99 Things. Just for Fun.

99 things

This kind of blogging suits my holiday brain, (and also because it's entirely random), and it also has me thinking about all the things I would like to do in 2010. Which doesn't include karaoke. Nor possibly, a visit to the Vatican.

Things you've already done: bold
Things you want (or might want) to do: italicize
Things you haven't done and don't want to - leave in plain font

1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars.
3. Played in a band. (Very almost did though).
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity.
7. Been to Disneyland/world.
8. Climbed a mountain. (Hiked my way to the top of Mt Taranaki in New Zealand at the age of 10. Not bad for a 10 year old actually, conisdering it's an 8,000ft mountain. Have a bit of a penchant for big 'ills).
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art/craft from scratch. Quilting, doll-making, knitting, sewing clothes, baking bread (I know this isn't that flash, but baking bread from scratch is as deeply satisfying to me as making art or crafting).
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Let someone else take the credit.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France. (Tried to, but the Louvre was on strike every day we were there).
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitch hiked.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a marathon.
28. Ridden a gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run.
32. Been on a cruise. (on various rivers, but never on the ocean in a big cruise ship or nuffing. In truth, I would run screaming from said scenario).
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. (Only some of them).
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing.
40. Seen Michelangelo's David in person.
41. Sung Karaoke.
42. Rode a camel.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.
44. Been on an African safari.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Done something illegal. Well, duh.
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. (Nearly, then saw the queue and all the palaver surrounding it. Had a great view of it, but didn't need the view from it).
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling. (Snorkelling).
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theatre.
55. Been in a movie. (shhh...not telling).
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class (it aggravated my hot temper all that punching and shouting).
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout cookies. Nup - but I've eaten a ton of 'em.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Received flowers for no reason. (The Moon picks me flowers all the time, just because...she likes picking flowers)
64. Donated blood. I'm not allowed to! Boo hiss! Apparently I don't make enough of it. Like a vampire...or something : (
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a cheque.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Kept a favorite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial. (Erm, non).
71. Eaten caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Been on TV.
75. Been fired from a job.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book. Not really sure if I want to or not...
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.
85. Read the entire Bible. Yes, but I nodded off a fair bit, and there were a confusing amount of characters. I had a better time with James Joyce's Ulysses. A similarly fat book.
86. Visited the White House.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Listened to Tibetan monks chanting, in person.
89. Saved someone’s life.
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous.
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Had a baby.
95. Seen the Alamo in person. (Erm. Non).
96. Went skinny-dipping.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.

I'd love to read yours if you decide to do it...and do you have any wild and wunnerful plans for 2010?

Update and Solstice Things.

It's been an eventful couple of weeks chez Teapot. But in a nutshell, (and accompanied by a glut of amateurish photos), it has been as follows...

We, (as in Bloke, Moon and myself), went on holiday...almost by accident. That is, as is often the case I tend to go on unplanned trips and a recurring theme in my life is that of sudden change and travel. This is partly due to circumstance, but also due to the fact that I find planning tedious, and like things to come together quickly when the decision has been made to go somewhere. You know, when the spirit, er, moves. I realise that there are flaws to this approach, but so far, no problems. Travel comes easy. This time was no exception.

We didn't go far, but decided that we urgently needed a break away from Melbourne. I mean, it's been four years since our last holiday (I do not count travel for work obviously!). We wanted somewhere that was kind of local, but very different, and I just don't fancy most of Australia during the hotter months. So we ended up in Tasmania.*

Tasmania is an island of mists, and rain, and green, green beauty, (at least that was very much the case along the coast south of Hobart where we stayed). Having never been there before, despite old, old links with the place, (my great, great, great...etc grandfather was Governor Collins - the first Governor of Tassie way back), I felt a strange sense of the familiar-unfamiliar. The climate was so like New Zealand, (and I realise just how deeply I miss that softness of rain and mist), and where we were staying there was a delicious little micro-climate happening, which meant an abundance of fruit growing everywhere, and roses in full bloom running right down to the edge of the sea. And yet the landscape was also very Australian with gum trees populating the hills, wallabies skipping across your path, native Australian birds, and even the odd dingo.

The cottage where we stayed. Nice innit? It's set in a vineyard and built directly above a wine cellar. Ahem.

I felt very at home in Tassie, and although I'm not sure that it's my "heart home", I could see myself living there. It was a very easy, pleasant place to be, (and this is the "vibe" beyond my being on holiday). And hey, there was Tasmanian brie coming out my ears, so what more could I want? In fact, I think at this point I may well be composed of 92% triple brie, (the other 8% is just general wickedness). Yes, that's correct dear reader, triple brie. Na-haha.

So for a whole week we were without internet, or even mobile phone coverage. Egads! And I loved every minute of it. The silence, the roaring fire, (and toasting of requisite marshmallows), the birdsong, and rain, followed by bright sunshine. The sound of Moon's giggling, and seeing her natural affinity with horses flourish, the sight of her riding a horse like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bliss. And freedom. Space!

And the silence! My word. Being away from the voices of others, I could hear my own more clearly. I felt the stillness that I need so much. And I feel the need to protect that voice. I don't have a rock-solid, centered, or grounded energy. Mine is easily cluttered and confused by the voices of others, and by the general noise in my environment. And I don't mean my beliefs and opinions are easily swayed, but that I can be distracted from where I need to be and

what I need most. And to where and what I am called to. I can second-guess that voice too much. But when I have that silent space, I feel deeply connected to who I am, and what I love. Don't we all?

And then I don't judge that, or feel that my voice is less worthy or less decisive than others. I don't second-guess that voice so much. And with it comes effortlessness, and clarity, and a sense of connection to and within this, er, vast and intricate web of, um, existence...and all that, (if that makes any sense at all...hehe). It's my heart's sight returning to me. In a word: intuition.

Cottage view to the bay.

The Moon at the bay. Very French Lieutenant's Woman. Avec teddy.

Berry picking. Bear eats almost more than we pick, (that's my line anyway).

The fruits of our labours, (or what was left after a few, er, snack attacks). A glut of berries. And gluttony in general. I made a moste potente and wycked compote with the boysenberries and loganberries. Blew the socks off, that one. The rose was stolen from the nunnery in Cygnet. Oooh rebels us.

A very happy Moon, settled in by the fire of an evening. And being Asterix-obsessed as she is currently, she felt compelled to write out the names of each and every Asterix character that she could recall. In "ancient script". Hmmm...quite.

Something that came out of this time away is the decision to send The Moon back to school. For many reasons, very personal. But my hiatus is at an end, and it is time for me to get some exciting projects birthed. And just as we decide to do this, a piece of serendipity appears, and The Moon is offered a place in a Steiner class, (we placed her on a waiting list that we were told we had little hope of getting her place for at least 5 years). But I haven't yet decided on this option. It's between this and another school. And I need to meet the Steiner teacher and get a sense of the ethos of the place and whether The Moon will gel with it or not. More anon...

And tomorrow is Summer Solstice in my part of the world. And there will be mead shared with friends, and feasting, and the Moon and I will weave cornflowers, cosmos, and lavender from the garden through our hair, and we shall wear long, light dresses. And we shall light candles in the evening and dance to this song, and this song, and walk through the warm night, and feel the fullness of our lives. A time for release and renewal of the self. For feeling the fire and the vibrant energy in the world around us. And, to be honest, a bit of a respite from the madness of the season.

I wish you many happy Solstice blessings - Summer or Winter - wherever you are.

*For those of you who are wondering, Tasmania is that island bit at the bottom of Australia. It resembles an unwaxed girlie bit, originating the very Australian saying "show us yer map of Tassie".

The Red Tent: A Review.

Hello there. Hope youse is all well and good. I have been offline lately, so haven't been a-visiting the blogsies of late.

Anyway, I went and wrote my review of Anita Diamant's The Red Tent for Book Club Mamas, and decided to post it over 'ere, at Dark Side of the Broom. Just for kicks...

So, anyone else going to write on this one?

On Felted Things...

This is one crafting project that could well fall under the category of What Was I Thinking? A handcrafted advent calendar. Indeed. Not something I'd normally throw my time, energy and resources into. I mean, it's a lovely idea isn't it, and possibly not as time-consuming as it looks, (it's an excellent pattern and came together fairly quickly and certainly easily), but it still took more time than I thought it would, and certainly more time than I feel I currently have. Hence being awake finishing off the critter late last night when I really should have been sleeping. The things we do for our children hey? You think the newborn stage is the sleep-deprived stage. Nooo...it never goes away. *Swills second cup of chai in 20 minutes*.

I followed this pattern here, and The Moon wanted it to be in exactly the same colours as the picture, (I was keen to do golds and oranges and reds meself). So I cracked open my rusty blanket stitching and set to...

Done and hung. And filled with little bits and bobs, (which include soap, a beeswax candle, the Dreaded Candy Cane of Sugar-hyped Horror, a hair clip, a bath melt from Lush, choc, and various vouchers for doing stuff together - like having a tea party, staying up late to watch a film, or having a picnic).

'ere's the close-up. Yes - there is a world of blanket stitch there. Fascinating.

The Moon gleefully opening her first advent goodie this morning, (some Guatemalan worry dolls in fact).

And now at least I know that I don't have to make one next year. This one'll do until she wearies of the whole idea in a few years time. But for now, The Moon's delight in all this Christmas business is immense, and I'm not one to put a damper on it. Not sure about making a gingerbread house though...

In other not-news, The Bloke took part in Movember, and it was an immense relief to me this morning when he shaved off the horrible hairy bit calling itself a mo that has squatted on his upper lip for the past month. A friend of mine said he looked like a "dashing 1930's airman",(really stretching it), and said he should keep it, (which led me to having stern words with her). To me it looked like a demonically possessed lip toupee. Excellent cause an' all, but so glad that's over for another year.

A Hierarchy of Needs.

I tend to think that I'm fairly organised. Well, I am. Kind of. In my way. But I can be a bit vague and forgetful and have been known to have the odd Iris Murdoch moment. And I don't mean the kind of moments in which I pen literary and philosophical works of great genius, but more those moments of losing things, and forgetting things.* The same could be said of many of us, I'm sure.

But when I do misplace items, rather than working through the issue, and just looking for it, I have to bug other people and drag them into my painful and irritating vortex of Lost Things. Yet through my habit of misplacing sundry items, I have discovered that I have a very clear personal hierarchy of needs.** So in these instances, a typical conversation/text/email/phone call with The Bloke/friends/family members will be as follows.

Convo 1:

Me: "Um. You haven't seen my mobile anywhere have you?"

Them: "No, when did you last have it?"

Me: "oh...about 2 days ago...doesn't matter. It'll turn up".

Them: "Have you tried calling your mobile number and listening for the ring tone?"

Me. "Er, no. Excellent idea! But I was quite enjoying the fact that it was lost, so I might just leave it another day before I trying calling it..."

Convo 2:

Me: "Um. You haven't seen my glasses anywhere have you? I need them to, er, see stuff".

Them: "No, *long-suffering sigh* where did you last have them?"

Me: "...weeell, I think I had them in the back pocket of my pants when I was gardening yesterday, but they aren't there now".

Them: "Is that them in that pot of tomatoes - there next to the basil, covered in dirt and with a caterpillar crawling over them?"

Me: "Oh! Yes, so they are! Thanks".

Convo 3:

Me: "Um...you haven't seen my keys have you?"

Them: "No, can't say I have".

Me: "Oh well. Just have to not go out then. That's ok, the book I'm reading is getting pretty exciting".

Convo 4:

Me: "Where the f*** is the cheese????!!"

Them: "It's ok, just breathe".

Me: "You don't understand. I can't find the cheese. What will I do? It's an aged cheddar ffs!"

Them: "Just have something else instead. There's hummus".

Me: "Hummus? I'm having a cheese crisis and all you can offer me is hummus? Are you inhumane?"

I'm sure you understand these things dear reader.

*Yes - Iris Murdoch the famous novelist/philosopher/academic died tragically of Alzheimers. And it's a disease that strikes terror into the hearts of many of us, especially thinking persons. So I don't mean to offend anyone who has been affected by Alzheimers Disease. I myself have had a relative die from it. It's entirely, completely horrible, but also sometimes, there are some very (inappropriately) funny moments. Having said that, I dread the idea of losing my marbles, (and weeing in corners of my living room), as I get older. I have more than enough of my marbles missing as it is.

**Erm, for a more sensible version of this idea, please see Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.

On Not Being An Earth Mother.

Hello there. I hope you're enjoying your weekend. I must say, I am feeling decidedly chipper today as the Moste Wycked heatwave that has been upon us broke yesterday, and today is moist, humid and overcast. The kind of warmth I thrive in. And I enjoyed a lovely walk along the creek to the organic market this morning with my anam cara. Ahhh...lovely, and not a Tiger Snake in sight.

I hath been thinking. Hmmm...singular non? I have been thinking about mothering styles, (and it seems that so too has The Awakened Heart). And this reflection has confirmed to me something that I have long believed. That I am not, nor ever will be, (despite the fact that I garden, and bake, and sew), an Earth Mother.

I am not a creature of the earth, and in the past this has been a source of dismay, although this current phase of my life is reflective of a fair amount of of earthiness. But it is not what I innately express, and there are worse things than that, (or so I hear). Although on the blogs, there are so many beautiful Earth Mamas doing their thing that one can tend to feel a little if not inadequate, certainly a bit frivolous, and not so...solid. And no, I try not to compare myself, but now and again I do wonder if I may be...inconsistent. Or consistently inconsistent. Insubstantial. Too changeable).

Image by Paulina Cassidy from here. Er, no I don't look like that. It's the vibe ok?

But in thinking about all this, I realise more and more that the gifts I offer my child are more the gifts of an Air Mama. Erm, yes, a lot of hot air, (as well as a dash of fire - and her dad is a Fire dad who takes her out to music gigs, makes cds and videos with her, takes her to parties, and has her running around the creek). I do not give the grounded gifts of tradition and unfailing reliability, patience, humility, structure.

What I give my child is lots of books, make-believe, and stories. Music, costume, and dance; film, and beauty, curiosity, a certain amount of unconventionality, sociability, festivals, exhibitions - Kultcha. Of course. Heh. We have oceans of the stuff, and it spills out over the edges of our life together.

And whilst I like peace and to slow everything down, to have gentle rhythms, (so I don't spin out into space and forget to return to my earth-home), I am a mama who runs and walks quickly, and flits, and laughs a lot, and sings; a mama who is changeable, and weeps, and exclaims, and who swears like a navvy, (ok - I tend to be restrained around children, but you get the picture).

I squirt perfume into the air, wear red lipstick, and wave incense around whilst The Moon and I dance silly tangos, and fill our home with colour and light. We run and giggle and roll in the grass. We dress up and put flowers in our hair, and I take her out to cafes, and to our local mexican bar where children are welcome, and the room is filled with their voices, as well as the chatter and music, and banter of their parents. These moments I forget to capture, and nor can I be bothered, because it would feel lacking in spontaneity, and it's not in my nature to be that grounded Earth Mama who can collect moments and put them on film, and store them in thoughtful, well-organised ways. Although I love to gaze upon the images of those who do, and often think how lovely it would be to have that record.

Gypsy Seer, image from here.

So I do not feel bad that I don't walk slowly, that my energy is not contained and steady, and that although I am emotionally and physically available to her, I am not always, 100% of the time focused on my child, and I do not believe for a moment that this is damaging to her. I do not feel bad that I am sometimes hard to pin down, and need to walk alone at others, and that planning is not my strong point. I don't do committees and organise events. I am sometimes vague, but I don't miss much. And I am more interested in the feeling, and emotion - the sense of things, the idea, a conversation. The point of connection and the feeling conveyed, more than in the shape of the words, and their literalness.

And because my child is a child of the Air also, who clearly needs my enthusiasm and energy, (of which I have an abundance), and I need to be this Air Mama to keep pace with her - she has never been a clingy child, but one who skips off ahead of me. I am so glad of that, because whilst we hug each other and kiss each other countless times during the day, I can not stand to be clung to, as though my body is not my own. Physical freedom is important to the both of us. We each leave the other freely and without angst. And like all creatures of the air, we withdraw and fly away faster the more we are pursued, the more others seek to control, or possess us. We adapt quickly together, and embrace change, we understand what the other is saying before we have spoken the words. And when there are too many words filling the space between us, we fall silent and let music and books fill us with story, and feed our need to know.

So what dear reader is your mothering style? Are you a warm and gentle Earth Mama, or something more elusive? A mama of myths and dreams and art? Or a fierce Mama Bear? Or are there so many aspects to you as a Mama that you integrate a number of qualities and energies? Something more difficult to define?

*And I believe my girl is developing empathy in knowing that however important she is, she's not the centre of the universe, however utterly loved she is (and certainly feels), that other people have needs too.

Of Seasons and Their Effects.

Despite the fact that it is a dismayingly, eyeball meltingly hot day today, I am still on a high from attending a gathering of women last night, (Women's Mysteries if you will), at a moste delightful and evocative venue. The world of the mundane was left well and truly behind. All followed by a truly awesome chaser of vegetarian tagine, and tall, cold glasses of pomegranate juice.

It felt timely to be attending this gathering immediately after the new moon, and building on the surge of creative energy I've been feeling with it. And a number of souls in my immediate social circle are similarly effected, and are feeling buzzy with creative energy.

However, with this current weather, we're taking things very easy, although we are going to have to trudge forth to The Moon's music lesson this afternoon in the heat. Gah. Last night it was 28 degrees celsius at midnight. What's that? 82F?

For me, Summer - or rather the very hot few months of the year - is a darkening time, rather than an outward-looking, social and gregarious time of the year, (that tends to be Spring for me). The heat makes me want to draw my energies in and down and quietly retreat. Up a nice cool mountain would be my ideal. There is less doing for me, and more reflection and wanting to dream, and read. Nights and early mornings are the time to walk, gather with friends. Breathe.

Of all the seasons here, Summer is the one that slows everything down. It's often just too hot to do anything, or be out and about. For me, it's somewhat akin to, if not the same as, a fierce Northern Winter in which there is a period in which Nature defines for its inhabitants a very small sphere of movement - even with technology acting as a buffer between humanity and the elements. And technology frequently fails here in the heat. For instance our public transport networks are often thrown into chaos in high temperatures. Air con, (which I don't have, hence the whingeing about the heat), drives people indoors for longer and longer periods of time. Humans generally avoid being in nature during times of extreme heat or cold, even when craving those connections.

But I have been promising to not complain about the weather! Erm, at least for a minute or two.

Where am I going with this? Well, for some years now, I have tried to look at things from a different perspective. Here in the State of Victoria, Australia, we are classified as "temperate". And our predecessors were quick to adopt the four-seasons template that they brought out from their homelands (most usually this was the British isles). It's a template that's widely received and reflects our historical, ancestral and spiritual ties to theNorthern Hem. Many who live here are only familiar with the four seasons, (in regards to Australia's temperate areas), and only operate within that paradigm. But does it serve us that well here in Australia? Possibly not.

But I love the four seasons, their pace and distinct gifts. And I have lately been wanting to live in either England, or Canada for a stint, let my girl experience a different land, its energy, and culture. And also so I am able to sink myself into a seasonal rhythm I resonate strongly with. I am someone who has always felt that I have no 'Where', (raised in different countries and very different cultures despite appearances*, I am still even now very much betwixt and between, and not actually at home, or tied to any place). My child is born here, many of my friends are here, but I could quite happily get up and go somewhere completely different at a moment's notice. So much of what makes me tick and what grounds me is based in the seasons, and observing the seasons. Locating my sense of where in seasonal practices, and in seasonal activities.

But as a compulsive gardener, who is also trying to follow permaculture principles, I also have to be practical, (and as an aside to those who know me well, yes, I do actually possess a practical streak. Ahem. Thankyou...*sniffs indignantly*).

So I do feel that it's crucial for a gardener to face the reality of a garden's environment, accepting the truth of its rhythms - and learning as much as possible about it. It's another way of honouring the land and the natural environment. Respecting it. If there's one thing about the Australian land, it demands respect, and it has harsh lessons for those who seek to ignore its truth. For me, who loves the kind of garden I could grow easily in a gentler, wetter environment, (such as New Zealand where I cultivated a wild, cottage garden) it could mean a lot of dead flowers. So I cultivate heat-loving plants and try to plan my planting and harvesting, not so much around the four seasons, (the rough guide), but more along the lines Indigenous Australians have cannily identified. The 6 seasons of Melbourne in fact. It is a more nuanced and accurate system, and it was developed over generations of living closely with the land and weather, and observing its patterns and complexity. So oi reckon, it's probably a good call.

Seasonal calendar for the Melbourne, Victoria area. From here.

And also, despite a wariness of labels and categories, I do resonate with Druidic spirituality, and I find this version of the Southern seasonal wheel very appealing, quite beautiful and one that allows for a fairly fluid interpretation.

The Wheel of the Year, (to be read sunwise or anti-clockwise). Image and info from here.

And what of your environment dear reader? What are your seasonal patterns? Do you know of any indigenous wisdom in regards to the seasons and weather? Any inherited, ancestral knowledge? Or do you have a way of viewing your environment that is very personal and unique to your own experience of it? Or something in between? I'd love to hear what you have to say...

*I mainly refer here to Australia and New Zealand, which are often lumped together and seen as "pretty much the same, and you guys are basically British anyway aren't you?". *Blink, blink*. Ok, so we still have the Queen, but really. Not same. Very much not. We share a common language, but then so do Canadians and Americans, the English and Irish, (well, unless you consider the Gaelic speaking Irish), and the Portuguese and Brazilians. Would we say that they are "pretty much the same?" Noooooo. Even Australians and New Zealanders are a little blind to the major differences between their two cultures, until they live in one another's countries, and experience something like culture shock. But as someone who is a product of both, they are as different to one another as any of the examples above. Had to say all that, really. Bit of a bugbear of mine. Not that I'm wanting to be divisive here. One thing's for sure, a number of us share the same sense of humour, and that's a biggie : )