Romper Stomper

I taught him how to sing Doctor Marten's Boots just like Alexi Sayle does. He could pass as Alexi Sayle anyday. He just needs the accent.

Ooohh WOW!!!

Henry has a new Big Twuck. Amber, Maya's half sister, brought it around for him this afternoon. She came in with it hidden up her shirt and she was as excited about giving it to him as he was about receiving it. That truck was treated so lovingly and inspected very thoroughly and given a great big hug and even a kiss! He just wanted to sit in our laps as we inspected it together and occasionally he'd look up and say "oooh wow! Lucky".

Amber works in Henry's day care group and I'm sure she's just trying to win him over so he behaves for her when he's there.

A New Book. A New Boy!

Just last week Henry got a parcel from Grandma in America. In the parcel were two new truck books. Henry was soooo excited I thought he was going to burst a few blood vessels with all the woo hooing that was going on. Mum and Dad are happy too because now we have some new truck pictures to look at and new truck words to learn. YAY!!! I'm going to take a photo of the old ones sometime soon so you can see just how well read they really are.



Yesterday he and Maya put some blankets and pillows in the tent and pretended to camp out. He just gets so upset with Maya when she won't do what he wants. He has some special word he yells when he gets cranky like this and none of us can work out what it is but it sounds distinctly like "awe soooome". He does this with his fists clenched and his face screwed up. It's really very funny but he doesn't like it if we laugh at him when he's trying to get his point across.



These photos are of some happy moments in the tent together.

Monkey Grip

I read Monkey Grip by Helen Garner when I was about 18 years old. This book, and many others by Helen Garner had a profound effect on me, at that age at least. I was telling Ben about Monkey Grip and decided that I should track a copy down to read again now that I am older and wiser and also so he can read it. It turns out my friend had a copy. After my mentioning it to her and before she gave it to me, she read it herself. She warned me that I may feel differently about the book now that I am a full blown wife and mother, living a responsible (that's debatable) existence. She's right. I think Javo is a spineless little twerp of a drug addict and that's it. Still, I admire and adore Helen Garner and love her writing style. Simple but economically descriptive and all Australian.

My New Job

I'll be starting a new life as a sales person in my parent's business. I'm entirely unsure how I'll do with this as I have no sales skills and while I find the stuff pretty and interesting, I also find it to be completely useless. I've had some tips from my friend Stephen on how to be a successful sales person. Not that he would know because he's an artist. Anyway he says what I must do is always talk with a smile and repeat everything I say three times. Eg: "That's really beautiful and would look lovely in any home. Lovely. It's really very beautiful and very lovely".

I went with my mother to visit a client once and while the client was looking through the importers catalogue I stupidly said "Oh they're all very nice but to me they're just dust collectors". My mother kicked me under the table and gave me a lecture all the way home about being careful what I say. Kind of reminded me of my life as a teenager.

I'll be off to the Gift Trade Fair in Sydney at the end of February where I'll be surrounded by "Pru and Trudes" and farmers wives who own giftshops as a hobby and people who call each other "darl" and "pet". I'm looking forward to this as I will get to write about them all on my blog and it will probably be funny. Why wouldn't it be?

I will be pleased however to be helping my mother and stepfather who have worked very hard to achieve what they have. They've pulled themselves out of a terrible situation years ago and built up a very successful little business. They're well respected by those they deal with (hopefully I won't ruin that for them) and they are very clued up about how to sell without losing intergrity and self respect.

I would like to try my hand at being a rental property manager some day though. Those people pretty much get paid to do not much at all I'm sure. We've been on the hunt for alternative living arrangements and we have been searching by internet. Each property has a link to the handling agent so that you can write to request further information about the property you're intersted in, or so it says, arrange an inspection time. I have written to about 30 property managers via this link and have had a total of 3 replies. I try calling now and no one in the office can ever answer my questions. No one has ever actually laid their real eyes on the property so can't tell you anymore than their blurb says about it. You ask can you inspect it and they tell you to drive by first and then call them again if you want to take a look. Why do things twice? Then you try to tell them what specifically you are looking for in a property and they seem to let out a big sigh and say "you'll just have to keep looking on the net" and pretty much rush you off the phone. They work on behalf of the owners and not the tenants. They just have to sit back and wait for the applications to rush in, which apparently they do, do some checks on the applicants and their job is done. Easy.

Anyhow, on another note. We all have headcolds here this morning. Henry woke up coughing and spluttering with his nose running everywhere and the rest of us followed suit. The weather is so cool that it could almost be called the start of a Queensland winter (25 degrees C) so that may be why we've all suddenly developed the nose thing.

I'm leaving you with a photo of our cat tucked up in bed.

The Chooken With No Head

That's what I feel like. A chook (or chooken as Henry calls it) with no head. The last two days have been insanely full of stuff. I feel like I've gotten in and out of the car with Henry at least 300 times. It's probably only been 10 but it felt like a lot more. Especially trying to get a 13 kilo hefty weight such as Henry into the car seat which is in the back of a small hatchback car.

He had his first day at day care yesterday. He didn't stay the whole day and I didn't have the heart to leave him on his own. I stayed with him for an hour and a half and then we left together. He has 3 girls and 4 other boys in his group. None of them as handsome, smart or happy as he is. Of course. The girls just hung out and did their thing like smear paint on every surface they could and the boys were all crying like nancies for their mama's. That's a bit mean isn't it? I felt terrible for the poor babies. All standing at the window which looks over the carpark waiting for their mama's to drive up and rescue them from this hell hole called day care. Henry just got there and let out some 'woo hoos" of excitement at the sight of all the toys and books. He pulled every box containing blocks off the shelves and tipped them all over the place, ate some poor kids morning tea (she didn't want it anyway), climbed on the tables to test their stability, painted the chairs and tore a couple of pages out of a book he didn't like. When he'd done all that he went to the door, knocked on it and said "home". I forgot to take the camera so I have no photos to give you of this momentous occasion. I have a feeling he'll be fine when he stays for the whole day next week.

After we'd done that Maya had to go to the dentist to get her mouth probed and poked at so they could discuss the several ways they might cut it open in a few weeks time to expose a tooth and attach a chain to it so they can pull it down. I thought I might be sick just hearing them talk of tearing into the gum and making a flap and yanking the tooth down. She then had a hair cut and asked for a few things she knew she could never have (she's grounded and in big trouble right now but that's another story). Her hair looks very nice. She thinks so too because she won't stop looking at it in the mirror. The day just continued to get busy and today was no better. At least Henry is starting to pay more attention to TV - Sesame Street being one of his new favourites. This means he is occupied for at least 10 minutes. Sometimes I even manage to get the dishes washed.

It's being reviewed...........

I found out today that the Residential Tenancy Act is currently under review. I sent an email with my thoughts to both the Residential Tenants Union and the Minister for Housing, Public Works and Racing. The Residential Tenants Union asked for input from tenants on their website and had a special email address for sending your thoughts to be considered during the review. I sent an email to them and got a reply saying "We can't offer advice by email and perhaps you'd like to forward your thoughts to the Minister for Housing who is currently conducting a review of the Act" Well der! I thought that's what they were just asking for on their website - INPUT. I hadn't once in my email asked them for advice or help of any kind. Of course I got the polite and short reply from the Minister's senior advisors also thanking me for my thoughts and they MAY be considered during the review. BIG WOOP!!!

It's all just a publicity stunt by them all. At the end of the day they really don't care. They just need to look like they do.

No wonder people resign themselves to the fact that nothing they do or say will change anything and accept things just the way they are. Nobody likes a troublemaker or one who starts to question why things are the way they are. I already feel beat.

Mmmmm Yummmooo Cookin'

Henry loves to watch Iain Hewitson cook up a delicious storm. I assume this is because he just loves food but when it comes on he says "Ohh yummmo, cookin" and watches intently until at least the first ad break. It can't be Iain Hewitson's personality that keeps him enthused because, let's face it Huey isn't the most exciting of TV chefs. In fact he's downright boring. His food looks good though. I like to believe Henry is watching intently so he can learn how to cook me dinner by the time he's two.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Please take care of us all from that place that you sit to watch over us. I still have your shirt hanging on the end of the bed. It reminds me of your goodness and not the illness that made you go away. It still smells like you.


I love you
xoxoxox

The Blessed Peace of Holidays.

What a beautiful place. We used to go to Rainbow Beach a lot as kids. Not much has changed there. There are a few new developments and of course land costs a small fortune but it's still beautiful and preserved and has that small coastal town feel about it. The Rainbow Shores development, where our holiday house was located,is nestled in bushland. All the homes have access to the beach through bushland walking tracks. It really is a bush meets the sea kind of place. It's so quiet and peaceful and the permanent residents and holiday home owners obviously have a great respect for the environment they're lucky enough to own a small piece of.

Henry had a great time with his cousins. He followed them around trying desperately to join in whatever it was they were doing. When they yelled, he yelled, when they laughed, he laughed. Little did he realise they would rather he just went somewhere else. They were as patient as they could be and when their patience wore out they went and locked themselves in a room he couldn't get into.

My mother and stepfather had Henry sleeping in their room so they got up to him at 5am each morning and took him for a walk so he wouldn't disturb the rest of the sleeping household, including me. For that I will be eternally grateful. I got to sleep a little longer, have a cup of tea and read for a bit without interruption.

The hardest part about going away is coming home. The real world is fraught with financial worries, time constraints, housework, and work pressures. Holidays take us away from all of that if only for a short time.

The Beach and Us

We're home! Until I get more time to update you on our adventure here are some photos.

"The Hut" the kids built.
Maya, Henry, Riley and Grace.

If you look closely you can see a Goanna climbing the tree on the left hand side at the bottom. My poor mother thought he was coming to get HER.

The back of the house in which we all lived. Everyone came out alive.

Every grandchild minus one. He was mustering cattle!

Always with the truck books! "Big Twuck, Big Twuck". Nanna is soooo patient.

The Beach Beckons

So we're off to Rainbow Beach for the rest of the week. Ben's not coming. He says he wants to but I think he's secretly looking forward to coming home from work and being able to sit on the couch and drink beer with no one to bother him. He won't have to do any dishes until Thursday night before I come home either. He'll be in heaven.

I wish there were people you could hire to come pack your stuff for you when you go on hols. It's taken me three days of listmaking to get halfway organised. We're staying in a house where you must supply your own linen and food and that in itself takes up more than half the car. Of course as I've packed the stuff Henry's unpacked it which means it all got packed twice and sometimes three times. He's also suddenly developed some obsession with the tissues and takes a handful and blows his nose on them, scrunches them up and then insists on putting them in the bin which is hidden in side the cupboard. He stands at the cupboard which has childproof locks on it and slams it until someone comes and lets him at it. One must stop whatever one is doing immediately and grant him his wish otherwise there is no let up. God it's going to be a fun week. The rest of my family are already there. We'll probably all want to kill each other by the end of it. I'll have to take long walks on the beach several times a day. It's pouring with rain here right now and is, I imagine, at Rainbow Beach. Oh fun!

We will pick up Maya from the airport just after lunch and head off. We've all missed her. Her griping and complaining and asking for stuff. No really I've missed her a lot. Henry's missed her a lot. She's missed Henry. She's called to talk to him a few times but he just listens intently and says nothing.


Anyway he's asleep so I'm going to pack the car while I can.

Pumpkin Risotto.

I'm starting to panic too much about life going back to normal. You know, going back to work, having to entertain Henry all alone now that Ben has gone back to work, sorting out school stuff, starting Henry at day care. I am so lame.

Anyway just because I don't want to think about it I'm going to post the pumpkin, blue cheese and proscuitto risotto recipe that Libby asked for so long ago. I kind of made it up as I went along so the quantities are vague (really) but most rissotto follows the same rules.


Ingredients:

Half a small pumpkin, skin removed and chopped into small pieces
1 onion, diced
2 large garlic cloves
6 strips of proscuitto (baked in oven until crispy)
handful of baby spinach leaves
half a wedge of blue vein cheese
1 cup Aborio rice
around one litre of vegetable or chicken stock
1 cup of white wine


Boil around half a small pumpkin in some vegetable stock. Once it's cooked, drain (save the water) and mash to a smooth consistency. Put aside.

sautee onion and garlic in a large saucepan. Add rice and sautee for approx one minute, add wine and stir until wine starts to reduce, add the saved stock from the pumpkin and stir until the rice is of a thick consistency. Continue to add vegetable or chicken stock a little at a time, stirring until the rice has almost aborbed the stock each time. The trick with rissotto is that it must be stirred the whole time as this helps remove the starch from the rice and helps make it creamy and smooth. This could take twenty minutes or more. It's a little labour intensive but worth it in the end. You may need more stock than I have mentioned here.

Once you feel the rice is cooked and no more stock is needed add the pumpkin and stir through. Break the crispy proscuitto into small pieces and stir through. Crumble the cheese and stir through also. Just before serving stir through the spinach leaves which are left whole.

Enjoy with good friends and several glasses of wine!

Fast food is no good for slow minds.

Yesterday I got to spend two hours all ALONE. All by myself. With no one else. There was just me. This is rare. So rare that I don't really remember the last time I got any significant amount of time ALONE. I don't count the trips to the supermarket or to run errands although yesterday was an errand run with a little bit of time just to walk around ON MY OWN. I had to go to the bank which was located at a shopping centre which also had a McDonalds right next door. I am morally opposed to McDonalds unless it's before 10.30am. Before then I can get a sausage and egg McMuffin. I have a weakness for these. I thought that since I was ALONE I could treat myself to one. I wouldn't have to buy anyone else one but ME. So I did but I must have been high on my ALONENESS because I went through the drive through and forgot to pull up at the first window to place my order. I thought it was a little strange that I wasn't treated with the usual ridiculous politeness that I get by the young employees of McDonalds when I got to the window I thought was the order window. I know they're all taught to be polite and talk with a smile no matter what. She was still polite but a little short. She asked me what I wanted, took my money, and I drove off believing I had to turn a corner and there would be another window at which another polite young employee would pass me my Sausage and Egg McMuffin. I got around the corner and there was nothing but car park. I stupidly looked around wondering if they'd changed things around somehow and I hadn't noticed. I stopped the car in the two minute waiting zone while I wondered what I should do. I realised my mistake and got out to go into the store and collect my McMuffin when the young girl who had served me came walking up to me with it. I apologised for my stupidity and she just muttered something about it being ok and walked off. I noticed there were several other cars behind me waiting for her to deliver my McMuffin before they could place their order. I'm sure she thought I was completely unable to understand the finer art of placing an order at a fast food joint, especially one as fast as McDonalds.

Then today we decided to take Henry to Baskin and Robins for an ice cream. I placed our order -two massive chocolate cones. The VERY young girl working there on her own placed two massive scoops of chocolate onto two small cones and handed them both to me. I took them both and then proceeded to try to get coins out of my purse to pay for them. As I was doing so one scoop fell off and dropped onto the counter. She watched me struggle to try to scoop the ice cream back up and get the coins to her at the same time. She had a frustrated look on her face that said "these stupid old people come in here all the time and make my day hell". She tsked and got the scoop and plopped that scoop of ice cream straight back into the cone and offered it back to me. I was too taken aback by my own clumsiness to even suggest she get me a new scoop.

I think I have to re-evaluate my need for fast food.

Helping Henry

Postcards from Brazil

Yesterday we received a parcel from our friend Rob who is currently travelling through Brazil and the USA. In fact I believe he may be climbing some mountain in Pensylvania as I write this. It had been opened and quarantined by AQIS, probably because it came all the way from Brazil and we all know the Brazilians are famous for their use of illegal substances. The parcel contained real and delicious Brazilian coffee and two pairs of much sought after Havaiana rubber thongs. For those of you in the States, thongs are not erotic underwear. They are shoes, made of rubber, worn on the feet. See photo but ignore the neglected toe painting. Anyway these rubber thongs (no longer really known as thongs but only as Havaianas- brand names are important) originate in Brazil and we pay a small fortune for them here. Maya will be thrilled.

I can finally admit to wearing rubber thongs, and in public, now that my father has passed away and there is no chance of me being reprimanded for it. Once upon a time I would never have owned a pair let alone wore them where members of the general public could see me. Rubber thongs were only worn by the ignorant, poor and those who had no regard for social etiquette. At least that's what my father told me. I was in my early thirties before I owned a pair of these. We weren't allowed to when we were children. All my friends had them, especially when white ones were all the rage, but not me, I wasn't allowed. I once borrowed a pair from a friend and wore them downtown. I wanted to be cool but also a little rebellious. I didn't count on my father eating lunch and enjoying a beer at a downtown hotel. Of course I happened to walk by that hotel while he was enjoying his lunch and beer, with the white thongs on. I was with three of my friends and my father comes out of the hotel and lectures me in front of the passing foot traffic and also my friends. I never felt so humiliated in all my life. My friends wondered what the big deal was and thought my father the most unreasonable man ever to walk the earth. I was never game to buy or wear another pair of thongs again. That was until I was in my thirties. I bought a pair while holidaying but I never wore them in public where people could see me and I never let my father know I owned them. He passed away two years ago and I still feel a little guilty when I wear them outside the home but I'm getting more and more bold all the time. Especially with a pair of highly sought after Havaianas, all the way from Brazil. There's something ok about that.

Henry likes to Help

And this is cute. The first three times. He wants to "beep beep" - press the buttons on the microwave, slam the door shut and then try to open it again before it's finished zapping whatever is in there. He wants to help get the "mulk" (milk) out of the fridge and put it back. This usually results in it being poured all over the floor. He wants to help sweep the floor by grabbing the broom and swinging it around the house and knocking everything over and hitting me in the head with it. He wants to help put the "toot" (toilet) paper on the roll, pull a few dozen sheets off in the process, blow his nose and stuff it all in the toilet. He wants to help hang the clean washing by throwing it all on the ground and standing on it. He wants to help hose the plants but all that gets hosed is me and the inside of the house. It's been years since Maya's wanted to help and I guess I just forgot how unhelpful the helpful stage can be.

Hooray for Noddy

YAY! Henry's finally starting to show some interest in the electronic babysitter. This may potentially mean we will get hours of quiet to the tune of "Hooray for Noddy". Not that I want this to happen, I just think that there's enormous scope for increasing his knowledge and understanding of how the world works. Noddy no longer lives with Big Ears as he used to when I was a child because viewers complained about Noddy and Big Ears sharing a home and a bed. This could give their children the wrong idea and their children may become gay. I needn't worry about that influence. They each have their own mushrooms to live in now. Noddy drives responsibly, teaches Martha Monkey how to behave and dobs the Naughty Goblins into Inspector Plod. He's a good, community minded citizen. Just what I want Henry to be and if he learns this from the electronic babysitter then so be it. Hooray for Noddy!

Real Musicians v The News

Last night we watched an Elton John concert in Madison Square Garden on TV. Elton John commented that he had decided never to appear in a video again. I mentioned to Ben that he knew when to quit. Knew that he could no longer compete with the young sexy entertainers of today unlike Madonna who refuses to accept that she is now 47. Ben said "that's because Elton is a real musician, Madonna is just the newsreader of musicians".

First Words of New Years Day.

You know how I said yesterday that I would love to wake to the sounds of "big twuck" first thing on the first day of the new year?? Well I've changed my mind. At 3.30am I wanted all big trucks to explode somewhere over the ocean, far away from here. We tried to shut the words out. Shove the pillows over our heads. Pretend they were coming from someone elses home. It didn't work. The more we ignored it the louder it got. "BIG TWUCK, BIG TWUCK", followed by some loud wailing.

I'm going to be tired for the whole of 2006 AND we didn't win Lotto. Maybe someone could declare 2006 a non-year.