Retreat

I have gone on a 10 day live-in retreat. It's FANTASTIC!

We live in a lovely cottage, that I don't have to clean. Someone else is doing the cooking. All I have to do is turn up to classes every day. Life is bliss!

Change of Diet

I have had a solid few days to do some reading about cancer.

The nurse told me to read the booklets she gave me, and not to surf the internet, and not to change my diet.

I read the booklets (which proved far too simple for the level of understanding that I require), surfed the internet, and now I am changing my diet.

So it's mainly fruit and veggies for me - preferably fresh, raw and organic. Some nuts and seeds. I am not sure about the meat yet - a lot of cancer advice suggests taking the meat out. However, most of our meat comes from next door, and we know that these are the least stressed cows in the world, fully grass fed, and kept on pretty much organic land. So for the time being, the meat stays in.

Alcohol, caffeine, sugar, bread and pasta is out.

The schedule

On Monday I got a sick leave certificate from the doctor and stopped going to work.

But it's not like I have all this free time to ponder things over. I have a new full time job. I attend what seems like a 1000 and one doctors appointments - mammograms, ultrasounds, biopsies, CT scans, bone scans, blood tests, and consultations. And in between all these, my husband and I are busy reading up on the disease, its causes, its progress, and the cures. I am seriously working 10 hours a day, 5 days a week.

The mammogram

The mammogram was a week ago. I went to the mammogram appointment after a particularly stressful moment at work. So when I went into the X-ray room and I felt tears stinging my eyes I couldn't decide whether it was the stress of work or the probability of cancer. "You're still young, you've got a good chance", said the radiologist, as she proceeded to take photo after photo after photo. Two huge tears hit the deck. She didn't seem to notice. It felt good to let the tears go, so I stopped holding back. The radiologist seem immune to them. She just kept asking for different positions, and kept taking photos. You don't take that many photos if you don't suspect something.

By the time I went in for the ultrasound, the tears were coming thick and fast. I had become a waterfall worthy of tourist attention, by Australian standards anyway. The ultrasound technician seemed just as immune to the tears. And what hurt me the most was not the fact that I might die. Because I won't die. Not from this. It wasn't the fact that I might lose a breast. (Although maybe that childhood game of being an Amazon was a bit tactless). It was the fact that there might never be another baby. And even if there is, that baby will never feed from that breast.

Meanwhile ...

Here we are busy with this, that and the other, enjoying our farm and lifestyle, making plans for a bed and breakfast, when out of the blue I get diagnosed with breast cancer. Ouch. The breaks on our life screech to a halt.

Christening the new float

So, yesterday I picked up the new float. Now, horse floats are used for transporting horses. About 50% of the time. They are also very useful for moving furniture, taking rubbish to the tip, and doing other runs that are part of every day living.

Everyone has their own idea about christening the new float.

Firstly, it gets a name "The Flummery". Then, I barely bring it home, and Pete insists on christening it by taking some kitchen cupboards up to the farm.

In the morning, at first light, I christen the float my way - I take Crownie to pony club for some cross country training. Crownie, of course, christens the float her own way.

Then I barely return from pony club, when Pete insists we use the float to pick up the trees we bought last weekend.

On the return trip, we decide to test the user experience. I jump in the float, and have a ride.

By the time we've had the float for 24 hours, it's well and truly christened.

And I haven't even mentioned the wombat. Oooops. I think I just did.

Mothers' Day

We celebrate Mothers' Day with a sleep in, presents for mum, and freshly baked croissants.

Well, it's a sleep in for me, but husband groans at the 7:40 start dictated by our little girl. On the days when I quietly get up and go horse riding, Sabina is quite capable of sleeping in till 8:30. 9:30 if you're really lucky.

While I am still lazing around in bed, Sabina brings me presents. Fist two drawings of a very happy mother. Then a notepad. She's very proud of her choice of notepad, but she's not sure if it will actually hit it off with mum. I can see that everything rides on my approval. Her happiness, her confidence, almost her entire existence. I marvel at the notepad, and repeatedly comment on how pretty it is, and how useful it will be.

The croissants for breaksfast - they are from Sabina's school. I organised them, I followed the instructions to thaw them last night, and I bake them this morning. I am still the mum. Even on Mothers' day. But it doesn't matter. Just eating these yummy croissants for breakfast together is fantastic.

Later we dash off to the local tree nursery and buy a golden elm, and a norwegian maple. The golden elm will go next to the sandpit to create a shady canopy. The norwegian maple will line the driveway.

Towards the end of the day we have an early dinner. The farrier is coming tomorrow, and I am staying the night at the farm, while Pete and Sabina are heading back to town by train. The train is running 15 minutes late. 20 minutes, by the time it hits town. My mother spends the better part of an hour waiting for them to arrive at their destination, so she can give them a lift home.

She's still a mum. Even on Mothers' day.

Seasoned

I arrive at the farm in the evening, and unpack the car. The temperature inside the house reads 17 degrees C. 16.4 on the other thermometer. In the past, a mere year ago, this would have had me rushing off to the woodpile and starting a fire.

Not so today. It's not exactly balmy warm, but the fire won't make much difference once I am in bed under my superwarm doona. And in the morning the fire will be out anyway, so really, why bother.

Letter box

I arrive at the three letter boxes, enroute to farm. The middle letter box is ours.

As I drive up to the letter boxes, I glance unintentionally at Sabina. Her eyes are fixed on something. They grow bigger, wider, more intense. She has stopped blinking, and perhaps breathing too. It's as though she has seen a snake hanging on the fence behind the letter boxes.

Yeah right! I giggle to myself, and turn around to look at the fence. OMG! I almost jump in my seat. There IS a snake hanging off the fence!

Never, ever, doubt your children's facial expressions!

Mushrooming

Sabina and I drive off into the pine plantation next door. A couple of kilometres later we park on the edge of the track, and joyfully jump out, bucket in one hand, knife in the other.

It's been raining a lot recently, and mushrooms have popped up everywhere. Mainly the poisonous ones, but there is also a solid supply of the edible ones.

First we find the "maslaki" and I show Sabina how to recognise them. She collects them into her bucket.

Then we find "rydze". They are plentiful, and growing everywhere, and Sabina is forever fascinated how they hide under the pine needles.

A short time later, with one and a half buckets of mushrooms, we drive back to the ranch.

I clean and fry a few "rydze". Sabina loves them, and asks for more.

Have generator, can ...

open garage doors, use the stove and water. How good is that?

But, can't use the lights, fridge or kettle. No, if you want to use those, you have to plug the genrator into a different power socket. Then of course you can use the lights, but you no longer have running water.

Love it!

Have generator, will ...

read instruction manual.

We have finally bought a generator. Because out here, on the perimeter, when you lose power you lose the water pump, the lights, the stove, the ability to open garage doors. It's like going back in time a 100 years.

And, out here on the perimeter, you lose power pretty often. Once a week on average.

And, sometimes, when you do lose power, you better be the one to call the power company. Because it may turn out that the problem is your very own power pole in your own back paddock, and no one else but you and your two best buddy neighbours are experiencing a black out. And your best buddy neighbours have a generator, or three, so they don't care!

So we've bought one.

And tonight, husband is sitting and carefully reading the instruction manual.

The table

We've inherited a table from our friends. The beautiful wooden table is cleaned up and assembled.

The existing table is moved out, against the sofa. We clean the floor, then move the new table into position.

The new table is beautiful, don't get me wrong. And we really appreciate getting it. But it's huge in comparison to our old family kitchen table. It has converted our meals area from a cosy farm kitchen, to a ... well, boardroom. And I just can't get used to it.

In the meantime, Sabina has placed a lamp on the old table, and converted it into a desk. She looks like a football in the middle of the football field. Or like one of those super talented children in some movie, studying materials far beyond her five years.

We look like a bunch of hill billies who struck oil, got rich quickly, and lashed out without much thought or consideration for style.

Holiday Diary: Reading

Reading is definitely a great part of any holiday. There just seems to be so much time to read.

I really enjoy reading books during holidays, but because I am forever busy packing gear, I always forget to grab a book.

Somehow, I have been blessed to find a very interesting book at each of my recent holiday destinations. When we got away to Bright I managed to find John McEnroe's autobiography, which had me reading for hours into the night, and buzzing all morning.

Here in Merimbula, "The other Bolyen girl" by Phillipa Gregory catches my eye, and I honestly cannot get away from it. I hide away with it at every opportunity, almost to the point of being rude. But the historical detail, and more so, the politics in the book have caught me in their iron grip. I learn far more from it than from any book on marriage, relationships, or business acumen.

Holiday Diary: Gear

We arrive in Merimbula with two kayaks (and associated paddling gear), two bikes, and a boot full of boogy boards, nets and other sundry beach items.

The logistics of packing all this gear takes up days of thinking before the trip even commences. Then comes the packing itself. At least one hour just for the gear alone. Then the mental note ... our car now requires a clearance of at least 2.5m. Then the unpacking. Where to put the gear at the destination. Etc, etc, etc.

So is the gear really necessary? Doesn't "getting away from it all" mean you just take your beach towel with you?

I hate to say it, but in our case, the gear is necessary. We holidayed in Noosa a couple of years ago, and found it excruciatingly painful to watch paddling and bike riding opportunities pass us by, because we didn't have our gear.

Can't we borrow it? Gosh no! I guess I can't really tell the difference between one boogy board and the next, but kayaks and bikes are tailored to our needs.

So do we use the gear? Yes, yessety yes!

Going on holidays

We're off on holidays today. For a week. To Merimbula.

We do the obligatory stop at Bairnsdale and ride the flying fox. Then on through smoke filled bush and into New South Wales. Once you see a sign that says "Eden" you pretty much know you're in heaven.

When we arrive, Opa is standing on the balcony of the "Blue House" well aware that we managed to stock up on supplies at the pub.

The Deluge

Sabina and I are at the Warragul show today, showing off Sabina's pony Tornado. Showing is taxing, and between classes we sneak away and have a ride.

Pete is cycling from Melbourne to the farm, as part of his training for the Baw Baw classic.

He calls me on the phone. "I am just outside of Pakenham, and there is a massive black cloud chasing me. It doesn't look pretty. You may need to pick me up, I'll call you again."

Pick him up??! Sabina, float, pony, and he wants me to pick him up? Sheesh.

We wait around for almost an hour, but then the rain drops start falling. Big, heavy rain drops. I bundle Sabina in the car, pony on the float, and we head off.

The rain starts coming down in merciless sheets as we drive. Then it eases off. The phone rings. It's Pete. Come and pick him up from Robin Hood Hotel. Fabulous. I U-turn.

The wind is strong, and with some trepidation I watch the tops of the trees get blown about. I pray with all my might, that a branch doesn't drop on us. With car and float, we make a pretty unmissable target.

Then, in Drouin West, just as we pass the Primary School and the CFA, the deluge commences. Initially we get sheets of rain, just like before, Then it gets stronger, and heavier. A few cars pull off. I understand that according to the laws of probability we are safer moving, and so I drive on, albeit slowly.

I can barely see the road in front of me. Then the rain gets heavier still, and I can no longer see the end of my own bonnet. My entire focus is on that one point where the rain meets the front of my car. It amazes me that a year and one month ago, this area was ungulfed in flames.

Eventually the rain eases off somewhat, and I can start seeing some of the road again. Just in time, as a big puddle looms in front of us. Hydroplaning over it with a float is not my idea of fun. Luckily, I know this road like the back of my hand, and I can judge the depth of this puddle to the centimetre.

We arrive at the Robin Hood Hotel. The wind still howling, the rain still pouring. But we are away from trees and flying branches. I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back in my seat. "Mama", Sabina perks up in the back seat. "You know how you always tell me to be quiet when the weather is on the radio?" I nod. "Well, Mama, did they tell you about this?!" she asks. I laugh. "No, Sabina, they didn't. They just said a couple of passing showers."

We see Peter standing under the eves of the Pub, huddled into an alcove. His bike resting against the wall of the pub, half in the rain. "Mama, I can use the umbrella from my show bag to go and get Papa!" I allow her to have her fun, much to the protests of the father being rescued. For he knows that he has to get saturated regardless, while putting the bike on the roof, and that a Dora umbrella is no match for this force of nature, nor is it truly wide enough for a paddler's shoulders.

I must admit I am somewhat surprised that he is standing outside the pub. I was expecting him to be inside, putting away a beer. But all is explained when bike is on the roof, and Peter and Sabina are safely in the car. "The pub is flooded", he says. "I got here, two minutes before the rain hit. Got myself inside the pub. Then it started pouring. Just outside at first. Then inside. Water started coming in everywhere. Under the doors, through the windows, down the light fittings. I swear, you could stand your glass on the bar, and it would fill with water in seconds. It was drier under the eves outside."

We drive home in the pouring rain, and watch how half of the gravel road to our farm is getting eroded away by instant mini creeks.

Meanwhile ... back at the ranch ...

Everything is fine. The back patio is looking quite flooded, and all the boots standing under the eves are pretty much full of water. I am talking, to the brim. But inside, the house is nice and dry, the sheds are nice and dry, and the horses have kept themselves nicely hidden from the sheer impact of the rain.

Warragul Show Fireworks

The Warragul show starts this afternoon and continues into tomorrow.

We grab a quick dinner at the pub, and go into the show just as it's getting dark.

Sabina is mesmerised by all things flashing and sparkling, and we are immediately drawn to a stand selling flashing ... well ... just about everything. One flashing fairy wand later, and we go towards the rides.

Sabina rides the Merry-go-round, then a coursel with swings. Next we approach the Cha-Cha, a three arm swirling thing that utilizes G-forces. I ask whether there is an age limit. No, no age limit. I suspect this is incorrect, but since Sabina is my daughter, and I love all things G-force, I decide we will go on it together.

The Cha-Cha starts spinning, and Sabina squeals with joy as the first G-forces make our legs feel weightless. Then it goes faster and faster. I love it, but I am somewhat concerned about Sabina. This is a pretty full on ride for a little girl. She's laughing all the way.

We watch the fireworks. Sabina is spellbound by the "fire in the sky". Then we grab some fairy floss, a lolly pop, and of course the obligatory show bag.

Twilight Athletics

This afternoon, after school, Sabina's school has organised Twilight Athletics at the local track. The track is impressive, as is the organisation. Children and teachers are seated in the grass area on the oval (inside the running track), while parents are watching from the stands (outside the running track).

The afternoon commences with an official opening ceremony which includes a parade of all the athletes. The athletes have been grouped into four teams: green, gold, red and blue. Sabina is in the Gold team.

Once the games are declared open, children are called up to the running track and to the long jump. Finally, I see that the Prep children are being prepared for a run.

Parents, of course, are supposed to stay in the stands, and be good spectators. But of course, "rules" per se never meant much to me, and the coach in me takes over. I run out to the group of prep children. Sabina is overjoyed to see me. But to me, this is not about mother and daughter joy. This is about strategy, tactics and running the race.

I squat down, hold her hand and say "now listen little girl. I want you to run like a leopard. Will you run like the leopard for me? Will you? Will YOU run like the LEOPARD?" Sabina nods with some uncertainty. The other children turn around and look at me with awe. "I am going to run like the leopard", says one girl. "Me too", says another. All of a sudden I am surrounded by 20 or so preps all wanting to run like the leopard. Wow. This is so cool.

I continue my little speel to Sabina about running like the leopard, until I feel she is sufficiently pumped. "I'll be at the finish line", I call out, and head to the other end of the track.

I see her line up, the starter's gun fires, and the girls are running. I can see Sabina stretching her legs and putting on some serious speed. But I also see her looking around. "Go Sabina! You go GIRL! Go Gold!", I cheer. "Go! Go! Go!". Eight girls bound across the finish line. It's clear to me that Sabina didn't come first. Maybe third? Maybe fourth? Then I see a man run up to her and hand her the red ribbon. Wow. Second. She did run like the leopard!

The games continue, and at the end Gold team comes second. Sabina is so proud, she thinks her team came first.

Training track

Sabina has just started primary school, and on Friday they are having Twilight Athletics.

Being an advocate of all things sporty, I cannot let her go unprepared. So we turn the driveway into a training track. We mark the start, we mark the finish.

We do a practice run. Sabina shows a lot of speed, but she is looking around so much that half of it is lost. And, she slows right down a metre from the finish line.

"Sabina", I kneel down to be at her level. "You're going to run fast. No looking around. Don't slow down before the finish line. Run like the leopard. Can you run like the leopard for me?" She nods.

We give it another go. Better.

Then we practice starts. "Ready, set, GO!", then "Ready, set, BANG!", just in case they have a starter's gun. Then a longer distance. I spur her on. "Mama, my legs hurt".

"Ok, time for some long jump."

We have a rest while I draw up the start of the long jump. She takes a run up, then smiles sideways at me as she takes the take off line in mid stride.

"Excellent", I say.

"Mama, now let's do it together!"

Valentines Day

I return from my horse riding, and I am greeted by a chocolate heart in a red wrapper hanging on the door. Hmmm ...

After my chocolate is consumed with delight together with my coffee we head off in the car towards Noojee. Then onwards to Toorongo falls. We park the car and proceed on foot. Sabina runs merrily up the path, stopping every now and then to see the water rushing over the rocks. After about 1km or so we arrive at the falls.


The waterfall is beautiful, especially after the recent rains. The water spreads out at the top and cascades down over the rocks like angel hair. We sit spellbound while Sabina eats a snack.

Then we continue on to another rapid. Sabina bounces along the path with renewed vigour. The rapid itself is pretty enough, but the platform jutting out into the river is really cool. It sits right over the middle of the river, with a rapid underneath, and it's made out of a metal mesh, so that you can actually see the water gushing below your feet.

We walk down another path back to the car, flicking off the odd leech. We try to avoid telling Sabina about the leeches, but when we do a full body scan at the car we have to fess up that they are not just mosquitos.