Plaiting Garlic

Harvested garlic from the garden

Tidied it up

And plaited it (insert lame vampire joke of choice)

Other than that today has passed ferrying Miss five to the doctor and paying $57 for seven minutes and the information that she has a double ear infection - which was another $20 on antibiotics.

Sigh.

Ruckus in the Australian Publishing Industry

Today there was a large ruckus in the Australian Publishing industry.  Its a long story regarding opening up of the Industry and allowing parallel importation of books.

Parallel importation would allow booksellers to import overseas editions, irrespective of whether they’d already been published in Australia. It’s a measure resisted by most authors and all Australian publishers, who fear that exposure to open market will wipe out the local industry. Full article here

The recommendation by the Productivity Commission—that the market be opened and that parallel importation of books be freely permitted except for the first 12 months in a book’s life—appears to be nothing other than meddling with an existing successful model with no predictable outcome, except the dismantling of an industry. It is excellent news for publishers and distributors in the United Kingdom and America. The amazing Agent Sydney has the full story.

Well yesterday the Australian Government released a statement saying that the rules in place will not be changed and that the recommendations of the Productivity Commission would not be put in place - largely because it would lead to the Government having to subsidies the publishing industry if we were going to have any industry at all.

This is brilliant news.  BRILLIANT. My dream of walking into an Aussie bookshop and seeing one of my books published by an Aussie publisher is alive. ALIVE I tells ya.

:)

Meh.

Frankly the best and most thrilling news I can report today is that we've managed to pay the house insurance.  Had to sell the first born to NRMA to do it, but now if there is a bushfire we shall at least be able to replace a third of our possessions, so it was well worth it.

Other than that it is hot. Hubby has spent the day levering one of my Uncle's cows out from under a tractor, out of the dam and then out from a trench (same cow - tractor was an old rusty number in the paddock that it managed to get wedged under, then wild with thirst it sprinted into the dam and got stuck, then hours later it fell in a trench and couldn't get itself out - it is just fine now, in a new hazard free paddock with its friends). And there is a distinct niff of dead possum down the far end of the house again.

Cleaned bathroom, ate entire packet of caramel crowns, dropped screaming child off at pre school (child didn't want to stay), picked screaming child up from pre school (child didn't want to leave), paid bills, bought a thermometer, did a zillion loads of washing, went to the supermarket...

In my defence have been looking after a sickly child today (not the one I sent to pre school).  But really its been a forgettable type of day, but thanks to NaBloWriMo, I shall now remember it forever.

:)

Over Christmas Already

Spent the day at Mumndads.

Recently the alpaca's have had a haircut.  They do not think its funny.

I however, do.

Miss Five is running a temperature and Miss nearly Four has had me up the last two nights for a variety of reasons, mostly to do with glasses of water and discussions about when Santa might be visiting.  So am feeling more knackered than usual today, and am washing hands like someone with OCD.

On the subject of Santa, is it just me or are the shops getting the decorations out ridiculously early this year?  Hornsby Mall has had its huge Christmas tree out for three full weeks already.  The kids are so confused, they think Santa is arriving any day now, and its made even worse because we've got an early Christmas celebration for m'sister Clare in a couple of weeks.  We've still got six or so weeks to go and I am already tired of talking nothing but Christmas every time I set foot in a shopping establishment with a child in tow.

Shopping overlords you are cruel and unreasonable when it comes to Christmas.

Also dodgy neighbours down the road...

1. Cut your lawn - there are homeless people living in that thicket,
   
2. Stop finding abandoned toys at the tip and attaching them to your house and car - its beyond creepy, and
   
3. FFS if you must put up your extremely lame arse christmas lights, don't switch them on until DECEMBER
   

:)

Perfect Sunday

This morning we went to check out the new RFS fire control centre at Cowan. Spent a happy half hour playing in fire trucks and chatting to firefighters.

Its another of those things they don't tell you about parenthood.  Yes. One of the perks if you ask me.  You spend a lot more time around people like fire fighters - going to open days and excursions.  In fact a certain Mother's Group, who shall remain nameless, organised a trip for their children around the local fire station simply because rumor had it there was a hot new fireman.  Ahem.

Then we took the kids around a local Open Garden. It was a magical fairy garden, made even better because it was drizzling rain and there was noone there except for us.  Hubby got in terrible trouble because he is so noisy and scared away the fairies - frankly I don't think fairies come out on rainy days and it was lucky for them, because if they had he'd have accidentally squashed them with his gigantic feet. I know, I finally admitted it, I'm married to a potential FAIRY SQUASHER.  I feel so much better now.

Spent the afternoon in the vege garden.

Beans and calendula...

Heartsease, in the potato patch. I love heartsease, it always makes me smile. :)

And more calendula in the spud patch.  Both are edible flowers.

:)

Broken teacup - Broken heart

Yesterday a teacup was broken at our house.

One of my Shelly teacups. Rare, valuable and almost one hundred years old.

But you know what? I actually don't mind that much about losing the teacup.  I keep the broken ones - sometimes they turn up here smashed - and one day I'll make one of those mosaic tabletop things out of all the pieces.  Its bone china, its flawed, it cracks and it breaks. Sh*t as they say, happens.

But this one broke my heart because of the way it was broken. 

Miss very-nearly-four was misbehaving, and was informed that if she didn't behave herself her new music box would be taken away for an hour.  She didn't listen and shortly thereafter the music box was perched on top of the dryer, out of reach.  After an obligatory five minute scream I thought she got over it and went to find something else to do.

Well I was half right.  She had certainly found something else to do.  She walked calmly down the far end of the house, picked up one of the few teacups she can reach and dropped it onto the slate floor.

Rotten little bugger.

Hubby are I are still so taken aback about it all that we haven't figured out how to discipline her yet. 

I think that she hoped that by committing such a heinous crime, mummy's head would explode and then out of guilt I'd give the music box back - and according to Growing Great Girls children this age can and will press their parents buttons like this.  We talked to her calmly and tried to get the story of why she did it, and yes she did say that it was because she was angry with me, but I'm not so sure I didn't lead her to say that. I told her that we'd talk about it the next day, and this morning before she went swimming she mentioned that we still have to talk about the teacup.

I think I'll probably remove a couple more toys, along with the music box for a few days, and perhaps instigate a more rewards based system of discipline - so then I've got something more concrete to take away if it looks like she's going to continue along this path of behavior.  They're both very interested in money at the moment, so I may start paying pocket money for chores, which also gives me a lever to take away the pocket money.

Suggestions welcome.

Sigh.

Last Gasp

Okay and you so thought I wasn't going to make todays post.  Well here I am. 

Just got home from dinner at Berowra Waters Inn with hubby, mumndad and m'sister.

Was a degustation meal and I had...

San Danielle Proscuitto, Duck Liver Parfaist, Mesclun leaves, Carta de Musica - or pate and toast with lettuce for decoration.

Sauteed Potato Gnocci, Wild Mushrooms, Crisp Gunciale, Quail Egg Croustillant - or eggs with mash and mushies

Roast Duck Breast, celeriac, foie gras cromesquis, new season netarine, port - or duck

THEN

Wagyu Scotch Fillet, saute of sweetbread, shiitake mushrooms, asparagus - or beef with mushie sauce

Small cup of cauliflower soup with white truffle - or HEAVEN in a CUP - trust me, I never thought I'd say that about cauilflower anything

THEN

Coconut Panna Cotta, Fresh Mango, strawberries - or a dessert that wobbled like my boobs when I go running with no bra - OH KIDDING - I never run.

Plus more petite fours that you could poke a stick at. Or an ant for that matter, as we endured a flying ant invasion, and they all flew into my hair and tried to eat me, before losing their wings into my glass of New Zealand pinot noir.

Nice.

No seriously it was. A fantastic meal.  Much giggling.

:)

Wherefore art thou...

Well Good Lord.  Not only did I have a no television afternoon with the kids, but also we picked broad beans from the vege patched, cooked them and they hoovered them up for their dinner.

Wonders never cease.

That has been about the highlight of today though.  Other memorable moments have been Miss Five having a screaming tantrum in the car park - I got into the car and drove off when she wouldn't behave - and no, she still hasn't forgiven me. (I'll point out for the fussier members of my family the community that I went about four meters and she was in plain view lying on the tarmac grass, and at no point was she in any danger whatsoever).

Then Miss nearly four had a screaming tantrum of her own when we got home from the pre-school run, so I left her in the car (I'll point out for the fussier members of my family the community that it's a cool day and I kept an eye on her from the house most of the at all times).

Other than that I've edited about three lines of Drive, and er... been to the supermarket and cooked and stuff.  What? Its suburbia, this is as good as it gets.

:)

Cannot. Stop. Sneezing.

Urgh. I think we should all brace ourselves for the misery of me having a summer cold. Its not so much that I'll think its cute to blog about oozing, mucous, sinuses, tonsils etc, but more that when I'm blogging and sick I just tend to get all ranty. Not only ranty, but also a warped sense of how hilarious I actually am. It ends badly. Always does. Frequently with key members of my family not speaking to me.

sigh.

So today has been busy. First thing this morning, at a time when I am usually wandering about in my pjs, I was at Miss Nearly Four's new pre-school (which is at the same school as Miss Five's kindy) for an orientation. It was lovely, I met her teacher for next year, and just wanted to snuggle on her lap whilst she read me Meg and Mog (kidding, mostly).

Miss Nearly Four did sensationally well, making me a fetching hat, learning french and banging her drum at the correct moments during singing 'I Am The Music Man.'

I sat through yet another talk on life in pre-school, and found myself ridiculously excited about the thought of helping out in the tuck-shop and being a parent-helper in class and going on excursions with all these darling little girls... yes, I know, how the mighty are mellowing in their old age.  I also totally bought into the talk about after-school activities and was on the verge of signing the girls up for tennis camp, mandarin lessons, musicianship, art classes... until hubby stared and in horror for a full five minutes and then concluded I had to be kidding - I went with kidding.  But I mean they'd thank me later, wouldn't they?

We made it home in a tired heap by lunchtime, whereupon Mum arrived with my littlest sister who is over from her home in London.  Haven't seen her for more than a year, so there was much talking and eating and talking and drinking tea and a short break to put together a sodding ant-farm, and then more talking.  Do not get me started on the ant farm.  You have to cook things to feed the little buggers??? Not to mention the gigantic pair of ant catching tweezers that came with the kit.  I can just see that part of it ending very badly.

So, at the end of a very long day, me and the kids chilled out on the sofa and did one of their most favourite things. Taking photos of themselves with my laptop.

Excusemoi Monsieur but I do not want to see your Pen*s

Well, day three of NaBloWriMo and I have already come to the point where I am blogging on very little sleep.  The usual suspects were involved, namely cat, dog and children.  So, in my fatigued state what better to do than take a trip down memory lane and blog about a few of my travel adventures.

I thought I'd reminisce about France, love the food, like the people, adore the language... but as I sit here, the most vivid memory of my travels there is the number of men that couldn't wait to waggle their tackle at me.

From a phone booth in Blois, to a chateau on the Loire, to the quiet streets of Le Puy.  It seemed that regardless of the temperature random French fellows felt  a burning desire to whip their boy bits out of their trousers.

The first incident was in a phone booth.  My sister and I were squished in there, calling Mum back in Australia to assure her that we were fine. Just fine.  Alas half way through the conversation we were disturbed by a thud against the booth and both glanced around to find a middle-aged guy, trousers around his thighs, pressing his small, cold and frankly embarrassed member up against the glass.  He was all, "allo, you want this eh?", whilst his pen*s was all, "its cold and I need a wash, can we go home now?"

Being entirely unprepared for this we did a beautiful impression of Not Coping At All, saying things like 'Oh GOD his dick is out," to mum on the phone and then hanging up and realising that as he was against the door we couldn't get out.  Clearly this made his evening, as with a final wink and a leer, he tottered off, tucking away his mortified appendage and pulling up his trousers as he went.

Sigh.

So we scuttled back to the cheap hovel we were staying in, made a revoltingly expensive call to Mum to get her to stop booking her flight to come and rescue us, and resolved never to venture out after dark again.

Only after dark didn't seem to be the determining factor.

Three days later we had arrived at Chambord, a famous Chateau on the Loire.

It was late January by this time and bitterly cold.  The temp rarely made it above four degrees or so, even on sunny days.  I love travelling in winter. You get places like Chambord practically to yourself, and my sister and I spent hours wandering around the house and its grounds.  At some point we split up to do our own exploring.  I was climbing up the famous double helix staircase, where there are two flights of stairs that curl around each other but never meet.  You can, however, see people taking the other flight of stairs through little alcoves.

So, I'm doing the tourist thing and snapping pics, the place is deserted and its just me. Only, it isn't. As I raise my camera and frame a shot across from one alcove to the other, I realise there is a youngish man standing in the alcove.  For a moment I wonder why he has his fist like that in the front of his trousers, and then, in a happy moment I realise its because he has his poor cold embarrassed pen*s in his hand.  He's all, "here is my gigantic pen*s ready for you to photograph," and his pen*s is all "no its fine, I'll stay here in your hand where its warm?" and I'm all, "if this is France what are the Italian men going to be like??"

So I reel away and hot-foot it to the coffee shop until my sister appears and we catch the bus back to our hotel.  In hindsight I so wish I'd taken the photo.  Hell of a lot more interesting than a marble staircase.

Anyhoo, so the final one. And really its a bit cheating because our last guy wasn't actually flashing at me.  We're in Le Puy (which btw is pronounced Le Pwee, and not Le Pie, and yes it is where the lentils come from).  Heading up the main street in search of dinner.  Its cold and sleety and everyone is bundled up in scarfs and beanies and big jackets, the wind is just bitter.  Then, casual as you like this older man walks past. Bundled up like everyone else except his fly is unzipped and gaping open to reveal no underpants - no, this is no absent minded zipping problem - its a cold, unhappy pen*s, on display for the world to see problem.

He hurries past, eyes down, and is gone into the miserable weather.

Odd. So very very odd.

And sadly that ends today's trip down memory lane.  Tomorrow perhaps a list of the drug deals I've witnessed in various clubs around the world, or maybe a monologue about the seedy hotels with grimy sheets where you have to excuse yourself to get past the local prostitutes who hang out in the doorway.

Nah. Back to whittering about m'children, m'garden and m'lettuces and the War On Slugs.

:)

Parenting Girls

October was a manic month. The family and I seemed to lurch from one big event to the next, and I spent a lot of time moving forward very quickly, permanently in sink or swim mode (which is polite for Not Sodding Coping).

Meals have been crap, all the fruit in the fruit bowl has gone off rather than being eaten, I've got a sore throat, the kids have mouth ulcers, and we are all run down, cranky and over each other.

So, my job over the next few days is to pull things together, and get this whole trainwreck back on track. The house is tidy and clean right now, so at least I can walk around barefoot without treading in cat or dog vomit, poo, or cat, dog or child wee, OR getting a barbie shoe embedded in the sole of my foot - those little suckers are sharp.

Next job is to clear off my desk, ug, who knows what unpaid bills are lurking in there. Not to mention un-filled-in forms. I dragged myself through the forms for Miss Fives Primary school a week or so ago, and now I have a similar, but slightly more evil set for Miss Nearly Four's new preschool. Sigh.

I blogged a while back about the Kindergarten induction we went to. Whilst the kids got to know the layout of their classrooms the parents were sent to the library where we were given the most wonderful seminar on self esteem and resilience in girls.

Hubby and I had been expecting a lecture on homework, teaching to read etc, etc but the only mention of such things was to say that kids are taught using a phonetic system that we would not be familiar with - and actually I was because it was how my mother taught me to read, because that was the way she was taught to read. So when they say new, they really mean recycled.

So, as a result of that seminar I am presently reading Growing Great Girls by Ian & Mary Grant.  Its fantastic, and unlike many other books on the subject, its down to earth and relevant.  It interprets the modern world and tackles tough issues like the effect of child specific marketing, sexualisation of girls in the media, in a practical head on manner.  Stuff that is quickly becoming something that I have to deal with.

I was brought up on a farm in Kent, in southern England.  Secure, protected. I didn't know who Abba was, or Buck's Fizz and the only TV I watched was the adless BBC1 and BBC2.  So when it comes to the reality of being a child in a modern urban environment I'm clueless.

So this book is putting it in perspective for me, and laying to rest quite a few of the worries that have been bothering me.

:)

NaBloWriMo

Should've posted this yesterday but was too busy ranting about the delights of living in suburbia and illustrating to all and sundry what a cranky old hag I'm turning into.

In lieu of Nanowrimo this year, I'm doing NaBloWriMo.


I blogged almost every day in October - oh OKAY almost entirely about the Halloween Party - but still, blogging it was. So am not too overwhelmed at the thought of doing it every day in November. Hell, if I run out of things to say I'll just whack up a couple of lettuce photos (just for Jess :) Who, I might add is almighty chuffed right now because Only Tyler is releasing in print today).

YAY Jess.

So yes, blogging every day. Watch this space. :)

Shouting at the Neighbours

Yesterday evening I heard a ball from next door bounce into our back yard. It was about the tenth of the day so I rolled my eyes and prepared for the ring of the door bell asking for it back.  What I was not expecting was to overhear the following conversation...
"If you climb over the fence onto the spa, turn right, go through the gate and the ball will be outside the sliding doors."

What. The. F*ck?

I slipped out and sure enough there was a teenaged boy standing on our spa, happily trespassing on our property. He was a stranger - a guest over for dinner next door.

I asked him to leave, without bothering to hide my anger.  He appeared to think it was all rather amusing, and took his time about it.

It was obvious to me that this was something they'd been doing for quite some time.  Our spa lid had been mysteriously broken some months ago - and now I think we're finding out why - and from time to time I'd spot a ball in the backyard, and make a mental note to throw it back later, only to find it gone when I looked.  I just kind of thought hubby threw it back.  But he says not.

I can't describe how angry I was.  Incandescent with rage just about covers it. And yes, I know they were just kids getting their ball back.  I am stunned at my own reaction.  Amazed at how offended and upset and insulted and trespassed upon I feel (yes, very biblical of me).

So I go over to the neighbours to discuss this transgression with some adults.  The boys all laugh and point out the window then run away and the parents ignore me leaning on their doorbell. 

Yup.  That helped.

So there is me, yes me, about to start bobbing up and down over the fence and yelling at them all. 

Well, I took a few deep breaths, calmed a little and went inside to cool off.  Then fifteen minutes later when I felt more composed I went back. This time our neighbour opened the door.  His expression told me he was fully aware of why I was there.

I opened my mouth to have a sensible reasoned discussion, I was worried that the boys would try and get a ball out of the pool and fall in, our spa lid was broken, I don't like that the kids think its okay to come and go as they please in my garden... That I'm a sensible adult and boys will be boys but they've crossed the line and could he please have a chat to them.

But suddenly all the anger and upset landed on me.  I couldn't get the words out and just shouted incoherently at him whilst his dog (the one that shat on my strawberries and dug up all my apple trees) stuck its nose in my crotch. 

Me.

Shouting at someone. 

I mean Bloody Hell. I only shout at my husband and children - because they are special like that.  Certainly never a neighbor who I am on smile and wave terms with.  Now that I think of it, that may have been our first actual conversation - though I do talk to his wife now and then.

And now, as I sit here and think the whole thing through, I'm at a complete loss as to what happened.  It has shown me a side of myself that I kind-of didn't realise I had.  Before yesterday I would have said that I was pretty easy and laid back about the things kids do, not overly fussed about privacy, or see the garden particularly as my own personal space.

But now I'm really wondering.

All done bar the cleaning up.

Party went spectacularly well. Here we are about to embark on singing and cake cutting - alas I have my fake nose around my neck and so it looks like I have a very unfortunate goiter rather than being wicked witch of the west.

The boys bending over the yellow bucket are apple bobbing - surprisingly we didn't drown anyone - and once the kids got the hang of grabbing the apple stem in their teeth they had it all mastered.

The sack race and the eyeball-and-spoon races were hilarious. Had to overlook much cheating - kids today - I despair!!

But the best bit was the end.  Door-to-door trick or treating is not a big thing in Australia, but the kids had all heard about it and wanted to give it a try.  So I set up three adults to be victims (myself included) and let them have free rein.  Within five minutes I was soaked to the skin and covered in a thick layer of glitter.

Glitter itches like you would not believe.  That is my principle lesson for today.

There was much laughing and running around and a lot of lovely things eaten and it was just a wonderful day.

Can't wait for next year :)

Still going

Just have to finish decorating the cup cakes...

And then ice the biscuits and the food is done.

Taa Daa

I am so knackered, but it doesn't look too bad.

Sherbet Cones

I have them!!

Words cannot describe my delight.

F*ckity F*ckity F*ck

Slight chocolate bat making disaster

So now we are just having two bats AND

A halloween sperm.

Is it just me or can you smell burning cake too?

Sigh.

Its all going to be JUST FINE

Still have to make the cake...

And cannot find sherbet cones to make the pointy bits on the top.  SHERBET CONES. Why oh why can I not find sherbet cones? Was it something I did wrong in a past life? This life? I must have them. The cake will not be perfect without them and then I will have let down my small and innocent child who is depending on me to deliver the ultimate birthday cake. Why are you doing this to me Universe? Whhhhhy?

 Hmm, I'd just like to mention that I was up until stupid o'clock last night cleaning bathrooms and may be slightly over-tired.

Yawn.

Party prep

Been cooking up a storm.  Preparations for The Halloween Party are ticking along.

This morning I have (LOOK, list)...

1. Made thirty jelly cups... just have to add the green custard,
   

2. Baked twenty-seven cup-cakes. Yes there was enough batter for thirty cup-cakes but I was doing it with a three-year-old helping... well that's my story and I'm damn well sticking to it. Why? What are you saying?

How cute are these patty pans.  This is one of the three left-overs.

3. Did have a total and utter sausage roll disaster tho.  Not only did they come out tasting horrible and bland, but also I was not confident about the freshness of the meat.  It tasted fine, but I just wasn't happy about the fact I'd be freezing and thawing again.  Yes, thirty odd food poisoned pre-schoolers. Nightmare.

So turned it into a gigantic spag bol

And am having a finger food rethink.

All with the help of Miss 3.5, plus maintaining two conversations on messenger, tweeting, and being updated about the progress of the cattle yards at Mumndads by hubby.

:)

Hug him or Strangle him...

Yesterday I was having one of those afternoons where you're doing six things at once, and  hitting the point of multi-tasking overload as the kids hit witching hour.  Just one more thing would send the entire house into meltdown.  So enter Sebby...

He was lying in his fave spot on the rocking chair - where he can keep an eye on things in the kitchen and be on hand to bark at anyone that needs barking at in the street - when out of the blue he started yelping in pain. We were at a loss and could only think that he'd eaten something - lego, another one of barbies shoes - and it was giving him a terrible tummy ache.  He calmed quickly, but it so obvious things weren't right, his body language was saying that he was in serious pain, tail tucked between his legs, head down, panicky eyes.  It was horrible.

To see how he would react I offered him a tiny piece of chicken and then when he rejected that, some bacon. He tried to eat but could only hold the food in his mouth, and that was when I got really really scared.
 
Its been nearly a year since we lost our little spaniel Ella to a tick. I've been thinking of her lately as her rose is looking totally awesome atm.

So understandably when Sebby couldn't swallow and was moving strangely the first thing we thought was that he'd got a tick.  Cavaliers rarely survive ticks, they're more susceptible to the poison and so when we rang the vet we were so distressed that she could barely understand us.

Bless her, she dropped everything and rushed back to her surgery to meet hubby only twenty minutes later, whilst I fretted quietly at home.  The kids were oblivious - it was confusing enough for them when Ella died and we felt it best to wait how this one turned out before telling them what was going on.

Now Sebby has the unusual past-time of catching bees.  He scuttles around the garden pouncing on them, I've told him and told him that it'll end badly, but he hasn't been listening.  Hubby rang from the vet to say that Sebs had a bee sting lodged in his tongue and his throat and mouth were swelling up.  They knocked Sebs out, removed the bee sting and dosed him up on antihistamine and then home he came.  Where he spent the rest of the evening wobbling around stoned out of his little pea brain.

Yes, so to hug him or strangle him... I still haven't decided.

sigh.

Everything is different and yet still the same

It wasn't until I got to my twenty year reunion yesterday and saw the photo on my name-badge, that I realised that I have the exact same haircut as when I was 17.

Its probably a good thing I'm not one of those people who are all caught up in leaving the "old me" behind, as clearly the old me is following me around and influencing my hairdressing decisions. sigh.

I do vividly recall having that Year 12 photo taken, mostly because I had pimples on my forehead in the shape of the southern cross - the stars on the Australian flag. Sadly you can't see them in that photo which is taken from our yearbook.  You can see them in the original, but it is locked away and is unlikely to see the light of day unless hell happens to freeze over in the near future.

The reunion was a lot of fun. Made some wonderful connections with old classmates, swapped stories of life, careers and children, and managed to get all pissed up on two bacardi & cokes, one glass of champagne and two glasses of wine over a five hour period. I rarely drink these days, but even so, I'm totally impressed with my own complete lightweightedness.

It was a good night - despite being haunted by the awkward ghost of my adolescent self.  There was a good will and camaraderie between everyone that I shall value for a long time to come.

:)

Next up is the Halloween party.  Brace for photos of half cooked food - yes, the oven is still borked but Ian the oven man has promised to come on Monday - and much swearing about why the f*ck I do this to myself.  Ah, its going to be an amusing week.

sigh.

Haircut

Survived the hairdresser and the kindi orientation.  Hairdresser was as expected with conversation as predicted yesterday. HOWEVER with one small, tiny, teeny-weeny difference.  The hairdresser had cut a small boy's hair before me, and had made the charming discovery he had NITS.

I was assured that all precautions had been taken, but as one who got pregnant whilst using birth control I know that sometimes all the precautions in the world are still not enough.

Here's a photo of the new do - this is the longest I've had my hair for years and years.  That small child is pulling faces and admiring herself on the screen.

The kindi orientation was wonderful. I'm so excited about the kids new school.  Today Miss 5 had actual lessons (French - yes French, and Music) and hubby and I listened to talks on how children learn and building resilience and self-esteem in girls. 

I'll blog more about it later, as there were some wonderful ideas, but I'm too tired to put them together comprehensively. Its been a long hot day and right now the wonderful sax player down the way is practicing and the sound is drifting in the open window on a cool breeze. I'm going to go and enjoy it.
:)

Filling in Forms

Tomorrow we have an orientation morning at the Screamies primary school. Being an organised and on top of things person I have been carefully keeping all the forms under my bed for the last eight weeks and have only just now fished them out and dusted them off - BUT I did know where they are, so snaps for me.

Holy crap. How many forms???  (Yes I know that you cannot possibly know, but I do have a checklist and can tell you accurately that it's 13, THIRTEEN).

Why oh why do I leave this stuff to the last minute. WHY.  Oh how I hate myself.  Hate, hate, hate.  And I hate myself even more because sitting on my desk are four packets (formerly five) of American Candy Corn which is made of sweetened condensed milk with added sugar and more sugar added to that - and I can feel myself weakening and justifying that no one will ever know that there was once four packets when now there are three - oh what the hell, we all know I have the self-control of a six year old when it comes to sweet stuff.

But its not just the forms.

For this week The Universe in its infinite wisdom has thrown at me

• Rewrites of The Grey Man (story previously called But I Thought You Were A Nun - which was a ridiculous name, I'm with you there - in The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance)
• A High School reunion - which has required a new outfit, decisions about shoes (red killer heels that hurt like buggerit or sensible flatties) and nail polish (match lips or match dress), and trying to organise a couple of dear friends for nerve-settling drinkies beforehand which has ended up like herding CATS.
  
• A Kindergarten orientation - which is exciting and just a bit daunting (hey I'm an introvert, I hate meeting new people - oh okay meeting everyone)
  
• A haircut - Dear Hairdresser, yes I am a natural blonde, yes those are natural highlights, yes I am lucky but frankly it just grows this colour and I don't even notice. No it is not too thin and does not need more hightlights/dying to make it thicker - unless you are suggesting purple in which case I am with you there. What? No purple. Yes, you know what I want better than I do so I'd better just shut the hell up. Yes I am happy with my shampoo that I get for $7.50 from the health food shop (Melrose - its awesome) and do not need to have my life completed by the $40 for a teaspoon one that you have just strategically placed in my line of sight. No I do not use gel, mousse or even a hair dryer. No never. Why? I'm saving the environment love - no, that was sarcasm dear, because I think life is too short to be endlessly fiddle-arsing about with my hair. No I am not going out tonight, I never go anywhere I have small children and yes people like me really do exist.  And please god do not start on about your ex boyfriend who knocked up your best friend and then you slapped her in that hair salon you worked in in Manchester. You've told me versions of that story every single time I come in here. 
• Plus gearing up for The Halloween Party, which means I'm starting to do some of the cooking and wondering how the hell I'm going to entertain twenty odd children aged between three and five
  
• All on top of my five pages a day of Drive Me To Distraction - which is actually more work than I realised.

 sigh.

What Goes Around...

I joined the Hornsby group of Freecyclers a few months ago, and I love getting the regular newsletter in my inbox telling me what people are giving away or what they want... from concrete slabs, to beds, to unwanted power tools, to sushi making sets.


A few weeks ago a lady up the road asking for egg cartons caught my eye.  I compulsively collect egg cartons, but since three of Mum's four chickens fell victim to predators (eagles and foxes) my boxes are no longer in demand.  So I had a pile of five next to the front door.

As soon as I saw her request I whizzed off an email and by lunchtime Miss 3.5 and I dropped off our boxes.  Then, this morning we found these eggs on our doorstep with a thank you note.

How awesome is that? :)

Freecyclers - to find your nearest group: http://freecycle.org/
Hornsby Freecyclers: http://au.groups.yahoo.com/group/HornsbyOzFreecycle/

The Talk

Big moment for me yesterday.  Trip to Borders to buy Where Did I Come From?

"Ah," said the shop assistant. "That time has arrived."

Well it had. Kind of.

You see it wasn't Miss 5 had actually asked the question, but I was listening to her discussing the difference between boys and girls with her sister.  Hair length seemed to be the determining factor, but she knew girls could have short hair too, and there things trailed off into a confused silence.

So we get the book home and I'm not even given the chance for a calming cup of tea before I am steered in the direction of the rocking chair and handed the book.  In fact we didn't get very far.  She was only interested for a few minutes and then went off to find something else to do, and I left it at that.

I didn't think she'd taken that much in until later on; Her latest passion is rhyming words and we're going through her usual list... bat-mat, star-car, shoe-poo, chocolate-pockolate... when she turns to me and says "vagina - ?"

Damned if I can think of anything that rhymes with vagina except for angina - which then opened up another whole can of worms.

sigh.

Wallacia Hotel

Lately we've been inflicting ourselves on my poor poor parents.  Though they assured us that three days in our company is delightful, there was a certain brusqueness to their farewells that had me thinking it'll be feet up with a very large glass of wine the moment we take that left turn out of the bottom of their driveway.

They live on acreage in the outer western suburbs of Sydney.  It's an area my family know well as my Grandfather owned a dairy farm near the village of Mulgoa from the early 60s until lately.  As a teenager I spent every weekend out there riding my horses, Coolah and Sinbad.

The various dairy workers on the farm were a diverse and colourful bunch and many tales of them have entered our own family legends. One that is still told is of Old Jim.  Now I never met Old Jim, but I knew the tiny one roomed house he lived in on the farm - left just the way it was the day he died - as my sisters and I would sometimes go and explore it.

Old Jim was quite a character. He was devoted to his horse who drank beer from a glass and finished it off with a swipe of his large pink tongue - if you were visiting and were offered a drink, the same glass would be given a quick wipe and your beer would be poured into it. On a Saturday night Old Jim would set out in his sulky - a small cart - pulled by the afore-mentioned horse.  They would travel along the then unpaved Mulgoa Road to the Wallacia Hotel where he would spend his hard earned cash.  When it was gone and he was slightly the worse for wear, he would be rolled onto his little cart by the staff at the hotel and his horse would carefully transport him home.

Well the Wallacia Hotel has had some ups and downs since then.  Years ago the place had an extremely rough reputation and was known only as a bikie pub - but those days are long behind it now.  These days it is just a very beautiful local pub for the townships of Mulgoa and Wallacia.

The building is just begging for someone to take it over and renovate it, maybe get in a decent kitchen and turn it into something really spectacular.

Well guess what??  Its not finished yet, but someone has started to turn that dream into a reality.

Mumndad took us there for dinner on Tuesday night and we had a chance to have a nose around at the changes the owners have made so far. 

The building progress is coming along slowly.  But the parts of the hotel which are finished are just stunning.  Dad was there this morning (picking up a pair of shoes that mysteriously got separated from their owner during dinner) and said they're totally re-doing the kitchen.  The place used to be aglow with pokies, but now there is a tiny room with about ten of them.

Its so exciting to see such a magnificent place being given the boost and TLC that it richly deserves.

If you are in that neck of the woods its well worth stopping in for a look. But be warned - its a work in progress - the food is good but plain RSL fare and the bar area has yet to be renovated (it is breathtakingly tacky at the moment).

I'm really looking forward to seeing how this all turns out. :)

This photo reminded me of me and the kids.

Can't think why.

The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance

Just got this gorgeous cover for the Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance. My story, presently called But I Thought You Were A Nun, will be in it. It's coming out in March 2010 in the UK and June 2010 in the USA.

23 passionate stories of hard-hitting love...

Stirring romance featuring the heroes of the Navy SEALs, Delta Force, Air Force Pararescue, the Green Berets, the Army Rangers and other special forces: men and women who live and fight in extreme danger to preserve our freedoms, defenders and protectors of all we hold dear.

This collection includes the work of bestselling romance writers such as Shannon K. Butcher and Stephanie Tyler and Larissa Ione, writing as Sydney Croft. Sydney Croft’s special forces couple, Annika and Creed, work for the Agency for Covert Rare Operatives (ACRO), all of whose members have special powers, while Shannon K. Butcher’s hero is an ex-Navy SEAL. But these fighting men and women have a gentler, protective side; hard-edged weapons when on active duty, they can be caring lovers, of special forces teammates or the civilians they protect.

Working on the land

Above is a sight I never thought I'd live to see.  Yes, the white blob on the right is my geeky un-outdoorsy computer loving husband clearing the verge at Mumndad's place.  The white blob on the left is The Truck - just in case you were wondering.

Not only is he earning us a spot of much needed cash, but, to his own surprise he's really enjoying it as well.  He's also lost around 9kgs.

I am also enjoying it. You see this photo was taken from mumndad's balcony, where I can sit and sip tea and occasionally bellow things like 'Go Faster,' 'Work Harder,' or 'You Think That's Labour You Should Try Childbirth.'

Its a good thing he finds my sense of humour utterly delightful :)

Halloween Invitations

My hand hurts and I've got a splitting headache, I'm developing RSI, I've got bruises at the base of my thumb and even the beginning of a blister.

What have I been doing?  Making party invitations, that's what.

Here is what I have cut out today (yes a list).

1. 20 witches hats
2. 20 bats
3. 20 spiders
4. 40 gold stars
5. 40 silver stars
6. 20 purple notes
7. And curled 10m of ribbon

I think they've come out okay though, and the kids are so excited :)

Now I just have to figure out who to give them to.  Coaxing names out of a 3.5year old is not easy. So far we have Alex the boy, Alex the girl and the other Alex.

Marvellous.

Halloween Cookies

Its three weeks until Halloween (and ten weeks five days until Christmas - just sayin).   Miss 3.5 - the lesser of the two screamies - was born on 31 December. As anyone with a birthday around then will know, trying to organise parties is a bit of a nightmare at that time of year, so I have moved Miss 3.5's birthday party to 31 October.  Two reasons for this (and yes a list because I LIKE them)...

1. 31 October (or thereabouts) is the ancient Celtic New Year's Eve - ancient being pre-Roman - and is where Halloween originated.  Miss 3.5's birthday is modern New Year's Eve, and I liked the synchronicity.
2. Its well before the pre-Christmas insanity of late November/Early October

This afternoon we had a trial run of the Halloween biscuits we'll be making for the party.  Mostly because I couldn't wait to play with our new biscuit cutters.

All went as smoothly as any cooking project does when assisted by a 5 year old and a 3.5 year old, until we came to ice the cookies. After clearing up a small misunderstanding regarding ice the frozen stuff and icing the stuff you put on cakes - I poured my icing onto the cooled biscuits as per the cook book instructions.

Ruh-roh - as Scooby Doo used to say.

Through trial and error I discovered I needed a lot more water in the mix and it had to be hot enough to really hurt when I poured it onto my hand by accident.  Oh, and I added some food colouring.

Hmm, think I'll be having another stab at it before the big day.

I also discovered that putting tasteless orange food colouring (and by that I mean the food colouring has no discernible taste and not that it is not stylish, I mean orange is the very definition of style is it not?) into vanilla flavoured biscuits magically makes them taste of orange.

Miraculous.

Juices Flowing

Like a rare steak that hasn't rested long enough, I have suddenly and unexpectedly found my creative juices are oozing out all over my plate and soaking grossly into the mashed potato. Hmm. No, wait a sec (you know every time I write Wait a Sec it comes out Wait a Sex and I have to delete it - why is that?).

Yes, well. You get my general drift.

Since 1st October I've been trying to get started on a huge re-write of (the most re-written book ever) Drive Me To Distraction. I was looking forward to it, brimming with enthusiasm (I can do that on occasion, yes I am versatility itself) BUT when I opened the document I totally and utterly froze.

After some coaxing and a tub of Maggie Beer Quince and Bitter Almond ice cream I was able to skim over the document and read the comments that an agent friend had made.  The comments were brilliant, but unusually for me I couldn't think of a single way to incorporate any of them.

So I've been moping around and ranting at length to any poor soul I come across, including the surprisingly sympathetic fellow who came to fix our oven last week.  He wasn't much of romance reader as it turned out, but was brimming with Formula One statistics.

But then yesterday I was talking in over with Mum, saying that I'd have to toss out the whole premise and start again. So we got into analysing the structure of the novel and I reminded myself that at bare bones Drive is a sound story.  I also figured out the problem with the first chapter, realised it was even easy to fix and that the fix would add heaps to the relationship between the hero and heroine.

So just like that, I went from a heap of despair to She Who Cannot Be Defeated.

Neat huh?

Now I have to find time to do some work.

sigh.

Day of Excrement

My day in bullet points...

• 2.30am Smaller screamie discovers every action has an attached consequence, ie, if you remove your nappy after lights-out then at some point you are going to wake up cold and soaking wet.
• 5.30am Cat needs to have a wee
• 5.37am Cat discovers it is very cold outside and comes back in
• 6.10am Cat needs to have a wee
• 6.15am Entire family gets up
• 8am Counselling - plum depths of subconscious, find nothing of interest
• 9am Swap cars/children with hubby; he heads off to mumndads for a day of manual labour, cups of tea and chatting (more of the latter than the former)
• 9.30am Take children to The Mall to buy cake for playdate
• 9.40am Leave The Mall with two gingerbread men but no cake
• 10am Drop off children to playdate
• 10.10am Run around like a headless chicken gathering supplies for our forthcoming Halloween party
• 1pm Pick up children
• 1.04pm Discover the Smallest Screamie has had an accident of monumental proportions in her pants
• 1.15pm Get home and spend a happy fifteen minutes in the bathroom sorting out the accident
• 1.35pm Find Larger Screamie has had a similar but slightly more daunting accident in the other bathroom
• 1.37pm Get back in the car to go to the second playdate of the day
• 3.37pm Arrive home from two hours of drinking tea, gossipping and eating caramel crowns
• 4pm Bribe children into silence with a gigantic bag of Cheese&Bacon balls (Yes, it seemed like a Good Idea at the time) - and attack both bathrooms with a lot of bleach and lavender oil
• 4.45pm Clean breakfast detritus from kitchen
• 5.30pm Attempt to feed hyperactive and over-tired children
• 5.45pm Feed children's untouched meals to dog
• 6.10pm Cook Laksa - using Ayam brand Laksa sauce
• 6.12pm Hubby gets home
• 6.13pm Taste Laksa
• 6.15pm Ring for Thai take-away. Never in my life have I tasted anything so vile as that laksa (well maybe except for the Aldi chicken stock that didn't have any chicken in it).
• 6.3opm Get home with take-away; Phone is ringing
• 6.31pm Take over bath time from hubby who is on important call
• 6.51pm Get everyone through bath time; smile tensely at lengthy Christmas present discussion
• 7pm Smallest Screamie wees on floor next to toilet
• 7.01pm Retire to television with dinner for the safety of rest of family
• 7.03pm Glance over to find dog eating cushion...

• 7.06pm Realise that the dog has done a wee on the floor next to where he killed my cushion - and yes, that is a lit fire at the top of the photo - its October and TWELVE degrees outside. Two days ago we hit thirty-four.
• 7.10pm Crack open the Violet Crumbles

• And now at 8.34pm I am feeling deeply queasy and going to bed.

sigh.

pgv3ksurd4

Peas

Shelling peas (and a couple of broad beans) for dinner.We've got a bag of frozen ones in the freezer, sweeter and more tender. Still, I like that the kids are involved in the trip of food that we've grown to the table.

:)

Momentum is My Brother-In-Law

My brother-in-law, Mike and his partner Ann are coming to visit. YAY.

Only they didn't feel like flying all the way from the UK, so they decided to DRIVE!!! This is their vehicle...

After many years planning they have started their across-the-world trek and we are hoping to see them around this time next year.

They're blogging the experience over at Momentum Is Your Friend - and there's a link in the sidebar.

You go guys!! We're all so proud of you both!! AND FOR CHRIST SAKE BE CAREFUL.

The First Strawberries

Had a bit of a strawberry disaster this year when 70% of the Chandler strawberries I bought from Diggers died - could have been snails, fungus or transplant shock - or all three. Anyway, I had to buy several more to fill in the gaps in the patch, and instead of going for one type I went for several varieties - Kanawase, Toigo and Red Gauntlet.

What we have here are the very first Kanawase's ripening. The first strawberries I have ever grown and here they are, nearly ready to eat.

Only I dont want to.

Why? And you are going to be sorry you wondered... under the greyed out spot in the photo is a pile of poo. Could be dog, could be cat.

SIGH.

Spring Harvest

Today I have been harvesting things in the garden.

Onions - on the left - planted by Miss 3.5 several months ago by accident, they've actually come up quite nicely.

Painted Lady Sweet Peas - the pretty pink flowers, picked for no good reason except they smell divine.

Rosemary - big pile of green stuff at the back - it'd overgrown and was completely covering my oregano so I hacked the crap out of it. It is now drying in my vege dryer and making the house smell like roast dinner

Lemon verbena - front left, being dried to make tea

Oregano - front centre, being dried to go in spag bol

Leeks - on the right, being used in various meals this week (leak and spud soup, chicken & leek spies etc)

The bundle of greenery in the centre is thyme - also being dried for later

So there you have it. We've finally had some decent rain, and so I've been stomping around the back garden squashing wretched snails in revenge for whoever it was that ate my cucumber, chamomile, and pak choy seedlings. Vengeance is mine, RAAARGH, etc, etc...

Next up planting zucchini and squash. :)