by Aline of the yumi yumi shop
One of the best things about vacations, even if a staycation, is the pure joy of living in the moment. So far no long lists are chasing me; sure there are lots of things that need my attention, but right now I am allocating an hour a day to special tasks to declutter and clean the house, and the rest of the day will be what it will be. Wants and needs.
What a sense of freedom.
by Aline of the yumi yumi shop
In case you were wondering, we did make our way out of the shopping mall on Monday afternoon, but not immediately.
After my elevation to one of the beautiful people, by Ella Bache, we met up with Daughter1. We weren’t quite hungry enough for lunch, despite what my stomach was saying to the listening public, and so Daughter2 parked D1 and I at a café table for refreshment and disappeared to continue her wardrobe refinement.
This time around I chose a pot of Irish Breakfast tea, while D2 had coffee. She knew she needed the hard stuff to keep up with D2. So D1 and I caught up, as only two teachers comparing student horror stories can. After about an hour, the tea pot was drained, we were starting to feel guilty about occupying a table at what was now lunch rush, but too afraid to order without permission.
Luckily, D1 received a summons. D2 called from a change room, needing a sisterly opinion. So D1 was despatched with my request as to whether I was allowed to eat or not (and you thought Flamingo Dancer was afraid of no one, no one, that is except for her own daughters!) Eventually daughters returned and I was led away to another restaurant, where I was allowed to eat.
After a lovely lunch, and this time a pot of English Breakfast tea (I was now on a quest as to how many different blends of teas I could drink in a single day, but appeared anchored in the British Isles) Daughter1 and I were cut loose to browse, while Daughter2 made her final decisions and retraced her steps to finalise her purchases. So many dresses on hold, so much wardrobe to fill.
I lost count of the carry bags Daughter2 clutched on her return, but I think the retail sector is going to see an upsurge in September.
Not willing to give in to the day as yet, we moved on to the Gallery of Modern Art (GoMA) to view the Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Man, The Image & The World exhibition. It was superb, to say the least.
Afterwards we were going to have cake, and no doubt more tea, but the restaurant at the nearby State Library cafe were asking $9.50 for one piece of cake! Sure it was chocolate cake, but $9.50! The cake would have averaged 20 servings, and they would have probably paid around $50 from the supplier, but it doesn’t take much of a mathematical ability to work out the rip off. On principle was refused to buy it.
Instead, we headed home. It was the kind of Monday I wish we could all have every week… though I think Daughter2’s closet might not cope under the strain!
Any Monday that starts with a rubber duck on the Brisbane River, you know is going to be a good Monday.
Daughter2 and I continued our staycation. We did have a task in that we had to drop her car off to have the air conditioning fixed. No woman in her right mind is going to face an Australian summer with malfunctioning car air conditioning!
I wasn’t quite sure of the route so I followed D2 along the freeway. I didn’t have to risk life and limb to keep in her sight either. At one stage a young woman drove her car between us, and I very soon noticed that the said young woman, was indeed a stupid woman, as she had her sunvisor down so that she could view the mirror on the back of it and do her hair as she drove along.
My mother instinct jumped to life and I had visions that stupid woman was going to rear end my daughter at any moment, so as soon as my chance arose, I moved forward and placed my car between them.
Telling D2 how I was ready to sacrifice myself to save my child, I was met with a laugh and the comment “Then both our cars would have probably been put out of action!” So much for the Wonder Mother of the Year award nomination from that child.
We then moved on to a shopping mall, where a pot of Prince of Wales tea and cinnamon toast was called for, to give me strength to follow Daughter2 through many, many frock shops. Apparently, her wardrobe is not yet complete and so replenishment was called upon.
My role is to keep in the background until summoned and then to give advice on whether her choice of new frock is the right choice. Once we agree, she then puts the item on hold for a few hours and we proceed to the next door and repeat the performance. I get to provide comedy relief for the store crowd.
This process was nicely interrupted by an hour of complete bliss in which we experienced an Ella Bache facial. After been socially embarrassed after displaying my badly neglected skin cells under a blue light, the beautician agreed to tackle the enormous task ahead of her, and attempt a rescue of my epidermis.
Clothes hung in the little locker, I slipped between the soft cotton filled towelling covers, my hair tucked beneath a hair net. The lights were dimmed, the candles lit, and soft music played as background. I never had a date this good!
For an hour I was exfoliated, cleansed, treated, toned, moisturised and massaged and oiled. I made no effort to speak, enjoying my moment, except for the elephant in the room. My rumbling stomach.
No, it wasn’t hunger. I just find that when I relax and lie on my back my stomach feels the need to communicate with the outer world. Apparently it is quite common during massages and beauty treatments, but the Flamingo Dancer tummy does not do anything by halves, like the rest of me, and so it does communicate with gusto. So, after a joint laugh about my stomach, the beautician and I bonded for life. No doubt she will name her first born after me.
Eventually the bliss came to an end, and I was given a glass of water to drink, no doubt to steady my nerves as the upselling began. I had no intention of buying any products. Daughter2 was paying for my facial, and the added eye treatment I sneaked on to the account, and so I was scot free for credit card damage.
So, I left with only two thirds of the products my personal consultant, my new best friend, recommended to me. I apologised to her for not buying all her recommendations and begged for forgiveness, but there was a limit on the credit card and it was fast approaching. I promised to come back and show her my skin when the products were depleted, because my skin may be so improved that I may need a completely new and different range. Praise the Lord!
She had the grace to smile at me when we passed in the mall, a couple of hours later. Still shopping with Daughter2.
Daughter2 was happy that I had bought a few products, because she is worried that it is taking her a little longer to find a male mate, and if she doesn’t hurry up soon I won’t pass the “will she look like her mother in 20 years” test. Apparently, I have a role to play, and when The Man is trotted home in due course, I must pass muster, to insure her odds of success. I never realised.
Thank goodness that Daughter1 is now married, while I apparently still had some of the bloom of my youth!
Sunday was a great day of staycation. Daughter2 and I went to the morning movie session of Submarine. which was a great movie about teenage angst, coming of age, and relationships.
Afterwards we had lunch at Libertine at the Barracks. We ordered a jug of pimms which was cold and delicious, while we waited for our meal.
I ordered a Vietnamese chicken salad, while D2 had spring rolls.
Not quite ready to go home, we took in another movie. This time around we saw The Help, another superb movie. And no, we usually don’t take in two movies in one day, but hey we are on staycation!
All I can say is that Staycation Sundays are fantastic. Try one, sometime!
I have been seeking Dolce Far Niente all week, but have yet to achieve anything close.
Monday I did go for a wonderful massage, but it was punctuated by grocery shopping, picking up mending and other chores around the suburb.
Tuesday we did spend time with relatives, but it took on a cast of thousands, well, three children full of energy, and a Grandma hard of hearing, so it wasn’t exactly the relaxing occasion planned.
Wednesday, I had a meeting with the Head of Department at Fanny and Maude’s School for Fine Young Ladies. I am teaching The Crucible to year 11, and deconstructing documentaries with grade 12. We are modelling Fahrenheit 9/11 as the class example, and as I haven’t actually watched it, I needed a copy. None available at the school, and just about every other store was out of stock. I finally found a copy to hire but Fanny and Maude did take up most of the day.
Thursday, today, we are donating our blood. Making sure Mr FD and I drink and eat enough to refrain from fainting in a ditch afterwards is taking up this morning.
Tomorrow, the climate smart people are scheduled to visit. So I have to move our clutter a step to the left.
Saturday afternoon, Daughter2 arrives inhouse and so the official staycation begins. Not a minute too soon.
Desperately needing Dolce Far Niente.
dis·en·gage
transitive verb
: to release from something that engages or involves
intransitive verb
: to release or detach oneself
Tomorrow is the last day of school term, and the last day of my term contract at St Mary’s of the Middle Class Ladies, and once again I am finding myself in the process of disengaging myself from people, place and work. I am getting fairly practiced at it now.
No one has to remind me that I need to hand back my keys and name badge; log off the lap top and hand it to IT; clean out the drawer I may have been spared for my personal belongings by the regular incumbent; return any school resources I may have been given, and turn off the lights as I leave!
Sometimes the disengagement process is easier than at other times. Sometimes, I have never engaged to even need to disengage! Their fault, not mine, of course! This time I am leaving with more than a pang of regret of if only. If only the incumbent has enjoyed three months of leave so much that they will seek a tree change, sea change, job change. If only the incumbent was kidnapped by marauding pygmies and taken back to be their leader and so will need to surrender their day job. If only the incumbent will arrive home in a full body cast which they will need to wear for the next 9 years. If only they would love me more… Such stuff is what dreams are made of.
So, with two days and only one class to teach, I am already mentally through the process. I have spent the morning surfing the net. Twice I have suggested that we lock the library and head to the beach. I have the attention span of a bubble blower. I have walked back to be car park to rescue the chocolate melting in my car to share with my co-workers. I have eaten most of it. (Why it was in my car is another blog post)
I want to hit the road.
Next term I am returning to Fanny and Maude’s, where I taught for a semester last year and was sublimely happy. I have been even happier at St Mary’s as I have taught very few classes and those that I did required no real preparation. I have had no marking to do, or reporting to complete. No deadlines. And the most beautiful thing of all is that THE INCUMBENT is so disliked and self-involved that all I really had to do was smile, be pleasant and only slightly helpful and they have given me accolades. However, I am more than happy to returning to the hallowed halls of those great ladies, Fanny and Maude (the first names of some of the original principals, for those late comers who are now scratching their heads in bewilderment). I made friends there.
I won’t be teaching a full load. I will not even go into school on a Tuesday. Less work means less pay, but some pay is better than no pay!
In the meantime, I will enjoy a staycation. I am also getting very practiced at staycations! Less work, no money, get the plot?
This staycation will be slightly different as Daughter2 is coming home for a few days to share time with me. This morning she emailed so say that she has booked us in for a facial. I have never had a professional facial. I am more the kind who buys a tube of peel off mask from the Avon lady. She fretted that perhaps she shouldn’t have booked the appointment early in the morning, as our hair might be messy for hitting the town afterwards. I suggested that we go to the movies and sit in the dark with messy hair, glowing skin and a beverage in hand (if we go to the Barracks cinema the beverage can be of the alcoholic kind!). Plan finalised.
Another day we will go to the art gallery to see the Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Man, The Image & The World exhibition. Daughter2 viewed it last year when in New York (as one does!), but is enthusiastic to see it again. We have a day of lying on my bed and watching movies planned as well, which will no doubt involve some form of chocolate too. Life won’t be so bad.
That will all be happening in the second vacation week. Before that, I need to reclaim our house from the refuse tip it has become over the last few week, due to work and family issues (BIL is out of ICU and making a slow, but sturdy recovery).
So, tomorrow I will drive out the gate of St Mary’s for the last time…this year. For who knows what tomorrow, next year, or the year after, will bring. It may bring me back to St Mary’s, it may not. All I ask is that tomorrow takes me somewhere I can be happy, involved and passionate. I really would have it all then.
