Almost Bjorn

Baby update. Nothing major to add, which is by all measures a good thing.

I have succumbed to baby-brand-insanity, perhaps it's the effect of the infectious whistle song in my head but I entered a local shop called Twinkle Tots and exited with 2 items of Baby Bjorn.

What's Baby Bjorn you ask? Well you might, if being male like me you are allegedly unable to grapple with the fundaments of early parenthood. Well, it's simple, it's this:

And this:

What do make of that Mark Latham? Is he too poofy metro-male for ya, ya tourette's headcase?

Nerdhog Day!

Dear Diary, today I shall do the following:

Try to get a seat watching Labor's latest recruit and other gun silk argue over my Bank and the future of Steve Vizard, among other things, here.

Then I shall enter the tomb-like library at the centre of the Supreme Court to have a wee read of some delightfully thrilling material on the Rule in Browne v Dunn. Where does a lawyer go to find a summary fit for publication? Why, Wiki of course (quoting Lord Herschell):

My Lords, I cannot help saying that it seems to me to be absolutely essential to the proper conduct of a cause, where it is intended to suggest that a witness is not speaking the truth on a particular point, to direct his attention to the fact by some questions put in cross-examination showing that that imputation is intended to be made, and not to take his evidence and pass it by as a matter altogether unchallenged, and then, when it is impossible for him to explain, as perhaps he might have been able to do if such questions had been put to him, the circumstances which it is suggested indicate that the story he tells ought not to be believed, to argue that he is a witness unworthy of credit.

Substitute they for he and you find the passage applies to all human beings. Easy really, I'm gonna read another 30 or so pages elaborating on that rule from a NSW tax case which I've memorised as Allied Pastoral Something v Comissioner of Taxation [1983] 1 NSWR at 800-odd.

Now that's a legal mind you'd want in your corner, hey? Don't answer, moving along...

Later, I shall obtain a present for my beautiful pregnacious wife from the brand new house of trash and garbage on Collins that just happens to make extraordinarily quaffable doughnuts.

Have job, bring on house, dadhood!

For the first time in my life I've felt like someone's really put some faith in me. In a series of acceptances and counter-offers I have sealed a deal that will take the "what do I do with myself" question out of my blogging for, hopefully, a long time.

Government employment involves bands or levels which you slowly move through. Well, all 3 jobs I've been looking at were pitched around the same level. One was the most glamorous sounding but was a little more junior than the others which, given that role involved moving to Canberra, made it a quantum downshift back into life when money was a constant worry.

Another was a bit of an unknown in that it involved high levels of advocacy and responsibility, so I was inclined towards the third, with a team I know and like doing work similar to that which has kept me busy the past 12 months.

The 'bit of an unknown' made their intentions known by offering me the higher responsibility of the next band up the Government scale. That's potentially years of working, clawing and waiting for those of you unfamiliar with progress in the public sector. They added family-friendly terms, extra leave and room for flexibility. In a permanent contract. For once in my career I felt genuinely wanted, and yes, flattery will get you everywhere when low self-esteem is creeping up on someone who feels they have outgrown their level of responsibility.

In a huge flap, bumping backwards and forwards and giving the prospective employers, and my wife (ok and yes my cats as well!) hell, I worked my demons and doubts to the surface, scraped them off, and stepped up for a new, scary, and exciting challenge.

Regular programming to resume shortly. Apologies in advance for any creeping legalisms that enter my posts. As always I won't be talking about the detail of what I do or where I do it, but all I can say is, think Kavenagh QC meets Travolta in A Civil Action.

As for Canby, well, it's not out of the long-term question, but I'll be aiming to go there in a leadership role, if and when the timing is right. For now, I'm redirecting that energy I've been pouring into the job pages towards planning for the exciting world of fatherhood.

Now, for some new cufflinks...

Alive and in stasis

I am, temporarily I hope, presently a member of the gainfully unemployed. The opportunity to bond with the cats aside, this hasn't put me in the highest state of elevation. I should have tonnes of time for blogging, for lots of things, but it's difficult to get motivated when you are constantly glancing at your phone.

I have 2 quasi-offers; roles I may get if all the paperwork gets signed off with the tees dotted. I have interviewed for a further position, an incredibly interesting-sounding role that will not eventuate for aeons (even if they do like me). This potential choice is great in some respects but leaves me indecisive and wracked by stress.

Still, there are worse things to be worried about!

We spent the weekend in Canberra, bringing out the usual tensions between beloved and her mother. Beloved's mother has a good heart, but seems to harbour some anger or bitterness at life in general that prevents her from enjoying the fact that most of her ducks have lined up pretty well. She's got a good job, house, caring partner, and reasonably (though it is being somewhat drained) doting daughters.

I know, I know, I'm gonna find out how hard parenting is, but how's this for a pretty basic lesson: if you're a well-paid boomer, you and your partner both own houses outright, you are browsing your next potential purchase at well over the half million mark, and you complain frequently to your two daughters, both of whom want to buy A house but can't afford it, about how subsequent generations have it too easy in the work and housing markets, you aren't going to come across as particularly in tune or sympathetic with the needs of your offspring.

I'm fond of mumsey, as I call her, and wish she'd take more pleasure in the good things she's achieved for herself. And be a bit happier.

Of course there's a lesson in this for all of us. Whatever job I end up in, I've got a fantastic wife and a daughter on the way, so really what does it matter how I earn a crust?

On a lighter front, while in Canby I met Zoe, Cristy & Paul, Dean (I forget which blog Dean's at, Zoe'll remind me though!) and Zoe's son Sage and partner Owen, at the still-fantastic muse of my short-lived ANU days, the Wig and Pen. Make mine a pint, what a nice crew!

I can jump puddles and cook!

Yesterday was my first day beyond my contract. Put another way, I am on sabbatical from gainful employment as I wait for the results of various recent interviews to manifest by way of something tangible. And because I did very little yesterday, waiting as I was for the phone to buzz, I decided to try and prepare a treat for beloved.

To make sense of this post you need to understand that I have never been able to cook, and have never cooked anything more complex than a basic pasta or a steak, with beloved usually doing the veges on the side while patting me on the back like I'm a kid making a mudcastle.

I started by buying two nice-looking fillets of snapper. I didn't have a clue what I'd do with them, but I went to Psarakos market in Thornbury with fish on my mind and made a purchase.

Before I lose any vegan readers at this point I'd like to divert. Cooking is a slow process, so we must wait for the other ingredients to arrive.

I want to congratulate Cristy and Paul from No Pod on their pending poppet. Read this sweet post. Is it still a pod? I'm thinking more of a gourd, becoming an all-out pumpkin before too long.

Beloved has now 'popped', so poppette is hanging out there in her very own baby un-bjorn. I talk to her but she's ignoring me for now. I've warmed up the vocal chords for some belly crooning but can't decide on suitable lullabies other than my kiddy staple- U2's MLK:

Sleep, Sleep tonight
And may your dreams, Be realized
If the thunder cloud, Passes rain
So let it rain, Let it rain
Rain down on here
So let it be, So let it be
Sleep, Sleep tonight
And may your dreams, Be realized
If the thundercloud, Passes rain
So let it rain, Let it rain
Rain down on here...

Well, it's rain on him, or he, or me, depending where you google your lyrics, but I sing 'here'. I have successfully used this on a number of babies; my highlight was a stellar performance in which I put a wailing bub to sleep in a Starbucks in London and basked in adulation and open flirting from 3 yummy mummies. But I digress...

I've never cooked snapper before, have only attempted fish a few times and always just fried or grilled it as is. I mean it, I really can't cook! The fishmongers suggested rolling the fillets in flour first, and that got me thinking (always dangerous). What about if I put stuff in the flour? I poured flour all over a plate then lobbed in some salt, pepper, and then, after tasting it first to ascertain exactly what was meant by 'hot', some cayenne stuff. Just a pinch.

Already out of my depth, I decided I wanted to learn to cook cauliflower cheese to go with it. No, better, why not with Broccoli? I thought this involved about 3 ingredients but in fact the recipe book listed around 200, several of which can only be obtained by hiding on a cliff and mimicking the mating call of lichen.

And, while I'm whinging, why is it so damn hard for these books to give a simple measurement for substances like flour and butter? What's wrong with two tablespoons you bloody food-toff-tossers?! IT'S NOT ME IT'S YOU.

About this time I called beloved for instructions on using our antiquated and suicidal (the upper grill leaps out into space on a regular basis) oven. In the background I could hear her workmates laughing- my attempt at cooking has become the office joke. Ha effing ha! I bang pans around for her entertainment and hang up.

Then I achieved something none of the nongs in restaurants appear to be able to do- I successfully boned my snapper!

Not that way, not the Nine way either. I took a sharp knife and painstakingly- without any damn instructions or experience I might add- removed a line of bones from the very centreline of the fillet. Two particularly stubborn bits I drew out with my teeth!

Why can't they do that at M'sier Ponce's Fish Garden A La Pretonce?

Which brings me, 20 minutes later, to the results. If I may say so myself I cooked the best damn snapper, and one of the best serves of Cauliflower and Broccoli cheese (the dash of Dijon mustard really drew out the flavour!) I've ever eaten!

Bragging, I know, but this is the first complex meal, with sauce and sides all made fresh and involving the actual reading of a recipe, that I have ever cooked. I've been scared of the kitchen my whole life. And that snapper was better than the 3 or more times I've tried it in a restaurant.

It's like I just rode a bike with the training wheels off and pulled a wheelie.

Beloved would have said nice things even if I stuffed it up. She's glad to see me slowly domesticating and learning these basic skills, whatever the result. But last night I scored majorly - her face, as she alternately downed globs of melted cheesy veggies and piscine glory, said that I am in the good books for a long time. A lo-ong time. There will be phone calls to cynical family members.

And for me- lots and lots of 200% prime grade lovin'...

Damn, I might try that again some time!

She's a Poppette

That's the news. What more can I say? Any ability I might have had to be the disciplinarian has just gone right out the window. Daddy's little girl will have me wrapped around her little finger, and you know what, I can't wait!

She was healthy and active and a good weight and all that stuff, but frankly if she had two heads (and me being a Tasmanian it was a distinct possibility) I'd still love her to bits and then some.

We celebrated with Bailey's cheesecake and bubbly. Mum had bubbly in moderation. Dad got about 2 bites of the cheesecake.

Rocks, hard places and scans

Last week at work. Done 3 interviews now. One for a role prancing around in Court. Two for more deskbound, but nonetheless interesting policy positions. Got one more lined up.

Have no idea in the universe what to do. With two of the roles based in Canberra our house plans are a mess. Baby is due January, looking like being a cusp between Capricorn and Aquarius at this stage.

It's at times like this you wish you earned a motza. That a huge pile of cash stared up at you each time you got an account balance from the ATM. To just do stuff. Like sit there without gainful employment until the right role came along.

As if.

It's probably of no consequence; if I can't decide this late in the day which role I'd like, then they must all either be crap or pretty decent. The hardest thing is not the job itself, but the doors I'll close by taking one over the other.

I've been at faceless government organisation now for over 3 years. I have been a contractor all that time, and now, with baby due, am out of gainful employment.

Whatever. My baby is more important.

Today we learn whether we have a poppet or a poppette. The name game will follow. Although we feel less panicky after having survived the first scan, it is still nerve wracking. I've never wanted a job the way I want to be a father. This will be a long day.

UPDATE: Sure has been. Am about to walk around to the ultrasound place. Gut feels liks two thick fingers have taken a strand of each of my intestine and colon and twisted them tightly around each other. Wood. Touched.

Teacher goes on pocketknife rampage

Just doesn't read right, does it?

Them Pakis

Apparently this lable (which in my politically correct ignorance I thought had gone the way of niggers, boongs, gooks and other charming expressions of heartfelt affection which for reasons unknown cause offence to those on the receiving end) is back in vogue.

Well, it is if you're a subbie at The Australian:

Windies to stand in if Pakis withdraw

That's what it reads lunchtime Friday anyway.

UPDATE: It's probably below the offensiveness radar here. I think I've crossed over into convict who lived for ages in pommyland mode...

Its use by the Oz probably amounts to no more than sloppy and yobbish subbing.

Podcastigating

Anyone doing it? Anyone listening to it? As even dinosaurs like myself contemplate the purchase of some sort of MP3 playing device, is it a great new way to throw ideas around or an overhyped niche?

Leo feels loved

Not that I'm getting old or anything but in memory of someone turning 34 today I got:

A trip to Sydney next weekend;

A DVD about babies and beer called Being Dad;

A card from beloved that nearly made me bawl;

Everything is Illuminated by Safran Foer, which I nominated in my previous post as the book I'm meaning to read (and which is going to inspire me to write the novel;

Child of the Revolution by Luis Garcia, about growing up in Castro's Cuba; and

A Ben Sherman shirt; a-and

More nice cards!

Last night I went to bed depressed, having worried a bit too much through the day about my career. Really, my contract runs out in a week and a half and I have a baby on the way, what's to stress about?

This morning I am reminded of why I love life. It's like the breathe meme below has manifested itself all around me; my wife, bringing me coffee in bed, her loving words in my card, the thoughtful pressies from her and from family... and now my cats are around me, little minh-minh keeps following me around the house with a little torn piece of paper she's found, we're playing fetch (both my cats play fetch, did I mention that? I'm a proud dad!), they both keep rubbing up against my feet or climbing on the desk and peering at me from behind the monitor.

I feel loved. It's all I could ever ask of the world. Top of the morning to y'all.

UPDATE: My new brother and blister in law have bought me a goat! Fantastic...

Double Meme Double Pleasure!

Tagged in a book meme which was obviously inspired by my pre-holiday post. Thanks Cristy and Helen. While I'm there I'm going to pick up Ampersand Duck's remember to breathe meme, which was started in memory of her brother, spotted at Cristy's. OK, let the frivolities commence...

1. One book you have read more than once

The Old Man and the Sea by Hemmingway. A story about a man trying to catch a fish. Also a story about age, respect, childhood, loyalty, the curious bond between hunter and hunted, survival, meaning, honour, ridicule, determination, abject disappointment and the very meaning of life.

Proof that perfection can be achieved in a hundred pages. Like any other great story, but with 50% surplus waffle excised by literature's greatest precision scalpel.

2. One book you would want on a desert island

I'd get an anthology of short stories by a mixed bag of great writers, then I'd be able to keep sampling different writers over and over. Or maybe just The Turning, Winton's recent short story collection, because beloved liked it and his writing might evoke a little of Australia for me.

3. One book that made you laugh

Platform, by Houellebecq. I know it's wrong but he's just so good.

4. One book that made you cry

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Safran Foer. It comes under laugh as well. Also, if there were a category for best book you've read in the past 2 years this would probably take it out.

5. One book you wish you had written

In terms of quality but not the actual content I wish I'd written something as good as Atomised by Houellebecq. In an overall sense, taking ownership of content as well, I'd probably nominate Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close again.

The legal nerd in me wishes I'd written the argument that was put to the High Court and which led to Mabo II.

6. One book you wish had never been written

The Latham Diaries. Not the way he did it. It's just sad, a Shakespearean tragedy played out in a mess of blood and knives at the periphery of Australian politics. Maybe the Clash of Civilisations, because in certain hands it has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I reflected on various books of religion, and decided that I wouldn't undo their writing, however I'd love to have final editorial sway over the following...

Nasty, genocidal bits of the Old Testament, particularly the stories of Canaan and Sodom and Gomorrah.

Any chunk of the Koran and Hadith that has proven open to sadistic interpretations.

7. One book you are currently reading

As per my holiday post, I'm part-way into reading the following:

Day of the Jackal by Forsyth;
The Tyrannicide Brief by Robertson QC;
The Latham Diaries by the Tourettes headcase;
Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Murakami
Phoenix: Policing the Shadows by Holland; and
In the Shadow of Swords by Neighbour.

Currently focusing on the Jackal. Actually, there are others I've started and keep meaning to finish, including a non-fiction account of the real Carlos the Jackal's story. And a draft novel by a friend of my wife.

Plus, I'm supposed to be reading Kaz Cooke's Up the Duff!

I'm hopeless.

8. One book you have been meaning to read

Everything is Illuminated by Safran Foer. Plus all the half read books above. Plus Tim Winton's The Turning.

9. One book that changed your life

Different Seasons, a book of 4 novellas by Stephen King. In particular Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, which was later turned into the movie.

I read this story in a train station in Norway, as a 17 year old backpacker. After reading it I became anti-capital punishment and formed the view, which I still hold, that the state should be held liable for everything that happens to any person who the state throws in prison. I also realised Stephen King wastes his talent with all that horror, fun though it is.

We, by Zamiatin, also changed my life. I'm not good at this 'one' business, hey?!

10. Now tag five people

Scroll on down...

Meme II: Remember To Breathe (12 simple things that keep me going year after year)

1. My wife.

2. My unborn child.

3. My cats.

4. My friends.

5. An image of myself standing on an airport tarmac somewhere as several world leaders shake hands having agreed to the final covenent, written by me, that brings peace to the planet.

6. Variations of 5 that involve slightly less ambitious but nonetheless rewarding outcomes.

7. My guitars, and stuff I sing along with them.

8. Folks and family.

9. The combined pleasure of coffee and newspapers, first thing in the morning.

10. The combined pleasure of a good book and a nice glass of something alcoholic, last thing at night.

11. The novel I must write someday soon.

12. All the dirtbags who ever screwed me over, because giving up would be letting them, and the dark, depressive blot they've left on my psyche, succeed.

OK, over to you, if you've read this and haven't yet done either or both of these, you're tagged. Feel free to leave a trackback if you take me up on it...

Two years of Australian History?

History should be compulsory. Some Australian history should even be compulsory. But 2 years' worth?

It's hard enough keeping students interested as it is. Imagine, your a teenager, and you have class after class, whitewashed of all critical content to please the conservative censors, of rote learning chronological historical facts.

Good-O.

First aside, here's Mr Lefty lampooning the idiocy of trying to remove critical content from the study of history.

Second aside, here's Pavlov rightly lampooning Julie Bishop for not being an expert on that which she believes all Australians should be forced to learn. Sure her education may have been lacking (all of ours were, apparently) but she's a smart woman, she can read, and she's had several decades to do her civic duty and get on top of all the detail. Those facts, dates, names...

I think there's at least as big a gap in the general population's knowledge of the history of the First and Second World Wars. Or of Ancient History, to which our society and culture are so indebted.

And I can't see how Australian history can remain interesting for 2 years unless you get into the juicy stuff that, inevitably, involves subjectivity and analysis.

Apologies and Apologies

So Howard now agrees with the notion that it's proper for the head of the Australian Government to apologise for the wrongdoings of previous Australian Governments?

Great, well let's see a rethink of this slip-slide evasiveness:

It does not, as a resolution, impose a blame or a guilt on present generations for past misdeeds...

...I don't think there'll be much sort of support in the Australian community for a continued debate about words and about what ought to have been or might not have been or should have been or could have been...

....in phrasing something like this, you must pay regard to the sensitivities of many people who in the past thought they were doing the right thing in being involved in policies and practices affecting indigenous people which, by today's standards, are no longer acceptable and indeed are regarded as quite unacceptable.

And as we can now see, in the Prime Minister's eyes there are past attitudes that are so unacceptable that we say sorry, and there are attitudes that really aren't all that unacceptable so we sort of express regret but that's it.

'Quite' unacceptable, as he qualifies it, whistling his reservations.

Attitudes that treated Aborigines like animals are in the not-so-bad category, compared with 'left wing' (to use his words from last night's news) unpleasantness towards Vietnam vets.

Well I'm glad to see the Vets get their apology, their treatment has been appalling. But the contradictory positions he's taken on these two issues, both of which warrant an apology, demonstrate clearly that the justification he has provided for refusing to apologise to the Stolen Generations is false.

Howard has no problem with apologising in his role as head of the Government for its past misdeeds, nor with judging previous attitudes through the lens of his own hindsight.

He just won't do it for blackfellas.

What's more, if the 'right' has been so good to the Vietnam vets all this time, remind me how many terms of Government it took them to get this far? Aren't the vets still upset about missing out on a number of medals? Wasn't a Liberal Government with Howard as Treasurer in power shortly after the war ended? What did Howard do for the vets then, when apologies, recognition, and assistance might have made a real difference to so many lives that have gone down the drain since?

Christian refugees, Muslim oppressors

Like most people with half a conscience I'm chuffed that the Anti-Wops-in-Boats Bill 2006 was defeated. The sad truth is that the fact that West Papuans are overwhelmingly Christian and Indonesians are overwhelmingly Muslim probably had a lot to do with it. Double their numbers and substitute, say, Muslims from Aceh, and my money would be on the Bill passing.