not want to have a boyfriend. Sadly, I know the truth here. She has a thing for his best buddy at crèche.

We did the dress ups thing (no I didn’t really join in on that one, although a fifties nurse costume seemed strangely appealing). The young batman declares, ‘I have just changed into an evil batman - Roar!’ to which I automatically respond, ‘No, we have no evil beings in this house.’ Batboy stops in his tracks and says, ‘oh… okay!’ and everyone is happy.

There you have it – the answer to world peace. Somebody’s mother just has to stand up and say, ‘no, we will have none of that on this planet’ and all will be well.
I’m sure that was Mother Teresa’s theory, come to think of it. Now there's a woman. As she once said, "Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin."

Happy New Year everyone. Party on and have one for me.

Bless all the Angels and the Saints

I picked up a Christmas cracker insert this morning, amongst other things left from a family do yesterday. It read,
‘You can be what ever type of person you choose to be. Your habits, your behaviours, your responses, are all your choice.’

For a Christmas Cracker, that’s deep. Then, in the same cracker:
‘Q: What is the best way to catch a squirrel?
A: Climb up a tree and act like a nut.’

In a way, I felt both were somehow meant for me. But you get that.

I choose to accept that I’m not perfect. Mostly, I do my best but sometimes I stuff up.

Thank you to the angels who manage to fill the gaps I leave.

My daughter was asking me the same question over and over on the train the other day. I’d zoned out – the guy in the seat in front of us turned around and patiently answered her question. Thank you for giving my child the time she deserved and for reminding me that my mind shouldn’t have been off duty in the first place.

When my son’s fiancée wraps her arms around my son and ruffles his hair or when she stands by his side through tough times, I know we are blessed.

When I see people sharing peace, joy and love (in it’s true, non-greeting-card sense) and bringing hope in ways that range from saying a positive word (and consciously refusing to use a negative one), to actively standing up to an injustice as it occurs. Little steps and big steps are all steps.

When I see real, pure happiness. I just got back from Carols by Candlelight at my parents’ nursing home. The staff there give 120% of themselves - in their time and in the way they give joy and the way they can identify and fill all those gaps. And in a nursing home, there are a lot of gaps to fill.

Anyway enough soapboxing. Hmmm could that be classed as a sport? My son came by after work today and saw the Christmas Cracker insert on my kitchen bench. He read it, looked at me, eyes narrowed, little smile. He said, ‘Was this left for me?’

Anyway, I’m off to catch a squirrel.

In Search of Peace

Today on the way home from the movies, she says ‘when I have children I’ll let them do what they want’.

And what would that be? I ask.

Mip - They could go to the movies every day.

Me - Really. What about school?

Mip - Yeah, they’d go to school every day. One day I’ll take them to the park. Another day to the movies…

Me - Hmm. A bit like your life now.

Glad I’m keeping up to the standard.

Sometimes, I get little notes from my disgruntled, yet prolific child.

In tears, she tells me that there will be no kisses before dinner because I’m a ‘mean Mummy’. In these times, I find it almost impossible to be cross with her – I just want to run and get the camera. Or scan her drawings of hearts broken in half.

Fast forward twenty or so years – at least she’ll have documentary evidence for the counselor’s office.

We went to see the preview of Disney’s The Chronicles of Narnia - The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. It’s due to open in Australia on Boxing Day and expectations are quite high for its success, given its warm reception in New Zealand and the US.

Polly Toynbee makes some valid points: the age article

If I stand back and accept the movie as a piece of entertainment, it is a relatively uncomplicated story which is visually rich while disturbing in its portrayal of an aesthetic good versus an ugly evil.

The music will have me looking for the soundtrack.

As a parent, I hope it gets a PG rating. My daughter is beyond her years in some ways – she has a great way of accepting that ‘everything will be fine in the end’ if I am there to assure her of that fact. Having said that, I don’t appreciate any attempt to justify violence no matter how simple a tale is.

I’m concerned about some of the underlying messages that a child might bring home. Early in the piece, the littlest child trusts a stranger with a second agenda who turns out to be one of the ‘good guys’.

On something completely different, I love the days when the articles are educational: The word from the world's oldest person What? No advice on diet or World Peace?

Yes, it’s beginning to look a lot like

Trying to upload my parents photo - couldn't see it... agh. I'm so unskilled with these things at times. And my links weren't links - maybe when I grow up, I'll be clever... or maybe a kind friend will rescue me from my ignorant misery.

I used to dread Christmas. My children have turned all that around so now I have to admit I love this time of year. It's a time for:
• Colour wherever you look. If it shines, sparkles reflects a rainbow of colour, it’s acceptable at this time of year.
This was perhaps what might have entertained the mind of whoever designed the gelato look
for Parliament House during the Commonwealth Games.
• Balancing all that with simplicity and tradition.
• Questioning your faith or more precisely your commitment to it and what that means.
• Doing the annual catch up with family, friends, and acquaintances (some who you adore, some not so much).
• Getting soppy about things.
• Counting your blessings. Having Dad around still is one of the big ones for me this year. And there are so many others.
• The commitment caring about someone else - to make a positive difference in someone’s life. Not just to be charitable but to surprise a stranger with kindness and maybe restore some faith that the forces of ‘good’ rule.
• Being surprised by the kindness strangers.
• Shopping for a huge variety of food ranging from nutritionally necessary to wrapped in pretty packaging which will be so much nicer than the handkerchiefs we gave her last year.
• Singing at the top of your voice without having the expectation that someone will be arriving soon to lock you up and Advent calendars in all forms, the artistic, the beautiful and the Australian Idol one at every supermarket at the minute. There’s a lovely little advent calendar here.
• Presents, gift wrap, cards that say less than a letter but more than a text message.
• Writing everything in list form.

It's also a time for getting out and about. Here is something made specifically for the attention span of a blogger. Looks like fun. I’ve always fancied myself as a script writer so I could also justify it as a learning experience. Then again, it might just be fun.

Mip has been showing me how to live in the moment. We went to a Christening this week which I loved for its simplicity. My daughter has a fascination for anything religious so while the Pastor was praying, my little girl was right in there, hands clasped together, solemn bowed head, beautiful. Then, she looks up at me and her expression says, ‘this is bigger than us’. She melts me.

Yesterday, like a cat when you’re reading something interesting, she snuggles up between me and my newspaper. I’m about to get really annoyed except that she says, ‘this is the best cuddle I’ve had in all my life.’ So I figure the newspaper can wait.

Thank you Chai for your technical direction. I feel much cleverer (er) now.

Me and the Romper Room Dooby are 'like that' now.

'You take the high road and I'll take the low road', was our agreement this morning.

I have a massive lavender bush out front of my unit. Every now and then my neighbours start waving their arms about and making loud noises until observant me looks outside and says, 'oh yeah, I suppose it IS blocking the driveway!'

So this morning at dawn, before coffee (this is true sacrifice) and armed with hedge clippers I found that three billion bees had beaten me out of bed.

Then, as always happens when I start gardening, my brain starts wanting to write. Fantastic, maybe it's the pungent aroma of lavender - or maybe it's all just a ploy by my brain to get me back in the kitchen near the coffee.

I summoned Mip to grab me some paper and a pen. I'd get my tape recorder but the fact is by this time my neighbours are starting to leave for work and have already been looking at me sideways over the bee whisperer thing.

I used to watch Romper Room with my sister when I was little. Yeah, that's right:

"I always do everything right.
I never do anything wrong.
I'm a Romper Room Do Bee;
A Do Bee all day long!"

I'd be so cross at the end because my name is so non vanilla that Miss Whoever She Was (well, all right, so I can't remember hers either) would look through her magic mirror and see Sally and Judy and Mary. She'd finish with "... and I can see you!' My mother would say, 'See, she did see you.'

Shrinkful Folk might pinpoint the seeds of an identity crisis right there. I see it as good grounding for future discussions with these early rising bees over Lavender Real Estate.