At the cricket, Boxing Day 2011

A highlight of Christmasses spent in Victoria is a trip to the Boxing Day test at the MCG. Pete and I love our test cricket, and this is our biennial experience par excellence.

We arrived early yesterday:



and to our surprise all seats, even general admission, were allocated. Fans of Big Bang Theory may laugh with us when we say that we've found "our spot" at the MCG - at least for watching cricket! And no, I won't give you those seat numbers :)

Sometimes we take a radio to the cricket; yesterday was not one of those days. This leaves you free to form your own firmly held opinions, unfettered by experience, expertise or perhaps even external validity. For example, I thought Ponting's panache as he took possession of the pitch highlighted Cowan and Warner's lack of confidence earlier - but it should probably be noted that my husband disagrees. Having no expert to settle the dispute either way, we could bicker about it for one and a half sessions ... and enjoyed doing so.

Warner's first four and six were highlights of the first session. At first, I felt frustrated by Cowan's low run rate, but as time went on I came to admire his "stickability". We were both quite excited when Ponting came to the crease:

and watched his dismissal with sadness, knowing this may be the last time we see him play live. I feel irrationally responsible for this, having turned to my husband and said "If he can just hold on for another 13 minutes until teatime ..." seconds before he was out, caught by Laxman, bowled Yadav. Other highlights included Gambhir's fielding (which I hope the commentators paid homage to), Dhoni's wicket keeping and, of course, Yadav's bowling, which we hadn't seen before.

I love being at the game and watching the fielding team's rhythm of attention: the way the their focus gathers, and dispels, during each delivery cycle.

The day was quite cold and drizzly until after lunch. We left part way through the third session, not wanting to be two tired individuals amidst tens of thousands at the Richmond station after stumps, so we missed seeing yesterday's two controversial dismissals live. Also - with my vampire-pale skin - I was probably the only person at the MCG getting sunburnt yesterday morning, despite SPF 30+ sunscreen and full shade! So when the sun came out, that was time for us to retire:

Pete and I have a knack for attracting interesting people at the cricket. Two years ago, a drunken man - who'd already been expelled from the ground for invading the pitch - settled beside us for a while, to our discomfort. The sight of police officers sent him running again. This year, we enjoyed listening to a father introducing his two sons to the joys of test cricket. Given the age gap between father and sons, we suspect a second wife in the background! However, it must be said his patience, discipline and love were a joy to hear. The younger of these boys provided the inspiration for this little list of more productive uses which could be made of those inflatable clapper things:

1. Re-create the soundscape from Fleetwood Mac's Tusk
2. Lumbar spine support against the rigid MCG seats
3. Paper-bag style breathing techniques faced with the fear of an Australian disgraceful defeat
4. ... let's face it, anything which doesn't involve loud noises near my ears, or dislodging the clip from my hair.

Cricket's on the TV and radio now, and in two years, we'll be back at the Gee again. Bring it on!

Oops: I'm being irrational

My favourite thing today? That sudden 'clunk' in your mind, as you realize you've left the rational behind and are acting on some other sphere ...

For me, this moment came when I was on the phone to CityLink* trying to sort out a complicated story involving me, deposits made into my CitiLink account, and an alarming Final Notice which had just arrived in the mail. Having been cut off by Optus** mid-way through a conversation with a quite-nice-seeming person called Jessica, I was explaining the whole sorry business again to a not-quite-so-nice person called Ben, when I suddenly burst into tears.

So while part of me is attempting to conclude this important conversation through tears, snot and Kleenex***, another part is asking - "What's going on? Get a grip! Oh boy are you being irrational right now! Shouldn't you be embarrassed? Yep ... here it comes: embarrassment!"

Thankfully, one small part of my brain had retained its grip on reality and was able to reassert control: "OK, so you're crying. Big deal. Ben doesn't know who you are. Come on, sweetheart, just pull yourself together. That's the way!" This same small part of my brain toyed with bribing me back into good behaviour with Green and Black's chocolate****, but rejected the idea in the interests of health. (No, I lie: it was because I'd have had to go to the shop to get some, and I couldn't be bothered, what with the snot and the Kleenex and everything.)

Anyway, I stopped crying, Ben and I were able to wrestle the overdue business under control, we parted on good terms and I am left sitting here, asking: "What the ...?" and wishing I were one of those people who would quite happily dose themselves into vegetation with Valium*****.

What am I taking away from this little story? I think it's time for the Catie-equivalent of "a Bex and a good lie-down", which for me today means "a cup of tea and re-watching the last season's finale of Dr Who".******

Irrationality: part of being human.

Yippee.



* The corporation who allow us to drive on 'their' roads in exchange for our money
** The corporation who allows us to make mobile phone calls in exchange for money - without even charging extra for the additional excitement factor of not knowing when one will be unexpectedly severed from communications
*** The corporation who provides tissue products created to deal precisely with this type of situation
**** The corporation who peddle delectable organic chocolate, which I'm quite happy to exchange money for
***** Produced by the Roche corporation, according to http://biopsychiatry.com/drugcompanies/ - you learn something new every day!
****** Yes, no doubt I could reference a few more corporations here, but it's grown a bit old - wouldn't you agree?

Lenses

Reading is one of my favourite ways to relax, and one "well-being measure" I use is to keep an eye on how much leisure reading I'm getting done. A fortnight ago, I noticed I'd spent over ten days getting through a paperback - a definite sign that life was, once again, out of balance, and some more "me time" was needed!

So over the last week or so I've re-read Patricia Brigg's Mercedes Thompson books. I love her urban fantasy, especially these novels featuring a history-graduate mechanic - who also happens to be a shape-shifting coyote, holding her own amidst werewolves, vampires and the fae. These stories resonate with my feminist beliefs and my fondness for seeing the underdog triumph. Having survived some environments charged with dominance "games" and witnessed the struggle for individuals to gain power, not lose power, and avoid subjugation, I read her close observations of dominance issues with delight.

Tonight, however, I found it difficult to take off my Patricia-Briggs-reading-lenses while my husband and I were watching TV. It seemed strange at first to be watching a contemporary Aussie drama through the "paranormal spectacles" - watching with a werewolf's keen eye for body language, eye contact and verbal tone - but thinking of that storyline in terms of dominance and submission did give me a whole new appreciation of the show.

Extrapolating out from this vignette, I'm reminded of how aspects of the interactions we have in one sphere of our life can seep into other arenas. We're all familiar with the easy trap of bringing one's work frustrations home with us, but how about the less obvious ones? A forgotten memory sparking us to anger or sadness, a sudden joy, an inexplicable change of mood ...

A similar question has been occupying my mind lately. We all know that some conversations, some interactions, have particular potency in our lives. Most of us will remember conversations which have had a very profound effect on us. If some interpersonal interactions are particularly potent, is it only these ones which have the capacity to change us ... or could it be that we altered, however lightly, by all the other lives we 'touch'? Is there a particular quality to some interactions which others lack, or do some conversations have more of that potent "something" which others also have, to a lesser degree?

I don't know. Food for thought.