New housemates. Or children. Whichever.

Last week the Teen asked, Mum! A friend of mine has been turfed out. Can he stay here till he finds somewhere else?

Well, ok. As long as he knows I don't have a room for him. The Elder graciously said he could use her stretcher bed.

So he moved in. The Teen did forget to tell him that I didn't have a room for him though! She told him on the morning he was supposed to arrive. Poor boy.

He's quiet. Not as young as I thought he was. He's 20. He's a chef. I'm getting my meals cooked for me. He doesn't have a good home life. He's fragile and broken. Hopefully not beyond repair.

He tells me that he's never had a family. He's insecure and has no self esteem. I'm hoping that might be changed a small bit by the time he leaves. We keep telling him that what he cooks is marvellous. And that's not an exaggeration - it's 'plain fare' but he made the sausages taste like they had been on the barbeque. And that's gotta be a plus.....

Let me start by......

Yes. Like it says. Let me start by apologising up front for anyone who doesn't have the stomach to read this. Perhaps you might like to get yourself a stiff cuppa tea before you come back......

The Teen wasn't well on Saturday night. One of those feeling kinda queasy, then suddenly it's a mad dash for the nearest place to be sick. She didn't quite make it. She started the clean up, and I finished it. And while doing this, I noted that though there were no solid bits, those noodles she'd eaten some hours ago sure didn't smell sweet the second time around. A kind of strong, acrid smell.

And no disinfectant either. So domestos in the bowl for the carpet, and dettol on the tiles and plenty, plenty airfreshener. Which didn't cover it.

I could still smell it the next morning. By god, whatever she ate she better not eat again! I'm thinking it's going to take a long time to clear the smell! I sprayed the carpet with some of the Preen foam. Which, as an aside, does a pretty good job of cleaning the carpet. Letting it dry for several hours, it was time to vacuum it off.

Now, I had been complaining during the cleanup that, by the amount of dust on the floor, that no one had waved a vacuum cleaner in the floor's general direction for a while.

I opened the broom cupboard door and the smell jumped out and grabbed me by the throat. While I was busy trying to fight that off, I espied black and white stuff on the floor under the vacuum. It was also along the floor to the other corner where I store the christmas tree.

Bloody hell! The carpet is soggy, stinks, and has set up a mould farm. On inspection, it also extends under the wall into the Teen's room. At first I thought that was the point of origin. She doesn't run a tidy ship. And there was an empty water bottle in the vicinity. On shifting the Christmas tree and discovering the full extent of the damage, I think we can conclude that there is a leak in behind the shower wall.

Emailed the real estate yesterday, and just have to wait for a response.

But heck it stinks. And now I think I can smell it everywhere. Even at work. It's in my skin! I scrub and it's turning black and furry..... And over the last week, I've been thinking that it's time to clean the bathroom drains again...

Sunday mornings. And late night visitors.

It's Sunday morning. *groan* and I'm exhausted. I feel like I haven't slept much. If at all. And I don't know why. I went to bed at a decent hour.

And the girls didn't wake me up. The Teen has a friend over. Who knows what they do after you throw caution to the winds and go to bed. Maybe it was MOTH who kept me awake.

It certainly wasn't the visitor we had last night. I think I mentioned late night. Actually, it wasn't late. It was night, but not late.

The cockatiels went crazy; the yellow one flapped herself off her perch. Crest up, she raced around the bottom of the cage. As best she could anyway.

MOTH went to investigate - maybe it was a cat? Then I'm asked to bring a slice of apple. No cat I know eats apple. Seems it wasn't a cat......

Or maybe, I'm tired because I have different hair now. Yes, that must be it. My hair is different and now, I can't sleep. Much like that Samson fella. Only he cut his hair. Or someone cut it for him.

Wow, I'm tired.

Shopping should be fun, right?

I have been pushing the Teen to start applying for holiday jobs. She's not keen. I guess I can't blame her, but I really think that now is the time. She's been employed before for about 4 weeks before she tossed in the towel. Perhaps that ruined her outlook. And although she wants this and that and new clothes, she is quite happy to make comments about her lack of these things, and make do with $20 a fortnight 'pocket money'. She is supposed to do things to get that, but doesn't do them. I pay her anyway. It's such a small amount.

But, going back to the shopping. How many Teens do you know who positively hate shopping? Would do almost anything to get out of it? She even complains if her friends want to drag her along while they go shopping. And it doesn't improve even if I'm the one footing the bill.

With the handing in of resumes, we decided that she needed a new outfit. The dressiest thing she owns is black skinny jeans. Which may be appropriate for some places, but not for all. So off we go to buy her new clothes. Great. She's in a high dudgeon already. I'm not trying anything on!!

A much edited version of the shopping trip below. Your imagination can supply the bits I've left out.

Off to the shopping centre. Where do you want to start.
I dunno. Supre?
Ok. Walk in. The dresses she liked were not there. Now what. How about that?
No, it's ugly. No, it's not what I want. No, it's ugly too.
Sigh.
What about that skirt?
Forget it. Ugly.
But 2 minutes later she came back to that. And that's what we bought.

Now I have the skirt, I need new shoes!
Where do you want to go?
I dunno! A shoe shop?! *sarcasm*
Sigh. What style do you want?
A plain black pair of ballet pumps.
Ok, for those we need somewhere like Payless or Williams. Or Jay Jays.
Nope, Jay Jay's stuff won't be dressy enough.
Do you know where Williams is?
Nope.
Find a directory and we'll know where to look.
Nope! I'm not doing that!
Well, we'll start going this way.
Mum! Come back here!
And by this time, you are just ready to punch her in the head.

Eventually I got her into a Williams and up the back where the flats were. A mammoth task in itself; two women with kids in trolley and pram were taking up an awful lot of room. She picked a pair and wasn't going to try them on. Luckily she did, cause they needed to be a bigger size.

Fortunately, the whole task took about half hour, and I was free to be shot of her while I went shopping with the Elder. An altogether much pleasanter notion. Glad I did. I scored a pair of expensive rubber thongs for my effort.

Heck, I thought shopping with your daughters was supposed to be fun?

Wha? Was that a weekend went rushing by?

Well, I think it was. It seems like only Friday a blink ago, and now here it is. Monday again. Sigh *wipes a tear* weekends grow up and move out so quickly.

A strange weekend just gone. Well, it felt a little stranger than normal. For me.

I managed to grab some ME time Saturday morning. And took over the bathroom. I coloured my hair, and it became...... violet. Ultra Violet, the box assures me. So, while waiting for the colour to process, I took a dash more ME time. Sitting, minding my own business, hair piled on top of head. Violet stuff everywhere. The Teen wandered out, rubbing sleep, mascara, and other stuff probably not healthy to think about from her eyes, when she saw me. It stopped her dead in her tracks. Before she laughed at me. You just can't take someone seriously when they are vulnerable like that. Really.

At the end of the process when I was all clean and shiny, I thought it was time to do the same for the bathroom. Clean and shiny. Well. I had to. There had been voilet done in that room. Traces of it everywhere. So, clean and shiny.

The Elder took the Teen out on Saturday morning. The Teen wasn't supposed to go anywhere on Saturday - she is still supposed to be doing penance for some perceived slight; can't remember what now - but I let her go to collect some dollars that one of her friends was to give her. And she wanted to meet a boy. Her dad doesn't like the boyfriend stuff, but what the heck. She is 15, she'll do it anyway.

The two of them spent the day there. And returned with 3 additions. Luckily, I did know about those. But then again, if they just rocked up, I wouldn't be unhappy. I really like this bunch of hangers-on.

Saturday night was noisy, and messy. I didn't realise how messy until Sunday morning. When they left for Dreamworld, and mum got a good look at what they left behind. It was like having a house full of kids again. Empty glasses left on tables and benches. Food wrappers followed the glasses around. Dirty dishes lined the sink. Blankets, sheets, and a mattress took up space on the loungeroom floor, and continued to drape themselves in a casual fashion on the couch itself.

The bathroom didn't escape either. They all showered so I had a plethora of wet towels hung in strange places. The basin sink and bench top were full of black hair. See comment re clean and shiny. And I dare not mention the hair dryer and straightener left lying about.

It was almost like the kids' bedrooms had exploded and spread debris over a wide area. MOTH was less than happy.

Love those kids though. Can't wait for the next one.

Kids. Schools. Whatever.

Whew. Summer temps are here. And now is the time they decide to refurbish the air conditioner. Our building is re-routed to another, smaller system. It keeps overloading. So we spend most of the time with no aircon in the building. And they can't give us an end date to our woes.

And for the icing on the cake - I had a phone call from the school yesterday. The Teen has been suspended. For 3 days. For writing on the wall. Yes, that's right. For writing one sentence "Only noobs write here" on the girls' toilet wall.

The Deputy Principal was impressed with her conduct; she owned up to doing it. She was polite, truthful, and willing to face the consequences of her actions. Seems I did manage to teach her something after all. She tells me that none of the others owned up to having done anything.

But apparently, suspension is the standard punishment for graffiti these days. I can remember doing my time for writing on desks. If the teacher were especially grumpy you got a week's detention. If not, punishment was much less severe.

3 day suspension. So, what do they do for something really severe?

*shakes head*

Scooters. Memories and other.

The Elder gave me a lift to work this morning. Well, I suppose that since she has to come to campus too, it can't really be called a lift. More like I strap in and hang on for dear life.

She has purchase a parking permit now though. Which means limited travel on public transport for a while. I am to go halves in the cost of the parking, and ride the train when she's not travelling my way from home. I'm hoping that won't be too often. Or she can pay for her parking herself. So there.

This morning, while burning rubber up the main drag, we noticed one of those commuter scooter things. It was a bit hard to miss; going hell for leather along the edge of the road. I'm sure his fingers were crossed. And a look of concentration on his face as he leaned over the handlebars trying desperately to get that last little gasp from the motor.

Heaven knows why these things are allowed to share the road. What good are they? They don't have enough power to travel in the mainstream traffic - they just aren't fast enough. Maybe they should ride the footpath with the pedestrians. Or those scooters for the mobility challenged. Now there would be a sight. A race. Between the scooters. Winner takes on the footsloggers. I'm talking, of course, about the scooters that you don't need a license for. The little ones. About 50cc or something.

I reckon they would travel almost as fast as a kid on one of the usual ones. The ones that were all the rage a couple years back. The silver ones with the slick wheels. The ones the parents made all the fuss about because of there being no proper brakes. You had to put your heel on the back wheel. Or something. But what's wrong with that? You can't truly have a childhood without the possibility of mangling yourself doing something fun. Like jumping on a bed when your older sister advised you not to.

We had a scooter. But it was nothing like the fancy ones. It was old and battered. And well loved. The plastic/rubbery handle grips were cracked. The paint was chipped. The frame was rusty. The wheels were white and solid rubber. Cracked too. And there was nothing we liked better than to get a good run up, jump on and fly down the yard, around the corner down the slope, and along the driveway. And see how far you could get without putting your foot to the ground. We wore a groove in the grass our dad wasn't necessarily impressed about. And I've lost count of the amount of times we stacked it.

Can you imagine doing that with any of the fancy pants things that pass for a scooter these days? And that statement includes the ones worthy only of a race against the pedestrians.

I've forgotten........

I thought, while the work computers aren't working, that I would sidestep and jot something down. I know darned well that this morning I had a topic I would talk about.

But now I'm at work, and I can't for the life of me remember what it might have been.

I was lying in the dark. In the lounge room, plotting MOTH's gorey demise. He suffers from sleep apnoea. And snoring to boot. I had ejected myself from the bedroom after giving up a losing battle with sleep.

And I KNOW I had something worthwhile to contribute. Then. But this is NOW, and it's all gone away.

Perhaps it will come back one day. Or maybe it's all gone; slipped away into the ether, never to be thought of again.....

How does that song go?

... it's raining again ... Yes. It is. And here I am, stuck at work. Without my umbrella. Now, how did that happen?

I don't usually take an umbrella with me. A strange thing, considering how I feel about getting wet. But somehow, the fact that it's rain makes it better. But there you have it - I have walked out the door without one.

On leaving home, it was grey. But not too badly so. And cool; almost jumper weather. In fact, the Elder commented that she thought she might need one. Till I talked her out of it. It had stormed briefly, very briefly, and was no longer raining.

But now, I'm sitting here at work, tucked away in my cozy little office. It's dark outside. And wet. The thunder is rolling around the sky and the trees are weighted with water. And here I am, no umbrella.

The forecast I heard this morning said mostly fine. A workmate tells me she heard storms. Woe is me. Well, we shall have to see who is right. Think I'll hedge my bets and say if the rain goes away, it will be fine.

Sister Wherefore Art Thou? Random stuff.

So after my last post, I thought I would contact said missing family member. Who told me that she's usually on MSN at a particular time. But noone else is. Funny that. If you don't tell me that you are on during those times, how am I going to know you are there? No, wait. I am the eldest, so I should be psychic enough to pick up on that.

So I thought I would give it a shot. I had to do some hard haggling with the Teen. It was her computer time after all. But lo, the only person on was Elder.

I chased my sibling, and where was she? In bed with a headache. Sometimes you just can't win.

I did have a win on another matter though. I got the tv most of Saturday; a huge achievement - Bathurst warmups were on. I managed to watch 2 season's worth of unseen - by me - eps of the IT Crowd. A BBC production of unbridled hilarity. Based, as you may have guessed, on an IT department in a large corporation. A cast of thousands - well, 3 regulars and 1 part timer - whose department is so well regarded, it exists in the basement.

Jen - Relationship manager. She's the 'people person'.
Roy - Geek 1. Irish. Pretty normal, considering.
Moss - Geek 2. Not Irish. Stereotypical geek.
Richmond - the Goth who lives behind the Red Door. My absolute fave character. But he isn't in every episode.

We don't know what's behind the Green Door yet.

I love it. A Saturday well spent. I hope they make another series.

The Case of the Mysterious Disappearance of the Sibling

I write this blog for me. And my siblings so we can keep up to date with the minutiae of our lives. But mostly for me. In the vain hope that it might mean something to me when I am old and demented and forgetful. It will give me something to remember myself by. And don't worry about computers and stuff. We'll all be wired into the mainframe by then.

But one of my three readers - if you include myself - has gone missing. All is quiet in backwoods bobbyville. They have only recently joined the technological era. Perhaps the computer has become sentient and swallowed them all. Sucked them all in so they have become lost. Lost in a surreal world of multi colours of red and blue, and a very nasty central computer with delusions of grandeur and world domination. No, wait. That's Tron. Actually, I did once read a story of people being sucked into computers by some black goo and a somewhat unhealthy dose of pixellation, but I can't for the life of me remember the name of it.

So where has she gone? She once begged not to be included in our chatty emails - "They clog my inbox" - so we relented and refused to talk to her. She sent pictures of some cat with no tail. And I responded. Twice. To no avail. She has gone. Drifted off into cyberspace, dancing among the stars, shipwrecked and comatose, drinking fresh mango juice, goldfish shoals ....... Sorry. Gone all Red Dwarf on myself there.........

Life is good.

It's Monday. And you know what? I don't feel bad. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe I'm heading for a manic cycle. Or maybe I just had a good weekend.

The Teen and the Elder had their own agenda, so disappeared fairly early Saturday. With every intention of not reappearing until Sunday sometime. We were at a loose end, so to speak.

MOTH decided to do something on the spur of the moment. A HUGE accomplishment on its own. And we took a drive out to Cleveland. The sky was clear and blue. A full tank of fuel, airconditioning in the car was working a treat; traffic was moderate, the UBD on the floor at my feet, and a calm and relaxed midset with regard to the possibility of getting lost.

I can't describe how bouyed I felt. No rush, no need to be anywhere at any particular time. Just a day to do what we wanted. Of course, the lure of a shopping centre we hadn't been to before was too hard to ignore. We stopped at Capalaba Park or some such. It was quite larger than we expected, but had a Zarraffas, so we were set. MOTH had never had coffee from there before, but had to agree that yes, it was better than Gloria Jeans.

The shopping centre had a wildlife display going on. Perhaps it had just finished - a family were having their photo taken while nursing a freshwater croc across their knees. We wandered around and looked in the windows of the set up at some of the reptiles. One display held gouldian finches, the bright purple and green ones. I tried to take some shots with the phone, but heck, they move waaaay to fast for that. Once I snapped the camera on one of the birds on a branch, but when the photo displayed on the screen, there wasn't a bird in sight. Perhaps I might even put that Missing: Fast Bird poster here. When I get around to pulling the pics off the phone.

So we ended up somewhere out at Cleveland. Not Wellington Point way, but the other direction. And decided to stop somewhere for lunch. The name of the place escapes me now, but the food was good. MOTH ordered bangers and mash, while I had tagiatelle with bug. Delicious. The garden out the back had Emu in the name. We sat in the shady pergoda, against the railing while the sea breeze stirred the fronds of the palm tree where the rainbow lorikeets played and the cockatoos rested in the trees around the park.

Oh, and one old one with her mate and her brood of two obnoxious children sat at the table directly below us. She forghorned, and every time she told those kids to do something, they did what they pleased anyway. I spent a fair bit of my time mumbling under my breath, planning ways to destroy them. On one occasion, I wondered if there were some way I could coax the cockatoos over and have them beat the kids to death. MOTH sat grinning like a loon, commenting later that he didn't think that strip of I-don't-like-kids ran quite that wide. Bloody bogans annoying the croutons out of the general public.

But in spite of that, it was a brilliant day. Or maybe because of it. I know I had a lot of fun planning their destruction.

Yay! Space to move

I still can't get over the amount of space there is here. With the students gone and all. Most of them - there are still some international students hanging about. One thing I did notice about the break though. Market day goes downhill with some of the stall owners not turning up. Mediocre Market Day becomes Pissweak Market Day.

It seems that I opened my big mouth and mentioned to the Elder about my last post. No, not the one that makes the dogs howl. Which in turn reminds me of a play we looked at staging in high school. For the sheer joy of the play itself. Just us, not a whole of the school gig. Something entitled Custard's Last Stand. Or similar. The play was set in the wild, wild west. And it gelled with our warped sense of humour at the time. F'rinstance:

A: My daddy brought me out here in a covered wagon.
B: Yes. Looking at you I can see why he covered it.

I can't remember the plot but I think it had something to do with a shipment - if you can get a ship out in the west - of custard pies going missing. Did the indians do it? You'll never know because I can't remember.

But I digress. I must have told her that I wrote about our lovely day at the lake. Raining today though, so I doubt there will be a repeat. At any rate, I guess she decided to read it. And checked the archives as well. Apparently I made comment that she was dressed all in black and white, striped too, and reminded me of a beetle. Which reminded me that I needed to revisit Beetlejuice. I was in trouble. Fortunately briefly.

But guess which movie I know have on my shelf?

Summer and semester breaks

Whew. I think summer is coming. It's beginning to get somewhat overheated. And it doesn't help if you are wearing black.

I think semester break is here. Along with school holidays for most. I noticed this morning, on my usual commute with the Elder and hanging desperately onto the car door for support, that there was definitely a reduction in the amount of traffic.

And space on the bus. Without any fool having to stand in the aisle and hang on for dear life. Which is never me by the way. I always manage to get myself a seat. By fair means or foul.

No students loitering in the middle of the footpath. A group of which I encountered just last week. Who were quite well aware they were blocking the path. I nearly trampled them. At least, my brain was desperate for some action, but before I knew it my body had taken a detour and I was squeezing past on the outside of the throng. Darn. Opportunity rang the bell and ran away.

Back to the weather. The Elder and I decided to have lunch by the lake. And look at the wildlife. Today I think I encountered a bit more than I bargained for. Unfortunately the heat was rendering certain areas a tad too aromatic for my liking, but we persevered. We wandered the path, across the bridge, and chanced to espy a turtle sunning itself on a choice spot just out of the water. Further along, we looked up. Corellas. Lots of them. Crowding in the trees and watching. I felt that I was wearing a sign. A big one, with concentric red circles. I waited, I expected, and I braced but it didn't happen.

The patch of grass we found was spongy and welcoming. I was a little wary, expecting to find myself sitting in ducky doo doo. Settled in and around they came. A goose and lots of smaller birds. The goose got pushy and tried to pinch the Elder's pie crust. I guarded the best bit from the marauder - the cream donut.

After lunch, we thought we would have a bit of sport and get close to a big turtle sunning itself on a branch. No, not the earlier one. This one was bigger. As we approached, it waved its legs about trying to get a grip before propelling itself back into the relative safety of the water.

We watched turtles, birds and eels play in the shallows. Baited them with crumbs of donut. On the way back, after again running the gauntlet of the corellas, I pointed out the water dragon on a raised grate. And another in the water. Surrounded by birds. There sure are a lot of birds on the lake. We fed them. Donut of course. The wet dragon jumped out and on to the bank. To the disgust of the dry dragon who proceeded to chase it off. And the dry dragon reigned surpreme. And was rewarded with donut. Right up to my toes. I stood still. You don't want one of them thinking that a toe is a meal. I wear sandals you know.

Which encouraged a bunch of american students to stop and look. They didn't see the dragon on the path at first. The boys thought it was great, the Elder threw some donut at them. The students. And the dragon moved; the girl went girly and hid behind one of the boys. One took photos and they eventually moved on.

On the bridge on the way back, we watched one of the white heron-like birds hunt.

But then, it was back to work. To the airconditioning. A totally relaxing way to spend lunch hour. I don't really want to settle in to work now.

Random stuff....

... The magik attack hit again this morning. The gardener was cleaning up after a brush turkey had been about. Gack! It was a helpful attack, quite out of character.

... Just saw a student wearing patterned stockings. Fair Isle pattern. In shades of grey. What's with that???

... Been thinking of buying an iPod. It's taken days to even decide which one I want. Even longer to price them. So work sells them to students and staff. But as far as I can tell, at the RRP. When I contact them to place the order, the model I want is no longer available. It's been replaced by the new ones. And I'm quite welcome to spend another $100 and get one of those. But I don't want that one! I want THAT one! It's not fair! *insert wailing and gnashing of teeth here*

Magik

I'm sitting at my desk eating something healthy and nutritious for lunch. If you're a student. Only a student can live successfully on noodles. But I was wishing I had something better that I had someone else to prepare for me.

And as I drifted off into the half tracelike state between waking and sleeping, it made me think of one of my favourite day dreams as a child.

I wished I could do magic. Not wand magic like Harry Potter and his lot. That's for girlies. The real stuff. Change things with a thought or a gesture. And magic happens. As I feel at the time. Small and subtle, or large and dazzling. As a child though it was mostly small and subtle. I couldn't let just anyone know I could do magic. You never know what might happen.

Strangely enough, most of my magic daydreams involved helping other people. These days I think I centre more on revenge. Oo a cyclist in a pedestrian only area. Small nod and hey! Front wheel sticks and there they go - straight over the handle bars to do a very messy face plant on the cement. Not a problem. Twitch of the fingers and it's all cleaned up. But not the cyclist.

Don't want to go to work? Yay. Suddenly I have a clone. But it had better not be an evil twin. I know what happens there. But wait. Yes. Finger click and it's like I don't exist. They won't miss me because they never knew I was ever there. Of course, I can't give up work completely - that would totally ruin my social life.

And if I didn't like the way it turned out, I could put it all back exactly the way it was before.

I have no idea what happened in the years between generosity and selfishness. Maybe it was life??

Cement in a can.... Hairspray

Last night, I thought I would do something different. And catch a movie. What a movie.

Hairspray.

Now, I know the pundits would say it's a remake. And then draw all sorts of comparisons, usually unfavourable, between the new and the old. But I've never seen the old. And totally loved the new.

Bright. Colourful. Fun. My feet were tapping and my head was nodding. And I left the theatre bouyed by an overflow of good spirits.

On one occasion I laughed myself into an attack of the snorts. Hopefully it got lost among the general laughter. And there was plenty to laugh at.

John Travolta was amazing as Edna. Knowing full well it who was in the suit under the makeup didn't detract from the viewing pleasure. For me, it probably enhanced it. I couldn't help thinking 'how cute!' through some of the scenes. And he was soooo girly!! And how much practice to be able to dance in a pair of heels? Ok, so not the stilettos Michelle Pfeiffer's character was wearing, but heels nontheless.

The chemistry between Edna and Christopher Walken as Wilbur was sweet. The scene I call the 'seduction scene' was sweet. Walken couldn't stop smiling and looked like he was going to burst into giggles.

And the new girl! What a voice!

I loved it. I can't wait for the dvd. And I think I'll overdose on the soundtrack for a while. Wow.

And by the end of the movie, all I could say was "Big is Beautiful!!" Long live the big.

Father's Day. Or How to Give the Man a Heart attack

Yes. Yesterday was Father's Day. And the girls gave MOTH some small gifts. And MOTH nagged me to call my own father.

A difficult task. Not that Pop Too and I don't get along. Quite the contrary. But he lives in another city, which means that I must actually pick up a phone and speak.

I don't have any trouble speaking. Anyone who knows me knows that quite well. I'm armed with opinions and like to share them around. But physically picking up a phone and calling. Well that's another thing entirely.

I hate them. Telephones. Says she who carts a mobile around with her. But that's the beauty of mobiles. You can SMS. Which means a conversation. Without speaking to someone.

But I did it. I phoned my father. Course, I had to fortify myself with a shopping trip first. Can't do these things cold turkey you know.

And I think he was pleasantly surprised. At least, I hope it was worth the effort. I save the phone calls for special occasions. Father's Day. Mother's Day. Christmas. ...... yep, that's about all.

But I do think of them often.

MOTH was pleased with his gifts. A voucher to use at Kmart. And dvd's. One featuring Jessica Alba. His favourite. And cards to go with them. Which, for some reason, both featured bodily functions. Of the same type. Which made him comment on their similarity. Accompanied by a sheepish smile and a bag full of denial. Wholly accurate, we vote. It's obviously a man thing.......

Mother Dearest........

Yes Mother, it seems I owe you a letter. And now for something completely different...... oops. Sorry for the Pythonesque moment there. I thought I would write one. This way. And it starts off like so ...

... Mother Dearest

Yes, thanks, as I told Pop Too, the blankets did arrive in good order. None the worse for wear after the enforced diet and rough travel. They have even had the occasion to present their best side / underside / inside when they were called upon to provide some form of motley cover for some of the Elder's friends. On sleepover duty.

Oh. Small aside - sugar. Must remember to bring sugar.

So, what has been happening the the wacky world of the Backwoods Bobbies? Your correspondence was a little cryptic. Perhaps the local birds where whistling and you couldn't think. XD Either that, or I need glasses to stop the words from running into each other. Strange the way I need glasses, not the words.

I hope that Pop Too isn't taking too much time out from the List. If the photo is anything to go by. Mind, it is a wonderful way to sell the lounge suite. If indeed that is what you were doing.

And I see that Moose has dragged you somewhat ahead in the tech stakes, having now facilitated the ease of email. That's a wonderful thing. Now all you have to do is get yourself up to speed on that other wonderful little piece of tech that Froggy sent. It's called a mobile phone......

Speaking of Moose, how is Scorpion? She must be almost singing along now, right? I know the trick was to get the paperwork finished on some anniversary or another, but have forgotten if that was this century or next.

And how is Mz T? And the anklebiters? I'm thinking that when summer sets in proper you can kiss the chesty stuff goodbye and get some sleep. Long live sleep.

All are well here. I have just last night managed to make it through the discussion and signing of a SET agreement for the Teen. They never had to worry about any of that nonsense when we were at school. For the uninitiated - you - that's a career and study plan which must be agreed on by the parents and the student.

The Elder is taking me out partying next weekend. That should be interesting - it's been so long that I can't remember the last time I was out past pumpkin hour and having a good time. I wonder if I shall still have the endurance, stamina and other stuff.

MOTH is still at home. Doing homey things. Not yo homie dudes! but domestic engineer type stuff. The weather is doing him cruel and he hasn't been well lately. I have my fingers crossed, but the old codger is still hanging on.... XD

But, I must sign off, and flee to attempt to accomplish other things. Much love sent your general direction. You better make sure you dive to catch it...........

Sigh. It's still raining......

I mustn't complain too much I suppose. It is rain we needed......

But I'm tired and cold. It's at the point where you leave a window open briefly and everything feels damp. I'm sure that I'm going mouldy. Gosh, and now, Axel is pouring his heart out in the November Rain. Wonder if that's a sign?

I had been talking to Mother recently who mentioned a refurbishment. Not knowing what the heck she was talking about produced the following. Which I thought was cute enough to include...

The joys of retirement. Obviously.







It's funny though the way small things you overhear trigger funny little memories. Ok, they might only be funny to you. And I've just realised I've used funny 4 times now in 3 sentences.....

I was on the train the other night, when a group of other passengers began passing around photos. Old fashioned ones even. You know, tucked inside the processing company's envelope.

One of the group mentioned she thought they may have been photos of work. No, he said. You think I would be taking pictures of the inside of bins? Or words to that effect. Which reminded me of a fad I went through. Taking photos of bins.

Which all started with a new phone. Yes. I wanted to test the camera. So I took a pic from the back window of the bus. And sent it on. To which the response was rather humorous, and prompted a spate of bin pics flying through cyberspace.

So, I've started again. And here it is. Please pay attention to the signage. Mind, when we returned later that day, someone had swapped the hard goods for ....... an old sponge mop.