Something to be said for knowing your weaknesses.

My friend Robyn just ran and completed the New York City Marathon this weekend. Robyn is a pediatric nurse and a mother of two young girls. And she found time to train, qualify and then run the NYC Marathon. Not to be outdone, I succeeded in eating too much candy corn this weekend and watching some really lousy old movies. (Don't watch Sliding Doors. Not worth it.) So, there's a lot there to feel good about.

I really like the idea of being one of those people, you know? Not neccesarily a marathoner, but someone who can just push through the pain and be determined to succeed no matter what. But I just don't think I am. I will push myself to a point. And then I'll be all, Hey, you've done pretty well. There's no need to be excessive! Let's go read a book.

This is probably why I ended up with Jason. If you haven't read my post about our differing views on sports, check it out. He played pretty much every sport ever invented, and was good at everything. Here the phrase "opposites attract" comes to mind, as I can manage to fail pretty spectacularly at any physical endeavor.

When we do premarital counseling with engaged couples, we often talk about recognizing your partner's different philosophies surrounding challenges, change, or hard times. The story we always tell is about an Ultimate Frisbee game Jason and I played once. We were playing against another couple in a local park. I wasn't too keen on playing, but I was trying to be all, "Yeah, I'm totally sporty. I got this." But after about 10 minutes of playing and constant running, my side started to hurt. Well, that wasn't fun. So I stopped running. "I think I'm done now. I don't wanna play anymore," I said, panting.

Jason looked at me and bless him, his jaw literally dropped. "What? You're just stopping?" "Yeah," I said, "I'm tired. Let's do something else." And it was like he could not compute the idea that someone would do that. It was like in A League of Their Own, when Tom Hanks moans in disgust, "There's no crying in baseball!!"

"But-but we're in the middle of the game! You can't just stop cause you're tired! Everybody gets tired, you just have to keep going." And as surprised as he was at my quitting, I was surprised that it bothered him so much. It simply hadn't occurred to me that that was a strange thing to do--quitting in the middle of the game. For me it was just like, this is supposed to be just for fun, this isn't fun anymore, I'm out. "But I don't have to keep going," I said, "I don't wanna run anymore."

Hee hee. Yeah, so that was a little moment for us. One of those times when you expect someone to be on the same page as you are, and they are totally not. That moment has been repeated in many ways throughout our relationship. I am trying to develop more perseverance and determination--not just in physical stuff, but elsewhere too. But really? I'm not sure I'll ever be much like Jason--or Robyn. I mean, I do have backbone--but I think it is mostly comprised of candy corn. Or cooked pasta. But if you wanna hang out and read gossip magazines together? I'm your girl.

Robyn, good onya girl! You're my hero. And now I know whom to call next time Jase wants to play Ultimate Frisbee.

Y'all Wanna See a Cool Lizard?

Duh, of COURSE you do! I've noticed this little guy hanging out near our driveway for the past few days, and today the kids and I managed to get a few pictures. I'm sure, that to people who've been here all their lives this is no big deal. But I'm always amazed that there are these big ol' lizards and exotic birds just hanging out near my house.
He's (She's?) pretty big...about 2 feet (60cm) long, I'd say. My extensive research tells me that this is a water dragon. But I'm not positive...maybe someone in the know can help me out?

I always have a hard time identifying animals by their photos. I would be a terrible eyewitness to a crime. Like, "Well, he sure looks like the guy who robbed the bank, but the guy I saw was three-dimensional, and existed in space and time. This guy in the mug shot is flatter, somehow."

I know that is so random, but I think about these things occasionally. And when Amy is blogging everyday, you get what you get sometimes.

Anway, despite Nate's promise to be very quiet and only whisper, and despite that whisper being louder than his normal talking voice, we managed to get pretty close to take the pictures. Kinda cool.

But remind me not to leave the front door open. By the way, I discovered a giant hole in one of the window screens today. The same window that I've been leaving open all day. I can't help but think that something has chewed a hole in it. Could that be true?? No really, could it? I'm a little freaked out.

A Cautionary Tale, Annoyingly Told in the 3rd Person

Once upon a time, a woman went with her family to Disneyland. It was her son's 6th birthday, and the woman and her family were due to return to Australia very soon. They decided to have a big birthday bonanza at The Happiest Place on Earth. And there was much rejoicing.

The family set out. They travelled north on the 5 freeway, they exited on Disney Way, they followed a convoluted route to the remote parking. They unpacked the stroller, they slathered sunscreen on themselves, they took a shuttle bus to the park.

For the first several hours, they had a great time. There was Star Tours, where the 6 year old got to see Darth Vader and C3P0. There was the Snow White Adventures ride. There was the woman's favorite ride at Disneyland, the It's a Small World ride. But as the sun crept higher in the sky, the woman begin to feel uncomfortable. She'd worn jeans that day, you see. A reasonable choice for an October day. Or so she thought.

Because you see, on that day the woman didn't know that southern California would be experiencing an unseasonal heat wave. The day would turn out to be sweltering. And by 12:30, the temperature had crept to about 100F (38C).

And gradually, the woman begin to wilt. Wilt like the delicate, fragile flower that she was. Nothing seemed to help. Ice cold soft drinks, mouse-eared frozen ice cream bars, even the blessed air conditioning of the It's a Small World ride. As she trailed behind her family in the Happiest Place on Earth, the woman couldn't help but imagine peeling off the skinny jeans she'd so foolishly worn and jumping into the pool at the bottom of Splash Mountain.

It should be noted that she is rather sensitive to extreme temperatures. (Being a delicate flower and all.) As she grew hotter, and those jeans began to feel adhered to her legs, she became more and more irritable. Finally, her husband said to her: "You don't look so good. Why don't you go find somewhere to sit down and you can catch up with us later."

She wandered off in search of relief. Barring indecent exposure, what could she do? Up and down Main Street, USA she walked, looking in every gift shop for something she could wear. But alas, it was as if the whole of Disneyland mocked her! There was flannel everywhere! Pluto boxer shorts, Minnie Mouse pajama pants, and--worst of all--Donald Duck sweatpants.

Finally in Frontierland, she found the only thing that would remotely work. But she shrunk back in fear. It was a khaki skort. Oh, the skort. It's not a skirt, it's not shorts...what is it?? Perhaps appropriate for a day on the tennis court or golf course, a skort was not what she'd been hoping for. Plus, being aware of her body type like any savvy girl, she knew that skorts were not quite her Best Look.

But what's a jean-wearing, overheated, Target-less girl to do? With nowhere else to turn and the mercury rising, she decided to fork over the 40 bucks for a khaki skort that she didn't even like. Here's what some say it looked like. (Well, this is what it actually looks like.)

As you can see, her hips are 8 feet wide when wearing it. And there are also embroidered mouse ears. So it has that going for it.

But here is the part that is most awesome. Her self respect in tatters, her cheeks flushed with heat, her jeans tightening by the minute, the woman made her way to the register with the skort clutched in her fevered hand. As the innocent Frontier cash register lady gave her the total, the woman reached into the back pocket of her jeans to get some cash...

...And realized that the money was all damp and sweaty. Is there a delicate way to reference butt sweat? Probably not, so there you go. Now this is happening. As the cashier bagged the skort up, the woman casually waved the money in the air, trying to subtly air it out a bit. Like, la-dee-da, I'm just fanning myself with two $20 bills, just like normal people do all the time, everyday. It didn't help much. The bills were decidedly damp. Oh, the humiliation!

In the end, the woman just handed over the cash and bolted, her head down. She headed straight to the nearest restroom, changed into the skort and felt blessed, cool air on her legs. Which? Were a little hairy. Cause she'd planned to wear jeans that day, you see.


The End.

What's that line from The Matrix about the spoon bending? Yeah, that.

You know you live in the southern hemisphere when the start of November means...

... hydrangeas! Aren't they purty? Today I was doing some stuff around the house and thought to myself, "It's November 5th! My hydrangeas are probably blooming!" And they are. And then I realized how much I've really assimilated to living down under; that I automatically think of November as a spring month now. And mention January or February, and I immediately think of how sweltering it will be. (Y'all know how I get.)

We've been here over 6 years now, and it probably took me 4 years to not have to be reminding myself, "No, it won't be winter then," or "You can roast a turkey for Thanksgiving, but do you wanna have your oven on all day in such warm weather?"

I still remember our first Christmas here; being at the Opera House on Christmas Eve day and it was 94 degrees F (34C) outside. It just didn't feel right to me. I'm embarassed to admit this, but I actually remember thinking, "These people know it's not supposed to be summer, right?"

Oh, Amy. You and your northern hemispheric prejudices. Free your mind! Like, have you ever seen this?

Who said "north" had to be on the top? Hmmm? I remember a vigorous discussion my parents had about this when they first came to visit me. I'd never thought about it either. But it's all quite subjective, isn't it.

So, maybe I'm not down under. Maybe you are. (If you live in the northern hemisphere. You know what I mean. Dang it, I've totally ruined my dramatic ending.)

Passing the Time

It was a beautiful afternoon today; cool and sunny outside. So, once the kids started to glaze over from too much TV after school, I hustled us out of the house for a walk.

Sometimes to make things more interesting, I'll give them my phone to take pictures with as we walk. Now that Nate has his beloved Nintendo DS, he uses that for a camera. (Remember when he deferred helping the less fortunate cause he wanted to save up for a DS? Well, his grandparents gave him one for his birthday, so the philanthropy can flow freely now. Phew.)

Anyway, I was walking in front of the kids along the sidewalk, and I heard Nate snickering behind me. I instantly knew what he was doing, cause he's done it before.

Last summer, we went on a little holiday down the coast to Wollongong. One afternoon we drove to this beautiful stretch of road on a cliff overlooking the ocean. There's a big pedestrian walkway there, so we parked and walked along the cliffside. We'd given Nate the camera; he said he wanted to take photos. Well, when we got back into the car, he dissolved in hysterical laughter, brandishing the camera at me. "What is it?" I asked.

Turns out, pretty much the only photos he'd taken as we'd walked along were of my backside. Yup, there were like two dozen pictures of my butt, from Nate's-eye level. He'd taken them in quick succession, so that if one was so inclined, one might make a flip book of them. One was not inclined. In Nate's mind, the fact that he'd done this undetected was the absolute funniest thing that had ever happened in all the world. He laughed so hard and so long, that we were all laughing; even Grace, who had no clue what was up.

So today when I heard that little devious laugh, I knew. "You're taking pictures of my bottom, aren't you?" And, well, being a girl, I had to look at them--today and last summer when it happened the first time. I mean, aren't we always wondering if our butt looks okay? Lots of stores have those "butt-cams", where they'll show you, definitively and once and for all, if your rear end does look big in those jeans.

But those cameras don't laugh at you in the process. So, see? Bonus for me!

Capulets and Montagues, Taylor Swift, and Kardashians.

Well, I'm going to resist the urge to post about Kim and Khloe Kardashian koming to Sydney to premiere their kollection. On the heels of Kim's divorce! What will she say! How will she act! It's been all over the news here. And I will confess that it interests me, in both that gossipy, OMG kind of way as well as how we are so hungry for inner details of peoples' lives that they'd would orchestrate an entire marriage to feed the beast. But the more I talk about it, the stupider I become. Like, I can actually feel brain cells leaping to their deaths. I'll leave it to people with PhDs in celebrity gossip, like this lady (it's a fascinating site). So, let's move on, shall we?

I was telling Jason the other day, I feel like Ava has really leapt ahead in her "growing up" lately. She wants to be included in adult conversations more, she wants to borrow my iPod all the time to listen to my music, she says things that cause me to go, "Wow. That's a person right there, straight up."
With my dad in North Carolina

This probably sounds silly and like it should be obvious, but I often have to stop and remind myself that my children are maturing, that their thoughts are expanding and the things they think about are changing. (I've mentioned this before.) It's both exhilarating to see and a little overwhelming for me too. Although caring for a baby or toddler is physically demanding and an emotional strain at times, I'm finding that parenting an older kid is harder on a different level. It's like I told someone recently. Whenever one thing gets easier, something else gets harder.

A funny example happened the other night at dinner. The kids and I had gone to our local Italian place, and Ava was talking about how much she loved Taylor Swift's song, Love Story. You know, where the characters are named Romeo and Juliet? (Ava loves to belt out the line, "He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring!") I mentioned, kind of talking to myself, how the original Romeo and Juliet didn't have such a happy ending.

"What do you mean?" she asked. I told her that those names belonged to the characters in a very famous play, and that over the centuries, they've come to symbolize romance but that it really wasn't a happy story at all. Slippery slope! Before I knew it, I'm telling her all about forbidden love and parental control and double suicides (having to explain what "suicide" is in the process--yikes). Can't we just eat pizza and talk about spelling homework or something?

Tonight, we were driving up to the church for a meeting. "Mom," she says from the backseat, "What was the worst time in your life?"

Uhh. Ummm. You are 7. "My life's been pretty sweet, babe," I said, wondering how much of your world do you reveal to your 2nd grader, you know? She persisted: "Yeah, but if you had to name one really bad time, what would you say? Alright, I thought. At some stage, you have to let your kids know who you are, right? Not just as their mom, their caretaker, but as a person with a history and experiences that happened before they were born.

So I picked an experience I thought she could maybe wrap her brain around. I told her about a difficult bout of depression that I dealt with as a 15 year old. How one of my aunts said some cruel, terrible things about my parents and caused a major rift in my extended family. How it caused me to be really angry and upset. How I had jaw surgery around that same time and had to deal with a slow recovery time. She listened, asking a few questions about details, but quiet mostly. I didn't dwell on any of it, just gave her a really brief synopsis.

Silence in the car. "What about you, Ava?" I ventured. "What's been the worst time of your life?" What would she say? What insight would it give me into her burgeoning little world? "Well," she said, "I'd have to say that it's riding in the backseat with Nate when he's being so annoying." Okay, maybe not so much insight into her burgeoning little world.

"Babe," I said, "If that is the most difficult thing you have to deal with in life, you are going to be really blessed."

Bam.

Today I went to Sh'Bam class. Do you know Sh'Bam? It's basically dance aerobics, sort of like its much more popular cousin, Zumba.

See? I wore my orange shirt and pink belt today. Just like usual.

I'm pretty sure Sh'Bam was created to capitalize on the huge success of Zumba. It's like those knockoff perfumes..."If you like Chanel no 5, you'll love Regina 11." Or something like that.

But it's a fun class. I have no real sense of rhythm, and my dancing is about what you'd expect from someone of my age, demographic, and ethnic heritage. Okay, perhaps slightly worse than that. But I figure, as long as I'm moving, and my heart rate is up, and I'm not tearing any ligaments or wetting myself, it's all good.

The instructor kept up a steady stream of chatter through her little headset microphone. Impressive in itself. In between telling us what moves were coming up, she sang the song lyrics, asked us if we bet on the Melbourne Cup, and pontificated on why, if he liked it then he didn't put a ring on it. You get the idea.

Then, in the midst of this side step move where we were supposed to be moving our hips in a circular motion, she took it to a whole 'nother level. She was trying to get us to do the move properly, and she said, "Imagine that you have a wooden spoon stuck up your bottom and that you are trying to stir a pot with it."

Internet, I promise you that she said those things. Those words were processed by my brain and I'll never be the same again. As vivid an image as that may be, I didn't really want to have to imagine it. Although, I have to admit, it was rather illustrative of what she wanted us to do.

I'm just not sure I'm ready to commit to the move at that level. Okay, fine! You've forced me to be honest. Not thinking about the spoon after someone tells you to think about the spoon is an impossible task! I defy you to say otherwise!! And okay, it did help. But still!! Still.

And now I've shared this with you. Yeah, sorry about that.