I first heard this driving down Riversdale Road, Hawthorn...actually I wasn't doing much driving as there was a bit of gridlock happening (or would that be not happening?) I can't remember where I was going or what I was doing but it was hot, hot! I had the windows down and enjoying the weather for what it was.

I think it was around 2003? Anyway my timeline is quite crap so I may have to google to find out when the USA invaded Iraq and then when Australia got involved...actually timeline shmineline, doesn't really matter.

Now I'm not a very political person and I rarely put my money where my mouth is (and often beat myself up about it) but this war in Iraq really, really got to me. I am extremely antiwar. I cannot quite believe that we still do it, that we - or the powers that be - haven't evolved enough emotionally, even intellectually and strategically, to see it's not the answer. Well, I've kind of answered my own conundrum up there without realising it..POWERs that be. It's all about power. Ridiculous.

Anyway, so there I was listening to Tough Culture - a now defunct program on RRR, hosted by (I have to say, the very sexy sounding) Jonathan Alley. He was* also obviously very passionate, very left, intelligent and articulate. Jonathan read out a piece by a photojournalist** which described the carnage left by a US bomb in a small cafe and shop lined street in Iraq. Just the images of the everyday juxtiposed with the horror of bombed out buildings, cars, a civilian bus and strewn body parts - Like the hand of a small child found in the green grocers (no sign of the rest of the child, just the hand)  - gave me goosebumps on this sweltering day.

Then he played this piece.***



"Touchingly it was mainly women who did this work"...powerful stuff. Lest we forget.

*Is! Jonathan is still alive and well and on RRR on Saturday evenings (I think)
**I remember the photojournalist's name was Paul so it makes me think it was written by Paul Watson but not 100% sure
***An excerpt from Slaughterhouse 5. An amazing, amazing book which I've read over and over.

Back into it...

I picked up one of my numerous notebooks to take with me on my little shopping jaunt with Sweeney. He's at the age where I can actually have a coffee in reasonable peace so I'm taking full advantage of it.

The idea was to jot down some Genie ideas, get my head in that space again. So I sit down at a quite cafe. Actually, I'll just add at this point, I'm usually a sucker for a trashy mag but I was lucky that they only had a couple of old New Ideas from July. See, I still really try and procrastinate. Always up for a distraction.

After flicking through the old news (and some sad but funny pictures of poor Mischa Barton) I open up my notebook. Oh, what do we have here? Some Genie notes already....from 3 YEARS AGO!

There wasn't much, only a few pages, but I it's actually amazing to see that whole Twilight teenage sexy romance (male from another world (Genie) seducing misfit girl from our world) idea actually existed all those years ago. Here I was, future me in 2009 worried that I was kind of stealing ideas from Twilight but I have proof, PROOF I say! That I'm not a complete rip off queen.*

Not only that, but flicking through the 2006 pages (all five of them) I found the root of the inspiration - A dream I had.  Here t' is:

...was in an apartment block - very old fashioned, maybe from early 20th Century. Filled with feral looking hippies. Young, friendly, good looking but a bit aloof. Invited us to see 'the park'. We went. It was just a normal park, kind of like a nature reserve, then they started circling threateningly.

I can remember this dream quite well actually, I think because I attributed it a song. Which is this:





The above song features on my Genie's 'Soundtrack' (also circa 2006). Some of the other songs are:

Cross Bones Style - Cat Power
Young Bride - Midlake
Voices Carry - Til Tuesday
California Soul - Marlena Shaw
False Flags - Massive Attack
Hours - TV on the Radio

oh, and we mustn't forget the obligatory classical piece:

The Lark Ascending - Vaughn Williams

Ahhh, Music...it is most definitely powerfully inspiring to me. I appreciate all types and most genres (oh, except for metal and most hip hop) but I have to say I can be a bit of a snob. As in I cannot handle most of the commercial vacuous crap out there. Yeah, like I said, I sound a bit snobby don't I? I can't help it!

Anyway, back to what I was saying, as soon as I hear certain songs I immediately envision a scene or story that goes with it. I can remember the first time I did this. It was to this song in 1986!**

Angel Dust - New Order

Oh my God, I'm listening to it right now and just have to tell you the movie I had for it. It's just so bloody hilarious! Basically this unsuspecting western guy picks up an asian girl in Hong Kong. She steals his kidney (!) as you do when you're mixed up with the Triads. Anyway, she falls in love with him and they end up...I don't know...running around the streets of Hong Kong at night time. I seriously used to put the record on (yes, on the turntable) and fantasise this scenario at least once a day for maybe a week or two.

I sound like I was a pretty cool 15 year old hey? You know, liking New Order and stuff but I have to tell you, around the same time, this song would have also made Mandy's top 5!

Suffice to say I think very visually and aurally so, of course, my book will become a film..

With one pretty excellent, moody soundtrack. I guess it would cost a pretty penny for all those rights but I'll let those Weinstein brothers worry about that. Ha!

*A quick fact check tells me Twilight debuted at 2005 but I'm almost 100% sure I only became aware of the whole Twilight thing with the movies.
**Oh, how I'm enjoying this trip down memory lane
***showin' me age!

Already I am back in love

Yep, that's all takes for me. I just have to pick him up and all of a sudden that screaming doesn't make me want to throw something (inanimate!) across the room...

Actually, he has started to do the really cute little wobbly, unco hugging thing when I pick him up...Cute!

BABY!

I love all this mothering the majority of the time but argh! days like these...

Screaming for no reason...he's been at it all morning. Finally, there is break enough for me to have a shower. Under the spray I start to feel myself again. Hey, maybe I'll get that coffee in and I might just try and get back into my writing. Turn off the water and there it is. The screaming.

Far out, what is wrong with that child at the moment? I honestly have not had a moment to do anything...well, I'll get my foot off the exaggerator pedal for a moment there..I did manage to go to the loo this morning.

Better go and pick him up.

Finding my feet

Oh wow, I just updated my editing function so now I can do this which is what I like doing sometimes.

Chastened

I've been feeling lazy and restless all week. I think it's the weather (muggy) more than anything.

Anyway, I woke up today and felt another lazy day coming on. What to do? What to do? So many things but instead I open the laptop and let the www draw me into her spiralling web and tangents.

How the hell did I end up on a site about Cushing's disease for instance?

The inertia was crushing me. Asa was out in the courtyard doing EXACTLY the task he had set himself for the weekend (I have kind of dismissed starsigns as preposterous but that's a Virgo for you) and Sweeney was having a nap so I decide to take Tilly for a walk. Very rare for me these days. Tilly (the Jack Russell) and I used to be the best of chums but then Pascal came along.* She still gets lots of walks but it's Asa who takes her.

Pascal grabs his scooter, I grab the leash and a couple of Nappy Sacks for Tilly's poo and off we go.

So we've had a lovely walk and scooter ride and almost home when Tilly stops and does a couple of her sloppy best on a nature strip. I almost leave it as they are pretty small and, well, I hate carrying the bag home. Actually, it is precisely this duty which makes the whole walking Tilly thing so unnattractive. But I pick it up which is, you know, the law and we continue..

Anyway, walking, walking, we get to a building site where there is a whole lot of rubbish dumped on the overgrown nature strip. I don't think anything of leaving the bag perched on the top of the pile. There are even some other plastic bags there to keep it company. It's sealed tight. It's even odorised.

But I didn't count on Pascal's ethics.

"Mum, that's really naughty what you just did."

"Well, I'm pretty sure someone will come and tidy up all the rubbish and take the bag with it."

"Well, Mum you wouldn't like it if someone left poo on your nature strip. I'll carry it, I don't mind." Yeah, weeeell, the kids got a point..**

So he scoots back, picks it up and scoots towards me with the cutest self riteous grin and a dangling sinister parcel swaying from the handlebars. He actually took it all the way home and as he put it in our outdoor bin he says.

"See Mum, that's what we should do."


This is not our bin.



This one's for you little man...



*Remind me to tell you about our dog Tilly one of these days

**He does have a point. I would hate finding a dog turd on our nature strip no matter how tightly knotted or nicely smelling the bag was HOWEVER I would not mind someone adding to a rubbish pile outside our unoccupied house. And that's the god's honest truth.

The weird and wonderful things found out there in Internerd land

The other day Asa found yet another abomination of nature in the garden. We don't like these. They make us shudder.

I heard him yelling and asked him what was going on.

"Don't worry." he says. "It was just some kind of paper thing. Maybe another alien mushroom or something."











"We come in peace"

"I just put it in the green waste bin." He says.

My skin was already creeping and a crawling but I just had to go out to investigate. Inside, on top of our green waste was a weird grey paper spun into a ball. It didn't look that gross at all. Then I picked it up and the heavy weight filled me with revulsion. I dropped it as it was filled with...gahhh... maggots! Writhing maggots! Argghhhh!!

At first I thought the paper thing must have once been alive or food or whatever, then I realised it was actually a hive of some sort. As my thirst for knowledge conquers all I googled 'wasp maggots' and this made me go What the Fuck?:

















The actual answers were all pretty straight. One person even explained, in great detail, what the maggots (rather larvae) would eat... but surely Queer Ronnie is taking the piss? Surely? It's bloody hilarious!

In the end I poured boiling water on them. As foul as they were I still felt a bit mean.

The Roads

I've noticed that there seem to be many more, shall we say, DICKHEADS on the road these days.

I'm sure I've been one too but this isn't about me today, it's all about them.

For instance, just what is with this race to the red light? This guy today could not handle being second or (oh banish the thought) third car behind. Then there was the guy the other day who was going psycho behind another car who tried to make a right hand turn. Granted there was a big flashing sign saying 'No Right Turn' but, wow, talk about disproportionate rage. He was honking, he was yelling - no - SCREAMING abuse. Farken this, Farken that. Just going absolutely nuts for the ten seconds before the guy infront twigged that he had made a mistake and continued on ahead.










"Give him a break. He obviously had a hard day at the office"

It was a real 'eye opener' as they say. I know I would have been angry if I was behind the guy and I'm sure I have rolled my eyes and muttered 'fucking idiot' many a time but, seriously, this guy's journey home or wherever he was going was impeded for about ten seconds (you know what, it was possibly only five). It was so far far away from worth it, it was ridiculous.

Someone told me once that if we all just calmed down on the road, were courteous and didn't speed etc, the traffic would keep on moving, even in peak hour. But of course, that could be a crock and besides, there are just too many people (including moi) in their own little private car bubbles getting pissed off at the traffic. It'll never work...

To quote Carrie Bradshaw when she was faced with a fellow mental road rager: "Oh, you are just soooo busy!"

FINALLY, a moment

What a bloody week, I tellsya!

I think I'm actually going to write this novel. I really do. Yes, it's because I've had a huge jolt of inspiration and also it's because I feel it. I honestly feel it in my bones that I can do it. Yes, I am inspired by stories of bidding wars and HUGE amounts of money and my characters becoming household names. That is the fantasy. But for the first time, I think it's the story that's driving me. My focus has shifted. While selling the manuscript and publicaton will be fantastic, I have stopped seeing it as the only reward. The reward is going to be the finished manuscript.

I think my mojo has come back bigger and better because this week I almost said buhbye to the whole idea. Since I've started to write more I've become much more protective of my premise and characters*, Genies. There I've said it. I want to write about Genies. Do for Genies what Stephanie Meyers has done for Vampires and, need I even mention the other one.**

So there I was, all inspired, researching Genies on the internerd while experiencing bittersweet flashbacks as I found myself on the sames pages I read all those years ago when I first had this idea.

Only the wikipedia page has been updated since then.

Hmmm, seems like someone called PB Kerr has got there first.

Yep, I did feel a bit shattered. And this is where my younger self, say ten years ago, would have given up. Like I did with my series about a dead couple visiting all their old haunts. I was so excited but ditched it when a British series called Shades showed up on ABC. Heard of it? No? (Trusty wikipedia has) So, as you can see, my biggest competitor - the series that made me give up my dream went...kind of nowhere.

I reminded myself of this, so instead of getting all jealous and contrite I started to reseach PB Kerr and his Children of the Lamp series. The more I read, the better I felt.

I felt even better still when I went out to the local shopping centre and enquired about the books in three different bookshops. In the first shop the girl hadn't even heard of the series and they were out of stock in all three. I found the fifth and most recent book in Myer so bought it. Let's just say that PB Kerr's style is completely different to mine. For one, he seems to be aiming for a younger audience and his style is much lighter and more comical.

Also, his books have been out for four or five years (shit, that's how long I've been sitting on this Genie idea??) and is just one of hundreds of young adult fiction series out there. By saying that I hope it doesn't sound like I'm belittling his achievement. I would be on absolute cloud nine to see my book in print.

Though I have to say I'm happy I can't see the potential for it to be HUGE in the way of Harry Potter et al as then, unfortunately, I would feel jealous and regretful and give up.

As it is, knowing there is a similar idea out there has given me the impetus to explore heavier themes. As has the backlash against Twilight.

This has all happened this week. I shall name it the week of cataclysm.

Page two and counting!

*If you dig in my archives you will see the somewhat embarrassing attempt at hiding my precious idea
**This is my fantasy remember. I don't have any delusions of granduer. Really ;)

Just call me Spaz...

...for spasmodic.

It's actually so nice to shed 'good tears' at the headlines for once.

My heart goes out to you Trishna and Krishna and I look forward to seeing you both grow and thrive.

As for you, Moira Kelly! You are an absolute living angel of a human being. A darling, an inspiration.

A Hot Day...

.....in Melbourne yesterday.



















Introducing two new (and new-ish) heart throbs to the world: Pascal and Sweeney.

Friday 13th

Oh, I haven't really been good with this posting once a day thing. And how easy is it to do?

I could just leave it there and that's today done. There, easy!

But I can't, I can't just leave it there. So many things to comment on, yet brain is going Deeeeeerrrrrrr...

All I can come up with is that I am still thinking about Rebecca James and her J K Rowlingesque success. I'm also happy to add that the green eyed monster who was lurking has been chased away by all this inspiration!

I am proud to say that you alone, Rebecca, are the reason my paragraph has now turned into a whole page. My teenage protagonist has already dropped the F-Bomb, though, so not sure about that....hmmm.

Anyway, that's where I'm off to now. Just popping over to MS word to continue...

Gaaaahhh!

No really! I think it's great. Honestly, I am really very happy for you Rebecca, but it was meant to be me.

Meeeee!!!!

Why do I feel like there was ONE spot in the universe for this and it's been taken?

BooHooo....

No, I'm not going to feel like shit. I am going to be inspired.

And I wasn't being sarcastic up there. I think what has happened for Rebecca James is awesome and she actually looks like she'd be really nice.

But BY FUCK I am jealous.

Coincidence

All these words that don't look right when I look at them. Coincidence is one of them. And lier too. That one looks less and less like a real word.

Pascal was watching I Dream of Jeannie while I was in the kitchen fixing breakfast. I haven't watched it for years and as I heard that familiar Dr Bellows soundtrack music (you know! the one that comes on whenever Tony Nelson has confounded him?) the line "it's snowing in my office" jumps into my head. I remember having some kind of joke going on around this when I was growing up (or maybe I just thought the line was funny?). Anyway, no sooner as I had thought it, from the living room I heard Dr Bellows say "There is snow in my office. Major Nelson has done it again."











Fereaky hey?

No! I'm telling you once and for all, there is no such thing as the date November 5

That's just plain crazy talk!

Ok, you've got me. I was just trying to fool you so that you wouldn't notice I forgot to blog yesterday. Bummer dude!

And yesterday something actually happened. It was Pascal's first day of school! Well, not really, that's officially next year in February sometime. It was his orientation where I actually had to drop him off for two hours and where he got to have lunch with his grade six buddy...oh how cute!

On the walk there I was falling in love with him all over again (I think it actually happens at least once a day). He was so happy and grown up with his backpack on.

When we enter the Prep room, which is abuzz with activity, Pascal goes all shy. He asks me in his funny voice* if I am going to stay but it's wavering and I can tell by the look in his eyes he doesn't want me to go. I try not to make a big deal of leaving (which is easy as I know he's going to be ok) and he finally accepts I'm not staying but looks kind of uncertain.

I come home (oh how I love that the school is a five minute walk away!) and 2 hours, well, an hour and a half is over in a blink of an eye.

I go back for the pick up and hear Pascal's excited screech and a guy's voice sounding a bit pissed off. It's the father of one of the prep boys who was actually the lead singer in a kind of famous melbourne indie pop band which was around in the mid to late nineties. Pascal and his son (so I'm not completely mortified) are hitting him. It was kind of awkward as I can't help but think he must at least know my face as I was kind of in the scene and knew the drummer of his band (Gawd, thank god I wasn't a groupie!). I'm embarrassed for some reason as he's still a bit intimidating in that cool lead singer kind of way.

His partner seems really, really nice which makes me think he must be nice too.

The school is definitely run down and crappy to look at but very impressed with the prep teacher, principle and the other families. Everyone is very cool and friendly. Lots of colour and RRR stickers so I'm happy.

I think.

*This voice is really hard to explain, hence the asterix as I feel a post within a post coming on. I'm sure most kids do it but Pascal puts on this weird American accent when he is trying to be funny or make light of something. In the case above he started off with the funny voice but as he's 'please mummy' became more insistent he started to lose it. I actually thought he was going to cry but he sucked it up at the last minute and by all accounts had a great day...awesome!

**This post was really hard as I'm operating on approximately 3 hours sleep due to crying Sweeney. He has still been crying intermittedly today so haven't had any downtime. I feel a bit cuckoo in all honesty.

She finally realised shes DOESN'T have to write a meandering essay for each post

I am quite proud of my little post yesterday actually. Nice and succint. Mysterious. Don't ya think? Don't ya?

Anyway, I did say I would tell you about the fight I got into on Mamamia's blog. Then I can move on.

Yes MOVE ON Mandy/Alias whoever you are. NO-ONE cares who you are. That's what someone said to me, can you believe it?

I will really try not to write a boring essay on it because my rambling seemed to prompt that very rude response in the first place. Or was it something more.

Basically I commented on a guest post (on Mamamia) about a mental breakdown which for some reason irritated me. I still don't know exactly what it was about this post in particular because I consider myself to be empathetic to a fault. I am definitely of the belief that our struggles are all relative to our experiences. I am often moved to tears by people's plights and they definitely do not have to be from a disadvantaged community to earn my compassion. So here I am explaining myself again, please stop.

Someone wrote something that didn't sit right with me and I decided to say so. (Ok I 'replied' in agreement to another comment because I am CHICKEN bukKER bukKER). Then Gina*, the original poster who had the career crisis, I mean mental breakdown, replied basically defending herself but then also showed she can get cut like any of us humans by calling me out on my use of an Alias and a contradiction I had made. Then I kind of fell all over myself trying to explain in what I thought was a non threatening, nice goofy way:

Ok. I do sound like a bit of a self obsessed TOOL. But surely you can see beneath the blathering that I am somewhat of a sensitive flower? Who else would take such pains in explaining themselves.

I have to tell you CT definitely put me back in my box. I got all flushed and hot and tears literally sprang to my eyes. It took me back to Mrs McNeill's Year 7 Drama class when some friends with an ethnic background accused me of being racist when I suggested I should be the teacher and they be the students for a school skit.

After seething for the time it took me to breastfeed I felt ok. Enough for me NOT to write a comment in the vain of 'well obviously you care enough to leave a comment like that CT, where's you interesting contribution to this topic as I notice this is the only comment you've made in this section' ...see I had it all worked out but I took the higher road!

I mean, clearly, CT has some issues and that's all there is to it. Who writes stuff like 'no one cares' unless they do. Which makes me wonder if CT is in fact Gina*?

Anyway best not go there!

CT you will be happy to know I have now moved on.

Day three

I can be such a hypocrite.

Fin.

Trying to explain my thoughts on the blogging world (aka The Blogosphere)

So yes, as I was saying. If the blogosphere was a gender she would definitely be female. She can be kind, warm, inviting, nurturing and inclusive; hilariously funny and profoundly moving; witty and intelligent and delightfully low brow; strong and inspiring; a mother, a sister, a friend.

For the last couple of years, as an observer playing a safe distance away from the main playground, this was the impression I got. There was something for everyone and everyone seemed to play nice.

Now as I find myself wanting to participate more, the blogosphere is showing me her other side which I find - dare I say - equally female in nature. That is cliquey, bitchy and in some extreme instances bitterly envious. There are sites like this one which seem, at times, positively venomous...

...and then there are the comments boards.







Left: my brain trying to sort this subject out.

So, the good ol' comments. This is where the true nature of the Blogosphere is revealed. I have to admit the comments on blogs have always annoyed me for some reason. On sites like Dooce, for instance, En masse there is something sycophantic about the hundreds, sometimes thousands of comments saying 'best. post. ever.' and the like. There is something reminiscent of the screaming women in the Oprah audience. I can't really talk as I've commented on the Dooce and I think I even said 'I LOVE YOU' (caps and all) so yeah, I'm not having a go at the individual, it's the monster we create together, chums!

So yeah, I have been commenting more regularly and I've been my most prolific on Mamamia. The thing I love about her site is that she encourages feedback and comments and there is a real community feel to it. As a person Mia seems really sweet. I like that she has guest posters which I think really shows a generous spirit. She's self effacing, articulate and is a deep thinker but, yeah, I also have to be honest and say I prefer my writing a bit edgier, a bit more irreverent, a bit grittier, a bit less earnest. Mia has yet to make me piss myself laughing* unlike Catherine Deveny (Whom I wish would start a blog but I wouldn't be surprised if she can't be bothered - and that makes me love her even more!)

Anyway, where the fuck was I (I said I liked it dirty so I better grit the fuck up myself as well!).

So I've been adding my two cents worth here and there at Mamamia. Mostly my comments go unacknowledged (which is fine, really honestly I'm just fine) but there has been the odd occasion a fellow sycophant, I mean commentor, has agreed with my POV and even given me a smiley face (aww noice). The other day, however, I found myself in a bitchfight with none other than the guest poster herself!

Stay tuned! I will give you a clue - it had something to do with my rambling which I'm doing right now.

I shall gather my thoughts and tell you the story tomorrow my invisible little friends!

*Not literally, my pelvic floor is quite strong despite having two kids and not doing my exercises. Ok, I'm doing them right now.

The BLOGOSPHERE

Pinch and a punch for the first of the month!

I wonder how many other 'bloggers' are using that line out there in the... BLOGOSPHERE. Anyway, I am aiming to find my place in it all. Like the new kid at school, I am hesitant yet eager and highly sensitive but as I write more and read more blogs, the true nature of the... BLOGOSPHERE is revealing herself. I say 'herself' as there is something highly female about the phenomenon. Funny that, as actually, the first two blogs that introduced me to the medium (oddtodd and scott, to be certain) are (were in scott's case) written by men.

Then I found out about Dooce by way of an article in The Age and became addicted. I got the idea into my head that there must be lots of rich people out there making lots of money from telling funny stories about their life. I thought People like my stories! I can make some money! (0r mon-ay as Odd Todd would say) How easy! I found my calling! After about, oh, six months to year of preparing myself procrastination I started to write. It was fun. I think I managed about five posts. WooHoo!

Then it slowly but surely dawns on me that there aren't too many blogs out there as lucrative as Dooce. I begin to realise that no, I am not a pioneer blogger. Not the potential Dooce of Australia. So I kind of lose heart and stopped for a while.

Then a year after that I got right back on that horse, I did, and started with a different attitude, indeed I did! While I'd like to have a few people read my blog I don't for a minute think that mine is anything more than the next one. The prime objective now is to write for writing's sake and to have an account of what I'm doing with my life. I also wanted to talk about my experience with my kids as they grow up. I've always been really SHIT at keeping a diary. It's one of my regrets but I also live by mottos along the lines of tomorrow is another day and life is a series of moments. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'll get there. Tommorrow is another day and I can start now.

Anyway, I have totally gone off on some weird tangent but I've done it! First post for NaBloPoMo!

I did really want to talk about the... BLOGOSPHERE but I'm tired so next time.

And that will be the last time I evoke a drum roll with the use of full stops and caps.

Do I look like I came down in the last shower? Well, maybe not literally but you look like a bit of a chump

That's probably what the Clive Peter's salesman would have answered (if he was injected with some Get Smart-like truth serum) if I had asked him that question.

Holy Mary Mother of God. That's why I hate those stores so much. Those sales people are so Ten Steps of Selling brainwashed that they don't know how ridiculous they sound... and I have to say, in my experience, Clive Peter's staff are the worst of them all.

We are on a mission to get a few things done before summer including getting some proper air conditioning for this place. So while Asa was off talking air conditioners I thought I'd wander over to the TVs. I want to get a flat screen. Asa needs some convincing. We have both been kind of against them on principle but now I am coming around. Just that, aesthetically, they look so much nicer than our old chunker bunker cheap as chips silver 51cm rear projection. Having said that I honestly don't like the HUGE MOTHER FUCKER TV's on any kind of level much to some people's dismay. Not only that, I really, REALLY don't like them on principle (especially Plasma, don't get me started). I hate that in the last few years and in a very stealthy, almost imperceptible way, it's become NORMAL to spend several thousand dollars on televisions. Wasn't it only seven or ten years ago that $1,000 bought you a top of the range TV? Now it appears that's a bargain. A bargain that does not exist according to this 'say it don't spray it' bucky toothed salesman.

So back to Clive Peter's. He's showing me the 40" TV's which basically range in price from around $1,500 to $5,000 and this is where I reckon they get most of us. Even me, with my SUPERIOR PRINCIPLES and my guard well and truly up is wondering whether I should be looking at 'middle of the range' (around $3,000) because if 200 Mhz is great, does that make 100 Mhz shit? We can't affort $3,000 but we could if we really wanted to and we would be able to pay in cash. What about all the people who can't even afford $500 in cash let alone $3,000? 2 year interest free loan, or credit card, that's right!

So yeah, I guess I'm going off on a bit of rant and acting more than a bit superior but I can't help it. Some people can be just so dumb and greedy and materialistic and envious these days and it really does give me the shits sometimes. I want to reiterate that's some people. And I'm sure it's all people some of the time. We have to be vigilante. OH WHY CAN'T EVERYONE BE LIKE ME?!

Just kidding.

Kind of.

Like I said, I almost bought it (the perceived need yada, yada, not the TV). And I know I have in the past, and I'm sure I will in the future.

So, again, back to my man at CP. I'm interested in a Sony but it's $1,899 and I'm confused as I know so many people who have big brand TV's which are 40" and cost them around $1,000. And this salesperson is saying no way. And I so feel like saying 'yes way' but for some reason I can't. I feel embarrassed for him which is just so ridiculous. I ask him what kind of deal he can do with the Sony 40" and a $800 24" (which we need for a computer monitor/spare TV for the spare room) and I pursue the $1,000. I forget my empathetic embarrassment for him and tell him a friend got a Panasonic 40" with a Wii thrown in. Honestly, he did not want to hear it, literally! He spoke over me! Telling me it can't be true! (but it was, I'm telling you!). He tells me he can absolutely do a 'deal' for me. So I say, ok what can you do? He then asks me to come and sit down in the Office (!) while he speaks to his manager but, get this, he will need 'some kind of committment' from me. I almost laugh at him and this is where I would have used the 'Do I look like I came down in the last shower' line if I had the sass. I ask 'Can't you just give me a ball park figure?". No he can't. It's the policy* (VERY stupid, way-to-get-customers-NOT-to-come-back policy, Clive!) He then goes on to say that they have a 14 day return policy so if I do find a better deal AFTER I HAVE BOUGHT the goods, I can come back to CP and they will match the price. Oh, I see! That's a great deal! Why didn't you mention that before! I buy from you, THEN I compare prices in an ample 14 day time period. And I'm sure I would encounter no problems with you matching a cheaper quote.

GREAT DEAL!















Thanks for you topsy turvy offer but no thanks.


*The sad thing is this policy obviously works

Another weekend a'comin

I remember chancing across a late night special on Robbie Williams and he said something that made me kind of like him. He said (and this so not verbatim) 'don't listen to me, I contradict myself with every sentence'...It was pretty much a throwaway line but I loved it as I can so so relate. I loved that he could admit this to himself and others instead of paint himself into a corner with his contradictions as I tend to do.

I thought of this in the shower because yesterday, if I had got around to posting on this blog I was going to defend my addiction to The Bachelor and Bachelorette which is finishing up on the dream channel (for a trash junkie like myself) that is GO! (Channel 99). I was going to go on about how these shows are actually not empty and vacuous because after all isn't love the most important thing in the world? Without Love wouldn't we, quite literally, not exist at all? I was all gooey after accidentally watching the end of three hours of recorded Bachelorette finale to find she chose the poor boy and felt all gooey about it.

Then I googled them and found out they have broken up. I am so surprised!
Yeah, right.

Well anyway, today is a different story. As I let the lovely warm drops shower on me for a little longer than four minutes I realised I just have to stop watching TV, get my notebook out (or laptop on WITHOUT internet connection) and start creating. I have not writen past those first five BRILLIANT!!! lines of my teen Twilightesque novel so I'm getting all angsty again. I also have a couple of other ideas which I'm working on (not writing related) so my brain is buzzing!

I just hope those wearies tonight are not so chronic that I forget that I'm not watching TV.

My active dreamlife

Over the last few weeks I have been having absolutely epic dreams. I always have had very vivid dreams. In fact some dreams go back to, well, since I can remember remembering.

Actually now that I think about it a bit more maybe these epic dreams I'm having now are no less full on than other ones I've had in the past. Like the one where I shot Hitler in his temple (as some kind of right hand man general type character) or the other where I was being chased through a forest by very scary but oh so cool and sexy vampires with a bunch of 'survivors'. (This was about a year before Interview with a Vampire which makes it, what, fifteen years before Twilight and that's what the vampires looked like in my dream, all dreadlocks and long coats but of course there was The Lost Boys about ten years before I had this dream so yeah, er herm, now where was I?)

So I guess what I'm saying these dreams are more full on than the ones I had, say, a month ago. You could say I'm going through one of my epic dream periods.

And the dream that prompted this post?

It was a good old armeggedon dream which started off very cinematically. Actually I wouldn't be surprised if my dream stole this 'scene' directly from a movie. I'm this middle aged business man with dark brown hair and a receding hairline on a plane. I finally get to chat with a steward who I've been admiring from afar over a number of flights (I must travel a lot) and just as I'm feeling quite pleased with myself (when I say cinematically, I mean it - I'm sitting down in the aisle seat while she is tending to someone and we share a shy flirtatious smile) the plane gets into some violent turbulence. The captain's voice is over the loud speaker as the plane dives down into a busy city street. I'm actually thinking something like "great just as I've finally broken the ice with this girl", then it goes black.

Now I'm on the outside viewing it like I am watching a movie. The plane crash is just one of many distastrous things happening. Buildings are crashing down etc etc...and yes, I have seen the trailer for 2012 so it's very much like that.

Anyway, somehow I have survived this crash with just a bit of a bloodshot eye to show for it! I'm in the city's streets (have no idea what city) and heading out from the centre of town where I reach a narrow street of shops and terrace houses. The grass median strips are mostly yellow (suggesting drought) but I look closely and dark liquid is bubbling up moistening the earth and staining the grass. I recoil in horror as I realise it's blood. As I come to this realisation I notice the dogs in the street. There are about ten or twelve in a pack which are/were obviously pets (there is even a pug) but they are whining and getting quite frenzied. They notice me so I go straight to a run down terrace house with a large windowed shop front and ask the people if I can come in. They let me in straight away and we're all like 'What the fuck is going on?' as we check laptops with news blaring on the TV. Meanwhile the dogs are scrabbling outside and I'm really worried that they are trying to get in to attack us. But then the dogs are kind of forgotten.

So now I think I'm me and not the business man anymore. The people who live in the house are kind of sexually perverted. Well, maybe that's a bit too strong as they seem genuine and harmless but they are into something strange. This is more a feeling than anything. Maybe it's because one of the guys is Phillip Seymour Hoffman. I was introduced to him via the film Happiness and sorry, Phillip, you will never shake that character in my eyes!

Anyway, Phillip is not the only character from the silver screen. One of the girls is Dawn from Buffy and she and this other girl are the guys girlfriends. And now I am remembering the kinky thing. Their boyfriends prefer the girls to dress up as guys (like Buck in United States of Tara).. Anyway the Dawn character moved me as at one point she had an expression that was so childlike, even baby like and I thought to myself 'that's the face her mother knows'...

Phew..still more!!!

So now I think I am that Dawn girl or at least I'm viewing her background. (Meanwhile there is still a sense of the world ending). I'm in a commission flat type place and this bogan but good mother comes home to her daughter who exclaims happily that their gas bill has been paid by the landlord. The mother practically bursts into tears and is like "No, nooo!" which confuses the girl (Dawn, who is about eleven) but I know what's going on and understand why the mother might be upset. The mother goes to the landlord (who is a hardfaced bitch with yellow bleached short hair and dangling ciggie) and starts yelling about being able to afford the bill (it was $8.00) and it wasn't even due so why did she pay it? The landlord is just looking down writing in her ledger as she tells her it was due today so that's close enough. The mother knows she can't do anything but accept it. 'It' being the 'administration' fee and interest the landlord wacks on to the total which takes the bill up to $38.00...

Then I'm the girl as a teenager and I finally get out of the greasy spoon I'm working at (to pay off my mum's bills or something) and move, literally, across the other side of the tracks to a funky cafe in the nice part of town. The owner is the landlord's son and I'm so happy that he is not a bogan, and more importantly, not evil anymore. I find out he was just another victim of his mother. Even though I don't remember him in the dream before this point, I think he was a bully and it's a revelation that he's actually nice...but is he?

While the girl (me?) has changed places she hasn't changed jobs and is still a chip fryer. She walks through the cafe that is tastefully decorated. The waiting staff are friendly and clean but as we go deeper into the kitchen the fryer is just the same as the one from the greasy spoon she 'escaped' and she still get's splattered with hot fat. Only more so this time as the vats are frosted over. The armeggedon part of the dream crops up again as the kitchen is tremoring as the girl is trying to fry her chips. As the ice falls in it makes the oil pop and splatter really loudly.

Oh my God. I'm so tired but I'm glad I got it down. There was another part to it but I've forgotten. Actually I don't think my brain has enough space for it and probably has had to let it go...

Far out..what does it all mean!!!

Probably something very boring like processing the almost cooking disaster with the pad thai last night.

This is me building a bridge

Do you ever remember a petty little incident, start stewing over it and get all het up about it again? Like something that happened a week, month or even a year ago? Well for some reason I started thinking about the time we had to pay fifteen bucks for a half serve of very average spaghetti bolognese.

Oh, now I'm sounding like a tightarse as I remember recently going through old posts and noticing a pattern of whinging about money. But anyway...

This happened in Ballarat about two years ago maybe? We went to Sovereign Hill and while we waited for another family we had lunch at a little cafe. Pascal was being very indecisive as three year olds tend to be so I just go ahead and order the spag bolognese for him. I ask the waitress, who was young and friendly, whether they do half serves because you see, I know he probably won't eat it and I don't like wasting food or money and she says sure, of course we can do that. So we get the pasta and Pascal says 'Yuck'. I'm sitting there thinking you and me both as I eye the meat which looks suspiciously like the Campbell's canned shit my mum uses to bulk up her Spaghetti Sauce*. I make some half arsed attempt at eating it but it's mostly left there on the plate. I vow at this point I am not going to force food on Pascal again but, you know, at least it's only a half serve so that's half the $15.90 price right? No. Wrong.

I paid fifty bucks or whatever it was and as I'm walking out, I'm thinking "Hmm, that was a bit more than I expected to pay...and it was crap." I sit back at the table staring at the oily suspicious looking bolognese and on Asa's nudge, decide to go back and sort this out. This older waitress goes through my order and there it is, $14.90 for the pasta. I'm like 'What?! It was half a serve!" and she points to the very literal small print at the bottom of the last page that says something about taking one dollar off the price for half serves. And she has the nerve to be rude about it! The Harridan! She feeds me some line about having to still go to the trouble of cooking the meal as a justification. I just paid up as you do and gave her a little bit of a greaser. Which from me is probably more like a sad clown look.

I get out and that comeback you think of just after but too late comes to me ( 'Oh, you mean the trouble of turning the microwave on')


But today, two years later..another, even better thought comes to me. I should have refused to pay for the Spaghetti Bolognese at all! Here am I sitting in traffic two years later thinking this. It is/would have been brilliant! Even better, I could have given her two dollars for the pasta. I mean what could she have done? Nothing, that's what. Put that it in your thin puckered smokers lips and suck on it!

So now I'm over it and I will know what to do next time.

Almost can't wait. Game On potential future rude waitress moles!

*No doubt a handy hint from Woman's Weekly circa 1976

Welcome banner idea for the idiot (who I'm sure as a little penis) on the Eastern Freeway this morning...

Congratulations! Due to you flooring it at 30 kilometres over the limit, changing lanes about fifty times in a demented fashion and basically risking the lives of men, women, children and tiny little babies, you have arrived at your destination 3 minutes earlier!

Oh Bugger??

Hmm...maybe I need think long and hard before posting anything novelesque using Blogger?

By submitting, posting or displaying Content on or through Google services which are intended to be available to the members of the public, you grant Google a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license to reproduce, publish and distribute such Content on Google services for the purpose of displaying and distributing Google services.

Any intellectual property lawyers ambling past out there?

Tired mum brain cannot compute!

Welcome Liam David!

Last night we went to visit Uncle Sammy and Aunty Glenda who gave birth to Pascal's and Sweeney's cousin Liam on Wednesday night. He is very scrumptious and so tiny compared to Sweeney. It's unbelievable what three and a half months growth looks like when you have a direct comparison.

We had dinner with new dad Sammy at a Thai restaurant near the beach in Hampton (near the hospital Glenda was in). It's amazing how many old people were out! The grey to other hair colour was about 75/25.

Looks like 'NanaLand'* is still living up to it's name thirty years on!

Anyway, we decided on this Thai restaurant as it had the least amount of grey haired ladies and gents. I don't have anything against our elders, just that I get a bit paranoid having young kids around them and Pascal can get a bit cheeky.**

As Asa took Pascal to the toilet one cozy couple caught my eye...

Me (motioning towards them): "Hey, I think they're on their first date."

Sammy: "Yep, they met online - Sprightly 90 year old into golf and S&M seeks no strings attached fun with woman into same. Great grandkids OK."








CONGRATULATIONS TO SAM AND GLENDA!



*My nana lived around this area and they were everywhere then!

**When Pascal was three he used to break into 'This old man, he played one' whenever he saw an elderly man...or woman. We didn't leave the restaurant completely cringefree. He spoke a bit of gibberish to the Thai waitress and when Asa said 'oh, stop being silly' Pascal said cheekily 'but I'm speaking Chinese!' Luckily she dug his cheeky style and gave him a lollypop.

Quandary

I've written my first paragraph. You know the book I am writing? Yeah, well it's done. The first paragraph. Phew. Hard work.

I am feeling very, very excited. It's all of ten lines but I really feel this is the one and I've had a great idea how to launch it....

I'm jumping ahead of myself and will start from the beginning. Yesterday I was doing my usual meandering and tidying around the house as Sweeney slept. I had my thoughts on a nice cup of tea and a Louis Theroux special I had recorded from the night before. As usual my thoughts also turned towards the laptop and getting this show on the road. Usually I would (very briefly and tokenly) try and muster the enthusiasm to at least open a word document but then go placate that thought and promise it I will do what it wants me to do TOMORROW.

Not this time. No, I sat down, opened that fresh word document, suffered through a minor tantrum at the stupditity and user UNfriendliness of Vista Microsoft Office and banged out a FANTASTIC first paragraph. I love it, Asa loves it* and it's going to make the first chapter very easy.

I am sooo pumped.

So today I was thinking about this wonderful character who is becoming more and more substantial in my head and realised that, really, something is happening here. This something is also heightened by a wonderful dream I had last night. Well, the second one. In the first dream I was being chased by an axe weilding maniac. Really. He was crazy and had an axe. I woke up just as I realised I couldn't lock the door behind me as he came running up the drive. Should I flee throught the house or try and hold the door closed? Or wake up!

So the fantastic second dream. There was still a macabre hangover from the last dream as I was in a house (which was actually a version of my mum's/childhood home) in a large upstairs ballroom. It was dark and there were all these corpse like characters in dull coloured costumes. I was there and doing something (and I honestly can't remember what it was) which got them all animated again. They were all dressed brightly and dancing around (or maybe rollerskating??). I think they were thanking me. I'm not sure but there was definitely a sense that I had done something extrordinary for them. There was also this guy on a horse who told me something important but I've forgotten what it was...Bloody Hell, now as I describe it, it's sounding like Night at the Museum!!!

Anyway, as the day went on I became more detached from the magic of the dream and realised what it was telling me. The House represents me or my Self, of course. The ballroom is 'upstairs' so I've taken it to mean my mind or imagination. The characters are, well, characters and I've woken them up...brought them to life. FAR OUT MAN!

So, now my quandary.
I've been thinking of POSTING - as in live on the internet - a chapter a week....

But I'm scared. Scared of being ripped off, basically. I know, I know...I could be delusional and no-one is going to want to steal my ideas but what if it happened. How pissed off would I feel? So, if anyone, ANYONE is out there reading this..what do you think?



*Maybe in the same sense this guy's girlfriend said his piercings are unobtrusive but hopefully not

Oh, you mean those clothes?

Yes, I guess I should mention that the clothes were found.

By Asa.

MY VERY BEST MOST VALUABLE CLOTHES, the loss of which is capable of turning me into a screaming banshee (well, weeping pathetic banshee) are still bunched up in the green coles bag.

Underneath the bed where I left them

Oh shut up, I'm BREASTFEEDING!


Apologies to Asa. Still mates?

The day I discovered my best clothes went to the Op Shop...

...which is today. Wonderful. I'm just super, thanks for asking.

Oh! I was being sarcastic. Yes really! And I still am, and it's annoying me so let's keep it real.

I am soooo pissed off. Well I was, I'm better now because there is no way I would have been able to turn on the laptop, let alone write anything when I was in the middle of it. My tantrum, I mean. My tantrum I let myself have with my three month old bawling from the bedroom. Oh, I feel so guilty but I just couldn't stop...bawling myself, that is.

It's amazing how everything can change in a matter of minutes, or maybe it was even a minute, singular.

Soooo, up until the discovery, everything was going swimmingly. I've stayed in the house all day (apart from a very short walk with Sweeney and Tilly the dog, cut short due to rain), tidied up, sorted out dinner and even got a nap in earlier. I've got a beautiful blend of essential oils burning (frankincense, cedarwood, geranium and lavender for relaxing). I also have a nice cup of chai ready, along with a big bowl of tiny teddies, to tuck into as I open the laptop. All of a sudden I'm thinking about a bag of clothes a friend of mine returned a week or two ago. Right now I'm thinking hard but I cannae remember the trigger for this thought. This green coles bag contained two of my best dresses I have for weddings and stuff and an expensive blazer. My friend had borrowed them for a wedding and I suggested she take the lot.

it's just the kind of gal I am.

Anyway - back to today, sitting at my laptop, one second the slack jawed yokel staring into the distance then the next the crazy mo fo getting all het up and angsty before she's even searched the place. You see, when I'm like this there is no point in looking. I 'm positive that Asa has taken that green coles back full of my most valuable clothes and, without even looking, thrown them in an opshop bin. I mean it's so typical, him and his constant need to purge. I was fuming and bawling, doing a half arsed search from room to room, meanwhile my psycho harridan vibes have reached sleeping Sweeney who awakens and starts bawling. You get the picture?

Yay!

By the way I'm only admitting this because I'm talking to no-one.

Sweeney joins me in my aimless pacing (one of us has stopped crying) as I call Asa's mobile phone about fifty times (ok, about ten) and leaving the occasional blubbering message or two (actually there were two). It was the only way I could calm myself down. I had to just do something.

After about twenty minutes I finally realise I am over it. I finally admit to myself that one of those designer dresses was $60 on sale (but $300 full price, ok!) and has never really suited me and that I haven't worn the blazer for at least 2 years since the matching pants went AWOL. And...

...Asa will probably find them.

TIRED!

Right now I'm sitting up in bed. It's cold and dark at 6:14pm though I feel cocooned, warm and snug with my warm bedside lamp, hearing the sounds of the 6pm News and Asa and Pascal playing Shrek Monopoly (Pascal with a slightly polite British inflection: "I am not breaking the rules") . Sweeney is lying beside me asleep with that startle reflex going off every now and then.

I don't know what I was going to post but felt I had to keep this thing moving. *BUMP* *BUMP*

I just read my previous post and I'm doing it again. This indecision thing. I haven't given Genies a second thought since my last post and now find myself talking about a picture book starring Sweeney the littlest hero (Sweeney is an Irish name meaning Little Hero) about snot (or boogy) requesting aliens. Will I end up a crazy woman of eighty still trying to work out which idea to go ahead with? I'm sounding frustrated but I'm not....yet.

So lets be honest for a minute and stop railroading myself into this person who whines about procrastinating and indecision. Someone in there is telling me to shut up, you are indeed speaking shit. You know you are going to go with the Genies. Every time you see a picture of that gorgeous vampire Edward you think it. Every time you hear TV on the Radio it reminds you. The ads for the Half Blood Prince give you a jolt.

Jean Genie let yourself go.

It's funny when you remember something or in this case read something written previously and let out a great big 'DER' (or I guess 'Duh' if you are American or born after 1990)

I am talking about my Genie protoganist's situation being incredibly similar not just to the Ugly Duckling's....

Ok so my story will be a cross between Twilight and Harry Potter. I can live with that.

OMG! Two posts in one day!

Well I had to talk about Genies, didn't I?

After I posted this morning I realised how very easy it is to not go ahead with things I vow I will do. Actually, It's embarrassing! I'm sure there are people out there, people I've met along the way, that would be surprised where I've ended up. I hasten to add that I am in a perfectly happy and contented place but I know I convinced quite a few of my fellow travellers through life I was going to be the next Gillian Armstrong or Jeanette Wintersson - or just someone famous.

This morning I realised that I don't even believe myself even as I type the words so the only way to get this belief back is to prove it!

Where was I? Genies, how could I forget...

So I mentioned Twilight back there two posts ago. I realised with a bit of a sinking feeling that the general premise for my Genie idea and Twilight were very similar - basically Girl from this world meets Boy from Otherworld and through him, we (as the audience) discover a whole new hidden (magical) landscape that is right under our noses. I never really thought further than this but I did have some kind of vague notion about Bad Genies who threaten my girl protagonist and the Good Genies defending her - yes, another major similarity to Twilight.

I still don't think these similarities mean that I can't go ahead with my idea. I mean, when I studied Screenwriting we were told over and over again that there are only 16 types of stories and all stories are versions of these. The story that I have described above has been told over and over again (interesting though, that I can't think of other examples right at the moment - then again, I am brain fried at 9:30pm and Sweeney still hasn't settled - I can hear him in the background and I know, any minute, Asa is going to ask me to help) but I still want to tweak it. I still want the protagonist to be a girl so at the moment the idea is that she is one of them but didn't realise it. It's actually pretty cool how I came to this idea. I was watching Classic Tales on ABC Kids with Pascal and it was the story of the Ugly Duckling. It made me think about how, not only did the Ugly Duckling find his family, but that they were more beautiful than any of the other birds that made fun of him along the way. Then immediately I thought there's my protagonist. All along she's been ridiculed and never belonged and in the end she's a Genie -much, much cooler than any of the biatches who made fun of her.

Ok, again, not the most original story line but it's the one for now.

Anyway, I told you Asa would ask me to help. Better go, I am indeed kernackered!

Family Life Interlude #1

That's right, Interlude! Because I say as I do and do as I say and this blog is going to be all about Genies and it's development yessiree!!

So we got right into Masterchef. Of course, it was pretty much a given with my predilection for reality TV and the fact it's beaten all the ratings records. I loved it because of the food and how everyone was just so nice to each other. There was not much voting off going on and when there was it was all tears, hugs, kisses and sorries (which looked and felt genuine). It was just a really heartwarming snuggly buggly show - I know I'm not saying anything new here as it's really the word on the street.

So the highlights! And how I wish I had the footage to embed (and knew how to embed it). You see, I grew up with the 'rewind moment' repetoire joke. This is when a moment on film strikes you as funny and you keep rewinding it and playing it again and again until it takes on a mad and hilarious life of it's own!

Ok, this tradition is not handed down by my parents. In fact, when my best friend from primary school Kylie and I first discovered The Rewind Moment (a scene where Shelley Winters falls down a lift shaft and her bouffant hairdo gets a jiggle in Towering Inferno ) they thought it was just really annoying and definitely NOT funny in the slightest.

I've found that people who generally share my sense of humour (including Asa, my partner) have appreciated the rewind moment and quite often had discovered it for themselves (and I realise I have gone on quite the tangent but you see where this is going don't you? Hint: George Calombaris Buttah).

Some other classic rewind moments through the ages: Cocoon II - The Return when Jack Gilford (and no I don't remember the names off the top of my head) who plays one of the old men is trying to hang himself but is interrupted by a knock on the door and he says 'Just a minute' at the same time he falls off the chair; Meet Joe Black where Brad Pitt is run over by a car. Oh anyway, you had to be there.

Back to Masterchef and life with a HDD recorder! We had lots of fun and I'm very proud to pass the rewind moment on to the next generation - Pascal laughs the loudest!
Ok, The Highlights!

• George Calombaris' passionate enunciation of the word Butter. This happened on more than one occasion but we liked it best when he was making Roast chicken and BUTTAHED potatoes in an early masterclass episode. Now the whole family says BUTTAH instead of butter.
• Chris' evil little giggle when he won a challenge - I forget which one
• Matt Preston chuckling into his cravate after a particularly nice feed (can't remember what dish)
• Andre yelling out 'Go Poh' in the final challenge with Julie.

There were many more but I'm realising they don't pack the same punch without the footage on a loop. Must dash, real life with a 12 week old and five year old beckons!

*****!

Is it as hard for Heather B Armstrong to bang out a post? There's one all about my dance class fiasco in my drafts that's just not working out for me and I guess will sit there for a while. *Sigh* I don't know...

It's just that the blogs I read are so funny and well written and seem so effortless. My emails are like that, why can't I get to that place when I sit down and write this blog?

Anyway, enough of that. I've decided that this blog is going to become FUNCTIONAL. Seeing as I still don't have an audience then there's no-one to STEAL my wonderful idea for a book. A series of books for teenagers. I was just washing the dishes listening to the best radio station in the world RRR when the song California Soul came on. I have this song on a mixed CD entitled *****. Why was it called *****? Because this was the soundtrack for the film script I was going to write. All about a secret would of ***** or whatever you want to call them.

I made this mixed tape in 2006 and who knows, if I'd followed through maybe I'd be up there with J K Rowlings? Ok, that might sound a bit deluded but you just never know...

I'm sick of not following things through so this ***** idea has cropped up again. It's been showing itself recently. There's been the success of Twilight which has reminded me again of what can happen when an idea really takes off. **** are untapped. I have to go now as I don't want to get into that trap of running late again (so easy to do now with baby Sweeney).

Next post will be all about my vision! Oh, I'm so inspired!!

It must be the season of the MUSHROOM

There they are, the hideous things. From where I am typing at our dining table, I can see them, the nasty vile abominations! I am talking about mushrooms...or maybe toadstools. Anyway, the variety that I see before me don't take the form of a pretty little red topped, white spotted fairy chair dotted here and there*. Nooooo, we are talking about bunches, clusters of nicotine coloured bulbous growths that protrude and bulge out of the earth. Ten, twenty FORTY of them. There is something hemorrhoidish about them, like piles from the bumcheeks of mother earth.

As I said, I am looking at (or watching??) them now from the safety of indoors. There is one bunch of about eight or ten which has captured my attention. I know when I go out there to investigate, these will turn out to be the tip of the iceberg - to pick an obvious metaphor. This particular batch has appeared at the top of a hill of loose dirt which means this 'hill' is actually twenty more of the buggers in disguise.

By the way these, very literally, grow overnight which just adds so much more to the reasons why these horrors of nature gross me out so much. It makes me think that if I was to stay up overnight with a torch, I would actually see them grow. This and the proliferation. I only cleared the yard yesterday and I can see at least four different clusters around today.

What can be done? Nothing much, apparently. We removed a large tree when we moved in and apparently they are springing from the root which was left. To get rid of the toadstools, we would have to dig up the yard and get rid of the root. From my google study session and talking to a neighbourhood horticulturist friend, I've learnt that the toadstools are actually a sign of good things happening to our soil as they (or the underground mycellium which they grow from) break down the tree root. So we only have about fifty or so years to go, yay!

*I'm talking purely aesthetics here. I'm aware that I have probably just described the most poisonous variety of toadstool.

It's a....BOY!

Two boys. Oh my God.

Sweeney Lucas is absolutely divine and it's amazing, now after a little over two weeks of life with him I would have it no other way...BUT...

I have to say I've had the odd moment where I've had to address the fact I was really hoping for a girl. There were moments where I regretted not finding out earlier whereby I would have 'come to terms' with the fact I will most likely never have a daughter long before Sweeney was born. There were actual secret tears in the hospital where I thought about never being able to use the name Greta for my daughter. Especially gazing at Sweeney's fine features and pretty little face.

I'm ok with it all now. As I said I would have it no other way and I think the thoughts were more to do with the fact that I've had my last child. I only ever wanted two kids and now I've had them..that's it. So I think it's more than likely that if I did have my Greta I would be mourning a little for my lost Sweeney.

TWO BOYS, Who would have thunk it!

That damn dog across the road is barking again...

Big dumb barks. ROH ROH ROH...but I can't really complain because so is mine..

Weeeell, you know how I said we don't go to McDonalds very often? We went today and that makes it twice in three weeks. I just can't seem to say no to Pascal at the moment because he is being too cute! He called it Old McDonalds again and he wanted the black spiderman and I really, really wanted a cheeseburger. So I pretty much ate the food and he got the toy. (SHUT UP STUPID DOG!!!)

He had a tuna nori roll beforehand (we were playing musical chairs in the food court at High Point) and I had a cucumber and avocado one so it wasn't all bad.

Oh, and I am remembering a few other cute Pascalisms that will probably disappear in the next six months.

He is still calling a computer a 'bakwoooter' although he does know how to say computer.

He calls garden gnomes 'Romans'...he picked one up from a garage sale a few months ago and for some reason called it a Roman - now they all are.

The Dawg has stopped..woohoo!

Before I forget...

Just some of the cute things Pascal is currently saying:

"I'm am!"

"Old McDonalds" instead of McDonalds...NOT that we are frequent visitors

"Oh. My. God."

Calling Asa "Asa" instead of Dad.

Bloody hell..I sat down here to rattle off a huge list, called the Post 'Before I forget...' and what have I gone and done?

Forgotten.

I think there is such a thing as pregnancy brain. I hope there is.

Pascal had his first friend sleeping over last night. Two little boys exactly the same height running around just being so cute. They slept together in the spare room on the fold out sofa bed and I have to say I made it quite the cosy haven with lamps and soft toys. There was non-stop giggling and bumping noises from that room but it all died down by 10:45pm. I know that's late but at one point I seriously thought they were in it for the long haul.

It just still spins me out that I have given birth to this little person who has his own ideas, sense of humour and relationships.

Pins, Needles & Pregnancy

Well, there you have it, I am pregnant. I'm already pretty much there and the time has flown like the wind, my friends!

The first trimester

But, oh my, how the first 12 weeks did DRRAAAAG.

I was understandably very nervous about another early miscarriage. In the first few weeks of this pregnancy a friend suffered her second early miscarriage and I also knew of a another woman who had two miscarriages before her next baby so I just kind of got it in my head that two miscarriages was normal. So, yeah, despite the nausea (which I didn't have with the previous pregnancy) it was three months of checking my undies for that tiny pink smear. There was even one instance (it's all coming back to me now!) when Asa and I were driving into work and I was certain I was bleeding. I was overcome with this blind fear and put my hand down my pants - yes, in peak hour traffic - there was nothing there but I didn't relax until I got to work and checked properly.

Suffice to say, I was a bundle of noives leading up to the first scan. The actual scan went really well where the sonographer said it was a 'beautiful baby' more than once. The fact I was actually flattered was pretty funny. Of course the baby looked adorable to me but, seriously, how cute can a 12 week old fetus be? Also, suddenly a 3D image came up and that was definitely NOT cute!

I felt so good that even when I was told afterwards that my combined screening put me in the 'increased risk' for down syndrome I was fine, relieved in fact! Here's why...

I had until, the last minute, been torn between having the combined screening or going straight for the CVS. This was mainly due to my age and wanting a diagnostic result that left me with no doubt as to whether my baby had down syndrome or not. Before I got pregnant I was definitely heading down this path. After getting pregnant I began to seriously consider the risk of miscarriage. What's a girl to do? I wanted that 100% assurance but imagining causing a miscarriage of a perfectly healthy baby was making me break out in a cold sweat...

So back to the combined screening result. I had a 1:269 chance of having a baby with down syndrome. That's a 99.6% chance that the baby was normal but it's still considered an increased risk. I was relieved because it meant I felt ok about having further testing but it was a low enough risk for me to feel confident that everything was going to be ok. Even though I could have a CVS straight away I had since gone completely off the idea and was prepared to wait a few weeks for an Amniocentesis.

The second trimester

So, into my second trimester, I still couldn't 'come out' as pregnant. I felt like I had started to show at eleven weeks so waiting another 2 or 3 weeks to tell people was pretty hard. I was getting paranoid thinking that everyone at work was glancing at my belly. After a week or so I just started blurting to people. Like I said, I was feeling pretty confident that everything was going to be ok. I still got a few weird reactions when I told people I was having an amniocentesis. One woman looked at me like I was heading towards imminent tragedy and was all like ' poor thing, oh I hope it's ok' One friend even started telling me stories about amnios that didn't go ok, I mean, seriously some people are just bizarre.

The day came (a Friday) and I was absolutely SHITTING myself. So, sooo nervous. It didn't help that the first thing the Doctor launched into was the risk of miscarriage stats. Then, the one that I thought was a nurse was the one with the needle. Yes, my worst fear was being realised, my amnio was being performed by a student! I didn't say anything at the time and, actually, everything went really quickly and smoothly but I completely broke down when we got outside. Asa was with me and apparently was none the wiser about what just happened while I'm bawling saying 'it was a student, and I was the guinea pig!!!'.

I was emotionally and physically exhausted by the time we got home and went straight to bed. For the whole weekend I was convinced I going to miscarry (you go girl with those positive thoughts!)

I was told that I would get a call on Tuesday with the results. By Monday morning I felt okay enough to go to work but while the miscarriage fear had subsided, I was now beginning to worry about the results. I was going to be at work Tuesday and had actually given the genetic counsellor my number to give me the results there. What kind of madness was this? I thought I'd better call her again to ask her to call me at home with the news on the Wednesday instead. When she answered the phone, it was like she was expecting my call. There was a reason for that...she had just left a message on our home answering machine to say everything was fine!

Oh, and my 19 week scan was fine too! I have also resisted all temptation of finding out what sex I'm having but enjoying the guessing game!

Reasons why I'm having a boy

• In the second ultrasound the sonographer accidentally let slip 'he'. (although I should mention that she apologised profusely and told me she didn't even know what sex it was and called all babies in utero 'he' - BUT could it be a case of 'thou doth protest too much?')
• My pregnancy is exactly the same as it was with Pascal and I'm carrying the same way (i.e. a basketball). I'm 'all baby' and haven't gained much weight so I'm having lots of nonnas and nonnies telling me I'm having a boy.
• Pascal thinks I'm having a boy and aren't kids meant to know?

Reasons why I'm having a girl

• A woman from work who is an 'intuitive healer' believes I'm having a girl. When I told her my news she asked if she could 'read' my baby. She had her hands about a centimetre away from my belly and I felt this incredible warm energy. She then told me that before she read me she felt boy, boy, boy but as soon as she went to my belly she realised it was a girl. She maintains that this girl is enjoying playing tricks on people. Also another woman did the pendulum test with a 'girl' result.
• According to the Internerd Chinese Calendar...it's a girl! (but also according to this calendar so is Pascal)
• When the genetic counsellor told me the news of my amniocentesis results she seemed a bit excited to tell me what sex it was. She knows I have a son already so could this mean she was dying to tell me I now had a daughter as well?
• I am also getting 'girl' from the nonnas and nonnies. Actually, the guesses have been pretty even, I have to say. It's interesting only in that when I was pregnant with Pascal I never had a girl guess.

I am taking everything with a grain of salt. It's ALL a guessing game and to all the people who have guessed - you have a 50% chance of being right...

The third (turd) trimester

So here I am. I have the foulest acid indigestion and very wriggly baby in my belly (he/she is wriggling right now). I have sciatic pain down the front of both my thighs and I'm finding it hard to get my poo out from time to time. Other than that, everything is going really well.

These Barking dogs are driving me batty!

Yes, I am becoming an intolerant old bag in me old age but is there anything more annoying than a dog barking non stop?...

Yes, as it turns out, there is! A squeaky nail in a fence that goes eek eek every 20 seconds with the wind. Then how about the chainsaw that goes on and off for two hours. This was my day today, just a cycle of annoying noises.

Funnily enough, none at the same time. The dog would go on for about an hour, then it was the fence's turn. The wind dies down, then just as I notice this and appreciate it, the guy down the road starts the chainsaw. I'm just about to crack (well, on the inside) and it stops - then return of the barking dog for another hour or two.

Though, right now, it's blissful silence.

I am such an old biddy aren't I?

A whole new world

Well, that was bloody annoying! I finally dredge up the motivation to start writing blog stuff after SIX MONTHS and I can't get into my account. Google thinks I am an imposter and won't send me a password for Schtickless number one. Guess it's my fault for not remembering my password and then going and changing my email address...it was still annoying though.

One plus that comes instantly to mind is that maybe, just maybe, I will become a better blogger out of this. Well, in terms of quantity at least. The impetus that got me blogging again turns out to be the cause of all the shennanigans. We recently have moved from a clunky, unreliable, slow iprimus (in their defense we had a very outdated deal, our modem was on it's last legs and the old copper lines were just, well, old) to fast cable broadband (with wireless modem) care of Optus. The best thing about this is I can catch up with the norties and blog from bed. Handy for a seven and half month pregnant mofo...

And that's where I left poor old shtickless...is she is or is she ain't? Well I wasn't pregnant like I thought I was in that last post which led to a bit of a meltdown and subsequent epiphany. I was DEVASTATED, totally and disproportionately so. Then, THEN I had a complete about-face. I realised that I was trying to replace the baby that I had lost with the miscarriage and had set this rigid 'gotta get pregnant before November' deadline. I came to terms that this was most unlikely immediately (like, I said - an epiphany) and felt something close to elation. It didn't matter if I didn't get pregnant before November 4. It was still going to be a sad date. It didn't matter if I didn't get pregnant in six months or a year. I just knew that I would be fine, that I would get pregnant eventually....and I did. The very next month!