Eleanorfromthecommentbox

Success

2012-01-27T08:14:00.002+11:00

A dear friend of mine and fellow screenwriter co-wrote and co-produced a TV pilot/teaser for the Optus ONE80 PROJECT competition.

It was chosen as one of the top ten entries!!

Here it is, titled "Deadbeat Dads". I'm so proud and excited for Shelley and her team!!!

P.S. You can vote for it too!

Distraction or inspiration?

2011-12-18T10:29:00.002+11:00

Working as a screenwriter is hard. Imagine, if you will, inventing a location, populating it with believable and fascinating characters, and having it all fit into 110 pages which will capture what a story might look like once it's turned into a VISUAL form by a huge group of strangers called a Director, Producer, Cinematographer, Art Designer etc etc etc.

My head is about to explode and the deadline is the end of next week.

But I'll tell you what is the most difficult? Even worse than the tyranny of the blank computer screen (and this is what screenwriting is ALL ABOUT, so there's no point in whinging, but it's my blog, so I will) - the worse part is when I have to sit with the people who are paying me, and I have to listen to them discuss (for hours on end) the ways in which my characters could be better formed, and my story better constructed. They are often right, and often helpful, but that still doesn't lessen the bizarre hatred I feel for these "advisers" and "script doctors" and "consultants" who tell me that the character I've created is doing something out of character in my story.

Never before have I realised to what extent my experience as a mother can help me in a business setting. Keeping calm, cheerful, understanding and thankful in the face of hours of nerve-rattling disagreements - looks like it's my specialty.

The best part of screenwriting? Meeting amazing new people in the name of research. Anni - writer and artist extraordinaire - is my current inspiration, and has also introduced me to the joy of Miranda July:

Infomercial

2011-11-21T11:38:00.004+11:00

NOUN:

A (television) program that promotes a product in an informative and supposedly objective way.

Here, here and here.

All upfront as "Sponsored by Nuffnang" and I don't for a moment believe they are lying in their posts. I actually like and use the product they're spruiking. But it's important to realise that when you write a gushing commentbox attached to a post such as this you become the equivalent of those clapping, smiling infomercial audience members. Only you're not getting paid, only enticed with the possibility of free goods. Not sure if it's worth it.

In which I return to my roots

2011-11-07T17:33:00.000+11:00

No, this is not a post about having the roots of my hair touched up so as to cover up the grey. Although I did go to the hairdresser last week, and I must admit that it really cheered me up.

In this post I return to my commentbox roots.

I was first attracted to blogs because of those lovely little boxes at the end of each post. This past week I had occasion to disagree with a style blogger and I was about to move on without writing a comment because I feared the consequences of disagreeing with her.

I'm not talking about her tracking me down and, you know, beating me up, just that merely disagreeing with a blogger these days can often result in other readers' somewhat aggressive comments. I should point out here that this has never actually happened to me, but I've seen it happen to others, and I'm sensitive. In short - I have been worrying for two days now about the comment I left on this stylist's blog, even though it was very polite, not at all personal and received only a polite (although somewhat icy, remember I'm sensitive, overly so, always have been) response.

Have you ever had that niggling suspicion that disagreeing with a blogger in her commentbox is being mean? Do you think it's better not to write a comment at all in that case? AND - if so - does that explain the general trend in the Australian mummy and beauty blog spheres to adore each other to such an extent that everything becomes a love-fest of mutual admiration rather than an interesting potpourri of difference and genuine interest in the other point of view?

I have written very few commentboxes in my blog-life which made me cringe at a later date and wonder at my motivation. But lately I've been feeling cranky with the world, and I can feel it rubbing off on my commentbox persona. I think the problem may have started because I'm following many style blogs solely for research purposes, and these style bloggers have slowly become a part of my own style world, often to my own dismay. I'm following nailpolish addicts' blogs even as I inwardly sneer at their hobby (nobody, but nobody, is as obsessive as a nailpolish blogger). I'm following Australian style bloggers whose personal style actually makes my skin crawl, and yet there I am, day in, day out, apparently addicted to their regular posts even though they remind me how much ugly fashion there is in the world.

Do commentboxes take on a different meaning now that so many Australian style blogs are monetised ? Certainly if a personal blogger takes photos of herself in different outfits I would never ever write a remotely negative comment. But what if that blog is the blogger's business? And what if that outfit she's wearing, and the entire post, is in fact an advertisement (albeit honest) for a specific brand of clothing? So what is the etiquette in this case? Is it OK for the blog's readers to post only positive comments out of politeness?

I'm not certain. But I'm too scared to find out. I'm sensitive you know.

E x

When a man loves a woman

2011-11-01T22:44:00.002+11:00

Here's my favourite trailer for "Drive" - I highly recommend this film. It's a superb character study, a very romantic love story, and you can just close your eyes during the couple of violent episodes (it's only make-believe you know).

(P.S. The trailers for "Drive" have been the subject of some controversy, which is ridiculous in my humble opinion. Oh, and the claim of antisemitism was a surprise to me as I hadn't picked up on that at all.)

Ryan Gosling's performance reminds me of John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever". Have a look at this clip, especially his expression when he's driving in the car with Stephanie after she's been crying. And then, when they sit on the bench and she kisses his cheek - the look on his face and the tears in his eyes are so wonderful.

By the way, this post also counts as a style post as these two men are incredibly stylish. I love how the clip below includes Travolta's complaint that his father ruined his hairstyle.

Cat eye

2011-10-12T21:49:00.004+11:00

A perfect example of how the right pair of glasses can magically add interest and style to an outfit.

I recently purchased cat eye spectacles and will soon post photos, they are part of the Betsey Johnson range.

25 ways to wear a scarf

2011-10-11T18:52:00.001+11:00

Thought you'd love this!

E x

Oktoberfest guest post (!)

2011-10-04T07:58:00.009+11:00

If anyone out there has been wondering what good ol' Eurolush has been up to since the move from Europe back to the US this summer, this blog post will update you on just that very subject. (If no one's been wondering--and you have no idea who Eurolush is--know these things: she is someone who discusses herself in the third person. She has no concept of portion-size. She has eaten her weight in pastries. She takes gulps from the cup of life/glass of beer. There.That's all you need to know.)

Really, though. Let me assure you all that, I, the-artist-formerly-known-as-Eurolush, have been keepin' it real back in the good ol' US of A.

As you can plainly see, Mr. Lush and I are acclimating well to our new lives in California. Together, we're embracing our new environs, fitting in as best we can, and leaving all things "Germany" behind.

FACT: You can take the Lushes out of Germany, but you can't take the Germany out of the Lushes. NEIN! So don't even try.

My trusty sidekick, Tex, is also here to report in that life in Northern California is, while not quite as interesting as life in the German countryside, quite nice. There are nearby parks to visit and a big backyard (complete with squirrels.)

All in all, the Lush Family is doing well. Life is good. We are happy.

My old blog is still up--and occasionally I visit it to remember what I once had. It's bittersweet, really. But I'm moving on. Slowly but surely.

Wherever you are, I hope life has been good to you, too. I wish you happiness and health--and all the best in everything you do.

Love to you all.

XX E

PS-All photos from Saturday night's Oktoberfest here in our little city--where Mr. Lush and I tore it up real good, so to speak.

PPS-I hear there are lots of mushrooms in these Northern California forests!

Happy new year

2011-09-28T15:59:00.009+10:00

The Jewish new year begins tonight, so Shana Tova everyone. This is what my new year dinner looked like three years ago, and it will probably be very similar this year. My mother really is remarkable!

I thought this might be a suitable time of year to describe the particular style of clothing which I wear when I go to synagogue (I attend an Orthodox service), as well as the specific modesty requirements of very observant Jewish women. It's expected that women in my synagogue will wear skirts or dresses (preferably at or below the knee) and generally nothing too revealing (no sleeveless tops).

During my High School years I had several Lubavitch friends who followed very strict rules concerning their clothing. They wore only skirts, and all well below the knee, opaque stockings, and shirts with sleeves past the elbow and buttoned to the neck. This is easy to do in winter, but try doing that through the Sydney summer... it's a challenge.

The Rabbi and Rebbetzin of my synagogue have three daughters (now young women) who are all incredibly beautiful and very style-conscious. It never ceases to amaze me when I see them in synagogue how they manage to manipulate their dresses so as to fulfill both the religious and the style requirements. There is something breathtakingly sexy about a young woman who is dressed in a gorgeous, and yet HIGHLY modest manner. Really there is.

In any case, if I get a chance to chat with them tomorrow (in synagogue... it's not like church... nobody's quiet) I shall ask them if they follow any "frum" style blogs. I tried googling, but it seems I don't really know the key words to use. The best I could come up with is this, which shows you the types of skirts many religious women wear... and which leads straight back to the Man Repeller. Yes. It. Does.

I realised that the Man Repeller was Jewish when I saw several Jewish texts on a bookshelf in one of her videos. Then she mentioned on another video that "My Jewish parents are in the other room and will kill me when they find out that I have a film crew in my bedroom... and it's Saturday morning" (the Jewish Sabbath). Then I read this, and it made me jump up and down and clap gleefully. Because I have had exactly the same reaction to seeing the popularity of the "maxi skirt" this season - "Look at all those models looking like they're frum."

Shana tova everyone!

E x

Guest blogger announcement

2011-09-27T14:45:00.003+10:00

I am uber-proud to announce that, after much haggling over the fine print in her contract, a European celebrity has agreed to be an official guest-poster, right here - chez Eleanorfromthecommentbox.

Here's a clue.

O sweet joy.

O the anticipation!

My type of model

2011-09-26T20:24:00.000+10:00

Introducing Nicole Thompson, my newly found fashion guru. No, not the model, that's the lovely Samantha Harris, but I'm interested in the make-up artist.

The photo originates here, where you can read a bit more about the fab Nicole T's make-up choices for her models earlier this year. But I don't really care about that, I really want to ask her about her glasses and her choice of earrings, and her penchant for black clothes and coloured pixie-cut hairstyles.

I heard Ms Thompson talk yesterday at IMATS. I was bewitched by both the artistry and personal style of this wonderful woman. She didn't wear glasses during her presentation, but as she raced past me later that day, rushing off to catch a cab to the airport to catch a plane to Paris for Fashion Week (as one does), I saw the glasses and they looked gorgeous. Crazy-mad size, but something about the shape and colour is just so right. Notice the earrings, yes, large sparkly earrings that really look wonderful. Something about the colour tone and shape which matches the look of the glasses without being all matchy-matchy.

I must also mention the hair colour, which was BRIGHT pink yesterday. Her eyebrows were pink too, and the look was endearing and looked perfectly natural on her.

Ms Thompson reminds me that I need to go bigger, shinier and braver. Be bold. Make a statement. Be passionate. Live life. And don't forget the glitter.

For Jeanette, with thanks

2011-09-24T18:29:00.008+10:00

I'm so excited about my new banner, isn't it wonderful?

It's a photo of a collage which the incredible (Swedish) Jeanette made for me. That's right, a Swedish blogger who I met over the Internet by happenchance actually made me this incredible piece and mailed it to me as a gift.

I tried to capture the use Jeanette made of her sewing and embroidery skills.... can you see the embroidered glasses? It's astonishing how they look exactly like my favourite glasses (which I shall feature in this post). Jeanette and I have never met in person, and yet I can't help but feel a strong sense of sisterhood with her. Thanks J!

So here I go...

This is me without glasses and without makeup. I can't wear any eye makeup whatsoever (due to my eye condition), and this used to annoy me a lot. But I got over it. The miracle of sight should be enough to make me happy, the use of eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow isn't crucial. Although that being said, many women have told me they could not survive without mascara.

Here are my favourite everyday glasses: Moscot Dannee (black). I purchased them over a year ago in New York but Moscot is now available in Australia. This old-school style is in fashion now, and yet I reckon I'll be wearing them for as long as they last (and the quality is second to none, they've survived many accidents).

Here I am posing in Miss CB's room as I wanted to show you her Ms Pacman. So cute. My hair's longer now and I'm enjoying it.
This was taken several weeks ago when it was still chilly enough for a coat. The coat was on sale at Jigsaw, the black skinny jeans are from French Connection and the flats are brand new from Trenery (Miya leather ballet). I must say the flats were a great buy because the colour is fabulous and they're very comfortable.

I can't help but add that those black skinny jeans are a miracle because I usually cannot get skinny jeans past my calf, and if I do they cut off the circulation to my upper body. I'm usually a size 14 in trousers but I bought these in 16 and they're amazing. It's hard to see but they have a triangular patch detail on each knee which is very flattering and also stops that knee-saggy look I often get with tight trousers after I've worn them a few times.

In celebration of the fact that I have finally FINALLY posted these photos I'd like to do a giveaway. But I don't have anything to give away. Oh well, to make up for it let me recommend that you pop over to Nikki at Stylingyou and enter her shoe giveaway. It's open to Australian and INTERNATIONAL entries!!!

Good luck!

Beauty and the Beast

2011-08-10T18:05:00.008+10:00

Following my new interest in beauty blogs (I know, I can't believe it either) I'm planning to do a series of posts about glasses. I have worn glasses since I was 5 years old, and due to a condition called blepharitis (basically really really dry eyes) I can't wear contacts or have that laser surgery. So I have recently embraced my glasses as important accessories which I need to change with my mood and clothing, much as you might think of jewellery. Of course, for this I will need to take photographs, ugh, so time consuming, so it will have to wait. But I promise to do it soon.

In the meantime I thought you might like to check out two beauty blogs which I have recently discovered and which are prime examples of the way beauty bloggers should, ideally, be wielding their power. They are both Sydney gals, which makes it doubly fabulous.

Here is Swatchgirl's post about a new Sportsgirl nailpolish. I rarely see negative feedback in beauty posts, so thanks Swatchgirl for keeping it real. It seems that most bloggers would much rather review items which are sent to them and which they like, kind of. So a lot of posts go something like this: "Look what just arrived in my postbox - three lipsticks by X! Wow, so cool, you'll love them and I really love them too, because they're fun colours and moisturising." Boooooring. BUT, I get it, because blogger can't afford to buy all the products they'd like to try. The whole point is that you get sent stuff for free, which means that those products ALWAYS come with strings attached. A free product can never be given the same objective appraisal as one you had to pay for with your own hard-earned cash. No such thing as a free lunch ladies.

I wonder if there are any really rich beauty bloggers out there who review stuff they buy. Now that would be an awesome blog!! How generous would that be?

Moving right along Fantasy Lane.....

Fifi is my latest love. Not only is she a Sydney gal, but she actually writes about the clothes shops at my local shopping centre. After reading this post, I raced to my local Sportgirl and bought that striped skirt and it is BLOODY AWESOME thankyouverymuch. Perhaps I shall take a photo of me in the skirt one day?

I hardly recognise myself.

E x

Purely Age Defying Ultra Firm And Lift!

2011-08-02T19:51:00.003+10:00

I found a scientist (with a PhD in wound healing) who has a beauty blog.

I am jubilant.

Seek and ye shall find.

I shall now wait patiently for her review of the scientific studies behind Jurlique's new cream. She says that she will report more once she sees the criteria they used for assessing skin firmness.

I love this woman.

The blogworld never ceases to amaze me.

An old-school blogger goes to the Nuffnang Blogopolis

2011-08-01T14:38:00.006+10:00

I flew down to Melbourne on Saturday to attend this event. I'm intrigued by the new direction of blogging and wanted to see what it was all about.

Well, dear reader, it's still all about community, but with a whole lot of money thrown into the picture as well.

It's not a bad picture, really it isn't. But it is very different from the blog world I discovered 5 years ago.

The monetising (such a great word) is not a sell-out, really it isn't. It simply refers to a change in the AIM of the average blogger. The average blogger can now see her blogging (yes, the majority of bloggers are still women) as a legitimate career. I have no doubt that our grandchildren will be shocked to hear that we ever thought the job "blogger" was any different to journalist, photographer, food critic or teacher.

That being said, it's an end of an era in which a group of women shared their lives and stories while hidden from the view of the vast marketplace. If you have a popular blog nowadays you would be foolish not to make money from your talent and very hard work. But this will also necessarily mean that you'll be advertising products. Sigh.

This is most obvious in the world of the mummy-blogger and the beauty-blogger.

I could have used a mummy-blog in the early nineties when my babes were born, but alas it was not to be. So I'm so very happy for the mothers of 2011 that they have these fabulous blogs to which to turn for support, advice and laughter. Now they'll also be advised on the best nappies, formula, food and bath-bubbles. And there's nothing wrong with that, it's a business, and that's fine. Just a little sad, but only if you're still living in 2005 (as I do, from time to time, purely for the purpose of nostalgia).

Concerning beauty blogs. Let me state from the outset that I LOVE BEAUTY BLOGS. I like the big ones and the small ones, I love the arm swatches and posed fingernails and close-ups of lips. I love the camaraderie and joy and exuberant love of life. But most of all I love how SUBVERSIVE they are. Because, dear reader, beauty bloggers are starting to control (rather than follow) the market. They are bypassing those glossy magazines with the airbrushed ads and the snotty, up-selling department store counters and they are truly making history.

I asked Nikki from Stylingyou (one of my new beauty blogger crushes. I have many.) what she saw as the beauty blogger future. She responded by saying that it will be "explosive," and I absolutely agree. She backed this claim up with two of her personal experiences in the industry. Firstly, she was recently asked to speak to a group of beauty PR reps; that's right, they asked her to explain the new industry to them! Secondly, she cannot get any glossy mag to publish an article about beauty bloggers because they are seen as direct competition. 'Nuf said.

But. There's always a but.

Beauty blogs can be used for evil as well as for good. As the line between product sponsorship and personal style becomes blurred so does the definition of female beauty. In a world of cosmetics in which there exists a product for every perceived flaw (and I'm emphasising the word "perceived" here), will beauty bloggers at some point take a stand? Draw a line in the sand and refuse to cross it? I hope so, but I haven't so far found anyone who will bravely proclaim where a woman's beauty stops and a marketer's ploy begins. I'm not sure any of us know that yet.

So here is a ray of hope, and a tiny bit of encouragement to any beauty bloggers out there. Maybe more of a challenge than mere encouragement. I challenge beauty bloggers, once in a while, and only when they are genuinely moved to do so, to notice the NATURAL beauty of a woman's face and to document it in a post. I still want all the products, because I love that stuff, and that stuff makes me feel prettier and happier a lot of the time. But with a dash of the real stuff thrown in too, because that's what it's really about.

On that note, I'd like to present a portrait of Adele Horin (an Aussie journalist):

Painted by Stephanie Brown:

Which I found after I was inspired by Adele Horin's article celebrating the true beauty of the late, dear Margaret Olley:

A truly beautiful woman.

Current obsession

2011-07-14T08:21:00.003+10:00

Poppy talks about a leopard print scarf, and I'm all about these shoes.

I'm intrigued by these custom-made shoes. But I think looking at their website might be more fun than actually ordering a pair. And much cheaper too, of course.

Also, I lied about the lipsticks I bought. I also bought this one, never owned a coral colour before. It looks much more subtle on my skin tone, really, I swear.

And I bought another one. But I'll keep that for the next post.

Thoughts?

Psst...over here...sshhhh....

2011-07-13T07:39:00.004+10:00

You,

yeah you,

come closer,

all right,

now without making any sudden moves, and without even glancing at the "Seven" post, go read Duyvken's comment to the "Writing tips" post.

Duyvken is, from today, and hereafter, like, forever, my mystical GURU. She is the learned elder who will always have the answer to my most complex numerological ponderings. She is The One.

P.S

And her family is the only original Seven. Duyvken took the number Seven and materialised it. She is that powerful. Stupid Posh doesn't know the half of the true meaning of Seven (no, it's not three and a half, silly).

Writing tips

2011-07-12T16:29:00.004+10:00

Dance in front of the mirror to this song.

Guaranteed to rid you of writer's block.

Seven

2011-07-11T21:19:00.007+10:00

The Beckhams named their baby Harper Seven. I understand Harper, OK, it's a bit of a trend at the moment. Everyone loves to love "To Kill A Mockingbird," you know, the author Harper Lee and then Scout is also making a showing. Not my cup of tea, but I can deal with Harper, and I'm even willing to look the other way and smile at Scout.

But Seven?

Please.

A number is not a name. I don't care if it's the number on the shirt of her really, really talented soccer-playing Daddy. I don't care if she was born at 7am on the the 7th of the 7th. Surely they must have accumulated a wonderful list of girls' names by now, surely they realise that girls' names are the most wonderful names to choose, so much more fun than choosing boys' names, really, especially after you've had three boys.

Seven? Seven is a movie starring Brad Pitt, with Gwyneth Paltrow's severed head in a box.

What has happened to the truly meaningful tradition of naming one's child after a dearly loved relative who has passed away? Call me an egoist but it gives me great joy to imagine that my great-great-great-granddaughter might be called Eleanor, in my memory.

The commentbox support structure

2011-07-09T08:52:00.005+10:00

Thanks Duyvken for your help with the title of this post (aka "commentbox support structure"). Now everyone go and look at her latest photo of JW, so so good.

Also please take a moment to sit in silence in front of your screen and contemplate the tragic loss to the blogosphere of one Eurolush. I've had to go cold turkey since she left Germany, and I'm not doing very well. Doctor says the shakes and sweats will soon stop, but this rehab crap is not really working for me. Nobody can ever take Eurolush's place.

I'm writing this commentbox support structure from my bed at 9am Saturday. In front of me the window shutters are wide open, framing the bright sunny sky and the treetops - a wattle in full yellow bloom and young pinkish eucalyptus leaves. I love a Sydney winter. When I first arrived in Australia from Israel (I was 8) it was winter, and I couldn't get over how strange it was to see super-bright sunshine and feel the cold. Sydney winter sun is one of my favourite things in the whole world.

I just finished writing my first draft of the rom-com!! It was well received and I'm now into what is known in the industry as "a polish". Do not be fooled by the friendly vibe of the word "polish", it's fancy producer-talk for a quick rewrite, but it's not bad... you see, the great thing about screenwriting is that you always get a chance to rewrite. It's actually a luxury to know that what you write is always a "draft" and will change depending on your collaboration with producer, director, actor etc etc. It is never, by definition, "perfect" or "finished." Phew.

I pity the novelist who sits in her room for years working by herself. I get three months to write all on my lonesome and then I get to sit in a cafe and talk about my imaginary characters with a producer. We spent two hours discussing characters I had made up!!! Only the other day I was told that something I had my character do was "out of character," and you know what? I agreed with the criticism and changed it accordingly, and then I also had a good laugh because I had apparently written a character who was so fully rounded that the reader actually thought she KNEW him and could PREDICT what he would or wouldn't do. I'm very happy.

One of my characters loves makeup, so I've had to do research. Poor me, hanging out at cosmetics counters, chatting with makeup girls and guys, testing products. I even started using cosmetics as rewards for myself. Upon finishing each act, I allowed myself to purchase one item. And a few besides. This is the first time I have ever been paid to write so my spending has taken on a different feel.

I know, you want to know what I bought.

Illamasqua lipstick in "Climax." It's very matte, so I've had to be vigilant with my lip balm usage. I wouldn't usually go for this type of pink but the sales guy was the most gorgeous, sweet young man and talked me into it. I love it. Illamasqua's motto "make-up for your alter ego," how good is that? Also love their nailpolish colours, especially the bright green "Smash".

Becca creme blush in Turkish Rose is fab. Becca's an Aussie brand which is actually more popular overseas. Go figure.

I use Laura Mercier tinted moisturiser every day now. LOVE.

My new beauty guru, attention ladies, because this gal will change your beauty life as you know it, please give a warm welcome to Miss Zoe Foster. She just came out with a book which I highly recommend - "Amazing Face." I've bought a copy for myself, my daughter, my nieces, and I even went and stood in line to meet Zoe and have her sign them. Check out her videos on that Penguin link, she's adorable. And her blog-writing style is so funny. Not even close to being as witty and funny as Eurolush, but, you know, nobody comes close to our beloved Eurolush.

My new fave fashion blogger is The Man Repeller.

My most inexplicable addiction is to the tweeting of the Swatchaholic. She lives in Germany, loves her Starbucks, and is totally crazy-mad-loopy about nail polishes. I'm not that into nailpolishes (I still bit my nails) but something about this gal makes me happy, maybe her constant optimism as each new season brings with it new jellies, duochromes, dupes and lemmings.

In other breaking news.... Miss CB and I are heartbroken. We had been relying on Natalie Portman to choose a "real" name for her baby boy. In a world in which Apple and Egypt have become acceptable names for innocent, blameless babies we thought Natalie would lead the way to a better, rational naming world. Not so. Do not be fooled by well-meaning and politically correct journalists, "Aleph" is NOT and NEVER HAS BEEN a Hebrew/Jewish name for a child. It is the name of the first letter of the alphabet, as A, B and C are in English. Sure, it has esoteric meaning, I studied Jewish Mysticism in university and yes.... all Hebrew letters have a great deal of profound religious significance..... but that doesn't mean that tattooing them on your body (I'm looking at you Posh) is the way to go. Neither is using them as names. Rant over.

Or maybe not. Because, you know what? There are so many beautiful Biblical names to use that hearken back to matriarchs and patriarchs and heroes of the Jewish world. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Jesse, David, Michael, Saul, Samuel, Noam, Itamar, Joshua, Solomon. For starters. Just saying.

And perhaps the coffee I just drank was a tad too strong. I seem to be ranting.

Signing off.

E x

Romance

2011-06-06T08:24:00.003+10:00

I read this post featuring Edith Drake, and I watched the little clip in which she introduces her husband Ervin. I adore the way she pauses for a moment before saying his name, she could be on stage with that introduction. As Ervin Drake mentioned the songs he's composed my jaw dropped. You can pass someone on the street and you just don't know who they might be.

I love this story about how Sinatra decided to sing "When I was 17 it was a very good year..." Then I googled "A room without windows" because I'm not familiar with it. Would you believe it was written for a musical called "What makes Sammy run?" which is about a screenwriter. So here it is, I simply adore this song, and I think it's even more timely today as we're bombarded with different types of windows on electronic screens.

Enjoy.

Even Though I'm A Woman

2011-06-03T21:39:00.002+10:00

I think it was Kim from Allconsuming who put me onto "Seeker, Lover, Keeper" last week. Thanks Kim!! This song is a particular favourite, the video is genius, pure and simple genius. This one is also bloody awesome.

I'm writing a romantic comedy screenplay at the moment, so these two songs are a perfect match. I have a question for any of you who are in the mood to write a comment:

Are there any hygiene/grooming habits of men that you really detest? Please tell me. Does a monobrow give you the shits? Smelly feet? Long hair? Back hair? Nasal hair? I'm collecting anecdotes. Help me if you can.

E xxxx

Launch

2011-05-26T07:08:00.003+10:00

Journeymama has launched her first novel and it is now available for purchase.

Go visit her here and follow the links.

Quick, go, run.

"The Eve Tree" awaits you.

You'll fall in love with Molly, Jack, Catherine and the entire family. And you will cry buckets of tears. The good kind of tears, you know, those tears that remind you how amazing life is.

Happy reading all, and congratulations Rae - may you and your characters go from strength to strength.

Words

2011-05-25T08:58:00.005+10:00

Journeymama's words from her novel:

"Catherine continued. 'We don't all have the same vessel to work with. If you're pouring dribbles from your leaky tin cup, but you keep on filling and pouring, it counts the same as when you're a sea that breaks waves over all the folks around you.'

Molly stared at her mother."

The Eve Tree

2011-05-24T10:31:00.001+10:00

"She understood history and that hidden cord that tied mother to daughter for generations upon end. But Molly was a woman with an aversion to the ladder that Catherine's life offered her. She would rather climb a sheer rock face than admit she was accepting rung after rung of help from her mother."

Journeymama's words, from her first novel.

The Eve Tree

2011-05-23T21:07:00.004+10:00

Journey Mama launches her book on May 25th (this Wednesday).

I have been reading Rae's blog for the last four years; her words and photographs have brought me so much joy. Throughout those years Rae was also busy writing her first novel, and I always hoped that I would one day get to read it.

So here's proof that dreams do come true. Never mind Rae's dream of having a published novel, I'm talking about my dream of reading it. Priorities people, priorities. It's all about me.

I'm fortunate enough to have a copy of "The Eve Tree" in my greedy little hands today and I'm already loving it so much (I'm about a quarter of the way in) that I'm trying to slow my reading down. I'm also marking pages which I particularly love, here's one sentence I want to swaddle and cuddle and tell it just how much I love it:

"She told cheese tales and yogurt yarns, she saved up praise from customers like oats, to throw into her does' feed bags while she sat with them."

For the next three days, leading up to the launch, I'll be pitching a few of Rae's gorgeous gems your way. Small, beautifully polished teasers. Perfectly crafted, fire-burnished diamonds.

More tomorrow.

For Coffeelady

2011-05-19T17:38:00.005+10:00

If I could get my act together I would magic up a lovely new banner and start my fourth blogging year with a bang. Oh well, not this month, but eventually. Perhaps. I need a new template which won't squash my videos and I need to fix up some old links. My blog is a reflection of my real house - serviceable, comfortable, and in need of repair and some tender loving care.

When I started blogging it wasn't fashionable, it was actually considered to be kind of weird and creepy. I was too embarrassed to tell my friends. I often thought there might be something wrong with me because I loved it so much. I was afraid that it was a symptom of my introverted nature, which I realise now (duh) is not actually an illness. I'm allowed to be introverted, it's OK.

And that reminds me of my first blog get-together in Melbourne when I got up and belly-danced. As I returned to my seat I turned to Suse and said "You know, I'm actually an introvert," and she laughed her lovely head off. It shocked me that she laughed so hard. Good times I tell you, good times.

Which reminds me of my last visit to Manhattan. Before I left I had brunch with my brother-in-law and his partner who asked me what I had done during my visit. I briefly described the time I spent with my blog friends Blackbird, Eurolush and the lurker B. They were thrilled with my stories and wrote me an email afterwards saying that I was one of the coolest people they know. And, I must tell you, they are two Ultra Cool Guys, I mean one of them is a stylist and the other advised me on the best place to buy vintage-style glasses. Need I say more?

So things have changed a lot here in blogland. One of my friends said to me the other day "You should start a blog!" That really made me laugh. There are also a whole bunch of Aussie bloggers who only started a year or two ago and have NO IDEA that there are Aussie bloggers who have been around for years and years and have an entire network of international blog-buddies. I mean, I consider myself an apprentice to the great Aussie bloggers in my network, and I worship at their feet. Those newcomers are clueless. Also, they use their real names. I mean, how boring is that? I mean sure Kim is Kim, but she's really Kim From Allconsuming; and Mary is still totally Blue Mountains Mary in my mind. Yeah, I know, I'm really Eleanor. But YOU DON'T KNOW MY LAST NAME. That's the fun, it's a secret society, I mean honestly, can you imagine Blackbird or Duyvken or Eurolush or Babelbabe or Coffeelady being anything but? Pfftt.

Maybe Twitter has something to do with it? Yes, I think it might. In Twitter you're meant to look up a person YOU KNOW or HAVE HEARD OF and follow them. And all these famous people and business people are using it to be popular. Oh please, that's so not blogging. Blogging is about making connections over a period of time by using serendipity in combination with kindness, humour and a sprinkling of craft. The craft of blogging, or (in my case especially) the craft of commentbox filling. It's not a popularity contest, it's friendship.

Of course, everything changes. Of course it does.

The nanny next door has moved on to her next baby. Blue barks at my neighbour's kitchen window because he doesn't trust the new nanny yet. She's a gorgeous young thing who we see through the window as she texts in-between making her charges their breakfast. Ninny never texted, she only called people, in emergencies. Things change.

Eurolush will be leaving Germany in a month. Can you believe it? I know, I mean, if that doesn't make you realise that things change then what does? But you know what's even crazier? The idea that if I hadn't taken that "risk" and started blogging I would never have met Eurolush. I would never have known that a person like her (well, she is her, there's only one Eurolush, but you know what I mean) existed in a tiny German village. Sometimes I think she exists only for my benefit, a cute little virtual Eurolush who came into my blogworld when I needed her most - to make me smile and laugh and be extremely jealous. My own tiny dancer, my own little Eurolush marionette with a plastic beer mug glued to her hand, my own Eurolush garden gnome who scares the crap out of me when she suddenly winks, my own Eurolush paper doll with a dirndl and a mushroom toy and a cute paper Tex to take on walks.

I'm going to stop now.

E x

THREE YEARS

2011-04-06T19:44:00.003+10:00

I chose a few of the highlights of my first year or two blogging. Whether you were here then or whether you're new to my blog, I send you my heartfelt thanks for such a wonderful time.

My first post.

My Shawshank Redemption story.

Remember the Nanny Next Door story? I just heard that Ninny is leaving soon and I shall miss her terribly. You know where she's going? To look after the baby of her very first baby. That's right, the little baby girl she cared for when she first arrived in Australia is expecting her own baby in a couple of months and has asked Ninny to help her. Mary Poppins was right about nannies leaving when the wind changes, but I bet she never dreamt of such a lovely breeze as this.

Remember A Cache of Jewels? Here's the first in the series.

And Wedding Cake Island.

I was prolific back then. Wow.

The first time I ever wrote a poem "on demand".

The Lady of the Ring series.

The best limerick I ever wrote. And I've written a few.

Ellie's poem. With love. The photo of Ellie's castle is still on my screensaver.

Pure magic.

Thanks for three years of magic, and here's hoping for many more to come.

Eleanor from your commentbox xxxxxxxx

Another day

2011-04-05T20:39:00.002+10:00

One more day until my 3 year blogaversary.

Can you believe it?

Here's a happy song to dance to while you wait.

E x

Aussie humour

2011-03-30T16:57:00.004+11:00

When I was in Manhattan last year I was giving a friend instructions on how to get to my apartment; I told her "There's a Starbucks on the corner," and she laughed hysterically.

Because there is a Starbucks on every single corner.

This clip perfectly captures what I love about the Aussie sense of humour.

Strangely, it also makes me miss Manhattan.

Beauty

2011-03-26T07:22:00.003+11:00

Stop what you're doing, sit down, watch these videos.

Isn't the (blog) world a wonderful place?

So much beauty.

Thoughts

2011-03-22T16:19:00.001+11:00

This painting by Grace Cossington Smith is called "The sock knitter". It was the first painting this young Australian artist exhibited in 1915.

I've seen this painting many times and always loved it. It calms and soothes me. Upon my return from Sewjourn last Monday I suddenly felt a need to revisit the painting. It captures the feeling I had as I sat in the studio with my fellow bloggers and concentrated on my newfound hobby - crochet.

I think I'm the quietest of the bloggers at Sewjourn. I adored sitting on the brown velvet sofa at the edge of the room and listening to the chatter and laughter. I spoke up once or twice, when I felt like it, but mostly I just listened and loved.

I suppose that listening and loving has been my hobby for many years now, and is probably the reason I was first attracted to blogs and their commentboxes. When I read a person's blog I can get that rare and wonderful insight into her view of life, and there's no pressure to comment back. Oh I know, there are statistics to think of, blog traffic and number of hits and commentbox counters. But my favourite thing is to read, listen, ponder, love.... and then put some words into a box and send it on its way.

Sewjourn reminded me how important it is to slow down and take time to just listen and feel and think. It doesn't necessary help or solve, it doesn't always improve or illuminate, but that's all right. There's no rush.

Blogging often feels like a mad rush. Quickly typing up experiences before they're forgotten, linking, photographing, inserting. And yet blogging, at its very best, has led me to wonderful moments of quiet appreciation such as my treasured trips to Sewjourn. Moments of reflection in the midst of a group of women I could only have met via blogging.

That little commentbox of mine has taken me on a series of memorable journeys, all of them beginning with a quiet which is captured so perfectly by the sock knitter.

Oscars II

2011-03-05T21:49:00.008+11:00

This series of posts is inspired by the recent Academy Awards. But I should warn you, when I watch the awards and think of the films my mind wanders in its own unique... how shall I put it ... direction.

This explains why I found Natalie Portman's walk up the stairs to the stage so very moving, and why this is the highlight of the Best Actress Award as far as I'm concerned. It reminds me of when I was pregnant with my first baby - Ms. Portman's partner's gesture reminds me of my own darling Mr. CB's gentle care as I made my way up and down the stairs to and from our tiny apartment. Naturally, I was HUGE in my last trimester, would never have fitted into any evening gown of any description, was often in a foul mood, and spent a lot of time worrying. But that's another story.

So these are my thoughts on "Black Swan" - a window into my strange imagination.

Firstly, I should mention that I saw "Black Swan" with my father, and that in itself merits an award. I knew that my dad wasn't enjoying himself, and I knew he wouldn't like the film. But he needed to see it for his work, and my mother refused to see it, so I joined him. My father worries about me during violent scenes (he forbade me from seeing "Kill Bill" years ago and was terribly disconcerted when I told him that I loved it). So every time something vile occurred in the film, which was quite often, I could feel him trying to stop himself from embracing me protectively and insisting that I leave the cinema. The lesbian sex scene was uncomfortable for completely different reasons, it just felt so wrong to be sitting next to my dad as those two girls went for it. For what it's worth, heterosexual sex scenes are just as uncomfortable, but that was no consolation at the time.

Secondly, I have a history of EXTREME EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT to ballet stories and films. I never took a ballet class in my life and never will, but the world of the ballerina has always intrigued me.

My friend O. and I (my Russian schoolfriend who would eventually introduce me to Mr. CB, who is Russian too) had a huge crush on Baryshnikov for many years. Needless to say, when Mr. CB first introduced himself to me and I heard his Russian accent, and he told me that he had studied ballet as a boy... well.... need I say more?

But I digress.

So maybe you've seen the film "The Turning Point"? It was written by Arthur Laurents. Or "White Nights"? Written by James Goldman. O. and I did, many many times.

And of course you've seen "Flashdance," please tell me you've seen "Flashdance." The scene at 4:20 in this video made me immediately tear all of my sweatshirts and practice pirouettes, and the scene in 8:50 is a favourite.

Yes, I come to "Black Swan" with a lot of baggage. I liked the film for what it was - part thriller, part horror, part fantasy. But I missed the love, the laughter, the romance and the heartbreak of my favourite ballet films.

At first I thought it was misogynistic, and the first twenty minutes really are relentless in that regard. But then the story takes off and I found myself immersed in the crazed world of this artist who succumbs to absolute perfectionism in her dark world of manipulative and egotistical colleagues. It captured my imagination and my interest, but it left my heart untouched.

I yearned for poor Natalie to be given a friend or a loving father, or if not then at least a bit of a sense of humour. I needed to let go of some of the angst and horror and have a little laugh; the contrast would have made the story all the more powerful.

Dancing should bring light as well as darkness into the world of both the dancer and audience; couldn't the tiniest crack of sunlight be allowed into the world of "Black Swan"? No. That was not part of Aronofsky's vision, and that's fine. I can live with that.

Here is a palate cleanser:

Baryshnikov and Hines dancing together in "White Nights." Because life's too short to see only the black swan side of life.

P.S.

Can you imagine how O. and I felt when, MANY years later, we saw this scene in "Sex and the City"? Apparently we were not alone in our Baryshnikov obsession!

Oscars

2011-03-03T19:34:00.002+11:00

Oh come on, you didn't think I'd miss out on an Oscars post did you?

It'll have to be a series of short posts.

So, firstly - I hope you all watched Natalie Portman's acceptance speech. If not then here it is for your viewing pleasure. The woman is a true artist, and her performance in "Black Swan" was indeed Oscar-worthy, and look at her style and grace.

But the thing I love the most about this clip is the moment when her partner Benjamin Millepied, bless him, walked with her to the stairs with his arm supporting her ever-so-gently and then extended it in a graceful, understated movement to ensure that she was all right going up the stairs. Such a gentlemanly gesture brings tears to my eyes.

More to come.

I promise.

Sisterhood

2011-03-03T09:06:00.004+11:00

Six beautiful women from my community (the Sydney Jewish community that is... I actually belong to several communities... this blog-world being one of them too, of course) have spent years gathering recipes, testing them, and translating them into this beautiful book.

One of these woman is a treasured friend of mine, and she is also pedantic about the details and success of her recipes. Having eaten in her home many times, and knowing the pride and joy she takes in perfecting her hospitality I guarantee that each and every recipe in this book is a gem. It's also gorgeous, like she is - the photos which show the most beautiful hands... they're hers.

In my domestic world in which cooking is a drag and food is an annoying necessity, this book comes as a timely reminder to return to my roots and enjoy my time in the kitchen once again.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD DEAR BILLY

2011-03-01T17:53:00.005+11:00

WONDERFUL NEWS TO SHARE WITH YOU:

DUYVKEN HAD HER BABY YESTERDAY, A BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY.

I met dear Duyvken via her blog almost three years ago, she is a spectacular woman and I feel so honoured to share in her joy today.

JOY and LOVE xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jive talking

2011-02-27T21:53:00.004+11:00

My sweet friend who just turned 30 wants to know if she should have a baby. How will she able to tell if it's the right decision for her and her husband? Now? Later? Will she regret the decision, whatever it is she does decide, in the end?

I met an old school-friend of mine (O) for brunch this morning. We've known each other since we were 13 years old, we each have two children, we are completely different from each other. I told her about my sweet 30-year-old friend and she smiled the same smile I smiled when I first heard the question. "You don't decide. In this case, you just act," she said, with a sigh. We wondered how this same, beautiful, serious, ambitious, talented, loving young woman had decided to get married. We were quite certain it didn't involve a pros and cons table typed neatly on a sheet of pristine white paper.

I keep thinking about the question. It's a woman's question, ultimately a woman's decision - when is a good time to try and create a brand-new person, from nothing? A person who will grow up to be different to you. The 30-year-old says she knows that she'll hate being pregnant, I can't argue with that - how she might feel is just that, how she might feel. Babies bring mess and stress and a lot of disorganisation; that's hard if you enjoy your neat, quiet house and your romantic couple time. So maybe it's not such a good idea to make a human being, you know, a person, one moment there's no person and then, suddenly, voila, a new person living and breathing and always, always, someone you never expected to make.

It is better to remain silent.

Our little blogging sphere is packed to the brim with "mommy bloggers," and I love them. I wish that I had the Internet when my children were younger; I was stuck with Dr. Penelope Leach and Dr. Berry Brazelton on pay TV, and my much-thumbed copy of "What To expect the First Year." When I was pregnant with Ms CB I knew NOTHING about babies, I hadn't even babysat any little kids. I was naive and silly and really, looking back, it's kind of crazy how little I knew and how happy I was.

In this case, the men (our loving, caring, adored partners through those crazy years) may actually know better than us - sometimes not talking about stuff can be much much better.

Or maybe not.

We told so many lies it's hard to know what's the truth

2011-02-22T21:53:00.008+11:00

As you can see, I'm on a rom-com film binge. It's for work, really it is. What? It is! In the name of research I'm reading every rom-com script I can find, and then watching the films.

I had the terrible misfortune of watching this film yesterday. It is so repulsive that I felt like disinfecting myself after viewing it. Its premise is that no matter how selfish, mean and stupid a man is, as long as he looks like Patrick Dempsey then he's the man of every woman's dreams. Can you hear that sound? It's me. Retching. The final straw for me, the final so unfunny gag which made me yell obscenities at my TV screen was the addition of an overweight bridesmaid who was repeatedly humiliated for no other reason than to make the stupid Patrick Dempsey-like morons in the audience laugh. Oh look, a fat girl trying to fit into a bridesmaid's dress that's a size too small for her, oh look how funny - a fat girl sitting down and ripping her dress at her friend's wedding, because you know she's so fat and that's like so incredibly funny.

In an attempt to erase all memory of this shocking film I returned to an old favourite, my darling Peter Weir's "Green Card."

Dear Mr. Weir,

You make my heart sing with your delicate understanding of what makes love so beautiful and so funny and sweet and charming.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,

and please write and direct another romantic comedy,

I'm begging you,

Thanks,

Eleanor x

The climactic ending (which in a rom-com is never ever a sexual climax, but you probably knew that already) of "Green Card" has this music by Hans Zimmer. It's called "Instinct," which is what Gerard tries to teach Andie to follow.

Here it is:

And, finally, here's a link to a blog which celebrates the beauty of Andie/Bronte's garden in the film. Mary would have loved to photograph that garden, but that's another story.

Charade

2011-02-17T17:46:00.005+11:00

Hey Duyvken,

If Rock doesn't quite fit the baby there's always Cary... or Grant..

E x

"The most sparkling sexcapade that ever winked at convention"

2011-02-15T17:28:00.002+11:00

I'm a Valentine Day's scrooge, hate it, can't stand it. You could probably tell that from my previous post. The only thing I hate more than Valentine's Day is public marriage proposals. I think that proposing to your loved one in public is akin to having sex on national TV, because intimacy is always better when it's shared with a million strangers. Ugh.

In any case, here's the most divine trailer for "Pillow Talk," a movie from an era which understood something about romance and love.

This is not Hollywood, this is my life.

2011-02-13T21:06:00.001+11:00

This is not Hollywood,

There is no camera in my room.

This is not Hollywood,

Flowers grow before they bloom.

Kasey Chambers (another Aussie) whose song "Hollywood" reminds me of my grandpa's phrase - "The most bitter truth is better than the sweetest lie."

Love is not a Hallmark card. Thank goodness.

It doesn't really matter if you're rich or you're poor if you're dancing in a circle that's been danced in before.

2011-02-08T16:58:00.004+11:00

I just discovered Clare Bowditch and I love her so much. And she's Aussie, yay!

She has another song which I can't find on the net, but I bought it (it's in the same album as the song below) and I'm telling you - it cracks me up. It's called "I Think I Lost My Product" and it instantly makes me giggle.

Beautiful Anna

2011-02-07T15:35:00.001+11:00

NEWS FLASH:

ANNA FROM SWEDEN IS BACK!!!!!!!!!

HAPPY, HAPPY DAY!!!!!!

Childhood sweethearts

2011-02-06T22:34:00.002+11:00

Oh, first... the movie I quoted in the last post was "The Apartment." It's a fun film with a young Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine; it's often described as a classic so I finally watched it with Miss CB last night. So lovely!

But today Miss CB and I saw "Tamara Drewe" at the local cinema. I'm telling you, never before has a film had such a powerfully depressive effect on the two of us. First of all, that music you hear at the beginning of the trailer - those xylophone-like tones - are repeated throughout the entire film ad nauseum. And the trailer lies, as does the title, because Tamara Drewe is NOT the protagonist. No she's not. She's the sexiest looking woman in the film, and she sleeps with the most men in the film, but that's about it. That sums up her character. She's this fabulous journalist who comes back to the little village where she grew up, and where she lost her virginity, and then she sleeps with a famous drummer and a famous writer (who's married to the only fully rounded character in the film, and who should really be the protagonist, but isn't quite, probably because her boobs are a bit saggy and she's a fully rounded character). And then, suddenly, out of the blue, Tamara turns around and chooses the guy who helped her lose her virginity all those years ago. How lovely.

Tonight, we watched "Sweet Home Alabama" because it just happened to start at the same time as we collapsed on the sofa after dinner. Here's another young woman who returns to her childhood home after having found fame and fortune in the big city. She also has a guy there who she grew up with, and yes they were lovers from way back, and there's fun and love and lots of character development. I know, I know, I know, it's a silly Hollywood romantic comedy, but shoot me if I don't prefer that every single time to a pretentious, fake, non-rom-com, protagonist-less British film about a bunch of wanky writers who can't control their sexual urges.

Ahem.

I like to look up films at rottentomatoes to see what the critics thought, and to my utter disbelief it looks like I'm in the minority here. Look at Tamara Drewe vs. Alabama. I wonder if it's because there are usually many more male film critics? Or maybe I'm just shallow. Either way, it took me three hours to shake myself out of my bad mood after watching TD, and that's just not a good cinematic experience, whatever the critics say.

A classic romantic comedy

2011-02-05T23:31:00.002+11:00

"When you're in love with a married man, you shouldn't wear mascara."

Anybody know what film that comes from?

Here's a hint:

The protagonist of this film strains his spaghetti with a tennis racket.

It oughtta be illegal

2011-02-04T17:48:00.008+11:00

I have a confession to make.

I adore, no, I ADORE, the Bee Gees. When I was around eleven years old my family would go on a different "country walk" every Sunday (we lived in England at the time), otherwise it would have been a bushwalk. But I digress. There was always a long drive to the start of the country walk and so my parents would play music (cassettes) and it was invariably either the Carpenters or the Bee Gees. I would look out the window and dream about love.

So now I'm in the middle of working on an idea for a romantic comedy, and like a homing pigeon I find myself coming back to the Bee Gees. I've been listening to this Barry Gibb / Barbra Streisand duet so many times that I think my family is beginning to worry. Barry is my favourite, isn't he lovely? Can't wait for Eurolush's comments on the white outfits!!

This is another, more recent, song which I'm listening to a lot. Shhh... don't tell anyone OK?

Happy Groundhog Day!!

2011-02-02T16:29:00.002+11:00

"This is a man we're talking about, right?"

We stayed up, 'til 10 o'clock

2011-01-31T21:12:00.002+11:00

This is for any of you who are parenting teenagers who just went back to school this week. I still stubbornly hold to my belief that parenting only gets better as your children get older ... as do their stories about what they did during the summer holidays.

Kids are cute, but teenagers are magic. It's just that not many bloggers write about it because, you see, at some point your children's lives stop being a reflection of you and start being all about them.

Unbloggable magic.

This not knowing has its charms

2011-01-30T21:18:00.003+11:00

"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms. "

Guess the movie.

And best of luck to all the Aussie mums who have children going back to school this week. Enjoy!

Romance - the missing ingredient in the modern American rom-com

2010-12-30T22:51:00.005+11:00

My favourite quote about "Love and Other Drugs," from this article whose link reads "Anne Hathaway's breasts are way distracting" -

"Removing Maggie’s and Jamie’s pajamas, however, does little more than make us wonder what, if anything, Hathaway eats, and how often Gyllenhaal goes to the gym."

Some may call me a bit of a prude, but I think a good romantic comedy shouldn't have lots of wild sex in it. Lots and lots of sex on screen is neither romantic nor funny. The romance is in the waaiiiiting for the physical contact, the wondering about whether the physical contact will happen, and when, and how.

Ever heard of Kirsten Smith or Karen Lutz?

2010-12-29T21:28:00.006+11:00

Didn't think so.

But I bet you've heard of:

10 Things I Hate About You
Legally Blonde
Ella Enchanted
She's The Man

Ms. Smith and Ms. Lutz - I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

OK,OK, they wrote "The Ugly Truth" as well.... so it wasn't exactly my cup of tea... still.... I'm printing this picture and putting it up on my bulletin board. Is there any better inspiration for an aspiring screenwriter? I think not.

I leave you with this:

To remind me of how much I loved Anne Hathaway before she became famous and starred in the most depressing, artificial, Hollywood attempt at a rom-com I've seen in a very long time.

Meet the screenwriters

2010-12-28T23:06:00.004+11:00

So you've seen "Hearbreaker" and had a lovely laugh... time to meet the screenwriters:

Laurent Zeitoun, Jeremy Doner, and Yohan Gromb. Laurent Zeitoun has a writing credit for "I Do" as well, another brilliant French rom-com which one of my screenwriting teachers had used as an example in his class on the genre of romantic comedy. Thank you gentlemen for crafting such a satisfying story!

Next, I highly recommend you rush to see "The King's Speech." It doesn't often happen that a brilliant script is then developed by a fabulous director and a heavenly cast, so enjoy every moment of it. The audience clapped at the end, and I can't remember the last time that happened at my local cinema.

And may I introduce, if you please, the screenwriter of this extraordinary film: David Seidler.

'Tis the season to watch movies

2010-12-28T09:00:00.004+11:00

I've been watching so many movies lately that my blepharitis is back, yep - I'm the crazy lady sitting in front of you in the cinema who throws her head back every 20 minutes so as to put in her eyedrops.

To summarise my cinema experience so far...

RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN TO SEE THIS FRENCH ROMANTIC COMEDY AT A CINEMA NEAR YOU. IT WILL MAKE YOU SMILE AND GIGGLE AND LAUGH AND BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF TRUE LOVE.

You'll also be humming that song from "Dirty Dancing" all the way home. What could be better?

Teenagers get a bad rap

2010-12-23T23:15:00.004+11:00

Reasons I love having teenagers:
(Dedicated to Froggie who is such an amazing High School teacher because she really loves teenagers)

They can give you a lift to the DVD shop when you can't drive because you had a couple of gin and tonics but you really need to watch "While You Were Sleeping."

They never heard of "While You Were Sleeping" so they cuddle up next to you on your new sofa and watch it with you.

They do chores. Even if you do have to (sometimes) ask several times and cajole a bit more, they can still DO the stuff - dishes, garbage, getting the milk from the corner store, laundries, mowing the lawn.

They sleep in. During the summer holidays the house is completely and absolutely silent until 11am. At least.

They are different from you, and that means they introduce you to a lot of stuff that happened in the world that you didn't know about, like Rosalind Franklin.

They generally have fabulous senses of humour, and because they know you really well by now they are able to make you laugh at your own peculiarities. Of which I have many, and which I need to laugh at more often.

When you argue you can use rational explanations to discuss the problem. And when things get too crazy for logic and one of you says something you regret, you can come back later and apologise and forgive.

You no longer have to supervise their personal hygiene.

You pretty much know who they are by now, so you can stop worrying so much about every.little.tiny.thing.that.happens.in.their.school.day. They go to school, they come back, they muddle through like we all do.

You can start to let go of that crippling feeling that people are judging you and that your children are reflections of how good a parent you are. Kids grow up, stuff happens, move on.

They bring their friends over to the house, and these friends are full of energy and life and general good cheer. And they are different from you, in so many different and wonderful ways, so it reminds you how amazing life is. No need to conform, colour your hair pink and wear really thick black eyeliner and study photography and hairdressing and molecular biology and bake cupcakes and live it up.

They are full of surprises, no more predictable milestones that have been written up in boring child development books but truly UNIQUE milestones that are all about the fully rounded individuals they are becoming.

Let the adventure continue!!!!

P.S. At the risk of totally overdoing the "I'm Jewish and don't celebrate Christmas" thing, I did want to link to this great post by a Sydney blogger I love. She sums up my feelings with much more wit and humour than I did, and generally her blog is a great, fun read.

So merry Christmas dear bloggie friends of mine, all my love, Eleanor from your commentbox.

Great article

2010-12-22T07:43:00.003+11:00

One of my favourite writers - Marjorie Ingall - just wrote this article which perfectly summarises what I went through as my kids were growing up.

Only last night, over dinner, 19 year old Miss CB was reminiscing about the strange way I reacted to the "Madeline's Christmas" television episode she loved.

It also reminds me of another writer I adore - Journeymama - who wrote an angry post (well, as angry as I've ever seen the peaceful, gentle, loving Rae) a few years ago after having discovered that someone had told her children about the toothfairy's existence.

The line between truth and fiction is so very thin in childhood, but then that's what makes it so magical.

Quick catch up

2010-12-21T19:54:00.005+11:00

I caught the bus home from the city today and discovered that it was a Christmas bus. This one was even more fabulous than the one photographed for the article, it had twinkling fairy lights in the windows, glittery mistletoe and berry decorations on the tops of the benches, plastic snowflakes hanging from the sparkly streamers which covered every single pole and handle, a fully decorated Christmas tree set up in the luggage compartment with assorted presents, and the green automatic ticket reader had a red skirt on it.

I was the only one on the bus, and I immediately had that totally illogical feeling that everyone waiting outside for their own bus was looking through the window at me and thinking "Look at that Jewish lady sitting on the Christmas bus all by herself, hahahahaha!!"

Then two women popped their heads in and asked the driver if their daughters could hop on to have a quick look even though it wasn't their bus. These two girls were delighted with the bus, and you could tell how happy the driver felt as he watched them admire his handiwork (I had shyly said "Nice decorations" as I got on). As the girls left he gave them each a little rag-doll as a present, how nice was that??!!!

I really enjoyed that bus-trip (40 minutes and I was still grinning as I got off at my stop), which was surprising as I've been quite the Grinch lately. It's just that everybody at the shops, the hairdresser, the doctor, the dry cleaner, the petrol station, the vet... they all want to know how my Christmas preparations are going - "Finished your shopping yet? There's so much to do, isn't there?" and it just really starts to ANNOY ME THAT EVERYBODY TAKES FOR GRANTED THAT I BELIEVE THAT JESUS IS THE MESSIAH AND THE SON OF GOD.

There, I'm sorry. I'm hanging my head in shame. I swore I'd be nice and bite my tongue but I just couldn't help it.

So, as I said, that bus cheered me up.

In other news I have a fab, easy recipe to share with you. To make up for my rant above (oh look, Eleanor used capital letters, oooo, she must be REALLY angry) I'll go so far as to say that this makes a lovely addition to a festive meal, whether you live in the northern or southern hemisphere.

Take some sweet potatoes (you know, the orange kind) and peel them. Then continue using the peeler to peel the entire potato into shavings, arrange the shavings in one layer (as much as possible) on a tray lined with baking paper. Pop into oven at 150 degrees for 15 minutes, now mix them around and return them to the oven and keep moving them around every 5 minutes or so until they magically become crispy sweet potato chips. No oil, no fuss and tastes great with a glass of white on a summer's evening (had that tonight, hence am slightly intoxicated), also fab dipped in guacamole, but imagine they'd be awesome with the full roast meal as the snow softly falls outside.

I got a new sofa and armchair, and yes the delivery-men DID say "You're lucky we managed to get this to you before Christmas, I bet that's a relief" and no I did NOT question their interest in baby Jesus and his connection to my purchases of furniture. Ahem. So what I wanted to tell you was... oh right... this is a very big and exciting decision - to get new furniture for the lounge room, because we had our previous sofa for 16 years, purchased when I was pregnant with Master CB. I dripped breast-milk on that sofa, the kids used it as a trampoline when I was too exhausted to stop them any more, and Master CB peed his pants on that sofa more times than I care to remember. In fact, one end of the sofa was officially called "the pishy corner" and Miss CB would ensure that none of her friends ever sat on it. My mother remembers visiting us and being quite surprised to hear Me, Mister CB and Miss CB all yell in unison to Master CB "Not on the sofa" as he started to settle down for an evening of Wiggles viewing. "Not on the sofa" then became a popular catch-phrase with my parents which they liked to use with each other from time to time, just for a laugh, you know.

Oh, that reminds me of the time that I walked into the house with the kids and discovered that we'd been robbed. So I went back outside and called the Police and they came into the house with me, without thinking about it I placed Master CB on the sofa, and then as I was talking to the policewoman I saw him sitting on the sofa with a wet patch emerging, I let out a shriek and lunged for the sofa and I remember the look of shock on the policewoman's face as she said "Oh no, did you have a secret stash of cash in there?"

Singing the Torah

2010-11-18T20:21:00.004+11:00

I haven't really spoken very much about my nephew's bar-mitzvah. You probably already know that a bar-mitzvah is a celebration of a boy turning 13, and it involves lots of parties and presents. But it's really all about learning how to sing the Torah (which you probably know as the "Old" Testament). The picture above shows what a typical Torah section looks like, what you see are only consonants - no vowels and no musical notes, those you have to know by heart.

In the sentence below the the consonants are in black, vowels red and notes (cantillation) blue:

It's not easy!

In Orthodox communities women are forbidden from singing the Torah in front of men, but they are allowed to sing in front of female-only congregations. There is just such a scene in that series called "Srugim" which I briefly described in a previous post. This scene brings tears of joy to my eyes and encapsulates so much of my love of the Hebrew language and culture, it starts around minute two.

This television series has been coined "No Sex in the City," and "Sex in the Holy City," and that cracks me up. But I tell you what, this series makes SATC look like a tawdry, crass and dumbed down exploitation of the lives of single women. And I'm a huge SATC fan from way back, so go figure.

Things that you can see from there you can't see from here

2010-11-14T20:38:00.012+11:00

Frozen yogurt with fresh figs and halva, best combination ever:

Israeli halva is based on sesame seed paste and usually breaks apart like dreamy fairy floss.

Here is a picture of the best humus I have ever tasted (pronounced with a guttural h - "hoomoos"). My father and I walked around Tel-Aviv and he took me to this tiny restaurant in a back alleyway. The restaurant doesn't even have a name, nor a menu.

This is what it looks like:

This is the chef, greeted fondly by the locals, and working from morning to night in front of this barbecue which he fans occasionally with a newspaper. Best kebabs too, but I ate so fast I didn't get a chance to take a photo. Sorry.

In the mornings, I liked to eat this carob spread on my fresh bread. I had forgotten that carob (haroov) is something I picked from a tree on my way to school when I was eight, you could suck on the sweet pods. As I grew older far away from Israel carob became a weird replacement for chocolate which people bought in health-food stores, how had I forgotten my haroov trees?

I also ate this:

This is a chocolate "yogurt," I use the term loosely, called "Dani" (yes, it's a children's yogurt which has been given a boy's name). The taste of Dani is so intrinsically connected to my childhood that the experience of eating it again was sublime.

I had quite a few salads which had apples cut up into them. Great idea!!

Fresh mint leaves, called "aley na'ana" are superb in fresh lemonade. Also pour boiling water on them and, voila, the best mint tea you'll ever have.

An omelet sandwich people, it's all about omelet sandwiches. They are everywhere you look. Great idea! Make an omelet chik-chak (slang for "quick-smart") and slip it into a pita (you know, the pocket bread). Add some cream-cheese and a slice of tomato and you have the BEST meal ever.

Finally - there is no Starbucks in Israel and my brother says that it's because Israelis don't "get it". They don't get why someone would rush into a cafe, grab a coffee and take it away, even sip it ON THE RUN. Israelis are all about sitting down comfortably and having a REAL breakfast with their coffee - a big salad, cheeses and an omelet sandwich.

The title for this post comes from the famous (in Israel, that is) song by Matti Caspi - songwriter extraordinaire. The translation and transliteration is here.... it is a singalong after all.

Kippa Sruga

2010-11-12T07:50:00.011+11:00

I arrived back home yesterday morning, a whirlwind trip which has left me breathless and horribly jet lagged.

While I gather my thoughts, here is a post I put together before, inspired by the Bnei-Akiva flag-waving ceremony I attended. One of my nieces took part in it, although she explained to me that she actually has no plans to continue attending the meetings of the Youth Movement; my niece is particularly independent and sassy, and she simply wanted to have fun hanging out with her friends during the many rehearsals. Her one complaint about the event was that the Bnei girls have to wear a floor-length dark skirt for the ceremony, she bought one for 15 shekels (5 bucks) and refused to even put it in her closet next to her other (very short) skirts as it was "not worthy."

As I stood on the hill, looking down at the carpark which had temporarily become the Bnei-Akiva stage, I noticed that I was surrounded by kippot srugot - crocheted kippot. In Israel, the type of kippa (skullcap) a man wears defines his religious and political affiliation, and the crocheted kippa usually points to a "Modern Orthodox Zionist." I'm generalising for the sake of explanation here, but that's more or less how it works.

I immediately realised that my crafting friends would love to get a look at what a crocheted kippa looks like, so here are some samples I discovered on the night:

Here are some interesting kippot in the local shop - Metallica, Rolling Stones and Spiderman!

Which brings me to one of the most popular TV shows in Israel titled "Srugim" (the plural of "crocheted" and referring to the Orthodox characters in the show). Fascinating.

It's me!

2010-11-09T06:25:00.006+11:00

Here are three ways of showing a positive reaction to something wonderful that's happening in your life:

Ze mooshlam - "It's perfect"

Ze ahla

Sabbaba

For Tuli

2010-11-07T07:39:00.006+11:00

Tuli wrote in my commentbox:

Dearest Eleanor, I think you need to do videos of the Hebrew Phrase Of The Day. I *think* I'm pronouncing it correctly but I can't be sure!

Tutorial, please!

Cheers,
T

Dear Tuli,

My father was so impressed with your respect for the Hebrew Phrase of the Day that he agreed to provide a brief tutorial for your enjoyment.

Much love,

E x

P.S. Please note that the first "H" is guttural while the second is not. Tricky.

A literary window-frame

2010-11-05T22:33:00.003+11:00

It is so hot today that I haven't actually left the air-conditioned apartment yet, this weather is typical of August rather than November. My nephew's bar-mitzvah festivities start tonight and continue until Sunday night so I need to conserve my energy. I would have offered to help with the last minute preparations but I am well aware that sometimes she who waits also serves. My father brought me back the newspapers and some chocolate babke. Chocolate babke, my old friend, we meet again on the eve of the Sabbath. How Eurolush would love to meet you, but alas, she is far away in a cold land. Oh well, more for me.

Last night I watched the Israeli version of Masterchef, their task was to make a pavlova and I was reduced to hysterical laughter. Apparently the Israeli take on the pav is to cover it in STEWED fruits. How Kim from Allconsuming would have loved to witness their ridiculous concoctions.

So I'm lying here on my comfortable sofa, reading through the paper and I come across the list of the ten top-selling books in the country. Thought you might be interested that out of the ten are three Israeli books, and then translations - two from the English (Harlan Coben and Aleksandar Hemon), German ("Alone in Berlin"), Norway ("Red Breast"), Italian ("The Lonliness of Prime Numbers"), Spanish (Mario Vargas Llosa) and Swedish ("The Girl...Fire"). That list fascinates me.

One of the Hebrew books which stands at number six this week and has remained on the list for the past 17 weeks is written by Sayed Kashua and is called "Second Person", I'm reading it now and really enjoying it. I looked him up to see what else he's written and discovered that he wrote a television show called "Arabic Work" which has been quite popular.

I'm having a wonderful time here in Israel, and now I'm off to shower and get dressed and celebrate my nephew's special day. I shall try to include you in the festivities dear friends.

E x

Haval al hazman

2010-11-05T07:16:00.018+11:00

Please note, the "H" in the Hebrew Phrase Of The Day is pronounced with a guttural clearing of the throat.

Literal translation:

"It's a shame about the time."

Actual meaning:

"What an absolutely awesome time!!!"

Example:

"We went to Neve Tzedek today, what an amazing place, haval al hazman!!"

Most road signs in Israel are in Hebrew, Arabic and English.

Tel-Aviv is not a pretty city, this is a photo I took as we entered the city. This style of apartment building is typical of the entire country, as are the water tanks (each of which is attached to a solar panel).

But I do love the smell, the dirt and the chaos.

We drove by the Mediterranean for a few minutes and arrived at Neve Tzedek - me, Miss CB and my mother, three generations off for a brief adventure. It has been unseasonably hot - 30 degrees today! We took it slow and stayed on the shady sides of the streets.

Very beautiful buildings abound, many of them beautifully restored.

A man inside makes wooden chairs. The shutters are covered in fine sawdust:

A shop which sells only chickpea chips (made in the kitchen next door):

Almost all of the streets are named after famous people, this plaque explains that Shalom Shabazi was "The Zionist poet living in the diaspora of Yemen in the second half of the 17th century." Shabazi the STREET has some awesome cafes, boutiques and a fab bookstore called "A Simple Tale." If you have never read any of S.Y. Agnon's short stories I highly recommend them, many have been translated into English. Agnon is a unique experience.

This is "The Righteous Rabbi Yehuda Street - A kabbalist and exegesist who was the leader of 1500 rabbis who travelled from Poland to Jerusalem in the 17th century."

Citrus and olive trees on the balcony and roof:

The letters decorating this building denote the year in which it was built - 5689 - which is 1928/1929. When you don't believe that Jesus is the Messiah then you don't necessarily start to count your years from the time of his birth.

We stopped at a beautiful restaurant for lunch, and I shall post photos of food, YES, FOOD. But tomorrow. Because I am exhausted!

Off to bed.

E xxxx

Shetihiye bari

2010-11-04T06:58:00.004+11:00

I'm back at the apartment following a lovely family dinner (humus, tehina, pita, chicken kebab). I stupidly forgot to take photos, sorry, I was too busy listening to my brother's stories about the day he and his friends decided to test out whether it was faster to hop onto their bikes, following the swim, with the shoes already clipped onto the bikes, or not. So they put on their full wetsuits and jumped into the local pool and then practiced racing out of the water onto their bikes while one of them timed the whole thing, over and over again. I just kept thinking of what it would feel like to ride without wearing socks, which I still don't understand. My sister-in-law's brother (a gorgeous New Yorker who arrived this afternoon) then described his latest rock-climbing experiences. I countered with a fully detailed account of my latest power-walk up and down my local beach, wearing my sun-lotion and wide-brimmed hat. They were suitably impressed.

I told my parents about your excitement concerning Yiddish and Hebrew phrases. My father feels it would be remiss of me not to immediately teach you this Hebrew phrase:

Shetihiye bari.

Literal translation: "You should be healthy."

Actual meaning in everyday usage: "You should drop dead."

It's a true classic.

Off to bed, more tomorrow.

P.S. It is definitely faster to hop onto the bike which already has the shoes stuck onto the pedals. You're welcome.

Israel - day 1

2010-11-03T21:22:00.006+11:00

Miss CB and I landed in Tel Aviv late last night (that would be Tuesday night Israel time). We made it. Quite a journey for two women who suffer from terrible travel-sickness.

Here we are this morning, posing outside the apartment building in which we'll be staying for the next week. It's an apartment which we're sharing with my parents, a five minute walk from my brother's house.
Behold my brother:

Miss CB and I arrived at his house at 7 this morning and were enjoying breakfast with my sister-in-law, three nieces and nephew when my brother came in looking just like this. He had just returned from a one and a half hour bike ride. My brother and I are pretty much, well, complete opposites. While I spent my childhood hiding in my room and reading, my brother was running, jumping, swimming and generally on the go, non-stop, forever. He's an Ironman several times over and is constantly training for his next Event. He is also an amazing husband to the loveliest and cutest woman, and their four kids are each a gem. A GEM I say!!

Even their dog is awesome.

Behold Oskar (note - with a "K"), he's a Cairn Terrier who reminds me of Eurolush's Tex, only beige and somewhat furrier.

Oskar immediately took a liking to Miss CB as she joined her cousins in working out the daily crossword over breakfast.

I shall try to take photos every day and share my experiences with you. I realise that these photos don't capture what Israel actually looks like from the outside, I'll try to show you the neighbourhood but for the moment it's all about the mishpocha.

One more random thing before I go

2010-11-01T07:14:00.003+11:00

I highly recommend this film (and the trailer for it is great too):

The film's publicity consistently mentioned the screenwriter (the amazing Aaron Sorkin) which is quite something in an industry which hardly ever gives credit to any writers.

Although the story hangs on the lawsuit, it's really our story - the story of people who are living in the age of digital social networks. But now this one particular blogger must finish packing and go on a real trip.

See you on the other side bloggers.

A brief interlude

2010-10-31T23:37:00.003+11:00

I can't sleep, too excited about my upcoming trip, so I'm listening to music on YouTube. You probably remember that one of my favourite movies is "International Velvet," and listening to the theme from the film always makes me happy. So I listened to it here:

And it suddenly occurred to me to see if the composer of this theme wrote any other music for films.

His name, it turns out, is Francis Lai, who knew? And he wrote this as well:

And this:

Fame is such a strange beast, I had never heard his name before. Why?

Monsieur Lai, you have a place in my heart,

love,

Eleanor x

Can you ever go home?

2010-10-31T11:40:00.002+11:00

Tomorrow morning Miss Commentbox and I shall be flying to Israel to celebrate the bar-mitzvah of my brother's son. It'll be a bit of a family reunion as well as a trip down memory lane. My father's Israeli, Mum's American, and I lived in Israel for six years from when I was two until I was eight. So those were formative years in my life, I started school there, learned to read and write and made my first friends and memories. I have very very beautiful memories of my childhood and the nostalgia I feel for those years is immense. I shall not be talking politics in my posts, both because it's so complicated and because I am so ambivalent, also because that's not what this trip is about for me.

To get started here is the song I was listening to way back then - it was a winning entry in the Israeli Children's Music Festival and was THE playground hit that year.

I never thought this day would come

2010-10-29T17:55:00.005+11:00

I never thought the day would come that I'd post about my car. I just don't really notice cars, well I didn't until now. Here is my original "Noddy Car" - a Nissan Pulsar which we bought second hand in 1996. It has served me so very well, but lately the entire dashboard sort of came apart, the turn signal started clicking reallyreallyreally fast, and then just when I got used to it the clicking would be slllllooooowwwwwslllooowwwslllloooww, the lights on the radio stopped working so I couldn't see the buttons at night, and every time we took poor Noddy Car for a service we'd end up spending enough money to buy a new car.

It took me an entire year to agree to purchase a new car, I just had no interest in doing the research and then spending such a huge amount of money. But sometimes it's cheaper to buy a new car than to keep repairing a wreck (sniff, Noddy Car, I still love you). So behold my Honda CRV in Sparkle Grey. I ended up buying the one car I always swore I wouldn't - yep, the kind of car petite blond Eastern Suburbs housewives drive(those of you who live in Sydney, you know what I mean).

Please note that I'm posing in two different pairs of jeans. Yep, I also swore way back when that I would never wear jeans again. How the mighty have fallen.

What do I love most about my new car? Being so high up, the brakes really working, the bluetooth phone system (had to get a new phone for that, my circa 1995 phone wasn't making the grade. Powder blue plastic, if you're wondering), and the CD player. I have never had a CD player (I know it's all about plugging in your iPod, but I'm taking it one step at a time). So I grabbed a CD, which happened to be Jennifer Lopez, I had forgotten I had it, and blasted it as I drove around aimlessly for an hour.

This is the song on the JLo CD which I had forgotten about, oh how I loved this song in 2001. My favourite aerobics instructor at the local gym would play it and teach us a routine. "Get ready for the chorus ladies, and cha-cha-cha."

Oh, and I wore my Dior foundation and new lipstick, and I swear the combination of makeup and new car took a good ten years off my age.

P.S.
Stay tuned, I'm off to attend my nephew's bar-mitzvah in Israel next week, and if all goes well I'll blog about it.

Eternal youth

2010-10-23T22:22:00.003+11:00

Is beauty synonymous with youth?

I've been researching make-up for a project I'm working on at the moment, and it suddenly hit me that the cosmetics industry is geared towards a youth-obsessed marketplace. It's all about looking younger, minimizing wrinkles and age-spots, camouflaging the body's natural ageing process for as long as you can get away with it. How did I not notice this before? I've been living in blissful make-up free isolation apparently.

I suppose I can afford to be so surprised, I'm still in my early forties and I seem to have lucked out by inheriting my mother's wrinkle-free skin, so far anyway. But still, I feel personally offended at the way ad campaigns blatantly target women's biological realities and offer to fix them.

Can I ever be happy with the way I look, naturally, as I age? Or will I always have that nagging thought at the back of my mind that if I only try harder, find the right product, do more, research the options and spend the money...then, I might look more beautiful? I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

Then I read this article in Zoe Foster's wonderful blog (one of my favourite Aussie beauty writers, she's so funny and sweet and adorable and ...um...young). The main point of the article is not at all about the ageing process but one particular phrase really caught my attention:

"And kind of ageing, to be honest"

Blake Lively is 23 years old, and yet even SHE should stay away from colours and styles which make her look old?

Is it possible for a woman to wear lovely make-up which makes her look beautiful but also HER OWN AGE? I'd like to think that when I'm 80 I'll be able to put on lipstick which will suit me rather than one which will make me look younger. Or is that a physical and/ sociological impossibility?

And before I leave you can I just add one quick thing? I've noticed that make-up and beauty blogs are all written by women, about women, and for women. It's women commenting on famous women's make-up and then advising "ordinary" women what make-up is best. This industry has absolutely nothing to do with men. I don't think men notice what make-up women wear, but women do. Case in point, I took it as my professional duty to buy some new make-up, for research purposes you understand, and then experiment with it. Miss CB and I had great fun, and I even went so far as to apply foundation (a Dior sample tube which is exquisite and a perfect match to my skin tone and is therefore to be referred to from now on as the HG). But then I stood in front of Mr. CB and asked him if he could see anything different about my face...ummm.....not really (he said this hesitantly). To further prove my point, I had my eyebrows shaped today and I thought that the difference was remarkably enhancing, but Mr. CB was perplexed, he saw absolutely no difference in my eyebrows whatsoever (he said this hesitantly again).

P.S.
HG is Holy Grail, it took me a while to realise that beauty bloggers who were referring to this were not writing about an actual product called "HG."

French scarf-tying

2010-09-23T08:27:00.003+10:00

Watching this video is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, and style to your wardrobe.

And her method really works too.

I also love her hair, dress and glasses.

And confidence.

And accent.

Venomous Villains

2010-09-21T20:32:00.004+10:00

Wishes do come true - here's the proof:

M.A.C. and Disney have joined forces to create the perfect make-up for me.

The key to wearing this collection is "straight up confidence".

I'm working on it.

From over the fence

2010-09-16T16:42:00.006+10:00

The nanny next door popped by this morning to borrow my kitchen scales. Her two charges (Mr. Man 4 and Missy Moo 3) were at preschool for the day and she had promised them that when they return this afternoon they would make jam together. Because that's just how fabulous Ninny is, because Mr. Man thought it would be nice to make jam for his dad's birthday and decided it should be melon jam, and Ninny did not say "Don't be ridiculous, we'll just make him a lovely card instead," which is certainly what I would have said. So she needed the scales to measure out the melon so it would be all ready for this afternoon's activity. Dear dear Ninny, where were you 14 years ago when I needed you most? Ah, yes, that's right... you were looking after Charlie and Annabelle in their New York penthouse. Of course.

Naturally, I invited Ninny to join me for a cup of tea and a slice of cake and a good old chit-chat. I really wanted her to stay and read me a story and make me Vegemite sandwiches for lunch and put me down for my nap, but she didn't have that much time today. Ninny was, however, delighted to have a little chat and to tell me all about the trouble she has with the very naughty David Tennant. She explained that despite being a great Dr. Who fan, she highly disapproves of Mr. Tennant, and has reprimanded him in writing twice already.

You see, Ninny has a passion for children's books. This is not a general passion for juvenile literature, but a very specific passion for the books which her babies (that's what she says - "my babies" - with a Mary Poppinish sparkle in her clear blue eyes) adore. Mr. Man and Missy Moo are crazy mad in love with all of the Hairy Maclairy books. This is of particular delight to me because it was I who bought them the very first book in the series, and this book has therefore formed a very strong bond between me and Ninny. Books do that sometimes, and apart from anything else it was Hairy Maclairy (from Donaldson's dairy) who first taught my own sweet baby Ms. Commentbox to rhyme, and the day she remembered that Schnitzel von Krum had a very low tum was a particular highlight of my younger mothering years. But I digress.

So Ninny wrote to the Maclairy books' author - Lynley Dodd, telling her how much her babies love her books. Ninny included the cutest photo of the two babies posing sweetly with their books, and a little "thank you picture" they each drew for her. Ninny thinks that Lynley Dodd is wonderful because she replied immediately with a handwritten letter which included the sweetest sketch of Hairy waving his paw and saying hello to the babies. Darling.

Such was Ninny's enthusiasm for this literary bonding that she proceeded to write similar fan letters (together with her babies, who were terribly excited as well) to Lucy Cousins whose Maisy books bring such joy, as well as to Jane O'Connor of Fancy Nancy fame. Maisy's creator wrote back on a Maisy card, Nancy's creator wrote back on the sweetest Fancy Nancy stationery. They are both wonderful authors.

But then, one day, the babies were given a present (not by me, I swear it) of a CD of Hairy Maclary, narrated by David Tennant (it's now on the iPad too, apparently). The babies were so taken by his narration that Ninny thought it would only be right to write immediately to Mr. Tennant so as to tell him how adored he is in this little household in Sydney, Australia. Mr. Man and Missy Moo both dictated short letters of thanks, posed for the photograph and eagerly awaited Mr. Tennant's response.

Several weeks later, to Ninny's delight, an envelope arrived which she opened with great fanfare while watched excitedly by the babies. The envelope contained a small photograph of Mr. Tennant dressed as Dr. Who, with a scribbled signature on the bottom right corner. Ninny was deeply offended. What idiot, she wondered, would receive a fan letter from LITTLE CHILDREN and not realise that a PROPER response was needed, preferably with some understanding of the fact that they were not tiny Dr. Who fans but, in fact, INNOCENT LITTLE CHILDREN WHO LOVE HIS NARRATION OF HAIRY MACLAIRY.

So Ninny sent off another letter, explaining this fact (most politely, of course) and including a stamped self-addressed envelope for ease of return communication. Several months passed with no response. The babies have not forgotten this and still, months and months later, check the mailbox DAILY to see if Mr. Tennant has responded to their fan letters. So Ninny sent a third letter, still polite, but somewhat more.... adament, especially as Missy Moo (particularly heartbroken) has taken to proclaiming that Mr. Tennant is very naughty and rude.

You see, Ninny doesn't only teach her babies to love stories and pictures and make jam from scratch, she also teaches them the importance of going out of your way to thank someone even if they live very far away from you and have no idea who you are.

Ninny admitted to me that she doesn't have a computer and never goes on the Internet, but I must say that her spirit is a blogging spirit of the highest order. As she cheerfully talked and sipped her tea I had the craziest vision of the kind of blog beautiful Ninny could create, how popular she'd be, and how much love and happiness she would spread around the globe. But for the moment, she's all MINE (and the babies' too, naturally).

Studio Ghibli can do no wrong

2010-08-29T10:25:00.003+10:00

Watched "Whisper of the Heart" last night. A film which perfectly captures the struggle a young emerging artist feels upon realising how much more work is still ahead of her. In my perfect Film School, all first year students would watch this on their first day and all teachers would simply say "Let me accompany you, to find the lapis lazuli vein" whenever one of their students would be overcome with fear, exhaustion and helplessness in the ensuing years.

Collections

2010-08-25T08:38:00.003+10:00

I've been collecting a range of different experiences, mentally bookmarking them to share with you in posts.

For example, I have a Jamaican neighbour (at the other end of my street) who has a karaoke machine, and last night as I walked past his house I heard him singing this. Now, he can hardly hold a tune (sh...don't tell him), and I could hardly make out what he was singing other than the lyrics. So I googled the words and of COURSE, Bob Marley, and then I actually realised that I preferred my neighbour's out-of-tune version. I think he lives alone and just sings to himself. Love that.

So now I have decided to challenge myself, and a certain other German blogger. Next time I see my Jamaican singer in the neighbourhood I'm going to ask him if I can come over one day and sing with him. Update to come. And let this be a challenge to Eurolush, who has returned home and is still hiding out in a blogfree zone, to take on the challenge of finally asking her neighbour Hawkman if she can hold his hawk (it's been over two years Lushy, shame). Let the challenge begin I say.

And now to a different topic. One of my favourite writers has actually dedicated an entire post to me. I've been Margie's fan ever since I met her, truth be told...even before I read a word she had written. Around the time she started to write for Sassy I was looking after my newborn Miss Commentbox and I would greedily devour Margie's eloquent say-it-like-it-is articles, dreaming that one day my daughter would read exactly that type of magazine. Turns out Miss CB now reads Frankie, which I also love, and I still claim that some of the Sassiness I consumed during her first year of life came through to her in my breast milk.

Moving right along, I'd now like to discuss my recent interest in makeup. Having worn nothing but sunscreen for years I am on the hunt for some fun items with which to decorate my face. But before any purchases are made I realise that it's really all about the people involved, and I'm referring to the "makeup girls" who smile sweetly, and not so sweetly, from behind their soft lit counters. I have fallen in love with each and every one of them; from the fabulously Goth pixie who helps me find the right eyeliner at the Mac counter, to the bejewelled Russian matriarch in her white Clinique lab coat who insists that brown lipsticks are ageing.

Oh, and by the way, a chic French lady standing next to me at the cash register was buying this. She caught me looking at her and she said in a sing-song voice "You should buy some. I see you are tempted."

Happy

2010-08-22T21:13:00.003+10:00

OK...not sure how it happened that I stopped my "happiness list" at number 2. Honestly, I haven't really been that unhappy, case in point:

Jasper and me at Kim's place which is always filled with allconsuming love and really really good food.

Happy day 2

2010-08-06T21:28:00.003+10:00

Last time I wrote about Japanese animation my friend Yuki mentioned that her favourite Studio Ghibli film is "My Neighbour Totoro." I have to agree with you Yuki, it makes me SO HAPPY. It's the story of two sisters whose mother is sick in hospital, so they spend the summer in the country with their father who teaches Archaeology at the local university. The scene which makes me the happiest is the one in which the two girls are waiting to meet him at the bus-stop with an umbrella, but he's late, and Totoro joins them and waits with them. Oh no, wait, my favourite scene is actually when they catch the bus that's shaped like a cat and it takes them to visit their mother and they sit on the top branch of a tree and look into the hospital window and see her talking with their father. No, no, I've changed my mind...I think my favourite scene is when the lovely old lady who is looking after the little sister brings her to the school where the big sister studies because she won't stop crying, so the little sister joins the class for the rest of the day.

I'll stop now and let you watch the trailer in peace and quiet.

This then doubles my happiness, Totoro making an appearance in Toy Story 3 as an homage to Studio Ghibli. Miyazaki and Lasseter are friends, that makes me so so happy:

Happy tag

2010-08-05T19:05:00.004+10:00

The beautiful Duyvken tagged me, so I'm going to come up with 10 things that make me happy. Thanks Duvvy xxxx

I hope it's still within the rules if I post one thing every day. For ten days in a row I'll post what made me happy on each of the days, all right?

So, here goes....

Today, I was very happy to discover this piece of music:

This music is actually one precious link in an entire necklace of musical happinesses. I first heard this tune on the television programme "In Treatment," which makes me very happy whenever I watch it. This is the story behind the music:

Mia was Paul's patient when she was in her late teens, she returns to him as a patient twenty years later and blames him for a decision she made in her youth. She also claims that he didn't truly care for her when he originally treated her. Paul gets up from his chair, walks towards the stereo and presses the play button - this music comes on. It's a tape which Mia had given him many years ago of her own piano playing, and which he has saved all these years. That scene makes me happy.

Each of Paul's patients has a musical theme, and each one makes me happy. For example, this is Sophie's theme:

April's theme:

Paul's own theme when he visits his own therapist Gina:

Sometimes happiness is soft and thoughtful, with an undertone of a good type of sadness. Today my happiness is like a salted caramel - it's sweeter and better because of the salt.

Back home

2010-07-26T22:06:00.000+10:00

Hello all,

If you're still here reading this blog then it means you knew me back when...you know...back when I used to post regularly.

It took me several weeks to feel "at home" again at home, and I just didn't feel like writing about it. This is a time of big changes in my role as mother/housewife/woman and some days I seem to be completely lost. Miss Cb is working in America for a few months, Master Cb is very independent and happy in his own world of school and friends, and for the first time ever I'm suddenly reminiscing about the "early years" of the family and wondering what exactly my role is in the present years.

I watched this film last week - "Only Yesterday" - and I had the most wonderful cry at the end of it. Such a wonderful feeling to cry at the end of a movie, really it is! I think the Japanese audience especially loves a good cry, and I'm so thankful for that. It's all very well to watch clever, fast-paced, witty or three-dimensional Hollywood films, but sometimes all you want is a good cry.

I love the idea of a woman in her mid-twenties taking along her younger self as she travels to her summer destination. I love the interweaving of the two love narratives - her first love with the school's baseball star and the deep love which she slowly discovers while picking safflowers. And then there are all of the perfect, tiny details which are added in the animation (painstakingly hand-drawn by the wonderful Studio Ghibli) - the father's puff of cigarette smoke, the cat walking past, her glancing at the mirror while talking on the phone, and best of all - the catcher's mitt glimpse when the little girl and little boy agree on their favourite kind of day.

Thought it might brighten your day as well.....

Dinner with a blogging legend

2010-07-06T01:24:00.007+10:00

This is what I looked like as I sat at a table in a wonderful restaurant with EL, bb (and B the lurker, naturally). Lurkers.are.always.with.us.

I only took a break from smiling and laughing so as to eat, that goes without saying though, doesn't it?

Here I am again, smiling and laughing. At one point, bb&EL&B took part in what can only be described as a Funny Competition in which each competed "in the round" with each other, coming up with one-liners in at attempt to outdo each other. Soon, EL had folded (I know. Stamina. She had it not) and oh my but how well did B do against the hysterically funny bb!!! I cannot even begin to imagine what the other diners thought of us. Some very good wine may have been consumed as well, so, you know, it was a very very good night.

Sitting with bb, the wonderfully petite blogging legend who introduced me to EL, and of course to each and every one of you, was indeed a true highlight of my trip.

Ah yes, the miracle of blogging. If blogging was a religion, I'd convert, because it has brought me so much happiness.

I'm now off to the airport to return home.

See you back home.

E xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I win the lottery I will fly each and every one of you to Tuvalu and:

2010-07-05T21:29:00.004+10:00

I will rent out this place every evening. Cocktails and mini-burgers and some wonderful tunes playing on the piano. Then more cocktails, fries dipped in mayonnaise and gushing over the murals. Repeat.

On the very first morning we will convene here, we will take full advantage of the free Wifi and the Reading Room. Although I have no doubt that EL and Coffeelady would end up here.

We'd have breakfast here every single morning. We'd also eat a great deal of the time here, here and here.

We would often find ourselves exhausted - sore throats from talking so much, sore facial muscles from laughing so much etc. So we would have to take a break and relax in these grounds. We would also walk up and down here, especially at sunset.

Free banana pudding every single day...and night....from here, and we'd only eat cupcakes from here. That's a RULE, by the way, because a HUGE amount of research went into this. HUGE.

To be continued......

My Grand Manhattan Adventure

2010-07-03T13:48:00.023+10:00

Long time no post, huh?!!

So... this post will officially start the catch-up. I will tell you where I've travelled, what I've done and who I met in the past three weeks.

But first let me share this photograph with you, this photo which is my all-time favourite out of the many photos taken during my Grand Manhattan Adventure.

No photoshopping was used on this photo, Eurolush truly is that drop-dead gorgeous, cute and lovable. She's everything she is in her blog, but even more witty, clever, funny and AWESOME. If you can imagine! Which I don't have to any more, because I MET her!!!!

Seeing as Eurolush is just so damn fine, she never ever travels without her trusty entourage of lurkers, and indeed she was accompanied this week by her most experienced and professional lurker - the infamous B. True to form, B never left our side...we could always see her out of the corner of our eyes, but then we'd turn around and....poof....nobody there....just some anonymous passerby staring into the window of yet another Cupcake Shop. You know that commentbox you just received on your blog signed by Anonymous? That was B. You know that "follower" who won't let you know who she is? B. You know that reader you imagine...the one who follows the details of your life but never shares anything in return?

B

She is always in disguise.

Spot the lurker:

And now I must come to the reason for my Grand Manhattan Adventure (aka Tuvalu Travels). Do not for one moment think that I was sent here for pleasure. God forbid. Ladies, it was all business, risky business, challenging, and at times, I must admit, exhausting.

There are not many people who can head up the International Cupcake Commission, and it was an absolute honour to have been chosen to be Co-President of said Commission - alongside Eurolush. Our personal assistant B was an ideal choice, she's there....but completely unobtrusive...as all good lurkers are.

Hmmm....not sure...5 points for atmosphere and comfort, 5 for the superlative icing, but the cake itself...hmm.....not...quite...sure....

A second round may be needed for a true and exact judgement call.

Presenting the Cupcake Van, 4 points for cuteness, but lack of freshness and overwhelming diesel fumes left our Co-President unimpressed. And yet still fresh as a daisy and cute as a button:

The judges are ecstatic. The icing is as thick as the cake itself. A grand effort indeed.

Presentation outstanding, the judges are immediately at ease. All is well with the world.

Random photo of me kissing Eurolush.

Just because.

To be continued......the next episode may well include a tiny blackbird, a Chinese restaurant, and several glasses of Sancerre.

Then we shall probably return to the cupcakes, and an Italian restaurant in which we may or may not have waited for an hour and a half at the bar until our table was ready.

A song for you

2010-06-24T23:40:00.000+10:00

Watch my smoke

2010-06-07T09:09:00.002+10:00

Kim at allconsuming reminded me of an old favourite from my teenage years. I can remember the LP record and putting the needle down over and over again on that ridge just before "Let's hear it for the boy." Sigh...

I was also really loving the Fame TV soundtrack. This was a favourite of mine, and if this clip doesn't make you laugh then I don't know what will!!!

Thrilling

2010-06-06T10:10:00.004+10:00

I watched the Coen brothers' "Blood Simple" last night. It's their first film and absolutely fabulous. If you like a really good thriller then I highly recommend it, plus...look how adorably young Frances McDormand is in it. This interview cracks me up:

But it doesn't pass the Bechdel test.

The Bechdel Test

2010-06-05T09:06:00.002+10:00

Something to ponder:

Friday morning

2010-06-04T07:48:00.004+10:00

I've been so busy and anxious lately that I haven't really noticed the wonderful things which have been happening around me. That's no way to live a life. So I went to the bookstore a couple of days ago and bought "Hunting and Gathering" by Anna Gavalda, because I enjoyed her latest book "Consolation" so much. This morning I woke up with a half hour to spare and it was pouring with rain outside so I settled in to reading the last few pages of the book, in bed, with the shutters open so I could look out at the rain. The experience was made doubly wonderful because I knew I had a time limit - Master Cb cannot be late for school.

I should explain here that Anna Gavalda ROCKS the endings of her stories, so I just knew each page of the story would make me feel happier and happier. Then, Mr. Cb (who is addicted to watching the Airbender series every morning while having breakfast) came upstairs during the ad break with a perfect latte made in my orange Grumpy Cafe mug. He placed it on my night-table, and I told him that this very moment was indeed the happiest moment of my entire life. He smiled, kissed me and went back to the Airbender. Then....then....Blue came jingling up the stairs, jumped on the bed and lay down on my feet, and then I read the last five pages of the book while sipping my coffee.

That's all I need. Really, I tell you. That's all I need.

Say yes to the dress

2010-06-03T15:11:00.002+10:00

Miss Cb and I are completely addicted to this show. The combination of family/friend relationships and fashion is, in my opinion, exactly what my writing teachers mean when they say they want life and death stakes and a ticking time bomb in the first 15 pages.

And it's all real life.

Louise Bourgeois

2010-06-01T17:27:00.003+10:00

I just heard that Louise Bourgeois died today, she was 98 years old. That's a long and beautiful life.

I never met Louise Bourgeois, and yet she had a profound effect on my own life. Ten years ago I visited my parents in London; Miss Cb was eight, Master Cb was five, and my parents were eager for me to go off and enjoy myself so that they could spoil the grandchildren. I obliged, with pleasure. One of the places I visited was the Tate Modern, and I was lucky to enough to experience Bourgeois' incredible sculpture entitled "I Do, I Undo, I Redo," a more apt title for my emotional landscape at that time I could not have found. I stood on line and waited patiently at each of the three towers, I walked up the stairs, I sat on the chairs and stared at the giant mirrors, I walked down the stairs and stopped at each tiny sculpture on the way. Louise Bourgeois had somehow managed to physically sculpt my feelings, and I shall be eternally grateful to her for that.

Consolation

2010-05-31T17:36:00.003+10:00

It's been a while since I read a book, it really has. I've been spending most of my time reading scripts and watching films, so when a friend of mine gave me this book and assured me it was "my type" of book I was simply annoyed. But she was right, it is completely and absolutely my type of book and it is exactly what I needed to read this weekend.

I shall link to this article here, which I think does a very good job of describing the many joys hiding between the covers of this book. The joys and treasures are indeed hiding, because the beginning of the story is dark, slow and mysterious. The way to read the first few chapters is to be completely open to the not-knowing, what I mean by this is that you have to almost pretend that you understand the intricacies of characters and plot, go with the flow, and have faith that all will become clear. It all eventually becomes miraculously clear, and then you suddenly feel this tremendous surge of love for life which could only have been created through those final revelations.

It's a story about parenting and mothering which actually, really and truly, I swear, captures that painful struggle and those moments of joy. It's a story which I wish I had read a decade ago because I could have used some of its consolation; then again, reading it now is pretty much damn perfect. So many wonderful scenes at the end of this novel, oh boy, so many smiles I smiled. I don't want to give anything away, but there's a scene with a selection of cookie-cutters that simply kills me, and a story told by a little girl after an architect builds her a play-house, and...all right...I'm not going to say anything else. I'll leave it for you to discover.

Oh my gosh Eleanor's posting photos!!!

2010-05-29T16:21:00.007+10:00

Here is Blue in the library, supervising me as I finish my scene breakdown at 2am. As you can see, he's concerned.

Miss Cb is enjoying her gap year. Before leaving for a trip overseas she is very busy getting the house in order, which includes sorting through Mister Cb's 367 ties which he no longer wears because his office has a very casual dress code. Blue is pleased, yet still somewhat concerned.

Here I am, posing in front of one of Fifilastupenda's artworks, on the opening night of her exhibition last month. I am wearing my "best" glasses and a scarf which I had hoped would allow me to seamlessly blend in amongst the artists. Unfortunately, upon entering the gallery, I immediately began gushing loudly (much to Miss Cb's horror) about the BEAUTY and the JOY of it all, and how jealous Eurolush would be if she knew where I was and "Don't you WISH, with all of your HEART, that all these people drinking wine would disappear so that you could lie down in the middle of the room and look around at the paintings and feel like you are swimming with Fi?"

These are lollies, which Miss Cb just made this afternoon, from SCRATCH. The red are strawberry, purple are rosewater, and they are all about to be placed in a glass jar and presented to her friend tonight as a birthday gift.

Needless to say, Miss Cb is self taught. Her mother was napping at the time.

A couple of experiences

2010-05-28T19:32:00.004+10:00

Here are a couple of my crazy experiences at Film School:

I was invited to attend a meeting between two of the Grad Dip Directing teachers and one of their students. The student was pitching her idea (for a short film), and they all felt that it might be useful to have feedback from a screenwriting student. The student was pitching a very dark story when she was interrupted by her teachers, they felt that the story needed to be much more subversive. The teachers suggested that the characters in her story (teenaged girls) might have sex with each other, or perhaps...cannibalism. At this point I started looking around the room for the candid camera set-up, then I courageously asked what exactly they meant by subversive, they looked at me like I was an idiot. I explained that I knew what it MEANT, but I just didn't understand its use here, in this context...who is the target audience for this film? They answered - Film Festivals, of course, duh. Apparently you won't get a foot in the door to any Film Festival anywhere in the world unless you are subversive. At the end of the meeting they thanked me, and I haven't heard from them since.

My writing teachers are quite the amateur psychologists, and they like to guess why it is each of us chooses a certain genre or theme. My second attempt at a story for a TV pilot involved a detective agency which specialises in debunking supernatural occurrences. My teachers thought it was pretty clear that I had a very strong aversion to the supernatural; I told them that, in fact, I had chosen this topic because I am ambivalent about the supernatural and therefore thought I could be more objective about characterisations and storylines. They were not convinced and felt that I was too close to the premise."Choose something else," they said. The two weeks I had spent laboriously thinking up this story flashed through my head at that moment as a series of moving images - Master Cb with no clean school uniform, no milk or bread in the house, the dog unwalked, my mother's phone messages unanswered, Mister Cb's tentative enquiries as to my wellbeing responded to with sharp shrieks of annoyance, Miss Cb's attempts to help only reminding me that I should be her mother and not the other way around. All this went through my head as they suggested that I "think something new up." The male teacher saw my look of horror and was clearly pondering how best to help me. He then said, "What does your husband do?" Yes.he.did. I responded by laughing. He asked if that offended me. I said that it did indeed offend me. He explained his reasoning - he remembered that I had mentioned that I like "Mad Men," and he thought that perhaps I could use the details I know about my husband's line of work, whatever that may be, to write a similar story to Mad Men. I just kept laughing, really, honestly, I tell you!!! I.KNOW.

Thank goodness for inspiring films, here is the trailer for "Welcome," which I highly recommend:

Where do I begin?

2010-05-26T20:43:00.003+10:00

It's been so long since I posted anything here. How did that happen?

I suppose my daily routine has changed to such an extent that all of my energy has gone into my Film School work. I would love to tell you all that it's been an absolute blast, that I'm writing wonderful plots and scenes and revelling in my new life. Unfortunately, the reality is quite different. Learning the craft of screenwriting is extraordinarily difficult, and while there have been many pleasures and discoveries, there have also been dark moments of despair.

The most wonderful aspect of my new studies is getting to know my fellow writers. They are an interesting bunch, each one unique in his or her own way. It's quite thrilling to read the work of these nine other writers, and to try and understand something of their lives, experiences and motivations. It's true that you cannot ever really hide in your writing, you will always reveal something of yourself, and it is this precious kernel of truth which is what makes both reading and writing so very exciting to me.

Blogging has been my saving grace during the last month, in the sense that my experience of writing and reading in this forum of ours has served as a strong foundation. We (bloggers) take for granted that our only form of communication with each other is through the written word, but it really is a wondrous thing. Perhaps we are too eager to dismiss our writing as a type of indulgent "women's work," when it really is an incredibly powerful force. Not many writers are so lucky as to have such a circle of friends.

Our class of writers has been allocated an Internet "forum" within the Film School website, allowing us to share things with each other. I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that I'm the most frequent contributor. I post my little comments and wait impatiently for responses which seldom come; my fellow writers don't have the same blogging habit as I do. Of course, my fellow writers are also almost all much younger than me; they are busy writing super-cool sci-fi TV episodes or mobster-killer action thrillers. Others try to write about love, bravely attempting sex scenes which make me blush and feel much older than I really am. How did I become so mature and old-fashioned? Well...truth be told I was like this since I was a child...when I was 8 years old and living in Israel I remember going to the tailor to ask her to lengthen my skirt and she laughed and said that I was an old lady in a girl's body.

I have found myself dressing for the young women in my class. What I mean by this is that they notice what I wear and they compliment me, so now I'm conscious of the image I'm projecting. Isn't that funny? They are in their late 20s and wonderfully sweet, such slim figures, such shiny hair and such adorable freshness. A couple of them are newly married and make an effort to ask about my family...my kids. As I talk to them I realise how little they know, how naive they are, and how appropriate that is. I feel my age all of a sudden, and I mean that in a very good way, because I love being 41, and I love having grown-up children and a house of my own. I love that I have lived my life the way I wanted to, with all of the hardships and joys which came my way, and that I no longer look back with any regrets. If this course of study does nothing else, it has at least shown me that.

I'm exhausted, my eyes are closing, it's cold and windy and rainy outside. Time for bed.

I shall leave you with the trailer of the best film I have seen this year (so far). It's a thriller with a LOVE STORY - and ADULT love story which will melt...your...heart.....

Good night dear friends xxxx

Sewjourn

2010-04-28T19:07:00.003+10:00

I'm back from a 3-day craft camp at Sewjourn.

I HAD THE BEST TIME EVER.

THAT'S RIGHT.

EVER.

Quickly hop over to Stompergirl's place, she captured the mood of the camp so very very well...even though she's a terrible cheat at Pictionary. Shocking.

[I promise to return with more details...it's just that I'm all written-out at the moment and have deadlines looming for my class.]

So quick, go visit La Stompa!!!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Someone in Hong Kong bought "How to do your homework without throwing up"

2010-04-17T20:30:00.002+10:00

I've been sitting and staring at this for quite some time now.

Have I got something to tell you!!!!

2010-04-16T22:25:00.003+10:00

Today Ms CB and Master CB did the supermarket shopping for me.

We wrote the shopping list together, then I went to work, and Miss CB drove herself and her brother to the local supermarket.

They did the shopping, drove home, brought the bags into the house and put every single item away where it belongs.

I returned home this evening to find my fridge and pantry fully stocked.

Believe me when I tell you that the happiness I feel in response to this is HUGE.

HUGE I SAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To all the mothers out there who are still in the supermarket HELL stage - yes, I remember it like it was yesterday...the tantrums, the whining, the leaking nappies, the shrieking fits. To all you mothers I say loud and clear THERE IS A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.

That's what I had to tell you.

Good night xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Quirky

2010-04-14T22:56:00.003+10:00

Guess what? I'm starting to finally FINALLY have some fun in my screenwriting course. I immediately knew things were going to start looking up during my latest meeting with my teacher. She said that I was on the right track with my idea for the TV pilot but that I now needed to add something QUIRKY to it. Let the fun begin I say!

Although it's all an exercise (they call it "writing to a brief") the teachers still like to pretend that we are writing something that would theoretically be produced. I have a history of taking my studies much too seriously; I was the girl who sat in the front row of her class, always handed in her homework on time and cried if she thought the teacher was disappointed in her. So when a teacher actually tells me that I need to try very very hard to write something fun and quirky, I realise that I HAVE done the right thing by enrolling in this course, and that I AM making progress.

Any of you like detective fiction? How about detective shows on TV? Were any of you into Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden when you were young? I'm trying my hand at some detective stories, that are quirky, and fun. I just have to be careful not to take it too seriously, because that might really disappoint my teachers.

Quickly running in

2010-04-07T06:48:00.005+10:00

to tell you that all is well with me. I have not succumbed to a dreadful, deep, dark depression about my writing. Well...there might have been a sprinkling of ashes on my head, and maybe even some sackcloth wearing, but the burden of screenwriting is immense I tell you, immense. I suppose it may well be my fate to suffer for my art.

And now, another topic.

The entire Commentbox family watched "How to Train Your Dragon" the other day, and all four of us are in complete agreement that the character of Toothless the dragon is based ABSOLUTELY AND COMPLETELY on our cattledog Blue. We adopted Blue from a doggierescue centre two years ago, and he had been quite badly treated before we met him, so the period of time in which he became used to us did sometimes feel like the training of a dragon. I have now taken to calling him Toothless, although I have yet to attempt to fix his tail so that he can fly. My one criticism of this wonderful film is that it was made too late for me to take my 4 and 7 year old kids to see it. It's not easy talking a 15 year old boy into going to see a PG-rated cartoon, with his parents, and sister, but I did it!!!

Gentle

2010-03-31T19:54:00.004+11:00

Today I experienced a particularly cold, hard fact about the getting of wisdom within the screenwriting industry. In my previous literary studies I never, ever received constructive criticism about "primary creative matter". What I mean by this, I think, is that I was always writing essays ABOUT other writers' creative works, using their texts as the starting point for my logically crafted analyses.

I'm sounding strangely formal, I know, I think it's because I'm trying to remain very calm and objective here.

Continuing....

Today I had to defend my own creative "stuff" while sitting across the table from my teacher who clearly didn't think it had much potential. I tell you, dear friends, it reminded me EXACTLY of the time (years ago) when Master CB's kindie teacher told me that she thought he had violent tendencies because he had taken a soccer ball and purposely popped it with a sharp stick and then jumped on it until all the air came out. I tried to explain that he was obsessed with the properties of air, was constantly asking questions about the invisible "thing" that was always around us. As I continued to defend my son ( a gentler boy you'd be hard-pressed to find) it was clear that the teacher thought I was one of those mothers...you know the one...who can't stand to hear the truth about her son and insists he's an angel. I wasn't that sort of mother, I knew I really wasn't, but just the way she looked at me made me doubt myself, and my son, and my success as a parent, and my...well...my entire reason for living.

I now realise how terribly (and wonderfully) sheltered I have been within our wonderful blogging community. Generally, our comments to each other are so powerfully positive, encouraging and inspiring. In the big bad world, however, commentboxes are filled to the brim with misunderstandings, subjective reactions, superficial generalisations...but, most difficult of all, they are not GENTLE. I am used to gentle, I love gentle. I've spent decades of my life teaching my children GENTLE and striving for gentleness in my life. Today I banged my head against a harsh, impenetrable commentbox until a tiny crack was made. Through that crack I managed, with great difficulty, to post a tiny little scrap of paper and it said on it:
"Please be gentle, I'm a learner." I think the commenter may have already logged off, but you never know, do you?

The Festival of Freedom

2010-03-29T08:04:00.006+11:00

Well, dear friends, we have come to the end of our first "intensive" at Film School (I'm reticent to go into details, but suffice to say, it went very well. Thanks again for the support!). Now we have a few week in which to:

Write the 1st 15 pages of a thriller/rom-com.
Write an outline for the entire first season of a brand-new television drama, and a detailed scene breakdown of its pilot episode.
Write an outline of a feature length screenplay.
Panic. Panic. Panic.

It's at precisely this point that I begin to think that I really would love to:

Do the laundry
Tidy my closet
Reorganise Grandpa's books
Dust Grandpa's books, individually
Begin training for a marathon
Take up a craft
Cook gourmet dinners
Run away

Sadly, I know myself only too well and will soldier on.

It is also the start of Passover tonight, and we will be having our Seder at my parent's place as usual. At times like this I realise that the family depends so very much on my mother's strength, nurture and love of homemaking. I have spent most of my adult life being a homemaker first and foremost, but BEGRUDGINGLY. I've often wondered if my general disdain for my own cooking, decorating, repairing, care-giving, nurturing within the family is a product of my genetic disposition. Perhaps it is due more to the generation into which I was born, one in which women have one foot firmly placed in the home and the other madly hopping up and down in the outer world. It's an exhausting exercise.

Perhaps this is also the reason why all of the protagonists I create for my screenplays are women who are struggling with these issues. Time to create a brand-new Superwoman for the screen, don't you think?

Passover is the festival of freedom, so perhaps I shall try to be a little less hard on myself this year. It's never too late to start.