Unhappy Hour!

Melissa J Evans suggested, and rightly so, that I write a post about the price of drinks at "Happy Hour" at this place.

She played there on Saturday night and if you've been reading my past posts you'll notice that I already mentioned that. As we rolled up Melissa rushed out and stamped our hands with some kind of blind eye graphic thing that should herald to the bar staff that we were entitled to "reduced price, Happy hour" drinks. I thought this was fantastic as I'm always one to take advantage of anything as long as it's reduced in price. I don't drink out very often and in fact have probably not actually purchased an alcoholic drink in a bar for several years. I sauntered up to the bar and placed my order, flashed by hand and hoped that significant gesture would mean my three drinks would only cost the price of one. Isn't that what Happy Hour usually is? An encouragement to spend more on booze by getting you rotten drunk for next to nothing in the first place. Everyone knows that after 3 or 4 you just don't care.

I dug my $5.00 note from my wallet and handed it over with a giant smug smile. After all I was there to support the megastar of the evening and I was sporting some eye like stamp on my hand. The female bar attendant took the five dollars and turned it over to check if there was anything else to accompany it. She then looked at me and then back at the five dollars and let out an enormous sigh. "I'm sorry miss but it's actually $25 for the three drinks you just ordered". I coughed slightly and said "but I have this stamp, see" and waved it under her nose. "That stamp only applies to Blue Caracao, Sherry and Blackberry Nip". She said. How stupid am I? Of course it only applies to drinks that no one has dared to consume for over 20 years.

Sheesh. Needless to say those drinks were the first and only I bought all night.

It's here

Summer is here. Well not technically but it sure is hot enough. The tar on the roads is already melting and the pavements are curling trying to hide themselves from the sun. Some people are jealous of our summers but those people are all psychologically deranged. They need help in the form of therapy in an air conditioned office. The end of October and early November are my favourite times of the year. Just before the sweltering sun makes it impossible to spend any time outdoors between the hours of 7AM and 7PM.

What's so unfair about this is that we're expected to ENJOY Christmas Day in 40 degree plus heat. For some stupid reason we still bake hams, turkeys and all manner of hot edible things and sit around a table stuffing our faces while we drip with sweat.

When I was a kid Christmas never seemed to be so hot. Maybe it was but we just didn't notice it. After lunch we'd all hang out under the mango tree stuffing our faces with freshly deposited mangoes and watermelon that Dad broke up by throwing on the ground. We got the hose out and sprayed each other, had rotten mango fights with the neighbouring kids, played with our gift which usually included something for us to share and always came with a timer to deter any fights over who had been on it the longest.

As I get older and the weather gets more intense I begin to dread the whole thing. The sun just burns. Even our eyeballs sweat, we can feel the skin cancers developing and growing as we take the rubbish to the bin. The ground burns under our feet. Sometimes even the beach is just too hot to take advantage of - the sand is too hot to walk on let alone sit on.

One day we'll make it to the US for a white Christmas. One in which we can build snowmen, ride sleds, have snowball fights and then go inside and warm up.

One day.....we might even get smart and actually buy only cold foods instead of just talking about it.

San Francisco - Love Ya Gutz

This is not San Francisco (well der) but it is downtown Caxton Street, Paddington. This is where we just heard Melissa J Evans, sing a little ditty she wrote about San Francisco. She was launching her new CD. She personally signed the one I bought - "You're a legend, Love Ya Gutz!" Ben suggested she just sign it over to ebay so it can more easily be flogged off when she becomes a megastar but I wanted something a little more personal. Love ya Gutz is it.


She just gets better and better. Her songs of love, sorrow, friendship and sometimes even misery are haunting, soulful and funny all at the same time.

I don't like that one

This is Henry's new catchphrase. "I don't like it". "I don't like that music". "I don't like the daycare". "I don't like the muesli bar". Whatever it is we offer him he just says "Don't like that one". The only things he does like are the things he can't have; chocolate, ice cream, lollies, the huge truck at K Mart, his very own excavator, you know, easy things like that.

It's cute for a nanosecond and I don't know if he says it because he can or if he really doesn't like the things he says he doesn't.

Yesterday on the way to daycare I played a CD of songs, calming, soothing, quiet nursery rhymes, things that I thought he would like because when I play the radio he's always telling me he "don't like that song". Since he likes to listen to these nursery rhymes sometimes at home I thought he might appreciate them in the car. I was wrong. Each song was met with "don't like that song". I skipped through each one, he listened intently for about two seconds before announcing "don't like that song". When we got to the final song on the CD he said "have to buy a Wiggles music". So I guess that's what I have to do.


If one could buy truck sounds on a CD that is probably what he'd be most interested in listening to.

Let's clear the air

We had a wild storm rip through town the other day. It lasted all of about fifteen minutes and tore the roof right off this church, an event my husband witnessed. It might be a while before the "perfect church" is able to open its doors to some not so perfect churchgoers.

The days leading up to said storm had been rather tense in our household but the storm seemed to clear the air somewhat and that afternoon saw everyone at home in a relatively good mood. Always being one to take advantage of any situation Maya thought it would be a good idea, as she usually does, to ask for something.

Maya: Everyone's in a good mood today

Me: Yes, maybe the excitement of the storm gave everyone else something to focus on and brought with it some fresh air

Maya: Yeah. Hey maybe we could have take away for dinner

Me: No we can't

Maya: Why not?

Me: Because we don't need to, we have plenty to eat here

Maya: But I don't want to eat it

Me: Too bad

Maya: What about pizza?

Me: No

Maya: ok. How about the Golden Arches?

Me: No

Maya: Oh why not?

Me: Because of above mentioned reason. If you had no choice but a cup of rice to eat each day you'd be happy to eat whatever I happen to cook which won't include rice

Maya: But I do have choices. I don't have to eat rice everyday.

Me: Yes your choice is a home cooked meal or nothing

And so began an hour long argument about how everyone else gets stuff WHENEVER they want it. I always remind her this is not true but she insists on informing me that all her friends do indeed get everything they ask for ALL the time. Yesterday she told me that ALL her friends are allowed to have 20 people sleep over for a slumber party on their birthday EVERY year. Either this is completely untrue or their parents are all stupid.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Bossy Boots

Henry has become very bossy. I suspect this is partly due to the fact that he has had to learn to stand up to his sister and loudly tell her to "stop teasing me Sissy". The bossiness has extended to anyone who does anything he doesn't approve of, like for instance the little girl at the supermarket who was hurting no one by swinging her shopping basket while waiting for her mother. For some reason Henry thought she shouldn't be doing that so he told her very sternly "stop swinging that basket". Later while lined up at the checkout a lady stood behind us holding a cake she was waiting to purchase, Henry tells her "Hey, that's not your cake, put it back". Fortunately she thought it was somewhat cute and didn't slap me around the head with the cake for teaching my child bad manners.

That night while in the shower I heard him telling his cars to go to sleep. I looked around and he had them all turned upside down and was telling them "goodnight, sleep tight". He then ran from the shower to get a towel for their blanket. He covered them and then lay on top of them to hug them.

I like pets....cheap pets like spiders and things

If I had a spider as a pet it's likely it might go away somewhere when it got sick and die a natural death, or be eaten by its partner or a bird or a ghecko or something. That doesn't happen with a cat. When a cat gets sick it costs a whole weeks wages to fix it. It must be taken to a veterinary surgeon who will charge a lot of money just to tell you that it needs antibiotics, IV fluids and an overnight hospital stay because it has a gastro-intenstinal infection. My next pet will be a spider.

Happy Anniversary

Today marks the first anniversary of my first post. Well not by actual date but by Melbourne Cup race day. Yes it was that time of year again today and I'm proud to say that I won a total of $6 if you take out what I had to spend in order to win it. I choose my winners based on who is paying the most money. Of course that doesn't mean they are the favourites but precisely the opposite. Since the Melbourne Cup is the hardest race to pick a winner in I figure it doesn't matter who I bet on and going for the highest odds means that if I do back a winner I'll be further out in front than I otherwise would have been. This morning before swimming lessons and after watching out for the odds on the TV I went and placed my bets. When I did this the horse who ended up winning was paying $108 for a win. By the time it actually won it was down to only $17 and that is what I won as I only placed a $1 bet for a win or place.

Wee - wee

The thing I thought might never happen finally happened: Henry managed to actually wee on the toilet. After months of sitting him there and making those stupid noises that are supposed to sound like water running and having him watch us while we're at it and saying "wee wee" about 300 hundred times per day he finally managed it. Not without mess of course. Half way through he was as shocked as I was and had to pull it out midstream to see what was actually going on down there and in doing so managed to spray half the bathroom. Of course we clapped and cheered and jumped up and down and gave him a sickly sweet jube snake as a reward. For the rest of the afternoon he kept going into the bathroom and saying "you did it, yay! give him a snake!"

Happy Birthday to me!

Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday dear fantastic, hardworking, dedicated, loving Mama.
Happy Birthday to me.

Today is my birthday! I'm almost at the end of a long week of them. It starts with my sister who had a birthday on Wed and then my other sister had a birthday on Thursday and then my niece had a birthday on Friday and then my mother had a birthday yesterday and then I am having one today and then my sister in law is having one tomorrow and my brother in law is having one on Monday.

Last night my husband and daughter cooked up a most delicious three course meal in celebration. I did nothing. They shopped, they prepared, they waited on us and they cleaned up. The food and service was fantastic and possibly better than we would have had at a restaurant. This morning I have had three cups of tea in bed and been presented with a box of Lindt Chocolates and a gift I've been waiting a long time for - a quality non stick fry pan. I know that's not very romantic but you have no idea how much I actually wanted one. I go to the shops and I lovingly touch them and knock them with my knuckles and turn them over and read about the quantanium coating.

Later I'm being taken shopping by a friend to buy a pair of these.

Happy Birthday Nana

Dear Nana
Mum told me I have to write a letter to you to wish you happy birthday. Even if she didn't tell me to I still would have done it but you wouldn't be able to understand my writing. Mum taught me how to draw trucks but she didn't tell me how to draw Nana. Anyway I think you are the best Nana in the world. I really like it when you bring Richie to see me and he has a truck stuffed down his shirt. I like it too when you give me ice cream and don't tell Mum about it. Sometimes mum is a right pain because she won't let me have stuff that makes me crazy. I know you think it's funny when I say I have a hang nail and need the clippers but it's not funny for me because those things bother me for hours. Sometimes it bothers me so much I have to throw a tantrum and then Mum sends me to the naughty corner. Because I'm really cute Mum doesn't make me stay there for the whole time. All I have to do is say "sorry Mama", smile and give her a kiss and a hug and she lets me get out.

When I come over next can you ask Richie if he'll take me to see the fire trucks again because when he takes me to see the fire trucks he sometimes takes me to the shop and buys me a lolly pop too. Hey, you know how Nana's are supposed to buy kids stuff all the time? Well I was wondering if you could buy me that really big tonka truck that mum won't buy. She says I have enough. I've only got 62 cars and 7 trucks but I could always do with some more.

Mum said I have to go to sleep now for a while because we have to go and see you later and make you eat some cake or something. Sissy's trying to suck up to you and get you to love her more by cooking you a dinner tonight with prawns in it. She's too big to sit on your lap and plus she's not really into trucks and won't read the books to me all day like you do.

I love you Nana.

From Henry

xoxoxox

Happy Birthday

Today is my niece's birthday. We called her to wish her a great day and after listing off all her presents to me this is the conversation we had

Me: You sure got a lot of presents. I never get that many presents on my birthday.

Her: I know. I got a lot. Mum and Dad never get many either.

Me: Yeah, maybe Mum and Dad and me need to do something about that.

Her: Yeah, you should tell the government.

Does this give us some indication of how our children view the world? That the government should solve ALL our problems? That they should hold an official inquiry into Why Parents Are Not Getting Enough Birthday Presents.

Five is not a number

We've been teaching Henry to count for some time now and since he was one he's been able to count to six but he will never ever say five or any other number which includes five. Why this is we don't know. We practice counting when we walk down the stairs, we count the cars in the car part, we count the number of mosquitoes buzzing around our heads, we count the leaves on the trees, we count the number of sultanas mashed into the carpet, we count number of times he asks me to read the truck book each day and even though we deliberately say FIVE really loudly each time we get to it he won't ever repeat it.

We took a video of him just the other night counting the placemats he had placed on the floor; "one, two, free, four, six, leven, twelve, fourteen, sixteen...(clap, clap, clap), yay that was great everybody". No five, we tried to trick him into it, we tried to bribe him to say five but he just won't say it. The chinese believe that four is an unlucky number and won't use any combination of it in anything. Perhaps Henry believes the same thing about the number five and knows something we don't.

Surprise!

Henry can't believe his sister would really pull a face like that.

Daycare? I don't think so.

Last night I received a phone call from an inside source at the daycare centre Henry attends. She wanted to tell me of an incident that she wasn't supposed to tell me about but felt she could not keep to herself. I was prepared for her to tell me Henry had beat some child up and had been forced to hang out in "timeout" or something. What she told me was far, far worse; Just this week Henry was moved up to the pre-kindy group. He managed to skip the Toddler B group he normally would have had to go to before heading into pre-kindy because he's just too smart (do I brag?). On Thursday Henry had been left alone, unsupervised for 15 minutes in the playground because they "forgot" him. He was only rescued because another carer saw him there on his own through the window from her room. No one mentioned this little incident to me when I collected him but I wondered why all the staff were being overly nice to me.

Apparently the staff in question have been raked over the coals for their actions but at this stage I know no more than that. By law they have to mention it to me so it remains to see if they do. My inside source is scared she'll lose her job if it's found out she mentioned this incident to me before it was officially reported to me so I'm kind of in a bind. I will give them one week to tell me of this incident before I blow my top.

I am grateful Henry has no injuries but whether he fell from any of the play equipment I don't know. I am also grateful that he was unable to escape onto the road or the car park or that some passerby hadn't abducted him.

I feel like a terrible mother for even having him in daycare but at the same time I pay them good money to TAKE CARE of my child. Why they didn't do a headcount or how they didn't see him is beyond me and I cannot comprehend how this may have happened. It had rained that afternoon and obviously he'd been caught out in it because his hat was soaking wet and his clothes had been changed. I don't know what happened to his wet clothes because they didn't come home with me.

What to do now?

The Hair and the Lollypop

When you know a hairdresser who has also just become a new grandma and desperate to show off this beautiful baby, you take advantage of the visit. You tell her to whip out her scissors while she's here and get cutting. While she's at it I'll take care of that baby-smelling bundle of yumminess.

Meet Charlotte Claire who is obviously the grandchild of a hairdresser as she was born with blonded foils and a whispy fringe.

Recreating the peak hour gridlock

Those of you who live here in Brisbane will already know about the heavy traffic problems caused the crack in the riverside express overpass. Fortunately I haven't yet been stuck in it or really noticed any difficulty in getting where I need to go. Henry's trucks and cars however experience this every afternoon at peak hour, otherwise known as "the hours of hell" in our home.

All good things must come to an end

Our beloved volvo needs to go to a retirement home. It still has a very strong heartbeat but it's tired. It's losing its skin and fingernails and limbs and hair slowly but surely. There's no such thing as car medicare and it's not worth the repair costs.

I love driving that thing. I feel as though I could play skittles with lamposts and not sustain a scratch. It's like a tank with a bullbar on the front. We can only hope someone with a like affection for volvos wants to part with some cash in return for its better parts. It still drives and drives beautifully but it's falling apart. The sheepskin seat covers are about the only thing still in one piece and even they've seen better days.

I still consider myself lucky to have spent less on all the cars I've owned than a new car would ever cost me. I drove my last car until it just wouldn't go anymore. It got donated to someone who wanted the brand new radiator and the brand new tyres. The rest got scrapped. It was worthless in monetary terms but it had been a good car to me and had served me well.

I find it hard to believe our fully functioning volvo is worth less than a toasted cheese and vegemite sandwich. May it rest in peace...or may Patrick bulldoze a new dam in the orchard patch with it.

Name dropping

This talented musician/songwriter happens to be married to my sister. He's also a very talented youth worker and does amazing things with troubled young people.

He also happens to be Dad to these two gorgeous children. Well he's not the father of the aunt who is showing children how she can fit her butt onto the seat of playequipment designed for babies.

.