It's just the way it goes today.

absolut snark

2011-01-02T17:08:00.001+11:00

Welcome to The Bay at Mordialloc, where the women without husbands wear Botoxed lips and eyes instead of wedding bling. I idly wonder if they hocked it to pay for their all-in-one cosmetic pilgrimage to Thailand. Tummy Tucker jeans versus Bardot jeans not cut for anyone post-childbirth or thirty. They chew gum and eye the tradies, the bar staff, the lead singer, my husband. Anything male and

Spotlight, how do you do this to me?

2010-12-22T19:35:00.002+11:00

Does Spotlight fill you too with delusions of competence and domestic sewn-from-scratch perfection? I'm here to tell you only masochists make their own napkins. Only morons see some BEAUTIFUL scarlet fabric with white scrolls and birds and curlicues and think "WOW, that would make stunning Christmas napkins. I could totally make them." Hemming (a.k.a sewing in straight lines, in this instance)

Trying to be grownups

2010-12-15T21:13:00.001+11:00

me: Where did all the Picnics go? him: I was... picnicking. Do you like Turkish Delights? Here, you use the white ones as counters. (Tossing them at Jack) Who likes caramel? Do you like caramel? Do you like the Boost ones? (This may be a box of Cadbury Favorites, it's hard to be sure. You'll note all the really GOOD ones are long gone.) me: Um, I don't not like them. him: Good, you take the

revamp? too much work.

2010-12-14T15:19:00.000+11:00

Post-ballet concert, I’m firmly embracing the pyjama-dressing trend. I did have thoughts of morphing into a fashion-inspiration-look at me blog, but I’ve decided (a) I’m too lazy (b) I have no decent backdrops to take such photos against, except for my new, minimalist roller blinds which have couches in front of them and there’s NO WAY I’m moving them just to take a photo

Oops.

2010-12-09T17:26:00.000+11:00

There’s been a lot going on that hasn’t really been mine to write about; then there’s been a lot going on that’s been so incredibly deadly boring that living it is soporific, let alone reading about it. Take today. Today I learned that forgetting to run a load of washing for two? maybe three? weeks is a crappy idea. I also learned I have a propensity for scribbling random

I'm an imposter (gasp!)

2010-10-30T23:38:00.001+11:00

Devastation: I am not a true geek. Oh, I may wear black (a lot) and tweet with the frequency of one attached to her iPhone with an umbilical cord, but my glasses are strictly for reading and my black has heels welded on. High ones.I judge my hand luggage on it's ability to keep lipgloss separate from my phone, not orthopedic correctness, and you will never see me in public without mascara.

Only in

2010-10-28T23:50:00.001+11:00

Two o'clock on Sunday afternoon: a man in a motorized wheelchair rolls loudly down the highway. He's singing Elvis into a microphone, the lousy, over-bassed loudspeaker reverberating directionally across four lanes of traffic. I wonder out loud if he's crazy. M, always the kinder of us two, suggests he's a traveling busker. I concede that's possible, if he's blind and indifferent to the lack of

Beginning.

2010-10-19T10:52:00.000+11:00

On Saturday I received an email from a woman whose daughter I used to teach. It's been five-six years since I last heard from her. I taught her daughter for two or three years (to the end of Book 1), and they ended their time with me by 'trying out' another teacher, asking for a Sunday morning lesson time and generally being the kind of nightmare student you dream of losing. Her email mentions

No.

2010-10-17T12:38:00.000+11:00

Today is the type of day for crawling into bed and watching old black-and-white movies. Or drinking tea from my teapot for one, book in front and notepad beside. I'm stuck in a creative hiatus; ideas but inadequate time to execute; desire without the means to reach out and take. I have the feeling next year will be about paring back and (ohgod, how indulgent) making space. A little more saying no

oops.

2010-10-13T21:26:00.000+11:00

Just a quickie; an apology for my absence from the interwebs. The reasons are many: a husband recently returned to the country, a new term with multiple concerts, a new baby (not mine!) and a little artistic collaboration of a photographic nature. Soon I might have images to share. Until life settles just a little, enjoy the sidebar. We will return to usual ranting programming shortly.

Hello term 4.

2010-10-04T23:33:00.000+11:00

Wow. The year's evaporated and there are only ten weeks standing between me and a summer of being broke and filling up my backyard wading pool. Time to start walking the pug (in her posh new puppia harness, courtesy of a generous friend) and maybe even to changer her collar from a glow-in-the-dark spiky to a flattering floral on black (same friend) which will complement my summer wardrobe... I'm

Yum yum

2010-09-30T14:01:00.001+10:00

For today's delectation allow me to present the chicken and leak pie. Yup. Only three dollars. I've just about accepted that my battle with the misused and abused apostrophe is lost, but since when did spelling become the new leprosy?

Now with added soot!

2010-09-28T20:53:00.000+10:00

I have a mild haloumi addiction which may lead to a parting of the ways. My husband is considering the purchase of his own jaffle maker. His n' hers: can you imagine? Imagine: me, pottering about in my kitchen, happily assembling a tasty jaffle (they're a complete meal, shut up) with a side of super-tasty haloumi. Well, I already have a smoking hot grill surface at the ready; why use a frypan

And another thing...

2010-09-24T00:59:00.001+10:00

And a follow-up: the email I received in response to my polite refusal makes it quite clear I am being invited as an "Old Girl" because so few of us continue to play once we finish school, and gee, what a great opportunity this is to catch up and support our school. Hm. I nearly quit violin altogether after being victimized in orchestra, I am NOT an "Old Girl" and I've lived locally with not too

Random....

2010-09-20T21:01:00.000+10:00

Those of you who know me will no doubt remember my horror sojourn at a particular private girls' school. My life may finally be catching up with me, as (seemingly countless) of my students are trying for and receiving scholarships to said school. This has provoked a horrible (and irrational) fear that I may have to teach there. No such correspondence has been entered into... until today, when I

2010-09-06T17:40:00.000+10:00

Dear Student, You are late. Again. I would not be so fussed by this except that you're never late for any discernible reason. It just happened. I would also not be terribly fussed by this, except that you then linger into the next student's lesson, taking your time removing your presence (let me be clear, you're welcome to stay as long as you like, but no-one should notice you) and generally

I think the universe is sabotaging me.

2010-08-30T09:14:00.001+10:00

No, really. It's cold, wet, I spend a disproportionate amount of time sleeping (the pug has taken to gazing at me suspiciously on the rare occasions that I am in the house and awake, as if I might suddenly fall upon her in a dead slumber). Clearly there's something very wrong when your PET believes your normal state is one of repose. It's been a dead week, shot down by general malaise and the

This week...

2010-08-19T18:27:00.000+10:00

I've been using Twitter to find new penpals. Well, not quite, but I did ask who would like a pretty card in the mail, and quite a lot of people took me up on it, avowing their love of letterbox surprises and pretty things in general. It tickles me that I'm using the fastest communication to support the slowest; I check my email and twitter several times a day (oh, the vagaries of an iphone) but

Imbecilic behaviour pt.II

2010-08-10T22:04:00.000+10:00

Dear Guy in Gloria Jean’s.You’re inside. Thoroughly inside, esconced in ‘mood lighting’ and an ambient, ‘warm’ color scheme of latte and burgundy. Outside it is overcast and has been raining heavily. You may have needed the leather jacket out there, but in here nothing can excuse the pretentious git sunglasses covering half your face. P.S. I hate spammers. Particularly

Hello, I'm an imbecile, aka Australian.

2010-08-09T21:21:00.001+10:00

It’s gotten to the stage where I take great pleasure in reading the Herald Sun just to rant about the moronic content/commentary/drivel passing for articles/lack of style/you get the picture. On Sunday I was blessed (and this was after a cursory glance) with two golden opportunities. Not only was Catherine Lambert’s usual laughably pathetic attempt at finding a vaguely fashionable person to

Open letter to the patrons of the pub. Sorry, ONE patron of the pub.

2010-08-08T22:17:00.000+10:00

Dear girl wearing a maxidress, The dance floor is for dancing. The bar is for drinking. So are all those tables. There is a reason people with full glasses lurk at said tables and not upon the dance floor, let alone attempt any movement which may be construed as dancing. The reason is in your hand, and is rapidly getting emptier. I am rapidly getting wetter. Not in a good way. The guy you are

Bronchitis is fun when you...

2010-08-07T22:39:00.001+10:00

Loves: a quiet night at home where I can bust out my sewing machine and the stash from the cupboard and get all crafty. Last time I did this I wound up sewing darts in the back of a dress at 1a.m., (Cue my mother: "Will anyone REALLY notice if they're a centimetre off?" Me: "I will.") but it was TOTALLY worth it. A couple metres of sunshiny red poplin became a sweet A-line dress courtesy of a

The cold, the neti pot and the wardrobe.

2010-08-06T11:03:00.001+10:00

Sick again. After the joys of gastro and an enlarged spleen, everyone should try a nasty cold. Radioactive sinus secretions and a hacking cough? BAGS of fun. At the same time my wardrobe has decided to fall apart. Literally. Being a girl, I have too many clothes. I’m sure this has been mentioned before, but I inhabit half the walk-in (it’s a really TINY walk-in, ok?) plus a freestanding

Manic Monday

2010-08-02T12:10:00.001+10:00

Today was meant to look like this: 9-12 teach. drive madly in car to... (God. Seriously. Drive madly IN CAR? What ELSE would I DRIVE in? Gah.) 1-3 meet to discuss next year's Autumn festival drive madly home to... 4-6.30 teach. eat something (possibly after cooking madly) 7.30 - falling over: attend class to make up for missing weekend class due to Book Club and bloggeratti meetup. Instead, my

Confession time.

2010-07-27T09:59:00.000+10:00

I have a little secret: a compulsive addiction to fashion blogs. You know the Sartorialist? I see a new post, I HAVE to click through. Ok, so I think the America Apparel ads are the weirdest clothes I've ever set eyes on (and I read a LOT of Vogue and Bazaar in my teenage years, and wore some incredibly peculiar stuff myself), but the photos that make their way onto this page are just... love. Or

Oops.

2010-07-25T22:06:00.001+10:00

Lessons I have learned today: you can have an old lady haircut and call it classic; an old lady dress - hello? It's vintage. You can even, with irony and grace, wear old lady shoes. But put all these things together and you simply look like a tragic twenty year-old who got lost in her nanna's wardrobe and didn't get lucky with Narnia.

I hate doctors.

2010-07-22T22:25:00.001+10:00

I fell off the blogwagon. Something about the concert post and how horribly it all went (the invasion more so than the actual concert) and my violent physical reaction to writing that post. Then it was school holidays, time to get my craft on and agonise over the quagmire that was our backyard (let me just stop here to thank my father for all his handyman wonderfulness). Then I ran away to the

They said there would be ice.

2010-06-28T11:35:00.000+10:00

Local paper: "Ice rink comes to Frankston!" Cool! I love ice-skating. And they're going to set up the rink in front of the AMC cinemas (I pause here briefly to consider the logistics of this entrerprise, but visions of ICE! sweep them out of the way. Of course, this being Frankston, it's more likely they would set up an ice cafe where discerning consumers might purchase the recreational

Things that go "That's ASSAULT!" in the night.

2010-06-22T11:53:00.000+10:00

So Saturday night was a concert night. My studio. That’s kids 3-16 and their families, primarily parents. Classical music in a local church, bring a plate for a little social time afterwards. It was mostly good. Mostly. Maybe because it’s a long term, or because this was our second concert of the term or it’s cold or there were only a couple of ensemble pieces or, or, or… I could keep making

In which I complain.

2010-06-17T22:27:00.000+10:00

Dear Herald Sun,You suck. I realise this isn’t a surprise. However, you even suck at the things you should be good at. Being a tabloid-y, let’s-gawp-at-celebrities and have-a-lifestyle newspaper, you should at LEAST be good at the lifestyle parts. Fail.Massive fail. Catherine Lambert, you’re not style police. Street smart? Give it a rest. You don’t even reach the bar of

In which I think. Try not to fall over.

2010-06-13T20:57:00.002+10:00

I’ve been reading. And thinking (dangerous combination, I know). Book that sparked the thoughts? Lionel Shriver’s So much for that.If you’ve not read it, I’ll try not to spoil the ending; I started to get the shape of it in my head before it arrived, but it wasn’t so saccharine as it might have been. It has made me question the dollar value that, increasingly, western society places on life. I’

A new chapter begins.

2010-06-07T21:28:00.004+10:00

Sunday: my first book club. It was almost accidental; my mother-in-law passed on the book, I read it, she told me when they were discussing it. I invited myself along (basically) and so it went. The Secret Cure, by Kate?Sue? Woolfe; autism, asperger’s, isolation and hope. Nicely written, a little slow in places, a good blend of historical happenstance (German research papers lying untranslated

Please look in the mirror before you leave the house.

2010-05-30T19:37:00.001+10:00

Wow. That black keyhole-backed dress is fantastic. Tight, short, great opaques, nice boots, very attractive beige bra hanging out the back - HOLY CRAP WOMAN, DID NO-ONE TELL YOU THAT'S UNDERWEAR? We're in the bar, birthday celebrations (not mine) well underway, when she strolls in with boy and promptly turns her back on me to embrace someone. If the bra was black and lacy, ok. Maybe. But it's a

We know your cup overfloweth... Do you?

2010-05-27T21:24:00.001+10:00

Someone incredibly wise recently said "Women of the world, get your bra professionally fitted. You have nothing to lose but your double breasts."...Which, let's face it, look ridiculous. For some reason we Australians celebrate those who take the plunge without stopping to consider their bust size and whether their breasts really truly ACTUALLY fit inside that (sequined, eye-catching) excuse for

Poor old people.

2010-05-17T16:03:00.001+10:00

So. The Great Wall of books that's been precariously balanced on our sideboard for approximately three months while friends take all the decent stuff out of it? (Don't get me wrong, we encouraged them to. We even gave them green bags and made recommendations.) It's gone. I chucked a tantrum last night and renewed my efforts to rid our house of Crap We Don't Need. Four 50L boxes and four green

Scarf on, scarf off.

2010-05-13T21:49:00.001+10:00

I've just had an earth-shattering epiphany. Ok, it's summer. (It most certainly is not, but bear with me here.) I check the next day's weather compulsively, plan what to wear (rather, what not to wear if I don't want to die of heatstroke), put together an outfit and check the forecast again the next morning before I get dressed just to make sure nothing has changed in the intervening seven hours

I wasn't a zombie the last time I looked...

2010-05-11T22:06:00.001+10:00

... so why am I suddenly falling apart? "Pop." It was a quiet, innocuous kind of sound, except for it's location. My left hip. Yeah, INSIDE my body. Bones still in their original shape (i.e. not broken) and still inside a meat case are not meant to make those disturbing kinds of sounds. Nor, am I sure, are they meant to feel like that. Argh. It just slipped casually out of joint, as you might

Whoosh

2010-05-09T18:04:00.001+10:00

Another term, another concert... Another magic release and tournament among friends. Another mothers' day and handing back a friend's dog (we babysat while they honeymooned). Wait. Their honeymoon's over already? We just went to their wedding... Three weeks ago.What do you mean it's nearly (ballet) exam time? That means I have to start thinking about (ballet) concert music. And the next violin

Everybody loves a good furore

2010-05-06T21:37:00.000+10:00

I'm sure you'll all be thrilled to know there have been no more bread-related incidents at our place; I have reclaimed my role as buyer of the fluffy wheaten stuff... Just in time for our winter to arrive and me to promptly convert my breakfast to porridge. I know. The irony is too fantastic.In other news, the local broadsheet newspaper has just fired a columnist for tweeting. I know, I thought

THAT? BREAD? Don't make me laugh.

2010-04-27T22:05:00.000+10:00

Hi. I'm Chelsea. I have a substance abuse problem. It's the bread. It's not like I'm a connisseur of those crazy light rye-sourdough-pastadura only slice on Wednesday loaves, or that I only eat homebaked bread. I like seedy bread. Soy and linseed, or four grain. Wholemeal's fine too. So long as it comes in a square (or has three squared sides) and will fit in the toaster/sandwich press, it's all

Sundays in the park...

2010-04-25T22:43:00.001+10:00

"How you liking it?""Oh yeah, it'd be great if I could see anything,"says the woman spilling over the edges of her seatbehind my (rather tall, it must be admitted) beloved. I endure a few more of her snipy, pointed (and loud) comments before casually glancing over my shoulder to put a face to the snark.(Retrospectively, I should have taken one of the vacant seats to her left post-interval. Then I

Ode to the haircutter.

2010-04-23T12:13:00.000+10:00

In reply to a paragon of English grooming, I feel the need to point out an often-overlooked but crucial difference lurking in the heart of our society. Hairdressers vs. haircutters, people. You might think it's a meaningless semantic difference, but let me assure you it ain't so. Hair cutters are a whole different breed to their effeminate cousins, the hairdressers. Let us all gather to bemoan

wowee!

2010-04-20T22:57:00.000+10:00

Something very exciting has happened. I have fingernails. Well, I hear you say, don't we all? Hopefully. The world would be a much more disgusting place if we all walked about with raw fleshbeds on the tops of our fingers. It might also be a happier place, as we'd bid an exuberant farewell to all those nail bars so toxic their employees wear gas masks. Mind you, a whole section of society would

Autumn festival

2010-04-16T00:29:00.000+10:00

It's been a busy week. Okay, fortnight. One of those times when my every minute seems so caught up that I haven't stopped to reflect decently. Three weeks ago the Suzuki community lost one of it's most active members. An amazing pianist and teacher, Nehama Patkin succumbed to a post-operation infection and left not only her studio families and students grieving, but the Australian Suzuki

Tripod. Love.

2010-04-04T01:29:00.000+11:00

Melbourne Symphony musicians, take note: professional development component 101 is here! Yes, located in the upstairs theatre of Melbourne's own Forum, you must catch Tripod's latest creative fury. Not only will you learn the beauty of developing individual characterisation, but the importance of audience rapport. Your ensemble skills may also benefit from observing these four musicians watch,

Monkey see, monkey do.

2010-03-25T12:11:00.000+11:00

This year I seem to have a clump of students hitting high school. And adolescence. I keep overhearing some parents saying to others; "Seven days! How do you get your child to practice seve days?"The answer, of course, has varied for everyone, but one theme has emerged. "We've always done it."You reap what you sow.I don't know that missing a day of practice here and there makes THAT much

Behave.

2010-03-23T15:02:00.002+11:00

Whose responsibility are a child's manners? Well, being a Suzuki philosophy teacher, I am inclined to say that they're first and foremost the responsibility of the parent. However, as a child grows up and goes out into the great wide world, other influences on their behaviour and attitude will soon become apparent. A classroom teacher's belief in manners as currency or tolerance of rude

So, who am I really?

2010-03-22T12:53:00.000+11:00

Supposedly you have the potential to tell a lot about a person if you can get a hold of a sample of her handwriting. Or so says Lora @ Fever, and I liked her writing so much I wanted to play too. Now, what can you all tell me from my scrawl? The Rules: write the following 1) Your name/blog name. 2) Right-handed, left-handed, or ambidextrous? 3) Favorite letters to write. 4) Least favorite

Deja Sunday

2010-03-21T21:16:00.000+11:00

Today we went barefoot bowling. I've labored under a little deja vu all day; every movement seems to be the shadow of a predecessor, every line seems to have had a rehearsal. Odd when I know today is not a day that has happened before, nor will it happen again. Today a friend celebrated his thirtieth birthday. His wife's birthday was yesterday. A couple on our lawn bowls team made their recent (

Sunday morning wonderings.

2010-03-14T14:00:00.001+11:00

Having wandered into a cafe I'm intrigued by a back table. Composition: two couples, three little girls. The two-year old sits between her parents, a five or six-month-old in her mother's lap. The remaining child - maybe two-and-a-half? - is in a stroller, at eye level with the table. It's not immediately apparent which couple she belongs to, but I guess the family with the baby and the - when

You can't please most of the people... any of the time.

2010-03-08T21:07:00.001+11:00

Dear teacher, blah blah on behalf of the Suzuki Music Violin/viola committee. Blah blah at Autumn Festival Mrs. Suzuki will take a session for all violin and viola teachers focusing on the 1st and 2nd movements (esp.2nd movt) of the Telemann viola concerto in Suzuki Viola Book 4. This is for all violin and viola teachers, whether you have played viola before or not. You are encouraged to study

Coffee stalker

2010-03-04T15:53:00.000+11:00

She has a cup of ice and allows her mother to pour bottled water over it; of course, before she drinks she checks the label for all the evil calories that could be lurking in a bottle of purified water. It's okay to drink because it's so cold that processing it will burn more calories; these are the diet tricks and tips we all know. Her mother drinks a regular drink from a regular cardboard cup -

And the winners are...

2010-03-02T11:14:00.000+11:00

Most weeks we visit a little local bar. There's always a band and we like to oust the drinkers from their hard-earned leaning posts by spinning, kicking and twirling alarmingly close to them. I'm sure our attempts at dancing look a lot more impressive (and potentially dangerous) after a few beers. If we're really lucky an inept (and drunk) guy will usually attempt something he thinks looks like

When rude people are allowed out.

2010-02-22T14:09:00.001+11:00

Can I smoke?What can I say? You're outside, you're entitled to.Well, you say no, I won't smoke.Well, I can't say no, we're outside, you can if you want.I'm simultaneously interested and offended that I don't qualify for an interrogation. Her table is directly midpoised between ours, yet my response is void. Possibly only having coffee disqualifies me from the ranks of potentially offended

Black, black, black, mistake...

2010-02-21T15:13:00.001+11:00

I am a white failure. Put a white garment of any decription within a three foot radius of me and I will spill, spray, smear or just mysteriously blemish the damn thing inside an hour. Who are these people who can swan about in white-on-white ensembles bestowing munificent smiles upon us lesser mortals? I strongly suspect they've had every pore sealed with hairspray and eaten nothing but naked

Nigel Kennedy: brilliant. MSO: Bunch of reanimated zombies.

2010-02-15T18:29:00.001+11:00

On Saturday night Hubs and I saw Nigel Kennedy in concert with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. Great programme - Bach and Duke Ellington. A jazz band integrated very well into a truncated orchestra and both the classical and the jazz works were performed in characteristically virtuosic style. There's just one problem. The MSO (and possibly the Melbourne music scene as a whole, not just the

There's just not enough vitriolic anger in the world.

2010-02-12T22:38:00.000+11:00

Apparently no children make their own toast anymore. Goverment kickbacks cause deaths, not greedy human nature, and stupid people need the most help. Let me explain: segment of Grade Three Science class features the projection of a jar, with the following multiple-choice question: What force do we use to open the jar? A. Pull, B. Twist, C. Push. I teach several children this age and younger and

2010-02-05T01:28:00.001+11:00

This is what I tell hubs, whose expertise in primary school routines is based on having attended one for seven years, unlike homeschooled yours truly. Imagine you are the principal of a small primary school (290 children) and that said school is undergoing some intensive renovation. To facilitate rebuilding, most of the oval is now occupied by new portable classrooms, decreasing the available

2010-01-31T11:23:00.001+11:00

It's official. I've become a laundry Nazi."I'll just hang it on the line," says hubs. Listen carefully. HE just offered to hang out the washing. BUT, and this is the rub, I hate putting away washing. I hate it even more when my tops have peg marks in them. I really hate it when pegged-up stuff has to be unpegged, is laid or folded carefully in the basket, brought inside nd THEN requires further

Parents: instruments: listen! Part 1.

2010-01-23T13:36:00.000+11:00

If you're over me ranting, go away now. If your child learns an instrument or you know someone who does, read this. Let me give you a little analogy: You're learning to drive. You have a bomb of a car. It doesn't always start. Sometimes the brakes don't work, and the accelerator doesn't always depress reliably. The steering can't work out whether or not it's power or manual, and the gears just

And on it goes...

2010-01-21T14:24:00.001+11:00

Hubs is sitting at his laptop patiently scanning defunct cds. This is part of the Great Clearing Out of Crap. I would probably look at said spindle of cds and go "Gee! Haven't listened to THESE for four years, didn't bother to label them at the time, mustn't be important!" CHUCK. The love of my life is instead loading each one, listening to it and then deciding where to file it. Sample

Crazy dog lady.

2010-01-20T08:53:00.000+11:00

Feeling depressed? At odds with it all, deranged by grief, or just blue? Come on over. I'll make you a coffee and pull up a ringside seat to feed the pug. Yep. Feed the pug. First there's the dance of "Here is my bowl - you didn't see my bowl? It's just here. I helpfully check it eight or nine times a day just to make sure that you haven't left me any love gifts. See how it's all shiny and

Whinge moan whinghity whinge.

2010-01-19T14:31:00.000+11:00

It's taken me a couple of weeks to timetable all my students into some kind of order and I'm actually not sure that I'm there yet. This is a little frustrating. If one more person tells me "Oh, we can ONLY come at 4.15 on Mondays," (this is an EXAMPLE, not an actual quote, day and time have been substituted for your amusement) I'm going to tell them to ring all the other Suzuki violin teachers

The trauma of Bunnings.

2010-01-18T13:47:00.002+11:00

I went to Bunnings on Friday. Yeah, I know it's MONDAY, but the whole experience was so traumatic I needed time to reintegrate my schismed personality. So. Friday. Bunnings. I needed some system of wardrobe organisation. The chair beside our bed has long since disappeared, the laundry basket of shoes is simply not cutting it, and there's something demoralising about moving shoes from under the

To spray or spay?

2010-01-15T16:05:00.001+11:00

Curses upon my celtic ancestors. While my parents burnish and glow with sunlight, I am a lobster salted with nutmeg. Twenty minutes in the sun and you know exactly the shape of my bikini because it will be burnt into my epidermis for the next seven years. Did I mention that I live in Australia, home to beautiful beaches (that I rarely see before seven pm)? This is a very lomgwinded introduction

I don't need you to push my buttons, I'm perfectly capable of doing it all by myself.

2010-01-11T16:30:00.001+11:00

Soooo... I have a skirt. NO! I hear you gasp. SURELY NOT!!! SHE HAS A SKIRT!Ok, smartasses, I have many skirts. I have a dauntingly large collection of clothes and "I have a skirt" really doesn't begin to come close to the truth of the matter. It's a bit like green bags. They breed under my kitchen sink, and are always trying to eat the (far superior because possessed of infinite capacity) string

This is the way we chuck stuff out, chuck stuff out, chuck stuff out...

2010-01-09T18:30:00.002+11:00

He ambles past the dining table for the third or fourth time, brandishing a handful of large books. "Hey, you want a guide to a woman's body?" "Ah, no thanks." "Really? It has stuff... about women and bodies." I look at the volume in hand. It's Woman's Body: A Manual for Life, by Dr. Miriam Stoppard. Awesome, I'm sure, but I have a woman's body of my own, thanks. One is plenty. "Why do you even

Don't be bad on facebook.

2010-01-08T20:57:00.000+11:00

Someone I know shaved her head. Not because she's sick, or for a cause. Just because she could. These are the little freedoms that we take for granted. If I shaved my head (unlikely, but still) I would have to subterraneously (well, that's what hubs said, but I think he meant simultaneously) get a tattoo that explained *I'm not sick *I'm not gay *I don't have alopecia *I didn't do it for charity

This is...

2010-01-05T23:35:00.000+11:00

Just a placeholder. Just to say: I love these crazy days. I really do. There's nothing quite so exemplary of the random that is my life as a day on holiday. Late breakfast, manic cleanup of teaching studio, sort through homeschooling detritus some twenty years old, all carefully dated by my mother. Chelsea, 3yrs 10 mths to 4 yrs 1 mth. I have BOXES of this stuff. I'm not sure just how securely to

Because it's holidays.

2010-01-03T23:05:00.002+11:00

It's been a little hectic lately. After whisking my husband down the peninsula for a couple nights to celebrate our second wedding anniversary (an elaborate subterfuge that enrolled my aunt as an unwitting conspirator) and generally gallivanting about, we've spent the last two days throwing stuff out. Him, idly turning over one of the hundreds of books I've slated for expulsion: "Didn't you say

Box me up day.

2009-12-26T13:04:00.000+11:00

So this guy really has Christmas' number. Yesterday was a good day, as far as days go. But today I woke up and couldn't get up. Again. This isn't a new phenomenon; it's been a recurrent theme of my holidays thus far. I seem to have contracted a virulent form of inertia. During term-time I fill my head with reasons the next day has to happen; lessons, errands, people, stuff. On holidays nothing

Armies of elves fuelled by sugar

2009-12-24T09:56:00.001+11:00

Did I REALLY make all those tiny desserts? It's possible elves have been in my house. Or one of those terribly helpful and lovely humanoid aliens from Avatar. We've determined, by the way, that hubs is descended from those guys. He has just enough human to turn his skin pink and bring his eyes a bit closer together, but all the other stuff is right on track to be one of The People. Hilariously,

Today I am melting.

2009-12-24T01:08:00.000+11:00

Really. It's one in the morning and I am so hot it's absurd. This may or may not be my own fault for fashioning sugary christmas goodies (SURPRISE!) until very recently; eleven pm is a GREAT time to start making miniature christmas puddings, complete with baptism in dark chocolate then icing with white and the careful placement of a glace cherry on top (hubs). And when you finish said puddings,

Why is my life such a strange and difficult place?

2009-12-21T23:01:00.000+11:00

Damn those tea-infusical whatsits with their clampy-shutting properties. Make tea. Leave infuser on sink. Decide I want more tea. Knock out leaves (still wet, of course) and dip infuser back into brown paper bag of tea (I KNOW, it loses it's flavor uness hermetically sealed in tupperware blessed by the Pope and consumed within five hours of purchase, so shoot me now)... where damp edges of

Definitely the low point

2009-12-17T19:39:00.000+11:00

And so the term ends, not with a bang, or even a whimper, but a ... chunder. You read that right. My last lesson, A. responds to my maniacally chirpy "So how are YOU today?!" (remember, plentiful sugary stockpile in my fridge) with a "Not good."Further questioning reveals that A. vomited earlier today but now feels pretty fine (hence his presence at class). "It's okay!" he reassures me as only a

Nearly there.

2009-12-16T23:26:00.001+11:00

Just one more day. Given the amount of refined sugar happily sitting in my refrigerator (honey delight, Maltesers, Lindt, Cadbury, homemade macaroons, butter shortbread, etc, etc, so forth and so on) that really shouldn't be too hard. It's been a long term. I don't actually remember my last whole day off. You know, the kind where you can sleep in, eat toast, eat more toast, realise it's

Phones can't scuba.

2009-12-13T22:51:00.001+11:00

On Friday night I drowned my phone. Again. At least the last time I was aided by a sixteen? month-old who perceptively spotted that I carried a litre of water in my handbag and surely life would be a little more fun with added damp. I wasn't thrilled, and neither was his mom; two phones with one water bottle is a little precocious, I feel! Still, I fell back on my husband's phone (forcing him to

A concert.

2009-12-13T10:56:00.001+11:00

Christmas crap.

2009-12-12T08:54:00.002+11:00

Supermarket queue, O and I, eleven a.m. Thursday morning. In front of us, a grandparently-aged couple packing their groceries onto the conveyor belt. She turns and coos at us "Look at that gorgeous face! And you must be so excited about Santa coming to visit and bringing you LOTS of LOVELY presents!" O looks slightly confused, possibly wondering who this deranged woman is. I smile awkwardly and

You have to laugh... or stomp on toes

2009-12-09T20:56:00.001+11:00

It's been a week of high drama and we're up to... Wednesday. Awesome. There's really nothing to make you question your life choices like dancing about in front of eight hundred people. Wearing a pink tutu. With a crying five-year-old on your hip. Who only stops crying when you keep dancing. I mentioned the pointe shoes, right? Pointe shoes are bad enough when my own sixtyish kilos are sloshing

It's not really very super then, is it?

2009-12-08T08:47:00.000+11:00

Today I got my superglue privileges revoked. It went like this: broken violin (teeny, tiny violin, not mine. Well, belonging to me, but not MINE per se). Hmmm. Scroll detached from body of violin. But superglue cures all (doesn't it?). Find superglue. Open tube of superglue. Forget consistency of superglue (like water). I'm sure you all know what happened next. SPLASH! Hmm. Ok. There's glue on

Live where?

2009-12-01T10:30:00.000+11:00

The weekend is thankfully over, and with it Frankston Council’s Festival of Lights (or, as the traders call it, Festival of Fights). I love my hometown and all, but it’s a little distressing to respond to heavy rain with “Well, that’ll keep all the drinkers at home.” Sad? True. This is a weird place. People at one end say they actually live in a subsidiary of Mt Eliza, or

Everyone is ratty.... me included.

2009-11-25T14:48:00.000+11:00

You know those weeks where something catastrophic happens? But then the next day is ok, and you think Well, clearly I've dealt with the worst of it, now my week will be.... as it turns out, complete and utter shite. I shouldn't say that, there have been some bright spots, I'm just having trouble redirecting my focus. Two of my families are moving in January; I've worked with them for 6 & 7 years

Once I get started...

2009-11-17T11:27:00.002+11:00

On the weekend I was told "To set the record straight, this is not a 'teaching method'. You cannot buy ten volumes of Suzuki books and become a 'Suzuki Teacher'." While I couldn't agree more with this statement and have had to explain this to many parents in the past (usually parents criticising Suzuki because they'd not had a 'true' Suzuki teacher), the reason for making this statement bothers

Hmmm.

2009-11-17T09:21:00.002+11:00

So I'm a Suzuki teacher. Not a "Oh, I teach Suzuki method violin" teacher, but a Suzuki philosophy teacher. Well, I try to be. It doesn't always go to plan, especially when I'm brought (or pushed) into proximity with other Suzuki teachers. The code goes like this: "Methhhhhoddddd" (with eye-rolling or tweaking fingers) or "Philosophy" (hushed, slightly reverent tones). An incident is relayed in

Trust no-one... except the man you marry.

2009-11-13T22:45:00.003+11:00

I have arrived at the ballet hall today to find it populated by mad religious people putting teenagers through a tedious bout of trust exercises. Things like pairing them up (one seeing, one with eyes-closed and hands groping) so that one can yell impatiently at the other “Just go FORWARD already! Alright! So there’s a step there! So what! Just go FORWARD” while the blind victim giggles and

Completely Random:

2009-11-12T20:59:00.000+11:00

I may or may not have blogged about some random inebriated women who were malingering (that means "dancing" in such a way as to dislodge breasts from front of dress) at our dancing venue the other week. I may or may not have (read DEFINITELY) danced in a particularly up-close-in-their-face way (facilitated ENTIRELY by my dancing partner of the time) but that was only because they were (a)

Nope, it's just as incoherent. Sorry about that.

2009-11-08T13:04:00.000+11:00

I think last night's post suffered from a lack of time in which to think coherently, but since integrating a couple of other events that occurred yesterday... here goes. At ballet, a mother brought in some car keys which she'd found in the parking lot sitting behind a particular make and model of car... which happens to be the same that my recently licensed cousin drives. Her assumption was that

TORLET from the people who brought you Yeah-Nah in all it's 'Strine glory.

2009-11-07T23:25:00.000+11:00

It goes like this: "Yew SAID yewer goin to the TORLET an yew just run off! Just run off! That's NORDY, real NORDY. Say yew just goin to to TORLET and then run off. Yew NEVA do that, that's real NORDY." And then the boy says very quietly, "I wonder where this Torlet place is. Sounds exciting!" "Yep. You know, I was just thinking about how to spell that in the interests of accurate pronunciation."

Slow communication

2009-11-06T23:03:00.000+11:00

We went out to dinner tonight with our besties and upon arriving home I've realised we had a night of slow communication. Not that the conversation was by any means slow, but that it was based on a shared history that's been nurtured over a period of time. These are people who know our quirks and can tease us for a propensity to talk tech or music. I can start with some marvellously moronic

WTF with WWF?

2009-11-05T12:16:00.000+11:00

O and I visit the playground today. This is nice. There's metal bars wrapped in soft padded rubbery stuff, a big slide and a little slide, some obstacle-course-y rubber foam blocks, and a small plastic car embedded in the ground. Logically. We should all be teaching our small children to climb into the driver's seat of random cars, dislodging extant occupant (or leaning on them until they fall

Me? Vindictive? Never!

2009-11-04T14:30:00.000+11:00

So I'm driving down the road to work, gently stuck behind an old coot travelling ye olde five kilometers beneath ye speed limit, when a very angry man in a silver car begins to tailgate me. I'd like to tell you the model of the car, but he was far too intent on shoving the bonnet into my dinky little bumper, so I can't. He wasn't a very happy man. He had a bald head and a big moustache, and some

What I did on my Sunday.

2009-11-02T22:23:00.002+11:00

Sunday started very early in the morning with a showing of "The Nightmare Before Christmas" in honor of Halloween. Then there was some sleeping. And a cooked breakfast, because bacon, egg and hash brown sandwiches are vital to schlepping about at the races before ballet rehearsal. Great idea. The caramel popcorn the night before? Very important part of my never-ending carb/sugar/edible loading.

Thunder and lightning, very very frightening...pug!

2009-10-31T00:42:00.000+11:00

It's stormy weather above our place; really and truly right above us. Hearing strong winds, I panicked and ran out onto our porch to prune the gorgeous yellow rose standard beside our steps. The other one blew over while we were away one weekend and I didn't want to lose this one too. Got absolutely soaked and decided to abandon my frenzied pruning efforts when I realised I was directly below

Shoot on sight:

2009-10-30T00:41:00.000+11:00

Peroxide blonde gyrating furiously to sound of over-amplified band. A little elaboration: the venue is TINY. About four square metres of dancing space tiny. The band, apparently attempting to rebel against or deny this unarguable fact, are growing larger every week. I kid you not, every fourteen days when they deafen us with their presence there is a new band member. And a new speaker. Possibly

I'm a little bit excited...

2009-10-28T10:15:00.000+11:00

I am trying to recruit another violin teacher to work at the primary school with me. She's Suzuki-trained, but no teaching experience yet... the possibilities look good but I'm a little nervous. I'm trying to extend the olive branch of "Of course, you're welcome to teach from my studio space" but I really only want her to do that if she's going to teach Suzuki philosophy, and her students would

I miss frocking up.

2009-10-27T11:29:00.000+11:00

In a discussion about class times for next year, I pointed out that finishing class at 8.45 on a Friday night really wasn't all that grand for me. I work 9-5 on Saturday, so do the math on that and let me know how my social life is going to fare. My mother pointed out (not unreasonably) that she'd done it for plenty of years. Hm. Yes. Hang on. Me too, because when YOU started teaching Friday

Musing upon the human condition...

2009-10-25T09:07:00.000+11:00

That makes it sound so much more deep and philosophical than it actually is... I was actually applying eyeshadow and thinking sadly of the (now empty) bowl of caramel popcorn on the bench, and deciding that this is clearly why I cannot live in any other country, or indeed any other SUBURB to the amazing Suzukisinger, who not only popped the popcorn and coated it delicately in AMAZING caramel, but

In which I rant.

2009-10-23T15:03:00.001+11:00