the Princess and the Please

The Princess took something the other day without saying thankyou.

"Oh, I think you meant to say 'thankyou Mother darling'", I prompted.

She looked at me kindly.

"Well," she said, "I didn't. But you can think that if you want to."

She's six, and she's outclassing me.

oh for the Lotto life....

Dammit.

I was so sure I'd win Lotto last night, because I actually remembered to buy a ticket this week, but no, it seems not.

Fabio and I often talk about what we would do if we won Lotto.
Mostly, we try and work out how much we could give away, and where we'd build our house.
And we always have the Car Discussion.

Last nights' Car Discussion went like this.

Fabio : "And I'd buy you a new car, babe."

me: "But I like my car."

Fabio: "Yes, but I'd buy you a new one."

me: "But I like my car. I haven't got any complaints about it. It'd be nice to have rear powered windows, and an iPod jack, but otherwise I'm really happy with that car."

Fabio: "See? I could buy you an upgraded model."

me: "But I like my car."

pause

me: "We could buy you a new car!"

Fabio: "But........... I like my car."

We're such Wannabes.

clothes maketh the woman, too.

So the other day, the library rang me to say that I really needed to bring their books back home, please.
They were really polite, so I obliged immediately. Or the next morning.

And checked out a BIG pile of new books ('new' meaning, I haven't read them yet)

One of which was this:

I love T&Ss TV shows, and thought the book might be interesting, but I actually learned quite a lot from it.

It turns out that I have an hourglass figure. (think Nigella, or Marilyn Monroe! isn't that good company to be in?!)

Big boobs, short waisted, waist (relatively) small, big hips and generous thighs.
I sound like a box of chicken, don't I? all breasts and thighs...
(both times then, I typoed 'things' instead of 'thighs'. Wouldn't THAT have given you a giggle?)

So -- now I know my body shape, and the type of clothes I should be looking for, and what I should be avoiding (which seems to be most of my wardrobe).

I should avoid pointy shoes (YAY! HATE them!), big prints, frills flounces and bows (again YAY!)

I should be shopping for pencil skirts (awesome), nipped-in waists, V-necklines and dresses that lengthen my waist.
Okay.
Any suggestions as to where I might find those items, ladies?
Because the shops around here are filled with cheap (or not cheap) trends, not actual clothes that people might like to wear for more than one season.

If I was rich, I would hire me a tailor. But I'm not, and so I'll be looking in op-shops and on eBay for more classic styles.

I'm not much of a fashionista.
(Clearly.)
But I'm tired of looking like I've been dragged into the day, kicking and screaming. I'd like to look 'nice' instead of merely 'dressed'.

I'm going to start making a little more effort with what I buy, and try *gasp* throwing out the clothes I have that I don't wear or that don't suit me.

Have you looked at this book? do you have a good idea of what styles suit you and what you should avoid? and are you tired of stores stocking clothes that really don't suit most women? Let me know what you think.

cats and dogs

Once when I was a kid, we had a white cat with different coloured eyes, called Ravenswood.

Yes, I know -- we also had dogs called Sloopy and Fred the Croyd. This is what happens when you ask the kids, "what will we call the new pet?"

Ravenswood was weird. He climbed up Dads' pants leg at breakfast one morning and got stuck around the kneecap, which wasn't a whole lot of fun for Dad but had us kids in hysterics.

Also, he would climb up on top of doors and jump down on you when you walked into the room, with his claws out to make sure he got a good grip on your head and shoulders and didn't just fall to the ground.

My sister adopted an all-white cat called Kimba when she got older. He was HUGE and WHITE, and mesmerised a visitor to the house.
"Wow." he said. "I've got a cat just like that at home. Only mine's black."

I had a patchwork cat once. She was grey and marmalade and white in patches, really pretty but quite mad. Hence her name -- Mad Cat. I swear, I saw her jump up the wall and bite the light switch one time, before sauntering casually away.

I also had a HUGE WHITE cat (are we seeing a pattern here?) called Molly, named when I thought he was a girl cat.
Molly should have been named Scarface Claw, because he was so scary he used to catch and kill crows. And I saw a blue heeler, a renowned cat killer, creep away from him one time, too scared to front him.

A good cat, one with character, is worth its' weight in catmint. Especially if you have a video camera and know how to load videos to YouTube!
I miss having a cat, but with our greyhound, we can't take the risk. Her prey drive is very strong and she's just too quick.
Unless we could find another Molly, of course.

10 cow women

I first heard this story years ago, and it appears in various forms all over the net, though for some odd reason it's popularly known as the 10 Cow Woman story.
However, don't let's get bogged down in trivia.
Read on.

by Patricia McGerr

My trip to the Kiniwata Island in the Pacific was a memorable one.
Although the island was beautiful and I had an enjoyable time, the thing I remember most about my trip was the fact "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows for his wife."
I’m reminded of it every time I see a woman belittle her husband or a wife wither under her husband’s scorn.
I want to say to them, "You should know why Johnny Lingo gave eight cows for his wife."

Johnny Lingo is known throughout the islands for his skills, intelligence, and savvy.
If you hire him as a guide, he will show you the best fishing spots and the best places to get pearls.
Johnny is also one of the sharpest traders in the islands.
He can get you the best possible deals.
The people of Kiniwata all speak highly of Johnny Lingo.
Yet, when they speak of him, they always smile just a little mockingly.

A couple days after my arrival to Kiniwata, I went to the manager of the guesthouse to see who he thought would be a good fishing guide.
"Johnny Lingo," said the manager. "He’s the best around. When you go shopping, let him do the bargaining. Johnny knows how to make a deal."

"Johnny Lingo!" hooted a nearby boy. The boy rocked with laughter as he said, "Yea, Johnny can make a deal alright!"

"What’s going on?" I demanded.
"Everybody tells me to get in touch with Johnny Lingo and then they start laughing. Please, let me in on the joke."

"Oh, the people like to laugh," the manager said, shrugging. "Johnny’s the brightest and strongest young man in the islands. He’s also the richest for his age."

"But …" I protested. "… if he’s all you say he is, why does everyone laugh at him behind his back?"

"Well, there is one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He gave her father eight cows!"

I knew enough about island customs to be impressed. A dowry of two or three cows would net a fair wife and four or five cows would net a very nice wife.

"Wow!" I said. "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away."

"She’s not ugly, …" he conceded with a little smile, "… but calling her ‘plain’ would definitely be a compliment. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid he wouldn’t be able to marry her off. Instead of being stuck with her, he got eight cows for her. Isn’t that extraordinary? This price has never been paid before."

"Yet, you called Johnny’s wife ‘plain?’ "

"I said it would be a compliment to call her plain. She was skinny and she walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow."

"Well," I said, "I guess there’s just no accounting for love."

"True enough." agreed the man. "That’s why the villagers grin when they talk about Johnny. They get special satisfaction from the fact the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo."

"But how?"

"No one knows and everyone wonders. All of the cousins urged Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny would pay only one. To their surprise Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.’ "

"Eight cows," I murmured. "I’d like to meet this Johnny Lingo."

I wanted fish and pearls, so the next afternoon I went to the island of Nurabandi.

When I met the slim, serious young man I could see immediately why everyone respected his skills.
However, this only reinforced my confusion over him.

As we sat in his house, he asked me, "You come here from Kiniwata?"

"Yes."

"They speak of me on that island?"

"Yes. They say you can provide me anything I need. They say you’re intelligent, resourceful, and the sharpest trader in the islands."

He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata."

"Yes, I know."

"They speak of her?"

"A little."

"What do they say?"

"Why, just … ." The question caught me off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time."

"Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told me he knew there had to be more.

"They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." I paused. "They wonder why."

"They ask that?" His eyes lighted with pleasure. "Everyone in Kiniwata knows about the eight cows?"

I nodded.

"And in Nurabandi, everyone knows it too." His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita."

So that’s the answer, I thought: Vanity.

Just then Sarita entered the room to place flowers on the table.
She stood still for a moment to smile at her husband and then left.
She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin, and the sparkle in her eyes all spelled self-confidence and pride.
Not an arrogant and haughty pride, but a confident inner beauty that radiated in her every movement.

I turned back to Johnny and found him looking at me.

"You admire her?" he murmured.

"She’s gorgeous." I said. "I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo."

"You think eight cows was too many?" A smile slid over his lips.

"No, but how can she be so different from the way they described her?"

Johnny said, "Think about how it must make a girl feel to know her husband paid a very low dowry for her. It must be insulting to her to know he places such little value on her. Think about how she must feel when the other women boast about the high prices their husbands paid for them. It must be embarrassing for her. I would not let this happen to my Sarita."

"So, you paid eight cows just to make your wife happy?"

"Yes, but... you say she is different from what you expected. This is true. Many things can change a woman. There are things that happen on the inside and things that happen on the outside. However, the thing that matters most is how she views herself.
In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. As a result, that’s the value she projected. Now, she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands. It shows, doesn’t it?"

"Then you wanted …"

"I wanted to marry Sarita. She is the only woman I love."

"But …" I was close to understanding.

"But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

***

I love this story.

How many of us are like Sarita, believing the lies, undervaluing ourselves, afraid to stand up tall or make our voices heard?
And how few Johnny Lingos there are in the world.

Maybe you know someone who is a 10 Cow Woman? Maybe you know that she doesn't really believe that about herself? Or maybe she's just beginning to discover her true self, to appreciate her own worth.

I've made a button which I've placed in my sidebar, with the code for it. If you want, you can take it and give it away to anyone you think should know just how truly amazing she is.

I'm giving it to
Kristin, who shines so hard she makes my eyes water.
Tanis, my very favourite redneck.
and my daughters-in-law, K and L, who are incredible wives and mums.

I like my husbands' testicles

Did I just hear the sound of hundreds dozens several mouses clicking away?

NO WAIT! this isn't as bad as it sounds. And there are no photos, I promise. Not of testicles, anyway.

When I first proposed this blog post title to my husband, his reaction was -- well, gratifying in a weird kind of way. Heh. I do like to keep him on his toes.

And, of course, none of us SERIOUSLY like testicles, do we? Girls, I mean -- fellas seem pretty keen on them for some reason.

But I do like one thing about testicles -- TESTOSTERONE.
Yeah.
I'm a girly girl, and I like manly men.

It seems to me that there's been a concerted move right across all forms of media over the last decade or more, to 'girlify' or downplay the role and reality of men.

I get that fashion changes, but once, hairy-chested men were all the rage.
Who can ever forget that eye-searing Jack Thompson centrefold? (if you've never seen it, be grateful.)
Or this iconic 'spread'?

Yes, indeed, ladies, once upon a time, Burt Reynolds was hotter than your nanas' flannie sheets.

Now, it's all about the waxing and there's not a chest hair to be seen on any model or actor.

Another example -- think about all the popular TV shows. How many of them feature a smart, manly man who can think for himself, without farting or ogling female body parts, and who doesn't need a woman or some smart arse kids to rescue him every week?

TV ads -- when was the last time you saw an ad for a 4WD that showed a MAN driving?

Even my favourite serial killer, Dexter, came under constant criticism from his wife and sister for being a bloke, and doing bloke stuff. What the...?

I like it that men are different from women.

I like the way they think, I like how their friendships have a completely different set of rules from female friendships, and I generally like their conversations a lot better at a barbeque!

I like that my man smells like a man, and works a man-job, and yes, sometimes he farts and it nearly kills me, but he also holds the doors for me and warms my towel in the dryer in winter, and if he wants to go fishing on the weekend, that's OK because I'm not going to make him choose curtain fabrics with me instead.

I don't need him to be another girlfriend (one with whiskers and big feet).

I need him to be my man, my spider-killer, my looker-afterer, my car-fixerer, my wet-towel-draping, remote-controlling-tv-flickerer; my hairy-chested, going bald, four-wheel-driving MAN.

I really do get it that women have had a hard slog to try and balance the 'battle of the sexes'. I know I'm standing on ground that was broken for me by suffragettes and feminists whose names I don't even know, and I'm grateful for the contributions that they've made to our lives.

But I don't think that, as a society, we have to discount the role that men play in order to elevate the status of women.

As a mum of 4 boys, I'm very conscious of teaching them that it's OK for them to be blokes. I don't want any of them to grow up thinking that they're unacceptable by acting true to their nature.

There's a great post on this, written by Brent Riggs. He says it all much better than I have, and if you have a minute, hop over and have a look, it's only a short post.

And please, let me know what you think in your comments.

well, shut my mouth

I just spent an hour on the phone whinging and bitching to my sister. Hey, what are sisters for, right?

The topic of conversation the rant was the censorship of my blog.

You see, I keep writing posts and then having to delete them, because I am being heavily censored at the moment. There is a huge amount of stuff (like, my life) that I can't write about, and I'm so paranoid now that even light topics of conversation cause me to go through mental gymnastics and in the end, I mostly decide it isn't worth the bother.

This explains why I haven't been posting regularly for a while.
I've even been thinking I should just shut my blog down. It's quite painful coming here day after day and not being able to post the truth.

And I can't even tell you who or why or what's happening, so I probably just sound a little mental.

Yeah.

Well, I feel a little mental, to be honest.
This is MY BLOG.
MY space.
A place I've made for myself, where I'm supposed to be allowed to express myself, and get to know what I think and how I feel.
I'm feeling pretty frustrated and annoyed that my blog has become yet another victim of The Past.

I know most of that will make no sense, and I'm sorry. But I'm not allowed to talk about it.

pikelets

Mr9 walked in just as I was putting The Princesses' hair in two little buns for school.

"I like it when you put her hair in pikelets," he said.

Yep. He's his dads' boy, alright.

Thursday Theme - my handbags

OK, I admit it. I'm a Bag Lady.
I love handbags and shoes (and don't worry, there IS a shoe theme coming).

I have evening bags, and shopping bags, and out-with-the-kids bags, and little tiny bags for when I go out with Fabio (cos he has the money and the car keys!)

Here are some of my favourites.

Fabio bought me this vintage antelope skin bag.

***

This cute little wooden bag holds barely anything. 

***

I bought this in an op-shop and found a bank calendar from the 50s inside. Sadly, one of it's straps has broken and I doubt it can be repaired.

***

My 'Prada' satchel, this one gets a LOT of use. It's as old as the hills now and gets taken everywhere.

I picked it up in an op-shop for a few dollars and there is some debate in certain circles as to whether it's genuine or not. 

DON'T TELL ME IT'S NOT. 

This is as close as I'm ever going to get so leave me with my dreams. Thankyou.

***

 This one is my current shopping bag. It holds a lot but it isn't too strong so it stays at home if it's likely to be filled with kid/husband junk.

Currently, it holds various bits of paper, a library card, 3 lipsticks (which are all essentially the same shade), a spare hair lacky, a cute purple shruggy thing I picked up the other day, a Promise coin, that wretched phone that I hate, and the Trifecta -- keys, sunglasses and wallet. 

There was  some sand in the bottom too but that happens when you live by the beach. Sand gets in everything. And I mean, everything.

**************************************************************

So -- if you'd like to join in, post your bags or lack of, (pics or story), on your blog, and link back here from Thursday morning on. The link will be open till Sunday midnight (WA time)
And don't forget to leave some love on at least one other post.