Noodles, chopsticks ... sometimes it's handy having a fliptop head.
This kid, she would eat (almost) anything. A nice change after the fussy firstborn...
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Water, water everywhere!
With all this wet weather we've been having it was inevitable that the Little Miss would venture out and discover real rain for herself.
Sure enough, yesterday she crawled out onto the wet tiles on our front deck (something we discourage because they are pretty slippery) and sat there, enjoying feeling the raindrops on her head and squealing with the fun of it all.
Gorgeous!
Sure enough, yesterday she crawled out onto the wet tiles on our front deck (something we discourage because they are pretty slippery) and sat there, enjoying feeling the raindrops on her head and squealing with the fun of it all.
Gorgeous!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Flat out
My baby - like all babies - is the queen of Interesting Ways of Sleeping. Shaun and I often marvel at the strangely contorted poses that she wriggles herself into before drifting off. How can that be comfortable, we wonder.
I just had to snap this picture of her napping, though. It perfectly sums up how hot weather makes me feel, too.
I just had to snap this picture of her napping, though. It perfectly sums up how hot weather makes me feel, too.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Burn To Memory
Reminders of these last 'pre-school' days (sniff). Of fun and games like making colourful 'cupcakes' in egg cartons with all manner of random kitchen ingredients.
The boy may be SO ready to start school, but I am not sure I'm ready.
Is school the end of all this sort of innocent fun, I wonder? Is it all electronic devices from hereon in?
Do they suddenly value their peers' views waaaaay more than their mum's? Will I suddenly be inconsequential to him?
Will the little boy in him fade away altogether the minute he sets foot on those school grounds?
All I know is I wish these days didn't have to end.
But they do.
I'm not much into letting go, as necessary as it is. Goodness, what am I going to be like on his first day?!!!!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Ningaloo Reef revisited
Last year, when I was 16 weeks pregnant and *just* over all the vile vomiting, I was lucky enough to be sent to WA's Ningaloo Reef for work. It was one of the most blissful and beautiful times of my life and I feel so privileged to have been to such a special place. Oh to be there now!!
Anyhow, I just came across my pictures from that trip and realised I never actually posted any of them. The story has already been published, in the Getaway magazine. It was a very cut-down version of the original. Which is now here - with the idea that reading it again will transport me there:
In the afternoon sun, a billion dazzling diamonds stud the water of Western Australia’s Ningaloo Reef. A gentle sea breeze challenges the midday heat as I emerge from my car at South Mandu Beach in the Cape Range National Park, about 70km south of Exmouth. This is the end of road – quite literally. From here, it’s just a short stroll past drowsy wallaroos and over the sand dunes to Sal Salis, the tented resort that’s been touted as Australia’s most innovative eco-tourism model.
Sal Salis is currently the only tourism operation of its kind in Australia to be sited in a national park. A luxury experience is delivered despite there being no electricity, no flushing toilets, no television and mobile reception, and the fact that everything required by the camp must be carted in on a solar-powered buggy.
There are never more than 10 or so guests at a time at Sal Salis, as the accommodation comprises just five tents. The word ‘tent’ is somewhat inadequate. Sure, it’s a canvas construction, but this is more safari-style luxury than the pitch-it-and-pass-the-hammer experience I’m familiar with. Inside, a king-sized bed with crisp 500-thread-count sheets, awaits me. As I flop down onto it I can see the beach, a mere 50 metres away.
Within an hour, I’m in the water with Dani, a companionable guide who is at my service throughout my stay. We drift with the current just metres from the shore, snorkelling above the most spectacular coral I have ever seen. Fish of all colours, sizes and shapes dart in and out of the coral; reef sharks, a shock at first, cruise the surrounds at lightning speed; intriguing nudibranchs and table-sized bombora corals capture our attention; a harlequin sea snake leaves its wriggle marks in the sand. I am spellbound.
If I were to spend my entire time at Sal Salis exploring the exquisite coral gardens I would leave utterly happy. But there is more on offer. Like the faultless meals that are served up in the one fixed structure - the kitchen and dining area. Guests gather here at day’s end to watch the sun sink into the sea while the chef presents trays of drinks and canapés, followed by a three-course meal.
After dark, Dani and I take our torches and walk barefoot along the beach to a spot where, earlier in the week, she’d seen a nest of green sea turtles hatch. We’re not expecting to see anything when suddenly we notice a stirring in the sand. Attracted by our torchlight, one lone hatchling pops its head up and makes its first shaky moves towards the sea to begin its life aquatic.
That night I keep the tent doors open and breathe the tangy salt air. Before dawn, I wake to the sight of a cheeky wallaroo licking the dew from the boards a metre from my bed. Its intrusion is timely, because it means I’m awake to watch the sunrise at nearby Mandu Mandu Gorge. Light hits the gorge’s northern wall so powerfully it glows the colour of embers.
Next day, a leisurely boat cruise along another nearby gorge sees lazy rays glide alongside us while kestrels eye us cautiously from their nests high in the limestone walls.
Back at Sal Salis, the sea lures me yet again. As I swim and drift, I reflect on the way this place has changed my perception of what a luxury holiday can and should be. I’ve stuck (just) to the daily limit of 20 litres of water; I’ve relegated my mobile to the bottom of my suitcase; I’ve used a torch to find my tent in the pitch-black night. But within a day all this becomes normal (not to mention a wonderful salve for the eco-conscience). With so few diversions I have been able to sit reading a book on the beach for hours, without seeing another soul. I’ve eaten exceptional food and slept in perfect quietness. I’ve been privileged to witness a natural aquarium more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. These are luxuries beyond compare.
Anyhow, I just came across my pictures from that trip and realised I never actually posted any of them. The story has already been published, in the Getaway magazine. It was a very cut-down version of the original. Which is now here - with the idea that reading it again will transport me there:
In the afternoon sun, a billion dazzling diamonds stud the water of Western Australia’s Ningaloo Reef. A gentle sea breeze challenges the midday heat as I emerge from my car at South Mandu Beach in the Cape Range National Park, about 70km south of Exmouth. This is the end of road – quite literally. From here, it’s just a short stroll past drowsy wallaroos and over the sand dunes to Sal Salis, the tented resort that’s been touted as Australia’s most innovative eco-tourism model.
Sal Salis is currently the only tourism operation of its kind in Australia to be sited in a national park. A luxury experience is delivered despite there being no electricity, no flushing toilets, no television and mobile reception, and the fact that everything required by the camp must be carted in on a solar-powered buggy.
There are never more than 10 or so guests at a time at Sal Salis, as the accommodation comprises just five tents. The word ‘tent’ is somewhat inadequate. Sure, it’s a canvas construction, but this is more safari-style luxury than the pitch-it-and-pass-the-hammer experience I’m familiar with. Inside, a king-sized bed with crisp 500-thread-count sheets, awaits me. As I flop down onto it I can see the beach, a mere 50 metres away.
Within an hour, I’m in the water with Dani, a companionable guide who is at my service throughout my stay. We drift with the current just metres from the shore, snorkelling above the most spectacular coral I have ever seen. Fish of all colours, sizes and shapes dart in and out of the coral; reef sharks, a shock at first, cruise the surrounds at lightning speed; intriguing nudibranchs and table-sized bombora corals capture our attention; a harlequin sea snake leaves its wriggle marks in the sand. I am spellbound.
If I were to spend my entire time at Sal Salis exploring the exquisite coral gardens I would leave utterly happy. But there is more on offer. Like the faultless meals that are served up in the one fixed structure - the kitchen and dining area. Guests gather here at day’s end to watch the sun sink into the sea while the chef presents trays of drinks and canapés, followed by a three-course meal.
After dark, Dani and I take our torches and walk barefoot along the beach to a spot where, earlier in the week, she’d seen a nest of green sea turtles hatch. We’re not expecting to see anything when suddenly we notice a stirring in the sand. Attracted by our torchlight, one lone hatchling pops its head up and makes its first shaky moves towards the sea to begin its life aquatic.
That night I keep the tent doors open and breathe the tangy salt air. Before dawn, I wake to the sight of a cheeky wallaroo licking the dew from the boards a metre from my bed. Its intrusion is timely, because it means I’m awake to watch the sunrise at nearby Mandu Mandu Gorge. Light hits the gorge’s northern wall so powerfully it glows the colour of embers.
Next day, a leisurely boat cruise along another nearby gorge sees lazy rays glide alongside us while kestrels eye us cautiously from their nests high in the limestone walls.
Back at Sal Salis, the sea lures me yet again. As I swim and drift, I reflect on the way this place has changed my perception of what a luxury holiday can and should be. I’ve stuck (just) to the daily limit of 20 litres of water; I’ve relegated my mobile to the bottom of my suitcase; I’ve used a torch to find my tent in the pitch-black night. But within a day all this becomes normal (not to mention a wonderful salve for the eco-conscience). With so few diversions I have been able to sit reading a book on the beach for hours, without seeing another soul. I’ve eaten exceptional food and slept in perfect quietness. I’ve been privileged to witness a natural aquarium more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. These are luxuries beyond compare.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Stuff
So long since I sat down to update this blog! Most pathetic. I'm afraid it is low on my priority list at the moment.
I don't wish to go into what is happening in this household right now, but let's just say that things are not all that great.
I am spending my days on edge, wondering how everything is going to play out. I am constantly putting out fires that flare up and threaten to singe all of us. I am dealing with extra-teary children who, in the intuitive way all children react, know all is not well.
I find the words of the world's greatest living poet (Bono, of course!!) spinning round and round my head:
Nothing much to say I guess
Just the same as all the rest
Been tryin' to throw your arms
Around the world
Yes. That is me right now. But if there is one thing I have learnt over the past couple of years it is that This Too Shall Pass.
Soon? Please?
I don't wish to go into what is happening in this household right now, but let's just say that things are not all that great.
I am spending my days on edge, wondering how everything is going to play out. I am constantly putting out fires that flare up and threaten to singe all of us. I am dealing with extra-teary children who, in the intuitive way all children react, know all is not well.
I find the words of the world's greatest living poet (Bono, of course!!) spinning round and round my head:
Nothing much to say I guess
Just the same as all the rest
Been tryin' to throw your arms
Around the world
Yes. That is me right now. But if there is one thing I have learnt over the past couple of years it is that This Too Shall Pass.
Soon? Please?
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