For You

My painting exhibit opened on the first of April. At Gallery Tasmania.

Three months of painting during every one of Simon's nap times, bed times, painting painting painting. I got 12 of my 20 pieces done in that short time.

There some important things learned from (finally) doing this.

Like that I am very very afraid that people will think I have "moved on" or am fully functioning, just because I can tackle a project like this. Truth is, my head is STILL rarely on straight. Grief does crazy things to you, physically and emotionally, and I find it remarkably hard to get to the end of a day and, regardless of how good it may have been, not break down and wonder how in the world I am going to muster the energy to get up the next day and do it all over again.

This started out as just "something to do" so I would have a goal to work towards and not let myself get completely sucked into my grief over loosing Ben. Because, to quote Finnick in Mockingjay:

"It takes ten times longer to put yourself together as it does to fall apart." 

It's taking all my energy just to keep moving on day to day as it is. I can't afford to fall apart because I don't have the energy to put myself back together again. This project, painting with a deadline, has kept me together. It has been frustrating at times, since during my free-time sometimes the last thing I've wanted to do is more work. But, while I've forgotten all the science-y reasons behind it, art, even just coloring with crayons in a coloring book, makes you feel good. It relaxes, and just... helps.

Slowly, I realized that the painting was more than just something to keep me together. It was something I was doing FOR Bennet. Using his memory, the pain caused by losing him, and his far-too-short life, for something good, something beautiful. Because each day that passes feels like I leave him further and further behind. Each day that passes is another day since I last felt him move inside my belly. Another day since I last held his small body in my arms. Another day further away from the day I left him in his small coffin on the side of a hill, alone. Painting, for him, brought him closer to me. Helped remind me that I carry him with me, in memory, always. That while the days bring me further from events, they don't bring me further from him.

And so, my paltry offering to his memory, for now, anyway, are these:

(To view the photos larger, just click on them)
(Due to differences in monitor settings, colors may appear different than in real life. Also, pictures rarely, if ever, do justice to paintings)
(Somehow, with both of us taking photos of everything, one piece STILL managed not to get photographed. I swear I did 20)

Poppies

Poppies Ready For Harvest

Saying Goodbye

Wrong Turn Down a Goat Trail

Another Wrong Turn

To the Water

Behind the Clouds

Storm's Coming

Black Cockatoo

Fairy Wren

Digger's Paradise

Rainy Day in Paradise

Mist and Sunrise

First Date

Open Road

Mathinna Falls

Hide and Seek

His Sheep

Westmorland Falls

(If you are reading this and are in Tasmania, or ever plan on visiting Tasmania, drop in to Fudge 'n' Good Coffee, that houses Gallery Tasmania, to look at other great local artwork, as well as try some, well, GREAT fudge and good coffee. No, I'm not sponsored or anything like that and that's why I say this. I just really like their fudge and coffee.)

The Berry Patch

It wasn't too long ago, really, that we decided to try and do monthly family outings.

Nothing special, just a few hours where we could get out of the house and not worry about work, cleaning, schedules (other than nap time!), and just BE. Just our little family.

That kind of went on hold when Ben died. Partly because I was still recovering from my c-section. Partly because we let ourselves get wrapped up in "what needs to be done around the house" again, because that was easier. Combine that with Phillip having the busiest work schedule in nearly four years and then being so tired on the weekend he wasn't in much of an attitude to go out and do something. We just haven't gotten out for much more than grocery shopping in the past almost 4 months now.

But our friends (who also happen to be Phillip's employers... I have probably mentioned that at some point...) invited us to go berry picking with them last weekend.Somehow, the men ended up with a Monday off work (after having to work Saturday). So off to The Berry Patch we went.

It was the nicest day we have had in so so long.

The children's play area.
Large straw bales to climb on!

Relaxed, anxiety free (my first in months!), FUN.

And Phillip and I have no clue what the recipe for it was. Because we left late. Got a little lost finding the entrance. Didn't even get to spend all that much time with our friends and their kids (because we were late).

But it was wonderful.

Simon enjoyed tearing up and down the rows of berries, running full tilt and yelling. And QUICKLY discovered what a ripe blackberry looked like and (according to Phillip who was watching him at the time) grabbed several quicker than could be seen and stuffed them in his little mouth, running away quickly so he could do it again. He was pretty well covered in juice, and we had a fun time trying to teach him to NOT pick and eat.


We ended up with close to 3 kilos of strawberries that we have slowly been eating our way through, and about 1 of blackberries. HUGE blackberries.

Those blackberries? Half got turned into some fantastic blackberry pie bars (halving the recipe and cutting out 1/4c of sugar in the filling). If we don't eat the rest of the berries very soon, I might be making an apricot and blackberry cobbler again.








The day was finished with a short trip to the beach for some wading and digging in sand, heading home, and getting there JUST in time for a LOOOOONG nap for Simon, and some relaxed lounging for Phillip and me.

We also forgot Simon's swimming gear...

Simon remembered a spoon though.
He rarely goes anywhere without a measuring spoon...

Special Saturday

Last weekend was the first Saturday we had without any obligations whatsoever in... neither Phillip nor I can remember when the last Saturday was. Several months at least. But Friday night, both of us say down, tired, cranky, realizing we hadn't had time as a family, just the three of us, in ages. Doing something fun, getting out of the house. Spending time TOGETHER.

And we were suffering for it. Simon was cranky, tired of being in the house, and missing spending time with his daddy, I was cranky, overworked, overwhelmed, and suffering from some major cabin fever, and Philip was overworked, listless, tired, and somewhat aloof because of it.

So we erased from our minds all the many many chores that needed doing, all the little extra cleaning and organizing projects that have piled up due to outside-the-house obligations and general taking care of a toddler business, made an agreement to ignore all texts and invites, and make plans for the day for just the three of us.

It was wonderful.

We did our normal special Saturday morning breakfast, which is really just something different from what we usually would eat throughout the week, and took it fairly easy and relaxed for the morning. It was, amazingly enough, a warmish and sunny day for winter, so we packed a simple lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and fruit, and left for Turner's beach for the afternoon.

Thankfully, the tide was out so there was a massive stretch of well-packed, not too wet sand for Simon to run around on like a crazy person. He loved it. He loved it even more when strangers walked by with their dogs, and he noticed that their were sea gulls. And that there were rocks he could throw. And that the world was so BIG. We didn't do much more than walk up and down the beach talking and watching Simon take everything in and enjoy himself, which was enjoyment enough for Phillip and me.

Chill dude wearing his Aunt Jojo's old sunglasses

Our one decent family photo in AGES

The fall looks worse than it was.
(Which is why I crack up every time I look at it)
He got right back up smiling and running around.

Look Mommy! I found a rock!

Found out he could throw rocks over things.

He read the whole way home.
This is his standard car activity.

On the drive home, after two hours of playing and eating, Philip and I talked about how... FUN the afternoon had been. How nice it was too just be our family, to relax together, and how important we both feel it is that we continue to do things like this together. Simon has such a natural love of the outdoors, and we want so much to encourage that. We want our children to have fun memories (or at least feelings of) little family outings. Nothing big, nothing expensive, just... us.

A Visit from Home

It has been just over two years since I got married and moved to Tasmania.

And we HAD been planning a trip back home for my cousins wedding (where we would be able to meet up with lots of family all at once, as well as partake in the lovely event) that just didn't work out.

Now that we're fully immersed in parenthood,  it's kind of hard to say "yes we will travel 27 hours worth of flights with a small baby", and stick to a date. I mean, Simon is exhausting at the best of times, let alone being stuck on a plane for 13 straight hours and undergoing major time zone changes. So we haven't exactly been able to make rock solid plans about trips (though we have had tentative ones about visiting in the next 6 months or less).

So instead, my parents decided to come to us.

I mean, two years is a long LONG time. And of course they needed to meet their first grandchild (I joke that he was probably the main reason the came... and it's only a half joke. I'm still pretty sure he's the main reason they came, and I don't blame them. He is an adorable child, even when he's exhausting).

I kind of tentatively looked forward to their visit at first, just because the more contact with home and people back there that I have, the harder it is to be here and not want to curl up in a ball of sadness over missing my family and friends. And the occasional hot dog. So the thought of my parents coming and spending two whole weeks with me, of actually getting to HUG them again, made my heart hurt. Because I miss them so so much. The closer their day of arrival came though, the more excited I got to see them, hug them, talk face to face with them, and show off my boy and finally share him with some of the most important people in my life (and the grandfather he's somewhat named after).

I sobbed like a baby when I first saw and hugged them.

Sadly, their visit was only two weeks, which really isn't a lot of time when you take into consideration you loose an ENTIRE day to travel, jet lag, a small baby, sick parents and travelers, and a mamma who still isn't too great at driving all over Tasmania. We did manage to do the important things 'round here though on their visit.

Popop (my dad) showing Simon some birds

Of course we managed a visit to Wings Wildlife Park, the MOST important thing to do, since when you come to Australia, you of course want to see the bizarre wildlife. And pat it. And listen to some pretty cool employees give talks about the animals. And Wings is, I have heard, the better of the two wildlife parks close to us. Having only been to Wings, I'll just continue to say they totally rock and we'll probably only ever take visitors here.

Mom patting a wombat
(This was my personal second favorite thing!)

Mom joining the mob of female kangaroos

Dad being overtaken by mammas and joeys

Oh hi der! We'll be friendz, right?

There was eating fish 'n' chips on the beach. Sadly, we got there at the end of high tide, so we couldn't look in many tide pools. And the wind was pretty chilly. But not so bad that we couldn't fully enjoy our delicious fish 'n' chips and then do a little beach combing.

First trip to the ocean!
Well, second if you count that time we had to pull over for a feeding.

The Honey Farm, of course, for some of our favorite ice cream, tasting of some unique Tasmanian honey, and the drive there, which takes you down some twisty roads that are... interesting for tourists to drive on. Narrow, curvy, LOTS of blind corners, and, you know, the whole driving on the left side of the road instead of the right.

Sleepy boy, still likes playing with... anything.

We made two stops at my favorite place in Sheffield,

Fudge 'n' Good Coffee, for the obvious. Our last visit there was Mom and Dad's last day, so Simon and I picked out a box of fudge to send home as a very late graduation gift to my brother. Sadly, he had a cold when he got his gift, and hasn't indulged in the deliciousness yet, saying he doesn't want to miss out on anything because of congestion, so he has yet to tell me how fantastic it all tastes.

"Our" backyard

Mom and Dad rented a car while they were here because Dad thought it would be fun to learn to drive on the other side of the road. And something about not wanting to inconvenience us. So for a few mornings, while I was still dragging myself out of bed after only four hours of sleep (Simon went through a growth spurt and a "thing" during the visit and did. not. sleep.) and trying to not look and feel like I'd only gotten four hours of sleep, Dad would take off for a few hours and do some trout fishing. He bought a seven day licence, had Phillip tell him a few places to go, and caught nothing. But did, I believe, manage to see some pretty scenery and startle some wallabies.

Then, of course, there was visiting friends and my in-laws, letting my parents get to see what our life consists of, and then lots and lots of just hanging out around the house, letting Simon get to know his grandparents, And me, just soaking in as much of their company as I could.

The one that got away

Phillip had most of last week off work. It's been slow the past few months, moving people, since the economy isn't fantastic and now, we're at the end of the tax year.

But for the most part, we enjoy his days off and use them to our advantage; either staying at home getting things done with each other, "shopping", or visiting people. The weather was so wonderful this last week though, that we talked ourselves into some fishing.

See, you can buy a fishing licence here for freshwater fishing and fish for a whole year (August to August) with that licence. Or you can go sea fishing for free. I'm not clear on the benefits of one over the other other than price and that you really can't catch trout as they only live in fresh water (and Tasmanian trout are apparently quite wonderful). 

But I digress. We went fishing at Port Sorell. The Jetty, to be precise. (Last time we went, we were at Squeaking Point at Port Sorell).

So when we got there, there was a kid standing around, looking to be between 12 and 14. And it's a school day, mind you, so my husband tried to make conversation with him (we found out he only goes to school Tuesdays and Thursdays, and was asking for a light for his cigarette), before he wandered off. We began fishing and caught a few very small flat heads (which, I found out the hard way, are 90% spines. Even when you grab them flat on the head, they're just full of spines) and the kid showed up again, this time with a rod and reel, and a small lure he began to randomly cast into the water, wandering all about the pontoon. 

I may have problems myself...

Then, as I reeled in to check my bait (we'd been getting lots of small nibbles and loosing our bait this way) I get a NICE bite, and reel in a decent sized Cocky Salmon! Phillip scoops the fighting thing into his net and the kid appears out of nowhere to reach into the net saying "I'll get it for you!" and GRABS my fish! TAKES the hook out, and runs to our bucket HOLDING MY FISH to get water into the bucket and put my fish in. 

He then starts poking at the fish, absolutely obsessed with it, and saying he wished he had something to catch fish with because his lure just won't work. So Phillip offers him a hook, sinker, and some of the chicken we've been using because, really, we've got plenty. This amuses the child for a good half hour or so, until his sinker slips because he tied it on wrong. So he gave up and, instead, started picking and biting at his finger. To bleed himself. "To attract the sharks" he said. 

Ok.

And he was OBSESSED with my fish. He even grabbed it out of the bucket again to get it fresh water. And sat over the bucket watching it and playing with it. Which... you just don't do. You just don't mess with someone elses fishing things or fish unless they give you explicit permission. And here in Australia, they seem to really have a thing about "this is MINE" and you just don't touch other people's things. For example, in the States, it might be a compliment, something desirable, to have a stranger come up to you and ask to pet your dog while you're taking it for a walk. Here, you just don't. Don't do it. That's someone elses dog. Do not touch. So, if it's someone elses fish, and possibly expensive fishing equipment, you REALLY don't touch.

Phillip also caught a few crabs

So I convinced Phillip to just bleed it already so we could pack it up. Because by this time, I was afraid he would throw my fish back in. So he does, and the kid wants the head to fish with, to try and catch a skate. And at this point, we just want the kid to leave. It's one thing to hang around, talk, fish with each other, but he's getting far too hands-on with our things and we're not quite sure how to nicely tell him he needs to back off. But we give him the head and toss the bloody water from my fish into the water. 

10 minutes later, I'm reeling in again to check my bait and something SLAMS into my hook. I start reeling whatever it is in quickly, letting it run JUST a little, so I don't snap my line and I can tire it out a bit. Phillip grabs the net and runs to the side, looks in, reaches, and the kid steps in front of him. They're both yelling that it's a barracuda. Barracuda! Over a foot long! As Phillip reaches to get it in the net, and I continue to reel it in, the child GRABS MY LINE AND PULLS. If you don't know, this releases all the tension that is keeping the fish on the hook. I stop reeling because I'm afraid I'll cut this kids hands with the line with all the tension on it, and he lets go, stands in front of Phillip again (Phillip was trying to figure out how to scoop up the fish without knocking the kid into the water), and grabs the line AGAIN. 

RELEASING MY FISH.

We were.... upset. To put it mildly. 

And really, when you go fishing, how often do you really expect to catch something? Much less something you can keep? Much less something so COOL as a barracuda?

Olive oil, salt, dill, slice of fresh lemon

We went back to the same spot the next day, but ended up not staying because four people there had eight rods. Jerks. There was no room on there and I've never gotten such icy glares from old guys before as when we walked up to check things out. And the kid came back, too. He told us he couldn't fish there either because one of the guys had pushed him in before.

But, we got to eat at least one fish. And that's cool, right?

Random stir-fry of whatever veggies are in the fridge?
Left-over mashed potatoes?
Delicious rice and fresh fish?
Yes PLEASE!

A gift from the bottom of my... ocean

Well, now that I've heard back from my mom and dad, I suppose I can show what I've been working on (very very slowly, in between other projects and my laziness) for the past few months.

It's hard to think of gifts for people in general. It's even harder if you try to think of something to send home that people just can't get back home. Or get easily. There's always the fall-back of Cadbury's chocolate. While that's more British than Australian, there IS a Cadbury's factory on Tasmania. So what we send back is more Australian? (And to answer your question, Malory, YES, when you visit, we WILL take you there).

However, there is only so much chocolate you can send back, and it's a gift that can quickly dwindle to nothing. Also, I think they've changed the recipe, and it doesn't taste nearly as good as it did 2 years ago. (Except the Dark Bubbly. That stuff is AMAZING).

Then there are the things you can buy at tourist shops. Which are EVERYWHERE. And all carry about the same stuff. Tee-shirts, wood work done with Tasmanian timbers, crafts, paintings, "authentic" aboriginal instruments, and then all that knick-knacky stuff. None of which I really want to burden my parents with. I was told outright they didn't want any anyway.

So, wanting to send something truly Tasmanian (or at least Australian), and something somewhat special, I set out making these:

I saw a chime similar to these in some shop being sold for $20+. I honestly didn't pay much attention to the price, as much as I loved the thing, because my instant reaction was "I can make that". After much surfing the web and Etsy, I figured out a pretty basic way to do it, and, well, did it.

So yeah, they're pretty beginner, and not that wonderful looking, but I really really like them, and hope the family members I gave them to did too. (Or DO, unless they tossed them out). I made each with shells Phillip and I have collected on our many walks on the beach. Mostly a simple white, some-type-of-snail shell, then throwing in some others. I just liked the simple white with the driftwood (also collected on our walks). And then I threw some broken ones in there, just because I liked the worn-out more natural look it gave the chimes. And they sound very nice when they clink together in the wind! Very... beachy.

For my dad though, I needed something a bit more.... manly. So he ended up with a jar of "the poison thing that lives in a shell, that spikes you when you pick it up." (Check out Come to Australia You Might Accidently Get Killed. It's hilarious, and we played it at our wedding...) It's a book end. Or paper weight. Or something cool he can put in his office next to his Emu egg and people can come look at and go, "wow, that's neat!" (only not for my amazing artwork and brief info written about the conus, more about the fact that there is such a thing as a venomous snail).

It's a Conus shell, though I haven't truly for sure identified what KIND of conus. And no, I didn't get them fresh. I'm not stupid. (Though most of the types of conus here aren't deadly, they just make you really sick).

**All shells used were cleaned VERY well in hot water, then either bleach or methylated spirits, then rubbed with oil to give it a tiny bit of shine. Driftwood was quarantined for months.