ChickChat

Dads. You gotta love 'em.

2012-01-30T13:44:00.002+08:00

Somewhere in a mans' DNA, there is a DAD JOKE GENE. It hasn't been mapped yet but when it is it'll be found near the FARTING IN BED GENE.
I THINK it only activates when a man becomes a Dad, but I can't be 100% sure. Feel free to add evidence for or against that theory.

Anyway, you've all had Dads, right? and most of you have husbands. So how many of these sound familiar?

When driving past a cemetery, a Dad will ALWAYS say, "Hey look! that's the dead centre of town!"

OR "People are dying to get in there!"

When driving past black & white cows, a Dad has to say, "It must be cold out there, those cows are Friesian!"

When you ask, "Where are we, Dad?", a Dad has to say, "In the car."

When an emergency service vehicle goes past with sirens going, a Dad has to say, "You're not gonna not sell many ice creams going that fast!"

When driving past someone washing their car, a Dad has to say, "You can do mine next, if you want!"

or this humble offering, which never fails to amuse the kids. (not)

"Dad, I'm hungry"
"Hi, Hungry, I'm dad!"
"Dad! I'm serious!"
"Hi, Serious! I'm Dad!"
etc

Or when you're struggling with something, a Dad asks "Can I give you a hand?"
You say "Yes." and then he starts a slow clap.

Or you stumble and a Dad will say, "Have a nice trip?"

If you have a sore toe or foot, a Dad will say, "Better call a TOW TRUCK!"

Or he answers the phone by saying, "Hello? Statue?" OR "City Morgue, you kill 'em, we chill 'em." or any number of variations on the theme.

When hearing someone in a restaurant drop glasses or crockery, a Dad says "Sack the juggler!" or "TAXI!"

After a meal, a Dad says, "Well that was nice, what's for dinner?"

A Dad will watch you add gravy to your dinner and say, "Do you want some food to go with your gravy?" EVERY. TIME.

When you say you have something in your eye, a Dad will say, "Yeah, it's your finger."

When you ask a Dad to make you a cup of tea, he will wave his hands over your head and say 'ABRACADABRA! You are now a cup of tea!'

When you ask, "Where's the bin?" a Dad will say, "I haven't been anywhere!"

When you ask for $50, a Dad will say, "Forty dollars? What do you need thirty dollars for?"

And you know what? no matter how much kids groan and roll their eyes, there's something very comforting and reassuring about Dad jokes. Which is a good thing. Because they sure aren't funny.

Sunday Selections -- roads

2012-01-29T10:46:00.001+08:00

I don't normally play along with Sunday Selections, because I'm such a BAD photographer, and always feel embarrassed at my meagre offerings.

BUT I love taking photos of roads. Preferably from the front seat while my husband drives. And I've seen some beautiful stretches of road in this big, brown country.
So settle back as we take a little trip.

These were all taken on the way to (or from) (or in) Cooktown, in North Queensland. I grew up in NQ and we were always going 'out bush' fishing and camping, so these photos make me feel very nostalgic! And the SMELL as you drive through this country is gorgeous.

(The smell here was NOT good. Urine. What is wrong with some people?)

These photos were taken around Norseman, on WAs' Goldfields. I feel no nostalgia for it at ALL. The bottom photo is of a dry salt lake, taken from the side-window as we sped by on our way to Perth.

And these are all of the lower south of WA -- around Pemberton, Albany and Walpole, in the tall karri forests.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

J.R.R.Tolkein

***

Kim says

I take a lot of photos and most of them are just sitting around in folders on my desktop not doing anything. I thought that a dedicated post once a week would be a good way to share some of these photos that otherwise wouldn’t be seen by anyone other than me.

I am also remarkably absent minded and I put photos into folders and think that I will publish them later on and then then I never do.

So I have started a photo meme that anyone can join in and play as well. The rules are so simple as to be virtually non existent.

Just add your name and URL to the Mr Linky.

Publish your photos on your blog using the “Sunday Selections” title.

Link back here to me.

so play along, why don't you?

a very late hair update

2012-01-28T12:34:00.001+08:00

Due to our holiday and then a massive heatwave here in WA that melted my typing spirit, I failed to do an update on my NO POO experiment.

So.

This is my hair after the second last wash.

I tried the honey rinse as my sister suggested. But I think most of the credit is due to the treatment as a whole. My hair is settling down, it doesn't feel as rough, and it doesn't get as greasy or irritating as it used to.
In this pic, you can see the frizzies are not too bad. All I did was comb it out and let it dry naturally.
It's quicker to straighten now, too.

I washed it when we got back from the weekend away, but it didn't really need it. Even though we'd been on dirt roads and spent two days in salt-spray and wind.

It's been mad humid here for about 5 days and I don't have frizzy bits poking out everywhere, which I would normally have.

SO -- I've started washing The Princess's hair this way too! She has Shirley Temple curls, which got frizzy and messy when we lived out on the Goldfields, from the amount of chlorine added to the water supply.
I also crushed some rosemary leaves and steeped them in boiling water, allowed it to cool and used it as a final rinse for her, just because I knew she would hate the vinegar smell.

Her hair looks and feels no different from usual, yet, but I'll persevere for a few weeks and see if there's a change.

when a 3 pound gift card equals a priceless moment

2012-01-25T08:22:00.002+08:00

How cute is this?? This guy (is it a guy?) deserves a promotion.

PS to see the image properly, just click on it.

do you wanna have a look?

2012-01-24T09:52:00.004+08:00

When you're on holiday, do you ever stop at little roadside places just 'for a look'?
Sometimes it's a risk. The toilets might be dodgy, or the food crook -- but sometimes you find absolute gems.

Like a Meadery.

Having never tasted mead before, Fabio and I just HAD to stop here. We tried a couple of different bottles, but came away with the Honey Liqueur. It's lovely, though not an everyday drink.
There was also a bee-frame set up inside, behind perspex of course! The bees had private access to outdoors, and were busy flying in and out of their little hive, which had the kids utterly fascinated.
And we DID have icecream. Of course.
Mine was rose-and-almond. YUMMY.

We also stopped at Flamebird Wines, and bought some of these

They also grow marron, and showed us the babies (kids loved them) and the adults (spiky!) so we got a little tour thrown in. They are really lovely people and we wish them every success.
Also, the wine? mmmmmmmmmmmmm

Here's a picture of a marron. I borrowed it from the net because I stupidly left my camera in the car!

We also chatted to a couple of nice old wood-turners, and when we stopped for lunch in the Templemore Teahouse in Nannup, we got talking to a couple of Swiss girls over here on holiday.

Here are some pics of the tea-house, it' a gorgeous old building and I loved the architectural features.

(not an architectural feature)

Outside is a shady, pretty cottage garden, and inside is all antiques and old music, just beautiful, and while the food wasn't fabulous it was a step up from Maccas! (if there WAS a Maccas in Nannup) (which there isn't)

I love these relaxed holidays, where we stop when we want, and look at what we like, and don't have to worry about schedules. Fabio and I are both looking forward to the day when we get to do this more often!

kids and guns

2012-01-23T06:49:00.002+08:00

DAY TWO

We packed up and drove down to Albany.

Essential supplies.

Albanys' main street runs right down to the sea, and it's a pretty cool sight -- on a fine day! That is actually the ocean at the bottom of the hill there.

I nearly snapped my head off trying to see all the gorgeous old buildings at once... and then it started raining.

Bear in mind that these were all taken from the front seat of our car, through the dusty, bug-spattered, rained-on (cracked) windscreen. I love taking pictures from the car, I don't know why.

We found a 'pirate' ship.... the brig Amity. She was just beautiful.

Here are some pictures of her undergirdings. Or something. I'm not up on all the nautical terms.

And here is my SEVEN year old daughter standing (just) in the 'bedroom'. All the rest of us had to duck or bend double, and I just couldn't imagine what it must have been like to live down here. The stench would have been dreadful, for a start. And NO INTERNET, people!! I know. Doesn't bear thinking about.

But there were more luxurious accomodations on-board. See, here's the surgeons' cabin:

I actually have a toilet bigger than that.

I could go on and on and on about this ship, it was a fantastic experience. But this post is getting heavy on photos and I suspect a lot of you have given up by now anyway, muttering about Aunt Maudes' Slideshow Nights, so if you want to know more, you can click here.

The plan was to next look at both the Princess Royal Fortress and Whale World, but we didn't get past the Fortress.

Here's why:

GUNS!!

With wheels to turn, and levers to pull, and cranks to .. err.. crank! The kids (big and small) were in 7th Heaven.
The kids warred on daddy, then Daddy and The Princess warred on Mr 10, and they all had a very satisfactory afternoon.

Now, I'm sorry, but there are more pictures planned for tomorrow. And possibly the next day. It's because I don't get out much. And we did have such a VERY good time!

look, it's me! I'm back!

2012-01-22T16:18:00.003+08:00

On Friday, we unexpectedly took a holiday. It all happened when Fabio said, on Thursday, "Let's go away for the night. Tomorrow. We'll go down south and do the treetop walk."

So we threw the essentials into the car (pillows, laptop, camera, and a couple of kids) and off we went.

DAY ONE:

home to Manjimup to Walpole

We hit some roadworks, where all the bitumen had been stripped off down to bare dirt. The Princess said, "What in the world is going on here?"
I said, "They're widening the road. To make it better."

She looked out at the clouds of choking orange dust. "Well, it's not working."

***

We saw about 5 main roads workers standing in the shade, and another on the mobile phone.
Fabio said, "He's on the phone to the Boss, asking for a shovel to be sent out. And the boss says, Lean on each other till I can get that shovel sent out to you."
(made ME laugh, anyway)

***

What we saw

the sign on the girls' toilet in Manji. She looks sorta desperate for a piddle, doncha think?

Manjimup township

Pretty banksia flower.

The motel pool in Walpole.

Once the kids had been revived in the pool, we drove out of town to do the Valley of the Giants TreeTop Walk. And WOW. Look at this....

a carved totem at the entrance

the steel walkway beginning to climb up into the trees

looking down from about half-way

the highest point is 40 metres off the ground, which is cool and scary in equal proportions -- you can see we're not above the trees though! they're amazingly tall. The walkway itself sways and bounces so it was a bit un-nerving, but the walk is only 600 metres or so, and the climb is gentle.

coming back down to earth (WHEW!!)

We then did the Ancient Empire (ground!) walk through WAs' amazing Tingle trees. (not kidding, that's what they're called)

and then we found the Grandaddy of them all....

Now THAT'S impressive.

More tomorrow.

sew and sew

2012-01-17T19:10:00.000+08:00

I accidentally went shopping at Spotlight yesterday, and picked up some more felt animal sewing kits for the Princess.

She got a few (from the local dollar shop!) for Christmas, and they're easy enough for her to do on her own, with just an occasional assist from Mum.

Since yesterday afternoon, she's made a bunny and a cat, and she just LOOOOOVES sewing! It's so funny to listen to her, because she chats away to the animal while she's stitching it, and of course she does both sides of the conversation.

She's really keen on embroidery too, though all I have is adult supplies, so I'm on the look-out for kids tapestry kits etc now.
It's not as easy as you might think to get this stuff. For a long time no sewing/embroidery kits at all, and now they sell out as soon as they come in, so I have to be quick.

It's good to see -- I love it that she enjoys sewing, and I'll encourage that as much as I can. And I think in the winter it might be time to teach her to knit.

why I heart the internets.

2012-01-16T09:18:00.001+08:00

Remember this post about the Wand of Power?

Pinterest gave me the solution this morning.

I'm SO doing this tonight.

the great hair experiment update

2012-01-15T09:49:00.004+08:00

After many requests (one) (from River) I've decided to post a pic of my hair PRE-straightening.

This is quite traumatic for me. And it might be for you, too -- if you're easily frightened, click away NOW.

Ready?

Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

This is after using the bicarb/vinegar treatment, and allowing it to dry naturally overnight. I can't (ever) get a brush through it and if I did I'd look like the worlds' largest dandelion, so it's completely au naturel.
It looks like this if I put half a bottle of conditioner on it, too, so don't blame the experiment.

Now, by way of comparison, here is my sister with her experimented-on-for-more-than-a-year hair.

Now, before she started using the no poo treatment, her hair was like straw. It wasn't frizzy like mine, but really dry and brittle, and it had no shine, at ALL. I think it's fair to say that it looks FANTASTIC now!!

She's modified her original recipe, and here it is:

Ingredients
2lt jug
honey
bi-carb soda
white or apple cider vinegar

Shampoo
1tsp honey into the jug, dissolve in a bit of boiling water (prevents stickiness)
fill jug halfway with cool water
add 1tsp bi-carb soda
i find half a jug at this stage enough

pour onto wet hair, massage in, rinse out.

condition (ENDS ONLY, if you wish. i do this only every now and again) and rinse really well

Conditoner
rinse out your jug, refill with water, and add a good splash of your vinegar
pour through your hair.
rinse if you wish ( i leave it in, smell goes when it’s dry)

I'm going to try with the honey, next time I wash. Who knows, it may even make me sweeter.

it's definitely summer this week

2012-01-14T11:18:00.002+08:00

You can tell it's summer in Australia when

The best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance.

Hot water now comes out of both taps.

You learn that a seat belt buckle makes a pretty good branding iron.

You drop the eggs on the way home from the shop and they cook on the
ground.

The temperature drops below 30 (Celcius!) and you feel a little chilly.

You discover that it only takes 2 fingers to steer your car.

You can boil eggs in your swimming pool.

You get sunburned through your car window.

You actually burn your hand opening the car door.

You turn on the hose to water your garden and only get steam.

You break a sweat the instant you step outside at 7:30 a.m.

Your biggest bicycle wreck fear is, "What if I get knocked out and end
up lying on the pavement and cook to death?"

You can make tea or coffee with water from the tap without boiling.

You realize that asphalt has a liquid state.

The birds have to use potholders to pull worms out of the ground.

The potatoes cook underground, so all you have to do is pull one out and
add butter, salt and pepper.

Farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying
hard boiled eggs.

The cows are giving evaporated milk.

The afternoon breeze feels like it comes straight from a hair dryer.

The trees are whistling for the dogs.

"Dried Fruit" comes straight off the tree.

The cricket is on, 24/7.

oh, SWEET!

2012-01-13T14:12:00.000+08:00

Little Girl Party Food didn't look like this when I was a kid!

In addition to the usual popcorn, sausage rolls, etc, we had

marshmallows with a chocolate dipping sauce
frozen yoghurt pops (in plastic shot glasses)
fruit kebabs (HUGE HIT)
fairy cupcakes

Then the girls staggered away and Mummy ate the leftovers.

a nice post

2012-01-12T13:02:00.000+08:00

This morning, the Kindle I ordered on Monday (from the US) -- the one that was shipped on Tuesday (from the US) -- arrived on my doorstep.

TAKE THAT, AUSTRALIA POST!!!

YOU lost the bloody present I sent (from WA to Qld) to my nephew before Christmas, and now I have to buy a new one. And I think I'll buy it from AMERICA and have it sent direct to him this time.

In fact, I may just stop buying Australian altogether and just have everything shipped in from Amazon.

So THERE.

*ahem*

So sorry, PMSchick seems to have barged in on my post -- let's get back to the NICE bit, shall we?

I got my Kindle, and I charged it, and I d/lded a few books to it (including a German dictionary for when we go to Germany) and I'm going to go read something calming in a moment. Possibly not the dictionary.

(the German dictionary is called 'duden deutsches universalwörterbuch'. Best dictionary name EVER.)

I wonder how many more times I can fit the word 'dictionary' into this post?

(and, how do I make umlauts?)

***

I also got some beautiful flowers from my DIL.

They were a complete surprise, and absolutely made my day.

Even more than the dictionary.

2012-01-10T08:40:00.000+08:00

Dear Person Who Dropped a Bag of Bait On The Road Outside My House Last Night,

gee.

Thanks for that.

I can't tell you how pleasant it was to pick up that bag of squid that had been
run over several times,
ground into the bitumen,
and laid out in the sun all morning.

I gagged all the way to the bin.

And now my bin stinks too.

the one week hair update

2012-01-08T09:26:00.005+08:00

Right. It's been a week since I washed my hair and began this experiment.

Normally by now I would have my hair tied back all the time and be thinking about cutting it off (myself) (with a pocket knife if necessary) because it would be giving me the irrits so bad.
And it would be itchy, and greasy, and look gross.

But no.

Yes, it is starting to look like a wash wouldn't hurt, but not so bad that I have to explain to random strangers or wear hats. It's still manageable and soft, and I only have a few 'frizzies'.
AND I haven't seen ANY dandruff. Not saying there isn't any, but it's not on my shoulders at least.

See?

That's not too bad, is it? I mean, it IS Sunday morning and all.....

a pretty piccy post

2012-01-07T16:01:00.000+08:00

image from here

I have no explanation

2012-01-06T18:56:00.000+08:00

Actual conversation in the car, driving home from Maccas just now:

Mr 10 (to his older brother): "You can drink coffee out of my eye if I can have your X-Box."
Princess: "Humpback whale!"

It's better if you don't ask. I'm not going to.

not waving, drowning

2012-01-05T05:14:00.000+08:00

One of the most powerful words in the world is this

overwhelmed.

It means water rising up and up, over your face, over your head, completely engulfing you. Total defeat. No escape.

***

Today, at the pool, I watched my brave little Princess, in the Big Pool. She was sinking to the bottom and rising to the top, right next to the ladder. And then somehow she kicked away from the ladder and when she rose to the top she couldn't reach safety.

She sank and fought her way back up and I could see panic in her eyes. "Help me!" she gasped, just as I reached out and grabbed her hand.
I got her out of the pool and hugged her, and I asked her if she was frightened and she said "Yes!" and I said, "You need to get back in. You need to go again, so you're not scared tomorrow."
And she did.
Into the deep water, way over her head. And back up. Knowing that Mum was there if she got into trouble.

***

Many times in my life, I've felt overwhelmed. I've felt like there was no-one near to help me, no-one to pick me up if I took a risk.

"not waving but drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Stevie Smith"

***

But there are hands reaching for me now. I am safe. I am waving.

Sad. I have succumbed.....

2012-01-04T11:19:00.000+08:00

I did it. I confess.

I have a NY resolution list.

*hangs head in shame*

Well, you know what, I'm probably maybe going to keep possibly one of these for a week if I'm lucky.

But here they are:

1. Learn how to.... take a decent photo

2. Start.... cooking again

3. Stop..... wasting so much time

4. Take a holiday to.... anywhere as long as my husband leaves his phone at home.

5. Find.... more mojo

6. Try.... getting back to the gym

7. Be more.... mindful.

It seems that so far I've utterly ignored number 3 -- wasting time is one of the few things I do well with no reminders -- but I HAVE started making enquiries about taking photography lessons.
I e-mailed the local camera club thinking someone will surely know where I can start?

The gym?? yeah. Not gonna happen. Still having major uterine fails and have an appointment with a womb doctor in Feb. He's going to say surgery, I just know it.

Ahhhh that's better

2012-01-03T15:00:00.001+08:00

I have just made myself a drink.

I call it very-refreshing-after-a-crazy-day-of-shopping-and-swimming-lessons although for brevity we'll just call it Iced Tea.

Here's what to do:

make up some black tea and let it cool

muddle some mint and lemon in a glass

add ice

pour in some tea, some lemonade and about a bottle of vodka.

relax.

poo free

2012-01-03T07:37:00.001+08:00

I have become my own guinea pig, and am conducting an experiment on myself.

Unlike the experiments I conducted when I was young and stupid, this one is legal and hopefully won't be very very bad for me.

You see, my hair is like coconut fibre in its' natural state. It's really thick, dry, mad frizzy, and I have to use a ton of product on it every week.

My sisters' hair is much the same, and when she told me she'd stopped using shampoo and conditioner, and was now using BICARB and VINEGAR to wash it, I thought she'd gone mad.

BUT.... her hair looks lovely! it's soft and shiny and utterly manageable, and I've been thinking about trying it for months.

So yesterday, after Googling for about half an hour, I wet my hair as usual, and gave my scalp a really good massage, then used a mix of about 1/2 cup of bicarb and about a cup of water, to 'wash' my hair.
It felt very weird -- really runny, no lather -- but I rubbed it in and let it sit for a couple of minutes, then 'finger-combed' it through my hair, and rinsed really well.

Then I used a diluted vinegar solution, and rinsed REALLY well (who wants to smell like fish and chips, right?)

Now, it can take up to 6 weeks to restore the natural pH of your hair and scalp, so I wasn't expecting miracles -- but I gotta say, my hair is MUCH softer than I thought it would be, and more natural feeling than it would be after I'd subdued it with about a cup of conditioner.

I've let it dry for a day (yeah, it takes that long) and I'll straighten it today, so that will be the real test.

It doesn't smell of vinegar (I used the fancy shmancy white wine vinegar that I bought cos I like the bottle) and my scalp is really clean.

My sister says her dandruff is completely gone, so I'm hoping for a big win there. And not having to load my head up with expensive and chemical-laden product would be nice!
Let's see how it goes....

how we do lunch

2012-01-02T09:51:00.000+08:00

This is my reward for following my husband to every god-forsaken, dried-up mining town he could find over 10 years.
Happy face.

this year....

2012-01-01T11:46:00.002+08:00

goodbye old year

2011-12-31T09:28:00.000+08:00

2011 was a weird year for me, with Fabio starting his own company, and working every hour God sends and then some, kids leaving home and coming back, a new dog, a major uterine fail and various other womb-related adventures.

I'm kind of hoping that 2012 brings some different excitements, ones that don't include surgical procedures and constant goodbyes.

For my ChickChatters -- thankyou.

I'm constantly surprised when people tell me they read my blog, and utterly amazed when they say they love it.
There are many of you who read and don't comment, and that's fine. But to those who do comment, even if it's once in a blue moon, thankyou. You've lifted my flagging spirits more than you could ever know. Each and every comment has been a joy to me, because it meant someone heard me.

I want to wish you all the very very best that life can offer in 2012. And if the world really does end this year, let's go out together, hmm? Like a whole gang of Thelma and Louises (and if we're really really lucky, we might pick up a hitchhiker along the way.

sticks and stones and words and bones

2011-12-29T15:06:00.001+08:00

He uses words like weapons.

To bludgeon, cudgel, batter, and bruise, and leave you dazed.

With the skill and delicacy of an assassin, the thinnest of blades that slides through the cage you've built around your heart and leaves almost no visible mark, so that no-one sees what he's done.

With poison, venomous, scalding, acidic, that leaves you sick and burnt.

He has been like this since he was tiny. And it's always been me who has borne the worst of it.

I don't know why. Is it because I'm the one who stays? The one who loves him no matter what, the one who swallows the hurt and tries to mend what he's so thoughtlessly smashed?

Because I have. And I do. And I will.

Once, when he was younger, I would retaliate. Mostly in anger, sometimes in self-defence. I've lashed out, physically, verbally, I'm no angel. Just a human, failing. Flailing.

Now, my only defense is retreat. I wait, I heal, I try again.

He's my son. What else can I do?

it's cleaner on the inside

2011-12-29T08:22:00.001+08:00

I have a theory about showers.

Have you ever noticed that an hour in the shower can feel like seconds? Or that you can't get your kids IN the shower, and then you can't get them out?

THIS is why.

It's some kind of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey thingamebobby.

my Christmas was blue. How about yours?

2011-12-28T10:15:00.000+08:00

Worst Christmas ever. Well, maybe not ever.... but still not cool.

Husband disconnected, little kids over the top, one big kid on her own and unable to get to us, one big kid rubbing it in what a wonderful Christmas he's having with his father, who hasn't even sent so much as a card to his other two kids in many years, not seeing the grandkids, missing my sisters....

sigh.

I guess there's always next year, right?

Meantime I'm gonna forget about this one as fast as possible.

the wand of power

2011-12-26T09:19:00.000+08:00

In our house, the remote is known by all and sundry as The Wand of Power, and when Fabio is in residence, we all know the WoP is his and his alone.

Sadly, he isn't home often enough to have mastered the 400+ tiny tiny buttons, so watching a DVD with him is ...... an interesting experience.

You see, I like to watch the WHOLE DVD. This includes the Pegasus galloping through the clouds and the Dolby Digital ad and any previews and the opening credits.
To me, the movie-crew have spent time and money putting the opening credits in as part of the movie (if they're any good at their job) and so these few seconds set the scene for the film to come.

Fabio is not of the same mind. He wants to get to the action. NOW. And he doesn't want to waste 30 or 40 seconds watching all that gibber, so he hits SKIPx120 or NEXT....

....but his thumb can easily cover half a dozen buttons or more, and so we might suddenly find ourselves watching the Australasian Lawn Bowls Championship on ABC1, or have the sound muted, or lose the picture all together and be only listening to the movie which is now broadcasting in Spanish.

It takes a minute or two of fumbling and cursing before we get the movie back. But the credits! and the skipping! and now we zoom to the third scene of the movie and he hits BACKx120, and we are now watching the opening credits again, and so on.

It takes a while. But at least we don't have to suffer through those darn opening credits!

What he needs is the MAN version of the DVD -- which has no credits, no previews, no special extras, and which is voice-activated to pause instantly when he says "BEER" and start again when he pops the top.

sANTa bugged us

2011-12-25T11:55:00.000+08:00

Things a Mother of Boys Might Find Herself Saying:

"Have you taken your ants* out of the fridge yet?"

*not a euphemism

***

Merry Christmas, ChickChatters. Especially those whose kids received an ant farm for Christmas.

Oh... just me? OK then.

oooh, a MAN suit!

2011-12-24T12:14:00.001+08:00

My poor husband.

He's been away for work for the last week and me being me, I was convinced something horrible would happen to him on the way back home, just because it's Christmas, so when he finally got here I was so relieved and glad to see him that I couldn't hug him enough.

I said, "I wish I could unzip you and climb inside and put my arms in your arms and my legs in your legs and ... just... wear you!"

Pause.

"Is this a 'Silence of the Lambs' kind of thing?" he said.

This will make more sense if you've read this.
Or maybe less.

I'm a foster fail

2011-12-22T17:24:00.001+08:00

So, a while back I heard about a greyhound who urgently needed a foster home. Like, VERY urgently.

And I offered to take him, provided that he got along with our girl, Paris (AKA The Laziest Dog On Earth.)

Meet Dexter. And yes, he was named after my favourite serial killer (though not by me).

He's a red brindle, with an un-nerving habit of leaning his considerable weight against your knees while simultaneously standing on your foot and he feels like a Clydesdale with ginsu knives for hooves.

He's also a sniffer.

But we fell in love with him and now we're adopting him, so while I might be a foster fail, I get the feeling that Dexter doesn't mind that kind of fail at ALL.

If you've never had anything to do with a greyhound, can I just tell you that they are the BEST dogs ever.
They're more like owning a cat -- unless there is an actual cat around, in which case things might get very interesting; mine are NOT cat friendly -- because pretty much all they do all day is sleep.
They'll happily wake up for a pat, or go for a short walk around the block, but if you just wanna watch tv all day they'll join you, no problem.

It's the dog you have when you don't really want a dog.

And now I have two.

Cool.

WOO to the snowy HOO!!

2011-12-21T16:10:00.000+08:00

Well, after long and serious consultation with the Powers That Be (5 seconds into a phone call with my sister) we're going to Germany for Christmas in two years !!

I told Fabio and he was excited (pretty much sold on the words 'AUTOBAHN' and 'BEER', truth be told) and now I just have to find a way to make it happen financially.

*sigh*

Sister K and I have been looking at and bookmarking various things, but we're trying to co-ordinate 3 couples, (one with 2 kids in tow), and 3 budgets, so there could be some serious compromising to be done.

I don't care. As long as I get to do all the stuff I want to do, it's all good :)

We're thinking sleigh ride in the SNOW, shopping, eating and drinking, SHOPPING, and some other stuff.
Sounds good, huh?

my Indian name is...

2011-12-20T15:01:00.000+08:00

Just lately on Facebook I'm seeing a lot of 'my Indian name' posts.
I'm assuming it's some randomly generated thing, I haven't looked. Because we sorted out our Indian names many years ago. It's a shame I can't remember them all though!

Fabio is Dances With Traffic -- named by my eldest daughter after his driving habits.

I am Stands With a Smack -- for obvious reasons.

Mr18 was Talks A Lot, and I don't see any reason to change that.

Mr10 was Two Spoons, because when he was a baby being spoon-fed, we had to give him another spoon to keep him happy. I'm thinking he's due a name upgrade. Maybe -- Can't Shut The Door. It would fit.

My eldest daughter was something like Hides In Her Room, and we can't remember Beefcakes' name at all, though I think he's picked a new one now he has his own family.

The Princess wasn't born then, so she never got one, but I reckon her Indian name should be Lights Up The Room. Because she does.

What about you? have you thought about your Indian name? Your 'real' one, that is -- not the Fakebook name.

Frohe Weihnachten! (merry Christmas)

2011-12-19T10:53:00.001+08:00

One Christmas, I would like to go here

Here being Germany.

My great-grandparents were German, and so was our next-door neighbour when I was a kid. We got to taste the yummiest cakes and breads, and see beautiful decorations we'd never come across anywhere else.

A lot of our modern Christmas traditions originated in Germany, did you know that? Like advent calendars, and Christmas trees, and gingerbread houses. Silent Night is German. The first commercially produced decorations were German, too.

It's a big deal over there, and I love the massive participation. Christmas markets can be found in many major towns and the most famous is in Nuremberg.

How amazing would it be to go shopping here?

I love Christmas in Australia, don't get me wrong -- but this would be truly magical. Just once. Please, Santa?

now that's a good swear!

2011-12-17T18:57:00.004+08:00

One day I heard my son crossly muttering "Jesus Whiskers!" at one of his projects that wasn't going the way he wanted it to.

Uh-oh.

I explained to him that we don't say "Jesus Whiskers" and he gave me a funny look and asked how come Rat in a Hat is allowed to.
Rat in a Hat, for those of you who have not been tortured by ABCs Bananas in Pyjamas, says CHEESE AND WHISKERS.

Which the kids are of course allowed to say.

***

When Beefcake was little, he told me he was sad because he wanted to swear but he wasn't allowed to.
So I gave him his very own special swears.
He could say RATS or FUDGE, or for really really bad swears, he could say FOOEYGUTS! (FOOEYGUTS is an awesome swear. Go ahead, try it)

(See?)

***

I'm thinking we need to go back to words like RATS and FOOEYGUTS.
Fabio and I are swearing WAY TOO MUCH.
He works in an environment where every second word is the F-bomb, and I remember when we first got married he wouldn't dream of swearing in front of me.
Now he doesn't think twice about it, and is swearing more and more in front of the kids.

And I, I'm ashamed to say, am just as bad or WORSE.

In fact, Mr 10 is acting like that annoying angel who sits on your shoulder giving advice, and is dropping hints about Swear Jars.
Which is a little embarrassing.

The thing is.... I know he's right.

Swearing occasionally is just one of those things.
Swearing all the time is ugly.

What do you think?

well, I hope that fixed it

2011-12-16T17:02:00.003+08:00

Seems something in that last post was screwing up my formatting, so please let me know if you CAN see my blog properly now. Obviously, if you can't, you're not going to reply.

making whoopie (s)

2011-12-09T11:38:00.001+08:00

So.

Have you seen these little beauties doing the rounds yet? they're the Latest Thing.

They're Whoopie Pies, and they're DELISH. I know because I've been making them for about *ahem* twenty years or so. Which just goes to show I'm so far ahead of the rest of the world I could technically be it's mother.
I've been wearing a thumb ring and a toe ring since WAY before they became popular too. But I digress.

I found this recipe for Whoopie Pies in an Amish cookbook, and the recipe makes a LOT. Of BIG Pies. It says 15 pies, but that depends on how big you make them.
Also, their 'cream' filling is not so good. So you can substitute sweetened whipped cream, or a marshmallow type fluffy frosting.

* 4 cups plain flour
* 1 tspn baking soda
* 1 tspn baking powder
* 1 tspn salt (adjust that if you want!)
* 1 tblspn cream of tartar
* 1 cup cocoa powder
* 1 cup of soft butter
* 2 cups of sugar
* 2 tspns vanilla essence (less if you use extract)
* 2 eggs
* 1 1/3 cups soured milk

* sift the dry goods together
* cream the butter, sugar and vanilla, then add the eggs, 1 at a time
* add flour mix and milk to the butter alternately, mixing between

* use about 1/4 cup of batter for each pie, and drop onto lined baking sheets. They WILL spread a lot.

* bake in a mod oven for about 6 mins, then reverse the baking sheet, and bake for a further 10 mins.

* let stand on the sheet for 2 mins before placing them on a wire rack to cool.

The Pies should be soft, not crispy.

Sandwich a creamy filling between two Pies -- if you want you can roll the edge in 100s and 1000s or sprinkles or something, but they really don't need it.

* try not to eat them all yourself.

the tree post

2011-12-07T14:58:00.002+08:00

Polystyrene balls covered in glue and flowers and sticky bling. Too easy.

Polystyrene balls painted and braid glued on. Too easy.

Paper flower with sticky bling in the middle. Too easy.

And here is the famous Christmas Carrot. I don't know WHY the kids think we have a Christmas Carrot, but they love it and greet it with great excitement every year. Luckily we have two so they can each hang one up.

We have a glass angel bell....

more handmade baubles and some store-bought (betcha can't tell which is which)

a star....

and the new kid on the block, from one of the $2 shops.

Also, it wouldn't be Christmas without Gingerbread Men (or Girls) would it?

made with an MDF shape, alcohol ink (sounds a lot more exciting than it is), and sticky bling.

fair go, mate

2011-12-03T15:18:00.000+08:00

Life isn't fair. Ever noticed that?

People have kids with horrible illnesses who die before they live, and it isn't fair.

Monsters do dreadful things and get away with it in the court system, and it isn't fair.

Earthquakes and fires and floods happen, and dogs get run over, and popsicles fall off their sticks before we've finished them, and it isn't fair.

Here are some things that are fair.

It's fair that if you work hard, and make a lot of sacrifices, and build yourself a little business, you should be rewarded for your effort and enterprise.

It's fair that if you pay taxes all your working life, you should be entitled to retire in comfort.

It's fair that if you study hard at school, or work hard in your chosen sport, you should be rewarded for that.

It's fair that if you do the wrong thing, break the law or hurt someone, you should be punished.

It's fair that if you sit on your butt on the dole and contribute nothing to society, you should have to go without luxuries.

It's fair that you should have the right to protest, and make your opinion known, but it's not fair that you should make a nuisance of yourself to do so.

Fair?

eleven years

2011-12-02T07:00:00.000+08:00

Once upon a time, there was a not-very-beautiful Princess, who kissed a LOT of toads (sorry, babe) while looking for her Prince Charming.
And then one day (literally) she realised that her best friend of 11 years was in fact, the Prince she had been looking for her life!
They got married ~~right away~~ as soon as the divorce papers came through, and lived happily ever after.

The End.

(true story)

This is what I wrote last year, on this very day.

And it's all still true.

Fabio has been my best friend for 22 years now; my lover and husband for 11. He's the nearest thing to perfect that I've ever seen, fully deserving of all the adoration flung his way by the kids and the dogs and his wife.

Happy anniversary, my heart. This is the last one we spend apart, k?

I don't even know what to title this post

2011-11-29T12:56:00.001+08:00

And following on from the prayer for our daughters.... this.

Have you heard of Kiki Kannibal? I hadn't -- until I read a magazine article this morning.

This kid, all of 13 years old, started a MySpace account and with her fashion sense and quirky style, quickly developed a large following and some equally large haters.
One thing led to another and before too much longer, she was getting hate mail, death threats (actual real ones, not just made up climate scientist/politician sookiness) and her family had to move out of their home because of vandalism and the like.
She was targeted by a paedophile, posted provocative pictures of herself on her blog, and started running a business making jewellery.

You can read about it here if you want.

At no point, it seems, did her parents say ENOUGH. They say now that they made some mistakes but they had to hit rock bottom to realise that. They wanted to encourage her creative side, which I'm sure we can all understand, and they really wanted to help her overcome the loneliness she felt from being bullied at school.
I get that.

I also get 'Kiki' wanting to be Someone.

What I don't get is why it took all this drama for them all to realise that the Internet is not a childrens' playground. No parent would want to see their child (or their family!) go through what these people have, but bad decisions lead to bad outcomes.

That poor little girl has lost her innocence, and her childhood. Her family has lost their financial security, and their peace of mind. All to allow a child to express herself.

And it's not the fault of the Internet.

a prayer for our daughters

2011-11-26T11:57:00.000+08:00

I saw this today on Pinterest and it rang so true in my heart. Even though I didn't know what Hollister was and had to Google it.

Tina Fey's Prayer for her daughter:

“First, Lord: No tattoos.
May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.

Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen.” -Tina Fey

the biggest difference between boys and girls...

2011-11-23T17:49:00.000+08:00

.... is, apparently, spiders.

The Princess screamed in panic when she spotted a Daddy Long Legs in the bathroom.

Mr 10 ran off and got his Nerf gun and shot its' leg off, laughing maniacally.

Mr 18 was very impressed and the two boys discussed how its' leg looked like a four, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly.

Boys are weird.

P.S. I do actually know that Daddy Long Legses aren't really spiders. But they should be.

these are a few of my favourite things....

2011-11-22T08:22:00.000+08:00

So, this is what I've been making in the last couple of days. They're not as fancy as the ones I saw that gave me the idea, but I love them anyway and I think they'll make a cute stocking filler!

Like? not like? what do you say?

whose is that strange child??

2011-11-21T08:20:00.000+08:00

Have you ever played Three Little Words?

(each person takes a turn to say just three words, and you make a story)

I taught the kids to play while we're in the car, and yesterday the story went something like this

some pretty coloured autumn leaves fell in

me: the witches' cauldron

Mr9: and she made

The Princess: a COLLAGE!

Cue hysterical laughter for about 4 kms.

I'm a playah

2011-11-21T07:04:00.000+08:00

Dear Blog,

I do still love you, honest.

It's just that I've been busy. Really busy. No, really REALLY.

Oh, alright, if you must know, I've been playing my new Assassins' Creed game. You know I pre-ordered it months ago, and I've waited a very long time and it's completely awesome and cool and I promise I'll be back when I've finished it. K?

We good now?

K.

park it here

2011-11-17T14:18:00.000+08:00

Our local library has a very small parking lot. 14 spaces.

And today, 7 of those 14 spaces are RESERVED.

2 are reserved for library staff. Both empty.

1 is a loading zone -- NO PARKING. Empty. (seriously?? a LOADING zone? for a LIBRARY? How often is THAT needed?)

3 are handicapped spaces, and I have no quibble with that at all, except 1 of them has been 'stolen' by the library for the use of contractors who are working on something out the back of the library. And the other 2 of them were empty.

2 are reserved for contractors. And they were empty.

So out of the whole parking lot, there were 7 spaces available to the general public, all filled (YAY for a town where at least 7 people read) and 7 spaces closed to just anyone, only one of which was in use. By someone who was NOT using the library.

I am applauding the law-abiding citizens of BeachTown (including myself) who will park over the road at the supermarket and run to the library in the rain; but BOO HISS to the council, because that is a poor effort.

coincidentally

2011-11-17T08:57:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, at school, I pulled into the first empty space I came to, and realised mine was one in a row of seven silver cars.
Seven.

***

day a) it is raining outside, grey and windy, all the way through breakfast and while the kids are putting their uniforms and finding their shoes. I take the umbrella (feeling very parental) and when we get to school (7 minutes away) there is no rain.

day b) it is sunny out, and stays sunny through the breakfast eating and the uniform-putting-onning, and the shoe finding (why it it there's always one child who can't find its' shoes???)
and we get to school and it's pouring. And the umbrella is snug and dry at home.

***

My dogs sleep next to each other in the exact same positions, but heads at opposite ends.

***

Is the universe just messing with me this week?

best EVER Christmas tip

2011-11-16T09:15:00.000+08:00

This is the best Christmas tip I have.

Get yourself a cheap spiral-bound notebook, and cover it with pretty paper.

Now glue or tape the FRONT of an envelope to the inside BACK cover of the notebook, like so.

VOILA. You have yourself a Christmas organiser.

Use the notebook for lists, gift ideas etc, and store all your receipts in the envelope in case anything needs to be returned.

I made myself this one in a hurry about 5 years ago, so it's functional rather than pretty, but they also make a nice little gift idea, especially if you take a little care and use a pretty envelope etc.

40 days??? are you KIDDING me??

2011-11-15T13:47:00.002+08:00

Christmas is coming!

Yes, yes, I know it comes every year but it really is approaching fast, and THIS YEAR I'm gonna be READY!

So I've been busy making gifts and cards and sorting out teacher gifts and buying stuff from eBay and Pinning madly for decor ideas.

I LOVE Christmas!

I'll have some sneak peeks up soon, and I'd love for you to tell me about your Christmas when I do!

can't blog, busy pinning

2011-11-13T21:49:00.000+08:00

So my Pinterest application was finally accepted yesterday, and I can't seem to stop pinning!

For a glossy-magazine-addict like me, Pinterest is as bad as crack cocaine. Well, maybe not THAT bad -- I haven't had to sell the kids for my next hit at least.... because it's FREE! (lucky for the kids)

If you're a Pinterest newbie, imagine having a giant virtual pinboard with pictures of things that make you laugh, or inspire you, food and drinks, clothes, art, architecture, places to go, and people to see when you get there.
Only it doesn't take up any room, and nothing gets lost. AND you have the whole entire interwebs to pin from! not just whatever magazines you've ~~managed to pinch from the doctors' waiting room~~ recently bought.

I'm placing a button on the side there -----> so you can follow me if you want.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more pinning to do before bed.

treading on my heros' shadow

2011-11-12T09:10:00.001+08:00

Firstly, you should know that I'm an avid Stephen King fan.
I cried when I found out that I'd just missed out on being in the same city as him a couple of years ago (true. Embarrassing, but true) and that I have all of his books and in fact, have read several of them to pieces.

For me to say that I'm not completely rapt in his latest book is tantamount to heresy, for me.

So let me explain.

11.22.63 explores the possibility that someone could travel back in time and stop the assassination of JFK. Which, if you know anything at all about politics, would change the world we live in now and affect millions of people.

The idea is intriguing.

Stephen Kings' masterful storytelling is -- well, masterful. He has a wonderful sense of character, able to draw a picture of someone in a few words.

He doesn't fall into the trap of depicting the past with a rosy tint, describing segregation in a way that's a bit of a slap in the face for this generation -- hard to believe that those things could have been not only accepted, but normal.

And I AM enjoying the story. (about halfway through)

BUT.

The 'set-up' seemed clumsy. I was reminded constantly that it is, in fact, the set-up, the vehicle that drives the plot. It felt laboured, which for SK is almost unheard of.

He briefly mentions characters from another novel -- one which I've read many, many times -- and uses the wrong Christian name for one, and places anothers' body in the wrong spot.
These breaks in continuity COULD have been as a result of previous time travels or alternate universes or some other plot device, but they feel like mistakes.

I feel awful even writing this. I'm a nothing no-one blogger, no literary genius or even respected reviewer. What I am is a fan. (NOT the Number One Fan, though! God forbid!) And long time fans develop a sense of right and wrong.

And parts of this book feel wrong.

Maybe on the second read-through I'll feel differently. Because, yes, there will be a second (and a third) read through.
It's not THAT wrong!

and now we lie in Flanders fields

2011-11-11T17:00:00.000+08:00

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

what to do? what to do?

2011-11-10T13:04:00.001+08:00

These are the books I've read in the past two weeks -- all excellent.

And these are the ones waiting for me...

ALL of these books are OHmiGOD-I-HAVE-TO-READ-IT-NOW!

I am in a pickle, a quandary, a delirium of delight -- which do I choose first?

walking in a bloggy wonderland

2011-11-08T17:59:00.001+08:00

Today, in my Everyday Life, I picked up dirty clothes and ran some errands and cooked dinner and read some of my book and took a short nap and worked on a Christmas gift I'm making.

In my Bloggy Life, I read about an act of kindness, learned how to insult someone on-line (no offence), wished my husband would QUIT FRICKING SMOKING, remembered why I didn't take up mountaineering as a hobby, found a yummy recipe for pea and ham soup, read Kristins' post on sexual abuse on-line over and over, and dipped into a few books.

WHAT ON EARTH DID PEOPLE THINK ABOUT BEFORE BLOGS WERE INVENTED?????

my restaurant rules

2011-11-07T20:52:00.001+08:00

Today, Fabio took me to lunch.

Now, I have a bit of a 'thing' about restaurants and cafes -- so there are only a few where I can relax and enjoy the food without worrying about germs, or Bandaids in the soup, or whatever.

I've had some bad experiences -- we went out with friends one night in Kalgoorlie, and they picked a place I didn't like the look of, but I forced myself to eat, and then half-way through dinner, a HUGE COCKROACH RAN UP MY LEG and I'm NOT EVEN KIDDING.
Talk about ways to kill an appetite.

Anyway, today was not like that. This particular place is clean and efficient and the food is really good, and there are a lot of other things I like about it.
While we were waiting, I started compiling a list of My Restaurant Rules -- things that will bring me back time after time, or send me away before I've even had a chance to order.

See how many of these tick your boxes, too.

1. Your place better be clean. I understand that on a busy day, individual tables might not get cleaned off as quickly as I'd like, but I can tell if you don't regularly clean thoroughly.

2. I don't care how convenient they are -- do NOT use plastic tablecloths. They're ugly and feel cheap and greasy.

3. If your waitress calls me 'love', chews gum, or says 'youse' (as in, what can I get for youse?) I will probably get up and leave.

4. I HATE noisy restaurants. Tiled floors, metal chairs and assorted clatter is a big turn-off.

5. Buy chairs with a wide, deep seat, PLEASE? and try not to pick the ones with backs that tilt back so far I have to sit perched on the edge of the seat for fear of falling over backwards.

6. Men will LOVE cutlery with long handles. And I LOVE cutlery with rounded edges that feels comfortable in my hand.

7. Use nice big plates, wide bowls and decent sized cups. I feel embarrassed when I accidentally push food off the plate because it's too small to allow me to cut anything up.

8. Think carefully about the decor and design -- the place we went to today has 2 full length walls of glass looking out onto the street, which provides a view BUT lets in so much glare that I often have to eat wearing sunglasses. Not cool.
And one of the (two) doors blows open when it's windy and raining, letting in Arctic blasts of air -- the only way to stop it is to lock the door. That's bad design.

9. TRAIN YOUR STAFF! I don't want my waitress to settle in for a chat and become my new best friend, but I expect a certain level of friendliness and efficiency.

10. Finally, please for the love of God, buy steady tables. It's really disconcerting to have the table rock everytime someone leans on it. The small ones with a central pedestal should have supporting ribs under the table top to keep it still.

Do you think I'm being picky? Or is it reasonable to expect comfort in the little things when you're paying for it?
Tell me what you think.

PS. if you're interested .. I had the chicken and pesto linguine without mushrooms, and it was YUMMY.

it's SHOWTIME

2011-11-06T08:10:00.002+08:00

So, yesterday we took the kids to the Beachtown Show, where we patted alpacas, ate hot greasy doughnuts, investigated tractors and saw a ram with enormous knackers.

Like this. Only grey. (the ram) (and the knackers)

Doesn't that make your eyes water? (and look, his knees are buckling under the weight)

***

We saw electric bikes and Fabio took one for a spin. We didn't buy any though -- $1700 is why. The hefty pricetag doesn't stop me from wanting one.

***

The Princess got a Barbie showbag with a big silver tote, 4 nailpolishes, 4 lipglosses, a brow kit, a hairbrush, a makeup bag and a diary. It's cute and it's keeping her very busy.

Mr TenInACoupleOfWeeks got a gun that fires pingpong balls across the room and it's keeping him very busy.

He didn't get to enjoy it till this morning though because we foolishly let him ride on the SuperDooperMegaVomiterator and he was DREADFULLY sick, couldn't even walk afterwards, and stayed that way for the whole afternoon.

You may feel free to nominate us for Parents of the Year.

***

We found a fudge stand -- and I can't resist fudge -- so we bought me some creme brulee fudge and some nougat for us both. Last night while reading in bed Fabio thought a little nibble of nougat might be in order, so he scratched out his nougat brick and prepared to open it.
But the nougat was determined not to be eaten and defeated all his attempts to tear the wrapping.
After a minute or so of cellophane rustling he managed to tear off a piece the size of a pencil shaving which was only outer wrapping anyway, and he was reduced to gnawing his way through the plastic, but it came loose in tiny eyelash sized bits and I'm not kidding, it took him about ten minutes to open the thing.
By which time my stomach was aching and my glasses had filled up on the inside with tears of laughter.

He enjoyed it eventually though. And the good part was that he worked off a heap of calories opening it.

connected

2011-11-03T12:32:00.001+08:00

OK I hope you're sitting down to read this....

On Friday night, the power went out. And in the morning, my modem was dead.

I know.

Shocking, too devastating to think about -- but true! and of course, it was a long weekend so everyone was away and I waited till MONDAY with NO INTERNET, and I rang Westnet and ordered BoB.

He arrived today.

Isn't he sexy?

But you know what? after 6 days without the net, I wouldn't have cared if he looked like this

I would have sat on his lap and kissed him if he would just. GET. ME. BACK. ON-LINE!

new followers and old friends

2011-10-28T09:56:00.003+08:00

I seem to have picked up a few new followers in the last week or so, and so I'd like to take this opportunity to say WELCOME and also apologise in advance for not being as sparkling as you'd hoped, or for the occasional profanity, or for the frequent fits of near-lunacy.

I would also like to say THANKYOU to all my 'old friends', who keep reading in spite of the lack-of-sparkle, the profanity and the near-lunacy; you make my mornings worthwhile.

And if you're a 'lurker' -- someone who reads but never comments -- unmask yourself and say hello? I've often thought of giving up blogging, and then someone will say "Oh, yes, I check your blog every day" and I had no idea they had ever looked at it.

Bloggers DO write for themselves and we probably would even if no-one ever read or commented, but NEVER under-estimate the power of a little encouragement!

and waking up from the nightmare.

2011-10-27T08:45:00.000+08:00

I've had some private comments about my last post, because yes, the girl was me, and yes, that is what really happened.
One of the things, anyway.

Many of the commenters (most of whom are related to me) were concerned about me being so public with that story, and some were hopeful that in some way, it might allow me to heal or move on.

I rang my sister the day after I published, to see what she thought, if I'd crossed a line, and she said that hadn't even occurred to her. She only thought how bizarre it is that we used to think of that as our normal lives, and how amazing it is that we all grew up to be normal, functioning people.

Neither of us think that we're 'stuck' in the past, but obviously it has had an effect on us.

I wrote the story to get it out of me; I published it because for the whole of my life, I've been ashamed of where I came from, and even of who I was.

No more!

I didn't DO those things, I didn't CAUSE them, and I'm not going to bear the weight of that shame any longer.
This is where I've put it down, and this is where it's staying.

Nightmare on Ellie Street

2011-10-23T19:19:00.001+08:00

Imagine this.

A girl wakes up in the middle of the night, and for no reason, she feels the need to go to Mums' room. She doesn't know why -- she is 14 years old now, far too big to be needing Mum in the middle of the night.
She creeps through the house. Everything is dark and silent.

But when she peeks through Mums' bedroom door, her heart skips a beat. Because the room looks like a bomb has gone off.
The wardrobes are tipped over all the drawers on the floor clothes flung anyoldplace a door torn off the mattress sliding rumpled unkempt off the base the smell of spilled aftershave and there is no mum anywhere.

The girl is beyond frightened. She tries to swallow and hears the click as her dry mouth and throat protest. Her heart is thudding.

She creeps out to the kitchen, hoping to find someone hoping not to find someone, and there is her dad, sitting at the table with a loaded gun.

The gun looks 18 feet long, cold and deadly. Her heart stops, then thuds so hard she can feel it in her ears and neck.

"Where's Mum?" she whispers.

"I dunno," her father slurs, belligerent, surly, unthinking. "But when she comes back I'm gonna fuckin' shoot her. Alright???"

The girl thinks fast.

"OK," she says. "Well, I'm going back to bed."

On the way back to her room, she checks on her two little brothers. They are just 4 and 2. They are in the room next to her parents' room, and they're still fast asleep. How they weren't woken by the fighting and the smashing, she'll never know, but she's thankful. They're too little for this shit.
"Bloody hell," she thinks. "I'M too little for this shit!"

She climbs out her bedroom window, still in her nightie, and runs up the street to the Post Office.
This is back in the Olden Days, at the very end of the 70s, and the town still has actual people working on the Telephone Exchange. She bangs on the door and frightens the girl who's doing nights.

"Get the police to go to my house," she says. "My dad's got a gun. He says he's gonna shoot my mum."

In a small town, it's better not to give too much information, but the girl is 14. She's more concerned that her mother might be shot, than worried about what the town will say next day.

She hobbles back home. She didn't wait to put shoes on, and her feet are hurting now. She sees the police at the house, and creeps back inside when they're gone.

***

The next morning, no-one mentions what's happened. It's as though she dreamed it all.

She checks in her parents' room just to make sure, and the bed is neatly made, the clothes all put away.
The wardrobe doors and drawers are missing.

***

Some days later, she comes home from school, and her father snarls in his beer-sodden voice, "Look out, I'm runnin' amok! Ya better go ring the cops!!"

"If you do, I WILL!" she snaps back.

She goes into her room and cries till her heart stops hurting so bad.

It takes a long time.

surviving the zombie apocalypse

2011-10-18T20:03:00.003+08:00

Some married couples sit around in the evenings, discussing the mortgage and who's picking the kids up from school tomorrow.
Not us.
Fabio and I have been updating our Zombie Apocalypse Survival Plan.

I can't tell you what it is, because frankly we don't need anyone stealing our awesome Plan and then having to compete with them for resources, so you'll have to think of your own Plan, then tell it to me, and I'll see if ours is better.

(I know lots of you haven't bothered to think of a plan, and to be honest, that's just fine with me too. You'll be eaten and we'll be getting away.)

Fabio had to have a couple of shots at it. One of his ideas was to move us out into the wheatbelt of WA, so we could see anything coming -- but I pointed out that zombies come at NIGHT so you CAN'T see them, and you're better off in a place with access to WATER and SUPPLIES, and told him to Plan better or I'd have to remove him from the Planning Committee.

So then he came up with a Really Good Plan, part of which involves stealing a 60 foot motorboat.

I asked him if he knew how to drive one, and he said "Enough."

A little concerning.

I said, "Well, it better be more than 'enough', cos I can't swim very well."

He looked at me kindly.

"You can't RUN very well, either," he said, "so we'll take our chances with the yacht."

***

My amendment to his Plan is to grab a bunch of people from our karate class. You should SEE some of them do a roundhouse kick!

blood and bones and what are friends for?

2011-10-14T11:51:00.003+08:00

Remember that kerfuffle when Angie said she had Billy Bobs' blood in a necklace around her neck, and people got all snarky and said she was a freak and the blood was a bio-hazard?

I thought it was amazingly romantic (if mis-guided -- I mean, Brad, yes, but BILLY BOB??)

Anyway, I was thinking about this one night in bed, and I was also thinking about bones.

Bones are cool.

The most ordinary, everyday human beings' skeleton is a marvel of engineering and architecture, and yet we take them for granted until we develop a bad back or sprain an ankle.
Look how beautifully we are supported, cantilevered, and balanced, just so we can do something as ordinary and humdrum as walking to the laundry with a basket of dirty clothes on our hip.

I love bones.

***

I had an epiphany. Which, of course, I had to share with Fabio.

me: Honey! when you die, can I have one of your bones?

Silence. Then he put down his book and slowly turned his head to look at me.

Fabio: what. the fuck. for?

me: so I can hang it round my neck on a chain.

Then, I see concern in his eyes and I think maybe he's worried about the weight of his skull or one of his thigh bones hanging round my scrawny neck so I quickly add

"Just a little one. A finger bone or a toe bone."
(the end finger bones are properly called 'distal phalanges' -- you're welcome)

There is a long silence.

F: No.

me: why NOT?? you won't be needing them.

F: just.... no. My God, you are the weirdest wife I've ever owned. Am I going to have to post guards around my coffin????

**

Fast forward to the other day, when I repeated this conversation to my BFF. Who IMMEDIATELY offered to help, by distracting everyone with a hysterical fit, while I whip out the shears and nip off a finger.

See, THAT'S what best friends are for.

disclaimer: just because, you know, it's the Internets -- I am NOT planning to harvest anything off my husband, dead or alive. Don't report me to anyone or give me well meaning advice. {{Unless you're going to help.}}

a toy story.

2011-09-29T22:50:00.003+08:00

Oh, Buzz.

You joined our family way back when Mr 9 was Mr 3, and you've been his constant companion since then.
You slept with him every night, you comforted him when he was sad or sick, you came with us on every holiday and weekend trip.
Once we left you in the airport shop, remember that? hahaha... and we nearly missed our plane because we couldn't leave you behind!

Good times, Buzz, good times.

Remember the time the piece fell out of your chin? or when your - ahem - crotch split and I had to sew you up? Sorry about that. I was as gentle as I knew how.

I'm sorry about the times I chucked you in the washing machine too, I guess it probably felt a bit like Infinite and Beyond in there, but MY didn't you scrub up well? and you certainly smelled a lot fresher afterwards.
And remember, how Mr 3-9 would wait impatiently for you to come out and then he'd hug you even though you were still a bit wet?
He didn't mind.

Remember how we used to sing "You've Got A Friend In Me" to you in the car? and you never complained when we got the words a bit muddled up.

You've been slept on, sat on, spat on, and spewed on. You've been the best friend my boy ever had.

Today I found you in his wardrobe, jumbled in on top of the shoes, with only an old robot for company.

When I asked him why you were there, he said "Mum, I'm getting a bit old for him. I'm nearly 10, now."

And my heart broke a little, and I hoped you didn't hear that.

So I rescued you from the shoes, and dusted you off, and sat you up in the bookshelf, where you can keep watch over my boy ....

.... as you have for 6 long years now.

the Mirena Edition part 2 -- definitely NOT for boys!

2011-09-22T14:17:00.001+08:00

So today was M Day -- I took the huge box containing my new Mirena and toddled off to see my GP.

I was very nervous. Because

a) I don't like anyone but my husband looking at my lady bits (and to tell the truth I'd rather HE turned the lights off as well)

b) just lately my lady bits have had a rough time and I fully expected more of the same.

But it all went surprisingly well.

(Apart from the speculum, of course -- OMG I'm sure that thing is a junior cousin to medieval thumb screws.)

I had a Pap Smear at the same time, which was more uncomfortable than the IUD going in, and I'm having slight cramps (nothing to worry about) and some light spotting (nothing to worry about).

So -- all in all, not the way I'd CHOOSE to spend a half hour of my time, but I've had worse.

Now I just have to wait for the smear results (with fingers crossed)(more about that ~~tomorrow~~ another day.)
and hope that the IUD does its' magic.

when is your mum not your mum?

2011-09-18T08:03:00.000+08:00

It's sort of weird, having your adult children read your blog.

Over the last lately, I've written a vibrator review, discussed my menstrual problems, and talked about the Mirena, and put up a post about my husbands' testicles that featured a naked and hairy Burt Reynolds.

And YET, they keep reading.

Yesterday, my 18 year old talked to me about the dog post from a couple of days ago, saying "I had no idea you'd been bullied like that, Mum."
Well, no. Admittedly that was a story that I didn't think would ever see the light of day.

However, I started thinking about parents and their adult kids.
I think it comes as a bit of a surprise to most kids when they realise that Mum and Dad didn't spring miraculously into being at the moment of the childs' birth -- that they were, in fact, people with lives and thoughts and experiences that had nothing at all to do with the said child.

I've been wondering how my kids see me, as a person, rather than as Mum, who used to sing hideous opera-like songs to get them out of bed in the mornings and who gushed over glitter paint and paddle-pop stick art like it was the Mona Lisa.

Do they like me? Do they think my opinions are valid, or are they simply waiting, as my eldest son puts it, for the day a spot opens up in that dodgy Old Peoples' Home he saw on 60 Minutes?

Am I an actual person to them, or still just Mum?

bikie girl

2011-09-16T07:19:00.000+08:00

The Princess has re-discovered the leather jacket her dad bought her last year, and has been busily imagining outfits to wear it with.
She's decided it would be awesome to have a black skirt and black boots and black sunglasses to go with her black jacket.....
and then realised she would be a BIT embarrassed to be a bikie girl when she still has training wheels on her bike....

Oh WAIT -- did you hear a thud? that was the sound of Fabio fainting and falling out of his chair as he read this and imagined his Princess as a bikie chick....

a dog story. No happy ending.

2011-09-15T14:12:00.000+08:00

I read a post today that I can't stop thinking about. You can see it here, and then this post will make a bit more sense.

When I was a teenager, I was ... well, I'll be kind to myself and say 'plain'.
I grew massive boobs at 14, and they got a lot of attention, but the rest of me was pretty uninspiring.
The boys at school, who were a fairly stupid bunch, used to call me all kinds of things, and I was one of 'those' girls who never got asked to dance and spent the evening dancing with other girls at the disco.

One day, when I was 16, I went swimming at a local waterhole with some friends, and while we were there, a bunch of yokels rocked up.
One of them, Chris, who was a few years older than me, and engaged! to be married!, called me over and asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with him.
This was yokel-speak for 'd'ya wanna shag?'
I said no.
He tried his most winning tactic.
"Oh, come on," he said. "The other guys say you're a real dog but I think you'd be a good root."

Shockingly, I was not convinced by this, and said no again, and turned to walk away, and he got all pissy and called me a few other names which I won't repeat here.
After that, he would always glare at me and mutter about cock-teasers, while I could never look at him without feeling that burn of shame and humiliation.
Dog?
This is the first time I've ever spoken about that publicly. I still feel the shame, 30 years later.

I stalked him on Facebook a few years ago. He's divorced, with a drinking problem. Are you surprised?

I don't get what it is with some boys, that they have to put girls down like that. Obviously, they're shallow, insecure, immature, and all those other things, but knowing that doesn't ever take away the pain and shame of the things they say.

Seasidechik is a beautiful girl. She dresses well, she looks after herself and her family, she's bright, and bubbly, thoughtful, a loving mum, and a fantastic wife.

And today, she's nursing bruises on her soul because of some loud-mouthed gits with not a brain between them. I want to smack their heads together, force them to crawl on their knees over broken glass to apologise to her, make them cry....

... the way they made her cry. Bastards.

the mirena edition (not for boys)

2011-09-12T11:32:00.000+08:00

So.

As many of you know, I've been quite unwell lately.
What actually happened was, I felt dreadful, went to the doctor, had some bloodwork done, and the results were appalling -- my haemoglobin was shockingly low and I had to have an iron transfusion (not the funnest ever way to spend a day, I might add)

This is because I was slowly bleeding to death. Every month, I lose in the first couple of hours what a woman could expect to lose over the course of a whole normal period.
It's something I've spoken about before and I sort of accepted that was just how life was, but as it turns out I was just one heavy bleed away from some (probable) VERY SERIOUS complications. Like possible cardiac arrest.

So, once my iron levels semi-stablised, I had to have a D&C -- again, not massive amounts of fun -- and now, in a last ditch effort to ward off a hysterectomy, I'm having a Mirena IUD fitted in about a week and a half.

You get a prescription, and buy the thing from your chemist, then you take it in to your doctor on Appointment Day (which will be the day before my birthday. Wheee.)
So I did what every computer addict would and Googled MIRENA -- and everything I read said "Don't be alarmed by the size of the box!"
When I picked it up today, I had to laugh. I mean, check this puppy OUT!!

It's a good thing I know that's mostly packaging.

a wedding shoot

2011-09-06T15:47:00.001+08:00

Do you have a daughter? Quick, go get her now, and have a look at THIS gorgeous wedding shoot.

Here's a sneaky peeky....

Now take a second look -- cos that's Barbie. And a scandalously young looking Ken.

a hairy tale

2011-09-03T10:12:00.000+08:00

Fabio, bless his bamboo socks, has been taking the kids to school while I've been recuperating.

My Avon lady, one of the mums at school, gave him a hair product sample for me to try, and his poor bloke brain overloaded.

"Princess!" he asked. "Whose Mum gave me this hair syrup?"

I feel like a stack of pancakes....

D.A.D.

2011-09-02T10:12:00.001+08:00

Sometimes, Fabio puts the kids on his lap and lets them 'drive' the car. On very quiet bush roads, of course.

We have a Pajero, and it idles along quite nicely, so there's no speed involved, though the kids certainly think they're flyin along like Brocky, judging by the 'WHEW!" noises as they negotiate a particularly tricky corner.

They LOVE driving. Part of it is the thrill and part of it is spending time with Dad, I'm sure. And I hope they keep those memories all their lives.

I didn't have -- WE didn't have -- that kind of relationship with our dad. I love him but he's a grumpy old curmudgeon, and I can't ever remember him doing stuff with us when we were kids. Not one bedtime story, not one game of backyard cricket, not one special trip to the shops.

He did give my sister a driving lesson one time. Her first driving lesson, I believe. To reverse the car up a slope covered in long, wet grass. Unsurprisingly, he leapt from the car white and shaky and no-one ever got a driving lesson again.

Anyway, like I said, I do love my dad; he's actually one of the funniest people I know when he's in a good mood, and we're all so used to the stuff he says and does that we laugh rather than cry now.

But I'm hugely grateful that my husband loves to spend time with our kids, that he thinks of them as the finest thing he's achieved in his life, and that he shows them every day how much he loves them.

I don't think the role of dads is valued enough any more. Good dads = strong families. Not because mums aren't as important, but because a good dad allows mum to be a mum, instead of trying to be everything to everyone.

I've talked about this before -- more than once, I suspect -- because it's something I feel very strongly about; maybe because my own lack of a strong loving dad affected me hugely for most of my life.

This Sunday, we'll be having our Daddy Appreciation Day, complete with presents and cake and all the trimmings. But every day should be a D.A.D., because good dads rock.

sherbet cupcakes? YUM!!!

2011-08-31T21:03:00.001+08:00

I know! sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? I mean, who doesn't like cupcakes, right? and cupcakes with a special fizz?? MMMMM-mmmmmm.

Here's a link to the blog where you'll find a delish (and easy peasy) recipe for fizzy yummy cupcakes that your kids will love making (and eating).

Puddles and Gumboots

Enjoy! :)

I'm grateful for....

2011-08-28T21:34:00.000+08:00

Once again, I've missed Maxabellas' grateful post, but I'm grateful anyway, for friends and family, who love me, who have been in constant touch to see how I am, for those readers who have stayed even though my blog has been so neglected.

I don't know how I got so lucky, but I'm very very thankful.

silence

2011-08-20T19:40:00.000+08:00

When things are bad, I shut down.

Do you do that?

I take the phone off the hook, I don't go out, I don't speak.

It isn't because I have nothing to say. It's because the things I would say are too big. They might hurt people. They might hurt me.

Right now, I have a lot of heavy stuff going on in my life. I may blog about it but if I do, I'll be guest posting somewhere anonymously.

In the meantime, I'm finding it really hard to talk about light stuff - which is why my blog has been so neglected.

I hope you'll stick with me.

This will all be over one day.

now where did she hear that?

2011-08-18T19:41:00.000+08:00

The Princess brought home Weston the Wombat yesterday.
This is a ploy used by Year 1 teachers at her school, to encourage the kids to write. Weston is a stuffed toy, and he stays with each child for two nights, and he has a Book of Adventures, where the kids have to write what Weston did while at their house.

So of course, he had to come to karate with us tonight. And the Princess explained the rules.

"Weston, you have to be very quiet at karate, and no calling out to me, or you'll bugger my concentration."

what's in your lunchbox today?

2011-07-27T09:06:00.000+08:00

Those nutritional experts who go on about kids taking healthy lunches to school clearly don't have any actual kids.
Or they have one child, who willingly wears knee-high socks and enjoys playing croquet with Father after dinner of an evening.

My kids, on the other hand, would happily have a Nutella sammitch every day of every week for an entire school year. And sometimes it's really tempting to let them, because the reality of making healthy lunches for two children with varying tastes is a head-doer-innerer.

For example -- this morning, making a ham-and-salad sandwich, I must remember that:

Mr 9 does not eat butter. Under any circumstances.

The Princess loathes lettuce.

Mr 9 won't have one even tiny skerrick of cheese.

The Princess won't have dijonnaise. Mr 9 will, but it has to be next to the ham.

Happily, they both like grated carrot, and cucumber, so they get plenty of that.

Now -- fruit.

The Princess likes RED apples. Easy.

And Mr 9 likes GREEN apples, but they have to be really green, and tart, and the supermarkets just don't sell them like that. Grannies are now quite sweet, and often floury, and Mr 9 spits them out. But he also likes mandarines, and happily we have plenty.

A snack for recess? -- ahhh -- Bad Mummy gives them a slice of cake. Not even remotely healthy, but really, what's the point to life if you can't have a little slice of chocolate cake once in a while? At least they didn't get it for breakfast!

scaredy-cat

2011-07-20T21:02:00.000+08:00

Uh-oh. I knew this would happen. I started re-reading all my Stephen Kings, and now I'm scared to go to bed.

The worst book he ever wrote (scariest) is The Shining. Scared the CRAP out of me both times I plucked up the courage to read it. And I read it in Jack Nicholsons' voice, which made it even worserer.
I don't know that I'll ever be brave enough to give it a third outing.

I've finished IT, and I'm half-way through From A Buick 8, and then The Talisman is looking good -- it's been a long time since I walked the Territories with Jack Sawyer.

food freak

2011-07-15T22:20:00.000+08:00

I have a lot of food issues.

There are many, many things I can't eat, and when I say 'can't' I really mean it. I don't mean that I'm a fussy eater. I have Issues.

I can't eat at most peoples' houses, and it's not always to do with the cleanliness of the house, either. It's like a switch clicks over in my brain, and I just. Can't. Do it.

Any leftovers that have been in the fridge for more than 24 hours go in the bin. Can't eat 'em.

If I think something might have been out of the fridge for too long (like in the shopping trolley and then home) I might not be able to bring myself to eat it. And the thing is, I know it's stupid, a lot of the time, because I can give it to the kids. But I can't eat it myself. And that proves it's in my head, because no way would I risk the kids with food I seriously thought was bad.

It's the same with the pantry. Tin of baked beans been in the pantry for 3 weeks?? bin it. It might be 'bad'.

I can't bear food smells on my hands.
I shudder when I have to cut up chicken, because the smell will be on my hands. I have to scrub and scrub to get all the smells off.
I bought a box of gloves, those thin ones you can get, but I couldn't deal with the smell of them, either. Maybe I'll try a different (unscented) brand.

I use a lot of rubbing alcohol, to kill germs on my hands. See, I totally get how Howard Hughes managed to wig out and become germ-phobic. I'm not a mad house cleaner or child sanitiser, but I have to keep my hands clean-smelling.

I become fixated on certain things I do enjoy eating. And then I eat so much of them, I get sick. Or fat. Or both.

Part of the problem is that I can taste the chemicals in many foods. Sauces, packet foods, tinned foods, pre-prepared stuff -- it often tastes metallic, or overly sweet or too salty. Preservatives in bread, cakes etc make me dry retch.

I avoid anything with a strong odour if it's at all possible. Sometimes I seriously have to tie cloth over my nose and mouth so I can make the kids something to eat, because everything, everything, smells hideous to me.

Sometimes I drive my husband mad. He has a cast-iron stomach, not quite in the Bear Grylls category, but he never has to stop and think about eating. He just enjoys it.
I'm lucky that he really tries to understand, because it's embarrassing and annoying for him that no matter where we go, I'll likely stay hungry rather than eat something that might be 'bad'.

We hear a lot in the media about eating disorders, but I've never read about anyone else like me. I don't know what's wrong with me... and I'm not asking for solutions (unless you really have one).

I just want to know ---- am I the only one?

sleeping in till noon

2011-07-09T11:40:00.000+08:00

I could like mornings a whole lot better if they didn't always start so freakin' early.

No school today -- it's Saturday -- and the kids slept on the sofa bed last night, and they were up really late watching King Kong (why, yes, I AM in line for that Mother of the Year Award...) and so they let us have a little sleep in too, and it was
LUXURIOUS!

No leaping up, dazed and bleary-eyed, at 7am, no lunch making, no shrieking at people for the sixteenth time to just-for-the-love-of-God-put-on-your-bloody-uniform, and no shoe searching.
No frosty drives in the car, no walking small people through the school gate, no frosty drives home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

Just peace. Warm snuggles. The sort of silly conversations you have with the man you love that make no sense and would embarrass you horribly if News of the World published a transcript. Coffee. Snuggles with the kids who kept coming in to hug Daddy because they LOVE HIM and oh, hello, Mum, I didn't know you were there.

We ended up getting up before 9 but it was because we WANTED to, not because of some hideous time restraint forcing our poor tired bodies out into the cold uncaring dawn.

There should be more of this Gentle Awakening, in my view.

And -- oh wait -- there will be -- because tomorrow is SUNDAY.

And then -- well, then, two whole weeks of school holidays stretch out in front of me, like a promise.....

if only Fabio wasn't leaving next week, life would be pretty near perfect.

enter chaos

2011-07-08T10:13:00.002+08:00

When Fabio is away, things are very different.

The kids have eggs or baked beans on toast for dinner, I stay up late on the PlayStation and the lawn doesn't get mowed.

Also, things stay more or less where I put them. More or less.

Take our bed, for example.

When he's away, I sleep neatly in my own side of the bed, and his side remains virtually undisturbed, cushions and all. I get up in the morning, smooth up my sheet/doona, and replace my pillows. That's it. Our room is always tidy. The bathroom is neat and dry.

When Fabio comes home, he's like a cyclone. He himself is all calm and happy but all around him is chaos.
He drops all his clothes (and possibly shoes) at the side of the bed, and throws all the cushions off the bed, any old where. He climbs in and the first thing he does is throw his feet up so all the sheets come untucked at the bottom, and then fusses over his pillows, deciding which one he'll sleep on tonight. The unwanted ones get tossed onto the floor.

He rustles around all night and somehow the doona always ends up half-slithered off the foot of the bed or on one side, so that one person is shivering under the sheet hem, and the other person has a whole doona bunched around their neck.

I have to completely strip and re-make the bed every day when he's home.

The bathroom has wet towels hung higgledy-piggledy, the top of the shower screen is booby-trapped with toothbrush, toothpaste and a very large, heavy bottle of shower-gel. The floor mat is soaked and scrunched into a ball on the floor. And the door stays closed to keep in all the moisture and the heavy cloud of spray-on deodorant.

He spreads newspapers all round his chair, and leaves coffee-cups in his office. He seems to be physically incapable of putting the coffee and sugar canisters back into their proper spots.

I lose control of the Wand of Power and have to suffer through incessant channel surfing or sudden volume changes.

(this is not us - but it could be.)

Yes, when he's away, things are very different.

Quiet.
Tidy.

And so, so lonely.

well I'm glad I'm not paying for that.....

2011-07-07T12:40:00.000+08:00

Since The Big Rain (last week? whenever that was, anyway) two of the toilets and my washing machine have been draining slowly so the plumber arrived today and has dug up half the front yard, and he's now telling me that he thinks the rain pushed the tank up out of the ground and has broken some pipes etc.

So now my front yard looks like an artillery range and my drains are all exposed to the view of every passer-by. How embarrassment.

The hunt for the tanks and the pipes was interesting though. While the plumber and his apprentice wandered around the yard, several of the neighbours stopped to say where they thought everything might be. Is it kind of weird that random strangers think they know where your sewage lies?

Anyway, WHY DON'T PEOPLE LEAVE SOME KIND OF INFORMATION ABOUT THIS STUFF? You would think it would save a lot of time (and therefore, money) to have plumbers able to go straight to the part of the yard that might need digging up.
AND -- it looks like there is drainage under the paved driveway, which will need to be dug up as well.

** NOTE TO SELF --plan the drainage well if we ever get the chance to build...

my kids are turning yellow

2011-07-06T11:20:00.000+08:00

So, last night at karate, The Princess and Mr 9 got the results from their grading last week.

The Princess received her 10th kyu white belt which means she has a white belt with a yellow ribbons round each end. Here she is receiving her certificate from her instructor -- I can't show you his face because we have to protect his identity as Super Sensei.

Mr 9 received his 9th kyu yellow belt, so he gets a full yellow belt. And a certificate.

They were SO excited. They love karate, they love training, and the group is almost like family, with funny 'uncles' and some nice 'aunties' and a bunch of 'cousins' of all ages. I'm really glad I made the decision to take them, and seeing them do so well at something they love is worth all the effort. Even the ironing.

in my Sunday best

2011-07-03T11:57:00.000+08:00

I've just had a good look at what I'm wearing today.

Brown trakky dacks, a blue t-shirt, a black and white hoodie, and purple and white striped socks.

Well. I'm warm, anyway.

I'm so grateful for fire...

2011-07-02T10:09:00.002+08:00

It's been cold. And wet. For ever.

We have a tile fire in the house, similar to this one (although admittedly not as clean)

and I love it. I don't give a rats about carbon except when it gets on my hands, or global warming unless it means I am no longer freezing. The fire is my True Love in winter.

Of course, to have a successful wood fire, you need wood. And wood doesn't just grow on trees, you know.

Oh .. wait...

.... what I mean to say is, you either have to run a trailer and a chainsaw and go out into the forest and cut up logs, and load them into the trailer and bring them home and unload them and stack them neatly in your shed, or pay someone a lot of money to bring you loads of wood, and then stack it neatly in your shed.

Either way, Fabio provides. His hard work means that we are toasty warm and comfortable all winter, and as I look out onto grey skies and pouring rain, I am ever so grateful for fire. And my Fabio.

I'm dyeing here

2011-06-30T09:13:00.000+08:00

I look old. Well, I probably look my actual age, and that's not a good thing, folks!

And here is why....

.... see the eyebrows and eyelashes? no? aha!

here's the solution.

It's a good look, hey?

Those of you with dark lashes and brows have no idea how much I envy you.

toofs

2011-06-29T13:39:00.003+08:00

Last night, the kids did their very first karate grading.

So we had ironed ghis, and plaited hair (on the Princess, at least) and they did their stances and strikes and blocks, and then answered a bunch of questions, and next week they find out if they get a yellow ribbon on their belts.

But no-one is giving me a yellow ribbon, for the washing of those WHITE ghis, twice a week, and the ironing, and the plaiting, and the forcing-them-to-practise, and the ironing, and the quizzing, and the ironing.
I think I should get a yellow ribbon. Don't you?
And did I mention the ironing?

Afterwards, we went to Maccas (for a treat, if you were the kids, or torture, if you were me) and on the way home the Princess let out an excited squeal because she had just discovered

HER FIRST WOBBLY TOOF!

and she wriggled it and poked it all the way home, chattering away about wobbly toofs, and how some-people-in-her-class fink the Toof Fairy is real (can you imagine?) and how much money will Dad give her (which I had to reign in a little -- I think $20 is a tad OTT, would you agree? I'm sure Dad will thank me.)
And when we got home, she showed me the blood spots all over the front of her clean white ironed ghi.

Sigh.

It's personal. And classified.

2011-06-25T15:51:00.000+08:00

Many of you would have seen these before, but they make me laugh every time I read them.

a spot of rain

2011-06-24T19:08:00.002+08:00

We had a little rain today.

my front verandah

the view from my bedroom

the 'patio' (which is actually a floodplain)

the drainage ditch on the way down to the beach, normally has a few inches of water in it.

Today, the tide washed back up it, as well as all the rainwater emptying into it. The white floaty things are mostly cuttlefish from off the beach.

the drainage ditch, looking back towards the house; it came within maybe two centimetres of overflowing.

our 'winter storm' beach, complete with weed.

the track back to the house, complete with high tide mark!

I was at the supermarket when the rain started. And it absolutely BELTED down. By the time I threw the groceries into the boot and got onto the double lane highway, the water was running gutter to gutter. It was a slow trip home! There was so much water I thought the car might conk out, but by staying back a bit from the car in front, I was able to see where the worst and deepest water was.

When I got home, my poor dog was huddled up against the back wall of the house, there literally wasn't a dry inch anywhere. So she's been inside in front of the fire all afternoon.

The whole street in front of the house was underwater and I was concerned I might not get out to pick the kids up from school, but it stopped raining about 20 minutes before I had to leave.
The good news is, the water drained away quickly. The bad news is, I'm not sure it's over!

UPDATE -- according to Weatherzone we've had over 43 mm since 9 am. (most of it between 11 and 2 pm)

coughing and sneezing and snobbles, oh my!

2011-06-23T09:35:00.001+08:00

I'm now in the third week of having this awful virus.

I'm not coughing as much, and I haven't had a sneezing fit so far today, so I figure I might actually be going to get better soon.

Also, the litres of snobble I was producing has dwindled to a mere handful per day (damn those cheap tissues)...

... all of which means that my blog could get back to regular transmission soon.

This may or may not be a good thing.

funky clock

2011-06-21T00:16:00.000+08:00

I fully want this clock.

Image came from here.

I've gone visiting!

2011-06-20T07:47:00.000+08:00

Come on over to Leannes' and join us for a cuppa and a natter.

it'a a miracle.

2011-06-19T10:43:00.001+08:00

How do you feel about miracles?

I don't mean, the miracle of rainbows and unicorns-farting-sparkles type New Age crap. I mean, real, actual miracles, of people being healed of cancer or rescued by a random stranger who vanishes without thanks.

Do you believe that sometimes, miracles happen?

I do. I've seen them.

Let's talk about "Eddie". I'd known Eddie for several years, and he had the worst limp you've ever seen. Actually, you'd have hesitated to call it a limp, because he had one leg a couple of inches shorter than the other, and walked with a 'roll' so bad that he couldn't carry a drink.
Eddie came to church one night, and the pastor prayed for him.
And I saw Eddies' leg 'grow out.'
I watched it happen.

(In actual fact, although we say 'his leg grew out', it's really that his back straightened and forced his legs into alignment for the first time in many many years. It's just easier to say.)

No-one yanked on him or performed chiro. He sat in a chair with his feet up on another chair, and the pastor quietly prayed for him with his hand on Eddies' shoulder, and over about a minute, Eddie's legs aligned so that when he stood up, he walked without that awful roll. He's been without it ever since, and that was at least 10 years ago.

In the church that I used to go to, a crooked back is associated with bitterness and unforgiveness. If you have back pain or a limp etc, you'll always be asked if there's someone you harbour bitterness toward, and you'll be asked to pray to forgive that person. Most people find that really difficult, because we don't have a very good understanding of 'forgiveness'. It doesn't mean, 'you were right to do what you did'. It means, 'I choose to let go of this'.
And I've seen it work, time after time -- though Eddies' case was a bit more dramatic than most!

Now, whether you think that was the power of God, or the power of self, or even some amazing kind of sleight-of-hand physio trick, the miracle is still real. People healed of back-pain are genuinely amazed and so so grateful.

A man I know who was diagnosed with lung cancer came up for prayer week after week, until one day when he told us he'd just had tests showing his lung cancer had now been downgraded to pneumonia.

A woman I know had scans done which proved, beyond doubt, that her unborn daughter had spina bifida and might not survive birth. After months of prayer, the baby was born, healthy and with no spina bifida.

Another man, who we'll call Nigel, was involved in a serious mining accident, his legs crushed by a rock the size of a large dining room table. X-rays showed that he would never walk again. There was talk of amputation.
A prayer chain was set in action, with literally hundreds of people who I don't even know praying for Nigel. On the operating table, they found his legs badly broken but no-where near as bad as the X-rays had shown. It took him a long time to recover but he's working in mining again and apart from some serious scars, you would never know anything had ever happened to his legs.

These might be put down to medical errors, but let me tell you, everyone of those people regards
their story as a genuine miracle.

I'll tell you another little story about Nigel -- after he'd recovered, he came out to church one night. Our pastor called him out to the front to pray for him -- and keep in mind that this isn't one of those American evangelical churches where people get pushed over.... -- the Pastor put his hand up ready to put it on Nigels' head -- but hadn't yet touched him, when Nigel was literally hit by something.
He staggered backwards, his arms windmilling, and almost fell. With no-one touching him.
He shook his head, and stepped forward again, and it happened again. Three times.
And no-one had touched him.
Something happened to Nigel that night, and I saw it. He didn't convert, he's still the same cheeky ratbag he's always been, but something happened. He was touched by something. Or someone.

I know there are charlatans everywhere who take advantage of our desperation, our gullibility, our needs. They promise healing, riches, the deepest desires of our hearts.

But I still believe that there are genuine miracles performed every day. And whether they come from God or from within ourselves, they're still pretty amazing.

Just ask Nigel.

swishy hair

2011-06-18T16:42:00.001+08:00

The Princess has mad curly hair. (Think Shirley Temple on steroids).
It's thick and springy and we have to spray conditioner through it every day just to drag a comb through.
And forget brushing!!

Being six, she can't understand why strangers comment on how beautiful her hair is. She just wants it to be straight and shiny and swishy. And I totally get that, because my hair, unstraightened, looks like the stringy fibre you find inside a coconut.

Sometimes, she gives me the puppy-dog eyes. See?

note : image may differ from actual child

And what's a mum to do? I straighten her hair.

So now she's prancing around the house, swishing and flicking and draping herself on the door frames.
I know it's not good for her hair but she feels a million bucks. Hard to resist.

a poet

2011-06-14T20:12:00.000+08:00

Have you ever read Stephen Dobyns?

This is his poem, grief.

Trying to remember you
is like carrying water
in my hands a long distance
across sand. Somewhere people are waiting.
They have drunk nothing for days.

Your name was the food I lived on;
now my mouth is full of dirt and ash.
To say your name was to be surrounded
by feathers and silk; now, reaching out,
I touch glass and barbed wire.
Your name was the thread connecting my life;
now I am fragments on a tailor’s floor.

I was dancing when I
learned of your death; may
my feet be severed from my body.

on life.

2011-06-13T10:50:00.000+08:00

I think I've discovered the secret of life - you just hang around until you get used to it.

(Charles Schulz)

So. You want to stay married?

2011-06-10T09:29:00.003+08:00

Things to Never Say to Your Wife

Have you put on weight?

My mum didn't make it like this. You can't even get out of this by saying "Yours is MUCH better!" because if your mum finds out, you're dead.

I accidentally taped over our wedding DVD.

That's really not your colour, is it?

I bought you a cookbook. Unless it's personally signed by Manu.

I bought you a lawnmower.

I had lunch with my old girlfriend today.

Anniversary? Today? Really?

Birthday? Today? Really?

Why can't your mum stay at a hotel?

So, what did you do all day?

Well, I married you, didn't I?

Things To Never Say To Your Husband

NEVER ask "Do I look fat in this?"
Note to husbands -- if your wife asks this quesion, do NOT say "Yes", or "Not in that, no." , or hesitate for even a split second while you think about it. In fact, if your wife springs this question on you, it's probably best to pass out on the floor as a distraction.

Why don't you just stop and ask for directions!?

Are you sure you know how to do that?

Do you think she's pretty?

I'll try anything once! Because unless you really, really, really mean it, you're going to crush his hopes!

flu

2011-06-08T12:16:00.001+08:00

Juice.

Tissues.

Bed.

Rest.

hot

2011-06-06T21:05:00.001+08:00

It's cold outside. Like, 4 degrees kind of cold.

And so (not unreasonably) I have the fire lit. Only now I can't think because my feet are hot.

I also can't think if my glasses are dirty, if I have an eyelash in my eye, or my hands are sticky.

I think my wiring was done by The Dodgy Brothers.

lazy

2011-06-05T17:13:00.000+08:00

Not much going on here at Chez ChickChat.

I made my bed and a tag and passionfruit jelly.

I kept the fire going and I read my book.

The kids played, they made a mess and then cleaned it up.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

Lazy.