So I have finally turned 40. I feel bad for the year 39, in that I imagine it does not get the energy and attention it deserves for simply being year 39. It is always that last year. I think people either live it in a desperate clinging fashion, or in an anticipatory fashion. I lived it fine, though for the last 3 months I have been in anticipatory mode, and started telling many people I was 40. I didn't give 39 its due, and for that, 39, I wholly apologize. Sadly, I can't make it up to you, only promise that I will attempt to give 49 the year it deserves.

It has been a strange time, in that 40 also seems silly to even think about. At the moment, I am hardly thinking about it, as my grandmother has about a week to live, and it is making me think about her quite a bit. She is the closest person to me to die in maybe 30 years. It is much more of a blow than when my father died 20 years ago. He was not really in my life. She was, and has been until the end.

She is 95, but I think we all thought she was going to be here for another 10 years. It certainly didn't seem out of the question. Her brain is fine, she was still driving a little bit, she lived alone, and she is just a lovely person to be around. This is the first year I have not received a birthday card from her, that is how thoughtful she is.

She really loves all of her kids and her grandchildren, and I believe it is not just a general love that she gives no thought to. She genuinely cares about us. I have always been surprised at her level of wisdom and insight, whenever discussing family members with her. It is clear that she thinks about us all, and appreciates the good in us.

My grandma is Catholic, but I don't think she is strict about it. She told me once that she thought the church was important for a sense of community. She was always very social through it. She knitted things for fairs and until recently attended a weekly Scripture group. She told me that every Christmas all the different denominations in her town would visit a different church, and have a meal. I think she is very spiritual but it is a personal thing, not a by-the-rules thing. I never felt judged by her, and our family is full of many sins - born out of wedlock, divorce, living in sin, homosexuality, and interfaith marriage. She loves us all, I never heard her say anything against anything. Maybe she did when she was younger - I don't know. But in my time knowing her I never found religion to be an issue. I imagine she had many private conversations with invisible forces. She loved solitude, but I never had the impression she was lonely. My grandfather died 30 years ago, and she has been on her own ever since.

I think it concerned her that my brother and I didn't have a father figure in our lives, and though I never heard her say anything, it was clear after awhile that she didn't view my stepfather as any kind of parent. I appreciated that, as he was actually an extremely dark force in my life that I could not control. She and my grandfather (when he was alive) were very important in providing when my mother could not, and doing things to cultivate our minds, encourage our interests.

For many years, they gave us a subscription to National Geographic "World" magazine, the NG for kids. When we visited my grandparents, I loved looking at all of their old copies of National Geographic, and imagining far away places. That is still my favorite magazine. I have a subscription today!

I remember my grandparents taking me to see "The Fantastiks" at Theatre By-The-Sea in Portsmouth. I was probably only 6. I loved it, even if I couldn't completely follow the story. They also took me to see Godspell, which I always loved. I remember watching it on tv at their house in Queens, before they moved to NH. Later they took me to see some plays at the community theatre in the town they retired to. They were always very encouraging for me to be an actress. (I hope I haven't let them down...)

When I had my violin recital at the age of 9, they came to see it, and bought me an outfit to wear: white collared shirt, blue skirt and clogs.

My grandma drove to my house one evening to let me interview her for a class assignment about growing up during the Great Depression. I was very surprised and fascinated by what she told me. In her lifetime, she saw people change from horse and buggy to automobile, and electricity in every home. People used to run 5 blocks to the local store to receive a phone call, as most people did not have a phone, so a call could be for anyone in the neighborhood when it came in.

When I was a teenager, I wanted to go to another country and be a foreign exchange student. My grandma obviously thought about it, because one day after school she drove down to my house, picked me up, and brought me back to her town for a meeting for students interested in foreign exchange. I heard a girl talk about her summer in Sweden, and heard a boy from Uruguay talk about his time in New Hampshire.

Several times in grade school, I stayed at my grandmother's house with girlfriends for the weekend. She always took us out for breakfast, which was such a treat! We would get pancakes every time.

Later when I was in college, I remember her picking me up from the bus station to attend my older brother's first wedding. None of us were happy. He was very young and the girl he was marrying was trashy and suspect. She drove me to get some breakfast, and it was the first time I ever drank coffee in front of her. She was surprised, and told me if I was going to drink coffee, I'd better drink milk because coffee depletes calcium in your bones. Then she said to me, with a weird twinkle in her eye, "you know, old people don't fall down and break a hip. The break a hip, and that's why they fall down." Happily, I finally gave up coffee a year ago.

I think no matter what I have done or what I have told her, I think my grandma has always made me feel that I could do anything, and that I was pretty special. I suppose that is really what a good grandparent will do, and I think I had the best.

I think the best thing she has ever said to me is, "the only thing you are supposed to do with your life is live it!" That is the greatest, most inspiring, and most comforting thing I have heard anyone say. I remind myself of this quote time and time again, as I surf the ups and downs.

Whenever I have gone back to her house for a visit, I am almost embarrassed by the little gifts she has kept from me over the years. There is an enormous toadstool that I once found in the woods, and with the tip of a knife, I carved a woodland scene into it as a gift for her. She still has it. The last time I was visiting her, she pulled it out, "remember when you made me this?", she asked with a smile. "I can't believe you still have that," I replied incredulously. The toadstool probably weighs 15 pounds - it is about the size of a large medicine ball. "Of course I have it," she laughed, "how often does someone give you one of these?"

She also has a drawing I made for her once. My Aunt Jane once gave me one of those poseable wooden statues that people use for figure drawing. I was very young, maybe 9,10. I made a drawing of the statue, a very dramatic one, with a blue pencil. It is not a great drawing, I was not trained at all and don't have any particular talent, but she framed it, and it is still on her living room wall, like a great piece of art.

As I became older, and trained to believe that drawing and painting and any other form of creativity should only be done if you are "good" at it, the little homemade gifts stopped being given. But one time, after coming home from a semester in Europe, I did make her one last thing. I made her a Christmas ornament based on one of my favorite drawings, Paul Klee's "Forgetful Angel". It was made out of a coarse dough that I formed roughly into the shape of Klee's image, then baked, and then painted in tones of grey. She put it on the shelf of her china cabinet in the kitchen, and it has remained there ever since.

I got to see my grandma one last time, this past winter. Darcy and I got to stay with her for about 4 days. She was limping around, but she made it seem like no big deal, which seemed to be her style. But now I know it was cancer pressing on her spine. While I was there, we chatted together and I ran some errands for her and we watched some DVDs. And I noticed that on her china cabinet, the angel was still there! It has dried out, and is crumbling. But she still has it. Maybe she really liked it, because she's an angel too.

I'm going to miss my grandma. But I am happy that I have had her in my life, and that I can miss so many wonderful things about her.

Get Up, Stand Up

Last Monday was a National Holiday, the Queen's Birthday. Yep, you got it. The Queen of England's birthday. Australia is part of the Commonwealth, so they celebrate some British holidays. The Queen's actual birthday is April 21st, but for some reason it is celebrated in June here, maybe to give people a day off during the winter. In the state of Western Australia, however, it is celebrated in November. New Zealand and the UK I think celebrate it on different days as well, and I don't know about the other commonwealth countries - there are quite a few.

Anyhoo, we went on that day to a festival called The Dreaming, which celebrates indigenous culture from around the world, but mainly Australia and the neighboring Pacific islands. It was really good. We saw traditional and contemporary music, some dance, and some paintings. Had we gone for all 3 days, we could have taken in some theatre, readings and other things as well. But the festival is a little pricey, and we (well, Darcy) had other things to do. But we walked around and saw what we could. There were lots of feral hippie types running around, which I thought I had lost my aversion to but I guess I haven't. Why they bug me I don't know. I guess because for all their dirty hair and mismatched ethnic clothing, they don't seem natural to me. They seem just as poser-like as any other group of people who adopt a visual style. Darcy tells me to not let it bother me. He's right. I need to relax.

We forgot to take pictures. I have to remember to take photos when I do things.

If you are someone that knows me ( and I can't imagine strangers read this blog), then you now that I am posturaly challenged - I don't stand up straight. I have had bad posture since I was little. It started from growing up feeling pretty bad about myself, and now it is just something I am used to doing. When I was a teenager, I came home from a basketball game, to have my mother yell at me about my posture. She had never been to any games I played, but my brother told her that all the boys on his basketball team laughed about the way I hunched my shoulders when I ran down the court. When I was older and lived in New York, I would try to hide myself from men on the street, thinking I could prevent them from saying things to me when I passed by. Now, in cold weather, I find myself hunching my shoulders to keep warm. And when I work, slouching is the way we all end up sitting as we toil away for hours on end in front of the computer. It is a terrible habit and I hate it. It reminds me of my youth and affects how I feel. Sometimes when I think I am standing up straight, I may catch my reflection and realize that I still have rounded shoulders, my head is still sloped forward like a turtle. Standing up straight is good for your health and I want to be healthy!

So, I have these shoes that help me stand up straight. They are called MBTs. They were expensive but they take stress off my knees, and actually make it uncomfortable to slouch when I walk. They look kind of funny, but they really help me stand up straight. I feel different when I wear them, almost like I can't not feel at least a little confident when I have them on. Having my shoulders back helps me breathe better. And having an open heart area improves my general outlook.

My big challenge these days is when I am sitting down. I slouch a lot when I am sitting. I look around, and people around me all seem to have square shoulders, even when sitting on a stool. So, I'll keep working on it.

Yoga is good for posture too, but I am not completely cured. It's going to happen though. I am going to stand up straight!

Old Friends can be New Strangers

I have had a lot going on this past month, mainly in the way of work. Hooray! A few friends have been so wonderful as to throw some small jobs my way, all done from home. I bit the bullet, bought a souped up laptop, and got on with it! I ended up working some long days and nights, but overall it was really good! Thank you friends; thank you Universe! Keep it going!

It has meant that I have spent a good amount of time these past couple of weeks sitting on my well-padded ass, so when I am finished with this entry I am going for a walk.

Facebook has been on my mind recently. I have been getting a lot of invitations to be friends with people from the past. I know that that is a popular use of Facebook, to look up people you have lost touch with. That can be good and bad. The past is very subjective. For some, it may be nice to remember a certain time in the past, for others, maybe they are glad it is the past and want to leave it back there.

I have had a few people from high school look me up. That was not the happiest time of my life, but I did know some nice people back then. So, I am now friends with them on Facebook but I do not know what to say. It has been 22 years since I have seen these people. Honestly, who the hell are they? I don't know them anymore. If we have things in common, we are not going to find out on facebook. They all have photos of their kids climbing jungle gyms and photos with their partners on trips to various places. They look like older versions of themselves, smiling, and I am happy for them, but I don't have the need to share anything. I wonder if I am cold, or if that is okay. I mean, come on, if we were meant to still be friends, it would happen, right?

When I was in Boston, a friend from high school contacted me through email. He got my email address from my brother, who he found on facebook. The friend invited me to lunch, so we met up. It was nice, but the more we remembered, the more we remembered how %*!$*'ed up our home lives were, how messed up everyone else's were and how strange some of the adults in town were. In conclusion, we had been so involved in our own personal miseries and trying to hide it from everyone, that our friendship was never that deep, and we didn't know each other very well back then at all. So we hardly knew each other now.

We had a nice time at lunch, almost like strangers getting to know each other, and said goodbye. He has not tried to become my friend on facebook, and I am glad. There is no ill will but truthfully there is just no need.

Another person recently found me on Facebook. I didn't remember him at first. He told me about his memories of me and our friendship, and I don't remember them as clearly as he does. We worked together the summer I was seventeen, doing canvassing for a political action group. It was the summer in which my innocence unraveled, finally. I witnessed drugs and experienced my first romantic and sexual contact, along with the disintegration of a friendship with a girl who was discovering her own secret powers of attraction. It was interesting and exciting at the time, but now that I am friends on facebook with someone from this period of my life, I am realizing that I want to leave it in the past.

It was painful. I experienced my first real pangs of jealousy. I lost the one friend at the time that I loved and trusted. I was surrounded by men who were in their twenties, horny and creepy. I was completely awkward with myself, and in the end, made very little money and the organization fell apart.

The thing that is strange about it is that for him, these times were good, and still are good in his memory. Our friendship was important to him, and he claimed to have had a crush on me. He was 6 years older then me, had already graduated from college, and had a thing for a 17 year old girl? He was remembering a letter I had sent him all those times ago lifting his spirits about something. I don't remember that at all.

I was in a bit of a fog at that time, trying to figure out how I felt about my family, wondering how I was going to move ahead into the future. College in Boston was my dream at the time; I needed to figure out how I was going to achieve it. I was also so used to boys staying away from me in school that i was oblivious to any kind of advances or gestures or even words an interested young man my try on me.

I have thought about it and run down various paths in my memory, and I guess I did really have a friendship with This person. But now? Well, no. I don't want to delve back into the past. What's the point? I was a child. Things have changed so much since then. Why dig it all up. And if he wants to, then he has to do it on his own.

My friend Angela told me she just rejects anyone on Facebook she doesn't want to be in contact with. I couldn't believe it. "Won't that make them feel bad?"

"Aren't your feelings more important?" she asked.

I wish I was more grown up sometimes!

Ugly Building Memory

This morning I walked up the hill to the nearby bakery, Flour Power. It is a fantastic bakery, making lots of organic bread and little meatpies (Australian specialty) and croissants and doughnuts. I bought a loaf of sourdough bread and a croissant and walked to the park nearby, which has a nice view overlooking much of the city. I passed an apartment building on the way to the park, standing tall above all the houses around it. It has a square, seventies style, with ugly orange and blue squares decorating the exterior, and an observation deck on the top that makes it look almost like an air traffic control tower. I like the building. It makes me feel nostalgic, and I have never known why, but today a memory popped in my head that put the feeling into place.

As a child, from the age of 10 until I went to college, I used to spend 2 to 4 weeks in New York City with my Aunt and Uncle during summer vacation. They were amazing to us, my brother and I, and sometimes some other cousins would come visit too. They took us with them to work, took us to museums and theatre and restaurants all over the city. And sometimes we would spend the day with friends of theirs. I remember quite a few times going to spend the day with the kids of their friends, but at the aunt's place of the kids. The aunt lived in a high-rise near Rockaway Beach, and the hi-rises near Rockaway looked similar to the building I walked by this morning.

The aunt was very fat, and didn't seem very friendly, but in retrospect she must have been nice - she let my brother and I, who she didn't know, spend the day with her and her grand nieces and feed us. We would spend the whole day in the pool, as the ocean roared just on the other side of the fence. I loved it. I loved pools. I still love pools. The aunt would call us in from her deck to have lunch. She would make ham sandwiches with mayonnaise, and cokes. At that age, I didn't like mayonnaise, but I would eat it and not say anything.

Sometimes I remember things and feel sad and wish some things never happened, or wish that I had been a better girl when I was little, and other times I remember things and just feel so lucky that I had this or that experience, or that I had certain people in my life. I remember my aunt and uncle and another aunt of mine and her son and their circle of friends and just feel so lucky that they were in my life. They were so willing to take me on for weeks or months, and make me a part of their lives, and have fun.

Do people do that so much these days? Do you bring along the 11 year old niece of your friend to a dinner party, or to the pool of your aunt? Are people still that communal? Do people still view kids in such an easy way? I feel like when I spent those summers in NYC I was surrounded by adults who seemed to enjoy my company, and were happy to have me along anywhere. I don't know if that was true, but I never felt differently. It is no wonder I dreamed of living in New York for most of my childhood.

Occasionally, I get to spend time with friends and their children. Truthfully, I am awkward with some kids. They are shy, and I respect their distance. I don't know what to say to toddlers because I hate talking down or saying something insincere. But with other kids, I thoroughly enjoy talking to them, and I am thoroughly entertained by them. I would like to think that I would be able to say to a friend, sure, I'll have your kid stay with me for a week, and it would be easy. I don't know.

Things are different now. I don't think it is so acceptable now for kids to do what we did. Sometimes we would run around the city on our own and meet my aunt for lunch and at the end of the day. We also took the bus between NYC and NH on our own. One time I remember sitting in the back of the bus with my brother, and a guy talked to us all the way to Hartford, telling us about how he got beat up and mugged. He was drunk, and I didn't know what mugged meant, but I knew it wasn't good.

When I was 10 I also remember going to see a musical called "One Mo' Time" at the Village Vanguard. I didn't always follow the story, or the sexual innuendos, but I loved the music. After the show my aunt and uncle let us stay after and wait for the actors to come out and mingle in the club. I walked around to all of them and got their autographs. I was so excited!

Brisbane is such a small town by comparison to New York, and I wouldn't let a couple of 13 year olds run around here. But I don't know why they would want to run around here anyway. There isn't much to see. Well, maybe there is for a 13 year old; I don't know. I think I was spoiled having NYC as my summer camp. And I was spoiled having this cool group of adults taking care of me.