Our team, still not quite believing we're going to Tweed Heads. Photo: LLB

My long service leave is rapidly coming to a close and while I haven’t been on any extended overseas vacations, retrained, or sorted out my love life, I have played A LOT of bridge.

Four or five times a week will see me pulling cards with the best of them.

The last two weekends have been two full days of competition.

First the Swan River Pairs where we didn’t do that well… 56 out of 88 pairs… sigh.

And then in the last two days the GNOT finals.

This is the first time I’ve played in the GNOT – Grand National Open Teams – and up for grabs for the top three place getters a subsidized trip to the Gold Coast to play in the national play offs.

The GNOT’s start off at club level.

We placed second in the Nedlands Bridge Club heats and so with 19 other teams from around Perth competed in the weekend finals.

The teams final was 8 14-board matches and going into the last round we were sitting fourth, one point behind third.

We figured a win would get us to Queensland.

I was terrified that I would choke at the last hurdle but a wine at lunch-time had mellowed into a slight headache and I think the Panadol steadied my nerves.

The last board ended up as me to make 6NT.

Pressure!

I'm sitting East.

I get the queen of spades lead from South and I start counting tricks.

I can see 11 off the top and I need one more.

Plan A – the diamonds – surely the fifth diamond will come good once I play four rounds.

The bad news is delivered at trick 2 when South shows out – I can’t even finesse for the 10.

Poop.

So thought is required.

I go into the tank for what feels like forever.

The hearts are my only hope.

I run the J which is covered by the Q and won with my K, now I play the 9 and let it run to North’s 10.

The 8 of hearts is my 12th trick.

Yay.

The result of the match – we scored a maximum.

As did about four other teams in the last round, including the people lying second playing the team sitting first.

Overall we ended up second which means (exciting club) that we get subsidised to travel to Tweed Heads to play in the national finals in November.

OMFG!

How cool is that?!

All that bridge practice finally paid off.

(I’ve been told if we win three matches we’ll have acquitted ourselves well.  I’m just happy to go… now I just need to talk to my boss about a couple of days off… worried look!)

A pork roll from James’s favourite cheap lunch spot.

Lasagne!

At least I have avoided all the yummy pastries from the (count them) five gorgeous bakeries that surround our hotel.

The food in Sydney is cheap and delicious and so difficult to not eat.

The first night we went to a little Vietnamese place in Surry Hills (or was it Darlinghurst) called Phamish.

They started serving at 6pm and there was a queue waiting to be seated (including us).

The highlight – the to-die-for duck and prawn rolls – watching mum eat one and then realise they had prawns in them was priceless.

We’ve also gone to see Wicked – the musical.

Clever story, great music and amazing set and costumes.

We had a brilliant time.

Last night I went with my sister to the Cinema Verona to see an Italian film called I am Love – starring Tilda Swinton.

The Italians have a very different approach to film making – lots of loud crashing music and close ups.

Good film though.

And walking down Oxford St late at night was fun too.

Today… I’m not sure what we’re doing… something touristy before the exhibition opening probably.

Then drinkies and art.

Photos to come.

Yes that is little old me in SIZE 5 jeans!

OMFG!

I can fit into my 13 year old daughter’s size 5 (US) jeans!

Sure I can’t breathe.

And luckily they are lo-rise so all the wobbly bits squeeze “above the line”.

But still.

Size freaking 5!

I am happy.

Now why am I suddenly craving a muffin…

Check out the eyes!

When my son was a little tacker – about 2 – we asked him what he was thinking about.

He answered:

“I’m thinking about that spider.”

I don’t remember what spider – or even if there was a spider or if he was thinking about another spider somewhere else but it was such a sweet response that we have used it ever since.

You know, when you are staring off into the distance with your mind in limbo.

Or when asked what you’re thinking, you suddenly forget.

It’s a handy response to have in your back pocket.

This spider, the one in today’s photo was hiding behind a piece of loose bark on the tree my son was climbing.

It dropped to the ground and I think the spider was a bit stunned because not even the very close lens of my camera startled it.

Even prodding it gently with a twig only caused him to lethargically wave a front leg.

On the way home my son – now 15 – asked me what kind of spider it was.

A huntsman, I guessed.

What do they eat?

Humans.

Really?

No, not really.

Bless.

Even at 15 he’s still thinking about spiders.

Up close and personal

His argument against Labor’s broadband policy appeared to be not “ours is better” but “they can’t implement it”.

TONY ABBOTT: The thing is all of what you’ve just said, Kerry, depends upon this government getting it right. Now this government hasn’t got anything else right; why do we say that they’ll get this right? And this isn’t just $2.5 billion dollars in home insulation. This is even just the $16 billion in school halls. This is $43 billion that they’re putting at stake here.

The old insulation batts argument.

So here’s my question Tony, if it’s not the policy but the implementation – why don’t you adopt the policy and implement it?!

In the Liberals favour they do have a record for implementing their policies – even the bad ones.

The Crawley boathouse

Today I wandered towards the Crawley boathouse and the Eliza statue for a bit of a looksee.

On Saturdays you struggle for space as the jetty out to the old boathouse is groaning under the weight of bridal parties keen for those “special shots”.

(or maybe not so special as there are A LOT of brides who get the boatshed shots)

But have you ever wondered about the boat that lives inside the boathouse?

Me too.

Through the broken board.

A lone kayak

Afterward I wandered back to Neds for a coffee and then had lunch with an archaeology friend.

She is so enthusiastic about archaeology that it is impossible not to be inspired, so afterwards I enquired about post-graduate diplomas.

It’s a “next-year” project if it ever happens but I confess that some of the units do look very interesting.

And oh! The excitement of field trips. I loves it.

Hmmmm.

We’ll see.

And I thought my alarm was bad.

These birds were so loud this morning.

I felt I was in the Hitchcock film “The Birds”.

And such an unattractive call.

My enthusiastic glory vine

It seems only yesterday that I was posting photos of my glory vine’s last bright red leaves.

It is now a twist of twigs over my rotting pergola, the beams sagging, held together by inexpertly attached shadecloth.

Well it was.

Today, as the bright sunlight of winter shone through I noticed greenery.

It’s budding.

And there are still two red leaves from last season.

Spring has sprung my friends, and we didn’t even have winter.

Well, maybe a day or two of winter.

And that freak storm in March.

Maybe we’ll have winter in spring?

Then my glory vine WILL be confused.

The last red leaves of my glory vine

My son has lost 4% on a recent maths test because of me.

The question read something like this:

Sam went to a restaurant, he had the choice of two entrees, three main courses and two desserts.  Pate and pumpkin soup for the entrees, steak, chicken and beef for main course and icecream and chocolate cake for the desserts.  What is the probability that Sam would choose soup and chocolate cake?

The correct answer is 1 in 4 but unfortunately my son had no idea what pate was (see image on the right if you are unsure… no, not the bread).

He thought “pate” might be “some kind of random gourmet product you might turn into soup”.

In other words he thought BOTH entrees were soup.

Bugger.

Knew I should have made him eat pate!

This is why feeding expensive, overpriced gourmet foods to your children from an early age is important if you want them to do well at school.

Bless him, he’s asked the teacher to restore his marks on the basis that the question was ambiguous.

Note:  Hugamuga would like to point out that their was no illustrative photograph with the words “Pate de Foie” on the test.

C'mon confess! I know there are more than two of us...

I thought it was just me that kept a pair of tweezers in my car but the other day I discovered another close friend of mine had the same secret.

Yes we’re both (cough) forty-something (cough) and yes occasionally we’ve sat at the lights… looked in the visor mirror and almost spat out our take-away coffee.

Ugh! 

What is THAT doing growing THERE?!!!

The problem is that at 40-something, not only do you start growing hair in unusual places but your eyesight is failing.

So it is rare for you to notice that stray hair until you are faced with the mega-magnification of that little mirror on the inside of your visor.

And even if you did notice that rogue – wtf is that doing on my face – hair… quite often,  because you need glasses, you can’t do anything about it.

Have you ever tried to pluck your eyebrows, needing glasses?

Trust me - it can’t be done.

Hence the tweezers in the car.

The ultra-magnification of the mirror allows you to see the wretched rogue hairs without glasses.

Yes, you look like an idiot at the lights…

But at least you don’t look like Wicked Witch of the East when you get to work.

Job done.

Yachts in the foggy sun

I love the dreamy light in this photo.

In real life the sun glinting on the water and the fog was blinding and without sunglasses, painful.

But it was a beautiful morning to walk along the river and think of nothing except for camera angles.

Father and son

I boosted the contrast on this photo so you can see the figures a little more clearly… but it loses the dreamy quality.

What do you think?

Less contrast?

The unedited version

Exhibition flyer

So last night my baby brother’s exhibition opened in Melbourne.

If you live there – maybe pop along.

More info on his Facebook page and webpage.

I’ll be going to the Sydney opening (I think) and I can’t wait.

I’m hoping to get a few pics from the opening but in the meantime check out this cutie from the publicity shots:

My brother

The woman in the painting is my mum.

Exhibitions are such hard work and I admire my brother and his fiancée for the hard slog.

Best of luck guys and see you in Siddeney!

Not impressed with my poetry selection

This week I received this text from my errant son:

I have not completed my english speech, please do not be alarmed to recieve a phone call from my friendly yet evil english teacher you dont need to eat me she already has, thank you for your cooperation most sincerely H

Okay so he needs the “I before E except after C” lesson, but it was a text so I can forgive the lack of punctuation… impressed he bothered to put any in if I’m honest.

He was supposed to have chosen a poem and discussed it…

I gave him my three favourite poetry books to help him choose a poem but hey… what do I know?

I chose TS Eliot – Selected Poems – still annotated with my notes from Year 11 lit.

My (ex-nun) teacher was a huge fan of Cats.

Can anyone really go past The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock?

I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

Magical.

(and of course not complete)

Then I suggested “Smoke Encrypted Whispers” by Samuel Wagan Watson who I heard recite his poetry at a Book Slam in Leederville a few years ago…

How about this – “mudflat”:

dried up and cracked
remnants
of prehistoric reptile scales
huge and menacing,
a chocolate flesh
that twists along the shores of the wetland

- but waiting for the veil of the incoming tide
is the monster
content when cold and hungry for
the mass that rolls with the current

it never sleeps

A geographical flavour for my geography nut?

Anyway, then I suggested Carol Ann Duffy‘s The World’s Wife.

My friend J gave me this book and I love it.

Pithy poems about some of the more famous wives in history.

Like Mrs Darwin:

7 April 1852.
Went to the Zoo
I said to Him -
Something about that Chimpanzee over there reminds me of you.

LOL

My favourite is Eurydice and if you see me in real life – don’t ask me about it – or you may be in for a recital.

Anyway – he didn’t choose a poem – any poem – and now he is in trouble.

(But he writes a good text – don’t you think?)

Berries

Y’know when I applied for Long Service Leave I thought it would be a good idea.

Distracted by home life, I wasn’t able to concentrate and right now, work needs someone on the ball.

The leave was sitting there, the timing worked and I could concentrate what was left of my brain power on my kids.

But today, as I wandered about my house trying to find something to do, I realised that for the first time in a long time, I was bored.

I don’t think I’ve been bored for a very long time.

Life has been too busy.

And with boredom comes lethargy.

Finding the motivation to even go for a walk, let alone do the shopping, vacuum or any number of household chores seems as impossible as climbing a mountain.

The girl needs a project.

Limestone wall

See!  So bored I’m taking photos of limestone.

As seen on Qanda and via Hoyden – if you have missed this – here it is again for your pleasure.

Oh and the original ad it is based on (fan my brow) is here:

Thanks to Tigtog

But look what I caught on film!

Bee in the Marigolds

Bee in flight

My other photos are a little more prosaic.

The ordinariness of a weed

One day though it would be nice not to have to look for the extraordinary in the ordinary but to have the extraordinary happen!

Or maybe not.

A float beached on a verge

Cottesloe Beach in Winter

Oh I know we need the rain but there is something glorious about Perth when the winter sun shines across a barely populated beach.

When the sky is bluer than a summer’s day, uncluttered by leaves and verdant green.

Sure it’s a bit chilly in the morning, but the light my friend, the light!

I went to a photography course today at work.

There’s also something delicious about voluntarily going into work when you’re on long service leave…

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought it was you but then I thought no… she’s on leave!”

The envious rueful smiles, the smug smiles of others knowing they have LSL sitting there waiting to be taken.

It was good to be back at work today, firstly to see old friends and secondly not to do any work!

The course was fun and distracting, about a subject I am passionate about.

I love taking photos, and learning how to take better ones makes me more enthusiastic.

It has also inspired me to add to my growing lists of “presents I will one day buy myself” – yes I need a camera with manual controls… just in case, you know, I might actually want to experiment with aperture and shutter speed.

In the meantime, me and my trusty point and click will concentrate on composition, leading lines and angles.

(taps nose in a knowing way)

Oh yes, I am a photographer now.

Half time at the footy

The photo was taken at the Country Week semi-finals at Fremantle Oval on the coldest day Perth has had.

I was sitting in the stands next to a football player’s wife and she wryly made the observation that women never take to the field to stand around and listen to the coaches berate the players.

It’s not the done thing dahling.

And it was true!

Not a single person of the female persuasion walked onto the oval… well there was one small girl, aged about 5, but I’m sure the rule hadn’t been explained to her.

Or maybe she was allowed because she hadn’t reached puberty.

The unofficial “blood rule”.

It amused me.

I think it is all to do with male pride.

After all what man wants to be yelled at in front of their near and dear?

Not that their near and dear would do anything other but support them, no matter what the coach said.

I’d be more mortified to be yelled at in front of my mates.

Maybe it’s secret men’s business.

Now I AM curious!!!

Sunlight through winter trees

On Wednesday, the weather was clear and bright.

The bluest of skies, the sun glinting through the trees.

I spent the day gardening.

Weeding can be therapeutic, don’t you think?

Firstly the physical act of pulling out a plant is satisfying.

It’s like you are removing all the imperfections of your own life.

Take that unpaid bills!

Poor game of bridge!

Annoying kids!

Nagging husband!

Fat thighs!

Then it is so good to look at the garden bed, smooth and perfect at the end.

Of course, as the garden bed becomes more and more perfect, you become less so.

Dirt marks your face and streaks your clothes, your nails fill with mud and crack, your knees start to ache and your back protests.

It makes me think that whenever I see perfection, I’m really looking at hard work.

That somewhere, like The Picture of Dorian Gray, there is a dirty, unkempt, maybe injured person – the agent of the perfection before you.

Nothing’s perfect.

And perhaps the most perfect looking things are the least perfect of all.

Even now, when I look at my newly weeded garden beds I can see the stubborn shoots of the odd weed poking their way out to taunt me.

I think I will let them grow.

For now.

Maybe life shouldn’t be perfect.