Parthena’s Neighborhood

When I had a Monday-Friday job, Saturday was naturally laundry day. Every week I would have to ask Mr FD to carry the laundry hamper downstairs for me, as it was often too heavy for my back. May I repeat, EVERY Saturday I had to ASK Mr FD to bring down the laundry hamper from our bathroom.

Now, I don't have a Monday to Friday routine, and I do laundry during the week, trying to leave the weekends free. You know, just in case the last threads of our sanity tear and we give in to spontaneity, heaven forbid!

NOW that I no longer do laundry on a Saturday, every Saturday without fail, WITHOUT A REQUEST, Mr FD brings down the laundry hamper and places it with pride in the middle of our small laundry. It sits there like a dog poop on your priceless heirloom rug. I say nothing, trying to ignore it, but oddly enough it makes me want to rip his throat out.

I do not do the laundry. It sits there until the day I do, in the meantime, our dirty clothes mount up on the floor of our bathroom. I prefer not to say anything as when I am back in the work force I will no doubt want him to bring that damn laundry hamper down each and every Saturday again.

I just want to know - does he know what he is doing? Is he playing games with me - stirring the lizard he calls it. Passive aggressive games of marriage...sigh. Or did he just finally get the message through his damn thick skull and is now probably wondering why I am not postulating myself at his feet in gratitude?

Is it him, or is it me? I know, it's him. It is always him. 

I have been sitting and thinking about my Dad today. Dad died in 2000 at the age of 76. He was the 13th child in a family of 18th children born to first generation German-Australian migrants. By the time he was born some of his elder siblings were young adults. It was the depression and his father, though they farmed was more interested in drinking and partying than feeding his family. Often my Dad went hungry. He told me tales of catching rabbits at the age of 9 or 10 just to have something to eat. Once he was sent to live with am older brother who would disappear for days on end and not leave any food in the house for my Dad, a small child, to eat.

Back at the family "home" many of the children actually slept out in the shed [barn] and used hessian sacks as blankets. The bathroom was the dam or the creek. Food, usually, what they could find. Dad often told me that he probably owes much of survivial during his childhood to the lady who lived on the neighbouring farm, who would give Dad food to eat. I wonder if that woman ever knew what a role she played in my Dad's life? Other people no doubt would have just thought him a waif from a hopeless family, and not cared, but she did. Her generosity shaped my Dad.

Thoughout his life, he was always concerned that no one left his table not full and content. If anyone hung back he would urge tidbits on them. Sharing his food and his table was a joy to him, and one of the ways he showed his care and concern.

As Christmas draws near, I think of Dad, and the love and pride he had for his family. No Christmas ever passes without one of his Grandchildren remembering how Grandpa would steal food from their plates and pretend that he was going to eat it, and when they played the games and complained would return the food, and usually some from his own plate as well. He hated to think that someone might go hungry, or miss out. We neve did of course, we would all have a very full tummy when we rose from the table. Dad would complement the food and say "isn't that wonderful"! He showed his appreciation to all.

So, in many ways, though he is not physically with us, Dad still shapes our Christmas. We plan the menu, we talk about the food we will make and share. We strive to bring pleasure to each other. And to ourselves. Dad also taught us to honor ourselves as well. We deserve good things too. The real pleasure though comes from sharing and giving to others. That nourishes our spirit and our family bonds, even more than the physical food. That is the finest lesson Dad taught us, that caring for others is the greatest gift that we can give ourselves. Caring for others can change lives and shape generations to come. Just like the woman who shared her food with my Dad, sharing what we have can have far reaching effects that no one can know or see, but they are there. Through her simple kindness, our family continues to grow and prosper and pass on the gift that she gave my Dad.

Care about those around you, do the little things and the world grows and the gift goes on and on.

 

Tuesday night:

FD rolls over in bed.

Mr FD : Be careful!

FD: What?

Mr FD : Be careful of the chicks!

FD: Chicks? We have chicks in our beds?

Mr FD : Penguin chicks.

FD: How many penguin chicks are in our bed?

Mr FD : Lots - 8 to 12 at least.

FD : We have 8 to12 chicks sleeping in our bed with us?

Mr FD : Yes, so be careful when you move.

FD: If they poop on the sheets I won't be happy

Mr FD : Oh they won't do that, they have diapers.

FD : Of course they would! How long are these chicks staying with us in our bed

Mr FD: I don't know, awhile. Until their parents come back for them.

FD: And where are their parents?

Mr FD; On holiday.

FD: You are making them breakfast. 

 

Wednesday night

Mr FD : I am going public

FD: Going public about what?

Mr FD : Tiger Woods and I.

FD : You've had an affair with Tiger too?

Mr FD: Yes. I feel so used now.

FD: Where did you meet him?

Mr FD : In the valley [night area].

FD: What were you wearing?

Mr FD : A tight little number. Blue, orange, a splash of red.

FD: Did you wear heels?

Mr FD: Oh course! And sequins. It was kind of a jumpsuit thing.

FD: Do you think you will recover?

Mr FD : I feel sooooo used...sigh 

I am bringing my rampaging soul back into balance. Daughter1 had a meeting with Small Balls the Principal - she took HR and the union with her. I don't have details as yet, except what The Boy has passed on but the meeting went ok and Daughter1 is feeling 'empowered". Empowered is a good word in the Flamingo Dancer world. The union rep was so impressed on how she presented, and the information she wrote that he wants to offer her a job! That's my girl!

Daughter2 is feeling back in balance too, and Son has found out he is the last man standing for the next round of job interviews. I have asked if I can resubmit my assignment and I am waiting for a reply - if not I will live with it. I obviously made some errors and so I may have to suck it up and be a big girl.

Thank you for your support during my blood letting. Small Balls the Principal is still going to get his. Maybe Daughter1 should resign the first week  that school returns in 2010, then he can squirm and find a replacement when all the good teachers are taken! My quiver of sticks are in readiness... 

And it is raining so the heat has decreased. I am going to make a superb dinner tonight, inspired by Jamie Oliver, and maybe even crack a red and sing Christmas carols at the top of my rather off key voice. What I lack in talent I make up for with gusto and volume! 

This week is one of those weeks when the whole Flamingo Dancer family feels that there is a bounty on their head and that we are slowly being pecked to death by ducks. Daughter2 was in tears last night due to workload stress and a work environment where no one provides the information that they are required to but fly to appropriate blame for their failure on others, Daughter1 is of course having ongoing issues but has her union with her now, Son is being put through the treadmill of third and fourth round interviews for job he could do blindfolded, Mr FD struggles to get his business onto firm footing (and some regular income!) and me...well, my family is under attack and so I have to protect them AND I got an unexpected bad mark on one of my last assignments and I am asking to resubmit - heavens I am human after all!  Daughter2 tried to cheer me up with the comment that other people my age (51) are slipping in dementia (!) but that I am out there learning new things and tackling a new life - but perfectionist that I am that doesn't soothe my wounds.

I think I need a back up stick - a quiver full of sticks. Open hunting season had been declared. Gird you loins ye foe and foul, Flamingo Dancer strides forth!

 

 

 

Daughter1, the teacher, is being subjected to workplace bullying from her principal. It is a christian school and the principal does not like women in the workplace. In fact he is trying to negotiate employment contracts that exclude any rights to maternity leave. Daughter 1 is not only a member of the union but taking part in the negotiations and of course standing up for women's rights. This had meant that she, not the men who are fighting for the same things, but she as the lone woman has become his target.

Daughter1 is a little fragile, as she suffers from depression and so this is not an easy time for her. She has been called in to have a "meeting" with the little principal, but she is not going to any meeting without her union rep. I said that if she wants I will go to meetings with her - after my experiences in the Basement of Discontent last year, I know how to handle these damn bullies and  liars.

I know we can't protect our children once they are grown and that they must fights their own figths, but public be warned, you take on any member of the Flamingo Dancer family and you get to fight all 5! Daughter2 has rallied with legal advice and support, Son is coming forth with HR advice and support, Mr FD is being the voice of reason and expereince, and I am just going to hone my stick to a point and go in for the kill. No on messes with us and can expect not to come out bloodied. We go into attack mode, not just defense mode.  You often can't help what happens to you, but you do have control how it happens to you.

So, prepare for the storm... Flamingo Dancer is in battle mode. The stick shall reign!

 

It is our expereince, that christian schools that profess love and christian values are most frequently the abuser of employee rights.

I am so angry and to make it worse, that far right climate change denier, women hating, indigenous hating bigot Tony Abbot has just been voted in as the leader of the oppostion Liberal Party. I hope that The Big Whatever smites him and smites him hard. What is wrong with the universe? How can a bully boy al la Dick Cheney rise to such a level in Australia? Thank God Kevin Rudd is still in power - he better make sure he stays in power or I may have to move to Provence sooner than I expected. Rupert Murdoch must be rubbing his hands together in glee - he loves Tony Abbot.

Enough said, as GOF suggested re my twitch, I should keep busy to avoid my thoughts and anger. I am going to get the stick out of storage and sharpen it to a fine point. I has me some huntin' to do. Stay indoors if you are squeamish.

I have an eye twitch! I have had it off and on for a week or so now. It comes on in the afternoon and drives me to the point of irritation. I suffer and I suffer.

I looked for a possible solution but merely found that The most common things that make the muscle in your eyelid twitch are fatigue, stress, and caffeine. Once spasms begin, they may continue off and on for a few days. Then, they disappear. Well, I knew that already, but the damn thing is not disappearing.

You may be at this point thinking that I have a low threshold for irriation, well I do, Mr FD will vouch for that. When one is perfection one expects perfection! However, as I only have one eye to have that eye a'twitchin' and a'winkin is not to be tolerated. Beside the neighbours probably already think I am tottering on the brink of sanity and to view me walking out to the mailbox, twitching and muttering might mean I fall over the edge into "crazy flamingo lady". 

It is all below the dignity of one as wonderful as I...it is tooo human fraility for a Goddess! What to do, what to do?

Dina spent the first 2 and a half years in an orphanage waiting for the red tape to clear so her mommy and daddy could bring her home. She is loved and pampered and 18 years in the making :)

I love the way the sun turned Juliana's hair to gold. This was cookie day at the B's.

I have never been to Provence, but tonight I am thinking of moving to Provence and becoming a shepherdess. Mr FD has said he will buy me a crook and I shall keep a herd of Rove goats . I shall spend 17-18 hours a day with my goats in the fields while they eat native herbs such as thyme which will flavour the cheese that I will make. I will look out over fields of lavender and drink wine and eat cheese and bread for lunch. I will be a legend amongst shepherdess. Shepherds will worship at my dainty feet.

Provence is the place for me. I will not be lonely as there are some 55,000 flamingoes living in the reserves of Provence. I will be able to dance and dance and dance.

Mr FD may miss me, but I think my calling is clear. One cannot deny one's destiny. I will be superb.