Tripping over modern art and other weirdness

I was waiting for Libby in a public space in Federation Square last night. We had been in mobile contact. I knew she was somewhere close, but as yet we hadn’t found each other. I resisted the impulse to wander in search of her. Like a lost child, I stood alone in the cold wind reassuring myself that if I stood still, it was more likely that she would find me. 

Resigned, I took up my post in a place where I could see people approaching from three directions: up from the carpark, down the stairs from the interior of the building and down a further wide set of stairs to the bank of the Yarra. Satisified with my positioning, I stood alert for shapes and sounds that resembled Libby. It was then that I saw it. It wasn’t immediately recognisable as sculpture, but I wandered over to it and read the plaque: ‘The Membrane’, part of a modern art exhibition in the public spaces of Federation Square.

The angle shown above in the photo seemed to me to be the ‘front’. It spoke to me from this angle more than the others. From here I could imagine a scene: connected tunnels, openings, burrows, a purpose. Ramshackle but possibly representing activity or some usefulness in its strung-together structure, like something that allowed the dwellers to make do and get on with whatever it was they did. A bit urban, a bit desperate, a bit neglected. 

Libby arrived finally. We embraced in front of The Membrane. She glanced at it. “Is that supposed to be art?”. I answered in the affirmative. She walked over to read the plaque, like me, needing reassurance that its intention was piece-of-art. “The Membrane” she read. “How ridiculous”, she laughed. Dismissing The Membrane with a toss of her head, she turned away and we headed off via the downwards stairs to Southbank. 

I took the photo of The Membrane this morning when I went back to Fed Square to retrieve my car, and reflected on what a weird evening I had had painting the town with girlfriends. Beginning with The Membrane, everything that happened, happenened in unexpected ways. From being stuck in traffic and losing Libby at the start of the evening, to finding ourselves invited to dinner with a large group office workers, to dancing in a bar later to Leo Sayer (!), being unexpectedly reuinted with a colleague/flame after fifteen years and getting home at a quarter to three!

The Hot Pink Coat

Last night I went to a theme party. You had to go dressed up as your favorite character from TV. My daughters went as: Ash Ketchum (from Pokemon), Sponge Bob, Mulan and Robin the Boy Wonder. The hub went as Leonardo (from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles).  This is the story of how I chose my character.

I’ve had a busy week. I’ve been teaching, had a couple of seminars to attend in town, had heaps of errands to run (like getting the operating system on my laptop upgraded) and out in the evening twice during the week: once to dinner with girlfriends and once to a primary school disco decoration-making working bee. The theme for the disco this year is Outer Space. At the working bee I drank too much champagne and covered trillions of donated CDs with sparkly contact (these will hang from a large net on the ceiling and reflect the disco lights). And on top of that, the Real Estate Agent wanted to bring people through our house to begin the process of selling. 

On the night before the house inspection we had a massive tidy-up. I even finally decided to tackle the tiles on the kitchen walls that had been ‘burnt’ a few weeks ago. I had been heating up a pan of olive oil, forgot about it, the result being greasy, black stains on the tiles above the stove. When I tried to clean the tiles I could get one layer of black off, but the remaining layer was impossible to shift. I tried detergent, Ajax surface spray, Jiff, bathroom tile cleaner and I would have tried suger soap but we were out of it. Every cleaning agent I tried just seemed to shift the greasy black from one spot to another. It looked dreadful on the cream tiles. Out of sheer desperation I decided to give the Windex a whirl. I couldn’t believe the result! The grease dissolved before my eyes. It wiped completely clean with no effort at all. I am not a sharer-of-house-cleaning-tips by any stretch of the imagination, but I was so impressed with the Windex that I felt like ringing all of my friends to pass this one on. I called my family in to witness the miracle. “Look: this is what happens if I use the Ajax. Now look at the Windex”. Squirt! “Wow!!!”.

I’m not the only one who knows about the special powers of Windex either. The young man at the Apple Computer Shop used it to clean the keys on my laptop for me when I went to pick it up. He extolled the virtues of Windex (ammonia-free) to me as he cleaned. He said it was possible to purchase expensive cleaning agents for the keyboards. “But they probably are made of this stuff”, he beamed as he held up his Windex bottle. I told him my Windex cleaning story. He nodded and anticipated parts of the story, finishing my last sentence for me, “and it dissolved completely?”. “Yes!”. We smiled at eachother, bonded for a moment by shared awe for Windex. (I have never felt so connected to a computer sales person before!).

When Kathleen asked me to decide on my costume for the fancy dress I said I wanted to go as Kaptain Windex! “No you can’t! You just made that up. It has to be a character from TV”. “Damn, I’ll have to save that one for a super hero party“.  

I was stumped, tired, uninspired and considering piking on the whole dress-up thing. “Come on mum”, said my kids, already costumed-up themselves, “get off Facebook and think of a costume”. Then it hit me! I could wear my hot pink Donna Koran coat, recently purchased in New York on a whim and not yet worn (due to the fact that it is incredibly loud), and go as Agent 99 from Get Smart, my all-time favorite TV show from the seventies. 

I promised Kate I would tell the story of the first time I wore the coat. My promise has now been fulfilled and here is a pic to cap it all off:

 

Haunting Sounds

Hello Possums. As I write I am listening to a recently acquired CD produced by a long term acquaintance. The CD is called ‘Cloudhands’ by Bruce Rogers. He did engineering with one of my best friends and, through this connection, I have known Bruce for over twenty years. He makes digeridoos, has a successful business and reputation for his craftmanship and artistry world wide. But two weeks ago was the first time I heard him play. 

When you listen to the digeridoo every fibre of your body resonates with the sound. You become transported out of yourself. You imagine damp earth, clean air. You could be a patch of soil, a piece of bark, a bird. Your soul becomes reduced and expanded at once. Reduced in your own significance. Expanded, connected. 

Beautiful V from India, tall and exotic, said after we listened to Bruce’s digeridoo concert “I thought I would have to go back to India to experience spirituality. But I have found it in Australia”. She and her son went with the digeridoo players the following day to protest China in Tibet. The plan was to gather didge players and blow together in protest, using the didge as a horn. Her son played. She was very proud. 

My father came over this moring to take Sally for a bike ride. He has a long standing arrangement with my girls (his grandchildren). Every Saturday he takes at least one of them out on their push bikes. It was his idea. This is how he stays connected with his grand daughters. He shares his love of cycling with them. They talk along the way. 

He reports family news, the latest being: my brother is suffering from stress-related health problems. Situations at work and with is ex take their toll on this easy-going man who wants to avoid confrontation and tries to please everyone. He surfs. He has a great sense of humour. He lives in a tranquil location. He has an adoring wife. Its not enough. 

The didge concert was part of a series. Its African Drums next month. One of the new people I have met recently asked me if I’d heard African Drums played before. I told him that I own a djembe and have practiced on it with a teach yourself CD. He laughed. “You are open to the world”, he said. “What do you mean?”. He explained that, like him, I appear to stay open to learning from what the world has to offer. I took him to mean ‘other cultures’ by ‘the world’, but on second thoughts he could have also been referring to technlology. I do tend to dabble in things. I hold learning in high importantance. I don’t believe modern society has answered the question of how to live well.  

Some highlights from my week in NYC

Hello Possums. I have come home from New York City with too many stories. Life goes on and as it does more stories develop. Let me capture some of the highlights from New York before they are completely forgotten (at Charlotte’s request). Here is a collection of highlights from my week in NYC:

1. The Empire State (and other adventures) with Karl.

With a gentle, affable young colleague of mine, I climbed to the top of the Empire State Building at 11 o’clock at night. We took in the retro magnifience of its interior. At the top, despite the freezing temperature and strong cold wind, we went onto the exterior deck. We walked around stopping frequently to stare out onto the sprawling brightness of New York to the horizon in every direction. We pointed out familiar landmarks to each other, including the brightly lit bridges. 

Back on the streets we walked slowly in the direction of our hotel. We were enjoying each other’s company and kept our eyes open for a nice bar to go to. In Broadway we met a police road block. They let us through when we were able to produce our hotel keys. No sooner than we had passed the barricade, a mass of rowdy black youth (girls and guys) rushed towards us yelling and screaming. A large group of police followed them running also. I grabbed Karl’s arm and pulled him out of their way into 47th street and we took slight refuge next to a nut vendor and his cart. After they rushed by, we continued tentatively on our way. We had not been threatened and had whitnessed no violence. The young people looked very well dressed and not incredibly angry. The reason for the stampede was unclear. I half expected to come across a brawl or some sort of ruckus at one of the venues, but nothing could be gleaned from the quiet street after we had left the immediate scene. Karl and I were perplexed.

The following night, Karl and I went to the 65th floor above Radio City. There we enjoyed cocktails overlooking New York City through floor to ceiling windows. We wandered the streets afterwards looking for a place to go, but we hadn’t planned anything. We were both content to walk and talk. 

“If I lived in New York City”, I said, “I would take up smoking”.

Karl laughed and then confessed. “I gave up smoking. But just today I went out and bought a pack of tobacco”.

“You have rollies? Lets have one”.

“But you don’t smoke”.

“No, I’ve never had the habit, but I like the occasional rollie, especially after a drink”.

He laughed again. We walked and talked and smoked for I don’t know how long. 

In the end we found ourselves in the bar at the Sheridon. The bar man made a fuss over pouring me a tequila. It was almost two in the morning when I got back to my room. 

Later in the week I heard that there was a movie being shot in Broadway around the time Karl and I witnessed the “riot”. I texted him the news. He shot back a quick reply about keeping an eye out to see if we make it into the movie as extras.

Yesterday, I thought of Karl, his easy company and the adventures we had together in New York (three weeks ago now). I punched a message into my phone and pressed send, “Hi. How’s things. Are you still smoking?”. “No, I managed to leave the dirty habit in New York. Are you well?”, he replied. 

Its funny how conferences throw people together. Karl is much younger than me. Whilst we will work together in the future and possibly catch up socially with the larger group, it is highly unlikely that we will ever just “hang out” in Melbourne like we did so easily in New York. 

 

 

My List

Hello Possum. Are you a list-writer? I do occasionally write myself lists: shopping lists and lists under the heading “things to do”, and little reminder lists in my diary. You see, I have a motto: “if you think your life is under control, then you have forgotten something”. Sometimes I forget to write lists, or forget to write things in my diary, or forget where my diary is. Just this week I forgot I had a date at the cinema with my friend Lana. She waited for me in the foyer for half an hour. I was mortified and rang her straight away the next morning when I realised. She said the people-watching in the cinema foyer was entertaining and not to worry. 

Miss lionheart tagged me in a list writing meme to “list 5 things you wish to achieve during the week ahead”.  Originally conceived as a motivation meme, for me it is a way of remembering what the hell I need to do. Here goes:

1. Work out a fun activity using pulleys for grade 5 and 6 children.

2. Organise a catch up date with “the gang” and another movie night with Lana.

3. Ring the curtain guys and make an appointment up at our new place.

4. Watch and take notes on at least 4 videos of student interviews for my study.

5. Go through the kids’ wardrobes, put away summer gear and recycle gear nolonger worn.

Oh boy, if I achieve number five, it will be a miracle! 

If you would like to have a go at this meme, let me know and I will pop a link to your site in here.

 

Too many stories

I am welling up with stories and more stories. I still have stories to tell from New York. But my head has been flooded with new themes. Lets take my weekend for example:

Theme 1 from the weekend, Good Vibrations: a digeridoo concert that spurred my friend into protest action the following day, that may lead to African drumming classes and new friendships.

Theme 2 from the weekend, More Paddling Adventures with Rosie: a slalom kayaking event where items of clothing were stolen, personal best times were recorded (after being spurred on by friends), my neck was licked while I was lying in the sun (by a puppy), and my lack of competative nature was exposed. This lack of competativeness seems to have flowed on to my daughter, who missed her first single kayak run so she could paddle canoe doubles with her friend, and didn’t care because “it was fun”. Incidentally the clothing items were found, but Rosie and I felt very lucky because she almost put her ipod in the clothing bag and I almost put my car keys in there.

I am also rather excited about my teaching at the moment (the marshmellow catapults were a huge success and I found walnuts yesterday morning at 8.30am at the local fruit shop. They were in his front display. I counted out seventy five, enough for every child I was teaching. In the lesson, after they used the nut crackers, I gave the children the option of eating the nuts or donating them back to me to be baked into muffins. I didn’t get many back, but enough for one batch. I promised the children I would share them).

Tomorrow I am going to a matinee musical in the city with my friend, who teaches music at the secondary school where I taught maths and science many years ago. I used to choreograph the school musicals. She was music director, and our friend Brian was director. We made a great team. I loved working with them and our students and continued to choreograph on a volunteer basis after I became a new mother. Such was our cameraderie that almost fifteen years later I am still invited to join their excursions to the big musicals, and to attend college productions as a VIP! 

…and these stories only scratch the surface! What do you do when you have too many stories?

Nut Crackers No Nuts

Hello Possums. Now that I’m back from New York, work is starting to hot up for me. I’m teaching an eight-week stint out at a primary school as a visiting science teacher. I’ll be teaching in every grade in the school once a week during that time. Tomorrow I start with the grade 5 and 6 classes on a topic chosen by the teachers, Simple Machines.

My first lesson will focus on levers. I have been trying to come up with an activity that is open-ended enough so that the kids will be able to play around and come up with their own ideas, as a starting point for the rest of the unit. For the past week I have been snatching snippets of time to test little experiments out on my own kids. For example, Sally and Emma experimented sitting on the floor in my study yesterday to see how far they could catapult marshmallows on a ruler over a tube of glue stick. They worked out that the further away from the fulcrum the marshmalow was, the higher it went upon release.

I was thinking of introducing the topic by asking kids to compare the force needed to crack a walnut with bare hands and with the help of a nut cracker (which is a lovely example of levers). Its my job to supply the equipment. I’ve been really busy and have left the shopping for walnuts and nut crackers until tonight, imagining it to be as simple as popping down to the local supermarket. The second supermarket I visited did have nut crackers. I purchased four. The young man at the check-out was so expressionless as he scanned the nut crackers: zap, zap, zap, zap, that I thought about making a ball breaking joke (but then thought better of it).

I now have nut crackers! But I have not been able to find walnuts in their shells. It seems supermarkets only stock walnuts pre-shelled. Tomorrow morning I will scour the local fruit shops and delis in the hope of finding some. Oh why do I leave these things ’till the last minute?

Its up to you, NY NY!

Hello Possums. I’m heading off to New York in just over a week. Here in Melbourne we’ve had quite a hot spell. I spent the weekend practising catching waves on my mini malabu while the kids frolicked in the surf and mucked around on boogie boards. I can’t quite get my head around my recently searched-for information that it is currently only nine degrees celcius during the day in New York. I have my case out. I started to pack short sleeved shirts. I don’t think I have suitable shoes. Perhaps I’ll pack the court shoes I bought in Paris and purchase some sturdier shoes in New York… I’ve had to pull out my coat, gloves, beret and scarf, and I’ve been sifting through my jumpers (‘pullovers’ if you’re not from Australia) for one that goes with the woolen skirt and pants I’ve chosen to take. I’m considering packing thermals, but most of the time I’ll be at conference sessions in hotels… I can’t imagine needing any of this stuff when I’m sitting here at eleven o’clock in the evening in a singlet and shorts! I’ve chosen the conference hotel with the biggest swimming pool. I intend to swim laps as often as I can to break up the frantic conference pace.  I’m starting to get excited. I combed the preliminary program today and I’ve printed out my preliminary schedule. It looks exciting. Already three dinners and two breakfasts have been organised. I haven’t heard about any receptions yet, but I’m hoping some of the universities who invited our group from Melbourne last year will come through for us again. Last year in Chicago, I was even invited to a private condo for a party! Oooh I wonder what New York has planned for me?

Free ticks

Hello Possums. Have you seen ‘Talk to Me’ yet? Its the best movie I have seen for ages. The dialogue is wonderful and the cinematography is really clever. On top of this, its a great story (and its true!). I laughed (a lot) and cried (in two places). The main actor is to die for and all of the other characters are played to perfection. The sound track is magnificent. Need I say more?

I had free tickets through my MTC subscription and took V along. She adored it too. Afterwards we went to her favorite Vietnamese restaurant on Victoria Street, were she knows the proprieters. There we drank three pots of Chinese tea and talked about her current love interest whilst we feasted upon rice paper rolls with peking duck, crispy chicken ribs and stir fried spinach.

V is a polo fan. I have never seen polo played live before. Her current love interest is one of the players who has been flirting with her from afar for at least six months. She has been in a state of excited suspense. Last week she received an invitation to a polo club luncheon out at one of the vinyards. She had invited me to accompany her but was yet to book the tickets.

Last night she deliberated as to whether she had the guts to go. “There are only twelve places for the dinner”, she exclaimed, “and I’m not even a member of the club!”. She was intrigued as to why she had received the invitation. “What if he’s there! I won’t be able to hide if there are only twelve of us!”. She was really nervous. “Don’t worry”, I said, “I’ll be there to support you. You won’t need to hide”. This afternoon I received a text from her: “We are on for the wine trip. Now I am really in trouble huh?” I texted back, “yeah”. I’ll let you know how it goes, Possums. Its in March.

Plans for the day go astray because of msn

I’ve been introduced to msn by a young acquaintance. To my delight a couple of my friends also use it. I have even had a heavy intellectual conversation via msn with one of my friends from our research group. That was a bit much actually. Its fun in short bursts. I can type sort of quickly. But I prefer to meet face to face and prefer to lie in bed reading or chatting on the phone to sitting at my computer, but for short conversations its handy. My friend Raya types slowly. I find I can keep working on my transcription while I wait for her response. The little icon jumps when she’s ready for me. “Hi”, she wrote Sunday night. “Hiya”. “Will you be dropping Kathleen off to school tomorrow? Do you want to meet for a walk and a coffee afterwards?”. I never drive Kathleen to school and I had intended to ride my bike into work and get heaps done. I was looking forward to it and I hesitated in my reply. But I hadn’t seen Raya for ages.  Finally I shot back an “ok”. (I can be flexible). We met in Hawthorn. We have done this many times before. We pound the streets walking and talking and relax over a cuppa at our favorite cafe afterwards. However, when I arrived I noticed Raya had not worn her walking clothes. She had already had a caffe latte. She looked frazzled. “Do you want to walk?” she asked. “Maybe I’ll have a cuppa first”, I replied, “are you up for another one?’. She was. We talked. We didn’t go walking. After our cuppa we went shopping. She bought some shoes to wear to a wedding next weekend. I tried some on just for fun. She came with me to a lighting shop in South Yarra. I chose a feature light for our entrance hall and put a deposit on it. She agreed with the choice. We wandered up Chapel street and tried on a few dresses.  We ate lunch in an Italian restaurant. We talked and talked. She let off steam. Her shoulders slowly became more relaxed as the day wore on. We laughed. We gave each other advice on each other’s lives. Laughed some more. I told her my five year plan and my intention to learn French after I finished my studies. “So you can do a Mary Moodie?” she asked. “Precisely” I replied. She confessed that she was feeling tense, “but I feel better after our wonderful spontaneous morning. I think this is just what I needed!”. Had I known we’d end up shopping in Hawthorn and South Yarra I would not have worn my tracky dacks and a singlet top, and I probably would have put on a bit of lippy too. Oh well. We parted and vowed to bring our daughters to that restaurant with us on a weekend soon (Kathleen’s eyes would pop when she saw the shopping in South Yarra). I left feeling as though I was back on holidays. I picked the kids up from school but felt out of whack. I almost forgot about Rosie’s and my kayaking session, I was slow on getting dinner ready and I stayed up late to catch up on a bit of work. It was worth it though.