my man rocks

A little known fact about me is that I am married to a man with, not one, but several supernatural abilities.
True.
(So I guess this is actually a little-known fact about him, not me.... but this is MY blog, dammit. I won't be shoved to the side, even by my super-hero husband.)

What's that? You want proof? Well...

Take today, for example.

Fabio leaves tomorrow for 5 weeks overseas. {Except 5 weeks sounds endless and awful, so I'm saying 'its35days' and hoping it will be slightly less. And although he will be frolicking in the tropics (more or less) it's still winter in BeachTown} so we went wood-cutting.

We found a little-used track deep in the wilderness which had lots of ideal timber lying about, only it was cut-off by a fallen log. Fabio leapt from the HeroMobile and flexed his muscles at that log, and it fairly jumped out of our way.
Not bad.
Then he went to turn the trailer around so we could drive straight out when it was loaded (thus demonstrating some remarkable forethought) and a silly little tree stopped him from making a complete circle, JUST getting in the way of the trailer by an inch or so.
Fabio flexed his muscles once more, and LIFTED the trailer off the ground and moved it sideways. I should point out that the trailer weighs like, half a ton so it was pretty impressive. I went wobbly in the knees with lust admiration nah, definitely lust.


It rained for a moment, but that didn't stop him. He went right on chainsawing logs, and after a minute or so, I saw his head begin to steam.
I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, Y'ALL.
I got the giggles so bad that by the time I got my act together and got the phone back out to take a pic, he had stopped doing it but I gotta ask, hands up if your husband is so hot his head steams?
Yeah.

Then he did the most impressive thing of all. He sparkled in the sun just like a Cullen.



Except better-looking. And not so bitey.

pms

Hello.
My name is Toni, and I suffer from PMS.

Well, actually my family and friends and acquaintances suffer more than I do. FAR more.

One day a month, I get crabby. But every now and then, I get a 6 million dollar bionic version of crabby that has me plotting physical harm against anyone and anything that gets in my way. It doesn't last long but it doesn't need to -- it drags me around raving and screaming like the Tasmanian Devil in Bugs Bunny cartoons. Destructive. Fast. Ugly. And I hate it.
I fully get why women can find themselves on murder charges and use a PMS defence. (not that I've actually TRIED to kill anyone. Except my ex. I stabbed him with a kitchen knife one time. But that wasn't PMS, it was because he's a dick. True story.)

What people don't realise (unless they're fellow PMSers) is that you can't always control the moods. I've tried loads of recommendations, swallowing supplements and oils and all sorts, but they've about as much effect as chanting in the lotus position.
Personally, I find tequila to be a much more effective solution. And so I'm off to medicate. And hopefully calm down and re-friend those people I dropped from Facebook.

iHappy today

Normally, I post a Moanday whinge, but nope, too happy today. Just hanging out with my man and doing not-much-at-all. He won enough on Lotto to take me out to lunch and then we window-shopped for a while -- all with NO KIDS.

Potato, leek and bacon soup with chorizo... MMMMM

Want to see more iHappys? check 'em out here.

Sunday sights....

It's lovely to live somewhere pretty again. Our Sunday drive today included the following:

gorgeous scenery


wattle everywhere in full bloom

roadside fruit stand

picking our own citrus from a friends' orchard

sweet sundae....

Todays' sweet things are:

1. man farts -- yes, those noxious clouds that can strip paint and burn your eyes are, today, sweet to me.

2. huge shoes that look like overturned canoes for the vertically challenged, left lying near doorways with sand spilling from them.... they are sweet.

3. the blankets being pulled out from the bottom of the bed every night, requiring a complete strip and re-make every morning, because of a too-tall-for-the-bed man -- that's sweet.

4. damp towels on the bed/carpet, whiskers in the bathroom sink, water splashed all over -- sweet.

5. yesterdays' newspapers, covering every available surface -- sweet, sweet, sweet.

No, I haven't lost my mind. My priorities have changed. Having your man work overseas for a month at a time will do that to ya.

Have a sweet Sunday, y'all!

the July Chronicles in BeachTown

Maxabella has this awesomely fabulous idea about fridges chronicling our lives. You should totally check it out. I'll wait.

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So how clever is that? I'm sure she'd be stoked if you want to join in!

Anyway, without further ado, here is my fridge as of July 23.

Having recently moved house, it's pretty nekkid.

the HandsomeSons' first b'day invite from his new school
(the birthday childs' mum wrote out the invites late at night and got some of them into the wrong envelopes so that caused some confusion)

the $10 scratchie that won $10

a freebie notepaddy thing from the letterbox


artwork by The Princess
I think one is a farmer and his cow, the other features a charming rainbows-and-hearts motif which is pretty much her signature style.

flier for the new Local Scrap Shop

my fave ever fridge magnet

PS GO ME! I finally figured out how to do captions. There is no stopping me now. Next stop, Total World Domination.

the worst day

So.
Not the best day of my life.
But not the worst, either. THAT was exactly 14 years ago today, when I woke up in the morning with a healthy, happy 48 day old baby, and before lunch, was sitting in a doctors' surgery trying to come to grips with the fact that the baby was now dead.
After that one, came the funeral - pretty close second - and really, everything else pales by comparison.
For the first time in 10 years, I'm living again in the town where it all happened. I drive past the house I was living in, the surgery where they tried to revive him, the funeral home, the shop where I bought funeral outfits for my other kids (now THAT'S a surreal experience) -- and of course, the cemetery. I've been past it a few times but I haven't 'visited' yet. Later today.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

bye-bye baby....

So.
Fabio, also known as the LoML, has taken a job overseas. He swears my hairy legs had nothing to do with it, but since he will be home in just 2 more sleeps, I think I will be spending some quality time with the depilatory cream today just in case. Even though it's winter, and the cream is freezing cold and smells funny.
What was I saying?
Oh, yes -- overseas. The Philippines, to be exact.
Not knowing much anything about the Philippines, I Googled. I found some official looking website, which was enormously confusing and utterly failed to mention the Muslim extremist kidnappings which are a real concern and not made up by a disgruntled Billy Graham fan. WAY TO GO, Official Website. That is a very handy piece of information to have if you're going to be travelling, in my view.
So I gave up on Google and went to the library.
I found travel books on every country you can think of, and some you may possibly never have heard of, rows and rows of them -- and not one on the Philippines.
So I think I'll be searching LISWA and calling up some useful books in the near future.
But I digress (again)(inevitably)

Fabio heard about this job, and was actually promoting a friend for it, but was asked to submit a resume himself, and got it.
He's running the underground operations at a small gold mine, and although it's an enormous challenge and could all go south at any minute, he's loving it!
He'll be working a month-on/2-weeks-off roster - that's the bad part. I'll miss him terribly!
But, oh boy, won't the reunions be Something!

it's Moanday again.

I am not happy about having bigger-than-average boobs. I know lots of women who think they would love to have DDs, but I think they're crazy. I would like a trim, tidy C cup. And if they could be perky and upright, that would be just fine too.
However, short of a major Lotto win and a Yummy Mummy tour to Thailand, that aint gonna happen.
So the next best thing it to wear bras that minimise cup size, offer support, and are comfortable. Pretty would also be nice.
The problem is, on a limited income, you have more hope of catching a glimpse of the Easter Bunny relaxing down at the beach.
ALL the DD bras I've looked at for the last couple of years have been PADDED. Now while this may be highly desirable if you have smaller boobs, I don't know one single DD+ lady who is looking for MORE. The only way to get an unpadded bra is to order on-line (expensive) or go to a specialist shop (also expensive)

This is as bad as only offering low-cut jeans, or only offering T-shirts that come to just above the belly-button.
Ladies Of A Certain Age (like me) don't WANT to dress like a 20 year old (it looks odd) but I don't want to be getting around in an Osti frock and a half-slip just yet either.

So could we, please, for the love of Cotton, just have a little bit of choice?