anyresemblance

Holding pattern

The routine has kicked in again.  I'm busy at work, busy at home, busy at play.  Things are pretty good but I have cooked little, read less.  I have toiled on the bloody fancy dress costumes for the gymkhana in 2 weeks.  So not my strength.

Sanctuary

I'm at the beach, kicking back and thinking.  The house has been painted and I can't get over how bright everything looks.  I love this house.  At Christmas, I was ready to give it up.  My ex and his girlfriend had been here for Christmas and it no longer felt like mine but the painting seems to have exorcised that.  I'm getting this house out of the financial settlement so I've enjoyed myself by taking down all the pictures I never liked much and decluttering.  The down side of the makeover is that the bathrooms look very shabby - avocado green is such a giveaway - so I have to spend a bit on the bathrooms.  The weather is perfect, low twenties, sunny, cool evenings.   It's a chance to completely unwind.  I'm reading, drinking tea and eating.  I'm supposed to be sewing a costume for the gymkhana but there are limits.

I get my children back tomorrow.  It's been so long.  I just want to hold them close but I know we'll have to transition back into being together.  I talked to my sister about the constant squabbling.  Yes, it goes on till they're 18 and 21 she says.  I said, I don't remember us being like that but she reminded me that the dynamics of 5 children spread across 13 years are very different from 2 much closer in age.  It made me think about my own interventions into the dynamics of their relationship and how I need to step back from instructing and do more modelling of a different way of transacting.

I was talking to a friend about the relationship I and my siblings have with my father and it made me realise how we continue to act out many unresolved conversations with our mother in our dealings with him.  It's hard to be conscious of the many behaviours I exhibit let alone work out how to erase the negative ones.   give myself small points for effort.

My guilty secret, the Gilmore Girls.  I am watching season 1 on dvd.  I love it.

My own private thief

I had my handbag stolen yesterday.  From my hallway.  While I was in the house.  And I didn’t even know someone had come in.

I got home around 5 since a colleague had given me a lift home from a meeting we had been to in Pyrmont.  I walk up the steps, open the wrought iron gate across my front door, open the door, shut the gate behind me but leave the door open so the furry creatures can come and go, put my bag down in the hall, read some mail, make some phone calls, mess around upstairs.  About 6 my phone goes and a girl says “Hi, this is Rebecca.  I think I have just found your bag in Moore Park”.  I’m going, what, surely this is a joke, I’m at home but then I look for my bag and it’s.not.there.  Rebecca says, don’t worry all your cards seem to still be here. I had less than $5 cash in there too and that’s all that is gone.  She’s in Surry Hills and she’s found my bag about 2 miles from my house while walking her dogs.  She says the bag was just sitting on a bench.  So it seems weird – I imagine junkies would be on foot and dump the bag down the street so were they in a car cruising down the street looking for open doors.  And I’m in the house all this time.  It’s thrown me.  But I trade it off as part of city life and remind myself that I am way too casual about security.    But it’s left me a bit fragile last night.   I sent Rebecca some flowers today to say thanks.

The meeting was long and the air conditioning icy.  I did a good presentation and got good feedback from my colleagues who seem less inclined to think I’ve been lazing around doing bugger all for 3 months.  My boss’s PA whispered to me, “he thinks you’re great and such a great person but I told him that you’re my new best friend and you can’t be his too”.  She’s so sweet.  She’s getting married next week in the chapel at my daughter’s school and we are going along to peep at the flowers and the frock.

Housekeeping

I've tidied up some of my links and created a foodie list.  I know lots of the people I read write about food but this section is for those blogs which are mostly food.  Hey, I'm not an expert cataloguer but this is my personal list.  I particularly like this one since P, who is south african, explained to me that a koeksister was the biscuits she had been feeding me just before Christmas. 

Other new people for me are meg and I put her in my general category since she writes about all sorts of things but she writes in the most accessible way about wine.  I've been meaning to add observant little for ages and the super fantastic manolo.

If I've  dropped you off and you're cut to the quick let me know.  It's not that I don't still read you but sometimes things ebb and flow.

This morning I reclaimed my virtue with an 8am Pilates class.  This is apparently where Carrie Ann Moss worked out and it is very correct and tough.  No gassing about what movies we had seen last night or plans for the weekend and lots of stern stuff on abdominals.  Still, I liked the seriousness of it all.

Last night I had dinner at this place.  Rather disappointing.  I thought the service was shakey even if pleasant and the menu was pretty unbalanced - on a list of 12 items, 3 of them had pistachio nuts in them.   Hmm, not worth repeating for dinner though breakfast looks more reliable.

Today I am getting my hair cut and chilling out.  I'm missing my girls something rotten.  Younger daughter sent me a nice letter.  She is the sweetest thing.  Her father and I have been gushing about her utter sweetness when she is not competing with her sister all week.  We have sold one of our houses.  He is moving into our old house.  I feel jealous but I have to let it go.  I'm going down there next week to see lawyers and work through the interminable money thang.

Something about what happens when we talk*

I was approached by a journalist this week on the subject of blogging.  I was uncomfortable at the notion of being outed, especially in a family magazine.  It made me ponder the version of my life recorded here.  I try to be reasonably honest.  I try not to expose the identities of my children or my friends.  I don't expose the name of my employer or my clients.  I try not to always cast my ex as the villian or myself as endlessly empathetic friend or long suffering sole parent but I've made some choices that I am very content with.  I know I whine, bitch and complain and you lot put up with it.  My children are the focus of my life but I do have a few grown up things I do and men I like to spend time with.  So, if you're all so anxious to know what I was up to on the fire escape last week I'll just say it involved a modicum of alcohol, a lot of flirtation, and some fabulous kissing and conversation that makes my head spin.  Something about what happens when we talk.

(*that Lucinda Williams has a way with the heartbreak song)

In which our heroine paints the town pink

Two weeks of school holidays commenced so Friday afternoon had me delivering the children to their dad.  S is going riding for two weeks – natch – while youngest daughter is having a week at her dad’s and a week at the farm.  Friday night P came up to Sydney to have dinner with a bunch of statisticians.  She got to do it at the Opera House though which she said was pretty fabulous.  I, on the other hand, got up to Friday night hi-jinks which involved me tip-toeing down a fire escape at 1am.  Will I ever learn?

On Saturday morning we had coffee with a friend at this place.  I thought it was great as was the company, the idle conversation and tomatoes on Turkish toast.  Then P and I wandered up Oxford St.  I tried to exchange a skirt I had bought the week previous but in the end decided to keep it.  I think I had been put off by the scraped knees it displayed but since my wounds are healing, I think it will be ok.  P bought heaps of stuff from Alicia Hollen who did as really good job of working out combinations that suited her.  Her dark, dark skin looks so great in what I think of as African colours, burnt oranges and deep reds.  Then we went to the MCA where we saw this exhibition – it was very confronting but excellent.  I laughed at the suggestion on the back of the programme saying you could get a sheet on children’s activities.  The last thing I need for youngest daughter is any suggestion that you can make art work out of human hair, as it is I have to keep a keen eye on the nail scissors so she doesn’t snip at her own coiffure. More shopping and a short nap followed this activity before we went out to dinner.

Last night, P and I went to dinner at Icebergs in Bondi.  The reviews had been mixed:  stuck up waiting staff, over-priced.  It was expensive but I thought the whole thing was worth every cent.  We had a table by the window with views down the beach, which I thought much improved for being in the dark.  I had the blue swimmer crab salad with chili and mint served on a pool of soft polenta.  P had the carpaccio of tuna with tea smoked cherry tomatoes, radish and watercress.  Then I had seared mahi mahi with an almond aioli, soft herbs and Murray River salt.  P had a seafood risotto and we shared a pea, mint, lemon and feta salad.  The feta was finely grated (how did they do that?) and it was so light and yummy.  To drink, we had di Stasio 2001 chardonnnay.  Café di Stasio is one of my all time favourite restaurants so it was good to drink their wine in another fine restaurant.

I thought the waiting staff were excellent.  Attentive without being obsequious or hovering, asked us if we wanted a taxi ordered to go home, got all the details right.  And although there were plenty of glittering things, there were also family parties, couples celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary and people who wanted to eat good food in nice surroundings.

I think my liver deserves a break.

A qualified yes

In my professional life, I am very familiar with the sales process.  It's starting to resonate some in personal life:

Identified - is this a real prospect? (are they in the market for an adult relationship)  tick

Validated - do they have the will to do something and the budget? (do they have the requisite number of arms and legs, the inclination to take time to talk about what they are looking for) tick

Qualified - can you meet their conditions of satisfaction?  is this a sale you want to make and can deliver on?  will it deliver you a profit?  (do you connect, are you looking for similar things in a similar timeframe, are you prepared to invest the effort for the potential return) - not sure yet but he's definitely part of my sales pipeline...

In other news, my youngest daughter got a huge rap from her teacher.  Her father, to his great credit, made the trip to Sydney especially to meet her teacher.  We had a fabulous portfolio of work that daughter put together, we heard that her reading age is above average, that she is really conscientious and works hard and that she is a very confident public speaker.  None of which was a surprise but it was great to hear that echoed back and to know she is thriving in this new school.  Her teacher confirmed that Religious Education was I's favourite subject and said she hadn't realised at first that she had had no RE previously since she was such a little zealot. 

Older daughter has had a great term also though we won't get her report till next term.  She loves English which fills my heart with joy.  But seems enthusiastic about most subjects except design and technology which seems because she despises the teacher.  "She is so annoying" is the best description I can get.

I have read next to nothing except, I am ashamed to admit, Bazaar which I bought because Gwen Stefani was on the cover.  I recycled it on to my babysitter. 

I got notification of my commission payment for last year - a pitiful amount in my view but better than a poke in the eye.  My friend P will be here on Saturday so we are planning shopping and a girls night out.   Drink will be taken in moderation.

Is the Pope a Catholic?

I had to explain who the Pope was to my youngest daughter so clearly catholic school ain't doing too much on the holy father these days.  She is writing up a storm.  She made a notice for her bedroom door.  "Please enter, only if invited" which seemed a way better form that "Keep Out".

Last night I went to an engagement party.  It was full of triathletes who are a teensy bit single minded in my opinion.  I can not get interested in body fat ratios.  Still, they all eat like horses which is refreshing.  I was home by ten despite gulping cocktails.  The new fiance (how quaint that word is) of my friend is really loveable.  He is clearly besotted with her and she is pretty full on so it's great to see her with someone who slows her down and gets her to focus on what really matters.  He is very tactile and kept touching me but not in an icky way at all and I thought how pleasant a welcome human touch can be.

I have to go to the horse shop today and buy an item which seems a bit like a headlice comb for horses.  The unspeakable glamour of my life.