The Fruit of My Loins (Gawd they're gonna hate that!)

How did it happen? I'm the mother of a 26 year old daughter and a 24 year old son who's getting married next year. I never had an issue with my age until quite recently. Probably due to a penchant for younger men, my wrinkles and cellulite being more prominently on my mind but seriously, 26 years of being a mother? Shit, where did it go? I'll be dead soon and that's a scary prospect. I've lived well over half my lifespan.

Clearly my family planning was well, up the duff. I have two birthdays in December then Christmas. Clare on the 4th, Adam on the 11th.

Still I'm totally in love with and very proud of the fruit of my loins. They're awesome kids. They've done everything I asked of them, everything I wanted yet remain individuals, independent and crazy personalities all by themselves. Nurture only goes so far but they are incredible. It's taken a long time for me to realise that.

Clare left home three weeks ago and those of you who were around when she traveled in 2008 will know I didn't cope well with her absence but this time it felt right. We talk more than we probably did before and she's home most weekends for some mum hugs and home cooking. She's just a delightful, intelligent, level headed, fun loving, young woman and I'm incredibly proud of her organisational ability, independent spirit,  fiscal good sense, travel lust and the affection she shares. I love her to pieces. What daughter would take their teary and depressed mother on the dream trip of a lifetime? Or never utter a recrimination when her idiot of a parent crashes drunk into a kerbside. I can never, ever repay her for the way she made those four weeks feel. Awesome just doesn't cut it.

Adam's still at home but is my rock. He's helpful around the house and that's saying something. Five acres is a lot of maintenance and he does it willingly whether pool care or hedge clipping, putting bins out. He's a good conversationalist and there's nothing I enjoy more than sitting in the garden, drinking wine and chatting. He gives the best bear hugs and is a fine cook. No faults at all other than an ability to lose socks and a reluctance to keep his room clean. He still terrifies me with his thrill seeking and I'm not happy about the Honda CBR 1000 but he loves it. He loves riding it. He loves the 'man time' with mates while Amy gets on with the wedding stuff. He's turned himself right around over the last year with a good job, new motivation and I love him like a limb, more than a limb, he's half my heart.

I've said it before, my children are two of my best friends. They know me better than I know myself and I am truly blessed to have had them. You know the best bit? They are actually friends with each other. Happy birthdays my darlings, Lasagne's in the oven. Cheesecake in the fridge. See you soon. 

There is no word for the way I feel about you. Love just doesn't cut it.

NO He's not quite that short but she is tall

A couple of Christmases ago . . Jesus (his birthday) and a Christmas Tree

She has bounce

She loves to dance

He loves to drum . . not so much these days, they're in my lounge!

Future's so bright, he needs shades

Lunch last month, I love that they get on

 

Pensive . . it's rare but rather beautiful

Outback Fuckwits

Tempted as I am to have a real go at Telstra, our largest Telco company for failing to find the fault with my internet connectivity, I'll save it for another day. My trials continue with as many as 21 outages in a five hour period. I thank the incredible patience of my lovely lad on Skype whose index  finger is probably bloodied from pressing his mouse to redial and as for me? I've realised how much I rely on the internet at home and having it break all the time is doing my head in so please bear with me, I will try to visit as connectivity permits.

Meanwhile, did you know that Christmas is coming? Oh yeah, be  here before you know it. The tree's up, wreath on the door, now all I have to do is the shopping. Christmas down here is a little different as you'd appreciate and Santa's already been visiting kids in the outback:

An outback Christmas party turned to chaos when a teacher and her principal were bitten by a snake.

The Indian Pacific train visited the railway siding at Watson in outback South Australia to bring pre-Christmas entertainment to locals, including children from the Oak Valley School.

Its principal Bob Sim said a teacher was bitten by a mildly-poisonous yellow-faced whip snake which then slid under Santa's chair, a spot which presumably was well shaded from the outback heat.

Mr Sim says he was then bitten as he tried to remove the snake from under the chair.

"Father Christmas was still sitting in the chair and I said to everyone 'Where's the snake, where's the snake?' and they said 'It's under Father Christmas's chair'," he said.

"I was about to dispatch the snake to snake heaven but all the people around me were yelling 'Don't kill it, don't kill it'."

Mr Sim said he could not quite reach the snake.

"I was about an inch-and-a-half too short and it spun around and latched onto my finger," he said. 

"I said to the kids ... it's a Christmas they'll remember, not just for the experience of getting a present from Father Christmas but they'll be able to remember that two of their teachers got bitten by the same snake," he said.

"A bit of a comedy of errors I suppose."

Er dopey teachers if you ask me,why didn't they just dislodge Santa and move the chair? Ah and these people are educating our children.

Doesn't look too menacing does he?

Have a great weekend folks.

Internet Broken

It Aint a Good Party Unless You End Up In the Gutter

I'm not proud of it but Christmas parties with free booze tend to bring out the worst in an employee. Our little band of accountants spent four hours playing at Luna Park. A slightly bedraggled and 'seen better days' kind of fun park on possibly the next best real estate on the Harbour (the Giraffe enclosure at the zoo has the best). We were given a trivia sheet, free rides, drinks and ice cream then back to "The Deck" at dinner time for a rather lovely meal of confit of duck, rare sirloin etc. and copious amounts of alcohol.

I know my tolerance and stick to wine while others were doing shots, cocktails, wine, beer etc.  Clearly I have lost my knack. Felt fine at the restaurant and as everyone else was deciding where to 'kick on' for a night of clubbing.  I walked back towards Clare's place, less than half a click from Luna Park. She came to meet me halfway, knowing that I'd be maggotted.

Well, with every step I felt like I'd hit a wall and by the time I met up with her I was a staggering fucktard, rabbiting on about how I was fine and only drank wine. Oh yes I was fine alright. Stumbled into a car then walked up a slight incline, found it a little trixy and  for some reason turned around, lost my footing and smashed clear into the pavement.  No worries thinks I. Start to rub myself down, brush off the embarrasment and pick myself up and the kid has a conniption. "Don't move mum you're bleeding! Everywhere" of course I can't feel it or see it but apparently I have gashed a nice slice out of my eyebrow and there's blood gushing everywhere. So, instructed to sit, I wait for the flatmate to arrive with mopper-upper towels. All good until she who worries as much as me calls an ambulance. Turns out she's had a couple of beers, literally two or three and can't risk driving.

So picture this. Mature woman sitting in the street bleeding profusely from one eyebrow and rabbiting on about being fine. Meeting the new flatmate for the first time. Oh yes that must have made an impression and an ambulance with a rather hot ambo trying to pick me up and shut me up while he tends to the wound. Yep, needs stitches. I'm feeling no pain at this point.

10 minutes later after flirting outrageously with said ambo and apologising profusely for wasting their time, I'm on a gurney and being asked questions I can't answer. "How old are you?", "Where do you live?" yep, mildly concussed, rather embarrassingly drunker than I'd thought and dripping blood all over their nice clean sheets.

So stitched up and tetanus shot I'm ready to go home but nurse Ratchet wants me to stay in for 'observation' in case I have a brain injury but no. Fuckwit here is hot to trot and wants to go. Dutiful daughter is trying to insist I stay but instead I'm bantering on about Indian Code Talkers, an attempt to show her that I'm lucid which convinces her I'm completely traumatised.

I won of course and a taxi was hailed. Back to the flat, glass of water and a concussive crash for 10 hours. The result of which is a nicely mashed left side of my face, bruised knee, five stitches in my eyebrow and a puffy face.

Yep, I win. . . Fuckwit of the year I think. Just as well the year is nearly over. Now what the fuck do I tell them at work. Ah got it. . fell down the steps whilst helping load a book case into the new digs. That'll work won't it?

The worst of it? My sweet princess turned 26 yesterday and I wasn't at her party. Half out of embarrassment at having to explain my black eye and white patch and partly because I can't see without seeing double.

Ashamed doesn't cut it. I am a fuckwit.

Apologies if there are typos here. I can't see properly.

The Big Face, kinda scary really

My Team The Lunies relied on Google

Being the newbie, nobody warned me that team colours were mandatory

Colourful chaacters. The guy in the red jacket has worked here since he was 11 years old

This guy was no help with answering our trivia questions

Awesome views of the harbour

Again my team slacking off, We came second in the end.

Of course some cheated and headed straight for the books

I just loved the reflection of the Opera house in the glass

Yummy Duck with Onion Jam

Cowboys - of which I had only ONE

No idea what these were but they were popular. That's my boss plying his staff with shots!

 Be warned, it aint pretty:

Yep, that's what a total Fuckwit looks like.

How to Live With a Neurotic

I think I have a problem. I'm turning to a neurotic twat. Not just a worrier but a totally idiotic, pathologically, doomsday-predicting moron.

I mean, I've always had this 'call when you get there' thing with the kids. You know, those times when you worry because a six hour drive has turned into ten and you haven't had the 'we've arrived safe' text yet?  Usuallyy because the surf on the way is good or they've stopped for a Maccas. I'm like that with everyone who has a 'pattern' in their contact. It's so much worse when your correspondent lives in another country.

When Clare was overseas for 11 months, I only went without contact during a stint on the Inca Trail but I knew she was in good hands and good company.

When I get a phone call from Adam, knowing he's riding his motor bike I'm always sure it's to tell me that he's in traction in some hospital or he needs to be picked up after missing a bend, my heart jumps into my throat. 

I've done it three time with this lovely man in 11 months. He's gone AWOL which usually means falling asleep with his phone off for extended periods and I have a conniption. This particular friend and I, correspond, chat, Skype, frequently, predictably, and pretty much in a pattern, so naturally, I imagined him writhing in pain or dying in a twisted car wreck having some interstate crisis (it happens) or taking off for some decompression time without letting me know despite having promised that he would.

I think I sent about 8 phone texts, rang twice and left messages on his voicemail, hit him up on every email address he has (and there are a few) then finally got a neighbour to make sure he was alright.  Crazy mad woman, found his mate's number and rang another country! For fuck's sake! What was I thinking!

I know it was stupid. Poor guy's still recovering from a stint of night shift and a sleepless weekend and just turned his phone off and slept for 14 hours but I persisted. Now I feel eternally stupid - AGAIN! He's being very forgiving and I got myself into such a state that I bawled myself silly in the shower.

Crazy thing is, I can go weeks without contacting friends who live close. Not because I don't care about them but because I know if anything's wrong, there's a network of people who will let me know. And also, there's no regular pattern of contact so no 'Hey, wonder why Thommo didn't call me tonight?"

Not so with overseas contacts. If he died on the road, who would tell me? If he needed help who would call?  If he was there all alone and unable to move it could be days before anyone found  him. (Er however unlikely that might be).  It's an awful, helpless feeling when someone close is so far away. 
So my bloggy friends, if anything weird happens to you, good or bad, make sure someone has my email. Maybe I can't do anything, maybe I can but close as we seem in this world of interwebs, we are thousands of miles apart.

I'm sure this guy is getting the shits with my neediness when he's not available at the usual time but I just can't help it. Tizz doesn't describe it. Me! Level headed, well organised, laconic, normally shitty friend and phonaphobe to most - Me! Having an absolute 6 hour nervous breakdown because I can't contact someone.  He's right. I'm high maintenance. I hate it but can't control it.

Is that normal?

Don't answer that . . .


Yeh well, at least I know what to buy him for Christmas.

Friday Fuckwith with an AWWWWWW

I'm not sure this one qualifies as a Fuckwit but it's Thanksgiving across the pond. So here's a little feelgood thing that came out of a mix-up. To all my American friends, I wish I could have been there but thankfully, I'm on a diet so saved myself a shit load of calories but ate vicariously with you whilst chewing on a hard boiled egg and an apple. I loves yous all:

An Australian man has enjoyed his first Thanksgiving in the United States with a family he has never met before. James West had been receiving group emails from a family in Florida for three years, but they were intended for a different James West from the US.

After reading some of the emails and looking at the Tran's family photos, curiosity got the better of the young Sydney journalist.

Earlier this week, James decided to confess on YouTube that he was not the real James West, in the hope that they would invite him over for a real Thanksgiving dinner.  "For the first few years I just kind of wrote it off, deleted all of [the emails], I thought it was spam," he says in the video "plea", which was posted on the internet a few days ago.  "This video is to come clean to the Tran family and to say I'm sorry for perving on your Thanksgiving preparations for three years. But it's also a plea to the Tran family to say, can I come to Thanksgiving?"

They said yes, and the Sydneysider headed to West Palm Beach, Florida, for a Thanksgiving under very unusual circumstances.

Fran, who's one of the Trans, (haha Fran Tran!)  'It feels like you're already part of the family'. 

"[It's] one that I'll definitely remember, that's for sure," he said.

And according to the Aussie James West, the real James West is "a champ".  "He's just a regular dude living in Florida, loving the sun, running a surf shop, surfing a whole lot."

Kurrajong

To those who would soothe their shattered nerves, revive their jaded spirits, regain their vibrant health and vigorous appetite, to all who would seek the tonic of pure air and the exhilaration of beautiful scenery, the call of Kurrajong is simply irresistible."
W.S. Arnold Superintendant of Soldier Settlement Scheme

And so on Sunday, thre girlfriends met for lunch on a perfect Spring day with a wonderful view, great conversation fine food at a reasonable price and a little knick-knack exploring. 


Just over half an hour's drive from my place along the approach to the Blue Mountains is Kurrajong. Once a soldier settlement, site of the first exploration across the blue mountains and now a tiny village dotted with cafes and curiosity shops and surrounded by the lush green and emerging purple of exquisite Jacarandas -  we whiled away Sunday afternoon.

Kaz and Avril

The vew from West to East and Jacaranda's blooming inbetween

 

Yep, I did go a bit apeshit with Schparkly things

We loved these mirrors but just a bit exe

Not a fan of antiques but there's always some curiosity

Although I am in need of a new dining table and chairs

 

These just looked pretty - Glad their owners didn't get buried in them

Apologies for the lack of blogging, I'm not feeling much in the mood these days so will post whenever I have something to show and tell, probably more of Paris.  Creative Infanticide is still alive and well and Tenth Daughter of Memory is coming along nicely if you have a competitive edge or who enjoy short fiction, so slip on over whenever you're in the mood.  

Friday Fuckwit

Good evening punters. Another Friday, another weekend. This one's a bit busy since Clare has kind of left home. I hope to get her right out the door by tomorrow. There's a blog post in that. My son has a new throbbing  red hobby . . a Honda CBR and I'm doing lunch on Sunday so next week should have something worth visiting.

In the meantime, for your reading pleasure:

Burger King customer Francisco Perez was handed a receipt with the message ‘Fuck You’ on it. Not once, but twice. Those responsible were grilled – and fired.
The customer didn’t make a whopping order, but that surely doesn’t excuse the rude receipt.
In total, he spent $9.22 on a Double Whopper with cheese, onion rings and a small drink in the outlet in Sacramento, California.

Perez told KCRA 3 TV: ‘I’m embarrassed. It’s humiliating.’
To make matters worse, when the red-faced Perez pointed out the profanity to the worker who gave it to him, he just laughed.  It must have been confusing, because Perez certainly wasn’t aware of any beef that the employee had with him.  Burger King HQ clearly agreed that the message was a flaming insult, because heads rolled without any further ado. 

A spokesman said: ‘Burger King Corp and the franchisee that owns and operates this restaurant deeply regret that this incident occurred. The franchisee has taken immediate corrective action and both the manager and employee are being terminated. The franchisee will be reaching out to the guest directly

Have a good one folks! I'll be going back to work for a little resty poo on Monday.  The clips irreverent and irrelevant but it has that word in it. 

Lily Allen - Fuck You [Official Video] (Non Censuré)
Uploaded by Lily-Allen-Tv. - See the latest featured music videos.

Serenade

It's La Ninia  er Nina year here which means after a long and cold winter (by Antipodean terms), spring has been cool and wet. Over the past couple of weekends, it's been hot and wet which if you're embroiled in a sexual embrace is titillating If  you're trying to sleep . . not so much.


I talk with a couple of Skype friends at night and they've commented on the weird and very loud noise they can pick up on camera. Apparently, and rarely, the culprit is a 'Bleating Tree Frog'. To be precise this 45cm er 4.5cm frog has invited its friends into my Gardenia hedge and is quite frankly deafening. Thanks to hot days, wet afternoons and stormy evenings it's interrupting my Skype activities, keeping my brother awake but frankly, I find it rather soothing. Or perhaps they all go to bed at the same time as me.


So irritated by the background noise, one of my nightly contacts finally found what I could not. A soundbyte of the little buggers. Here's one . . I think I have 50 serenading me tonight. Hey it beats traffic and brawls.  I find it quite calming. I wonder if I kiss one will it turn into a prince?

http://frogsaustralia.net.au/frogs/calls/qt/litoria_dentata.mov

Sculptures By The Sea

I feel a little about sculpture as I do about poetry. Really good sculpture/poetry is a joy, poor sculpture/poetry is a travesty and should be tossed in the ocean. Today, my bestie had to drop her husband off at the airport at some ungodly hour so at 5am, I hitched a ride and once divested of said husband, we headed out to check out Sculptures By the Sea. A month long exhibition on the Bondi to Tamarama Coastline that surprises, shocks, delights and disappoints. It was 36 in the shade and idiot here wore jeans. The cliff walk was lovely, some of the sculpture erm 'interesting' and the sea inviting . . not quite as inviting as the Gin and Tonic I had for lunch. Enjoy:

Bondi Beach at 8am

No idea but what a view

Looking along the cliff walk to Tamarama

Definitely reminds me of someone I know

I think nature's sculptures were hard to beat

A new meaning to 'grazing' at lunch

Leunig Like

Nice view

Life Boy

Gratuitous Hot Bods

Who snapped me sunbathing?

Car Door Fin

Footprints in the Sand

Snail Trail of Bottle Tops

First My Father Died, Then My Horse (seriously thats what it's called)

New Man, New Woman but it looks like he's pashing his cat

Thank you Sydney Water . . we needed it!

The Sky is Falling

So that's where my Rayban's went

Golden Boy

Paint Splodge

Bound Rocks

 And I don't care what anyone says, the sun here is hotter. A day in the French sunshine and I barely glow . . . six hours in Aussie Sunshine, lathered in sunscreen and I'm  looking like a beetroot.

Thank Goodness for the Sun Police