Family love

Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse

I’ve just returned from a family holiday down south with The Boy, The German, The Chief, The Drama Queen and my incredibly sprightly 90-year old maternal grandmother The Matriarch. She was particularly entertaining, mainly because of two things 1. She’s feisty and 2. She’s deaf. Together this combination makes for hours of entertainment.

The point of this winter sojourn was to spend some quality family time before the Drama Queen departs on her mission at the beginning of next month. We went sightseeing and shopping, ate plenty of good food and played some seriously vicious rounds of Uno. My favourite conversation of the week was between The Matriarch and The Chief as we were (slowly) making our way down a limestone hillside in Hamelin Bay:

The Matriarch: "Come on old girl - get a move on."

The Chief: "Stop being so rude, or I’ll push you down the hill."

Yeah, it was five-day love-fest!

Edward, my hero

I can’t stand spelling mistakes or grammatical errors or incorrect punctuation or lack legibility in writing. If I ever see any of these - in an email I’ve been sent, in an article I’ve been reading, or (worst of all) in an assessment I’ve been given to mark, I cringe. When I was in school my friends would often pass me notes to forward on to other friends sitting in front of me. I would open the note, pick up a red pen and happily correct any such mistakes inherent in that little piece of highly folded and decorated file paper. I rarely paid attention to their contents. If you’ve seen one “do you like (insert name of schoolyard crush here)? Tick yes or no.” you’ve seen ‘em all.

This obsession has pervaded my adult life. I did get a little lax for a time but taking on teaching and the techno age promptly put an end to that. I refuse to use text speak (c u l8ter? Not if I can help it) and I’ve been known to take forever to scribe a simple text or instant message. I even delete and re-write erroneous errors that I make when updating such menial things as my facebook comment. Yes, I am just that anal. And if you’ve ever had to give up marking an exam paper until you can get a second (and third) opinion to confirm your suspicions about what the student has actually written, you’ll understand my issues with legibility. I have been known to compliment students on their penmanship. Yes, I am just that anal.

My reasoning is this – it’s really not that hard to learn how to accurately communicate in your native language. These little mistakes are often evidence of laziness or apathy and are easily corrected, yet a lot of people just don’t bother. Standards are slipping people, and I won’t be a party to it!

As a result I have found this cartoon to be utterly hilarious. Please excuse the colourful language. Edward is my hero.

It's funny cos it's true!

I found this edition of PhD Comics laugh-out-loud funny. Mainly because I'm sitting at home in my pyjamas at 1:38pm on a Monday wondering if I should have a shower and if I could possibly get away with not washing my hair for one more day. In my defence I was on a roll last night with my PhD and didn't make it to bed until 5:45am this morning. I find that inspiration comes so rarely these days it's best not to interrupt it for menial tasks like showering or sleeping. I'm also working from home today, playing email tennis with my supervisor, so I can fit in some exam marking between the spurts of genius without the distractions that come with shared office spaces. If I'm really motivated I may get around to consuming something other than coffee too!

UPDATE: I've just had a shower, washed my hair, brushed my teeth and had something to eat. It is 5:14pm.

You should visit Broome too!

The view from the plane on the way up. I loved the contrast of the blue sky and the red dirt as we flew over the Kimberley.

We had a mandi or outdoor bathroom at our accomodation. I could see palm trees while taking a shower - it was lovely!

There were frangipanis EVERYWHERE.

The gorgeous blue waters of Cable Beach.

Even the clouds were gorgeous!

The pink sands of Roebuck Bay.

The 'real' reason you need to visit Broome.

The Japanese cemetery. Many of the pearl divers came to Broome from Japan.

Heading up to Gantheaume Point in search of 130 million year old dinosaur footprints.

Alas, the tide was too high. But The Boy had fun adventuring through the rocks.

A beer tasting plate at Matso's Brewery (note: Monsoonal Blonde is a winner!)

Seafood platter at Zander's on Cable Beach. I ate only seafood the whole time I was in Broome - it was just so fresh and good!

A pearl lugger out to sea.

A stunning Cable Beach sunset.

Driftwood in the post-sunset glow.

Camel trains take tourists for sunset walks along the length of Cable Beach.

Leaving an impression in that perfect white sand.

The sunset from the plane window on the journey home.

It was a wonderful wedding...

Our Lady Queen of Peace Cathedral, Broome WA.

Inside the cathedral waiting for the bride to arrive.

The bride's father hands her over to her groom.

Gendered seating - girls in one row, boys in another.

Looking over shoulders.

One of the bridesmaid's bouquets featuring white roses and frangipanis.

The tropical garden at the resort where the reception was held.

The veranda outside the reception room.

Gorgeous fairy lights.

The bride floating through the room.

The food was THE BEST food I've ever had at a reception. Spectacular.

I loved the polished jarrah floors in the reception room.

The beautiful cake with fresh frangipanis and diamantes trailing down the tiers.

Busting a move on the dancefloor.

Back from Broome...

We're back from Broome and it was fantastic! The place is great, the wedding was wonderful and oh my, the sunsets. Such a shame to be back to work...

Positive reinforcement

It's amazing how much some positive reinforcement can lift one's spirits. For the first time in... oh, ever... good things are happening with my PhD. I've been given a $10,000 grant to complete the qualitative component to my study which involves interviewing migrant mothers (in the presence of qualified interpreters) about their pregnancy and childbirth experiences, as well as interviewing several midwives about their experiences dealing with culturally diverse women. It really was just dumb luck that I came to know about this funding opportunity while complaining to a colleague about the lack of money available to PhD students. I've never been so grateful to be a bitcher and moaner.

The colleague who put my project to the funding body told me that he really didn't have to do a lot of work on my behalf, in fact one of the board members joked that she'd pay for my research with her own cheque book. This statement, flippant as it was, has managed to lift an enormous weight from my shoulders. I'm so happy to hear that someone (other than The Boy or my supervisors) believes that what I am doing is worthwhile. Obviously things haven't been going that well for me in regards to my postgraduate career, and I've been questioning my motivation for doing this a lot lately, particularly in light of everything I'm missing out on. Finally, a sign that perhaps I haven't been wasting my time.

So while I'm still in a positive frame of mind The Boy and I are heading for the outback. Actually we have a wedding in Broome on Saturday so we're heading up tomorrow morning and staying until Monday, with a rented car and some rather splendid accommodation. I think it'll be just what I need to refresh me in preparation for the onslaught that will begin when I return. The next 6-18 months are going to be intense, but for the first time in a long time I'm feeling up to the challenge.

Bring it on.

Only in America

If you get a spare minute check out thisiswhyyourefat.com. If, like me, you've had trouble sticking to a diet you may just find your inspiration here. It's alarming, yet intriguing. Kind of like watching a car crash happen before your eyes. I actually believe that a good number of these 'recipes' are admirable, if only for the sheer time and effort the cooks have put into constructing these artery clogging meals. No doubt a good proportion of them were devised by inspired (read: intoxicated) uni students. What I find bizarre is the number of them which aren't drunken concoctions hastily constructed in mum's kitchen at 3am, but have been purchased from established eateries. Seriously, I can't believe you can buy this stuff!

Behold, meatloaf. Not just any meatloaf but meatloaf with a layer of mac and cheese in the middle and wrapped in bacon.

An enormous burger constructed with half a cow, eggs, cheese and using two family sized pizzas as the 'bun'.

Yes, that's right, chocolate cake with fresh grilled bacon sprinkled over the frosting.

What every dining table needs - a meat ship. Constructed from bacon, sausages, pastry, franks and pork mince.

Whole White Castle burgers which have been dipped in batter and deep fried. Why? God knows.

Sticks of mozarella cheese wrapped in bacon and deep fried. Of course.

Four, count 'em, four layers to this cheese and bacon burger. Served with fries. Cos you don't want to walk away feeling only half full.

PS - If you do manage to check out the website perhaps you could solve a puzzle for me. I am absolutley mystified by what passes for cheese in America. Picture after picture shows a bright yellow congealed goo? What the hell is that stuff?

Crossing my fingers and hoping for the best

So the current PhD issue has been resolved. Well, as best it can be. I'm getting data from another source. It's not as up-to-date as the data I wanted but I'm just gonna have to suck it up and deal. I'll have it next week. And the kicker? I could have had it in October last year. Yep, I ran around in circles for 7 months. For nothing. I'm laughing about it, really. Mainly because if I didn't laugh, I'd cry. I'm done crying. So now I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.

On a happier note I have a new macro lens for my camera. I'm still getting used to it and the blur from camera shake due to unsteady hands is really noticeable at times. I'll have to keep practicing steadying myself and revert to my tripod when I need to.

Ever have the feeling...

I have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon which should be attended by myself, one supervisor, one data custodian and one institute big-wig. We're going to see exactly what can be salvaged from my original research proposal, considering all the constraints I now have. Sadly, starting over is not an option. Dammit.

Wish me luck.

Dreaming of Paris...

I've had more bad news to do with my PhD. I was hoping to get data collected between 2000-2006 from one source which could then be linked to data from 2007, thereby giving me the entire data set I originally wanted but at a significantly reduced cost (down from $7683 to $1050). While this is not ideal (it's still a lot of money), its obviously better than the alternative. Sadly, it has been brought to my attention that these two data sources are not currently compatible as they use different codes to identify who is who. When I mentioned this to my friend AL she looked at me with this "well of course they use different codes" expression and said, "Didn't you know that?". I swear she should be my supervisor.

The supervisor with expertise in population level data only realised the incompatibility issue on Tuesday. As a result the first piece of advice I'm going to give any future would-be PhD students is as follows: don't just make sure your supervisors are experts in the general area of your thesis, make sure at least one of them actually has experience with the methodology you're intending to use. And double check it. I was actually approached with my general project already established and therefore assumed that if the institute was wanting to do it, they obviously knew how. Which brings me to my second piece of advice: DO NOT assume anything. Enough said.

So with this continued frustration my mind has been wandering to happier days and more blissful experiences. Walking through the Louvre for days on end, reading the headstones at Père Lachaise, window shopping through endless patisseries, fumbling with a French phrase book, wandering through Monet's beautiful gardens. You've probably guessed by now that I've had an undying urge to jump a plane to Paris where I can do all of these (well, minus Monet's garden of course). However the urges of my heart are being overruled by the sensibleness (is that a word?) of my head and the knowledge that this thesis simply won't write itself. As much as I would like to throw up my arms in defeat, I just can't. I've come this far, I can't turn back now. So in the meantime I'll just have to settle for some wonderful visual inspiration, like these polaroid photographs from danske's photostream. Simply delightful.

In honour of a wonderful woman

Crispy crudites

My maternal family (the only family I really have as my father is an only child) is bi-coastal, with half of the family in Western Australia and the other half in Sydney. When my cousin was married in February the Sydney Crew held a celebration in honour of our Grandmother’s 90th birthday. A few days after the actual event in April, the West Coasters had theirs. We had a family get together with aunts and uncles, cousins, cousins' spouses and kids. It was low key but overflowing with family – just like Grandma wanted it.

Yummy chicken

My father was raised by a single mother in post-war Germany when his biological father, after *ahem* knocking her up, returned to Britain (and his wife). I know, very classy. My Oma (German for Grandma) was tragically killed five years before I was born by a drunk driver. As a result my Grandma is the only Grandmother I’ve ever known and she’s particularly special to me for that reason.

Plenty of bottles

As an evolutionary biologist I have a particular interest in Grandmothers, the assumption being that post-reproductive women often subsidise their daughters and grandchildren. This has certainly been the case for me. I remember being nursed through mumps and chicken pox by my Grandma, being dropped off and picked up from Kindergarten by my Grandma, being taught to make awesome pumpkin scones and fresh lemonade, and spending days, sometimes weeks during school holidays hanging out at my grandparents' old California bungalow in South Perth. I also remember the endless conversations we had when I stayed with her after my Grandfather passed away. I have shared some of the happiest and saddest moments of my life with my Grandma.

The impressive cake

And she’s still a firecracker to this day. My mum and her brothers agree that Grandma was a bit of an authoritarian in her younger days but she’s certainly mellowed with age. Now she’s far less rigid and far more...well...hilarious. Like when she ignores people because she can’t hear them but won’t turn on her hearing aid. Or how she likes to request a wheelchair at the airport because she can clear customs quicker and gets taken to and from the plane (she’s 100% mobile). Or how she’s just blatantly honest about what happens to the human body as its gets older and older. Note to self: don’t eat dried apricots after age 70.

Sparklers with the cake

I look forward to having her confidence. I think that is something that can only come with age and experience. Women my age are so obsessed with body image, and status and having ‘things’. None of which really matters. When I’m on my deathbed am I really going to regret not driving a Porsche or wearing Galliano or living in Dalkieth? I’ll probably be thinking of how lucky I was to be able to teach my grandkids how to make awesome pumpkin scones and fresh lemonade.

The birthday girl

Guess who FINALLY got a copy of Photoshop?

That would be me! Observe...

The Thames

King Street

Point Resolution

Margaret River Cows

Busselton Jetty

Vino

Brighton Beach

University of Western Australia

Matilda Bay

Manchester Cathedral

Perfect sentiment

Came across this via the Perfect Sentiment blog and needless to say it really struck a chord. It's exactly what I needed right now. You can download a printable version here.

Of course

The past month has been somewhat of a blur for me. I’m on suspension from my PhD which sounds like I’ve done something really wrong, but I haven’t. I’ve had more problems with my project to the point that I could no longer watch my scholarship and my time allowance slowly whittle away. I found out in mid-May that the government unit responsible for collating my data hasn’t touched it since the beginning of February because of a miscommunication between me and the person handling my case. Of course they forgot to mention that they had put a hold on my data so my application was just sitting there on someone’s desk being all sad and lonely for 4.5 months. It’s going to take another 3 months to get the data now. Of course.

When I finally got them to start processing my application they came back with the cost estimate I’ve been waiting on for 3 months. There has been a significant change in health dept. policy since I started this nightmare which has seen linked data move to a user-pays system. So while the first lot of data I received in 2006 was free, this lot is not. In fact, this lot has been billed at $7683. To put it in perspective, I have $3000 TOTAL to run my entire study. Over half of that has been spent on statistics programs for my (read: the institute's) computer. Of course.

The strange thing is, my anger and frustration lasted all of 3 minutes. I think I’ve finally resigned myself to the fact that it’s all just par for the course on this journey. Of course someone completely misunderstood me, of course they didn’t bother to tell me there was a hold on my data, of course it’s going to take another 3 months to get it, of course it’s going to cost me an arm and a leg. Of course, of course, of course.

So I decided to suspend. This basically puts my scholarship and my PhD on hold until a time when I’m in a position to resume (i.e. a time when I actually have some data to analyse). It’s also allowed me to do a lot of teaching, which sadly hasn’t been as fulfilling this semester as it usually is. My classes are up and down and I’ve been filling in for others at times, covering classes where I’ve not met the students before. First year students in particular tend to be a little shy around unfamiliar faces. I’ve also been looking for ways to come up with the money for my research. On a positive note I may be able to get the data from elsewhere for a much reduced cost (about $1000), on a negative note the cost estimate for the qualitative study has come in at just under $10,000. Of course.

Today I got an email from the health dept. asking where the confidentiality agreement for one of my supervisors is. I had arranged this late last year and had assumed that it had been signed and forwarded in due time. Apparently not. In the meantime she has taken off for greener pastures and doesn’t actually work for the university anymore. I had been told that it had taken so long for the aforementioned data application to be forwarded to the health dept. because of all the paperwork this person had to sign, and other important people had to co-sign. Now I find out that paperwork never made it to the health dept. anyway. This isn’t the first time that paperwork I’ve organised has been lost somewhere along the chain of command. Clearly there’s a black hole at my university with a propensity to eat paperwork related solely to my PhD. Of course.

So at the moment I’m a little down on my study and on my supervisors. One has disappeared on long service leave until next semester, the other is, sadly, nowhere near as familiar with this type of research as she had led me to believe she was. And the third has now completely moved on. I understand that issues arise and research is highly unpredictable but I can’t help feeling that if this project wasn’t going to be achievable, someone should have said something a lot sooner. This project wasn’t my idea and I have struggled to put my own mark on it. I can’t help but think that if I actually manage to finish this PhD, it’ll be a damn miracle. Of course.