CREATE ART

I've Been Busy...

Here is some calligraphy I've been working on lately. See more in my photo album...

Her Father's Daughter

We are due to have a hard rubbish collection, and everyone is sorting through their unwanted junk and leaving it out on the nature-strip in readiness for collection. It's school holidays at the moment and yesterday Alexandra went for a little wander up and down the street. She came back after a short while, all excited.

"Mum! Mum! Everyone's putting things out on their lawns. For free! Can I bring something home? Please!"

Immediately I had further confirmation, as if I needed it: she is her father's daughter. It's not enough that visually the only part of me in her is that she's female and has blonde hair - the rest is completely Gary... That she enjoyed our weekend away at Inverloch, where the 'mutton bird' winds almost blew our campervan away on its maiden voyage, where it hailed and sleeted and rained alomst all the time, with her - dressed in underpants, t-shirt and parka and up to the knees in sea water, before falling backwards into the sea, laughing all the while, and accompanied by Gary, while Christopher and I stayed in the warm environment of the car, reading...

 

That she is the size of a small giant, almost the size of Christopher, who is two years older. Just the way her father was...

Nope, she had to go out and show that there are practically no x-chromosomes from me in her, by proving that she's acquired the 'swap meet' gene from Gary - a burning desire to rifle through any pile of junk, all ready to bring it home where it can live in the garage, unused for seven years, before turning it over so that it can spend another seven years of idleness. In the past, Gary has brought home an array of mounted cow horns, antlers, antlers attached to helmets, a telephone on an ornamental stand, old radios, a T.V. with no innards, a dish shaped like a pineapple. But perhaps the piece de resistance was this:

So warning bells started going off in my head, and I wryly smiled and told her to go for it. I have to admit I was keen to see just what she would bring home.

Well, it wasn't like she just brought home any old thing. In fact, she went off fossicking, and brought home some well thought-out things. Would I love a lovely bunch of flowers? Not really, I thought, but ok, I said - and she produced a bunch of wilted fake hydrangeas, in a pot. No, sorry, they had to go back to the pile of junk. Next came a drill - perhaps Dad would like it? But it had definately seen better days... back it went. Then, a light on a stand - like I use for scrapbooking? It was knocked around and without a power cord, so it went back too. Just like the loaf tin did. And finally, a set of baskets, presented like this:

How could I say no to the original Bag Lady? Someone who has emptied out my baskets full of things and secreted them in her play tent... So they stayed - for now.

What a Lovely Day...

...or Ode to the Non-Proliferation of Wrinkles.

It all started because I was teaching a VET subject at RMIT earlier in the year. I loved teaching the course, but to have any hope of continuing I needed to get a Cert.IV in Training and Assessment. So each Friday until almost Christmas you will find me at the Sandy Beach Centre, learning lots about government gobbledy-gook, oh, and how to teach... It also means that I have assignments to do each week, and being the good girl that I am I hand them in each week instead of cramming at the end. (This is really so that I don't let the evil, lazy side of me reveal itself... I'm afraid I'd never overcome it!).

So last night, there I was on the computer, looking up all sorts of government websites, attempting to decipher acronyms that  some government employee worked overtime to create. And, of course, being the 2nd last day of the month, we had gone over our download limit, which meant that I spent most of my time looking at a white screen.

Which meant I got to bed roughly 1 hour before I was due to be up pounding the pavement with Melanie. Which meant that I got to sleep roughly five minutes before the alarm went off. Which meant today I felt like death warmed up. Okay, I did get a nap in during the day but mainly I was left feeling like an unproductive zombie, when I had mountains to do...

We had swimming lessons this afternoon. All the way in the car the kids were squabbling, and to my sleep deprived ears the noise was over-amplified. I thought about the scene in the Blues Brothers where the Penguin slaps a ruler between Jake and Elwood in a vain attempt to stop them swearing... but I was driving. Gary was late getting to the pool so that I could take off for work in the city. Tons of traffic, just made it to class with minutes to spare.

This was the second week of learning calligraphy for this group. Some people had managed to practice, others were struggling with tools or concepts I had explained in detail last week. I was about set to make a smarty comment when I thought about my customers. About the fact that I held a set of little keys, a selection of which was going to open the window of understanding for all of these people. All I had to do was discover the right ones to use. What a privilege.

So I bit my tongue and thought again about how to approach the answer. At first time dragged, but as I found my groove the students responded. They were all doing well by the end. I was smiling and so were they. I stepped out of the building and discovered that it was a mild evening, no jacket required - spring was only a few hours away. I can't remember the last day I stepped out without a scarf and jacket on. This alone was enough to make me continue smiling. Melbourne looked beautiful - softly lit with beautiful colours everywhere. Tourists taking photos of Flinders St Station. Students socialising. The place was humming with goodwill. And it continued at home - the kids were tucked up in bed, Gary had everything under control.

Honestly, it doesn't have to take much to put a better slant on things. Get rid of that frown. Attitude is everything.