The hardest time is how to say goodbye

438 kilometers was all the time that Dad and I had left to spend our time together.....
I know it might seem funny but I think that we both had a touch of disappointment that by sunset we would be back doing exactly what we were doing a week ago. 

Setting off from a not-so-good sleep for Dad due to the volume of bikers and truckers rolling on in; the fact that we were beside the kitchen and possibly that Dad had not shut his window so the cockroaches were putting him off. Rather than having breakfast in "Goondi" we opted to travel about 45 minutes and eat at the best cafe at Inglewood. 

This country town is really were the empire of Brett's began, or at least where the last of the major timber yards is housed. We stopped at the familiar cafe where Dad goes for smoko when he is here and we introduced ourselves to the owner, a lovely lady called "Grandma", chose the special of the day - the savoury mince on toast - which is often the choice of the hungover. She listened with intent when Dad told her that he lived there from 1948 - 50 and lived in the pub, that my Mum worked at the Inglewood hospital for a time when they were courting and that my brother still travels up once every week or two to oversee the timber yard. Funnily the Inglewood pub advertises "Pub Grub" @ "pub grub prices" which is something to note if you are ever passing this way!

 
Off we went to the yard so that Dad could show me the ins and outs of how he has made his livelihood, which is all the many the processes from the cutting of the trees, to the de-barking to the slicing,drying, laminating,  chipping, and packing. Now for a bloke closer to 90 than 80 he was recalling memories as if they were yesterday, his body is far from nimble and his voice no longer booming, but the knowledge was in keeping with a master of his trade.
Comfortable with showing me around the yard and the nitty gritty of how it worked we walked back to the car, programmed home via Toowoomba into the sheila in the car that we must obey, and in 3 hours we were unpacking our goods and chattels in Mum and Dads garage.

I suppose the hardest part of this Blog is the ending, I have spent a week with a man that through my 50 years on this planet I have either admired, feared, loved, hated, avoided, yearned for, wanted approval from, pushed away and this list goes on. None of this I believe is a bad thing, for as we grow as children into adults we  push the boundaries when we feel we can but sometimes it is not when our parents believe we either should/or have the right to do. My father was always a busy man and spent more of his life at work and less at home so for a lot of my life he was an enigma. The one thing that I was sure of was that I was never molly coddled, there was no doubt about his love and that was certain. He would let me stumble but never let me fall, he would stay in "the wings" of my life's performances but I kinda knew that his essence was always watching. 

Now that he is officially old, his tread is not so stable, his footing not so precise and his movements not so nimble; his pride however is as steadfast as the Black Butt trees that have been part of his life and my love for him meant that I would not brandish this at all. Dads role this week was to be my co-pilot, my mentor, the historian on the trip, my role was to be pilot of our vessel, ask for instructions from my navigator and to be close enough to catch him if he fell but NOT to treat him like an invalid, and I believe we fulfilled our roles.

 As the Redwood's roots penetrate into the earth to give strength and support so does the history of my fathers heritage penetrate into all his children his grandchildren and I guess the cousins' at a cellular level. Dad may not be on this planet in a year, or three, or even ten but I will always remember this time with him as one of the most precious times where a father and daughter come together as one.
I love you Dad and I know that you love me too.

Last night in a foreign bed and sad goodbyes

So this morning we got up just a little slower, a little wearier and with a few less brain cells, well me at least. Each morning we tousle on who wakes first, normally I hear Dad move and then try to fall back asleep and most mornings it is true for me too. 7 hours seems to work for us both and today, our second last, had him thinking about our last opportunity to sample the flavors of yesterday's breakfast. 

Off we went thanking the management and staff (as he ALWAYS does) of the Lodge Hotel, whilst checking out any bargains at their garage sale, and back to the Butcher Shop Cafe for more of those mouth watering buttermilk pancakes. The funny thing was that when we entered the shop the same waitress welcomed us and ushered us politely to a table, and was generally appreciative when Dad said how wonderful she was and how clever it was that she knew our order. When paying the bill the owner of the cafe inquired whether Dad liked the meal as much as yesterday, the whole experience from this small country town was engaging and positive.

lunch outside Wee Waa

We said our goodbyes via phone and text to all of the wonderful family in Mudgee with promises that we won't leave it so long between visits next time, and hit the road for our 6 hour and 17 minutes plus 2 small break journey back towards Queensland and home. Dad decided we should take the Newell highway - which most people avoid like the plague, it is renown for flat roads and trucks, lots of trucks and the type that are driven by sleep deprived, caffeine overdosed, mildly paranoid men hungry for good income. They power these metal monsters across Australia and are supposedly  in control of rigs that sway from side to side as they scream along in convoys of 2 to 3 terrifying other motorists, so that it takes the fortitude of Shackleton to pass the mother f***ers. 
But soldier on we did.... going through townships that I have only read about in books or seen on tele-movies, places with names that make me realize why Australia IS Australia. I felt like an observer at an ANZAC day march watching in quiet awe of places (and those who carved their personalities into them) that produced men and women brave and strong enough to live in our hungry landscape. People and buildings belonging to Gulgong, Dunedoo, Mendooran, Coonabarabran, Narrabri, Moree (where we were going to stop till we saw the social skills of the locals),through Boggabilla and finding the "Jolly Swagman Motel" in Goondiwindi.

The hotel is probably quite typical of a 3 star joint in our Rural regional aka country areas, long and flat with a restaurant that serves enormous portions of protein and lashings of mash at ridiculously high prices. We were happy to bring Dad's aged Heggies Riesling to enjoy with the meal but we could have snapped up a noice glass of Fruity Lexia for the same price. The upside of the dinner beside our time together, was the couple who were also staying at the Jolly Swagman and dined at the same time. I am almost certain that many of you reading this have all had the experience to engage in banter across the dining room with other weary travelers,  ours were driving from Victoria to Gladstone to be present prior to and for the birth of their 6th Grandchild. It is funny how when you are in your own environment you wouldn't even look sideways in a restaurant let along say hi, yet after 30 minutes we knew their life stories and they ours.
As if on cue Dad started yawning again, and not because he was disinterested in the evenings stranger exchange, but simply because he had run out of steam. We excused ourselves, wished the imminent grandmother a happy birthday and took off; Dad will undoubtedly be in slumber and me finishing off this Blog and sipping on the cleansing Baileys with ice and saying "Good Night to you all"!!

Day 3 of our adventure

Today comes in two parts primarily because we are back in the spacious town house design of The Lodge formerly known as the Mudgee Valley Hotel Motel but also because we are off to the family dinner aka the Nutting piss up!!

Dad and I had what we agreed was the BEST breakfast ever, both ordering the mouth-watering fluffy flavorsome buttermilk pancakes with fresh seasonal sliced fruit and the local creamy silky yogurt with short sweet hot coffees. This was at the Butcher's cafe on Church street in the heart of town.

After filling tummies and thanking owners we took off to Rylston which is about 40 minutes out of Mudgee to meet up with cousin Brett and his gorgeous partner Jen. Rylston was founded in the mid 1840's and 100 years later Kandos township was developed as the infrastructure of the cement works that created a booming community. The Councellors of Kandos tried to pass a vote to have Rylston burnt to the ground as it was only filled with the ferals of the area but this was quashed (thank god). The cement works have recently closed and now the valuation of the area has skyrocketed as Sydney-ites are streaming up to this quiet haven in the hills.
The tour took us through Brett's furniture business "AdHoc Designs" where he makes fantastic tables, chairs, sideboards, dining tables, bed heads - you name it, and all with recycled timber from Redwood, Cedar, Oregon pine and many types that he and Dad were very familiar with.

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We finished off the afternoon with Yum Cha in one of the oldest buildings in the town which is run by the Historical Society, what a contrast where East meets Aussie. The food was sensational with fresh prawns, other seafood and duck steamed in wantons and served with chili, soy or other Asian flavors and all served up with cold Chinese beer.
Finally back to the house and offering Dad the well needed rest that both his body and mind need. 

Well it's now close to midnight and Dad and I are back in our room chatting about the night of frivolity each sipping on a Bailey's whilst he loads up the next 6 CD's for the journey north tomorrow and I write up this Blog. We left the dining experience standing in my cousin Lucy and her partner Colin's friggin' awesome home made shed singing "That's Amore" by Dean Martin (who is my father) (but that is a TOTALLY different story of my mildly dysfunctional childhood)... downing the 5th or 10th bottle of wine, champas, whisky and 4 hours of mind opening tit-for-tat family stories about our childhood's, my Dad's childhood and what he could recollect most probably his brother's childhood was.What a wonderful time we have when we allow ourselves to fall back into the innocence of our childhood memories and all the laughter that they afford us. 
I don't really know if anyone can match the memories that we can recall whilst sitting around a dining table probably lovingly made my Brett. I love to watch strangers as they hear our stories and see them squirm uncomfortably in their seats whilst we recount the memories of our past. What others may hear and condemn I know as our histrionic past and take at ease, but laugh when re-told which taps on my memory banks. 
Amongst all of the madness of the evening, the fabulous food, local wine, eclectic music and intellectual banter the thing I found most appealing was when Lucy said "Uncle Bill tell me the most interesting thing you know about my father" chirped up by someone asking him to tell us about his world war II memories, and another inquiring about our Grandmother. 
My Dad's eyes lit, not into a light as one would suggest, but as I see him when he is recalling memories of a long time ago. For the rest of the night he was included into the conversation, not as one who says "yes" or "no" but one who is adding spice and dimension to the evening. When he spoke we would hush and take time to listen and all of us learnt more by the opportunity.

We called a cab once the night was closing but not because he was ready for bed. This will be a night that I will remember and in decades. I will recall the music, the soft animal skins on the floor, the rustic yet homely feel of both the building and the time spent with those of my my family that I see so rarely but still am comfortable to I call my own.

Day two in our NSW adventure

Today we woke to a drop in temperature and overcast conditions but this did not deter our spirits and off we went under the ever diligent guidance of the "Sheila" in the car calling out things such as "turn right in 300 meters" or "take the first exit at the round about" or "when possible please do a U turn".

We fueled up on the outskirts of Armidale and then looked for a suitable place to have a truckies breakfast, we were not disappointed when we found the Matilda Servo in a very small country town called Moonbi. I ordered poached eggs after the waitress advised me that the scrambled eggs were microwaved and Dad ordered the Sausages, bacon and eggs, OMFG what came out could have fed a small African country!!

The trip down the New England Highway is actually quite remarkable, there is many changes in the landscape which meant that Dad recited what most of the vegetation was, pines, eucalypts, soft wood, hard wood, where saw mills had been located and logging history from days of yore. As a timber and hardware man for over 60 years of his life I have always treated him as an expert.

We did tousle the idea of turning off at Scone or going down as far as Musclebrook but our lady friend preaching her knowledge from the GPS sent us on a short cut that took us onto dirt road, over winding hills with precipitous fall away edges. Had we not gone this way we would have undoubtedly still debated what way was the quickest but would have missed the two beautiful deer that we met up with on the mountain trek.

Finally we have arrived into Mudgee and spent a few hours with my cousin Brett, had a guided tour of the city and its sprawling urban developments and tried the fine red wines at Botobolar winery. 

 Vintner and good friend of the Nutting clan Kevin showed us some of his best organic  Shiraz, Cab Sav and blends new and aged, and we witnessed some of Brett's amazing carpentry using restoration timber materials which formed many of the tables and chairs at Botobolar. We finished off the afternoon in Mudgee's microbrewery and sampled 4 of their most famous ales and porters.


At last we took the advice of the cabbie and went to a delightful little restaurant called the "Wineglass Bar and Grill"  where we had a glass each of what Mudgee had to offer and some amazing food. Dad plowed through a char-grilled fillet of Kilcoy beef and I had pork belly on a bed of rubarb and cranberry dressing. YUM!!! Hoping to actually do some exercise to work off the calorie loading of the break but it is difficult not to love the time Dad and I are spending together.

Stay tunes to the crazy cousins tomorrow...

Road tripping for a lifetime!

Once in a while you are lucky enough to take advantage from misfortune. Five weeks ago I fell whilst on a morning run and broke a bone in my wrist and tore some ligaments from some other bones. Now as a massage therapist this is a pretty dire event and it has cost me my practice... well for the time being anyway.
Rather than sit back and complain about it I decided that I could take advantage of the time off by doing all the things that I don't ever have time for.

I am pressing through a series of eBooks for therapists' in my industry (but enough about that for the moment) but I decided to use this time wisely and visit my cousins' who live in Mudgee, not alone but with my Dad.
Dad is a lover of traveling, passionate about cars and simply adores our "Great Wide Land" so really a perfect blend for the holiday of a lifetime. Dad is a month off 87 years, and has been quite ill having recently gone through another bout of radiation therapy for that sinister demon of the 20th Century. We are only on this planet for a short time and I invited him to join me on this trip between his treatments.

Dad has driven around Australia twice in this powerful and sturdy Mercedes and many smaller trips to places in Victoria, New South Wales and Queensland so a trip to the rellies in Mudgee was an easy jaunt. We set off with a full tank of petrol, enough lollies to terrify the Australian Diabetes Association and the bar fridge filled with the odd "traveller" and some outstanding white wines from his cellar.
RULES - 1. we have to stop every 2 hours and rotate the driving, no matter where we were.
2. You can drive at whatever speed you feel like, providing you are competent with the conditions, respect the safety of the passengers
and 3. you are prepared to cop the fine.

Well we made it to just outside Warrick and pulled in to a rest stop to enjoy a sip of tea and nibble on the scotch finger biccies he had packed. We chatted about old times when Dad and Mum would drive my eldest sister out to the country, or things we did in Eidsvold as children. Basically we simply enjoyed sitting together in the sun with the noise of semi-trailer trucks has they hurtled past us.
Once the morning smoko was finished we headed back onto the road (with me still behind the wheel) and took off to our next destination - Tenterfield made famous by Peter Allen and the song of his Grandfather Tom the Saddler. Apparently Tenterfield is not only renown for old Tom but also their famous pies which we decided was going to be lunch, grabbing the pastries we headed out to a park and sat in the cool nibbling on what we decided were not-so-famous delights.

With our tummies full we have made the 5 hour journey and stopped into Armidale. If you are ever on the look out for a good place to stay may I recommend "Armidale Pines Hotel" very spacious rooms comfy beds and pillows and a walk away from the White Bull Pub and its hearty portions of succulent steaks and cold beers.

Mum's Lamb Roast!!!!!

I don't know if anyone else can categorically report that they can remember exactly what they ate every week night for their entire schooling experience (less the one term of boarding when our parents deserted us to travel abroad) but all of my closest school friends and my siblings can attest to such a fact. 

Mum had a system and with seven of us in the family and all with various before and after school commitments it meant that the kitchen fare was designed around a roster akin to an army barrack. 

Now don't get me wrong, I am one of the few people I know that had a hot breakfast every morning of my childhood. Great friends like Janet C and Libby J would ask to be included in the Sunday morning waffles and ice-cream or pancakes that would fill happy tummy's and start the Sabbath off "just right".

Each week night we had the same thing - i.e. Monday for 8 years we had steak and mashed potatoes with peas, Thursday night for 8 years we sat to a plate of steak and mashed potatoes with beans, and Tuesday night we were delighted with steak and chips. Now the blessed night of the week was Wednesday when we would sit down as a family to a hearty lamb roast that was so sweet and juicy plated up with vegetables that had been baked so long in the juices of the pan that they had softened, browned and caramelized into something that "Master Chef" gormonds would have yearned for! All this and the jam tart from the bakery near "Siriannis" served hot with an extra creamy ice-cream that was so frozen that it both melted into the pastry and tangy jam tart yet kept cold enough to send shock-waves through our baby teeth.

Tonight was a night that tugged on my heart strings, and at my deeper Limbic memory system eliciting memories of days of yore. My sister, brother, Mum and Dad along with my eldest son Alex sat around the table discussing the pro's and con's of today, my father stopped and asked if "as parents they had been good enough" "was I there enough for you" he asked. At the age of 86 (pushing 87) I expect he is reflectively regarding his own carbon footprint. The way I see it, as parents greatest our greatest asset is our children, and he was measuring up if we were proud of him.

My Mum was explaining to Alex all the wondrous things that they had done through there younger days, some things that she remembered of us kids at a younger age and recounted these vividly to my 26 year old, and a few horrific memories regarding me personally that she needed to share as a way of her own proud parenting.

It was a night that I don't think that I will forget, I night where we were collectively back in "Eltham" our family home, re-living past achievements and challenges. Flip, Bill and I were all absorbing the night in our own way (as family members' are apt to do), all I know is that when asked by my wonderful father if he was strict enough or not strict enough, I looked into his apprehensive gaze with amazement. He and my mother could not have given me a better childhood; were they strict - bloody oath, were they too lenient - well just enough to let us see that they were human. Would I change them for another set - not on "your Nelly". I love them as they are and would not have changed a minute of my life, this is why I am and who I am today!!!

Cross fit life - becomes a way of life or an addiction?

It has been one week since I walked into that warehouse down the road and saw fifty or so fit athletic happy people working out HARD! I decided to try it out and went down Monday night to see what this cross fit is all about. I have looked at some pretty amazing people who have so much strength and power and are tiny pocket rockets. They all have one thing in common, a friendly welcoming disposition that is quite infectious. It took me about 15 minutes to feel at home and to ask for advice if I needed, and by the end of the session I had been invited to the weekend BBQ get together if I was around. Not a common feature in many health clubs I have to say. 

Gotta tell you after that first night and that first hour I walked out again sweaty, exhausted but feeling a sense of inner strength that I didn't think I had. Firstly it is very, VERY professional; I was introduced to one of the owners who was running that nights class and he took me aside and spent 30 minutes instructing me on how to squat, how to swing a kettle bell, how to do modified burpies and then added me to the major cardio component of the class so that I could get a workout; and that I most CERTAINLY did.

I have been back twice more since then and each time felt secure in the safety of my body and yet got workouts that challenged me all the way to the end. At the beginning of each class there is a strength component that you take on at a sensible pace so that you can really load up the equipment to build strength without the fear of injury. After that you do what they call the WOD (workout of the day) a 3 element cardio section that either goes for a time period of say 12 - 18  minutes or you have to complete specific drills and when you finish you call out STOP! Everyone's efforts are recorded on a white board and at the end of the day a photo is taking of this board and the results and loaded up onto the website. You can track your fitness levels at home and see how you are progressing.  

Remember skipping folks? Yes this was day two and doing 100 at a time between a squat series and modified chin ups was a real heart starter... As for last nights box jumps, free floating abdominal crunches and overhead presses - well what can I say. This girl is going for broke and not stopping till all goals are met and all parties are danced at. Why don't you join me down at Burdett Street Albion in one of the sessions, they are on at 5 and 6 am, midday and 5:15 and 6:15 each weekend day and 7 and 8 am on Saturdays. I'll watch out for you and help you in your journey too.