I'm going to turn off my word verification.... er, thingy. You can thank Maxabella and her commenters on this post for that.
I have to admit, I don't mind typing in my best guess in that little box on others' blogs. But it does take an extra ounce of time and, although I get comments (thank you!), I know it probably peeves some of you.
So let's give it a shot, eh? Now, I'm not making any long term promises. If I get slammed like I used to with spam, it goes back on. Oooh. Sorry. I got all sort of Mum-tone on you there. Pointed finger and raised eyebrow have been stood down. I'll save it for the spammers if they come back.
Deal?
Showing posts with label just guff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just guff. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Smells, sights and sounds of today
Oranges off the tree - tangy scent with the LGBB's little tooth marks scraped through every fleshy quarter
The laundry, begging for attention - the cat's tray taunting me in the corner. Cat piss tang really hits the back of your throat before it burns holes in your lungs doesn't it?
The sky - it's a volatile blue, there's an unsettled sense of calm in the air today. Thunderstorms are forecast but for now, the fast-rolling white clouds across the new sky and wind gusts are adding interest to an otherwise mild morning.
Pepper - jeebus, dog, remind me to get you a cork. What are we feeding you?? Her breathing is so laboured all the time now, even at rest. She sounds as if she is in deep sleep, the way she snores, but her doleful eyes are still fixed on me as I move around the kitchen. She misses more than she catches these days. I can't let her go.
The cat's bell on her collar - didn't I just let you out? Why can I hear tinkling inside? I swear, she is Hudini.
A 4' high rudie-nudie doing a streak across the living room - if I've asked her once, I've asked her 20 times. In the past five minutes. Put some clothes on, miss! *the sound of giggling as she scarpers back to her warm bedroom and continues her birthday suit dance*
The laundry, begging for attention - the cat's tray taunting me in the corner. Cat piss tang really hits the back of your throat before it burns holes in your lungs doesn't it?
The sky - it's a volatile blue, there's an unsettled sense of calm in the air today. Thunderstorms are forecast but for now, the fast-rolling white clouds across the new sky and wind gusts are adding interest to an otherwise mild morning.
Pepper - jeebus, dog, remind me to get you a cork. What are we feeding you?? Her breathing is so laboured all the time now, even at rest. She sounds as if she is in deep sleep, the way she snores, but her doleful eyes are still fixed on me as I move around the kitchen. She misses more than she catches these days. I can't let her go.
The cat's bell on her collar - didn't I just let you out? Why can I hear tinkling inside? I swear, she is Hudini.
A 4' high rudie-nudie doing a streak across the living room - if I've asked her once, I've asked her 20 times. In the past five minutes. Put some clothes on, miss! *the sound of giggling as she scarpers back to her warm bedroom and continues her birthday suit dance*
Friday, July 30, 2010
Little dark cloud
I'm looking out the window and a little dark cloud is zooming along, somewhere much lower down in the atmosphere to the loftier, sedate white clouds that are drifting almost imperceptibly in the opposite direction.
I am the little dark cloud today. I'm trundling along in some other direction, but, man, am I making progress!
There is also a new post up at the private blog, if anyone's interested in taking a squizz. It's Part 2 in a ... two-parter. Well, fancy that, then!
Right. Time for another cuppa. And have a good weekend, all. I'll be back next week with photos of a frog pond that the LGBB and I whipped up yesterday, on a whim. So sweet.
I am the little dark cloud today. I'm trundling along in some other direction, but, man, am I making progress!
There is also a new post up at the private blog, if anyone's interested in taking a squizz. It's Part 2 in a ... two-parter. Well, fancy that, then!
Right. Time for another cuppa. And have a good weekend, all. I'll be back next week with photos of a frog pond that the LGBB and I whipped up yesterday, on a whim. So sweet.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Procrastination-arily speaking
The LGBB and I wandered around to a neighbour's home today, to invite a playmate over for a couple of hours. The plan was, my young charge would be amused by her little friend. The two of them would play merrily, whereby I would be able to work, uninterrupted for another sneaky hour or so.
Ha! Best laid plans....
It was gorgeous having her friend here, though, I'll grant that. How I do love a friend who loves my daughter and treats her toys and things with the same respect and care as Lolly herself. In her excitement of having someone over to play in her room, it was actually Lol herself who has had to be calmed down and reminded to treat her things gently, and not the delightful friend, this time.
When we went in to our neighbour's house, after being neighbours for the past 2 and a bit years, it was strange to see the inside of this lovely home. I was struck again at how interested I am to see how other people have their places set up. The outside is neat as a pin, a gorgeous stately old place. Inside.... well, it was rather more lived-in than I had expected, compared to seeing it from the outside. Then again, I was really impressed that my neighbour, amongst the jumble, had a perfectly neat and clean sink. Not a dish in sight. There were papers and piles of books, clothes, toys, a right dog's breakfast from here to there. But the kitchen sink was immaculate. It put my own to shame.
After coming home, I was given cause to ponder how my house would appear (say, for instance, to the LGBB's friend's mother who would be coming in a couple of hours' time to collect her daughter). The pile of un-dishwasher-able dishes to the left side of my sink seems to be permanently there. Given the high priority I gather she places on diligently having the dishes done, I daresay I'd look like a slovenly sloth, me and my umpteen melamine character-transfer kids' dishes that DON'T GO IN THE DISHWASHER *angry grimace*. I don't do them every day, it's just something I put off, in favour of other chores, paid work, playing with the LGBB and..... ok, yes, blogging. It struck me that to anyone visiting, they're just a little pile of dishes. But to me, they are the most annoying of little jobs that I put off and put off and put off. Which is ridiculous, really, because they are so in-my-face and cause me such a grievance to see them every time I'm in the kitchen (which is one of those kitchens you can see from everywhere so you see dishes in plain sight all the time).
Oh, the whole thing just gets me a bit hot under the collar. Silly, really, comparitively speaking. But still. There you have it.
What is your put-off chore? You know, the one that is really a piece of piss to do, but you never do it? And then it not only builds up and gets worse the longer you put it off, but drives you nuts every time you pass it, either busy doing something else or otherwise just cannot be fagged doing it right then and there? I mean, I have several, but this dishes thing... it's really one of the most annoying!
Ha! Best laid plans....
It was gorgeous having her friend here, though, I'll grant that. How I do love a friend who loves my daughter and treats her toys and things with the same respect and care as Lolly herself. In her excitement of having someone over to play in her room, it was actually Lol herself who has had to be calmed down and reminded to treat her things gently, and not the delightful friend, this time.
When we went in to our neighbour's house, after being neighbours for the past 2 and a bit years, it was strange to see the inside of this lovely home. I was struck again at how interested I am to see how other people have their places set up. The outside is neat as a pin, a gorgeous stately old place. Inside.... well, it was rather more lived-in than I had expected, compared to seeing it from the outside. Then again, I was really impressed that my neighbour, amongst the jumble, had a perfectly neat and clean sink. Not a dish in sight. There were papers and piles of books, clothes, toys, a right dog's breakfast from here to there. But the kitchen sink was immaculate. It put my own to shame.
After coming home, I was given cause to ponder how my house would appear (say, for instance, to the LGBB's friend's mother who would be coming in a couple of hours' time to collect her daughter). The pile of un-dishwasher-able dishes to the left side of my sink seems to be permanently there. Given the high priority I gather she places on diligently having the dishes done, I daresay I'd look like a slovenly sloth, me and my umpteen melamine character-transfer kids' dishes that DON'T GO IN THE DISHWASHER *angry grimace*. I don't do them every day, it's just something I put off, in favour of other chores, paid work, playing with the LGBB and..... ok, yes, blogging. It struck me that to anyone visiting, they're just a little pile of dishes. But to me, they are the most annoying of little jobs that I put off and put off and put off. Which is ridiculous, really, because they are so in-my-face and cause me such a grievance to see them every time I'm in the kitchen (which is one of those kitchens you can see from everywhere so you see dishes in plain sight all the time).
Oh, the whole thing just gets me a bit hot under the collar. Silly, really, comparitively speaking. But still. There you have it.
What is your put-off chore? You know, the one that is really a piece of piss to do, but you never do it? And then it not only builds up and gets worse the longer you put it off, but drives you nuts every time you pass it, either busy doing something else or otherwise just cannot be fagged doing it right then and there? I mean, I have several, but this dishes thing... it's really one of the most annoying!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Cat Cuisine
A quick one today - in pictures - as I have not one, but two sickies sharing a blanket at either end of the couch. Steve woke with razorblades in his throat (his description, not mine) and poor wee Lol has had us up since 4.30am crying with an ear ache. I plied her with Panadol and she slept with us and between her thrashing and Steve snoring on the other side of the bed, I didn't go back to sleep but instead lay there in that maternal, on-duty state and happy to be on call despite only having finished reading my book at 1am. Why do I always choose to read for hours on nights when I'll be up with a poorly poppet? I have some sort of sixth sense for it.
Anyway. To the pictorial. It's evident from these that not only has our black cat, Tabby, settled in quite nicely, she's making use of her time here by learning how to whip up quick dishes.
Every night now, she comes and sits up at the kitchen bench on one of the stools, watching what I'm doing. Just watching, from my hands to my face. Sometimes, to amuse myself, I start talking to her like Nigella or Jamie. Oh how we laugh, the cat and I. Okay, so just I. She cracks me up, the way she watches me, silently, almost critically, sometimes stopping intently gazing at what my hands are doing in order to study my face. Or stare into the middle distance of the kitchen for no apparent reason, as if she's suddenly tired of my explanation on why I prefer to grate onions instead of finely chop them (the reason for that is, of course, a toddler who "don't like crunchy onions".... ah, I know how to disguise them!)
But it is quite cute, she's like my very own little sisterhood. It reminds me of days past when my grandma would hang about in the kitchen, anyone's kitchen, whomever's home we were in. If we were all gathered someplace as a family, you could always find grandma holding up a conversation with the cook/s, imparting cooking tips and questioning the culinary methods she was seeing in front of her, and a permanently topped-up glass of sherry in hand. Hence the name of that bear of hers, of course, who is now in Lolly's charge.
So, here's my new kitchen-talk buddy / student chef. Sans the sherry.
Diligently watching...
...taste testing...
...getting distracted from her studies...
...playing...
...spellbound by my amaaaazing cooking techniques...
And voilé!
Anyway. To the pictorial. It's evident from these that not only has our black cat, Tabby, settled in quite nicely, she's making use of her time here by learning how to whip up quick dishes.
Every night now, she comes and sits up at the kitchen bench on one of the stools, watching what I'm doing. Just watching, from my hands to my face. Sometimes, to amuse myself, I start talking to her like Nigella or Jamie. Oh how we laugh, the cat and I. Okay, so just I. She cracks me up, the way she watches me, silently, almost critically, sometimes stopping intently gazing at what my hands are doing in order to study my face. Or stare into the middle distance of the kitchen for no apparent reason, as if she's suddenly tired of my explanation on why I prefer to grate onions instead of finely chop them (the reason for that is, of course, a toddler who "don't like crunchy onions".... ah, I know how to disguise them!)
But it is quite cute, she's like my very own little sisterhood. It reminds me of days past when my grandma would hang about in the kitchen, anyone's kitchen, whomever's home we were in. If we were all gathered someplace as a family, you could always find grandma holding up a conversation with the cook/s, imparting cooking tips and questioning the culinary methods she was seeing in front of her, and a permanently topped-up glass of sherry in hand. Hence the name of that bear of hers, of course, who is now in Lolly's charge.
So, here's my new kitchen-talk buddy / student chef. Sans the sherry.
Diligently watching...
...taste testing...
...getting distracted from her studies...
...playing...
...spellbound by my amaaaazing cooking techniques...
And voilé!Thursday, April 15, 2010
The definition of love and other things
On Monday, it was Steve's birthday.
Last night, we had a host of regulars drop around for a really great, short, treat-filled party. Steve wanted balloons and cake, mostly for the kids. So he says, anyway.
In the afternoon, the LGBB and I set up, making a "Welcome to your birthday party, Daddy" poster (which she held up at the window for a good fifteen minutes before he fiiiinally drove up the street, awwww) and watching me blow up balloons.
Now, this is a treat for anyone who wants to see sheer agony on a balloon-o-phobe's face. For that is what I am. Yes, hi, I am Kirrily and I have a not-so-mild case of globophobia.
So I braved the balloon, thought, "I can do this, I'm always scared of them popping when someone's blowing them up but I've never actually seen one pop in the process of being blown up unless the blower has blown the thing up to a ridiculously huge size." I have faced my fears in the past years and actually blown them up, but you'll always tell which ones are mine. They have about three puffs of air in them and that's it, which looks kind of pissy in amongst all the other ones blown up by everyone else. So usually, I don't bother helping and I clear right out of the room.
You know what happened, don't you? The fecking thing EXPLODED IN MY FACE, mid-third puff. Stung me like someone had taken a switch to my lips. Not so good for the phobia.
But I have to ask you, is that the definition of true love? To not only go ahead and put aside your own fears for the sake of another, but do it after your fear is realised? Or is it simply stupidity? Or martyrdom, even? For you see, just before blowing up that balloon, I had just tied off and given to the LGBB a lovely purple one. She was so excited! I was so excited! I'd blown up the damn thing! And there was already the first one I'd blown up, floating around on the floor. Ok, so it was only the size of a rockmelon, but hey-hey! It was up and tied and floating and not popping.
Yee-haw, I could do this. I looked at the pack of 100 and had thought, I'll stop at 20. That should be enough.
No. No, as it turns out, one is enough. Because that one burst while Lolly was just holding it - the poor darl, she's not fantastic with loud noises and so the bang left us both a bit frazzled and giggling in that insane kind of "I'm going to pretend like it didn't bother me so the other person doesn't catch on", which was kind of funny, I had to admit. But after that next one blew up in my face, her fake giggles turned to real tears. And I just pushed aside the other 97 in the pack and said, "Daddy is going to do those ones."
Seriously, I am uneasy in a room with even one balloon in it, let alone several. However, I have discovered over the years that the fear is in direct proportion to the dimensions of the room and the number of balloons - for instance, if it were a grand ballroom and there were balloons on the ceiling, no problem. If it is an outdoor function, pah - almost not worth mentioning. It's the confined room space scenario, particularly if the room is fairly quiet, that gets me on edge. Add to that a few scurrying children and some toddlers who can barely walk, falling all over their balloons and biting them and...... shudder. My nightmare.
So. What about you? Do you, or anyone you know, have any uncommon fears or phobias? Are they debilitating for you? Have they lessenned in intensity or have you designed any work-arounds? Do tell.
Last night, we had a host of regulars drop around for a really great, short, treat-filled party. Steve wanted balloons and cake, mostly for the kids. So he says, anyway.
In the afternoon, the LGBB and I set up, making a "Welcome to your birthday party, Daddy" poster (which she held up at the window for a good fifteen minutes before he fiiiinally drove up the street, awwww) and watching me blow up balloons.
Now, this is a treat for anyone who wants to see sheer agony on a balloon-o-phobe's face. For that is what I am. Yes, hi, I am Kirrily and I have a not-so-mild case of globophobia.
So I braved the balloon, thought, "I can do this, I'm always scared of them popping when someone's blowing them up but I've never actually seen one pop in the process of being blown up unless the blower has blown the thing up to a ridiculously huge size." I have faced my fears in the past years and actually blown them up, but you'll always tell which ones are mine. They have about three puffs of air in them and that's it, which looks kind of pissy in amongst all the other ones blown up by everyone else. So usually, I don't bother helping and I clear right out of the room.
You know what happened, don't you? The fecking thing EXPLODED IN MY FACE, mid-third puff. Stung me like someone had taken a switch to my lips. Not so good for the phobia.
But I have to ask you, is that the definition of true love? To not only go ahead and put aside your own fears for the sake of another, but do it after your fear is realised? Or is it simply stupidity? Or martyrdom, even? For you see, just before blowing up that balloon, I had just tied off and given to the LGBB a lovely purple one. She was so excited! I was so excited! I'd blown up the damn thing! And there was already the first one I'd blown up, floating around on the floor. Ok, so it was only the size of a rockmelon, but hey-hey! It was up and tied and floating and not popping.
Yee-haw, I could do this. I looked at the pack of 100 and had thought, I'll stop at 20. That should be enough.
No. No, as it turns out, one is enough. Because that one burst while Lolly was just holding it - the poor darl, she's not fantastic with loud noises and so the bang left us both a bit frazzled and giggling in that insane kind of "I'm going to pretend like it didn't bother me so the other person doesn't catch on", which was kind of funny, I had to admit. But after that next one blew up in my face, her fake giggles turned to real tears. And I just pushed aside the other 97 in the pack and said, "Daddy is going to do those ones."
Seriously, I am uneasy in a room with even one balloon in it, let alone several. However, I have discovered over the years that the fear is in direct proportion to the dimensions of the room and the number of balloons - for instance, if it were a grand ballroom and there were balloons on the ceiling, no problem. If it is an outdoor function, pah - almost not worth mentioning. It's the confined room space scenario, particularly if the room is fairly quiet, that gets me on edge. Add to that a few scurrying children and some toddlers who can barely walk, falling all over their balloons and biting them and...... shudder. My nightmare.
So. What about you? Do you, or anyone you know, have any uncommon fears or phobias? Are they debilitating for you? Have they lessenned in intensity or have you designed any work-arounds? Do tell.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Life with an action man
You know, it's tough. Really tough. He's always so busy. Fighting crime, defending someone or something or other. He hardly ever gets a night off.
Last night, our brief conversation before I retired to bed (I'm fighting a marathon cold, heading into my second week of the dratted thing) went like this:
Me: *calling out from our bedroom door* You coming to bed soon?
He: No.
Me: Wanna come watch the Sex And The City movie with me? [as if that was going to change his mind]
He: *very distracted and matter of fact* No, I can't. I'm on the side of a train, in a tunnel, with a helicopter chasing me and I just found my rocket launcher.
Me: *to myself* ......Ewwwwwkay then.
That's my husband. The Playstation floozie.
Last night, our brief conversation before I retired to bed (I'm fighting a marathon cold, heading into my second week of the dratted thing) went like this:
Me: *calling out from our bedroom door* You coming to bed soon?
He: No.
Me: Wanna come watch the Sex And The City movie with me? [as if that was going to change his mind]
He: *very distracted and matter of fact* No, I can't. I'm on the side of a train, in a tunnel, with a helicopter chasing me and I just found my rocket launcher.
Me: *to myself* ......Ewwwwwkay then.
That's my husband. The Playstation floozie.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Who is Nokia kidding?
When I use my "intelligent" text, my intuitive speller, my whatever you want to call it (the feature that guesses what you're typing on your phone when you're sending a text), I think Nokia knows damn well that when I hit "7448", I am spelling out "SHIT".
Not SHIV, Nokia.
Nobody has a SHIV day. Nobody doesn't give a SHIV.
Who do they think they are preventing from sending a "rude word" to? Don't they know there are lots of frustrated adults out there needing to type "shit" in a hurry!????
They are just wasting 18 more seconds of my day by making me have to turn off the spell intuition to hit the 7 four times, then the 4 twice, then another time for the 'i'... you get my drift.
Pains in the ass! GAHD..dsdhfhkl;sdaf;jjfhhlggggnnnnngggh *struggles, with closed fists clenched around phone's neck*
Not SHIV, Nokia.
Nobody has a SHIV day. Nobody doesn't give a SHIV.
Who do they think they are preventing from sending a "rude word" to? Don't they know there are lots of frustrated adults out there needing to type "shit" in a hurry!????
They are just wasting 18 more seconds of my day by making me have to turn off the spell intuition to hit the 7 four times, then the 4 twice, then another time for the 'i'... you get my drift.
Pains in the ass! GAHD..dsdhfhkl;sdaf;jjfhhlggggnnnnngggh *struggles, with closed fists clenched around phone's neck*
Friday, March 19, 2010
My little beanstalk
I measured the LGBB last in January on the 22nd. She was 106cm then.
After a rather harrowing week (and especially weekend) which was spent mostly in tears - I was too tired to cry any so they were all hers this time - I decided to measure Lolly again on Sunday just gone.
When will I learn that gnashing of teeth and days-full of tears and wretchedness are NOT the "new her"?
The kid has grown 4cm in two months! She now stands at 110cm. Gahhhhd. I feel like I'm never going to put two and two together when it's happening and only realise things that are happening for her physiologically in hindsight.
And just.... thank God I am saving for her wardrobe already.
Sorry: just had to edit this post to show you this post that came up in the widget. Remember? Oh my sides...
After a rather harrowing week (and especially weekend) which was spent mostly in tears - I was too tired to cry any so they were all hers this time - I decided to measure Lolly again on Sunday just gone.
When will I learn that gnashing of teeth and days-full of tears and wretchedness are NOT the "new her"?
The kid has grown 4cm in two months! She now stands at 110cm. Gahhhhd. I feel like I'm never going to put two and two together when it's happening and only realise things that are happening for her physiologically in hindsight.
And just.... thank God I am saving for her wardrobe already.
Sorry: just had to edit this post to show you this post that came up in the widget. Remember? Oh my sides...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
SOUP-er Mamaaa
I collect empty boxes. They are great for sticking bits of stuff to. And painting. No end of fun can be had with clagging some scraps of fabric to the side of a Nutri-Grain ("Daddy Cereal") box. Lolly enjoys pasting and painting them too..... Hey. How did you THINK I spent my day when I said I was working hard?
Henyway, so I collect all these empty boxes. Sometimes we use them here at home. But more often than not, I "donate" them to Lolly's kindy or occasional care centre. Painstakingly making sure I've removed hazards (like the serrated teeth on the cling wrap boxes and so forth). Ensuring I don't collect soy milk containers or egg cartons or anything else that may ignite an awful food allergy reaction.
Then I bundle them in the car, with the LGBB sitting amongst them like she's built a box city, and I take them with us to her occasional care day. The relief of getting them out of the house is quite surprising. I love getting rid of them, it feels good to both be useful and recycle them AND get my kitchen and cupboards clear once I've done a clean-out from the build-up. I feel like I've really achieved something! Two-fold! I'm a superhero of house cleaning! *hands on hips HO-HO!*
Then, when I go and pick the LGBB up, she always, always, ALWAYS tells me excitedly, "I did some painting!" or "I did some sticking!" or some other such crafty way with some sort of adhesive.
Annnnnnd.... you know what I'm going to say, don't you? I bundle her back in the car with, guaranteed, at least 50% if not all of those damn sky-scraper sized boxes back again at the end of the day, now adorned with half-dry paint and glue and bits of glitter n' shit falling off in my car so I have to carefully stack them and cart them all back home. And THEN display them around the house for days so we can all rejoice in their glory and splendour.
Ah, the joys. I have to laugh. *sob* And then do a resigned face like this:
(this one's for you, Sparkl-o-Matic)
Henyway, so I collect all these empty boxes. Sometimes we use them here at home. But more often than not, I "donate" them to Lolly's kindy or occasional care centre. Painstakingly making sure I've removed hazards (like the serrated teeth on the cling wrap boxes and so forth). Ensuring I don't collect soy milk containers or egg cartons or anything else that may ignite an awful food allergy reaction.
Then I bundle them in the car, with the LGBB sitting amongst them like she's built a box city, and I take them with us to her occasional care day. The relief of getting them out of the house is quite surprising. I love getting rid of them, it feels good to both be useful and recycle them AND get my kitchen and cupboards clear once I've done a clean-out from the build-up. I feel like I've really achieved something! Two-fold! I'm a superhero of house cleaning! *hands on hips HO-HO!*
Then, when I go and pick the LGBB up, she always, always, ALWAYS tells me excitedly, "I did some painting!" or "I did some sticking!" or some other such crafty way with some sort of adhesive.
Annnnnnd.... you know what I'm going to say, don't you? I bundle her back in the car with, guaranteed, at least 50% if not all of those damn sky-scraper sized boxes back again at the end of the day, now adorned with half-dry paint and glue and bits of glitter n' shit falling off in my car so I have to carefully stack them and cart them all back home. And THEN display them around the house for days so we can all rejoice in their glory and splendour.
Ah, the joys. I have to laugh. *sob* And then do a resigned face like this:
(this one's for you, Sparkl-o-Matic)Monday, March 15, 2010
Random stuff I wanna know
1. Where has my sweet little girl gone?
2. Why has she been replaced by a scary.... no wait, I know the answer to that one: it's a little of Column A (teething those blasted 6 year-old molars that are taking their agonisingly long bog-damn time coming through, the poor poor darlin') and a little of Column B (general narkiness leading into that gorgeous, feisty Being known as The 4 Year-Old Miss... that's normal, right? *grabs onto the nearest reader-parent/gp/carer of a young girl desperately for reassurance*)
3. HOW did hailstones the size of tennis balls miss Ella's cherub?! (and thank god they did, just quietly, because various neighbours have lost garden ornaments)
4. Why did it take me a couple of decades to look up the words to Stayin' Alive, seeing as I love the movie and the song so much, to realise that I'd been singing the chorus wrong all these years? Imagine my dismay to discover I had been belting out "Phyllis says he's breakin' and everybody's shakin' Stayin' alive, stayin' alive". When really, it's "Feel the city breakin'..."
5. Who the f@^* is Phyllis?
6. Why did I have the presence of mind to ask the 'oosband to thlap the thunthcreen on my shoulders but... uh.... didn't put any on my arms? Owwwch. And double ouch. See, we went to the beach on the weekend for a couple of nights, prearranged with friends (it took me the whole two days to relax from our past week of fiasco's and then it was time to head back home to see if the roof was still on), and I think I was just so intent on getting the LGBB's lily-white skin covered that I forgot my own - oh, yes, she gets the delicate English rose (read: easily burned and never, ever tanned) complexion from me. I even have Steve's honking great sunscreen-laden finger imprints there in white, on top of the raging red sunburn on both arms. What a dufus.
7. How is it that no matter what I do, I can't get the awful chin hairs to need plucking at the same time? I swear... that day I was catching the train to school and I saw the elderly woman shaving - yes, full on, shaving with a disposable razor on a moving, morning commuter train - over in the corner, I never realised that one day I would be stroking the hairs on my chinny-chin chin like some wise old Fu Man Chu myself. Fark.
8. Where did my reading time go? It's permanently vanished, into the never-never.
9. Come to think of it.... where has my PATIENCE gone?
10. AND my sense of yumour? They've all gone! Over the hill and far a-way....
2. Why has she been replaced by a scary.... no wait, I know the answer to that one: it's a little of Column A (teething those blasted 6 year-old molars that are taking their agonisingly long bog-damn time coming through, the poor poor darlin') and a little of Column B (general narkiness leading into that gorgeous, feisty Being known as The 4 Year-Old Miss... that's normal, right? *grabs onto the nearest reader-parent/gp/carer of a young girl desperately for reassurance*)
3. HOW did hailstones the size of tennis balls miss Ella's cherub?! (and thank god they did, just quietly, because various neighbours have lost garden ornaments)
4. Why did it take me a couple of decades to look up the words to Stayin' Alive, seeing as I love the movie and the song so much, to realise that I'd been singing the chorus wrong all these years? Imagine my dismay to discover I had been belting out "Phyllis says he's breakin' and everybody's shakin' Stayin' alive, stayin' alive". When really, it's "Feel the city breakin'..."
5. Who the f@^* is Phyllis?
6. Why did I have the presence of mind to ask the 'oosband to thlap the thunthcreen on my shoulders but... uh.... didn't put any on my arms? Owwwch. And double ouch. See, we went to the beach on the weekend for a couple of nights, prearranged with friends (it took me the whole two days to relax from our past week of fiasco's and then it was time to head back home to see if the roof was still on), and I think I was just so intent on getting the LGBB's lily-white skin covered that I forgot my own - oh, yes, she gets the delicate English rose (read: easily burned and never, ever tanned) complexion from me. I even have Steve's honking great sunscreen-laden finger imprints there in white, on top of the raging red sunburn on both arms. What a dufus.
7. How is it that no matter what I do, I can't get the awful chin hairs to need plucking at the same time? I swear... that day I was catching the train to school and I saw the elderly woman shaving - yes, full on, shaving with a disposable razor on a moving, morning commuter train - over in the corner, I never realised that one day I would be stroking the hairs on my chinny-chin chin like some wise old Fu Man Chu myself. Fark.
8. Where did my reading time go? It's permanently vanished, into the never-never.
9. Come to think of it.... where has my PATIENCE gone?
10. AND my sense of yumour? They've all gone! Over the hill and far a-way....
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Now I'm no expert...
...but I'm guessing that sickeningly loud cracking noises emanating from one's ceiling/cornice area are NOT anything to laugh about, considering the amount of water that got in the roof and onto the ceiling this past weekend.
Add to that a bowed ceiling now in the kitchen that you swore wasn't there a couple of days ago AND a new damp patch appearing in a different corner of your bedroom alongside a cracked cornice...... and uh, I'm feeling rather like a sitting duck here.
Jumping at every shadow I see this week. I seem to be waiting for a groaning, giving way. I sooooo don't have the time or nerves for this! Not right now!
Please bear with me. We seem to be having the dwelling equivalent of major technical difficulties. Consider this the white noise or test pattern you are possibly about to receive from my blog for a while, as I have no further pre-scheduled posts. But lots I wish I had the time and energy to say!
More soon...
Add to that a bowed ceiling now in the kitchen that you swore wasn't there a couple of days ago AND a new damp patch appearing in a different corner of your bedroom alongside a cracked cornice...... and uh, I'm feeling rather like a sitting duck here.
Jumping at every shadow I see this week. I seem to be waiting for a groaning, giving way. I sooooo don't have the time or nerves for this! Not right now!
Please bear with me. We seem to be having the dwelling equivalent of major technical difficulties. Consider this the white noise or test pattern you are possibly about to receive from my blog for a while, as I have no further pre-scheduled posts. But lots I wish I had the time and energy to say!
More soon...
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
It's only me
Have you ever noticed how many people say, "It's just me" or "It's only me" when they phone you or leave a message on your voicemail?
I hadn't realised how often people say this until I just cleared ten messages off my machine. And only one person said, "Oh hi, it's Mary..." The rest were a rather dazzling succession of callers who announced themselves in this fashion.
Do you get that? Or do you say it? I think I do when I call and have to leave a message! "Hi, it's only me..."
What does it mean? Is it because the caller thinks the person they've phoned is hiding from someone? Telemarketers perhaps? Or the bank manager who asked ten days ago for them to drop in the form they requested in order to process the mortgage details so that... oh. Wait, that could just be me. But yeah. Apart from that, who are these people so fearful of receiving calls that we have to start with "Hello, only me..."?
Or is it that we are so self-deprecating that we don't put enough value on ourselves that the person is wanting to receive our call?
Shouldn't it be "HEY! You are soo-oo-oooooo lucky, my friend, because.... it's ME!" Hmmm, don't think I'll be announcing myself like that anytime soon. But feel free to try it on your friends! Tell me how many hang-ups you get.
I hadn't realised how often people say this until I just cleared ten messages off my machine. And only one person said, "Oh hi, it's Mary..." The rest were a rather dazzling succession of callers who announced themselves in this fashion.
Do you get that? Or do you say it? I think I do when I call and have to leave a message! "Hi, it's only me..."
What does it mean? Is it because the caller thinks the person they've phoned is hiding from someone? Telemarketers perhaps? Or the bank manager who asked ten days ago for them to drop in the form they requested in order to process the mortgage details so that... oh. Wait, that could just be me. But yeah. Apart from that, who are these people so fearful of receiving calls that we have to start with "Hello, only me..."?
Or is it that we are so self-deprecating that we don't put enough value on ourselves that the person is wanting to receive our call?
Shouldn't it be "HEY! You are soo-oo-oooooo lucky, my friend, because.... it's ME!" Hmmm, don't think I'll be announcing myself like that anytime soon. But feel free to try it on your friends! Tell me how many hang-ups you get.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Can it beee that it was all so simple then?
Oh, how I am loving ('scuse me for banging on) this Linkwithin widget now it's actually working on my blog!
If you didn't ever read/see this post I did a while back (and you want to know a bit more about cosmopolitan Melbourne's daggy past before her apparent "makeover" sometime in the past 10-20 years), I urge you to go read about our very own international-style play park. I still guffaw when I see those old commercials.
And how can I gleefully delight in the trip down memory lane without bringing your attention to this - a much needed mummy-time-out, by the looks of it. Mind you, that mama doll's coffee would be so icy cold by the time she actually managed to enjoy a sip of it, what with the running around and herding and negotiating and wiping and consoling she's probably had to do whilst in the middle of drinking the mammoth thing.
Ah, the memories.
If you didn't ever read/see this post I did a while back (and you want to know a bit more about cosmopolitan Melbourne's daggy past before her apparent "makeover" sometime in the past 10-20 years), I urge you to go read about our very own international-style play park. I still guffaw when I see those old commercials.
And how can I gleefully delight in the trip down memory lane without bringing your attention to this - a much needed mummy-time-out, by the looks of it. Mind you, that mama doll's coffee would be so icy cold by the time she actually managed to enjoy a sip of it, what with the running around and herding and negotiating and wiping and consoling she's probably had to do whilst in the middle of drinking the mammoth thing.
Ah, the memories.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Suddenly, the horizons broaden!
Well, I have to say, I was about ready to ditch the Linkwithin widget which puts up the "you may also like" suggestions at the bottom of my posts. After seeing it around on several blogs for a while and enjoying it as a way to get to know the owners of those blogs I was new to, I thought it would be a good way to randomly generate some "remember that?" moments for the old readers and give the newbies something to sink their teeth into on my own blog.
But just the same half dozen posts kept appearing and I was, like, "Whaa'?? I have written SOOOO much more than just a few posts, dagnabbit."
Looks like it's fired off sometime in the past 24 hours, because it's now spewing out titles that even I can't remember and am going off to read them. Case in point: this irresistible specimen from almost two years ago that I had completely forgotten about. And this... this needs no introduction but (again) a crazy stare. Hey, if you do use the widget and find something that tickles your funnybone, moves you (in favour or otherwise) or just makes you interested, do drop me a comment on the post you find! I'd love the trip down memory lane - that's the funny thing about blogs, isn't it? Pretty soon, a lot of your "good work" and effort gets buried down the drain, piled atop by yet more drivel.
Heh. Who knew this widget could be so useful? *tuneless whistle*
But just the same half dozen posts kept appearing and I was, like, "Whaa'?? I have written SOOOO much more than just a few posts, dagnabbit."
Looks like it's fired off sometime in the past 24 hours, because it's now spewing out titles that even I can't remember and am going off to read them. Case in point: this irresistible specimen from almost two years ago that I had completely forgotten about. And this... this needs no introduction but (again) a crazy stare. Hey, if you do use the widget and find something that tickles your funnybone, moves you (in favour or otherwise) or just makes you interested, do drop me a comment on the post you find! I'd love the trip down memory lane - that's the funny thing about blogs, isn't it? Pretty soon, a lot of your "good work" and effort gets buried down the drain, piled atop by yet more drivel.
Heh. Who knew this widget could be so useful? *tuneless whistle*
Saturday, February 27, 2010
It's my own fault
I am creating some sort of café-indulged rod for my own back here.
Walking past the LGBB and Steve, as he played on his iPhone and she sat "working" at her desk in a flurry of Clag, shredded tissue paper and the contents of her craft box, I asked if either of them wanted a drink.
"No, thanks," he said.
"No, thanks," she parrotted. And then, giving it more careful thought, added, "Or maybeeee.... just a 'cino."
I kept walking up to the kitchen and before I could formulate a response, she called out after me, "Have you got that? And some smush-smallows."
Lucky for her she can't say marshmallows. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found the request nearly as cute and amusing. Have you got that? Like I'm some waitr..... oh, wait. I am really a waitress to her, I suppose.
I have indulged her. Why would I not? A 'cino consists of nothing more than a thimble-full of milk, frothed in a ceramic jug and zapped for 20 seconds in the microwave. If that is what makes her heart happy and fulfilled, alongside her morning's work, then it's a no-brainer for me.
Smush-smallows, though. The bloody cheek of 'er!
Walking past the LGBB and Steve, as he played on his iPhone and she sat "working" at her desk in a flurry of Clag, shredded tissue paper and the contents of her craft box, I asked if either of them wanted a drink.
"No, thanks," he said.
"No, thanks," she parrotted. And then, giving it more careful thought, added, "Or maybeeee.... just a 'cino."
I kept walking up to the kitchen and before I could formulate a response, she called out after me, "Have you got that? And some smush-smallows."
Lucky for her she can't say marshmallows. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found the request nearly as cute and amusing. Have you got that? Like I'm some waitr..... oh, wait. I am really a waitress to her, I suppose.
I have indulged her. Why would I not? A 'cino consists of nothing more than a thimble-full of milk, frothed in a ceramic jug and zapped for 20 seconds in the microwave. If that is what makes her heart happy and fulfilled, alongside her morning's work, then it's a no-brainer for me.
Smush-smallows, though. The bloody cheek of 'er!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Exhibit A: More crap than action
Well, if you ever wanted to know for sure just how long you were sitting in front of the teev in order to catch the action (and why it feels like you have to sit through all the talk and the ad's just to get to the reason why the Games are on in the first place.... oh yeah! That's right! The actual sports!), here we have a screen shot of the digital file we recorded using EyeTV.
After all the commercials and all of the mlah-mlah-mlahhhh's of Eddie & CO. have been removed, we discovered that Channel 9, on this particular evening at least, were giving us a Grand Total Viewing Time of 1 hour and 25 minutes.
Huzzah! How very generous of them.
That means, if we had sat on our butts for that entire 3.5 hours, we would have been gnashing our teeth on our cushions in exasperation at why it was taking so damn long to get to the curling. Which is a whole other post.
If you can't already tell, I'm not a fan of this network ballsing up the 'lympics. Bring back Sandy Roberts, Bruce Macavaney and channel 7's team! I'd even rather sit through the perpetually perky Johanna Griggs (Seven's version of the ever-present-everywhere Eddie McGuire) than ever endure channel 9 doing it again.
Harumph.
After all the commercials and all of the mlah-mlah-mlahhhh's of Eddie & CO. have been removed, we discovered that Channel 9, on this particular evening at least, were giving us a Grand Total Viewing Time of 1 hour and 25 minutes.
Huzzah! How very generous of them.
The striped red/grey sections = Eddie, interviews and commercials (ie. not sports coverage). The blue sections (and the three in black at the right) is where they have actually shown footage of events. Pitiful, I would say.
That means, if we had sat on our butts for that entire 3.5 hours, we would have been gnashing our teeth on our cushions in exasperation at why it was taking so damn long to get to the curling. Which is a whole other post.
If you can't already tell, I'm not a fan of this network ballsing up the 'lympics. Bring back Sandy Roberts, Bruce Macavaney and channel 7's team! I'd even rather sit through the perpetually perky Johanna Griggs (Seven's version of the ever-present-everywhere Eddie McGuire) than ever endure channel 9 doing it again.
Harumph.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Snow over Japan
My brother sent an eery looking photo this morning.
A night shot of his front yard in Kawasaki, Japan, taken last night at 11pm as 10cm had already fallen (and was still going, with no sign of a let-up).
Kanagawa, Japan, 10:45pm - The lights from the city reflected on the snow clouds always makes snowy nights bright.
A night shot of his front yard in Kawasaki, Japan, taken last night at 11pm as 10cm had already fallen (and was still going, with no sign of a let-up).
Kanagawa, Japan, 10:45pm - The lights from the city reflected on the snow clouds always makes snowy nights bright.Monday, January 18, 2010
Me Found Me Groove Again
Despite him not being the most favourite Muppet of mine (that place being forever taken by Grover, my ideal man - so refined and yet, willing to let his silly side out as evidenced by his badge in this picture-->>) I have to give Cookie Monster credit for lifting my chin over this past weekend.I had a penchant for this [look, I could explain why but really you'd have to be inside my head soooo, just take it as a given, kthx] and, as mostly usual, the Tube delivered:
The remainder of Saturday and all of Sunday were then spent with either me, Steve or the LGBB breaking into "WHEEEEERE'S my cookeeeeeeeee? Help me find my cookie...... Please" endlessly, until the giggles came not so much from reminiscing the vid but from the fact that we couldn't get the farking song out of our heads. Even the LGBB (actually, she was the worst culprit) kept breaking into song wherever we were.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Show Me - Mint Royale
Auuuugh, sorry, luv, if you've happened across this post in the hopes I'd show you How To do something yummy with a Mint Royale chocolate something-or-other.
'Tis just this little music vid. By the group (although I hasten to add here that this film clip is obviously not them, possibly some 'fans'??). It is one of my very favourite get-moving, pick-me-up songs. Has been for years. There is a plethora of them, but I won't bore you with a list today.
For now, here is where I am (well... not on some dodgy tribal happening in the forest... just placing myself in the music, heading into next week and January 13th)
'Tis just this little music vid. By the group (although I hasten to add here that this film clip is obviously not them, possibly some 'fans'??). It is one of my very favourite get-moving, pick-me-up songs. Has been for years. There is a plethora of them, but I won't bore you with a list today.
For now, here is where I am (well... not on some dodgy tribal happening in the forest... just placing myself in the music, heading into next week and January 13th)
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