Hair of Red

Last night my Pete dyed my hair for me.

I used to get it done at the hair dressers, but it was costing over $150, then they would want to see me again six weeks later. When I thought about it, that works out to be $25 per week!!! I was spending that amount on petrol each week and thought it was expensive. So I decided that I would just buy the supermarket hair dyes that are about $15-$20 and let my Pete dye it for me.

My Pete is very particular and very focussed on details. When we painted our house he used an artists’ brush to finish all the edges. He is an absolute perfectionist and thinks nothing of spending seven hours on one wall. He may not be speedy, but I know the job will be finished to exacting standards. I knew that he would not do a dodgy dying job on my hair. When I go to have a hair cut the hairdresser always comments on the great job that he has done.

Part of the fun of having him do my hair has always been the side show that he puts on. The particular brand of dye that I buy supplies a pair of gloves. These gloves are too small for my Pete’s man-hands. He always has a rant about them. It is hilarious.

“Who has hands this small? These gloves are made for pre-pubescent girls! How am I supposed to put these on? F@#*!” (That last comment is the point where his giant thumb tears through the plastic glove.)

Of course I offer him my sympathies, I need my hair dyed after all, but inside I am chuckling to myself. It is one of the primary reasons that I ask him to dye my hair.

Yesterday we opened the box of dye and discovered that a new type of plastic glove has been packaged. A large plastic glove. One that fits a man-hand.

“Well. Look at this. A glove that finally fits. Isn’t that great, now I won’t tear through it.”


Quite frankly I was disappointed – a nice hair job, but no show.

A fabulous song about hair dying.

Times are a-changing

Today I bought these:

for her:

Well…my daughter is not five any more, but it is hard not to think of her like this at these life-changing moments. When I look at her sitting in the car she looks tiny.

Can she actually see over the steering wheel? Can she actually reach the pedals? Just barely! She is only starting the car for me to drive here. She has told me that it won’t be possible for me to teach her to drive because when I get into ‘teacher mode’ I annoy her. I know that this is the point where our personalities are similar and, therefore, clash. If my Pete tries to tell me how I should do something I will immediatley ignore him and try to work it out for myself. He may be right in the end, but I will come to that conclusion alone, thank you very much! I wasn’t offended that my daughter said this to me. Far from it. I was impressed that she could be so self-aware as to know that this was a trigger for conflict. I’m also happy to avoid the responsibility for teaching her to drive!

My beautiful, articulate son seems to have completely lost his ability to talk. He sounds like he only has half a tongue. What could have afflicted him so? He has become obsessed with Weebl and Bob. It is pretty funny and it suits his off-beat humour. All day today he has asked me questions which allowed him to respond to my answers with “make sure you are”. (but say that like you have half a tongue) He has always laughed so easily. He finds delight and humour in all situations. He reminds our whole family of why it is a joy to be alive. This photo was taken by my sister six years ago. It is one of my favourite photos of my son and his cousin.

Finally I have been listening to this song quite a bit in the last few days while I have been quilting. It is a song that makes me very happy. It must do good things to me, because I am VERY happy with this client quilt that I finished with my brand new machine.

LIFE IS GOOD.

Poor Ken

When my daughter was young my mother-in-law made a bridal gown for her barbie doll. She thought it was beautiful.

“Who is she marrying?” I asked her.

“Ken,” she replied. “As soon as I find his head.”

A metaphor for life, don’t you think?

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When our son was born we thought we were so tricky. We had one child of each gender – it felt like hitting the jackpot! My daughter was almost four when her brother arrived. The long time between them was not all by choice, sometimes nature makes these decisions for you. It was good for me to have one child who was independent before I had another.

As time has gone on I have at times been a little sad about having a long gap and different genders. My children love each other, but have often existed within their own worlds – separated by maturity and gender. They each have their own circle of friends.

Recently I have started noticing them having conversations about life, quoting movie passages to each other, remembering funny experiences and laughing together. I like it. My daughter can still be bossy toward my son, but he just mocks. My son can still be gross to my daughter, but she is usually able to ignore.

Yesterday I could hear them chatting. Intrigued by the smell of toasting hair I went looking for them. Could these be my children? Have I entered a parallel universe?

I’m fairly certain that this was her idea to straighten his hair, but he willingly went along with it. He has to bend right down for her to reach. By this time next year he will be looking at the top of her head. The relationship will have to be renegotiated then!

He patiently allowed her to play Ken dolls until it got to the hair spray.

She sprayed once, he yelled, “That smells like crap! I’m out of here.”

She spent the next ten minutes chasing him through the house. Balance was restored in the universe.

My Quest

My quest for a decent photo of the elusive Ulysses butterfly that lives in my backyard continues. Today I took this

Pretty damn fine photo! But I stood still for SO long to take it that my arms hurt form the wieght of the camera and I may have some sunburn! Steve Parish, I am in awe of you!

North Queensland in my own backyard

Today I have spent many hours watching a Ulysses Butterfly dance across my backyard. I took about 100 photos and managed to actually capture it eight times. They fly like are drunk a in wild erratic way. We decided that it might be a strategy to avoid being lunch for a hungry bird.

Prepare to be amazed at the quality of my photography….

Do you see that flash of brilliant blue???

Try again.

A little fuzzy, but you must see that!

Here is my Pete’s barramundi. He started with six, but they are carnivorous and happy to be cannibals too. Now he has one. It is about 25cm long (9inches). They are delicious, but there are strict bag and size limits. I doubt that this one will ever be lunch. It is much too loved for that.

Two icons of NQ found in my backyard. What do you have in your backyard which is typical of your area of the world?

Tsunami???

Right now we are under a tsunami warning! This is the first time that I have ever heard such a thing. We live away from the water and on high ground, so I am not in the least concerned. The media are alert and prepared for a disaster, but as likely as not it will amount to very little. Well, I certainly hope it will amount to very little.

I have finished the music quilt which will be raffled by the high school to make money for the senior music tour. Certain rude people in my family like to call it ‘band camp’ a la American Pie, but be assured, this is music tour – entirely different!

Generally I photograph my quilts inside against a wall with full flash and holding my camera. After doing some reading I took this photo outside with a tripod in natural light. I don’t think the result is any better! I’ll go back to taking them inside the house.

Real Women

Nutmeg tagged me for the Real Women….meme.

These are my responses…

Real women…are proud to be called sister.

This photo of my sisters and I was taken in Melbourne in 1977. I am on the left, I was eleven, Sussanah is in the middle, she was four and Peta is on the right, she was seven. These girls rock my world. We live about 3km apart and raise our children in a collective fashion. Each of our children has called all of us Mum at some point. None of us has left Townsville because we know we would miss each other and our children unbearably. We can be honest with each other (sometimes brutally so). We can turn to each other and say “What will I do now?” and expect a supportive answer in reply. We can allow each other to be in a bad mood without taking any offence. I love these girls!

Real women….proudly raise nerdy sons. Last night a program called cuttlefish, the brainy bunch was advertised. My son declared, “Cool. Can I watch that?”

I love that he has a sense of wonder at the world and is always investigating something. School has not managed to beat this out of him. He watched the show with concentration (and a dislocated looking arm).

Real women….listen to loud, and often inappropriate, music. I love music where people are angry at the ‘system’ and question the status quo. This one says

Why don’t the presidents fight the war
Why do they always send the poor.

That sounds like a fundamental truth to me! I love people who use their artistic talents to make a point, to stand for something. I have an inner hippy and an inner punk! This song is heavy and it does contain bad language. You have been warned.

Real women….apologise to their children.

In the last post my daughter left me a comment. I reacted to her being in my space and made a flippant comment in response. She said, “But I said something nice to you.”, in that hurt teenage fashion. I went back and re-read it and it was genuine and heartfelt mixed with just a dash of sass and sarcasm. (This girl will go a looooong way in this world!) I have known her for her whole life, but our adult to adult relationship is still just new and sometimes I stuff it up. In order to suck up offer my humble apologies I will leave you with her favourite song. We hear this song at least fifteen times each night. I suggest that you play it on repeat to get the full effect!
Click here to listen and enjoy (beacuse I can’t get the damn thing to embed!)

Kirsty, I tag you to tell us what real women do.

A Pretender

In the very depths of my mind I often feel like I am a pretender. I feel that one day someone will say to me ‘You are really crappy at that.’ Then I will have to confess that I have been pretending all along. I very rarely allow myself to feel successful and worthy.

Maybe this is due to my own personality – I am somewhat of a perfectionist and I am well aware of my own inability to be perfect. Maybe this is due to a childhood where my efforts were never quite good enough. I’m not sure of the origin of these thoughts. Nor do I believe that they are necessary, but they some times exist. I don’t even believe that external affirmation is needed to make me feel any different. My own mind causes these thoughts.

I have been feeling a little overwhelmed. The verbal attack which I endured recently left me a little shaky. Changes are afoot in my family as my son has begun his teenage years and my daughter finishes high school. I think a lot about these things and at times they are difficult to rationalise.

I wasn’t going to post tonight at all. That was until I saw Nutmeg’s post in which she nominates me for a Thinking Blogger Award. I feel honoured by that. I know that what I write here is well-considered before I press the publish button and I am glad that others are able to see that.

Thanks Nutmeg, you just made my day!

A voice behind me just said, “If that’s what you think then you’re a dork!” Oh yeah, have kids people, they’ll bring you back to earth with a thud every time!

No Respect

I was interested to read Stomper’s recent post about real parents.

I am a pretty free and flowing parent. I don’t even think that I parent any more. My children are 16 and 12 and they never make a decision that disappoints me. Please don’t assume that my children are perfect…lots of hard work was done when they were younger. Now they are just cruisy, easy-going, well-mannered young people.

I have always been a big believer that personality is innate. You are born with a personality. Your environment can influence you, but essentially you react to it in the way that your personality programs you. I have not fought against my children’s personalities. They are very different human beings and I have allowed them the space they needed to be themselves (in a socially acceptable way!)

My children talk to me fairly easily. Our family is very open about our lives and no topic is taboo in our family. We are not easily offended by topic or language. I like that. I am very grateful to have this relationship with my children.

This week my daughter came to me to discuss a car accident that was reported in our city. An 18yo driver had lost control of a vehicle and killed his 16yo passenger. This is a media focus around Australia at the moment and is quite close to home for us. I reminded her that she always had a choice about getting into a car. She only had to call on us or one of my sisters and we would pick her up any where, any time if she was uncomfortable.

“Never get into a car with someone you think is a dickhead!” I said to her.

She gave me a knowing smile and nod and with big, innocent eyes said, “Hmm. Last time I travel with you then.”

Fancy ME having a smart-mouthed child!

No Respect!

Quilting and Jogging

See that? It is my brand new quilting machine fitting beautifully into the space that had been created for it in the studio. Notice the large dent in the side, right above the last ‘M’ in millennium. It took quite a knock during transit. Thankfully the damage is only cosmetic and a replacement top cover will be sent to me. It did give me quite a fright as I was unpacking it though! It is beautiful to use…I am in love with it!

The quilt pinned on the frame is one that I have made to donate to the music program at my daughter’s school. They will raffle it to raise money for a music tour that they are taking later in the year. It has a large violin appliqued onto it. I’ll post a photo of it when it is finished.

Sometimes I wonder if I am jogging through my life. (Not that I could actually jog…or would really want to) Today is a jogging day. I have to pick up my daughter from school at 1pm, she finishes early for study. We go and have sushi together for lunch. I enjoy spending time with her like this, especially as I know that the time she has to spend with me is almost over.

I pick up my son at 3pm from school. I cook dinner at 3:30pm because I have to take my son to guitar at 4:30.

My daughter often likes to go to the public library during the 30mins of the guitar lesson, otherwise I just sit in the car and read. Half an hour is not long enough to drop off and come back again. I come home in time to get changed and go for a walk around the river with my Pete. This is often my favourite part of the day. We just walk and talk, bliss. We walk for an hour, come home to eat our dinner. By now it is 8pm and I feel like I did absolutely nothing all day!! Nothing, but jog from place to place!