June long weekend....

Wow...it's June.
March, April and May were mixed. There was good and bad.
Won't bore you with it.

Update - Pencils is back home. It became apparent to everyone, not long after the last post, that The Asshat and The Doormat totally sucked at keeping her safe and well-cared for. The Asshat/Doormat combination have thankfully slunk away and have not been heard of since. A good outcome on all fronts.

Since then, Pencils has continued to push every boundary, break every rule and challenge me on a daily basis. But she knows that with me there are boundaries, and rules, and love, and concern in amongst all the arguing and frustration. (It's not as fun to rebel when the parent you live with doesn't give a hoot where you are, who you're with or what you're doing. She was quite miserable and some truly appalling things happened whilst under the "care" of the Asshat and the Interfering Doormat.)

Asshat always needs to feel he's "saved face" so he trotted out his usual "I'm not well", along with the old implied, "I have a mysterious illness which may or may not be terminal and then won't YOU all feel bad when I'm gone?!" (Well, we've been hearing that for about eight years give or take, so I'd say it's not as terminal as you'd like us all to fear and, well, best of luck. Yes, really.)

He rang Andrew (Grumpy) to announce he was finally backing off which Andrew could only agree was perhaps a good thing whilst we worked with Pencils to get her life back on track. Andrew has seen Asshat's parenting over the last 11 years, but Asshat forgets details like that. It's all about the face-saving for him.

So far this week, Pencils has come home from school with an A on a test and an overall B for that subject, which made her very happy and also slightly wealthier because I quite wrongly reward (bribe)good marks with cash. (Shush now...it works for me.) Then in the same week she broke curfew, along with several of the basic rules. Thursday night saw me so frustrated and pissed off with her. She's incredibly wilful and will try to manipulate however she can to get her way - quite common at her age I'm told. So she's programmed to be this way? Yeah, well, so am I. So naturally Friday night saw her in her room sulking because being wilful and manipulative hadn't worked as well as she might have hoped. Saturday morning saw her coming to me being all sweet and wanting a hug and wanting to show remorse. Being as how I'm not completely stupid I knew she was thinking ahead and planning something. I gave her a big hug, told her I loved her and then steered her to the kitchen and told her she had a shitload of chores to get done before even thinking about asking me for a single thing. We now call her Cinderella.

There's this boy (he's in my loungeroom now watching a dvd with her) - there's always a boy, isn't there?
I haven't mentioned to her yet, because I know she'll shriek, but... he is almost a carbon copy of her brother. He's tall, slim, blonde and blue-eyed and does weird OCD things with his food that are exactly the same weird OCD things that Noise does.... anyway for now, I'll keep my observations to myself. As far as boys go, I don't actually mind this one too much. He's open and quite engaging, and makes eye contact when he speaks and he uses syllables!!! He doesn't smoke cigarrettes or appear to do anything much else that I would not approve of. Of course, he's not going to do that in front of me, I know, but I have super x-ray vision powers given to mothers and I can see that he's not a bad kid. He stayed here last night - I was too tired (meaning had had enough sake at dinner to not want to risk driving him home.) So he was allowed to stay and slept in the loungeroom on the new bed I bought for just such an occasion. She slept chained to me in my bed. Okay, maybe not chained as such, but as good as.

I made the mistake of cooking them breakfast this morning. Now he'll never go home......

Andrew (aka Grumpy only I can't call him Grumpy anymore because he's gone and gotten less grumpy thus rendering the name Grumpy no longer applicable so I have to find a new one for him and I'm a bit busy wrangling a wild 14-year-old at the moment so Andrew will have to suffice.) Anyway, as I was saying, Andrew made dinner last night. Three courses, seafood and most inspired.

However, he made the comment - they alway do, don't they - and the comment was, "I concepted the meal." As in, "I decided what to make." But not, "I decided what to make". Instead, "I concepted the meal." Fark me, I think "Grumpy" should be changed to Pretentious TwatFace, but then I may not get invited to any more delicious.......conceptions.

Oysters with lemon rind, coriander and tabasco, scallops cooked perfectly and served on the shell and then freshly-caught panfried tommy ruffs served with roasted parsnip, carrot and beets washed down with warmed sake was really, really delicious. A quite inspired concepting. Well Done Pretentious TwatFace. I loves your brilliance. Sorry the evening had to end with me having to leave (see above re 14 year old and her visitor) but I'd like you to come to dinner tonight. I'm concepting chicken breast stuffed with ricotta, sage and almond served with .....something concepted from the vegetable crisper.... and a bottle of bubbles. The boy has to go home sometime today, so you can sleep chained to me tonight....


Well, I'd best leave it there for the moment. I have to get out of my pyjamas and go and collect Noise so he can come home and scare his doppelganger away. I wonder what Pencil's reaction will be when I point out the similarities? It's kinda weird in a good and not totally creepy way but.... if I can sneak a photo of him, I'll post it here so you can sees what I mean....

*****

Goodness, Possums - what has happened to Blogger? I came back in to do a littel edit - what has happened to paragraphs????

*********

Oh, it's okay. I figured it out.

February

Don't want to abandon this blog completely so have just dropped in to water the plants and dust a little.

Le Kids (warning: negative rant about to unfold.)
Pencils is currently living with the Asshat because she didn't like my telling her she was grounded when she was caught drinking. Asshat lets her drink. He lets her roam around the city at night. He lets her stay out wherever and whenever she feels like. Even though he's caught her lying about where she is and what she gets up to, he rewards her behaviour (because it undermines me as her parent.) He's too lazy to do anything about keeping some control over her, for fear she will not like him anymore. If I didn't loathe him as much as I do, I'd feel sorry for him for his messed up, aimless existence. I can already see him becoming old andinfirm, and mooching off the kids (no superannuation due to no work history) In the meantime, all I can do is hope Pencils stays safe and grows up a little, and gets some sense.

As for Asshat, I now more than ever believe that he's truly rotten to the core and I would happily see him fall under a bus, but for the distress it would cause the bus driver.

Le Work
This year has started off a little less crazy busy than last. Like a typical Gemini, I'm always looking around to see if there's something else that looks like more fun to do ( or at least doesn't require working at home on weekends). But for now, it's keeping me respectable and I like the peoples I work with.


Le Gym.
I've been going to it. I become red-faced, sweaty and look like an elephant in training shoes, but I keep going because it helps me to stay calm(er) in the face of challening parental issues (see above) and at work. Noise also has a gym membership and is going - but I don't inflict going witih me upon him. He's grown to an enormous height (towers over his mama now) and is wanting to develop some muscle. And it's working. I'm amazed how strong he's getting. He reminds me of my father a bit. He's tall and skinny like I was at his age (my how things have changed) and whilst we clash often over wet towels on the bathroom floor and dishes not done, there's no doubt in his mind that he is loved and I can say that I feel loved by him. I love those moments when you can see the adult emerging in them and while he's still a typical young man, he's a good kid. (Interestingly enough, he doesn't see his father these days and Asshat shows no interest in spending time with him.)

I just wish he's go back and finish school. I can only wait and hope on that score too, but I've seen signs this week that he's thinking about things more.

Le Dog and Le Cats.
Still running the place. The dog helped to unpack the shopping yesterday by removing the free-range chicken breasts from the shopping bag - which was left untended by the refrigerator for one minute, maybe less - and eating it in the loungeroom. For a smart dog it's not very bright.

The cats are still the same. They live on the ledge outside the kitchen window, sceaming at the injustice done them by not being given access to free-range chicken breast at me whenever I am at the sink (doing the dishes that noone else does in this house.) This morning I went for a manicure (it's my version of church) and in the pet shop next door was the most beautiful Jack Russell pup - a boy, eight weeks and one day old. It took all my willpower to walk away. I'd gotten to the stage of finding out all about him and was just about to justify the price. Then I remembered that I work ten-hour days and it just wouldn't be fair and that he would only learn bad habits from the current Jack Russell in residence. Turns out that I'm not that bright either.

Le Love Life.
Nothing to see here. I don't really know how I feel about Grumpy any more. Or if I' do I'm keeping it very close to my chest at present. I am sick of the cigarettes and the drinking. I hate the way he smells of both all the time. And yet, am I any better? Not really. I drink only tghe occasional glass of wine these days and smoke the occasional cigarette - when I'm with him. I don't want to do it anymore and it's easier not do it when I don't see him. I've told him how I feel, but it seems like the Stuyvesants and the drinking will always be more important than me.


Other Family Stuff.
There's a whole other scenario involving my mother and her vascular dementia which I don't feel free to talk about here, because I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea and think I am being disrespectful or don't care. I do.

So reading the above, I guess I've felt that I couldn't come here and post about any of it.

Life is so full and busy and I'm geting a huge kick out of living it. Even the hard stuff.

Back to work

I'm in love with my new mattress which arrived yesterday. I'm working from home while it's quiet on the western front and this means the laptop and the dog are in the bed with me. It's been a slow start to the year, but given what the last six months have been like at work, I know it's the calm before the storm.

My back pain was intensely bad last week, hence the new mattress. (Although I suspect it was the extended hours of lying around in bed on the old mattress before that that may have started the back pain off again.) A bout of bronchitis and the coughing didn't help. For the first time in years, I caved and took antibiotics and so today I'm feeling heaps better. Gah, no posting for months and then a rundown of physical symptoms - who cares?!! Move on...

Noise and Pencils have grown. They're both very, very tall now and completely wild. I'm on call as a taxidriver around the clock, and the rest of the time feel like a cross between a lion tamer and policeman. Anyone who has parented a hormonal 14-year-old girl will understand, I'm sure. Only two more weeks and they both have to reign in and go back to school and TAFE - and the holiday-money tap gets turned off. (The tank will have run dry by then.)

My little dog is my constant companion - when she's not escaping and taking herself down to Grumpy's for chicken. She views her new walking harness and lead as a bit of a joke. In her mind, she has had free reign to roam the neighbourhood and the dog park behind our place for years and so this new harness and lead walking regime is obviously a phase of mine that I'll grow out of. And she's probably right.

Well, possums, I'd better get up and head into the office if only for a couple of hours.

I'm still here you know.

Hello, remember me? I barely do.

Here I am, sitting in front of my computer at home - ignoring the HUGE pile of work next to me. There's about 10 things that I should be doing right now and I'm staring at the screen. I know, I'll go put the kettle on.

Pencils and I are going to the gym today - which is why I put the kettle on and then spent 10 minutes searching through the chaos that is our hall closet for appropriate gymwear. Found it - right at the back where it's been since we moved in here. Four years ago.

I'm not a fan of the gym but I want to do something to let my body know that I do care and would be very grateful if it would stop expanding and continue to support me into my dotage.

I particularly want to do something that gives me the opportunity to spend some time with my daughter. My darling delightful Pencils has turned into a hormonal, moody, self-absorbed and completely unhelpful teenager - who knew? Well, I did of course. Everyone warned me it would happen. And it has. And despite an initial year or so of battles, tears and tantrums - all mine - I've finally come to understand that this is what happens. So when she deigns to rise from her slumbers, we shall kit up and go to the gym. Which I'm dreading. But going and doing this with her is important both for her and I. And I'll keep repeating that mantra inside my head. Whilst also thinking, "Can we just go drink coffee and eat cake?"

Well, the answer to that is "No." For obvious reasons. Maybe we can go to the gym and then go and eat cake!!

*******

Three hours and no cake later....

I'm going to be sore tomorrow but I broke an exercise-induced sweat for the first time in quite a few years. My face was all red and sweaty and I resembled a large grumpy, sweltering sea lion. Meanwhile Pencils was glowing and made sweaty look cute. But we did it. We're going back again. She stayed right by my side the whole time and didn't roll her eyes or moan, or mumble under her breath once!!

We're home again and she's off in her cave with one of her friends and I'm quite happy to leave them to it.

It's the little things.

The boy (who is not her brother but is very like a brother to her) knew she was feeling low. "I'll bring you rainbows and chocolate" he told her.

(The crunchie bar didn't make the photo shoot.)





"I sent you some white light this morning but it would only go full of coloured sparks", a good friend told me. She brings colour to my world in many ways.

This is the colour of Satsuma plums grown on her property. Liqueur is more fun than jam.

Nicked this from Copperwitch

You are The Empress
Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.
The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents, beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.
The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Where'd I put my glasses?

Mother has been diagnosed with vascular dementia. (She never could remember where her glasses were, her keys, her purse for as far back as I can remember. These days I can never find mine either.) One of my sisters has spent a lot of time and effort in organising in-home services for Mother, as well as running her to and from doctor's appointments, organising her food deliveries and a whole lot else. I've felt really torn between the monster job that's swallowing me whole and wanting to do more. So Saturdays are now the day when I go and pick Mother up and take her out to go shopping, have lunch or whatever we feel like.

Yesterday, we sat on the balcony of a seaside hotel, drinking sauv blanc, reading the papers (Mother likes the crossword), followed up with coffee and cake. Very decadent and fattening cake. The day was mild, warm even and the sea was shining as though diamonds were floating on the surface.

We eavesdropped on the internet-date couple sitting behind us. He talked about his cd collection and she talked about how she's going to give up smoking when she redecorates her house. Her small dog decided my mother was a kindred spirit and sat as close to her chair as she could. Mother patted the small dog and several times expressed a wish to have a dog. She can't have one in her unit. She seems to have forgotten that she once had one. I still haven't told her what happened. If I did, she'd forget it by next week so I think it's best to leave things as they are.

After the hard work of sitting in the sun eating cake and relaxing we went to the market. The shopping part of the day is always a little complicated. Mother insists on filling the trolley full of things she doesn't need and while she looks away for something else,I replace them on the shelf and by the time she looks back at the trolley she has forgotten they were in there in the first place.

Someone comes in every evening at her unit to heat up her evening meal in the microwave, as she can no longer operate it. No-one wants to eat defrosted microwaved food every night - well, not me anyway - so to assuage the growing knot of guilt in my chest, I'm organising a seafood barbeque for next weekend, after I take her swimming, weather permitting. (In a heated pool, I'm not going to toss her into the ocean. It's only August after all.)

Which is the point I'm getting to I guess. That knot of guilt I feel. In the process of assuaging it, I'm finding out that I enjoy her company. Yes, she's muddled and confused at times, but she likes to laugh and can be quite ridiculous. Traits that always endear people to me. Sitting and relaxing was something that I wasn't making much time to do anymore and now I have a duty to do it every Saturday afternoon.

Yes, I've made it all about me, Possums.

Now, I'm off to take the dog and the new toy(boy) for a walk. (He's older than me so you can all just shut up.) That cake from yesterday has already taken up residence on my arse and I have to make room for next week's.

Enjoy the coming spring, Possums.

Time Out

My monster job is eating me alive. Time to cover myself in something bitter so it spits me out for a while perhaps?

It's Friday and it's about time, because this week kinda sucked.

The weekend is looming and I'm all for filling it with fun.

Taking my mother shopping, taxi-driving two teenagers and listening to certain people who shall remain nameless whingeing about "not being happy" is not going to cut it, obviously.

Happiness is a feeling, not a destination, right? Choose to be happy. Just choose it and the rest will follow.


That is all.

Things I have learned this week

Being made manager simply means you're getting lumped with the huge bloody mess left for you by the previous manager and you haven't even got a support person because, well, you were the support person.

The good news is that the mess would have been even bigger, but isn't and that's down to the excellent support person the previous manager had.

Apparently I have to go to an important meeting in Melbun on 1 July and an important dinner after that. Am staying at the Medina - does anyone in Melbun know if that's any good? I used to live in Melbun so never needed the Medina because, well, I lived there.

I'm extending my stay so I can go shopping in Melbun, which as I recall was a very good thing to do there, and to sit at a nice cafe somewhere and breath in huge, gasping lungfuls of lovely Melbun air.

I'm going to look at all the Melbun people and muse on what if....

And you call yourself a mommy blogger....

This post does not contain a picture of my children.

It's Sunday night, 10.30pm and of course I'm supposed to be heading for bed now and preparing for another work week but I'm not, because I'm on the computer trying to finish up the work that didn't get done last week, that I was supposed to get done this weekend but didn't because life just loves to shake things up for you, doesn't it?

Oh and by the way, if you're one of those readers who comes here simply to glean tidbits of information to report back to the matriarch of the family (and if you're not, then simply ignore) then please just stop. It takes all the fun out of it and other people are complaining that I don't post enough of the juicy stuff anymore....

Besides, do you really want to be the one to tell her that her dog - you know, the one she left with her beloved son-in-law last year who was then subsequently generously given to moi three weeks ago (the dog, not the son-in-law) got out of our yard only to be run over on the main road on Friday night?

Bit of a curly one, no?

I'll be honest with you, nobody really ever liked the dog. But that doesn't mean that I wasn't sad, upset and full of guilt when I had to go and collect her from the side of the road. Because our dog, the 16-kinds-of-stupid was with her when it happened, and led the driver of the car who stopped to help her (not the driver of the car that actually hit her) straight back to our house. Our stupid mutt is afraid of the big road but was obviously enjoying being on the run....until it all went dreadfully wrong.

Mother's dog wasn't housetrained, barked incessantly and had the worst breath in the world, regardless of how much veterinary intervention it received. Despite being small, it wasn't cute and honestly, it wasn't even all that well-loved even by the matriarch herself I dare say. (Perhaps that's why I felt some affinity with it. Oh shut up, I'm not serious. Have you met my mother?)

When I got to where she was, she was very, very still but looked like she was just having a lie down in the gutter. I wrapped her in a towel and picked her up, and she felt a lot heavier than she did when she was alive. I carried her back home, intending to convey her in my car to the emergency hospital for animals so they could organise for her cremation. Our house is for sale and I really couldn't see myself digging a deep enough hole in the back yard.

Which is where it all got a little bit crazy. Only half a minute after I got inside the house, there was a knock on the front door behind me. Pencils opened the door - as I had my arms full of..well, a dead dog... to two detectives who stood there flashing their badges at us!!

So picture that: Pencils standing there gobsmacked, because she's only ever seen detectives on TV and not in real life; two detectives with shiny badges in their hands and then me... standing there with a dead dog, wrapped in a towel, in my arms.

Well, possums, I tell you - I was thinking, "Good goddess, the dog's only just been run over this minute and they're already here to investigate?!?"

Pencils was probably thinking, "Good goddess, mum. What have you done now?"

Then of course, it dawned on me they weren't come about the dog. My heart started racing as I asked them what they wanted and what was happening and please, goddess, please, don't let it be about Noise.

Thankfully, they just wanted to ask me some questions about the drug cartel I run... oh, for goodness sake, put the phone down.... and shut up.....you still can't tell when I'm joking, can you? It was something completely unrelated to anything/anyone in this blog... just "routine investigation" sort of stuff... and, "Yes, please, come in gentlemen, I'm happy to help you with your investigation. Come in and take a seat. Just mind you don't trip over the dead dog when you step in...."

Three-ring circus, possums. My life.


And that was just Friday.

After they left, I rang Grumpy because, well, because I thought he'd help, but he didn't much. We haven't been close for some time now and this is not one of those occasions that was going to bring us any closer. In fact, things were made even worse by being around someone all grumpy and unhelpful and, well, grumpy. I don't know what I thought he might actually do to be helpful, but snarling and hissing at me in the car while I drove to the animal hospital wasn't it. (Grumpy doesn't always get that he could perhaps be a little gentler at times. Not really the sort of person to call when a dog gets run over or a family member has passed away or stuff like that, but great to have around if you need something heavy lifted or a light bulb changed. ) I felt really shaky and tearful by the time I entered the emergency animal hospital, which was thankfully not a long drive from where we live.

The vet nurse at the desk was so helpful and kind, and didn't look at me like I was in need of commital - (which isn't to say that I am not) - when I burst into tears, incoherently trying to explain that it was "so sad that the dog had died like that and she wasn't even really mine, mine is 16-kinds-of-stupid and never goes on the road, but nobody ever really wanted her, this dog, but that didn't mean that it wasn't a damn shame and she wasn't my dog, but it was all my fault because my kid didn't shut the gate and I didn't check, and then when the detectives came and - - - "....well, you get the picture. She probably gets all kinds in there, right?

So our dog, 16-kinds-of-stupid, is now secured behind the gate and I'm trying to decide when best to ring my mother and tell her. Which, as mentioned above, may become a moot point if I publish this...really, I think it best she hears it from me....thanks.

The rest of the weekend was a blur of busyness. My life seems to consist of me endlessly climbing in and out of my car to run errands, drop kids off, pick kids up. I didn't get much of anything I planned to get done done.

Of course, since then, I've seen Grumpy's gentler side, but regrettably, it was only after my saying something carelessly and needlessly hurtful and confronting to him this afternoon. Definitely not one of my finer moments. We had but a three-foot wide table between us and were looking straight into each other's eyes, but the distance between us feels greater than ever from where I'm sitting.

Oh well, I'll think about that some more tomorrow, because it's late; I have to be up early and ,well, there's always tomorrow, isn't there, possums?

Pencils

As per my last post, I still haven't found a picture that would embarrass Pencils in years to come (well, actually there is one on this blog somewhere when she was at that age - you know, the one where that all kids go through where they have really enormous foreheads and weird looking teeth...) but I digress.

Love her. Love her. Love her.

( This photo was taken late last year before we lost her to dark hair dye and panda eyes. )

Oh, and she's the one in the green hat. (The other one is a bottle of mineral water.)

Noise. Louder than Ever.

FYI, this photo will not embarrass this kid in years to come, because that hair is so cool that he will still have the same hairstyle 20 years from now. Word. (Plus, I think this kid's eyes are going to be blue.)

Parliamento

There is a god and she loves coffee.

Parliamento has reopened on North Terrace in Adelaide.

If it wasn't for all the suits, it would be heaven. (No offence to the suits, it's just that there's too damn many of you and isn't it bad enough that I have to see you everywhere else during the day? I just want some respite from your gray/navy/pin-striped narcissism and your hideous ties.)

Parliamento. Yes. There are carbs and there is coffee, and there are Italian waiters.

Now, we all know that these are my three of my favourite things.

And it is right next door to my office. (And no, I don't work in the strip club which is also right next door to Parliamento for those of you who know OneHorse. Too many carbs in my past and quite possibly some self respect. No offence intended to those who find fulfilment in performing lap dances, it's just that.... well, ewww.)

I just popped in there and grabbed a cappucino take-away. It was blissfully quiet in there, being early morning and I'm old, fat and cranky but the barista still made an effort to smile and flirt and make a kick-ass coffee for me.

Thank you god.

Soop

It's soop season. Grumpy made his first stock on Sunday. I'm making mine now and our house is filling with the aroma of garlic, onion, celery and carrot stock. Makes me want to go dig out my ugg boots and hot water bottle.

Annoyed

That shocked irritated feeling that you experience in the nanosecond after a door has slammed abruptly, loudly and unexpectedly just behind you?

I've had that feeling for about 15 minutes now.

Saved enough daylight?

Yippee, it's not 11.30, it's only 10.30. The bedroom clock tells lies, the computer - never. Now begins the season of leaving the office in the dark.

Noise is here too. He's ponky. Go shower, Noise.

Pencils is at a friend's house. Asshat was supposed to pick her up. Pencils just rang me; Asshat hasn't turned up, isn't answering his phone and Asshat's Deadbeat Girlfriend fobbed her off with a "He's sleeping in." (You now, I'm pretty sure she's a drag queen but due to the overpowering stench of Elizabeth Arden's chemical warfare Red Door - or something equally nasty - have not bothered to get close enough to confirm. Mind you, the combination of hot pink lipstick and leopard skin on a fat fifties-something is warning beacon enough as far as I'm concerned.) Asshat moved into the granny flat in her backyard this week, miles away (Yay.) They're not living in the same house because apparently Centrelink can get in the way of true love and pseudo-spirituality. Asshat was also supposed to pick Noise up last night, which is why I went at did it at 11 pm. (Seriously, if you live in Adelaide and have the misfortune to get stuck at a Caliente gig and don't die of boredom in the first five minutes, chuck a tomato at the fat slob playing guitar. Beware the leopard-skin clad gorgon though.....)

You know, I love this blog. I can say anything I want to here and noone can say a word about it. I mean, it's not like I'm talking about anyone who is reading it, right? Because that would be just weird and stalkerish. Only a true narcissist would come here looking to find something written about them.

Noise has hit the shower. Thank god. I was running out of breath and diplomacy.

After a huge week at work, I have tried to slob out and do not much this weekend. Not terribly successfully though, I managed a 10 minute nanna nap yesterday. Last night was dinner with a couple of friends at a local Italian. Grumpy has been in a snit for the past week so he went off to visit some friends in a seaside retirement village. (Well, it is very quiet there and full of old people. Nothing against old people. I like old people.) I hope he gets the pole out of his backside there, because it can't be comfortable for him. Something went awry in the final stages of the great kitchen renovation this week which was the final straw for him, I think. Best thing for him, a bit of sailing to clear the head. Me? Food and red wine and soft lighting always does the trick. Can't wait for Noise to get his license, because then he can come and pick me up and not the other way around. Sort of cut the evening short, but probably not such a bad thing in the end. Sometimes it's better to have a solid reason to say, "No more for me," as will power, a want to believe in all things in moderation and a clear head in the morning aren't always enough.

House is for sale. Sippy cup made it into the photographs. Whose sippy cup? Well, that's a matter of some debate here at Feminoz. So now we need to decide where to live next. Ideally a castle in Scotland, but I think we need to be practical.....

Well, I better haul my enormous ass up and out into the sunlight while we still have it and besides, Noise has marched in here singing Rule Britannia. Reason enough, I say. (I think he's looking for the sippy cup.) I've been watching Simon Schama's History of Britain. All 6 dvds. I think it's having some effect.

My new exercise shoes are sniggering at me from the corner. They've been there all week.

Have a lovely Sunday, possums.

Life Balance is over-rated

Okay, enough is enough. Just wrote a list of things I need to stop doing. Writing lists was on there.

I have moon in Virgo, so I write lists.

I write Lists of Things I need to do, lists of things I want to do, list of things that are pissing me off and lists of things I've run out and need to get more of.

This blog was once a version of one of those lists. At various times it probably should have been called Why I Want My Children's Father To Fall Under A Bus, or Reasons Why I Stay in a Dead-End Relationship or Why Can't I Break Ties With My Dysfunctional Family?

Last year was a pretty tough one career-wise, health-wise, financially and emotionally for me. I kept pedalling and kept going backwards. I was too proud or too ashamed or possibly too stupid to tell anyone what was really going on for me and the children. so I just kept pedalling. And I stopped writing. I stopped blogging too, mostly because the home Internet had to go. Felt like we were back the dark Ages, only not so much Black Plague. Which was a good thing in many ways. We rediscovered the library and the kids started reading books and playing music more - on real instruments and not just on their Ipods. Luckily for them they could still access all that at their father's house otherwise I may have had a revolution on my hands.

So here I find myself in another year and it's too soon to say whether it's better or worse overall, it's just different. I have my sun in Gemini. Change is like oxygen to me.
What am I saying? Of course it's better. The financial shit is back on track to a large degree which goes a long way to creating space for movement in all other areas. As I said in the previous post, I changed my job. BIG BIG change. I've had to put in some ridiculous hours recently and starting tomorrow that's going to change. I'm a hard worker but I'm a smart worker. The reason the hours have been horrendous is because the boss - my immediate manager - is an incompetent manager and whilst a very nice person just simply doesn't have the skills to manage what we're doing. I've been doing both our jobs for the past three weeks and now I know what needs to be done tomorrow. I know we can get the work done in far less hours than we've been billing under her style of management and she knows it too. I'm not after her job, I'm just making mine more secure. Que sera.

Had a big, big, dream-filled sleep last night. You know how they say that our dreams contain answers to our questions? Ha, I had "people" coming up to me and telling me the answers in mine. Very helpful. Thank you. Even if some of them did look like snake-headed bear/fish creatures. Oh, and we had Chinese for dinner. Cliche'd much.

Oh dear, Possums. Ozfemme is back, I'm afraid, and ready to regale with all those little details you didn't even know you needed to know. Feel free to curl up in the foetal position and take a nap right now.

The rest of you? You just can't help yourselves, can you? Bless your cotton socks, it's like watching a runaway train, isn't it?

Daily posts, lists of things, musings on navel status, whingeing, griping, giggling and sharing with you some of the incredibly insightful, funny, ridiculous and breathtakingly wonderful things my daughter says and does. And the stupid things too. Plenty of those.
And Noise. There's always the Noise.

It's quiet here now. Noise stayed with his friend Goat Boy, last night. Goat Boy has been his best mate for the past four years and is one of those extremely intelligent, talented kids with hippie parents who travelled all over the world with him shoved in a backpack, Goat Boy was raised in a world of music festivals, airport terminals and Bach Flower Remedies. I like him. I call him Goat Boy because he got WAY more than his fair share of testosterone and has been able to grow a full beard for the past year. Until I told him that he shouldn't. He's earthy, runs like the wind, thinks he can charm everyone and anyone (until Pencils told him it was creepy and tryhard) and is totally STINKY. I insist he takes showers when he stays here, sometimes even when he pops in for a quick visit. Noise has always been a shower freak. Twice a day for as long as he can. Noise will change clothes twice a day - more often if not curbed - and wants everything washed in between each wearing. Note I said "wants", that doesn't mean he get it done....and has a best mate who I swear is an incarnation of Pan. They have many things in common: girls, beer, graphic art, music, girls and humour. Goat Boy lives down in the cool part of town hence many Saturday nights are spent at his house. They come here when they want a weekend of Xbox and my incredible culinary talents; egg-in=a-hole and pasta carbonara. Goat Boy was wide-eyed in awe at egg-in-a-hole the first time it was served to him at breakfast here. Not much call for egg=in-a-hole in an ashram in India, you think?

Pencils slept in my bed last night and is still in it with her new laptop (her 13th birthday present which she had to wait a little while to get). She's doing her homework (yay) and is wearing her house uniform of trakkies, flannel shirt and uggs. Totally bogan and totally adorable. She dyed her hair purple and looks like a cuddly grape. She's always been a really tactile child. She loves soft textures. When she was a baby she was always stroking my face with her chubby hand. She stated yesterday, "Mum, I'm in love with these trakkies. I want to stay in them forever." It's because they feel soft.

Yesterday we went to Harvey Normans (three times in total due to irritating issues with the new laptop and loading software issues - another rant/post in itself) and on the way to the electronics department I kept stopping and checking out various lounge suites I imagined I'd like to purchase - as you do, even though you have no intention of actually purchasing a new lounge suite right now, let alone the means to do so.) Of course, none of the fabric woolly types passed the the Touch Test with Pencils. Except for one. It was a huge, hideous brown quilted-looking velvety-velour monstrosity chaise longue. Safe to say, I will NEVER purchase a brown, quilted velour chaise longue no matter how soft. We've settled on a nice, sensible black leather recliner style ensemble. Even though that's not why we were there. Oh well, living on beans and rice will help with my too-tight pants situation I've got going on and at least my beans and rice crafted smaller-sized bum won't leave a huge arse-dent in the new lounge suite when we take delivery of it.

Good gracious, Possums, that's more than enough hyphenated words for one post, I think. I'm off now because it's 10.43 am and it's just the sort of morning for tea and honey on toast.

In the next instalment, I propose to tell you all about the House for Sale sign out the front of Feminoz and how this involves a sippy-cup. Don't miss it, enthralling stuff....

Because I like to think we look normal on the outside...

Did I mention that I started a new job in January? I'm doing much the same job as I've been doing only it's for a different company. Different in so many ways that some days I'm not sure if it's a good move or not a good move.

What am I saying? Of course it was a good move, because I was really not happy at the last place and knew in my bones that the only way to feel better about the situation was to leave it. I'd been procrastinating for about two years on it, and once I made my mind up the changes were fast, numerous, frightening and exhilerating.

The new job is good, it's a smaller office with less staff and the staff that are there are pretty happy, upbeat and fun to work with. The slight downside is that they don't seem to have a clue what they're actually doing most of the time, but you can't have it all, can you?

This job sure takes up an enormous amount of my time and pays reasonably well, which is good because Noise and Pencil are only prepared to forgive me my lax parenting and regularly late delivery of dinner (9.00 pm was the new record set this week. Call Child Welfare now) if I hand over wads of cash to them on a regular basis.

They both surprised me yesterday though. I was racing around the house cleaning it up (it's on the market for sale) prior to an open inspection and they both helped out for a solid 45 minutes without too much screaming and threatening on my part. I don't quite know how it happened but fingers crossed I can make it happen again next weekend.

To avoid getting in the way while the hordes of strangers and sticky beaks from next door traipsed through marvelling at what a domestic goddess I must be, I took the kids and the dog out for lunch and spot of shopping. Well, no, I didn't. The dog nicked off up the street just as we were about to get in the car, because she's sixteen kinds of stupid and likes to make trouble. She's a sensitive dog as well as a particularly stupid one. I told her to go outside this morning and she responded by peeing under the dining table. I think she's reacting to all the changes and disruption to her routines recently and the fact that I cleared out her stash of empty Spam tins and fast food containers from her kennel. Yes, I dared to touch her treasured stash of... treasures. She's a collector.

Just for the record, we don't eat Spam or fast food (ahem, cough cough - okay, we most definitely never eat Spam) so I figure she's been taking herself off on little jaunts around the neighbourhood rubbish bins again. Some days she takes herself down to Grumpy's house and eats the cat's food while she waits for Grumpy or one of his employees to give her chicken. This is a bit of a nuisance for Grumpy, I'm sure, but what did he think was going to happen that first time he gave her chicken? "Here, Stupid Dog. Here's some delicious chicken. Now, never come back here again." I mean, I've been turning up for Monday night dinner for the past seven years....

Grumpy's renovations are in the final stage. He's going to need a new hobby soon, (besides irritating me on a regular basis) and I look foward to discovering what it will be. I have suggested that lavishing gifts and holidays upon me might be something he enjoys doing and he just looked at me as if he thought it might be time I found somewhere else to eat on Mondays... grumpy old thing...

Noise is 16. He's learning to drive. Just thought you should all know in case you want to upgrade your insurances. He goes out a lot at night on weekends. I worry and insist he calls me when he gets home to his Dad's (if he's not staying home with me). He thinks I'm a pain in the ass for this, but is learning slowly that by indulging me a little, the pain recedes somewhat. I've eplained to him that being the eldest child, he's still the guinea pig. Then I laid on the guilt about me laying awake at night worrying. It seems to have worked. Besides, I do lay awake worrying. My gut instinct tells me I'll probably still be doing it when he's in his forties.

Pencils swings from being divine to being demonic. "Sorry I've been a b**ch recently, Mum", she apologised in the car the other day. I looked at her and said, "Thank you, darling, but something tells me you're only just getting started." She chuckled and then asked, for the hundredth time, if she could go get something or other pierced. "Nope" I responded for the hundredth time and then turned up to car stereo to drown out the litany of how unfair it all is.

I know, I serve dinner at 9.00 pm and won't let her put holes in her face. Call someone now.

Because we're normal.

Wednesday night around dinner time at Feminoz.

Ozfemme is in the kitchen preparing dinner. (Atlantic salmon in panko breadcrumbs with salad. Noise insists he will only eat orange fish. The goldfish store was closed.)

Noise is clamouring for attention, because this is vital to him, particularly when it is obvious that the attention is being diverted elsewhere to - oh, I don't know, prevent the house from burning down or making sure his sister doesn't starve or die of neglect.

Noise decides the best way to make sure that the attention is focused on him is to remove his trousers - and his underwear. Yeah, it's a hoot. Modestly covering his toilet parts, he proceeds to run around the house laughing because oh my godessness, us seeing his skinny white arse is freaking hilarious. Even for the tenth hundredth time. He knows, because he is nearly 16 and he knows that exposing his skinny white arse is the funniest thing anybody has ever done in the history of the entire world.

Oh hang on, what's up with this? Ozfemme is actually ignoring him!!! Pencils hasn't even bothered to tell him to piss off. This can't be!! Noise must up the ante and stat!! So he runs outside the front door (modesty still prevailing, from the front anyway), around the side of the house and proceeds to perform some complicated skinny white arse crazy dance in front of the large kitchen window for Oz's benefit. The neighbour (the one from Far North Queensland who told Ozfemme that he threw petrol at the brown snake in the back yard so that it went away because it knew it was about to burn...???? Ozfemme is still trying to figure out (a) how the snake could possible knew this and (b) why the neighbour was talking to her..) well, anyway, the neighbour looked puzzled. I think he was wondering whether to grab the petrol can....

I digress. Noise is outside performing the skinny white arse cabaret show and Ozfemme calmly walks around the house and locks all the doors.

Ha. Now that was funny. Our other neighbour, Early Shirley has seen it all now.

Oh, who cares what they think anyways.......

Bella Ozfemme here.

I have a new job. I've been doing it all day long and I'm quite tired, but I'm looking forward to doing it again tomorrow.

The old job got really boring and was making me fat and unhappy.

I'm still fat but not so much unhappy.

We move into our new offices tomorrow. I will have a window. A window! Real light and sky and clouds and everything!

I've been hiding because I put on a lot of weight again and I've been hating my hair for the past year.

Time to stop hiding because after a while people stop counting and don't come looking for you.

My hair is finally starting to hint at growing again. Hopefully long enough to cover my enormous backside.

I've decided to ignore the fat and just go for a walk every day. I'm investing in audio books to listen to whilst walking to alleviate the boredom. I live in a hilly suburb with boring houses everywhere you look.

Pencils started high school this week and has turned 13. She had her first romance over the summer holidays and had her heart broken but it mended well, and she's all long legs and teenage attitude, and I can still spend hours just watching her sleep. (I said I can, I didn't say I do. That would be weird, even for me.)

Noise is nearly 16. He has a very busy social life (in contrast to my complete lack of one)and appeared quite hungover on a couple of occasions over the summer. Funny how I got and gave in to irresistable urges to vaccuum and sing opera directly outside his bedroom door very early on those days.

He's back at school and is hideously wilful and I now realise he is of an age where it is important for me to take a huge step back and allow him to make his right moves and his wrong ones for himself. So far so good. It's taken me a long, long time to fully understand that cotton wool is not good for wrapping children up in.


Mr Grumpy has installed his new kitchen, bought himself a new television and is currently one of the most bloody boring people I have ever known. But it's okay, because the feeling is mutual; he's fed up to the back teeth with me also. Possums, the fun we have had sitting around sniping at each other lately. It's been a hoot. Still, he's a dear and can still carry heavy things so I've kept him.

Asshat died. Oh, okay then - he didn't really but he might as well have for all the time he's spent caring and providing for his children. Meh, they don't seem to care any more so neither do I. Besides, he's getting old and is no doubt planning how to spend his dotage mooching off the children who I'm sure will be so very important to him them. They won't need to worry about me. I'll be living in the wilds of somewhere with a shit load of cats and dogs.

Speaking of dogs, we're kinda hoping to breed ours. Because we think the world will be a better place with more of her 16 kinds of stupid in it. Pencils suspects she's already knocked up. The dog, not Pencils!! Jeezus... (Guess what Grumpy's getting as an early birthday present if she is....)

So we're off along the path that will lead us through 2011. Can't wait to see how it unfolds.

Cheers, Possums.

Pencils wants me off so she can fasebook her 5,444,657,543,599, bestest friends ever.