Silence, but not the golden kind.
More the brooding, so angry I can't breath, rage kind of silence.
Chef - after not buying me a Christmas present, not even wrapping the one I bought for him to give me (on his request - to buy it that is) nor giving it to me during the whole family gift exchange - fell ill four days ago.
Some of my family - the 'good' uncle, his wife and my cousin - were coming over that day. We went to see The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe in the moring with the boys and I thought he seemed quiet - but put it down to tiredness, over-eating and not getting any sex. He finally told me he didn't feel well around midday - to which I replied, 'why don't you tell me these things earlier, like, "poppet, I feel sick, I need to go back to bed", rather than just moping around which just IRRITATES THE HELL OUT OF ME.
So he went to bed about midday, or one-ish. By this point I was fairly knackered because it's been OVER 35C here every FRIGGING day for oh, about a week and after several weeks of baking, gift buying and all the other day to day CRAP that seriously does my head in (there is SO no hope for me if just basic domesticity is the trigger for my depression). Since we got back from spending two days with my Dad & Stepmother's (who informed me she had nits, and well, quite frankly I haven't stopped itching since), who are building their very own bunker two hours out of Sydney in a place renown for high winds and brown snakes, I had been cleaning constantly. Loads and loads of washing, new toys to accomodate blah blah blah.
Then, the day before yesterday and the day after Chef declared himself sick, we had 12 people for brunch for Chef's Mum's birthday.
So there I was, breastfeeding the youngest, entertaining and getting the other two dressed etc, going down to the shops to get all the things he and his Dad had forgotten or not thought about the day before (like decent bread and some fruit - they did however have enough eggs, two kinds of sausages and bacon to feed a small African nation), still frantically cleaning up and cooking everything for the arrival of the crowd at 9.30.
He surfaced at some point to set up the table and chairs outside and then went back to bed. I had no idea when he did this as I was basically blind with rage. Here I was, up until 11.30 the night before preparing some of the food and cleaning up our house and then up from 5am doing everything else the morning of while he FUCKING STAYED IN BED.
Of course, he hadn't bought anything for his mum either.
I'm sorry, but the concern and charity for his illness was long gone after I worked out he'd been in bed for SEVENTEEN hours. It was heading for the hills and half way to Perth by the time we all sat down to eat, he appeared, ate TWO plates of food AND then a couple of these sweet little tarts that were like pecan pies but without the nuts.
What sort of illness is it that befalls someone to bed when anything has to be done, but then completely disappears to STUFF YOUR FACE, only to return to bed again when the crowd leaves and the cleaning up remains?
He basically stayed in bed, occasionally venturing to the couch yesterday but soon disappearing again when he realised deathbywife may be a bigger issue than illness.
Here it is. When it is 30C + every FUCKING DAY. When ALL OF YOUR FUCKING FAMILY is coming over at 9.30am. When you have three children. You do not have the LUXURY of staying in bed for FOUR FUCKING DAYS with a flu type illness. Take some drugs, go to the doctor, SUCK IT IN because it JUST ISN"T GOOD ENOUGH.
I realise there are people in the world far worse off than me. I realise this is such a pathetic whinge about nothing. I realise I should have been more compassionate (even if on the inside I was/am SEETHING). But fuck off. I'm angry. Disappointed. And let down. Once more.
Oh, and my right breast is so friggin sore and I am so achey. I can feel the mastitis charging in my direction. (Funny, the last two times it 'almost' descended, only beaten by my relentless expressing, ice packs and heat packs, was when I was standing on my feed too much and doing too much. Isn't that curious.)
We're meant to be at the Doodles tonight - for fondue. But with the weather and my spouse driving me FUCKING insane, we are all at home. Just here. In the same physical space but so very far apart.
Happy New Year.
I realise it's only three days after Christmas but my festive charitable spirit has officially fled.
First, I spend the better part of two weeks planning, organising, facing the shops and buying presents. Chef does none of this. Although he joins me for one session looking so pathetically bored and morose it really is a lot easier without him.
I bake for days in stupidly hot weather. This isn't such a chore as we all know how much I love it, but still, a little recognition blah blah blah.
The day before Christmas, that's right, on the EVE I face the shops again, with baby in tow, while Chef and the boys LOUNGE around in the pool at the inlaws (it was close to 40C this day) to buy a present for HIS brother as well as buying final supplies for dinner that night with HIS parents and Christmas day. I also buy MY present from Chef as 'he just didn't have time'. I can not tell you how that is currently searing a dark black hole into my heart. Petty, yes, still present, naturally.
That night I eventually meltdown as it was SO FUCKING HOT and I did all the cooking (Chef cut up octopus) while he sat outside enjoying the whiff of a breeze and multiple acoholic beverages. Finally, when all was said and done and I got to sit down, the children requested drinks and who did NOT even make motion of getting them? I did crack.
Christmas day was kinda nice, although Chef didn't give me my present when we were all doing the present thing, as it was still up in our room where I had left it, presuming at least he would WRAP it. But no.
Boxing Day featured another scorcher as we tried to gather stuff up to head to my father's place for an overnight stay. The boys were fractious, tired and teary. I worked hard to manage them into a state of relative calm so we could pack in peace and with pace. So Mum had to enter the fray. This ended in her having a stand-off with Felix over one of his presents and letting her and Oscar play with it. I finally lost it when she uttered, "I'm not going to let you win", followed by a value judgement of him "not being very nice" to not share.
I'm still smarting about the whole incident and naturally, she's trying to pretend nothing happened and everyone's happy families by just BEING HERE ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Well, that's actually a lie as I think she can feel the anger and resentment searing out of my very pores so she's trying to give me a wide berth, but throwing a nice dose of passive agressive interference in there as well.
Oh - another thing, my brother showed up two hours late without his partner, the one he hooked up with over the Net and about 6 weeks after leaving his wife of 12 years and four month old baby. He told me a few weeks back that they had spent $500 on ex-rental videos from their local video shop which was offloading them. I am hoping you understand my incredulity and hurt then, at his present to us which was a $2 scratchie and a cheap-arse box of chocolate sultanas and chocolate sticks. Nothing for the boys. I just love where his priorities lie don't you?
Bleuchhhh. It's so FUCKING hot, I'm so FUCKING over it, I just want to sit down, put my feet up and simmer, but other relatives are due to arrive any minute to 'see me' (as Mum keeps REMINDING me) and the house looks like a bomb has hit it.
OH, and Chef doesn't feel well, so after snorning on the lounge as I brought in two of the three loads of washing I did, washed up, picked up a bazillion things off the floor, did FUCKING craft activities with the boys because we have friends who must hate me and gave the boys crafty presents, and sweated like a pig, he went to bed. He's been sleeping for about 2 1/2 hours now...
Can you feel the rage? CAN YOU?
As the children lie on the lounge in a mind and physical state of post present bliss, as I start on the Sparkling Burgundy (all timed around breastfeeding I promise), with the pudding boiling on the stove and the ham warming in the oven, Merry Christmas to one and all. May your day be filled with love, laughter, great food and lots to drink.
the eve of the Eve
So much has happened this year in the year-long lead up (or is that countdown) this house lives until next Christmas.
- I have been alive and old enough to witness a Government enter a phase where it is living out the absolute power corrupts absolutely adage, and marvel as its leader tells everyone to trust them, and expects us to fall for that old trick.
- I've seen enough Newspolls to know that maybe the general public is as stupid as the Leader hopes and seem to be doing exactly that. I'm also old enough now to know that when they come to realise they've been had (probably in another decade when the damage runs too deep and is 'too hard' to resolve) it won't be smug 'I told you so' sentiment I feel, but sad resignation that such is the make of the man.
- I've witnessed the same Government, lie about things like children overboard, the treatment and illegal detainment of fellow human beings, instil a sense of fear as motivator in the general populace rather than a sense of hope and promise. I've witnessed the same Government give legitimacy to racism by making statements like 'we will decide who comes to this country and how they get here' to then turn around when mad, angry, young (and drunk) 'Anglos' descend on a young person of lebanese descent (not that it makes any difference, but who in all likelihood was probably born in Australia and has lived here all his life) with the visciousness only pure racial hatred can manifest, as 'payback' for an incident the weekend prior and claim it wasn't racially motivated. I saw one Newspoll which did a little to restore my faith we're not all stupid and willing to be spoonfed by those in power by contradicting this Leader's blind stupidity.
- I've seen this Government do more to fundamentally change the Australian way of life in the shortest space of time than I know I will probably ever witness in my life again. They've created a system that makes independent living a pipedream for my son with special needs (my only hope is that by the time he is of the age that he will be affected, a more humane system will be in place). They've instigated an industrial reform process that while needed, is so pitted against people just trying to make a living and a life it is remarkable. I am actually alive and witness as an elected Government brings in a system that will create a working poor underclass.
- I've witnessed a Government who talks about the economy as if it is a person and is doing things for the economy to the complete detriment of the society that has to live with it.
- This is the same Government who has an education minister giving oxygen to creationists.
- The same Government with a rising infilitration of the conservative religious Right. How many countries have a Leader who will attend the opening of an auditorium of a evangelical church?
- At the same time, I've returned to the workforce as a wage earner, not a self-employed freelancer. I have loved every.single.minute. Even the bad minutes, of which there have been very few.
- We decided to put off having more kids and just have a year of getting back on our feet financially and maybe taking the boys on a holiday that involved air travel and maybe even a passport.
- So we had a baby, and I had another nine months of dragging around my carcass but secretly loving every minute of feeling that new life growing inside of me.
- We went from a family of four to a family of five.
- My husband got the biggest promotion of all to now running his own (well, with two partners) restaurant. This is as monumental as the point above.
- This Christmas marks the longest time off happy pills in the last four years.
- Oscar is talking a lot more and making more attempts at more sounds. Now to just get them into speech.
- Felix has finished his first full year of big school relatively intact, and with a best friend who has no siblings at all. I see them commiserating over their family structures already. "you get your own room," "yeah, but you have someone to play with all the time" and so on.
- I joined a gym and have discovered I really REALLY like boxing.
- I think I carry a lot of anger. Or maybe it's frustration.
- I finished the first year of my Masters in Professional Writing, majoring in creative writing. It's the first time I've studied anything and not felt like it was a drag.
- We are almost debt free. All that's left is the car and Amex bill. I don't think you realise just how massive this is. It means, by the middle of 2006 we can seriously start thinking about saving money for a house...which will probably be an investment unit in Toongabbie, but you get my drift.
- I killed about 9 fish. Many of those in the space of one week after over zealous fish tank cleaning and introducing new fish to a cohort that had been perfectly happy on their own thank you very much.
- I've gone from loving my cat to almost pure hatred. It's slowly dissipating back to begrudging acceptance as Jasper gets older. I find this really freaky.
- We went camping and loved it. I can't wait to go again, but somehow know that getting away in 2006 is going to be the biggest pipedream of all.
- I started this blog with Bec and would feel bereft without it.
- Now I need to find a balance between here and reading books, rather than other people's blogs.
Oh, and Jasper slept through the night again. Unconditional love is a myth. The more nights this child sleeps through, the more I love him.
Today, he did the biggest poo that leaked up to his armpits and required a bath. He thought this was pretty cool. I found him, lying in a splat of his own faeces, merrily sucking his thumb and moaning in delight. He is so his father's son.
The best thing about hearing Mr Whippy coming and the boys knowing it's not a question of can we? but a question of what sort will I have today? is who will get the rest of Oscar's after he's eaten about half of it.
Rufus Wainright is an amazing singer, as is Madeleine Peyroux. They, along with Bernard Fanning are going to be the markers of our summer of 2005/2006.
I'm about to make my fourth dozen of fruit mince tarts.
It's about 29C.
I'm really really tired. I am actually done with baking for the moment.
It takes a lot for me to reach such a point.
Jasper slept through the night (second time) and rolled over onto his back sometime during that wondrous sleepyland.
that is all.
There are a few things
that make me feel like my brain is oozing out my ears.
Madonna in a pink leotard and the Urinator singing about her humps to one side, Celine swinging cats to the other means smack in the middle are my own children.
Oscar is the prime offender and really, his inability to talk coupled with more chromosomes than his siblings goes a long way to giving him a whole body start and a few lengths on the others. Besides, Jasper is still way too cute to do anything to make my brain ooze anything except Hallmark card levels of gooshy sentimental love 'n stuff.
And here's the thing. Ever since he was a baby he sings himself to sleep. Not some melodic Brahms lullaby rendition, just a monotonous humming in some octave never charted but pitched just so that you know it's not tinitus, a wheel falling off the car or the engine about to drop onto the road (something that almost happened in my beloved Subaru that dad bought for $100, that was beige, that had been completely submerged, that Dad 'fixed' with about a bazillion galons of fish oil so I channelled every tuna fisherman known to chart untamed waters and that I LOVED. When the mechanic realised the bolts holding the engine in had all but gone bar one, which was onto the last thread of the screw before an "Oh my God what was that noise and why isn't my car going" kinda moment, probably in peak hour - and fixed it, this weird noise I'd just lived with for, oh, over a year, disappeared).
Last night as we went to Len and Sharon's for an awesome night of fun, alcohol, crazy-arsed natural grandparents (who constantly seek spooky coincidences in things I do/have done and that they do of have done) and just, well, fun. Oscar naturally started the monotonous lullably as a) we were in the car and b) it was sort of night time. Felix said, "Mum, Oscar's singing and it's annoying me."
How many times in your life can you say to someone, "Well, he's done it since he was born so I'm afraid you're going to have to find a happy place and just live with it."
The other thing, is word approximated repetitions - no more no more no more no more no more no more no more - over and over and over again when a) it's time to put on superlegs, b) anyone else except him is on the computer, said standing on top of you as you type - a bit like RIGHT NOW, c) time to get dressed, d) time to go, e) time to eat breakast, lunch, dinner that isn't chocolate or icecream and I could literally find a reason for the entire alphabet.
My go is another example. My go my go my go mumma, my go my go my go, mumma. Mumma, My Go.
"No it's not Oscar"
collapse, wailing on the floor.
Which brings me to the third, brain oozing out ears occasion. The wailing. Oh GOD THE WAILING. It's relentless. At the moment, it's coupled with a sheer delight in dress-ups and playing with action figures, so I'm guessing we're getting some priceless three-four year old behaviours that we've already lived through with Felix - who now just yells that we're unfair, he has to do everything, Oscar gets to go first all the time, all as he storms up to their room, moves all the crap out of the way and then slams the door, maybe twice if the first slam wasn't impressive enough.
So, here we stand, Oscar home for a sum total of six days of holidays already and about half my brain has leaked out. Felix's last day today and then f.i.v.e. long hot weeks all home together. Mmm, better get a bucket.
In reply to Bec's 55 trivia
We are destined to be friends for ever:
- I sneeze about seven consecutive sneezes at least once a day, but more often twice. Once at around 10.30 and again around 4.30.
- My eyes sound like yours, Chef's are as brown as can be. But one child has eyes like mine, one as eyes as blue as the sky is today and the third looks like he'll have eyes like the first. This just confirms my theory that this family is a scientific freak show.
- Baby boomers shit me to tears too. As Bernard Salt said, 'why won't they just die already?' (except the Prof of course, he must stay forever. And Sheriff is such a better term for him).
- The first guy I kissed, who I then naturally fell in love with and was going to marry, told me he had to go home (to a Central West town in NSW) and 'sort out some personal issues'. ie - he turned gay as well. Who knew we both had powers to turn the opposite sex to their own kind?
- I would say "you are a sad, strange little man" at least once a day. Mostly under my breath.
- I married Chef who has a palindromic birthdate.
and that's just for starters.
AND WELCOME BACK - AGAIN.
Please just post every day, even if it's a 'nothing to see here'. It's so boring on my own. Save us all from my daily inanity. I don't even think that's a word. See.
55 trivial things about me - better late than never...
I think I can do this if I focus on trivia:
- I was born in Alice Springs. I'm not sure of the statistics but this is, I am confident, a relatively unusual place to be born.
- My birthday is the 16th of August and as a result I was mildly obsessed with numbers divisible by four as a child. My 8th, 16th and 32nd birthdays were all fairly significant to me. I don't remember my fourth.
- I have almost no early childhood memories.
- My very earliest memory, I think, is of listening to the Little Golden Book record and book for Alice in Wonderland, hearing the song lyrics about Wonderland being "just behind the tree" and then walking around and around and around a big palm tree in our yard, waiting to fall into the rabbit hole.
- My next earliest memory, I think, is looking down at my legs while lying on my bed and my legs are covered in calamine lotion. My blood is mosquito nectar.
- The year I turned seven my parents travelled with my brother and I in a caravan around the eastern states of Australia.
- I still have my shell collection.
- I know A LOT about cowrie shells.
- To this day, I bring home more shells from the beach than my kids do...
- Crikey, is this only 10? Um. Trivial item number 10 - I prefer bulleted lists to numbered ones.
- The year I turned eight, my parents settled in a small country town populated by people with two left thumbs and one set of grandparents.
- It's pretty enough as small towns go, but I still haven't completely forgiven them.
- This is largely why I am raising three children in a small inner city house smack bang in the middle of the biggest city this nation has to offer.
- I hope my kids will forgive me for it.
- My first husband decided he was gay after seven years together.
- It is a source of great delight to me that I can now consider this a very trivial fact. It was not always thus.
- My second husband is almost 20 years older than me: linking these two items could, I know, be construed as me deciding to play it safe this time.
- There is nothing safe about marrying someone from another generation.
- Husband #2, The Prof, was nicknamed "The Prof" after he hosted a Chinese delegation who called him Professor because he was a senior education official.
- He has no academic tenure of any kind, but there's still time.
- I still remember exactly how I looked, sat, spoke and felt the first time the Prof flirted with me.
- We were talking about touch football.
- He wanted me to play in the work comp at lunchtime, I said I thought it would be too rough, he said "I'd look after you". You had to be there, but his voice in my head? still makes me shiver.
- While many of our friends call him the Prof, he's really more of a Sherriff.
- What with him being the Sherriff and me being a School Captain, you Do Not Want To Be Our Neighbours.
- I really was a school captain.
- No really, I was. I didn't run for it or anything, they just voted for me. It was the first, but not the last time I experienced retrospective ambition.
- One of the interesting things about my 30s has been understanding ambition. That, and shoes, I really get shoes now. If only my disposable income weren't tied up in feet that are so much smaller than mine...
- My feet are one and a half sizes larger now than before I became pregnant with the Pea Princess.
- The same thing happened to my mother and aunt, rule of thumb for our genes = about half a size expansion for each child.
- I'm officially a Generation X. Baby Boomers frequently shit me to tears. See #18.
- I have abnormally long thighs and arms. Sadly, you won't really notice the length of my thigh bones unless you are sitting in the seat in front of me in the bus, because I will be the person who is constantly and helplessly shoving you forwards.
- I can't vouch for the thighs but the arms run in my family. It makes it very easy to show off by touching your toes.
- My children also have the Monkey Arms. This is really noticeable in winter when they grow out of jumpers and jackets cuff-first.
- I cannot sneeze more than twice in a row. This is an inherited trait. I must have got it from my dad because my mother was totally a serial sneezer.
- My elder daughter is also a serial sneezer; she gets this from her dad.
- The fact that there are two kinds of sneezers in the world (those who can sneeze three or many more times in a row, and those who cannot sneeze more than twice) is one of only three things I can remember from Year 10 Science.
- My eyes vary from blue to green, depending on what I am wearing. They're getting greener as I get older.
- Only one of my three children has blue eyes. The other two are brown like their father. The fact that this forms a perfectly typical dominant/recessive genetic pattern is the second thing I remember from Year 10 Science.
- I have no patience for literary victims, real or fictional: I think Sylvia Plath is over-rated, Tess of the D'Urbervilles deserved everything she got and that Frodo is the least pleasant of all Tolkien's hobbits. I also believe Anna Karenina could have saved us all a lot of trouble by just throwing herself under a train in Chapter 1.
- Sam Gamgee is my favourite hobbit, but Merry is a close second. This applies both to the books and films.
- I read The Hobbit when I was eight and The Lord of The Rings when I was 11. I spent much of my teens pretending to be interested in rugby.
- I once went to a Brownies party dressed as the Big Bad Banksia Man. I had never read May Gibbs. I'll let you imagine how confusing that was to a nine year old.
- When I was seven I wrote to the Queen and asked what she ate for breakfast. Her secretary wrote back that the Queen loved to receive letters from Australia and sometimes ate boiled eggs.
- When I was 10 I shook hands with the Queen on her Silver Jubilee tour at Armidale airport. I forgot to ask her what she had for lunch.
- I was an exchange student to South Africa in 1986.
- The town I lived in there, Port Shepstone, was almost exactly on the same latitude as the town I had come from in Australia. Freaky, huh?
- I first watched the film Out of Africa in a cinema in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. I can find a quote from that film to suit pretty much any situation life might throw my way. "Why is your freedom more important than mine?" is a good example.
- These days, I am just as likely to quote from that other great film for all occasions: Toy Story.
- Best Toy Story quote:"You are a sad, strange little man and you have my pity." I use this one ALL the time.
- My wedding ring has the diamonds; my engagement ring is an engraved band that was my husband's mother's wedding ring. I wear them the normal way around.
- Despite spending an amazing amount of time choosing it, I didn't eat any of our wedding cake: the Prof got up for a midnight (4am) snack and ate the piece our hostess had stored in the B & B fridge for me because I'd been too busy talking to eat
- No, I haven't quite forgiven him.
- But I don't much like cake, anyway.
- My first wedding was on a palindromic date (19/1/91) but only if you aren't American.
Oo ooo oooo
Vote for us in the 2006 Australian Blog Awards
We'd be a shoo in for best collaborative blog IF BEC WOULD COME BACK!!!!!
Ok, I got ahead of myself. I'll keep you posted if we get shortlisted etc, and then VOTE FOR US! It's as close as I'll get to politics due to my pathological need for people to like me. Even Liberal voters.
I denied the boys all things electronic. Afterall, it was a glorious day and they are young and boys. They should be outside more hours of a day than in. It took them about two hours to find their old groove, the one when I was religious about television consumption and they hadn't discovered the computer or cartoonnetwork.com. It was joyous watching them and listening to their play in the backyard.
It meant this afternoon they watched a little tele on Felix's return home from school, but then took a big box outside and painted it, turning it into Jet86.
Now that's a childhood memory.
that and this house filled with the smell of a Christmas Pudding being boiled... mmmm
- 12 small christmas cakes. Tick
- 1 large family christmas cake, already cut into. Tick
- double batch fruit mince. Tick
- 3 dozen mini fruit mince tarts. Tick
- one christmas pudding on the boil. Tick
- 8 jars onion marmalade. Tick
- dozen jars preserved lemons. Tick
- gingerbread. Tick
still to come
- another 6 small christmas cakes
- two small christmas puds (one for Dad and one for July)
- more fruit mince tarts
- something with the frozen cranberries I bought the other day
- cherry pie
and thanks to Chef
- several LITRES limoncello liqueur
- two litres coffee liqueur, so smooth you just keep on drinking it until you fall down. Or asleep.
Even with a chronic tooth ache, I'm starting to feel a little festive.
You know it's bad when you open your mouth and the dentist says, "Oh my".
I am one of those people who can not go to the dentist without walking away with substantially less money than I started with. Seriously, they simply see me coming and start adding zeros to their bill. This has been slightly improved by a) finding a decent dentist who I like and is actually very good (and a woman) and b) going to the dental clinic of my health fund so they tend to only do what needs to be done. Still...
For the last week and a half or so (since my birthday day actually) I've had what was a mild dull ache on the upper left side of my mouth if I ate anything really challenging into what can now keep me awake for hours at night, is there all the time and often whince-inducingly painful and takes three Neurofen Plus to just dull the pain. I've given up trying to get rid of the pain completely.
So today, sacrificing being on time to our nephew's third birthday, I went to the dentist. Very occasionally my fear, loathing and general hatred of the dentist is overrun by my fear of getting an absys (sp?) and going from occasional excruciating pain to all-out pain hell. Plus it's almost Christmas which in Australia, where it's hot and we have awesome beaches, means things like a health system and people like professional medical types are as rare as hens teeth, unless of course you're walking along the beach at Pearl Beach, Patonga, Terrigal or Avoca.
The dentist I saw was excellent. He's been in Australia for 8 months and this is his first Christmas ever, forget first Christmas in a hot climate, his first EVER. Someone invited him to a New Years Eve party and he asked what day it was one. I loved him instantly (as my regular dentist, as in the one I saw twice about two years ago but have been avoiding it ever since as I need three crowns and well, who has a couple of grand kicking around to spend on their teeth??? is already on summer holidays. See.) but I knew it was bad when I opened my mouth and he said, "Oh my". I mean dude, this guy comes from a country renowned for shocking teeth and he's saying exclamatory remarks about my mouth?
The fingernails were already deeply embedding in the arms of those hideous chairs, the toes curled and every joint tensed.
This phobia goes back a long way as I have abnormally deep grooves in my molars. This meant despite an almost religious dental hygeine program I had fillings galore as a relatively small child. Probably a manageable situation except Mum insisted on taking us to a dentist who probably, in a previous life, had carried out grotesque experiments on those in concentration camps in WW2. He was hideous, cruel, had appallingly bad breath and the most remarkable nasal hairs. I could be making this all up, but these are firm childhood memories. I was terrified of him and any procedure I had to undergo. So one day, I vomitted on him (and of course myself as I was lying down, but it was a price I was willing to pay to get the hell out of there) in the middle of a filling procedure. I'll show him filling I thought.
Couple that with many years of an eating disorder, two root canals during a pregnancy and another once since and you can see where I'm coming from. My husband, on the other hand, has appalling dental hygeine habits and has been to the dentist once in the 14 years we've been together and simply needed a clean. A CLEAN. His family are all the same and well, quite frankly, I'm glad I bought in to that gene pool for the sake of future generations.
So - today, I'm there because of the pain. Oh GOD the pain. BUT - like the worst 'but wait there's more' infomercials that are the bane of the breastfeeding woman's life, - I also have:
- one tooth on the bottom left where the filling has cracked and some of it come away
- one tooth on the bottom right with a chipped filling and tooth
- another tooth on the bottom right with a cracked filling
- another tooth on the bottom right with a worn filling.
This is all bad, particularly all those things happening on the right because, well, the pain I suffer is on the left and I always eat more on the right side of my mouth than the left, because I've lived with tooth sensitivity on the left for the better part of 6 years after one shonky dentist I went to (who dyed his hair and had shocking regrowth - that alone should have sent me running to the hills) exposed a nerve on that side somehow and told me it would heal itself. Yeah right.
They are also the three that have had root canals and need crowns. But apparently you can't put a crown over a filling 'in that sort of condition' so I'm going to have to endure filling hell first before crown land even comes on stage.
Can you hear that cash register just ticking over already???
In the midst of this joyous news, he takes an xray of the area giving me the grief and cleans my plaque ridden teeth. At one point I think he is drilling through my soul such is the intensity of the cleaning.
God I HATE the dentist.
Anyway, we get back to the reason I'm there - the pain. Nothing. There is nothing there. His summation is that the fillings are old fillings and of a type (put there by another dodgy dentist seen along the way) that uses a particular glue underneath the filling that can come away, so you get a suction/pressure kind of situation in between the tooth and the filling which is exacerbated by chewing, and in my case, made even worse by the teeth clenching and grinding.
My option is to get the fillings replaced (ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching) and see if that improves it. Otherwise the only option is a root canal (ka-CHING CHING CHING) which of course, then naturally leads to needing a crown (KA CHING bloody CHINGALING) to protect it as a root canal weakens the tooth.
But apparently this is a very low priority in relation to the other issues outlined above. So basically I have to live with it.
So I cried in the elevator on the way down and in the process probably passing on my fear of dentists to Felix who was very concerned about me indeed. I've booked him in with me in the New Year (I already have three appointments in the book) because when I investigated his mouth the other day I could clearly see two holes in bottom molars and two in top teeth as well. You see, he has very similar teeth to his mother...
What the hell use is it to buy into a good-teeth gene pool for your kids to get stuck with yours? (Oscar goes to the dental clinic at the kids hospital and they put him under a general to do any work...my kinda approach I say).
So I'm sitting here, dreading going to bed because I know I'll wake up in an hour or so in excruciating pain, trying to work out how the hell I'm going to pay for all this freaking work and feeling slightly incredulous that a week from today is Christmas. Ho bloody ho ho ho.
is when you can't be bothered relaying all the events of the day (including time with a personal trainer, going out a.t. n.i.g.h.t. with only Chef and the baby to an invitation only event that involved me dropping a wine glass in the middle of the Welcome to Country) so you just see what those other blogs you love are doing and copy.
The weird habits was one.
The top things was another.
Then - Blackbird (again, I know.) posted a wishlist with things on it from a store I have not heard of and that we, naturally, don't have here because we don't have decent stores that do mid-range stuff just those where everything is tiny, seethrough and expensive or Target. Worse, Millers. Bleeuuuch. Anyway, her post was about the third where I'd seen this store mentioned so I checked it out and while most of it was a bit twee for me, behold, forget wanting,
I need these
and would love this
and dream ofbeing able to wear something like this
Five - er - four - er - um, weird habit anyone?
So, Kim did this here (below) Five Weird Habits thing, and since I already knew about the pegs and the shopping lists, the rest of it didn't surprise me too much (is it only me who sees the connection between the need for order during the day and the tooth grinding at night? surely not... )
Of course, none of my own habits could possibly be classified as weird because, well, they're mine. However, since five is such a nice, achievable number, I'm willing to take a crack at it:
- I find it almost impossible to to sit with my feet flat. I sit cross-legged whenever I can - including on my office chair - and was greatly amused to see Sharon Osborne doing the same thing in the interviewee chair on Michael Parkinson's program not so long ago.
- I can't leave fire alone. This makes for very messy tablecloths over long candlelit dinners.
- And yet, I do all my best thinking in the water. But I never count to 20 when I wash my hair...
- I wear sunglasses or reading glasses on my head more often than on my face and usually forget to take either one off when I am not using it. This can lead to odd situations when I realise, at 3pm on a winter's day, that I am still wearing the sunnies I needed for the short walk to the bus that morning.
- I always, always wish on the first star I see at night and always wish for the same thing, which is a wish I created when I was 10 and which still holds true today. I take this ritual very, very seriously. If I told you what my wish is, I'd have to kill you and I simply don't have the time.
I can NOT believe
that this:the mousy, whingey, whiney one
the stunning one.
That is all.
Five weird habits
thanks to a post by Blackbird which was compelling enough to compile my own.
1. When I hang out washing, an item of clothing must be hung by pegs of the same colour. I get very quietly excited if I can hang a white shirt with two white pegs, red socks with red pegs and so on.
2. When I unpack groceries it has to go - frozen, fridge, dry, tinned, fruit, veg and then toiletries. If I get interrupted or distracted and put toiletries away before say the fruit, I can get quite ansy.
3. I never go shopping without a list. The list is never not broken down into food groups and/or aisles of our local supermarket. I now have a Word doc of the list. The peace that washes over me just looking at that list is like no other.
4. When I wash my hair I tend to count to twenty. I have no idea why.
5. I clench and grind my teeth in my sleep. So much so I live with fairly constant toothache from the pressure I put on them. I have a mouthguard that I occassionally wear when the pain gets too great and makes me start to lisp again. The pain I get as the guard pushes my teeth back into place is quite pleasurable. Although I obviously don't think so when I'm asleep, as I occasionally find it on the other side of the room in the morning. Once I found it lodged between the two mattresses. But only after searching for it for days and being completely bamboozled as to where it could possibly have got to.
- Jasper at 8 weeks - our smiley, gurgling little fellow
- Neurofen Plus - heaven after 9+months of pathetic panadol. God Bless codeine in all its forms. (Currently used to lessen the agonising pain of pressure toothache, induced by clenching my teeth in my sleep.)
- Getting paid so I can buy as much fresh fruit and veg as my fridge and bench will hold (and then some)
- Stone fruits - today's favourites are white nectarines (only $2.99 a kilo!) and white peaches. Mmmm. Oh, and cherries, but they go without saying.
- Going to bed early and miraculously not feeling cranky at everyone.
- Falling asleep on the lounge. During the day.
- Jasper sleeping and his little mouth and cheeks chomping away on dreams of boobiebliss.
- The boys - tired and hot at the end of the term and the year, just being still. And quiet. Sort of.
- Chef being home and starting each day with "what would you like to do today poppet?"
- Surviving 8 week immunisations, and only one of us (the baby) crying.
- Catching up with old friends.
- Parcels in the post (thanks Linda & Robbie, and Amy!)
- My 33rd birthday present arriving:
(but having a chip in the paint so going back... :( New one should be hear next Tuesday. :) )
- those cool summer mornings, with dew on the grass and the clearest, bluest sky.
- email. I LOVE email.
- Baking for other people.
Feeling middle-aged because.... (Yes, Bec's Back)
I think you know you're seriously middle aged when
on gaining a clear view of a well-built 20 year old male's backside
clad in trendily drooped cargo pants
with trendily raised Calvin Klein boxers sticking up above the waistband
your one and only desire
is to reach over
and hitch up his pants to cover his undies.
(Also to scathingly say " That look is SO '90s" but stopping for fear that he was still in primary school then...)
How to annoy me...
When I sign you up to a gym membership when I sign myself up (because I don't want to be a young widow or have to care for an invalid) only to then have you breezily walk out the door and go every day while I'm left holding the baby and then there being no time left during that day for me to go.
You know who you are.
Let it be known that on Saturday, 10 December 2005, Jasper, the New Recruit, from henceforth to be known as The Good One, slept through the night.
That's right people, my 7week and three day old baby slept from approximately 8.45pm to 5.45am.
Of course, I went to bed after midnight as there were cinnamon scrolls to be made and pastry for pecan pie to be rolled for today, so its impact was certainly lost on my "oh God I'm tired" state of mind.
He has had about three eight-hour stints, a lot of five hour stints, and it is now the norm for me to only be up with him once a night rather than twice (and by golly do you feel like DEATH when it's the twice a night routine. Now I truly understand why when I was averaging 3 wake-ups a night for OVER TWO YEARS and living on a then pathetic wage of a chef I was COMPLETELY MENTAL). But this was the longest, and it feels bad to say it, but I think it made me love him even more.
I know of course that when I go back to work and do dreadful abandoning things that will send his stress hormones through the roof and send him down a path of agressive childhood and untold trauma that will impact on his ability to forge rewarding relationships as an adult, that he will wake up on the hour every hour to ensure I haven't abandoned him even more, so you have to let me gloat Gloat GLOAT here while it lasts.
Find a happy place...
(Showing me a picture of a page broken into four quadrants and each labelled Felix, Oscar, Liam, Max.)
Me: Who's Max
Felix: My imaginary friend
M: Cool, is he with you all the time?
F: No, just sometimes
M: Is he a boy like you or something else, like a Transformer?
F: He's like me
M: Is he the same age as you?
F: Yes he's five. Five and a half.
F: He lives in the sky
M: That's cool. What sort of things do you like to do with Max?
F: We play imaginary checkers. It's his game. I have to go to the sky to play it with him.
Random musings on a morning that started at 4.30am
- What is with Madonna, that pick leotard number, the Charlie's Angels hair and all the body hugging? Pilates all the way, we get it, but for the love of GOD or whoever it is you red-thread-bracelet wearers worship, put on some clothes. And not the camel-toe inducing number we also have to endure in that God-awful video clip which I simply do not understand.
- I'm still reeling from the love my bumps (or is it humps? which is even worse) songs by the WeeQueen and her legume inspired band.
- Robbie Williams is hot hot hot.
- At what point is it that someone decides acting in a Hallmark movie is better than admitting you haven't made it in acting land and pursuing another career option?
- Why is the most ugly bra the most comfortable?
- I really need new sneakers, but if I'm spending money on shoes, as if it's going to be on ones I need for exercise...
- I am loving the song Sunshine by the Australian Idol non-winner Ricki-Lee, who comes from BrisVegas (or maybe even worse, the Gold Coast, that haven of an unsettling mix of retirees and topless teenage sunbakers) so it sort of makes sense she'd sing something that sounds like 70s disco.
- Bernard Fanning is hot, in that underfed dirty musician kinda way.
- God I'm tired.
- How can the waitlist for childcare in a 0-2 years old room actually exceed that age range?
- How can you be on a waitlist for childcare at 8 different places from when you were 5 weeks pregnant and still not get a place anywhere?
(Update: yes, I had a place but with no security as we could get bumped if someone in a 'partner' organisation in the building needed the spot they could give us 2 months notice, then another place offered me 3 days but not on the days I wanted, but because it was a permanent place, I took it, turning down the other one, only to have them turn around and inform us the family that was changing it days no longer was so they didn't have those days afterall. So now we are back to square one nothingness.)
- Mmm baking Christmas cakes... yum. If only it wasn't so freaking hot.
- I found these at Angie's site and am so going to make them. They're called "Peanut Blossoms" - I don't care how bad the obesity epidemic is in America, they rock at desserts and sweet baking treats (my favourite two concepts in the world) and even give them cute names):
- My first batch of Christmas cakes, very late (I wanted all cakes and puddings made by early November - hah!) but made just the same. Bec, one has your name on it. From this:
To this: (well, there's two more batches to go...)
- Irritating: Mum's commentary on my baking via the baby - "oh, they're not as good at Grandmama's boiled fruit cake", "she puts nuts in them", "they're meant to be dark aren't they". Passive agressive bullshit that pisses me off and that she doesn't even realise she's doing.
See, I'm so very very tired.
- Showering - so enjoyable but just so hard to actually get up and go and do it.
- I love the smell of washing dried on the line.
Ahh, the boys are home from tennis and Felix has his best friend in tow. I must away.
Show & Tell Friday
As per Blackbird's request, I present to you:
Oscar's Anxious Angel
is my birthday.
it started with homemade gifts from the boys:
As Felix pointed out, I even got a man:
And there was pancakes for breakfast in bed:
But best of all, it was with my boys - who look just thrilled don't they? Note Felix is still wearing his Buzz Lightyear polyester dressing gown, even though it was already about 28 degrees at 7am. The Middle Child is quite fond of a ritual, the wearing of the dressing gown a case in point.
The most exciting part of the day was being told my present was on order and will arrive next week. It is yellow and goes in the kitchen. This can mean only one thing. It goes with this:
and is therefore, probably one of these:
we engaged in the most rampant act of commercialism I've ever experienced. Worse than the Royal Easter Show. We went to...
Now, I don't want my deep-seated-yes-I-did-go-to-a-girls-private-school ogre to be fully released. But quite frankly, it blowed. Big time. For starters, it was about 40 degrees in Sydney today, even at home, where we are about 200 metres from the beach and normally smugly look at the nightly weather report and chortle at the high 30s in Penrith and Richmond and thank my Mother for her judicious property decisions over the last thirty years and propensity for martyrdom that enables our life of sea breezes. We thought it therefore a good day for the boys to have a very special treat of a day off school. Now, I am certainly not one for this - I abhore those who take their kids out of school to go on holidays etc as I think it sends a message to said children than somehow their education is expendable, which is isn't. But it's the end of the year, the first year of school for Felix and Oscar had an appointment at the Dental Clinic at the hospital which was near the ill-named Kingdom and being one for expediency, it seemed like a good idea at the time. There was no, or very little, airconditioning in Santa's Suckville.
The kids, naturally, loved it.
Chef's parents had given us the money for the tickets as a Christmas present. Quite frankly, it was never going to be my scene (I hate crowds, I hate organised 'fun' activities, I hate fairs/markets/fetes) but I knew the kids would love it and well, it seemed the nicer thing to do than actually say we'd rather just take the money. The worst part of these kind of events, and I know it is assurded I'm going to hell for such thoughts, but these kind of things bring out people who think nuggets are a legitimate nutritious dinner. People who call their kids beautiful names like Siobahn but pronounce them shi-vaaaawwwn and all the boys are called Trent, Rory, Nathan, Brett or Cameron and have been on Ritalin without a doubt since they were about two. The most precious have a rats tail hairdo. The women are either in white jeans or leggings if they are coke addicts or leggings and lurid print shirts if they live the nugget dream. They all wear a lot of makeup and lipsticks called Party Pink or suckmycock red. See. Bad. I know I am very very bad. But you also know I am right. Very very right.
Did I mention it was a rort, complete rip-off and could actually be up for false advertising? (claiming a one off entry ticket covers everything inside but once in there are Santa photos, a showbag for 'only' $25, which we did not get, and then they stipulate how many times you can go on rides but try to be cute about it by making you get stamps in a passport) Once again I say R.O.R.T....
Here's how it transpired. (Correction: because Blogger is being a dick and not posting my pics it's not as pictorial as I would have hoped...)
The start. Already so hot, so very very hot.
Then we had Oscar's favourite part of the entire experience. Which of course meant he spent the rest of the day wanting to go on the ride-in train again, which isn't an option because it only takes you the 10 metres from the entrance to the entrance. And yes, that is what I mean.
From there it improved dramatically - into some lovely scenes and a cute sugar plum fairy. Then it became commercial, boring and HOT. There was no airconditioning. Don't get me wrong, but my understanding of the North Pole, which this was meant to replicate, never gets above 0C, so how the hell could it possibly be about 28 degrees???
The kids went on rides, Felix loved the snow slope to toboggan down, there was a snowball throwing game which was great until the angry elf came on duty and enforced the two-turns only rule - even though there was no queue and hardly anyone else there. Dumb angry elf. I was angry at myself for not making a scene with her and telling her to get a life. There was ice skating with one particularly chunky-thighed skater which made it really fun. Felix loved it, which I loved because I am moderately obsessed with ice skating and when it was on ESPN yesterday morning between 2.30am and 4.30am I sat up longer than I needed to with Jasper's feed to watch it.
The best part, that made us all laugh and have fun - silly mirrors. So sad but true.
Anyway, we have sucky photos with Santa (nowhere near as good as the ones from David Jones), the boys loved it - and had a day off school in horrid heat.
It ended at Chef's parents place for a swim and impromptu dinner and then surprise cake for me and early presents. So really, all this bitching is so unneccesary.
Jasper after his first swim.
Please note: he was not doing this in the pool, this is the standard screaming post any form of water contact.
oh, it's back...after 20 minutes of loading, reloading blah blah blah
Where have my Wysiwig tags gone in my Create a post window? And how do I get them back???
Stop the presses
I've been getting that slippery sliding feeling of impending darkness and Cruella DeVille squashing my Mary Poppins between two fingers. A begrudging sense that my mat leave isn't all about gooing and gaaing over the sprogget, but just the domestic oblivion of cleaning, washing, bills, no money that sent me to hell two times over.
Then I got a returned call from the tax office. My tax debt, that has been hanging over my head for the last four years, and that made the last financial year really really ugly as I struggled to pay it off, is p.a.i.d. o.f.f. Not only that, my account is in credit and they're going to pay it back to me before Christmas.
Suddenly I don't care how many l0ads of washing I have to do - all is much much better with the world.
I love a survey
I got this from Aginoth who got it from other people...
What is your favorite...?
Gum: Wrigley's Big Red cinamon flavour
Restaurant: Pazzo on Crown Street, Sydney
Drink: Tonic with a wedge of lime
Type of weather: sunny, crisp air
Thing to do on a half day: sleep
Late-night activity: blog surfing when I should be sleeping
City: Sydney for its blue skies, remarkable harbour and the fact it's home.
Store: the Internet - where I can dream of all the things I could buy if we won lotto.
When was the last time you...?
Cried: yesterday, watching Seabiscuit
Played a sport: are you kidding? I HATE team sports.
Laughed: this morning
Hugged someone: this morning
Kissed someone: this morning
Felt depressed: it's a daily thing
Felt elated: Jasper being placed on my tummy
Felt overworked: every single day
Faked sick: can't remember. Normally am battling enough illnesses brought home by the germ buckets not to have to fake it.
Lied: night before last when I told Felix I'd be up (to their room) soon.
What was the last...?
Word you said: Bye guys - as the male contingent of the house left for school and a meeting
Thing you ate: a Nice biscuit dipped in my tea
Song you listened to: Powerderfinger - Love Your Way
Thing you drank: cup of tea
Movie you saw: FairyTale: a true story
Movie you rented: Intolerable Cruelty
Concert you attended: Felix's Christmas concert
Who was the last person you...?
Cried over: Oscar
Danced with: Oscar
Shared a secret with: Chef
Had a sleep over with: Chef!
Called: The tax office
Went to a movie with: Chef
Were angry with: Chef
Couldn't take your eyes off of: Jasper
Have you ever...?
Danced in the rain: Yes
Kissed someone: Yes - of course!
Done drugs: Sort of
Drank alcohol: Yes, but nowhere near as much as I used to
Slept around: Almost
Partied 'til the sun came up: Yes, but didn't really enjoy it. I love sleep.
Had a movie marathon: I always have good intentions.
Gone too far on a dare: No
Spun until you were immensely dizzy: Of course!
Taken a survey quite like this before: Naturally.
no wonder I've been feeling bleak
I just realised I'd been listening to Norah Jones for the better part of two hours, at home, on my own. It's a miracle my wrists are intact.
Never fear, Powderfinger is now blaring. Better turn up the baby monitor. Or is that down?
in a bid to curb these urges to engage in craftlike activities...
I'm taking on a much bigger project. (Remember, I produce children that get carried away in producing their own chromosomes, loose two teeth in one day, can scream for four hours straight purely on a whim and if I can gain a pound why not gain 20. Get on the over-achieving bandwagon people, it's fraught with high drama but a whole lotta fun.)
Apart from our lounge that is almost eight years old, Chef and I have got the inheriting furniture down to a fine art. The computer is on an old table that his grandfather built. Underneath it has love messages from Chef's Dad about how he felt about Chef's Mum. The table in the photo above belonged to our old nextdoor neighbours who were getting rid of a whole heap of stuff as they were moving to a penthouse in Manly. The chairs are from Chef's sister and husband, who recently undertook renovations of their house, lived with Chef's parents for s.i.x. months and are still happily married and now with a house that could well sit on the pages of Vogue Living.
Yes, you may be seeing a trend here - people on the up and up, us on the charity handmedown ride to a life permanently resembling that when you first move out of home and take the uncomfortable lumpy sofa bed from Aunty Lois because it's still better than sitting on the floor with the roaches.
Anyway, I'm going to make them better. Yes people, it will involve sanding, it will involve painting, it will involve trying to get some sort of 'French Provincial' effect which I hate (I am much more a contemporary kinda gal but with eclectic old/antique pieces thrown in to 'catch the eye'. Yeah I know, who am I kidding.) but which will suit the pieces.
This is all because I need to be manic. I need lots of projects on the boil, otherwise my head has too much time to contemplate itself and the body it inhabits, and let me tell you, that is a hard fast ugly ride to hell. The last couple of days I've felt its onset. Felt the shutters closing ever so slightly, and frankly, I'm just not going there. It's lonely, dark and not a pretty trip for anyone.
But I also tend to take on more than I can chew. Start projects I never finish (the cross-stitch I started when on bedrest with Oscar's pregnancy which is still unfinished is a good case in point) and then get quite frustrated at my inability to find closure on anything.
I figure if I do it publicly then that is motivation enough to keep going.
This is all ofcourse, a pathetic attempt to create furniture that looks like it goes together and will sort of actually go with the house. But in reality it's because below is the table I want, a table that would cost us $17,000. So the table that cost Mum $10 and the chairs that were free are just going to have to do.
Too hot to type, to tired to care
So here's some more pics...
The Middle Child, 5 1/2
maybe it's a good thing I'm going back to work
As I'm starting to contemplate making Christmas cards.
Jasper, 6 weeks, 5.65kg, 59cm long.
Imelda may have had her shoes
but Jasper, the baby, has 45 singlets.
To all those children in earthquake and war-torn countries who are nervously watching the arrival of winter, they are coming your way.
Ridiculous. 45 singlets.
You may have noticed...
that we found the disc that contained the program that let me edit photos into a more artsy layout.
In light of this morning's delight (see post below) of a package arriving, and arriving from overseas, and arriving on a Saturday, and containing the most gorgeous rattle and blanky and being a complete and utter surprise I thought I would just radiate love, joy, happiness and thanks today.
So here is an ode to Jasper's grandparents. My parents, inlaws, step-parents. The only ones not in the below are the natural ones, but that just makes my head hurt... and some of them still (hanging head in shame) haven't seen him yet.
Also - as if today wasn't already divine, we invited ourselves over to the Doodle's (our camping thanksgiving-hosting friends) and basically hung out. As in, sat outside in the sun drinking cups of tea and just talking. The kids, they played beautifully together for over f.i.v.e. hours, but really, could have been giving each other haircuts or playing doctors and nurses and the four of us would have been oblivious. I think its been almost a decade since I've just 'hung out' with anyone. I think it was the same for all of us. Not being one prone to illicit drug taking (primarily due to a melodramatic tendency to believe that if I did, without fail the first and only time would of course mean I got the bad batch and either ended up in a vegetative state or dead, frothing very unglamorously in a gutter somewhere) the glorious feeling I had this afternoon was probably as close as I'll get and that is fine with me.
Then - Chef fixed the computer. Backstory: Chef occassionally gets these fits of productivity handy-man-like phases. I only ever hope the activity is small enough that it will be completed while the phase lasts because goodness knows how long it will be until the next one when it would then be finished. The computer is a case in point. He got it into his head he was going to build our computer. Which he did. This amazes me, and quite frankly makes him very sexually attractive to me. I mean, he built a computer. But within a few days, these weird pale green lines appeared, about 5mm apart right across the screen. So while the computer worked a treat, it was like typing in a zen-like jail. I have endured this hardship for the better part of TWO years. Today, Chef got a package as well...and now, I have the cleanest, non-lined screen imaginable. It's so white it hurts my eyes but I dare not complain. It has also changed all the fonts so everything, even Microsoft standard stuff seems to be appearing in Verdana. That is rather freaky, but I like it. I like it a lot.
the fact you are loved by people you've never met, who live on the other side of the earth, but are joined to you through the joy, pain, anxiety, grief, exhileration, concern and well, just life, of a particular situation can take your breath away...
Thank you Amy.
If my children don't look anything like me, at least I know they have some of my traits.
Today Felix decided to out do Jasper who turned a mighty six weeks old by losing his first two, (2) T.W.O. teeth. Now he whistles when he talks, which is even funnier when he's trying to be angry and I'm finding no end of amusement singing 'all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth, my two front...'.
But by golly, I love an overachiever.