Waiting

You can just sit around and wait or you can get busy. Job hunting has ground to a halt waiting for the festive season to pass. I am converting some of my finds from Vinnie's into presents and with some of the wool I brought back with me I am working on a tail-less scarf for J. and into a frame I will put a photo of J and his dogs for his father and mother. It just doesn't feel much like Christmas.

Last year I got to know my nephew. He was a newborn baby when I left Oz and now he has babies of his own. Evidently my driving was too much for my passenger so I ended up a passenger. Back then I was sufficiently shell shocked to just fold my tent instead of defending myself from another attack from someone who thought their feelings trumped those of everyone else. Anthony was a delightful companion who didn't need a running chatter for seven hours but endured gallantly all the same. The trek north passed the big banana and the giant shrimp ended at the condo of my sister. There her children and grandchildren and one of mind celebrated with food, the beach, chatter and nervousness. One guest arrived with newspaper clippings ready to spark conversations regarding social situations somewhere else. How boring! Family Christmas for people who have not seen much of each other is about how you eat your sandwiches and do-you-remember stories of the few things they have shared. Don't bring the outside world in because we are not there anymore.

Do you remember the effects of seeing something shocking. How it burned an image in the front of your mind and how everything else had to navigate through the horrid image. I remember a trip to Copenhagen in '72 and husband and I were titillated by the idea of a porn shop on main street and we went inside. I saw things in the one or two minutes we were inside that haunted me uncomfortably for years. Eventually life took over and new images laid a heavy curtain over the shocking collage. I am haunted by the image of the young man and his gun. I am troubled by the knowledge that here some people consider violence not only permitted to them by law (and money) but also their right. The person that swerves in front with horn blowing in their SUV (sudden uncontrolled violence)horn, probably has a gun as well. I tremble in my spirit. When I spoke of the incident I was told of a man with limited movement carries a gun all the time. Who does he want to shoot?

Are they crazy?

I spent Saturday washing clothes and floors and generally cleaning up the nest. Winter is coming even to Phoenix. A quick trip to the grocery store held for me an unexpected surprise. A young man dressed in jeans, ti-shirt and boots was striding hurriedly across the parking lot. His bustle attracted my attention and as he went through the entrance I saw sticking out from under his bunched up ti-shirt a big black gun. I stop dead in my tracks but noticed that everyone else walking towards the store continued walking. Let me give you the list of thoughts that raced through my mind.
1. a robbery was about to take place
2. move away from the store
3. why did no one else see that gun
4. no criminal would expose their gun in that way until the last moment
5. Oh my God that is an ordinary citizen of these parts

Twenty-four hours later I am now thinking that this is a very dangerous place where everyone is potentially armed and dangerous. I find this very depressing. I can't quite get my head around this idea of wearing a gun like a fancy belt buckle.

Do you want to work for yourself....

I went to an interview yesterday. I walk into the room where I had been invited to take a seat anywhere. Fortunately the word 'anywhere' set off a tiny light bulb so when I saw a room full of people no audible exclamation exited my head. Wow! A sales pitch for a job. Essentially they are seeking independent agents who tirelessly tout the product while the company sits back and collects. Sure the potential earnings were fantastic and almost guaranteed but if everything is so fantastic why doesn't the company bare the burden of finding business. The presenter was eager to correct any impression that is was not a pyramid scheme. Aha! It is actually a see-saw. The corporation is the pivot point and all the little agents are marbles resting on the board. If I really wanted to work for myself I would be making adorable crafts that everyone would just have to have. I would be designing scarves that don't need to be pinned to stay on. I would be writing children's stories that BN would illustrate. I would be writing a story that DDH would turn into a screen play. I would not be flogging someone else's dream. I would not mind helping someone else fulfill their dream but I would like to be compensated for all the time I spent on that and away from my own dreams. Ah well, back to the classifieds!

- Guess who saved the day?


Somewhere along Bell Road there is a St. Vincent de Paul thrift store. After the morning's disappointment I returned to pick up a few thing: a bowl for the herbs to grow in, place mats for the table....

I also picked up a couple of sheets that will become covers for the new couch. Day-time dog guards - Bella in particular likes her comfort and Bouba just likes to try new things. I am going to attempt some machine embroidery and make a curtain for M&J's bedroom. Somehow the towel over the window just doesn't add much to the house. Contemplating all this I am struck by by how far I have traveled to just do the same thing.

A walk at the end of the street..

A short drive up 40th Street and slip into a parking spot and as quick as a wink you are walking over sand/gravel/rocks watching out for the cactus needles. Quite amazing!

Don't loose sight of the path because it begins to all look the same. There is evidently a rule of sharing the pathways. Horses then pedestrians then cyclists. Well we did not see any horses but every cyclist except a lovely young woman took the right of way as if they were competing in the Tour de France. I guess it has something to do with lycra pants!

As I drive around town - usually turning the wrong way - I am amazed at how many hills there are. Fortunately there has been enough open land for people to build around the hills for the most part. A beautiful city, even if a little dusty. Feels quite like Canberra in a way.

Ah fall in the desert

Waiting for the heavens to open up and for a job (bone) to fall from the sky. I feel a bit like Bouba. She wanted to get in the the pool area to suss out the next-door- through-the-back-wall dog. The day before they had had a little bit of a do. Bouba doesn't bark, well maybe she does but in three weeks I have only heard a whiny growl. However the next door dog was going hell for leather and Bouba had tried on several occasions to jump the wall to find out what all the ruckus was about. Needless to say I made the necessary calls to her to quit jumping vertically up the wall within a few inches of the top. I had passed up the glorious task of weeding the pool area in favor of a little reading - The Vanished Man by Jeffrey Deaver.

Job hunting has to be the most difficult task for me. I don't have the classic resume. What I could put down just doesn't fit into any of the sort after skills of the modern world. Raised three wonderful children who are completely themselves and not clones of either their father or myself. I look at them and think, "What interesting people they are, so different". It is wonderful having a conversation with them because I just don't know what they think about everything. Two failed marriages yuck, what kind of recommendation is that. Lived in France for eleven years but french is now rather rusty. Lots of experience but none of it very useful. Several years as a hobby potter and community teacher. Oh yes, I learned to make macrame once too!

It's tomorrow where I come from!

I finally set my laptop to Arizona time. Arizona time means that it is dark at 5:30 pm in November (that's May for you southern folk). Yesterday we cooked Thanksgiving dinner (one of the guests is a nurse so Saturday became Thursday. It was almost gluten free and would have done ok except after everything was cleaned away and washed up there sat a biscuit/scone and I just had to have it. After all that trouble of making corn bread from scratch to make cornbread stuffing - gluten free. I had to have a biscuit! Needless to say I did not attempt church. Living alone has its advantages!

I am having a bit of a bad day. Thank heavens it is tomorrow in Sydney. I think I will go back to bed and wake up when it will be tomorrow here too.

Farewell, our feet are da same....

When I left the last time the Opera House was still under construction. Such a beautiful building but everyone complains that it is such a bad space for theatre/opera/ballet. If it is so bad why does no-one do anything. Do the Opera Australia people ignore the criticisms or is that just more stuff they do not hear in their ivory towers.

I am so sad to have left but what could I do - I will save you the trouble by answering. Nothing. I spent too long away and the changes were too big for me to get my mind around. Why is it that when you walk into a shop with your hard earned cash to give in exchange for goods it is often such an unpleasant experience. A union needs to be formed, "The Unsatisfied Customer Union". The UCU member will pledge to walk-out of any shop that does not deliver an average level of customer service with their credit card or cash firm lodged in purse or pocket. The average level of customer service is measured by 1. Hello, 2. Can I help you? 3. Did you find everything you need? 4. Making eye contact and 6. Getting off the phone while speaking to said customer. These 6 little requests are so often satisfied that I know it is possible. If we were just to withhold our money I know ....

Hey people it is the climate that is harsh - you don't have to be.


We took one last turn across the harbour. The air was perfect and the swell just enough to remind you you were on the Manly Ferry. In '69 and '70 I took the ferry from Balmain to downtown Sydney to work. The skyline has changed, the buildings are higher but it is still as beautiful. Funny I love big cities as long as I am not 'in' them. I think I worked out that last day why. My introduction to the big city was first a short bus ride and then the ferry ride. I never really had anything to do with the bustle and shove of train riding or the stop/go of the car. I had time to admire the line and shadow of the architecture and the land. No wonder I love the city - I don't know it.

All the flights worked out well despite the first flight - out of Sydney was on a Qantas plane and not Air Pacific. German couple with a small baby were sitting beside me and the woman asked me if I would move to an empty seat so they could have my seat for the baby. I ended up sitting by the window - ugh and beside a gentleman who downed three little bottles of red and went to sleep. I arrived non the worse for wear in LA finally and nearly choked to death on the air. The big surprise there was price of taking luggage on the flight with US Airways. $90 because one was too big. I wanted to say, "keep it" but there might have been a fine for littering! I have, in the last year, whittled my worldly goods down to two suitcases and some boxes, I guess $90 for shipping is not grounds for complaint.

I am blessed and happy. JS has hooked me back up to the internet so the world is at my fingertips. To all the kind and wonderful people out there thank you for your kindnesses. I will work hard at paying them forward because I can never repay you. To AH3 and DDH my heart breaks because I had to say goodbye and because I have not yet said hello.

How many people do you know that are able to express themselves as well as this? If you could peer into the black window at the top of the box you would see the beady eyes of an original - as we used to say back in the 60's. What do we say now of someone who is unfettered by isapproval? The more I think about this the more I want to say, Óut damn people with disapproval on your hearts.' Ignore what you don't approve of and focus your energy on positive emotions.


Build a house in a tree. Put a tree in your house. Whatever you do do something and enjoy it. I said a while ago I was going to find out why people don't smile and look happy. I think happiness has become unsophisticated! The drive to get ahead has driven people into a life without fulfillment. If today I am not fulfilled in some way that makes me smile then it is doubtful that tomorrow will be any better.

Thank heavens for little girls who grow up to be little girls full of wonder and inventiveness, oh yeah, that creativity.

Travelling is a very arduous task these days. Avoiding gluten is often very difficult and I knew this but somehow thought the magic salad fairy would be on the train. Perhaps she was but I slept through the first call for a hot meal. I took the train from Sydney to Sawtell. Eight hours of sitting and avoiding conversation with the young lady who got on at Strathfield. I needed to think and gather my thoughts about everything. As the time gets closer to leaving Australia I am less sure of the wisdom. Who would swap the welfare safety nets of Australia for the 'fend for yourself, bucko' system of America? I guess the wisdom will come in in making it all work.

I spent a week with my niece and her family - three days of it glued to the loo. When you eat too much gluten .... Then after a birthday party my sister and I trekked to Brunswick Heads for two days. The funny thing was she had to fly to Sydney the same day as I but she left at 6:00 am and I left at 12:00. Coolangatta airport does not have a lot to offer the traveller in waiting. However I had learnt my lesson and went preparted with a tub of cooked rice, a bag of nuts and a treat of a seaweek snack. There is nothing like loosing your usual snacks for discovering strange and wonderful new things.

Back in Sydney. I have a new haircut, I've lost 10 lbs since leaving Canberra, I am quite tired and getting a little hesitant about things. I am missing some friends rather a lot and wish there was an easy way to turn back time.

Vinnies

 

I went for a walk the other day and I visited the Vinnies of Crows Nest and found a jacket for the cool nights on the coast that I will be feeling in a week or so. It looked a little drab, being a man's jacket after all, and I thought a little trim would be the perfect pick-me-up. Finding a notions store on the lower north shore is not an easy task for the walking population. Nevertheless if you venture far enough and down just the right side street you never know what you will find. To cut the story short, I found too many choices but settled on a trim that is dark red and pale green bands gathered randomly to resemble flowers and leaves. Sufficiently feminine without too much prettiness! I also found a very nice bi-coloured beige ribbon that would have been ideal for a bit of an embroidery touch which I will save for Arizona. Boy it would have worked perfectly on the brown material I had to leave behind. - no regrets now!

I had a very interesting conversation in the Vinnies. The lady behind the counter was in conversation with a regular and they paused as I approached the counter. The employee took care of business, pointing out there were other jackets on sale. I thanked her but said I was on my way out of town. "Oh, where," she asked. "Back to America" I replied. Then started the conversation about how I didn't sound American. No but that is where I have been living. And out it popped, my dismay of finding Australia so changed. Of course I was talking to the kind of people I expected to find here. Friendly, outgoing, meeting-people kind of people. As I tried to move out of the store - sorry - shop, the other customer followed to continue the conversation. We chatted for a while and then I set off on the hunt for a notions store/shop/whatever.

I have been doing quite a bit of reading here Chez Son. The last book was written by Helen Barnacle about her life on heroin. An uplifting story if you can get through the "What it was like" part. Somehow the "what it is like now" is never told as grippingly as the descent into hell. Oh the Open Speaker-meetings of my other life. If I could find a way of telling it that would be funny or meaningful and not just a litany of the misery and heartache. But just how does one recount the day you came home from work at 11:00pm to find that he had this time taken all the groceries from the shop-before-going-to-work. Yep I could recount the anger, frustration and hunger but that would be an invitation to self to feel all those emotions again. No thanks. I would rather think about how I am in search of peace not excitment today.

Tomorrow I am going to find out why people in Australia today rarely smile as they go about in their apparent abundance.

Sydney still...

What happened to the weather in Sydney. I can't believe it was ever as bad as this in October - back in the day....

These birds visited the garden in Hunters'Hill every day. One day he brough two girls with him. I think the trees would astound the monks who planted them in the 1870's. A Brother living there told me that the banyon trees dropped seed pods so big and from such a height that it was not wise to walk down the path to the little chapel. One day while sitting at the front of the library where the classes my daughter-in-law was attending were held a kookaburra flew into the nearest tree with a little worm, or could it have been a baby snake? hanging out of its mouth. It spent a few minutes checking that he/she was not being followed and then flew off. Muggings my mynahs must be a frequent problem in that neck of the woods.

Step One

Well gave my friend back her space and moved myself via a GETZ to Sydney. After a quick unload and another trip to Vinnies we settled in for the night. Grand daughter growing wonderfully and so inquisitive already. But I have far too much stuff to be schlepping up and down railway stations. The dilemma is send by mail or throw away. Just how uncluttered should one arrive at the next destination?

Good byes to friends are very different when you know they will remember you, there is nothing final because the momentum of memories will not allow the vacuum to form behind you. I must say the memory of the cold, bitter, thin, mean wind of Canberra will be dropped down a very deep well when I find one. But on the other hand I miss the cockatoos screeching their way across Ainslie Avenue.

Friends took me out to dinner on the 'one-before-last' evening and after eating we adjourned to a bookshop across the street. A tremendous find was a collection of books for Grand daughter. The Magic Pudding - because I loved it so much as a child, a new Dreaming story of a hawk, crow and cockatoo - because it is the new Australia. Another book - BARBAR because in France it was a favourite book of her father's family and finally an Oxford book of childhood poems and rhymes - because her father was born in England. Hopefully she will grow up knowing that belonging comes from the heart not from where you were born. Hopefully she will feel sufficiently confident to be a citizen of the world calling everyone her neighbour.



Why do Indian Minahs torment crows and why do crows put up with it? I have been watching a repeated battle between several - up to six or seven pecky minahs dive bomb and herd crows out of the garden at the Villa Maria monastery. This is the venue for the baby-sitting I have been doing. It could not be better. Very old norfolk pines and such creating deep shade for the baby and I to stroll about in as we take a break from sleeping, her, and reading a book, me. I have been reading a biography of Galileo - appropriately. I have realized that the ignorance of today's church is nothing new - just a repetition of the old stuff. A major reminder to make religion a faith matter not a culture affair. I think that God is the crow and we are the minahs.

Packing

My inertia is getting the better of all my plans. I have a household of objects to get rid of by the 7th and all I have done is forgotten stuff. Well not completely, I forgot to deal with the fridge and I have still not advertised the washing machine. I will never collect stuff again. Belongings that cannot be carried are in fact prison bars. The wonderful life of a nomad is opening up before me.

While I have been here I borrowed a sewing machine. Great fun to be able to zip up a skirt or two, mend things quickly but everything I have done with the machine I could have easily accomplished with a portable, use-anywhere needle. Hmm, it makes me wonder just what is progress. Why do we qualify our lives, status and future by what we own.

I am saying goodbye to family: sister, nieces, nephews and temporarily my son and his family. I have to turn this into a ''see-ya'' because my heart is having a bit of difficulty dealing with it all. When I sailed, well flew, off into the magic of Oxford all those years ago it never occured to me that it would be longer than a term or two. Thirty seven years minus a few vacations have made a difference. The last portion of the time spent in Tennessee were the years of learning that I am a person in my own right. This year in Australia has helped me understand who I am and what I want out of the daylight hours.

Enough days have passed and the apartment is empty - well probably the new tenant has moved in by now. So many boxes so few containing anything other than stuff. I did find a few rocks that my 'helpers' thought were objects for the trash can - to the rocks I keep the TV I gave away. There is a curious connection between found ojects and the finder that cannot exist if money has changed hands. If you can pay for it 0 so could others but if you find something it means a lot of people have passed by without 'seeing' the treasure you now display on your $5.00 IKEA coffee table - Op Shop find.

At the end of the move I find that stuff really is imprisoning. My prize possessions are worth pennies and the things that cost me significant money were mercifully carried off by others.

Preparations....

My renewed passport arrived yesterday. Why do they send the old one back? As I sent it off I thought about the freedom of getting rid of that younger, thinner, not bad looking even if the glasses were a bit too BIG, official photo of self. And there is was in the envelope having made its way to the States and back again with a tidy row of holes punched in the side. There I am mocking the the 70 lbs of excess self so evident in the new photo. Oh well at least this way the customs guy will not think I've stolen someone else's passport when I front up to the counter.

Talking about customs I really never plan to go through Vancouver ever again. The airport itself was probably not so bad but talk about unfriendly. I could rave on for some time about the nasty experience - no I had not visited Canada, I was in transit. The length of my visit was two long painful hours! Now that I have a Canadian niece-in-law I have to be polite and stop griping about the officious officials of our cousin state.

The economic crash of the US is a little daunting but I am not going back for the mythical riches of the American dream - just a little family. I have a fantasy of visiting my girls in Ohio.

A lot of changes started in my way of looking at life with these two little dogs. They had been picked up as tiny puppies wandering the street and nursed to health by the Young Williams Animal Center. Finally when I decided to come back to Australia I had to choose between stuffing them on an aeroplane in the cargo hold and then leaving them in quarantine for half of forever. Spice would never have lasted and Honey would have gone crazy with anxiety or leave them behind. So I gave them to a wonderful lady in Ohio. The last I heard they were loving each other like always and as curious as they should be.

There have been too many victims along the way, maybe that's why I seem to hit the wall when I see bullies having their way during the day.

Preparations continue. A friend helped me divest myself of a closet of ugly clothes - ugly because they did not fit or suit me and that solved the excess baggage problem. Now I have to find someone who would like to buy a washing machine!

May the world snooze and do no harm.

Returning to where I started...

With friends and family at opposite end of the world, I decided to start a blog to keep in touch.

I've lived in Canberra now for almost a year and have started preparing to return to the USA in November. I tried to make the change and come back to Australia after nearly 40 years away - I made a few mistakes but learned a whole lot along the way.

• You can go home again but you just have to work out where it is.
• Stuff is worse than handcuffs
• There is nothing better than watching a mob of galahs at breakfast
  

I arrived in Australia looking for the future in the past and found a bunch of new friends who helped me laugh while I gathered the pieces of myself and put the puzzle of who I am back together. I seem to have turned out a little differently than I remembered. I have found it rather difficult dealing with the time differences for making phone calls but rather surprising to me was that in the midst of all the wonder and beauty of the Canberra countryside, while watching the unbelievable sky, listening to the wild chatter of the feathered inhabitants of my neighbourhood I decided to go back to the States. It is a mystery. Maybe I just want to flit from US to Greece to Australia for the rest of my life. Now that would be trip worth living for.