A little bruised

Finding it hard to smile this morning, so when I saw the lovely comments from new visitors - about my last post - it made me smile. Cheered me up more than anyone could know. So, thank you.

Why so glum this morning? I fucked up my driving test. Yay me.

Everyone has their Achilles' heel, and mine would appear to be tests - no matter what they're for. So many of the exams I had to take in school and university resulted in temporary chunks of memory loss, where words and names danced on the tip of my tongue without fulling revealing themselves, until after the exam was over. I was one of those students whose true capabilities were only clear with ongoing assessment tasks, rather than exams.

Driving tests have kind of been the same. When I was eighteen and did my first driving test, my nerves got the better of me. Going down a hill in a 60 km/h zone, I went slightly over the limit. Oops. My driving teacher knew all the local testers, and when he saw who had tested me, he reassured me that this particular tester was notorious for failing most people on their first test, and that next time, odds were someone different would test me and I'd be fine. I felt a little better, then two weeks later... same tester. Thankfully, I showed him. Pride can be a pretty powerful motivator.

These experiences have been a huge factor in why I kept putting off going for my test here in LA. Having an Australian licence isn't enough, and the Californian DMV makes everybody do the driving test to get a Californian licence, even people who have only moved interstate. Technically, once a person becomes a Californian resident, they are supposed to get their licence within ten days - unless they happen to hold an international diplomatic drivers' licence. Which would be rather convenient, right?

I've been a Californian resident for nineteen months now. Oops. I have my work permit. I have my Social Security number. I even got around to taking the written drivers test back in July, which I actually passed first go.

(When I took my Australian 'knowledge' test, it was on computer. Instead of being referred to as 'the written test', it was referred to as 'the computer test'. Because it was on computer. Duh. Back in 1993. The written test at the Californian DMV I went to? Pencil on paper, with a real live human being to mark it in my presence. It's 2011 now - they might want to have a look at what technology is available these days. Just sayin'.)

So, with our current visas up for renewal in a few months, J pointed out to me the other day that I should take the test soon, before we have a mountain more of paperwork which could hinder the process. I could put it off no more.

And I fucked it up. Not monumentally, but my nerves got the better of me. Surprising, right? Little things here and there, which in general are not an issue. Today, they were.

My ego has taken a bit of a bruising, because I know I'm a better driver than what I was this morning. If I thought I wasn't a decent driver, I would not be getting behind the wheel - most days - with my treasured girls in the back seat.

Hell, I know I'm a better driver than many of the drivers here who seem to frequently ignore that thing called an indicator. I don't cut people off, which also seems to be an accepted practice. Bitter, moi?

But I have no one to blame this morning except myself. I am mad as hell at myself, and embarrassed. I had no intention of even writing about this, but then I realised I always feel better when I've had a verbal or written vomit, which is kind of where blogging comes in handy.

Until today, I was feeling pretty good in general about how far I've come with my driving here. Okay, so I still avoid freeways, but I was a less than confident driver when we moved here, and the thought of driving on the opposite side of the road filled me with terror until reality of life in LA stepped in. I didn't want to be stuck at home all day, every day, and LA is such a sprawl that to get just basic errands done, a car is pretty much a necessity.

That drive-test horse shall be ridden again, soon (I've already made my next appointment). Stay tuned.

For now, I'm going to have a small pity party. Just for today. I shall blame PMS, and I shall pity myself in style.

22

I'm not really one for making lists, unless something major in my life requires it - like moving overseas. Oh, I have plenty of lists in my head; they just rarely make it on to paper... which is why, when I saw this writing prompt (from Mama Kat's Losin It) it seemed like the perfect way to spend a drizzly morning inside. It gave me flashbacks to my classrooms as it reminded me of the classic EFL writing tasks I'd set my students, to practise their present perfect tense.

(Click here for link)

Twenty-two things I've done (in no particular order)

1. Seen the sun rise and set over the Pacific Ocean.

2. Moved home thirteen times.

3. Taken belly dancing classes.

4. Made mistakes.

5. Picnicked on camembert, baguettes, and wine outside the Sacré Coeur in Paris.

6. Cried over accidentally-thrown-out artwork.

7. Poured a thousand pints of beer in London.

8. Dabbled in a little French, Italian, Irish Gaelic and (now) Korean.

9. Had my nose and belly button pierced.

10. Experimented.

11. Photographed donkeys in Mexico.

12. Created human life.

13. Dyed my hair red.

14. Swum at beaches on three continents.

15. Consumed vast quantities of chocolate.

16. Feasted on tapas in Barcelona.

17. Rescued frangipanis from the ground, and worn them in my hair.

18. Given birth.

19. Welcomed in a snowy New Year in Sweden.

20. Married my high school sweetheart.

21. Nourished my babies from my own body.

22. Inhaled the alpine goodness of the Swiss Alps, and thought of Heidi.

Mexico, 2000

Above

Yesterday, we decided to take advantage of the fact that it wasn't stinking hot first thing in the morning, and went for a hike. The spot we chose is called Wildwood Canyon. How pretty does that sound? There are different routes that vary in difficulty and length, but we chose a short leg - we wanted to avoid having to carry the Faery if possible. We saw some deer before we'd even parked the car, but the only other wildlife we saw during the hike were lizards and birds. Plenty of crows (I've never seen so many crows in my life as I have since coming to LA), but the hawks and eagles were shy. Most of the landscape was just scrub - we passed only one tree for shade.

We had no idea how much smog was around until we reached our looking point. Ugh. It was lovely to be above all of that. Below - in amongst that smog - is part of Burbank, in 'The Valley'. To the south (if this photo was extended to the left), we could make out the tops of the skyscrapers from downtown LA, but they were very hazy. Without the smog, they're easy to see - even in my neighbourhood.

It was a bit of a hard slog for the Faery. By the time we stopped for photos, her face was red and dirt-smudged, whispy golden strands of hair flying around her face. Dishevelled and cute. Next time, though, we might get the babysitter for a couple of hours one late Saturday afternoon. It'd be good to catch a sunset, minus hot complaining children. Oh, and minus the smog.

Who's that girl?

This is what happens when an adult - who rarely goes out - attends a
showbiz party at a club in Hollywood.

Who is she? I barely recognise her.

She looks like she knows how to have fun. How to laugh.

(Some may draw the line at squatting dancing over a large golden

 egg on the dance floor, but she thought the egg was fair game)

She looks like a bit of a lush. 

She looks like someone I used to know. 

The truth is: she was tagged on Facebook in about a dozen photos from the party. 

In most of the photos, she is seen clutching glasses of wine.

The truth is: she only had three drinks all night. 

The truth is: she was mostly caught up in high spirits, 

not the beverage kind.

The bit about having fun, though? That was true.

Believer

Damn other people's kids.

The Faery has been super excited about a visit from the Sugar Sprite Fairy. She doesn't care about her sugar haul getting taken, because she loves the idea of a new toy. It's brilliant.

Then the other day, she was playing with some kids that live in a nearby apartment. The other kids are similarly aged, and she adores them, but there are also times where it ends in tears because they have much more dominant personalities than hers, and she gets frustrated. This was one of those days. She came running home, in a flood of tears.

"Mum, they said that the Halloween Fairy isn't real! And they said I'm a baby! WAAAAAAAAH!"

Okay, so she can be hypersensitive and cry at the drop of a hat - these kids have figured that much out - but I was furious with them for not letting her believe in that fairy.

She looked heartbroken, so I told her the other girls were wrong and it was silly of them to say that to her. She continued bawling.

I added, "You know why they think she isn't real? Because she only visits children who believe in fairies."

The Faery looked up at me, her blue eyes as wide as can be, and hot tears spilling out. "But I do believe, Mum, I really do!" She nodded her head vigorously.

I told her that the reason I knew this for a fact was because the same fairy visited out friends in Portland after last Halloween.

The Faery smiled, and exhaled in relief.

Am I going to hell for telling such lies to her? I should be feeling bad about it, but I don't. I want her to have some magic in her childhood.

After all, how many people need therapy because they were encouraged to believe in the Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus?

Having said that, I'm dreading the day she comes home from school and announces - courtesy of the schoolyard grapevine - that they aren't real.

I want to bottle her innocence, and keep it forever...

Feline plans

Remember the chair I reclaimed from the side of a road?
The one I have plans to fix up nicely?

Looks like Emily also has plans for this chair.

A place to plan the demise of her human captors.

Actually, that evil expression is just a yawn...
...but we should consider it a warning.

For now, sleep beckons.
Again.

(Speaking of cats, I'll be attending a crew wrap party and screening for Puss In Boots tomorrow... yippee!)

Sugar Mumma

Come Halloween, there's going to be a lot of sweet stuff in our home.

This is bad news for my thighs. Very bad news.

Our apartment is in a secure complex, so the only trick or treaters we got last year were other kids that lived in the complex. I'd conveniently forgotten that minor detail when I was in Costco yesterday... and bought a massive bag of chocolates.

I made sure this mix had choccies that we all like. The mix I'd bought last year included chocolates which we hadn't tried before - we weren't expecting to have so many left over. It turned out that I didn't like a third of them. Ever tried Whoppers? They're a cheap and nasty tasty version on Maltesers. Mmm... Maltesers.... The rejected fun-sized Whoppers languished in the pantry for far too long, before finally getting thrown out.

It took a long time for the Faery's Halloween bounty to be consumed. Being new to Halloween last year, I found out about a week too late about the Sugar Sprite Fairy, Halloween Fairy, or whatever it is that other families call her. This is where the fairy comes in the days after Halloween, and exchanges a large part of the confectionary haul for a toy.

I wish I'd known sooner. Instead, after the sugar-high frenzy during the first few days of November, I restricted the Faery's intake to no more than one a day. After a few months, she stopped living for her chocolates, and only asked once or twice a week.

Sometimes, I sneakily dipped into her haul for bribe supplies.

Sometimes, I sneakily dipped into her haul for... me.

(Hey, I never claimed to be awesome at this parenting gig.)

How long did it take for her haul to deplete? Until early July. I kid you not. Eight months! And it wasn't even a large haul because she was scared of the dark and didn't want to trick or treat for very long.

I cannnot go through that again. Far too much bargaining and sulking when the 'treats' were withheld. Oh, and an accompanying toddler's bounty thrown into the equation this year, too.

Yes. The Sugar Sprite Fairy will be making a visit.

Then my next dilemma will be where to hide the exchanged haul of treats - because someone will have to eat them when the kids are in bed.

This is bad news for my thighs. Very bad news...