Jibbity jibbity bongo bongo.
Dear Winter: Please stop.
You are not my best season, all scratchy woollens, dark afternoons and windy hollows. The children have stopped playing the winter games, we said our goodbyes to knobbly knees and gold socks on wet ground in a howling blizzard, etting hot chips and mandarins, our laughter – and my tears – (cold is emotional) freezing on our cheeks.
I foolishly signed a form and agreed to contribute work to a public art show here in dear Orklund, only to not actually scratch out a single blotch of anything for months.
Stupid Lady, you have no time, every moment is spent doing one thing and neglecting others. I got the dates all wrong. I tried to redact myself with a polite email – the work isn’t, err, ready… – only to have the fearsome show organiser call my bluff  – You must be mistaken! Your name is printed in the catalogue. 
*Fecking Artists* 
I panicked and called Catherine the framer to book in work that didn’t exist yet ‘Give me two days’ she said, a miracle of archival matting and hand-painted wood work. At home I wiped clear the big table in the kitchen, sliced chunks of graphite into wedges with Smallest Person’s craft knife (The Small People shout encouragement and swing on the edges of the table with their hands). Finally, I set about beginning the drawings that I have been imagining for months. It’s been so wonderful.
I just want to be an artist.
Which is enough to make me pack away the pencils.
Above: Lau – Leaf.

Jibbity jibbity bongo bongo.

Dear Winter: Please stop.

You are not my best season, all scratchy woollens, dark afternoons and windy hollows. The children have stopped playing the winter games, we said our goodbyes to knobbly knees and gold socks on wet ground in a howling blizzard, etting hot chips and mandarins, our laughter – and my tears – (cold is emotional) freezing on our cheeks.

I foolishly signed a form and agreed to contribute work to a public art show here in dear Orklund, only to not actually scratch out a single blotch of anything for months.

Stupid Lady, you have no time, every moment is spent doing one thing and neglecting others. I got the dates all wrong. I tried to redact myself with a polite email – the work isn’t, err, ready… – only to have the fearsome show organiser call my bluff  – You must be mistaken! Your name is printed in the catalogue.

*Fecking Artists*

I panicked and called Catherine the framer to book in work that didn’t exist yet ‘Give me two days’ she said, a miracle of archival matting and hand-painted wood work. At home I wiped clear the big table in the kitchen, sliced chunks of graphite into wedges with Smallest Person’s craft knife (The Small People shout encouragement and swing on the edges of the table with their hands). Finally, I set about beginning the drawings that I have been imagining for months. It’s been so wonderful.

I just want to be an artist.

Which is enough to make me pack away the pencils.

Above: Lau – Leaf.

Oh Nina.

I had an epiphany today.

I don’t have the time or the language to explain the whole story, but dear reader, I trust you will understand.

I realised today, that I deeply regret that I was not born in time to travel by independent means and sit in a darkened club, or concert hall, and hear Nina Simone sing Feeling Good. Live. To me – while I sit there in the dark.

I realised I have missed something very very important by being born too late, on the wrong side of the world, with no time or means to get to her. That my life could have been complete, if only.

And no other rendition, however good or soulfully delivered can now ease that heavy feeling.

I’ll be over here, consoling myself.

Just in case you thought you had a bad day.

I fell over at tenpin bowling tonight. Stumbled backwards over the ball dispenser, fell flat on my arse, in front of my kids, husband, and  twenty-odd dudes out on their bowling night in the lanes next to us.

I never let go of the ball. (Why?!).

There was much delight and hooting, and while Smallest Person gave me a hug and told me how she felt bad for me – she then re-enacted the whole thing several times over. Kind of like a live replay.

It was hysterical.

Motherly Monologues

On the sidelines, one cold and windy morning.

One Mother:
Put your hat on, it’s freezing cold. Look around you, everyone else is wearing a beanie except you.
Put your hat on now. I don’t want you to get sick.
Reaches into a bag, pulls out a beanie and plants it on the child’s head.
You can’t get sick for skiing. Why won’t you wear a hat?
Child is now wearing the beanie.
Tell her Dad! Tell her why she can’t get sick for skiing.
And what’s more, you’ll be sick during school holidays, so it’s not like you get time off from school. Ha!

And another:
Put your hat on.
Put your hat on now, or I’ll make you go sit in the car.
Child pulls a beanie out of her pocket and puts it on.