Florida Girl in Sydney

Sculpture by the Sea 2009

2009-11-05T14:16:00.002+11:00

So there's this Caveman who lives at Bondi Beach, his home nestled into the cliff is complete with dominoes on a table ready to be played and Winnie the Pooh perched atop a pedestal admiring the views.

Last week my new Southern Belle American friend wanted to possibly meet him, see his digs, ya know-- get the lowdown. A few days after her failed attempt to check him out (he wasn't home), her and I, and my lover Gus went to Sculpture by the Sea 2009. During our walk from Bondi Beach to Tamarama we passed by his place.

The Caveman's home as seen from the cliffs above.

Yesterday The Caveman was all over the Sydney news, he's been charged with the sexual assault of a woman he "invited back to his place" after meeting her at Sculpture by the Seas.

And though I'll assume he's innocent until proven guilty, I'm incredibly glad he wasn't home when my girl Southern Belle was being all adventurous and whatnot.

Here's the rest of what we saw at Sculpture by the Seas 2009:

I believe this is a beach house owner's backyard artistic expression.

Here's a look at my trip to Sculpture by the Sea 2008 if you just can't get enough.

Oh Yes I Did!

2009-10-29T13:41:00.012+11:00

I never let my children paint in the house, in fact they're lucky they get to use textas (that's Australian for markers). I know it's wrong and all un-motherly and whatnot, but we do what we can, right?

But this past week the artist within me was unleashed at the home of The Cupcake Fairy. My journey began with Cupcake Basics 1, in which I made these...

Hell yes that's the Very Hungry Caterpillar sista.

Two days later I went back for Cupcake Basics 2, and I made these...

Oh yeah baby, that sure is a hand-moulded fondant castle.

I'm still not sure how you eat something like this-- or if you'd even want to, but I can say this, they look gorgeous and after two days of cupcake making mania I feel competent enough to make them at home without supervision.

Deanne, you Cupcake Fairy Goddess, it's all about you, you and your awesome kitchen complete with macdaddy island for group fondant rolling,

Needless to say I'm totally looking forward to my next class, though totally not looking forward to my husband's face when he eventually finds the massive box of cupcake making supplies I'll be hiding in the kitchen cabinets.

Sydney Night Noodle Markets and The Blue Mountains Without Hitler

2009-10-21T23:48:00.003+11:00

Our four and five year old boys use chopsticks pretty proficiently and are pros at the yum cha (dim sum) scene, needless to say, we are basically Asian food fanatics.

Going to the Night Noodle Markets in Hyde Park, part of the annual Sydney International Food Festival was high on our list of priorities for this week, and I'm proud to say, mission accomplished!

Dumplings, noodles, and various other delicious edibles were aplenty. We sampled our usual dim sum favorites and closed the night out at the Serendipity Ice Cream stall. It was all good.

The Night Noodle Markets in Sydney's Hyde Park 2009.

My boys with some of their usual yum cha favorites.

Serendipity Ice Cream at the Sydney Noodle Night Markets 2009. The four year old had chocolate, I had Chili Passionfruit sorbet.

This was the walk back to the car-- right after my four year old nailed my husband in the balls. If you look closely you can see his hand strategically placed in the post-balls-injury-position. And yes, those are bottles of water hanging out of my husband's ass pockets.

If you're still reading after all that testicle drama, here are some outtakes from our weekend in the Blue Mountains with our friends, including My Favorite Australian.

We locked the kids in there and went for lunch. Just kidding people.

Love on the ZigZag Railway.

Anytime is the right time for bubbles yo.

A big ass green-eyed fly sitting on my leg, not fun.

We went on the Cableway at Scenic World, where you can get your jollies standing on a glass-bottom floor while crossing the valley.

The Three Sisters as seen from the Cableway.

I used to marvel at how we could live in such a beautiful city and have these gorgeous mountains only ninety minutes away. But after the spew-fest clinic my carsick five year old put on during our return car ride home, I realize now-- it's about seventy five minutes further than we're comfortable with.

The good news is, we totally avoided the Blue Mountains Nazi Shrine, cause that's was a real buzz kill on our last trip there.

A new calendar of annual events in Sydney should be up on my sidebar soon-- if you have blog posts about past festivals or events in Sydney that you've written about and/or photographed and want me to link to please let me know. Cheers y'all.

Festival of Dangerous Ideas

2009-10-09T18:03:00.010+11:00

Warning: If you are easily offended by controversial topics and/or worried that you may burn in hell if you don't love Jesus, you may want to stop reading and check out something a little lighter, like this.

For the rest of you...

The Sydney Opera held its inaugural Festival of Dangerous Ideas this past weekend. The two-day festival of provocative speakers and controversial topics was kicked off Saturday with the Soapbox Public Speaking Competition, a free event in the Opera House Forecourt (the outdoor area below The Opera House steps).

Any person who wished to was given two minutes on an actual soapbox to say whatever they like. Ten ranters went to a final round, and a winner was chosen.

Later that evening the official "Opening Session" began with the CEO of The Opera House Richard Evans, introducing the festival as the inaugural of a new annual event. His introduction concluded with welcoming the winner of the Soapbox Competition to the stage. A thin, older woman dressed in jeans entered the stage and stepped up upon the soapbox. She began with the declaration, "I want the right to die." And though she was not dying, and had no desire to die today, her poignant and eloquent rant made it clear why she had won the competition; it also made me wish I had gone to hear the others earlier that afternoon.

The speaker for this evening's session was Christopher Hitchens, the program titled Religion Poisons Everything.

Often, I refer to myself as a "bad Jew". Jewish law dictates that if you're mother is Jewish you are too-- automatically. But for me, for years, I've believed that organized religion could, and should, be compared to a cult, a cult that got out of control.

If there is a God, would he or she really want you to pray to him every day? Would he or she really send you to the "fiery gates of hell" for sinning? Would a great, mighty God want people to be scared of him or her? Does baptizing children really "save" anyone? Save us from what? And as Hitchens said during his session, if a man on public transport was proclaiming himself as a prophet, would you choose to sit closer to him... or further away?

One thing was certain, Christopher Hitchens was "preaching to the choir". He is an incredible speaker and it was very validating for someone who's always felt like I "didn't believe".

On Sunday, the second day of the festival, Cardinal George Pell presented a session called Without God We Are Nothing. I consider organized religion safe, so I'm not sure how that fit into The Opera House's program besides allowing religious zealots to defend their stance. It seems the only dangerous part of a Without-God-We-Are-Nothing attitude, would be breaking away from it.

A few of the other topics at The Festival of Dangerous Minds included:

Freedom: The Most Dangerous Idea of All with Germaine Greer
People With Flat Screen TVs Should Stop Whinging About Capitalism
Make All Drug Use Legal
Does Online Networking Harm Children's Brains?
By 2075 The Aboriginal Genocide Will Be Complete
Australian Stereotypes Betray Our Cultural Identity
The Old Should Pay For Themselves
Polygamy and Other Islamic Values Are Good for Australia
No Human Cure Justifies Animal Experimentation
Yes to Child Labor, No to The Minimum Wage
Policing Our Minds is the Future

As you can see, the topics alone could make almost anyone start feeling a little uncomfortable and anxious. Needless to say, I will be looking forward to see what they line up in 2010.

You can click here for a link to ABC's clips from the festival.

If I Inhale Anymore I'm going to Choke

2009-10-03T00:47:00.007+10:00

Three days after the far-reaching red dust storm pummeled across Sydney, a second storm added insult to injury on Saturday. Hope you didn't already wash your car.
Photo of second dust storm by Handles on flickr.

I've never hoped for rain like I have this past week. A couple of hours ago it started, and now I sit here enjoying the sound from my cracked crank-out window... finally. Eagerly awaited rain, quenching the dry, powdery-fine red sand which had baked onto cars and sidewalks and leaves over the last ten days.

In the last couple hours I've begun to breathe a little easier (literally) and the taste of dust has diminished thanks to the fresh moisture in the air. I can feel the humidity slowly seeping back into my throat and lungs.

The rain is letting up now, the sound outside my window has stopped. I'm hoping this wasn't just a light shower that's passed, and that bright skies won't be back tomorrow. They said it's supposed to rain for the next few days; I'm counting on them to be right.

It's time for the burnt orange sand to soak back into the earth where it belongs.
I've never been so relieved to see rain.

Waking Up On Mars

2009-09-23T15:48:00.003+10:00

I wish I would have taken a photo of the incredible orange glow shining brilliantly from behind my window shade this morning. It was surreal and scary, as if out of an apocalyptic movie.

As told to me by meteorologists and other various news sources, the intense high winds in New South Wales and South Australia swept dust from the Outback over the city of Sydney. The bizarre occurrence caused airport and public transport chaos. People with respiratory issues were advised to stay indoors and many home smoke detectors set off alarms.

Naturally occurring events often act as a harsh reminder of the fragility of it all. What if this orange dust over Sydney hadn't dissipated by mid-afternoon? What if it had hovered over the city for weeks, its dust potentially lethal to many people? Thoughts that make you consider how powerless we all actually are.

Unfortunately, I was too comfy and cozy to get out of bed this morning and capture the moment, therefore below I'm sharing below the images of other local photographers who didn't sleep in today.

Photo from The New York Times

When we moved here two and a half years ago, we had a babysitter who had just moved here from Brazil. As an aspiring journalist, Rosangela came to Australia to practice her English. Recently she contacted me, she had come across my blog online. These days Rosangela has her own blog, and today she posted an extremely eloquent and poignant article describing the look and feel of this morning.

Festival of the Winds

2009-09-20T00:16:00.001+10:00

Every year Festival of the Winds, a kite flying event, is held at Bondi Beach.

Ironically for a country with such drought issues, Festival of the Winds was rained out in 2007 and 2008. This year, our third attempt, it was finally a go... and hell yes sista, we went-- and we kited gosh darnit.

And it was awesome.

This is what it looked like:

Our kitty kite.

Our friend Dana taking it all in.

Kite Man?

Honk If Your Husband Makes You Crazy

2009-09-12T20:48:00.006+10:00

It's but on rare occasion that I will publicly talk smack about my husband, but today is going to give you a little glimpse into the chaotic, and sometimes hilarious lives of Florida Girl and Mr. Florida Girl.

A little about us:

I am fast girl. Fast, fast, fast, let's get a move on. I can get my kids dressed, fed, and out the door in twenty minutes.

My husband is slow and methodical. He's side-tracked easily and needs time to think all things through properly before taking action. Needless to say, I wouldn't hold your breath if you're waiting on him to dress, feed, and/or do anything with the children.

So this morning, stopped at the traffic light near our house, we were the third vehicle in line for a left turn. The arrow changes to green and no one moves. After a few seconds I'm all, "Give 'em a honk." Of course my husband DOES. NOT. WANT. TO. He is totally anti-honking. He is emphatic in his belief that "Honking means I'm here'." In my book honking could mean that, and/or it could mean, "Pay attention dumbass." or "The light is green, freaking go!"

We're still at the light, no one is turning-- my husband gently gives the horn a little peck, such a little tap that no actual sound is made. And the reality is that there is just no way in hell he's going to honk the effing horn. Finally, shocked the light hasn't turned red yet, I lean over and lay it on the horn. And guess what, the cars turned. No one was mad, no one got out of their car and came after us, no one even gave us the finger. Unfortunately, though it was all in good fun, my husband did not at all appreciate my helping him with the horn, I think his exact words were, "Don't ever touch the steering wheel when I'm driving!".

Later this afternoon, we were the first car stopped at a light. My husband didn't notice the light had turned green, and we were honked at. Now personally, if I don't notice the greenage, I hope someone honks at me, because I want to get where I'm going, and as quickly as possible. And when it's all said and done, I knew he was glad they honked too.

And I'm hoping that today's events will change his honkin' attitude, but if not, if he continues to not honk when honking is required, I will lean over, and I will honk that horn, even though it makes him so incredibly angry... because that's how I roll, and I think it's kind of fun in a bizarre, perverse way.

**Update: My husband just said it's my horn's fault, for being too hard to honk.
Apparently, he would have honked it-- if he could have.

Big Daddy

2009-09-06T10:10:00.004+10:00

You are their world,
their calm and clarity.

Sitting on your lap,
hearing your voice,
your hands bigger than their heads,
keeping them warm and protecting them,
they sit in awe of you,
and you in awe of them.

You are an even a more wonderful father than I had imagined you would be.
Happy Fathers Day Big Daddy.

By the way it was really fun watching Zach and Miri Make A Porno with you last night, that was crazy funny.

Five years o' Daddy:

Sad Days, Bad Days

2009-08-24T13:08:00.012+10:00

You never know what's going on behind all those smiles. The sadness or chaos, you just never know.

You wouldn't have known from the last couple of posts or the smile I had on my face at school when I picked up the boys, but the emptiness, the emotional drain of this week, was evident from my numerous spontaneous teary-eyed meltdowns.

Surely I knew that moving to Australia would make times like these inevitable.

Friday my kids were slated to go stag to Kindergarten Grandparents Day, feeling sad for them and under the premise of taking video for the grandparents, I ultimately went, even though parents were not actually welcome.

But Friday was only the tail end of an already depressing week. Earlier in the week, on facebook of all places, I found out that a friend had died. She wasn't a close friend, but she was a very special person, and the incredibly tragic circumstances are so upsetting that I haven't stopped crying all week.

Her name was Shannon Britt Miller, she was thirty-five years old. Shannon and Shelby, identical twins, lived across the street from us in Florida back around 2001. Both talented artists, Shannon and Shelby had a painting business. Eventually Shannon moved to Los Angeles to attend a renowned shoe design school; she was one of seven selected for the prestigious program. When the program was completed, Shannon and Shelby started Shannon Britt Shoes, making incredible and unique wedding shoes. And a few years ago Shannon had a baby girl.

Then last week, as I understand it, a few days after returning home from the hospital having given birth to her second daughter, she had a headache. They went to the hospital. Shannon passed away of a brain hemmorage on that day.

Shannon is survived by her identical twin sister Shelby, three year old daughter, week old baby, and her husband.

The sadness and tragedy of this is overwhelming. What words can be written or said?

And time goes by, and Grand Parents Day is over. And I call our grandparent, to tell her of the video I'll be sending of my four year old singing Aint' No Mountain High Enough. The call results in the terrible news that my mom's friend, someone very close to her, is also dead.

The happy and sad days in which we couldn't be there for each other are just too much. Oceans and time zones and life keep us apart. And sometimes we don't talk to each other enough, and sometimes we don't even talk for weeks because what can you say? I miss you? It's lonely here and it may never get easier? I don't know, sometimes I can't call "home" because it seems too useless being so far away.

And I write this sad, sad post and I wonder why I'm putting it out there. I don't want a bunch of "I'm so sorry for your losses." They're not even my losses. But I guess I do want to honor these people, people who were important, people who I can't get out of my mind now.

Shannon Britt Miller donated seven of her organs to save other lives. I hope her daughters and her twin sister and her husband and her family can find the strength to get through this and find solace in the memories of how she lived her life and the people whose lives will go on because of her.

Is it okay to make your kids say stuff like this?

2009-08-18T11:45:00.006+10:00

The company my husband works for is making a spoof film to show to all their employees. They needed a segment involving my husband answering a phone call while he was "relaxing" at home.

At the last minute, right before we were going to film him in a bathtub (which in fourteen years I've never seen him in a bathtub) he thought it would be even funnier to have the kids in the segment.

Here's their acting debut, it's pretty freaking funny if you ask me, but then again... I'm not at all objective.

City to Surf 2009

2009-08-13T13:32:00.009+10:00

This is how my husband and kids saw me as we watched our third City to Surf Race.

My five year old took this photo.

And this is exactly as I saw them most of the morning...

The previous two years we were able to walk about two blocks from our house to our special spot and watch the runners go by. This year we drove and for fear of being trampled, stayed about an hour longer than our four year old could really handle. Fortunately my children did not expire before I was able to get some photos and video of the event.

People running. People running wearing bunny oufits and superhero costumes, and shirts with messages on them. 70,000 people ran this year, and once again the metal band played upon the balcony of The Golden Sheaf Hotel. The crowd is jamming out and cheering on the runners... and walkers... and people wearing neon leg warmers.

Here's a taste of City to Surf 2009 as seen from the sidelines:

The first pack of people running through with a police escort.

For my four year old it's all about the runners dressed up as superheroes.

This is my favorite photo. Wait, let me translate for the Aussies, this is my favourite photo.

The band at the Golden Sheaf Hotel (did you know "hotel" means "bar" in Australia?).

What ever floats your boats girlfriends.

I'd bet $100 this is what my sister would have worn.

Is that Fidel Castro?

A better perspective of the scene.

The five year old following in my footsteps.

And the day would have been even more pleasant had our four year old not been on teetering between complete meltdown and inappropriate silliness. Times like this make me glad we were surrounded by strangers, but still we bribed him with food.

Banana bread being shoved into cranky, whiny mouth. And don't they all look so ready to leave?

When the runners finally trickled to an end, and we no longer feared being trampled, we headed back to the car. Where we parked there was the cutest little old mailbox, how could I pass this by without putting a cute four year old next to it and snapping away?

See you next year City to Surf. Maybe we'll actually be participants?

Oh wait-- there's one more thing....
How is it possible that this shot randomly showed up on my camera-- not a photo I remember taking at all...

Correct me if I'm mistaken, but this shirt looks like it probably says Delray Beach-- which is close to my hometown and a city I actually lived in for a while. Crazy, crazy I tell ya.

Peace out.

Mad Libs Rock

2009-08-10T11:40:00.002+10:00

There are no Mad Libs in Australia.
Australians probably don't know what Mad Libs are, so here's the deal...

Mad Libs are a booklet of single page stories with fill in the blanks peppered throughout each story. When I was little, one person asked the other for the required words, giggling to themselves as they filled in the blanks with answers from their friend. The blanks are usually to be filled in with either a noun, adjective, or verb; occasionally they ask for a food, body part, or other random item. When the blanks were completed we would read the story aloud, it was always hysterical. Here's a example of what a Mad Lib looks like:

The teacher's name was Miss __________ (adjective). Some kids thought she was _________ (adjective), because she kept a/an ____________(noun) in her _________ (noun).

These days, there is a page proceeding the story which looks like the following example (but longer) to be filled in:

adjective _______________
adjective _______________

noun _______________

The end result could sound something like this:

The teacher's name was Miss funny. Some kids thought she was hairy, because she kept a chair in her purse.

So whether you're an American who grew up with Mad Libs, or an Aussie who is saying to your self, "Self, I have no clue what Florida Girl is talkin' bout even after that lengthy, yet unimpressive explanation.", the bottom line, is Mad Libs are damn funny. And I think this video of my five year old doing Mad Libs for the first time hilarious, his laugh alone is worth watching, but then again-- he's my kid, I'm not at all objective.

It's totally unfortunate that you cannot buy Mad Libs in Australia.
And now after watching the video again, I have a feeling I may be the only person who thinks it's funny.

International Superstar or Complete Freakshow? You decide.

2009-08-06T12:00:00.002+10:00

In the Australia, and most of the civilized world, people eat "continental style" which means fork in one hand, knife in the other, and the fork goes into your mouth prongs facing down with meat on them, and other stuff pushed onto the back of the fork. This is the way the judges on Masterchef and/or Top Chef eat.

Alternatively, most Americans eat "American style", cutting food, lying their knife down, moving their fork to the other hand, and finally taking a bite with the fork-- prongs facing up.

Eating American Style at a table full of Australians is uncomfortable, awkward, and clumsy looking. The Aussies easily cut and eat their food without all the stopping, starting, and cutlery swapping.

And sometimes at a restaurant I give it a try, I really do-- but it's not pretty, I'm like a fumbling idiot. Putting a fork into your mouth upside-down is hard, the angling is off, and I know I look like a complete freak. Making matters worse, my husband, the great assimilator, has successfully switched styles. Now I'm alone at the table being all American-awkward and weird. What the hell is my problem?

These two handy videos below demonstrate how to eat both ways. Incidentally, Cute Little Manners Lady, the star of both videos, is based out of my hometown area-- maybe she does private lessons?

This is Continental Style of eating used in most of the world:

This is the American Style of eating used in the U.S. and possibly responsible for feelings of dining-isolation amongst American expats worldwide:

I am left with a few quesions:

Would it be easy for an Aussie to eat American Style?

Do other Americans switch to Continental Style with no problem?

Am I the only expat feeling like a jackass at the dinner table?

Who thinks they're agile and graceful enough to switch their eating style?

I double-dog-dare you to eat the way you're not accustomed to. Videos of your attempts are welcome and can be emailed to flgirlinsydney@gmail.com.

If you send me a video, I will post it and make you an international superstar.

He's Just Not that into you Dave

2009-08-03T07:52:00.002+10:00

Before moving to Sydney I had never been to an IKEA. We had never lived around one and funny enough as soon as we moved to Australia they opened a huge IKEA near our house in Florida; we've still never been to that one.

When it's time to go to IKEA we get a babysitter, because IKEA without small children is just so so much better-- it's like a big day out for us-- Date Day.

Last time we hauled ourselves out to IKEA, we picked up a new Swedish friend named Dave. One thing led to anothr and we decided to take him home with us; he could stay in the family room-- which he did, for about a month. Then one night, I brought him upstairs. He was only supposed to be coming up for a few minutes, but from that night on he basically moved into our bedroom.

After about a month, when I realized how much Dave meant to me and how much I loved having him in our bedroom I began telling my husband that he should totally get in on the Dave action. He was all-- yeah, yeah, at some point I will. And then that day came, and he did it for a few nights, but I think it's safe to say, he's just is not as into Dave as I am.

.
Dave, I love you... and if loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Note: Dave is the table in the photo, not the man. (I don't actually know that man).

Dave, the laptop table from IKEA, a bargain at $49AUD and worth every penny.

Isn't he cute?

I Am Here (on the map where the star is, duh)

2009-07-30T21:38:00.004+10:00

Sometimes my husband says things like, "Honey we're so lucky we're in Australia during this financial crisis." And in my mind I respond by thinking, what constitutes the price of leaving a life you were actually enjoying? So when I'm mad, or a bit hormonal, I'll reference the whole, I-left-my-life-that-I-rather-liked-thing, to move to Australia, where-I-have-nothing-thing.
But I have to admit, that sentiment has recently become an obsolete cop out.

I have a life here, with friends, and plans, and parties, and coffee dates, and dinner parties, and stuff to do and people to see.

And there's days like yesterday...
I began the day eating something awesome, Date and Walnut Essene Sprouted Bread. I think this loaf of bread is literally ALIVE, whatever. The bread wasn't actually what made my day so awesome, but it was worth mentioning due to it rating so extremely high on the delicious scale.

Anyway, after the kids were dropped at school, I headed to Bondi Beach with my new friend Gus. Gus and his partner Ian recently moved to Sydney from the UK, and we actually met through my blog.

There's a sidewalk atop a cliff which hugs the coast from Bondi Beach to Coogee. Each year Sculpture by the Sea, an incredible exhibit of sculptures, is displayed upon this path with the ocean and cliffs as their backdrop. It was the most gorgeous winter day that felt like a summer day with a crisp breeze. All that salty air, good conversation, and exercise made me realize that I have new couples crush on Ian and Gus, ugh I hope they're not creeped out by that. And I hope My Favorite Australian couple doesn't get jealous; we're going away with them next weekend so I don't want to upset them, but if loving Ian and Gus is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

The walk.

A sampling of the hot surfers found amongst the beaches.

The famous Icebergs pool off Bondi Beach.

My Aussie life is fer real, it's full and fun and happening. I'm done (for now) with homesick and culture shock.

I am here.

In other news:

Sometimes I find myself actually thinking in an Australian accent, it's bizarre. Incredibly enough, my four year old has virtually no Aussie accent, which seems unbelievable to me after living here for two years. But this week he said, in reference to his Star Wars legos, he wanted to play with General Skywah-kah. His first Aussie words, I'm so proud.

And last but surely not least, I want to say a huge thank you to Mindy, a.k.a. SuperMindy who is responsible for my new header. She worked so hard to make it just right for me, and I can be pretty high maintenance at times-- no comment necessary from the peanut gallery of peeps who actually know me, thank you. So Mindy, thank you so much for making that gorgeous header, it's awesome, I love it.

Peace out.

ps- and just as I was about to publish this post I get an email from My Favorite Australian asking, "Who is Gus???" She must have seen the photos on facebook, I knew she'd be jealous. I am totally cracking up right now.

Let's Play What's Grosser than Gross

2009-07-18T00:09:00.005+10:00

Masterchef Australia is an awesome television series. A few days ago I would have considered us Masterchef junkies, but something has changed. Somthing has gone very, very wrong. And after the last two episodes I'm not sure I can stomach watching the final shows.

Last night, when Poh (one of the two finalists) made a Century Egg dish, they generously profiled Century Eggs for eager viewers. And we were lucky enough to learn that a Century Egg is an egg fermented in it's shell for a hundred days (I can't go any further into the description or I really will spew out the Indian food we ate a couple of hours ago, but click the link to see some hardcore nastiness). Seriously, I'm skeeved out. And you know if the judges were scared of it, it had to be some crazy shit.

Then tonight's concept of the judges doing a mock Mystery Box competition for their weekly Masterclass episode seemed fantastic. The show's final two contestants hilariously mimicked judges George and Gary, while critiquing the chefs' cooking techniques and dishes.

What wasn't quite as funny was this evening's Mystery Box ingredient... lamb brains.

I'm still queasy after having watched them deep fry lamb brains, then serve them topped with potato foam and green apples. Honestly, the potato foam alone makes me want to hurl.

After seeing tonight's dishes, Lamb Brain Cereal (wtf?) and Crisp Parmesan Wafer with Parmesan Fried Lamb Brains, it's clear the show has gone all Fear Factor, and tomorrow they'll be whipping up seared cockroaches with a red wine reduction au jus.

The good news is, if they would have said those little nuggets were chicken (instead of brains), I'd be all over that.

So the questions begs to be asked... do you do brains?

*Photo at top is a sliced Century Egg, I heave as I say that.

Bada Beans and Hee-yah

2009-07-11T20:22:00.002+10:00

I often find myself nodding and agreeing,
though I haven't a clue what they are saying.

Bada beans (butter beans) and hee-yah (here).

Gah-leek is garlic and haych is how they pronounce h, as in the name of the letter.

Dinna is dinner and doona is either a bed comforter or the duvet, I'm still confused on that one; I'll just nod and idiotically agree some more.

When you eat something delicious in Australia, a standard commentary is, "That's beautiful.", at least that's what everyone on Masterchef Australia says.

Fillet (as in a cut of meat) rhymes with skillet in Australia, and it doesn't rhyme with ballet.

Ta means thanks, it took me almost two years to find this out.

If you call in sick to work you're chuckin' a sickie... this is actually one of my favorite (favourite) Australia-isms.

At preschool last year the kids made dam-pah. I felt like such a jackass when I asked the teacher to spell it because I just could not figure out what the hell she was talkin' about. Of course she spelled it and I still was baffled. When I arrived at pick up time and saw them eating bread rolls, which are called damper bread, it didn't make me feel any bettah.

Recently my friend said they were going to Barrel for school break. I search it on the internet-- nothing. Next time I saw her I pressed her on it-- apparently you pronounce Bowral like barrel, who would have thunk?

Through Kindergarten drama, I found out that a dobber is a tattletail. And if you're an Aussie, and I'm not spelling this correctly, please feel free to let me know. It could just as well be dobba, but who knows?

If your house or cah (car) is nice, they'll call it flash. If you're getting a kiss, Aussies say pash.

When we meet at the bike park My Favorite Australian says we're going bike-all-ling.
I haven't even a clue how you'd spell that.

Did I mention that they swear on the radio hee-yah? I really like that.

Some other things I like hee-yah: (taken last week on the ferry)

People climbing the Sydney Harbour bridge day and night.

The city as you pull into Circular Quay on the ferry.

Sydney Opera House and the city.

Ants in my Pants and Slugs in my Uggs

2009-07-02T08:41:00.001+10:00

Mother effing ants.

As I sit here typing, I'm armed with my camera ready to capture the gravity of the situation. They crawl across my keyboard, they daringly trek upon my arm, and they enthusiastically pile up upon anything which resembles food. My kitchen sink is like a skateboard park for them.

When an ant enters my my line of vision I grab a Puffs with Aloe tissue and heartlessly go in for the kill; they end up flattened and moisturized.

That's a card from the exterminator with ant bait gel on it, yum.

The over-the-counter discs of death seemed an easy way to wage our war on ant infestation. Bait was put out, and in classic ant trickery they bring their deadly, yet delicious, finds back to the nest. After a few days the baits were no longer drawing big crowds, we felt victorious and relieved, enough so that we were even able to make a sandwich on the kitchen counter in peace. But lo and behold, within 48 hours the ants were back, and they looked pissed.

Last night I went to take a shower and the bigger and more daunting looking "soldier" ants had come out of the nest. My assumption is that the coup is working (for us), and hopefully the pion ants are dead so the big boys were coming out to show us who's boss. Did I mention that the exterminator said that the larger ants fly? Wtf? Needless to say, giant ants were on the bathroom ceiling, floor and counters-- it was like an ant freakshow. There were also several on their backs in my bathroom sink which appeared to be fighting for their lives. As I stared in disgust at the situation, a giant ant drops into the sink. I look up. I realize the ones in the sink had actually fallen from the ceiling which was covered. This unfortunate discovery sent me running out of the bathroom, and I spent the rest of the night wondering if there were any in my hair. I'm still scratching myself all over like an ape and I'm somewhat scared to go to sleep tonight because every morning something new is covered in ants, and tomorrow it could be me.

The good news is that during my numerous visits from the pest control company they have given me the ant 411 (that's American for information). We have Coastal Brown Ants, and these bad boys, all forty freaking million of them, are living in the walls of our house.

And as long as I'm bitching about pests in the house...

We have an awesome built-in planter in the new house. Unfortunately it too is home to some unwanted new friends... about a hundred slugs. I read on the internet that they are attracted to yeast. It said to put beer in a deep container near them, they will go in for a drink, and won't be able to get out. Apparently I have smart, agile, and now drunk slugs. They drank the beer, then went home, passed out, and came back the next night looking for more.

I've decided to focus on the ants (since they bite), so the slugs are getting a pass this week.

Two Year Expativersary

2009-06-26T13:55:00.002+10:00

This whole coming to Sydney thing, this whole moving across the world thing... the time has finally come that I'm able to celebrate that we did it. I think I've reached this plateau before, but this time I think I really mean it.

The first year was more difficult than I could have imagined, and there are still days that make me feel sad and alone and isolated from everything and every one I've ever known.

But here we are, this week is our two-year expativersary.

The things I thought were good a year ago are still good; the things I thought sucked, well-- they basically remain constant. But there is no longer any doubt, that this risk we've taken, this whole living on the other side of the world thing, was worth it-- and will have a profound effect on the rest of our lives.

It has been found that children who live in countries beyond their native land are generally more open-minded and accepting of people; to me, these are gifts you can't buy your kids. So when my little boys are taller than I am, and acting like grown ups before they really are, this experience of having lived in Australia will have made a huge impact on their lives. Of course it'll probably help them get the hot chicks too, but that's just a little expat bonus.

And of course they have bragging rights to this:

Weekends spent going to kids film festivals at the Sydney Opera House and chillin' on the steps afterward like they own the place.

Surely I'll never again live in a place where I can walk out my backgate directly onto a beach and which also happens to be two doors down from a ferry wharf which whisks you off to the Sydney Opera House.

Sitting behind the house we recently moved out of.

For godsakes, my four year eats Vegemite-- as in yeast extract spread which looks like tar and smells like beer. Our experience in Australia has changed us, and there's no going back to what once was... as in, peanut butter.

And if I didn't live here I couldn't do this:

When the time comes to go "home" I'll surely be in a panic having not done and seen everything I could have, but until then-- I'll just keep trying get a little piece of every offering here.
____________________________________________________

This seems to be how it always ends: the young, controversial, and famous to the extent of not being able to really live-- dead and gone. It's sad, it's tragic. So many profound words from a man we were unable to actually know, and aren't even sure we would have wanted to.

"I'm looking at the man in the mirror, I'm asking him to make a change." - Michael Jackson

Modern Australian Cuisine: Friend or Foe

2009-06-18T14:37:00.006+10:00

I love the show MasterChef Australia. Love it!

Unfortunately, the whole Modern Australian Cuisine thing is just far too sophisticated for me.

It's menus like this, which I cannot interpret, that demonstrate that I am far too Ignorant American for Modern Australian Cuisine.

When I see the following items on a menu, I know I'm in over my head:

confit
bacon powder (separately I can accept either, but together-- well, why would someone make delicious bacon into a powder? Why, I ask you?)
foam (now I'm getting a little nauseated)
sweetbreads (now I'm actually considering where the closest vomit receptacle may be)
prawn foam (why, why oh why? wasn't other foam enough, did they have to make foam from shrimp?) Please ignore if this all just sounds foamy-licious to you.

In other news:

According to my husband Maccas (that's Australian for McDonalds) has raised the price of the soft serve ice cream cones from $0.30 to $0.50. Still a bargain at twice as much I reckon.

And there's this:

My five year old loves sushi. Why am I amused by this? Probably because it's just so 2008, not so 2000late. I think it's amusing that Kindergartners eat sushi these days, instead of fruit rollups.

And you know your kid is turning Australian when they ask for a sausage roll for lunch.
It kind of turns my stomach, but I'm still supportive.

Chapter Three

2009-06-11T13:20:00.002+10:00

Each house seems to naturally divide my life into the chapters of my story.

In Chapter One, I came home from the hospital in a Christmas stocking during one of the worst blizzards in Chicago's history. Coincidentally, my husband was also brought home from the hospital in a Christmas stocking-- I'm guessing that's unusual for two Jewish kids, no wonder we've evolved into such bad Jews.

Chapter two, a temporary apartment in Florida, was short and uneventful. My only memory is of there being loads of nasty ducks outside; perhaps it's not a coincidence that I love to eat Donald with pancakes and hoisin sauce.

For the majority of my childhood (six to seventeen years old) we lived in a townhouse in South Florida. I had chicken pox there. I watched the coverage of Ronald Reagan's attempted assassination with my cousins who were visiting in that house. I had mono there. In high school I used to shut my bedroom door and talk on the phone until 2a.m. Then in ninth grade, my dad moved out.

About a year later I answered the phone call that would change everything.

"Hi, is your mom home?" her voice sounded restrained and nervous.

"No, who's calling?" I answered, feeling a pit in my stomach.

"It's the hospital, there's been an accident and your father's here."

"Is he okay?" I barely got the words out, he was obviously not okay.

"He's going to be alright," she responded. Clearly, he was not okay.

He'd been in a head-on collision. He'd been pried from the car with the jaws of life. He'd broken nearly every bone in his body. His teeth were knocked out. The internal bleeding lead to his spleen being removed.

The other driver was dead.

It was the aftermath of his nearly fatal car accident which lead to confirmation that the rumors were true, my dad was dating a man.

Eventually he did recover, and my parents did divorce.

December of my freshman year of college my father asked me to come home, he needed to talk to me. He said he owed so much in taxes that he was leaving town, he couldn't tell us where he was going.

Years later we found out that he had embezzled money from the home owners association he was the president of, and also evaded taxes. When it all caught up with him, he ran, like a coward, leaving everyone he'd ever known behind.

I know there was an addiction to pain killers involved along the way, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's still addicted to them.

Today is his 60th birthday. I have no idea where he is and chances are I never will. He'll probably never meet my husband or kids. It's sad and pitiful and not fair, and not at all how it was supposed to happen.

Yeah, Mom-- it's soup alright.

2009-05-21T23:53:00.003+10:00

We moved. I got a cold the day after we got in the new house. I had no voice yesterday. I know all that sounds like fun, a real barrel of laughs, and then...

Last night walking across the bedroom there was a spongy squish, squish. It was monsooning outside, they reported winds were over 108 kilometers an hour.

Today they came and pulled up my new bedroom's carpet. The corner of it's lying tented over an obnoxiously loud blower to dry the pad and all the rest of it.

I'm choking on deodorizer fumes from the "cleanup".

When my four year old makes his nightly 2am mommy call, he's likely to walk into either a moving box or my bed, which is inconveniently shoved against one of my bedroom doors.

I'm considering moving my mattress into the hallway, but then I'd have to go downstairs to watch the American Idol finale which is so incredibly-over-the-top-incredible, I can't take my eyes off it.*

The wind has blown and blown and blown. It's howling outside my window right now.

I've never lived higher than sea level, and the whole living on a hill thing is different. It's like we're trapped in a wind tunnel, it's weird and cool and I like it but it makes me a little nervous-- a good nervous.

The carpet is wet and my bedroom smells like toxic chemicals mixed with deodorizer.

And I'm about this close to needing a ventilator; I'm not sure if it's due to the deodorizer fumes, or the cold I've had since the day after we moved in.

Omigod, KISS. What the hell is going on here? Their tongues sure are long, wow.*

The wind's whipping my window screens around. I love window screens. This house rocks and I won't have flies anymore. Did I mention how many flies there are in Sydney?

Sadly, that makes the perfect segue to the unfortunate incident of having stepped in dog crap today while "carefully" carrying my kids across the grass to my car, to avoid dog poop. I had to wash my shoes with a dishbrush to get it off. Hmmm, did I use that to wash the dishes tonight? Psyche (that was for my neurotic husband), ah-hahahahaha.

Omigod, is that Steven Martin? Is he going to sing?*

And funny enough, my husband and I just keep looking at each other and thinking-- this is the best place we have ever lived, we are sooo going to enjoy it here. Which now that I think about it, is the same thing we said about the last place we lived.

Is that Queen? Holy shit.*

My husband just said, "I'm just stunned that guy lost, it just pisses me off." I know babe, I really can't believe Adam lost either, this shit's really messed up. And then for the tenth time, my husband says he doesn't really think The Blind Guy is blind.*

*If you didn't watch the American Idol finale you may not understand.

Oh, and there's one more thing... have you ever said "hot beef injection" to your mother?
I did... she asked if it was a soup.

Advance Australia Fair

2009-05-16T22:37:00.006+10:00

Two days ago we moved into a new house. Luckily my body knew the pressure was on to not get sick prior to our move, so of course now that it's over, I get a cold.

This video was one of my first blog posts and it's pretty damn hilarious. I'm recycling it because I needed a good laugh and when I originally posted it I think about two people read my blog (literally).

My kids singing the Australian national anthem, Advance Australia Fair:

It's Not Me, It's You

2009-05-07T14:37:00.015+10:00

Ok, that's a lie, it's not you, it's me.

My mummy is here visiting and we've been whooping it up Australian style so incredibly hard, that she's going to sleep for like eight weeks when she gets back to Florida. And there's a bonus: when I say the word "mummy" I still get this hilarious visual of a dead person wrapped in white tape stumbling around. I can't get past it.

So my mom and I, and the kids, and Super Mindy did the cliff walk from Bondi Beach to Tamarama, the views are absolutely crazy gorgeous.

The bottom right corner shows the sidewalk path you follow, notice the lack of a guardrail? I get pretty freaked out by this kind of thing, many people would think I'm totally a safety fanatic-- then again they may not have met my husband or My Favorite Australian.

The kids stopped at every exercise station along the way and went to town.

And in other news, we're moving because we are still living in a construction zone, and after almost a year and a half we are so, so over it. Okay, that's not the only reason-- we're also moving because our neighborhood is going to hell in a hand basket (see below).

This was in a store window a block from my house last week.