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. :)

Feeling the Love :)

We may well be in serious strife over our continuing lack of income...

In fact soon we may have to sell the car...

But we are not in Samoa or Sumatra or The Philippines. And when the ones you could not bear to live without are safe and well there is no reason not to laugh and cherish the love...

:)

Clean up begins

Dear South Australian Farmers, I'm extremely very sorry that I'm using precious water to rinse away your equally precious top soil. I dearly wish that it wasn't glued to the car by the one mil of rain we got the night before the dust storm, and the usual daily sprinkling of possum wee that I receive when I park under our Paperbark Tree. If I could think of a way to send the soil back to you I would do it.All is back to normal today after the excitements of yesterday. Though I can still taste the dust, and walking across the lawn kicks it up and makes my bare feet filthy. The weather people say that there is potential for another storm this weekend, but that it is unlikely because there isn't any soil left to be blown away. Still, this gives me an excellent excuse not to clean anything for a day or two.

The water people have relaxed water restrictions for a while...

Minister Costa has announced that hoses can be used to clean premises following the recent dust storm. Under Water Wise Rules, hoses with a trigger nozzle or high pressure water equipment can be used to clean vehicles, walls, windows and driveways over the coming week - from the Sydney Water website

Which is good news as the dust is impossible to sweep, it just floats around for a while and then settles somewhere else - if only the same cleaning technique could be used for the inside of the house though. And yes, non-Aussie residents, we do need government permission to hose our own driveways. Sad but true.

Dust Storm in Sydney

Woke this morning at about 5am to a sinister apocalyptic sky...Huge dust storm has hit Sydney and a lot of NSW. The screamies are not sure at all, they want to know where the dust came from, and is it a bushfire. Hubby miffed because spotless cars washed two days ago are filthy.
It smells really dusty and everyone is sneezing, even Sebby the spaniel.
Also, because its been so warm we had a lot of windows open last night. Whole inside of house covered in a thin layer of dust as well. YAY. More to clean.
Have to go and get emergency zombie destroying kit ready now. You know. Just in case it isn't a dust storm...

Sweet Peas

M' painted ladies are blooming.

They happen in threes...

OH. MY. GOD. Excuse me, but I'd just like to make the point that SOMEBODY/ANYBODY should have warned me about the things your children dream up to age you faster. I mean seriously. They know I have a High School reunion in a few weeks and after the last week of my life, any lingering smugness that I may just look just a smidge younger than I actually am (let's say 35 rather than 37 years, 9 months and 17 days) has been vaporised.

I am convinced they're doing it on purpose btw (that's trendy youff for By The Way, Diana).

Oh I shouldn't make light of it. That would make me sound like a worse mother than I actually am. You see it was horrible and serious. Miss 3.5 was bitten by a spider. Mmm. Nothing quite like having your husband tell you that your child is hysterical because she has been bitten by a spider that she is describing as black and red and has fang marks in her arm. Trust me interwebs it ages you.

We calmed her down, and whilst hubby hit google for advice, I tried to ease the story of what happened out of her. No easy feat, as anyone who has chatted to a pre-schooler will understand. She was climbing a tree in our front yard, came inside and there was a spider on her, which bit her and she knocked it onto the floor. She is was red and black, but then changed her story and said it was gold with red and black on it.

Meanwhile hubby had done a heap of research, and we knew that if Miss 3.5 had been bitten by a red-back she'd be in serious pain by this point. She clearly wasn't. We kept her calm and under close scrutiny, but once a band-aid had been applied to the bite-mark she continued as if nothing whatsoever had happened. Okay, now with a very healthy respect for creepy crawlies, but fine nonetheless.

See here she is, just fine...

Of course, having two disasters in the space of a week (see below for visit to hospital story) has led to many many people kindly pointing out that these things happen in threes.

Weeeelll - as Sam from Bewitched used to say - actually the spider thing technically could be counted as our third disaster of the week. We did have another one. A poo disaster.

A poo disaster involving my personal nemesis - the playground equipment at McDonalds.

Many of you will remember the incident at McDonalds where Miss 3.5 took off all her clothes and refused to come down from the highest heights of the McDonalds play equipment. Full horrible story here. We do not eat Maccers much, but lately hubby was lured back by the McAngus burger.

Everything was going smoothly and so when Miss 3.5 asked to go and play I only hesitated for a split second before saying okay. Well, hubby and I finished our burgers and went to get her. Grinning from ear to ear she whizzes out of the slide and into our arms. Awww. A kodak moment.

Until I glance in the direction of her trousers, and wonder out loud to hubby, "What's that coming out of the top of her pants?" Pretty much at the same moment he says, "What's that smell?"

Oh crap.

We rush her into the bathrooms, and quickly ascertain that this is one that we're not going to fix easily. We stripped off her bottom half, bundled up the clothes and threw them in the bin - trust me, you'd have done the same thing - cleaned her as best we could, wrapped her in hubby's jacket and made a run for it.

I still have the compulsive urge to wash my hands every single time I think of it.

So. One week, three disasters. I've aged.

sigh.

Urgh - Afternoon at the hospital

I've been having dramas.

Yesterday afternoon I was potting out my tomato seedlings - oh how I want to rant on about my home made potting mix with compost from the worm farm in it - but I shall restrain myself. Barely. Miss 3.5 was playing the swing. She's just learned how to swing herself without being pushed and is as pleased as punch about it all.

Well, I heard an odd thump and glance up to see her in a crumpled heap on the ground. I'd like to say I kept a calm head and walked over to see what the problem was, but no, I sprinted over there, falling over the dog, swearing and yelling at hubby not to pick her up.

She'd fallen off the swing. She was swinging very high, and when she was at full height from the ground she'd let go - It was a two metre drop and she'd landed on the back of her neck. My god. There is no reality check like seeing your child lying on the ground. Not screaming or crying, just still and pale. She didn't fully lose conciousness, but was kind-of drifting in and out for a few minutes. After about five minutes she wanted to get up. I was fussing about neck injuries, but she wouldn't stay still.

Anyway, we got her inside on the couch in front of the fire, but 45 minutes later she was still a dreadful shade of white and listless - so off to the emergency department we went.

The emergency staff at Hornsby Hospital were awesome. They kept her under observation for four hours, checking her eyes and whatnot regularly, but as time went on it was clear she was improving. Her colour came back and her main complaint was that she was hungry - as they wouldn't let her eat or drink. She'd been complaining about a headache and chest pain to me, though she wouldn't admit it to the nurses - so I was so glad to be there, just in case something developed.

After hubby fed Miss 5 he brought her down and we ended up in the pedes ward with both girls tucked up in the bed together and us sitting and watching the goings on in an emergency ward on a Wednesday night. This kid, I'd say 13 or 14, in the bed next to us had come in, barely able to breathe with asthma and had not improved so they'd decided to put in a drip to get more steroids into him, but his parents weren't there. Where were they? Gone out to dinner - I ask you. Suddenly it felt like I wasn't doing such a bad job after all.

They discharged us at about 9.30pm, and we all came home and had a feast of warm milk and peanut butter sandwiches and then fell into bed. When I woke up this morning everyone was in bed with me and I hadn't even been disturbed when they arrived!!

Miss 3.5 is doing well this morning. She's insisted on going to pre-school, but we're picking her up in an hour as she really should be at home.

I'm not one for moralising or pontificating on about the things our children teach us about the world and ourselves. So let's just say that I've realised I'd rather have a child that thought my cooking was "disgusting" than no child at all. :)

Parenting FAIL - again

My children are impossible. Completely and utterly impossible. Please excuse me whilst I rant...

I spent two and a half hours cooking dinner this evening. We had the most beautiful piece of prime rib and I wanted to make the most of it. It was intended for Father's Day dinner, but we ran out of time, and so I promised to do it today. Having baked some madelines for afternoon tea, because I promised Miss 3.5 that I would, I got the prime rib into the oven, reduced some home made beef stock from the freezer for a red-wine gravy, chopped up the pumpkin, potatoes, sweet potato and parsnips, made cauliflower cheese and my piece-de-resistance... made teeny weeny yorkshire puddings in a mini-muffin tray. I knew the kids would just love them.

Now you see why it took so long! Also in the middle of all that I made some yoghurt, tidied up, ran the dishwasher twice and did the washing up as I went along.

It all came together perfectly at the end. Well apart from me being still dressed in sneakers, velour trackky pants, the t-shirt I slept in and my fleece jacket (inside out as it turns out, which must have amused all the neighbours who chatted to me this morning when I was in the front garden). I'd wanted to get all dressed up, because such a spectacular meal deserves dressing up, and I was going to get out some tea-light candles and have some wine and it was going to be lovely and civilised.

So, I called everyone in for dinner, and they charged in like a herd of elephants screeching and whining and running around, and for some reason best known to herself Miss 3.5 is under the table screaming about something. They're asking me what 's for dinner and telling me they don't like it and refusing to sit down and I was trying to serve so it was still warm and nobody had set the table. And they were fighting about who was going to sit where and hassling the dog.

And all of a sudden it was too much. I'd had completely enough of my screaming whining family for whom I work day and night, and - like any mother - make sacrifices on an hourly basis. I was feeling used and taken advantage off, and just like Cinderella only there was no Prince and there never ever would be. So I threw a tantrum of my own.

"Enough," I bellowed. Flinging my oven gloves across the kitchen. "I have had enough you ungrateful shits. Do you have ANY IDEA AT ALL how f*king hard it is to produce a meal like this." Then I stormed off and refused to come out of my office until hubby crept in waving a glass of merlot at me. The merlot had a bug in it, but I drank it anyway.

By this stage the kids had eaten and were playing happily - apparently going to the aquarium to meet Santa - as you do, and hubby was finishing off the last of the washing up. So I was left to watch Talking Heads on ABC1, sip my wine and contemplate the fact I'd called my children ungrateful little shits - which, I believe is the honest truth, but that phrase is going to come back at me, its only a matter of time, and said f*king (again).

Well, as cool calm parenting goes, I've failed once again. And I'm wondering if I'll ever get it right. Pre-schoolers are such hard work. Mine fight endlessly, neither is ever happy about anything, and its like the bad times go on for ever with so few good times in between.

They're both at school next year. I'm trying really hard to treasure this time we have left at home all together. But to tell the truth, I'm actually hoping-to-god that our best years are yet to come.

Snipping of the Fluffy Dice - the revenge

Happy Father's Day everybody, hope yours wasn't completely unbearable. Right, enough platitudes, I feel like I'm on a bandwagon.

Father's Day did not feature at all in my childhood - simply because it wasn't my mothers cup-of-gin. However in the last couple of years I have inserted it into my own family's calendar, just because of all the advertising made me realise I was missing something in my life, something that could be bought from Bunnings or DJs or Myer. Oh alright. I inserted it into my own family's calendar because...

1. It means I can demand expensive presents on Mother's Day,
2. It means I can buy hubby some t-shirts that Are NOT Grey,
3. Because Hubby is a great Dad and I think the kids and I should acknowledge the patience and sacrifices he makes for us without ever expecting anything in return. YES. There it is. I've said something nice about him. Wait, was that a cold chill? Did hell freeze over? Of course not. That's not going to happen until I show a certain someone (let's call him DW) my breasts.

Anyhoo, I'm sure you're all gagging to know how the testicless one is. Er, no not hubby (yet - snigger). The dog. Sebby.

Picked him up from the vet yesterday morning where, upon seeing me, he threw himself upon the floor - legs in the air to better display his brazilian - and started the most ear splitting yelping. Alarmed vets abandoned their appointments and came hurtling into the waiting room to see what the hell was going on. Of course it was only me. One of the vets checked him over to make sure he was okay and then the dog was deemed a Big Girl's Blouse.

Sebby however had not yet made his point. He sprinted from the vet to the other person in the waiting room - a burly bloke with a fluffy bunny - and made friends, licking and wagging and admiring the bunny and all big spaniel eyes begging to take him home because SHE is the EVIL ONE and who know what she'll be amputating next - maybe with her TEETH. Then he looked at me and started the yelping thing again (the dog, not the burly fellow).

Yes. Clearly I was the one to blame.

After he'd calmed down a bit - shut up long enough to get to the car - I whisked him home and administered love, strokes and food - most of which was barfed up on the kitchen floor. He was pretty quiet and slept a lot, but started to perk up in the evening. The yelping only happened on one more occasion (and this was when he got into next-doors back yard and had to be passed over the fence to safety from their boisterous Kelpie).

This morning was, of course Father's Day. And to celebrate I was doing my famous (at my house anyway) chocolate breakfast - hot chocolate, chocolate croissants, nutella on waffles etc... Sebs watched proceedings for a bit from his mat, and when he judged that the entire family was present and enjoying the heady aroma of chocolate and baking croissants, he positioned himself under the table and with a small grunt, produced the most offensive smelling poo I have ever encountered.

End of breakfast.

Sigh.

Cute huh?

Sebs at the beach after slightly misjudging size of wave.

He was off on a playdate with wonderful Peta and her two beautiful boxers Ham and Pearl.He rather fancies Pearl - that's the lovely lass on the right. Rather more than is seemly. So, today he's off for the snip.

Bye balls.

I wonder what happens to them after they're snipped off? Made into a coin purse or something I suppose.

New Lappy

It has been pointed out to me that perhaps the rest of the internet is not as thrilled by pictures of lettuces as I am. sniff. I find this extremely difficult to believe. Extremely. Next you'll be telling me that photographs of my clean laundry pile, or before and after shots of my desk when I'm in tidying mode are equally mundane. Pfffft. As if.

So, you have suffered with me through the loss of lappy. Well, disaster upon disaster and the billion year old computer that I was using to replace lappy had spat the sodding dummy as well. Bastard. Hubby is still job-hunting and finances are tighter than a rodents behind around here. The plan had been to hold off on buying anything except take-away food, ice-cream, chocolate, alcohol, waygu beef and gadgets that fit into the cigarette lighter of the car etc... until hubby was once more gainfully employed. BUT, faced with the prospect of sharing hubby's half-size laptop that is still not quite right after he poured a cup of coffee into it, we realised that a new laptop for me was going to be less expensive than a divorce and the resulting counselling bills for the children.

So, I am now in possession of a MacBook. Yes. Not only is it a new lappy, but we've gone to a Mac. Why? Actually I have no idea why. The discussion about what to buy went kind-of like this... (kind of)

Me: Stupid bloody f*king bloody wretched half-assed bloody machine

Hubby: I think its borked

Me: Har, har, har. Also, don't mess with me, I'm doing re-writes and PMT is approaching along with a full moon...

Hubby: No, seriously, its borked.

Me: Did you know Bron keeps misreading borked for corked and having a drink when I write in on the blog? I'm going to have to start timing putting up my posts better (not at 6am). OMG THE BLOG THE BLOG. Will I ever be able to update it again? (this is where I went from denial to er nial, or something. Hmm. That sounded funnier in my head).

Hubby: Calm down

Me: No, waaah, pass me chocolate, waaah.

Hubby: You are on a diet

Me: AND SCREW WEIGHTWATCHERS - this is a disaster. You get extra points for disasters. I read it somewhere.

Hubby: Its time for a new laptop

Me: (Calming quickly) What sort of laptop?

Hubby: Well you could get a Dell, or another Benq

Me: Do they come in purple?

Hubby: Er

Me: If you were me what sort of computer would you get yourself?

Hubby: Well a Macbook, without question, they are the best.

Me: So that's not good enough for me? Hmm?

Small bickering session ensues with hubby getting defensive and me taunting him about walking so easily into that one - I mean you've been married to me for six years now love, and that was a seriously amateur mistake.

So, I have my macbook. Its very lovely, but not having really used a mac properly since around 1987, I'm not yet up to warp speed. Also its quite easy to delete things on a mac. Who knew if you put the shortcut for the program in the trash it deleted the whole thing and then your husband had to be all 'ner ner nee ner ner' before he reinstalled it. Ahem.

On a serious note...

Writers; twice in the last month I've nearly lost access to all my work. However I use http://www.getdropbox.com to automatically back up all my work to the internet. It is FREE and EASY and has saved my sanity, my marriage etc... Use it to back up your precious manuscripts. That is all.

Because you can never have too many photos of lettuce...

Italian lollo (green) and Oak leaf - plus two sneaky garlics Freckles lettuce.

Oak leaf
Freckles (again)
What? Grew 'em myself.

Sticks in the Ground

I know everyone has been losing sleep waiting for pix of my pear hedge... And my new raspberry patch...

Yes. My hilarity knows no boundaries.

When Possums Invade...

You know how I've been moaning about the possum pee smell in my study for forever. Well, yesterday we moved my desk and this is what we found...So you see the black furry bit? That's the possums tail. And the grey furry bit? That's the REST of the Possum.

Hubby is doing man things later tonight to fix it.

God help me.

Spring has sprung

Heirloom Tommy Toe tomatoes. Yesterday there was nothing there and by this afternoon...
Broccoli seedlings...

Burning Off

Lately we've had a bit of a warm patch with the weather. Which, because its August, means burning off.
In Sydney the pristine early spring days are invariably marred by huge plumes of smoke and the smell of burning eucalyptus. Today was no exception.

At one point the smoke became thick and the the sound of helicopters had me starting up my usual bushfire pastime of staring obsessively at the smoke, pacing around the garden and checking the internet to see that all is well. Of course all was well, and within twenty minutes the smoke had died down and the choppers were gone.

As the weather has got warmer, the significance of the forthcoming bushfire season has become more real. When Black Saturday happened down in Victoria, it was the end of the bushfire season around here. We knew that for the next few months the risk of fires was going to be very low.

That, however, was six months ago.

Lately reports have been circulating of the recovery of the bushfire victims and the effected habitat. Many people still have not lost that air of shell-shock as they relate once more how they lost their entire family. I still cry to read stories of bravery, unimaginable loss and breathtaking miracles. The shattering effect that Black Saturday had has not faded for all that its been pushed to the background by cool weather and good rain.

Its got me thinking about what's to come. Last year we had two smallish fires nearby, both started by lightening strikes. Every year we get at least one. There are dire reports of this being 'the worst fire season ever' - but we get that every year around now. I think this bushfire season will be no different to the last in terms of severity. But what will be different is the knowledge that my family is as vulnerable as those people who lost everything in Black Saturday.

So I suppose the question is how is that going to change my attitude. What am I going to do differently. Will I sit here, hanging on the internet and the radio, following the updates and swap phone calls with friends and family. Well that's what I usually do. Take a few photos? Blog about it? Or will I have a plan of action, know what to do, when to leave, whether to stay? At what point to call hubby home from work. At what point to pack the car?

We have a fire plan. I've downloaded the bits from the Rural Fire Services website, discussed it with hubby. But its a daunting thought - the whole bushfire thing. A very daunting thought.

New Website

Hurray, hurray. The new website it up and running and totally un-borked.

http://www.caitlynnicholas.com/

Last Week

So, whilst George the teddy was having an awesome week at our house last week, mine was brimming with ups and downs. Here, I know, I'll make a list... (because I am a capricorn and I love lists).

1. Sent The Bunker to New York - now have fingers, toes and things crossed.
   
2. Lappy died. I KNOW. Can't I just point out that I was teetering on the brink of sending The Bunker off. I mean I was planning to do it two days later. It kind-of went bzzt, and hubby said something like, "I think its 'borked'". I have no idea what that means but I think its IT person for 'totally screwed'.
   
3. Housekeeper left - I am going to have to clean my house myself (WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH). Oh Jocelyn we will miss you SO MUCH - People ask me a lot, "How do you do it?" Meaning how do I write 95,000 word manuscripts, run a house, cope with pre-schoolers, dogs, cats, husband, cook, bake, shower, have conversations etc, etc. Well, here's the secret - I have a lot of help. Esp with the conversations. Jocelyn was a big part of that help and now she has selfishly left me to go and spend a year in Italy. Well thanks.
   
4. Completely screwed up website re-design - hubby had to save me.
   
5. Redesigned website - don't look yet, dotster is dragging its heels in redirecting the dns (I have no idea what that means either but hubby explained all about it for about thirty minutes earlier this morning - thanks hon - I had no idea I was so good at yawning with my mouth shut).
   
6. Planted my pear hedge - okay, so it looks like two sticks in the ground - but one day it'll be marvellous, in ten years or so.
7. Had a night of cackling with the girls on Saturday night - thanks Margo you're awesome (and I am SO SORRY your name was never called out on Romper Room). I think the conversation that will stay with me the longest is the one about which of our husbands have had prostate examinations from Dr Fat-fingers up at the Medical centre.
   
8. Took the kids to the Opera House yesterday. Met up with my sister and her three week old baby. So TINY and cute.

Er, I think that's it. Shall not mention trip to shoe shop with vile tempered children... am still recovering and may need counselling.

oh sigh.

George goes to Nonna's House

Today we took George to visit mumndad. Whilst I developed a migraine working on my latest masterpiece everyone else fed the cows...And discussed life with the horses. Hubby threw off his guise of mild-mannered IT Guy and spent the afternoon chopping wood with My Dad. They threw chains around tree stumps and ripped them out of the ground with the tractor, wielded chainsaws (okay hubby wasn't allowed near the chainsaw for his own safety), and even perspired a little. Hubby also saw quite a few Very Scary Bugs.

Tomorrow George goes back to pre-school, ready to spend a week with someone else. Bye George, I shall miss you.