Vacant

I got nothin'.

Well, I do have a few half-written posts in my head, but it's Spring Break here at the moment... meaning? My usual concentrated internet time (when Miss Pie naps while the Faery is at school) has been non-existent. I've been reduced to sneaky turns on Words with Friends on my phone, and a bit of reading, but that's about it.

Anyway... I'm not complaining. It's just been a different programme for me this week, and I'm not feeling particularly inspired. Next week, right?

In the mean time, I'll leave you with thoughts of the generous offer I received from Groupon today. Their discounts frequently feature colonic irrigation and Botox - neither of which is my cup of tea, but hey, each to their own.

You know you live in L.A. when these kind of offers are a regular thing.

Maybe I'll treat myself for my birthday this weekend... nope. Who am I kidding? I'm okay with my wrinkles. Oh, and the ability to express myself through use of my facial muscles. I actually see enough frozen foreheads around, and it is not a good look.

All Spring and no action

How was your Easter weekend?

We don't do the church thing. No elaborate hauls of gifts either. 

The weather was glorious - naturally - so there was poolside frolicking (J and the girls), poolside chilling (me), egg hunting (the girls), ice cream consumption (the girls)... not to mention chocolate and hot cross buns devoured (all of us).

This was our third Easter, States-side and there are a few things I'm used to now. Little plastic eggs to fill with treasures and sweets for the egg hunt, hot cross buns sugar-fied the American way with icing on top, and the fact that it's spring - although that itself never felt unusual after having also lived in the UK.

Only a few elements still seem strange. Both Good Friday and Easter Monday are regular days here. I prefer the four-day weekends that Australians and Brits enjoy. Also, that hot cross buns aren't abundant - at least not where we live. I miss being able to pick up warm, fresh batches from any bakery... or even just throwing a few half-dozen packs into my trolley at the regular supermarket.

All in all, though, our weekend was perfect. There is nothing quite like the excitement of small children who still believe in the magic of the Easter Bunny... I'll be sad when that stage passes.

Hope your weekend was just as lovely as ours.

Instagram of the Week

What's not to love about this shot? We'd been having a play at the local park, and her hair was going crazy with static every time she went down the slide. My intention had been to capture just that - the spikes of hair standing on end - but instead, I got this winning smile. Natural smiles seem to be more difficult to capture as she gets older; more often than not, I get a stiffly self-conscious grimace.

Even better, I have thirty seconds of footage that was taken not long after this photo. The girls are playing together on the slide when the sound of an ice cream truck becomes louder in the distance. There's a moment where the Faery's ears pick up, her posture straightens as she realises what the music means, and she starts jumping up and down excitedly for ice cream - and I initially say no, resulting in some petulant pleading and bottom lip protrusion.

Click here for link

I was going to share this shot for Wordless Wednesday, but then I saw another one of Mama Kat's writing prompts (Share a photo you took with Instagram this week and tell us what you love about it) and realised this was actually perfect to link up with. Yes, it's been a while, and now I'm doing two in the same week - what is the world coming too? Is this cheating? Anyhow...


PS - The Faery totally got an ice cream in the end. After she carried on with some serious whining (reason enough to say no), I looked around and saw how many other kids were getting ice creams, and suddenly felt hideously mean. Too easy.

Tom and I

Over the years, I've had a bit of a love affair with books written by Tom Robbins. His stories are nutty, colourful, and transport me to places that could normally only be reached by smoking a little too much of the green stuff.

The books of his that I've read have been spaced far apart, at various points in my life.

I began with Even Cowgirls Get the Blues when I was living in London and working behind a bar. Couldn't put it down.

A few years later, a worn copy of Still Life with Woodpecker came into my possession, courtesy of a backpacking hostel I was staying at. I couldn't put it down.

When I was living in Melbourne and a new library branch opened - conveniently - just a block away from the school I taught at in the CBD, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates helped the tram ride commute pass quickly. I couldn't put it down.

Then only last year, I felt the pull to read another one of his books, so asked around to see what people's favourite Tom Robbins book was. The answer was fairly unanimous: Jitterbug Perfume. I ordered it from Amazon, and once it was in my hands, I couldn't put it down.

So when our tiny local library branch closed down for renovations recently, I was more than excited to discover that the second closest branch is, in fact, massive. An entirely separate (large) room for the children's section, complete with toys - win! - well away from the rest of the library. Miss Pie can run crazy in that section, and no one is disturbed.

After our first visit there, on our way out, it occurred to me that I should grab a book for myself too. We were passing through the adult section and I looked up, realising that we were right by the R authors. A no brainer. Tom Robbins, here I come! I grabbed a copy of Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas and left.

That night, I opened it up with anticipation. All his books had been a fabulous ride and it was time for another.

I wanted to love it. I wanted to like it... but I struggled. The second person narrative, in present tense, made me feel as though I was reading one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books from when I was eight years old: "You walk into the next room and see a cupboard. What do you do? You open it (go to page 37) or you walk back out of the room (go to page 22)."

I tried so hard to like it, but when bedtime came, I found myself making excuses and spending time online instead. Before I knew it, three weeks had passed and the book was due. I'd read maybe twenty pages, but not wanting to admit defeat, I renewed the book.

A second chance, yet I put off reading it again. Another week passed before I picked it up. I struggled on for another twenty or so pages, and then it was due again. I'd had the book for six weeks, and still hadn't delved into it. I did what any self-respecting person would do, and renewed the book one final time (the library's policy is a maximum of two renewals).

A final chance to finish the book, once and for all. I made another effort and although none of the characters were likeable, every now and then I was rewarded by a line - even a paragraph - that was pure Tom Robbins and needed to be rolled around in my head several times before continuing, much in the same way I savour good chocolate or wine.

Silly me, though. I didn't read it every night, and it only began to get interesting in the final week that I had it. I was less than a third of a way through it - there was no way I was going to finish it in time.

Nine weeks to read a single book? That's a pretty lame effort on my behalf. A book by anyone else, and I doubt I would have held on to it for so long. I usually know - within the first one or two pages - whether a book is worth my time or not, and there are few books I've given up on, several chapters in.

Tom Robbins and I - we'd had a good history together. I had every reason to believe the payoff would be on the next page... but it never came.

My choice was to either hang on to the book - and incur a substantial fine, perhaps another two months later - or admit defeat and return it. Although it just about killed my pride, I chose the latter.

Ouch.



This sad little tale will be linking up this week with Mama Kat's writing prompt:

Book review time! Some people STILL read books…share one of your more recent reads and tell us what you thought!

Click here for link

The Stone

When the Faery was younger, she was obsessed with rocks. I was constantly finding little stones in her pockets - or the bottom of the washing machine. Everywhere we walked, she had to stop and inspect any potentially interesting stone or rock that crossed her path. Often, the ones she selected were nothing more than broken pieces of cement, but she'd insist on adding them to her collection nonetheless.

Three months before we moved to Los Angeles, it was her fourth Christmas. My sister-in-law gave her a small pouch that was filled with tumbled gemstones and crystals, and carefully explained the properties of each stone. The Faery listened carefully as her aunt told her that when she feels sad, holding the rose quartz could help her feel better because it can help with depression.

Since then, she's always kept her gemstones tucked away in a safe place and - on occasion, when she's been upset about something - I've found her clutching the rose quartz.

Last week, as Miss Pie was having a particularly horrendous meltdown, I heard the door to the girls' closet bang, then the Faery emerged with her rose quartz and placed it into Miss Pie's hands.

Miss Pie stopped howling, instantly. After all, no one had ever handed her a pretty pink stone before. In fact, she's usually discouraged from playing with small stones - this is the same kid who has lodged sultanas up her nostril, after all. I had good reason to limit her access to such small items.

The Faery's eyes just about popped out of her head. "Why is the stone so magic, Mum? Look! I gave it to her, and she stopped crying straight away!"

I didn't have it in me to explain the most likely reason why she'd stopped crying was simply because she'd never been handed something like that to actually hold before; that it was probably more to do with the novelty factor than any sweet act of thoughtfulness on the Faery's behalf.


This wasn't the first time she'd pulled out the rose quartz for someone else - last year when J found out about the unexpected death of an old friend, the Faery fetched her pink stone for him to hold. It was the one of the sweetest gestures I think I've ever witnessed.

This amazing little soul... where did she come from?

Bits and pieces

We have a lot of Mourning Doves dwelling in nearby trees. 

They're currently immersing themselves in spring, getting busy with building nests.

The Faery and Miss Pie are fairly enamoured with these sweet birds, calling 

our nearest one Mumma Tweet. Actually, all of them are called Mumma Tweet. 

I try not to give in, but some days at the shops, it's impossible not to buy something for the Faery. 

Five-year olds are pretty damned good at being annoying until you cave, right? 

Naturally, she chose the pinkest, most blingy pair of sunglasses. Naturally, I groaned.

On Sunday, neither of us felt like cooking. It was our two-year anniversary of being in the US, 

so it was an easy decision to go out and mark this with a family meal at the local diner. 

My sister saw this photo and said it looked like a scene from Twin Peaks - which is funny 

because it does (thank you, Instagram), but I hadn't even noticed.

It does actually rain here now and then. Really.

I'm always happy to see daffodils. If I could get my hands on some jonquils,

 I'd be in heaven. Love the smell of those.

As you can see, project DIY chair revamp is - ahem - yet to happen. 

Yes, I'm one of those people. All talk and ideas, but no action.

At least the chair is happy enough in the sunshine, 

and I have a nice spot to sit when I'm hiding from the kids

having a cup of coffee in the afternoon.

Hey, who doesn't love a bit of red tricycle action?

Wish I could say those small feet belonged to me, but no.

Miss Pie is the happy owner - feet and trike.

Two years in La La Land

It seems that only six months ago, I wrote about it being a whole year since we'd moved to Los Angeles, but guess what? That wasn't six months ago.

It was a year ago.

Meaning? We've actually been here for two years now.

Holy crap. I have no idea where that time went - none at all. It's flown even faster than our first year here. I suspect the fact that the Faery is in school five days a week may be somewhat responsible. Days are filled with more purpose now, and our social calendar looks much busier.

Not only has the Faery been busy with making new friends from school, so have I. This is good. Maybe it's just me, but as I get older, I get lazier and less motivated to make new friends. I like the ones I already have, thank you very much. Unfortunately, they happen to mostly live on the other side of the Pacific Ocean - a little tricky for hanging out together.

So, I've put on my cheerful face during school drop-offs and pick-ups, and made an effort to get to know other parents. I'd been secretly dreading the whole school mum/mom scene for a while, imagining snooty cliques of soccer mums.

Thankfully, I've been proven very wrong. Kids are great as a tool for meeting other people, right? Perhaps it's down to the nature of the programme that the Faery is enrolled in - dual language and heavy exposure to Korean culture - but the parents are far more open-minded, knowledgable, and embracing of other cultures than what I'd imagined (stupidly based on stereotypes of American adults).

Don't I feel foolish? But this is the sort of situation where I'm happy to be wrong.

Not only am I meeting more people - lovely, friendly people - but many of them are connected to this city in a way that's just so... well... L.A. baby. 

Three of the dads are musicians (one of whom spent over a decade in a band which even had a number one song in Australia, strangely enough, so he's been on many tours there). Several other dads work for the same animation company as J. One of the mums is involved high up the chain at Nickelodean Jnr, and I've seen her name in the credits of the Faery's current favourite show. Another mum is an in-demand hairdresser based in Hollywood, and modest to boot about it. It's only over time that I've coaxed from her the names of celebrities she's worked on - Katy Perry, Florence Welch, Kylie Minogue, and Britney Spears, to name a few.

I feel pretty uncool next to some of these parents, but I'm okay with that. It's purely my own perception of where I stand in the grand scheme of social pecking order - thanks to high school all those years ago. I know that I have a few things going in my favour, too. Being the "tall Australian mom" curries a certain amount of curiosity. I don't mind that.

I'm not even sure where this ramble is going right now. Mostly, I just wanted to acknowledge this two-year L.A. anniversary, along with how quickly time has passed. That mostly, my social circle here is expanding, and that's cause for a happy dance. That loneliness that expats feel at some point, impatient to know more people? That's quickly becoming a distant memory here.

A year ago, I don't think there are many people I would have missed if we were to pack up and head back home. Things are feeling more entwined now and I know with certainty that when the time comes to leave L.A. - whether it's two years from now, or in five years - there are people I'll be very sad to say goodbye to.

Still, what's that saying? It's better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all. I think it's the same with moving far away. Let new people in, even if the sadness of parting ways is inevitable. Otherwise, what's the point? To live life properly, it needs to be shared with friends - whether old or new.