Picnic in the park
There is a park near our house, so CJ and I carried a picnic blanket, food, and an Ana over for a lazy lunch.
The ants arrived with impressive speed, and we knew our picnic was complete.
Little did we know, nature had far more in store for us.
Ana is a stone-cold killer and all the wildlife in our area knows it. Look at her cute and murderous eyes!
At first she was nervous of the open spaces all around, but she quickly recovered and decided to pursue a bird she spotted in this tree.
That was when things got interesting. The bird was a young magpie. Two others immediately swooped in to cordially suggest that Ana desist from her attentions. She ran and hid in a bush (you can just see her face on the right).
Taking a hint is not, however, Ana’s forté. So she bade her time, and then launched herself back at the tree like a demented koala:
She’s not actually good at climbing trees, so CJ and I took pictures between giggles as she jumped from branch to branch, pausing only to flail helplessly (much like all those “hang in there” kitty posters you all have on your walls).
Its protectors didn’t bother returning.
At which point we plucked Ana from the tree before she hurt herself, and went home.
Versatile Blogger Award
I am, according to General Happenings in my House, hereby awarded a Versatile Blogger award! Thank you 🙂
My duties, upon receiving this much-coveted honour, are as follows:
1) Thank the awarder by linking back to their blog;
2) Pass on this award to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know I have done so;
3) List 7 things about myself.
Here are some great blogs (in no particular order):
1) Ripping Ozzie Reads – an accomplished group of Australian specfic writers (including Richard Harland, Rowena Cory Daniells, and Margo Lanagan) share their know-how.
2) Pub Rants – pub as in “publishing”. This is the blog of a US agent – again, lots of great advice.
3) KT Literary blog – another US agent (in fact, she is friends with # 2).
4) Nathan Bransford – US ex-agent and children’s author (again with the advice). He also runs great forums.
5) The Intern – this time it’s a US ex-intern, but her advice is still excellent (more on writing, less on the industry).
6) Behler Blog – this time it’s a US editorial director giving free industry help.
7) Writer Beware – there are a LOT of scams out there designed to prey on writers. This blog investigates, then tells the horrible truth.
8) Call My Agent! – more industry advice, but this time from an anonymous Sydney agent.
9) Terrible Minds – advice, interviews, and very rude rants from author Chuck Wendig.
10) Slushpile Hell – when a writer needs a little more sarcasm in their day.
11) Brass Bolts – a steampunk writer blogs about steampunk (the pics are especially good).
12) Trial by Steam – steampunk articles and events.
13) Multiculturalism for Steampunk – a seriously excellent and well-researched steampunk niche blog.
14) Antipodean Steampunk Adventures – an Australian steampunk who actually builds his own stuff.
15) Blue Milk – a feminist blog on motherhood (not always safe for work).
Well! That list certainly answers the question, “So, Louise, what do you do all day?”
Now for seven things about myself:
1) Umm. . . I attempted my first novel when I was seven years old (it was about a family of cats – naturally).
2) My mum read the Narnia series in hospital after giving birth to me (I’m re-reading it at the moment).
3) I speak semi-fluent Indonesian, and once considered marrying an Indonesian man I was close to.
4) I leave the curtains open until dark most nights in case the sunset is pretty.
5) Only one of my grandparents is still alive, and he is not well.
6) I can juggle.
7) I have pre-ordered “Goliath” by Scott Westerfeld; the third book in his brilliant YA steampunk trilogy (“Leviathan” is the name of the first book).
Thank you and good evening!
Ballooning adventure
I have been re-reading “The Aeronauts” by Time/Life books. It is a stunning book with a padded cover and brilliant colour inside. Too lazy to open the lid of the scanner, I’ve photographed it:
The following is taken from a first-hand account of the first successful crossing of the English channel by air – somewhat before steampunk times, since it happened in 1784 (but entirely within the realm of clockpunk). It went well at first, but then the intrepid pair of adventurers realised they were losing altitude in a manner that could soon prove fatal. Like all balloonists, they responded by throwing things overboard (NB: Blanchard, the captain, was a very short man).
“My noble little captain gave orders, and set the example,” Jeffries wrote, “by beginning to outstrip our aerial car, first of our silk and finery.” Over the side went the oars, the propeller, and two anchors, “after which my little hero stripped and threw away his coat. On this I was compelled to follow his example. He next cast away his trousers. We put on our cork jackets and were, God knows how, as merry as grigs to think how we should spatter in the water.” But the lightened gondola now rose again, and at 3 p.m., “almost benumbed with cold,” they were thrilled to see the French shore beneath them.
A half hour later, the balloon again began to descend, this time threatening the balloonists with a crash landing in a forest about 12 miles inland. This time they threw out their cork life jackets. When that had little effect, Jeffries suggested an imaginative expedient: “From the recollection that we had drunk much at breakfast and not having had any evacuation,” he reported delicately, “an extra quantity had been secreted by the kidneys, which we might now avail ouselves of by discharging.” They did so, filling two containers and dropping them over the side. A couple of pounds lighter, the balloon cleared the edge of the woods and Blanchard landed it in a small clearing. We were “almost as naked as the trees,” wrote Jeffries, with “not an inch of cord or rope left, no anchor or anything to help us, nor a being within several miles.” The only objects that remained in the car were Jeffries’ thermometer and barometer, a bottle of brandy and a packet of letters; history’s first airmail had arrived in France.
Blanchard pulled on the valve line, venting enough gas to collapse the balloon. Then the scantily clad aeronauts settled back to await rescue – and fame.
This is an artist’s rendition of the aeronauts setting off from Dover. The sail at the back is entirely fictional, although the (non-useful) oars really did exist.
If you enjoyed this entry, you’ll probably enjoy this one even more – it has accounts of more adventures aloft, including my own.
Make me care
A story needs two things: An interesting character, and a serious problem.
“Interesting” and “serious” are where it gets more complicated.
Here is an article on how to make your reader care about your characters (by giving them a reason to care before the action explodes on the page). If they don’t care, they won’t read on.
Some other day I’ll talk about how to make readers care FAST – before you lose them. I reckon you’re lucky if you get two hundred words.
“Pastworld” by Ian Beck
“Pastworld” by Ian Beck
If there’s one thing fantasy readers want – especially from steampunk tales – it’s sensory immersion. A flood of sights, sounds and smells that make us feel we’re living in another world. Ian Beck does that, in loving and exquisite detail. It is his greatest strength.
The rest of this review has been moved to Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Drama with a capital ‘W’
Junk mail recently became interesting to me for the first time. Not only does it often contain entire magazines of baby-related items that I might just acquire (shiny!), but it’s now educational (“I should get me one of THOSE things”).
Fortunately, at least some of my enthusiasm has been moderated by Choice magazine, which is an independent body that reviews Australian products and rates them on safety, economy, etc. Since babies are small and easy to accidentally kill, this is a VERY useful resource for the underqualified parent (which, let’s face it, is all of us).
I found articles on nappies, cots, car seats, and strollers – excellent! The first three are clearly important, but I did pause at the thought of a stroller. I’ve never used a stroller before (even during countless hours of babysitting), and I hate walking pretty much anywhere. Bowing to the fact that CJ loves walking, that children apparently have to go outside sometime, and that everyone says strollers are super important, I accepted that this was a necessary purchase. But I wasn’t planning on spending a LOT on something to carry my baby when I already have arms.
This made the choice of stroller super easy: Choice’s “best buy” (ie the cheapest of the safe brands) was the Steelcraft Holiday stroller. This is it:
And so it was that I emitted a cry of delight while perusing a Big W sale catalogue. There in full colour was OUR stroller – and it was reduced from $98 to $78.
The following day was a Monday. Determined to catch a bargain with a hint of destiny about it, I made the herculean effort and showed up to the relevent Big W store to look at our stroller (because all the books say to check you can lift it, that the handles are a comfortable height, etc).
There was no sign of it (except for the Steelcraft Orion, which is cool but considerably heavier and more expensive). We rang for customer service repeatedly. Other than hearing the automatic page over the intercom (which was terribly exciting I’m sure), nothing happened. We figured maybe we were too quick off the mark – the sale didn’t start until the next Wednesday.
On Wednesday, CJ returned. The stroller was there, and he even spoke to a genuine 3-D staff member – who refused to open any of the boxes and let him actually look at the stroller. By this stage we’d arranged for CJ’s safety-conscious parents to come and try it out with us on the weekend.
We tried to find the stroller elsewhere, so we could look at it and therefore not waste any of CJ’s parents’ time. It turned out that Big W was the only store in Canberra who stocked it. I called them and tried to put one on hold for three days, but they refused. By this time I knew exactly why Big W was consistently cheaper than anyone else. because they sucked at customer service.
And so Saturday rolled around. I checked the magazine for the twelth time, and noticed I’d got the name wrong (using the name of another model also stocked by Big W). It didn’t seem like a major error.
And so it was that we showed up to Big W and realised that CJ hadn’t even seen the box of the correct stroller (he’d been looking at the Orion). No-one had. I immediately realised that I’d organised my in-laws to come and see a stroller that looked more and more like a myth.
We were mildly surprised when a staff member actually showed up in response to the customer service page. We were even more surprised when she fetched someone who was familiar with the nursery section. The nursery expert hadn’t heard of the stroller. I said it was in their magazine, on special. She said – as politely as was possible – that she’d go and get the magazine so I could “point it out”. We all knew what she meant: I was nuts.
At this point CJ’s parents showed up, and we explained to them that I’d apparently imagined the whole thing.
The nursery expert returned with two different sale magazines. They were definitely not the magazine I’d seen, but I leafed through them anyway. No Steelcraft Holiday stroller. So much for that.
The lady muttered something conciliatory and went away after mentioning two other stores that I might have confused with Big W. I’d obsessed over that magazine for ten days, and I didn’t know what to think. We poked half-heartedly at other nursery items, pretending there was some point in us being there.
Then – *pause for inspiring power chords* – the lady returned. With my magazine. With the picture of the stroller in it.
“No-one here has seen this catalogue,” she said, “but let me check the stockroom computer and see if we have some out the back.”
She did so, and said there were Steelcraft Holiday strollers in a back room – or so the computer said.
We waited, unconvinced the myth was about to appear. But it did. The lady re-emerged with a big smile and a pallet full of Steelcraft Holiday strollers. She and CJ and CJ’s Dad took one out and put the wheels on. It was a beautiful thing, and after establishing that it did indeed fold up, and was not too low or too heavy, we bought it.
Big W’s customer service seriously came through in the end. I can haz stroller!
(For those keeping score of how little CJ and I have spent on baby items, we are still at $0 – some friends of ours got together and paid for the stroller for us. Double win!)
Crazy Pregnant Lady
As of this morning, I have reached my pre-pregnancy weight. Four months to go (if she arrives on time, which only happens in 5% of cases, but oh well). I feel movement every day, but it’s not big enough to reach the outside of my belly yet.
I have good news on the nausea front: It turns out about 20% of my nausea was actually heartburn, which is easily and safely treated with gaviscon. Suddenly I’m much less sick, and the hope of getting off ondansetron/zofran is reignited once more (it’s not an especially plausible hope, but it’s there).
So how’s things on the crazy front?
I have an anxiety disorder (had it for years, and it’s severe enough I can’t do more than about twelve hours of non-writing work in a week), which is a pretty clear disadvantage from the starting gate – but it’s also one I’ve claimed as an advantage, since I’m used to my mind and body telling me things that aren’t true.
I’m very anxious about the nausea, particularly about throwing up without warning. As far as anxiety triggers go, this is about 70% rational. Things that have triggered vomit include walking across a room (due to feeling better), coughing, sipping water, having a shower, and cleaning my teeth. I’ve thrown up at every possible time of day, and not just in first trimester.
So yes, I’m anxious about the nausea. That makes rational sense.
I’m not anxious about Louisette. I was anxious about the effects of the medicine, but not any more. Apart from anything else, intense nausea is considered a good sign for baby health – it’s abundantly clear every hour that my body is doing its thing. Now I have daily movement as well.
I’m less functional than usual (maximum four hours of paid work a week) but I’m actually less anxious than usual. I think there’s something about the nausea that just dampens all my emotions – and I’m fine with that. It helps pass the time. Plus I’m so pleased that we were able to conceive.
I have found, ever since CJ and I began trying for a baby, that some of my obsessive-compulsive fidgets are much more pronounced. The OCD part of my anxiety is a very small part, and although it’s irritating for me personally, I don’t think it’s at the stage where everyone around me has to join in or I can’t function (which would be so annoying for me and for them).
If something does make me feel anxious, it also makes me nauseous – so I’m steering clear of books and TV that are the slightest bit scary or gross. That’s quite annoying, but certainly survivable.
Our finances aren’t great, but they’re okay. I’m a bit anxious about the social obligations of the baby shower, but I feel a lot better having taken certain friends aside and told them to buy me certain dull-but-vital baby items.
I’m not anxious about labor yet – I expect I’ll be fine until January, then anxious (more about getting naked than about pain – mine is a predominantly social anxiety disorder), and then labor itself will be similar to anyone else’s experience.
Here is the bassinet I’ve been lent, as modelled by the adorable one-year old punk (the mohawk was non-deliberate) who has long since grown out of it.
The castle playground
In Canberra there are a few truly awesome playgrounds that are spoken of by those who’ve grown up here with a happy sigh and a faraway gaze. This one may be my favourite. We call it the castle.
The rest of this entry is at weekend notes.
The things women do
I was in Indonesia, staying with an Indonesian friend and his Mum in their two-room house. There was a smell of slightly-charred meat in the air. I lay down on the bed for a nap.
“Here, have some of this,” my friend said, and sliced me off a piece of meat.
I looked down at the piece of meat on my plate, and couldn’t help noticing that the meat had been taken from my leg, which was still steaming gently with heat.
Something was definitely wrong, and I paused before eating. Now what was it that was bothering me?
My friend and his mother savoured a mouthful, and motioned for me to do the same.
NO! I suddenly realised. I’M NOT FOR EATING!!
The shock of it woke me up.
That was the day I realised I needed to stop going along with every single aspect of Indonesian culture. (My friends weren’t unreasonable; they were just different to me.)
Not everyone goes from middle-class Australia to stay in the home of relatively poor Indonesians, but we all adjust to different mini-cultures throughout our lives and throughout a day. One family walks around naked, even when they have guests; another family shrugs when their birds defecate on the couch. One school will turn a blind eye to certain weapons; another will put a child on detention for trying out a new swear word.
Women sometimes live their whole lives to please others, completely erasing their own personal culture in the process. Some men do, too, but it’s less common (due to socialising – women are taught to appear nice, men to appear confident).
On the first day of Year Eight, one of my friends called me “Lou” instead of Louise, and dissolved into giggles (“loo” in Australia means “toilet”). I protested at first, but several other people joined in. By the end of the day it was well established, and I’ve been introducing myself as “Lou” ever since. Why would I embrace a stupid nickname like that? I’m not even a passive person, but I still have that deep-seated urge to please other people at almost any extent.
Dear women of the world:
You get to choose what people call you (new people, anyway).
You can say no – even if someone gets mad at you.
Your children can wait while you take a shower/talk on the phone/finish cleaning the kitchen.
You are not for eating.
Fully preserved Victorian Kitchen
A British couple found an entire Victorian kitchen in their basement the other day. It probably dates from the 1830s, although it was used briefly as a shelter during World War 2.
It includes jelly moulds, a spit for roasting pigs, and an antique fire extinguisher. Also, bells for the servants.
For those who want a steam engine in your Steampunk Sunday, here’s a steam-powered bicycle. All I know about the source is that the maker is Finnish:
