anyresemblance

On the road again

Considering I have lost my amex card and my dad's passive aggressive behaviour is driving me insane, I am having a good time. My children are such good travellers and delight in exploring every nook and cranny of hotel rooms. Miss I even reads the Gideon bible (well, she pretends too but then tells me it's a room service menu). The international flight was pretty good, the flight onward interminable, but we miraculously cleared immigration and customs in 5 minutes flat. Now that my father is equipped with a bottle of whiskey he is less fractious but he suffers from a lifetime of not directly saying what he wants which irritates me beyond measure. I remember his advanced years and his frailty but did snap somewhat last night. He is very generous in paying for many meals but has that peculiar English aversion to tipping that makes me seem mean spirited. I have tried to explain the differing economic models, the people working in service industries who have expectations on how their customers will behave but found myself in the bathroom of the restaurant last night getting Miss S to lend me money to go back and tip our waiter for whom my dad had left a tiny amount of change. So, we have been to Disneyland. I took my children last year on our way home from NYC but found this visit less enchanting. Firstly it was a weekend and crowded. Secondly, lots of the rides were closed. Thirdly, my older daughter stood on her dignity more and refused to go on anything that was babyish. And finally, I just don't think it had that mystery and magic of the first time around. I've told the girls they will have to talk their dad into it if they ever want to go again. Now we are working our way up the coast and are currently in Santa Barbara at a charming motel with free internet access. What a manicured city! Miss S keeps telling me it is like a film set. We have been to pick up a replacement Amex card and the people were so helpful and nice it was like being on a tv show. More later, since Miss S wants to check her email

Did I mention my holiday?

I have the glorious feeling of getting off before the end of term since my co-workers have another week of end of quarter hell, whereas I am getting on a plane for Los Angeles tomorrow. Of course, none of my contracts signed so I have to leave them in the hands of other corporate slaves while I ponder which holiday reading to pack. A chance conversation before I left this afternoon made me send a message to my old boss in Singapore who tells me he is creating some new jobs here in Australia in January and he'd like me on his team so I have the option of escape from my deadly job which is all good. So depending on internet access there may be road trip reports but otherwise I'll be back in a couple of weeks. PS I have been outed in my town but as a result linked to some, new to me, blogs. I am, of course, horrified that I can not match their hand coded HTML standards but delighted to find some new points of view.

Expletive, deletive

Very stressful day with major deals evaporating in quick succession. I lost it with one of my project managers who has done over $200k of work without a signed contract from the customer and told me I was worrying about an administrative detail. I told him if we didn't sign by Monday I was pulling the whole team out and I would make sure his next assignment was on the dreariest project imaginable in Parramatta. I went to an industry briefing yesterday at our local government's adminstrative offices. I looked around the room at all these people who work in my industry and thought I would have to kill myself if I go to any more of these. The most attractive man in the room was the procurement officer. (Actually, i've always thought this procurement guy was hot and sooo nice with it). Today I ate another bad lunch at the Press Club for the Costello/Crean debate. I swear, I nearly fell asleep they were so boring. Even duller than the Abbott/Gillard love in last week, who are at least nice to look at. Costello had huge bags under his eyes and looked weary of it all. Crean smirked and looked like he was wearing pancake make-up. I sat next to someone who has intimidated me throughout her sparkling public service career but she was utterly charming and nice and showed me the 12,000 steps she had done on her pedometer. My oldest daughter loves certainty. We leave on Friday night for a two week holiday in California and Hawaii. I have booked much accommodation but not yet San Francisco where will be the weekend after next. She is getting very anxious about it. She has already drawn up an itinerary so she can see what we are doing when and when I showed her mapquest she nearly fainted with pleasure at the idea that she could plot our exact route. She must be a foundling.

Candle, both ends, burnt

I'm only writing this since I am so tired I need to unwind a bit before flopping into bed. I've just driven back from Sydney in the rain. Fueled only by a bottle of water and a peppermint aero. I listened to Car Wheels on a Gravel Road three times and sang at the top of my voice. The Sydney trip was an impulse, and reckless behaviour given that I have heaps to do, it's the end of the quarter and I am going on holiday next Friday night. But I feel good about the man I'm spending time with so it was worth the effort. Sydney observations - Peter King has his election posters everywhere in the eastern suburbs and I only saw one for Malcolm Turnbull. We went to see Somersault which is pretty good but depressing and great to see an Australian movie that looks at the landscape and the climate in a different way from the usual bunch. Lake Jindabyne looks chilly and grim. The soundtrack is good. I cried (but then, I often cry in movies). Work has been frantic. I was in Sydney two days, then had our distinguished visitor from Canada come down to Canberra to meet some clients. He was a raving success and such lovely man. Since he was keen to see a kangaroo, every bloody kangaroo in Canberra was in hiding. I eventually tracked one down on the Duntroon golf course ten minutes before his plane was leaving and he got a photo. Honour satisfied. I've added some new links: lushlife who I discovered through kitschenette's comments and would like to meet for coffee; crazybrave who has a great post on karmic justice; nelly's garden - opinions on clematis and everything else; and the quirky ganching who is the best of all possible friends even when she beats me at scrabble.

I am such a liar

The previous post was all true but then I thought I was such a loser for staying in my hotel room that I walked down to the George St Hoyts to watch the Bourne whateveritis. First of all, the screen was down a warren of corridors that had me edgily checking where the fire exits were. Secondly, the audience were a very odd mix - a man came to sit next to me in a set of two but I coldly informed him the other seat was taken - this never happens in Canberra. Thirdly, the previews went on for ever - all crap. Fourthly, a pimpled youth with torch clomped through twice during the movie waving his torch around - is this make sure people aren't fornicating during the film? (We never did this when I worked at the ABC Sauchiehall St, the torch was for spotting the extra seat and forcing people to move along during blockbuster runs.) And finally, I thought the movie was boring. Of course, I may have been at a disadvantage since I have neither seen the previous movie or read the books. The car chase was pretty good. I ended up then seeing the would-be boyfriend. He was great, we had heaps of fun and I felt really good about it all. Except I stayed up way too late for a work night. I facilitated a workshop of health professionals today and they were great. I was worried that a few of the specialists would be stroppy gits. Au contraire, they were all funny and charming so I had a good time. And stayed awake. I'm sure I snored on the flight back to Canberra though.

My glamorous life

I'm in a hotel room in Sydney. Watching Australian Idol. Eating room service. And doing my e-mail. How thrilling is the life of a middle ranking corporate drone. Plus I did not get the exec level room so no free canapes. I have had a very busy day and am faced with another one tomorrow. During dull points in the day (several), I was pondering interesting topics on which to write. They all escape me now, so I am retreating to the undemanding prospect of AI and a Peter Corris I have not read.

A Valediction forbidding mourning

This is a weekend of much public sorrow, and time to remember the many dead in Indonesia, New York, Washington DC. Pennsylvania, Beslan, N Ireland, Palestine, Madrid, Iraq and countless other places, but for me it is more personally marked as the 5th anniversary of my mother's death. She had been ill for many years, and ill health precipitated by her own poor health habits. Ours was a smoking household. My mother started smoking at 16 and despite a weak pretence of having given up, would still smoke at the bathroom window and then go back on the portable oxygen. She'd seen her own father racked by emphysema but still puffed away not quite believing that this was the principal cause of her health problems. There were many scares in the last few years of her life. In January of 1999 I was in Baltimore and received a call in the early hours of the morning from my friend, Claire, in Australia who was looking after my children. My father had called and my mother was fading. I rushed to the airport to get a connection to NYC to fly back to London to see her. The plane was delayed and I missed the flight. I would have to wait 8 hours for the next flight. I burst into tears at the BA lounge and they allowed me to spend the day sniffling in the corner desperately phoning each of my sisters to check the prognosis. I eventually got back to discover she had rallied enough to berate my niece for getting her tongue pierced. She seemed to make progress and that northern summer I visited with my children and had a glorious time. My sisters and I climbed to the top of Glastonbury Tor and were sad that our mother would never see that patchwork of fields again. We made a visit to Longleat with my children. My father gets sea-sick and wouldn't risk the short trip on the paddle boat on the artificial lake, but my mother was game and delighted in the ancient gorillas in retirement on the island, ensconced in a palladian folly with cartoon network on satellite tv. Six weeks later she was gone. Thankfully, in her own bed, at home but suddenly no longer there. I always felt she was so hard on me. The youngest of five, an accident, when she probably thought she might have a chance to draw breath and have some time to herself. And a time when my father began to wander, she probably loved and resented me in equal measure. At 7 I dislocated my hip, and as my father was nowhere to be found, she borrowed a neighbour's pushchair and pushed me 2 miles to the doctor. She'd been brought up in west London. My grandparents house in Notting Hill was bulldozed to build the Westway but I have a few recollections of life in West Kensington in the early 60s, then resolutely working class and home to West Indian immigrants. She'd won a scholarship to Godolphin and Latimer grammar school, a great achievement for the daughter of a laundress and a bricklayer, but the war had seen her evacuated to a country town and married at 18. By the age of 23 she had 3 children under 5 and a pattern of life established for her. She was always ambivalent about my academic achievements, worried that going to university would make me stuck-up. She loved Eamon best of all my boyfriends - she was always a sucker for charming Irishmen. My husband intimidated her. But to her credit, she let me make my own mistakes. And she loved children with a consuming passion. An old neighbour of ours from Scotland had visited her in Somerset. His wife, then 28 weeks pregnant went into an early labour, and delivered a very premature and sick child. With other young children, the family returned to Scotland, but the baby stayed in intensive care, his mother only able to visit weekly. For 6 weeks, my mother went every day to sit by his crib and hold his little hand in her fingers. There are still days when I think about picking up the phone to tell her something that has crossed my mind. And, although, I think I spent much of my life hoping she might approve of me and resenting like mad that she never did, I miss her terribly.

In which our heroine channels Martha Stewart

This morning, in a freakish display of housewifely industry, I changed the sheets on all of our beds and did two loads of laundry. I was in a fever to ensure that Saturday did not become hours of endless drudgery. I confess now, I do not enjoy many of my children's activities, and tomorrow is Tournament of the Minds. Instead of relishing an opportunity for my daughter to demonstrate her wide general knowledge (pah) and creativity, I am dreading the prospect of finding a parking space at the ANU and then hanging round another badly organised primary school activity. I suspect Miss I and I will take refuge in the co-op bookshop while the whole thing goes on. I announced to the children that no-one was going on holiday until their bedrooms were tidy. Fortunately, this piece of outrageous grandstanding actually worked and we also netted two bags of clothes to go to St Vinnies and an admission from Miss S that she might quite like to swap some of her daggy tintin t-shirts for something more girly for the holidays. I vacuumed the house and cooked chicken satay, coconut rice and a tomato salad with red onion and sumac for dinner. This accomplished, we sat down to watch the final half of the return of the king. I think they would not have enjoyed it in the cinema without having first heard the story and understood the relationships between the characters. I ironed my way through the huge pile of laundry while we watched and have an aching back. I had a short but useful conversation yesterday with a senior executive in my company. I told her how unhappy I was and she was very clear that I needed to move out of my current business unit and also told me she would talk to the HR Director about me. I was taken aback at how direct she was but heartened by her acknowledgement that I will not progress in my current role. I've made an appointment to talk to three other people next week about different opportunities. It is likely I would have to move to Sydney. I'm ambivalent about this since it will be a big change for the children and may meet from opposition from their father. I have broached it with him and he suggested that he could keep Miss S with him. I was so appalled at the prospect of not living with my children I became shrill but I couldn't bear to live without them. I will have to re-open this topic. So, the house is clean, the children are sleeping, my bed is inviting and I have a good book to read. An ideal start to the weekend.

Tinkering

I'm tinkering around with my design. Because I realised the print was getting hard to read. And I'm so vain, I'm worried I'll get wrinkles if I squint. So be patient. But tell me nicely if you hate it (no, not, your arse looks really big in that).

Dogging off

Which is what I am doing today, dogging off being a west of scotland turn of phrase meaning to play truant. We had a terrific thunderstorm last night, huge bangs of thunder right about the house and thundering rain on the tin roof. I love this house. Miss I woke cough, coughing like a tubercular heroine. I took her to the dr who pronounced she had the same viral cough as 50% of children at the moment and ordered panadol and an allowed day off school. I got him to fix her a steely gaze and tell her that she would be fit to return tomorrow. I'm always a bit more cautious with her malingering since she has had two bouts of pneumonia since babyhood but I knew this was not a death bed scenario. I have been pondering my unease and something dru wrote crystallised it.

My problem is that I frequently get ahead of myself, just like I did in the previous paragraph. And, rather than enjoying J's fabulous boyfriendhood...I start thinking about more serious relationships, and the potential for this boyfriendliness to become some sort of permanent relationship fixture in my life.

I realise that I got a bit unsettled on the weekend worrying about if I was investing a lot of energy with someone who fit boyfriendliness very well but was wont to rehearse an unhappy ending and might not be a long term fixture. I think I need to remember is the bit about enjoying the now rather than worrying about any future scenarios.