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Decor of Mythological Proportions

Decor of Mythological Proportions

My Auntie Maisie has the coolest house I’ve ever seen. I mean, it’s not that the house itself is that amazing, although it has decent bones – high ceilings, lots of light, big garden. What makes it really awesome is her taste in home decor. It’s kind of eccentric – some might say overwhelming – and constantly changing along with Auntie Maisie’s ever-expanding thematic palette.

At the moment, she seems to be going through a Nordic phase. For example, she’s just installed this enormous forest-themed wall mural in her dining room. It’s a photo she took on her recent trip to Finland, digitally printed onto a self-adhesive wallcovering fabric that’s been custom-fitted to the dimensions of the wall. It’s epic, to say the least.

When I went to check it out yesterday, she told me that she’s so pleased with the effect that she’s planning to hang a similar one in her guest bedroom. That one will be based on a geometric design created for her by a friend whose family lines stretches far back through time immemorial in Iceland. I guess I’m starting to realise, as I’m writing this, that maybe Auntie Maisie’s tastes aren’t so much wildly eccentric as deeply personal.

I told her I’d never heard of this approach to wall decoration before, and she said she’d never have thought to buy digital wallcoverings until recently, when the daughter of a friend of hers had a photo of her new baby blown up to a massive scale and plastered over her bedroom wall. We both agreed that this sounded pretty far to the wrong side of tacky, but acknowledged that it all comes down to personal taste.

I guess thing about Auntie Maisie’s home decor is that, because it’s so strongly based on her personal experiences and friendships, people who don’t know her all that well (like me) often arrive at an under-informed first impression of it. But talking to her about it has shown me that it’s not merely ostentation for ostentation’s sake.

Losing my calm- the termite invasion

Losing my calm- the termite invasion

Today as I was running through my yoga sequence in the hallway, when I stopped short mid pose. All my hard earned calm breath evaporated in my lungs as I watched a tiny, pale ant make its way across a groove in the floorboards. It went up the wall and out of sight. I stared on in open mouthed horror, as another, and another and another followed.. I no longer felt calmed and centered. I felt terrified and enraged, and flinging open the hallway door, ran to the phone book, tracing my finger down the business listings for pest control, Frankston.

Within fifteen minutes I’d secured an appointment with termite control. Frankston didn’t have a reputation for termites, I’d never heard of anyone in the area having to deal with them… I started to panic that our beloved home of ten years had been singled out by the wee varmints. Visualising the utter horror that surely my whole family now faced, I knew that before long we’d be waking up in a pile of sawdust.

Thank god the Pest Control Officer knew exactly what he was doing, and could offer me some reassurance too. Not only was I wrong to assume no one in the area had dealt with them before, but I was so relieved to find out that if I followed the officer’s instructions carefully and didn’t interfere with the treatment, that we’d enjoy termite free-lives for up to ten years.

Now, I believe in a long and happy life for all creatures. I don’t like to kill anything that deserves to live but I’m not going to pay off my the roof over my head just to have a bunch of ants eat through the roof. I signed off on the control methods and felt an immediate wave of relief wash over me – right back into my favourite yoga position knowing that apart from termites, all is well with the world.

Ever tried to stuff a squid into an envelope? That’s a kids party.

Ever tried to stuff a squid into an envelope? That’s a kids party.

I’d take solving a problem like Maria any day over trying to find the perfect place to host kids parties. Bentleigh East has been our home for the last six years and I can’t tell you how happy I was to find a venue locally that does such amazing birthday celebrations.

I tried to host a Frozen party for my five-turning six year old last year. And when I say tried, I don’t say it lightly.

I mean, I tried to make it absolutely perfect. I made tiny frozen sugar cookies, ice mugs, the most amazing balloon arch for the front gate. I had a photographer come to the day especially to take amazing shots. I had the cake made by an artisan baker and the children all had to attend in theme to play the loads of Frozen based games and then finally, take home a whole bunch of Frozen based paraphernalia party bags that almost send my social media account into meltdown. But guess what? Not a single kid really cared that much about anything I was trying to create.

And I realised this the hard way. I’m over the moon that I was able to find a few kids parties venues in the Bayside area.

I’d forgotten what it was like to be a kid and count down the days to a party. I had expected the kids and parents to love what I created, but instead I think everyone was overwhelmed and that made it all feel quite stiff. I was so disappointed. And burnt out. The next day, I had to admit that I’d gone overboard. I actually cried about all my hard work and realised I’d just expected too much. I promised that I wouldn’t ever try and micromanage a party again, and we agreed to let out two year old have her party next month at the said amazing indoor play center up the street from us. And you know what? As soon as we made that agreement, I felt better. Not so Frozen. Relieved.

To Be Out the Window, Sailing…

To Be Out the Window, Sailing…

They say a one-track mind is a bad thing, but honestly, it sounds like a blessing in some ways. I am SUCH a scatterbrain. All of my work takes twice as long because I just have to daydream, or think about philosophical dilemmas, or ponder how I’m going to get all my Christmas shopping done. Yesterday I saw a video of a T-rex doing push-ups while I was on the train, and I was distracted by it all day. I can’t just watch NOTHING. My mind is too active.

I was supposed to be spending the day focused on orders for boating supplies and outboard motor servicing. Melbourne clients who outsources some of this stuff need us to get this stuff right, but I look at my computer screen and all I see is numbers. Numbers and spreadsheets. No real colour or distinguishing features. Now, it’s grunt work of course. Not exactly *hard*, but still, maybe that’s part of the problem. My thoughts fly away to the high seas, where outboard motors and anchor winches are actually useful. Why am I sitting in an office chair doing nothing, when people were out there right now, sailing with the wind in their face, in search of adventure? I can only imagine what it’s like for people who have offices that overlook the sea. Nice view, bad for productivity. It was only recently when one of our offices had their windows tinted, because they were above a busy shopping strip and everyone kept getting distracted by the many goings on down below. Sounds like my personal productivity nightmare.

I need to request a middle cubicle. Nothing on the walls. Strict internet filters. And maybe Melbourne’s outboard motor servicing is just…too exciting a subject. Put me onto rubbish collection or driveway paving. I must do my very best to keep my mind from wandering. Gotta stay focused on the matter at hand and make every effort to stay on track. 

-Ollie

A weekend away in Lorne

A weekend away in Lorne

Over the weekend that was, I had to work.

Perhaps, in my twenties, when career projection was at the front and centre of my list of things to do, I wouldn’t have minded so much. I can tell you that I minded a lot when I had to spend the weekend away from my girls. I suppose any mother can relate, but for those who aren’t parents, please, allow me the opportunity to spell it out for you. Being away from your children, your babies, is the worst. It can sometimes even feel like a form of punishment. This is especially true when your children are still young. I already work really long hours and spend a far too much time away from my girls, but the weekends are supposed to be our time. When a “voluntary” conference takes up your whole weekend, it’s a gross injustice.

What makes it slightly better, the two-day function is to be held in one of those new-age type conference centres in Lorne, on the Great Ocean Road of all places. The two-hour car ride essentially eliminated all possibility of sneaking home for dinner to squeeze in a little quality family time. When I met with my boss to ask for a little special treatment given my family situation, I was told flatly that my presence was needed for both days.

I realise I’m making this out to be the worst thing in the world, so, in the interest of fairness, I should tell you plainly that i wasn’t. Again, if I was in my twenties, I would have relished the experience. The problem was that not even the luxury accommodation and the Great Ocean Road setting could assuage my sense of homesickness. All I wanted to do was run home. Even the highlights of the conference itself, the company triumphs that my hard work helped bring about, were curbed by that sense of longing to be with my family. If only I’d been allowed to bring my husband and kids with me. They would have adored Lorne and it’s stretch of gorgeous beaches as far as the eye can see.

But What Do the Trees Think?

But What Do the Trees Think?

Oh, so when Paris writes a puffy short y anthology about insects having their lives ruined by pest control it’s ‘stark’ and ‘brave’ but I write about trees getting cut down, from the perspective of the trees, and it’s ‘macabre’.

I’ll admit that I was the only one saying those things about Paris’ stories. Everyone else thought their thousands of words spent on the daily life of one ant were sort of dull. But here I thought we were kindred creative spirits.

You all don’t understand: it’s not SUPPOSED to be an attack on the tree removal services of Oakleigh, not at all. If you read between the lines of the tree’s final thoughts as it’s being cut down, its roots being ripped upwards from the ground, its view of the world taking a sudden and traumatic tumble before its life is extinguished forever, you’ll see that they also believe that it is their time.

A dead tree is doomed to sit in one place forever, looking down upon a world full of life with jealousy in its…eyes. Sap? Yep. And trees give us life, so the thought of one wrecking a flowerbed with its roots, or crashing down upon a shed…well, the trees obviously want no part in it. It was their time to be lopped, and through their long lives, they have gained wisdom enough to truly comprehend it. Better than humans, I might add. If all goes well, they’ll be turned into a wonderful family table to be cherished for generations. Either that or paper towel.

Oh, but my stories are ‘off-putting’ and ‘are going to give me nightmares’. Well, I’m so sorry for putting you off your food with a stark look at Armadale’s tree removal industry. It’s not like there was any food left after you’d finished reading; Sheila took good care of that. Perhaps you’ll think from a tree’s perspective next time. Trees can teach us many things about the fragility of life.

-Anala

Uncle Rick Loves Oxygen

Uncle Rick Loves Oxygen

My Uncle Rick has just purchased a portable hyperbaric chamber. A portable what now? That was my family’s response, too. Personally, I think it looks kind of interesting. I don’t really understand precisely what he’s planning to do with it, but time will tell.

Rick’s explanation for it is pretty reasonable. He’s a big scuba diver, and he’s also a certified trainer. He sometimes runs weekend courses from his cottage up north on the coast, and has occasionally expressed concern about the health risks that diving can sometimes pose. According to him, it’s specifically the ascent from depth that can bring on problems for some people, and pretty major ones at that.

He tells me that he’s recently become really interested in ‘therapeutic recompression’ as a treatment for this decompression sickness, and he’s concerned that there aren’t any facilities that could provide it in the vicinity of his training location. His solution has been to hunt around for a company that produces portable versions of these oxygen chambers that can be rigged up anywhere. Makes sense to me.

I mean, I definitely don’t know enough about it to say whether this is a great investment or not. Rick reckons that no certification or special training is required to administer treatment using one of these things, and that they’re not harmful – he said it’s kind of comparable to ascending in a plane. He seems to know his stuff about gizmos and gadgets, and especially about anything related to diving, so I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being. 

I’m guessing he’s one of a relatively small number of people who know about hyperbaric oxygen therapy in Melbourne, or surely I would have heard it mentioned by now. I wonder how long it will be until Melburnians dream up a way to employ it as a beauty therapy, mindfulness tool or new-age productivity facilitator? Again, time will tell.

Perfect Period Home Lighting

Perfect Period Home Lighting

The lighting in our home was nowhere close to what I wanted it to be. When we purchased it four years ago, we went well over our budget. Since then I’ve been pinching pennies in my subconscious and sleep. However, recently, Aaron was offered a promotion and my business was bought for a great price, so some serious limitations have been lifted. I’ve been given the green light to look for some home lighting solutions. Melbourne has the most incredible way of getting under your skin when it comes to design, I get overwhelmed by possibility, so one of the best things I have ever done was talk to a consultant about creative home lighting solutions that would look great now and in a few years time.

We probably could’ve done a budget update, but for me, there’s just no point- it’s either all or nothing and I would always prefer to buy big once than buy cheap three times. Aaron, on the other hand thinks that if things can be improved, then they definitely should be. He’s a fan of sweeping things under the carpet and living on the edge, but I like to think I’m the solution to that too.

Our home was previously owned by an Italian couple in their late eighties, and their children had sold the home after they passed away in the same year, via private sale.  Keeping some of the nouveaux appeal of our home was important.The consultant whom we ended up making contact with was completely understanding of my perspective, and she showed me a number of options that I felt were well considered options for lighting. I couldn’t be happier with the choices Aaron and I eventually made- we can’t believe how lucky we got with our consultant, who had a great understanding of period homes like ours.

The end result? The joy I feel from coming home after a long day and opening the front gate to see a warm glow emanating from inside gives me an indescribably happy feeling. We got it so right.

Digging Up My Youth

Digging Up My Youth

So, there’s a swimming pool in my parents’ backyard of twenty years, and this is the first I’ve heard of it. How is that possible, you ask? Well, gather round and I’ll tell you the tale.

When I was about twelve, we moved into a new house with a really cool cabin-like structure out the back. This I was allowed to have as the domain of my impending teenager status. It was pretty unusual – sunk underground a bit, and with an oddly temporary look to the upper part of the structure.

As it turns out, it was originally a swimming pool that had been converted by the previous owners. I’m not at all sure how I never figured this out; it seems really obvious now. Anyway, my folks have now gone and removed the above-ground structure to reveal the pool underneath. It seems I’m going to be able to take a dip in my teenage bedroom.

The yard is currently filled with unusual sculptural elements that mum wants to include in the landscaping, plus stray panels of temporary pool fencing. Companies in Melbourne that do landscaping work for people like my parents tend to employ workers with metallic industrial boots and extreme facial hair. This all adds up to the swimming pool renovation site looking a bit like an archaeological dig in a post-apocalyptic film (exactly what my parents are aiming for, I’d be willing to bet).

I’m wondering what the story is these days with swimming pool fence installation in Melbourne. It seems like the place to find someone who can build you literally anything you want while managing to comply with pool fencing regulations. I have no doubt that, if that’s a thing, my parents will want to take advantage of it to construct their perfect backyard tableau.

Well, it’s their blank canvas now. That swimming pool served me well as my teenage kingdom, and so may it serve them as a platform for creative backyard landscaping.

Multi-Generational Funtimes

Multi-Generational Funtimes

Well, here we are in Melbourne again. The kids are thrilled to be staying with Oma and Opa, and Tony and I are jazzed to get into some nightlife – they don’t make the bars like this in Sydney! In typical Melbourne style, though, the weather is rather on the bleak side, and we didn’t pack any rain gear. Until we get that sorted out or the sun comes out, we’re going to have to find something for mum and dad to do with the kids that will keep them from losing their minds (the kids, I mean, but this applies to all concerned).

I’m hoping that there’s an indoor play centre in Melbourne, like the one we had Kate’s birthday at last year. This is not a city that’s running short on recreational facilities, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem by any stretch. Trust me – these places are lifesavers at times like this, when you need the kids to let off some steam in a secure environment where they’re not likely to cause too much damage.

I reckon we’ll line this up for tomorrow, when Tony and I are booked in for lunch at our favourite bistro by the river. Mum and dad will be into it for sure – they love being able to get amongst the kids’ mischief and run around after them. Dad’s always been a climber; I remember he’d climb up trees at the playground when I was a kid, just to see what was up there. Mum has a bung ankle at the moment, but she’ll probably want to get in the ball pit with Jamie (the quieter one by a long shot).

Yep, I’m totally sold on this whole indoor play centre thing. There’s something awesome about a place that’s completely dedicated to providing space for kids to run around like crazy and be their wonderfully ridiculous little selves, without being in danger. Most places you can take kids have other stuff going for them, but sometimes the playground concept 100% fits the bill.