Cat-astrophes

3 days to go!!

Holidays are nearing and school is winding up. I've been stripping my classroom bare and getting ready to start all over again.

My body cannot wait to relax! The stress-factor is trying to continue regardless of the fact I'm refusing to 'take work home' - that includes the emotional side of work too. As soon as that bell goes, I'm no longer 'miss' and I really couldn't care less about what Ali did to Ahmad and how little Mohammad's mum is angry at Moustafa and wants to make a formal complaint to get him expelled from the school......

I might not take the emotional frustration home, but it is amazing how it can still make a physical impact. Even now I have droopy eyelids, and if it wasn't for the fact that it is nearing 5:30 and time to cook dinner I would be more than happy to head for bed.

Anyway - what lays before me is 3 days of near-babysitting. I have finished my program for the year, it's a cinema-day tomorrow and reports go home so most students don't turn up after that...so Wednesday and Thursday will consist of keeping students entertained whilst other teachers get to moving their classes in preparation for the new year.

...and crossing fingers for lots of chocolatey Christmas presents this year! Though being a predominantly muslim-populated school, things tend to be a bit low in the Chrissy pressie stakes...

xxx

Have you ever noticed that it is the companies that take the largest amounts of your money that give you the worst service? Or maybe it is just me.

Am I the only one who sits on hold thinking 'you're about to take $545 of mine so answer the rotten phone!!'. For this reason I like to support small businesses (if it's not going to be a risk - ie insurance). However then you have a problem if you try to call to tell them you want to spend $300 but they don't answer the phone...and they have no form of answering service.

In other words you end up wasting an hour of your life calling, waiting, calling, waiting, calling....etc

Or maybe I am just how my post title suggests.

xxx

2 weeks and one day!

Still tired...which is to be expected, however my latest challenge is trying to fit in 'other stuff' in those few waking moments not spent cooking, eating, showering or working.

Trying to think about and co-ordinate 5 seperate entertaining events up and coming over the next fortnight is turning out to be almost impossible!

Anyway - in my quest to try to make things easier and more time-efficient I turned to the cyber-world and became mesmerised by the image on the Bathers' Pavillion website. So much so infact that I have been staring at it for quite some while. It is rather soothing to watch when your eyes just want to close...

The bad thing is I have now wasted some of this precious time staring and accomplished nothing - except a blog entry I never intended to write...

xxx

Around this time last year I started having dizzy spells, blacking out and I was just thoroughly exhausted. I went through a series of blood tests, they found a few things, slapped on the label 'chronic fatigue' and gave me a list of lifestyle changes.

I have been pretty good at keeping them and I have to admit this year has been a little easier - a little. I still have my moments when all I want to do is curl up and sleep for a week...but overall it has been okay.

Then came the dizzy spells again.

Friday I collapsed at work. Thankfully not in front of the kiddies - when I knew I was on my way out I went to the back of the room and stuck my head into my colleagues room and managed to get out 'can you watch them' before getting out of my room and falling.

So my amazing man came and picked me up from school and I slept the rest of the day. In fact, most of my weekend was sleeping.

Monday came around and I was ready to take on the world...or at least the school. By 9 o'clock however I was already feeling a little tired. By 11 o'clock I was quite lethargic. By 1 o'clock I was downright sleepy and by 3pm it was all I could do to try and get home fast enough before I knew I was going to sleep at the wheel.

So I'm back to square 1. Sleep, work, sleep, eat, sleep.

Only 2 weeks and 3 school days left to the end....If only I can stay awake enough until then...

xxx

A stormy Monday...

Storms are marvelous...I love them...however kids don't seem to like them so much.

So on days like today, a room full of six and seven year-olds becomes a high-pitched nightmare.

"eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!"
"miiiiiiiiiisssss!!!! I'm scaaaaaaaaaaaared!!!"

What's more, a lot of these students are refugees and are quite nervous individuals as it is without including loud explosive noises into the equation...if you get my drift....

To top it all off, one of these nervous individuals was receiving a prize at a big assembly in the midst of this storm, and whilst standing on stage infront of the whole school during what should've been a happy moment, her poor nervous bladder gave up. The embarassment turned out to be too much also, so she proceeded to bite her lip....

...until her tooth went straight through her lip. The shock made her freeze.

So aside from controlling a class of 20-something little hyperactive storm-crazed monkeys I had to literally drag a terrified, wet, bleeding 6 year old from the stage.

I won't talk about the row of kindy kids that freaked out at the sight of blood...

So yeah, it's just been another typical Monday.

xxx

PS - the title is in tribute to Saturday night's U2 concert...just dandy. (I've been wanting to use that word all day)

xxx

So I've been having computer issues...and I've had better things to do than fix them. So it is only now that I have had the time to get around to rectifying all those little bugs.

However in order to do so I had to wipe the whole machine and start from scratch. Even though I laborously sorted through files, deleted, saved, deleted, burnt....it amazes me how many 'things' I've still lost.

Tax files being one of them....oops...........

I'm sure I've backed it all up somewhere...right?

xxx

So it seemed like the battle was over. Mr Handyman drove off in his little white van leaving behind more spikes (sadly no big red eye...) and the stupid birds sat on my balcony coo-coo-cooing and wondering what to do.

I threw a cushion at the window and that gave them something to do for the brief moment...

I was happy. Man triumphed over pidgeon.

I celebrated with an iced tea, and sat back on my comfy lounge.

Then I heard it.

tap tap tap tap tap....tappity tappity....cooo? tap tap tap

You have to be kidding.

Mr handyman spiked a pidgeon in the roof!!

That was obviously a few days ago. The tapping has since stopped - so whether someone called someone to come and rescue the crazy bird, or whether I should be expecting a fowl (pun intended) smell soon....I don't quite know....

And here I thought the whole pidgeon-ordeal was over...

xxx

My ongoing battle with pidgeons in the roof is continuing. Though this time there is one *big* bird up there...

Strata must've finally called someone in to get rid of the birds...however it doesn't sound like they are too fazed by his presence.

I can hear 'bang bang bang bang' as Mr Pidgeon-Man crawls across one side of the roof and 'patter patter patter patter' as StupidPidgeon walks over to the other side. This has been happening for the last 15 minutes.

Bang bang bang bang shuffle bang

patter patter patter patter patter "cooooo"

There was silence for awhile until 'crrrack'...a massive ladder landed right outside my window (glass intact). It is rather uncomfortable when there is a handyman leaning on your 3rd story window and you have no place to go...do you hide, smile and wave, completely ignore or open up the window and offer milk and cookies?

It has now been silent for 10 minutes...I'm wondering who has won. Maybe Mr Pidgeon Man brought one of those big red eyes!

xxx

So the waters have dried up, the carpet has been deoderised* and furniture has been returned.

I include a little asterisk (*) because all though the carpet has been deoderised, a putrid stench still remains. Smells are one thing I don't deal with. Everything must smell good. I have air fresheners everywhere - 2 in the bathroom, one in each room, one in the car, closet, garage, classroom...so soggy old brown carpet smell does not make peace with me at all.

Yesterday I mentioned burning incense.

I've also made a staggering discovery. Copious amounts of incense not only clears the sinuses, but irritates eyes and brings on lightheadedness and dizzy spells. SO...I conclude that the happy hippy generation weren't really high on suspicious substances...it was really all to do with the incense.

Now excuse me whilst I tie-dye my underwear.

xxx

You know when you have those 'feelings' that something isn't quite right? Well, I had one of those 'feelings' yesterday when I was out getting a hair cut. My stomach started getting butterflies...then there was that sinking feeling as I remembered my washing.

I had left the machine on as I left...which I do often...though this time I was getting butterflies.

As my head was getting massaged during the whole shampoo-ing process all I could think of was my washing...and a puddle. I could visualise water all over the floor.

The hair-dresser made friendly chit-chat...how's work? What have you been doing with your holidays? etc etc....all I could think of was water trickling onto the floor and into the laundry cupboard, saturating the washing powder inside for the 7th time.

I met up with a friend for lunch afterwards...again...washing washing washing washing....

I went home and straight to the laundry...I got to the kitchen, and fair enough - a puddle.

Gut-feeling is correct once again. Sighing, and rather calmly I set down the shopping, arranged my newest lillies in a vase and decided to make a trip to the bathroom before mopping up the laundry/kitchen floor.

I kicked off my shoes, walked into the loungeroom and....squelch.

I froze.

My eyes fell to the floor to see my feet sitting cozily in about a centimetre of water. Oh no...my toes felt around to see how far the water reached...I moved the couch...more water...I moved the corner chair...more water...Oh no....I moved the other couch... more water!! In fact, water covered a quarter of my oversized loungeroom floor.

Immediately I grabbed a towel and threw it on the floor...and immediately picked it up again when my beautiful white towel started to soak up ugly brown water!! Stoopid rental apartment carpet...of course I had nothing else to mop up the mess with except a hand towel and a tea towel. So I set to it with a bucket, and this is how Mr Man found me - standing in a puddle with my jeans rolled up to my knees wringing coffee-brown water into a bucket.

So now it is 24 hours since the whole ordeal. The floor is still damp, but at least no longer provides a habitat for duckies and what-not...I have every window open and the house stinks. I have burnt so much insense I now have an urge to sit cross legged and say 'Ohm'. In fact the smell is so bad my teenage brother (might I remind you what the potencey of the smells of a teenage boy potentially could be) said "Do me a favour and don't invite me over - next time you're visiting us".

How depressing.

Amusing...but depressing...

xxx

There is nothing quite like a few slices of pumpernickel in the morning. It's almost like compacted bread - it takes up less room, but may even be more filling...

Usually I couple a slice of pumpernickel with a range of toppings - my favourite is cranberry sauce, baby spinach, turkey and Camembert cheese. Another is the simple but classic cream cheese & smoked salmon...but I only ever eat it as an open sandwich.

Today I decided to walk on the wild side and make a closed sandwich with the little dark rye bread...(yep, holidays must be in full swing when sandwich making becomes exciting...)

Pumpernickel is not so good for this purpose...the squeeze-factor involved when eating a sandwich puts too much stress on the bread for it to remain intact...and the result is many many pieces of squishy rye all over my floor.

Many pieces.

Many squishy pieces.

This brings me to a new dilemma.
Food sometimes scares me...emetophobia is a fear of vomiting...not only do I fear it, but there are a stack of things I 'can't do' because of it. Now over the years I have improved a little - I can now drink orange juice again - still can't even think about drinking apple juice. I can't eat fruit more than 4 days after I have bought it, nor consume food that has been made/cooked after the second day. Silly, I know...but I guess that's the nature of it - it's irrational.

What does this have to do with pumpernickel?

One of my little 'quirks' involves picking up food off the ground. I will do it, because obviously it needs to be done, but I start to get anxious...I don't know how my head seems to think that picking up dropped food is going to make me sick...it's not like I'm licking the floor...

Hmmm...anyway, so after cleaning up after breakfast I had to go lie down from emotional exhaustion.

I think I need to get out of the house...

xxx

Not something I thought I would ever be blogging about...but I had the *best* guacamole ever last night!

In fact, this guacamole was so good I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about it so much.

It was there still in my mind when I woke...and even now that I have just eaten breakfast it's all I can do to stop thinking about it still...

I've craved many things before, but I think this is the first time I have craved guacamole...

I'm even having issues typing....if I close my eyes I can still remember the taste....mmmm....

...excuse me...

xxx

My cupboards were bare and my stomach grumbled in protest of not being fed. Pasta sauce and cereal didn't sound appetising so I ventured off to the shops for groceries.

What I didn't know was that the shopping centre was being rennovated. There was no way of actually getting from the carpark into the centre aside from a temporary service lift.

Yes, you read me right - a temporary lift. I'm sorry but elevators should not be temporary!!

I stood inside with 5 others wondering how stable this thing actually is when it suddenly shuddered to life. The jolt was enough to give some unsuspecting person whiplash - so I did what any girl would do. I squeeled.

A few people giggled. "You'll get used to it, dear" an ederly lady comforted me. I don't want to get used to it!!

The stop was just as rough and coupled with a big 'BOOOM!'. I stumbled out and fell to my knees, kissing the ground...

...okay, I didn't do that, but I have never been so excited to get out of an elevator before (except maybe the time the one in my old building broke down between floors).

I took my time shopping - I was certainly in no hurry to return to that glorified laundry chute. However, it wasn't until I was standing infront of it again that I realised that this was the 'going down' part...I could very well plummet to my death here...I was interupted by some loud booming noises - boom boom boom boom boom boom...for a moment I couldn't work out whether it was the lift or my heart...

The door opened, and this time I held on...

Yet, even though I braced myself I couldn't help the scream that escaped...

"YAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAGH!!"

Can I just say that free-fall rides at amusement parks now seem like see-saws in comparison?

Who needs bungee-jumping when you can go elevator diving?

xxx

Have I mentioned that I'm on holidays yet???

Holidays bring with it good and bad habits. Good habits include more exercise, relaxation, quality time with loved ones, reading books, long walks along the beach at sunset and other exciting things...

Bad habits include sleeping in (okay, my idea of a sleep in is to 7:30am, but it's still a sleep in!), staying in pjs until 9 (again, not late to some, but late for me!) and...my personal favourite...a chocolate breakfast!

This kind of cancels out the exercise-factor...but hey, it's worth it.

Currently I'm working on a Ferrero Rocher. This presents seme implications for my chocolate-philosophy. Generally I believe chocolate quanitities should always be maximised in food. Additives such as nuts, minty bits, gooey stuff etc should only ever add to the experience and never take away from valuable chocolate space. There are very few things that do this successfully. Usually I would be a little miffed at the high quantities of nuts and wafer...however Rocher seem to make a perfect balance with rich 'good' chocolate, unlike all of those other compoundy substances most commonly found.

Though I'm not here to talk Ferrero Rochers....I'm here to talk about what is next on the menu. Toblerone. Now once again, I'm not the greatest fan of this chocolatey treat as although the nougat and nuts add to the experience, I would much rather spend my money on Lindt and have a divine chocolate experience.

But I'm getting distracted. What makes this particular Toblerone special is that what it lacks in ratio of chocolate quantity, it makes up in quantity! One of the lovely girls in my class won a 4.5 kilogram bar of Toblerone....and she gave her favourite teacher a piece! Though this is no ordinary piece...this is a slab. In fact, I am still pondering how on earth to eat the thing...

Usually with Toblerone I will break off a single piece and put the entire thing in my mouth until it melts away and I'm left with a chewy mass of nougat.

But as you can see the whole thing doesn't even fit in my hand, let alone in my mouth... so, another chocolate-eating dilemma. Logic says 'break it'. My mouth says 'bite it'. My eyes provide a greater problem - aesthetics. Breaking it or biting it would take away from its smooth triangular form....so all of this becomes too much of an effort and I know I'm only going to do what I have been doing with it for the past week now - put it back in the fridge and eat another Forrero Rocher instead.

xxx

So it has been brought to my attention that I am indeed 'not the only one' as I was made out to feel (see previous post).

In the Chocolate Review post, Tim claims that there is no 'right' way to eat a Freddo...and proceeds to list 3 variations. The second one is applicable to me...

2) Start at his feet and eat upwards, as if he is 'sinking' into your mouth, at the same time, imagining his froggy cries of anguish as he disappears down your throat. Make him 'cry' before he 'croaks'!

...However again I would like to point out that although it alludes to some sort of sadistic chocolate habit it isn't so!

PS. I'm on HOLIDAYS!!!!!

xxx

Recently I was in the staffroom eating a Freddo whilst working on a writing program for next term unaware that I was being studied by a colleague.

After a few minutes I'd finished the chocolate and she spoke up -

"So have you always eaten Freddo Frogs backwards?"
"excuse me?"
"You ate it backwards - feet first...have you always done that?"
"Well, yes actually...though I wasn't aware that there was a particular way to eat them..."
"Is that some sort of sadistic tendency where you want your victim to be conscious until the very end?"
"WHAAAAAAT????"

Determined to prove that I wasn't the only one, I proceeded to question everyone that came within the room. Apparently everyone eats Freddos head first.

So suddenly I was forced to examine the 'why' behind my eating habits of a chocolate...did they mask some darker desire, or did I simply have a foot fetish? Maybe it was simply a coincidence that every time I opened up one of the smiley-faced chocolates I just happened to eat it feet-first.

But....alas....there is actually a reason.

When I was much younger I recieved 20 cents pocket money weekly. Freddos, back in those days, were worth 10 cents. Being the budding chocoholic, I couldn't resist (I used to go by the philosophy of spend half, save half) however being my weeks worth of chocolate, I would try to make it last as long as possible...

Day 1 - buy the little frog. That was excitement enough at 8.
Day 2 - eat his feet.
Day 3 - nibble up to his first hand.
Day 4 - eat up to his second hand.
Day 5 - eat the hand, and leave the head.
Day 6 - my favourite day - the head!
Day 7 - anticipate pocket money day....

And the reason why I didn't go back the other way was because I would save the greatest quantity to last...

So sorry, no cannibalistic traits or any other weirdness aside from habits formed by a young obsessive compulsive 8 year old.

xxx

I've barely had time to sneeze lately...which is actually a bit of an exaggeration because I have been sneezing quite a lot lately...

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of time and priorities. Somebody asked me recently to help out with something and it 'only takes a commitment of 2 nights per week'. I tried to explain that I simply couldn't do that.

'Well, what do you do?"

I found it hard to think on my feet - what do I do? Let's have a look at the week ahead for example:

Monday - work 6:30-3:30, visit parents/aunt/uncle 4-5:30, salsa 6-9, sleep 10pm
Tuesday - work 6:30-8pm, 9pm sleep (not looking forward to this day!)
Wednesday - work 6:30 - 5:30, staff dinner 7-who knows whenpm
Thursday - work 6:30-4:30, dinner with friend 5pm-late
Friday - work 6:30 - 5 , celebrate holidays 5pm onwards!!!!

And don't even suggest my weekends are lazy...church, cleaning, and time with two of my favourite people don't leave much time left to pee. But again, this is an exageration because again, I pee numerous times on a weekend...

The thing is that this is a very stereotypical week - usually I am lucky to have a night to myself in the week...

...and this is where I started thinking priorities. As much as I'd love to try, work is not going to budge. As for main priorities - here lies family, the man and closest friends. After these comes salsa (only form of fitness at the moment!) and closer friends. Time that is left over (which is generally minimal) is still up for grabs but people who know me generally know I need notice.

I tried to organise a coffee with a colleague earlier this month and she threw up her hands in exasperation when I asked 'how's October for you?'.

I kindly explained to the person who had made this 'extra-commitment' offer that at this point in my life it wasn't going to happen. When I become a hermit and only have school to bother with, then I'll gladly take up something else - but for now I need that balance to keep from going insane.

And time for myself? Well, I'm sure if I book in early enough with my secretary I might get some...

xxx

Have you ever come across a sight that brought you to tears? Maybe because it was so sad, maybe because it was so beautiful. I find that images move me easily...maybe its because I"m more visual than anything else. Still images can move me, and film even more so...for this reason I hate war movies...I can't emotionally deal with them - I bawled from the beginning to the end of Saving Private Ryan...and Black Hawk Down...not to mention countless others.

Lately though I've been bombarded with a flood of beautiful words. Words that have just pierced my heart and brought me to a mushy mess. I mean people have said lovely things to me before that made me become overwhelmed with emotion, but these are words that are just so touchingly breathtaking that they leave me misty and speechless.

So this is where I write examples, right?

Actually, no...the most beautiful thing about words is, like an improvised song, the note is sounded and then it melts away. The extent of its beauty seems to only exist not only in the essence of its sound and its meaning, but in its timing, context and delivery.

I can't do a song like that justice on a blog.

So I say go and collect the music for yourself.

xxx

You know those 250g bags of m&ms with 'tear n share' scrawled across the side? You're supposed to tear the whole length of the bag so that it is easier for people to dig in.

Well...I only tear the corner. And I don't share them.

*phew* I feel so much better now for admitting that.

xxx

...To all you Sydney-siders out there...how beautiful is the weather???

I've been adding to my daily routine at least 20 minutes of sitting on my balcony in either morning or afternoon sun with a beverage (hot green tea, iced peach tea or....*shhh*...coffee) and a book.

I've also been painting again! Miracle in itself...I'll keep you up to date as things progress. So far I'll say it's blue.

Life is beautiful :)

I love how seasonal things are - regardless of how hard circumstances may appear - you can always have faith that they are only around for a period of time. It wasn't that long ago that I felt on the way to a burn-out...but I knew it would pass - and pass it did. I know that this season will also pass...but I'm going to enjoy every drop of it whilst it is here!

Oh my latest search appearance is "french press coffee caffeine content". At least it is a change from the 'xxx' searches.

xxx

Chemical burns still
Thai for dinner
Candles
Lillies
A check up with a rude doctor
Working Saturdays
A sunrise and a star
Babysitting teenagers
Another check up

Amazing how much can happen in a week - more amazing how hard it is to find the time to write about it.

xxx

Just a message to all those wondering...

Yes...it was my school
Yes...I was treated by the ambos
Yes...the media over-played it

To those not wondering...

During some time off I noticed the windows of my classroom shaking. Thinking it was odd, I decided to investigate. I found the windows of one particular wall rattling violently for no apparent reason. Wandering outside my eardrums started to rattle with the windows, and you could actually feel the vibrations through your body. I stood in the playground thinking 'odd'.

When water started to bubble up from the ground, I thought to myself 'ooh'. So called the Deputy Principal. It stopped

She and an office lady stood with me outside watching the windows rattle once again. The water wasn't bubbling this time, and the vibration didn't last as long.

A few moments later it began again - this time milder and shorter still.

The first thought was 'earth tremor', but then it started up again violently - you could almost see a pulse move across the playground and hit the side of the building. There was no noise, but the vibration was deafening...if that makes sense - it was like a severe pulsing in the eardrum.

It wasn't until 15 minutes or so later that we noted the air smelt a bit funny...so still standing out in the playground, dazed and confused we tossed around ideas - there is a large refinery nearby, as well as numerous factories. It wasn't until we realised that there was a yellowish haze around, the smell became quite acrid, and our eyes, noses and throats began to burn that we decided that maybe we shouldn't be standing outside.

What followed during the next 2 and a half hours could've rivalled the dramas of Home and Away.

The school went into a chemical lock-down, meaning people were stranded in buildings. The fire department (teehee...firemen!!) came along with the police and the paramedics. They soon called HAZMAT (Hazardous Materials Unit) who came out in their little space suits and scared all the kiddies until they gave the all-clear just 20 minutes shy of 3pm.

Meanwhile two colleagues and myself were checked over by paramedics and given the option of being admitted to hospital. Being the big chicken I am, I opted 'no'. Instead I had to go to a GP to document the incident - and 3 days later I still have burns in my throat, dry mouth (cannot stop drinking!!) and breathing quite shallowly.

The nearby refinery confirmed that they were burning things off at that time - but claim that only steam was released. All I have to say was that either it was a crazy crazy coincidence or that was some pretty nasty steam.

However - the news reports claimed that students were passing out, all staff and students were treated for chemical inhallation and a dozen were admitted to hospital for treatment. Makes you wonder about what else is sensationalised...

xxx

Have you ever noticed how 'things' never come at you one at a time? They always seem to have a habit of coming en-masse.

Work has become something that brings a sick feeling to my stomach each morning. And it isn't the kids. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be clinically insane by now. My responsibilities have more than quadrupled and my stress levels also. My week now consists of a meeting each morning and each afternoon, and my 'lunch breaks' are dedicated to playground duty, art or dance groups. My 2 hours of release time is dedicated to replenishing art supplies that other teachers have lost or (sadly) stolen. I'm accountable to the principal for the fact that in six months we have lost 150 paintbrush, $240 worth of ink, $60 worth of specialty paint, 120L of primary paint as well as a whole list of miscellaneous items.

I've been getting to school at 6:15 just to get my work prepared for the day. Then when I do plan, I find that all hell breaks loose and my plans get tossed in the bin. Today for example, I began a literacy lesson to see two builders waltz into the classroom, ask me to move my class and procede to barricade off half the room so that they could pull down a removable wall, bolt it back together and replace it.

And if one more 2-day-a-week part-time teachers with no responsibilities tells me I'm really quite lucky because no-one is really busy unless they have a family....they'll get a slapping!

Bottom line is I'm stressed.

No more news of my mum. What could've been basic corrective surgery didn't go to plan, and well...we just have to hang tight.

So the Post Script is I'm emotional.

Driving home today I was fighting back tears and trying not to think about how the deputy principal decided today that I would be great at co-ordinating an art-exhibition day at school. Or about the presentation I have to do tomorrow. Or the meeting that was called for tomorrow morning at the one space I have in my day to pee.

Then a friend called and 'challenged' me. I know it's good, but my goodness I felt horrible afterwards. I wanted to crawl under my bed and cry. Well, I didn't crawl under my bed, but I certainly did cry. They basically challenged me to give up the one thing that destresses me each week. Well, not 'give up'...I think the term was 'replace'.

I don't know if I can do it. Salsa is the one thing I enjoy, that doesn't have emotional rides attached (art) and doesn't cause cancer (fire twirling). I don't drink coffee anymore...(well, like I used to).........I need one little outlet!!!

So Post-Post-Script??

Breaking point.

xxx

My most recent addition to the classroom is a gorgeous little Russian girl with not a word of English. Coincidentily, I did 2 years of Russian at university - so we can *somewhat* communicate and come to some sort of understanding...however she happens to be the only Russian speaker at the school (though we have students from so many different countries - there are generally at least a group from each) and since most students come from Middle Eastern and African countries they have never heard a language quite like it.

She has become a star. They are all intrigued by what she has to say. (Though now Afghani children are running around pulling their scarves closer to their heads and shouting 'Babushka')

During one lesson she was dancing behind me babbling in Russian, and I have to admit I didn't hear much...until a little Sudanese girl came running up to me...
"Miss!!!! MISS! She swore at you! She called you a b*tch" (how kids at 5&6 know these words I don't know)

"Pardon?" I asked the little one in Russian what she said.
"pich"
"SEEEEE!!! She said an 'f-word'!!!"

The poor little thing was asking me for a drink.

xxx

I often go salsa dancing on Friday nights...and as a result I have heard a plethora of latino songs from many different South American countries...however obviously some get played more than others...

...as a result, occasionally I get one stuck in my head. It's a lot harder to sing a song when you don't know Spanish or Portugease however. Still, there's one particular merengue song I *love*...there was only a few words out of it that I could hear clearly enough to sing though...and sung it I have...

...Until a Spanish-speaker advised me that by wandering around singing "béseme" I had been declaring 'kiss me'.

Mental note: seek translation before singing in public.

xxx

To a faithful reader man-enough to leave comments...


xxx

I hate to admit emotions like this - but I'm scared.

Flat out, heart thumping, nauseating, butterfly-jumping scared.

I'm about to drive my mum in for minor heart surgery. Its like a close-up check of what's going on in there...but I can't help but think they shouldn't have to go in there in the first place.

xxx

For the first time there was a ratio of two men for every gal at salsa last night...but that didn't really matter anyway because I was helping the instructor - which meant I didn't have to rotate from partner to partner.

This has good and bad points. It's great because obviously my instructor can lead, and so it helps perfect your moves. Bad because obviously not every man leads like a professional, and sometimes is good to learn how to make room for their mistakes. (Apparently I'm one of the favoured partners because I don't stop mid step when my partner makes a mistake to drop hands and say 'what are you doing??') I mean learn how to recover from a mis-step so that it doesn't look like a mistake.

ANYWAY...we were doing a little routine with a show-dip at the end (one that you probably wouldn't do on the dancefloor unless you knew your partner well as the lead is quite subtle). It basically meant that the girl spins under the mans arm, toward his armpit (scary if you don't know what's happening.....very scary after 2 hours of class...) where he catches her last minute, and throws her into a low dip.

It looks very effective, because it starts with what you expect to be a tangle of arms and suddenly slips into a really graceful move. Anyway, after practicing 16 of these (yes, I counted) the instructor started to check out the technique of the men. I thought I'd duck in the circle and even out the ratio a little....

Boy did I get a shock. Now, I happened to be the tallest girl there, and taller than half of the men (teehee...anyone who knows me would know I'm not tall at all....). The first partner I had was fine, he was a few centimetres taller - a little jerky in his lead but it all fell together. The second one was a centimetre shorter than me - and when my head lodged under his armpit I screamed. Not a way I want to die.

The third partner was a good 10 centimetres shorter. It was here I realised how important height really is when it comes to such moves. Now I know very little about wrestling, but let me say I know a clothesline when I see one....or feel one for that matter! Ouch!

Now I'm very understanding when dancing - if a man makes a mistake, as I said I make room for it - guys have the hardest job not only focusing on their steps but leading also. This particular dancer refuses to be wrong...hands on hips "you go under".

Moi- Pardon?
Him - You need to go under, under!
Moi - You'll need to lift your arm higher, I can't fit under.
Him - No, you go under.

Grrrrrrrr. He did the move again - the arm didn't go up, and again I get an arm to the throat. He tosses my hands away again. "UNDER!" My blood was boiling...

Luckily, the instructor was watching this time. He grabbed my hand, did the move quickly and it was fine. "She doesn't go under" Mr Narky-pants exclaimed. Mr Instructor asked him to show how he does it.

Again, clothesline... "lift your arm a little higher"

Oh look....it works....a little awkward, but I could spin under...I bit my tongue....

So Mr Narky-pants decided he had mastered that one and proceeded to try his own routine...I followed the first three steps and cried out in pain when he tried to snap my arm back from the elbow.
"You're supposed to do a reversed double barrel roll"
I lost my temper.
"That's not the lead for it!"
"yes it is"
"If it was the lead, I would've done it - that was a dislocation"

I think the dance ended there...

xxx

One of my favourite past times is finding unusual or new things. Recently I found a fair bit of spare time to kill (it does happen when one locks their keys inside) and browsed a local market.

There was the usual handicrafts, old toys/clothes/junk, greasy food, overpriced potted cuttings and odds and ends...but the thing that caught my eye was the 'book sale' sign. I love books. Especially old ones...it was here I found a 120 yr old book of poetry, the St John's First Aid Handbook from the 1940s (not much has changed, I might add) as well as a few other beautifully-bound finds.

But the joy didn't end there. My favourite find of the day was a dusty old Spanish candelabra that I managed to bargain down from $20 to $8.

On taking it home, carefully dusting it, painstakingly removing the old beeswax and polishing it up...I feel like I should be dancing around the fire with a sword babbling in Spanish...

...although I don't have a sword...nor do I know enough Spanish to 'babble'...

...but dancing around fire I can do!!

Soy el Gato del fuego!!

xxx

My goodness, what a whirlwind!

In the end, I had to say no to Performance 1 (and 2), and the organisers finally agreed. Unfortunately, I couldn't get my rep to speed up the chemical-distribution process, which meant I would have had to use stinky fuels indoors.

That doesn't sound so bad, but it brings up a wide range of implications. Firstly, the fuels are renowned for being triggers of asthma attacks. I don't think that my public liability insurance would cover that if I was using those particular fuels indoors.

Secondly, because the fuels also tend to be extremely smokey, it would mean that the fire alarm and sprinkler system would have to be disabled, which would then void the buildings cover in the event of an accident.

Both situations may not happen (and this was the first response I had to my concerns) however, I couldn't go through it without it weighing on my conscience. When you deal with fire, all it takes is just once - and the results can be catastrophic (hehe). There is enough safety to worry about when actually performing with the stuff without worrying about asthma and property insurance.

In a way, I'm relieved...because I'm not a fan of big crowds, but likewise I'm also dissapointed, because I'm not a fan of big crowds...It would've been a great oppurtunity to get over stage fright. I still get butterflies when standing in front of 10... I was even a nervous wreck infront of the 3 when doing filming for Coke.

Oh well, that's the end of that...but there is still one oppurtunity - a tentative booking for next week, weather pending. Not holding my breath...

xxx

So time is running out before performance number 1...and I have hit a number of complications. On doing a Risk Assessment, I'm not satisfied, though organisers are keen to go ahead. I've been trying to make it black and white that not only are there a few too many risks, but that because of the nature of a few, if something were to happen, insurance would not cover it.

Not only that, but this is an indoor performance, which means I require a very specific fuel. Unfortunately it has been hard to track down, and since I had uni all day today I haven't had the time to think...

Bottom line...I'm getting stressed, and now my mum is on the Federal list of peoples attempting to purchase chemicals...

xxx

HOLOILDAYS!
HOLLIUDOTS!
(I'm so excited I can't type...)
HOLIDAYS!!!
Yay!

And 'eek!' all at the same time.

'Yay' is because it is the holidays.
'Eek' because I have two fire 'gigs' (teehee) booked. Now I've done parties and small events to crowds of about 50+ and they were nerve racking....these are both in the thousands.............

The butterflies are already running rampant. In fact, I think they are carnivorous and are currently cleaning out my innards for me.

Seeing as I can't think of much else at the moment, this entry ends here.

xxx

I have a secret.

I can't dance.

I love latin dancing, and that's all fine - you can spin, dip and throw me around and I can follow. But when it comes to standing in a spot and bobbing up and down to music....no thankyou.

I get bored. I think after been tossed and turned you come to expect it, and well, all else starts getting pretty bland.

Anyhoo, Monday nights are my salsa night. Though some darling who attends our class happened to ask our instructor if we could focus on the Rueda. I'm not so passionate about the rueda. As the moves are quite different to salsa, again, I find I get bored. Granted it is more exciting than bobbing to music, but still, it's not quite so practical. Unless you happen to be somewhere with 3 other people with the same skills....it's not so versatile.

I wouldn't mind so much if we were just talking about a few lessons on the rueda - that would be great...no, we've been focusing on the silly circle dance for over 2 months now...and I'm getting tired of it!

So now I'm tossing up whether or not to go tonight.........

I miss learning new steps, but I really don't want to get tossed around a circle for yet another night.

It kind of reminds me of cultural speed dating.

xxx

UNCLEAN!!!!!

My class are all sick. I had a measly 17 students today. The rest were home. The ones that wereactually at school were coughing, sneezing and oozing mucous from every visable oraface.

This is where teaching becomes an Occupational Health and Safety hazard. I had to explain to 3 children today that even though phlegm isn't pleasant to have in your throat, you cannot spit it on the carpet during reading time. I also had to kindly tell little Ahmad that although his 'boogers are awesome fluro green' they don't belong on his maths book, and no I am not going to wipe it up for him.

Parents please.....if your child is feverish and leaking fluids....keep them at home! And if it is just a cold...please show them how to use a tissue!! I went through a quarter of a bottle of antibacterial hand sanitiser today.

I think the highlight (?) of today was when I paused during marking to look at little Sahib's sleeve. There was an odd patch of something stuck to it. He noticed me looking at it and said with a big grin,

"I'm collecting all the big boogers!"

xxx

Lately I've been listening to a lot of music in Spanish, French and Portugese.

I've alikened it to listening to music without lyrics...but where the voice becomes an instrument. I'm not getting caught up in the 'meaning' of the song (though, sometimes I do wonder what exactly it is I'm listening to) and just enjoying the sound.

It's kind of like organised scatting?

Hmmm...

Here is a 1:30am photo from this morning...


xxx

A little boy from my class came running up to me while I was on playground duty...

"Miss!! A boy p*ssed on a sandwhich and that's haram!!" (evil)
"Ali, we can't say words like that, it's a swear word"
Ali (not his real name) paused and thought a second.
"Miss!! A boy p*ssed on some bread and that's haram!!"

xxx

I love winter.

Well, I love some aspects of winter. In Sydney, winter means rain. Lots of rain. I like this aspect. It also means 'cold'. Yes, I know that it's not like 'Canada cold' or 'Europe cold' or 'Antartica cold'...but it is still cold enough for me. I like the cold when I can be warm. I like the idea of it being cold outside and me being warm inside.

Generally this also means burning a plethora of candles.

Candles *everywhere*! It takes about 20 minutes to change them all, trim wicks and get them all burning each evening...but that's exactly what happens.

My candles aren't lit for this evening yet.

What scares me was that I *did* spend twenty minutes lighting matches and watching them burn. Maybe it was the fact that the wood on every second match didn't burn. More likely it was just the thrill of watching the flame come to life and dance.

Whatever it was, twenty minutes later I found this sight (a few are scattered on the floor - a handful made it to the bin).



xxx

It's winter.

My hands are frozen. And besides doing reports, I've been procrastinating with this.

If you have the time, read the whole saga.

I've been up since 6am typing, and I've decided that 4 hours is *way* too long to be doing any sort of work...so I am going shopping....if I can work up the courage to step outside that is....

xxx

Here is the last entry of my holiday adventures...and possibly the most memorable?

Our last two days was spent on the mainland in Townsville. On the second day we decided to treck inland and up the Paluma Range (Big mountain). Being the tourists we were, we left armed with swimmers, in-car Global Positioning System and camera. We affectionately called the GPS 'Jane'. Apparently Jane didn't share these affections, as toward the top of the skinny mountain road she started to demand we 'turn right now' - straight off the edge of the cliff.

From that point on she was known as 'Evil Jane'.

Regardless of Evil Jane's efforts we arrived safely at the Mount Spec Bridge - a bridge and a region rich with history. Apparently this was a mountain where troops were posted to lookout for airraids etc over Townsville. I just thought the bridge was purdy...

Infact, I liked it so much I think I took about 15 photos of it from all different angles...but I won't bore you with those....

The bridge ran over a body of water known as 'Little Crystal Creek'. Though it wasn't too little...It did provide a series of spectacular waterfalls and pools that you could quite happily splash around in. However it was still quite early in the day and not quite warm enough yet on the mountain to justify getting wet. We decided to stop by in the afternoon on our way back down.

Istead we continued to the summit. A sleepy little community greeted us, surrounded by rich rainforests. We trekked partway into the trees - BF was determined to do the walk in power-mode so most of my photos here turned out a blur - wanting to stop, trying to keep up, getting lost often (luckily the path made it kind of foolproof....). Some of the trees were just so beautiful - with buttress roots as large as walls and as tall as a house.

After the walk we stopped by a little cafe called 'Ivy Cottage'. The concept was great but the food......and 'coffee'...... well, yes. It was basically a house with a varandah converted into a cafe. If you don't like birds, I don't suggest it. Honey eaters of all kinds (and a few bush turkeys...) come to pinch scones and jam off your table. They fly *very* close as they jump from table to table. I was much amused.

The woman serving us didn't seem so patient towards us 'city folk' as we asked to see the menu before ordering (????). She got her own back by taking her time to serve the food. My scones were nice. The coffee burnt. BFs hot chocolate was lukewarm, her hubby's cake was stale. We assumed there was a lot of frozen food being microwaved out the back... The experience was good though.

At this point we had decided we had seen enough of Paluma and thought we'd make an early trip back to Townsville and find a massage instead (I still had most of my spending money at this point!) Little did we know that our plans were to be thwarted (I love that word....thwart...teehee).

We made our way slowly back down the mountain taking in the view, which was quite spectacular. To give you an idea of distances. That photo is taken an hour inland - the little 'mountain' off in the distance is actually magnetic island. Pretty amazing stuff!

As we turned yet another skinny corner we were confronted with an interesting sight. The back of school bus had slipped off the edge of the road and was balanced daintily on the edge of a straight drop down. The kids were off the bus evidently pretty shaken. We spoke briefly to a police officer who informed us that it was going to be a long wait. Alternatively we could go the other way down the mountain through 'Hidden Valley'. We smiled politely at the officer, thanked him, I took a photo, then turned back around.

Back up through Paluma we went and off towards Hidden Valley. Not long down the road we were confronted with a sad sight. Dirt road. A lot of it. Since we were in a borrowed car that had never seen dirt before, we set off at a painfully slow pace - diverting around every bump and crevice in the road. Dust was still caking the perfect paint.

An hour passed and we decided that this was indeed a Hidden Valley. Too well hidden. We were also running out of petrol.

All was not lost. We found Hidden Valley, and it had a petrol station! In fact, 'Hidden Valley' was just a petrol station and a lodge. Mind you, it was the cutest petrol station I have ever seen. There was some interesting characters there...the owners were extremely helpful and let us know that it was another 3 hours of dirt before hitting a long road back to Townsville. We decided we had better chances with the bus.

The drive back felt even longer for some reason - but at least we had a full tank of petrol, bottles of chilled water and we were armed with an array of chips and minties - all at petrol station prices....

Back through Paluma we went and down the mountain towards the bus. We hadn't gotten very far when we came across a barricade blocking the road with 'road closed' hanging on the front. We stopped momentarily, wondering what to do, before our driver, beyond being fed up, jumped out and opened the gate. I closed my eyes....(except to take a photo of course)...I know 'nusink...'

There was another long wait by Crystal Creek until the road was finally cleared, and a crane had lifted the bus back onto the road. We were finally on our way back to Townsville, but massages were a little out of the question by now. We had spent well over 5 hours on that hill. 4 more than anticipated.

On the way back, we followed the crane...another photo op for my journal...then finished the day with a carwash - more funky photos.

BUT...

The story doesn't end there.

The next morning whilst waiting for our flight out, I caught site of the front page of the Townsville Bulliten. There was the 'Paluma Incident' sprawled all over it with a photo of the bus....on the road. "Argh!! My photo at least has the wheels off the edge!" I protested. That evening I emailed them a thumbnail of my photo and told the paper to contact me if interested. They did indeed - offered no money for the photo, but did a quick phone interview. I requested they send a copy of the story in return.

I heard nothing.

I got sick of hearing nothing and tried to find an electronic version...which I did. Between misquotes and manipulating my words I was not too impressed...but then found the whole article had a bit of a negative vibe towards tourists attempting to drive on this mountain recklessly! Sheesh, if only they had known I am a P-plater!! So...for the record:

1. I was not the one driving
2. We were going well under the reccomended speed limit
3. The lady at Ivy Cottage agreed that it was a dangerous road and that buses should be banned
4. I did not say that it was popular with tourists - how would I know???
   

Bah...still, I can say I've done a little freelance :)

And so ends the North Queensland Adventures.

xxx