Cut down all the trees, screw global warming!

6 Oct

Now I consider myself a pacifist, a woman who loves and appreciates nature but I swear every spring when the pollen dances on the gentle breeze into my world and I turn into a sneezing, swollen faced, itchy eyed, hazy headed medicated to the eyeballs zombie I say to nature, screw you.

I know not exactly ladylike but neither is my red bulbous nose that is sick of tissues that claim to be soft but after the 150th wipe feel more like sandpaper. There is a two week period in every spring when a paper bag over my head would be more appealing than the punch drunk red eye look I stagger around with. One of the things that makes me feel better is the knowledge that I’m not alone, one look around the shopping centre, particularly the chemist, more specifically the shelves where they stock the hayfever cold treatments and that’s where you’ll find them. The glazed, my brain is now controlled by pollen look and you know your not alone in your hatred of blossom, grass, basically nature.

So what’s the solution, drugs? Well it’s where we all turn each year, sufferers whisper amongst themselves about new improved formulas, pills, liquids, sprays and lotions but as the pollen season progresses I like most sufferers start to think that only an exorcism will be the only way to get relief!

But no more, I’m calling on all sniffy, itchy, wheezy sufferers to pick up our whipper snippers and chainsaws and rid this planet of any source of pollen. I know that may not be in the spirit of keeping the planet green but I want to breathe freely through my nose again so I say screw keeping the planet full of foliage, burn it, cut it or just raze it to the ground.

So lets unite in our pollen elimination, just one thing though if you don’t mind starting the process and I’ll just have a lie down with a cold towel and then join you when my eyes stop weeping and my nose stops running like a tap!

Because I love you

4 Jan

I did it because I loved you.  Even though I was warned, even though I had heard the stories,   I could not resist, when you asked me and  looked at me, looked at me with those eyes.  Those hopeful eyes,  those eyes that I could gaze into for hours, those eyes that could melt any resolve or resistance I put forward.  It was not like I wasn’t smart or inexperienced in these matters, I mean after the last time I had vowed never, ever to do it again but even though I tried all types of delaying tactics you knew and I knew that I would do it.

So I would ignore common sense I would ignore the “I told you so” , the “I thought you said never ever again” and I would do it for you, my love for you was that strong.

 I took a deep breath to calm myself, my hand trembled and even faltered as I started but I knew it had to be done so I pushed through.  I knew if I did it quickly I wouldn’t be able to change my mind.

It was done, I looked in your eyes and I knew I had done the right thing, you looked so happy and I desperately tried to match your enthusiasm but I knew that I had just volunteered for parent help at your next excursion and there was only one thing I could think of.  Where’s the wine?




My new love affair

5 Sep

I’m not afraid to admit it, I have a new love.  I thought my heart was full to the brim, I mean I’ve got a great partner, I’ve bred some wonderful human beings who love me and are still happy to be seen in public with me.  So of course I thought there was no room in my big ol’ heart but then he came through our front door.

It’s not quite as Mills and Boons as it sounds,  I spent many arduous hours in front of the laptop doing research  and after hand picking him at the store I lugged him to the car.   But then he was here, in our house and as soon as he was fully operational I knew there was no turning back.  So what is this object of desire?   This thing that has brought my heart to near bursting point?   (insert dramatic pause) …….  Robovac, that’s right my robotic vacuum, oh yeah this little round piece of loveliness with cameras and sensors has only been with us  ten months but I love him and never want him to leave.


If, like me, you have a marauding crowd who run through your house thinking the floor is some kind of alternate bin then you too will love this little round whizzy  robot.    With no questions asked, no whining, no selective hearing he  just starts doing his thing.   He’s small and powerful and as his proud mother I’m just going to have to tell you how smart he is, we went all supremo and got the top Robovac model so this little lad is so smart he can take himself back to the docking station and empties the crap he picked up off the floor into the unit.  It truly is miraculous he starts the job and finishes it and with no breaks, just gets on with it with little if no fuss.

I’ve always thought the people featured on those infomercials must be medicated, I mean seriously who could be that excited about any of those products.  But that was before Robovac now if someone turned up to my house and wanted to film me while Robovac was doing his thing I would enthusiastically blubber on about how he has transformed my life as well.  I remember once when I was reading a book on the couch and he whizzed past and I couldn’t help but let out a little “I love you” to him.

So here’s to you lovely Robovac and again I’ll share my intimate thoughts about you, I already posted this to him on facebook at Valentines Day but I guess it never hurts to reiterate those important feelings so …

I’d like to tell the world how much I appreciate all the hard work, the dedication and the way you make my life just that little bit easier, that’s right I love you robot vacuum. And to the four lads I have making the mess that Robovac cleans up each day, hugs and smooches this Valentines Day xx

Maybe your heart is full of love for a partner, kids, dogs, cats or Star War figures, whatever fills it with joy just remember something can come into your life and just push it to the brim!

Coffee Snob

14 Jul

I was a bit of a johnny come lately to the coffee scene.  My far more cultured friends and I were meeting for catchups in the booming café scene and one day I noticed I was the only one without a glass of caramel coloured liquid in front of me.  While my friends had perfected their coffee order; flat white, latte, decaf, weak, strong, skinny, full cream etc, etc, the most challenging question I had to answer was whether I wanted one or two marshmallows!  That’s right I was still chugging down the not so chic hot chocolate and I realized it was time I stepped up to the adults table and order me some caffeine.


This was all BC, before children, so the need for a regular coffee stimulant wasn’t really there, I mean if I was tired I just went and took a nap!  So it wasn’t really a need for a caffeine jolt that made me take the leap I just wanted to seem less like the prepubescent nerd and more like one of the cool kids sipping on caffeine.


So I ordered a latte, mostly because that seemed the more popular choice and as an added bonus it came with a pretty white serviette wrapped around it.  Apparently in the early days of drinking lattes our fingers were all too delicate for this hot beverage in a glass and had to be protected by a paper serviette wrapped around the middle of it!  Not sure what happened to the serviette, maybe our fingers hardened up from daily coffees, maybe we realized we were wiping out rainforests by wrapping paper products around glasses that were really, more than adequate in protecting our digits.  Anyhoo I thoroughly enjoyed my first coffee, it helped that I added three heaped teaspoons of refined sugar thus making it more of a sweet syrup than a real coffee.


As I said that was BC, after we entered the breeding program our daily coffee intake seemed to skyrocket and seemed to be as essential as the air we breathed.  By the time we had produced our third bundle of joy we had “invested” in a coffee machine at home.  That poor machine didn’t stand a chance, we wore it out and then we wore another one out and with this one we’re hoping three times a charm!  Time will tell.


Now that our munchkins are older we also like to go out for coffee but we don’t leave it to chance, oh no we have become such coffee snobs that we research where we should get a coffee!  If we find ourselves in some suburb we’re not familiar with we consult our coffee handbook!  To us it’s our go to guide, pages and pages of reviews and descriptions, we have become such a slave to it’s recommendations that we dare not try any place that is not listed in our guide!


Our city’s paper even has a part in their Tuesday’s epicure lift-out devoted to coffee and I religiously turn to it each week.  Sure I don’t know my Ethiopian blend from my eco friendly Jamaican co-op blend but I love that there are people who do.  What stopped my love affair in its tracks was an article about baristas and certain cafes starting to draw the line at particular orders.  A few have decided not to do soya milk in coffees any more, it ruins the integrity of the blend, blah, blah, blah.  Say what!!  I don’t want to go all home girl ghetto but just make my coffee the way I like it, if I want to ruin it with soya milk let me pay the privilege for it, oh that’s right I already do because soya milk is always charged more anyway!!!!


The other clanger that quite a few cafes have decided on is only one size, again supposedly done for the convenience of the paying customer, apparently we’re all so desperate with caffeine addiction that we can’t wait another couple of minutes if someone ahead of us wants to order a large size coffee.


So this is what it has come too, you get us all addicted to your smooth, gloriously satisfyingly wonderful blends, you publish guides, columns in newspapers, you have apps, expos, there are even tours, (yes I’m desperate to do one of these), you do all this and then you change the rules.  You even suckered us in with cool and friendly baristas, if you’re as easily pleased as me you’d love the uber cool dude or dudette who remembers your order and just starts making it.  I have been reeled in hook, line and sinker and now I have been thrown to the kerb with my large takeaway cup and soya milk.


If I was strong, if I had principles, if I wasn’t a slave to the coffee bean I’d just go home and brew myself a satisfying pot of peppermint tea.  Unfortunately I am weak so I will meekly go and order my regular size latte with regular milk and sure I will savour the taste and enjoy the experience but I want all the hipster baristas to know this  –  you may have won this time but somehow, somewhere I might just, probably think of some way to grab back the power.  Of course all my better ideas come to me after a coffee so I will just go and get a coffee…… doooh!!!!!



Inner Schwonker

26 Apr


One of the few good things about getting older is that you find acceptance for the things that seemed so important only a few short years ago. For example the size of my bum, I have come to accept its expansion and jelly like quality, I don’t love it but I’ve accepted most of the time I can’t even see it so really, it seems like someone else’s problem. So my blessings are many and apart from really, really wanting someone to magically appear and clean my house on a semi regular basis, ok daily basis, I thought I was quite zen as a human being. Of course that was before I got my access all areas at a recent Coldplay concert, that is where my zen went out the window and my inner schwonker reared it’s ugly head.

This will really piss of hardcore Coldplay fans but I’m really only a “yeah I really like them”, “they’re great, really talented”, but I really only know their songs from what I hear around. So no I don’t know what they’re latest album was called or even what the bass player or drummers name is but I didn’t have to because one of my besties had chosen me and two others to go with her to their concert and use her access all areas passes.

The cosmic forces had come together, my wonderful friend had reunited with her old friend who just happened to be coming to our home town and as luck would have it he was to be an important part of the Coldplay tour. So through sheer luck and friendship I found myself at the Coldplay concert for free and oh did I mention with an access all areas pass!

While we were waiting for our Coldplay connection to come and bestow upon us our pass we traded stories about tragic concert behaviour we had done in our past. Yeah that’s right we were trying to keep it cool, real cool but I swear to you the moment that access all area pass was taped around our wrist there was a bit more swagger in our step. We were ushered through the backstage area straight onto the floor area, right in front of stage. I’d like to say that I didn’t notice people see us being ushered in and then have things pointed out to us, but I did indeed notice and I did indeed like it.

So my chest was a little more puffed up with self importance, sure we were probably not the only ones walking around with these passes, there may have been even better passes than these ones but we didn’t care, we had access to all areas. Of course we found out soon enough that “all” didn’t actually mean complete rockstar access, we were hardly hanging out with the band in their dressing rooms but it was the closest I’d ever been to the inner sanctum of a band.

We decided to celebrate our upgraded status with some bubbly, so while we were waiting in the line my mind drifted to the alternate universe where our all area pass was spotted by one of the officials, he rushes forward, while he offers apologies for not noticing earlier how important we are he whisks us to a secret door, they’ll be no watered down, over priced substandard drinks tonight for us. Oh yeah this is how it’s meant to be, privilege and power, this is good, this is…

“What do you want?” the disinterested bargirl asks.

Ripped out of my dream world into reality I hand over way too much money for drinks with way too little alcohol content. With watered down drinks in hand we head back to the our prime positions, we glide past the people who probably paid a fairly hefty amount and more than likely spent a lot of time on the phone or computer hitting the redial or refresh button trying to get their seats. See you later suckers, sure your seats are good but they’re not access all areas, alright I’m not drunk enough yet to say anything as obnoxious as that but I think the way I casually shift my pass up and down my arm they can they get the message.

I notice that the gals I’m with are playing it a little cooler than me so I stop what is potentially becoming an OCD thing and stop moving the pass up and down my arm. While I’m deciding what level of obnoxiousness is suitable at this time of the night I notice the line we’re in has stopped moving. I lean forward to one of my gal pals and say

“There really should be a separate line for access all area passes.”

Whatever level of obnoxiousness I was contemplating before has been knocked out of the park because there is now a new level, and its name is schwonker. To my delight my gal pal smiles and agrees so I know she too has joined the club.

The line starts moving again and we are about to go through the gates taking us to our prime position.

“You can’t go in there.” a burly security guard blocks our path.

Now if you were interested in human behaviour you would be fascinated by the next turn of events. One of us stood there open mouthed, looking confused, one instantly went into game on mode and the other tipsy from skulling her overpriced cheap wine stepped forward and said one of the most schwonkiest things you could say.

“ Don’t you know who I am?”

In the cold light of day without access all areas bands on I would never ask anyone this question because quite frankly I’m not sure I’d want to know their response! On the other hand my inner schwonker has no problem asking it. My blessing is that my question was drowned out by the music starting and my girlfriend having a heated argument with the security guard about the definition of the word all.

I’d like to say I returned to my zen self when I got home but I’ll admit I did wear a t-shirt and “forget” to cut my wrist band for a couple of days afterwards. My inner schwonker milked that access all areas band for more days than was really right to do so. Inner shwonker has been contained now but I know that given the right circumstances it could rear it’s ugly head at any opportunity!!

Cess Pools, otherwise known as Public Swimming Pools

30 Mar

Living in a country that practically makes it illegal not to spend your summer near some form of water I sigh with relief as another hot summer seems to disappear. There are a few reasons I’m not that crash hot on the summer months. The first would be plain old vanity, my lily white skin is, lets face it, not in vogue and when you’re talking to people at the beach and you realize they’re squinting and shading their eyes when they already have sunglasses on, you become aware that your blindingly white canvas is reflecting way too much light. Of course I live in some hope that one day my freckles will gloriously just join together as one and form the perfect tan.

Other problems of significance (!) is the never ending quest for the perfect bathers, I’ve studied all the articles they put in magazines and papers at the start of all summer seasons about the perfect bathers for your shape. I think the one thing they fail to realize is once you’ve had a few kids your body has been stretched; pummeled then unceremoniously flung to the kerb (like a Christmas tree on January first) it’s not as easy as just choosing one style of bathers. I have to do more of a cut and paste of each body type and let me tell you that leaves me with a very strange looking pair of bathers!

So cry me a river, my super model days are over before they even began, lack of tanning pigment and bathers aside there is one more thing and probably the thing I dread about the summer months the most. The public pool, I can’t pinpoint the moment I started hating them, I know my vitriol started years ago and before I had kids the public pool and I pretty much just avoided each other. However after I produced a few human beings especially one with boundless energy and a desire to go into any hole filled with water I realized I could avoid it no more. Being the dutiful mother I rang around and secured a prize Saturday morning swimming lesson spot for first child. Being the dutiful mother with an aversion to public swimming pools I packed up baby and Dad and sent them on their way. Problem solved or so I thought until more children appeared and husband informed there are only so many back-to-back lessons he can do before his skin starts shriveling. I would have to share the load and venture in the pool, aargh!

I tried very hard to hide my disgust for the luke warm swill I stood in with my baby as we sang ridiculous songs and ooh and aahed at how clever they were to stand on the side of the pool and jump in. In my mind the only clever thing my baby should have done is run to the nearest shower or disinfectant gel. I endured enough lessons to make sure my little piece of happiness wouldn’t automatically sink to the bottom and nearly high fived the instructor when she said it was time for them to have lessons on their own.

Of course the pool is more than just swimming lessons so as the kids got bigger they asked and asked until we took them to the local indoor swimming pool. Now the one good thing I will say about public pools is if you’re having some self esteem issues you just need to pop along to your local pool. Regrettably I have been to a few different pools now and lets just say compared to 90% of the people there you’re going to look amazing because I don’t know where they come from or go to but most pool patrons have decided most of the common laws of grooming and general presentation standards don’t apply to them and really haven’t for a very long time! I know it’s pretty harsh but I swear next time you’re at a pool have a look around, I think you’ll find I’m pretty accurate!

So public pools are not my favourite place but I knew I had got to a place where I basically had to suck it up because my minions couldn’t be deprived because of me. It didn’t take long for me to get a reminder of why I call them cess pools. The family trundled off to the local inside pool, I took the toddler and wandered around with baby clinging to me like a koala, so much for all the expensive swimming lessons I thought! I noticed from the corner of my eye my hubby powering through the water towards us. As he got closer his expression and colour drained face told me that something was wrong. All forms of tragedies flicked through my mind before he was able to reach me and fear glued me to the spot I was in.

Even though I knew something was wrong I was pretty confident we hadn’t been there long enough for a kidnapping or drowning so I stood and waited. He said nothing and directed me over to the side of the pool where I found our other kids
standing bewildered. It turns out my husband had been having fun splashing around only to move his feet and stand on something. I bet your first thought was band aid, no that’s gross but this was grosser, no it wasn’t a pooh that had escaped from a sagging nappy either. It was a used tampon, used, I gag just thinking about it and luckily I didn’t see it. Okay so public swimming pools had just sunk to a new low in my estimation but the bigger thing to think about it is this. How would you not notice a tampon fall out? I mean what kind of bowling alley have you got down there!!!!

Now let me just admit that my family is not above reproach in these things, we too have contributed to the cess pool. I’ve been sitting dutifully at the pools edge admiring one of my kids while they’re learning to swim. I’m dazzled by their skills and warmed by their enthusiasm only to be repulsed by the neon gob hanging out of their nose as they turn around to smile at me proudly. I motion for them to come to me as I desperately search for a tissue in my bag, by the time I look up I notice they’ve fixed that problem their way, snot it off in the water. I sit their gagging and trying not to notice the kids in the next lane putting their heads in and out of the water down stream of where the snot must have gone.

So bring on the cold weather, throw that ill-fitting pair of swimmers to the back of the wardrobe and pull the covers over the outdoor cesspools. My loved ones and I have survived another summer stewing in all manner of microrganisms and because we’re dumb creatures of habit we will be doing it all again next summer!

Fashion – the price I pay

18 Feb

I thought I’d lived through enough fashion trends to know which to avoid but lately I’ve been reminded of how much I still have to learn.

For reasons I know I will regret in probably only a few years, who am I kidding probably months I have taken to wearing long skirts and dresses. I don’t mean past your knee, or even stopping mid calf, no, I have delved right down past the ankles and before I pay to have it rehemed, right pass my feet and draping all over the ground. I’m presently under some illusion/delusion that ground skimming skirts and dresses make me look longer therefore leaner, as I stated, delusional!

Anyway I’m happy to live in my delusion, quite frankly I think I’m rocking it and until I catch a glimpse of myself in a store window or see a photo someone takes of me and I’m snapped back into reality I’m going to continue rocking my floor length dresses and skirts. So clearly confidence is not my issue.

My issue is that I am a virtual walking safety hazard, I have come perilously close to face planting myself after getting my feet all caught up in the the material swirling around my feet. All this wonderful excess fabric falling stylishly to the floor looks fantabulous when I’m not moving but once that foot moves and the other has to follow it all becomes a matter of when and not if I’m going to topple.

Loved ones and total strangers have all saved me in the last few weeks from a complete tumble. It sounds quaint and honourable but it’s more like me grabbing them as I squeal and lurch forward and most don’t, ok none, have had time to offer assistance it’s more thrust upon them as I fall.

I also have to restrict myself to sealed roads and pavements because if I swirl through grass or vegetation I unknowingly collect on my floor skimming skirt or dress much of the vegetation I just passed through. It took a while for it to click that the scratchy, rough feeling I had at the bottom of my rockin new outfit was prickles and grass, by the time I checked it out I practically had my own eco system going on down there!

Sure I’ll look back and wonder what the hell I was thinking, much like the bubble skirt, the spiral perm and the layered top look, actually the layered look I think has still got a bit more mileage. Anyhoo the point I make is that I am a living, stumbling example of a woman who still has a bit more to learn about the price she will pay for fashion.


18 Jan

Help, I’m drowning in a pool of 6-7 letters, case sensitive, recommended to include at least one number passwords.  Anytime it seems I want to do anything online I now have to sign up and of course if I sign up I’m gonna need a password.  Another bloody password.  I consider myself somewhat intelligent but I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel with my passwords already!  For work alone I have four different passwords and one is changed every two months! Come on, I don’t have that many dead pets or old street names, I am getting to the end of things that I will remember as passwords.

And why is the responsibility put on me, the banks I dare to put my feeble amount of money in, regularly send me brochures telling me about security measures with my account and ways to make my password more secure.  You know what banks, get lost, you want my money and then give me little if no return on it oh and charge me for daring to access it I say to you banks, the security problem is yours.  Hire some teenage hackers, give them what they want and let them make it so my password can be easy.  Clearly I’m no techno head but I have password overload and I’m reaching the end of my tether.

I’m saying all this so that the next humiliating episode might be slightly understood.  I thought I had found the perfect solution, when I bought home my beautiful new laptop  it asked me for a password.  At first I had nothing I just stared at the screen, time passed and I just decided that I would put my old faithful one in.  A little red message appears, ugghhhh, not enough letters.  Fine I’ll just add 1 on the end, again another message, this one gives me a coloured bar with weak at the end of it.  So my password is weak, great my old faithful password  is apparently weak and not likely to survive in the cold world of cyberspace.

I stared at the screen again, this would be the last time I would be told my password was weak.  I would come up with a word 7-8 letters in length and it would include a number.  It obviously had to be something that I could easily remember so while I was sitting there I remembered a Seinfeld joke about carparks and how instead of being labeled B1 they should be your mother’s a whore or something that you wouldn’t forget.  Bingo I knew what my password would be.

My password worked like a charm, it was not weak, it fulfilled all the requirements and most of all it was memorable.  I’ll tell you what else was memorable the day my laptop made weird noises and then froze just when I need it most.  In a panic I phoned a friend and she directed me to a strange geeky looking store in the local neighbourhood.  I ran down panicked cradling the laptop like I was taking one of my children to the hospital.  Breathless and wide-eyed I explained the situation to the prepubescent behind the counter.  He looked at me with a mixture of disdain and disinterest and took my laptop to his bench behind the counter.  He plugged things in and then sat down, the noises started again but without much effort he seemed to horse whisper through the keyboard and all the weird noises stopped.

My relief was cut short by these words.

“I’m going to need your password to access your computer.”

I pretended to not know what that thing was but all I was really doing was trying to buy time.

“Don’t worry about that, just close it.”  I said.

His look of contempt turned to complete disgust.

“To fix the problem I need your password to access your computer.”

I froze; questions and scenarios were whirring through my mind. I was snapped out of my self-induced dilemma by geek boys questions.

“Do you want me to fix this?” he said

“Of course” I stammered

“Then I’m going to need your password.” He said password slowly, not even hiding his frustration with me.

“I’ll just type it in and then you can do your thing.” I said suddenly enthused that I had found the way to makes this problem go away.

“I have it plugged in here and nobody comes behind the counter.  If you want me to fix it you have to tell me your password and then just change it later.”  He wasn’t even looking at me anymore, my human presence and lack of compliance was obviously not something he was used to in his cyber world and he was losing interest rapidly.

Moments passed in silence, I stared at him, shuffled my feet and realized this young socially awkward guy had all the power and I had to suck it up.

“Alright, it’s 2 ( pause) b i g b o o b s”

“What?” he said

Now this made me mad, my beautiful easy to remember password was now out there, it was soiled and could not be used again and all because of him.  I looked at him with anger growing and that’s when I saw his red glowing cheeks.  I took a moment to click but then I realized he had heard what I had said, it had just taken time to register in his head.  His crimson cheeks gave away his embarrassment.   Of course he was embarrassed, he probably had never seen these boobs I talked of, at least in real life and now here was a female in his presence saying the word boobs, well spelling it out, whatever the word boobs had been said.

I was now the one with the power.

“2 bigboobs, it’s 2 bigboobs.”  I was flush with bravado, there was no spelling out this time, no this time I said it loud and even dramatically embellished the way I said boobs the second time.  Booooooobs, ha ha, it was a small victory but a victory nonetheless.

His cheeks were burning red and I stood there reveling in my victory, he busied himself in my computer and that’s when I heard the noises behind me.  While I had been staging my own stand off with the computer guy I hadn’t noticed that other people had entered the store.  I could feel the redness fill my cheeks, I took a quick glance around, one, two, three men oh and great two children all staring at me mouths open.  Awkward, mortifying, these words couldn’t even begin to describe it, I shuffled over to the side, careful to avoid all eye contact.  I   suddenly became very interested in the range of adaptors they had on the wall.

After what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes two children and two of the men left.  I could still hear someone shuffling around the store so I knew there was still someone left.  The computer guy was still engrossed in my computer, for all I knew he was sitting there downloading every computer virus he could possibly download.  I just stayed engrossed in the adaptor range, surely at some point he would leave and geek boy and I could have our incredibly awkward exchange and get on with our lives.

Finally after much silent pleading in my head the last shopper came up to the counter.  I had moved on to the fascinating range of USB’s, it was becoming harder and harder to look interested so I was hoping this whole thing would be over and done with soon.

“Hi mate I just wanted to check you’re OK?  said the shopper

“Fine.” mumbled geek boy

“Are you sure?” this time the shopper looked directly at me.

My cheeks started to flush brightly, again, I avoided his gaze but I knew he was trying to figure out why a woman was yelling at the computer guy so confidently about her boobs only a few minutes ago and now was hiding in the corner not looking at anyone.

I decided to bite the bullet, I figured I would get out of here before anyone else or possibly security came into the store.  I took a big breath took a few steps to the counter and told the computer guy I would take my computer.  I placed a hundred dollars down on the counter, it was far more than I probably had to pay and I knew it wouldn’t buy his silence but it would buy my escape out of there.

Computer guy put my laptop on the counter, I scooped it and held it tight against my chest.   Not knowing what the protocol was in such a situation I mumbled a thank you and hot footed it out the door.

As you can imagine my passwords now are less memorable but also less likely to find me yelling out about my boobs to a young man in a shop!

Christmas Drinks

25 Dec

Around this time of year you realize there are plenty of traditions, some that are steeped in tradition, some only really done in the country you live in or some you’ll only do with your family.

It was one of these family ones that got me thinking about how a tradition or a thing that you do becomes acceptable. We have a chicken and champagne brunch and I don’t really know why. Some relative with a taste for the bubbly and a desire to get in early and get the best bit of the Christmas chicken must have got it started somewhere along the line and we’ve just continued it.

While I was knocking back a glass of bubbly early on this morning I mentioned to my hubby that it was odd that champagne is acceptable at pretty much breakfast time but if I reached into the fridge and poured myself a glass of white wine I guarantee it would raise a few eyebrows. Why is it acceptable because it’s got bubbles? I’m not sure what time of the day is acceptable to start drinking but it seems you can get the party started early if it’s got bubbles. It’s going to be a whole different type of party however if you go bubbleless!

I wondered if I would get many takers if I told friends to drop by for a vodka shots and hot dog brunch. That certainly doesn’t sound as nice and it really doesn’t sound like it would end nicely either. Maybe champers and chicken is acceptable because of its use of alliteration. I had to think long and hard but here are some alternatives

*Beer and Bacon

*Pinot and Pastries

*Chardonnay and Canapés

*Spirit of choice and Sandwiches

I’m not sure I’m going to adopt any of these but I do think its unfair that champagne and chicken seemed to have a stranglehold on what is considered an acceptable alcoholic start to the day!

Whatever your tradition is hope you have fun doing it!


8 Dec


I would never profess to offer advice on parenting as I am constantly surprised that my children haven’t officially asked anyone else to parent them.  I think that they appreciate that my husband and I try so they figure they should stick around, maybe they think if nothing else they will have great stories of their parent’s failings to share in years to come.

I will share this little nugget as it highlighted to me how being a quickwit is tested to it’s limits in this pc world.

Each of my children have gone to different kinders due to us moving and kinders closing etc.  Every kinder, like schools, have their own different personality, they can be warm and cuddly, kind of like a visit to grandmas. Others can be relaxed and forward thinking with all the new mod cons or old school with definite rules and regulations.  So for my third kinder I walked in wondering which kind of kinder this would be.

This kinder was new and shiny; it was light filled and designed for little people.  As soon I entered it I knew my little ragamuffin would love it, mostly because of the enormous outdoor play area, he could roll, run, jump and hurl himself in many different directions.  So the physical environment, tick, now it was time to meet his teacher.  Don’t get me wrong I’m not a polly precious, unless they’re locking my kid in a cupboard for the day I’m pretty happy with whatever style they tend to teach.  I’d heard on the mum grapevine that she was lovely so we rocked up ready to roll for our orientation day.

We had been allocated four 3 hour sessions, far from ideal in my mind but there are a lot of breeders in my suburb so I had to take what I was given.  Number 3 was definitely more than ready for kinder and I was more than ready for him to go.  The young kinder teacher with kind eyes greeted us and made an effort to bend down and look her new student directly in the eye.  His eyes had already spotted the funfilled playground, he mumbled something to her and ran off to the playground as fast as his feet would take him.  He had no hesitation in abandoning me and leaving me to talk to our new teacher.

We sat on very small chairs and my ever expanding bott bott  splodged over the side of the chair.  I made a mental note to myself to try and fit a gym session in at least one of the free 3 hours I have four times a week!  I dutifully answer all the questions that I’m sure I’ve already answered in some paperwork I was required to fill in with his enrolment but hey I’m his mum so this is my job.  Just when I think we are done and my will to live is sapping away she hits me with the zinger.

“What are your expectations of the kinder experience?”



Now this is where quickwit instantly kicks in

“I expect to drop him off and not see him for 3 whole hours”

“I expect you to tell me if he is a psycho/socio/ nuttio path in case in amongst all the other things I’m doing for him I have missed this”

“I expect to do minimum kinder duty but talk and rave on about it so much that he will think I am doing much more and he will think I have put maximum effort in.”

and finally

“I expect to not have to sell chocolates, raffle tickets, photo packages, tea towels, cups, mugs, name stickers, pies and whatever else is the new fundraiser, I just want you to take this fifty bucks and shred all my fundraising notices”

I was just about to let rip when I looked into her energetic, young, enthusiastic, compassionate eyes and I knew that I couldn’t say any of these things so I say what she wants to hear.  I will leave the truth to be told by the woman I saw in the hallway who was struggling to keep her brood of 5 in check.  If there is anyone who has lost all sense of social niceties it must be her!!!