Goss and Grumblings

Bye bye Blogger!!!

2004-12-13T16:00:00.000+11:00

It is done!

Check out the new digs at http://www.gossipmonger.info or here!

I made it all myself!!! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Update your blogrolls!!! (if you want to that is)

Bye Blogger, it was fun for a while, but you just got too annoying

Attempting to be clever

2004-12-12T15:27:00.000+11:00

Am spending today trying to make my Wordpress thingy looking OK. I am SUCH a newb...
So if there are no posts here, it's because I have strangled myself to death in php.

Of dancin' queens and pedantic teachers

2004-12-10T22:37:00.000+11:00

Cherub2 is 10. He's a boy. Loves cars and all the typical boyish things. Along with these quintessential boy type qualities add a great enthusisam for being in the school senior dance group. Yep, he's also a bit of an exhibitionist.

I love that he's in the dance group. HIs friends are too. They are encroaching on territory that in Cherub1s year was the domain of the girls.

Anyhoo, the dance group are performing at our school end of year presentation day. We have a hip version of the Bee Gees "Stayin' Alive" to video which surely will provide us with ample opportunites to embarrass Cherub2 at future momentous occasions such as his 18th or 21st birthdays ('cos that's the kind of family we are).

So... the dance teacher sends home a list of costume requirements. Black pants, seventies style shirt, black shoes, belt, and...an afro wig if we can find one - a minor challenge as I don't think there's a huge demand for them. This is all cool. I found a lurid shirt at the second hand store, then rushed off in search of a wig. This was in my lunch break, so I didn't have a lot of time.

In the aptly named '$2' shop, I happen upon some costume bits and pieces. There were wigs of the clown variety. Instead of going for the rainbow style, because after all, the seventies were a fashion nightmare, but not THAT bad, I went for yellow. Cherub2 has very blonde hair, so I figured it wasn't far off the mark.

He thought it rocked. He loved his costume. We were all excited. Even to the point of finding some double sided tape so we could trim the wig a tad, thereby giving him the opportunity to sport some awesome seventies type sideburns and the obligatory chest hair. Not to mention the gaudy gold chain to nestle in said chest hair.
Yep, Saturday Night Fever was well and truly on us all.

Until the dress rehearsal today.

"Oh no" says the dance teacher to Cherub2 "The wig won't do at all. It has to be brown or black, something natural". What, my oh-so-blonde kid is UNnatural? What's 'natural' about a wig anyways? Sure, the wigs kind of yellower than blonde, but it's not THAT bad. And if she was SO particular, why didn't she specify what colour wig in the notice?

I am now under instruction to 'spray' the wig a suitable colour, or buy another one.
Cherub2 has had his bubble burst. He loves his yellow 'fro. He's stressing now that his costumes 'not right'. I have to scour the shops for something suitable.

It's a children's performance, not a stage version of A Chorus Line. Get over it woman and let the kid be happy.

Eyeballing

2004-12-10T10:14:00.000+11:00

So I'm here at work.
I have this awful hot, scratchy eye. It's bugging the life out of me. What I actually feel like doing is grabbing a melon baller, taking my eye out, and bathing it in something soothing, then popping it back in.
Only thing is, we don't have a melon baller here.

The GERBIL

2004-12-07T21:19:00.000+11:00

Maybe you noticed when I posted the helpful pic from my MIL I said she knows her 'sons' well. Or maybe you didn't.
And I see from the comments we all so appreciate how lovely (?) it can be living with the men on our lives at times.

So brace yourselves.

Ready?

I live with two of the suckers.

Yep, that's right. Two adult bundles of testosterone wandering around, leaving toilet seats up, dropping clothes on the floor and just generally being male. One of them, I adore 99.9% of the time.
The other, I'm not liking too much at the moment.

He is my Grossly Easygoing Relentlessly-lazy Brother In Law. Hereafter known as the GERBIL.

How did this travesty of justice happen to such a lovely DaFFy, I hear you ask, outraged. Well, way back when I was young and innocent, I met the MOTH, and he lived with the GERBIL. He'd rescued the GERBIL from living with their parents. The MIL and FIL are lovely, don't get me wrong. I meant, the MOTH thought he'd help the GERBIL move out, get a pad, live a life, you know?

So, when the MOTH and I decided to join our respective motley collections of furniture together and *GASP* cohabitate, we inherited the GERBIL along with assorted other household objects and electrical items.

At the time, I was still a SAHM, and the MOTH had been retrenched, so I have to admit, the rent from the GERBIL (who was working) came in handy. I didn't mind doing all the housework back then (well most of it - the MOTH chipped in), because I was at home, and that's kind of the way it works.

Anyways, I uppped and got a job, and so did the MOTH. This is when it all went a tad pearshaped.

As I said, the GERBIL had previously not contributed to housework, cooking, mowing of lawns and the like - but he continued not to. He got to be behind in his rent - maybe figuring (wrongly) it didn't matter so much as we were both earning money? Who knows. It sucked.

18 months down the track...it STILL sucks. In fact, it's worse. On days he has rostered off, I come home at 5.15pm, and he's sitting cruising the internet/watching television/sleeping and appears around dinner time waiting to be fed. He does NO housework. Not one thing - the cherubs do more. His rent is paid in a haphazard fashion, although I have to admit he no longer gets 10 weeks behind. He drinks the beer the MOTH buys - which would be OK if when he bought beer, he shared it and didn't hide it in his car, bringing it in 6 pack at a time to drink by himself. He doesn't even take out the empties. The cherubs do the rubbish-taking out, and were taking out empty beer bottles every night, until I said 'no more'. A 10 and a 12 year old, picking up after a 35 year old...pfft!

We spend part of our weekends cleaning, doing washing etc etc. The GERBIL spends his sleeping and going out. I have let the housework go at times, thinking he won't be able to stand it, and will do something. WRONG. All that happens is we live in a pig sty and I end up cleaning up accumulated mess, instead of staying on top of it. The door and windows are never open in his bedroom. We think we shall have to have it fumigated! Well maybe not quite - but ewwwwwwww all the same.

Blah! There are so many more annoying things I can't be bothered listing them.

So why, when the MOTH told me last night the GERBIL had been looking at rental properties and therefore is possibly moving out, do I feel a little badly? Why aren't I doing an ecstatic rhumba across the loungeroom? Why am I not swinging from the chandelier in glee? (OK, we don't have one, but you get the gist).

P.S. He's single, girls! Come and get him!

About time differences and stuff

2004-12-07T20:45:00.000+11:00

So we have ironed out the time differences with the clock (yes Melonie, I mean you!), so now, being a total sticky nose, I want to know where everyone is.

Stick a pin on the link to the guestmap to show me where your goss is coming from! Oh, and leave a message :)

I don't like Mondays

2004-12-06T10:33:00.000+11:00

From the above heading, I guess you know already...it's Monday. I hate Mondays.

It's too many sleeps until the weekend. I have time to contemplate all the things I didn't get done during the weekend just gone.

At the moment, I have this urge to say "I don't want to be here today, I have Christmas shopping to do - see you all tomorrow" and just waltz off down the stairs. Wonder what they'd do. Of course, if I was sacked, I'd have no money to Christmas shop, even though I had the time. Catch 22.

Ah well, only just over 2 and 1/2 weeks until 12 days hols.

Top idea from my MIL

2004-12-05T21:01:00.000+11:00

As the only female in this house (except for Piper the Wonder Dog - and she has her own bathroom called 'the backyard'), I think I am quite within my rights to bring this into force in my home.

Thanks to my MIL for the pic. She obviously knows her sons well.

If Women Ruled The World

Target bargain?

2004-12-03T20:20:00.001+11:00

Well, this just goes to show you CAN get anything at Target these days. Apparently their "Search" function even finds it for you. Have they been hacked? Or are they just diversifying a little?

Edit: Oh damn, Target have realised it was there and removed it *sigh*

On comments and traffic and other blogs

2004-12-02T21:41:00.000+11:00

I've just made my regular pilgrimages to Sharon's and Moogie's blogs and have read their comments regarding traffic to, and comments on, their blogs. Seeing a comment on their blogs was going to turn into an essay, I figured I'd make a post out of it all.

OK, I've read quite a few blogs here and there (as well as the ones I read religiously), and I have to say, I find it can be quite daunting for a number of reasons. I think I am slightly in awe of Other People!

Other People seem to write so well, to express themselves so perfectly. I haven't quite mastered the art of being entirely open yet, and admire those who effortlessly seem to throw a few words together and make that jumble of words flow beautifully. They make it seem so easy, while I often struggle to release the thoughts in my head coherently.

Other People are so much funnier, and witty and entertaining! At times, I read back on my own posts and think how boring they must appear in comparison. It can be difficult to be amusing in print. I struggle with that, too. Getting bogged down with choosing the right words, then losing 'the moment', reducing my supposed amusing account into something entirely different. While everyone else is hurling witty anecdote after witty anecdote into cyberspace.

Other People lead such interesting lives. My own life at times seems so dull! What hapens here? Not a damn lot actually. Just life in general. Maybe thats just us, or maybe I just don't appreciate my mundane little life enough? Occasionally, I haven't converted an occurance into a post (even though I wanted to) as I wondered "What will Other People think?".

All this is why it is rewarding to receive comments. I think in some way it gives what I am saying validation. When something makes no sense to me, or I think I am the 'only one', up pops a comment from a person who understands. Because it has happened to them, or because they have the same sense of humour, or just...because. Someone, somewhere out there has taken the time to read what I have to say. Has bothered to spend that extra minute or two to say "Hey, I know how you feel" or "What crap, get over yourself" (actually, I haven't had the second one yet, it's a wonder though - so feel free!).

Traffic, on the other hand, is somewhat meaningless. Sure, I know people have dropped in. But what did they think? Did they agree? Disagree? Think I am a nutter? Fall asleep at their keyboard? Or were they just trying to build up their BE credits? (For what I don't know, haven't figured out what those credits are for yet) Should I even care if anyone reads my blog at all, or if they do, what they think of me? After all, it is MY blog.

The fact is, I do care. I like the communication. The small interactions with others. The feeling that I matter in some tiny way. Feeling like I have a voice. That I may say say something interesting (doesn't happen often, but on occasions I have surprised myself).

Ona global scale, it gives me faith that despite there being so much ugliness and hate in this world, there is hope. That no matter what country we are from, no matter what beliefs and value systems we hold, we can communicate. Understand. Empathise. That comments left on a blog are largely anonymous (as log-in name does not an identity make), matters not. People can, and do, still care.

So tell me, why do you blog? What do you get out of it?

*Edit: So now I am reading this post and thinking "Good grief, what sanctimonious rot!". Oh well :)

The man who knew too much

2004-11-30T13:09:00.000+11:00

A sort of creepy thing happened yesterday...well, kinda creepy...kinda funny.

I'm on my way home from work, and remembered we need milk at home (like, when don't we?), so I pulled into the local service station.

The guy that works there is Iraqi (I think) and has always been pretty friendly, painfully friendly in fact. He chats to the MOTH and I whenever we go in, chats a bit too much at times.

Anyways, the MOTH is home at the moment, having worked all weekend. He popped into the same service station yesterday morning for cigarettes (yeah, yeah, I know we should give up - but without this vice, we'd just be tooooo perfect!)

So by the time I ran in at about 5:30pm, the servo guy must have been literally busting with his news.

"I saw your husband this morning!" he babbled.

"Oh OK" I nodded and smiled, wishing he'd just get the hell on with my purchase so I could get home.

He paused, puffed out his chest a bit, trying to look important, and announced "Yes, your husband, he was here, and bought TWO types of cigarettes!"
"One type wasn't yours!" he added ominously.

"Err...right" I said, and looked at him rather blankly.

A blank look obviusly wasn't quite what he wanted. I now realise I was supposed to throw myself prostrate on the floor, screaming about cheating men, and sobbing profusely.
"They were not for YOU" he tells me again "I KNOW what you buy". Another knowing look.

By this stage, I had an hysterical desire to laugh insanely - hence the blank looks. It was either that, or lose it completely. I felt like I was caught in a soap opera.
The smokes were for the MOTH's brother, who lives with us - what a scandal.

The moral of the story for the MOTH is...NEVER have an affair in a service station. There are lines in my head referring to pumping etc, but i think that may be a tad tasteless.

I don't really want to go back there, and yet, I do. Like a soap opera you know is garbage, but watch anyways.

Has anyone else come across a nosy shop assistant?

Just a funky thang

2004-11-28T13:38:00.000+11:00

I unashamedly stole this from Piehole.

♥DaFFy and ♥The MOTH

Doing their best to have a rockin' kid.
Wish to hug each other amicably.
Share a deep puddle of secrets.

Orchestrated by ianiceboy

I wasn't aware we were trying to have a rockin' kid, but I do try to sidestep that damn puddle.

Fitting In

2004-11-28T10:11:00.000+11:00

Listening to my sons write their Christmas lists, and chatter about what's 'hot' and what's 'not', it seems obvious that some things haven't changed much since I was at school.

That need to fit in, to wear what everyone else wears, be part of the crowd. Sure, you expect this in high school, when peer group pressure is at it's peak, but not so much in Primary School. I had forgotten that need to be the same as everyone else began so early.

I desperately wanted to be like the other kids. They had a mother, father, and siblings. I had just my mum. Back, then, this always felt somewhat 'unrespectable' and not quite the done thing. My best friend Alison's father died when we were about 10. He had a heart attack while playing tennis, and was still relatively young. However, that was different, because everyone had known him, he had been the principal of the local High School. Not an unknown quantity like my father. Alison wasn't on the receieving end of jibes such as "I bet you don't really have a father", "Your Dad's really dead, isn't he?". Not to mention the classic "I wouldn't stay around either if I had a daggy kid like you". I remember thinking at the time, I wouldn't have, either.

My parents separated when I was about 2. By the time I was ready to start school, Mum had moved us back to Australia, I guess to be closer to her family. I only recall seeing my Dad a few times after we moved, and not since I was 8 years old.

Oddly enough, I didn't really miss him, either. It was just Mum and I, I didn't know it any other way, and realised it was difficult to miss something you had never had.
Which I suppose sounds a little callous. I felt I should miss him, but knew I didn't, and so tortured my self a little over my supposed lack of feeling, not understanding back then that I probably had more than my fair share of mixed up emotions, confusion and divided loyalties.

Growing up, most of the other kids were members of typical nuclear families. I wanted to be part of one. Of course, I didn't realise that being the statisical norm didn't neccessarily make one happy. All I knew was, we weren't the same.

Mum was a school teacher, back when most mothers didn't work - or not fulltime, anyway. We lived in a small country town called Euroa, making lack of opportunity the most probable reason for this, but again, you don't understand these things when you are a kids. All I knew was, other mothers could do canteen duty, mine couldn't. Other mothers came to sports days, mine couldn't. Other mothers nursed their sick kids back to health in a cool, airy sickroom at home (or so I fantasised). Mine couldn't. Again, we weren't the same.

Before I turned 10 or 11, if I was ill, I was packed up and taken to work with Mum, and deposited in the high school sick bay for the day. Now, this wasn't neccessarily a bad thing looking back. The woman who ran the sick bay and did ironing and various bits and pieces for the Home Economics department of which Mum was a part, was a lovely woman whom I called Auntie Mary and I could not have had better care. Being inordinately shy and lacking in any form of confidence though, I remember being terrified when the bell went, and all these huge teenagers rampaged about in the corridors outside the sick bay, banging lockers, and generally terrifying me. I was to be found curled up on the sick bay bed, my arms around my knees praying none of them found me. You were fair game for teasing if you were a teacher's kid. As an only child, being teased was not something I dealt with very well. I took it all personally, and invariably ended up in tears.

Once I got to the grand old age of 10 or 11, Mum decided I was old enough to stay home when ill, if that was alright with me. She would come home once or twice throughout the day (at lunch and recess) to check on me, and would leave lunch in the fridge. With a Home Economics teacher for a mother, I was quite capable of making my own, although I expect those sandwiches helped assuage some of her guilt for not being able to stay home with me.
I'll never forget the brief moments of utter panic and desloation as the car started, reversed out of the driveway, and sped off down the road. There was no going back. I was 10, I wasn't well and I was alone.

I didn't have a lousy childhood by any stretch of the imagination, and that's certainly not how I am meaning to portray it. However it explains a lot about my decision to be a SAHM for as long as I could, and to have more than one child as being an only child really wasn't fun at times, and I figured if you had a sibling, there was always someone else that cared for you. The more the merrier and all that. Oh how I regret this when they fight!

I have drummed into the boys the importance of being an idividual. Of doing what you know is right, no matter what your friends may want you to do. That everyone is different, and that's how the world should be, how dreadfully boring if we were all the same. But...after all that, I am still a sucker for buying the boys the clothing brands they want (surf brands) as opposed to he ones they need (Target - correct French pronunciation 'Tar-Jay'). They keep in regular contact with their Dad and stay with him in the holidays (he lives interstate). This is for all the right reasons, but also so no one can accuse them of not having one, or that he is dead, or that they are not wanted.

They are not going to grow up thinking there is something a little wrong with them, with their family, and that their parents don't care enough. They are not going to grow up always feeling they are 'not quite right'. They are not going to grow up wishing they were someone else, or part of another family.

They are going to grow up just fine, despite their mother.

The one with the BBq'd BBQ

2004-11-26T13:53:00.000+11:00

So, the others decided to have a "Birthday BBQ" at work today, which was all good.

Except when the whole BBQ caught on fire, we couldn't put it out with sand stuff from the mechanics workshop, had no fire blanket thingummy, then almost asphixiated when one of the mechanics got a little too over excited with the fire extinguisher he found.

And now, the office smells funny.

And 'cos I have eaten heaps, I want to go to sleep under my desk.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes - they are greatly appreciated and I shall keep them in a little box, with a red ribbon around them (well, in my head it's red), and take them out and read them from time to time.

Or is that going a bit too far? Oh well - thanks anyway guys :)

Edit: Oh. My. God. I just realised, we needed Aussie Mama's fireman! Mmmmm, now THAT woulda been a present alright...

Absolute Ring Bling!

2004-11-26T08:41:00.000+11:00

Not because I think theres anything precious about my butt (and God knows, there isn't), but because...I have new bling! In the form of a ring!

I am quite ecstatic actually because the MOTH chose this gorgeous ring with a sapphire in the middle, and 4 l'il diamonds on either side. He is SO 'in' at the moment *lascivious grin*. And I feel bad for thinking he'd forget...although he did last year - so I have decided that last year is his problem, and he has now (almost)redeemed himself.

But there's more! My mum sent me up a pendant (she lives interstate), which is a single teardrop pearl on a gold chain. She and my step dad have recently been doing the travel thing around Australia, and visited a place called Broome (right up the top)where they (they being people, not my parents) do the diving for pearls type of thing. And this is very exciting because the pearl has it's own valuation certificate thingy...so it must be dreadfully important.

And! there's more! The Cherubs gave me two classic DVDs ('Some Like It Hot' and 'Casablanca'), a new book by Bryce Courtenay (Brother Fish) AND...a box of chocolates, supposedly to eat while reading said book.

Apparently now too, we are having a BBQ at work to day to honour this momentous occasion (it's also our company accountants birthday on Sunday) and best of all - there's talk of going home early - Yippee!! Now THAT'S what I call a Present!

So I am feeling rather spoilt, but I shall have to get used to the adoration and gifts showered on one so special, lovable and brilliant. Yes, I feel some heavy duty basking in the limelight coming on...

Oh pull myself together!

2004-11-25T13:37:00.000+11:00

Oh. My. God.

What a whine yesterday's post was... I am so pathetic when it comes to birthdays! And chocolate. But that's another story.

So I'm practicing my 'see if I care' look, which has been used to great effect in the past on a number of occasions, especialy when accompanied by the 'nonchalant hair flick'.

Nothing more for now because I am feigning indifference to everything.

I want some bling!!!!!

2004-11-24T11:00:00.000+11:00

Right. I have decided to tell you. It's my birthday on Friday. And I am unashamedly fond of my birthday. Pathetically so, in fact. It's just that it's always disappointing - and yeah, I'm pathetic about that, as well. I've only just gotten over last year, when I wasn't given anything. By anyone. Except my mum. Onya mum :)

In actual fact, I love lots of people's birthdays. The choosing of a gift, the excitement of knowing what it is before they do, the jigging about as they open it and the great feeling you get when you can just TELL they love it.

During the year, if the MOTH or the cherubs mention they would like particular item, I save that passing comment in my memory bank, and they receive the gift they were wishing for.It's so exciting knowing I bought the very thing their little hearts desired. I love the secrecy. The sneaking out to shop. The 'when did she have time to get this?' look of amazement.

So...that brings me back to my birthday. Howcome no one gets excited over mine? Why do I get stuck with people that don't really care about birthdays - although, they damn well seem to enjoy it when it's THEIR birthday and they are receiving gifts.

Yes, I am a bitter and twisted woman. Is there anything wrong with wanting a day that is yours, to be made a fuss of, to be made to feel a wee bit special? You know, the 'it's all about ME' thing would be nice once in a while.

I am hoping for something exciting, as I do every year. Just can't help myself I suppose. A bit of bling wouldn't go astray - mind you, a bit of bling NEVER goes astray - forget that, A LOT of bling would be even better :) But ahhh well.

Maybe it's the only child in me.

Maybe I am just being totally childish? What do you guys think?

*Edit: decided to throw nasty tantrum in heading 'cos that's how I feel (kicks floor, throws papers and stomps off).

Never too old for Santa

2004-11-22T23:10:00.000+11:00

I decided that this weekend, the boys and I were going to 'do something'.

It's so frantic around here with work and school and sports and just life in general, that come the weekends, all I want to do is laze about, doing my realistic mpression of a giant sloth (damn, must remember to wax said sloth legs). So what's wrong with that? Nothing really...except we haven't taken them anywhere for a while and I was putting another guilt trip on myself. Bad mother never taking the children out in public etc etc.

I didn't fancy anything too energetic (nothing new there), so the movies seemed like a good idea.

Well, how many did we have to choose from seeing The Grudge was probably a little inappropriate? Two. That was it. I think this the cinematic calm before the storm. The lull preceding the release of 7,253 kids movies in time for the Christmas hols.

Our choice was limited to the last couple of sessions of A Shark's Tale (seen it) and The Polar Express. I have to confess to being a tad disappointed. The cherubs are 10 and 12. They're boys. They want to be cool (kewl?). Their cynical mother didn't think they'd want to see a Christmas movie. They'd cottoned onto the whole Santa thing a while back...

However, off to the see The Polar Express we went. And they loved it. I looked at them during the movie, and they were transfixed, mouths slightly open. It reminded me so much of when they were small, I actually felt quite teary. I wanted to hug them right there and then. Cherub2 was even freeze framed with a Malteser halfway to his mouth.

And this wasn't just a movie. This was a lovely, heartwarming, innocent, beautiful tale about simple things such as having faith, and believing. It's just a gorgeous film. If you want to see a good old fashioned Christmas movie, take your kids, or if you don't have any steal* or borrow some (mine are available at cheap rates) and high tail it to the cinema. My two big cherubs loved every minute of it.

Their mother on the other hand, loved that they loved it, loved that they are still kids, and loved that although they profess to be so mature, they think a good Santa movie "rocks".

* Stealing some children to take may be a good idea, because despite being alarming for said chidren and their parents, you can hand them back in the foyer after the movie and not have to listen to them argue on the way home in the car.

Should I stay or should I go?

2004-11-22T22:39:00.000+11:00

Wordpress has been downloaded and installed on a little corner of the internet and I've played with it a bit, so now the decision is, do I pack up this site and move like Mellie Helen was brave enough to do...or not? Hmmmmm A php expert I ain't, that's for sure.

A weighty issue

2004-11-21T23:05:00.000+11:00

I haven't seen Renee Zellwegger's new movie yet.

Actually to be honest, I haven't seen the first Bridget movie either. I want to see them both, but haven't - being the sole female in the household does not make for a lot of 'chick flick' movie watching time. And I have this dread of going to the movies by myself...

Anyways, you know the movies I mean. The fabulously successful Bridget Jones' Diary cash cows.

The movies Renee 'stacked on the kilos' and 'packed on the pounds' for, according to the frenzied media reports. I have heard enough about Renee's concertina-type weight gains and losses to last a lifetime.

The whole thing horrifies me. If you ask me, and I know you didn't, but I'm telling you anyway, Bridget looks perfectly fine. She's feminine. She has curves. She looks as if she actually eats. She's attractive. She doesn't have a figure similar to my 12 year old son.

Now there's nothing wrong with Cherub1's figure. It's just that being tall and gangly...he doesn't really have one. Well not much of one, anyway.

Anyhoo, this whole deal with Renee's weight losses and gains makes me sad and angry at the same time. How sad is it that there's so much publicity as she 'balloons' out to 135lbs *shock horror*, or whatever it was. Followed by equally as much publicity and speculation regarding how and when she could lose all that 'fat'. And people wonder why so many young girls literally starve themselves to look 'good'. Depending on your definition of 'good'.

Renee was on TV here the other night 'cos she was in town for the premiere (which is actually what prompted me to write this). She looked appalling. Scrawny. Pale. Stick thin. Hollywood style gone mad.

Also on TV a few nights ago were identical twins who have been fighting anorexia for 20 odd years. They looked worse. And yet similar. Scrawny. Pale. Stick thin.

The saddest thing of all? Ms Zellegger could have set such a good example to young girls by maintaining her curvy figure. But instead, like Kate Winslet before her, she succumbed to pressure from the movie industry to resemble a stick of celery, proving once and for all you are what you eat. And no matter how much these actresses declare they are 'naturally thin' and 'the weight just comes off' I don't believe it for a second. What rubbish.

Those studios and the Hollywood publicity machines have so much to answer for.

Some things about me...

2004-11-20T23:11:00.000+11:00

I loved reading the 100, or 50 "Things About Me" lists people have been posting, they are like tiny snapshots of peoples lives...so at great expense to the management here are a few snippets of me...

I am an only child (which may or may not explain a lot).
I have blue eyes.
I'm about 5'2".
The hair is coppery...
At the moment anyway.
I was born in Northern Ireland in Belfast (which also may explain a lot).
My mum is Australian.
Dad was/is Irish.
I haven't seen him since I was 8.
Sometimes I feel badly for not missing him.
But I only remember bits about him, and they aren't all good.
I love how my boys adore their dad.
He's my ex.
I have a nice ex.
Sometimes I think my ex is nicer than me.
The cherubs definitely are!
I love my kids infinitely.
They are the best things I have ever done.
Even though I love them to pieces, somedays I don't like them very much.
That's when they are being bratty and fighting.
Which isn't cherubic at all.
I can be really, really impatient.
And really, really impulsive.
I like to laugh a lot.
The cherubs make me laugh a lot.
So does the MOTH.
I met the MOTH on the internet.
I think that makes us very hip and trendy.
But maybe we are just geeky (he definitely is).
The MOTH is gorgeous and intelligent and cooks sometimes.
I like blonde hair and blue eyes.
Caffeine rules my life.
And I wish I could give up smoking.
I like the smell of beer.
I hate the taste of beer.
I love good red wine.
I love cheap red wine...hell, I love ANY red wine.
I can be very selfish (the only child thing?).
I'm also very generous.
My best friend is Maria.
I don't ring her enough and I miss her tremendously.
She lives in another state - Victoria.
Because I moved away.
Which isn't always a good thing.
I don't have a bestest friend here, and that makes me sad.
Aquaintances aren't the same.
I stay up too late at night.
I'm cranky in the mornings and am often almost late for work.
I'm incredibly lazy.
I love to read.
There's never enough time to read as much as I'd like.
I first read Wuthering Heights in Year 5.
I still like to read it.
When I split with the ex, I lost 17 kilos (37lbs?).
I think they are back now, but in different places.
I don't like that they are back in any places.
I know I need more exercise but see #49.
It's nearly summer and I don't want to buy new clothes that are a bigger size.
But I'll have to.
Because I work in an office, not a nudist colony, which is just as well for everyone else.
Working fulltime makes me feel guilty quite often.
Because I feel I'm not around enough for the boys and when I am I'm tired.
I forget everything unless it's written down.
The little things in life usually impress me the most.
Maybe that's just as well for the MOTH :P
My sense of humour can be a tad twisted.
But I like it that way.
I love old movies.
I love "To Kill a Mockingbird".
The first crush I had on a movie star was Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill).
I wanted my own Wookie as well.
An Ewok would have sufficed though, 'cos they are smaller.
I'm not a huge Star Wars fan now however.
Three was enough.
If we could afford it I would cut down my days at work.
I'd one day like to be a foster mum again.
A while after we split up, one of my exes told me he was gay.
It didn't surprise me. Funny that.
We are still good friends nearly 25 years later.
I call him Will.
He calls me Grace.
I love my birthday.
I love other peoples' birthdays.
I'm usually disappointed on mine.
Birthdays are a day a year to feel special on.
Not everyone feels this way so hence #84.
I cry too easily.
This sometimes frustrates me.
I bottle too much up.
I don't like confrontations.
They actually terrify me because I think no one will love me anymore.
I'm sometimes very shy and awkward.
I wish I was artistic, but it's something you can't learn.
My mum sews beautifully, cooks beautifully and has an immaculate home.
I don't do or have any of the above much to her disgust.
I love my mum, but sometimes I don't like her.
I wish had brothers and sisters to deflect her attention away from my obvious domestic shortcomings.
I wish I had more cherubs, especially a girl.
But I'm still happy with the family I have.
I'm amazed I thought of 100 things.

A hybrid??

2004-11-18T21:44:00.000+11:00

That'll teach me for letting two of my personalities out at once...

I am a hybrid of:
Girl Next Door
Progressive Girl
Click on the pictures below to read more:
Take the 'What Kind of Girl Are You?' quiz at CookingToHookup.com

Blah...

2004-11-18T13:30:00.000+11:00

Been home, on sick leave, having blood tests, too stressed, too tired blah, blah, blah. So...am back at work with something more interesting to say on here at some stage, I hope.

God's gift to women

2004-11-15T20:02:00.000+11:00

The strangest thing happened to me at lunch today. I was sitting at a local outdoor cafe having lunch by myself and two men came and sat down at my table....

I gave them the death look, but they just casually stayed at my table and wouldn't leave me alone. I slowly placed my hand on the table and I hinted to them that I was married and that I was not interested in them.

Luckily for me they got the hint and left, but thankfully the whole thing was captured on the Cafe's camera. There's a link here to the picture....just in case they try and pick you up too.

Honestly, some men think they are God's gift to women.

The reward

2004-11-14T23:46:00.000+11:00

Cherub2 is now proudly wearing a round, black bruise just over his butt with great pride. Refer to "Nasty Mother" post down the page somewhere :)

Slight revamp

2004-11-14T15:20:00.000+11:00

Will this curb the design dilemmas? Not sure...

All opinions welcome!

Scent of a DaFFy

2004-11-14T01:43:00.001+11:00

Haha!!! Go me!! I can't STAND Jennifer Lopez!

Your Scent is Glow

Fresh, sexy, and clean. You're real, intimate, and exciting.Your lush sensuality appeals to men...And you're as sexy as Jennifer Lopez. Power scents: Orange flower, grapefruit, and citrus.
What Scent Are You? Take This Quiz :)

Nasty mother

2004-11-13T23:54:00.000+11:00

We had softball this morning.

I stayed up late last night. The MOTH is on night shifts and I don't sleep so well at these times, 'cos who is there to warm my feet?? Though, the dog would probably oblige, but all that drooling and panting is off putting...albeit strangely familiar...

Anyways, I digress.

When I take the kids to sport, I always feel like looking sporting and healthy too. Or sportingly healthy...or at least something so we look like the typical sporting Aussie family - like in MILO ads. Usually I end up looking like I just fellout of bed and into the shower and the car, which is true, but I don't have to like it (I'm sure the other parents don't) and I need something to aspire tp.

So up I got this morning, and tried to make some sense of the hair (don't LOOK at the wrinkles!! Don't! Oh no...I told you NOT to!). I was going for the sleek, yet casual look, but after wrestling with the hairdryer and losing, stalked off to the kitchen for coffee instead. Decided to go with the windswept and interesting look.

The kids had obligingly made and eaten their breakfast (I told you all slack parenting leads to independent children!), got their gear ready, and tried politely not on comment on the hair. So I tossed them my best windswept, but yet interesting look, and after a coffee, we all flung ourselves into the car.

Everything was going along smoothly, when Cherub2 went up to bat. I'd already cast some very un-motherly looks at their pitcher, they were like rockets those pitches (which I know he's supposed to do, but not when the Cherubs bat! Surely he knew that?)

Anyways, Cherub2 faces a couple of balls, then "THWACK!" he is felled. That evil pitcher belted my baby with what is definitlely NOT a damn softball! (Why DO they call them that?) Down he went on the home plate, tears everywhere. The coach found a runner for him, and off he came, looking all folorn. Acually, it wasn't that serious, and now he is SO hoping for a huge bruise to come up.

So after lots of digressing, here's the thing. Cherub2 goes up to bat in the next inning, and I say in my best encouraging-sporting-parent type tone something along the lines of "Here's your chance to get him back! Belt him hard!"

Then there was this odd kind of silence. You know those ones where you can feel everyone looking at you? So I didn't look, because they were. With look-at-the-nasty-mother faces.
Because...I meant...hit the ball hard, you know, a home run type hit, not a hit the pitcher type hit. Meaning, don't be intimidated... Ugh, it sounds bad to me as well.

Yeah, so I am a serial never-get-the-words-out-right-in-the-heat-of-the-moment person and hate it...unless it turns out to be funny. In which case I try and look like I meant it.

I think I may be branded now as one of those awful "sports parents", the ones that attack referees and umpires in dark alleys, savage the opposing teams parents in the car park, and worst of all, push in to be in front of me at the canteen when I need coffee - that kind of thing.

I fretted over this for a while today, but now, I just think whatEVER! I know I'm not like that and I know what I meant. So...they'll have to get over it :)

And the fight goes on

2004-11-12T23:04:00.000+11:00

So the builders say they don't have to send us an itemised account of the costings for the rain water tank - damn them.

"Well fine then " I say " we shall get independent quotes, and have our own contractor install it"

"Ahhhh" they say "No one else is allowed on site during construction" I'm sure if I could see down the phone, that woman was smirking! And obviously, if it's installed after construction, it's harder for our contractor, and therefore, probably just as expensive.

"Well...you have it all tied up very neatly then, don't you?" I am fuming at them at this point. "I shall ring the Office of Fair Trading".

So, I put in a call to the local friendly OFT, and some nice man informs me that no, the builder doesn't have to itemise the costs.

By this stage, I'm rather pissed off and give him a very intelligent response "But that so sucks!'
He agrees it does, but there's nothing we can do. I asked him, if this actually meant they could charge whatever the hell they like, without having to justify it, and he says "Pretty much."

Speaking to the builder again, I say a few sarcastic things regarding thier ethics, and the mouthpiece we have been dealing with tells me that "By the way, we have overquoted you for the 3rd garage - it's $1,000 cheaper".

Coincidence?? Who knows. I supose there is now a grand we can put towards the damn tank.
Anyways, we're thinking maybe we will pull out and go elsewhere ('cos we still can as it's early stages) and I have to say after reading this (the last comment from Amanda), maybe we should.

When in Australia everyone, beware Mirvac Homes...trouble is, we love their house design :(

Witty repartee

2004-11-11T13:37:00.000+11:00

"The next best thing to being witty one's self, is to be able to quote another's wit."
Author: Christian Nestell Bovee

Cherub2 is in Year 5 at primary school. He's a wee bit excited at the moment because next week he gets to spend a day at the local high school.
The Year 5's get to pick 3 subjects on offer for Year 7's and have a bash at them (the subjects, not the Year 7's because that wouldn't be very nice bahaviour at all).

So naturally, we got to discussing subjects. He was baffled by "Food Technology". That used to be called Home Economics when I was at school, you know, cooking and stuff. After some meals I have cooked (well most, actually), I'm pretty sure I wasn't too good at it - but thats another issue.

Cherub2: "So is that cooking with computers? Get it? Food TECHNOLOGY?" (followed by a smirk meaning 'damn I am funny'.
Me: "No, actually it's learning to cook and be self sufficient, why some foods are healthy and some are not".
Cherub2: "Oh, thats no good then".
Me: "Why?".
Cherub2: "'Cos if it was cooking with computers, I coulda made computer chips!!" (dissolves into giggles while checking to see we had all witnessed great display of wit).
Me: (laughs)
Cherub2: "And... I could also take 'bytes' outta the chips!!!!" Now he's lost the plot, laughing hysterically.

Ahhh good luck and my very best wishes to the High School teachers of 2006 - here he comes :)

Design dilemmas

2004-11-10T11:21:00.000+11:00

So I'm thinking...I want this blog to look different. Yes, having the attention span of a flea at the moment, I am sick of it already.
The decision to go radical and try something else is easy, but HOW radical??
Do I go the whole get a domain name and use something funky like moveable type/ greymatter etc? Or just make the best of this? And where to host it? The MOTH does webhosting, so I could have that for free, but he doesn't know about the blog mainly 'cos I didn't want to feel inhibited in what I say, in the event I should say something bad :)which is likely at some stage. Then again, it might do him good to read it... Soooo...free webhosting versus privacy...
Hmmmm... decisions, decisions.

In other news, must remember not to be nasty to the smiley bank type person that drank all our coffee... when he fails to ring me back because he was struck down with gastro. Methinks I am very quick to be nasty lately. Of course, banks and builders tend do do that to people...

Must remember to be extra nice to the smiley bank type person that drank all our coffee...because we want money and he wants to give it.

Remember to try and restrain myself from wrapping the cherubs up in cotton wool and shoving them in a cage until they are 25 and immediately beginning home schooling, when the conveyancer, who lives down the road, tells us how her son was bashed up near our area not that long ago.

I have to stop glaring at my Weather Pixie. She obviously has serious issues with understanding the weather. It's bucketing down raining here at the moment, but she is resolutely standing beneath a sunny sky wearing a singlet top. It matters not that in addition to not understanding the weather is (despite being a WEATHER pixie!), she also has no idea what a glare is, I feel better for it.

I don't like Mondays...

2004-11-08T11:18:00.000+11:00

"I feel thin... sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday."
Bilbo Baggins - Lord of the Rings.

I can relate. It's Monday, and I am at work. Blogging. So what does that say about my level of interest?
I feel badly. I work for a great boss. I work with nice people. We are only a small business, so we need everyone to pull their weight. I don't think I am.
I'm tired.
I'm spread too thin.
I feel like I look after my children, go to work, look after a house, be a wife, and end up doing none of them properly.
I'd sometimes like to run away.
I want to sleep. Really sleep. Like 12 or more hours of deep sleep.
I'm always feeling I have to be somewhere, or doing something by a particular time. I'd like the clocks to all disappear.
All week I hang out for the weekend. It comes, I wash clothes, take kids to sport, clean the house, and have it all done in time to go back to work Monday morning, so I can do it all again the next weekend.
I'd like the world to stop for a while so I can get off and have some peace.

Sorry guys, what a depressing post.

Our block of land

2004-11-07T23:13:00.000+11:00

Well, here is our little patch of Australia. 737 sqm of nothingness.

Here are Cherub1 and Cherub2 looking remarkably like a couple of 'Sale of the Century' girls, displaying the "SOLD" sign on the barren wastland that is our block of land. Ahhh, such a long way to go yet.

The arguing with the builder has started already - they want to make about $4,000 profit out of us, for installing a rainwater tank.
I think rainwater tanks are brillant - and am more than happy to fork out to have one installed and hooked up the the toilets, washing machine etc (which is just as well, as all new homes now have to have one). However, they quoted us $7,700 for this.

I checked tanks out on the net (always remember, Google is your friend, people) and prices for our tank are around the $1,000 mark. Add $650 for a pump, $500 for other bits and pieces, $500 to $1,000 for labour to install it (the plumber has to come for the rest of the house anyway), and somebody somewhere is making a tidy profit out of the new government BASIX regulations methinks.
I bet it isn't the plumber, either.

So I call the builders, asking them to itemise the costs of the tank.

"Oh I don't know if we can do that - no one has ever asked for it before" they say.
"Well I am asking now" I say "And if the costs have never been itemised before, how do you arrive at the figure of $7,700, are you saying you don't KNOW what that amount consists of?"
"Of course not" they say "everything is costed"
"So send me those costings" I say "With all due respect, you are asking us to pay $7,700 for something you won't justify"

Hmmm, they are not liking me much right now...but...screw them...I'm not liking them too much, either at the moment :)

Must remember...

2004-11-07T02:02:00.000+11:00

...there is a direct correlation between the size of one's butt and the amount of Krispy Kreme donuts (and other delicious things) that one eats.

...there is another direct correlation between said butt becoming smaller, and this thing I read about called 'exercise'. Notice the use of the word 'read'...

...that when one has work the next day, it is probably advisable (in my case being an 'I need 8 hours a night type person') NOT to be up at 12.06am adding more bits to posts...

...to remove yesterday's makeup before bed therefore avoiding the unfortunate situation of answering the front door looking like an alarmed panda...don't think Cherub2's best friend will be back in a hurry.

So I'm a tad boring...

2004-11-04T23:18:00.000+11:00

Ahhh...oh well, the picture's kind of pretty

I'm Just a Tad Boring
Take Just How Interesting Are You? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

"People don't avoid you, but they don't exactly flock to hear your stories, either. You could stand to be a little more intriguing. Try wearing a red cloak, carrying a sword, and speaking only in French. If that fails to spice things up, try building your house entirely out of popsicle sticks."

Hmmm...popsicle sticks (good old Aussie icypole sticks)...interesting suggestion seeing we are building soon, but I don't think the MOTH will go for it somehow.

I don't think I am ready for this...

2004-11-03T21:45:00.000+11:00

I've always been the type of person that doesn't want their children to grow up too fast. All to frequently I have spouted off such gems as "Let 'em be kids!", "Time for all that kind of stuff when they are older!".
I admit to being horrified when my best friend told me she had driven her 12 year old son (6 days older than Cherub1) to the shopping centre because he wanted to 'hang out' with his friends. I think I said something understanding like "Are you MAD?" which resulted in a slight cooling off of the friendship for about 5 minutes...
Really, I truly believe that kids do grow up so fast today, one minute riding their bikes about, and the next they're faking IDs... perhaps even riding their bikes on the way to GETTING a fake ID, I don't really know...
Anyways, with the cherubs I've always wanted them to kind of be able to look back as adults, and at least see something that was recognisable as a childhood - a decent period of time, at least.
Now, Cherub1 has had a girlfriend, the lovely Madison, for a year now. He even remembered their 12 months anniversary - a trait which I assured him was going to stand him in good stead later in life. They say they are 'going out'. This has so far been a great misnomer. Because you see, they don't actually 'go out' any where at all. Just to school. With their friends.
Naturally, this has suited me fine so far. They have just been really good friends in the middle of a larger group of friends who are also indulging in this primary version of 'going out'. Although, Cherub1's best friend has often managed to have a couple of girls 'going out' with him at once, so any mothers of 12 year old girls that know David, lock up your daughters.
So I've been floating along thinking "Ain't it cute" ...when BAM! Cherub1, looking very smug, tells me tonight he has some news.
"What is it?" I ask, confident of another school merit award or some such thing (because naturally I have superbly brilliant cherubs - superior in every way to mere mortal children).
"I kissed Madison!" he beams, absolutely thrilled to the back teeth.
"Oh my GOD!" I exclaim. Oops, wrong reaction. The shock must have shown on my face because the beam on his became a little frozen.
"Errr...I mean...how lovely!" I backpedal. "How did she react?". Better than I did, I hoped for his sake.
"She was surprised, but she thought it was OK". The grin ran from ear to ear. He is sooooo pleased with himself (and rightly so - rejection or a slap at 12 would be heartbreaking) and soooo unaware of how unready his mother is for this.
I manage to hide the shock, congratulate him profusely and listen attentively to the post-match report of all that happened. It was on the cheek, in the park, when her little sister wasn't looking - kind of like Professor Plum, in the library, with a lead pipe, for all the Cluedo fans out there. He wanders off suitably impressed that I am impressed with this very grown up event...totally unaware I am left wondering where my baby has gone, and thinking ominously....it has begun.
The upside? I have a son that still wants to talk to me about the things that are important to him as he grows up, and so far, is happy to confide in me, and trusts me (so don't dare tell him I told you!).

The plague

2004-11-02T13:25:00.000+11:00

The MOTH was very ill yesterday, and while I felt quite sympathetic (although not to the extent where I had to actually DO anything), it did cross my mind that it wasn't quite fair he got to spend over 24 hours in bed recuperating...I can't recall when I did that last...
Even the 'Worst Mother in the World' titleholder has to keep on keeping on when there are cherubs about - although admittedly mine are getting quite self sufficient now, mostly due to my theory that slack parenting leads to independent children.

"Everybody else does!"

2004-11-01T23:10:00.000+11:00

After the nasty incident with Cherub2 (below), I remembered there is a child that attends the same school as my boys, that I really can't stomach anymore. As they have gotten older (the ripe old ages of 10 and 12) this child seems to be having more and more effect on them. I'm not sure what sex this nemesis of mine is, so, people, I shall unkindly refer to it as...well..err, it.
This child is the epitome of all a Year 5 or 6 child should, would and can be to the boys. They want everything 'it' has, and man, 'it' must be spoiled. Both Cherub1 and Cherub2 have asked for their own mobile phones. When denied this supposedly simple request they exclaim "Everybody else has one!". Hmmm... When told in my best 'Worst Mother of the Year' tone that no, they can't stay up until 4am, or something equally as silly on a school night (because as we all know, anything past 2am is ridiculous), they inform me "Everybody else does!" No, you can't have $500 a week in pocket money..."Everybody else does!"
That child drives me nuts! What are it's parents thinking? Fancy naming your child Everybody Else anyway! I must find out who this child is. As I said, I don't know them, but I'm sure "Somebody does!".

Mental Note: Must get cherubs into bed before 2am, this could be partial cause of insanity in household...

The purchase

2004-11-01T11:40:00.000+11:00

And so it begins....we tootled down to the land sales office, with our bank loan pre-approval in our hot little hands, and declared "We'll take it!' (the land that is, not the sales office). There were plans of this, and plans of that, and various interesting (well sort of), drawings that had to go to the builder...all rather confusing really. Of course the complimentary 'now you are a land owner' bottle of champers helped ease the pain of the cheque we wrote :) There are many cheques to follow however, so a lot of alcohol may be required.

After all that excitement, it was off to the builders. This was our first meeting with them as prospective customers, rather than people who wander aimlessly through the display homes looking wistful. We had 3 cherubs with us - which rather than sounding like a nightmare, turned out fairly well, as they.....behaved. Very well. In public. Interesting....
The builder type woman was very impressed and excited, as the MOTH (Man of the House) had our plans to scale, on a scale plan of the block."Oh my goodness!! Isn't that FABULOUS!?!" Personally, I think she needs to get out a little more, but hey, whatever floats your boat.
So they are sending some little person out to check our block, and then will let us know next weekend how much they will charge us for letting them build our dream home. Oh, and we have to get a conveyancer, apply for the 'proper' bank loan, blah, blah, blah.... so much to do.
Ah well, it's all good...

How timely

2004-10-31T17:17:00.000+11:00

Cherub2 (aged 10) has just asked whether he can go off 'Trick or Treating' Arghhh. I am now the current title holder of the 'Worst Mother of the Year' award...I said 'no'.

This is Australia

2004-10-31T16:12:00.000+11:00

What is with this relatively new thing (from my experience, anyway) of Australia making a big deal of Halloween? This isn't the USA (sorry Mr Howard) - and Halloween is a US thing.
We dont even celebrate it properly. All the blogs I have cruised by in the last couple of days which feature American authors, seem to be full of people hollowing out pumpkins, putting hours of planning into costumes, and generally doing the 'spend time with the family' thing really well. We, on the other hand, seem to shove a sheet over the closest child, and let them wander off into the street to beg for lollies. From strangers. Anyone with a door.
Which brings me to another point... What's with the 'Off you go chillen - out into the streets to take copious amounts of lollies from anyone silly enough to open their front door, even though you may not know them' thing? Not in this house. The resident cherubs here don't get to "Trick or Treat", and I don't have cupboards full of lollies for those that do. We invest money in programmes like 'Stranger Danger', tell our kids not to talk to strangers, then cut them loose on October 31st.
Don't get me wrong. It looks great in the US. But it's their thing. Why do we have to hop on everyones bandwagon? Halloween wasn't something we did as kids...so why now?
Mmmm...maybe I am being the Ebenezer Scrooge of Halloween, but I don't care. Im Australian, and I like our own traditions the way they are.

Money, money, money

2004-10-31T03:21:00.000+11:00

So the latest thing here is...the odd little bank type person we had here the other night, drinking our coffee and grinning at us ingratiatingly, has dropped off a little piece of paper telling us (and anyone we care to show it to) that we are approved for a home loan!! Yayyyy us!! Let the building begin!Now it begins...handing out money left right and centre but at least it ain't going in rent. Renting, I have to say, really pisses me off.
Seems we are back on track at last.

The waiting is the hardest part...

2004-10-26T23:59:00.000+10:00

So now we wait for the bank to say yay or nay. I actually hate their pedantic, slow moving ways. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em though. Kinda like men...
What's with all the time it takes to approve a loan anyway? Either you qualify or you don't. Aaargh! Frustrating.
I really think it's about time we got a break for once.

Off track already

2004-10-25T11:27:00.000+10:00

Anyways, I'm sitting here at work, supposedly doing the pays, thinking of everything else BUT the pays, and beginning a blog instead....not good I suppose.

Aussie Home Loans are coming over tonight 'cos 'at Aussie, we'll save you' <---nasal tone. Hope we have enough deposit - ahhh the uncertainty of it all.

Well, better get back to it...

The start of it all...

2004-10-25T11:01:00.000+10:00

So here we go at last...

We trotted down to see Dave B yesterday - and have put our block 'on hold' for a week, meaning they can't flog it off to anyone else - and we have that week to organise finances. The block won't be ready to build on until at least Feb next year, so we can save some more money between now and then. So it's all good :)

Then...I had to tell P we were going to do it without him, which went pretty well - he was OK with it, and is going to board with us - which makes the money situation hugely better. Damn I was stressed over doing that. I really didn't feel comfortable buying the house 3 ways - I have no idea what he does with his money etc etc. This is much better, and it will be ALL ours :P

So....it has begun, peoples.