This one time, back in 2004...

It was four years ago this week that we acquired a little pup we called Jazz.

Instead of tucking our little girl into bed at night and expanding her solid food horizons, we gave you "1/4 dry puppy food and the rest of the bowl with chicken", which I would painstakingly poach and then strip into bite-size chunks. Instead of tending to our baby girl if she woke in the night, we had to teach you the tough puppy-love Whine It Out method of soothing your yelping self to sleep. It nearly gutted me. I would lie awake desperate to rush and comfort you and give you (who am I fooling, and me) something warm and loving to snuggle into so you slept knowing you were safe and loved. But we couldn't do that, for we knew you would fast become a big dog and not remain a tiny, poky little puppy forever.

You were the arrow that pierced my heart that first summer and festive season without Ella. I was completely bereft, unable to bear facing the Christmas and New Year period that year. I had had my ninth baby taken from me barely a week prior and I guess my hormones were still coming down from their late first trimester high. But when Steve coaxed me into admitting I wanted you, after the second sighting of you through the pet shop window, I didn't desist. I stood in that shop while he filled out the paperwork I was too emotional to complete, holding you so close to my chest.

The warmth of a little body, a body of a pup who weighed more than the maximum weight my firstborn had ever reached, made me swoon. I could feel your strong heart beating as if it would pop out through your puppy fat-covered chest. I gazed at you daily, how beautiful you were, as I pondered time and again how it could be that you were separated from your mother and your litter so early in life. I cried bitter, sweet tears for you. For your mummy. For me, I knew ultimately. And you let me, you dear little thing.

At night, while we relaxed in front of the tv, I would let you lie down my chest. You felt safe there. I felt safe with you there. Your weight was an anchor to keep me grounded, especially during the passing of the first anniversary of our daughter's death and then, a month later, passing. You were blissfully unaware of what you represented to me, personally. But without your life, in mine, I would have been completely and absolutely bereft that year.

All this is not to say that you didn't grow into a little turd over time. Not only that, you were still being weaned from the chest-lying liberty we had both taken with each other when I was over four months' pregnant with the LGBB. The last time, when you used my gut as leverage as you ricocheted off me onto the floor when it was "nigh-nigh's time", I think we all knew... it simply had to be your last time. You asserted your place in the family and staked your claim as Top Dog long before my trusty doggy soulmate was willing to give over. Although you've convinced yourself you're at the top of the heap, mon frer, my Pep has that claim and rightfully so until she's ready to go.

Granted, Pepper's not as agile as you. She's not nearly as good at causing grievous bodily harm to anyone either. But she is my Top Dog. You have to give her that, Miss Mena. No bones about it *see what I did there?* you will just have to continue to do your time. It's a sentence you know you signed up for.

You and me, Jazz, I know the future always had you in it. And not my dear old girl for very long after we brought our first baby home. I'm surprised she hasn't abdicated the throne before now, to be honest, but I am not one bit surprised on the other hand. Until she is comfortable to go, Pep will stay. And so until then, my little 28kg insolent bag o' beans, we shall have to continue to sneak you out for days of pleasure and joy with us so that you know there will be an end to this imprisonment. Keep your sense of humour. Your brand of fun and joy is infectious - much like the LGBB's, which is not lost on me one bit - so please don't let it be ruined, Universe, by the stranglehold my increasingly old and doddery doggy has on life (and in turn, her arch nemisis, the successor we call Libby).

But you understand, I cannot wish it away for you. My lovely, lovely doggy babies. How I have recently taken you for granted. This trip down memory lane (doing a search of both your names on the old blog) has been sobering tonight.

I MUST put up the Dog animal totem soon. Have been meaning to. Remind me if I forget (again), Internet xx

Shit, I was funny

For ... well, not the first time ... I have realised, in reminiscing through my old blog, that I used to be so damned funny. Note to self: stop reminiscing. Get over it. You're old.

It's Lolly's fault. She made me sirrius *deadpan look to camera*

Happy fucking new year, peeps.

So... how d'ya like it?

Lolly, meet Big Girl Bed. BGB, meet LGBB.

We can hardly believe it and, shhhhh *leans closer so nobody hears* we don't want to jinx the run so far, but..... the transition from cot to bed has gone SO well that the LGBB even sleeps in now in the mornings! She's gone from about 11 hours to 12 per night, straight.

Psssst, oi, it's time to get up!

Where's Lolly gone? We've taken to hiding under the covers
in order to not be woken up in the morning. Is she 15 already?

And oh, that second doll? The green one? Well, just in case you were wondering, after spending days and days painstakingly laboring over the yellow one, I ran out of time for doing the green one. I knocked it up in two hours, Internet. Two hours. And it looks better!


She loves it. I love that she loves it. Tonight, she ran to get into her bed. Full on ran down the hall. Ahhhhhhhhh!

My new favourite photo

But I can't quite decide which I love most. I think the second one.

The LGBB and "her" tree out front during a picnic one sunny day this week

He's been!

I finished the chocolate Christmas trees and the rest of my cooking around midnight. I was listening to a Christmas playlist generated by the awesome Genius feature on our iTunes (ever tried it?) and third vodka down for the day, began to have lusty thoughts about Mel Torme. All because of his voice. I swear, nobody has ever sung What Are You Doing New Years Eve better in the history of the world *wipes bead of sweat off brow*

My only other memorable oddspot to note about my cooking frenzy was that I got to thinking about how, when Steve attempts a fake-manly voice, he always sounds like Dr Hibbard from The Simpsons. Isn't that curious!

Well, without further ado, I bid all of you reading a very merry day. Loaded with loved ones, patience for same and lashings of lovely food. Have a safe one, peeps.

More later.

Windy foggy Christmas Eve

It was the best we could get at 9:45 last night after a mind-blowing stroll around our town looking at the lights (the LGBB has used up her quota of uttering the word "LOOK!" for the next ten years), and please excuse the poor lighting.

But yeah. Enjoy :) And listen out for the special Santa 'accent' near the end...


It Glows from Lolly Lovers on Vimeo.

In lieu of a Christmas Day menu...

Thanks to Averil's tag, I give you our Christmas Eve menu which we're hosting for just one side of the family here (we've got the day "off" on Christmas Day - a very casual but delectably tasty round-up of foods - and people! - has become the tradition for us on this day, at my brother's inlaws.... hey, they're always more fun when they're once removed/not your own IL's ;)

Finger foods is the way we're going this year. Because I lurrrve them and because they're easy and you can make heaps and it looks like you've done a lot muahahaha.

Mini savoury pikelets topped with marscapone and pesto

Asparagus, cheese and tomato tartlets

Creamed mushroom vol au vents

Individual salmon quiches (because apparently, they don't follow trends??)

Egg tomato, cucumber, avocado and radish salad (which will go great with the roast chicken Steve's mum is bringing)

And for dessert, I'm thinking I'll do the same thing: lots of little treats.

Mini chocolate and nougat mousse.... Or would that be mousses? Hmm. This one's made with Toblerone, eggs and cream. Thassit. Dear God, my fat stores are groaning already.

Chocolate Christmas trees (little mini cones of crushed plain biscuit, cocoa, condensed milk, topped with melted choc and flaked with coconut and almond slivers)

Orange poppyseed cake - an oldy but a less sickly-sweet goody

We've not done the "good old-fashioned" Christmas sit-down dinner thing for a number of years now. That's what a scattered family and the lack of a matriarch does, I guess. Nobody is entirely willing or able to do the whole roast thing. I don't have a gaggle of females eager to cook while they natter in somebody's kitchen to prepare everything. That's why I love my SIL's family home... surrounded by the wonderful people who gather there (some friends and some family). It's a progesterone overdose which lasts me an entire year and I love it. Sort of feels like falling appreciatively into the bosom of caring females.

Or... something like that. I'll leave you with that thought, dear reader *distant cricket chirping*

And I shall tag some of you who are probably going to adore me just that little bit more for doing so (c'mon you know you wanna share... although Mel, you might need a week to recount your menu!!):

Tanya at Not Tonight Dear
Jodie who's Procrastinating Here At...
Mel at Head In The Sand Again