Forty Minutes of Quiet

how did I get here?

days like today

sitting in front of fresh faced youth

firm flesh

bright hair

creased brows

click click click the pens writing

swish flip

the pages turning

sighs.

how did I get here?

this was me

why am I out in front?

why am I captain of this ship?

did I pass my test?

image credit

Public Service Announcement

Okay readers! Don't worry! Normal transmission has been resumed! Move along now, nothing to look at here.......

(My Bestie thinks I have finally gone gaga, seeing visions in the sky etc. She is a little worried for my sanity.)

So I thought I'd start with a nice 'up' picture from Kangaroo Island just to reflect my return to normality and pragmatism. This is just before I descend into serious reflection on the subject of bushfires.

But first I think have some marking to do. Wait! I always have some marking to do. No wonder I am losing the plot.

Best Shot Monday: The Adversary

On Saturday night I was desperate. I sat on our balcony despairing of our situation.

No2 Son is home again bringing all his angst (and consequently ours) back with him. He is negative, intense, super sensitive, manic at times and all this layered over a very real specific learning difficulty and self esteem issues. We are walking on eggshells.

The worst part about his behaviour comes when he tries to interfere with the parenting of the younger children. Few things are as irritating as a young adult telling you to 'lighten up' on your parenting or 'give them a break', when the obvious results of someone having done this in the past are glaring out at you from the speaker's own visage. So when this occured on Saturday night, after the younger children having been allowed to stay up until 11.30pm(!!!!!) watching firstly 'Back to the Future' and then half of its sequel, I was irritated. I contained this however and encouraged the kids off to bed, asking him to pause the DVD in order to get them moving. Now, I don't know whether he misunderstood me (part of the SpLD) or was just ticked off that I'd upset 'the atmosphere' of the evening (which, up until then had been good) but he switched the TV off with a flourish, retrieved his DVD from the machine in a fury and stormed off downstairs muttering something about my unreasonable-ness and having to 'just do his own thing then' >:-(!!!!!!!

Now, I realise that in the light of the bushfires which were ravaging Victoria as this little interchange took place, the whole thing seems kind of petty; but at the end of my day when The BA had been uncharacteristically Bolshie (as in Bolsheviks...revolutionary....obnoxious) resulting in no' sleep-over', property damage and an associated bill which will take her several months of chores and pocket money to erase, it was the last straw.

I was overcome with desperation. I wanted him out of my house and out of my life. His problems are too big for me; his influence on the children too damaging. But how could I ask Himself to kick out his own son on my behalf? I will not be that wicked step mother. The boy did not ask for the circumstances of his life and living arrangements to be altered in the way they were when his father and I married. I could see no way out.

I thought about praying but my anger and frustration were intensely more satisfying; they reinforced the idea that I couldn't cope any more and I would need to move out. I sat on the balcony sobbing and rocking and planning where the BA and I would go. I didn't want there to be a solution. I just wanted to run away. I toyed with going back to the UK. I told God I was not up to this stupid task he had given me.

But as despair overwhelmed me and I wallowed in my self pity, I glanced up at the sky.

Now, whether I was fanciful or delusional or had simply had one too many sav blancs with dinner, I looked up to see a massive cloud formation glaring down at me; a cloud formation with the face of The Adversary.

There were the horns, the beard and the cruel smile mocking me from above. He was massive.
"That's right," went the voice in my head,"why should you have to put up with any more of this? It's not your problem. You've done your best. No one would blame you for running away."

And right then, at that moment, I felt my resolve harden.
Oh no, no, no you B******. You get out of my head, get out of my house and leave my family alone.
And as I thought it the clouds began to shift. I raced inside for my camera because, well, this is pretty weird s*** right? None of you were going to believe me and some of you might well think I was losing the plot!And this is what I captured.
It had started to shift and change as I said but I was amazed that I could still see the face.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways and on Saturday night he sent me a really strong message.
Of course I can't handle any of this on my own. But through Him I will.
I went to bed with a strong sense of peace and a feeling that I'd had a very near miss.

And that folks is the end of the weird stuff and My Best Shot for this week.
Be sure to click over to Tracy's new site for some much more wholesome photographic fare I'm sure!

Hemispheres

I South

Busy busy busy busy
working
hot and busy
hot and working
working and busy
home.
home requires work
home hot and requiring work
busy
busy busy busy
crabby
hot and crabby
home hot and husband crabby
husband requiring work.


II North

meanwhile
on the other side of the world
my sister waited
in an unheated baggage hall for
over two hours
while the ground crew patiently
thawed
the frozen baggage compartment doors on the plane.
and her husband
warm but worried
on the other side of the thin walled partition
drank brand name coffee and considered
the snow covered motorway they must
negotiate
if they ever
got
to go
home.

Best Shot Monday: Pool Hair.

Hey ho for best Shot Monday!

I guess it's no surprise that we have been spending a bit of time in our pool (snake notwithstanding...he/she seems to have vanished ). In my case I don't venture out until the sun is on the other side of the house (some of you know of my problems with sun) but the kids of course are in at any opportunity. Having said that, the last few days have been too hot to walk across the paving barefoot so we have tended to leave it til later.

A couple of nights ago, I decided to forgo the joys of splashing about in an uncoordinated manner whilst fending off my loving daughter who seems determined to hang off me like a limpet whilst dragging me towards the deep end which she KNOWS I feel uncomfortable about, and sit serenely on the side of the pool taking photos/videos.

There was much "Look at me, look at me", going on.



from all parties,


but I also managed my Best Shot for the week.

We call this "Crazy Pool Hair". There are a number of versions!

For more photo treats, click over to Tracey at Mother May I to see the rest of 'Best Shot Monday'.

Heat Wave 4: Suffering

Didn't I tell you that heat brings out the bugs? Well, yesterday I had the pleasure of being stung by both a wasp AND a jellyfish!!!! Although I'm not sure whether a jellyfish counts as a bug.

But anyway! They both bloody HURT!!!!

And just feel grateful that, due to the unpleasant nature of each sting site, I have spared you the usual photographic evidence!

The wasp flew up my skirt and stung me on the left, upper thigh! Most unpleasant. I still have a raised welt an inch and a half across. The jellyfish wrapped its tentacle around the upper thigh of my other leg!

The BA was also stung by jellyfish, on the hand and leg, and when we ventured up to the Surf Lifesaving tower to ask if they had any 'Stingose', we were in a queue of three others! I blame the warm water after all this heat. Jellyfish are not usually one of our local nasties.

The lifesavers kindly handed out mini ice packs which we gratefully applied. Today the stinging has stopped and been replaced with itching!

The widget is telling us it's 31C but my thermometer on the balcony says 38C. Either way it's markedly cooler.

Good grief.
image credit

Chocolate Lessons in Life

You know how we all have those kitchen disasters: the fruitcake so burned on the edges that you have to slice an inch off all round; the chicken which disintegrates into stringy pieces as you lift it, rather than gracing your fork with a tender, juicy morsel; the soggy quiche: the boot sole tough steak; the flabby pavlova; the lumpy gravy; the overly thin custard?

We all have them. We live with them and learn from them. We curse with frustration the phone call that took our attention away or the new oven with unfamiliar quirks; but every now and again there is a kitchen disaster so explosive, so overwhelmingly wrong that you can do nothing but laugh hysterically.

A week ago we had that disaster.

It was my Middle Sis' birthday on Sunday and her loving niece decided to cook her a birthday cake on the Saturday night. The recipe was selected, a new one, for chocolate mudcake. The ingredients were weighed out and, together, aunt and niece communed in the kitchen; melting, stirring, blending and mixing.

To be fair, aunt had come in half way through when all ingredients were out and measured. She'd come in to help out when the Baby Angel realised that the chocolate and butter mixture was meant to be divided in half before you melted it together. No drama though, Middle Sis competently assisted in estimating half the mixture and added elbow grease for the laborious task of stirring it into the dry ingredients.

A very laborious task as it turned out. I had to come in and lend a hand eventually. Gee, our shoulders just aren't what they used to be. Still, a little more of the melted chocolate mixture and everything seemed to be combining nicely. We helped her pour the batter into the cake tin, lined conscientiously with baking paper, and licked our fingers.

Hmm. That was an unusual taste.

Into the oven it went. Fifteen minutes into the 90 minute cooking time I sensed something was wrong as I passed the oven. Grabbing a sneak peek, I was confronted by a chocolate cascade! Cake mix was exploding over the edges of the pan and heaping upon itself on the bottom of the oven!!!! Damn! The pan was obviously not big enough! Why didn't they specify?????

I scraped the mounting pile of half cooked cake off the bottom of the oven and closed the door. Oh well, at least what was left would be ok with a trim and some icing.

An hour later we went back to investigate.

This wasn't looking good.



I broke off a stalactite from the side of the pan thinking, well, this should be lovely and chewy....

YUK!
What the h*** was that flavour?????

"Don't worry," Middle Sis chirped cheerfully,"I'm sure the middle will be fine."
"Er... I'm not sure...I had a little taste before and...."
"Don't be silly....!" undeterred she cut a square from the centre. It was about 1/16th of an inch thick.
"Mmm, looks fine!" she smiled optimistically as she popped it in her mouth.

I am sure you can imagine how rapidly her face changed.

"yuueah, wo' i' i' thi'?"
('yuck, what is in this?': spoken with a mouth full of really unpleasant cake)

I scanned the list of ingredients quickly.
"BA? How much bi-carb did you put in this cake?"

She looked bewildered for a moment,
"Well, I just put in what it said..."
"It says half a teaspoon BA....", the dawn of realisation was spectacular to behold.
"OMG. I put in half a..."
"CUP?????" my sister and I chorused together.

Uh-huh.

When we had all finished laughing she made another cake. That one was lovely; and this morning as a farewell to Middle Sis (sniff sniff) she made a Moist Chocolate Dessert Cake for her.

It was sensational.
Live and learn eh?