Apocalypse Now

By the time you read this, I could be dead, or very badly hurt, or just badly hurt. Or certainly embarrassed. It’s Saturday and Husband and I are off to another Warrior Dash. The weather appears to be closing in and it may be a sign of my, at least, impending doom.

Impending doom?

I’m out of shape and often out of humor for exercise, save for the foregone conclusion of a drink or two afterwards. So why did I agree to be a part of the continuing trend of trying not to hurt yourself in some sort of event that aims to hurt you? Ask me again in a couple of hours when it’s all over red rover. I’ll be (hospitalized) euphoric that I’m a) alive, b) unscathed and c) choc full of those hormones that pump through your body because of a) and b).
This is my last year of competition, though, unless I rev up my gym visits and stop hurting myself when I try a few sets of push-ups (true story).

Today we are going for the super hero mindset, so I’m dressed accordingly.

Transformation complete

I’ve tossed around the idea of dressing as She Ra for halloween but the shirt may well be ruined after this little outing. Someone please alert my parents if there are no subsequent check-ins later today, or at least, check the hospitals.

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Kombucha Time, Again

It’s no secret I like to make my own stuff – clothes, granola, people, you name it.

I’ve made kombucha before, as well, but fell off the wagon when I turned my tiny attention span in other directions. But now, as old age places its sticky fingers on my horizon, bringing with it uncool older people problems like an occasionally sluggish gut, moodier swings and real hangovers, I need to get back to the good stuff. I need to take a bit of extra care so my farts can fart instead of getting caught up on polyps or something, or even worse, I have to stop eating more foods that I love but that don’t love me back, like onions, garlic, potato and broccoli.

Anyhoo, back to the Kombucha. You can find loads of good recipes online but I’m keeping it clean this time, whereas before I did secondary fermentations – totes delish but time-consumimg in a way I can’t support.

Black tea – about a quart or two, a cup or two of sugar. Let it cool all the way down, probs overnight. Pour the remains of a store-bought kombucha with the mothery gunk floating in it, or try craigslist and risk getting a jar of someone’s boogers. Cover it up because bugs love that shit.

Leave it in a warmish place but out of direct light for a few weeks, then enjoy that vinegary soda all you like.
Secondary fermentations involve pouring the kombucha tea into another jar or bottle etc and adding cut up fruit – the best I made was with asian pear or fig, can’t remember which. It was the right combo of fruity sweet flavour and soda-y bubbles. Except it got a bit shook up and basically exploded on me when I chanced opening it. I have also juiced fruits and veges and added it to the kombucha tea, very nice.

Always keep your kombucha mother in her own jar, don’t add anything except the room temp black tea and dissolved sugar. The mother is always separate from whatever you may add to the drinking tea.

When you’ve drained off the kombucha for drinking, make more black tea and add it so the old girl doesn’t shrivel up and die, though from what I’ve seen of the Beverley Hillbillies, she’ll be tough as nails and twice as strong.

Another Dynamite Party

So. I have a 9yo. He has long hair and smells like a man more often than he realises. We decided on a Napoleon Dynanite theme for his party a while back, but he changed his mind and I had to work on him to change it back because how cool would a Napoleon Dynamite birthday party be??? Seriously, tots, ligers and friendship bracelets, that movie has it all. And so did his party!

Husband bought a shitload of tots and fish fingers, AKA delicious bass. 

We had the obligatory cake and healthy snacks, too, from Tina (that fat lard)’s garden.

I was so glad that a handful of people took advantage of the Deb’s Glamor station, there were heaps of kids “finding their season”.

And you wouldn’t believe how busy the friendship bracelet station was!  I guess everyone wants Pedro’s protection. This shot taken while one of the Mamas had room to breathe.

 I also made up some Rex Kwon Do tattoos with the diy papers I bought from amazon, but the brand I ordered this time wasn’t as reliable as last time. 

Luckily Rex put in an appearance with Uncle Rico, and he helped with the pinata!

Obviously, we couldn’t have a pinata of a girl, regardless of what goes on in Juarez, so I made a rainbow and the kids took turns beating the shit out of it. I’m done with candy, I don’t need that at a party full of under 10s, so I had badges made that said VOTE FOR PEDRO and they were a hit. Mission accomplished!

Milk-tasting, 

a sketching station and then the movie itself, what a fun afternoon. And the mark of every fun party is when one of the dads falls asleep on the couch.

Reasons I Hate Camping This Time Around

Or why I am a terrible human bean, because Husband does a good job of packing most things and maybe it’s not really so heinous.

My sleeping bag: swaddled in nylon, and not the cute vintage nightgown type, but the padded tarpaulin that doesn’t breathe and makes my vagina swampy because of the not breathing, not natural fabric, type nylon.

The weather: Hot and soupy in the bus, then freezing in the night so I wake and double-check the boys are covered since they weren’t before when it was hot af, and not be able to get back to sleep.

My sleeping bag: it makes lots of noise because of the tarpaulin thing, which keeps me awake and wakes me up every time I fucking move or breathe.

People: they start their diesel engined RVs rudely early, which wakes me up and because I can see outside, it stops my brain from going back to sleep, so… fuck those guys.

Packing: I always forget that I want to clean my ears after swimming or just baking in my sleeping bag and I don’t bring any cotton tips. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not not an outdoor girl, but I respect outdoors when I can come indoors and wash it all away. And also, I guess I need a new sleeping bag.

The Different Summer

There are only 2 weeks left until school starts! I am in two minds about this because the kids drive me mad quite a bit, but also, I haven’t had half as much quality time with them this year, as in previous years. I had a nice week here and there, but that’s it. There were no themed-camp weeks, or gardening, or much else. There was fuck all, really. But there were life lessons in there, anyway, as there are for any who might look for the silver lining.

My kids are not the centre of the universe: I like to think that they knew this already, since I’ve never dropped anything to be at their beck and call, but since I’m working and they are home with Husband, who is also working but just from home, I’m not available to them. They’ve had to make their own adventures, which I think they’ve done in the past, anyway, but let’s face it, my adventures kick ass! They have learned that they fit into a social fabric, rather than being the yarn of the fabric, or whatever other metaphor you like. 

Their actions have consequences: Again, I think they knew this but they surely had it reinforced when I came home in the afternoon/early evenings and if they were dicks, they would hear about it! 

If something hadn’t been done by the time I got home that I had asked about in the mornings, then get thee to bed, devils. 
There’s not always enough time: We ran out of time for pretty much everything this summer, and we all had to just deal. We all wanted playdates and day trips and creative opportunities. There were half as many daytrips and a mere tenth of the number of playdates we would have liked, but with soon-to-be 9yos birthday coming up, we hope to rectify that a little with a stupidly large party that includes two classes, at least that’s an opportunity for some creativity.

I can’t imagine that next summer will be any different, but maybe we’ll be used to it by then?

The Order Of The Day

Besides no whining about screens? Fun! It’s eclipse day and the sky is clear, so clear and bright. We have our pimped out solar glasses and are just trying to figure out where the moon is. We’ve used the glasses a few times already, looking at the sun in all its sunny glory, so we’re good and not blind.

But what does one wear to the end of the world/eclipse? Something flowy, obvs.

What does one listen to during an eclipse? Something loud.

And what does one drink? Something bubbly!

And eat? Duh, everything.

See you on the other side, peeps.

Good Morning

This morning I have woken up in 2004, in a studio apartment.  Last night I slept in my HQ, which is a spare bedroom upstairs where I have my sewing stuff and a too-small table to spread out my notes and papers. 

I dragged the boys to a small hardware store yesterday for vacuum bags for the ants but they didn’t have the right size. So after we came back from a birthday party and then a burger joint, I dragged my tired ass upstairs and crawled into bed with this guy.

This morning, I am surrounded by most things I had in that teeny apartment more than a decade ago, when I moved to Sydney to start my grown up life in the big smoke: bathroom, desk, ironing board, wardrobe, and clothes strewn hell to breakfast. The only thing I lack up here is a kitchen. On the other hand, I’ve got some thought-provoking art that I didn’t have back then.

Even someone talking in their sleep in the next room, last night, reminded me of those days, because my studio was a renovated sun room or etc, on the back of a house with a couple of roommates in there. But someone complaining loudly about not being able to play minecraft had me crashing back to reality, and I need to tidy up the kitchen or Husband will lose his shit when he comes home today. We met a few months after I moved into that appartment, he was a little less vocal about my mess.