Husky Nutmeg's Word Gallery

2009 Where Did '08 go?

2009-04-18T15:50:00.003+10:00

Maybe I just forgot to write. It's not a slack thing really. It's been busy. Lots of work. Change of work, home - change of everything. A bit of romance. Yep, there's something different. A new grandchild. Some big times - great joys - great sadness. Loads really.

But everyone's life is just that, eh? It's only when you stop for a little bit to write a line or two about the path you've walked, that you see how far you've travelled.

Personally, I think I've been walking in circles. I'm just a little older than I was in my last post.

Beginning to unravel

2007-05-19T21:24:00.001+10:00

Revisted my blog and found this - an unpublished bit - it was too hard to put 'out there'. So many things have happened since and many times I found strength in the friendship I had with my old friend.

19.05.07
I can spend an eternity procrastinating but I know as well as anyone the only way to rid myself of this writer's block is to write. It's all been said before. So you write a whole bunch of drivel but do you publish it?
Chai said it the other day - this is an account of memeories and there's where it's at. In ten years it won't matter that I wasn't eloquent in what I said.

This time last year I lost an old friend - he was 41 years old and died of cancer. When we were kids he said he wouldn't live past fifty. When you are a kid you don't take that too seriously do you? He left a wife and three kids behind. He was the most honest man I ever knew. There were times when his 'black and white' viewpoint on things would drive me crazy. But then again he is the only man I have ever trusted without question. I'll share our old photos with his kids one day.

Anyway, it's made me think a lot.

18.04.09
It still does.

I've Had a Lot to Say

2007-04-20T10:24:00.000+10:00

What do you do when there are no words. You just shut up and realise that something bigger than you is in control and all you can do is suck it in and keep moving. Life has been a roller-coaster of extremes. It has been amazing.

Le Tigs Has Left the Building

2006-09-28T21:31:00.000+10:00

Yes, my little slow-to-notice-oncoming-traffic-even-buses-on-main-roads grandcat has gone home to live with his Mum and Dad in their new house. The neighbourhood wildlife can have a rest now.

I did get my big brother back from overseas. Did you know he was away? Probably not. I haven't written here for a bit. Anyway, he was away and now he's back which is a good thing because I missed him.

Our nations states are being perfect children if the Rugby and Football Grand Finals are anything to go by - it's always nice when they behave nicely away from home. This is the time of bbqs and meat pies. Yes, I am directing you towards The inaugural “We Do Chew Our Food” pie review. Eat. Write. Enjoy.

Tuesdays

2006-07-18T12:13:00.000+10:00

"There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Aint life unkind? "
(Rolling Stones, Ruby Tuesday)

I love Tuesdays. It's a 'thinking-planning kind of day.
A lot of list making happens here on a Tuesday, for fear of forgetting what is important by the weekend. These are followed by notes in strategic places saying stupid things like, 'Please Read Tuesday's List' and the motivational symbols and prompts like the word 'Why' on my fridge, reminding me there are good reasons for all of this.

And there are. It doesn't hurt to revisit why you do anything. The inception of a dream is so powerful at the time, it can feel as though it's set in stone. Without asking why over time, even the strongest intentions might become a bit weathered.

Tuesdays are a great time of the week.

Sundays

2006-07-09T14:20:00.000+10:00

Sunday mornings are my favourite time of the week. It's all pajamas and newspapers, coffee and ABC for Kids. It's weekly horoscopes, some writing, some inspiration.

Some of my most treasured memories come from Sunday mornings. The week's ups and downs are reconcilled and the week ahead, a whole 24 hours from now.

I just finished working on a handbook for an aged care centre and one of the sentences is:

'The practice of this facility is for all residents to be fully dressed each day unless they are to remain in bed for any specific reason.'

Sunday mornings would never be the same for Husky Nutmeg.

Here's news. I’m a Nana now. It appears, the kids have decided I’ve done a good enough job with their cat (only lost him twice) and so have decided it is now safe to have children.

Being a Nana at 38 means I’ll get to be a Goovy Granny with sneakers and have all the perks of Nanahood without the arthritis. From now on, I’ll be able to make good scones. It’s an automatic thing you know.

I can wear crocheted shawls if I want. I can collect and hoard bottles and jars. Yeah okay. At least now I’ll have an excuse to do those things.

But pity help the little beggar who tries to mess with my Sunday mornings.

Do the Red Nose Thing

2006-06-25T21:33:00.000+10:00

June 30th is Red Nose Day.

Child Long Gone
by Husky Nutmeg

I’ll wonder about the exact moment you left.
Somehow I know that to be kissed by an angel is big.
Another soul touching yours,
Sweeping through you.
The grandeur of its physical presence
The inprint that can never leave.
This moment is bigger than me.
Little Rosebud
Your little heart silent.
I’ll never truly know why
You didn’t wait to see a day.

My, my Tigs How Do You Keep Your Coat so Shiny?

2006-06-19T21:32:00.000+10:00

Blog Wisdom Tip #487 When stuff gets too tricky to talk about, take a photo of the cat.

The List

2006-05-20T10:22:00.000+10:00

Mip has her toy mobile phone positioned to her ear as I write. The thing rings (I'm waiting for battery breakdown - imaginary ringing sounds so much nicer). She stops for a second and says sternly, "No. And would you please take me off your list?"

Do I sound like that? I probably do. She walks around doing things with her free hand the way I do.

Maybe I should have her answer the phone when the government start their cold calling campaign to encourage me to use the public transport I already use.

Yesterday is Long Gone - Catalogue of Days

2006-05-06T09:13:00.000+10:00

‘On The 4th of May, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date [was] 01:02:03 04/05/06. That won't ever happen again in our lifetime.’ Fabulous. There will, however, be more emails such as that one to enlighten our screens with hard facts and profound wisdom.

Smiling Sunny Melbourne. Yes, the Commonwealth Games are over as well. I loved them. I’ll write about that another day.

And there's been Easter. Hope it was lovely for all. We got away to the country - luckily for Mip, the Easter Bunny knew that. I can only hope the Easter Bunny was wearing his thermals when he planted all those Easter Eggs because I reckon it would have been bloody freezing outside our cabin before daylight.

Back to the Catalogue of Days. My little Girl isn’t little any more. Prep isn’t what it used to be. They don’t just read ‘The Three Little Pigs’ they analyse it and discuss the grammar used in the text. Now it’s all about Connie Confidence an Petey Persistence instead of Kevin-Kick-Your-Arse-If-You-Don’t-Listen and Hillary-Who-Do-You-Think-You-Are-For-Having-An-Opinion.

Says I to Mip the other night re: Big Brother on TV. “I don’t think I want you watching this show. Those girls are being nasty to each other.”
Says my daughter, five years in body alone, “Well, they’re only playing a game, Mum.”

The Boy is very pleased about Big… (oh was it big Brother???) this year. His fiancée is not so pleased about that. And he has a bit of time on his hands or at least on one of them, after his car decided to play ‘rock, paper, scissors’ with a pole and a tree. As a result the Boy's hand was wired and plastered up a bit like a Prosperity Cat.

In hospital, I looked at my lanky giant and he is still my little boy, frightened and vulnerable. So I pretend I’m not the same. I walked past his bed and made waving jokes.

My new job and some groovy new projects have kept me distracted but scattered. Good thing there's the beasty who is still lodging at Chez Husky Nutmeg. We have our issues - I keep trying to convince him that while it may be possible to balance on everything from my printer to the curtain rails, he should not assume this automatically turns every surface of my home into a launching pad. He, on the other hand, finds it amusing to lunge at my face while I'm doing my yoga in the morning. Despite all of that, he’s grown on us all really, even on my brother who would normally pretend to be oblivious to white, fluffy things. Yep, the Tigster is a bit crazy and a bit weird so really - he’s in the right place.

It's Been a Bit Busy

2006-04-02T21:03:00.000+10:00

"I sing to people about what matters. I sing to the realists, people who accept it like it is. I express problems. There are tears when it's sad and smiles when it's happy. It seems simple to me, but to some, feelings take courage."
Aretha Franklin

It's been a bit busy. There's been comedy and sadness. Putting words next to each other feels exhausting. So here are Aretha Franklin's words and a picture of what the last few weeks have been.

Things which have Befuddled my Mind Since being struck by Gastro Yesterday:

2006-03-08T20:27:00.000+11:00

I was Wondering

Public Photocopier Protocol. How long is a polite amount of time to photocopy? Is it like a public box phone call? I think it is. I might be wrong.

I was at the library photocopying some notes – I would estimate approximately four or five minutes of copying time. I had one of those copier cards in the machine and figured I’ll use up the $8.60 on it.

I was about half way through when a woman approached the photocopier and waited for about a minute as I was blissfully copying away. I gave her ‘the smile’ – you know - the one we all used on payphones not that long ago. She glared at me, stayed for another thirty seconds and left huffing and puffing (in search of a house of straw, I think).

See now, if I hadn’t had begun photocopying, and the woman approached, I’d have taken on the ‘Supermarket Queue Protocol’ whereby I would have said ‘I have a shopping trolley full as opposed to your pickled onions and Mylanta – go before me please – no, no trouble at all’.

The consolation was that my copier card held exactly the right amount for the job. How flukey. I was so pleased (when you have no life things such as this make you happy) I wanted to tell someone but the woman had gone. And really who would care anyway. Do you care? Of course you don’t.

Something Else

Why do I lose things I carefully put away, positive at the time that I don’t need to write myself a note, because this is the spot. Or writing myself a note that on return is so cryptic I can’t remember what the hell it was about.
After years of losing the ‘thing’ in the ‘safe spot’ and decades of trying to work out alligator in pink stilettos walks calmly at noon or steak paprika al tinkerbell Wednesday, you would think I might have learned something.

I can forgive myself of the midnight notes - if I wake in the middle of the night with a revelation of any description, it’s going to be a surreal piece of something, I don’t know what when I see it in the morning. It’s that one night stand kind of judgement. You wake up in the morning and it’s a whole new reality baby.

Making the same stupid mistake over and over and admitting it publicly. Does that make me a habitual idiot with no life?

And Another Thing

Husky Nutmeg has been online for a year now. If I wasn't feeling so seedy I'd drink to that. Thanks for visiting – thanks for the friendships made along the way.

Le Tigre arrived on Friday.

2006-03-05T19:06:00.000+11:00

It’s parents (my son and his fiancé) have moved house and so I have a little furry lodger for a little while.

Since the arrival of Le Tigre, I notice the 'web' has listed a travel warning for Charlotte’s Rainforest Retreat noting it as a ‘Destination for which…[they] advise you to reconsider your need to travel’.

And rightly so, because this cat is just ferocious. You can’t tell? Oh please look at those evil claws. The spine chilling stare… T.S. Elliot would have written reams…

Like a Virgo

2006-03-02T19:52:00.000+11:00

Thanks Mel for this'n. All sorts of fun things on this site.

Apparently, I should be a Virgo - pretty close, I guess. If my mother had have listened to her doctor I would have been.

You Should Be A Virgo

What's good about you: you have a quiet determination and aren't swayed by emotions

What's bad about you: you are an insane perfectionist and easily find faults in others

In love: you are obsessed with making your partner happy

In friendship, you're: helpful and giving - eager to be a true friend

Your ideal job: poet, flight attendant, or natural healer

Your sense of fashion: casual, upscale, revealing, conservative - you look good in all of it

You like to pig out on: a well prepared five course meal

What Sign Should You Be?

Pinata

2006-03-02T14:00:00.000+11:00

I’m not angry anymore. I’m a bit sad but there’s no point wallowing in it – so I figure it’s much better to laugh at life at least half as much as life laughs at me (yeah, ‘with’, sure…)

Welcome Autumn. I think I have a cold.

And I’ve been seeing the world from the strangest angles lately.

Firstly, Mip relays all sorts of information about her day. One of the boys in the class was apparently ‘Space Invading’. While my mind was reeling through the possible definitions maybe or
perhaps
Mip was talking about something else entirely

The other day, I was walking to our main strip. Up ahead, I noticed one of the local elderly women, leaning up against a telephone pole. She’d walk a little then hang on to a fence for a bit, then lean against the next pole. It had been a hot day. When I got to her, I asked if she was okay. She said, quite matter-of-factly ‘I’m fine’ and continued past me. It was then I realised she was chatting to the poles and posts.

One of my neighbours said to me last week, ‘You do all that walking but you don’t lose any weight do you?’ I laughed politely, even more when she said, ‘well, you do are a bit chunky!’ I took a second to compose myself and said, ‘It’s all muscle Milly!’ Now the stupid thing is, I know I’m not overweight (mind, I’m no bean pole – otherwise the post chatterer would have had more time for me) so why am I now pretending to laugh when something inside is telling me I’m graceless? And what's the cost of overthinking? I think I'll just eat sweets and become a living pinata.

Nothing Good to Say

2006-02-28T21:41:00.000+11:00

I've always thought I have a lot of things to smile about. Today, however, I don't want to smile. I wonder whether the joy I feel is just my perspective of a situation on the day.

I'm so angry that my jaw hurts. I'd love to not think at all and just blame the world for deceiving me but in truth I know the only one I have to blame is myself for shutting out what I didn't want to see.

Why is that so clear now? Because I've been here before. And obviously haven't learned a thing.

Flat Out like a Lizard Drinking

2006-02-19T16:35:00.000+11:00

Life continues to move ‘like a frog in a sock’ - I think this is the expression that Son of HN is fond of these days. He also uses ‘fish out of water’ but that expression means something else to me. Has the meaning changed? Personally, if he wants to refer to pre-seafood, I’d be inclined to say, ‘frenzied like a flapping fish’.

It’s been another eventful week for contact with wild beasts. Could someone please remove the spider welcome mat from my home - the very large visitor we encountered on Thursday morning, swore blind she’d been given a twenty percent discount for booking on the web (sorry, couldn’t help myself). My neighbour bravely escorted her from my bathroom and Charlotte’s Rainforest Retreat is now official closed.

Yesterday, Mip and I went to a five year old girl’s birthday – no clowns or fairies at this one.

Being the ‘just bring it on’ kind of child she is, Mip wore the snakes like costume jewellery. Then she handed a huge snake to me – a jaffa snake which would normally kill you if not for an operation it had to make it venomoid. Now this is something I never would have expected to do in my life but kids challenge you in the most interesting of ways.

The other parents were so blasé about draping three at a time across their bodies – ‘oh, snakes, pfft - we do this all the time you know - on weekends’. Once I’d regained my composure, I found they weren’t so scary. In fact they were quite fascinating. So I sent the photos to our relatives overseas – oh snakes, ha – us Aussies don’t bother with cats and dogs…

The other photo I sent them was of Australian Car Washes. Well, we are considered the lucky country:

Time's Ticking Past Fast

2006-02-15T20:52:00.000+11:00

If someone holding a stop watch monotored the pace of our lives lately, I'll bet we could have qualified for the Commonwealth Games.

I was at a Valentine's Day do last night. Mip dressed as Cinderella because she can. My friend and I noticed a little boy in a corner next to a wishing fountain. He had his hands in the water playing with the coins which at that moment we thought was cute until we noticed he had his back to us and looked as though he was going to pee onto the wall. My friend said, 'Do you think... he's...???' But it was all right. We soon realized the lad had found the perfect smuggling spot and his bigger brother had also cottoned on to his stroke of genius and joined in. I'd forgotten all about it until I read the paper today. We couldn't blame the boys, it's clearly the world they're growing up in.

Sun Shines on Death Row

2006-02-13T11:00:00.000+11:00

You write about the cutsie things and then there's the 'other side'...

Mip was collecting catapillars from her Dad's vegie garden yesterday. She put them in a little bucket and said, 'There you go. Have a little chat with your friends for a little while before we feed you to the chickens and kill you.'

Cutsie Isn't-My-Child-Great Post

2006-02-11T11:33:00.000+11:00

This morning Mip snuggled into my arms and said, 'ah, I'm falling into heaven!'

This is her painting (created twelve months ago) of the Madonna and Child.

When Life is just One Big Silly Email

2006-02-09T20:45:00.000+11:00

Scenario One:
A lady at work was seen putting a credit card into her floppy drive and pulling it out very quickly.

When I inquired as to what she was doing, she said she was shopping on the Internet and they kept asking for a credit card number, so she was using the ATM "thingy."

Scenario Two:
A number of department staff were shocked to find out the snazzy 'coffee holders' on their new PC's were indeed CD drives.

One of these stories was sent to me in an email about silly things that people do. The sad, sad thing here is the other scenario actually happened.

Love Tattered but Loved

2006-02-07T09:40:00.000+11:00

Love Tattered
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

One of the times when I could see how much my son loves me.

It was a long time ago. We were moving house (again) . I was being ruthless with my belongings and my son watched me crying as I threw some things away. This scarf was one. I love it because it was a very fine silk scarf once. It's worn and imperfect now, damaged property. Somehow I love it more because of that.

Unpacking was a lot easier than packing. My son stood in the doorway with a bashful smile, proudly holding my scarf. He handed it to me - his big heart filling the room when he put his arms around his weeping mother.

So now it means even more.

Let's Get Physical

2006-02-06T21:30:00.000+11:00

I was in Footscray the other day. A great place for a bargain and whenever I pass through the place I can pick up a dozen or two energy drinks for under $10.00.

And there they were - a slab of them for $5.00. Different packaging but I saw the word ‘excite’ and thought, ‘yey, these will do nicely!’ And lovely blue bottles – very reusable.

Mip and I got on the bus and I rested the slab on my lap. The gentleman across from me, said, ‘Where’d ye get those?’

‘Just up the road,’ said I, quite proud of my purchase, ‘Five dollars!’

‘Party on tonight!’ he says, smiling.

I remember a word from one of those Washington Post Redefinition things – something like: ‘Pupplexed’ – the look your dog gives you when you pretend to throw the ball. Enough said.

Sitting on the bus for a while with no book and Mip happily looking out of the window, I thought I read the side of one of the bottles. I didn’t notice the little rabbits until later. It could have been the ‘Love from Sweden bit’ or perhaps the word ‘Aphrodisiac’ that allowed me to change colour five times on the trip home.

Here I was thinking how many other people on this bloody bus have noticed that – ‘There’s another one of those single mothers, Mildred. Spending all our taxpayers money on love herbs and having hundreds of babies.’

Yoghurt: The Perfect Topping for Milo

2006-01-26T06:36:00.000+11:00

Here Mip, have some freedom to make your own breakfast - but I'm telling you, that's not going to taste nice.

There are some things you just have to let them learn on their own.

This is great weather. Someone said, airconditioners are like Spider Motel signs. I woke up yesterday and realized I'd shared my pillow with a spider. We discussed whose pillow it was. One would assume that was that.

This morning, I reached out to open my front door and there 'she' was - at - eye - level. Three times the size of my pillow buddy. We both jumped (and if you can make a huntsman jump when it looks at you - well you know you were built for speed not beauty).

So Charlotte stares down at me and says - Where is he?

HN (biting bottom lip) - I don't know what you're talking about.

Ch - My husband! (six of her legs are in pounce mode) Where is my husband?

HN - (still mumbling) Have you tried the water spout lately?

Ch - Don't play cute with me. I know you slept with him last night.

HN - Hey, we should discuss this. Really. He had it coming. Let me take you to a nice tree outside.

My Last Post is Hiding

2006-01-21T08:16:00.000+11:00

I wrote a post - nothing special really - just my normal waffle. Blogger says it's published but it just hasn't arrived on screen, so here's a test and at the same time you might meet Gill.

Bonus Pergolas

2006-01-19T09:13:00.000+11:00

What’s in a name? My children have two fathers. Some folk say, single mothers are just out there to get pregnant and have babies with hundreds of unsuspecting, innocent men… you know the rot that goes around. Anyway, I tell people that both my ex husbands have the same name so none of that counts for me.

Let’s just through example call them both 'John'. When Mip’s dad and I got together everyone thought it was their place to put in their two cents worth just in case I might have overlooked the ‘name thing’. Even my mother thought let’s have a great laugh at my daughter’s expense. ‘At least you won’t forget yourself’ she chuckled. Ha ha… ha

But I got over it. And I’ve mentioned before last year I went out with another guy called ‘John’. When he handed me his details on a piece of paper, I looked at his name and nearly feel off the bus he was driving.

Well now that’s all fine but I think the universe is having its own little joke on me now – I met this guy last week at a picnic. Really nice guy but… yep, there are just not enough Johns in the world, are there?

And I’m not even looking. I’m quite happy with my life/no life thanks all the same (there’s a pun in there somewhere I guess). It’s all very disturbing.

I guess names are your first impressions sometimes.

I went searching for a house to rent once and found an add which read, ‘bonus pergola’. I wish I had my camera that day. Two posts and a bit of ripped netting hanging between it and a garden shed. I love potential but that wasn’t potential - it was comedy. For me, it has been a benchmark for the quality of real estate advertisements ever since.

I love the way real estate adds show a picture of something in the area if your house doesn’t cut it in the ‘enticement’ department. It’s a statement louder than, ‘renovator’s dream’.

Once, I went to a real estate agent and told her I love a house that’s a bit quirky. The agent seemed a bit moody while I applied to rent this particular house. When I left she handed me her business card – her name assured me I didn’t get the house.

My four-year-old nephew thinks I live in a holiday house because I live next to the beach and I have a small kitchen.

Christmas decorations have been packed away now. It’s nice to have them up but great to have some space again in my ‘holiday house style’ lounge room.

Party On Dr Zeuss

2005-12-31T20:07:00.000+11:00

I had the most bizarre dream a couple of nights ago.

It was in a waiting room waiting to have an operation with a bunch of nurses (the girls from Sabrina Teenage witch – how scary is that already?!) who were bickering about personal stuff. Very soap opera - this whole dream.

A middle aged in one of those fifties-style nurse outfits (I knew I could trust her for some reason) told me she will be putting this massive needle into my chest and then proceeded to do so twice, dropped the thing, picked it up and jabbed me again. I just lay there staring at her with wide rabbit eyes thinking I can handle this, I can handle anything, oh tough me…

A cute, male nurse came by and and wheeled me into the theatre, then this doctor – also very nice to look at (when in Soap Opera World, you might as well have the involvement of an occasional hottie) came in an started talking to the nurses (how true to my life is that!). I was feeling brave but couldn’t breathe so I asked for help. I kept in mind to keep my mouth shut so as not to say anything stupid because I knew the anaesthesia was starting to work and I had no idea what I was there for. The hot doctor then said something like, ‘So, what are we fixing?’ (!!!!! Oh Great…)

I resigned to let them deal with it. Curled up in a foetal position and went to sleep only that’s when I woke up.

I love crazy dreams. You always try to dissect them and then you realize it was really just what you ate the night before!

On the other side of Christmas. How exciting. It’s a lovely time of year but I spend a lot of time smiling like a chimpanzee and usually by New Year I start acting like one. For this reason I opted to have a ‘quiet’ New Year this year and agreed to babysit my friend’s five year old son. Quiet, you ask? Come to think of it...

So far, it’s been very entertaining. We’ve painted pictures before the heat set in. We’ve watched a movie. At some point my little five year old mate, asks me why my daughter, also five, does not want to have a boyfriend. Sadly, I know the truth here. She has a thing for his best buddy at crèche.

We did the dress ups thing (no I didn’t really join in on that one, although a fifties nurse costume seemed strangely appealing). The young batman declares, ‘I have just changed into an evil batman - Roar!’ to which I automatically respond, ‘No, we have no evil beings in this house.’ Batboy stops in his tracks and says, ‘oh… okay!’ and everyone is happy.

There you have it – the answer to world peace. Somebody’s mother just has to stand up and say, ‘no, we will have none of that on this planet’ and all will be well.
I’m sure that was Mother Teresa’s theory, come to think of it. Now there's a woman. As she once said, "Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin."

Happy New Year everyone. Party on and have one for me.

Bless all the Angels and the Saints

2005-12-20T00:08:00.000+11:00

I picked up a Christmas cracker insert this morning, amongst other things left from a family do yesterday. It read,
‘You can be what ever type of person you choose to be. Your habits, your behaviours, your responses, are all your choice.’

For a Christmas Cracker, that’s deep. Then, in the same cracker:
‘Q: What is the best way to catch a squirrel?
A: Climb up a tree and act like a nut.’

In a way, I felt both were somehow meant for me. But you get that.

I choose to accept that I’m not perfect. Mostly, I do my best but sometimes I stuff up.

Thank you to the angels who manage to fill the gaps I leave.

My daughter was asking me the same question over and over on the train the other day. I’d zoned out – the guy in the seat in front of us turned around and patiently answered her question. Thank you for giving my child the time she deserved and for reminding me that my mind shouldn’t have been off duty in the first place.

When my son’s fiancée wraps her arms around my son and ruffles his hair or when she stands by his side through tough times, I know we are blessed.

When I see people sharing peace, joy and love (in it’s true, non-greeting-card sense) and bringing hope in ways that range from saying a positive word (and consciously refusing to use a negative one), to actively standing up to an injustice as it occurs. Little steps and big steps are all steps.

When I see real, pure happiness. I just got back from Carols by Candlelight at my parents’ nursing home. The staff there give 120% of themselves - in their time and in the way they give joy and the way they can identify and fill all those gaps. And in a nursing home, there are a lot of gaps to fill.

Anyway enough soapboxing. Hmmm could that be classed as a sport? My son came by after work today and saw the Christmas Cracker insert on my kitchen bench. He read it, looked at me, eyes narrowed, little smile. He said, ‘Was this left for me?’

Anyway, I’m off to catch a squirrel.

In Search of Peace

2005-12-11T23:07:00.000+11:00

Today on the way home from the movies, she says ‘when I have children I’ll let them do what they want’.

And what would that be? I ask.

Mip - They could go to the movies every day.

Me - Really. What about school?

Mip - Yeah, they’d go to school every day. One day I’ll take them to the park. Another day to the movies…

Me - Hmm. A bit like your life now.

Glad I’m keeping up to the standard.

Sometimes, I get little notes from my disgruntled, yet prolific child.

In tears, she tells me that there will be no kisses before dinner because I’m a ‘mean Mummy’. In these times, I find it almost impossible to be cross with her – I just want to run and get the camera. Or scan her drawings of hearts broken in half.

Fast forward twenty or so years – at least she’ll have documentary evidence for the counselor’s office.

We went to see the preview of Disney’s The Chronicles of Narnia - The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. It’s due to open in Australia on Boxing Day and expectations are quite high for its success, given its warm reception in New Zealand and the US.

Polly Toynbee makes some valid points: the age article

If I stand back and accept the movie as a piece of entertainment, it is a relatively uncomplicated story which is visually rich while disturbing in its portrayal of an aesthetic good versus an ugly evil.

The music will have me looking for the soundtrack.

As a parent, I hope it gets a PG rating. My daughter is beyond her years in some ways – she has a great way of accepting that ‘everything will be fine in the end’ if I am there to assure her of that fact. Having said that, I don’t appreciate any attempt to justify violence no matter how simple a tale is.

I’m concerned about some of the underlying messages that a child might bring home. Early in the piece, the littlest child trusts a stranger with a second agenda who turns out to be one of the ‘good guys’.

On something completely different, I love the days when the articles are educational: The word from the world's oldest person What? No advice on diet or World Peace?

Yes, it’s beginning to look a lot like

2005-12-04T07:01:00.000+11:00

Trying to upload my parents photo - couldn't see it... agh. I'm so unskilled with these things at times. And my links weren't links - maybe when I grow up, I'll be clever... or maybe a kind friend will rescue me from my ignorant misery.

I used to dread Christmas. My children have turned all that around so now I have to admit I love this time of year. It's a time for:
• Colour wherever you look. If it shines, sparkles reflects a rainbow of colour, it’s acceptable at this time of year.
This was perhaps what might have entertained the mind of whoever designed the gelato look
for Parliament House during the Commonwealth Games.
• Balancing all that with simplicity and tradition.
• Questioning your faith or more precisely your commitment to it and what that means.
• Doing the annual catch up with family, friends, and acquaintances (some who you adore, some not so much).
• Getting soppy about things.
• Counting your blessings. Having Dad around still is one of the big ones for me this year. And there are so many others.
• The commitment caring about someone else - to make a positive difference in someone’s life. Not just to be charitable but to surprise a stranger with kindness and maybe restore some faith that the forces of ‘good’ rule.
• Being surprised by the kindness strangers.
• Shopping for a huge variety of food ranging from nutritionally necessary to wrapped in pretty packaging which will be so much nicer than the handkerchiefs we gave her last year.
• Singing at the top of your voice without having the expectation that someone will be arriving soon to lock you up and Advent calendars in all forms, the artistic, the beautiful and the Australian Idol one at every supermarket at the minute. There’s a lovely little advent calendar here.
• Presents, gift wrap, cards that say less than a letter but more than a text message.
• Writing everything in list form.

It's also a time for getting out and about. Here is something made specifically for the attention span of a blogger. Looks like fun. I’ve always fancied myself as a script writer so I could also justify it as a learning experience. Then again, it might just be fun.

Mip has been showing me how to live in the moment. We went to a Christening this week which I loved for its simplicity. My daughter has a fascination for anything religious so while the Pastor was praying, my little girl was right in there, hands clasped together, solemn bowed head, beautiful. Then, she looks up at me and her expression says, ‘this is bigger than us’. She melts me.

Yesterday, like a cat when you’re reading something interesting, she snuggles up between me and my newspaper. I’m about to get really annoyed except that she says, ‘this is the best cuddle I’ve had in all my life.’ So I figure the newspaper can wait.

Thank you Chai for your technical direction. I feel much cleverer (er) now.

Me and the Romper Room Dooby are 'like that' now.

2005-12-02T01:03:00.000+11:00

'You take the high road and I'll take the low road', was our agreement this morning.

I have a massive lavender bush out front of my unit. Every now and then my neighbours start waving their arms about and making loud noises until observant me looks outside and says, 'oh yeah, I suppose it IS blocking the driveway!'

So this morning at dawn, before coffee (this is true sacrifice) and armed with hedge clippers I found that three billion bees had beaten me out of bed.

Then, as always happens when I start gardening, my brain starts wanting to write. Fantastic, maybe it's the pungent aroma of lavender - or maybe it's all just a ploy by my brain to get me back in the kitchen near the coffee.

I summoned Mip to grab me some paper and a pen. I'd get my tape recorder but the fact is by this time my neighbours are starting to leave for work and have already been looking at me sideways over the bee whisperer thing.

I used to watch Romper Room with my sister when I was little. Yeah, that's right:

"I always do everything right.
I never do anything wrong.
I'm a Romper Room Do Bee;
A Do Bee all day long!"

I'd be so cross at the end because my name is so non vanilla that Miss Whoever She Was (well, all right, so I can't remember hers either) would look through her magic mirror and see Sally and Judy and Mary. She'd finish with "... and I can see you!' My mother would say, 'See, she did see you.'

Shrinkful Folk might pinpoint the seeds of an identity crisis right there. I see it as good grounding for future discussions with these early rising bees over Lavender Real Estate.

Tuning Out

2005-11-28T05:53:00.000+11:00

Libra---You may feel as if you are running against your own inner tide a bit today so be certain not to push yourself too hard. It is really a day for you to slow the pace of life down and find personal space to be alone, meditate and relax... ASTROZONE

I went away to Stephs on the weekend. Stayed in a cabin overlooking gum trees, a creek, some really fluffy looking cows, another cabin… All green (apart from the black and white Galloways). Finally my neck and shoulder muscles have begun to unravel.

The birds are just as chattery there as here by the beach although at least in the country I can name one or two. Imagine being a bird, “We’re having a little get together - in that circle of trees above the Galloways. Kookaburra? Do we have to invite her? She’s always sooo loud at parties…”

Three of the Other Ten

2005-11-24T08:32:00.000+11:00

1. I’m obsessed with paper. I can remember going for early morning walks to the newsagent with my Dad – I’m still a bit of a paper shop groupy now. Having a notebook in my bag can be more important to me than food. I don’t think it’s such a crazy thing – some women have a passion for shoes or feel naked without lipstick.

We went to the Chooka’s exhibition last month for the kids’ benefit of course – well actually I saw the advertisement for Giant Origami and thought 'I' have to be there. I did learn that folding huge pieces of paper takes a long time. We went for an icecream/latte break during one of the projects (this elephant I think) and still made it for the finale.

2. I get straight-eyebrow-looks from people because I like to state the obvious. For example:

When my next door neighbour cut his house in half and moved it to another property, so I had to make a ‘moving house’ joke. I suppose a lot of people had been doing that.

Or when my girlfriend dated this weatherman.

My kids just shake their heads and smile as though they’re envisaging the nursing home they’ll be finding for me one day. The fact is that simple things make me laugh. Give me a bag of jelly ears and I’m in pun paradise. Or a jar of thyme - oooh - it’s like a disease…

3. My kids are generally people pleasers – I brought them up that way. It was the way I was brought up – put yourself aside and make sure the other person is happy at an often ridiculous cost. Life has changed a lot between Gen X and Y I notice that both my children will jump through hoops to please you but not if it prejudices their dignity. This I guess, is evolution.

Ratings

2005-11-19T23:14:00.000+11:00

I passed an elderly woman sitting on a bench outside her flat (I'm guessing), today. She was beaming like a little girl with news.

'Lovely day, isn't it?' I said.

'Mmm.' she said, 'Hope it rains soon.'

'It might.'

'I hope so.' Her hands clasped together, her eyes twinkled. If she could have dangled her legs under the seat, I'm sure she would have.

Happiness IS a state of mind and this woman is proof to me that age is just as flexible.

Having spent a fair bit of time around elderly folk, I wonder whether the lady said that because she anticipated watching me and my groceries getting drenched further down the road. If so, good for her - nothing like having the imagination to crack yourself up.

I rated my life the other day.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.3
Mind:	7.3
Body:	8.4
Spirit:	8.3
Friends/Family:	6.5
Love:	0
Finance:	6.6
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

You've got to try this out. When I was a kid, I used to fill out these things to achieve the best results. No fear of that having happened here! So I'm a grown up now, maybe.

Gravity

2005-11-16T16:35:00.000+11:00

There was a piece of cotton stuck in my eye on Monday morning. Somewhere, a tiny fairy is cursing about where all their odd socks get to. Now we know.

Anyway, that, together with a massive hayfever attack, resulted in my waking up looking like none other than Satan’s Auntie. It was a really scary look although Mip didn’t seem too fussed which is a worry. It was very unfortunate. Poor me.

The doctor told me the conjunctiva (how grose does that sound) that had gathered around my eyeballs had also migrated under my eyes into hand luggage sized bags sitting on my cheekbones, because of what???!!! Gravity.

Bloody Gravity! Now, I’ve heard it all. It’s one thing to accept there is a reason why last year’s clothes look so different this year. It’s even fair to accept it when the labels in your underwear drawer use the word ‘support’ more often than a construction site manual. But when your face starts sliding off your skull, it’s time to do something about it, man.

So that’s it. I’m getting the carrots and celery into that juicer and dusting those Tai Chi videos I promised myself I’d practice religiously a hundred years ago. Gravity, my arse (well actually… that’s another thing…)

Maybe if I lived like a vampire and hung upside down at night, I might beat gravity. Hell, they do it with roses while they’re drying out. Hmm, now there’s yet another issue…

10 of 20 things that make you go hmmm

2005-11-08T00:51:00.000+11:00

I’ve been tagged by none other than Sugar n Spice of The Missing Ingredient. Bless you my child, I do love a chance to talk about myself. Due to circumstances mentioned in point seven, here are the first ten…

1. I have learned that you shouldn’t wear water resistant watches in the bath as they are as water proof as wearing a raincoat in the ocean.

2. I think we’re all made out of the same stuff. So all our victories are shared and are to our collective credit and we should take collective responsibility for individual failure with exception of the odd idiot who wears his new water resistant watch in the bath and gets narky when it stops working.

3. A decade ago, I painted a mural in one of the therapy rooms of a health care centre. One of the new counsellors saw it and declared the artist was schizophrenic. Bloody cheek.

4. My culture disposes me to live in a cluttered environment but my psyche demands I keep life simple so I live in a revolving cycle of building and clearing.

5. I must be a vegemite purist – I don’t like that cheese and vegemite thing – it’s vegemite OR cheese. Just like peanut butter and margarine. What are people thinking with these combinations?

6. My mother taught me it was cheap to look and act like everyone else so I ‘rebelled’, and tried to blend in with some of the worst and best crowds. I learned a lot about people and what they expect from other people. Now I do my best not to judge my kids decisions too much.

7. When you live in the moment, some stuff just doesn’t get finished. Some people bag me over that. There is never enough time in the day for me but I think that’s a good thing. I get frustrated with people who get ‘bored’ because I can’t understand a world without a million projects to work on. It doesn’t bother me that most of my projects are unfinished. It’s the process that excites me.

8. Having said that, there are a few projects that I would like to finish this year, for example that Tasmanian seascape I started in 1998.

9. My children have been my greatest teachers.

10. Unlike some, I don’t hate my alarm clock. In fact, I have four set at three different times. Some time management resources don’t cost an arm and a leg you know.

Nutmeg Sprinkled Freely on Date Free Tart

2005-10-22T02:11:00.000+10:00

The Anaesthesiologist told me not to write for 24 hrs after my operation because all that morphine would make me think whatever I’ve written would be Pulitzer Prize material. I saw this recipe on Better Homes and Gardens that night - zucchini cake with pistachio nuts and he’s right – it seemed like the best thing since sliced bread (if you’re going to use a cliché, you might as well make it appropriate – mind you, if I was talking about bread and butter pudding – now that would have been something).

Since then, I’ve bought some zucchini and the nuts and have wound up using them for something else before they even come close to seeing a baking tin.

And I’ve baked other things. They haven’t been good enough. Well… honestly, they have been perfectly all right except that they are not zucchini cake and so I’m left with this feeling like something jest aint right.

Speaking about jest aint right, what century is this? Say a man asks you out. You NEVER assume anything more than this is one date. It could be coffee. This could be something not coffee but all in all, you’re thinking this is one date. When a boy asks a girl on a date, I have never seen the girl suddenly get her pen out and change her life insurance. It doesn’t happen.

Yet, if a woman asks a man out, as I bravely (I might add) did the other day, suddenly the world assumes she’s wheeling her apron strings into a lasso and singing about mountains like Julie Andrews.

But then, this is all new to me. My mind said ‘out for coffee’ – my mouth just said ‘out’. And that, I’ve been told, is the difference. Hell, all I meant to do was advertise the coffee, not the whole coffee shop!

In fact, I was on the train the other night and there was this Gen Y girl sharing her life and mobile phone conversation with us all - as they do so well - without caring that those of us with no life are listening with many stations to get through without the relief of a newspaper – not even an MX.

The girl spoke words that I was certain the universe had prepared for my ears alone:

She said, ‘I’m going on a date…I know…I wouldn’t normally… I mean he said do you want to go OUT!… Yeah, like if he’d said, go out for a coffee, then that would be okay but do you want to go OUT…I know… but he said go OUT…who ever says THAT?!!!…I know…’

I wonder now what the hell entertained my head to do this. I’m not too sure really but I’m guessing it was probably one of the things I was thinking about while watching Better Homes and Gardens, a few weeks back.

FYI

2005-09-17T01:39:00.000+10:00

I just had a nose operation. Straight forward thing - they tag you, stick half a cutlery set up your nose, feed you free food and drugs, you stay the night, then they send you home for a nice two week holiday.

It's the tag thing that had me in stitches (sorry, couldn't help myself). The format of the name tag, being a remnant of some antiquated system of whenever, had my name, date of birth, all of that, then "F Divorced" prominently there as if it was as important as my bloodtype.

Personally, I endorse any kind of free advertising but I have to wonder whether you would want to be marketing yourself at that particular moment. - "Nice legs, shame about all that blood oozing from her head..."

I used to know a girl who sent messages by the way she wore the rings on her fingers - you know, the married one is obvious (maybe not so much today - I guess - having been there and done that as EVERYBODY knows now after my trip to hospital).
No, this chick had combinations for 'Single, not available' and 'Recently attached but still looking'.

Maybe the hospital could use her advice - like: Tag on Left Foot - 'Not normally looking but could use some entertainment for the next two weeks...'

For You Sis

2005-09-02T23:29:00.000+10:00

Stripping the bed

I have a memory
Of floorboards
Ripped from a frame
The skeleton exposed
And still
I cannot see
Why I feel sad

She stares and looks away
Time stained sheets
Stripped from the bed
The faded pillows dragged
Until
The bed is bare
We were too small

Crisp linen fills the air
The layers
Pressed flat and hushed
Embroidered covers gold
Damask
A mask to wear
I’ll never know

You’ve always been a cool matron
Wrapping over the truth of it.

Fish Face

2005-09-01T17:22:00.000+10:00

Fish Face
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

It’s been a long time since I sat up in a tree, ate Wizz Fizz with my best mate Frank Mikes, invented stories about aliens and played Space Invaders at the corner Milk Bar.

Until now, my daughter has handed me the fizzy powder from her lolly bags because it’s ‘too sour’ for her more refined Freddo loving taste buds. I love the stuff – and whenever I have a spoonful (and you’ve got to eat it with the tiny scoop supplied), it reminds me of times that seemed more black and white.

I noticed the other day, my daughter has begun to like it too so we’ll have to share.

She shared some wisdom with me yesterday – “It’s a good thing you don’t have bones in your cheeks because if you did it would hurt when you do a fish face.”

I wonder if she thought of that while she was eating Wizz Fizz.

Springin In

2005-08-31T06:21:00.000+10:00

Springin In
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

Spring announces itself in so many ways. This was one, at the beach side of my street. Apparently a sight like this is not so uncommon although it was a first for me.

Like a lot of people I wither in winter. As soon as we got a hint of good weather I started bouncing off the walls and buzzing about. Maybe I was a ladybug in another life.

Oooooooaaaaaaw

2005-08-24T15:19:00.000+10:00

It is true what they say. Too many sweets are bad for you. It could be the amount of them that has left me undone, given the wrappers alone were a huge handful. It might also have been the combination - let it be known that sherbet, chocolate and nougat don't do all that well together.

Horoscopes

2005-07-25T23:00:00.000+10:00

I like to read my horoscope - it's not that I'm superstitious although I do believe things happen for a reason and if a line or two from the daily newspaper rings true for some reason, you were probably meant to read it.

Today one newspaper says my plans need some adjustment - the other says I could use a rest. A fine couple of statements for a Monday morning. Maybe I should go back to bed!

my BIG little guy

2005-06-23T09:36:00.000+10:00

mylittleguy
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

My son turns eighteen today.

What can I say about my son? I’m proud of his ability to enjoy many different circles of friends and relatives with an ease I can only admire. I’ve been looking at photos of the three families that have surrounded him through the years, preparing slideshows of the moments, hoping the synthesis will be as smooth when we all get together to celebrate.

He loves to be the clown and isn’t afraid to be different. In school projects, he would always take the off-centre options when other kids were happy to settle for plain vanilla.

He is dramatic by nature. When he was little many knew him as ‘Oscar’. Mind you, real life had a lot of drama attached to it so maybe that was a good thing.

His passion for food and cooking has always amazed me. At an early age he’d be glued to the television when the cooking shows came on. I thought he might become a chef someday, although he did work at KFC for a while there. Now he is an excellent cook at home. Watch out Jaime Oliver, there’s still time for this boy…

His passion has moved onto music (his girlfriend might beg to differ) and he’s learning to be a DJ. I think he’ll be great. He’s also a graphic design wiz. That’s the thing about my son, he can make magic out of whatever he puts his hand to.

We haven’t always seen eye to eye – we are very similar in nature which can be tricky. Add to that the fact that I’ve made just about every mistake in the ‘Parenting Book’, he’s done well to be where he is now.

One thing for sure is that he’s an independent spirit and while at times it can be frustrating, I love that quality in him.

Congratulations Leon.

There's a lot to laugh about if you really think about it

2005-06-17T01:54:00.000+10:00

Most people say I have a positive attitude because I look on the bright side of life (Monty Python whistle required –HERE-) and others note that I smile a lot. As I’m getting older (and I’m feeling that this month given my son is turning 18), I’m beginning to realise my ‘positive’ attitude is often cynical and that smile is very (oh-shit-please-don’t-notice-I’m-scared-of you) chimpanzee like.

I love how my family will turn just about anything around and laugh at it. For example, I was born with slow reflexes so whenever tripped over something, I wouldn’t put my hands out in front and inevitably this resulted in my nose always being scratched. My parents didn’t think this needed investigating – they just called me Hammer Head.

I would like to say that over the generations, things have changed. When my son was about nine (was that really nearly a decade ago?), the lenses of his glasses fell out, so I put them back in and growled about how he needs to take more care of them. ‘Money doesn’t grow on trees you know. No, we’re not getting another pair right now… Blah blah blah.’

My son put his glasses back on and said he couldn’t see properly but I wouldn’t listen. telling him, ‘I’m onto his wanting a new pair game and it wasn’t going to happen so build a bridge. Blah blah blah.’

Months later I took him to the optometrist for another pair. The guy looked puzzled and after a lot of messing about, asked me, ‘Your son doesn’t have tunnel vision does he?’

I’d put in the lenses back to front. Now there’s a story for the counsellors office. Sorry mate. I was a young mother of little brain.

My sister announced this week, ‘We now have a pirate in the family’. Our parents’ dog Jimmy, or Captain Fluffypaw as he might now be known, lost an eye this week. APPARENTLY, this kind of predicament can occur with dogs of his breed. He is a Japanese Chin. My sister had bought Jimmy for my parents and later took him in when Mum and Dad moved into a nursing home.

She rang me, ‘The breeders did not mention this. They mentioned something about his mouth but no, there was definitely nothing said like, ‘oh, and by the way, his eyes might just pop out one day’.

I went on my first (and last) date for this century this week. No, I’m not that much of a loser, I’ve just have had other priorities.

I think the date was doomed right from the start because the guy shares his name with the fathers of both of my children. Third time lucky, I’ve been told. Ha ha ha, very amusing, not.

I went on the date, after all, as my sister (who is also a look-on-the-bright-side-kind-of-gal. More whistling -HERE-) said, ‘1. The guy’s had a police check (he drives the bus I catch). 2. You know he has a job!’ and ‘3.He can drive (there it is, the dig at the fact that I don’t – it’s the reflex thing THAT NOBODY LOOKED INTO, btw).’

Are we sooo different reaaaally?

2005-06-07T22:59:00.000+10:00

Are we sooo different reaaaally?
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

My workplace has just changed sites. Lots of folk I don't know are doing the 'walk through'. A bit like my visit to Collingwood Children's Farm last week.

Volunteering in Twenty five years

2005-06-06T13:24:00.000+10:00

I've been involved in research about the future of volunteering... this is what I'm thinking just now. Perhaps at the other end of the research my perspective might change so I'm documenting the moment now.

I wonder whether people within the world community will feel more connected as a result of technology or will we feel more isolated and unable to communicate socially. Social skills are changing - the way we communicate with each other and the way we fear each other.

Litigation can make an act of kindness be twisted into something else.

The plethora of information at the tip of our fingers makes us less likely to explore our world; ask for help; meet like minded people face to face.

When terrorist actions become local news - a new generation is born into fear. In some ways that generation may become more resillient. The impact of losing faith in your neighbour - the deep rooted mistrust - could become another defining factor in how people might socially behave in 25 years.

the work of preschool genius

2005-06-05T20:51:00.000+10:00

the work of preschool genius
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

Lots of things can happen in a month…

I took photos of the beach and didn’t realise someone (most probably a very little someone who likes taking photos with my camera) had smudged the lens.

The result? What I expected to be an ordinary seaside shot turned out to be something special.

Pope John Paul II went to have a long lunch with Princess Diana and Mother Teresa. Pope Benedict XVI has been elected and some folk are disappointed that there won’t be any dramatic changes to the Catholic Church’s view on most things. In a world of unrest the majority stick with what they know, don’t they? Ask Johnny.

We sympathize with Australian daughter Shapelle, who is about to face harsh justice or injustice depending on whether or not she was indeed guilty of trafficking drugs.

We care about Australian son Douglas Wood but if I didn’t mention his surname you might say Douglas who? Where is he now? He ventured out of Australia to make money so suddenly he’s not as much of an Australian son?

In the meantime we leave a little Australian son in crèche one day and send his Mummy far away.

So many more stories in one month but they blur together and we focus on one or two that stand out for some reason.

In some ways I prefer the blurred picture because the raw reality is so hard to stand beside.

It's here

2005-06-05T20:47:00.000+10:00

This is the place
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

This is the place where Husky Nutmeg feels at home. It's like the earth and her feet are one and the same.

...the place

2005-06-05T20:44:00.000+10:00

This is the place
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

Or is it that Husky Nutmeg can still feel her childhood footsteps along the footpaths and the beach.

Along the Esplanade

2005-06-05T20:43:00.000+10:00

This is the place
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

This is the place where I can breathe

This is the place

2005-06-05T20:40:00.000+10:00

This is the place
Originally uploaded by Husky Nutmeg.

This is a special place for a lot of people. There is another lot of people who would be happy to do away with it.

Today

2005-04-19T22:56:00.000+10:00

Stay in the present. Today all we have to deal with is today.

Great in theory.

Weeping Willows

2005-04-19T20:16:00.000+10:00

I’m a journalism student. That means I make it my business to read as much as I can and as often as I can. So what have I learned from subscribing to a multitude of papers?

It’s not the reading of the papers that takes the time.

Seeeuuuuuwipppp goes another 3 kilograms of newspaper into the recycling. Out with ‘Drive’ – I don’t do it or read it; Sport – hmm a bit like ‘Drive’ really – in fact, it’s a damn good thing there isn’t a ‘Sex’ section come to think of it – that would be another 800 grams of garbage; I browse over the Real Estate section – nope - not buying or selling at the minute. Seeuuuuwippp!

Where’s my horoscope? Now there’s some riveting stuff.

Business and Money – having spent all of mine on newspapers – seeeuuuwipppp!

Health. Travel. Look at that - ‘The Ten most annoying diseases you can catch on Spring day while picking parsley on a hilltop with a dozen Swedish nuns.

Opinions. Editorial. Letters. I put them all aside to read last.

Down to the last 300 grams of newsprint and what do you know? It’s the news section.

Happy Birthday David

2005-04-10T15:18:00.000+10:00

I went to my mate David's 50th birthday this weekend. What a great night. It was held at David's in the country. In a huge garage - the 'big shed' - but is it a garage? It's the size of a barn I guess. Reuniting with people whose teenage kids are now adults and whose little kids are now teenagers. Good people and a lot of them. And we all love the guy.

I learned a few things:
A. Karaoke sounds much better when you join in.
B. Red wine doesn't taste as bad as I thought. Might have something to do with the amount of white that had passed through my lips previously.
C. Some of the old photos of David which I was given to produce a DVD were not of David. His mother pointed out a few of them were 'the neighbours kids'!

In the morning, I silently congratulated myself on not losing it when my daughter crowed her regular, ‘The sun is up, the sun is up!’

We all met back the big shed, showing different levels of tolerance to our different levels of lack of sleep. Some of us were very throaty. Not the kind of throaty that follows singing, but rather the kind that follows a good football match. Most of us were quiet and appreciative of the kind natured bodies who were making breakfast on the barbie.

I look at my daughter, sparkly and ready for action no matter what time it is. She’s smiling at me with her signature vegemite mark on the side of her mouth. Maybe we could market a body lotion. “The essence of youth – a teaspoon of glitter and one dollop of vegemite in every jar”.

From Where I'm Standing

2005-04-07T19:20:00.000+10:00

Discipline. No. Not much discipline here. Write and post everyday? Ha!

I’ve come to understand that writing is like unpacking the brain and there’s a lot of junk in there – a garage sale is looking good, just now.

How awesome is it when a line from a song or a movie or a book really grabs you. When, amongst your friends, a line turns into a reference point that you can always return to, that magically and automatically transports to the mood of that moment in time.

There’s been a lot of that today. I’ve been compiling a tribute for a friends 50th. The memories are doing my head in.

This week has been all about labour. Labours of love amongst other things. Great things – motivating stuff – just LOTS of it. I’m feeling inspired and exhausted at the same time.

I love my life. It’s great and it’s all mine. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong in it though – I’m somewhere in the third person. Mind, that’s a handy place to be – it’s like a mental anaesthetic…

'Husky Nutmeg stifled someone once. Lost in something disguised as the real thing she became quite deranged and as an act of tenderness, made for her ‘subject’ (as you should never treat anyone as an ‘object’) of affection, three million origami figurines (Husky Nutmeg is so unsmooth – even her acts of love are daggy). It was like a burial before the burial. Very sad.'

Just once in a while, I step back into the shoes I’m wearing and feel the blisters.

In ‘Wrong Bet’, when Claude says, “I want to take you away from all this ugliness”, mmm hmmm I was right there.

Dagginess with No Option of Escape

2005-03-19T18:46:00.000+11:00

The whole idea of this site was to enforce some kind of discipline into my writing life so that every day I write something on a creative level – good or bad – to keep my creativity moving.

Then fear set in. I started wishing I wasn’t so dull and wished I could be as awesomely cool as some of those blogsters who I respect for the way they say cool things in the coolest of ways. And there you have it. A perfect example. The word ‘cool’ is probably daggy now. In fact ‘daggy’ is probably ‘daggy’ now. I’ll bet ‘cool’ isn’t anything more than ‘chilly’ in today’s definition.

It’s not that I’m that old really. Thirty-seven isn’t ancient but at some stage I hooked into Gold 104 and took it ‘easy like Sunday morning’ while my son has been listening to kids singing (and that’s debatable) words that make me want to run for the soap and water and make angry sounds which are suspiciously similar to my own mother’s angry sounds when I was my son’s age.

I look over at my son who is in the prime of his teenage ‘grunting stage’ (thank you Paul for that very apt assessment of what has become of the rosy cheeked, exuberant children we once had).

“How would you say ‘cool’?” I ask him.

Now my daughter, all of four years old, will happily adopt any new terminology that takes her fancy. ‘No options’ is her latest, taken on the advice of her cousin (Thanks Aaron).

I woke up on Sunday morning, not to her usual rooster like cry of “The sun is up! The sun is up!” (mind you, her rendition of the Australian National Anthem proved very entertaining one early morning, if not a little disturbing at the time). No, I woke up to “Ba taught me a new word, ‘no options’ – it means (with complete drama in her voice and her hand resting on the side of her mouth) ‘NO CHOICE’!”

Oh the pictures of my future in a nursing home of ‘her choice’ flooded my mind after those first five seconds of, “Huh, where am I?”

But I apologise. I digress. My son thought for a bit, smiles and declares like he’s Christopher Columbus, “I would say… ‘Wicked’. That’s the word I use. But that’s in MY world. But everyone says it different[ly].” Sorry I had to put in the ‘ly’ – it’s an anal thing.

So getting back to the original, original point I was making. I’m going to use this site for its intended use so be warned, my mind ticks in very distorted ways and unapologetic dagginess is just one of its many products.

It's all musical...

2005-03-07T12:20:00.000+11:00

Husky Nutmeg and friends went to see ‘Bride and Prejudice’. During the first two minutes, there was panic. 'Maybe I should have researched Ms Austen’s celebrated novel before I came. What if I don’t get it? What if everyone laughs at all the cleverly inserted references and I’m here sitting like a big-lipped, frowny-faced fish?'

At school HN read the classics, because that was the extent of the book list at the time. Emily Brontë, Daphne du Maurier, Alex Hayley - all there, as was Shakespeare. Even Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’ got onto the book list but ‘Pride and Prejudice’? It didn’t get a look in.

HN quietly pulled herself together, capturing her inner child and surrendering to the present moment. Yeah. Right.

And what a movie it was. Lots of vibrant colour, dancing and loads of shake-your-head, daggy music bits. Almost a complete representation of everything Husky Nootmuskaatje ever was. And all without research.

So go Bollywood. Husky Nutmeg salutes you (while singing loudly from her roof top while waving to her neighbour who is also singing, from a tree across the road where he is cutting a branch with a chain saw. And the kids playing cricket on the street have dropped their game to come and join in. Then there’s the ambulance men carrying a man on a stretcher down the road, all singing…)

Time to Stop Moaning

2005-03-04T08:10:00.000+11:00

Moany, wingey Husky Nutmeg had begun to feel the stress of everyday life’s mortar and pestle and so went to have a full-body-stress-busting massage and yes-it-was-a-Christmas-present-facial.

HN approached the counter where a little pixy greeted and led her to suitably ambient room, complete with terracotta tiles, fluffy towels, soothing music and three goldfish.

Surely Petite Pixy, thought HN, you are too delicate. You are perhaps not aware that the macramé draping over my shoulder blades is really a tangled fisherman’s net and with all due respect, you appear to be far too dainty for the task of unravelling it.

See, HN whines that she has been parenting for a hundred years now and working part time and playing part time and studying part time and volunteering part time makes not a full time but a no time. Oh well, thought HN, it's still a nice present so I'll just close my eyes...

Moments after HN settled on the massage table, Petite Pixy morphed into Super Pixy with the strength of a Scottish Highlander. In fact, Husky Nutmeg would not have been surprised if SPwtsoaSH had left her there, on the table, saying, “Wait there, Lassie. I’ll be back in a wee minute. I just have to go and toss the Caber.”

Husky Nutmeg left the ambient room, complete with terracotta tiles, fluffy towels, soothing music and three goldfish and went home feeling as loose as a weekend hooker. Positively pampered and jelly-ankled, she thanks the universe for pleasant surprises, Christmas presents and pixies of all varieties. Oh, and she promises to whine no more.

It's all about Manners

2005-03-02T00:06:00.000+11:00

Have our manners flown out of the Window[s]?

What if we were to have:

'Would you like to save blahblahblah.doc before closing?'

and have a choice of:

1. Yes Please

2. No Thank You

Wouldn't that be something?

It's these consistently growing omissions of respect that saddens Husky Nutmeg. Seeing impolite statements become the norm and somehow no one, no longer expecting grace and civility brings tears to her huskiest core. HN just wonders whether that's why decency isn't as common as it once was.

It has become a pendulum. There is either a complete absence of politeness or there's bucket loads of cheesy stuff gushing at you with lines like, '...We apologise for stealing the last thirty minutes from your day. You are important to us. We at Customer Service would just love to share your enquiry with as many departments as we can manage and, don't worry - we'll be sure you don't miss a full ten minute interval of Bach during each transfer.'

When it's not there we miss it.
When it's there we don't trust it.

HN supposes that's the case with most things. But she still thinks it's all about manners.