Mum and Dad installed a gate to lock me in the kitchen where my play mat is. A gate. With a lock. And now Hoot is on one side and I’m on the other and it’s like a zoo but no-one knows who’s locked in and who’s locked out. I can’t even crawl yet so I don’t see why a gate is even necessary. Talk about over-kill. And now Hoot is sitting, staring at me and I have to talk to him through the bars like we’re prisoners. I’m telling Hoot about Iris pooping in the toilet like a real person and he seems very interested. His tail is swishing and I’m pretty sure soon it will swish right through those bars and I’ll be able to pull it. Pulling Hoot’s tail is perhaps the greatest discovery of all discoveries, because – are you sitting down? – it’s ALIVE! It moves all by itself!
Maybe YOU would like to learn how to poo in the toilet instead of in your tray of pellets, Hoot? I think it’d be so much more fun.
It’s talking about poo again. Like there’s nothing else going on on the planet than who’s pooing where and from whence poo came. It’s remarkably tiresome.
And then Grandma held ME over the toilet! But I didn’t need to go and I didn’t really get how to I think. But it was fun! Especially when she jiggled me a bit! Hahaha!
The giggle is somewhat cute, I’ll give it that.
What’s your tail for? I mean, what does it do?
It’s for balance, kid. Something you have an inordinately limited amount of.
Can I pull it? I’d REALLY like to pull it.
It’s painful. It’s a significant invasion of my personal space. I am a God among humans and nothing on my person may be pulled, grabbed, drooled on, or hit.
Can I use you to maybe get upright?
I need to ponder on that.
What does ponder mean?
It means I need to think about it.
Ok… Have you thought about it now?
Ok, kid, you can try, but seeing you’ve failed so spectacularly to crawl, methinks pulling yourself up is maybe many months premature, but what the hell, it’ll be funny to see you fail.
I suppose, but one of us will need the management to open this interminable gate.
You scream and I’ll yowl. On three.
I can’t count yet.
Right. Annoying. Go!
WOW! What a sound! We were MAGNIFICENT!!! I’ve never seen Mum run so fast! And with a towel wrapped around her, which isn’t exactly work-out gear.
‘I’m here Cricket! I’m here!’
She looked kind of surprised when she bent down, like she was expecting to see a severed limb, or at the very least, blood.
I waved. Hi Mum! Can you please open the gate? Hoot and I have things to do.
‘What the hell was that about?!’ She opened the gate and Hoot shot through. ‘I can’t believe you can’t jump this, Hoot. It’s less than a meter high. You’re a cat. A lazy cat.’
Ok Mum, you can leave us now. Hoot, come here.
Why am I doing this? Ok, kid, I’ve braced myself. Knock yourself out.
Mum left, shaking her head, and Hoot squatted on his haunches and all these furry muscles stuck out of him! He really is a magnificent God, just like he always says. I rolled over and threw an arm up over his back and grabbed the biggest handful of flesh and fur I could and heaved. We teetered for a moment and then I felt Hoot crouch closer to the floor and then lift up slowly and I went with him!
I’M FLYING ON A FURRY DRAGON BEAST AND I WILL CONQUER THE WORLD!!
Filed under Baby, blogging, Books, Cats, Exercise, Family, Fiction, Humour, Inspirational, IVF, Love, Motherhood, Writing
Mum in the 60s in her amazing boots.
I don’t know if it’s a case of life imitating art, or the other way around, but Grandma really IS coming to visit! I told Charlie and she threw her chicken, apple and cinnamon mush up over her shoulder and high into the air in excitement. Ok, so it may not have been because she understood that Grandma-Dawn (GD) was coming, might just have been because throwing things in the air is a hoot. Or maybe she thought chicken, apple and cinnamon mush has the same result as salt when thrown over one’s shoulder. Who knows what babies are really thinking?
Mum hasn’t seen Charlie since she was about three months old and obviously a lot has happened since then – she’s solving complex mathematical problems, she’s joined a band, she’s ompleted her first ultra-marathon, and she’s now an apprentice chef. Ok. Ok, she’ll look at a book with numbers in it, she bangs things together, she can smoosh across the floor in a weird, crawly, snakey type way, and she’s now eating actual food. What? That’s close.
The thing about Mum is that I’m starting to think of her as the Grandma from my new book (as yet untitled) and that’s confusing. The idea for the book did actually start with my Mum. Mum and Charlie have been texting each other from soon after Charlie was born and some of the texts are really funny and both Mum and I really enjoy them. It’s also been a great way for Mum to feel involved in the day-to-day goings on of Charlie’s life. I remember laughing over a funny exchange between Mum and Charlie about me saving some of my clothes from this era for Charlie to wear twenty years from now and Mum telling her about an amazing pair of boots she had in the 60s she wished she’d passed down to me, and I thought it would be lovely in a book. Of course you can’t really write a book of text messages and Charlie is a very easy baby so some artistic licence was needed and suddenly I’m writing a novel half based on Mum and Charlie and half pure fiction about a famous dancing Grandma and a baby who understands the English language. See my confusement?
It’s great fun though, looking at these two people I love so fiercely and then making them different – louder, softer, naughtier, funnier. Who knows what either of them will think with the finished product, but hopefully it’ll be a tribute to them both and something they’ll enjoy.
I still think I need to put all of Mum and Charlie’s texts into a book for them. I know all three of us will be glad I did down the track. Here’s an exchange between them from early February. How cute are they?
Charlie: GD I ATE FOOD!!!! … It was awful!!
GD: Oh no Darling! What did they give you?!! Poor poppet xxx
Charlie: Carrot!!! I wanted cake and coffee. I’m not a farm animal. Stupid parents 😦
GD: Indeed my darling. I’m with you!
Charlie: Thought so. Good talk, GD.
Filed under Australia, Baby, blogging, Books, Exercise, Family, Fiction, Food, Health, Humour, Inspirational, IVF, Love, Melbourne, Motherhood, My Book, Perth, Pregnancy, Women/Feminist, Writing
I’ve had many incarnations in my life. People are often amazed when they realise the diversity of things I’ve done and discover I’m not 102 as such diversity might suggest. And so, for your reading pleasure, here are a few of said diversities:
When I was 15 I attached the clasps to necklaces
I got paid 2c a chain
I dated a 30-year-old when I was 19 and thought I was the most exotic creature that ever lived
I’ve written two novels
I had a crush on a redhead called David for most of highschool and am pretty sure he never knew
I still have a deep fascination with redheads of both the male and female variety
I’ve stood on a freezing hill in Gallipoli at 5am on ANZAC day with my best friend and wept and loved and laughed
I worked at Red Rooster and got kissed by a rockabilly who didn’t talk
I’ve danced and sung and drunk Baileys on a Greek Island and wondered if I ever had to go home
I can pour a perfect pint of Guinness
I played the Toad in Toad of Toad of Hall
That was twenty-three years ago
I’ve eaten my way around Italy
I won a drawing competition once
I’ve swum in the Adriatic sea and emerged to see the most handsome man I’ve ever seen
I loved a girl called Suzi once. She looked like Betty Boop. I thought she was amazing
I’ve played the didgeridoo wearing a purple feather boa in Wales
I’ve been a dancer, a waitress, a personal trainer, a speech-writer, a weight loss coach, a corporate wellness consultant, a gym manager, a business development manager, a fundraiser, a masseuse, a grant writer, a playwright, a theatre director, an editor, a proof-reader, a crystal healer, a corporate relations manager, a receptionist, a bar and restaurant manager, a hostess at the races, a ghost writer, a corporate blogger, a didgeridoo busker and a numerologist
I rode a camel across the top of India
I won a state bodybuilding championship when I was 30 years old
I weighed 48kgs and dreamt only of food
I’ve cried at the Taj Mahal at sunrise
I won a biographical short story competition and wished my mother had been there with me
I laid with my Italian Grandmother three hours before she died and then wept that I wasn’t there when she left this earth
I’ve seen an angel
I cried tears of joy watching orang utans in Borneo
Once a billionaire gave me a Coco Channel dress and told me he’d look after me for the rest of my life
I rode on the back of a motorbike in Nepal
I’ve loved so hard I nearly broke myself
I’ve lost three tiny babies who couldn’t stay with me because I wasn’t ready, or they weren’t ready, or both
I see beauty in everyday things, every day
It’s who I am
It’s why I write.
Filed under Art, Australia, Body-building, Books, Editing, Exercise, Family, Food, Friends, Health, Inspirational, IVF, List poem, Love, Motherhood, My Book, Numerology, Perth, Poetry, Sex, Short Stories, Speech Writing, Theatre, Weight Loss, Women/Feminist, Writing
I had surgery on Monday. I’d never had surgery before. I’m 37 years old. Many of my friends and family said that’s old for your first go at it. I would think 80 wouldn’t be old enough. C’est la vie. This is all in preparation for IVF. My insides are sparkling clean now, as well as minus a tube or two, and I’m ready for the barrel of fun IVF is supposed to be. Word.
Never having had surgery before I assumed (don’t ask me why) I’d be back at the gym in a day or two. Maybe not doing a 200kg leg press, but at least walking or something. Ha. It’s been exercise enough just getting in and out of bed. I’m the sort of gal who sits on the floor. Like, all the time. I have to say, not being able to get on the floor was one of the most frustrating aspects of my week of incarceration in the house. Along with not being able to sneeze, cough, twist, bend, laugh, or blow my nose. Those things were inconvenient too.
Do you know how many episodes of Sopranos you can watch in 5 days? Several seasons worth, that’s how many.
Still, my IVF doctor and her anaesthesiologist were both amazing and I have even more faith in them now as I begin the next step of this adventure.
So, this weekend brings my meditation class, one more season of Sopranos to get through, my stitches out, a photoshoot for a very talented make-up artist friend of mine who has somehow convinced me to be a model, and a dinner party for 4 of our best friends where masterchef CJ is going to cook up a storm.
How quiet I’ve been of late. I do apologise for my quiescence. And there’s about to be more of the same. CJ and I are going to Apollo Bay for a week of relaxing, reading, walking and rejigging the old batteries. Yeah! I’ve never been there before, so I’ll let ya know what I think ‘pon our return.
It comes at a perfect time as the weight loss coaching is about to go into overdrive with the launch of a 12 week challenge, of which I’m an integral part. But then, on March 1st, I get the keys to my new office and start my business at the Wellness Centre! So it’s going to be a very busy and challenging few months, but hopefully immensely rewarding as well.
I’ve been an eBay aficionado of late, buying stuff for my new room. I am now the very proud owner of the totally fabulous Chesterfield chair pictured above. I was able to view the chair before we bid on it and that in itself proved to be a grand adventure. We arrived at a rather posh house in Richmond and were buzzed through the gate and welcomed at the door by the cutest campest Puerto Rican boy wearing teenie tiny shorts, grabbing my arm with one hand, calling me dahling and holding… wait for it… a chihuahua in the other! I loved him. I loved his house. I loved his jodhpurs wearing boyfriend who told me his saddle wax was just the best thing to use on Chesterfields. And I loved the chair. And now it’s mine.
So mostly I’m organised. I have THE chair, a beautiful desk (also purchased on eBay) and several other things that are perfect for the room. Now I just need a rest so I can come back and heal the world. Ok, maybe not quite the world yet, but you know, one by one by one.
In all things writing, I am slowly getting my head around the fact that in order to end this dry spell I must, you know, write something. I’ve submitted a short story to Sleepers because you know, you just never know, and will soon be very happy to see a story published in Etchings. That’s all folks. I’m off to relax!
Filed under Australia, blogging, Etchings, Exercise, Fiction, Health, Love, Melbourne, Numerology, Reading, Spiritual, Writing
‘We can definitely do something with these. These are very fleshy.’ Dr. Woodcock pokes my left labia with a gloved finger.
I’ve experienced humiliation before, but with the poking I reach a whole new level.
‘The labia majora really are fleshy. The minora aren’t too bad.’
Dr. Woodcock grabs a lab and pulls. ‘Mmmm’.
This was no ‘you’re a Goddess, every man in the known universe would kill to be in my position right now mmmm’, no, this was a ‘mmmm, what’s the best way for me to give your weird and undesirable genitals a modicum of appeal?’
‘I think what we’ll do is actually a liposuction procedure on the labia majora and leave the minora alone. When the minora sag further as you age, we can always do the labiaplasty then.’
I’m forty years old. I’m lying on my back in a plastic surgeon’s office. My legs are spread and my labia are being manhandled by a man whose name ends in cock. This man is going to charge me a stupendous amount of money to suck the God-given flesh right out of my genitals. On top of that, he has forecast I’ll have sagging minora in the not so distant future. I don’t even know what that is. It sounds life-alteringly grim. I should leave. But I don’t. And Dr. Woodcock is now pulling on my right labia, elongating it with what is clearly a clinically-derived sense of wonder.
‘Gosh, yes, look at that.’
Even if I could, Dr. Cock, I just don’t think I would right now. All I can think about is how I’m going to break it to my family that my minora are droop-destined. They’ll all be crushed.
‘Alright, Mrs. Bell, you can get dressed now.’
‘Call me Sam. You’ve seen my droopy vagina, I think you can call me by my first name.’ I give Dr. Cock a half smile as I yank my Bonds up over my hips. His face remains impassive.
‘Perhaps you might like to look at these Mrs. Bell? Might help to make you feel more comfortable.’
Cock pushes an album across the desk and makes fancy loops and swirls with his Mont Blanc while I pull my jeans on and shove my feet back in my Nikes. A vagina album. Pages of pussies to peruse. Fantastic. If only Alex were here; he’d love it. I can feel Cock staring at me so I focus on the twats. Perhaps he has a point. There’s some seriously sagging snatch in this album. Sagging snatches on the left, tight, hairless pussies on the right. Not your classic before and after shots. No mood lighting or lipstick here.
Filed under Beauty, Exercise, Fiction, Flash fiction, Hothouse exercise, Humour, My Book, Political Writing, Sex, Weight Loss, Women/Feminist, Writing
So, 2010 is going to be a big year for a lot of people (I’m a Numerologist, you just have to trust me on this one), me included. So far this year I have quit my job and am contemplating starting my own business. See? Yes, I finish up in the speech writing job at the end of this week. I gave it four months and that was long enough to know it wasn’t for me. I’m very glad I had the opportunity to do it, as now I know I don’t want to write for a living unless it’s fiction or I’m writing about health/natural healing/numerology etc. I’ve spent many years wondering if I should get a ‘proper’ writing job and now I’ve had one I know it’s not for me. Good to know.
So now what? Well, as it turns out, my old boss was thrilled I was available again and has reinstated me as the weight loss coach to her poor unsuspecting clients once more. Won’t THEY be happy to see me back? [insert evil laugh here] On top of that I am currently investigating a business opportunity in a new wellness centre near us and will keep you duly posted about that.
I’ve been spending much more time doing Numerology readings for people than writing recently, BUT I can give you the happy news that a wonderful literary journal in Melbourne has accepted one of my short stories. Woot! I’ll be letting you know more about that soon.
So, it looks like Into the Quiet might become all things alternative healing and writing focussed in 2010. Hope that’s alright with all y’all.
Filed under blogging, Books, Editing, Exercise, Fiction, Food, Health, Melbourne, New Year, Numerology, Short Stories, Speech Writing, Spiritual, Weight Loss, Writing