This is one of the very best sights in the world to me.
Know why?
Cos that big Pajero in the driveway? means my man is home.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
room with a view
DAY 9 -- my view today
This is one of the very best sights in the world to me.
Know why?
Cos that big Pajero in the driveway? means my man is home.
This is one of the very best sights in the world to me.
Know why?
Cos that big Pajero in the driveway? means my man is home.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
drink
DAY SEVEN -- drink
Here's a little secret that hardly anyone knows (or cares about).
My husband drinks like the Solo guy.
Or like this guy
Here's a little secret that hardly anyone knows (or cares about).
My husband drinks like the Solo guy.
(not my real husband)
Or like this guy
(also not my real husband) (or my fake one)
I don't know how.
I drink in sips, or middle-sized swallows if I'm desperately thirsty. But Fabio just opens his throat and pours it down in litres.
Thank God he doesn't drink beer that way.
Does your husband have a cool weird party trick?
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
hat
DAY SIX -- HAT
My boy is a hat kinda guy.
He has a pretty good collection, considering that he only has one noggin to wear them on ...
He owns caps (Tony Hawk, West Coast Eagles, and mining suppliers) and bucket hats (his Milo cricket hat is a staple in summer).
He has a big straw hat for fishing, and a Hancock beanie.
But by far his favourite hat of all time is this:
He wears it everywhere, and he wears it with such panache that I think he must feel like the coolest guy in the world in it.
Which he is.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
does my piddle look yellow in this?
DAY 5 -- A SIGN
My kids just WILL. NOT. FLUSH. I don't know why.
They don't seem overly attached to their 'leavings', and the flush mechanism is not this complicated.
It's just a button, FFS.
But nope, they will leave hideous unmentionables in the loo, to the point where I have to go and check it when we have visitors.
Just in case.
I've tried all manner of things -- a sign saying
FLUSH THE GODDAMN TOILET OR YOUR MOTHER WILL BEAT YOU WITH A STICK
pingpong balls
making them go back in to flush
etc etc.
Now I'm out of ideas. Anyone else have this problem?
Monday, June 4, 2012
the colour of sad
DAY FOUR -- CLOSE-UP. Surely this counts?
Surprisingly, I am doing OK today. I wrote this truthfully and have been working on it all week, but this is not how I feel now. I decided to publish it anyway, but just know, I am OK.
All week, I have felt weighed down, heavy, sad and unable to float.
Because today is my sons' 16 th birthday.
In a normal family, there would be cake, and presents lovingly chosen and wrapped. There would be birthday wishes, and cuddles, and jokes and laughter, and candles and singing and a houseful of friends. There would be photos, at least one of the birthday boy looking both embarrassed and pleased by the fuss, and a whole album full of other photos, of birthdays-gone-by, with gap-toothed grins being slowly replaced by an Adams' apple and gangly limbs.
Not so here.
My son never had a single birthday. Not one. No presents, no cake, no wishes. Oh, well, that's not true, is it? No wishes? I have a whole galaxy of wishes made on stars. But he's still dead.
If you have never lost a child, you cannot know.
You can. Not. Know.
There is an emptiness, like the wind whistling round the corner in the dark, always. And at times like this, it's overwhelming.
People don't understand, that I don't miss HIM much. He was 48 days old. He had barely begun to develop, and I have next to no memories of life with him. What hurts the most, what I miss the most, is all that I missed out on.
I have no idea what his laugh would have sounded like. Whether he would have liked riding his bike or reading a book. What his favourite treat would have been. If he'd have liked frozen peas for dessert or refused to wear pink or hated my music.
Do you know the meaning of the word 'overwhelmed'? It means water rising up and up, over your face, over your head, completely engulfing you. Totally submerged. This is how I feel. Swallowed in the sea.
I'm shrouded in sad. It clouds my vision. It muffles voices. I can hear that people are talking to me, but I can't make sense of what they're saying.
It keeps me isolated, all alone in a crowd. I cannot connect with anyone. I cannot make myself care about the tiny meaningless details of everyday life. Not today.
Surprisingly, I am doing OK today. I wrote this truthfully and have been working on it all week, but this is not how I feel now. I decided to publish it anyway, but just know, I am OK.
All week, I have felt weighed down, heavy, sad and unable to float.
Because today is my sons' 16 th birthday.
In a normal family, there would be cake, and presents lovingly chosen and wrapped. There would be birthday wishes, and cuddles, and jokes and laughter, and candles and singing and a houseful of friends. There would be photos, at least one of the birthday boy looking both embarrassed and pleased by the fuss, and a whole album full of other photos, of birthdays-gone-by, with gap-toothed grins being slowly replaced by an Adams' apple and gangly limbs.
Not so here.
My son never had a single birthday. Not one. No presents, no cake, no wishes. Oh, well, that's not true, is it? No wishes? I have a whole galaxy of wishes made on stars. But he's still dead.
If you have never lost a child, you cannot know.
You can. Not. Know.
There is an emptiness, like the wind whistling round the corner in the dark, always. And at times like this, it's overwhelming.
People don't understand, that I don't miss HIM much. He was 48 days old. He had barely begun to develop, and I have next to no memories of life with him. What hurts the most, what I miss the most, is all that I missed out on.
I have no idea what his laugh would have sounded like. Whether he would have liked riding his bike or reading a book. What his favourite treat would have been. If he'd have liked frozen peas for dessert or refused to wear pink or hated my music.
Do you know the meaning of the word 'overwhelmed'? It means water rising up and up, over your face, over your head, completely engulfing you. Totally submerged. This is how I feel. Swallowed in the sea.
I'm shrouded in sad. It clouds my vision. It muffles voices. I can hear that people are talking to me, but I can't make sense of what they're saying.
It keeps me isolated, all alone in a crowd. I cannot connect with anyone. I cannot make myself care about the tiny meaningless details of everyday life. Not today.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
nom nom
DAY THREE -- ON YOUR PLATE
Strictly speaking, this
isn't on my plate -- but it WAS last week.
(sorry you missed it)
Here is a recipe for the yummiest bikkies, it's from a Family Circle Junior Cookbook that's at least 20 years old.
YOU WILL NEED:
1/2 cup milk
1 tspn vinegar (NOT Balsamic!)
125 g butter (soft) (do not ask if you can use margarine) (margarine isn't even food)
3/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tspn grated lemon rind
1 3/4 cups SR flour
1 tspn baking soda (bicarb)
1/4 tspn salt
1/2 cup icing sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
zest of a lemon
WHAT TO DO:
heat your oven to 180 C (350 F)
pour the vinegar into the milk and leave it to go sour (it'll look a bit lumpy and gross)
beat butter, sugar, egg and rind till smooth
sift in the flour, baking soda and salt
add the sour milk and mix it together well. It MAY be very sticky, that's OK.
drop teaspoons of the mix onto a tray and give them some room to spread.
bake 12 minutes or so, one tray at a time. If you don't bake them till golden, they'll be delightfully chewy.
take the tray from the oven and leave the biscuits to cool a minute, then slide onto a wire tray to cool and crisp up.
mix together the icing sugar and lemon juice, and spread it over the bikkies while they're warm (not hot) -- the glaze will drip off the sides so make sure you can wipe the surface under the tray. Sprinkle with a little zest and allow to cool if you can bear waiting.
The recipe says this makes 48, but I don't actually know -- they've never survived long enough for me to count the whole batch.
These delicious babies are best served with a nice hot cup of tea.
Enjoy :)
Strictly speaking, this
isn't on my plate -- but it WAS last week.
(sorry you missed it)
Here is a recipe for the yummiest bikkies, it's from a Family Circle Junior Cookbook that's at least 20 years old.
YOU WILL NEED:
1/2 cup milk
1 tspn vinegar (NOT Balsamic!)
125 g butter (soft) (do not ask if you can use margarine) (margarine isn't even food)
3/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tspn grated lemon rind
1 3/4 cups SR flour
1 tspn baking soda (bicarb)
1/4 tspn salt
1/2 cup icing sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
zest of a lemon
WHAT TO DO:
heat your oven to 180 C (350 F)
pour the vinegar into the milk and leave it to go sour (it'll look a bit lumpy and gross)
beat butter, sugar, egg and rind till smooth
sift in the flour, baking soda and salt
add the sour milk and mix it together well. It MAY be very sticky, that's OK.
drop teaspoons of the mix onto a tray and give them some room to spread.
bake 12 minutes or so, one tray at a time. If you don't bake them till golden, they'll be delightfully chewy.
take the tray from the oven and leave the biscuits to cool a minute, then slide onto a wire tray to cool and crisp up.
mix together the icing sugar and lemon juice, and spread it over the bikkies while they're warm (not hot) -- the glaze will drip off the sides so make sure you can wipe the surface under the tray. Sprinkle with a little zest and allow to cool if you can bear waiting.
The recipe says this makes 48, but I don't actually know -- they've never survived long enough for me to count the whole batch.
These delicious babies are best served with a nice hot cup of tea.
Enjoy :)
Saturday, June 2, 2012
empty
DAY 2 -- empty
This bed might not look empty, but it feels it. I much prefer it to be full of husband.
This bed might not look empty, but it feels it. I much prefer it to be full of husband.
Friday, June 1, 2012
the challenge is on...
DAY ONE -- MORNING
The whole concept of 'challenge' is made more -- well, challenging -- by the fact that when I swept up my camera the other day, the darn strap caught on a chair arm and hurled my poor camera onto bricks, breaking the little function selector jigger so that it now spins happily around and won't 'stick' on a setting.
So we'll just see how this photo-a-day malarkey plays out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)