Rain, rain - just go away!!! Come and play another day!!!

We are trying to finalise all of those last jobs before we put this house on the market.  Today, Chris was beginning to paint the back door, he had already done other touch up work, and trims etc.  I was going into town to pick up some things for gifts for Easter, and as I drove my car down the driveway - Guess what....it started raining again! 

As I drove through the city, the rains became stronger and more fierce.  They poured down so much at one stage that I had to put my windscreen wipers on at the fastest rate, just to see my way to drive over the Fitzroy bridge!  I couldn't believe it! 

Every time we have attempted to do anything outside, there are obstacles.

I'm beginning to get suspicious of Mother Nature.  So far since the beginning of January '11 we have lived through 69 climatic days, 43 of them included rain and major storms.  There have only been 26 days during that period when we had at least some sun and no trace of rain - that's not really indicative of a good summer in my books!  These 26 days have not been consecutive, so just recently, while we experienced 2 days of strong winds, and sun, and at times boiling humid heat, at least we did not have rain.

But then, today happened. I think She is trying to tell us something--but meanwhile, until She just comes right out and tells us - we'll keep working through Her temper tantrums and mood swings...listen here, Mother Nature, we are determined to move to Cairns - so come hail, wind, rain, or even snow - we will do it!  (Maybe I shouldn't bait her!!)

I had a close look at my feet tonight--I think they are forming webs!

Being introduced to my first three days in Melbourne

When I first arrived in Melbourne, Australia - I knew no one.  I had just met some fellow USA teachers on the special Qantas flight, who, like me, had made this journey to Australia to teach high school in Victoria, while the current Australian teachers went back to study for their now mandatory fourth year of study.

My group of fellow teachers, most of us still quite young, (I was 23), were taken to a local hostel, (an old mansion type building that had been converted into dining rooms, meeting rooms, and accommodation.)  We were all given small single rooms, and a schedule to live by for the next three days.  We had meetings, and discussions on Australian way of life, and teaching strategies, and well....you name it! 

During our free times, I just headed straight out the front door from this grand old building, and started exploring.  I cannot remember what suburb it was in, but am tempted to say St Kilda.  Anyway, I was loving my new environment, the sound of the people when they spoke, the traffic, the various little street shops and bakeries.  What I noticed first was the glorious aroma of baking bread, and the mixture of aromas as the various beautiful, varied shaped loaves of bread were placed on the bakery shelves inside the shop along with those that just lay uncovered in the shop-front window. The bakery counter glass compartments held pastries of all descriptions and varieties that I had never tasted before, and I was sure that I would make it my goal to get introduced to these wonderful treats.  I felt the wonderment that I was in a new country with the whole future stretched out in front of me. 

I talked with so much enthusiasm  to any shop-keeper who would approach me.  It was infectious I think, because I usually ended up looking at their photos from their wallets, or was allowed to have taste sensations in some bakeries.  (My husband Chris says that they probably filled my mouth with food to stop me from talking and asking more questions.  I think they liked me, and that's the story I'm going to stick to!)

I discovered international restaurants and Australian cafes with their blackboard menus, and no table service.  (That took me a while to realise though).  Out of courtesy on my second day exploring, one of the staff members in a local cafe stopped by my table and asked me if I had ordered yet, and I said  " No, I haven't.  But would like to. Oh, and may I have a glass of water please!"

The stunned look on the face of the staff member amazed me, as I was directed to the front counter and told to choose something from the board -- but I did notice that he did put a glass of water on my table, and I wondered why he was stunned that I should have to ask for it!  ( I learned later, that in these cafes there just isn't or wasn't then any table service, and automatic servings of water was not the accepted custom.  I was lucky he even bothered to deal with me!)

I discovered that a hamburger with the lot meant that I would have to dislocate my jaw to get my mouth around it, but that the strange mixture of egg, bacon, salad, beetroot, and hamburger and cheese was not a bad taste sensation---just very filling!

Back at the hostel we were finally given our teaching placements.  A lot of the teachers were placed in Melbourne and surrounding areas, but I was placed in a wonderful sounding little town called  Rainbow.  I loved the idea!  (When I was doing my student teaching, my students had given me a plaque that read: 'I Believe in God because of Rainbows').  I thought that Rainbow and I had probably been brought together now for a reason!

The Victorian Minister of Education visited us at our hostel, and after a while had a private conversation with me about my placing.  He showed concern and wanted to know if I was OK with the placement.

 "OK? I'm over-joyed!"

"But do you realise that it is in the scrub, and there are limited facilities there?"

"They have a school which needs a teacher, and just listen to the name of the town - Rainbow! It has to be such a beautiful place!"

Just grinning the Minister replied, "Well, I will be travelling to Rainbow and surrounding areas in the near future, and I'll make a point to check on you to see how you are going.  I thought you might have been a bit worried about being so far away from the city".

"Don't think so, I grew up in a small town - (32,000 people) - how small can Rainbow be?"  (I found out later that it had a very small population best measured in about the 500- 600 figure area.)

The Minister just grinned, saying " Well, I will definitely make sure that I check on you.  I wish you a good experience."

"Thank you, Sir.  I'm sure it will be wonderful!"

And you know....I was right!

Hattie

I mentioned briefly my time spent with Hattie and her lavendar plants and hooked rugs and canary, a magical time in my childhood.  But I need to explain more about Hattie - she just wasn't my special friend and neighbour, this 75 - 90 year old woman ( I never did know how old she was---I just knew she was a lot older than any of the parents in our neighbourhood.)  But she was someone who could move well and weighed just a bit more than a feather!

Hattie lived alone in a small cottage at the bottom of our street.  She belonged to every child in the neighbourhood.  She had a son, but I never knew him--he was older and had moved away--I never asked if she had any other children because we were her children--she belonged to us!

I can remember all the afternoons that I just had Hattie to myself, and we would sit and talk - I probably did most of the talking, but Hattie was a very good listener.  But sometimes when I would drop in for a visit there would be some of the other kids of the neighbourhood there already.  On these special days Hattie would make her carmel popcorn--probably the best things I have ever tasted in my life!  It was like eating warm, melting kernels of brown sugar and fun.

She usually had always at least one rug on her frame that she was working on, but usually on one of those days we would climb into the attic and bring down some of her others, and we would all pick one to sit on, while we sat in her very small parlor and just were together.  Sometimes Hattie would tell us stories, but usually we just loved being there--I think all of us were always on our best behaviour and showed very much respect.  I can remember laying on my favourite, colourful flower covered hook rug, often close to where Hattie was sitting, and would close my eyes and just smile and listen. I'd listen to the canary singing out in the small sunroom, and would listen to the excited jabber of my neighbourhood buddies, and would anticipate the possible carmel popcorn treat.  I was very content.  This was my treasured place, and Hattie was the white-haired ruler of this magical world.

The birds here are wild!

OK. I have to tell you this one quickly! I am becoming so amazed at these birds that have entered my life here......

Yesterday morning early, I walked past the large deck sliding glass doors, and was amazed at what I saw...there sitting on the top deck railing was a family of about 4 magpies, including my teenager, who I have mentioned before.

  

Next to them was another family of honey-eaters, a grouping of about 4 on the top railing and another 3 a few railings down...

 

Sitting next to the honey-eaters was a grouping of lorrikeets, at least 5 on the top deck railing, and 4 of them sitting under the table next to the deck railing.




They all just sat there, irresolute....waiting...for me.. for food...for a treat...but just sat waiting!!  Looking at me, as though I should now provide!

Yep you guessed it, I went inside and cut up a banana and a mandarin and went outside and threw it over the deck, where by now, they were all waiting.  But what really amazed me this time was that they all bogged in together....the magpies were eating with the lorrikeets, and the honey-eaters would join the crowd and fly up the the deck to eat their treats---(They are slower eaters, and like to take their time to eat their treats in peace - I can understand that!)

I went back inside and stood at one of the big deck windows and just watched them - that way I wouldn't disturb them ---they were all so well behaved and equally shared amongst each other --my little family is maturing!!!

As I write this, Squirt is sitting behind me and insisting that it is "Hello!" time.  If I start talking to her too early in the day, she just doesn't stop --so I have told her "It isn't morning yet, and just to be a bit quiet"  She is now muttering, "Hello......Strap...chirp, chirp, Hello!"  I'm trying to ignore her, but she really does crack me up!  Kind of telling a little kid to go back to bed, it isn't morning yet......so far it is working..I just dare not talk back with her!

Forever the performer!

I have never shied away from the limelight and the spotlight - although I do protest, stating that I am shy.  (for some reason others don't tend to believe me though).

When I was very young I used to sing in my local church's Christmas pageants, and/or recite the part in the nativity scene as the angel from above high---"Behold!  I bring you good tidings of great joy!  For unto you is born this day in City of David, a Saviour who is Christ the Lord......"  I was very little, but had the blond hair and very innocent and believeable eyes ( I still think that is why I was cast--had nothing to do with talent - probably similar to Hollywood in that same way...). 

One year I was asked to sing a solo - I've been trying to think of the song, but can only imagine it must have been 'Away in a Manger'--anyway, I had to go to a church member's house at night and practice while she played the piano - there were 3 verses and chorus that I had to learn.  It was more work than I thought it would be!  But, they had a cute dog, and when I could, I would escape and play with it!  My Mum and Arlene always found me though, and pushed me back to the piano for more practice.

The night of my solo in the Pageant arrived!  I was ready!  I had my white gown on, and my angel wings, and was singing the first verse.  Then it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the other verses, so as the piano played away, I just kept singing....the same first verse.  Someone soon realised and somehow after 3 renditions of the same first verse--I was signalled to leave the stage/altar area which was the main stage for the pageant.   I think there may have been smiles and some laughter, but I just bowed as I found that much more elegant than curtsying, and walked off proudly. 

There was some commotion back in the ante-rooms of the pastor's study as they tried to decide how to recover, and I just said that:

 "I have had a delightful time, and Jesus probably loved how much I loved singing about him.  I enjoyed it!  And it's much better than singing Happy Birthday all the time - that song can get so boring!"

 Everyone just stopped and stared at me, and I just walked away to take my wings off.  It was very quiet after that..I'm thinking now that they probably realised that I knew why we were performing that night, and that perhaps they had forgotten.

IQ tests and me....

When I was in 3rd grade, my teacher and the counsellors at the school decided that I needed to undergo a week long program of IQ tests (at least it seemed like a week). I was forever being pulled out of class and made to put puzzles together to a time clock or fit weird shapes into strange holes - I had to line up pictures and write stories and do all sorts of things.....(Sometimes I thought I was being made to go through all of this so that my teacher could have a rest - I had a lot of questions in those days....)

Well, the decision was made to take me out of my third grade class and bang me straight into the 4th grade.  This was about 3 months into the school year - so it was a very strange experience.  I enjoyed - sort of- the attention, and these kids were at least learning something more interesting than what I had been forced to sit through in 3rd grade, but the kids in the class didn't like it that a 3rd grader was invading their territory.  And at lunch-times my 3rd grade friends didn't like it that I had been taken out of their class and put up with the 4th graders.  After a  while, I didn't like any of it!

While I enjoyed learning new things, I didn't enjoy the feeling of being friendless --it was a very difficult time for me.  Some of my 3rd grade friends hurt my feelings so much, you know, the ones I had played with every day, and walked home with, and cared about.  Suddenly I was being pushed into a corner all by myself.  I couldn't talk to my 3rd grade teacher, because I thought she was probably happy with the whole set-up, I couldn't talk to my 4th grade teacher, because I think she was still trying to figure out what to do with me, my principal always needed appointments, and the counsellor that had tested me was always busy.  I was sort of in this problem on my own.  Even my parents didn't seem to enter into it - it was like I was living in this strange world where I was just supposed to accept all of these problems and in a way, be punished for having curiosity.  I started to withdraw.  I stopped eating at lunchtime because it was very sad to just sit by myself.

My sister was interested in early childhood education and started to notice the change in my behaviour.  I remember a facial tick/gesture that I developed.  I would stretch my face long wise with my facial muscles as though I was trying to pull it away, and would open my mouth and stretch my face out longer. It is hard to describe, but I remember the feeling to this day.  When I was worried, or felt very alone, I would do this awful facial exercise a lot!  No one seemed to care if I did it, and I couldn't stop it after a while.  I just remember being very unhappy, and just wanted to be with my friends, and happy again.  I stopped talking.  I stopped everything in class.  I listened, and did the work, and tried to learn --but I just didn't care anymore.  I just wanted to be left alone forever.  I didn't want to go to school anymore, and I sure didn't want to be in that classroom!

Finally, (apparently) my sister talked with my parents and made my Mum go up to the school to talk to them about my behaviour.  I don't think Mum wanted to - I think she was just hoping I would adjust and she wouldn't have to deal with anything.  But she and my sister confronted the principal.  The next thing I knew I was snatched out of the 4th grade, and plunked back into my 3rd grade class, and just left alone again.  I thought I had really done something bad, and would often cry at night, because no-one seemed to talk to me about it, and I figured I must have been a very bad person to be moved around like this. 

But somehow I made it through this process, my friendships were never the same, and I felt lost for a very long time - but I survived.  From then on I decided that school and curiosity was dangerous - but probably was very lucky to survive it as me.  As the years went by I tried to hold onto my natural curiosity, but I was suspicious of some people and really tested my teachers to see if they deserved to teach me.  In the end I became accepting of people and the fact that they could make mistakes which affected me personally.  I never liked it that they did, but learned to accept that as a part of life. 

What this process instilled in me though was the determination to become a teacher who would teach.  I wanted to work with my students and enjoy them and teach them that any kind of  learning was fun and easy to do, and very worthwhile.  I was an instigator in remedial reading programs in high school, and introduced fun and curiosity and 'human-ness' into my classroom.  I liked teaching my students how to learn, not what to learn....we grew together and discovered all sorts of wonderful things.  I am still discovering them!

Miss Hoelzen

When I was in primary school I had a German born teacher who had also taught my sister, who was, as I mentioned earlier - nine years older than I was.  I think Miss Hoelzen also taught my Dad, who was considerably older than I was - if she didn't teach him she came over in the Ark with him!  (Sorry, Dad - couldn't resist that line!)  Miss Hoelzen was a bit overweight, but I used to figure she wanted to be strong looking like that so that she could really throw her weight into her convictions.  She would get very frustrated with us when we weren't cooperating and learning the things we were supposed to be learning.  I don't remember if Miss Hoelzen taught any other subjects, but she did teach us how to sing Silent Night in German. I can still do it today. Verbatim. She was that kind of teacher - could really drill it into you. 

She had white hair which she wore in a puffy bun with her hair pushed onto the top of her head. She wore sensible shoes, as my Mother would have said, and she was forever saying to me: "Janice, when I taught your sister she was a joy to have in my class.  Always so quiet, always ready to learn.  Now I have you - what am I supposed to do?"  One time I made the mistake of saying, "Well, Miss Hoelzen you should see Joyce now - bet she wouldn't bother to learn Silent Night in German now!  And, as much as I like the sound of it - when will I ever use it!"  She used to just sit and look at me, shake her head, and probably wonder where my family went wrong with me.  I just would sit and smile at her and wait for an answer - she never really had one....

Anyway, when I was her student she decided to arrange her classroom so that her desk sat at a strange angle in the rear of the classroom, and then arranged the student desks in a semi-circular pattern around her desk, facing it.  So in other words we faced the back of the classroom, not the front, and sat at weird angles--I think she thought she could throw us off, if she confused us in how to sit in a classroom.    

Guess where I sat.  You guessed it...right in front of her desk!  In fact I could touch the edge of it!  I remember most clearly the lessons we used to have after lunch - mainly because I can still smell them! I don't mean to be rude, but there were morning smells in primary school, and then after lunch smells.  In the morning, most of us kids were still fresh from morning scrubbings at home, and we just occupied a classroom.  Unless one of the boys 'let off', the classrooms were usually pretty good.  But after lunch, especially with most of us brown bagging peanut butter sandwiches there was a definite odour of peanuts, sweat, and kid smell- the kind of smell that happens to kids when they take part in life--mostly actively.....and then there was Miss Hoelzen.

Miss Hoelzen obviously liked coffee at lunchtime, and from what I could smell, a lot of it!  Now my Mum and Dad drank coffee but they didn't spit the smell and splash it all over my face when they got excited talking after drinking it.  Well, because I was sitting so close to Miss Hoelzen's desk--I could practically touch her desk blotter - which I used to try to do sometimes.  She would get so excited in her music and her lessons that she would yell out with her coffee breath.  But as I was right there--right next to her desk, I got the coffee smells and sometimes the spits which unfortunately landed at times right on my nose or cheeks!.  It wasn't a fun time in my life.

I became fascinated with how far my arm would reach to touch the stuff on her desk, especially when she was really excited and not paying attention to me, which wasn't often, I have to tell you!  Sometimes I would be able to slide a piece of paper from her desk and I would make a breathing tunnel to cover my face, so that I didn't have to smell the coffee or get showered.  But she usually noticed what I was doing and I was usually ordered to behave, and stop my nonsense.  (Believe me, it wasn't nonsense - it was a means of surviving the smells all around me!)

But finally the Christmas holidays arrived, and we sang our German Silent Night at the school assembly and dared not get a single word wrong --I'd write it out for you now - but that would just be showing off!

So even though dear Miss Hoelzen suffered in trying to teach me, I did learn.  My report cards always mentioned things like 'Janice has a tendency to talk too much in class.  While she can apply herself very well, she can be a disruption' - The only thing I ever disrupted was boredom and the need to make the clock on the wall move faster---but I guess that's another story!

Dragonfly

Yesterday I was lucky enough to save a dragonfly.  It was a great experience for me!  I had opened the deck door, and was greeted by my 'mate' my teenage magpie (one of this season's new born) who always flys down to the deck railing each morning, to ask me what I have planned for his breakfast, (He's a very cheeky bird - I'm trying to teach him to talk, but he just looks at me with intensity at the moment). 

I went back inside to the kitchen, and was beginning to cut up some fruit for my birds - my wild magpies, honey eaters and lorrikeets, when I noticed a small dragonfly throwing itself at the kitchen window, trying to escape.  It had obviously flown in while I had opened the door to the deck and had left it open while I spoke to my magpie friend.

I explained to the dragonfly that it couldn't stay inside, it would eventually die, and that I could help it escape--but it had to trust me...

This went on for a few minutes as I tried to get closer to it at the window.  I tried to encourage it to step onto the back of my hand, which I thought was the most unthreatening position I could use towards the small, delicate creature. But, understandably, it was very shy and kept trying to climb the curtain and hide, or kept hitting the glass with no success. After a few minutes of my gentle urging, and a very quiet, soothing voice, the little dragonfly tentatively stepped onto the top of my hand. I just stood there quietly for a minute, letting it settle, and then very quietly told him/her that I could help and not to worry. I very slowly backed away from the window, and turning towards the open deck door, we walked through the dining room together and eventually stepped outside onto the deck.  I gently laid my hand down on the side deck railing and told my little piece of beautiful nature that it was safe it fly away now.....and off it went!  I felt very happy and connected with my surroundings.  A very nice feeling.

The weight of the world according to Strap

Just a short one.....

Today, after my trip into town, I parked my wonderful little blue convertible in the car shed, and opening the door to the the backyard, Jock met me with a grin and waited for his attention cuddle and head and ear rub.  I usually also grab his snout and play a game with him. 

"Have you been a good boy, Jockie?", I'll say gently shaking his snout.  He'll stand there and put his wet nose back into my hand.  "What!  You have been?"  He'll grin at me and nudge me with his nose again..."Go get'em boy!", I'll say and he jumps and runs ahead of me - trying to act like a puppy again--It's just a thing we do.....

Strap normally joins in and wants to play with his soccer ball, and will drop it at anyone's feet, just for a chance to have them kick it, so that he can chase it.  But today was different.  If Strap had been a girl, I would have said that he was having PMS--but being a boy---he must have just been very tired or full of too many dog worries....

He was laying at the side of the back door, his head resting on his favourite stone (I know, sounds strange - but he likes it), and he just couldn't bring himself to have any enthusiasm.  I asked him if he was going to get up to say hello, but he just gave me one of those sad, please know I am having a bad day looks, and rolled onto his back and raised his front paw.  I shook it, saying "Oh, Strappy!  I hope you feel better soon!"

He accepted my hand/paw shake and continued to lay like that until I went into the house. I think he was hoping for a bit more sympathy--our Strappy is good at that.

The leaking drip

I am telling this tale on myself in order to give due credit to my ever understanding husband, Chris, and for my dear friend Leone who already knows that I am not like most people!  They both accept me for who I am - and if you are still reading my blog - you must be like them, and recognise this oddity of human thought that is behind a lot of the stuff I write about.

This story began about 2 mornings ago - very early in the morning.....

I had just been into the bathroom and washed my face quickly with a fresh, cold face washer--just to wake up a bit, and feel refreshed.  While I was patting my face dry, I noticed a dripping sound which sounded as though it was coming through the bathroom ceiling and hitting the floor in droplets.  Even with all of the lights on in there, I still could not see any leaks coming from the ceiling.  It was really a mystery.  I went to the cupboard and pulled out a torch to have a closer look at the ceiling, but still could not see anything....

I went upstairs to the other bedroom and ensuite to check out any leaks that may be coming from there, but all seemed to be fine. 

By the time I made it down to the middle bathroom, (the one I had just noticed the drips coming from) it appeared as though the dripping had stopped.  I figured it must have come from the new vanity and taps which we had just had installed.  I decided to keep an eye on it, and see if it happened again.

About a half hour later Chris came up, and also washed his face with the cold face washer to wake up.  Before he could turn on the tap I ran into the bathroom and asked him to watch what happened next.  He looked at me strangely, and just stood there!  I replied:

"Go ahead, wash your face - I just want to watch something!"
"What?"
"Well, maybe we'll find out - just turn on the tap!"
"Turn on the tap?  Are you OK?"
" Yep.  Something weird is happening with the water and the ceiling in here, I just want to watch this.."
"OK.....you're acting strange again..."
"I know, but just do it...."
 
Chris proceeded to wash his face with the face washer, turning on the tap to wet the washer, and then turned it off.  I kept my eyes firmly sealed on the ceiling.  As he was hanging the face washer back on the towel rail, he turned to me patiently and said:
 
"OK.  What is going on?  Why are you looking at the ceiling?"
"It's not leaking!", I replied.
"Was it supposed to?"
"It did earlier this morning, then just stopped."  I showed him the puddle of water on the floor under the rubbish bin, where the water had leaked through.
 
"Could it be from the very wet face washer that had been hanging here before?"
"What?"
"Very drenching wet face washer--I had to wring it out before I could even begin to use it.....could that be where the water had come from?  Not the ceiling?"
"But I got a torch and everything to find the leak - I went upstairs to that ensuite to check out the plumbing- I looked everywhere!"
"Did you look at the face washer directly above the wet area?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I dunno"
"OK"
 
As he was walking out of the bathroom, I followed him saying how happy I was that we wouldn't have to call in the plumbers, and how lucky we were.  Chris just turned and looked at me, shook his head and headed to the kitchen for his early morning 'calming tea making ceremony'.  He does that a lot!