The Boy And His Room

Firstly I want to say that I am glad that cupboards have doors on them. Because if I were to see this every time I walked into my son's room I would have an anxiety attack.

This cupboard is an old school stationary cupboard we bought years ago. It is groaning with stuff and more stuffity stuff. Whenever I put anything in there, I kind of just open the door and wedge the item in wherever it will fit.

Then there is this cupboard on the other side of the room. It is actually one section of his built in wardrobe. Things keep falling out of it onto the floor. It scares me.

His pile of books. This morning they fell on him when he was in bed. He likes to look at them. Besides, his bookshelves are full. I need to get another one, but there is no spare wall in his room.

This is his coca cola can collection. It is gross but he likes it. He wants to build a wall of it. But it will take ages because he is only allowed coca cola on fat food Friday. Once a week.

This is his bookshelf on top of which there is more stuff. I never dust it. I just balance things on it.

Every now and then I do a big clean of his room.

I used to get anxious about how dusty it got and how messy it was. Then I figured that it is his space, not mine and I just change the sheets on the bed, pick up washing, vacuum the floor that I can see and dust the window sill.

I have more interesting things to do than make my son clean his room. Besides, he won't let me throw anything out and I respect his wishes. My husband would trash the lot but I say that is not ours to trash. It belongs to my son and he needs to make the decision. Who are we to tell him what to keep and what not to keep? I can pack things in boxes and store them when he is ready to do so.

Goodness knows I had to do my room as a child or my father would give me a hiding to remember (which I do thanks). Didn't make me a tidy and clean person. In fact, it made me resent any housework at all.

Having said that, I think I might clean my own bedroom.

After all what are Saturdays for?

Ciao
LC

Divorce Twaddle

No, I am not getting divorced, but a guy I do bookwork for is and what a sad state of affairs it all is.

I like both him and his wife. Lovely couple, three great children, two dogs and all living in a happy home.

And it is happy to a degree. But, his wife drinks and misuses sleeping tablets more often than not When she is good she is great, but when she drinks she is belligerent. Not just that, she does it through the day and will drive and pick up the children from school or other activities.

I know she was not always like this. But a near death experience seven years ago during the birth of her last child changed who she was. Some people can turn such an experience into a positive event (how lucky to be alive) and for others it is a negative event (I nearly died, I was scared etc).

He is a very, very outgoing person. Full of enthusiasm for life. Goes out every Friday night until late. A bit of a party guy. A great father and a dedicated husband. I know he has spent a great deal of energy trying to get his wife to engage with life, with him, with his children.

He can be annoying with his larger than life persona. Sure, everyone can be. I know I would be overwhelmed if I were married to such a person. His wife is very introspective and not forthcoming socially. Their friends have stopped inviting them over for dinner and, subsequently, they have dropped off the social radar. She likes a quiet life with a few choice friends. He likes to be the life of the party.

So, in the end, they have drifted apart to the point of no return. He wants more from her than she is able to give. In his eyes, life has so much to offer. In her eyes, life is very overwhelming. Although he has bent over backwards to try to lift her out of this place, it works for a short time and then she just slips back. The fact is, when a person is depressed and helpless in that depressed state, there is a limit what an outsider can do apart from provide support. The person has to do it themselves.

Of course the whole break up is more complex than that, and I have no doubt that there are two sides to every story. But, truly, in this case, I would say that he has reached his tether, is no longer happy and just wants to be free to enjoy life. I doubt he has met anyone, perhaps he is wanting to share and engage his life with someone. Who knows. People will tell you what they need to I guess. There is a whole lot more to it that would be too onerous to put down in a blog. You would be reading it all day long.

Well, now that the decision has been made by them both, along comes the hard, cold financial facts of divorce. Apart from the well known emotional upheaval, I am unsure if people really realise the change of lifestyle that comes about with the demise of a marriage. And this marriage break up is an amicable one. I cannot imagine how difficult it would be if there was bitterness and anger involved.

This couple have to sell the house and pay off the big debt that hangs over it. They have to find a new place to live and, at the age of mid forties, take out another big mortgage individually. They have to pack up and divide 18 years of "stuff". The children have to move out from the home that they have always lived and and do the whole "parent sharing" thing. The wife has to go from working part time and back to full time to enable her to pay the costs of living. The husband may find that freedom is not always a great prospect when there is less money to spend.

The have both asked me to teach them how to budget. Neither have the slightest idea of the cost of living. When you pool your resources, you just keep fishing from that pool as long as money is in there. I feel concerned for the both of them. I think neither has any idea of what is ahead. But then, I am a bookkeeper and inclined to be extra careful. I know that budgeting is not just about having enough just to make ends meet. Unexpected expenses can occur. Or sometimes you just might want to treat yourself to something.

When I went there yesterday, his wife was at home. I chatted to her and expressed my sadness about hearing of what was happening. She was upset but managing. Then she mentioned that he was out looking at property to move to and all that. Almost as though he could not wait to get out. It was hurtful for her. "He is so full of energy" she mused. I wondered if she would not feel less overshadowed by him once things settled. You know, good things can come out of bad.

He has moved on in his head. Once someone makes that choice that the marriage is over the whole process becomes a big ball rolling down a hill. Almost impossible to stop.

Later on, in the office they have, he talked about it all to me. I sit on the edge of the fence because I can see both sides of the story. Besides, since I like both of them I am mindful of what I say. I make no judgement. Plus, he often asks me loads of financial questions which need answering.

But I did have to say to him, in the nicest possible way, that perhaps it would be prudent to show less enthusiasm for starting life out on his own. People's feelings are to be considered.

"Great, now my bookkeeper is telling me not to be happy", he complained.

"No, I am telling you to hold back on just how happy you are for a while", I suggested.

He agreed. Perhaps he will try.

Personally, I think he has no idea what is ahead. He sees the positive only. Maybe that is the way to do things. I don't know.

Just glad it is not me in that boat.

It is tough.

Ciao
LC

Fiddle Fiddle Fiddle

Yes, I have been fiddling with my blog page.

Doing things to it.

Nearly lost my temper fiddling. Also, nearly lost all my comments with fiddling.

I quite like the white on black but if anyone out there finds it hard to read, let me know and I will change it.

Sometimes you need a small change.

Ciao
LC

Signage Twaddle

Ages ago I did a post about the questions that come about when kids see those signs advocating the use of nasal delivery technology to assist with sexual problems. This was the post.

He has, over the years, asked me some difficult questions. As mentioned in this post. And I have always answered his questions to the best of my ability. It has worked well enough.

Tonight, on the way home from getting him a pair of shoes, we were driving along and sure enough, on of those stupid signs was up on show for the world to see.

Want longer lasting sex? said the big billboard.

Out came the questions from my son:

"Why would you want longer lasting sex?"

"Just how long should sex go for anyway? Hours?"

"Imagine going for days on end, you would have a rash on your willy."

"Why do we have those signs anyway? Just Google it and you will get the answer you want."

To his questions I was just responding in that vague parent way.

Even I have my limitations on how much knowledge to impart when it comes to some things. Some things mother and son don't need to discuss. Anyway, I just laughed along with him.

If he wants the answer, he can wait until he is older and Google it.

Or ask his father.

Ciao
LC

Work Whinge

I am at work.

My work colleague is annoying me.

She came into work today full of anger and infected the office with her whinging.

Kept going on and on about how other people drive and how bad they are.

Then she went on about young people and how arrogant they are in their cars, weaving in and out of traffic.

She forgets that it is she who is about to lose her licence for six months for accumulating too many demerit points from speeding.

Talk about pot calling the kettle black.

In the end I told her to make herself a coffee and not come back into the room until she calmed down.

So she did.

I think she is depressed and that is why I am always kind to her.

Even if, right now, I am doing a sly and mean spirited post about her.

The delight of blogging.

I can say these things.

Ciao
LC

Father And Daughter

Thirty four years ago sister ruined my teenage years by getting pregnant at the age of fifteen. I was never allowed out of the house in case I did the deed and ended up the duff. It was not through any caring for my welfare, it was just that my father was totally fucked off that his favorite oldest daughter ruined his life by getting pregnant. When it happened, he packed her off to Denmark to give birth to the "creature" and adopt it out. Naturally she came back home with a six month old baby in hand.

She lived with us for a while, sharing a bedroom with two sisters and a baby. My father kept her unmarried mother's pension as payment for the inconvenience.

You can bet that my father was not going to see me make a mess of his convenient life by being an extra burden to his financial status. And he also was acutely embarrassed that his daughter had sex before marriage, even though we were not remotely religious. Never mind that he and my mother had to get married due to a pregnancy.

Interestingly enough, despite my father's concern about my welfare, there were many times during my childhood years where things happened to me that should not have and he never did anything about it. Generally, in those days, if your daughter was sexually abused it was either swept under the rug, ignored or, worst of all, you were left with the feeling that it was your fault somehow. Maybe, at the age of six, I was just a bit pretty and "tempted" someone. And at other subsequent ages. Who knows. I have dealt with all that stuff in my own way.

And if anyone tells you that children who are sexually abused "get over it", I would suggest they have never been at the hands of a predator of that sort. You learn to live with it because there is no other option. It is one of those insidious life experiences that, all too frequently, one has to deal with to be able to live life in a productive manner.

But, there were a number of incidents that happened in my life when I was a teenager that made me wonder, years later, if my father was not naive or thoughtless. He never sexually abused me, let me make that clear, his abuse was of the stock standard domestic violence and verbal abuse grade. A household full of fear. But that is all old hat now and since I never see him anyway, I live a peaceful life devoid of his presence. Besides, to move freely in life, you do have to learn to offload plenty of baggage to get keep the load light. Just park the messy stuff in a corner and try not to trip over it too much.

Here is one incident that always stuck in my mind and just confirms that I am truly better off without my father near me.

When I was about sixteen I had expressed a mild interest in sailing. Emphasis on the word mild here. You know how young girls get notions. Anyway, my father, at that time, was doing a building job for a client who had a catamaran that he sailed. So he organised for me to go sailing with this client. I did not want to at all, however, desperately wanting to do something that would meet with my father's approval, I agreed.

It was a complete nightmare. The "client" must have thought that my father was my pimp or something and did his utmost to have sex with me. The only thing that stopped him was my vomiting in complete terror in his car. He was annoyed at me when he dropped me off home. I had to wash blood from off my clothes, his attempts were so vigorous.

My father asked how it went and I said it was great. I had, over the years, developed a learned behaviour of sorts as to decide what to tell my father and what not to tell. Generally, I told him what he wanted to hear which ensured his approval. That must explain my skill at conflict avoidance as an adult.

The creepy client then stalked me for months on end to the point of crawling along the gutter one time when he saw me walking with friends. I stopped going home for lunch from school because he was outside my home. He would phone our house and when I answered the telephone he would say really obscene things to me. So I stopped answering the phone. Eventually he gave up.

Years later I just happened to bring up the creepy client in a conversation with my father. He laughed about him and told me that he knew the client had swingers parties at his house and used to watch other men have sex with his pregnant wife. He said he could not wait to finish the job and get away from him. Plus, the guy had been in prison in his younger days for a series of violent assaults.

I was gobsmacked.

I asked my father if he knew that when he volunteered me to go sailing with this guy and he said yes.

"Do you know that he tried to have sex with me dad, when he took me sailing? I mean, it was almost attempted rape" I asked him.

"Oh, well, that seems a bit of a strong term. Maybe he just wanted to try it on," was his reply.

"Dad, he tried to tear off my underwear, and he forced himself on me. I was so upset it made me vomit and that was the only reason he did not actually have sex with me. Just because you knew him, it did not make it okay. You knew what he was like and still you let your daughter be alone with him," I said.

"That's the nature of the beast sometimes Linda. You have to understand that. I am sure he did not mean anything by it," he said, making me feel like a silly little girl.

Nature of the beast?

Did not mean anything by it?

Hmmmm.

Strange response indeed from a person who is meant to care for you in this big world.

Ciao
LC

How Much To Post

When you make a choice to post on a blog site, you do have to weigh up what to reveal and what to conceal.

I often hold back, possibly out of habit, probably out of a combination of politeness and wariness. What if I write something that makes someone reading think about me in a negative light. Who wants to read another's details of a shabby childhood or awkward years after that. Even though I like to read what others do and what they have experienced, I assume that my life events must be a dreary as can be.

Sometimes I go through a stage where I may just want to record what is happening in my life on a day to day basis. Maybe write about something that popped into my head and I thought it would be good to make a note about it before the memory passes.

When I am going through a difficult and emotional stage, I am full of things that fill my head, fill my heart and I just want to get rid of them. Not that they particularly interesting, but they may be events that had a significant impact on my life and seem as fresh as though they happened yesterday. Usually these happenings continue to cause me some sort of deep rooted grief I cannot shake so easily after years. Living like an infected canker inside.

You never know the values that other people uphold and therefore want to be mindful of considering their feelings. But then, in doing that, you run the risk of removing the natural flow that goes with having a journal. If you put too many rules on it, then you become self conscious and that, to me, is a most unpleasant state to be in when writing. It inhibits you.

Often I make notes of things that cross my mind and then stop at that. Should I post this or that?

So, what I might do is just go with the flow and post things that I would actually not talk about. Things that live in my head and just want recording.

When I write and then see the words in a structured form, it takes the emotional burden from my head. Makes room for other stuff.

Like emptying a closet of things that you want to keep but not wear anymore, I store things elsewhere.

Just thinking about what to write next.

Ciao
LC

Muesli Twaddle

This is a really stupid post. But I need to get this off my chest.

I have this thing about muesli. I love it. But it has to be the right sort of muesli. Not a toasted, crunchy sort that is loaded with sugar. Or one that has loads of stinky tropical fruit in it. Or one that smells when you open the packet.

It has to be a Swiss or Bircher muesli. Preferably organic as everyone knows that organic must be better since they charge the earth for it.

When I get it home I open the packet and pour it into a container.

Then I spend the next week randomly opening the lid and picking at the contents.

Always in a particular sequence.

First the bits of dates get picked out and eaten.

Then the pieces of nuts get found and munched on.

After that, the raisins get consumed. Followed by any sultanas.

Bits of coconut. Scraps of dried apricots. Sunflower seeds. Any unusual and unidentifiable crunchy things get sorted out and eaten.

And so on.

Until once again, as has happened today, I am left with only the rolled oats and who, I ask you, wants to pick at that. Now I have to go and buy a big box of organic trail mix and tip it into the left over rolled oats and start again.

So, that is one of my household habits.

And a rather boring one at that.

Ciao
LC

Tough School Day

Today I picked my son up from school.

He had a tough day.

Fell over and sprained his wrist.

Had to sit in the stinking hot sun for a dreary school assembly.

His sandwich was too big and he felt sick after eating it. Not sure why he ate it all if it was so big, but anyway.

He was hot and bothered and tired and thirsty.

Had a headache.

Started to get tears in his eyes as we made our way back to the car.

On the way home I let him buy a bottle of coca cola which had with a home made cupcake and some cheese and crackers.

Now watching a Scooby Doo movie with his sprained wrist iced up.

Also maintaining a steady level of verbal misery which requires regular mummy hugs and kisses.

Don't you just hate days like that?

And don't they start early in life.

Ciao
LC

Sunday 22nd February

Went out to Federation Square where my husband had his car on show. He was only there for a short time as he had a music job to go to. So he drove my car home and I was given the honourable task of taking the Rover home from the city. First time I have ever driven it. I was very aware of how big it was compared to my little zippy modern car.

While we were there S and I went to see an exhibition of an Australia contemporary artist by the name of Rosalie Gascoigne. I loved it. I think my son did, but he was a bit tired yesterday and nothing pleased him. Her work is very exciting to see. This particular event is a major retrospective. If you click on this link you can see some of the work she has done.

Before we left the house, S and I took a photo of ourselves. Later on that day he said to me "Why is your face always shiny". I said that was because I glow. Glow, glow, glow. Personally I prefer the word "dewy" to describe the sheen that shows up on my face in photos.

When in the city we took the usual pictures. When I look at this picture I see a boy growing up.

We had coffee in a groovy, overpriced cafe. Lots of little birdies fly around in the big open space. Lots of pastries on offer.

Saw this photo and decided that there was a really good reason why I hate those pants I had on. They make my bum look big. In fact, I would classify that shot as mumsy. But I posted the photo up anyway just to show the whole atrium we were walking through. The glass work is fantastic. Well, I love it. When the place was built, people thought it was ugly, but I love the whole place.

Photo of the beloved car.

Came home and finished off the day by baking a batch of yummy banana cup cakes and going for a 5km walk.

A good day.

Ciao

LC

Thanks Mum

This week the following things were said to me:

1: "Mum, you should never, ever walk through the house wearing that colour underwear". This was in response to me walking from my bathroom to the laundry in beige coloured underwear and bra. Thanks sonny boy for that.

2: "Oh mum, I love it when you don't cook". This was in response to me coming home with a variety of overpriced home cooked meals that I bought from a wanky shop. Not only is the food expensive (and delicious), but the girls who work in it look like they stepped out of a Vogue magazine.

3: "Mum, I am not eating that". This was in response to what I made for dinner tonight. A pasta dish with some organic, vegan tomato sauce on it.

4; "Oh, I could not eat that Linda". Comment from husband after he peered into saucepan of aforementioned pasta.

5: "Linda, why exactly did you make so much?". Further questioning as to why I, once again, made enough slop to feed an army. My reply was a "dunno, it just grew big".

I have an issue with cooking lately. I hate it, hate it and hate it. Boring. I hate chopping vegetables, peeling potatoes and thinking of what the fuck to cook each night.

This is a stage I go through now and then. I buy vegetables, put them in the fridge and then throw them into the compost a week later. Maybe I should just bring them home and throw them straight into the compost, give the fridge a miss. Or better still, just throw money into the compost.

Thank goodness for baked beans and scrambled eggs.

And thank goodness for shops that cater for lazy mothers like me.

I have done three posts today.

Obviously I have a lot to whinge about.

Oh, no, I recall now.

Three little letters.

PMT.

I feel much better now knowing why I am whiney.

Now I can be a bitch too.

Ciao
LC

I Can Do That

Yesterday I had to make an attempt to go clothes shopping again. It was successful as, after two hours of drifting in and out of some stores, I bought two tops which were the same style but one in black and once in cream. Very nice indeed.

As I walked around looking at every article of clothing on hand I realised I have, over the years, developed this "I can do that" mentality.

I came across some white t-shirts that had some funky applique on them. They were so expensive and I thought to myself:

"Hmmmm, what a rip off. I can do that".

Then I saw a very plain denim skirt with some embroidery on it. Again, for a stupid price. Sure enough that thought came into my head:

"$279.00. You must be kidding. Why, I can do that for nothing".

On and on I went.

"Oh, I can do that", I mused to myself as I fingered the lovely Laura Ashley tote bag that was $15. And I could too since I bought the pattern for making fantabulous tote bags. Okay, the pattern is still in it's packet shoved somewhere I cannot recall.

"Hmmm, I could do that with my white clogs", I thought to myself as I studied that flower pattern that had been painted on the leather of a pair of very expensive Camper shoes.

"Oh, look, I could do that!" I reminded myself as I was about to buy a pair of black socks that has some little pink flowers embroidered on the top of them.

I could do it, if I bothered.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

And you know, I could pave it all the way.

Yes, I could do that.

Ciao
LC

And How Does One Do Lunch.

Today I went out for lunch with two girls that I first met when I was pregnant. One of the gals picked me up in her "mid life crisis" car that she bought two years ago. A two door, black, sports Mercedes Benz with all bells and whistles. When I had my mid life crisis I think I bought chocolate or something cheap like that and was a bit of a bitch for a year or so.

Whilst we were having our lunch we were discussing the trials of hitting middle age. I know, I know, it sounds so cliche but why not have a good old moan over lunch.

We got talking about clothes.

And how much we hate shopping for them.

And how, when we find one thing we like,we then buy it in three different colours and wear it over and over.

And how we hate change rooms.

And how we don't actually know how to wear the clothes that are in fashion now.

And how we dress for comfort when it comes to shoes.

And how we have one or two "going out" dresses that date before we get to wear them twice.

And how we love jeans and t-shirts because they are sooooo comfy.

And how everyone is getting younger, especially the policemen.

You get the drift. Sometimes it is great to just share shallow shit now and then.

I have known these two girls for twelve years now and even though we stopped catching up for a while after the kids went to school and life got busy, it was nice to see them and really good to just be somewhere different for a change.

We made a tentative date for a next get together.

When I got home I realised that I was falling under the spell of "doing lunch".

Doing lunch!

I first heard that expression from my boss's mother when she asked if I wanted to "do lunch". It sounded so twee. Like making a "play date" when you have a child.

Is "doing lunch" a middle aged woman thing?

Or is it just a wanky word for having lunch.

I am worried now. Had my hair cut shorter and now "doing lunch".

Now I am worried I did an "air kiss" when I said hello to them.

Air kissing, doing lunch, short hair and comfy shoes.

Noooooooooo!

Ciao
LC

Music Twaddle

When I am in my car or going for a walk I am always listening to music.

Sometimes, if in the car, I may just spend the entire drive going from one radio station to another until a song hits the spot. Especially if I am in a bit of a scatty mood and feel like pond skating on the emotional front. Modern music fills that urge to just bop around and not think of life in all it's ad infinitum wonder.

Other times I will be fixated on a particular musical artist and play their music over and over again. For a while, not that long ago, I went through a phase of listening to Paul Simon. It reached a point where my husband and son would cringe everytime they got in my car and heard the start of "Graceland". I love the lyrics of Paul Simon. He has a story in every song and I am always astonished at how he manages to marry the music and lyrics in such a moving way. I think my favorite song of his is "Late in the Evening" one.

Then there was the Kate Bush phase. Mainly with her last release from a couple of years ago. Such a moody and introspective double cd full of intimacy and melancholy. Even after listening to it at least 100 times, I still find myself falling under her spell and my entire mood will drift into a slumberous type of semi erotic thought processes. Her voice, her words and the music just fill me with the most exquisite emotions.

Of course there is the best of the 70's and 80's which just take me back to my youth. But I am not as keen on them as most people are with their love of music from the teenage years. Too often they bring back feelings that I don't think I want to revisit these days. I always make sure I am in the right frame of mind before I play those songs otherwise I may end up in some sort of funk that is best to avoid.

At the moment I am going through a phase of listening to music from the 1930's and 1940's. In particular I am enjoying The Andrew's Sisters. I have loved their music for as long as I can recall. You can bet that most of my friends have no idea who they are. Well, I bet most Americans would know who I am talking about. America put out the best musicians during the war time years and I love most of them. Talk about conjuring up the most romantic time ever.

When I moved out of home I had a wind up gramophone that played 78's. That was it for me as far as music went. I lived on my own and would take the record player out to the balcony and play my collection of 78 records, some of which were The Andrew's Sisters. There I sat, under the warm sun, in my deck chair listening to their sweet voices crackling away. One song was Rum and Coca Cola and even now when I listen to it I feel that thrill you get when a song takes you on a journey to somewhere special. I bought a cassette of them and played it in my car.

I am now looking to buy some cd's of their music as I only have a couple of their songs on a compilation cd of music from the war time. I want to have all their songs swimming into my head like the Three Little Fishies they sang about. I may even be inspired to buy some of the movies they were in as I used to watch them on the midday movies on Sundays.

It is too easy to fall into the trap of just listening to what you grew up with or what is on the radio at the moment.

One piece of music will lead you to another and yet another and take you on a never ending emotional ride.

And one thing for sure, I would rather dance to the music of The Andrew's Sisters than gyrate my aging pelvis to something Britney Spears squeaks about.

Oh, I could write a post about what I think of dancing.

But I have to go to work.

Ciao
LC

Nasty Boys At School

My son has been having an ongoing problem with a most shitful boy at school.

It escalated after this episode last year which resulted in my son being forbidden from going to the boy's home and also the boy visiting our home.

The boy would say numerous nasty things to my son such as:

1. Your mother is an f.....g slut.
2. Your father is a wanker
3. Your old man is an f......g c...t
4. Your mother is a whore because she wears make up and high shoes (I never wear high shoes by the way)
5. You are an f.....g c....t

You get the gist. This went on for weeks on end until we had to get the teacher to step in. I know that words are words, but I have to say that there are boundaries that must be set in a school environment.

Things kind of stopped and the nastiness settled into the usual poking or sly punch in the schoolyard. We had asked the teacher to make sure that they would not be in the same class this year, but unfortunately they did end up together again. They sit apart in the classroom and the teacher is mindful of what is going on.

But now things have reared their ugly head. Yesterday my husband dropped S off to school and just as he was about to get out of the car he started to cry. Not much at first but as my husband quizzed him on what was wrong a torrent of tears fell. He was being harassed again and was just sick of it.

This time the harassment was worse. He was saying things to S that made him feel really uncomfortable. Such as:

1. You suck your dad's c...k
2. Do you masturbate
3. I masturbate every day
4. Girls are only good for sex
6. When I get older I am going to rape a girl.

I don't know about you, but I think that is really crossing boundaries and I have only mentioned a few things. If an adult said that to another adult in a work environment you can bet that there would be a lot of trouble. Whilst I am concerned about my son having to put up with it all, I think it is a disturbing aspect that this boy thinks it is okay to speak like that. He also goes on about how much he hates every race of people. In my mind I think that if his behaviour is not addressed he will end up being a difficult adult with some big problems in his head.

I think the school will handle it well. I spoke to the vice principal this morning. He will speak to my son and give him some tips on handling it. Sometimes it is good to have an outsider offer help to a child. More objective. Of course they will also speak to the boy and his parents.

I know the world is full of all sorts and my son will have to learn to live with them, but at school I think kids need to just be able to enjoy normal life.

It is hard to even get into the whole nitty gritty of it all in a post. I feel that this is only the start of what my son (and others) will be encountering from some children.

The whole episode has upset me.

Hard not to feel the pain of one's own child.

Ciao
LC

Bedroom Twaddle

My bedroom is my favorite space in the house, followed closely by my studio.

Last night I pottered around in my bedroom. Sorted through my wardrobe, rearranged my books and just had a general tidy. It was very peaceful.

I had a clothes throw out. Some clothes just don't fit me anymore and even if I lose some weight I don't want to wear them again. Some of the clothes that do fit me I no longer like now or they have been washed so much they look dingy after being worn for an hour or so. Now and then you just have to have a clean out. Plus, since my wardrobe is tiny I am limited as to just how sentimental I can be when it comes to clothes.

I noticed something really funny when I went through the wardrobe. Nearly every article of clothing was hanging up inside out. It is because I change my clothes at least three or four times before I leave the house most mornings. An annoying trait of mine. Then I just hang them up inside out because I am too lazy to hang them back up properly. It may explain why I leave the house with my tops on inside out sometimes.

I adore my bed. I love getting into my bed at night.

Slipping in between the white, ironed cotton sheets and having a little wriggle. Contemplating the day that has passed. Getting a nice thought in my head to take me into the world of zzzzz's.
Sometimes I read for a while before turning of the bedside lamp and getting ready for that most pleasurable feeling of sleep creeping in. Or I sit with my laptop and surf the internet.

I have trouble with the actual getting to bed. Because as much as I love getting into my bed, making the final decision to do so is long and drawn out. I might be about to go to bed when a good movie comes onto the television and I am suddenly alert. Or I am fiddling on the computer and just choose to ignore the time.

Other times I might fall asleep whilst watching television and just cannot resist that feeling of nodding off on the couch. We have a rule in our home. Under no circumstances is anyone to awaken another person who may be dozing on the couch. Many times I have woken up at 2.00 am in the morning sprawled out on the sofa with the television on, husband having gone to bed three hours earlier.

To tell you the truth though, I would rather sleep in my bed alone. It is nothing personal, but I love the silence of being alone in a room. Only my breathing to be heard apart from the sounds of night time outside my window. I want to spread my limbs out without having to worry as to whether or not I may wake someone else. As it is, when I go to sleep, I lie flat on my back with my hands resting on my stomach. I am so still until I fall asleep and then I spend all night wriggling around.

Our bed is small. A double bed, which by today's standard is teeny. Because I wanted an antique bed I was limited by the size I could have gotten. Most beds of 100 years ago were very small indeed. I like the thought that other people slept in this bed a long time ago when life was so different. We bought this bed from a antique shop. When I saw it I knew it was the bed of my dreams. Simple but creative in style.

I only like white, thick, pure cotton sheets that have to be ironed. My bedspread is a vintage Marcella white one which is made of thick, heavy cotton with and embossed pattern of geraniums across it. I have more than one and love their timeless beauty. You cannot buy anything like this now. The manufacturing of linen is so second rate compared to what it was sixty years ago. When I bought them, they were not popular and not expensive. But now they are becoming collectible and so I cannot add to my collection so freely.

At the moment my bedroom is nice and tidy. At least once a week I spend time cleaning it up, change the sheets and dust it. Since humans spend so much time in a bedroom, it should be welcoming and interesting. Or at least I think so.

I don't know why I bother to post about a bedroom of all things.

But really, even the confines of a room can be so inspiring for me.

Ciao

LC

Driving Along To Work

Talk about some unsafe driving.

This morning as I drove to work I thought to myself it was time for a random photo. And I did not endanger any lives as I was driving along taking a pic.

Today is sunny and I am pleased to say that yesterday I did payroll and can concentrate on something else when I get to work.

Since I am having a random post I am going to talk about my son.

When my son has to go to bed, he gets a big surge of idiotic energy. I find it really funny. My husband gets irritated.

So the other night the silliness starts and my husband rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on. I love how children are so full of joy. When do we lose that? Adults are as boring as can be. Joyless lumps of cynicism", I said to my husband.

"I suppose you are right", he agreed.

Then my son upped the anti so to speak. He ran into the office, turned on a song and came out dancing to it in his pyjama's. I was laughing. K was having a bit of a laugh.

With this parental encouragement my son stripped off down to his underwear and continued to dance madly around the place. Running around the coffee table, bending over and slapping his wiggling bottom at us and kicking his legs around.

By this stage I was laughing non stop and then my husband tried to assert himself.

"Stop laughing Linda, you are only making things worse. You can put him to bed", he told me.

Both S and I laughed and laughed at this feeble attempt to get some order in the house.

The song finished along with the four minutes of "dancing child" entertainment and then my son put his pyjama's back on and made his way to bed with husband in tow.

When my husband came back in to the lounge room he glared at me.

"You just make things worse", he said. But he was having a smirk about it.

I always have had trouble with authority.

And really, sometimes you just have to enjoy the moment before it goes.

Ciao
LC

Me Me A Meme

Catherine from Chunks of Reality did a meme the other day and tagged anyone who read it. The theme was to list six weird things about yourself. Since I have done that one, I am going to do six weird things I have done.

I quite like the odd meme now and then but I am not particularly reliable in getting down and actioning them. I shall make an effort today rather than whinge about the size of my bottom.

I have done a few meme's:

This one was one about weird things about me.

This one really reflects my weird food issues I harbour.

So, six weird (or embarrassing) things I have done:

1. In an interview I once accidentally blew a big snot bubble out of my left nostril in response to the question "where do you see yourself in five years". The bubble sat there for about two long, drawn out seconds before I had the sense to breath in via my nose. I got the job anyway. Interestingly enough, the interviewer said nothing when it happened. But I know she saw it by the look on her face.

2. Once I was being tickled by some friends. One was a boyfriend. I said to them "stop, if you don't stop I will wet my pants". They did not stop and so I wet my pants (deliberately) and two of the friends got soaked. Then they were annoyed at me. They never tickled me again. I was eighteen at the time.

3. I went out on a date once when I was young. I wore a lovely dress but when I got home I realised I had worn it back to front. The guy concerned did not notice, but trust me, everyone walking behind me would have known.

4. I once at so many dried apricots that I vomited. One of the dried apricots came out, in it's entire form, of my nose. I had to tug it to get it out. It was incredibly funny and disgusting. Just shows you that you must chew your food just that little bit more.

5. Once when out on a date, I ordered spaghetti bolognese. When it arrived I realised I had no idea how to eat it so I had to pretend I had a stomach ache. So I sat there watching my date eat his dinner and mine because I was too shy to confess I did not know how to eat spag bol. It was then that I realised that the names of pasta reflected the shape it would arrive in.

6. In one of my binge purge episodes I ate an entire cheesecake (huge one) at one sitting and then vomited it up later. It was traumatic episode but it did put me off cheesecake for life. When my mum came home from work she said "the house smells of cheese cake, where is it".Actually, I did the same thing with a pavlova, but for some reason I am not so repulsed by it these days. That was many years ago and I don't do it now, but it seems like yesterday.

I have a never ending list of silly things I have done.

But six is enough for now.

So, if you want to 'fess up to being a twit, feel free to do so.

Ciao
LC

More Whiney Twaddle

Since I have been having a good run as far as whinging goes, I have to continue.

Today I woke up feeling "mumsy" (old fashioned, sexless and drab). It was to be expected as yesterday I felt fat.

So today, feeling mumsy, fat and, of course, having a bad hair day I decided to just make sure I felt invisible AND middle aged by making my way back to Chadstone.

Chadstone is an oversized local shopping mall. Hundreds of shops. It is where I went the other week to get blisters on my feet. It caters for the under 35 or the over 50. Forget those years in between.

Today I walked aimlessly around the hallowed halls of Chadstone like a homeless dog and eventually bought myself a pair of three quarter pants. As you know, my attempt to alter a pair of jeans into three quarter pants failed miserably so I felt compelled to go shopping.

If you are ever having a shit day and really want to remind yourself of the aging process, just spend some time in a clothes changing room in a big department store. Make sure you are having a fat day to ensure that you get to experience maximum horror at the sight of your half naked body exposed under the harsh fluorescent lighting that is bouncing off the four full size mirrors that kindly allow you to view yourself in every possible unflattering angle. And if you thought you had only a little bit of cellulite, you can bet your bottom dollar that being in this room for any time will change your mindset about that illusion.

Oh, and make sure you wear you dingiest undies. You really want to feel total blah.

So, after that traumatic event of purchasing clothing, I came home and spent some time in the studio to wind down. But not for long, because I was lucky enough to then make my way down to the supermarket where I then got to shop for food.

Now I am back home and about to make myself a coffee, I feel that at least I was productive as I actually cleaned by bathroom top to toe this morning.

And in about one hour I am going for a five kilometre jog.

That episode in the change room has inspired me to exercise more.

Or frightened me.

Ciao
LC

Random Thoughts About Food

I wish that food tasted disgusting so that I would not want to eat it all the time.

I wish that all food was low fat and low calorie so that I could eat what I wanted and never put on weight.

I wish white bread rolls and bagels were low GI.

I wish I had a super fast metabolism.

I wish that food that tasty yucky was bad for you and that food that tasted defuckinglicious was really, really good for you.

Yes, I know that all of the above is childish and shallow. And I know that there are terrible things going on in the world that make my twaddle extra pathetic.

But I am having a fat day.

And I need to blog about it.

There.

All done now.

Ciao
LC

Sewing

I have a sewing machine. It sits up high in a cupboard and rarely sees the light of day. I believe I can sew, or could sew a little bit once upon a time but have now lost that small skill. But that does not stop me from making pathetic attempts to make an adjustment to a perfectly good article of clothing.

One night last week I got a notion to shorten a pair of jeans I no longer wear. They fit me, but they are flared and to tell you the truth, every time I wear them I look an old duck. Yes, there is an age you get to where you cannot wear what you may have worn when you were fifteen years old. I am at that age.

So I took them out of the cupboard and lay them across the dining room table. I then cut them about four inches shorter, the measurement having come about by a combination of guess work along with a random and casual comparison to an existing pair of three quarter jeans.

Once the daring cut had been made, I ironed a bit of hem on it and then pinned the hem up. I debated whether or not to try them on to check the length and thought "oh, it will be fine" and then spent ages hand stitching the hem. I could have taken the sewing machine down and set it up for a better result, but obviously the appeal of a rushed and crooked stitch up was too much to resist.

The job finally finished I quickly put them on and went into the front room to admire my handiwork.

Putting aside the vision of me standing in my black socks and unshaven legs on show, I could not help but notice that one leg of the jeans was longer than the other. Another thing I became aware of is the danger of altering jeans that once had a huge flare. I now had stupid three quarter pants with a huge flare from mid calf level rather than ankle level.

It just look bad, bad and bad. And now I had ruined a pair of perfectly good jeans.

When I shuffled back into the lounge room feeling a total failure, my husband came in from outside. He asked me what I was doing and a mumbled something about what I had achieved. I was standing behind the couch.

"Show me", he asked.

I crept out from my hiding spot and stood before him. He stared for a few seconds and laughed until I had to tell him to shut up.

"I love it when you think you can sew. You do the funniest things", he told me.

That comment led to me going on a long tirade of how useless I am when it comes to domesticity. Can't cook, can't sew, never mop my floor and hate housework. Useless, utterly useless were the words I used.

"Tell me, tell me five things about me that are good", I told him.

He stood for a while. Actually he stood a bit too long for my liking and then came up with the following:

1. You do very silly things that are funny.
2. You always surprise me after all these years.
3. You are a good mother, a really good mother.

Then he could not think of another two. I suppose he felt a bit under pressure as I stood in the kitchen in my "new" jeans and hands on hips.

Oh well, three out of five is okay I guess.

You know, I have just noticed a white shirt in my wardrobe that would look great with some embroidery.

Now, if I could just find that huge box of embroidery threads my mother gave me fifteen years ago.

Why, I could have a new shirt by the end of the day if I start now.

Ciao
LC

Keeping Fit

I rode to work today.

On my trusty push bike.

More than trusty actually. I have a Specialized Sirrus Pro carbon fibre commuter bike.

Doesn't that sound impressive? It should because it cost me a fortune and lives in the house because I am so prissy about it getting dirty. I have added some accessories to it to bling it up a bit.

I am not looking forward to the ride home because I am just wearing normal clothes, not my lycra bike pants with the padding.

If you knew what the seat was like to perch upon, you could really appreciate how uncomfortable it is after 9kms of serious pedalling.

When I got to work I was sweaty.

Then I dropped my peanut butter cracker on my top.

And had "bike helmet" hair.

Oh well.

I feel good that I did it.

Ciao
LC

PS: Ride home was just fine and dandy.

Bushfire Updates

No doubt you will have heard about the bushfires we have been experiencing here. They are the worst that Australia has ever had.

The amount of people confirmed dead is currently at 181 but expected to rise as many of these fatalities were found in burnt out cars that now litter the road. House debris is being inspected now. One small township called Marysville has 100 people missing, presumed dead. The town is closed off while forensic teams go through each place.

Marysville is about an hour or so from home. We went there one winter because they have snow not far from there. It was a town with a population of around 500 people and just delightful to visit. Lots of nature nearby.

Now, none of the houses are left in Marysville with the exception of the bakery. And it is in that town that 100 people are missing. Imagine, one fifth of a town gone.

Lots of fund raising going on with celebrities and sports heroes being involved. Today a few major stores are donating all their profits for the day to the fire relief appeal.

It is believed that around 1 million animals, both wild and domestic, have died. Which is just devastating.

A sombre job ahead for forensic teams who have to inspect homes, creeks, cars and the like.

Over 1800 homes gone, burnt to the ground. Some of those homes were not insured.

Over $80 million dollars has been raised to help the victims. Which, considering the small population of Australia, is quite astonishing.

Huge amounts of clothes and food have been donated. Also caravans for people to live in whilst rebuilding starts.

The Red Cross has been co-ordinating it all and has made a promise that no administration fees will be taken from the donations.

It is going to take a long time for people to rebuild their lives again.

I wish them all the very best.

Ciao

LC

Totally Inane Twaddle

I am a bit tired today. Cannot think of anything profound to twaddle about. So will twaddle about my day.

My car is a mess. I went to a client of mine to do some bookwork and we decided to pop down the street for a quick lunch.

We took my car and when he got in he looked around in amazement. Paper on the floor, two drink bottles rolling around, fit ball wedged in the back seat, numerous eco friendly shopping bags shoved behind the front seat and hair elastics on the gear stick.

"Oh, my God. Your car is disgusting. I am amazed. Who would have thought that such an efficient bookkeeper could be such a slob", he said to me as he took it all in.

Then he went on about how he has seen that there are two Linda's. Linda the Efficient and Linda the Slob. In fact, it got boring in the end.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I ask you, what girl do you know who has a clean car?

As he blathered on about my messy car I was wondering what he would say if he knew that I had put my underpants on inside out today. I decided not to reveal such a shocking secret.

It annoyed me no end all day knowing that the tag was on the outside of my undies.

It just did not seem right.

Once I wore my t-shirt inside out to work. All day long. No one bothered to tell me.

Life just went on, tag on show and all.

This post is getting boring.

And stupid.

And I feel like laughing at nothing.

Time for bed.

Ciao
LC

Working With Others

In life you have to learn to work with all sorts of people.

Especially in a small office. It can be like a marriage of convenience. Or a marriage from hell.

Now, I hate to be mean about anyone but I feel the need to be today because someone in the office kind of shits me.

I did make a mention of her once in this post. Well, really, some of her ways just beggar belief.

She is around 57 and an unhealthy 57 at that. Not that is an issue but it is intriguing to me that in this day and age someone would be so freely casual with their well being, despite being aware of what needs doing to stay slightly healthy. Especially as she works with me and I eat the most healthy food you have seen. So it is not as though she is not exposed to a random fruit or vegetable now and then. Sometimes I dump fruit on her desk and tell her to eat it.

However, having said that, she did mention to me that she has been getting a fruit and vegetable box delivered now once a week.

Her idea of lunch is a sweet biscuit or ten of them. Plus loads of coffee, at least six cups a day, full of sugar. But that is just an incidental thing but I just need to mention it because it fascinates me. Oh, and she tells me the food I eat is disgusting. Huh?

Anyway, all her life, up until 2007 she has smoked dope everyday. Morning and night. I mean, at that age surely you would have dropped that habit. She has a teenage daughter so I think you need to set some examples. Late in 2007 she got caught by the police for growing dope in her garage. She used to grow it and use it as bartering when she got her legs waxed or her hair done. How embarrassing. After that she stopped smoking but still smokes a few cigarettes at home via her bong/pipe. Which means she coughs like a dying dog at work each day.

And she does these things that really make my stress levels rise. And make my stomach churn. Now, she gets waxed every six weeks. Arms, top lip, chin, legs etc. In between that she has the most bristly black hairs on show on her face. And her arms. I can deal with arm and leg hair on others because I don't have to look but face hair makes me freak. Black, bristly face hair. I feel like mailing some tweezers to her home anonymously.

She has eczema, which is fine. So do I. But she picks at it until it scabs and bleeds and some of the scabs sit on the tip of a bristly black hair. Pick, pick and more pickety pick. I then am forced to say to her "oh, that looks sore. How about you put your cream on it and leave it alone". I really want to say "that is totally gross and you are making me fucking sick". But it would be too rude of me to say. Hence the need to blog about it.

Once she took her bridge out from her teeth to show me what had broken. Which is like taking false teeth out. She has lost teeth because goodness knows what her dental hygiene is like. Plus, if you do drugs you end up with bad gums. She told me she never flosses.

And, she has no issue with lifting up her top to show me how much weight she has put on. Why? I don't drop my duds to show her my cellulite. Who said that is fine? Another time she lifted her skirt to show me a boil on her inner thigh. I just had to say "I don't need to see that" when I really wanted to say "Excuse me while I vomit".

She makes jokes about sex. You know the sort of jokes "I have oral sex, I just talk about it". Just creepy. Worse than that, she asked me how my sex life was after I had the hysterectomy. I just said, in a very polite voice, fine thanks.

If she has a shit morning she comes into work with a face like fizz. Plus she will start being shitty at ME. I now just hold up my hand and say "tell me what has happened and then get over it. I won't have you infect the office with your foul mood". So she talks about it and then gets over it.

She is late all the time. Not that it matters, because we get paid for the hours we work. Sometimes she tells me she will stay in bed ALL weekend watching DVD's.

She swears too much and even I have to say "stop swearing". Then she apologises.

Twelve months ago she was given a warning about speeding. Here, each time you get a traffic infringement you get 1 to 3 demerit points, depending on what you did wrong. When you get up to 12 points you will lose your car licence for three months. They will give you a twelve month warning which means that if you have any infringements in that time you will lose your licence for six months instead of the three. Bit like a double or nothing.

Well, she lost her licence yesterday. Which was a bit unlucky as she got the ticket on the last day of the twelve months. But, in that twelve month period I agreed to take on infringement for her and so did three of her friends. This time I said "no way buddy". Talk about a lead foot. Oh, and she always has an excuse why she was speeding. Always someone elses fault.

Everyday she tells me I am strange. Odd. Tells me the stuff that I talk about is so weird. She does not get me. But really, she gets me well enough.

Yet, the other side to her is that she is genuinely kindhearted, her work is perfect, she is helpful and thoughtful. She rang me on my birthday. She writes thank you notes. She has a huge network of friends she maintains. She knows the names and singers of nearly every band from the 1970's. She knows all the ins and outs of every detective and police show ever made and remembers the names of the characters and the actors who played them. At work she will do whatever I ask of her.

So the last paragraph in the end outweighs the other stuff.

Which makes it possible for us to work together.

Sort of like being married.

Protocol established.

Ciao
LC

Bush Fires

We have had a most tragic weekend in Victoria.

Eighty four people died in bushfires.

Many more are missing, assumed dead.

Towns that have survived fires for decades just gone. Burnt to the ground.

The Australian bush has been as dry as a tinderbox for so long. The extreme heat and lack of rain has left the bush like a ticking time bomb.

Unfortunately many of the fires were deliberately lit.

So awful. All those people dead. Over 600 homes lost. Lives that will never be the same again.

How do you recover from such a loss? People will rally around to help. Already there are donations of clothes, food and money flooding in.

It is frightening how quickly a person's life can change.

All in all, a tragic time indeed.

Many brave firemen out there putting their own lives at risk to help others. Many more volunteer fire fighters helping. Thank you to these brave men and women.

Fire is a hungry creature. I cannot imagine how frightening it must be to be there, to watch your home succumb to the flames.

Ironically, up in Queensland they are having the worst floods seen in fifty years.

None of it makes sense to me.

Ciao

LC

Posed Photos

You know, there really is nothing worse than taking a bunch of rather posed photos. And there are a couple below that is for sure. Every now and then you have to allow a bad photo out on the public.

So, looking at my new haircut it may seem not that much shorter, but trust me, it is. She kept the length at the front. Chopped it up at the back. When I left the hairdressers I had a Posh Spice hairdo, you know the very sleek look she used to have before she cut it all off.

However, once home and amongst the hideous heatwave, my interest in the hair dryer was zero so I was unable to replicate the smooth appearance. Today I just let it go it's naturally wavy self. Well, contrived natural. Loads of wax and other hair products to get the curl without the frizz.

At least six inches was snipped away. It feels so nice and healthy.

I do apologise for subjecting you to a photo of my freckly back, but as it was so hideously hot outside, just be thankful you did not see me nekked.

Tonight we went to my brother's and below is a photo of the two of us. He is on one of his stupid diets again. The "meat, meat and more meat" diet. He really cannot accept the boring old "energy in and energy out" concept. So he goes on the Atkin's diet. Which is great if you live on a farm and can eat one animal each day. Then he does loads of weights to bulk up which burns more calories whilst resting. Except for the weekend when he eats what he wants and kind of undoes it all. So complicated.

He told me that he thinks food is better than sex. I swear, when a guy says that you know he loves his food just a bit much. Either that or he needs to do something about his sex life. Not that I would EVER broach such a subject with my brother. Eeeeewwww! Everyone knows family don't do "it".

I had a play with his youngest boy who is almost four. He is very naughty but in the funniest way. He takes after my side of the family and my sister in law finds him so frustrating at times.

So, that is my photos of the day.

Oh, I bought a Wii Fit today. It is so funny. My son spent twenty minutes playing on it.

It was the first time I have seen him work up a sweat for quite a while.

Ciao
LC

Shock Horror

I went to the hairdressers yesterday.

Had my hair cut.

Not just a trim, but all cut off.

It was a daring move. I am so defined by my long hair but just wanted to do it.

So, now I have short hair. Well, short at the back, long at the front. In the style of 1920's maybe. When my hairdresser did the first cut, it was to remove a four inch ponytail. And then away she went for the next hour. When I looked down at the floor and saw all the hair I was not too concerned.

I was a bit worried I would look mumsy, but it looks good - even if I don't say so myself. My darling hairdresser would never let me go down that track.

Sometimes you just have to have a change.

Ciao
LC

More Heat

It is Saturday today and so hot again. About 46 Celsius which I think in old measurements is about 114 Fahrenheit.

The wind is hot and strong. When I went outside it took my breath away. Rushed into my lungs as though I had opened an oven door. I went up to the shops to buy some food and the newspaper. By the time I got home it was as though my energy had been sucked from my body.

Outside is so bright with the sunlight I had to cover my eyes (even with sunglasses on), put my head down to hide from the onslaught of the heat and lightness.

This sort of weather just fills you with a type of inertia. You just succumb to it. Unlike the coldest of weather, it is hard to be out in the open when there is this overwhelming heat. You just move slowly.

Tonight it will cool down. There will be rain coming for a few days. Not so heavy to fill the water supplies, but enough to soothe the hot gardens and offer relief to wilting plants. So many trees are losing their leaves which were burnt last week during the abnormal weather conditions.

I am going to have a sleep.

Ciao
LC

Happenings At Home

You know, I often wonder at the bullshit that companies offer up as a suggestion that their food is healthy.

My son likes two minute noodles now and then after school. The other day I opened a packet and out fell two foil packets along with the noodles. One with the usual high salt flavouring. The other was full of "vegetables".

Anyway, have a look at the vegetables. I ask you, what does that collection of freeze dried coloured dust have to do with vegetables? Does the company that touts the offer of vegetables to add to the noodles really, really believe that the consumer would purchase the noodles because they are healthy? More disturbing, does someone buy them because they actually think that the noodles will actually be good for you with all these extra veges?

Now, I did not buy these two minute noodles because of the promise of "vegetables". I bought them because they were on special.

Last night my son called me into his bedroom.

"Hey mum, take photo of this. It is great", he pointed to his bed sheet.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It is my dribble stains from when I am asleep", he told me. He was so impressed.

Can't say I was. I am changing his bed sheets this weekend.

A few posts ago I mentioned how I bought a large vat of spirulina and chlorella powder.

I have been having trouble getting through the one kilogram tub of dried fish food. But finally I have girded my loins and been able to make myself down a glass of the vile stuff twice daily.

I either mix it with tomato juice or soy protein powder and water. As long as I don't peer at it too much I am fine.

I thought I may take a photo of the concoction to show to you that the pursuit of good health is, at times, difficult to endure.


When I dink it I cannot stop. I just start tipping the glass and continue until the contents have disappeared. I stand at the kitchen window and stair at the roof of the house next door as I do it.

I have to confess, I do feel better since taking it.

Or at least I think I do. Otherwise I am not sure I could continue taking it. But, I am determined to finish the container no matter what.

Ciao
LC

Housework Musings

Oh, I love doing dishes, don't you?

Especially when the dishes are dropped into a sink half full of cold water. Just dropped at random times until it the sink is full to the brim with cold, dirty dishes.

Then I love putting on those nice, rubbery pink gloves (you know the ones that get nice and sweaty inside) and taking the dishes out of the sink so that I can empty the water out and replace it with clean, hot and soapy water. But not before I admire the dirty ring around the sink which I just love to clean. That is after I have picked out the food and other slops that have blocked the plug hole.

Each day I ponder about the pleasure of doing those dishes. I want to say thank you to my husband and son for letting me have the fair share of dish washing. Otherwise I might get a bit cross and say "hey, let me do it all".

I also love picking dirty clothes up from around the house. Almost as good as a jolly little Easter Egg hunt. In fact, it was so exciting the other day because I found a stinky sock under the couch and the pair to it wedged under the coffee table. Of course, that was after I tripped over a pair of shoes lying behind the couch.

All those shirts just resting casually on the end of the bed, well, I am so glad they are there because it reminds me of how lucky I am to be married to the person who left them for me to admire before just chucking them in the wash because I cannot be bothered to hang them up. The same person who rarely picks the bath mat up from the floor in his bathroom. Which reminds me of just how much it amuses me that my son drops his towels on the floor after using them and then that is where they stay for me to pick up. How cute.

And do you know, why only yesterday morning I had the wonderful chance to take in the visual art of two carefully arranged smelly socks resting ever so lightly on the back of the couch. How thoughtful that was because I was just able to pick them up as I passed by on the way to the laundry.

One day I might mop the floor. But I have to draw the line somewhere. There are some things I will never do. But neither will anyone else! How funny is that? I am laughing right this minute as I write. Ha, ha, ha.... Where's the mop?

Of course I could just tell others in the house to help, and they do, but really, sometimes it is just easier to do it myself. Besides, those two are a bit forgetful, silly duffers.

I will wait for the next bout of PMT to hit.

You should see how they pull their socks up then!

And pick them up as well.

Ciao
LC

Hmmmmm

The other day my son and I had the following conversation;

"Am I sort of like Jesus?" he asked.

"What exactly do you mean?" I replied, hoping he was not about to tell me he thought he could heal people and feed hundreds with a loaf of bread.

"Well, since you and dad had IVF to have me, and you did not actually have sex to have me, that makes me sort of like Jesus doesn't it", he answered.

"Not really, Jesus was born from an immaculate conception, not IVF. There is a big difference", I then went on to explain in a bit more detail.

"Oh, okay, I was just wondering".

"You are still pretty special though, even if you are not Jesus", I reassured him.

"Yeah, I know that already", came his answer - as if he didn't know anyway.

Glad I nipped that possible ego expansion kit in the bud.

I would not want him to get too full of his own self importance.

Ciao
LC

Junk Mail

Everyday I have delivered to my email account a plethora of junk mail. One of the ones I get is my daily star sign and tarot reading.

They must know me because they always address me by my first name. Dear Linda, it always starts. How personal. I feel so special.

Well, today was extra special because I had the following prediction forwarded to me (and every other Capricorn on their spam list).

It said (and note the personal touch with my name inserted amongst it all):

A celebrity whom you admire, probably a woman, could actually be introduced to you today, Linda, perhaps as the result of a lecture or book signing. This could make a profound difference in your life, as this person may be an inspiration for you. A romantic partner could meet her as well, and the two of you should have a lot to discuss over dinner. Relax and enjoy your evening. It could in a very subtle way change your life.

I felt compelled to read this out aloud to my husband and son this morning as they ate their breakfast.

And then, when I finished I realised that none of it could be true because of one crucial piece of factual information.

And that is, Angelina Jolie is not in Australia right now so the chance of her dropping into work are nil. There I was, hoping to meet her. What was that mention of my romantic partner meeting as well and talking over dinner. Sounds a bit naughty to me.

I feel so let down. I mean, all these promises and no delivery.

I think I might read some other junk mail instead. There is a great one that gives me tips on how to flush 60lbs in one week from my body! Plus the free $500 Walmart card which I guess I will have to use on the odd chance I go to the US. Plus the usual penis enlargement thing. Oh, yes, and the promise to earn $12K to $30K typing from home.

Ah, junk email, so informative.

Ciao
LC

Still Bloggin'

Yesterday was the three year anniversary of the date I started blogging.

Yup, first day of February, 2006 I posted my first post.

Pretty boring one actually. I had read somewhere in the newspaper about this thing called blogging and so I decided to do it. It took a while to work out what to blog about - hence the exceptionally boring content of the first post.

Now that three years has passed I occasionally read some old posts and think how easy it would be to forget so many general things if you did not record them. And how eternally happy I am that I do blog.

Those three years seem to have passed so quickly and yet so slow as well. So much has happened in my own head in that time.

This post is number 642. That is a lot of twaddle to pen isn't it.

Three years is enough time for big things to happen. My son went from age 8.5 to 11.5. I went from age 42 o 45, put on weight (boo hoo) and turned a corner in my own mind.

So, I am guessing I shall continue on because in my mind there is always something to record.

When I am old and forgetful I can amuse myself by reading my blog.

And everyone elses.

Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read my blog.

I appreciate it.

Ciao
LC

Shopping Boo Hoo

During the overly hot spell we had I developed a bit of cabin fever and felt the need to go out to the shops. Not to buy, just to be able to walk around without the risk of heat stroke.

So, yesterday (Saturday) I got into my car and made my way to Chadstone which is a big shopping complex situated around twenty minutes from me.

Normally I don't go there anymore because I can never get a car park. Plus it is huge and they just keep adding to it. One time I had not been there for six months and, in that time, they had added 40 new shops. I don't know why they say "new" shops because, with the comfort of franchising, you can see those shops in every shopping complex.

Yesterday I went there, having not been there for months and months, and they had added 55 new food stores. Fifty five, that is stupid. Fifty five of the same old, same old. All paying hideously huge rents to greedy corporations.

Anyway, I get there and managed to find a parking spot that was undercover and out of the sun. When I went inside I was shocked at how crowded it was. You would think it was Christmas. The average age was between 13 and 28 and everyone looked the same. Truly, they had the same clothes on. Maybe different colours and lengths, but in general, they all looked as though they bought their stuff from the same shop. Or the same 245 clothes shops selling the same stuff and different prices.

The place is so big, you need hours to see every shop. And because they are adding more stores, you get lost amongst these tunnels and walkways which guide you in the right direction. I asked the girl at information where the craft shop was (wanted to buy some paint) and she said "oh, no, we don't have crafty shops or anything like that here anymore". Of course not, because everyone who goes there has nothing else to do but go shopping.

I meandered around for a while and when I was about as far from place I had parked my car as I could be, my feet started to hurt. I had worn my clogs and forgot how they can give me blisters in hot weather. Bare feet in leather shoes on a hot day are just not the ideal thing.

Deciding that the pain was bigger than the urge to meander, I turned around and headed back. It was a long and slow walk to the car. At one point I was tempted to take off my shoes and walk barefoot in the centre as the pain of the blisters (which had now burst and were exquisitely sore), but fortunately my sense of decorum prevented me doing such a thing. I would rather flash my knickers that walk barefoot in a shopping centre.

I had to drive home barefoot though. The moment I jumped in the car I took off the clogs and there was no way I could put my feet back in them.

It appears I am just not cut out for shopping these days. Or at least I need to think about what I am wearing when I plan to walk 15 kilometres around a shopping centre. In fact, when I think about it, you really do need to gear up for a day shopping.

You could open a shop that specialised in clothing you wear whilst shopping.

Or just stay home. Which I am today since I cannot put shoes on because of blisters. I am wearing Birkenstock thongs (ah, the footwear, not the underwear).

Clogs have been retired for the next week.

I think I was just not meant to go shopping.

Ciao
LC