Hobbit party
My friend Cupcake* had a birthday party on Saturday, and chose to indulge his natural hobbit-like tendencies. This meant:
1. Lots of food.
2. Lots of games.
3. He wore a charming hand-knitted waistcoat.
In a shocking twist, I actually attended. Altogether, I was out of my own house for over four hours.
In an even more shocking twist, I ate the same dinner as everyone else. It was stew with dumplings. Since I’ve been eating mainly bread for two months, the consumption of the dumpling was unsurprising. However I was also able to eat the pieces of carrot. . . my first recognisable vegetable since May. CJ was so shocked he took a photo:
Since the party, I’ve eaten potatoes and mushrooms with no ill effects. Thank you, hobbit party, for opening the door.
*not his real name
Healing History?
A few weeks ago, I blogged about the Sydney City Council voting to change official wording in order to acknowledge that Europeans didn’t “settle” in Australia – they invaded an occupied land. It bothers me that so much of the Western world is still richer than the rest because of similar acts that took place (and in some cases are still taking place – eg the steep interest on third world debt) around the world.
Which begs two questions: Are we eventually going to pay for what our ancestors did? And – is there any way we can avoid paying that price?
I think that history tends to even itself out, and no-one stays on top forever. As someone who is definitely living at the sharp end of the wealth pyramid (not me personally but certainly my lifestyle, city and country), this is a worry.
I think it’s often justice that arises to topple the unfairly rich – so I have a theory that if the rich turn around and start actively seeking real justice themselves then maybe they won’t get brought down after all.
It starts with honesty – which can cost a great deal. When I heard (several years ago now) that the Timor Timur government was offering amnesty for the crimes committed during twenty-five years of violence, I was so impressed I wrote a story about it, which is available on a podcast here. It is M-rated, and thus goes under the name Felicity Bloomfield. (I visited Timor Timur briefly when it was under transitional UN administration.)
I also admire Germany for hating Nazism more than any other place on Earth. And I admire Japan for not hating the West for dropping two nuclear bombs.
After honesty comes active compassion and the restoration of justice. But that’s the point where my imagination shorts out.
Do you think the West is doomed to fall? If so, do you think it can be saved?
Suspicious Baby
I’m not a baby person, but I do enjoy a “Yes, and?” look from a tiny person.
This little girl belongs to a friend of mine, who already knows she and Mini-Me are destined to be best friends.
Mini Big Nose
Still very sick. The last time I had a non-nauseous moment was Sunday, and my ability to eat food isn’t improving at all. I did a little research on ondansetron (Ondaz Zydis) and discovered there are no known issues with taking it during pregnancy (the crucial word being “known” – it has been tested on animals, but of course you can’t test these things on humans). I’ll probably start taking it again tonight.
Here are my predictions about Mini-Me’s future:
Big nose (both sides of the family, several generations)
Intelligent (both sides of the family, several generations)
Uncoordinated (both sides of the family)
Introvert (both sides of the family, and all the grandparents)
Vulnerable to cancer (CJ’s side) and mental illness/dementia (my side).
Will be born with either dark hair (my side) or white-blonde hair (CJ’s side), and will probably have blue or green eyes.
Aaaand. . . how about you?
So what did you guys do with youselves on the weekend?
Tales of the Tour de France
I wrote earlier about the Tour de France – the greatest cycling race in the world. Here are some of the biggest names, and the stories I’ve heard about them.
Cadel Evans is far and away the biggest Australian star of the Tour (he leads the red-clad BMC team, which is an American team – there is no Australian team in the tour). As a General Classification rider, he is good at everything, and is considered one of the most likely contendors for first place overall. He is particularly good at climbing mountains – and has the short stature and frightening skinniness to go with it. As a rule, professional cyclists are pretty darn ugly. Cadel is no exception. His face could best be described as “distinctive”. The cleft in his chin is so deep I assume he keeps spare change in there. His greatest weakness is psychological – if things go bad, he doesn’t seem to bounce back. Right now, however, he is perfectly placed to win and he knows it. (In the GC list he’s currently placed third, but the current leader is not going to last through the Alps, and the current second-place man will fall back in stage 20. If he was already leading overall, etiquette would demand that his team sacrificed themselves with the heavier tasks within the pelaton, which would probably tire them out and cause them to fail later on). In all the carnage of crashes that have characterised this tour, Cadel and BMC are yet to be touched by bad luck (partly because of their strategy of riding at the front of the pelaton pack). He feels the weight of all Australia watching him (there are always many Australian flags along the route of the Tour as well), and is always fast to tearfully acknowledge the hard work of his team when he wins. His goal is to win overall, so any time spent in (usually) the king of the mountain jersey- a jersey that is rewarded along the way with a succession of soft toys. Cadel made the comment that he didn’t need the king of the mountains jersey, because he’d already had enough toys to give to all his nieces and nephews.
Frank and Andy Schleck of Luxemburg are two brothers, either of whom could win overall. As an only child, Cadel has said that he’s mystified by their connection. As someone with two siblings, I’m impressed by their mutual humility – they honestly don’t decide who is the team leader until the Tour is nearly over. At that point, whichever brother isn’t doing quite as well will bow out and sacrifice his strength for the other. Frank is the older brother, but Andy is usually slightly better at the Tour type of contest – in fact, he came second last year. Either one could lead a team in his own right, but because they work together they effectively play two against one. The GC leaders always keep an extremely close eye on one another (there’s usually less than a minute between first and second place), and ride close together. An “attack” happens when one man suddenly accelerates to get ahead of everyone else. The rest immediately respond by chasing them – not letting them get ahead. But with both Frank and Andy on board, team Leopard-Trek (black and white jerseys with a horizontal turquoise stripe across the chest) can launch so many attacks that all the others are exhausted and finally defeated. Andy is only 26, and is one of about three cyclists who still have a baby face. Frank looks similar, but definitely older.
Alberto Contador is everyone’s arch-enemy on the Tour, but especially for Andy Schleck. Last year, the two were literally neck and neck, fighting with all their being for a few seconds’ advantage – and Andy’s chain fell off. Mechanical incidents are always a part of the Tour, and there is an etiquette in place to counteract some of the bad luck (the entire pelaton will slow down if there is a delay behins them in the first three-quarters of the race.
Contador sped ahead – arguably costing Andy the overall win. Last year, Contador won by twenty-three seconds. Andy was furious; Contador said he hadn’t noticed the chain falling off; most riders acknowledge that since it’s a race, Contador did the right thing; the general public now jeers and boos when he passes by.
Alberto Contador’s 2010 win is also overshadowed by a positive drug test that is yet to be resolved. (The drug that was detected makes no sense, but it clearly shouldn’t have been in his system, so something is screwy.) He is Spanish, and leads team Saxobank (who wear a very pale blue jersey that looks white to me). I’m honestly not that impressed by his team. I think Contador is so good he often rides as if he doesn’t need a team at all – so this year, when he does need support, they’re just not as good as BMC or Leopard Trek. It’s been an apalling Tour for him. He lost over a minute and a half on the first day due to being behind a domino-style crash that blocked the road. He’s had several minor falls. At one stage, he spent time catching up to the main field all by himself – unthinkable in an ordinary team, when several men will stop even when their leader is too badly injured to lead them any more. The team ALWAYS looks after their leader, and rides with him – especially when he needs to catch up to the group. Contador has injured his knee, but commentators wonder if he’s shamming in order to put others off their guard.
Leaving aside the major GC contendors, there is one more man very much worth watching: Mark Cavendish. He is widely acknowledged as the world’s fastest man, and is riding a slightly different race to the rest of the pack: he aims to win as many Tour de France stages as possible, and set a new record. With 19 wins (!!) and youth on his side, he will do it. It irritates him that he’s never won the green jersey – but it looks like he’ll probably win that this year, too. His team is HTC – another white jersey.
As a person, I find him whiny and irritating – almost always complaining about the unfair behaviour of other teams when he wins a stage. He is extremely unpopular (and extremely talented), so I think there’s actually truth in what he says – the etiquette that guards everyone else frays where he is concerned. He loves his own team, however, and always seeks out every single member to thank them personally when he wins. They are, in my opinion, the best team in the Tour. Their precision is something to see.
Since I wrote the above, Stage 16 happened. It was AWESOME. Contador launched two mighty attacks, and managed for the first time to shake off the Schleck brothers. . . but not Cadel (or Sammy Sanchez for that matter). Then Cadel attacked again, and gained a few MORE seconds on Contador.
Cadel is now in second place overall after Thomas Voeckler, a French man who says himself he has a 0% chance of keeping his position through the Alps. . . but he’s lasted astonishingly well so far, and has two minutes’ advantage.
I predict Cadel will win, and Frank and Andy Schleck may well score second and third place.
If you want to savour the goodness (and you’re Australian), you should watch the last twenty kilometres of stage 19 (this Friday), the individual time trial on Saturday (when the overall race is won or lost), and the final semi-ceremonial stage on Sunday (when the sprint is won or lost).
Under the weather but over the moon
For the last two weeks, my nausea has been worse. As well as being uncomfortable, it’s been extremely disheartening and frightening (six months more of this?????). So it was good to go for my monthly checkup today and have my doctor say that I’ll probably be feeling better and better over the next two weeks. I needed that.
I’ve had less than one serve each of meat, vegetables, or fruit in seven weeks. Here’s hoping that’s about to change.
Every so often I get a brilliant hormonal high – “I’m having a BABY!!!!” which I expect to see much more of as the nausea fades.
Here’s my oh-so-cunning parental plan for the week: extra-curricular activities.
I hope to enrol my kids in:
1. Swimming – brilliant exercise, useful for swimming carnivals (my own memories of winning second place are very special – and, given my lack of actual athletic prowess, unique), health, family holidays, and maybe even future exercise (swimming is almost the only exercise I do regularly – it is the single reason I’m not obese). Also, swimming skills could save their lives.
2. Singing – again it’s socially useful (singing is something that does actually happen in social situations), and also great training for public speaking and/or performing. We will also have an electric piano at home, so of course that’ll be the musical instrument of choice (unless there’s a school band, in which case something else may be better).
3. Soccer – it’s a sport that transfers easily to any grassy space, and involves a lot of useful running around (without a strong likelihood of injury, which is a plus). It effectively trains the kids to run – saving them from the most extreme humiliations on sports days. You can play it all year round, and especially in Winter.
I figure that if kids are enrolled in things early enough, they’ll get good at sport/public performance before they know how unco/shy they are. Once they get to high school, I’m sure they’ll have their own optinions.
What was your most useful extra-curricular activity?
Encouragement
Pregnant ladies get a LOT of advice, and some of it is downright bizarre (like, “Sleep now, while you can” – because I can totally save it up for when the baby is born). I am lucky enough to have a mum, mum-in-law and sister who don’t feel the urge to use my pregnancy as an excuse to complain about their own experiences of motherhood.
Here are the three most encouraging things other people have said to me:
From a mum of three: “One day you’ll just wake up and not be nauseous any more.”
From my doctor: “Here” *passes me a prescription for much stronger meds*
From a new Mum of a six-week old: “Mine was more trouble out than in – but I think yours will be more trouble in than out.”
The third comment came yesterday, and neatly dismissed all they grey-faced tales of, “Ooh, you think THIS is bad. Wait until the baby comes. Your whole life will be RUINED.”
To be honest, though, my life has already been ruined by this child, now I think about it. I can’t enjoy food, sit up, drive, do my job, help around the house, or generally do. . . anything. When the baby comes I’ll lose a whole lot of sleep, but I’ll get a lot of the rest of my life back (if not before Mini-Me emerges – we can still hope this isn’t a nine-month thing). Plus, I get to see and touch him or her – which is worth a LOT of inconvenience.
For now, sleeping is good. I appreciate what I have. Even my pet zombie.
Gain super powers
Pregnant women often notice a bizarre increase in their sense of smell. When my parents gave CJ and I a lift to the ultrasound on Tuesday, I smelled a dog in their car. Not dog, mind you, *A* dog. A specific dog. A specific dog that has travelled in that car before – but has also been dead for over two years. And no, it’s not the only dog to travel in that car.
Not convinced? Like more measurable results? Okay.
On Monday I went to my optometrist for a routine appointment. She is thorough, and insisted on re-testing my eyesight despite the fact that she tested it only two months ago. It turned out that it’s a good thing she did: my eyesight has improved.
“I’ve heard that pregnancy sometimes changes the shape of the cornea,” she said, “but I’ve never actually seen the effects before.”
I can only assume that I’ll have ninja skills by Summertime.
Who wants to be my sidekick?
First snow
Yesterday, for the first time since May, I ran an errand – taking myself to the optometrist.
In my steampunk book (set mainly in Australia), I keep describing various bits of bushland as silvery-green, grey-green, dull green and grey, etc. As I drove along gaping at the foreignness of familiar streets, I realised how very wrong I was. There are trees with oval leaves in pale blue, others with leaves pointed like spears, black trunks bleeding red sap, others peeling away like snakes sloughing their skin, wattle bushes with sprays of soft spheres in brilliant yellow. Altogether, bushland (even by the side of the road here in the city) is red, orange, purple, black, green, silver, gold, pale blue and purple.
I’ll be correcting my error in the book shortly.
Canberra is surrounded by hills that are usually blue with distance. In Winter they become sharper, clearer, and full of detail – including hats of pristine snow. For me, yesterday was the first day this year to see that snow.
Tomorrow: Details of my twelve-week ultrasound.
Felicity Banks 