No Artificial Additives

Holidaying in Our Nation's Capital is Not an Oxymoron.

Last year I was castigated by a Disgruntled Parent of one of my students for drawing a picture of a large ox with Ewok horns & a nose ring & other piercings next to the word 'Oxymoron' on the whiteboard & making her copy it into her English Exercise Book. Perhaps I also included a short definition as well just to be on the safe side.

When the D.Parent confronted me, I burst into tears.

But I still like the word & never fail to take up any opportunity I can to use it.

As you can see.

Behold, above, Maeflower sitting on an Artificial Outcrop of Shale which was part of the Hellenic War Memorial we visited on friday. In fact, we made a tour of all the war memorials that line Anzac Parade in Our Capital, Canberra & had a bumper time.

Most of them were Australian - Memorials to Our Rats of Tobruk in WW2, Our Army, Navy & Air Force, Our War in Vietnam, Our Nurses, Our Korean War, Our War Partners, New Zealand. We spent some time critiquing each one along Strict Guidelines while we took photos of each other.

At the end, we both decided that the Tobruk Memorial was the most moving. The Poor Old Nurses one looked like a really really long shower screen that could have been easily mistaken for a Bathroom Accessory Shoppe Display. Clearly, a victim of Creative Death by Committee.

Next stop was An Enchanted Wood at the National Gallery. We just loved the Artificial Fog that sprang out of artfully placed enormous corroded iron jets.

I do so love Maeflower's outfit. She is wearing a dress that we decided is 'Azure'. Or at least, she called it that. Her grandmother bought it for her. Sadly, NOT my mother.

I have or HAD two mothers:

#1- A Wicked Birth Mother who is still alive & now 80 & is too ashamed to openly claim me & my sister Bronwyn who she also gave away 2 years before she had me;

#2- My Adoptive Mother Esme who was difficult but loving & who died 25 years ago.

No visit to Our Nation's Capital is complete without a visit to our Spiritual Home, The Canberra Mall.

Behold my newly-bought at 'Cotton On' toy sheepskin & leather jacket. This now makes three toy jackets I've acquired over the hols. I had just got it on sale for 35 bucks which is on a par with 'BednobsEtc'.

Fearful of the bitter cold of Canberra, I dragged down a huge vintage 'Acquascutum' coat which was a brand v. popular with the Royal Family, particularly the Queen Mother when she was alive.

It was a Sad Choice. Matron Central. And besides, far too bulky & unwieldy. Someone who hadn't seen me for ages recently commented that she thought I'd, 'lightened my load'. Well, I didn't want to load it up again. V. wise.

Rex, my favourite character from 'Toy Story' is behind me on the TV screen.

If I was a character in 'Toy Story', I'd be Rex. Some of you may think that I'm more Mrs Potatohead. That's not true.

When Rex exclaims, 'I can't stand all this uncertainty!!', I totally understand.

Meanwhile, back at the National Gallery Cafe, we're eating Macaroons. Since they cooked them on 'Masterchef' a couple of weeks ago, large chunks of Australia have gone mad for macaroons.

Because of my Strict Regime, I don't eat macaroons, although in honour of the show & the holidays & my daughter, I made an exception. Another wise decision.

Crunchy, yet Smooth; Light yet Substantial. Green yet Not Tasting of Grass.

I totally recommend them.

And a holiday in Canberra. Particularly if you have a daughter like mine.

Mother's Day Backslapping

Yesterday was Mother's Day.

So I thought that it was High Time that I smugly congratulated myself by showing you Some V. Precious Moments in a Mother's Life.

Can you believe the Monumental Afro that My Best Friend Marge is wearing as she accompanies Me & As Yet Unborn Maeflower on that long journey down the Birth Canal which she didn't end up taking because she was an Emergency Caesarian?

It looks like a wig. But it wasn't. It was a perm. Do you remember them? They always looked puky.

At the v. last moment we finally decided to swot up on having an Active Birth. In fact, Marge was still reading the book aloud in the car on the way to the hospital.

Fat lot of good it did us too.

My wonderful poodle Peggy was never one to be Left Out of Anything, so of course she had to lie right in the middle of all the action. Unfortunately, she didn't accompany us to the hospital which was a shame because she would have cheered us all up immensely.

This is what she looked like when she finally appeared. The red hair was a wonderful surprise. Who would have thought? Oooo....the Power & Magic of Genes!

Sadly, in this photo, Maeflower looks a little like one of those Poor Little Romanian Orphans from the Eighties or whenever it was. She was only two weeks old. And I hadn't learned to be a Proper Mother yet. But I did finally get the hang of it. Look at her delicate little expressive hands.

In this photo, Maeflower was nearly six & totally gorgeous & wonderful.

We're at Disneyland. I had dreamt for decades about getting on Dumbo. And also the Tea Cups.

With Mae at my side, everything is an Adventure.

And here we are last year doing something that we've been doing together since the day I brought her home from the hospital.

Shopping.

The Transformation of the Brussel Sprout

If you read my previous post you'd know that I'm spending at least part of The Queen's Birthday Long Weekend with my daughter Billie-Mae in Canberra.  If you didn't bother reading the previous post, now you know.

I do so enjoy my little visits. Part of why is because she now makes food for me which I find Luxurious Beyond Words.

For years & years & years while she was growing up I made food for her. This will come as no surprise to most people.  But let me tell you, it was Hard.  Apart from the fact that I am rather lazy, for a long time BM would eat only Foods that Were White - Cucumbers, Two-Minute Noodles (they tended to be Slightly Yellow), Pasta & loads of v. white sugar.

Now she is all grown up, Things Have Changed.  Not only is she a magnificent person, she is also a Magnificent Cook who can transform the Gastronomically Challenged Brussel Sprout into a mouth watering delicacy. I wonder if the B. Sprout originated in Belgium?

Have a look at them pertly sitting up in the baking dish alongside other  more tasty vegetables. In BM's deft hands, they were just as good. 

Stonewash, Sprouse & Pussy Bows

My great School Chum & Colleague, Trixie Drew has her desk quite close to mine in our staffroom, which is a Microcosm of the Universe. Everything that a bunch of Inquisitive Aliens would ever want to know About Us can be found there.

Anyway, Trixie often calls me Mrs. Dalloway, which believe me in Our Universe, is Not a Compliment. We use it to describe Stream of Consciousness or should I call it, 'Stream of Unconsciousness' behaviour when a person keeps up a loud running monologue about what they're doing usually on a minute by minute basis. It's a version of Thinking Aloud, but with the added irritation of making the hapless listener think that they've got to respond.  E.G. 'Oh God, I can't find my copy of Lear/R&J/Gwen Harwood/Emma/etc. I had it there only a minute ago. I Can't believe this. How are you anyway? I may be getting a headache' On& On & ON & on it goes.

That's My Blogging Style. Stream of Unconsciousness. 

But I'm not going to change the Blog Name to Mrs. Dalloway. No, I'm firmly sticking to Della Street, who, in case you didn't know, was the secretary of Perry Mason, the best TV attorney of them all. There was Nothing Stream of Anything about  Della.

Note to Self: Start Channelling Della.

It was my daughter's 21st birthday family dinner on saturday night. No one mentioned The Elephant in the Room, Mr. Ex-Middleaged. He of course wasn't there but he sent along a birthday gift. 

Between Billie-Mae are her two step-brothers, Tyler & Tim.  Her Godmother, Rubber-Glove Jenny was also present, & we had a great time going around the table telling stories of Mae & celebrating her life.

I really wanted to celebrate with a Huge Themed Cake - you know a cake in the shape of Dr. Freud perhaps holding an Igneous Rock, as Mae is studying Psychology & Geology. Sadly, that didn't happen. And now I feel slightly sad about it. I went for Safe & Tasteful instead. 

You can see the cake below. It has a little saying  on it that I used to say to her when she was a kid - 'Mae - Wise Beyond Your Ears'. 

No occasion is complete without a Wardrobe Photo. And here it is. Well, it was supposed to be here, but now it's moved to the top of the post. I swear I didn't touch anything.

Mae has a part-time job in a jeans store, so she's wearing gorgeous black 'Lee' jeans & a tee from the store. I, of course never wear pants or jeans because I've never gotten over not being able to look like Cher in Levis in 1973. My little legs were too short & stumpy, so I've punished them forever by never wearing jeans. I can't even imagine what I would actually look like in a pair. 

So, of course I'm wearing a skirt. I just love this little thrifted number, from 'Bednobs & Broomsticks'. I am a great fan of that renegade New York Punk Dead Designer, Stephen Sprouse, who decorated Louis Vuitton  bags some years ago with punky writing. I like to think that  this skirt is a Lite Version of it, even perhaps an Homage to Sprouse.

For some reason I'm wearing a scarf that I've made into a Pussy Bow. I'm not sure if I'm just being a Slave to Fashion. I THINK that pussy bows are IN & everyone is wearing one. But maybe they're not. 

No, I'm sure I didn't make it up. It's just Wishful Thinking. 

At least it covers The Neck.

The next photo has at least two interesting things I want to point out to you, O Reader. First is Mae's stonewash jean jacket. Women of my age generally recoil in horror as Stonewash in it's first incarnation perhaps in the eighties (?) was generally associated with Mullets, little white boots &  Bad Skin. It could also look a Little Slutty, but not in a good way.

That's all a Thing of the Past. People who wear stonewash now don't have any of that loathsome baggage to carry about, so they can wear it Loud & Proud. Personally, I'm too steeped in the Past to wear it, but I applaud any fabric that doesn't show the dirt as I lack Laundry Skills.

Second, note the fifty dollar notes that I cleverly stuck to her other gifts with clothes pegs. Not that I'm trying to Show Off my Generosity, heaven forbid!

Birthday Blessings

Today's my daughter's 21st birthday. I've decided to post a small photo tribute. Of course I feature in it prominently.  

Let's start at the beginning. Her birth. Or more specifically, My Labour. Here I am lying in bed with my wonderful brave loyal poodle Peggy lying right next to what must have been a v. warm & cozy part of my body. Later on, Peggy who was blind, used to sometimes ride up in the pram with Billie-Mae. I'm sure people didn't know whether to call the Child Protection Hotline or the Animal Welfare League.

MBF (my best friend) Marge is sitting next to me desperately trying to bone up on what was about to happen by reading a book about having babies without any anaesthetic or trauma or something,  as she was supposed to be my helper. None of us knew anything.

My husband, Gunnar & I had never gone to pre-natal classes mainly because my doctor said that I was too nervous & it might upset me. She was definitely right about that. 

 Marge is not wearing a wig. Don't forget it was still the eighties. It was a giant Afro Perm job that probably looked sensational in her head before she had it, but couldn't take the transition into reality. 

Anyway, twenty-eight hours later, after a whole hospital's worth of drugs, topped off with an emergency caesarean, this amazing  Red haired creature was born. I was totally expecting a blonde. Her Canadian grandparents,  who have a family tree with names on it straight out of The Lord of the Rings, immediately called her their 'Viking Goddess'.

As you can see from the next two photos, I had Absolutely No Idea how to look  after a baby. I remember when we were leaving the hospital, this Old Nurse was desperately trying to tell me how to bath her. And  how to avoid nappy rash.  And when to start introducing solids. And how to get her into the Poshest Girls School in Sydney. I just smiled & nodded.

Once we got home, I got a shock. No one told me she would cry & not stop. And no one told me that a three week old baby would Absolutely Not Love going to the Paddington Markets on a saturday. 

Sometimes I would sing every song I could remember from 'Funny Girl' to her. My favourite was 'Don't Rain on My Parade'. Who could forget those immortal words - 'Don't tell me not to live, just sit & splutter/Life's candy & the sun's a ball of butter/don't bring about a cloud to rain on my parade'. 

Mae would just look at me with a slight frown.

Amazingly, she survived. And as I have said before, with Bell& Trumpets .  Here she is with her step-brother, Tyler having breakfast at a really swanky resort that we stayed at on an infamous holiday. I've always loved this photo, but now that I look at it, both of them look Slightly Irritated or should I say, Pissed Off. Maybe it was the sun in their eyes. 

Happy Birthday My Princess.

Rethink Your Attitude Towards Quiche.

Today I taught one of my favourite poems, 'Funeral Blues' by WH Auden, which fabulously featured in the film, 'Four Weddings & a Funeral'.

Honestly, from the way I just wrote this you'd think that I was one of those Incredibly Conchy English Teachers who can recite 'The Wreck of the Hesperus' word for word or knows the Whole Canon like the Inside of Her Soul.

Nothing can be further from the truth. I can basically recite nothing. 

Except perhaps a short extract from 'Black Beauty' -  'Ah', she said, 'I have seen dead horses, I am sure that they do not suffer pain. I wish I may drop down dead at my work rather than be sent off to the Knackers'.

And another short extract, this time from 'The Importance of Being Earnest' - 'Pray, let me introduce myself to you. My name is Cecily Cardew.'

'Cecily Cardew? What a v. sweet name. Something tells me that we are going to be great friends. I already like you more than I can say. Please sit down'.

That's about it. Nothing more, really. Except perhaps like four words in a row from plays by Shakespeare that I've taught a million times. 

'Tomorrow & tomorrow & tomorrow.........' Blank.

Lines of poetry slip out of my memory like Sands Through the Hourglass. Umm....sounds like half a line from 'Days of Our Dreary Lives'.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to say at all. I'm sure no one cares if I can remember lines of poetry or not. But you might like my Big Green Cache of Necklaces at my neck. I bought all three of them for two bucks each at 'Forever 21' last year when I was visiting Los Angeles.

And that's also not what I wanted to say either. 

I really just wanted to tell you that my daughter posted a v. entertaining & quite detailed quiche recipe on her blog, Unreal City. 

I have a slight stake in this blog entry because the recipe is one that I've used thousands of times over the past more than two decades. 

 You may think that quiche is Naff. Or Twee. Or both. Or maybe you think that Quiche is Over. Think Again. I promise you , after merely reading the recipe(s),  you'll be rushing off to the kitchen to make a whole mess of them.

I myself must now rush off to listen to my new audio recording of  'Eat Pray Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert. I only discovered it yesterday & am now Absolutely Obsessed. Has anyone else read it?

Am I a BraggErt, a BraggArt or Simply a Bragger?

I just had to tell you that my daughter has now got a blog. She's a v. talented writer even though she has eschewed Humanities by studying two Science degrees concurrently. That's the second time I've managed to mention that over the last couple of blog entries. 

I'm Nothing if Not a Shameless Braggert.

And don't you just love that word 'Braggert'? It has a wonderful swagger to it, don't you think?Maybe the correct spelling is 'Braggart'. Or maybe it isn't a word.  Or worse still, maybe the correct word is 'Bragger'.

And I'm supposed to be an English teacher, for crying in the beer.

Anyway, go check her blog. She has five entries so far. She's the type of writer who could write a compelling restaurant review without ever bothering to go to, much less eat at the restaurant under review. It's called The Unreal City.

I'm So Glad That I'm No Longer a Bright Young Thing

When it comes to my daughter, Billie-Mae, I'm Nothing if Not Smug. 

Not only is she Beautiful, but she is smart, compassionate, funny & original. I love the fact that she is studying a Double Science Degree - Psychology & Geology which is a combination that I'm sure no one else has ever thought of. I love the symmetry of Rocks & Brains.

 

Here's a little Photo Essay showing preparations for a 21st Party with a 'Bright Young Things' theme that she & her beau, Russell attended on saturday evening. 

I personally loathe Fancy Dress Parties. The only time I attempted to dress for one was in the late seventies when I  stuck a Quite Large Cucumber in the front bib pocket of a pair of dark blue 'King Gee' overalls I was wearing. I can't remember the theme of the Fancy Dress. Maybe it was something to do with Gender Roles or Penis Envy, or maybe it was  Come as Your Favourite Vegetable. I do remember that I was flattered that some  people found the cucumber a funny idea, but I've never been tempted to wear fancy dress again.

But Billie-Mae doesn't feel that way. She prepared her 'Flapper' look with panache & gusto. 

First, she re-styled a black wig while Friedrich Nietzche, the token male of the house, looked on with interest.

 She gave the wig a slight haircut so that it vaguely resembled Liza Minelli's hair in 'Cabaret', which is still one of my favourite films, & one of her's too.

Then she applied these amazing false eyelashes that were trimmed with a thick layer of silver. Again, I was plunged back into remembrances of the past.  When I was a young teenager, I used to save up my pocket money & buy mink false eyelashes. I was absolutely desperate to look exactly like Twiggy  & had convinced myself that if only I could learn to apply false eyelashes, we'd be like Twins. 

Sadly, I always got the eyelash glue stuck all over the eyelashes like I had really bad Conjunctivitis.  So I never actually ended up wearing any.

And I never looked remotely  like Twiggy.

Here's Me & The Finished Product. 

And here's the two of them. I was quite thrilled that Russell wore my father's Old Tails that definitely go back to the early thirties.

Since it was pouring rain, I drove them to the party. 

Then I came home & watched a couple of episodes of SATC that I'd been greedily storing on Tivo. It was fabulous not to be 21 again.

Old Mullets

In yesterday's post, I revealed that 1986 was Mullet Year for me & that I'd post a Mullet Photo as well as a Mullet Anecdote. I've just spent hours trawling through hundreds of loose photos & I finally found a Double Mullet featuring my friend Marge, who I  recently visited in California. What's amazing is we're both channelling Billy Ray Cyrus & didn't know it at the time. In fact, I think that Billy's Famous Mullet came a few years after ours, so clearly we were ahead of our time.

Note the closely cropped sides which accentuated the Rooster top bits & the crimped long bits. Neither Marge nor I had a crimping iron (that's a rather old fashioned term), so we used to smear our hair in 'Dippity Do' setting lotion (more stuff out of the Ark) & make lots of little plaits & then sleep on them. The next day, we'd take out the plaits, & just like magic, our hair was crimped. 

Now for the Rather Sad Anecdote. Just after a particularly brutal Mullet hair cut where the sides were actually shaved, I visited my parents. At this stage my Mum was v. sick, but not yet Officially Dying. She had always been totally obsessed with my hair mainly due to it's extreme blondness which was a mystery to her because I was adopted. 

As soon as she clapped eyes on my Fresh Mullet, Mum started getting angry. In an effort to calm her down, I breezily said, 'Oh, Mum, it's only hair, it'll grow back in about six months'. 

'Well, that'll be too late for me because I'll be dead by then!' she replied. 

And she was.

The Original Mommie Dearest

I love posting pictures of Joan & her Adopted Daughter, Christina wearing Identical Outfits. After comparing myself to Joan, I just had to post The Real Deal.

The Mother and Daughter Reunion

Every Wednesday evening, I attend a lecture on Baroque Art at the Art Gallery with my two colleagues Sue & Trixie. As we are all Great Creatures of Routine, we happily do the same thing every week. We arrive at 4pm & always magically get a park right outside due to my special connections with Parking Celestial Beings. Then we go inside & have a quick look around before heading for the Gift Shop where we pour over DVDs & art books & little trinkets. Most weeks we buy things & don't give it a second thought. Then I get my daily wardrobe picture taken next to a favourite painting before heading downstairs at the stroke of five to have dinner in the cafe. I consider eating this early a Real Luxury as I'm always hungry at around five & hate to have to wait until after 7 or even 8 to eat.
Whilst in the cafe this evening, I took this photo of a Mother & Daughter. I just couldn't resist taking it because they looked so fabulous & looked like they liked each other.
I'm missing my daughter who I haven't see for a few weeks as she goes to University in Canberra. Here we both are having breakfast together at a local cafe last time we met.