Q is for quibble and quarrel

Today, I made a boo-boo. I am cranky, probably hormonal, and I should have stayed off the internet.

Or at least, NOT engaged in on-line 'discussions'. Particularly, those involving politics or the demonisation of Gina Rinehart.

But no.

Today, I acted like this was my first ever day on the internet, and I'd never come across trolls before.

I argued my point, and only served to prove the maxim

arguing with an idiot on the internet only proves there are two idiots.

I ended up apologising, at which point the troll said, "Oh, I'm bored now, bye bye." thus proving

a) yes, troll

and b) I wasted an hour of my morning.


I am desperately hoping not to compound the issue tomorrow. Might look at funny cat videos instead.

I can't tell if it's her or me.

I am sitting at my computer when my 8 year old daughter stomps past.

KLOMP! KLOMP! KLOMP! KLOMP! KLOMP!

Here is the conversation that ensued.

me: "Are you angry?"

8 yo : "YES!"

me: "Why?"

8 yo: "Because (my brother) is being MEAN TO ME!!!!!!!!" (this is some sort of criminal offence)

me: "What is he doing?"

8 yo: "He's not letting me DO WHAT I WANT TO DO!!!!!!!!!" (also a criminal offence)

me: "Well, what did you want to do?"

8 yo: "I want to play that my imaginary friend is in my body; and he is FORCING HER OUT!!!!"

So. Is my 11 year old son an exorcist? is my daughter an drama queen? am I slowly going crazy here?

love me like a zombie man

Last night, Fabio and I were watching The Walking Dead, which is a TV series about zombies.

In one scene, one poor man was trying to gather the courage to shoot his zombied wife, and he just couldn't do it.

I asked Fabio:
"If I got zombified, would you shoot me in the head?"

His reply? "Right between the eyes."

me: thankyou.

Fabio: My pleasure, babe.

Then we looked at each other and roared laughing.

Now that's romance, folks.

lest we forget

Tonight, I'm making a traditional roast lamb with veg and rosemary, and a rice pudding for dessert, just like Nana used to make. It's the most Australian meal I can think of, and I wonder how many of our soldiers dreamed of a similar meal while they lay in their trenches and field tents?

Christmas and Easter are lots of fun, true, but if Australians have a holy day, this is it. ANZAC Day. The day we remember.

In the heartbeat that follows the first two notes of the Last Post, a true Aussies' skin is humped up in goosebumps, as we recall the boys who lost their lives and limbs fighting wars in far-away lands.

We remember their shining faces, their innocence and joy, their enthusiasm for the fight -- and the letters and telegrams that came with news that crushed their families.

We remember the children growing up with no dad, wives growing tired with no husband, mothers growing older with no sons. We remember the sacrifice made by mothers and fathers and wives, knowing their boys might be lost overseas, never to lie in the good red earth of their homeland.

We remember those who came home, weary and heartsick at the things they had seen and done.

We remember those wounded and the nurses and medicos who cared for them, we remember the pilots and sailors and mechanics and drivers and officers and cooks. We remember them all.

The only time you will ever see an Australian crowd quiet and respectful, is at an ANZAC Day service. The weight of all those years, all those young men, all that blood -- we feel it.
Each year, as the number of diggers grows ever smaller, the crowd grows ever larger, swelled by those who proudly march for uncles and fathers and grandfathers.

Our soldiers are the true heroes of this nations' heart.

And we will remember them.

P is for.....

politics.

I'm on the Other Side from most bloggers. I'm one of those weirdos who believe in conservatism, in free markets, in small governments, in more personal accountability, in more opportunities, and less interference.

I believe that you should be able to speak your mind freely, provided you are not breaking any of the already existent laws prohibiting hate speech, racism, or sexism; that if others take offense, that is sad, but a small price to pay for the freedom to speak my mind.

I believe that if you want to ride a bike (as an adult) without wearing a helmet, then you should be allowed to. That if you want to smoke (or produce cigarettes) you should be allowed to do so without interference from politicians, UNTIL such time as it is unlawful to do so.

I believe that if you want to start a small business, you should be given every opportunity to do so. If you fail, you fail, and should not be bailed out, but if you succeed, then you should be rewarded for your time, your resources, your sacrifice.

I believe that charity begins at home; that if people are able to pay their own bills and look after themselves first, they will have money left over to help take care of others; that if we use government to enforce charity, then people will expect government to do it all.

I believe in Australians taking care of the vulnerable in THIS country first, and those in need overseas second.

I believe in rewarding hard work, and making opportunity for greatness to flourish, but not in propping up the arts with tax-payers money.

I believe in allowing those who need a sanctuary to come here, but not in opening our borders to anyone with a boat.

I believe in punishment to suit the crime; that criminals should be punished, and their victims recompensed.

I believe that if a woman manages to become Prime Minister, she should be congratulated for a job well done, not lauded for merely being a woman. If she has to keep screaming about how hard it is to be a woman in politics, she doesn't have the balls to lead this country in a time of real crisis.

I believe Australia is still the Lucky Country. But I believe it has been let down badly, by a very bad government. And my hope is that all that will change on September 14th.

while shopping....

* two people commented on my T-shirt.



This led to animated discussions over 10 and 11. No-one mentioned 9. Sorry, Chris.



* the guy in the deli at Woollies was wearing a name-badge that said KILLER.

When I blinked, it said KALEB.

I'll be watching him closely.

* a cute little girl with her hair in blonde pigtails skipped up the footpath, chattering to herself. Everyone smiled, and got out of her way.

* a lady hopped out of her car, singing happily. Everyone smiled.

* a bloke in the checkout disputed his change (I think he was right) and was so rude, he made the checkout chick cry.

The disputed amount of change? five cents.

What a hero.

* at the lights, the car in front of me, and the car beside me, both stalled when the lights went green. Within a heartbeat, people were beeping horns and shouting. I'm so glad it wasn't me.

O -- the guilt

The Princess woke up this morning, sooky and complaining. (this is not a completely foreign start to the day for her.)

She said she felt unwell. I checked. Slight temp, possibly imagination. She said she had a headache. No way I could check that, so I gave her Panadol and sent her to school.

Of course, now she has a higher temp, and she's flushed, with a headache AND a sore 'neck', and a bit of a cough. She should have been in bed today, not spreading her cold to all her classmates.

Guilt. I has it.

not for sissies. (N)

Over the last few years, my 'stuff' has really started to pack it in.

I've had to upgrade my glasses, because I was making that face my dad makes when he's trying to read something. You know the one.

My hips are knackered, my knees are buggered. I can't hear half the stuff my kids say, and my hands hurt by the end of the day.

Growing older is tough.

how to read in bed

1. First things first, clear the space. Remove the phone, the iPhone (stop looking so shocked. You won't die), the tv, the laptop, and the kids.
Make the bed, so the sheets are smooth and the doona fluffy. Pile up pillows and head-rests into a kind of mountain.

2. Assemble the necessities. A good book (or preferably, a big pile of them), a cup of tea,



a book-seat if you have one, some good lighting, and your glasses if you need them.
Some munchies if you MUST. (these tend to get very comfortable in bed, and settle on your stomach and butt, refusing to budge, so be careful.)

3. Prepare yourself. Take a bath or a shower, apply some pretty lotion, get your nightie on.

4. Climb into bed and get very comfy. I recommend propping yourself up, so that this doesn't happen



however, take your chances if you prefer to read flat on your back.

5. Bliss out.