Guess Who's 15!!!!

Only THE best dog to ever grace a family's life.  Murphy Watertails Hendricks; la grande dame of Labradors turned 15 this past weekend.

 She joined our family at 8 weeks.  She's an Empire Loyalist hailing from regal Kingston Ontario.  We flew her to Calgary to become a redneck dog.  She's never looked back.  She spent five years being the center of our world...till J came along, and he became the center of hers.

They're quite the team these two, and have been since the very beginning.  I could drown in a well as long as she is beside him.  I'm sure it had NOTHING to do with all the food he dropped.

 ....or the spoons they both got to lick.

When I lament the passing of time, and J's evolution to the big and beautiful boy that he is now; it is these images of J and Murphy that are forever etched in my mind.  One hand on his beloved bottle, the other curled in her fur.  Everyday...EVERYDAY.  She has the patience of Job.

Even when at age 7, we flew her to Geneva for five years.  She never missed a beat.  Of course, there was no quarantine in Switzerland, just a really nice vet at the airport.

Murphy was beside J at every first day of school.  Every one and I have the calendars to prove it!  The only exception was day one down under when she hadn't yet joined us.  But we made up for that.

In February 2011, Murphy safely landed, at age 12,  on Australian soil after a looooong solo trip that took her from Geneva to overnighting in Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to Melbourne.  I'm not exaggerating that it was one of the happiest days of my life when I finally got to see her at the quarantine facilities where she spent the next 30 days.

 On day 31, I took her to the beach...

I'm pretty sure she thought it was worth the wait.

Through thick, thin, many miles, and 10 years together, they're still a team.

They don't come much better!  Happy birthday Murphy, we love you to the moon and back but know that every day with you now is your gift.

Distracted

Yes, it has been a while since I last posted.  I occasionally disappear, as regular readers will have observed, and express my creative energies elsewhere.  Or maybe that’s just another way of saying, I’ve been distracted.  Did you know that you can begin a sentence with “Or”?  I was told this during a Plain Language Writing workshop this week.  You can also begin sentences with “But” and “And” and “Because”.  Interesting no?

I have been distracted/occupied/engaged elsewhere for the last few weeks.  And (are you noting the use of “And” at the start of this sentence) lacking a desire to write, I am, instead, composing a list of where I’ve been.

WHERE MY ENERGY HAS BEEN DIRECTED

1.   Supporting and encouraging a heartbroken 20-something,

2.   Grieving an old friend in a battle he is losing,

3.   Editing a friend's second novel; I do love the editing process,

4.   Convincing J of the relevance of fractions, long-division, and conjugation of the imparfait tense,

5.   Prevailing upon C2 to see a doctor; being validated when C2 was diagnosed with Shingles,

6.   Re-applying for my Canadian passport.  Examining my new passport photo and wondering why my cheeks seem to have moved south when compared with the photo from five years ago,

7.   Working an extra day a week for the last two weeks at Child Wise,

8.   Wondering why in spite of all of my exercise and healthy eating, I am looking less like Carmela and more like Janice,

9.   Binge-watching Breaking Bad.  First half of season five done and awaiting the last six episodes with much impatience,

10. Mourning the all-too-fast passing of time as I look sideways at J, when yesterday I looked down and knowing tomorrow I will look up,

11. My new iPhone, au revoir Blackberry.

WHERE MY ENERGY CLEARLY HAS NOT BEEN DIRECTED

1.  Blog,

2.  At the tumbleweeds of Labrador hair rampaging through my house,

3.  Blog,

4.  Resisting TimTams,

5.  Blog,

6.  Demonstrating patience whilst convincing J of the relevance of fractions, long-division, and conjugation of the imparfait tense,

7.  Blog,

8.  Ignoring the all-too-fast-passing of time as I look sideways at J, when yesterday I looked down and knowing tomorrow I will look up.  Because (I started a sentence with“Because”!) it’s better than the alternative,

9.   Blog,

10. Any writing of my own,

11. Blog,

12. My to-do-list,

13. Blog,

14. Planning….anything.

I will aim to do better.

Dear Nespresso or The End of the Affair

Dear Nespresso,

I remember when we first met, it was in Geneva 2006.  You were the popular kid and I just wanted to fit in.  You had that beautiful shop on the quai Gustav Ador across from the Lake; I wandered in, feeling decidedly uncool overwhelmed by your smooth but distant charms.  In awe, I soon succumbed along with every other Swiss citizen and bought your Turmix.  Your design, your ease, your psychedelic-coloured capsules seduced me.  George Clooney convinced me that I was doing the right thing, and with Swiss efficiency, I recycled those beauties whilst building a flotilla of flashy capsules neatly stacked in my pantry, and adding an Aerocino to the mix.  I was besotted.

Much Love,

Your biggest fan



Dear Nespresso,

It was 2011, and our affair continued down under.  I have forgiven you for my failed Turmix and have moved on to a shiny vamp of a Citiz.  I forgave you, too, for my burnt-out Aerocino and have bought another.  I even forgave you for those more expensive brightly-coloured beauties.  My mother and sister-in-law have also succumbed to your charms.  I have doubts, though, and am beginning to question our relationship.  I now live in Melbourne, the mecca of coffee culture, where the flat white is an art form.  Suddenly, you don't seem quite so seductive, quite so elusive yet still I am loyal.  I add a sleek disposal unit enabling me to recycle in style.  Still, George doesn't move me quite the same way.  I was less besotted.

Sincerely,

Your loyal fan


Dear Nespresso,

It is July 2013, I have been loyal for seven and a half years.  It has been an imperfect relationship.  I feel like I have given more than you and that only one of us has been constant and true.  My shiny vamp of a Citiz has failed me.  You have turned your back; spurned me.  You scoffed, unmoved at my distress.  "Pay a $150 repair fee or buy a new one" your only response.  My pleas that purchasing a 3rd machine in seven years seemed unfair and perhaps spoke to quality, fell on deaf ears.  I demonstrated to you that I have spent thousands of dollars over the years on your kaleidoscope palette of capsules.  I even argued that it made no business sense to lose me over  a $150 repair fee given the future we could have together; the thousands more you could count on from me if our affair were to continue.  You were unmoved, cold, business-like.  Did I ever mean anything to you? I am deceived.

Citiz, Turmix and Aerocino relegated to my garage floor

Betrayed,

Your no-more fan


Dear Nespresso,

Before I bid you a final farewell, I would like to remind you of the principled individual that I am.  I have always recycled your capsules, I do not shop at Walmart, I support same-sex marriage, I avoid factory-raised chicken and eggs, and stand up for what I perceive to be right and compassionate in the world.   You have forsaken me and I am not afraid to say it.  We cannot be friends and I don't wish you well.  I have moved on and in a big way.

Let me introduce you to Giotto, our new love.  To be honest, C2 took advantage of your disloyalty to indulge a passion and invest in something that will be loyal a lifetime.  We are partnering with local Melbourne-based roasters to supply fresh beans thereby supporting local business and frankly delivering a superior experience.

You could have kept me dangling for years to come, Nespresso, but I am stronger, happier, and little-more buzzed in my new relationship.  Your gaudy-coloured capsules cannot compare to the new grinding, tamping, brewing and steaming experience, we and our new love are engaged in.

Giotto and I are equal partners; something we never were.

Ciao!

Australian Family Hendricks

All Good Things Must Come to an End

Yes, sadly it's the end of stay-cation.  J is back at school, C2 is in Brisbane, and I'm back on the semi-single-parenting/homework/chauffering/ball-juggling/Child Wise-working roller-coaster which while gruelling at times also brings me great joy; so no complaints.

We completed our two-week stay-cation with a yodel and a thousand steps.  To further elaborate, on the weekend, we drove into the Dandenong Ranges,  a short distance outside of Melbourne to the twin country towns of Sassafras and Olinda.  Both towns are charming for their antique shops, arts and crafts, and delightful cafes and small restaurants.  We browsed the shops enjoying the Christmas in July atmosphere (this is winter in Australia), sipped a flat white, and relished in the region's similarity to the Canadian Pacific north-west.  Except instead of pine trees, we have gum trees.

However,  our destination this day was "The Cuckoo".   The Cuckoo is an iconic Bavarian/Swiss style restaurant/smorgasbord/live entertainment that has been in business for decades.  Think Bavarian Beer Garden meets The Flamingo in Las Vegas.  We were less interested in any potential Branson, Missouri-type experience but were beckoned by the promise of  Swiss architecture, authentic Swiss cow bells, and apple strudel.

C2 and I exchanged worried glances as we and a tour bus pulled up in front of the chalet, even J professed some nerves and worriedly asked  "is this going to be cheesy; are they going to make me yodel?"  Still, the warm glow of the gas lamps, the Christmas decorations, and the smell of food and a warm fire, not to mention the buxom cardboard cut-outs, drew us in.

We had a hoot!  We sang along to music from "The Sound of Music" - Austrian/Bavarian/Swiss, nobody was being particular, and Christmas carols.  We ate roast beef, gingerbread, and far too much apple strudel.  We yodeled, and J stuck his hand up and proudly declared himself "Swiss!"  A Santa with a very Aussie accent threw handfuls of chocolate on our table, and Jingle Bells was played on cow bells.  Seriously, what more could you want from an afternoon?

After leaving the restaurant warm and sated, we spontaneously drove a short distance to the equally iconic 1,000 steps/Kokoda Memorial Hiking Trail.  The 1,000 steps are exactly that, narrow steps of mixed size and depth that ascend about 1.5 km through thick gum forest.  Fourteen plaques commemorate the original Kokoda Trail in Papua New Guinea where Australians and Papuans came together in 1942 to successfuly defend Port Moresby against the invading Japanese at great cost.  The plaques were a particularly handy place to stop for a breather when I thought my lungs were going to burst from my chest.

Barely breaking a sweat

At about step 950, can you feel the love?

Stay-Cation Down Under

We’re in the last week of J’s two-week mid-year break.  School is different down under.  Here, children go to school 12 months a year, January through December with breaks after each of 4 terms.  J just finished term 2.

We thought about skiing in New Zealand but frankly with C2’s currently intense travel schedule, the thought of engaging in more travel was too much.  So we decided to vacation at home; a stay-cation.

As it turned out C2 was travelling the first week of stay-cation.  J and I hung out together and it was awesome!  I made him work out with me doing circuits in the park.  He made me play with his action figures.  I made him do three tennis coaching sessions (while I read my Atlantic Monthly in the warmth of the club house).  He made me take him for hot chocolate and frozen yogurt.  We watched for the eight hundred and forty-ninth billionth time the extended edition of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, and we relished in our mutual love of J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson.  We went beachwalking with friends and dogs, and both stayed up reading till midnight.

Poor cheerleader didn't know she was walking into spinning ninja decapitating swords!

C2 returned in time for our second week and it’s only gotten better.  We’ve had towel fights, footy kicking, and lego building.  I've read the paper cover to cover with a second cup of coffee and found the time to meaningfully reflect on the state of Australian politics, the economy, and the misery faced by asylum seekers off our coast.  J has had longer hours playing computer games while C2 and I cook meals together, sip wine, and watch back-to-back episodes of “Breaking Bad” (without him) and “The Adventures of Young Indiana Jones” (with him).  As an aside, if anyone has missed either series, they are both remarkable and some of the best television ever made.  Visionaries Vince Gilligan and George Lucas!

J's pinboard full of things that mattter to him

My personal favorites are: photo of my dad's memorial tree in Calgary, a no-longer-in-circulation Canadian two dollar bill, a Swiss postcard, and a picture of the Tawtel family cat Garcon (he gets passed around).

Imagination has soared, bodies have been exercised, sleep has been recovered, and time has been well spent.  We’ve all three stayed up reading till midnight and reminded ourselves where our happy place is.

Footy FAQ

With references in my last blog post to J's participation in Footy, I thought it might be time to explain what Footy is and what it isn't, so here is a quick FAQ (that's Frequently Asked Questions, mum!)

1.  Footy, or since it is customary in Australia to shorten every word in the Websters Standard Dictionary, is short for Australian Rules Football or Aussie Rules.

2.  Footy is not rugby, nor soccer nor American-style gladiator football.  It doesn't resemble any of the aforementioned.

3. Footy is played only in Australia, though there are teams that play for fun in New Zealand, France and probably a handful of other countries.

4.  Footy is followed in  Australia with a passion akin to extreme madness, and one "barracks" for the same team that one's great-great-grandfather/mother, great-grandfather/mother, grandfather/mother, father/mother, great-great Uncle/Aunt 3 x removed,  barracked for.  Get it?  There is serious family loyalty to a team.

5.  There are 18 teams in the Australian Football League (AFL) and 9 of them are based in Melbourne where the sport originated.  Think having 9 professional hockey or baseball teams from the same city!

6.  There are two Footy stadiums in Melbourne: Etihad Docklands Stadium which accommodates 53,000, and the mecca to all things Footy in Australia, the iconic MCG or Melbourne Cricket Ground or well just the "G", which accommodates....wait for it....100,000!  Both stadiums sell out regularly.

7.  Footy Rules.  Well as far as I have been able to make out, there aren't really any or if there are, they are only loosely complied with.  Players handball, kick, or run and bounce the ball down the oval-sized field.  The ball resembles a rugby ball but is smaller with rounded ends.

8.  Footy Scoring.  Kick the ball between any of the FOUR goal posts at the other end of the field.  6 points through the two middle posts, a single point through either of the smaller side posts.  Team with the highest score at the end of an hour or so, wins.

9.  Footy Cool Stuff.  Marking a ball which is when a player cleanly catches a ball kicked more than 15 meters without anyone else touching it or the ball touching the ground.  A specky (short for spectacular mark) is when a player marks a ball by climbing onto the back of another player, very very cool.  The players wear short shorts, I like that part.

10. Footy Singing.  Every team has a song that is played at the beginning of each match.  Supporters sing loudly, proudly, with hand on heart, and I swear with more emotion than the national anthem.  They sing again if the match is won.  Many of the songs are based on operatic melodies or other familiar tunes.  For example: the Geelong Cats club song is based on "Carmen's Toreador", Brisbane Lions "La Marseillaise", and Collingwood Magpies "Goodbye Dolly Gray"

11.  Being newcomers down under, it took a while to choose a team to barrack for.  As we couldn't agree and with limited influence, J chose the Geelong Cats, I chose the St. Kilda Saints, and C2 the Collingwood Magpies, a somewhat controversial choice.  One either LOVES or HATES Collingwood.  It should be noted that, unhappily, after taking my mum to a match this year, she now barracks for Collingwood too...though I think only because she loves their club song and now sings it with gusto at the slightest encouragement.

12.  Footy is a Fall/Winter sport played from April through August.  The entire country comes to a complete stop on Grand Final Day.  It's a one-game winner takes all between the two teams.  Cricket fills the footy void as the summer sport of choice in Australia, yawn!

13.  Footy is an equal opportunity spectator sport.  Women make up at least 50% of the fan base and are equally if not more rabid than their male counterparts.  Unfortunately, this has not translated to the grassroots level where it is rare to see girls participating in Footy.

 
14.  At the grassroots level, Footy is begun around age 4 in the local Auskicks program before moving into an actual club.  We are with the Caulfield Bears Club - go Bears!

Coach Matt debriefs the U10  Grizzlies

Got it?  Good.

Poutine? Down Under eh?

Yes really!  It was something of a surreal day today.  J played an early morning Footy match where things finally seem to be coming together; he was awarded "Bear of the Week", yay J!  Ok, so they lost but we can't lose sight of the fact that most of his Footy team are made up of fellow French-speaking kids.  They play with a lot of heart but it's not exactly in their blood.

What is, or should be, in J's blood on the other hand, is hockey.  Ice hockey in case you weren't completely sure.  This 18c sunny Melbourne winter afternoon, we joined a group of friends at the Ice House in Melbourne's Docklands.  The kids donned ice skates and stumbled, slid, or gripped the boards in abject terror.   But from somewhere deep in his genes, J remembered how to skate and flew madly, if not entirely gracefully around the rink for hours.

In between all of this skating, we gathered in the stands of another rink to watch our fellow Canadian and Quebecois Eric play an actual real-life hockey game.  He was in awesome form and scored a hat trick as I held a running commentary on the rules of our national game to my French, American, Dutch, Australian, English, and Kiwi mates.

Whilst queuing for J's hotdog with Eric's Australian wife, Kathy, I commented how bizarre it felt to be standing in a hockey arena watching a zambone sweep the ice on one rink and listening to the thud of a body check from the game being played on the other whilst staring out the windows at palm trees knowing I was in Australia.  All that was missing was the Tim Horton's kiosk.  She laughed and remarked if I really wanted to feel bizarre I should consult the overhead menu and consider the $8.00 poutine.  POUTINE....DOWN UNDER!!!!  Being something of a purist, I didn't order it but felt mightily at home ; it was, dare I say, the Don Cherry on top!

Now he is 10

I cannot fathom that it has been 10 years, 10 YEARS, since I walked the corridors of the Rockyview Hospital in Calgary, breathing through contractions and trying vainly to summon C2 and my sister-in-law who were inspecting the espresso machine.  10 YEARS!  10 years since J blessed our lives with more love than I thought possible.

J is in that shadowy world between little kid and big kid.  A world where he still wants cuddles and kisses (just not in public) and one where he says things like 'random', and BRB (be right back), and...horrors...where body odour has begun to develop, yikes!

J's Minecraft 'non-party' - 3 best mates only

I live in that shadowy world where I still want us to be his entire world but with a wary eye on the future, knowing we have to equip him to fly with confidence and joy away.  I always want to see him at the kitchen table or under a blanket watching Phineus and Ferb.  I want to pick him up from school everyday and see that smile of expectation at my presence when he comes out the door.  I want to rub his tummy and sing "A - You're Adorable" to him every night.  But if the next 10 years fly by as fast as the last, that time is running out.

He is 10.  It's an age where I question every single thing we do.  Will being tough on academic expectations at this age build good study habits or turn him off University?  Will watching Harry Potter together on a school night discourage sleep or encourage tender memories?  Will banning Minecraft for naughty behaviour build resentment or an understanding of consequences?  Will my conduct when I'm PMSing scar him forever?  I don't know, I guess all we can do is what comes naturally, and for the most part rationally.

We two goats did not produce a lamb, that's for sure, and he is a Gemini through and through.  He is a most amazing kid, has lit up our lives with unequivocal brilliance, is loved by friends and adored by family.  Now if I could just slow down time.

Fall Funk Down Under

It is the 26th of May.  The tulips and daffodils are blooming, the lilacs and hyacinthe are perfuming the air with their sweet scent - NOT!

It is Fall in the southern hemisphere.  The time of year when the wind sweeps off of Antarctica and "freshens" our days.  The time of year when the European imported Plaine tree in front of my house goes into permanent shock and drops its leaves in one fell swoop not unlike the Womping Willow (did you get the Harry Potter reference?).  It is also the time of year where I start to shiver and don't stop until December when the weather finally warms up.  Was I ever Canadian?

It's not like the temperature plummets below zero, though it did hit 4.9c at 6:30am two days ago whilst I was out running, brrrrr.  I have clearly been away from Winter too long.  Our little house in Melbourne is unhappy with the colder temperatures as well.  The single-glazed windows rattle and let the cold seep in, and the heating system results in sweater-wearing temperatures downstairs and a sauna-like atmosphere upstairs.

J and I spent yesterday raking up the Womping Willows ankle-deep detritus.  I completed our front courtyard, drive, and sidewalk in about 45 minutes.  J, working on my neighbours', took about 2.5 hours.  He is being paid $20 to keep her place in good nick until her return from a trip to Canada (funny eh?).   At each 20-minute interval when I checked on him, he would shoot me looks of extreme anguish at the child labour being imposed on him, and moan about his sore arm, elbow, hands, or right pinky.  I sent him back to the job twice when he thought he was done - I thought otherwise, pathetic!  But, I guess this is how the lesson of hard work, and earning your money is learned.

I'm in a temporary funk initiated by these colder Fall temperatures, fueled by my mum's imminent return to Canada, and fired by the barbaric murder of that young British soldier in London yesterday.  I am aghast; lost for words and any inspiration at the horror inflicted in the name of religion.

This autumnal Sunday afternoon, my mum and I left the boys at J's footy match and headed into town to the Melbourne Arts Centre for an afternoon of escape with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.  Led by the wonderful Canadian maestro Bramwell Tovey (who I've become a bit of a groupie for) and accompanied by the MSO Chorus, they were performing classics from the early to mid-20th century.  A little Georges Bizet, a smattering of Ivor Novello, a heaping of Sammy Cahn, and a touch of Gilbert and Sullivan.  It was marvellous and thoroughly spirit-lifting.  I think it was the spontaneous dedication of Noel Coward's "London Pride" to that unfortunate soldier that has eased me out of my doldrums.

Tomorrow, I'll pull on my thermals, run again at 6:30am inhaling the intoxicating scent of fresh coffee and muffins as I pass the cafes on my high street, and be grateful that I'm not running in the snow.  Then I'll put on my boots, throw on a scarf, don my new Fall coat, and smile into that Antarctic "fresh" breeze.