The time of the Robots - Feb 2 - robots
An Alternate Time - Feb 2 - time travel/alt history
Daikaiju - closed
Fables & reflections - now accepting stories
Charm, Beauty & Strangeness - Spec fic relationships, 1 June 2005
Aurealis - now accepting stories (and email subs)
Shadowed Realms - closed to submissions until 1 Feb 2005

Full market list

Sunday 2 January

Lolling galore

Much more lolling occurred today. It was overcast, but we went down to the beach and swam in the stinger enclosure. Every minute we each fancied ourselves feeling a little sting somewhere on our skins. We reassured each other several times that this was psychosomatic, brought on by reading the godawful sign detailing all the horrible kinds of injury and death that various types of stinger can bring you.

We got out and the stinging subsided, so either they were tiny non-injurous ones, or they were indeed pyschosomatic. *Shrug*.

In the afternoon we headed to the Reefhouse Spa for some treatments. We got changed into ridiculously small robes labelled hopefully "one size fits most". I'm NEVER most. I changed back into my beach coverup (black cheesecloth kaftany shirt with cool gold embroidery on it, if you don't mind).

I told them they needed bigger robes and they just shrugged.

This shortcoming was immediately offset by the treatment, plus the fact that the reception guy offered to run and get my hat from where I'd stupidly left it in a nearby cafe. And he did, too! Totally over and above the call of duty, and exactly the kind of no-fuss, no-obsequiousness, top notch thoughtful service I've come to expect at the Reef House.

I had a half an hour spa in bath salts that smelled divine and left my skin very soft, with lemon myrtle skin scrub.. sorry, "exfoliator"... and a gorgy smelling mist to spray on after. During which I ate a champagne-and-wattle-seed sorbet with a long silver spoon.

My, I felt ever so ladida.

Then the attendant laid me on a table thingy, which, heaven oh heaven, had an adjustable bit so your legs don't lie flat. I hate lying flat, or more accurately, my back hates it. I get back ache, owing to my overly curved spine. This table has a leg hill in it that you can have if you want and not if you don't, bliss on a stick.

The beautician barely spoke a word. The room was dark lit by nice smelly candles, lulling me into a stupor. She applied sixteen different kinds of heavenly smelling stuff to my face, massaged my head, hands, arms, neck and shoulders, and generally made me feel like a lump of blubbery relaxy goo.

I met Tony in the verandah afterwards, where we sipped refreshing tea from little china cups and agreed the bazillion bucks we spent on it were totally worth it, then stumbled in a relaxy haze over to the bar, where we poured ourselves a champagne and blobbed blissfully wearing idiotic smiles.

The bar is an honour bar.. you pour yourself whatever you want and sign a chit for it. Some people may cheat but it's probably more than made up for by the savings on staff, and it feels nice, as if you're in someone's home rather than a hotel, though admittedly someone's home who expects you to pay for drinks, where the analogy breaks down alarmingly, but hey, I was doing so well there with it wasn't I, until that part.

Monday 3 January

Ouch

Turns out both Tony and I were badly sunburned yesterday, him way worse than me. We'd bought extra strength suncream but since it was overcast had thought it would be okay not to apply it.

Dumb, dumb dumb. Tony is still as red as a lobster, poor thing. Mine has subsided faster but it still stings a bit. Ouch.

Apulder Sweet on the go, at last!!!

More lolling was had today, but in the afternoon I wrote two new chapters of my fantasy novel Apulder Sweet. I say, writing is SO much easier when you know what you're going to write ahead of time!

I wrote in the Reefhouse restaurant where they were so thrilled by the idea of me writing a blockbuster novel on their premises they let me plug in my laptop ("So inspirational!"). They let me alone in peace, interrupting me only to fetch mango mocktails, oh and once for the chef to have a screaming match with a waitress but that was actually quite entertaining.

Lovely view of the ocean to take my gaze when I needed to think.

Meanwhile Tony went horseriding in what was described as rainforest but apparently wasn't really, though he did admit riding was fun.

Tuesday 4 January

Dreaming well

For years, I've had dreams where I'm in a tall office building, shopping centre, or university, and I'm tring to find my way someplace (out of the building, to a meeting, or to a particular floor). I get in the wrong lifts, or out at the wrong floor, or the lift malfunctions and drops to the ground, or fails to open in the right place, oh yes indeedy, my mind has dreamed up a bazillion ways for me not to get where I'm going.

In these dreams I also often am trying to fly, usually I can fly with no wings required, but in these anxiety dreams not very well, just holding myself up off the ground, or crashing into things or landing where I don't want to land.

Why do I mention this standard, boring type of dream? Well, last night I dreamed that I was in a large hospital and a guy asked me how to get to the Opera House. I said, this way, and led him to a bank of lifts. We got in, they went to the right place, he said thank you and we both got out.

In the Right Place. With No Problems. For the first time ever in my whole life.

Then I grew wings, and flew, and it was easy and there was no accidental falling or failure of flying, I just flew wherever I wanted to go.

Finally, I was in a bookshop and found a beautiful old book covered in leather. Inside it was old fashioned writing in ink pen, and I knew it was valuable. I asked the sales woman how much, she said $10. I said, no no, it must be more, this is a valuable book, and she said, for you it's $10. So I paid her the money and left with the book.

Hmm. The symbolism seems pretty straight forward.

My Book is Working Again.

And I Am Finding My Way.

Hell, I deserve it. I've made little real progress on Apulder Sweet for a year.

Let there be light

I can't stand places that have no decent reading lights in them. What kind of a person has a house you can't read in?

Hotels are the worst offenders. Our room in the Sebel Reef House, so exemplary in many other ways, has two reading lamps, but they are dim and too far away and you can't actually read comfortably with them.

I've stayed in beach houses where you have every creature comfort except lights. To read, you must turn on the glary overhead central light, and even then the sofa is invariably in tthe wrong position to actually read under it, so you either have to throw a bunch of cushions on the floor, drag the sofa over, or whatever.

I like to read when I'm on holiday, is that such a crime?

Dan Brown rules the world

Talking of reading, every second person here is reading Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code, and every third person is reading something either by him or about the Da Vinci Code. I'm not, and I feel awfully left out. But not enough to actually read it.

Tony bought a copy (back at the airport) and started it, pronounced it ordinary, but did finish it.

He said he greatly preferred Kim Wilkins Giants of the Frost.

I do like a man with excellent taste.

Another trivial whinge, this time about pools

Don't think I'm ungrateful. I'm in a fabulous hotel in one of the world's most delightful beach spots.

But.

Not just this hotel, but so many others do this. Pools are hard to get in and out of. Now, probably when I was a teenager I didn't notice, but now, as a person with sadly middle-aged knees, I do.

Note that I only admit to having middle aged knees, not middle aged anything else, you understand. I'm a believer in the fond idea that middle age is ten years older than oneself.

I digress. So, I get scared walking down into spas.. the step is always so big, and there's nothing to hold on to and it's all slippery and hurty. I stepped out of one yesterday and landed on my bum, luckily I didn't sprain or break anything.

The pool is the same, there's one plastic ladder and the steps are so far apart I actually ripped my calf skin open on it. The only other option is to haul yourself up onto the hard slate around the side, something my knees don't like.

End of whinge!

Day trip

Today we hopped into a rental car and drove south past Cairns, then up into the Atherton tablelands. We'd been there a few years ago and didn't like it much, I suspect because we took a less than optimal route and passed way too many termite mounds before reaching the tablelands proper, drove way too far so reached it too late in the day to see very much, and it was raining by the time we got there.

But this time we went the right way, and man the country is so beautiful around there, and the sun was shining brightly.

We headed up a huge mountain range, well huge for Australia anyway. On the way up I found myself thinking, this looks volcanic, with a ring of mountains around flat verdant land. But surely not, Australia hasn't been volcanic for literally Ages, it must be an ancient river gorge. Plus the ring isn't complete.

However it turns out it really was volcanic, which is very cool. Half of the ring of mountains is under the sea now.

Cow cocky under pastel umbrella

Half way up we stopped to admire a view. A guy straight out of central casting, from the "tersely spoken sunbeaten Queensland farmer" section, stood there. He wore the obligatory RM Williams pants, the obligatory RM Williams boots, the obligatory checked short sleeved shirt, the obligatory hairy chest underneath, with the obligatory cow cocky hat perched over his obligatory brown sunlined face. He was only missing a straw between his teeth. I'm certain that in the wet he wears a Drizabone drover's coat.

Cow Cocky (that's farmer, for you non-Aussie readers) was reading the notice on the side of the road, the kind that explains the local attractions and customs (this was an old mule track for silver and tin mining, yadda yadda).

Nothing surprising there, I've seen a dozen like him (stereotypes sometimes happen for a reason).

Except he held a sweet little pastel swirled umbrella opened above his head. Entranced by this sight, I asked Tony to pull over, ostensibly to see the view, but in fact to see more of Cow Cocky.

We got out of the car, staggered under the onslaught of the sun and went up to the notice to read it.

Cow Cocky instantly offered me the umbrella, what a gentleman! Soon I saw why: the sun was so fierce on the notice, which was made of white stone and inlaid with silver lettering, you know the kind? Well the sun was so fierce it had burned away half the lettering and it was impossible to read it because the background colour was white. My eyeballs felt as though they were being seared out of their sockets.

Been going this way for yonks, he said, and never read the notice, funny eh?

All that land up there on the tableland, he said, that was all rainforest in the old days. They cleared the lot. Picture postcard now, he said wistfully. Picture postcard.

I don't think I'll ever again see a Cow Cocky with pastel umbrella. Glad I did that once though.

Millaa Millaa falls

Eventually we reached Millaa Millaa falls, and Tony asked me, did I name my Apulder Sweet heroine after the falls? No, not consciously, but maybe subconsciously, who knows.

It was faintly disapointing there and I felt like a critical meany to think this. I wanted to enjoy it, I really really did. For one thing we drove two hours to get there, and when I say we, I mean Tony did, since driving tires me out too much at any long distance.

Sure, the falls are lovely, the swimming hole looks like something out of a shampoo commercial and it smelled fresh and wonderful.

A fat hopeful catfish - an albino catfish, who ever would have thought? - flicked lazily about the shallows of the perfect little creek leading out of the pool. The creek was laden with sweet smelling white flowers, surrounded by creeper-covered foliage and glassily reflecting the light.

The creek was such a perfect sight that every person there felt obligated to take a photo - it was almost as though an tourist agency's promotional board deliberately created this view, deliberately for that purpose. Even the white flowers were perfectly placed, and just the right amount of them.

Crickets called, the water roared pleasingly into the pool, mist sprayed your face.

It should have been great.

Hot, and No One about

But.

The place was full of tourists. I shouldn't have been surprised, after all we were two ourselves. The thing is, all day long we hadn't seen anyone apart from Mr Cow Cocky as mentioned above. And I mean, No One.

It was hot, damn hot, the temperature people said 32 but it was way hotter than that in the sun, 40C at least, with not a skerrick of wind. Sugar cane, banana trees, rainforest - all stock still, not a breath of air to move anything.

Tractors stood still in the fields, cows and horses stood as if frozen, perhaps hoping that the temperature would fall soon and they could be bothered lowering their heads to the grass to eat, but they couldn't be stuffed moving.

Not a single person was about, not even in the pubs, not on the verandahs. The whole tablelands trip was devoid of people, it was the Marie Celeste tablelands. Like any sensible Far North Queenslander they were inside in the cool, probably drinking beer or sleeping.

Falls disappointment

Then at the falls, 20 yapping tourists, three of them smoking right into the fresh waterfall mist, two bearing beeping digital videocams, several shouting at each other, four of them traipsing so close to us it was uncomfortable, two asking ridiculous questions of the tour guide/ranger, has anyone ever died in this waterhole? Can you swim here? (Two people were in the water). Are there crocodiles here? (Er, not, or no one would be swimming).

"I went in up to my ankles", this man continued, "and it was bloody cold", then put on his socks and shoes and took five minutes to tie up his shoelaces, and yes of course he was wearing shorts.

Nothing actually criminal in any of this, but it just wasn't matching up to my idyllic fantasy. I did paddle about a bit, and it was indeed icy cold, and stony on the bottom to boot. I hopped out again fast.

Blossom goodness

I picked, illegally I'm sure, a beautiful white blossom from the banks of the creek, which smelled totally wonderful. I left it in the car and the whole car was washed with the divine scent of summer.

Paronella park

So we ate our picnic lunch and headed off to a place unpromisingly called Paronella Park. It's a Spanish castle built by this loony guy Paronella in the 30s.

For a start, here's his courtship method. He engages himself to a Spanish chick, then heads off to Far North Queensland, to make his fortune. It takes him 11 years to do this to his satisfaction, after which he heads back to Spain to get his bride.

Funnily enough, she'd already married someone else. As you would, after 11 years!! So, he ups and marries her sister. I guess she was convenient.

Anyway they came back to Australia and built this loony castle in Spanish style with turrets etc, and turned into a recreation centre, with a movie house, cafe, and other attractions.

It burned down a few decades later, and is now owned by other people who've done the grounds up to their original standard, or so they say. More history.

Arriving there at 4pm we were hot and cross. Oh okay, I was hot and cross, Tony was sweet and forebearing. We paid $22 each to get in, Your money refunded in full if not satisfied.

We climbed down the grand staircase, hewn from solid rock, to the foot of the huge falls there, to find the most beautiful swimming hole. A huge, wide, rushing waterfall falling into a wide waterhole. A school of fish hung about the steps into the water, waiting for the tour guide (free tour! you must take the free tour!) to come and feed them crumbs on the hour.

Two eels live in the lake. Don't worry, the woman at the gate said, they're well fed and won't bite you. Oookayyy. Never been bitten by a swimming hole eel but I hear it can be most unpleasant.

After inspecting any floating logs closely to ensure their non-crocodileness, we braved these dangers, to find deliciously cool water, very clean. The fish avoided us, but one two-foot long eel brushed close by - and I mean close, as in 6 inches from my leg, eek! Luckily it showed no interest in my flesh as afternoon tea.

We floated lazily in the pool and told two American tourists about drop bears (live in trees, have nasty claws and teeth, feed on tourists), then reneged on the Aussie code of tourist baiting and revealed the truth ('get it, they only feed on tourists?').

We both got a little bit more sunburned, but it was totally worth it. It was the opposite of the Millaa Millaa falls. Only about 6 people there, and it was so big no one had to bother anyone else.

Beautiful clean fresh water (no crocs! no leeches!), smooth sandy bottom with just a few stones, just cool enough to be refreshing but not icy, beautiful rainforest everywhere, a huge black, white and yellow butterfly flitting over the water, dragonflies, crickets, falling water, creepers over every tree in sight. So heavenly.

We didn't bother looking at the castle or its grounds, since I had had way enough activity for the day by then. (By the time we reached the hotel at the end of the day I was utterly utterly zonked).

Coming out of the park we realised it's possible to reach the same water from the other side, via a small walking track from the village of Mena Bends, without having to pay. If we go there again, we'll do that, since neither of us was especially enamoured of the castle shtick. Though they did serve great macadamia nut ice cream.

Then we drove back up the coast and oh my God, the late afternoon sun slanting over the mountains highlighting the treetops, a little bit of fluffy cloud painted on its side as though someone had carefully considered the best placement and artfully positioned it there, the clarity of the light.. yeah, purple prose. I'll shut up now. It looked gorgeous, just take it from me.

Driving back we noticed a few people braving the outdoors in dribs and drabs, five tractors, a couple of kids actually running down the side of a sugar can field, three guys on a verandah drinking beers.

But that was about it. Not a lotta action. Where do these Queenslanders go in the heat? Maybe they melt.

Wednesday 5 January

This time last year

This time last year I was furiously writing a story for week 2 of Clarion, with a sprained ankle. No wait, that sounded odd, I wasn't writing with the ankle. I had a sprained ankle, and was writing.

It's hard to imagine it was a year ago. So much has happened it feels like four years ago.

I hope Emma and Nathan are doing well there. Nathan texted me to say he'd already written 2700 words by Sunday night, that's day 0. Sheesh.

I'm so glad I did it in 2004. I so wouldn't have been applying this year, and there won't be one in 2006, and who knows what will happen in 2007?

Maybe there'll be another Clarion, maybe there won't. Maybe I would have been able to go, maybe not. This was definitely the right year for me to go.

Sometimes things have a way of working out.

I did more writing today, fleshing out the plot some more and revising two more chapters. Yippee!

Thursday 6 January

Port Douglas

The morning was spent relaxing by the pool, where I met a young talkative nurse who's about to leave for Indonesia to help amputate limbs from tsumani victims.

We drove up to Port Douglas this afternoon and did a spot of shopping. We're mad. Again it was supposedly 33C, but with he humidity it felt 40C and no locals could be seen outside.

Apparently you acclimatise, someone told us. It takes just five years. "After the third year you stop sweating quite so much, and after five you hardly notice the heat any more." Right.

I could barely move. I wasn't sure if it was heat, end of year torpor, the comedown after my annus horribilus, or possibly even day one of my new taking Tamoxifen routine. It did give me a headache.. again not sure which of these factors was the culprit.

I bought a smashing shawl, crocheted black with jewel colour splotches at each junction. Oh dear, described it sounds terrible but really it's very pretty.

Radiotherapy

My radiation burns haven't quite gone yet. The area that was burned is much much smaller, and the burn much shallower, and less sore. It's astonishing how the skin is healing itself. The healed areas are a little too pink but quickly regenerating so you can't see where the original boundary of the burn was. The scar is quickly healing as well. The nurses when they saw my scar said appreciatively, oh, A Dr Coleman scar! He does such neat work doesn't he! For this I am mightily grateful.

I think in a few more days the burn injury will be gone, but it's taking far longer than the two weeks they promised me. So far it's already 16 days since radiotherapy finished and 21 since the main area of breast was treated.

I've been faithfully applying gel, paraffin dressing and wound pads to it every day, but I did go swimming. The doctor warned I might get infected if I did, but I decided tough. I'm on holiday and no way am I going to Palm Cove and not swimming. Instead I applied liberal swabs of Bethadine to it every day and it seems to have done the trick.

Friday 7 January

Home James

Came home today. We upgraded to business using points, but I only realised after saying yes to it that it cost 14000 points EACH. Oh my God.

Still it's damn nice to travel that way. We were tickled when the flight attendant asked if we were on our honeymoon. Awww.

Came home to 350 emails...290 of which were junk.

But one lovely email from Sarah to inform me she's nominated me for a Speculative Literature Foundation Fountain Award. Only publications are allowed to nominate for this one.

My sister Lesley, her husband Patrick, stepson Sean and son Jamie are all here this week, staying until Sunday, and it's lovely to see them all.

Monday 10 January

Dribble

Have you noticed how many people lately say "dribble" instead of "drivel"? It's as though they don't know the word drivel, and mishear it when spoken. For some reason it gives me the shudders every time.

Goo!

A colleague was telling me that he lifted up a poster and underneath it was pristine white wall. The rest of his office wall was dark grey from all the collected bus and car goo that gets spewed out on the road outside, which is a reasonably important main road.

I did the same with a picture in my office and was relieved to see it was much the same colour underneath as the rest of the wall (a nasty off white). The culprit in my colleague's office was apparently an ioniser, which liquefied all the rubbish in the air and coated everything with it.

Ewwwwww.

Getting my immune system working: diet

Now I know it's traditional to begin a health kick in January. I'm not so much starting one as continuing the 'healthier eating' diet I've been on for months due to my illness. I've already lost 10 kilos and I can definitely feel the difference. It mostly shows in my face and waist at the moment.

It involves almost eliminating fried food, not that I ate much of it before, but I did sometimes have crispy duck on the weekend, or crispy chicken for lunch from the Chinese place during the week, and that has been very hard to give up. I've started eating salad for lunch and not having curries or laksas or anything like that, eating more vegies and fruit, and keeping away from chocolate and dessert. Not rocket science really.

I don't believe in fad diets, I want something balanced and healthy because it's not primarily about losing weight, it's mainly about having as healthy a diet as I can. I want less stress on my immune system, and that involves a better diet and a lower weight.

I want to make sure I'm in the surviving 63% after 10 years, not the carking it 37%. Yep, it's as brutal as that, so motivation is not hard to find.

The changes have not been hard to make. There's plenty of delicious food to eat that's not fatty, such as seafood, and trout, and salmon, and caviar, and caprese salad, and mangos. All kinds of things.

It's easier to do when I eat delicious food, so I don't feel deprived. And I don't completely eliminate nice things such as ice cream, or cake, or gins and tonic. That way I don't feel deprived and don't start on the binge/diet cycle which is what got me overweight in the first place.

I still have the occasional piece of chocolate or cake, but only when I am really desperate for it. I have to feel "I really want that", not "that would be nice".

I'm picturing my new figure every day (they say picturing the right result makes a big difference to reaching a goal).

If I'm tempted, I have two motivational words: "bombshell" (that's me, when I reach my weight goal) and "survival" (that's me, after ten years and still on the planet).

Combined with the weight loss I had while eating only salada biscuits during the chemo period, I have lost a total of 10 kilos so far.

Xmas day I had seafood and salad, plus egg & caviar salad which is full of mayonnaise, plus a slice of Xmas pudding with rich cream, plus chocolates and champagne. But apart from that I was pretty restrained the rest of the time. I was delighted today to find I'd lost 2 kilos over the Xmas break. I would have been happy with staying the same, so that's a major woohoo for me.

My aim is to get back to the weight I was in Year 12, that is 70 kilos. I'm not telling what I am now, but (cough), let's just say it's quite a bit more. Okay, it's a lot more (cough cough).

If I keep going at the same rate I am now, I should reach this goal by... *counts on fingers*....early 2006.

I'm also wanting to get fit

Over the last six months I've basically sat on my bum, or actually been lying down, for about 99% of the time. I can hardly walk up the street at a snail's pace without getting puffed and it feels terrible.

So my brother in law Patrick is a personal trainer, and while he was here over the weekend Tony and I asked him for a program to help us get into shape.

My program is as follows:

• 15 minutes of walking with a heart rate of 18-21/10 secs, every day. This will gradually work up to 45 minutes a day over 2-3 months.
• yoga every second day using the DVDs I have
• on the other days, some exercises. I can't do any repetitive exercises involving my right arm due to the risk of lymphodema, so I'm just doing the lower body ones, lunges, stands, and abs. Tony has more for the upper body. These only take 10 minutes for me.

I'm sure that as life gets busy again I won't necessarily do this every day, but even if I do it 3-4 times a week that will make a huge difference, considering at the moment I do almost nothing.

A colleague and I are planning to drive up to Centennial park some lunch times and walk there, since walking around here is not all that pleasant. Starting tomorrow.

What flavour am I?

I am Chocolate Flavoured.

I am sweet and a little bit naughty. I am one of the few clinically proven aphrodisiacs. Sometimes I can seem a little hard, but show warmth and I soon melt.

What flavour are you?

Thursday 11 January

Sad

I've been extremely sad this week, and not feeling much like posting to this blog, working, or anything much. In the last two days I slept a total of four hours. Strangely my eyes are still open and brain is (sort of) functioning.

Predictions

My predictions for this year are as follows, all equally unlikely really:

• Apple will bring out Ipods so tiny you can just tuck one into your earhole permanently
• Every home will have a radio controlled Dalek
• Alexander Downer will come out as a woman
• Paris Hilton will go brunette, and become CEO of the Hilton chain
• Oprah will conduct an interview in which she actually listens to the celebrity's answer
• I will win a Hugo, a Nebula and one of those huge fluffy toys at the Easter show
• People will get so used to seeing porn everywhere that schools start using it to advertise themselves. No one will blink. (I mean, I saw an ad for a porn movie on a huge billboard above Pyrmont Rd the other day, for crying out loud).
• John Howard says something compassionate and means it
• Mark Latham, or whoever is the next Labour leader, will say something inspiring and someone other than his mum pays attention
• People will stop wearing socks with sandals
• Someone will discover the home address of a telemarketer, blast their head off with a shotgun, and no judge can be found who will send them to prison
• Something will be sold in a MacDonald's restaurant that actually tastes good.

Tuesday 18 January

Big weekend

I've been quiet for quite a while, not seeing people, keeping engagements to a minimum. This weekend was a "normal" one, the first since June last year.

Saturday night we went to dinner at a friend's house, who we haven't seen in about three years. We like each other, but for whatever reason don't get together much. They live maybe 15 minutes away. Weird, huh?

Anyway was cool to catch up with them.

On Sunday Chris drove me and Edwina down to Woollongong, the brave soul (4 hours driving! I so owe him a drink), for Cat and Rob's annual SF writing party. It was a cool party, everyone was there. Well of course not *everyone*, but heaps of people I like to catch up with. Terry Dowling was there, and we exchanged our usual banter. I like to keep him well offguard and succeeded brilliantly this time.

Richard Harland and his partner Aileen were there. Richard and I practised our "I'm so glad *you* won the Aurealis Award" smiles, a la the Oscars. We're up against each other in the same category, and when I think about that I'm so chuffed, since a few years back I was in Richard's "how to write spec fic" class. Obviously he did a good job on the class, lol.

A most amusing moment - it was hot, and a mate of Ben P's whose name now escapes me (Daniel maybe?) wanted me to fan his face. I'd brought my fan with me, which is now lost, grrr.

I said okay, if you give me a foot massage in return. Ben goes, "I don't think Tony would like that much". Hysterical. As if a foot massage is some kind of marriage proposal or something.

Groovy to see everyone else, Mark, Ian and Lyn, Justine and Scott, David C, Wendy W and Keenan, Louise K, and heaps of others. Louise took me to task for my review of her story in Agog, where I said it was preposterous. I explained that I meant that the plot was preposterous and despite the fact that in my view  it shouldn't have worked, she totally pulled it off.

Made mental note to be clearer in reviews.

Dalek vs TRex

The highlight of the day for me was the dalek contest. I brought along the remote controlled dalek Tony gave me for Xmas. At some point Cat brought out her remote controlled dinosaur, which some people called Godzilla but I'm pretty sure it wasn't, lacking in spinal spikes and darkness as it did, it was more TRexy.

Anyway, dino and dalek engaged in a battle. I was drawn to the living room by the combined yelling and screaming of about 20 excited people, to find dalek and dino in hot contest. Eventually, they fell into a deep embrace and toppled to the ground together. Modesty prevents me from telling you what happened next. Oh okay, someone put them up again and they had round 2. Which finished the same way.

Chris B took video footage of this (careful, it's 3.5mgs, so broadband users only). It shows an earlier battle I didn't see in which my dalek wins (grins proudly).

Shun Wei Dance Academy

Last night we went to this at the Opera House. The performance was amazing, a mixture of performance art and dance really. I loved the dancing, so fluid, so accomplished. But most of all I loved how the music, lighting, movement and space all integrated so well to form a whole. Few performances manage this. I was aware of the spaces between the dancers to an extraordinary degree.

Amusingly, in front of us were four Americans, tourists I think. One from the Bronx turned around at interval and said, do you get this, or are you just pretending?

Breast goodness

The scar tissue on my right breast from radiation has very nearly healed, pink skin replacing what only a few weeks ago was raw and peeled off. I no longer need to wear dressings, which is a relief.

However, I think it will be a long time before the breast goes back to normal if it ever does. It's tender and a little painful to the touch, even including the areas that weren't operated on.

Great news

Chris B has a story accepted to Daikaiju. Cat and Tracey of Clarionborg fame have been accepted on the Varuna shortlist. Or is it the shortER list, I get so confused with all the Varuna stages. Anyway that's very cool.

On the great news front, I've lost another kilo this week, even though I was a little naughty one day and had a bunch of fried stuff. I literally forgot to do it, had I remembered I would have chosen salad. Seriously!

It was yum, though.. tapas things at my fave restaurant: chorizo, sardines, lavash bread with kataar, and some grilled hoummous cheese, if that's the right spelling. I also had several champagnes on Friday night client drinks, and a bottle of white wine at the party on Sunday, so I must have been very careful the rest of the time though I didn't really notice.

Measured myself and found I have lost 13cm from my bust, 28cm from my waist and 15cm from my hips. Cool.

Sunday 23 January

Breaking news

Chris B took video footage of of the Dalek vs TRex war. (Careful, it's 3.5mgs, so broadband users only).

Clarion visit

I went up to Brisbane this weekend for the Aurealis awards. I'd planned to go anyway before I was nominated, but having been nominated I was glad to be going.

I dropped by the second floor in the afternoon to find Emma and Nathan totally in need of my massagy ministrations. I dispensed one to Ellen and Nike as well since they were there and it seemed the right thing to do.

I can report, dear reader, that the erotic tension levels there are just as high as they were for us last year, though they're all busy denying it, it's palpable.

Also, vicious rumours being put around about the class of 2004 must be rigourously denied. No, there wasn't screaming in the crit room. And no, there was no one sleeping with anyone, at least if they did they were far more discreet than anyone can imagine.

Aurealis awards

It was my first nomination, and I can tell you I was so thrilled to be on that list. Paul Haines won the short horror category, and for about a nanosecond I was disappointed. But that's all. I am proud to be on the list at all and I know that voting for this category was very close, so...well my main achievement this year is staying on the planet, anything else is just icing on the proverbial.

The best thing about it was when my name was read out and there was cheering. Man that felt good.

The cocktail party afterwards was a hoot. The venue was terrible, unlike last year's, the drinks weak and hard to get, the air was humid, the band appalling. But the company was fab. Everyone, well nearly everyone, was there.

It was much fun inducting the innocent (!) young Deb and Tessa into the evil Queen's wicked ways. (That's me, lol). An amusing moment where we clasped arms about each other's shoulders and girded our loins. We did a repeat for Nathan as he happened by, the poor lad will never be the same again.

Stumbled over the river and up far too many steps to the Pancake parlour place. I cannot understand why Visions wants to meet there as often as they seem to, it's a horrible place. Cavernous, full of mock tudor architecture, and truly dreadful pancakes, simultaneously dry and soggy, overly sweet and piled with ghastly accoutrements. Yech.

However, I had a good time being ridiculously over the top with everyone, giggling and being stupid. Have to admit I was nostalgic for last year, and if there's another Clarion must make sure not to hang out with them or perhaps one would become a tragic figure of fun.

Ellen Datlow's koffee klatsch, or is it coffee clatsch?

The event was limited to Aurealis nominees only, and so we all felt very spesh indeed. Ellen is great, natural and helpful. I can't say there was anything worldshakingly new, especially after everything we heard from David G last year, but it was a shot in the arm hearing her say, please submit to me I want your best stories. She also commented that there is no problem with cross-genre in short story writing. And that US editors have no "US only" attitude, in fact they view us as an exotic location, so stories based here are welcome because they feel alien.

She also recommended that we join up with Nightshades bulletin board, which I'm sure I'll do soon.

After lunch with Paul H, Brendan D, Chris B, Wendy W and Grace D by the river, Chris and I went to the massive bookfair and picked up bargains by the handful. I scored a nearly new copy of Margo Lanagan's collection of short stories, one of which one the Golden Aurealis award for bestest story ever in 2004, for a grand $6.

All in all a cool weekend. I can't be bothered uploading the photos I took just now. Will do them soon though.

Un menopaused

I am apparently one of the lucky few for a change. Most women who get menopause from chemo stay that way (about 80%). Mine has reversed itself. This is both sad (meh, periods) and great (woohoo, protection against heart attack, stroke and osteoporosis, no thinning of skin, etc).

A gold star for my body this week. Makes a nice change.

Friday 28 January

Wee, made the big time!

This blog has been mentioned in MAMM magazine, which is about breast cancer. Apparently this is "an excellent blog"! Gee, thanks guys.

Some things that were worse in the old days

**All of these items need the word "mostly" or "usually" in them.

• Kids had no rights. Adults could beat them if they wanted to.
• Children were molested and had no one to talk to. If they did, no one believed them.
• It was believed that "kids just get over it" and many people have lasting hurts because of this.
• No one talked about a lot of important things.
• No meant yes.