Reading 2017

This year I am aiming to read one book a month, so about 12 books over the course of the year. What counts as a "book"? This year I am aiming for physical publications of at least 200 pages long, preferably by an author who is not male, white, or from an English speaking country. My aim is to broaden the voices I read, the stories I expose myself to, without aiming for heavy or political or female only books.

So this year there'll be no Torday, le Carre, Powers, and Pratchett - and instead I'll be reading some Angelou, Chang, Achebe, Smith, and Bitto. I will make two exceptions; one for Clancy of the Undertow by Christopher Currie as I've been wanting to read it since it came out; and another one for Cry, the Beloved Country by Paton - given the nature of the book, it has a place on my 2017 reading list (and my brother recommended it and he only recommends good things).

As far as my first book (January) went, I managed 1/3 for Pierre Magnan's Death in the Truffle Wood... It was originally written in French, and, for what it's worth, the translation is fluid and fluent and captures what I imagine truffle farmers and their small village in Provence might be like - well, truffle farmers who happen to live in a village where multiple murders have taken place.

Death in the Truffle Wood (DTW) involves murders, unlikeable characters, infidelity, suspense, a very likeable pig, lost souls, and a very likeable police investigator who is very good at what he does. I don't know how much to say about it, without giving too much away... Magnan has created a small village as the scene for not one but multiple murders, uncovered while a high up police investigator is visiting on a seemingly unrelated task. DTW is easy to read and changes location and actors enough to keep the reader flipping back and forth trying to connect the dots before the police investigator does (good luck!). What I really liked about it was that no character, save the pig, really dominates the narrative and the few who Magnan focuses on to tell it, do so without overwhelming the book.

For fans of Midsummer Murders, this is a bit like the TV show, only as a book and set in France. I found it entertaining, almost lighthearted, engrossing and definitely light reading. Thanks to DTW, I can now solidify the realisation that my enjoyment of crime TV should be mixed with my love of reading and I will seek out similar books - there might be some Agatha Christie around here later in the year... But it wasn't the first book that caught my eye this year, The Taxidermist's Daughter by Kate Mosse was - both books were on display on the "new fiction" stand at the library (neither are really new by any means, except perhaps to the library itself), and while the Taxidermist's Daughter caught my eye because my brother is dating a taxidermist (I know!), both books were definitely worth taking home.

But I read DTW first, then The Taxidermist's Daughter, making it my February book. Meeting my criteria (because Mosse is white and English, February only gets 1/3 of my criteria) is going to need some active book searching and requesting books from the library. That said, I'm glad I picked up The Taxidermist's Daughter because it was thoroughly enjoyable, if somewhat macabre and gruesome.

Set in Sussex in 1912, the story centres around Connie Gifford, the daughter of a once celebrated taxidermist turned drunk, and while he might be the person people ask to prepare specimens it is his daughter who does the actual taxidermy. As taxidermy was not considered a 'woman's' profession they had to keep this detail of their lives secret, which is made easy as they live outside of the village and almost on the sea marshes. Much of Connie's past is secret to her, as she lost her memory after falling down a flight of stairs 10 years before the story begins. The story starts as their lives start to unravel after a mysterious midnight graveyard visit, then the body of woman is found in the reeds near the house and Connie's concern for the woman and why she was murdered is matched by her concern for her father, who has not left his room since visiting the graveyard. As Connie tries to get to the bottom of these two issues, prominent men are disappearing, household items have been misplaced, secrets from Connie's past are surfacing, a spring storm is brewing, and WW1 is two years away - what sorrows there are in the book are unmatched by the sorrows to come.

Mosse's use of the creative licence, names, and formal terminology make this book a thing of beauty, even if the subject matter is a little hard to stomach at times. I really enjoyed it and had trouble putting it down. What the book lacks in meeting my criteria for 2017, it makes up for in a strong and caring female lead, a woman seeking vengeance in a time when the wrongs done to her would have been shrugged off or outright dismissed, and a reminder that women's rights and voices have come a long way in 100 years, even if there is still so much more to do.

Mosse is now firmly on my radar of authors to read more of, but Labyrinth will have to wait for next year, because I'm only averaging 1/3 of my criteria for 2017's reading list - although I've just started On Beauty, which meets 2/3 criteria.

Happy reading!

"Sour grapes"

A few weeks ago, we were invited to help some friends in Stanthorpe thin out their wine grapes, because the grapes were too thick on the vines and if they didn’t thin them, the grapes would be about half the size and weight come harvest, which would have resulted in less wine (and we can’t have that, now can we?).

We left Warwick really early – 4:30 am early. A friend picked us up, and I was glad not to be driving. We had hoped that Jimmy would go back to sleep once in the car, but a different car and a different car seat were too exciting. And the landscape was bathed in the most delicate light as the sun rose behind a cloud covered sky. The plan was to beat the heat, because the previous few days had been very hot and the day for the thinning was predicted to be about the same.

As I mentioned, the morning was overcast, which was wonderful, and it was cool and stayed cool and overcast until around 9 or 10 am. Jimmy’s jumper was actually needed, until about 8 am, but getting it off him was quite the task. Getting food into him was a lot easier, but given that he had to wait over an hour from when he woke up to when I offered him an apple, it really shouldn't have been surprising.

With Jimmy along, one parent needed to be with him at all times, so only one of us could do the thinning (Michael) while the other (me) occupied Jimmy or picked him up when the lovely but bouncy dog was a little too much for him. Sometimes Jimmy was quite happy to hang around Daddy for a bit or the friend who drove us down, and in these moments I emptied full buckets of grapes into the pallets.

The grapes being thinned were sour but not wasted: they went to another friend who turned them verjuice. I've seen it in recipes but have never used it, so I'm excited to test the results when the verjuice is ready.

Keeping Jimmy entertained was interesting. I'd brought pencils and paper for him to do some drawing, but he wanted to sit on one bucket and use another upturned bucket as a desk and it just wasn't working for him. He used my camera for a bit and took a blurry one of me but I thought grapes in a white bucket was a better photo, and I could be wrong but at least the grapes were in focus.

Someone noticed this little fellow as they were thinning a section and called us over. Isn't is a cute little lizard? It was really lovely of them to call us over – the whole mood was friendly and there was a real sense of community in the group, especially from those who had been involved in picking the grapes previous years. To be included was something special.

When we weren't helping empty buckets of grapes or patting the dog (or, in Jimmy's case, trying to avoid the dog because she's bouncy and their faces are about the same height), Jimmy and I were enjoying the morning and the location. I've always liked Stanthorpe, and love the difference in flora and landscape less than an hour from Warwick. We've been out to this winery, and Stanthorpe, a fair bit over the last few months and I've enjoyed every visit – and this morning was no exception.

Our friends who once the vineyard served a wonderful breakfast around 9:30 am, and the hard working thinners really tucked in (Jimmy and I had breakfast too, but as we weren't working as hard, we naturally ate less). After breakfast the sun came out and the day heated up really quickly, and it was muggy too. There was only about an hour or so more to do, and once it was all done, we had a cold drink and went home with a token of appreciation (wine). We stopped in at Zest for coffee and a snack, exhausted but happy for the excursion.

On the needles: "the best thing ever!"

The idea to make Jimmy a quilt had been in the back on my for some time – possibly four years by the time I decided it was time to actually make it. Winter was over, but the nights were still cool. Our doona's were too warm but we still needed blankets during the night, and when there are blankets on my bed my personal preference is to have something smooth over them, so that during the day my bed is still nice enough to lay on and not spikey (the blankets in the house are all wool, beautiful, long-lived things, but spikey nonetheless).

When he was still in my belly, I was buying fabric for clothes, PJ’s and even a quilt. Not much, just a few metres here and there. I have been collecting quilting flats for a while too – nothing in particular; just whatever I liked, especially if was on sale. Plus, for a while I was buying at least one metre more of whatever fabric I was buying, especially if it had a cute or fun print and was cotton (ok, so I basically avoid any fabric that isn’t cotton, linen, silk, wool, or a blend of those four).

Suffice it to say, I had a sizable collection of fabric to choose from, even after sorting for fabric type and size. It was a nice collection of colours and prints, including some Peter Rabbit, Cuddlepie & Snugglepot, and an orange fox on flannelette. Naturally, I washed everything before ironing it and deciding what to use. Unfortunately, a red fabric and a green fabric ran a little, staining some of the cottons – soaking these in oxi-action didn’t help, in fact it made some worse because I was soaking some muddy clothes in the same water...

I was a little bummed by the stains, but it was also liberating because it freed me from being too precious about the quilt, both during the making and its life one in Jimmy’s possession – Jimmy is really good with his things, so this feeling actually has more to do with me and my ability to let go of this thing I have made and being happy for him to take this quilt on adventures, whatever they are.

My inspiration for the 'pattern' of this quilt came from Soule Mama and this lovely looking quilt she made. I found 'instructions' of one kind or another here and in books and in people. As this is my first quilt, and possibly my last (nah!) and given our state of employment (none) I was only going to spend the minimum on this quilt and was not going to buy cutting boards and sharp rolling cutter etc. So, without ‘proper’ quilting equipment or pattern, this quilt was never going to be ‘perfect’, but the little stains freed me up and I enjoyed and embraced the perfectly imperfect nature of the whole process.

I cut squares, sorted them, sewed them together, cut them again, measured Jimmy's bed so I knew how wide I wanted the quilt and cut some more, sorted them a final time with help from Michael and Jimmy, and sewed strip after strip together until I was happy with the length. Slow going perhaps, but totally worth it because Jimmy announced that it was the best thing ever! even before I had sewn the long strips together. The result is a riot of colour and patterns and a slightly unconventionally sized quilt (it's very long, given how wide it is, and yes, given my time again, I would make it wider and perhaps a little shorter), but it's all good because the quilt covers Jimmy's bed, including his pillow, which is what I was going for.

There are a few quilting shops in Warwick, and they all stock cotton batting, so it was easy enough to get 100% cotton batting for the quilt (I bought it from Glenrose. They don't have the cotton batting on their website, but if you're in the area, I highly recommend visiting the shop as it's really lovely). My mum has a reasonable stash of fabric and she had some 100% cotton fabric that was perfect (the yellow and white stripes worked perfectly). And then there was a hot few days and nothing happened quilt-wise. Nothing.

Once the first "heatwave" of summer was over, I was able to get the three layers together, pin them, and then tied the layers together (tieing involves hand sewing the layers together with little loops of thread knotted together). My intention all along had been to have the quilt finished by Christmas (I had started in September, so I was being very generous with myself), and I had most of the binding pinned Christmas Eve and it was all sewn by Boxing Day. It was well received and is proving to be excellent for hiding under and covering Jimmy's bed.

 

The quilt is a success and I'm already starting to think about the next one (one for Michael and myself), as our current quilt is nearly 30 years old and in need of repairs – but I'll do the repairs because the quilt was made by a much loved great-aunt of mine and she did most of it without a sewing machine. I like sewing machines, but I think Jimmy likes his quilt more – it is the "best thing ever" afterall.

What Jimmy is reading: January

We've been heading to the local library recently, in an effort to get out of the house and find some new books, and possibly attend the Thursday morning children's thing. An added bonus is that the library is air conditioned, which is a lifesaver on really hot days – which have been a little too frequent lately (hello summer…).

It’s not that we don’t have a lot of books in the house to have a varied rotation, but it’s nice to read new books and find new favourites. First up is The Wrong Thing by Isobelle Carmody and illustrated by Declan Lee.

This sweet tale of a cat following an intruder around his home is so beautifully illustrated that half the telling is in the artwork. Hurricane, the cat, investigates, watches, and after a little reflection he comes to a thoughtful conclusion about the Wrong Thing that results in a happy ending for all. It's magic and Jimmy was captivated, both at bedtime and during the day. Each time we read it, he would point out something in the illustrations he hadn't noticed before. Carmody and Lee have created a work of art and I will be looking for it again.

This book is just lovely. The River by Hanako Clulow might be focused on a northern hemisphere location but it is so beautiful, a charmingly told story accompanied by captivating illustrations. It takes in the some amazing landscape and changes in scenery from icy rivers to a sunny beach. Not only does it provide a good sample of North American flora and fauna but it is also an introduction in the biology of salmon. I've always been drawn to story books with lovely illustrations and this one is no exception.

Wendy Binks' Where's Stripey? is a wonderful introduction to emus and their behaviour, and Australian animals in general. When Stripey goes missing, his dad, Crickey, goes searching for him – after making sure that Stripeys brothers and sisters have babysitters. This book provides a sound introduction into Australian animals and some Australian lingo, while having a fun at the same time. Binks' illustrations are lively and perfect for young children and the story is fun to read over and over. We've borrowed this one a few times in the last 6 months and it's a firm favourite.

We're always on the lookout for new(er) books, so please leave any suggestions in the comments!

Other books we've enjoyed in the past:

This book!
This book!
What Jimmy is reading...
17/52 – oh those cheeks!

Ringing in the New Year...

I know, I know, this isn't exactly the very start of 2017, but the Chinese New Year is about to happen and my birthday was recently, so it's the start of a new year for me, so it's all the same if you ask me. I'm also not exactly excited about 2017 starting, but it might turn out to be a good year – the worst may not be over, but global acts of unity and sustainability, and the continued quest for equality and justice fill me hope in dark days. 

I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions. I don’t keep them, unless they’re little things like “read at least four (non-children’s) books”, and even then what passes for a book? Does it have to be at least 200 pages with minimal illustrations?  Did “Jane, the Fox, &Me” really qualify?

My hopes for this year are continued good health for me and my family, continued learning and personal growth, to live a little more sustainably every day, make more time to connect with family and friends, make more time to write, and finish the things I start. I’d also like to think that I’ll read one book a month, but we’ll see how that goes. 

What are your hopes for 2017? Here are some things I've found interesting, and related to New Year's and new beginnings, over the last few weeks:

Some really good New Year's resolutions

Screw mastery?

A time management system

Trusting your future self

7 work goals

5 things your children will remember

A little something to help manage anxiety/stress/anger/frustration/what life throws your way...

(Trusting your future self and 7 work goals are via the Tradlands blog; calendar is by Finnish artist Anne Vasko and was a gift from our lovely friend Kara)

52/52

a portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2016

Jimmy: Enjoying a spot of cricket on Christmas Day...

Christmas morning saw us heading down to the Condamine River and enjoying breakfast outside, followed by Jimmy opening a large match stick that was covering a cricket set. We had some fun trying to play normally, and then without wickets and with more running around. He quite likes it. 

This is the last entry in Jimmy's 52 Project. It's been fun, sometimes challenging, and rewarding to have this record of Jimmy, but he is going to be at school soon and to protect his identity (somewhat), lessen the effect on his ego (more so), it is time to stop. I know, I know, there are lots of children who are constantly on their parents blogs and that's the choice of their parents, but this is our choice. There will still be photos of Jimmy here and stories, but we hope to provide a gap onlne between our perception of Jimmy as a baby and small child, and give him the space to develop his perception of who he is and make it easier for him to choose how much of this self he wishes to share online when he is old enough to do so.

Yes, I know, it means that there will be less of record of him growing up here, but he has been saying no to photos more and more, and I find it challenging to balance my wants with his; it's his image I'm using, so his wants outway mine. And as he grows, he is more expressive and more aware of his surroundings and able to relate stories and events and sometimes photos just don't do justice to the storytelling of who this little boy is becoming. No, no weekly video of Jimmy, but call us or arrange a playdate - we'd love to see you!

Festive wreaths...

Wreaths. My earliest memories of wreaths have to do with Christmas, grave yards, and war memorials. While we were in Manhattan, KS, I noticed that many houses had wreaths on their front doors, wreaths which would change seasonally. It was kinda nice, but most of them were plastic *sigh* And then we were heading into our first Solstice and Christmas in Manhattan, KS, and I couldn't resist the temptation of a $10 bunch of branches... And a tradition was spawned! 

So, when a neighbour was doing some pruning, and that pruning included a wattle tree and a few olive trees, I couldn't resist making some wreaths for the festive season, even though they would probably be a bit tired within a week. He didn't mind – the branches were destined for a hugel mound – I just delayed that journey for a few branches.

In lieu of florists wire, I cut some wool to (hopefully) usable lengths, Michael cut the wattle branches into individual segments, and we got stuck into it!

Michael wound some short wattle branches together without the wool, while I made a bigger wreath of wattle using a combination of winding branches together and anchoring it all in some places with the wool – which turned out to be a good length. I also made an olive wreath by twisting branches together (no wool required).

In the course of 30 minutes we made three wreaths while drinking tea and enjoying the afternoon. It was a really nice activity and I kinda wish we made them more often but I know that the green branches last longer if they are on the trees...

We tied the wreaths together using the wool, making a string of wreaths and hung them from the front door so they hung largest to smallest. They looked lovely at first but now they are past it and we probably need to take them down and make some fresh ones next week, in time for the Solstice and Christmas. What traditions do you have for this time of year? Which ones have been passed down over the years and which ones are evolving?

51/52

a portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2016

Jimmy: Hanging out with Auntie Kara at her old park...

One of the biggest problems with academia is having to relocate to where the work is or where the research is funded. Due to this issue we have been separated from our wonderful friend Kara, as we were living in Manhattan, KS, and she is doing a PhD in Finland. But for a brief time we are in the same country and we enjoyed a good long catch up, which included hanging out at a playground she used to visit on her way home from school.

50/52

a portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2016

Jimmy: Bursting at the seams with joy...

Water, cool water, a hose, a new skill and comfortable for the first time since about 10 am. It was one of those really hot days (over 35 ˚C) and we went to the chooks in time for this little pool to arrive. Jimmy was invited to test it out, just to make sure it was acceptable for a grandson – it was intended for another 3 year old, who may or may not visit Warwick, but is visiting Queensland. Anyway, Jimmy was happy to test it out and the little pool proved very acceptable, and the slide heaps of fun. I'm not sure which Jimmy preferred: the pool or the hose and learning how to spray the water everywhere with only his finger...

A crash course in snakes...

It's snake season here in Queensland. It has been for at least a month now. A few weeks ago a brown snake was seen (and killed) less than 100 meters from home, but I did not see it. Having grown up in regional Queensland, in an area close to farms and with little pockets of bush between houses and paddocks, it might come as a surprise that I have only seen 2 snakes around my parents house and my old school. Ever. 

Yes, I have seen other snakes, usually captive snakes and at least one sunning itself on a country road, seen from the safety of a car or school bus, or carpet pythons. But I don’t count as actual encounters. There have also been other sightings of red-bellied black snakes around my parents’ house, and a school friend had a garden that was very attractive to brown snakes, especially for egg laying…

The snakes around here scare me. Why?

Eastern brown snakes.

Red-bellied black snakes.

The last of these is actually a good snake to have around even if they are highly venomous – they attack brown snakes. Brown snakes have nasty venom. Really nasty. Blood clotting and paralysis.

Funtimes, right?

So, how did I go my whole schooling years only to see two wild baby brown snakes? I followed the basic rules for avoiding snakes:

• Stay out of long grass;
• Stomp around the bush;
• Keep an eye on the path ahead. 

And now it's time to pass this on to Jimmy, who has no fear of snakes, thinks they should be killed if they're "bad snakes", and has not been discouraged to walk through long grass while we were in Kansas (even though there are rattlesnakes there – ep!).

We've been talking about snakes lately. It's timely and Jimmy is coming to terms with the fact that not all snakes are venomous but all snakes should be left alone. I even brought out the snake book my parents have (as pictured above), to show Jimmy the different snakes and to talk about them in a measured manner. He kept asking if the snakes we were looking at were "bad snakes", meaning 'will they bite me if I come across one' to which the answer was "no, they're pythons, they eat mice and frogs and even if they do bite you, they are not venomous, so they'd give you an ouchie but they wouldn't make you sick". He did really well, and we made it to the ... which is venomous, but highly unlikely to attack, unless provoked.

And that's really the main point: do not provoke a snake because it will bite, venomous or not - if you see one, walk away and tell an adult.

So, crash course delivered, Jimmy is now ready for summer, even if he needs reminding not to go into grass where he cannot see the ground (there are other reasons to avoid long grass, but that's for another time). We'll work on the stomping and keeping an eye on the path ahead, but we've started talking about snakes and other not-so-nice-but-still-important creatures we live with in Australia, and by talking about them I'm hoping Jimmy grows up with a healthy respect for venomous and potentially dangers Australian animals. 

Knitting lace and US politics...

Note: the first draft of this was written about a week after the US election, the second draft a few days later. I liked the second draft, but it wasn’t properly saved before my computer crashed. I tried writing a third draft a day or two later but it was too painful, and then I came down with a nasty sore throat. So, here’s the third/fourth draft…

I don't like knitting with lace weight yarn. I like knitting and I like knitting lace, but preferably with at least sock weight yarn, preferably bulky yarn on big needles. The last (and first) time I tried knitting with lace weight yarn I was so frustrated by the amount of attention it required and that the ply seemed to untwist with every stitch. I took the work off the needles, rolled up the yarn and promptly hid it in my stash, deciding that I didn’t like lace weight yarn but acknowledging that I was not ready to part with the lovely yarn.

Fast forward a few years and I have been reunited with my stored yarn stash and knitting patterns and quickly discovered that somehow I have not one but four skeins of lace weight yarn. Oh dear… My preference really is for socks or things with lots of stockinet or garter stitch – the sort of things that are mindless and can be done while watching movies or the news.

And then the recent US election happened, and suddenly mindless knitting was just not cutting it. It provided no relaxation, no joy. Not even the challenge of creating a koala motif using yarn overs and knit-two-togethers for a vest for Jimmy was enough. I needed a distraction; I needed something to focus on that was not bad news or job hunting. I needed to make something.

Once we left the US, I almost stopped following the US election, until about a week out from the big day. Even though it seemed like Clinton had it in the bag (thank you algorithms), 44.4% of eligible US citizens did not vote. I’m not sure what upsets me more: that the US president it not elected through the popular vote or that nearly half the population did not vote in one of the most important and historically significant elections in their history.

Sometimes I am sick to my stomach and sometimes I am hopeful. Trump may actually improve employment and manufacturing in the US. Yet, deep down, I am glad we are no longer there, and my heart goes out to all my friends there, especially those who are foreign nationals. My relief is mixed with guilt and I hope they are alright.

With my stomach in knots, I turned to my stash and knitting patterns for something. I wasn’t sure what, but nothing easy. Nothing straight forward, but also something small enough that I would see results and receive some sort of satisfaction before the middle of next year. A lace pattern kept calling me. I wanted to use the lovely lace weight yarn for a shawl, but the one I had had in mind required 400+ stitches to be cast on (and I couldn’t find the beads I’d bought for it). A simpler shawl or at least something with few stitches to cast on was needed.

And it was there, in a different magazine – the one that I had tried to knit all those years ago, but had decided that the yarn was not right for the pattern. “Cast on 17 stitches” was almost enough to have me hooked, but I still needed to think about it. Would my yarn produce the same kind of fuzzy, lofty and light shawl? Was the colour mine or someone else’s? A few days later I cast on those 17 stitches and haven’t looked back since.

But I kept looking back at the US election, and kept reading articles about why Clinton lost or did not inspire or that the establishment was the problem and Trump will change that, because he’s (apparently) anti establishment. In some ways though, whoever was chosen as the Democrats nominee would have been highly unlikely to win this election. Why? Because for the last 8 years the US president came from the Democrats and like a yarn over following a knit-two-together, Republican follows Democrat. Not always, but the pattern is there and it would have taken a Democrat candidate even more extraordinary then Clinton to keep a Democrat in the White House. 

How the Trump years shape up? Only time will tell. Like blocking lace work (soaking, stretching out, pinning in place, and allowing it to dry before removing the pins), the work has been done but the result (how good or bad) will only be known after the work has been soaked, pinned and dried. One hopes it will turn out alright.

Unlike life (or a Trump presidency), knitting can be undone and reworked. A dropped stitch can be picked up easily - a person who falls through the cracks is harder to pick up. And it is easier to forgive the wonky stitching of an early piece of lace work because it all takes time and practice. Usually a presidential candidate has cut their teeth working their way through various political pathways, i.e. independent senator or Secretary of State. A brash businessman with no experience in the political realm? Hopefully he has as a good (or better) team than Regan.

It’s hard to frog lace (frog: undo at least one row to correct an error) and it’s hard to wind back legislation one it has passed – although at least one Australian government has done so in recent years. It’s hard to know if the result will be as one hoped – only history or blocking will reveal whether or not it was worth it.

So much of this election had made me upset and angry and sick to my stomach, yet I am more determined than ever to be the change I seek in this world. Knitting lace with lace weight yarn has helped keep my calm, helped focus my mind and cleared my head when anxiety (job hunting and US election related) might have consumed me.

The therapeutic nature of knitting is well documented, but, for me, the therapeutic nature of knitting lace with lace weight yarn has surprised me: given that I nearly threw the yarn across the room in frustration last time I tried it. Now, all I want to do is knit this shawl. It’s coming along nicely and, as mentioned, it is the opposite of frustrating. I have less than half of it to go, and the ball of alpaca and silk seems to still be the same size as when I started – it’s not, I had to weigh it to make sure that it wasn’t a magic ball of yarn, somehow related to Norman Lindsay's Magic Pudding.

I am hopeful that it will be a nice shawl and that I, or whoever receives it, will like it. I am trying to be equally hopeful that Trump makes an alright president.

49/52

a portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2016

Jimmy: Fascinated by water and drainage...

It had been raining and we were heading out for dinner with some friends and Jimmy could not resist watching the water running down the drain. He asked a question and Daddy was answering it and checking out the water too. I have fond memories of playing in the rain water at this very drain and it's something special to see Jimmy playing there too.

Dropping the ball...

Yep, it's December and I didn't post anything in November.

Thank you for checking in during the radio silence.

Yes, I dropped the ball and this space suffered.

No. There was no good reason. It just happened:

I was sick. Jimmy had a fever, but only for an evening. I had a job interview. The US election happened. A pizza oven that Michael and Pop have been working on was completed and used for the first time. Jimmy had a fever for a few days. Michael had a job interview. My brother wasn't going to be visiting Brisbane and then all of a sudden he was, so we went to have lunch with him. I did not get the job (Michael did not get the one he interviewed for either). I came down with an epic sore throat. Jimmy developed a blocked nose. There may have been another trip to Brisbane for some socialising, only Jimmy and I were still sick. Everyone in the household came down with sore throats. And now everyone seems to be better, but Jimmy's nose still runs.

And now the days are hot, there's a tray of mangoes on the bench, storms are rolling in some time after lunch and it's beginning to feel like Christmas time.

Heatwave aside, I'm trying to get back into things and manage my energy levels and sleep pattern and time, so that I can get through the hot days and cool nights and still feel like I'm achieving things. I'm trying to pick up the ball and get back into writing here and job applications and craft projects and advent activities.

It sounds like a lot, but it's not, I hope. Hopefully, with good health and good sleep, this month will be productive.

47/52

a portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2016

Jimmy: Enjoying the view at Whites Hill Reserve...

We made a quick visit to Brisbane because my brother was coming up. He'd planned it a while ago, and then cancelled, but a few days out it turned out that he was actually visiting from Melbourne – yay! We had fun and it was lovely to hang out with him, even if only for a few hours.