Desperation is when you leave the box of Lindt chocolates that your daughter gave you in your bedroom on a 38C summer's day and they melt, and you want the chocolate so bad that you can't wait to put them in the fridge to reset but suck the molten chocolate off the wrapper until you get a paper cut on you lip from the wrapper's edge.
Not that I would know anything about that, of course.
I've been having a shocker with the 365 day photo thingo. I take them but then forget to post them.
But when I get back from Thailand I'll be able to bore you for weeks with photos. I was thinking today that its very inconvenient, how when you're trying to get ready to go overseas, normal life keeps going on and taking up time.
So, some photos.
Here is my friend Jem. We were out celebrating her birthday.
And here she is with her hubby.
Here is my foxxxxy daughter Kimba, the devil, and her good friend, Cleopatra getting ready for Cleopatra's birthday party.
And here I am with Big Ears.
And this is Betty chewing on the hindquarter of a small elephant. Or something.
Oh yes, and these are Lloyds shoes. Because he thought it might be a good idea to buy a pair or white dunlop volleys to wear to all the summer music festivals he goes to. This was after Parklife.
And these were my new nail polishes that you've seen before. And I don't really like either of them. But its ok because I have a newer smokin' rimmel red.
I have just completed writing our Christmas cards and enclosing a letter in each. I am feeling rather superior right now!
I find writing Christmas letters rather an anxious task, as it is often the only communication that you have with someone all year, and you want to make sure you share the information with your family and friends, but you don't want to be boring, and you don't want to sound like you are bragging, so you have to try and strike the right cord. I strive for somewhere between sharing the news and making them feel that their pathetic life is still ok. I mean, as a Flamingo Dancer, obviously whatever I do is far superior to anyone else, but I don't want them to feel too depressed during the Season To Be Merry, and we all know the statistics about depression and suicide at this time of year, so one must be careful. It is trying, but of course I can rise to any occasion.
Aren't you glad that you aren't on my Christmas list? Now that is something to be grateful for this Christmas!
Daughter1 hosted a tea party in my honor yesterday to celebrate my gaining an education degree. We toasted to "getting the 3rd degree" as it is in fact my third university degree, but it also felt at times like I was getting the 3rd degree as I went though the 15 weeks of practicum and continuous assessment by lecturers and supervisors!
Niece was laughing that she had been telling a friend that she was going to her aunt's graduation tea party and that they oooohhhed and aaahhheed that at 51 her aunt could still learn new things. She also laughed when they asked about my degrees and she answered "oh she has so many now that she is tired of graduation celebrations and just wants a cup of tea now!". As she was telling me her story I was holding her daughter, my grandniece who is 14 months and I asked her "when am I going to your graduation, little one?" She is booked into kindergaten for the year 2013. Poor little one!
My Mum gave me the teapot photographed above - she knows my passion for botanical themed tea pots and couldn't resist this one when she was out this week. I suspect the hand of my brother-in-law in it, as he was with Mother Flamingo Dancer when she was shopping as she can't go solo anymore and he is the one who takes her shopping usually. BIL in vey good to her, as she has been to him, over the years. The flowers are from my sister and niece.
I bought a bottle of champagne - well as it can't be called champagne anymore due to copyright etc, it was actually. a bottle of Jacob's Creek Chardonanny Pinot Noir Brut Curvee, but champagne is so much less of a mouthful! It was very refeshing on a hot day, though I just read a review where it was described as a "refreshing dry white with delicate hay/straw and toast flavours. Simple and perhaps lacking character and flavour. Pretty good value for the price "($9.99 AUS). I couldn't taste any hay or toast, but it didn't taste like aspirin like a lot of champagnes seem to taste to me either. I have enough character and flavour to make up for any wine, so was not disturbed by such comments. It was a hot afternoon and the Jacob's Creek Chardonanny Pinot Noir Brut Curvee was chilled to perfection, the food was delectable and the company familiar, so it was all very nice thank you very much.
Yes, we did drink tea. Two cups I think.
I actually had a book seller trying to tell me the other week that Twilight was a modern interpretation of Wuthering Heights. This was in the context of a conversation about why I didn't think these books were really ideal reading for my 11 year old niece (although I wouldn't try and discourage her from reading them - just wanted some ideas for other books that might appeal but have a bit more literary merit, eg, something like Margaret Mahy's The Changover which I have blogged about previously and which Madame Smartypants Bookseller had never even heard of). Anyway, I am sure we will see plenty more Masters theses (is this the plural of thesis?) on this phenomenum before the Next Big Thing comes along.
Well, after attending my nephews wedding I have only one thing to say.
Arabic people sure know how to party.
And how to make an entrance.
But, I bet a lot of the older generation have terrible hearing, because they like everything SO LOUD!!!!!!!!!
Lots of trilling voices, tinkling glasses, drums, smoke machines, shooting confetti and indoor fireworks. I mean, thats what I call a wedding.
Of course my inner freak was wondering how the smoke detectors could possible be turned on with all that smoke floating around, and how would we get mum down that one steep set of steps if there was a fire, and did it really matter that someone had been shot dead in the same street the night before in a gang war.
But the way I see it, if it could get Daz on the dance floor, then it was a good night.
And, it was the first wedding I've been to that had a bottle of Chivas Regal on the childrens table. On every table.
It really was an amazing night. Australian weddings are so boring really. This all started with fireworks and drums and all the bridal party and their parents being introduced. Then it was straight into the dancing. No hanging around the bar, then a long dinner and hours of speeches. Just music and dancing and drums and the bride and groom being carried around on peoples shoulders. I'm sure the bride didn't get to sit down all night. She did a lot of dancing.
And the food. Unbelievable. When we arrived our tables were just full of little plates of hommus and oils, meats and salami and fetta, potatoes, nuts, fresh vegetables and fruit, olives, crabmeat, leb bread, kumara chips and dolmades. And every time a plate looked like being empty a new one took its place. Then there were bottles of red wine and white wine, a bottle of chivas regal, coronas, carlton colds, cascade and a light beer all in ice buckets. Topped up all night. Endless. Plus bottles of water, and jugs coke and orange juice.
But then there was a meal. I know I couldn't eat mine. That was followed by fruit platters and then wedding cake.
Then there was dancing and dancing and more dancing.
Oh, and the bridesmaids dresses were absolutely beautiful. Too often the bride seems to pick something hideous for her girls to wear, maybe so they don't look better than her. But these were perfect. Not quite the blue in the photos.
And I don't know the significance of the bride being carried in the chair sorry.
When I had a Monday-Friday job, Saturday was naturally laundry day. Every week I would have to ask Mr FD to carry the laundry hamper downstairs for me, as it was often too heavy for my back. May I repeat, EVERY Saturday I had to ASK Mr FD to bring down the laundry hamper from our bathroom.
Now, I don't have a Monday to Friday routine, and I do laundry during the week, trying to leave the weekends free. You know, just in case the last threads of our sanity tear and we give in to spontaneity, heaven forbid!
NOW that I no longer do laundry on a Saturday, every Saturday without fail, WITHOUT A REQUEST, Mr FD brings down the laundry hamper and places it with pride in the middle of our small laundry. It sits there like a dog poop on your priceless heirloom rug. I say nothing, trying to ignore it, but oddly enough it makes me want to rip his throat out.
I do not do the laundry. It sits there until the day I do, in the meantime, our dirty clothes mount up on the floor of our bathroom. I prefer not to say anything as when I am back in the work force I will no doubt want him to bring that damn laundry hamper down each and every Saturday again.
I just want to know - does he know what he is doing? Is he playing games with me - stirring the lizard he calls it. Passive aggressive games of marriage...sigh. Or did he just finally get the message through his damn thick skull and is now probably wondering why I am not postulating myself at his feet in gratitude?
Is it him, or is it me? I know, it's him. It is always him.
I did it though. I got out and moved for 20 minutes or so. I went back inside, swaddled myself in fleece and thick striped socks and laid back on the couch to watch re-runs of law & order (they are always on, that and golden girls but I dont watch them, really I dont, okay maybe once in a while...)
*I wasted several weeks when I should have been making soap for christmas. Now I am rushed, I have been making a batch a day to have them cured in time for christmas. In fact a couple wont be good until two days after christmas. Ooops. Now I cant lay my head on the couch and watch
I only have one more batch to go, mint will be made tomorrow. Then I can get all those pots and pans and molds and cooler and oils in the garage again. They are crowding my kitchen.
*It is so cold. Frosty mornings. I want to go take pictures, but it is so cold out there. I have not been taking very many pictures lately. I just have not felt the motivation.
*while bringing in a load of wood for the wood stove I cracked my knee on the door frame. It is so dark blue now. I cursed a blue streak (what exactly is a blue streak?). This happened two days ago and even now it is throbbing. I really smashed it. A few weeks ago I stubbed my toe on one of those strips the put in the doorways to separate carpet from wood floor or in my case wood floor from linoleum (I know it is really vinyl, but I love the word linoleum). Well I managed to stub it so hard that it bruised me under the nail, it looked like it bent the nail back. Strange thing is that I have NO idea how that could even be possible. Seriously, how does one bend a toenail back on something that cannot grab your nail? I cried a little and cursed another blue streak. This happened weeks ago and it is still a little tender.
*Mr. L said he will hook up the Wii tonight. I am excited about this.
*pandora has now played 6 Beatles songs, 4 radiohead, and
*I am going to make an eye appointment soon. My sight has become rather bad lately. It is time for Lavender to get glasses. I want some cool, hip, retro, cat eye style frames. I hope I can find some that fit my personality and style and face. I also hope the three spots I have been seeing for quite some time are no big deal. one is starting to bother me when I read. I am scared.
*Just got the mail. I hate it when junk mail reads "This is NOT Junk Mail". Liar!
*I think I am going to go heat up some apple cider and cozy up on the couch and watch some
I have been sitting and thinking about my Dad today. Dad died in 2000 at the age of 76. He was the 13th child in a family of 18th children born to first generation German-Australian migrants. By the time he was born some of his elder siblings were young adults. It was the depression and his father, though they farmed was more interested in drinking and partying than feeding his family. Often my Dad went hungry. He told me tales of catching rabbits at the age of 9 or 10 just to have something to eat. Once he was sent to live with am older brother who would disappear for days on end and not leave any food in the house for my Dad, a small child, to eat.
Back at the family "home" many of the children actually slept out in the shed [barn] and used hessian sacks as blankets. The bathroom was the dam or the creek. Food, usually, what they could find. Dad often told me that he probably owes much of survivial during his childhood to the lady who lived on the neighbouring farm, who would give Dad food to eat. I wonder if that woman ever knew what a role she played in my Dad's life? Other people no doubt would have just thought him a waif from a hopeless family, and not cared, but she did. Her generosity shaped my Dad.
Thoughout his life, he was always concerned that no one left his table not full and content. If anyone hung back he would urge tidbits on them. Sharing his food and his table was a joy to him, and one of the ways he showed his care and concern.
As Christmas draws near, I think of Dad, and the love and pride he had for his family. No Christmas ever passes without one of his Grandchildren remembering how Grandpa would steal food from their plates and pretend that he was going to eat it, and when they played the games and complained would return the food, and usually some from his own plate as well. He hated to think that someone might go hungry, or miss out. We neve did of course, we would all have a very full tummy when we rose from the table. Dad would complement the food and say "isn't that wonderful"! He showed his appreciation to all.
So, in many ways, though he is not physically with us, Dad still shapes our Christmas. We plan the menu, we talk about the food we will make and share. We strive to bring pleasure to each other. And to ourselves. Dad also taught us to honor ourselves as well. We deserve good things too. The real pleasure though comes from sharing and giving to others. That nourishes our spirit and our family bonds, even more than the physical food. That is the finest lesson Dad taught us, that caring for others is the greatest gift that we can give ourselves. Caring for others can change lives and shape generations to come. Just like the woman who shared her food with my Dad, sharing what we have can have far reaching effects that no one can know or see, but they are there. Through her simple kindness, our family continues to grow and prosper and pass on the gift that she gave my Dad.
Care about those around you, do the little things and the world grows and the gift goes on and on.
I'm sure if Daz had of tried just a little bit harder he could have bought a more difficult wedding present for me to wrap.
Not much harder mind you.
There was a gift registry, he was going to the big smoke, so I said - go and spend about $100.00. And he came home with this weird mish mash of items. He was super impressed with himself because there had been 30% off everything and he was able to get a lot of totally random unrelated items.
I said - couldn't you have just bought one item?
He said - well I could've got the ironing board.
Easier to wrap no doubt, but not as easy to fit in the car.
So I've ignored it for two weeks but the wedding is tomorrow so I had to face up to it today. A lot of sticky tape was used. And I'm not sure a piece of curly silver ribbon is going to make it look better either.
But at least its crap they want.
So this is Emjays son who is getting married. My nephew. It is going to be a huge, long and hot day, that will start with a three hour drive for us to even get there. I'm planning on taking my swimmers to have a splash around in the motel pool between the service and the reception. That will hopefully be followed by a nap. And we have to fit lunch in sometime before the service and all stay clean. Lol, we have to get dressed at 7.30 in the morning, drive three hours in Lloyds old smashed up Magna, eat lunch, go to the service, fill in a few hours, then turn up at the reception still looking clean and fresh.
Don't know what that chances of that are. But it should be a good day and night. Big.
Emjay tells me I should wish for my children to elope.
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