Ball Game

Last week the boys' school was given lots of free tickets to a rugby match at Suncorp Stadium. They needed adults to supervise. The Big Fella has taken them to the footy before but I have always demurred due to my delicate sensibilities/ babies/ pregnancy/ having a night off.

All very gladiator-esque really.

This time I thought I might just go. It's been a long time between matches. The transport was all arranged and we were allowed to bring ring-ins. ie. Fishy got a gernsey too. There was much excitement as they mustered in the bowels of the stadium with buff security guards and famous players who I did not know. The boys were thrilled at the event and a little appalled at my ignorance.

What is this thing with black short socks and sports shoes lately. It all smacks of Jerry Lewis to me.

Turns out they got the free tickets so that they could don a jersey from each club in the state and  mosey onto the field all professional-like waving their flags as the music swelled and the stadium filled up. I was nursing a nose bleed in row trillion and twenty one but still got a tad misty at the sight.

Then we watched the game. There was much waving of flags and standing and yelling at goals. Tiny men ran around knocking each other down and hoiking a ball around. It was apparently a very good game.

As much as I enjoyed the rugby, it was watching my three watching the rugby that was the most fun. I loved that they sat together and looked after the Little Fella. Their excitement was infectious. It may not have awakened the dormant rugby gene that my mother insists lies in my heart but it did ignite a love of taking the boys to the stadium.

 I'll be back.

Artistica Eclectica

It's been a big week with this full time working thing going on.

On the week end we just seem to go very, very fast catching up on laundry and reconnecting with the offspring and maybe sneaking in something just a little special to make it all feel worthwhile.

Last week the girls and I nipped over to the Tennyson Powerhouse park to check it out. There was much swinging of child and skating of board to be had. Sometimes standing and pushing a swing for an indeterminate amount of time can be quite therapeutic for both the swing-er and swing-ee.

Below is the motto of a local school that has left its mark there. No banging on about success and winning and achieving, just being the best we can be. Says it all really. Might have to print this one out for the fridge.

It seems the new job sometimes requires me to go to GOMA during my work hours to supervise and further peruse the art. You know how I feel about GOMA. Did I mention that this job really suits me?

This is a teeny tiny canvas of a huge room of many other teeny tiny canvases that all put together form a narrative about a dessert.

This one just draws me in every time. It's big and lush and bold.

Meanwhile as this was happening Lala was dreaming of running off to join the circus. She has since reconsidered and will stay on in the north wing of the farmhouse as she pursues her dream of aerial greatness. 

Best thing about Lala's circus class? It's down the road from some lovely galleries and Matt Blatt.Yes,  I know it's repro and not high end but with five children my end will only be getting lower and lower. So I will squint and enjoy the repro as much as the real deal.

Where do you stand on that whole debate?

The classes are also down the road from a most spectacular patisserie. Lairy lured me in and tempted me with tiny quiches of the addictive variety. Even the patisserie had some good paintings in it. It's a theme I tell you, a sign... That new red bag is a souvenir from GOMA with a wistful Francis Bacon postcard in it to remind me of the BIG retrospective in Sydney right now. Sydney-siders get your skates on and report back to us Northerners, please.

Another perk of this job is having to peruse many lovely art books. Near my desk I found a whole David Larwill book. He's an artist who I have only seen in fancy mags beside high ends. I'm thinking this pink number would look mighty fine above my bath!

 

There were more humble creative pursuits at home. Many things were aerated it seems. We fluffed up some yolks for ice cream, whites for pavlova, cream for the pav, butter and sugar for a cake.

We also made hoagies. These are soft rolls with holes poked in them and vege laden spag bog mince spooned inside. They are highly recommended as fillers for carb sucking boys. I don't know what a real hoagie is but remember it from the  Cosby show when I was a child. We stole the name for our rolls when the boys were too little to say mince roll. Plus it sounded tastier.

 The hogies fuelled up Fishy who changed codes and went over to the dark side, abandoning his soccer for a year of rugby instead. Will this be another year like the 2011, the Year of the Great Bone Crushing, where each boy broke a bone at some point within four months?

Note the kind provision of a little laundry soap for getting the blood and gore stains out of the costume. 

Maybe I should poke some calcium supplements in the hoagies this year!