Home sweet home (PM)

Oh geez. I was not expecting, nor prepared to see K’s mother’s gallstones this morning. And I gotta say, I didn’t like it. But then I thought, hey, maybe gallstones aren’t as gross as I think they are. So I did a little research. And they are. They are essentially bile crystals. And while crystal is beautiful, bile is gross – you do the math. As anyone in any American TV show ever might say.

But you know what is great about K’s mum she is always making pots of coffee, which I love, so I can totally vouch for her excellent hostessing skills. And it’s not as if she left the gallstones by K’s bed or anything, they were tucked away in the privacy of her bathroom cupboard, a place we all know that even angels may fear to tread. I guess that is where fools rush in though, right?

Anyway, luckily I didn’t have to see any actual gallstones this weekend. But after K left on Saturday night I did have the pretty awful experience of watching the terrible movie Water For Elephants. I don’t know why, the TV had ended up on it and I just watched it for ages. But it was really bad. It was so bad that even though I watched it for ages by the time it was clearly coming to an end and R.Patz was about to do something that would surely result in the downfall of Witherspoon’s tyrannical husband and the union of R.Patz and Withers I just turned that shit off and went to my sweet, sweet bed.  Take that, stupid movie!

Home sweet home (AM)

On Saturday night I stayed over at my Mum and Dad's house after hanging out at J's place for the evening. They're both in the same neighbourhood you see, and because I was planning on going to Mum and Dad's on Sunday anyway, I figured it made sense to stay down that way. I'm glad I did because aspects of the experience are quite lovely. 

Mum made up a bed for me and put my favourite childhood toy, Care Bear, on top.

As soon as I got out of bed she had hot coffee waiting for me and had laid out a towel, a proper fluffy one, so I could have a shower when I wanted. It was well lush asa character in Gavin and Stacey might say, which I keep watching even though I don't like it all that much.

It got me to thinking. Maybe I'm too hard on those guys. Maybe they're not the pair of kooks I sometimes think they are but in fact just super great.

Of course I'm setting things up for a fall here and rightly so. 

Because while fossicking around the bathroom cabinet to find a pair of nail clippers I found this:

It's the gallstones that were removed from my mother in 1996, just sitting there next to the spare shampoo and a bottle of sunscreen. 

So gross and so unsurprising when you have a couple of kooks for parents. 

But I guess this experience has reminded  me that they are both kooks and excellent hosts. It's a combination that's ok by me.

A daughter "to be proud of" (PM)

MATE! Your parents are adorable! I love that they sent you that Christmas card . But the things I love most about it are:

• That there are two exes under both Mum and Dad just to clarify that each of your parents are sending their kisses. They aren't just sending a general muddle of kisses your way. You get two from each parent. 
  
• The postscript about also wishing you a happy New Year. I would assume most parents want a happy, healthy year every time, but I just really dig how your mum (and dad) want you to know they specifically wish that for you for 2012.
  

My parents are not Christmas card people. Neither am I to be honest. We are not card people generally I guess. I once apologised to my Mum for not giving her a birthday card with her present and she told me she doesn't like cards. It took a real load of all future gift giving.


I like a nice card, don't get me wrong. I love them with home drawn fluoro art or with a nice message, but I don't miss them if they aren't there. Perhaps it is because I always feel there is so much pressure to write something meaningful and witty in them that I don't like giving them and thus don't feel the need to receive them. I kind of feel about card writing the way some people feel about public speaking. Public speaking on the other hand doesn't bother me much. Um...what were we talking about again?

Even failed experiments can teach us things

Interestingly when I first saw that picture of the Sartorialist's handwriting I thought it was similar to yours but not crazily so. Frankly, I thought you were mildly deluded. But when I see you write those words I see that it is more similar than I at first thought. I'm sorry I doubted you.

Here is what I learnt from and since reading your post:

-Although your writing looks a little like the Sartorialist it looks a lot more like your mother's.

-The fact you can't see this makes me think you may still be mildly deluded.

-Alladin (Disney version) is a really good musical. (I ought to know. When I was a teenager and used to babysit my cousins we would sing all the Disney hits to a CD compilation they owned. When singing "I can show you the World" Mondonna and I would make Frandonna be the the Magic Carpet. Technically I did not learn this from or since reading your post.)

-The Dopp kit's name derives from the early 20th century leather craftsman Charles Doppelt, a German immigrant to the United States, who invented his toiletry case in 1919. The kits became widely known during the Second World War when they were issued to GIs. Although the term was originally a trademark, it appears to have at least mostly become generic, and the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office lists the trademark as abandoned.*

Before yesterday I had never hear the term, but what is the bet I start hearing it EVERYWHERE!

-I have terrible handwriting and very few samples of my family's handwriting. I guess the letter really is dead.





*Thanks Wikipedia

What was I thinking?

I was looking at The Sartorlialist yesterday and happened upon this photo of some of his notes and sketches. Check out how similar our writing styles are! Here I am writing some of the same text he wrote in his picture.

I swear I didn't try to make them look similar, that's really what my handwriting looks like. It's really similar, right? Of course I would prefer if my general style was more like his, but handwriting style is a good start.
Anyway, this made me think about a good idea for a blog post. I know for a fact that some members of my family have very similar handwriting, and I thought it would be interesting to get everyone to write a sample sentence and then compare them. What an interesting experiment this will be! I thought to myself.
I texted Elderbro and Midbro straight away so they could get working on their samples. I gave them clear instructions. I said:

"Hi dude, could you please write the following text on a piece of paper and photograph it then text/email it to me? This is my handwriting when I am making an effort to be neat. This is my handwriting when I am making no effort to be neat. (obviously I would like you to either make an effort/not make an effort depending on the text you are writing). Thanks!"

I asked for the two samples because I thought it would be interesting to see whether our writing was more similar when we were making an effort, or when we were just freestyling. After all, it was going to be an interesting experiment.

Knowing that my parents would struggle to absorb all of this in a text message, I emailed them the same request, explicitly asking each of them to write the nominated sentences. I also asked them to scan it and email it to me because they don't have smart phones from which to send photographs, but they do have a scanner. So by the end of the day, I had notified everyone in my immediate family of what they had to do, and all that was left was to wait for the results to roll in.

Of course, this did not happen. First, Midbro replied saying that it was the school musical that night and he couldn't possible do it until morning. For those of you who don't know, Midbro teaches Year 6 at a school we will call Grighton Brammar. Each year, Grighton Brammar puts on a musical with the girls at a neighbouring school we will call Birfank. This year they are doing the hit Disney musical Alladin. Anyway, the performance was last night and because Midbro fancies himself as being a but like the teacher in Glee (he once told me that he really relates to him) he couldn't do what I asked. I guess this is fair enough.

But as for the rest of the family, their inability to follow instructions and/or inability to use technology has totally compromised the exciting potential of my handwriting exercise.

This, from elder bro after several text messages providing further clarification:

What about the sample when you are making no effort to be neat, Elderbro? What about that? My instructions were so clear! I could tell that further text messaging would just make things worse so I let it go.

Mum called me when she read the email, saying that they didn't know how to use the scanner. Knowing that my uncle Gary and aunt Glenda are staying with them, I suggested they consult with those guys to figure it out. She said they had already consulted, and no one knew. I told her that four adults with an operating manual should be able to operate a scanner. Right? Right? Apparently not.
This came through a short while later:

Not only can they not operate the scanner properly, but they also misunderstood the instructions, so only Dad wrote the first sentence and only Mum wrote the second. What kind of comparison is that?! These people would make terrible scientists!

Happily, Midbro got on board this morning and sent the following samples through:

Um, I can't really tell the difference, can you?

And finally, here is my sample:

I can't tell the difference here either.

But here's what I can tell:

-Elderbro has nice neat writing that looks like a masculine version of Mum's

-Dad has terrible writing because he is vision impaired and has arthritis but he is excellent at lawn bowls and cooking steak (the last bits I know from experience, not his handwriting)

-Mum has nice neat writing that looks like a lady version of Elderbro's

-Midbro's writing looks like a no-nonsense version of mine

-My writing looks like The Sartorialist's!

-This was a terrible idea.

What only a mother could love

Did your mother really say those things? The horny dogs? The Benjamins? I can hardly believe it!!

And I think there is nothing wrong with you accepting happy Mother's Day wishes. You are not Jesus, but I bet you accept Merry Christmas wishes. They are just wishing you a happy day. What's wrong with that.

Mother's Day in Melbourne was miserable. It poured rain. But we managed to bring some brightness to our day.

Chickpea, Russeth and I painted a triptych for Mum. This lead to quite a hilarious declaration from her, but I'll get to that.

So Chickers decided we should paint this fluoro triptych. One picture each obviously. She had a couple of ideas for the theme:

1. Draw a creature across the three canvases. So one of us draws a head, another the body, the other the legs. Hilarity! We tried this on paper. Hilarity. We dismissed the idea.

2. Each of us draws a picture of ourselves emerging from our mother. Our births. Dismissed.

Then Russeth suggested Polish landscapes. We researched this on the Google and found some nice landscapes. The idea eventually developed into paintings to represent phases of her life.

Here's a guy that needs no introduction:



And if you don't recognise this as Carlton in the '60s there is clearly something wrong with you.


Cocktail in Elsternwick, anyone?


Mum LOVED them. On Sunday night I saw her looking at the three paintings.



That's when she said that funny thing I mentioned earlier, "They are like Howard Arkley paintings." HAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh mum, you really do love us.

It's a hard knock life

The only thing better than (as good as) beer and salty bag snacks between sightseeing and dinner are naps! Such a good one.

I guess parents and fake uncles are always gonna be parents and fake uncles, ay? Even in NYC. Maybe especially in NYC. Why they gotta be so annoying. That is to say why we always gotta be annoyed by them. It is the curse of being the child. It is a blessing too. I mean no disrespect to my mums or your mums. I just mean, as the offspring of someone we are always gonna be annoyed by them. This in turn leads to us feeling bad about ourselves, which in turn leads us to being more annoyed (with ourselves) and then there is just nothing but bad feelings. Then, hopefully good feelings when we realise all the ways our folks are great and let's just love those adorable bastards.

I kind of think that joke about the rat chihuahuas is funny. But there you go! Cause it wasn't my mum and fake uncle making that joke. So I don't have to feel annoyed by them. God, being a teenager is hard. Shit, I mean, growing up is hard. I mean, being a grown up is hard.

A day in NYC

Today was our first proper day in NYC.

Uncle G arrived late last night and we sat around drinking American beer and planning what to do on our first day. We all agreed that we would just take it easy, perhaps walk uptown and see where we ended up. This started out promisingly enough, but it quickly became apparent that they were looking to me to be some kind of navigator/tourguide. They started pointing at things and saying "what's that building?", and then looking at me expectantly. The first few times I good naturedly responded with "ooh, I'm not sure" but after I while I started to feel the burden of two adults depending on me for all of their information needs, and I became agitated. I started saying things like "Look guys, I've only been here once before!" and "how am I supposed to know, sheesh!" but they kept asking questions.

In addition, the two of them kept making 'humorous' observations, such as the following exchange which occurred when we went to the Thompson Square Park and watched the dogs in the off lead area, including a few chihuahuas:
Mum: "Aren't they beautiful!"
Uncle G: "Yes, but I had no idea New York's rat problem had become so bad"
Mum: *Nyuk nyuk nyuk*
Me: *Forehead slap*

By the time we got to the Flatiron district I had had enough. I knew I needed to find a quiet place and regroup, so I told them that they should stay in one spot while I walked around and found the best vantage point from which to take a photo.
They totally bought it.

There they are at the bottom right of the frame, blissfully unaware of my plot and looking so small and fragile against the backdrop of that big building. I started to feel guilty for being irritated and wanted to repent. I asked them where they wanted to go next and Mum's little face lit up when I suggested the Empire State. So off we went.
While I thought I wasn't one for big views, I found it surprisingly enjoyable. Hella windy, of course. But quite fun.

We are back at the apartment now and everyone is napping before dinner time.
Such a good one.