Challenge 17 - Cartoon Day

Always figured there was nothing to cartoon strips. Couple lines here, couple curves there and a witty one-liner at the end. How hard could it be? I mean, Dilbert toons are hilarious but hardly high art. And haven't we all thought we could draw like that if we really tried?

Well today I did. Try, that is.

The challenge was to design and draw a complete cartoon strip. I figured it would take two hours tops. After four hours my brains started leaking out of my head. Five hours and my back ached and I thought I was going to hurl.

#*%#%&* I CAN'T DRAW EFFING CATS!

Feel better now.

Point is I managed a pencil version and couldn't get time to ink. The children are starting to object to being called Kid 1 and Kid 2 (which once was an endearment and now is a necessity). So instead of finishing the cartoon - which oh god - I just realised doesn't have a name - I apparently have to feed and bath them.

This has happened a few times now, and I'm afraid I have to change the perameters of the quest, challenge, personal exploration, whatever you call it that I have started in order to take care of what's most important: staying out of jail for child neglect. And possibly husband neglect.

So. I shall still complete 365 new things - just not necessarily one every day. The point is, after all, to enrich my own life, not detract from others'.

Challenge 16 - Scout Camp, Part 2

SUNDAY

The morning begins with an announcement by our Fearless Leader that the children will make their own scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast. Logistics are puzzling. One Primus, one fry pan, ten kids, five adults

But no, they're not using a fry pan. They're using plastic bags. Kids instructed to break two eggs and toss some bacon into a small snap lock baggie then put it into a large snap lock baggie. I watch in horror as bags are submerged in boiling water. Don't even mention the health issues - we've just used thirty plastic bags to make breakfast! Feel like suggesting we just hand them each a pack of White Ox tobacco and a Zippo. Breakfast of champions! (And felons).

Express my distaste to Fearless Leader then get to work documenting tragedy that is breakfast. Mmmmmm ... short chain polymers on toast. My favourite! Tastes as good as it sounds or your money back!

Camp packed up and I dispense origami gliders for children. Their looks of joy make the last three minutes of my life worthwhile.

Notice one boy's glider keeps nose diving. 'You okay, little buddy?' I ask. 'You can't make planes for crap,' he says. 'Oh yeah?' I say. 'Well, you throw like a girl.' Child looks mortified. I take off before he tells mummy.

Have three girls in the back on the way home. The noise is stupefying. All I can think about is a frosty beverage, hot shower and a quiet lie down. Maybe some therapy. Toss children and bags out of car and vent for half an hour at partner. Nail of sore thumb keeps catching on things so I Super Glue it shut. Wipe face and corner of mouth sticks together.

Partner examines gluey mishap and smiles. 'Missed a bit,' he says. 'Good one,' I say. 'Now shut up and get me a straw.'

Conclusion: Sometimes there are perfectly sound reasons for not having experienced something. (Good judgment comes to mind ... and self preservation ... foresight ... intelligence ...)

Challenge 15 - Scout Camp: Night of the Zombies

SATURDAY

5am start. No time for coffee - must pack stuff I didn't pack the night before. Shove toast toward bleary-eyed Miss Eight and manage to get out the door only 5mins late.

Forgot Miss Eight's sleeping bag! Do I have time to go back? Does she really need sleeping bag? Will ascetic child reflect badly on parenting skills? Do I really need to answer that?

Scout den: Packing by committee takes as long as you'd expect. People getting grumpy. Finally have three boys in our vehicle and we're off. Very excited!

Confiscate iPod so boys stop shouting at each other. Kid in the middle slaps me in the head with a book and then slaps driver. Whack whack! Tug o' war ensues as I skillfully attempt to confiscate book. Have uncharitable thought about kittens and burlap sacks. Wonder what possessed me to volunteer to look after Other People's Children then I remember - I've never done this before.

Look over shoulder and see Head-slapper doing bubbly spits onto carpet. 'Hey!' I shout. 'What do you think you're-' Head-slapper vomits noisily onto floor. And my bag. And driver's only jacket. Van screeches to halt and we go into damage control. I draw short straw and have to clean up vomit with wet wipes. Boys (like puppies) are facinated by vomit.

Back on the road the smell is palpable. Spend rest of trip with head out window and trying not to touch anything with spew-ey fingers.

Arrive at camp ground and throw bag into bin. Scrub hands til pink and can still smell spew. Amputation becomes viable option.

Erection time! Tents look like origami nightmare. I begin threading a pole through some holes and bending it into upright position. 'That doesn't go there,' says small child. 'Good work,' I say. 'That's one point towards your tent-putting-up badge. Pass me that hammer.'

Stinking hot day: Swim time!

River the colour of mud. Bottom covered in tennis ball sized, slippery rocks. Can there be negative visibility under water? If not this place has set a new benchmark. Kids don't mind at all. Notice a few of them aren't confident swimmers. I call for their attention and give lecture about submerged dangers. 'Don't yawn at me Missy! This is serious!' I jump for a ball and right knee locates the only submerged danger in entire swimming hole. Spend next hour limping around, counting heads and having small panic attacks. The weight of responsibility in a place like this is overwhelming.

That night the children perform Zombie Skit. Kids lurch around in the dark groaning and looking for brains. (Don't look at me kid.) Zombies are picked off one by one by brave little protagonist. He breaks their legs, sets them on fire and brains them with an imaginary rolling pin. Excellent work. Zombie badge for you.

Adults perform skit that has us on our creaky knees shouting, 'Allah akbar! Pray for rain!' about 15 sodding times. I wait to be shot by sniper or struck by lightning - either one is fine by me. Children have no clue what we're doing and lose interest. Someone asks for their money back.

I take my growing sense of dread to bed. Listen to possums raping and pillaging until sleep finally takes me.

Challenge 14 - Balloon Animals

Inspired by Master Three's impending birthday I have decided to be More Amusing. This involves being able to make a giraffe out of balloons, do a magic trick and keep three balls in the air at the same time. There may yet be clown shoes - time will tell.

Bought packet of balloons with instructions. Master Three hangs over my shoulder with the glazed look of a drug fiend. Informs me giraffe is boring and he wants a rabbit.
Then he says he wants lots of rabbits. I tell him mummy need only make two rabbits and nature will take its course. Master Three frowns. 'Lots of rabbits,' he declares.

Instructions say to use medium balloon for body. What's a medium balloon? There are three sizes but two are the same length. Do I use skinny medium or fat medium? Go with fat medium on assumption that skinny medium is in fact small medium. Or something.

Inflate first balloon. Looks remarkably like a perky breast.

Instructions advise blowing small bubble into long balloon and squeezing it toward end. Feel like I am milking a goat. Bubble shoots back to top. Try again.

Catch Master Three sucking on nipple of long medium balloon. Retrieve and attach long balloon to medium balloon. Repeat for front legs. Medium balloon doesn't have a lot of give. Balloon pops. Inflate another and massage to encourage stretchiness.

Ask Master Three to hold balloons. 'I don't wanna hold it!' he says, clamping his eyes shut in anticipation of another pop.

Tie ends, it says. With what? The magic trick I'm going to learn?

Add ears. Oh God. Body maxed out again. Clamp eyes shut and twist. Body holds! I give bunny to Master Three. 'I want a rabbit,' he says. 'It is a rabbit,' I say. 'See his cute little cotton tail?' 'Where's my Monster Truck?' says Master Three and leaves the room.

Show partner bunny. 'Look,' I say. 'I made a rabbit.'
'Glad you told me what it was,' he says.

Scornful laughter drives me on. Giraffe is next.

Draw on face and photograph giraffe in natural habitat to eliminate all doubt. Hmmm ...

Go back inside and poke Master Three with a balloon. 'It's a sword,' I say. 'Gotcha.' Master Three collapses in a fit of giggles. Monster Truck is forgotten. Spend next 1/2 hour chasing eachother around room playing sword fights.

Making fun stuff out of balloons? Nothing to it.

PS: No posts this weekend. Am going camping with Scout group. Shall introduce poppets to improv theatre. Stay tuned!

Challenge 13 - Modern Art Appreciation Day

I always figured 'modern art' was what my kids brought home from pre-school. Time to dispel those myths and broaden my horizons!

Catch train to city. Choose seat amongst Gothic piercing convention and avoid eye contact. Feel something wet seeping through pants and choose not to investigate further. Very decisive so far.

Arrive at museum. I avoid walking under a life-size blue whale making croon-ey whale sounds. Hippie sits on concrete floor under whale, head bowed in concentration. Is he not afraid of whale falling on head??

Arrive at gallery. Man at Information Desk informs me most of the gallery is shut down for installation of new art. I tell him that's fine - for all I know about modern art the lumpy white ceiling could be part of the display, har har. Info man doesn't laugh.

Go in search of something to gaze thoughtfully at. Picture of fruit in a bowl. Food Photography! I'm getting the hang of this.

Ooh! Sparkles! Shiny thing the size of my living room hung on wall. Looks like my mother's mumu from the 70s. Go closer to investigate texture. Security guard stares - probably facinated by size of thumb bandage. I move upstairs.

See ceiling from above. Thousands of bits of A4 paper attached with bulldog clips. Damn! It was art. That being the most interesting thing on display I go back in search of hippie. Want to warn him about whale falling on head.

No hippie - just a gaggle of Japanese tourists photographing gallery #2s's electric door. Could it, too, be art? Have so much to learn! Go into gallery #2 for a look.

Rather fancy the Buddha bust. Definitely art - can tell by goldfish on head.

See catatonic guard sitting in corner. Ask if he ever gets bored. 'Sometimes,' he says. Ever been photographed? 'Yes. When I was in the lift.' Were they Japanese by any chance? 'Actually they were,' he says. Ha! On strength of that I feel safe to assume door is not art, is in fact door.

All the chairs in this place are basic padded boxes. Go into another room and see two lines of wooden chairs in centre. Are they really chairs? Can I sit on them? Feel stupid to have to ask the question but have been caught out once already today. Perplexed guard indicates chairs are in fact chairs. Well, there you go.

Two rooms away I see four chairs fixed to a wall. See?! They have Chair Art! There are dark powers at work today, no doubt about it.

Conclusion: Out of what I've seen today some pieces were unspeakably ugly. Some pointless, some funny. A few were intelligent and engaging (particularly the Brett Whiteley stuff which reminded me of my brother - need to think further on that). Some of it was just plain confounding.

So I've pretty much decided Modern Art is no different from anything else in life. Everybody's opinion is valid if they have taken time to investigate.

Resolve to give Modern Art more of my attention.

Challenge 12 - XYZ

Temperature rising ... Frustration peaking. I know I'm no good at math but this is ridiculous!

Meet the XYZ - if you know anything about cartesian planes in mathematics stop me now. Ha ha ha (Dinner party joke for origami nerds).

But seriously, this little construction has nearly cost me my sanity. Look at picture 15. It is impossible to insert a third completed unit onto the first two. Impossible! Yet that's what the instructions call for!

Being a dutiful citizen I email Author and complain bitterly that because I couldn't finish tonight's project he was forcing me - forcing me - to watch television. Take that, Mr Clever Pants!

Then partner-who-can-pack-car boots-and-read-maps-really-well walks in. I explain my frustration and tell him of my most forceful email to Author.

Partner looks at bits of folded paper and frowns. Looks at diagram. 'Can't do it like that,' he declares.

Pleased with ratification I (once again, forcefully) agree. 'What about this,' he says, and starts to disassemble creative undertakings to date.

I suck in breath. Those folds took me minutes! Tens of minutes! Plus the paper is pretty and if he scrunches it I will deprive him of something serious, like like, buttering toast always to edge!

He begins to reassemble. Suddenly it all makes sense - one must assemble last component ONTO first two completed components!

Resolve to send apology to Mr Clever Pants who wrote book and suggest he include extra instructions for Ladies Who Can't Pack Boots Or Read Maps.

**

On a side note - Could not do origami with children at kindy today. Legacy of Vengeful Duck too scary. Advised by caring workers that next week is a 'go'. By then I shall have mastered Jumping Frog! and Creeping Crab!

Hai!

Challenge 11 - Vengeful Duck

Thumb has gone a weird colour, smells like a wet dog and has no feeling. Could it be ... gangrene?!

My excellent approach to wound care is paying dividends. Can't go to doctor now as have very important interview for pre-prep next year. Been on the waiting list for donkey's and can't afford to lose place.

Decide to call cousin who is health professional. No answer. Next best thing: look up 'gangrene' in The Home Guide To Medical Illnesses. (Wonder what a non-medical illness is?) Ah! Gangrene: Death of tissue caused by gas producing bacteria ... smelly discharge ... fever .. delirium .. death ... Death???

Feel nauseous. Spots of light in vision. Is this a panic attack or the beginning of the end? I have a multi-vitamin and engage yogic breathing.

Onward!

At interview I can't concentrate. Can she smell my thumb? Is flesh eating bacteria grounds for denial? Can I appeal on medical grounds?

After interview I drive immediately to doctor. Doctor looks at thumb and asks how it happened. 'It was a duck,' I reply. 'Mmmm. Poultry,' he says and shakes his head gravely. It's antibiotics and tetanus shot time for Lee.

At Pathology the nurse asks what happened. 'It was a duck,' I reply. As an afterthought I add, 'Bastard.' 'You were attacked?' she asks. 'Other way round,' I say.

So far it's Duck 2, Lee nil. Nurse administers shot. Another nurse comes in. 'You gave her the wrong one,' he says.

Lucky me - I get Whooping Cough for free. Duck 3, Lee nil.

'Side affects?' I ask. 'Sore arm and fever up to 49 degrees,' he says. What?? 'Sorry - 39.' Who are these people? At any moment I expect John Cleese to walk in, snap on a pair of gloves and tell me to bend over.

I escape as fast as I can. The day can't possibly get any worse. Master Three sees balloons at a World Vision stall.

Perfect! Decide to buy Smiles gift card for starving children in Africa. Gangrene and a World Vision donation? That's two new things in one day!

'What would you like?' asks blonde with nice teeth. I rummage through my purse in search of funds. Duck has almost cleaned me out. 'Nothing too big,' I say.

'How about a duck?' she says.

A what? 'Sod that,' I say. ' ... Got any chickens?'