going to Hel...

I have had plenty of nicknames in my time. Just to name the ones I remember:

Chark
Twinkle Toes
Cluffy
Cluffy's Sister
Helga
Helgs
Hel Bel
Hels Bells

I am sure you are getting the picture. That top one there... that's my dad's name for me. He has called me Chark from before my memories even begin. Just like going through phases of grief, I have gone through phases of owning that nickname.

First I owned it. It was MY name and there was nothing wrong with it at all. As I grew and became more aware of others, I realised that the name "Chark" didn't fall into the normal category of names. It was something to be ashamed of. I secretly prayed that dad would not call me by my nickname in front of my school friends. If the subject of nicknames came up, I would lower my head and if called upon to give my name I would mutter that I didn't have one.

Highschool brought with it a feeling of less embarrassment and more pride. I still didn't want the name to be divulged to anyone unless it was on my terms but I was more willing to tell others my unusual name.

Now in my old age and wisdom I am able to own it again. It is not often that I hear it, but when dad calls after me "see you later, chark" I feel a certain warmth and fondness.

My current nickname that I use online is more of a mistake than anything else. I named our blog Dal, Hel and Bel because I thought it sounded cute. As a default Blogger decided to give me the same nickame - Dal, Hel & Bel. In my blogging ignorance I didn't change it. I didn't realise I could have a different nickname. Until someone mentioned that she didn't know whether she should call me Dal, Hel or Bel or Hels Bels. In a panic I deleted the Dal and Bel and I became Hel.

I have been called Hel many times before in my life and I have to admit it doesn't bother me so much. But now having American in-laws and friends has made me aware the if I added another 'L' to my nickname I would be offending at least half of them on a regular basis.

Every time I post a comment and the comment box asks for my name, I hold my breath, type those three little letters and say a little prayer in the hopes that no one will take me to task on my name. I use it because people (all three of you) recognise that nickname.

So in the interest of less offending names, if I were to change my nickname what do you think is a good name? (please note I said LESS offensive!)

stepping out of my corner

I was reading Heather at the EO's post. She told me to head over to Elizabeth Esther's blog and join in with the Saturday Evening Blog Post.

I am not usually one to join in with blogging social events, just because I like my little dark blog corner and I am content and comfortable with how things are. But this particular post is suggesting I link to my favourite post of September. I actually HAVE a favourite post this month, so I thought I would give it a go.

Click here if you want to see my favourite post. And go on over to Elizabeth Esther's blog if you have a favourite post and want to share it with random people.

thinking it over

I think a lot.

I think while I am shaving my legs. I think while I lay in bed waiting for sleep to take over. I think as I am doing the business that should be private but never is once you have children. I am prone to interrupting my daily routine to blankly stare into nothing while I think.

I may stare at a wall envisioning the grandeur of a project that may never leave the dark recesses of my mind. My eyes may be closed in an effort to lull my body to sleep but my thoughts reveal in great detail grand designs. Dal is barraged with life's deep questions at the very moment he slides from awake to semi-consciousness. Many tasks that are started go by the wayside as I think of more efficient ways of doing them. Often I will think in blog posts. My laundry is no longer a chore but a very interesting post about separating colours. The image in the mirror is not seen while I brush my teeth and talk of many subjects that are important to me.

But put me in front of a computer with my blogger dashboard on the screen and you could hear your own echo bounce around my skull. I sit and struggle with my lack of thoughts, willing those ideas that were once plentiful to poke their heads around the corner and just give me a hello.

I sit still, wanting you to know that I think of important issues ALL. THE. TIME. I need you to know that I have an opinion on politics. I am willing to share my insights with you, but they are never there when I need them. My views on religion are beautiful and simple. I take my thoughts on motherhood quite seriously.

And yet, whenever I have these thoughts I am never quite in a position to tell them to you. And like the bubble floating through the air and popping, so do my thoughts and ideas. Although unlike bubbles they usually come back to haunt me as soon as I close the laptop.

So instead of grand ideas, spiritual thoughts and deep philosophies, I give you....

my naked child.

And then I poke fun at her (she ran around the basement after this photo, trying to avoid being clothed). And I like it. Because although I would like you to think that I have a brain, I don't really. And naked photos make me giggle.

Family Prayer Time

This is how family prayer time at the Petersen house looks.

Bunny Bear has become a permanent fixture in most of the daily tasks performed by LQ

Closing her eyes means gouging them out with her little fingers

Chinny, Chin Chin

To the extra under my chin that I can see coming,

Please go away. You look like you want to take over the role of my regular chin. I wont allow it. My regular chin does NOT need an understudy.

Yes, my regular chin has been performing since the beginning of the drama entitled "Helen", but he is not worn out yet and will not be for many years to come. Your coming has been premature in the worst sense.

I don't understand why you have appeared so early on in this production. You are such a titchy little thing at the moment, but if I don't address this problem I know that sooner, rather than later, you will overtake the entire production and just make it plain ugly.

So, Mr Extra Chin, I implore you to leave us be for the moment. We will call you when my regular chin starts to get tired. Until that time, go harass someone with a well chiseled chin.

Cordially yours,
Hel (and her ONE chin)

P.S. you can take those ugly little black hairs that suddenly appeared to. They are just as unwelcome as you are

I can tell that we are gonna be friends

LQ has found a best friend. She calls her "bibby". When bibby comes over to play there is excitement and chaos. LQ jumps up and down waiting for bibby, her mum and little brother to come up the stairs.

And then the intensive play session begins. I love that LQ enjoys playing with someone else so much. It also helps that bibby's mum and I get along so well.

Of course I couldn't get a photo of the two of them looking at the camera at the same time.

The amount of mess on the floor directly relates to the amount of fun they have had.

Exhibition LQ

LQ has become quite the exhibitionist recently.

She has become aware of the fact that mummy has "boobies" and loves to point any woman out with the same. As we walked down a street in the CBD last week a small poster board advertising a bikini came into view. The young woman modeling the bikini had a nice toned stomach and beautiful skin. LQ quickly put two and two together and proudly smiled up at me as she announced "MUMMY!" while pointing at the nicely toned bikini clad model. Only in my dreams.

Here are a few photos of LQ showing her boobies.
Look how happy she is - I hope this ends before she becomes an adolescent

and for the coup de grace

It is finished

I have finally finished the crib bumper that I have been making for my little nephew for the past month.

Little nephew is still cooking, so the hiccups in my sewing (looking for house, moving and getting sick) didn't stress me as much as they would if he were already here. Please admire and tell me how wonderful I am.

and we return to our regular programming

Outside

My dead arm woke me up. I know that I have slept too long, but I can't hear any pitter patter of small puffy feet. Grandma must have let me sleep and taken LQ when she woke from her nap.

I LOVE Grandma.

I lay on the bed staring out the window waiting for my whole body to wake up. As I look at the wind shaking the trees I think about how much I am going to miss having the live-in grandma. My mind begins to wander to other subjects - how much fabric will I REALLY need to make a Mickey Mouse silhouette head board. Important subjects like that are a continuous stream when my mind isn't otherwise occupied.

I am interrupted mid thought by a scene passing my window. It is a familiar but beautiful scene that only takes a moment to unfold.

Grandma comes into sight carrying shovel in one hand and plastic bag in the other. The chickens must have been invading the human's territory again and left poo deposits up and down the driveway. An old dog slowly follows behind. In her younger years this sunset coloured dog would not have allowed such a befowlment on her master's property. Those chickens would have known who was head animal and may have even had their numbers depleted (if they knew what was good for them... grrrowl). Now the old dog's biggest worry is choosing a sunspot that will soothe her aching arthritic bones.

Lurching, stumbling, half-jogging behind the old dog arrives LQ. Her butterfly gumboots especially purchased for ambling around the grandparents five acres hinder her progress somewhat. LQ's mastery of the boots is coming along but she still manages to appear tipsy as she walks past the window.

The three - Grandma, Old Dog and LQ - amble single file along the path through the unkempt garden. This has become a familiar routine over this past winter month. As the sun tentatively and quickly shows what it is really capable of, Grandma will announce it is time for outside. Gumboots, beanie and puffy vest are donned in an excited flurry. LQ is heard to pronounce "'side?!" (outside) several times. Then it is on to pottering, gardening, piggy-backing ("Hang On!") and old dog chasing.

The flashing scene outside my window reminds me that these lazy days will soon come to end. I quickly capture the memory framing it in my mind. The framed memory will be used later when I lament days gone by when toes and cheeks were chubbier and life was all about being outside.

Purely Update (and maybe a little bit of whining)

This post is nothing more than an update on what the Dal, Hel and Bel's are doing with themselves. I guess most of my posts are so I am not sure why I am so apologetic about this one....

We have been in Hobart living with my parents for just under a month now. While we are so appreciative of their hospitality and love being able to spend time with them, we are both (Dal and Hel) now ready to move into a place of our own.

It has been two whole months since we left Sydney and it has been over seven months since we have actually lived with OUR stuff. Our stuff doesn't amount to much when you look at it all packed in a 20 foot container. In fact it doesn't even fill a 20 foot container, but it is still our stuff and I long for my own cookware. I desperately want to curl up on our ugly brown couch and watch our dirty little television while LQ plays with her two enormous boxes of toys.

I want to go to the bathroom and leave the door open. I want LQ to sleep in a different bedroom to Dal and I. I want to be a home maker again instead of a holiday maker.

Cross your fingers and pray that this third place that we have applied for will be the one.

But after all's said and done, you know I will want to spend most of my time back here at mum's place... I'll just have my own place to retreat to once I have had enough.

One named Peter, One named Paul

Two little Dicky birds sitting on the car
Amused by their own reflections - I guess these birds don't see much of their reflections on account of the sun being behind a cloud most of the day

It was so cute how they sat there twittering and playing with the window. So cute in fact that I had to take a closer look.

Oh RAH-EEEALLL CUTE!!

Since when did we start preparing food on the chairs?

You have heard many times that Love is the universal language. Regardless of your language barriers, if you are in love you will get by.

True enough sentiment if you like being misunderstood by every other person in your lover's life.

When Dal and I first met all was well with the world. We got along famously and we both spoke english. What a coup! Love is blind and maybe deaf as well, because I can't remember having any issues with difference in speech or language in those beginnings. I dare say Dal noticed many differences but just bit his tongue and endured the little nuances in my language.

It wasn't until I moved down to Orem, Utah to date Dal properly that I even suspected that Australian's and American's spoke a little differently.

I had the opportunity to help a friend out by answering a few phones and during this time I realised that a lot of people couldn't understand me. And for heavens sake .... how DO you pronounce Orem? Is it Oh-rem, Oar-rem, O-rem? I lost the count on the times my friend had to correct my pronunciation of that wonderful little city. I am STILL completely confused about it's pronunciation - all because I have been corrected so many times.

It was so difficult for me to pronounce Orem the correct way because I had to speak like an American to get it right. Those hard 'R's ' get me every time. So in an effort to help those poor unsuspecting souls on the phone and protect my sanity, I began to slightly change inflections and important 'R's' in my speech. Oh, it's alright - I didn't change my accent, because that is one way people remembered me. But my accent became more... mixed. It was not only my accent that change ever so slightly. Certain words came into my vocabulary that I would not have otherwise used.

I call it my "Amestralia Language". I continue to perfect this bastardisation of the two languages every time I visit the Land of the Free.

Admittedly, I still get a few things wrong.

"Ju-Ju! Would you mind passing the hairdryer out to me. I think it is there in the bathroom with you on the bench!" I am yelling through the bathroom door to my youngest sister-in-law.

There is silence.

"It's a COUNTER sweetheart! She's not going to know what you mean," shouts Dal from down the hall.

"Oh... Sorry! I mean the COUNTER." Immediately I am rewarded with a hairdryer.


"Um... I guess we could use the bench to cut these vegetables." A perfectly reasonable suggestion to me until those around me start looking confusedly outside at the bench.

Yes... I call both a chair and a counter top the same thing. Only occasionally - and now only in Australia.

Love Note to a Virgin

Oh Virgin Airlines how I love thee, let me count the ways

1. the ease with which you check me in sets my heart aflutter. be it on international or domestic flights.
2. I love your international flight and personal entertainment systems. The constant Playhouse Disney for LQ, the ever ready solitaire for mindless time passing, and your interactive games that I can beat Dal with.
3. Your baggage check through at the international airport made me dizzy with pleasure. The added bonus of free shuttle to the domestic airport had me thinking you are too good to be true.
4. Even though your domestic airline didn't have a flight to Hobart for some time after we arrived in sydney, your lounge service went above and beyond my wildest expectations.
5. How could I have known you would refresh me with your lovely showers, entertain LQ with your enormous theatre room while we stretched out on your long luxurious theatre seats.
6. If my house is not available, you, Virgin Lounge are my number one choice.
7. I love you friendly and helpful staff - constant with their friendliness and helpfulness. I depend on your friendliness.
8. I love your domestic flights with their better snack choices than other airlines and once again you provide me with personal entertainment.

My dearest Virgin Airlines please never leave me in my hour of flying. You are my favourite and always will be... until I am able to fly business class.

P.S. Richard Branson, even though you are a complete toolbag, I may be in love with you for creating the Virgin brand. I said MAYBE!!

Back to Oz

We are about to leave for our LOOOOOONG journey back to Australia. We have a six hour stopover in Sydney while we wait for the other flight to Hobart.

Each time we come to visit Dal's family, leaving gets harder. I get closer and more attached to everyone. This makes for a really hard time leaving. I know that if Dal's mom starts to cry, I definitely will - so this is my plan. I am not going to make eye contact with anyone for the next 20 minutes. Once we are out the door I should be fine.

Of course at the same time I am excited to be seeing my family again. Such swinging emotions should NOT be experienced at the same time.