I had such a good time last night, and I’m not just saying that to annoy Husband (though I will be laying it on thick at my nephew’s 10th birthday lunch today). I loved driving solo to the Hunter Valley, without a soundtrack of bickering Sprogs in the back seat or having to play I Spy or 20 Questions. (Or more accurately, listen to Husband play I Spy and 20 Questions with the Sprogs, while making regular snipes about how I could “join in any time I like”.) A minor oversight was forgetting to pack music, but I scrounged a Disco Inferno compilation disc from the glovebox and Blamed It On The Boogie as I sluiced 600ml of Diet Coke through my body (medicinal, to prevent weariness at the wheel) and burned up the bitumen. I loved my former workmate’s art exhibition too (check her out at micheleheibelart.com.au). It was quite the social event, the Swiss consul-general even drove up from Sydney for it (my former workmate being Swiss), which caused a major flutter in the room. The works were totally unexpected and lovely, small life moments scratched on black squares. Naturally, my favourite was the most expensive. Fortunately (for my bank balance) it sold as I was agonising over whether to make a purchase. Then my friend and I pootled across the road to the local Thai restaurant for a serviceable red duck curry and a chat. Finally, I hit the highway home, congratulating myself on an evening well spent. Unfortunately, about 30 minutes into the trip, Paranoid Me and Anxious Me got together – as they tend to late at night – for a debrief on my behaviour at the gallery. They agreed that, as usual, I had talked about myself far too much and listened to others far to little. They were particularly disapproving of the one-woman show I put on for a group of former (young and childless) colleagues about doing canteen duty. Canteen duty. Wince. They suggested it would have been more appropriate, polite and interesting to discuss what my former colleagues were doing with their lives, if only for a few moments before I returned to my favourite subject, me. They conceded they were mildly entertained by my discussion with the mum of an 18-month-old (therefore born in April) about whether she should hold her daughter back a year from kindergarten, one of our chief concerns being whether she’d feel left out when she was 17 and all her 18-year-old friends could go drinking without her. Always top of mind when deciding whether to send your child to school. However, Paranoid Me and Anxious Me’s final verdict was “social death”. And so the rest of the trip was spent flagellating myself about my personal short comings.
TONIGHT’S DINNER: Boring old sausages and mash, with the leftovers turned into sausage curry for Monday night’s dinner.
housegoeshome 
Alana,
You are too hard on yourself. Look at the jobs you held, you”re a high achiever. Now you’re having a breather from corporate world and being a full-time parent. I don’t think I’ve ever played I-spy with my children (well maybe for five minutes). Buy them iPods for use in the car and then you can listen to whatever you want to listen to. A diet of Radio National and News Radio interspersed with your favourite music will keep you well informed so there’s always a topic for social chitchat…you know the G20, Qantas, Parliament, Tennis scores, whatever…none of it really matters. Just be proud of raising two beautiful girls. M xx
It was so lovely to see you Alana and as I saw a few of your former colleagues the day after the event, I can tell you that they all commented on how laid-back you seemed and how well and it was very obvious that they had been genuinely interested to hear about YOU!
I can’t understand that so many people drove so far, just to see my, my, my exhibition … but maybe it all comes down to the fact that we enjoyed the time we worked together and now we can enjoy friendship outside of work, which is quite unexpected and lovely!