Photography Homework

The Unco Kid

My poor Dynamic Daughter. It has been a rough week and a half for her. Last Monday the teens went off to school and I stayed at home taking it easy. At about 11am I get a phone call from the school advising me the Dynamic Daughter had had an accident in gymnastics. She had landed awkwardly on her back and was in distress. They had called an ambulance and I was not to worry. It was just a precaution. Great! She probably winded herself and panicked. Fantastic, I will have to go the school and collect her when the ambos decide she is OK, caring mother that I am. When I got to the school the Dynamic Daughter was being loaded into the back of the ambulance and was blissfully medicated to the eyeballs. OK, maybe she really did hurt herself.

At the hospital she was admitted to the A & E Dept and we waited. The staff were very attentive and efficient. A tall, tattooed young man who was there with his mate, came up to my girl and asked if she was OK. She explained her accident and he explained that his mate had been king hit and had collapsed and burst his eardrum. Wow. Nasty. I later heard him advise his mate that he "might have a brain bleed and might die!". I think that was supposed to be comforting....or mateship.... or something.

I had to go home for my usual afternoon rest and so I called the Ol' Cheeses (my parents) who live near the hospital and they came and sat with her. The
Dynamic Daughter was relaxed so I felt alright leaving her for a couple of hours. When I returned she was lying very still and pale. She had apparently been released but fainted twice just outside the hospital. The Ol' Cheese (mum) was with her and holding her hand. A doctor came and told me that she had fractured a vertebra and was never to do contact sports or sports involving hard surfaces again. What the? I felt faint myself and had to put my head down between my knees and then the Ol' Cheese had what she calls a hypo (she is a diabetic) and so the nurse was giving her apple juice, me a cold water and the Dynamic Daughter a sandwich. She hit the trifecta with this family. Poor child most certainly did not just wind herself.

Her spinal injury, which has since been upgraded to 3 - 4 fractured vertebrae, will take about two months to heal. There is some other issue with her spine which we will find out about at tomorrow's doctor's appointment and this is the reason for no more sport apparently. The Dynamic Daughter was on some serious pain relief for the first week but has since downgraded to paracetamol. She has not been to school since except for a half day stint yesterday which was something she insisted on doing. Sitting up is the hardest thing on her and so she will have to have some patience. My Dynamic Daughter is a little despondent at her predicament. She had discovered basketball and soccer this last year and worries about missing too much school.

The very nice thing to come out of this is the number of students and teachers who have enquired about her either on Facebook, MSN, texting or, that old but reliable method, the phone call. The concern has been huge and she feels very loved.

My underestimation of my children's' injuries continues. I have been known to ignore broken bones for 24 hours, thinking the limb was just bruised. Will I ever learn? Oh well, you can't say that my children are kept in cotton wool I suppose.

Chainsaw Massacre

What is it with men and tools that make a lot of noise, require muscle and are destroyers of all things good? The task was simple. There was the weed, lantana amongst our native bushes. The native bushes whose flowers attract the parrots and honey eaters, the tiny little wrens and/or finches (I am not sure which they are) and the native doves and pigeons, that hold up the bird feeder the Dynamic Daughter gave me for Christmas 2009. And, coincidentally, held the fence upright too.

I heard the chainsaw buzzing away and felt comfort in the fact that the lantana would be no more. Holy crap! Our bushes/trees have been decimated. The lantana is certainly gone but bloody hell it was a massacre of nature. The fence leans precariously at about 45 degrees and the poor birds come and inspect the damage, waiting for it to miraculously spring back up.



The tree in the foreground was to go as well, at my request, but the Lovely Husband was too tired by this stage and so it remains standing.

I could say that this is a bit of a topsy turvey world in a sing-song voice. Or listen indulgently to the Lovely Husband, when I, slack jawed, complained about the native trees going, and he proclaimed that they will grow back! At least the lantana is gone. But, the wild birds and I are NOT HAPPY MAN! We liked our trees/bushes and we want them back. It will cost him, cost him dearly. I will go out and buy more trees, they will cost money, money that he has worked hard for. We, the birds and I, will have our revenge.

Resting the Brain

Bloody hell it's hard. I have to do it, I have no choice and some times are easier than others. I shouldn't be blogging right now. I am supposed to rest my noggin and I have, a bit. There is a big difference between resting and resting the brain. Resting can include reading, watching a movie, chatting with friends. Resting the brain includes none of these. It means shutting down and not thinking too hard, not problem solving or taking in new information, zoning out if you will.

I worked on Tuesday, typing the medical reports and dealing with sometimes less than comprehensive dictation. It is three and half hours and it tires me. Tuesday night I drove to my photography course in town but I forgot my glasses. Poop!! Borrowed a magnifying glass, had a great time but the subject matter was hard and not being able to glance/read the notes easily or the menu/buttons on my camera was exhausting. Drove home in the dark. Driving by the way, takes a huge amount of concentration and so when the brain is tired it has quite a challenge ahead.

Yesterday I made myself not look at my homework. I made myself not use the computer. I was really tired.

It took me three days to recover from bingo last week. My brain is not flexible like it was pre-injury. It needs special care. It needs kindness. It needs patience. DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!!

When I am at home I have a morning tea routine. I make a 2 cup capacity pot of loose leaf chai tea. My favourite - Byron Chai. While it brews I eat two pieces of fruit and make myself sit down and relax. I sit on our veranda, away from electronics, books, papers and the need for housework glaring me in the face. I look at the view, I breathe the fresh air and work really hard at not planning what to do next. It takes me about one, sometimes one and a half cups of tea to get there. I talk to my lovebirds and make myself believe that their life is enriched by this one sided baby talk.

Sometimes in the afternoon I sit quietly and paint my fingernails and toenails. It still takes some concentration but it keeps me still and it is not rocket science.

Meditation is excellent when the need to rest the brain is required. I go through stages of meditating daily and not at all. All or nothing.

Housework is tiring. Why is that? It is not complicated. Toilet bowls are not confusing or problematic. Shower recesses are straight forward (but hateful). I delegate vacuuming to the teens because the noisy vacuum cleaner will finish me off. Maybe housework is not tiring, maybe it is psychological. Maybe I have this inbuilt aversion to the stuff and it fights with me to escape. Could be. Perhaps. Whatever. Housework is the enemy, it's official.

Bit o' Bootie

Photography Course homework sample. It is actually a toddler size Blundstone on an iconic Aussie wall hanging I have featuring fence posts, stirrup, old fashioned tin opener etc. I think an interesting feature here would be the cobweb and dust which is a typical feature of this particular Aussie home.

Bingo & the Brain Injured

Twisted Sister has been visiting from the Big Smoke and that usually means a laugh fest and as usual it was. Soul Sister and pSychotic Sister were not working on a day we were free and so we all decided to go to a small, local bowling club* (Bowlo as we Australians sometimes call them) for a game of Bingo. Unfortunately pSychotic Sister had to pull out but the three of us plus the Ol' Cheese (my mother) rocked up at this Bowlo for some action packed fun and excitement. I had never been to this particular club before and was surprised at how old and quaint it was. There were about 20 bingo playing grey heads** there, all women and about three male grey heads; one barman and two wall flowers (not sure what their role or reason for being there was).

The 20 pages of bingo sheets cost us a whole $5 plus a further $3 for our fleuro bingo stamp. This was going to be wild, and on very little money too. The caller gave us a special welcome and made it clear they would welcome our return.***

Our little group had played bingo before but not for many years and we knew what a full house was and a line game but they threw in some doozies. "Postage stamp", "Waterfall", "Staircase" etc but they were very patient in explaining the rules.

The Ol' Cheese who wears bilateral hearing aids and is aged struggled with keeping up but enjoyed herself immensely. I on the other hand managed quite nicely to keep up but found the concentration required quite taxing. The variety of games confused me no end. I thought I understood the rules beforehand but during the game it all went out the proverbial window. It was all very quiet and serious and the caller was quite fast, even though she had slowed down for us newbies. We were given plenty of advice and help which was touching and very welcoming.

The Ol' Cheese won four times (including the random draw at the end), Twisted Sister won once and Soul Sister won twice. I won zero times. I lasted the first 10 bingo sheets but by then my mind was becoming mush. It was tea break time and everyone was offered tea from a HUGE old teapot with cups and saucers. So cute.

The prizes were vouchers of a maximum value of $5, if there were multiple winners it could be $3 or $2 vouchers to be used in the bowlo or the local shopping centre.

I could play no more so I went for a small walk outside in the rain and admired their gardens but it was cold and eventually I had to come back inside and sit quietly while the others played the last 10 sheets. Sit quietly? I don't think so.

"Seventy Seven, seven seven" called the grey head. That would be Soul Sister's age comments I very quietly.

"Twenty nine, two nine". That would be my age, again from me. By this stage I am being told to shut up and am being attacked by their stamps.

"Two, two on its own". Soul Sister's mental age.

"Sixty Nine, six nine". Twisted Sister raises her eyebrows and gives a suggestive hmm-mm sound.

We are giggling and attracting attention. I have to say at this stage that the Ol' Cheese is oblivious to this carry on as her hearing aids are not that sensitive and she is concentrating like a woman possessed.

I thought I would wet myself from laughing at one stage when I remembered I had not turned my mobile phone to silent. Twisted Sister was the only one aware I had a new message alert tone: Grumpy Chicken. It starts off with an agitated chicken who gets louder and more hysterically demented. Suits me entirely. But in this silent and serious atmosphere, to get a text message would be a catastrophe. I mentioned this and Twisted Sister and I lost the plot and giggled until we cried, very quietly of course. I did manage to change the setting and avert complete embarrassment.

Afterwards we had lunch at another club (we are such clubbies) and then Twisted Sister and I had to pick up some ingredients for that night's dinner. By the time I got home I was confused and over, over, over-tired. 2.5 hours of sleep later I was up and running (again in the proverbial sense).

The next day I was unable to work, still fatigued to the max but I did have my second SLR course that night. The Lovely Husband and the learner driver Young Negotiator drove me to class and collected me two hours later as I was unable to drive. I loved the class but found it very hard to absorb the information. Luckily they give us very detailed notes.

Today, two days later, I am still very tired. Wow that bingo is not for the faint hearted...or the brain injured. Far too much concentration required and my brain cannot handle it. It wasn't easy to come up with those witty quips on a fatigued brain you know!

* The club is for LAWN bowls, not ten pin or otherwise.

** Let it be known that the Ol' Cheese is a grey head, well technically it's white now and Twisted Sister and myself are apprentice grey heads in dye disguise. I don't think Soul Sister has any but she is blond!

*** That offer was not repeated again after the end of bingo nor was there any eye contact.

SLR Photography Lessons without the SLR

Soul Sister and I have commenced a five week course at the local photography shop - SLR photography. My camera is technically not an SLR and it is about three years old but, like my dump bought bike, it doesn't matter. I have what is called a bridging camera, more than a point and shoot but does not have the ability to change lenses. It has all the other features though and I love it so I might be plonking some clever yet artistically done photos on this blog site....or mayhap some mediocre attempts at same.




Our homework for this week included metering mode and exposure lock! Sounds impressive eh? Anyhoo I was setting up in the shed for a couple of photos alternating dark and light exposure and who should pop her head in the door but old Bubbles. This shed does contain the horse feed so it is understandable but it suddenly made my photo so much more interesting then shed door and grass. More arse than class here I'm afraid. It could not have worked better if I had actually tried to set this up.

At the end of the five weeks there will be a blind judging of the best photo from the participants. I have already selected this one as a possibility purely on cuteness factor.