The Long Wait.
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Nothing
Topic: Missy Olivia
29 March, 2005

It's been a long wait between Blogs. More than six months. And a long six months it's been. All of you by now know that Damon and I celebrated the birth of our firstborn, Olivia Elizabeth Moira Fox on 19 November, 2004. She weighed in at 8lbs 3oz, was 51cm long. Here's her first picture with the digital camera.



We spent 16 days in the hospital with Olivia as we had a terrible pediatrician who wasn't going to let her go home until my milk produced better - she didn't think that the stress of being in the hospital might have caused it. Duhh. Olivia was first in the neonatal nursery because she was hypoglaecemic when she was born due to my gestational diabetes. We're both fine now, no diabetes, no hypoglacaemia. My mother was here to visit for two months arriving the day after Olivia's birth and leaving on January 18.

Olivia just turned four months old on the 19th of March, and we've got a hectic life. Damon is a stay-at-home dad and I've gone back to work full time. I have to work full time and come back so soon as Launceston City Council is paying for my Master's in Environmental Planning, which I also started the week after I went back to work. I take distance education classes, and I'm only enrolled in one this semester. Damon works part time in the evenings, five nights a week at a restaurant called The Star Hotel. It's a bit more uppity up than the Newstead Pub, maybe more like Thackery's, no not Thackery's.. what Thackery's is now in Halifax, where Damon used to work - you know on the corner of Spring Garden and Sackville St? Anyway... Doh.. Wait The Fireside... that's it.

Anyway, it's now Easter Tuesday here in Tasmania (we get Easter Monday and Easter Tuesday off. I'm not sure about Easter Wednesday through Friday, but I know I have to be back at work tomorrow. We had a great Easter out at Damon's parents farm in Mole Creek. Damon drove Olivia and I down on Friday day and he came back in to go to work Friday night. Missy Olivia and I relished the attentions of the grandfolk and the wonderful routine of the farm and good cooking. Daddy (Damon) came down Sunday morning as he had worked Friday evening, Saturday day and Saturday evening. Then the noisy cousins Lan and Asha arrived with fun Uncle Nolan on Sunday lunchtime. We had an egg hunt, I made chicken dinner, and a generally good time was had by all.

Two weekends ago, if none of you knew, I took part in a triathalon. It was a corporate challenge with 5 teams from Launceston City Council participating. Teams were in threes, a swimmer, cyclist and runner. I cycled 12.85 kilometres to be the last cyclist in, but I finished it, and that's not bad for a woman who just had a baby four months ago, and couldn't have done it either before I was pregnant. Anyway, our runner made it up for us by passing a few people and we were only four or five from last. Still, it was fun.

Anyway, I will leave that for now. I realize it's not a spectacular, spectacular blog. But I really am exhausted. I fear the bar by which my authorship could be measured last year must be lowered for the time being; I'm a mommy now and that's funny enough for me.


Shannon, Damon and The Fabulous Missy O.

The First Two Months
Mood:  not sure
Topic: Missy Olivia
Well. Well, well, well. What can I say? The most incredible, amazing, exhausting, rewarding, and terrifying thing has just happened. Parenthood. Missy Olivia Elizabeth Moira Fox made her way into the world on November 19, 2004 at 15:32 Hobart (TAS) time after only 15 hours of labour.

I went into active labour at about midnight November 18th with my waters breaking. I had thought earlier in the week that my waters had broken, but I wasn't sure. Let me tell you that when it actually does happen, you bloody well know.. and there's no mistaking it for anything else. I'm laying in bed reading, Damon is up cleaning the carpets (yes at midnight, I made him clean them and he decided to wait until the last minute, then kept leaving it all day). My waters broke, I'm shouting for Damon and yelling to him from the bathtub, an excellent place to be when your waters have broke let me tell you.



This post wasn't finished, but since I got some written, I thought I'd post it anyway.

Long-overdue Blog - Winter, Tasmania, 2004.
Mood:  cheeky
26 August, 2004

yeah, it’s been a while. I keep getting emails asking if we’re okay and we appreciate it. I want to assure everyone that we are perfectly fine, all three of us. We do of course have news, and stories etc. So I will commence to convey the communication of communiqués.

Wow I haven’t written since May. My bad. Well I continue to be pregnant, I am now 26.5 weeks, or about 6 months pregnant. My due date in case I haven’t mentioned it before is November 28, two weeks before my 30th birthday. I have been having ante-natal (read pre-natal) visits to the mid-wives every four weeks, being a low-risk pregnancy, and I saw the doctor at about 18 weeks, was supposed to at 30 weeks and again at 36 weeks. However, I have been diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. (Mom you are absolutely not allowed to worry or freak or be nursey-like about this, and don‘t tell Angela.) I am being well taken care of and it’s really not a surprising thing as my family is rampant with diabetes, and several other factors. However, like diabetes in un-pregnant people, it can be controlled through diet and exercise, and women and their babies can be perfectly healthy. The baby is born and does not have diabetes and women usually recover completely though it may mean an increased chance of getting adult-onset diabetes. So I see the dietician on Monday and everything is all good, just lots of Nutra-Sweet (or I’ll just get used to less sweetness).

Sorry got distracted playing the Chicken Dance song for Asha and Lan. Have now switched to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Damon quit his job as head-chef at the Newstead Pub. He was working 60 hours of work, never saw me, never saw his brother or the munchkins, worked every Friday and Saturday night. And all on salary. Nice eh? The boss is a money man. Jerkyboy. Anyway, now Damon is only casually employed, not as the boss, and is looking for other work. He’s had a lot of time off and is very happy with working his way out of the funk he was in trying to be everything to everyone. We celebrated our third anniversary yesterday (25 August), and we feel like we’re on an upswing emotionally, getting ready for the baby, coming out of winter, Damon not working soooo hard. He’s been riding lots, and generally finding time to just be like human “beings” should be.

So, funny stuff. Well there are a few biker clubs down here, ala 13th Tribe, Hells Angels, etc… Here we have the Outlaws, God’s Garbage, etc… Well in the paper the other day was advertised a Tattoo and Body Piercing Contest, with prizes. Damon of course wanted to enter. There are not a lot of people in Halifax or Golden who look like him, there are less people in Launceston. So he thought we could see some interesting piercings, and some cool ink if nothing else. We found out during the week that this was the bikies (Australian for biker) clubhouse. We showed up at about 4:30 or 5:00 pm, as judging was between 4 and 8. The guys at the front gate let Damon in for free, but I had to be paid for. Now remember, I’m about 6 months pregnant, I have a belly. I dressed as bikie-party like as I could in maternity clothes (thank god for black). The guy at the gate let us know the schedule of events, judging, a band later in the evening, topless barmaids, a stripper, and a wet t-shirt contest for the ladies (looking me up and down, well.) So, off we went in. There had to be 50 Harley’s lined up at the back of the property. All those movies where some schmuck ends up tipping one over and creating a domino effect popped into my head. We wisely did not go near the bikes, but admired them from afar. Damon got judged, but the show part wasn’t until 9 that night. Meanwhile he’s drinking a beer, I”ve asked for a coke, because I can’t work up the nerve to ask for a glass of milk at the bikie bar. This bar was phenomenal, Outlaw’s name plates from all over the world, Stuttgart, Indiana, Oslo, Edinburgh, etc… There were some old looking German army looking bikes, an American flag, a Canadian flag (yeay) and an Australian flag. There was also a Southern Flag. The paraphernalia for sale included mugs with swastikas etc. When we walked in, there was a Madonna song on the jukebox. Anyway.

I drink several more carbonated beverages, hit the toilets a couple times, (which were very clean for public toilets, I have to tell you, because I’m picky about that). In the mean time the whole club house and grounds are extremely neat. As the party went on I noticed these mostly younger guys, (Outlaws in training or something) emptying garbage cans, making sure nothing was left out, the fires (outside barrel, inside fireplace) were kept going, etc. Damon had tonnes of people looking at him and going “oh Fuck!” and of course lots of our conversations began that way. Really quite hospitable actually.

We spoke with a few people and then around 6 decided we’d go get some dinner and chill until later. Damon had been drinking so I drove. We got back at about 9:00 and inevitably the tattoo judging was first. There were a few people with impressive tattoos, and we appreciated them. Of course any opportunity to encourage women to lift their tops and show their chest tattoos etc, was greatly encouraged by both the announcer and the crowd of shaved-headed, goateed, potbellied, club jacket wearing bikers, and the hang-around and other guests. The announcer informed us to be sure and show up for the December (summertime remember) party where they were going to have 30 lesbians on stage. I’m thinking of my lesbian friends, they’re standing on stage, dressed, and looking at each other wondering what in the hell they do now. I think, well can’t miss that. The announcer and other guests have some other idea that lesbians can’t be together without tearing each others clothes off and having copious amounts of sex. Is this true? Please, I want to know. Anyway.

The topless contest is between the tattoo show and the body piercing. Let me tell you, three women and the one with the biggest boobs did not win. I was so surprised!!! The poor girls, (and I mean girls, not women, cause these chicks weren’t old enough I am sure), now Tassie in winter does not get that cold, like 3 degrees, 0 at the most, but you still don‘t want to be exposing the girls to that!!! I thought they should’ve offered more money for the prize. We’ve also been talking to this biker who tells us he takes people as they are, he doesn’t pretend to be anything he’s not. Generally he’s alright. Most bikers are. They have family values, play with their kids, worry about their families, their mates, pay their bills. Think of that next time you see some big burly guy coming at you, he’s probably alright. Knowing Damon should have proven that to you. But this guy is also a self-professed bar fighter. Damon and I are just nodding. The guy is telling us how people with body piercing have the worst time in fights, and he knows cause he always rips them out. Great. Damon tells him he‘s not a fighter, I enthusiastically agree.

Finally the body piercing contest. They do the girls first, and then the men, Damon gets up on stage, takes his shirt off and he blows absolutely everyone away. Of course he did that without taking his shirt off, but apparently the nipple piercing were of particular popularity. Now remember, Damon has been drinking since about 4:30 pm. He’s had a few homebrew at home, and a couple more beers since we’ve been back at the clubhouse. He takes his key chain (you know, looks like one of those clips that climbers use) and clips it through his tongue to show how big that hole is. Lots of good reactions. (My husband is a not so closeted exhibitionist). There are chicks at the front, and the announcer and several others teasing him asking him what else he’s got pierced. So what does my husband do???? He drops his drawers and shows them. You have never seen so many grown men turn and run in the other direction. There was a collective “OHHHHHH” from the crowd while my husband stood there with pants around ankles and the pierced twig and giggle-berries hanging out. I think he won the trophies (Most Unusual Piercing, and Best Piercing Male) without dropping his daks, but, hey, at least he clinched it. There’s a photographer there from Ozzie Bikers magazine who does several photos of him and promises that he’ll appear in next months mag. Yeay. Look out 20/20, here comes Ozzie Biker.

Meanwhile I’m getting the usual looks of disbelief, and people we’ve talked to pointing at my belly and yelling “Hey, here’s proof the equipment all still works”. I have to say I almost peed myself when he did it. Damon comes off stage, trophies in arms, and gets swarmed by people asking him questions, asking me questions about well ahem, you know. He starts talking to the self-professed bar fighter again. Damon gets talkative when he’s drinking. He starts getting funny with the guy, you know sarcasm that he would use with any of his friends, but this guy doesn’t know us, just watched hubby drop his pants on stage and is slightly drunk himself. I keep asking Damon if he’d like another beer (as if he needs one), and trying to think of an escape plan to get him, me and my belly out of any situations. Thankfully I convince him to get another beer, and we’re chilling finally sitting down cause my belly and back are aching, and he gets approached by the photographer again asking him if he’d mind showing the beans and franks to these poor people who arrived late and missed “the show”. So he does. Damon is easy to get along with and accommodating. Shortly after this, about 12pm, we leave, missing the stripper and feeling sorry for the topless barmaid who just looks bored and cold.

We stop by the Newstead Pub where Damon was head chef until recently, and now just works casually to show his mates the trophies. There’s hardly anyone there as everyone has headed downtown, and we’re explaining Damon’s escapades. Someone suggests he shows them, so my husband, for the third time this evening drops his drawers and produces the family jewels, freaking out his co-workers, immediate supervisor and one of the regular customers. Someone wisely (?!) pours him a Guinness, he pulls up his pants and we lean him against a barstool. Another Guinness later, I pour him into the car, drive home pour him into bed, and he immediately falls asleep, a smile on his face and immensely pleased with himself. I love him.

I think I will end there tonight. Hopefully I will get at another blog sooner rather than later. Today was pretty warm for a winters day, 18 degrees or thereabouts. We should have been mowing the lawn all winter long really, but have been Canadian about the whole thing, and decided that lawns do not get mown in winters. Now we have a hayfield with Narcissusesses growing up through it.

New Australian phrasing: “I’m shithoused”. Meaning, say you break up with your boyfriend, or your dog dies, or whatever, you are likely to be “shithoused” for a while. A Melbournian said that to me, so it may not be Taswegian at all.

Goodnight.
Shannon at 6 months. Canada Day in Taswegia.

May Blog - Hello from Blustery Tasmania
Well, another month and a bit has gone and there has been no movement in my mailbox (except from Richard and Sharon thanks!) from anyone. Yes, I’m chastising you. I need mail from friends, it keeps me connected, I miss you all so much. I keep saying I’m people-sick, not homesick. I like where I am, I just really, really, really miss my people. I keep getting emails that say you appreciate my updates, well you’ll never know how much I appreciate your mail. I may have to admit that I’m actually homesick. Barrett’s Privateers has become more of an anthem to me.

I’ve started my new job as an Assistant Development Planner for Launceston City Council. What happens is people submit a Development Application because they want to build a garage, or make a new subdivision, or whathaveyou, and I (or the other assistant or the other real development planners) go out look at the site, look at the guidelines, decide if it’s appropriate to vary them. I look at things like water catchment zones, landslip areas (Launceston is very hilly) scenic protection areas and the type of land use the zone is and decide if anything from a new advertising sign can go up on a façade or a new block of apartments can be built. It’s actually very interesting, it involves the politics of the City Council, Mayor (or Mayoress as she’s called) (an aside, she’s just 29, is partnered with a Canadian, has just had a baby and likes to breastfeed in budget meetings. She’s my hero.) and Aldermen. City Council is actually pretty much split with conservatives and more liberal thinkers (the mayor here got elected at 27, at the time the youngest mayor ever elected in Australia. Currently there’s a 23 year old mayor somewhere on the mainland, also a woman.) Anyway, this can be the frustrating part, any decision I make can be overturned at council and can be very public, especially if it’s contentious, without any real regard for the planning scheme, especially if an alderman is politicking. As I am a very new planner, I will be shielded for a bit anyway so that’s good. I will start my Masters in February with the new term. I think. They might try to get us to start for July.

Other things, I continue to be pregnant. I am assured this state of being will continue for at least another six months. I won’t go into the most intimate details, but I can tell you that retching all the time is not fun, and the girls are most unhappy. They need more support than I do! The good news is that I have told my people at work and they are fine with it and are willing to work with me, around me to make it a positive adjustment. My boss, (a man with no children, but surprisingly cool), suggested a bigger cubicle for me in order to be able to fit the pram. But with a mayor who breastfeeds in budget meetings, I think I might be okay. Just in case I have joined the Union. It’s not mandatory here like it is at home, but since I am pregnant, I thought it would be a good idea to have someone on my side. I don’t qualify for maternity leave until I have worked there for 12 months, so I have to negotiate with my supervisors for time off. I’m thinking 2 or 3 months, but as with anything, we’ll see what happens.

Some other news, my dad had his 5th heart-attack two weeks ago and was in hospital for a week. He’s home now and apparently doing better, walking around the yard enjoying spring and such. You know, my siblings and I get pretty blasé about the whole thing, but then you think, the man only has so much heart muscle to lose. My sister has been a trooper and has everything well in hand despite being scared to death.

Damon has had a cold this past week, and is exhausted and works at least 20 hours overtime a week, but hey, we see each other when he drives me to work in the morning, and if I wake up when he comes home at night. I keep drawing hot-water only baths for him at 11pm and leaving them to cool for when he gets home at 11:30 or 12. Poor guy, everyone keeps telling him he can’t do this when the baby comes, well he’s not stupid or heartless, he knows that, and he’s been so extra sweet. Not really more than usual, because he’s usually pretty doting, but I’m so nauseous, and freaked out lately, I’ve been letting him get away with it more. I hate being waited on, but lately, I just feel like I need to be wrapped in a warm blanket and brought cups of tea and be soothed. Apparently that’s normal.

I bought a couple of new pregnancy/parenthood books. One is called “Up the Duff” by Kaz Cooke. Quite funny. The other one is by Dr. Miriam Stoppard, who I’ve heard of through the doula stuff. She’s a British doctor.

What else has happened, oh yes, I should tell you about my adventures in going to visit my friends Brett and Julia who live about ½ hour out of the city in a place called Blessington, on Sawpitt Hill Road. So here I am feeling more social than I have in months, (I must be emerging from my depression), on my own, on my way out to visit them. They are pioneering. They have built their own house, are not hooked up to the power grid, by choice, though they do have a generator and Brett is doing energy studies and wants to hook up photovoltaic cells to live permanently off the grid. I really admire them, as it’s a dream of mine to live off the grid. Anyway, as I said, they are hippies/pioneering types who don’t wear long skirts and shun technology, they just want to live sustainably. Don’t we all? Regardless, I left the map Julia drew for me at work and so had to rely on text messages over my mobile phone. It went something like this: Trn lft on sph, kp to rt. 1st hse on lt. So, here I go, a North American driver who has to concentrate more than usual on her driving (I had a bend the rim with the curb incident a couple weeks before with a city vehicle), with instructions as above. I am also pregnant. Anyway… I get to the sph (Saw Pit Hill Road) and I drive down it for a couple of kilometres as they said it was the 1st hse on lt (or first house on the left). Yeah. No houses on the left. Houses on the right.. Sheep on the right… paddocks on the right. Nothing on the left. So, thinking I’d missed it, I turn around and drive back up the road. As I approach the T-junction again, I notice smoke billowing from a gate post, with a perfectly good gate still attached to it. Tassie and Australia in general, are very bushfire aware. The vegetation here is very pyro friendly. So I thought, oh shit. I text messaged Julia and Brett to say I couldn’t find there house, told them where I was and that there was a gate post on fire. Only the week before, Julia had been telling me about how in rural areas they like to set mail boxes on fire (I had told her about mail-box baseball in Canada) So immediately thinking the worst (that an imminent bush-fire was starting, and some hoon had set this guys post on fire, I grabbed a garbage bag out of the back of the car, hopped a fence on my side of the road to where there was a little pond, filled the garbage bag, turned to climb back over the fence, and promptly fell over on my ass-cheek into the mud and up to my knees in water. However, I kept the bag of water intact! I stood back up laughing at myself (cause that’s what you would all do, laugh at me, and of course I’d do that you had you been in the same position) and climbed the fence again and proceeded to pour the water down the gatepost to put the fire out. Then shows up Julia and Brett and at the same time, the owners of said gate. I walked over to them (remember I’m wet to the knees with mud on my ass), and said, “someone set your gatepost on fire, I put it out”. The guy replied (think of the most back woods yokel in flannels you can think of) “yeah I started it to burn the post out”. There was a perfectly good gate attached to it!!!!!!! “Ah” I said, “well then. Sorry about that. Didn’t realize.” Heh. Meanwhile, mortified, I got Brett and Julia to show me the way to their house, teasing me all the way. It was the first house on the right, 6.89 km down the road. They might have mentioned that to me. Who looks for the first house on the right, 6.89 km down the road? And who knows that their house is precisely 6.89 km down any road. Was “about 7 km” not good enough for them? Anyway.

So my first ante-natal (another term for pre-natal) appointment is tomorrow. I get a team of 5 or 6 midwives. Essentially at each ante-natal appointment I get a new midwife, so that hopefully I get to meet each one and that when the baby is ready to come, I will know my mid-wife. I see a clinic obstetrician (sp?) at like 28 and 31 weeks or something. More if I have to. They test my sugar levels at each visit, and I think I get two ultrasounds. Will post pics if they give them to me.

Anyway. This has become a long blog. I will leave off and maybe write more sooner. I hope you are all well, and that those of you who are aren’t will recover soon. To those of you who I owe an email, I’m getting on that this week. Love always - moi.

New Australian word - Pergola. Stress on the “o” perg-OH-la. I keep saying PERG-oh-la. It means like a carport for people built on the side of the house. Do we have a word for that in Canada?

It's been no April Fool's

So dear friends and family, I think I might be able to keep up with a monthly writing narrative, but let’s not hold our breath. Let’s see what’s happened this month. Lots and lots I think.

The saga of my employment continues. I had a nice temp job where they tried me out a couple of days a week, just doing reception and some audio typing, no-brainer but better than sitting at home work and that was good. Then I got a call from another temp agency looking for someone full time for nine months, a maternity leave. It was a financial planning company, but work’s work right? So I interviewed, never expecting that I would GET THE JOB. Well they said they were going to offer it to me anyway. I was gob-smacked, I just do the interviews to keep in practice. What would a financial company want with me. I walked out of the place completely out of my head. I call Damon and tells me to go eat something and think and calm down. So as I’m sitting in a lovely little bakery eating my lunch I get a phone call from the fargin people at Launceston City Council, could I do an interview on the Wednesday (this was Monday). It never rains but it bloody pours. So yes, I would do the interview, but like a good girl I let the other temp company know that I had another interview this week. Didn’t the finance company decide to interview someone else using another temp company and I lost the job. So I have no job, an interview with City Council, again, and we all know how infuriating that has been for the last three months. Regardless, after a flurry of getting an unofficial transcript, begging and pleading with very, very accommodating old professors from SMU for references, and several more weeks of waiting, I had a medical today. So who knows, maybe I’ve got the job. Will keep you up to date.

Damon and I had a lovely drive up into the Highland Lakes region of Tasmania. Never having been up North (that’s Canada-speak my foreign friends) I imagine that this land of scrub, short wind-beaten pencil pine trees and glacier-looking lakes is what it looks like. In fact reading a little (that is the tourist info sign at the start of a walk) these rivers of dolomite rock (kinda looks like granite, but blockier and more red-brown), were actually formed outside of glacier action. Tonnes of people have their “shack” (see cottage, or summer camp) up in this area near a place called Arthur’s Lake. The lake itself is part of Hydro Tasmania’s power producing dams and pumping stations. When we drove by the lake (landward was desolate solely due to it’s geography and not some man made catastrophe) it was so low, it looked like there hadn’t been rain there for a whole year the water was so low. What we figured out was that it was Hydro Tasmania producing more power, and since this was the highest point of their system, I guess this is where it all began.

I mentioned the short walk that Damon and I took in the Highland Lakes, well we have found a booklet called Great Short Walks that Tasmania Parks and Rec have put out that list almost a hundred short walks throughout Tasmania. The longest ones take no more than seven hours return and the short ones no less than half an hour. So on Damon’s days’ off we go and discover one of these walks. It’s free and you see some of the most incredible landscape, vegetation, wildlife that you have ever seen. It’s good exercise, and Tasmania definitely is God’s Country.

I’m always thinking to myself that I have to remember different events to record in this log. I really should get a notebook. Damon continues to settle in to his position as headchef. It’s funny, there’s a first year apprentice chef that works at the Newstead who lost the chef he was apprenticed to when Damon’s boss quit. Now Damon doesn’t have his papers as a Chef, but does have lots of experience. So the manager of the bar called up the cooking school and they have given permission that the apprentice may be apprenticed to Damon who isn’t even a papered chef. Did you keep up with that? Anyway, we think it’s a big joke and really rather funny. Damon continues to develop as manager of both the kitchen and it’s people. He’s not one for being recriminating so he’s learning to adjust to his newfound responsibility. But he’s way less stressed than he used to be.

Oh funny anecdotes. So I was taking Nolan’s kids (niece Asha age 5, and nephew Lan age 3) out for an Auntie date so that Nolan could do some cleaning and sorting, and Auntie Shannon could have some quality time with the kids. We were going to go sock and underwear shopping for them, get some lunch, go play at the park etc. So Nolan is fixing Lan’s car seat in the car and the kids were playing with the extremely friendly cat that likes to come and visit our house. He’s well taken care of and obviously has people of his own, but like my sister’s dog Bart, likes to make the rounds of the neighbourhood. The kids absolutely love him and he’s a lover-kitty too. I said to the kids as Nolan and I were getting the car ready, “hey guys do you know what we call that cat?” (Because it comes over to visit and we don’t’ know it’s name, we gave it one) “No, what?” asks Miss Asha, precocious know-it-all five year old. “Rufus”, I said, “because he likes to sun himself on the roof of the grannie flat. Asha says, “His names’ not Rufus.” I say, “oh, what is it then?” “Come-lot’s” the sweet innocent free of guile child said, “because he comes here a lot.” I have to say, I almost peed myself. “Nolan, do you know what your children just named the cat???????” I said. I told him, and we both proceeded to go off into gales of laughter. It’s now the adult joke around here. Sufficed to say the other cat that only comes over once in a while is now called “Come-a-bit”, poor thing.

Right.. So I guess now for the big news since I can’t think of anything else to write about and really, who has known me to keep good news a secret for long? We’re pregnant and due in November.

Love always,

Shannon

Tasmania in Autumn
Okey Dokey… Again with a month long wait between emails.. Let’s see what’s happened since I last wrote in the blog. Well that letter of offer has not come from Launceston City Council. They of course had to set up proper channels and advertise it inviting more applicants. But the frustrating people kept saying I’ll have something positive for you next week. Every week they said this instead of giving me the low-down on what was really going on. Anyway. The competition closed last Friday, and we’ll see if I hear from them this week.

In the meantime I have suffered a big kick to my ego, a bout of self-pitying homesickness, and a yearning for Halifax, such that I never thought I’d have. But, even if we could afford to go home, I wouldn’t’ do it. Nope, I will prevail. I am resolved to succeed, as is Damon.

On to happier things.. Nolan (Damon’s brother) and my niece Asha and nephew Lan and I went blueberry picking at an organic high bush blueberry farm in a place called Lebrina (said like my sisters name Bryn-a). Blueberries were 4$/kg, and that’s like 2/lb. Approximately. So off we went, there were bushes and bushes and bushes of blueberries. When we arrived we were greeted by the owner’s mother and wife. The mother was German, and a lovely lovely lady. I have an affection for Germans having known a couple of really great ladies from there, a girlfriends mother in high school, and an employer I had. Anyway we were given four 4kg buckets and told to pick at certain rows. At first we were meticulous, picking all the ripe berries, and there seemed to be plenty of berries. About a half hour into it, (the kids were great by the way) a couple of women walked by and told us about the well endowed blueberry bushes a few rows down. So I went to investigate and lo and beheld the blueberries were growing like grapes on a vine. You had only to hold your bucket up to the bunch and roll them off with your fingers. Gone went the meticulousness; we were caught up in a veritable orgy of blueberry picking, eating, and dreaming. The kids faces were blue, their hands were blue, their clothes were blue. And I admit it, so was my face, hands and clothes. Nolan was the only reasonably neat one in the bunch. We quickly filled our four buckets in the next half hour, and Nolan went for more buckets. We broke our frenzy only to eat lunch and make blueberry plans. Blueberry scones, blueberry muffins, blueberry pie, blueberry pancakes, blueberry tarts, blueberry jam… Yum! We quickly filled the next four buckets and then took all eight buckets at about 4 litres each back to be weighed and measured. Holy crow!!! 22 kilograms of blueberries. Yes that’s about 48 pounds of blueberries!!!! We had to pay for them. You can’t unpick blueberries!! We paid 85 dollars for those blueberries. The total was 90.00, but he took 5 dollars off for our big blueberry spending. We were then treated like high rollers at a casino. The owner offered us tea!! He made Nolan and I cups of tea to drink with him and his family, and offered the kids paddle pops (Popsicles). He took Nolan aside and told him that the next time we come we could pick in the reserve bushes. I sat and talked with the German grandma and we exchanged recipes for Rumtopf and other berry elixirs. Then we left and just sat with our mouths open for the rest of the day. What are we going to do with 22kg of blueberries?????? Freeze ‘em. I have now mastered microwave jam, blueberry crumble slice, I made blueberry grunt (Thanks to Cathy Kennedy’s recipe), blueberry muffins. The boys even started adding them to pasta, chicken dishes and everything. The rest we stored in the chest freezer at Damon’s Mum and Dads. We have enough to last us a couple months at least.

Damon’s birthday was on the 2nd of March as some of you might know. Surprise of surprises, he had it off!!!! The Sunday before we met Damon’s parents and Nolan and the kids at the Carrick Inn for lunch, it was a complete surprise for Damon. It was funny, as we drove into Carrick I made Damon close his eyes, he knew I wanted to go for a drive but I couldn’t’ tell him to where. So we pulled up in the carpark (or parking lot if you prefer), his eyes closed and his parents and brother were just getting out of their cars; he didn’t know they were there. So they kept quiet and snuck into the pub before us, all the time Damon trusting me to keep him from tripping and falling and I led him into the pub. There Nolan held Lan up to Uncle Damon’s face and I told Damon to open his eyes. Damon was surprised. Yeay. The rest of the dinner did not go so well. But only in that it was late, the food was brought out randomly so that we didn’t all eat together. It took over an hour to get our food. We were one of TWO WHOLE TABLES at the restaurant. The place was only open for lunch from 12 to 2:30 and we got there at 12:30. Sheesh. If you come to visit Tassie. Do not go to the Carrick Inn for lunch.

Hmmm other happenings. Yes, I got my Tasmanian Driver’s Licence!!! The guy was so laid back, the test took all of ten minutes if that. I made one right turn and three lefts, the whole time the guy is telling me funny stories about working with the teamsters training drivers in the U.S. I ‘m laughing through the whole test!!! I was more worked up for this one than for my Nova Scotia driver’s licence the first time and that was it. Damon (who doesn’t like tests) said, I can’t believe that you just went and did it and that was it. Hrmph.

So, new Tassie driver’s licence in hand I took it upon myself, with all my spare time, (being unemployed) to drive to Hobart, (the capital city of Tassie located on the southern coast about 2 hours drive from Launceston by the main highway) to meet and visit with friends, Narelle and Craig, and their kidlets. I met them on the internet about two or three years ago while living in Halifax. Damon was so worried about my driving down there that there was a chance of rain and _he_ bought new windshield wipers before I left. He also checked the oil for me, filled the car and balanced all the tire pressures. He loves me. The butt-munch.

The drive to Hobart from Launceston through the heart of Tasmania has as much variety almost as driving from coast to coast in Canada. The north of Tasmania has a good mixture of crop and pastoral farming. Lots of poppy fields, potato fields, carrot field and hay fields mixed in with scores of different variety of milk and meat cattle, meat and wool sheep, horses (horse racing is huge here), and the odd bunch of alpacas thrown in for variety. The landscape is a lot like that of Northern England with undulating hills and a patchwork of beautiful green and fallow fields providing variety in colour according to their present use, and time of year. Through the midlands it becomes much more flat, more sheep bred especially for their wool, merinos in particular, and much less crop land and much more pastoral farmland. It is beautiful none-the-less, and you have never seen so many sheep in your life! As you get closer to Hobart the land again becomes more hilly and more treed with some of the features getting high enough to evoke a snowfall on some autumn and winter nights. I am told that the snow doesn’t stay very long and there is never any build up. So if I really miss snow, in like July, I guess I could go and have a bit of a roll about in it, come to my senses and descend again to the warmth of my house while my garden, albeit slowly, is still growing. When you come into Hobart from a place called Bridgewater (I love former English Colonies, do you ever get the feeling our forefathers had no imagination?) across a bridge, I remember from the first time we were here, there are a multitude of beautiful black swans, with a brilliant orange beak. They are just gorgeous. For those of you from Nova Scotia, I compare them to the cormorants on the pilings outside of New Glasgow by the pulp mill on the causeway. Hobart itself reminds me of Halifax with it’s bustling waterfront, it’s beautiful gardens along Davey St. and the plethora of maritime flavour.

Anyway, I followed Narelle’s excellent directions, only calling to make sure I was following them properly. I found my way to their house in a suburb of Hobart called Huntingfield. They have just moved back to Tassie from Seymour, Victoria (near Melbourne) as Craig is in the army and managed to get posted back to their native Tassie. They have three gorgeous tow-headed children. These kids are soooo blonde and blue eyed. Their oldest is Keegan in grade two and smart beyond his years, Lachlan the middlest, is quiet, and a computer whiz and three year old Stephanie is already a force to be reckoned with and obviously Daddy’s little girl. My growed-up friends Narelle and Craig are wonderful hard-working people who are planning to get married finally next year. Narelle is a stay-at home mom, and works very hard morning to night (and who wouldn’t with those three, or should I say four Narelle???) and Craig currently is working with the Australian Defence Force (he’s usually attached to an artillery unit) doing recruiting. They’re pretty relaxed people whom I am glad to have for friends.

Yesterday was St. Patty’s Day here and we (Nolan, Asha, Lan and I) celebrated by going to Damon’s work and having some of his wonderful Guinness stew (aka beef in a pond), some Guinness Gingerbread cake and, of course, a pint of said brew. Damon wore an enormous green hat with a buckle and a shamrock, a green t-shirt, and dyed his beard green for the evening. Damon affected his fake Irish accent, and Nolan told us jokes in a Scottish accent, for some reason.

Anyway, surprise of surprises my temp work is finally starting. I have some work this afternoon from 1 until 5 and am happy about that. It’s good to have a purpose, I don’t think I could just be a kept woman. I’d have to have kids or a part-time job or something. Anyway. I have gone through a bit of a pity-party, these past weeks, and that is partly the reason for not replying to individual emails for so long. I will get to them this week I promise.

There is nothing more disturbing, when you are not accustomed to it, to waking up in the early morning to a cow mournfully mooing outside your window.

Love, Shannon

It's been well over a month since I updated this last...
Bad Shannon. Well lots has happened.

I had a nasty case of what they call Gastro here in early January. And guess what!!???!!! They don't have gravol!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thankfully my brother in law had some.. in suppository form.. Nasty.. but not at the time.. trust me. When that ran out (cause this went on for 5 days, I went to the doctor and she gave me a shot. Wonderful woman.

After that, we moved into a beautiful 3 bedroom house in a part of Launceston called Newstead. We share with Damon's brother Nolan all the time, and Nolan's two kids on weekends. Rent is paid by the week here, but we only have to submit it every two weeks.. so we pay 150.00 in rent per week. Works out to about 600 per month, or 750 if it's a five week month. The house has a toilet (which is the correct term here for where the toilet is), a bathroom (separate from the toilet, literally where you bathe) it's got a shower and tub, and sink.

It also has a granny-flat, a sort of inlaw suite, which is a seperate building on the back corner of the property. A bachelor space with a toilet and shower. We're going to put a futon couch out there for visitors. It is currently serving as the brewery for Damon and a storage place for boxes and stuff. The boys want to put an eightball table in there and a beer fridge.. Go figure.

We have an orange tree on the property which are yummy. We also have a stunted palm tree. The fronds look normal length, but the trunk is stunted.. it's only as tall as the house. I also have a bazillion of the tallest rosebushes I have ever seen. Unfortunately, they are all spindly and need pruning.. I have to wait until fall to do that. Geraniums are a garden plant here and mine are as tall as a metre. We also have a green gauge tree who's fruit are like small plums. Yummy. Passionfruit is a weed here as well as blackberries and people are pulling them out left right and centre. Considering passionfruit are about 2.50 ea in Canada.. I'm thinking of setting up an export business.

Damon has had a rapid rise to stardom. Well maybe not stardom.. but definitely in responsibility. He started out as third chef at a local hotel pub, but is now head-chef. He's only worked there for a month and half. This is due to a) his experience, and b) the timely resignation of the head-chef. They're trying to get him his actual chef's papers at the local cooking school based on his experience. He's happy to finally have the responsibilty, but he didn't expect it so soon. He's riding lots' anyway and we're thinking of going to Adelaide for a contest in April.

I am awaiting a letter of offer from Launceston City Council for an Assistant Development Planner postion. I am so excited. They not only wanted my geography experience, they wanted my Political Science experience and government department experience. I guess they figure I already know about bureaucracy. They also want me to pursue my Masters in Environmental Planning part-time. I am so excited. I get to have my cake and eat it too. Once I get my Masters I can join the Australian Planning Institute.... yeay a professional association.

So we we're driving to a place called Bridport the other day. It's on the ocean in North-eastern Tasmania. On the way there, I saw a flock of 30 or 40 cockatoos. A flock of cockatoos.

Love, Shannon

It's a Whole New Year!!!
January 6, 2004

So, whew! What a whirlwind Christmas and I still don’t feel like it’s happened. You get to go to the beach after you finished Christmas shopping here, and it’s really hard to get into the spirit with a sunburn. But try we did. Christmas carols are especially hard when you are so far away from home just so you know. But Damon knows me and kept lots of tissue handy.

Damon’s mum and I went to a local rendition of Handel’s Messiah. I only recognized the Hallelujah Chorus. And how many of you knew that it was traditional to stand during it? The conducter asked us not to and the highlight really of the whole thing for me was this rude woman who came in late in the middle of a song and hadn’t heard the request... so you guessed it, she was standing. I know it may be irreverant, but besides making fun of that lady (my mother in law was shocked and appalled at me, but not really suprised), my other favourite part was when I was dozing off in the second part and the choir came up really loud singing “we like sheep”. Of course it was meant as a comparison, (we [who are like] sheep) but I of course needed to be entertained thought it was much better for them to be singing about the virtues of sheep in such a reverent manner. I mean they should like sheep, there’s enough of them here. Every time we drive past sheep now, which is much more often than you might think, I sing the verse.

Angela and Damon (only as our driver you realize) and I went to an Anglican church service at 11pm on Christmas Eve. The priest???, she, anyway, spent the entire sermon talking about how we have to treat the “rejects of society” more nicely... I had a really hard time sitting beside Damon and not laughing. He was chagrinned (if that is a word). I thought it most generous and altruistic of the Reverend Phillipa to include the rejects at Christmas. Thoughtful really.

We had a lovely Christmas really. We cooked on Christmas Eve because we had Christmas Dinner at the Beach!!! We had cold turkey, potato salad with potatoes I dug from the garden and eggs I collected from the chickens!!! We also had sunshine salad (the only jello salad I will eat, and it’s yummy), and fresh cooked peas. We all went for a swim and I took the kids crab hunting as they have lots of teeny ones about the size of a loony under the rocks near the shore. I took pictures, those too will be posted one day, hopefully soon.

New Years Eve was very subdued which I like because normally hate New Years. I can’t relate it to a specific trauma in my life regarding the holiday, just don’t like it I guess. Regardless I spent a quiet new years eve day on the farm with my mother in law (who is wonderful by the way) picking raspberries, weeding the asparagus patch, raking out the moss from the goldfish pond, shelling peas. Damon wasn’t home until about 11:30 because HE GOT A JOB!!!! He’s a chef! at a place called the Newstead Hotel. He’s getting about 40 plus hours a week and is making better wages than cooks normally make in Canada. Plus they’re going to hire him permanent full time and give him benefits!!! WooooHoooo... Benefits. I love being married.

New Years Day was fun!!! We sheared the sheep!!! It’s my job when I am here to take of the skirting and help class the wool. If any of you know about sheep business you know that this is taking off the nasty bits around the edges (who doesn’t wash up with a little soap and water), and decide the coarseness of the wool to stick in a bag. We only had two bags full and no black sheep. We also “crutched” the lambs who are wee little things no longer. Crutching is shearing around the back legs and butt so that the wool doesn’t get messy and yechy back there. Important because sheep get the trots too... heh.

My job prospects are still not evident though I continue the hunt. My newest strategy is to cold call on all the surveyor, planning, and engineering firms in the city. Wish me luck. I was thinking that it might be good to start at least one class part time so that I might call myself a masters student. Might give me some legitimacy. I have registered to go to a Coastal Zone Australia conference in Hobart, Tas this April. Should make some good contacts there also.

We have applied to rent a house very near to Damon’s work in the Newstead area. For the moment, as Damon works 11 to required, and then 6 to required split shifts we have been staying with his brother at his house. Nolan is easy to get along with and we’ll be sharing the house with him. He is also a cook. Yeay...

So I’ve been burnt three times in the month I’ve been here. I read today that Australians have the highest rate of skin cancer of any country in the world. I invested in some 30 proof sunblock and spent a burn free day at the beach. Most kids at the beach wear a surf shirt and swimmer bottoms, or a short sleeve wet suit. makes sense to me. I feel way too bare with my Canadian regular old one piece. Should invest in a wetsuit I guess.

Damon’s met a lot of his old mates who he used to ride with. But he really doesn’t have anyone around who could push him to be better. We may have to go to Melbourne. Damon was also mentioned in Ride UK and Transworld BMX in refernence to the Amateur Flat contest at Metro Jam Vancouver. However they managed to name him Tom and the first place winner Vic, who’s real first name was Kevin. They also mentioned the the UK one that the second place winner was unnamed but looked a hell of a lot “like the guy from System of a Down”. Damon says to just call him “Tom”. Better than Tomahunk hey Steve?

But life goes on. I still find it weird that it’s January 6 and I wore shorts today. I was bobbing around in the ocean at Hawley’s Beach and realized it was January 3rd. Way weird.

Damon’s Dad is retiring in February and we (Nolan, Damon and I, and Damon’s Mum) want to get Ed a canoe for his retirement. Might seem simple to you. We want to get him what’s referred to here as a “Canadian Canoe”. I don’t think that there are any “Norwegian Canoes”, or “Chilean Canoes”. But somehow that’s what they’re called here, and to add insult to injury, the only supplier we could find in Launceston get’s his “Canadian Canoes” from an Amercian supplier called Dagger. A sixteen footer is going to cost 2200.00 dollars... I think I might do a little more looking. In the mean time if any of you can sell and ship a canoe to australia for less than that, let me know. I’m interested.

I also want to apologize to everyone who’s been emailing on an individual basis and ask that you please bear with me. We only have dialup access at the farm generally at about 40,000 baud and I get kicked off about 5 times a session, so I have been trying to go to online centres, but they cost about 3$/half hour, so I have to type fast short notes. Hopefully all will be better in about a month or two when we’ve set up housekeeping in the city and either Nolan or I have bought a computer.

That’s all for now. By the way, a jumbuck is a sheep.

Love, Shannon

Twas 2 Days Before Christmas
2003 December 22, 2003

So it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve written. Things have been so busy here what with job searching, house hunting, registering for medicare, going to interviews, shopping for Christmas! What shopping for Christmas? Actually I have everyone done except Damon, and Tara. And we know what we are getting for Damon’s brother Nolan.

Let’s see, what’s going on in the great state of Tasmania? Umm well the weather has been much like home in the Maritimes, warm and sunny one day, rainy the next (though no sideways rain) suddenly changing back to fair skies but with one heck of a wind. I am browner than I got all last year during the summer in Canada. A wicked watch tan.

My birthday was last weekend, on the 14th of December. My father in law took the liberty of setting some eggs to incubate just before we arrived here, and so they all hatched for my birthday, seven little chicks to help celebrate my now spring/summer birthday - neener neener neener I say to my sister who was born in April... that’s now fall/winter... ahahahaha.

Damon has applied a a few restaurants and has even made enquiries to the cooking school here. They offer 4 year apprenticeships, so Damon has decided that if he’s going to cook, he wants his papers. He is also applying to the plethora of vineyards in Tasmania. Sure we’ve all heard of Banrock Station, and Jacob’s Creek and Wolf Blaas, but who’s heard of Ninth Island, or Tamar Ridge.. no one.. lookout world, here we come.

My job prospects are not quite as evident as Damons, I have lot’s of experience in positions I don’t necessarily want, but as we all know, the bills must be paid. So, I have signed up with a whole bunch of job search agencies who place temporary, casual, part time and full time positions. I have said I’d do anything except make coffee on demand, or work in a call centre, and definitely not both. Otherwise I’m not too picky, I’d even work for a logging company, just to see how the other half lives. I’m into sustainability people, not spiking trees. Try wiping your bum with plastic and all that.

I have decided to definitely go back to school starting either in July (which is second semester like starting in January) or next February 2005, like starting in September. It’s kind of neat really. All the school kids are on their summer and Christmas holiday’s here,school starts in February and ends in December, but I think they also get a weeks holiday between each of their three trimesters too. I think.

So, I’ve seen a real live echidna, here on the farm. For those who want to know and don’t, an echidna is like a cross between an ant-eater and a porcupine. It eats ants and bugs etc with a snout like an ant-eater and has quills like a porcupine. I counted 18 skinks the other day which are kind of like non-slimy salamanders. They’re little lizards really and live in among rocks and woodpiles. We were on this beautiful walk to a place called Lobster Falls (Please note - that which we call crayfish in the maritimes, live in streams and freshwater are called lobster here. That which we catch in pots in the ocean are called crayfish. Eg. Crayfish Pots, not lobster pots) Anyway there wasn’t a lobster to be found but there was a beautiful water fall with a wonderful swimming pond underneath it. I took pictures, I’ll post em one day. It was wonderful after the 45 minute walk/climb in.

Yes kookaburras still sit in the old gum tree and laugh but man are they annoying after a while.

Till after Christmas - Shannon and Damon

WE"VE ARRIVED!!!
2003DEC07

Alright, so we’ve arrived. We took about a week and a half settling our schedules back to day and night here. The flight from LA to Melbourne was pretty long, 15 hours. Damon’s Dad and Mum, brother, niece, nephew and estranged sister-in-law (
(who is also my cousin) were there to meet us. It was great.

The first thing we did was stop in a town called Westbury where there is a bakery called Andy’s Hot Bread. It’s open 24 hours and has a whole range of pies and slices, sweet and savory. Yummy! I had a pastie (correctly pronounced Pah-stie)
with my Australian 5 dollar bill that I’ve been carrying around for 4 years.

We then came back to the farm where Damon’s parents have a flock of sheep a herd of goats, two sets of chooks (that’s chicken in Canadian), some guinea pigs (also called Kavis prounounced Kay-vees) some doves, and a pigeon. Also a dog and a cat.

The weather here has been nice, though like the Maritimes, if you don’t like the weather here, wait five minutes and it will change.

I met my online friend of 4 years who lives in the city of Devonport about 45 minutes from here. Maureen and her 10 year old daughter named Karla met us at a nearby park and brought a picnic complete with pickled beet root and boiled eggs (a staple on sandwiches here) It was just lovely. I got a sunburn on my arms for the first time in years and years though because the ozone layer is much thinner here in southern Australia than it is in Canada, though Nova Scotia also has a thinning in the ozone layer. Australians are very big on sun protection using sunscreen, hats and clothing.

I haven’t seen any native animals yet save my favourite Australian animal the Echidna. They’re like a cross between an anteater and a porcupine, very cute though. I’ve only seen Australian animals in the form of road kill, wallabies, opossums, pademelons. Wait, I’ve also seen some Native Hens, also called Road Runners. Beep, beep!

The Tasmanian Devil population is being decimated by a form of cancer that renders their poor little skulls soft, and they die consequently. Nearly half of the population has been affected. The government has just received funding to research and hopefully stop the epidemic. Tassie Devils are scavengers and carrion eaters mainly (hence they smell baaaad), but have been known to swipe a chicken now and then.

Kookaburras laugh in old gum trees every evening. They are beautiful, but when they start laughing and won’t stop they become much less attractive, or novel.

Damon’s parent’s live in the region of Tasmania (please, please note, it’s pronounced TAZ-mania, not Tass-mania, TaZZie, not TaSSie, and OZtralia, not OSStralia) called the Meander Valley near a mountain range called The Western Tiers. There is a park near here that you could look up on the internet called The Walls of Jerusalem National Park which is really quite spectacular.

Damon’s mum took us for a treat for afternoon tea to a nearby raspberry farm. It was lovely! I had fresh scones, raspberry jam, and clotted cream... Yummy!!!

There’s lots of kayaking, canoeing, surfing, sailing, biking for people to here and they do. Australia is a nation of sport junkies, either they’re competing in it, or betting on it. Gambling is also a national pastime. ‘Stralyns would bet on two drops of condensation dripping down the side of a draught in a pub.

We both think we’ll have jobs pretty soon. Unemployment is the lowest in the state ever; something like 6 percent. Tassie is a lot like the Maritimes where I’m from in it’s economy, and it’s dismissal by the rest of the country - yes that means you westerners. I’ll tell you though, they’re some of the best people on the earth, give you the shirt off their back - which is what it’s been like in most places Damon and I have lived, which goes to show, you get out what you put in.

Hooroo for now,

Shannon - Beyond the Black Stump.