Thermals

I have been shopping around for thermal underwear lately.

Because we are going overseas in Winter and because I know I am going to freeze my butt off, I need to get some thermals. This is based on advice from lily livered whiney girls like myself who enjoy sitting in a room that is always 22 degree Celsius.

Get thermals! Wear them under your pants. Under everything. That is what I am going to do as I hate being cold. And my husband and son hate me being cold because I whinge about it.

So, I have been checking out thermals and have been duly impressed by what is out there now. I even bought a couple of thermal tops. One singlet and one long sleeved thing. To try out before I go. I mean, I don't want to get overseas and find that what I have bought is not keeping me warm.

The thermal tops I bought are made of a fine black wool, sheer and lovely. I was so impressed by these new age, fine wool thermal undergarmets I bought as traditional woollen thermals are just plain old ugly. Plus, the manufacturers always try to sex them up by getting some slinky girl to pose in a provocative manner in a beige thermal pair of long johns or long sleeved singlet.

Honestly, thermals are not sexy. So, why not forget trying to make them sexy. Thermals are practical. They need to be warm, not sexy.

How do I know that the warm thermals are not sexy? Because the sexy ones I bought are not warm. That is despite the fact that they are promoted by some well known, blonde sexy snow skier who swears by their thermal properties.

I wore them under my clothes and was just as cold as I had been when I wore my plain old cotton singlet.

So now I am going to have to go for the warm factor and drop the sexy factor.

Thermals, Spanx and other undergarmets that are to serve a practical purpose (keep you warm, hold you in) will never rate high on the sexy stakes.

But I will have to draw the line at beige.

I am not at the beige age yet, even underneath my clothes.

Ciao
LC

Down By The Seaside

Today the air was cool and the sky was blue. We went for a walk along the beach.

And had an icecream which we ate whilst enjoying the sunshine.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, son kindly gave the two fingered salute as I took the photo. I am again reminded of the teenage mindset that is creeping in.

Although, I have been know to do the same thing even now. Could be genetic?

Another opportunity to have a mother and son photo.

I would love to live by the beach. It is a timeless place. No matter the weather, no matter the mood I might be in, just the sight of the water and the sound of the waves fills me with peace.

Lovely place.

Ciao

LC

Er Um O

Tonight my son was sitting at the dining table doing his homework.

Boy, didn't he moan about it. Moaned and moaned.

Moaned about the pen. It was not writing nicely.

Moaned how boring homework was.

Moaned about how tired he was (but not tired enough to go to bed of course).

Finally he came out with the reason for his grumpy mood. He had a bad day at school.

A boy in his class was annoying him.


"I hate Arty. He is so annoying. He talks non stop and if I tell him to shut up it is me who gets caught and told off. And even when I stabbed him with the compass he still did not shut up", my son ranted away.

I said something about how he should not stab someone with a compass just because they are annoying. The expected parental response to such a confession.

"And, it really annoys me how he chews his wooden ruler. You know, he does it all day and I think if he farted you would see sawdust", my son continues on.

I was laughing at him and then he said something that kind of wiped the smile off my face with shock.

"Yeah, and you know what else I hate. He blabs on and on in a stupid high girls voice and wriggles in his seat at the same time for so long like he is having an orgasm", says son of mine.

What?

What, what, what?

I stare at him. Mouth open with shock.

He stares at me. Mouth open and laughing.

"Oh my God. My son said THAT word to me", I said in shock and then do a faux scream in horror.

My son is is really laughing at my reaction.

"You said the O word in front of your mother", I said.

By this stage he is laughing so loudly that my husband calls out from the office.

"What is going on? What is the O word? What did he say?" husband asks.

Son and I look at each other and both laugh.

"Orange", my son calls out.

"What? That is not a rude word. I don't know any rude words beginning with O", my husband answers.

By this stage S and I are laughing so hard that I can hardly breathe. My son comes out with a few more random words beginning with the letter O.

I change the subject. My son says something about knowing all those words and what they mean.

I am reminded of a conversation that my son and I had last year after watching Meet The Fockers. That movie with Barbara Striesand and Ben Stiller. It was a sequel to Meet The Parents.

There is a part in the movie where Ben Stiller (the son) is telling his mother (Barbara Streisand) about how his wife is pregnant. His mother is so pleased for him and then asks him something along the lines of whether when the baby was conceived was the sex extra special. I cannot recall the exact words. But the gist of it was that they were talking about his sex life. It is a bit over the top.

Anyway, my son turned to me and said;

"Do you know mum. That is like you and me isn't it? We will be like that. Talk about anything".

"Um. Well, yes. I suppose so. But you know, you don't have to tell me everything. There will be times it is okay to keep things to yourself. But you can always talk about things to me. Yes, for sure", I answer in amazement at his words.

Later on my husband came out of the office and again asked what was the O word that my son had said.

Which brought forth another bout of laughter from S.

Well, at least I won't have to explain it to him.

But it appears I might have to explain it to my husband!

Ha ha ha.

Now I am laughing.

Ciao
LC

Night, Sleep And Storms

I was woken up a couple of nights ago by a storm.  The wind was loud and with it came heavy rain. 

 

I opened my eyes and looked over at the window and could see how the trees were being grabbed and pulled about by the wind.  There were noises of leaves falling down the chimney, rustling as they fell.  It must have only been about 1.30 am. 

 

The wind made the house creak.  That is the thing about an old house.  It moves with the wind, the sun and the rain.  You can hear it.  I know new houses do as well, but they don't make the same sound.  I love the creaks.  I could hear the rain falling on the terracotta tiled roof like soft footsteps.  But in the garden it made a heavy sound as it hit the earth.  I could picture the leaves of plants shaking as the drops hit them.

 

When I was little, storms in the night scared me.  I would wake with fright, my heart beating in my chest.  Even though I am middle aged I still wake with that sudden fright of hearing howling wind interrupt my sleep.  Then I just snuggle down into the doona and close my eyes listening to the sounds until I drift off again.

 

As a child a thunderstorm would send me into my parents bed where I would crawl between the two of them and go to sleep.  Sometimes my dad would wrap his thick, muscled arms around me and I would sleep feeling both trapped and safe. As I got older, the need to feel protected left me.  I learnt to shut my eyes and ignore the noise, the fear.  Now I find that noise soothing as though Nature is letting herself be known.

 

When I was very little we lived in a caravan for a while.  About a year.  One time there was a cyclone.  My father spend the day anchoring the caravan to the ground with star pickets and chains.  The anticipation was unbearable as a child.  Our first big cyclone was on the way.  That night the wind howled and whistled and shook the caravan.  I could hear screeching noises, trees groaning and the rain hitting the metal sided caravan with such a force I thought it might break a window.  Things fell on the roof.  I was in the top bunk and could stretch my hand up to where the twigs and branches landed.  It seemed so close.

 

At one point there was an eerie silence and we stepped out of the caravan.  Outside it was strangely light despite being the middle of the night. 

 

"It's the eye of the storm", my dad told us and we all went back inside.

 

The storm started again and seemed to go on and on and eventually I fell asleep.  When I awoke it was a bright and sunny morning.  Outside the caravan park was littered with debris.  Two vans had tipped over.  Some windows had broken in other vans. Trees were split and long leaves of tropical plants were shredded.  The air was wet and warm with the sun shining through clouds.  I ran over to the pool and saw that it was covered in branches and leaves.  My mother would not let me go in the murky water.

 

Later that day we went for a drive.  There were houses that were flooded up to the decking on the high set verandahs.  People stood and waved to us.  Some of the had little dinghies that they used to get to the front fence.  There were floods everywhere.  My dad had to drive the car through water that was so deep you could lean out of the car window and touch it.  For myself and my siblings it was great fun. 

 

I am amazed that people live where there are hurricanes on a regular basis.  Or in places where tornadoes come to visit and pull up homes and throw cars around as though they are toys.  I suppose that you just adjust to it.  Once I met a girl who was from Lebanon.  She told me that she used to ignore the gun fire that went on around her.  Another girl told me that living in Russia and lining up for food was no big deal. My sister lives in Queensland which is tropical.  She is used to the giant insects, wasps and spiders that visit her home on all the time.

 

What am I used to?  What do I have happen in my life that would be difficult do deal with?  I cannot think of anything and am thankful for that. 

 

The more I know that goes on in the world, the more grateful I am for how little really goes in my world.

 

Sometimes when I think of how lucky I am I wonder what I have done to deserve it. Then I wonder why I think like that.  Doesn't everyone deserve to have a peaceful life?  Why do I feel guilty at times for having peace in my life.  Is it because it is not something that I can share, unlike food or money, how can I share peace?  How can I give the comfort of safety? 

 

Anyway, I suppose a lot of us have to weather a lot of storms to get some sort of peace.

 

And for some, storms will always be on the horizon.  Which is not a bad thing as knowing of it's imminent arrival makes you prepared.

 

Ciao

LC

Just Sunday Stuff

Last week was a busy one for me. Not a particularly enjoyable one either. I had bookkeeping obligations that meant I had to work extra hard and by the end of the week my brain felt fried.

I had also decided to change one of my exercise nights to an exercise morning. So, on Thursday I got out of bed at - get this - 5.30 am to do a 6.15 am class. The night before I had not gotten to bed until 11.30 pm after book club so you can imagine how tired I was the next day. And the day after.

So, not enough sleep, too much book work and an abnormally early morning took a lot out of me. It is a bit tragic isn't it. Sad old middle aged woman who cannot handle a late night. Sigh.

But, despite the early morning upheaval I am continuing it ever Tuesday and Thursday to free up two evenings and allow me to do other things. I am thinking it will take about three weeks to adjust to the change.

This weekend was a relaxing one. The sort of weekend needed after a busy week. For the first time in ages I bought the Saturday newspaper and read it front to back. Bought some new season cherries and, after admiring their glossy red flesh, ate them along with some strawberries.

Today I managed to prune some roses and an overgrown hibiscus. Pull out some weeds from the front yard and do a general tidy up.

Later on my son and I went for a drive down to the beach and had afternoon tea of scones, jam and cream. From inside the warm cafe we looked out at the choppy blue green water of the bay. There were big grey clouds in the sky that held the promise of rain.

After leaving the cafe we went for a walk along the path that ran parallel with the water. My son went behind the safety fence and walked on the big granite rocks that lined the water's edge. The wind was cold and fresh with the smell of the sea upon it.

I watched S as he stepped from rock to rock, his hair blown back, pale face full of smiles. He wiped his eyes that had filled with tears from the cold air blowing into them. At one point he spread his arms and laughed as he walked, as though embracing the cold wind. He looked free and happy.

Eventually we had to turn and head back to the car. As we walked we looked at the homes that share their back fences with the public space. Most of the places were two storey which enabled the owner to enjoy the seaside views. My son said something about how great the view would be here. Then he said to me that although money won't buy happiness it can buy you things that are close to happiness. Like the houses that have views to the beach.

They notice things early don't they.

When we were in the car he was playing his music. Each time a song came on he gave me the run down on who the band was, what the song was called and what it was about. Some of the music I knew, but just as much I had never heard. It made me, once again, realise that my son has things going on in his head that have nothing to do with me. They are his thoughts, his observations and his feelings. He chooses to share them with me and I learn more about him on different levels.

Once home, the routine of life started again. Put a load of washing on, fold up and sort washing, make dinner and then bake a cake for school lunch.

Next week I plan to take Friday off and go into the city for the day. Get to the art gallery. Sometimes there are times when I need my own space. No work, no son, no husband, no house,no computer. Just for a few hours where I can chill out and be somewhere else (that is not the supermarket).

So, hopefully I will get all my work done in four days and be able to take that day off.

A day off is my motivator to work extra hard.

I better go to bed right now!

Get some rest and wake up ready for the week ahead.

Ciao
LC

Childhood Exercise

There has been a large amount of expensive study done around the world to explain the increase in childhood obesity.

Obviously food intake has increased. Lots of processed food at that which is believed to have an unknown effect on a person's metabolism. Sweet food, fatty food, high GI food and too much of it as well.

Then there is the truth in the belief that children just do not move around as much choosing instead to plonk in front of the television or computer. And eating all that rubbish at the same time.

Inert and inactive.

So, more food and less exercise. Pretty simple.

But, I realise another reason why children do less physical activities.

Because at a very, very young age they have been exposed to the insane people that appear on that show Funniest Home Videos.

I am sure you have seen it.

People send in home videos of other people (or themselves) doing unbelievably dangerous and stupid antics.

I am sure that a young and impressionable mind of a child could be so put off any exercise after seeing:

1. Bike accidents that involve a violent collision into a hard object (usually some sort of face connection happens)

2. Skate board accidents that end up with someone being almost impaled on a letter box. Or a body slams into concrete. Or they land with some handrail wedged between their legs.

3. Trampoline accidents where the person ends up being propelled onto the ground head first. Or with their crown jewels making impact on the springs. Or the trampoline mat gives way completely.

4. Swinging out on a rope over water.....duh! rope breaks.

5. Gymnastic activities that end up with the gymnast hitting a wall after back flips, coming off the bars at great force, not making it over the horse or falling with spread legs on the balance bar

You get the idea? The list goes on and on.

So, seeing as the "experts" are always going on about how television shows can directly influence a child in a negative manner, then isn't it reasonable to think a child would be completely put off exercise after watching all those insane accidents?

Seriously, when I watch Funniest Home Videos I am reminded that there really are loads of really stupid people out there. Or very brave. Or totally insane.

But I cannot stop watching it either I have to confess.

I feel so safe sitting on my chair seeing all those accidents that other people are having.

Ciao
LC

Hair

The other day I bought the DVD of the movie Hair.

I saw the movie version of Hair when it came out in about 1979. Went into the city with a few school friends. It may have been a Saturday. The day has stayed in my mind so clearly for all my life. I had sewn a top to wear. It was cream and looked a bit like a hip length caftan. Across the back I had embroidered, of all things, a few palm trees with coconuts on them. The edges of the top were all blanket stitched, possibly because the hem was a bit untidy. I wore it over a pair of cobalt blue jeans and topped it off with a pair of black Mary Jane shoes.

I think there were maybe half a dozen of us. Some boys, some girls. The city was a great place to go to when I was a teenager. Especially with friends, special friends. The sun was shining and the buildings were big, casting shadows and making me feel small and happy. In those days you really did have to go into the city for fun as the suburbs were, well, the suburbs. Now the suburbs are almost cities in themselves.

For all my life I have been fascinated by the musical Hair. I actually have the CD of the original soundtrack playing in my car at the moment. Even today I think the storyline is so significant. Unfortunately Hair was kind of defined by the brief moment of nudity in it but those who saw it would probably know it for the political, moral and societal questions it posed. Which, interestingly enough, are very relevant even today.

The movie was not entirely faithful to the stage production. It is difficult to capture the intimacy, the essence of a theatre production once you bring it to film. Many of the songs were left out and the orchestral arrangements changed but the movie still has it's own merits.

Plus, by the time the movie was made, twelve years had passed since the original musical had been and gone, the Vietnam war was over, hippies were out of vogue and people's memories are short. Which is a pity, because the original story is great.

I watched it last Sunday. My son and husband also watched it. For me, it was like being thrown back thirty years and being sixteen again. Having not seen it since then, the memory of it was pulled forth and along with it came the emotions and excitement of that day out.

Seeing it at age forty five reveals the faults in it, which is fine. I recall now that it was also the first time I saw Beverly D'Angelo in a movie and I realised how lovely I thought she was. So different to other movie stars.

I might not watch it again for a long time but I am still playing the music in the car, loud as possible and listening to the words of the songs which, even though I know them off by heart, are very powerful each and everytime I hear them.

One of the songs I love for it's lyrics and music is What A Piece Of Work Is Man:

What a piece of work is man

How noble in reason

How infinite in faculties

In form and moving

How express and admirable

In action how like an angel

In apprehension how like a God

The beauty of the world

The paragon of animals

I have of late

But wherefore

I know not

Lost all my mirth

This goodly frame

The earth

Seems to me a sterile promontory

This most excellent canopy

The air-- look you!

This brave o'erhanging firmament

This majestical roof

Fretted with golden fire

Why it appears no other thing to me

Than a foul and pestilent congregation

Of vapors

What a piece of work is man

How noble in reason

How dare they try to end this beauty?

How dare they try to end this beauty?

Walking in space

We find the purpose of peace

The beauty of life

You can no longer hide

Our eyes are open

Our eyes are open

Our eyes are open

Our eyes are open

Wide wide wide!

Even now after forty one years those words count in every possible way.

The stage production is up and running again on Broadway and I think it would be great to see. Maybe the impact of a musical like Hair would never be so great upon society today because we are so overwhelmed with all the difficulties that the world seems to be continuously going through.

We all just seem to fumble along to get through a day and the last thing we may feel like, at times, is thinking about other people's suffering, our lack of control in what happens beyond our door and whether or not we can ever, ever make a difference anyway.

But it is important, now and then, the be forced to think about things that have nothing to do with us.


I think we owe ourselves that.


Ciao
LC

Afternoon Television

Today I had to do some bookwork at a client's place.

I woke up with a headache, feeling tired and generally blah. But, went off to work and ploughed through it all.

After this job I had to go home to eat. It was about 2.00 pm and I was so hungry that the headache reached epic proportions. As I was making lunch I turned on the television just for company. It was on the children's channel and there was a little cartoon show called Little Bear or something along those lines.

Well, it took me back to the days when my son was a little pre schooler and we did so much together, even watching television shows. We used to watch this Little Bear show a lot along with Postman Pat, Thomas the Tank, Arthur and numerous other lovely shows.

I love children's television. In my opinion it encourages all sorts of imaginative thoughts. In fact, any good quality television is beneficial in it's own way. Bad television offers nothing other than mind numbing time wasting.

Anyway, here I was eating lunch and watching this little cartoon and thinking about those early years being at home and realised how much time has passed and the changes that go with it. I am not sure if I felt a bit teary or not, but I felt a sense of sadness at those moments I cannot get back.

I loved staying home with my boy. Taking him for long walks, reading to him, playing games and talking to him. I loved getting his wriggly body dressed in the morning and feeling his soft skin against my hands. His small voice chatting away to me about all sorts of things.

My mother used to say to me that once he went to school he would not be all mine and I did take that comment seriously. Those first five or so years he had his own personality but he was still so close to me, so attached. After he went to school and gained independence he was his own person more and more each day.

So, I feel I did embrace those first few years totally. Studied his happy face as he spoke, listened to what he had to say and answered all his questions. Took him to places where he could run around and be free of restraints. Gave myself over to him entirely. My time was his because in the back of my mind I knew it would not be forever. When each time comes to let go, I do so as I know it to be right for him.

Funnily enough, he cannot remember much of those years. Bits and pieces come to mind now and then. Most of it, however, is in my memory bank and not his.

But, whenever he watches a cartoon or other show from that time he says "Oh, I remember this". So, somewhere in his head lives all sorts of memories from those sweet days.

Something about time is very surreal.

Seems like yesterday and yet, also like ancient history.

Ciao
LC

School Sports

Despite the fact that I exercise at least four times a week like a mad woman, I am not into sport in any way. I exercise to keep fit and healthy, end of story. It is a means to an end, the end being feeling good about myself.

When I go to exercise class I will partake in the team aspect of it because that is what has to be done, not because I am into team sports. It takes great effort on my part to continue to exercise because it my body and mind are just not naturally inclined to get out there and run. But I do it irrespectively.

Having been unfit and overweight many years ago, I just do not want to be like that again. Besides, my body is my temple, all I have to take me to the end so I need to look after it to the best of my ability.

When I went to school, sports day was my living nightmare. Here in Australia, if you are not into sport you are an outsider. I think that is pretty common everywhere. The sports men and women get accolades whilst the thinkers, scientists, artistic types and musicians just get a mention in the lower left hand column on page one hundred in the newspaper. If they are lucky!

Not only was I bad at sport, I also had a bitch for a sports teacher who loathed non sporty humans. Any opportunity to humiliate someone who came last or forgot their sports uniform was grabbed and used with great, poisonous relish. I always came last in any race, dropped the ball, misunderstood rules and was always distracted by what was going on elsewhere. And she was always there to make me feel like I had let down the entire school. When I think of sport at school I have not one good memory of it.

Ironically, nearly all of the sporty people at school have since dropped any physical activity and morphed into sport watchers (aka couch potatoes) and many of the non sporty sorts have taken it up in later years. Go figure that one!

Because my parents were European, we did not follow Australian Rules Football like the majority of the population. So, as children, we did other things. Read books, went to the museum and art gallery or just rode our bikes somewhere. When I used to visit an Australian friend's home and they would talk about footy I felt like an alien. And, should anyone find out that you were not into Aussie Rules, they would question you as though you had just said you were just out of prison for murder.

One of the reasons I chose to marry a non Australian was because I knew I would never, ever be able to integrate with a football, barbecue, cricket watching culture. It would have bored me to death. The sporting culture here is laden with drinking, immaturity and sexual conquests.

My husband is the same as me when it comes to sport. So, naturally, we produced a child of the same ilk. My son is not into team sports at all. We will watch a good soccer match on television but that is about it.

However, there are times when my son has to do sport at school and we are not the sort of parents who would make excuses for him just because he does not want to do it. Because he knows how we were as children at sport, he is pretty comfortable with his lack of sporting skills. One time, about two years ago, he had to take part in the Athletics Carnival at school and expressed great displeasure about it all. I had a conversation along these lines with him:

"I know you are doing sport today and it is really important that you maintain the family tradition when you give it all you have got", I said to him.

"What do you mean"? he asked.

"You know, don't let us down by coming first. It has taken us a lot of courage to come last. Your father did it, his father did it, I did it and I can assure you that all of my family came last in the races", I explained to him.

He was laughing about it and did us the honour of running last.

Today and yesterday he had the carnival again and initially did not want to take part but I explained to him that he has to because life is full of doing things we may not like to do. Bottom line is, he has to deal with it.

He won't even wear shorts at the race. Refuses point blank and I am not the sort of mother who wishes to lock horns with my child over what he deems as important. So, like the other non sporty sorts, he wore his full school uniform, came last and got on with the rest of the day. He said to my husband that he came second in shotput, until all the others had a turn. He can make a joke about it even though I know finds it hard.

Yesterday he said to me, "If I found the cure for cancer I would not be as popular as someone who was great at football". I told him not to worry as he had other outstanding personal qualities that would serve him well in life.

Next year at high school sport is more structured, more involved, more variety so I think he will find something he likes. The teaching method is about encouragement and helping a child find the motivation. Sometimes parents cannot be the ones to do that. An outsider can be ideal for that.

It is a very difficult process to get a young person to take on regular exercise when they really, really do not want to. You have to be very careful not to put them off for life as I feel I was with the teacher at high school. Sport is more than football and cricket or any team sports. You can be active and healthy without having to be part of any team although, it does tend to lead you to like minded people.

Some people are naturally sporty and love it. Others take a while to find the physical activity that suits their mindset. To force a square peg into a round hole is pointless. To humiliate someone who is not sporty is unacceptable.

My son has expressed interest in joining a gym and doing weights. He is a bit young for that at the moment but sometimes I show him things to do with weights, but he does not want me or his father to show him anything. He will find his own way, do his own thing when he is ready.

In the meantime, all my husband and I can do as parents is set good examples and encourage him to do more.

Hopefully the penny will drop one day.

Until then, the family tradition for coming last will be safe.

Ciao
LC

Shopping Twaddle

I do grocery shopping for home and for work.

My boss pays for me to go to the supermarket to buy lunch provisions for the office. I do this on a Monday morning on the way to work.

Sometimes it gets confusing when I am at the shops. What fridge has what in it and I have, more than once, found myself with excess cheese in the work fridge and no cheese at home. Or six litres of milk in the home fridge and none at work.

When I was pregnant I was incredibly forgetful about what food, cleaning products or anything else I had in the house. At one point there were five tubes of toothpaste, thirty six rolls of toilet paper, half a dozen bottles of shampoo AND conditioner and an awfully large amount of yoghurt in stock.

Sometimes I just forget what I actually have in the house and just end up with double amounts, especially if something happens to be on special.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping and brought the big load back to unpack. As I unpacked the bags and my husband put some things away he asked me a question.

"Were baked beans on special?" he asked.

"Yes, how did you know?" I looked into the pantry and saw this...........

"Just a lucky guess", he replied.

I must remember this photo when next I do grocery shopping.

One thing is obvious to anyone who looks in the pantry.

Fibre plays an important role in our home!

Ciao
LC

Crafty Weekend

There was a craft show this weekend in the city. So I felt that I should go.

I went yesterday actually (Saturday) at about 3.00pm in the afternoon after deciding that talking about going was getting a bit boring.

The drive into the city was quiet. Blue sky with flat white clouds that stretched across like they had been put on with a pallet knife. The sun was bright but the air was cold. It was nice in the car, warm, music playing and the roads almost quiet.

So, there I was, driving along, embracing the music, looking forward to the craft show when all of a sudden it dawned on me that I actually did not know where exactly the building was that the show was being held at.

Time for Tom Tom! I did a quick left hand turn into a quiet street and got out the GPS. Trouble was, I could not remember what the building was called. So, I had to make a phone call to my husband. Actually, I admit it, three phone calls later I managed to find myself in the car park of the venue.

But, I had to ring him back and eat some humble pie to apologise for my irrational behaviour over the phone. Fortunately he did not take it personally. I am hoping that such events lessen over time.

Below is a picture of the Polly Woodside which is just outside of the Exhibition Centre where the show was being held. The Tall Ship is a popular Melbourne tourist attraction here although currently closed for restoration.

At the craft show the patronage was mostly women over sixty. Some poor husbands had been dragged along and meandered behind looking very disinterested. Lots of young gals buying up beads, scrap booking supplies and card making tat.

Just when I was beginning to think that I had wasted my money coming to the show, I came across a stall selling Amy Butler fabric. I bought the fabric I wanted for my skirt. The stall was packed. It is very hard to get lovely skirt fabrics here without having to travel to some obscure suburb.

Although, with the GPS I might be more adventurous about where I do my shopping.

On the way home I turned on the GPS and Tom Tom's dulcet tones guided me back to familiar territory and I was at ease. I would not be lying if I said that the moment I turn that GPS on and hear the directions drift into my car space I feel totally relaxed.

Today I bought the rest of the things needed to make my skirt. When I went to the fabric store the girls were so very kind making sure I had everything I needed and gave me some tips. I think they were all of 21 years old.

So, tonight I am going to unfold the beige tissue paper in the pattern packet and start cutting.

Oh, and I worked out that by the time I make the skirt it will have cost me a total of $185.00!

I can tell you that I would NEVER spend that on a skirt from the shop.

But, this one will be a one off. Nobody else will have one like mine.

It better look good and even if it doesn't, I am wearing it.

Ciao
LC

New Man

I have a new man in my life.

He fits in my handbag when I don't need his services.

His name is Tom. Tom Tom actually. Below is a photo of him in my car today.

Yes, Tom Tom is a GPS. My boss had a spare one at home and gave it to me to use.

I actually used it for the first time last week when I had to go on a site visit far from home in some suburb I never go to.

Normally I would have to read the street directory over and over again, stop the car four times to double check where I was, do three u-turns in some illegal spot and arrive at my destination in a lather of sweaty anxiety.

That is, of course, unless I had made a desperate and abusive phone call to my poor husband to find out where I actually was. You see, for me, getting lost is like not knowing how to swim and finding yourself in the deep end, drowning. I just panic.

But, when I turned on Tom Tom and he found his position, his smooth words led me to where I wanted to go.

For the first time in my driving life I drove to an unknown destination anxiety free. It was fantastic. Okay, I did go through one red arrow and cut in front of a taxi, but at least I was not anxious.

Oh, Tom Tom, you have truly made a difference to my life.

Ciao
LC

Boys Will Be Boys

Yesterday I had to pick my son up from school.

 

Straight after school pick up I had to take him to the chiropractor for a visit. 

 

When he got into the car he started telling me that he had dropped his sandwich at lunchtime and was now starving.  His stomach was aching. He was bloated.

 

His hunger was so bad that after he dropped his sandwich he asked his friends for some food.

 

"Well, the chiro won't take long. Then we can go home and get you some food", I told him.

 

Once in at the chiropractor waiting room he continued to tell me how hungry he was.  How his stomach was aching. How bloated he was and that he really, really wanted to fart.

 

"Well, then go outside or something", I instructed him, laughing at the same time (of course).

 

"No, it can wait", came the reply.

 

During his adjustment somehow the conversation came to how bloated he was and the chiropractor told him that he would not be the first or the last to let one go.  I reminded my son that this did not mean it was okay.  The entire treatment was full of my son laughing.

 

Anyway, whilst I stood at the receptionist's desk and paid the bill my son darted outside, and not for fresh air. 

 

I looked over at him and there he was, in full view, standing in what could only be called a classic fart pose.  Honestly, I could not believe it.  It came with the facial expression and all.

 

It was almost like watching a comedy.  Knees half bent, bum stuck out and face all squinting.

 

I went outside and said that he could have been a little more discreet in his obvious efforts.  He said that he could not because there was so much there.

 

Then, to my absolute annoyance, he got into my car and farted again.

 

Without any apologies.

 

I mean, after all the examples I have set him, you think he could show a little more self control.

 

Sheesh!

 

Ciao

LC

Shine On Me Mr Sun

Yesterday the sun was bright in the sky. The day was almost warm. I hung out the washing on the clothes line and it dried quickly because the wind was strong. Today was the same.

When I took the washing in and smelt the freshness of it I thought to myself how that smell is one of my favorites. Along with freshly mowed grass. It reminds me that Spring is perhaps closer than I thought. On the calendar it tells me there are six weeks before it officially arrives, but the air tells me something else.

I could not imagine what is must be like to have bitterly cold Winters. Although, I suppose I am going to find out in January when we go overseas. But three months of dark mornings and long evenings. Grey skies and dismal rain.

It is not really the cold that makes Winter a bit of a bleak time, it is that lack of sunshine. The shorter days with grey clouds that hover around for days on end. Over the years I have tried to be really enthusiastic about the onset of the colder months, but now I feel like my whole persona just winds down and shifts into low gear as the days get shorter.

But, today, when the sun shone brightly and the wind was wild, it felt a bit like Spring. I felt a bit excited with the hint of some warmth in the air.

The warmth of the sun reminded me of the Aesop fable I read as a child.

The sun and the wind were having a competition about who was the strongest of the two. Below them is a man walking along wearing a coat. The wind thinks that he can blow the coat off the man, but the more he blows the tighter the man pulls his coat to his body.

When the turn comes for the sun to show his strength, he radiates his genial warmth down upon the man and he subsequently removes his coat and then has to sit down under the shade of the tree.

Apart from the moral behind the story (it is better to use persuasion than force to get someone to do something), I love the absolute strength of the sun shining in the story.

There is a poem by Robert Louis Stephenson called Summer Sun. I love the first paragraph.

Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Snow, rain, hail, grey clouds and chilly air all have their place.

But the sun just seems to fill me with a certain kind of joy.

Ciao
LC

Weekend Blab

My son and I went to the movies on Saturday and Sunday.

Ice Age 3 and the latest Harry Potter movie.

Ice Age 3 met all my expectations. Graphics were good, nice level of silly humour and complete inaccuracies regarding historical facts about evolution. It was funny.

The latest Harry Potter movie was a much anticipated event for both of us. If you have not read the books or seen the preceding movies you would be lost if you saw this one. We both loved it.

I read the first five Harry Potter books to my son. Each night, sat in bed and read out every single word with great feeling and excitement. A chapter each night. Sometimes, if the chapter was short, I would do another one. When the sixth book came in, he was ready to read it for himself.

He saw all the movies at the theatre with the exception of one. Chamber of Secrets. I bought the tickets and as we walked into the darkened theatre he refused to go any further saying that he was too scared. So I saw it on my own later on and bought the dvd for him.

After we had seen the movies on the weekend, he came out of the picture theatre all happy as could be and then, within a space of twenty minutes, was a complete whiney shit. Yes, yes, I know that one should not call one's offspring a shit, but those two words together do describe the attitude pretty accurately.

He wanted to go home, he was feeling angry, we had an argument on the way to the car, he criticised my art work that I did, told me to do other stuff, said he could not stand crowds or shopping centres. Just a variation of a whinging theme. He was quite mean. I got quite cross.

It continued in the car. At one point he said to me that I should spend more time in my studio and practice drawing animals and people. I said that it was hard to spend more time in there due to the fact that I have other responsibilities that need attending to and these things have to wait sometimes. I also said that I like to do what I like and not what others suggest.

To which he said;

"Why did you get married and have a kid then if you end up doing things you don't like? I feel unwanted".

I was shocked.

"You are wanted. What a thing to say. I did not say I did not like doing these things, even if I don't. I said that they took up time. Besides, you are the thing that matters most, nothing else is a big deal".

In the back of my mind I was wondering if I whinged about having to do things I did not want to do. Did it come across as a housework harpy behaving like a martyr? I may make noises about it in my blog, but I am fairly confident that don't go on about it at home.

Before I could talk any further he said to me to not speak to him and make him feel more upset than he really is. He slumped against the passenger door, looking out of the open window with a sad expression on his face, glancing down now and then at his iTouch.

It was very dramatic.

After a few minutes I chatted to him about what he had said. What had triggered it. How could what I have said made him feel as though he was unwanted. Did he really believe that?

"No, I don't believe that. I just said it to be mean. I think it is hormones. I just felt it suddenly. I'm fine now", he told me, all happy again. He also said that he does not like going to the movies during the day, it is depressing.

Hormones. Ah, well, I understand completely. Rascally and unpredictable things they are.

Not quite so sure about the movie issue, but will keep that in mind.

Ciao
LC

Letter To The Two T's

Dear Tummy and Tastebuds,

It is naughty of you today to conspire together and make me hungry for things that have nothing to do with nutrition or satiating hunger.

Those big, fat super size chocolate coated licorice bullets for example. Today, at the movies? Remember? Yes, those. You two ordered my hand to put three in the bag at The Sugar Shack store outside of the movies.

Then, once in the movies, once the lights went out, the two of you were at it again. Making my hand sneak into the bag of crisps that my son had. I know, I know, only a few but you know that old saying "little pickers wear big knickers"? Yes, you recall it now don't you.

Plus, when my son put his unfinished bag of lollies on my lap, well, there you were, throwing caution to the wind and the sweet siren of sugary heaven won me over. You let me cave in.

And you could not stop once we got home could you now? You forced me to eat that lone piece of home made lemon teacake. That one I make with the lemon frosting on top. Despite the fact the Tummy knew it would ache after eating it, it still allowed it down there.

But, my brain took control for a while and ate some baked beans for lunch to offset the sweet splurge. And tonight I made some home made minestrone soup fill Tummy up with healthy foods and force it to stop thinking about that block of dark chocolate sitting on the kitchen bench.

Sadly, it appears that Tastebuds and Tummy got together for a chat and forced me to eat some of the chocolate.

I agree, I did rather enjoy it all but that does not make it right. So, from now on, I want the two of you to stay away from each other.

You hear me?

Good. Glad I got that sorted.

Ciao
LC

Sewing

Many years ago, when I was a young gal, I used to know how to sew.

I used to know how to do a lot of things, many of which I stopped for years and then took up again as I became more "me" (whatever that means).

Lately, after going to shops and seeing boring old clothing repeating itself like a bad meal all over the place, I have made the decision to make a few things myself.

I bought a couple of skirt patterns. There is a picture of one style I bought. An Amy Butler pattern. Nice and easy ones to start with. The classic A Line skirt is the easy one to go for. Especially as it has been a while since I actually made a piece of clothing.

Because it has been so many years since I even looked at fabric for any reason whatsoever, I have been astonished and pleased at how creative and exciting the patterns have become. And how sewing and craft has become part of popular culture again.

I used to always go to craft shows and buy bits and pieces, which, interestingly enough, I could probably find in a box high on a shelf somewhere. Next to the dust covered sewing machine.

When I went to craft shows the average attendee was over fifty and in possession of a rather large round bottom. I recall saying to my older sister that one day it will be young and gorgeous girls going to craft shows because that is what happens. Things go in and out of fashion and popularity in a quite predictable manner.

Sure enough, it has come back in vogue and thank goodness. Thank goodness for reintroducing young girls to the lovely past time of creative activities. Sewing, knitting, drawing, needlepoint and jewellery making. Book binding, paper making, beadwork, card making and any other artistic pursuit.

For years I think the world has been overloaded with cheap and nasty tat that dehumanises the handiwork of the individual. Once you put the creative urge onto a production line, it loses it's integrity, it's individuality and the artistic tenderness that goes into producing something unique.

The internet has made the appeal so much more widespread. With that wonderful website Etsy which offers up the skills of so many individuals. It makes buying something so much more personal. I could spend forever and a day on that site, being both inspired and tempted.

Plus all those sensational blogs that are dedicated to sharing patterns for unusual soft toys or quick and easy shopping bags.

People do not just do this for the money for so many offer advice, patterns and links to other places that will put you in touch with like minded people for nothing. They do it because they want everyone to be part of the creative journey.

It makes me realise that for all the modernity that this huge, huge world thrusts upon the inhabitants on a daily, hourly basis, the urge for community spirit and sharing of skills is so deep rooted and instinctive that we all find ways to share it.

Now, I suppose I should actually open the skirt patterns to refresh my memory on exactly how to put it all together.

Hopefully it is like riding a bike.

You never forget, just might be a bit wobbly.

Ciao

LC

Pillow Talk

Lately, when I have been going to bed a night, I have the most inane conversation with my mind.

Lying on my pillow, eyes shut and all cosy and warm under the doona, it starts.

Actually, no, it starts in the bathroom after I take off my make up and pick up the mobile phone to set the alarm for the morning.

I set it for two times to go off.

One is for 6.50 am to ensure I am woken from a deep sleep and taken to the semi conscious state in readiness for the eventual stumbling slide out of bed.

Although, sometimes I set it for 7.00 am as I have an aversion to waking up before 7.00 am.

So, I then set it again for 7.30 to wake me up properly. That is the "get out of bed now" alarm.

But that does not mean I actually will get up at that time because I am a lazy slug.

And that is the problem.

Back to the thoughts that have been going on in my head as I am drifting off to the land of nod.

Linda

Tomorrow you are going to just leap out of bed when that alarm goes off at 7.00 am. You do not need to lie in that warm bed like a sloth. Just get out. This is it. This is the night before the big change in how you deal with getting out of bed each morning.

How come it is so hard? I mean, four nights a week you change into your exercise clothes and then go and do one hour of hard exercise. You just do it. So, why can't you get out of bed at 7.00 am?

Okay, you have paid for the exercise in advance and it is not cheap so you are motivated by getting value for money. Plus, exercise helps you get a good sleep and makes you feel great. And, in the morning the house is cold and the bed is warm and your head is in dreamy land and it is all nice and cosy. Mmmmm.

But once you get out you will be so pleased you made the effort to make the effort. So, tomorrow morning you will just DO IT. Yep, up and out of bed.

Okay, yep, feeling motivated. TOMORROW is the day. Tomorrow you will get out of bed when the alarm goes off at 7.00 am.

Although, it is a bit early. I mean, not like you have to be at work until 9.00 am or later. What are you going to do after you get up early.

Okay, so here it is. TOMORROW is the day that you will get out of bed when the second alarm goes off at 7.30 am.

Great, that is better. I can do it. Self talk is over. Off to sleep now. Zzzzzzz

Next morning. Turn off both alarms and get up at 8.15 am in a panic.

I expect to have the same conversation tonight.

And tomorrow night.

And the next night.

With the same result the following mornings.

Ciao
LC

It's Monday!

I had a good weekend. Not particularly exciting. Just a nice weekend.

On the Sunday I actually went outside and did a load of overdue gardening. The ground in the garden beds was soft and wet. Full of long weeds and nettles. I pulled them out and the earth let them go so easily in big, wet clumps. The smell of the soil was lovely.

I got my son to use the lawn mower for the first time. It took a few tugs at the cord to get it started. I offered to help him but he said to me, "no way mum, if you do it instead of me I won't be happy". Nothing like the threat of a mum helping to motivate a boy.

He spent about fifteen minutes mowing away and it took a while to realise that he had to have a system in order to mow all the bits of grass and he did a bit of meandering. I then took over and finished it off. His interest had well and truly waned by then.

I informed him that his job, from now on, was to mow the lawn. He said okay. I can hear his grumblings already.

Sometimes I wonder why I do not do as much gardening as I used to. It ties in with working more. Time is not so free now and I am no so inclined to get out there. I don't know, maybe the interest just comes and goes, as with anything.

My mind is in a good place. I made a big effort to change my personal environment. Increased my exercise, went to bed earlier to invest in more sleep, took extra care to take all my vitamins and minerals and thought about things other than work, washing and ironing. It's a nice feeling when the fog lifts and I can look a little further. It is really important for me to always have a clear view of what I am wanting to do, no matter how small the thing may be.

We just had two week school holidays and therefore I had to work less days to spend time with my son at home. This has resulted in a huge back log of work which will have to be done this week. I don't really mind as I have it ready to do in an organised fashion according to priority. But it will be a head down and bum up week to get it all done.

So, my son has two lazy weeks off school and enjoys his time. He had a little annoying cough for the entire two weeks that was no big deal. Just a cough. No sniffles or anything. No sore throat. Then, last night, just before he goes to bed, he said he felt unwell. His coughing had suddenly become chesty and constant. His nose was running and his eyes were red and watery.

He went to bed with a temperature and then came into my bed. For those who think that boys over the age of five should not be in bed with their parents (especially mother's), well, tough. Where I come from, kids in parents beds when sick, scared or just lonely is fine and dandy.

It is rare these days for my son to come into our bed. But when he is sick he still prefers to. I feel better having him near. Well, I thought I did. Since he was last in our bed he seems to have doubled in size. He kicks like a donkey. He coughed all over me. Stole the doona. Talked in his sleep. Whacked me across the head with his arm. Snored, coughed again and made weird noises with his retainer.

It was not a nice night for me. I was awake on and off for the entire eight hours and woke up feeling like a puff ball. My son, although still unwell, was well rested. Needless to say, tonight he is in his bed and there he shall stay.

I got into work after lunch and stayed for five or six hours. Before I went to work I organised and cooked dinner so that I would not have to worry about it when I got home. I find it so much easier to work in the afternoon. My mind just functions so much better after 11.00 am. Even if I have had a great night's sleep, my thought process just flows. I ended up getting a huge amount of work done today, got home, changed clothes and went to exercise class. It was great.

My son, well, he may have to have another day off school tomorrow. His cough is so noisy it would be disruptive to everyone. Besides, everyone is paranoid about Swine Flu and the school has asked that if children are sick, keep them home. Not that he has that. He has picked up a virus that is doing the rounds right now.

This post is a bit of a boring one. Bit pointless. Sometimes I just like to blab about my mundane little day, write it down. Feels nice to do it. Nice days, even the most simple of them, are worthy of recording in my mind.

Ciao
LC

Boy Humour

Right now my husband and son are watching the dvd Dumb And Dumber.

I am not sure if you have watched it, but is apparently a comedy.

My husband and son agree with this assessment as they appear to be laughing at it.

As for me, I cannot even crack a smile. It is beyond stupid even by my incredibly easy to tweak giggle button.

I think it is because they are male and I am female.

Or perhaps it really isn't funny at all.

What's not funny is that I am missing out on the very serious 60 Minutes because they are watching the dvd.

Ho hum.

Five minutes later:

I take that back. I just saw the bit where the character Harry has to go to the toilet after being slipped a whole dosh of laxettes by Lloyd. It made me laugh.

Nothing like a bit of toilet humour to bring a smile to my face.

Ciao
LC

Health Food Treats

Lately I have put on weight.

I am sure that is a regular comment in the lives of most females.

Part of the reason for weight gain is exercise. When I run, do weights or boxing my body bulks up and fills out, which is good I guess. But, the other reason is that I have been a bit of an oinker. It is that weight gain which leads to an increase in the jiggle factor.

Despite the fact that I have a healthy diet, it does happen that I do indulge. And when I do, it can go on for about two weeks of heavenly eating. It's not chocolate, cakes, cheese, biscuits or wine that does it for me. It is the health food shop. That place is a honey trap. Tasty treats sold under the guise of healthy suck me in every few months and I cave in with such joy, despite the absolute knowledge that I am buying little packets of sugary goodies that will find their way to my waistline.

My big indulgence has been carob coated licorice sticks. Once I open that packet I eat them. One after the other. If my husband is in the same room I will begrudgingly offer him one or two, but ONLY if he spies the packet. Otherwise I will eat the whole lot. And, believe me, I taste every delicious mouthful.

In fact, licorice is my biggest weakness. If I have a block of dark chocolate near me I will be able to restrain myself and have a few pieces only. Any chocolate for that matter, unless it happens to be wrapped around some licorice. Oh sweet licorice all black and aromatic. Packet opens and then is empty very quickly.

Soft black licorice, salty Dutch licorice, carob coated licorice, chocolate bullets and licorice all sorts. Although, I am very wary of the all sorts because they have weird colours in them that always give me a headache. Sometimes I peel the coloured bits off and just eat the licorice bit.

I use the excuse that since licorice makes me go to the toilet more it is okay. Just goes straight through.....

My other indulgence are these things called apricot delights. Little blocks of apricot wedged together with sugar into a neat and small rectangle shape. I eat 'em. Eat 'em all. One after the other. I love the tartness of them at the first bite which is followed by a lovely sweetness mixed in. Mmmmmmm.

I mean, if they have fruit in it so that makes it almost healthy to eat all of them. And, they are organic and preservative free so that is a good thing isn't it?

This indiscriminate munching has made me put on a bit of weight that makes my clothes feel uncomfortable so I will back off for a few months and then get into it again. Life cycle of a roll of fat.

So, today I ate the last stick of fat, glossy black licorice and my body said bye bye to it for the next few months.

It was sweet goodbye.

Back to apples and mandarins.

Ciao
LC

Bitch On Board

I was a bit of a bitch today. To both my son and husband. I feel quite guilty about it but I am using the argument that it hardly ever happens and if it does happen it does not mean that I am morphing into my father. Which, incidentally, is one of my greatest fears. I am not perfect, only human.

Anyway, I had bought a lamp via Ebay and had to go and pick it up in a suburb about an hour away from where I live.

I cannot express to you how appalling my map reading skills are. I read maps upside down, back to front and inside out. If I have instructions given to me they enter my right ear and exit my left ear. It is a classic case of "I see your mouth move but all I hear is blah, blah, blah". It is all made worse by the issue I have with my left and right. If you ask me to raise my left hand I have to say to myself "hmmm, left, the opposite of the hand I use the most" or something along those lines.

In 1994 when my husband and I went overseas we had the worst arguments about my map reading. One argument ended when I hit my husband over the head with a giant road atlas as we tried to make out way out of Bath and onto London. It was not until last year's trip that he apologised to me for being so unsympathetic about what was obviously a problem I could not resolve. The fact remains, I could not find my way out of a paper bag without some level of stress.
So, last night my husband sat down with me with the street directory and outlined which way to go. I studied it closely and felt confident I would have no trouble getting there.

The is, of course, until I missed the sign that pointed the turn off I was meant to take.

So, naturally, as I turned left into nowhere land at the end of the freeway, a mobile phone call was made to my husband. It was my son who was the go between as far as the conversation went. After stopping by the side of the road I then spoke to K who, despite his efforts to help me, was rewarded with a screech and me hanging up the phone.

Once back on the freeway my husband called again and my son answered the phone. Husband offered to meet up with me and show me where to go. However, the conversation was translated by my son as "Dad is twenty minutes away so can he come and pick me up and you can go on your own....". Chinese whispers starting here.

Without going into too much detail of the content of the heated conversation, it culminated with me ending up on a newly built freeway which put me out of my comfort zone and resulted in another hanging up of mobile phone.

By this stage I was totally out of control, and for me, that is a rare and horrible place to be. I yelled at my son. Whined about life. Said the "F" - spelt it out actually, did not say it in full. Got lost once more. Said I wished I was not married. Also said that if I fell off the face of the earth the only thing that they would miss would be my laundry efforts.

Also said that from now on I will ask nobody to help me ever and would do things on my own.

To which my son replied, "Mum, nobody can be that free. We all need each other".

Sigh, nothing like a child to say the right thing. I calmed down. We both kept quiet and found the place where the lamp had to be picked up from.

I had to eat some humble pie when I got home.

It was this trip today that made me realise that I am the perfect candidate for a GPS thing in the car. So I went to the shop to have a look at one and get some information on them.

Unfortunately I was tempted instead by the lure of an iPod. The only one I have is a teeny one for jogging. That is my justification.

Came home and loaded up lots of songs. My son took a photo of me dancing to Jackson 5's I Want You Back.

Everyone is happy in the house.

As for the lamp. It was made in the 1920's roughly. The base is made from the root of a tree and has been fashioned to have a series of steps up to a lighthouse. I have wanted one of these for many, many years.

I think it was worth the stress of today to tell you the truth.

But I won't let them know that....

Ciao
LC

Oh, How Nice Of You To Say

The other day when we were out and about in town, my son had the camera and took some shots.

At one point he took a photo of me and then said......

"Hey, mum, this is a good photo. You don't look like the Grim Reaper."

I looked at him and said, in a most offended voice.....

"Gee thanks, but I think you meant The Crypt Keeper."

You know, there is a difference.

Sheesh!

Ciao

LC

Thursday Off

Last night my son had a friend stay the night. They talked non stop. Late into the night. I fell asleep at about midnight and they were still talking. I think they were watching The Young Ones as well as I could hear laughter going on.

At 6.00 am they were up and out of bed playing Xbox live. I think my son will be tired tonight. When I was young and had a friend stay over, we would talk for hours as well.

So, I took the day off work today to take my son and his friend out for some fun. Note, I did not say "to take my son and his friend and myself out for some fun".

I don't like to whinge too often, but to be honest some of the things that parents do to ensure a fun day out for kids are boring.

I took them to a place called Sidetracked which has Go Karts, Laser Force (laser shooting in a maze in the dark), ten pin bowling, mini golf and loads of money gobbling arcade games.

I decided to get there early to beat the crowds. Well, what a mistake that was. There was nobody there but us three and the staff. It was then I realised that I was in for a bit of a boring three hours.

Sidetracked is a place that promises lots of fun at considerable cost. The cost is not unfair, I have to say, as to run a place like that and have all the public liability insurance etc. costs money. So I am not suggesting the value is not there. But if you have three or more children, you can bet your hand will be deep in your pocket.

They had a deal going that was too practical to refuse. Trouble with being a bookkeeper is that you always look at the best value for money and so I coughed up for a special that let the boys do bowling, laser force and mini golf for as much as they liked for two hours. However, the two hours was not due to start for another 45 minutes and so I then spent more money to squeeze in a ten minute go kart session to kill some time. Just want to say what a jolly good up sell the man behind the counter did on that one.

I have to admit, Go Karting is great fun for kids. Getting to drive before the age of eighteen is a bit exciting. The opportunity to drive with your foot flat to the floor for ten minutes brings out the competitive nature in anyone.

There were about ten children and two adults doing this race. One of the kids was a young girl and her driving was so slow and so cautious that she had to learn very quickly about keeping to the left.

I stood on the sidelines watching and realised that my son has a really competitive streak. Once he moved out from the pit stop he seemed to morph into a mini man. The expression on his face was one of set determination and he raced past everyone until he came behind the leader of the pack, an adult who deliberately refused to let him pass. Every time my son made a move up to the side to get past, this guy would close it off and force him to back off. In the end, there was a collision which stopped the race and the adult was told off by the supervisor. Made me wonder who exactly was the child there at that time.

After the race finished, the two boys headed off to play indoor laser force for about an hour. Let me tell you, what a boring place it then was for me. And not just me. Sole adults sat at lone tables with books and coffee waiting for the two hours to pass.

It was noisy with the sounds of music, chatter and go karts going around the track. There was the smell of grease or something in the air which I love. Although the place was an open warehouse, they had heaters that hung down from the roof and kept the place warm. It was nice to watch the children enjoying themselves.

I had brought a book with me to read which was so boring that I could not get past the third page and subsequently sat writing and drawing mindlessly. When I got home my husband asked me what did I do while they were playing. I just rolled my eyes. Fortunately I have a high boredom tolerance level. The beauty of being a hard core daydreamer. No matter where you are there is always something to watch. Something to think about.

It was lots of fun for the boys and we don't go to these sorts of places often. They were really appreciative of the day.

Another day off tomorrow.

But I am keeping it cheap.

Ciao
LC