August 27, 2006

No problem

So apparently there's plenty of love. The household has been wiped out with a stomach bug. I've been feeling seedy, but the boys have been wringing their guts out. Last night I was woken up by a small shadowy figure towering over me in my sleep. He had had a bad dream. He climbed into bed with me, and proceeded to pull all the blankets over on to his side. I woke up, freezing, and tried to straighten the covers. Jake moaned, complaining I had stolen his warm spot. Then, in the morning, with very little fanfare, I found him over the toilet bowl, very calmly losing his pepperoni pizza (and apparently some caramel corn) from the previous night. Although my own stomach was churning, I stood there and rubbed his little back until he had finished. I remember mum being incredibly attentive and knowing just what was needed when us girls were ill when we were little. So long as there's always someone there for him to make sure there is a straw in his lemonade and to cuddle him when he's upset, I think that's okay.

August 26, 2006

I have to wonder about people who's parents have been happily married for 30 odd years and are in good health, and everyone gets together in the one place for Christmas, perhaps even some aunties and uncles and cousins. Can you ever really appreciate something unless you have lost it. Or, would you be so terrified about losing it that you wouldn't appreciate it. I love my little brother so much. He is one of my favourite people, he inspires me, warms me from the core. But this week, while his dad has been away, while i have found myself back in that role that reminds me constantly of what him and i have lost, i can't help but wish that I could love him even more. That he deserves so very much more.

This is why i was afraid to come back.

I'm not good when i am alone too much. I get too introspective. But there's something different now. Even now, while I am writing this I know I am not the person who left him 2 and a half years ago. I have a fire (and a chicken iskender) in my belly, a purpose, the bigger picture. And I'm not afraid.

August 25, 2006

I didn't get up to much trouble while I was away. Other than having the ole passport and plane tickets nicked in Rome, a couple of last minute sprints to airport gates, our plane to JFK crashed in to a glass wall coming in off the runway....but very little actual mischief. By the time I got to Florence, I think the boy was concerned about my lack of antics, and encouraged me to meet up with his cousin, sitting on my lap in the photo. Usually a Sydney resident, Miss charlotte was in Florence for a month learning Italian. As you do. So we met earlier in the evening, I was excited. A link to him. Some new company. And as it turned out.....a whole lot of mischief. We had a nice dinner and a few drinks in this piazza near to where i was staying. Not far from the river Arno, on the other side from the duomo. We were drinking these deceptive wee drinks, a mix of bubbly and strawberry or peach liquer. Then i pulled out this lovely chianti that i had got the previous day on a bike tour on the outskirts of Florence. Well it was a wine tasting tour, soaking up the Tuscan countryside and hanging out in an 11th century castle, all in the company of a Scotsman, a naughty Italian, and some Americans. So I pulled out this bottle of wine, and this very dark man, 'a man made of chocolate' Jacob would have said at one time, he leaned over to me, his white white teeth belying the accusation, 'excuse me, you can't drink that here'. I can't remember what my defence was, but i had had enough to drink that i had a fiesty, but of course charming defence. And next minute he was seated at the table with us. He had only spoken up because his friend was the premise's security, but he didn't speak English well enough to tell me off. Charlotte seemed very pleased to have the male company. I was happy to let the security guard take over opening my bottle of wine. And before you knew it us girls had finished the bottle and made some new friends. The one who spoke almost perfect English was an ex professional football player. I think he used to play for Berlin. Or Germany. But in any event he now owned a cafe in Berlin. By the time I had finished my wine, which was horribly wasted on getting boozed on, it should have been savoured over some candlelit table, I realised it was after midnight and i didn't have a key to get in to our room. Or a phone to text Sally. I vaguely realised in my foggy state that I was in trouble. But i walked back to the room, rung the buzzer, and then took off again guiltily before anyone could answer. Very effective. Once I got back to the crowd, the band was packing up, and my new friends were talking about going to a discotech. Dancing! But this place was like nothing I had ever experienced at home. It made the bars and clubs at home look like daytime children's television. There were mirrorball tiles floor, wall to wall and ceiling. And people writhing against each other in the flickering light. But there didn't appear to be a whole lot of women.....the music was unfamiliar to me, sort of hip hop, hip grinding booty shaking sounds. And I'm in my little sundress feeling incredibly blonde and pale and suddenly sober. We dance in a respectably distanced circle until some guy catches Charlotte's tonsils and I get served up on a platter to the Senegalese/German ex-footballer who dances closer and closer until he's breathing in my hair....and biting my freakin ear! I remind him, real friendly like, that I'm out with my boyfriend's cousin! And he grins that cheshire luminescent grin and says he'll come to Venice with me if i ask. I don't. The night progressively spins out of control......but i'm losing patience with this story. Tomorrow perhaps.

August 24, 2006

Cherries in Venice

The fruit over in Italy and France and Spain tasted better than the fruit I eat here. Sally disagreed, but i think she might be closer to the right end of the chain of production. It tasted like it had just been picked and was ready to eat, that there wouldn't be a better time to eat it than right at that moment that it was sitting on your tongue.

I have spent the entire last two days in a 'fug' of de ja vu. It is making me feel slightly motion sick. It is a feeling of having dreamt all this before and, of a coming together, in haphazard shards of reality. Perhaps it is my fears and my well, self-satisfaction, at being in this job. Finally feeling some self-worth, and yet still wondering, how long am i going to be able to bluff my way through this. I am traipsing around the courthouse in my suit like the newbie that i am, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the middle aged white men. That's the lawyers of course, not the clientele. God, even writing this, i feel as if i have done it all before. It is honestly the most vivid, tangible de ja vu of my life. what does it mean?

August 16, 2006

itchy feet

It isnt that i want to go back overseas. It is just that now i am very very still. And quiet. I read a lot at my new job. Court is interesting but i dont do anything yet.

It is just me and jake at the moment, frank is away for work. J told me tonight that he loves me more than his x-box. Whoa!

I have just had a teary bath cause the boy told me tonight he has booked tickets for the UK. I'm tired of his restlessness, at least if he goes i can stop worrying about what will happen if he does go...

I wanted to take him to the ball my boss says is mandatory.