I Can Hardly Bear It.

We’re camping this long weekend and you know how I feel about that. But Husband bought me a new sleeping bag, so things are looking up.

The weather is gorgeous and we did some gardening this morning. After some chores and fighting, we’re hanging out down here and thinking about the tent, even tho the eldest kid is mostly a real fucking shit today and I’m reconsidering everything. Anyhoo. After gardening and listening to the kids fuck about, I remembered to look up images of animal scat, AKA shit, as you do, and it turns out we have one big motherfucker shitting in our yard some of the time, maybe a stag but also maybe a fucking black bear. I’m sorry, what? What? What the fuck? I’m not going to put in the turd pictures but you get the idea.

Anyhoo, black bears are cool, or so I hear. Actually, I have heard nothing for the last 6 six years that we’ve lived here, so, cool, I guess… Anyhoo, bells and whistles (and bear spray) all ’round, I guess.

To the rescue

Advertisements

Thirty-Nine

Today I am 39. 

I went out on the weekend and my friend danced me around and whooped and all that jazz when the DJ did the birthday shout outs. A guy and his gf “awww”ed and asked me how old I was, as though I was a widdle baby and how cute, OR as though I was Betty White and still sticking it to the man after all these years. I told him I was 39 but it might have sounded like 29. He might have thought I looked fucking old for 29 or he might have thought I was lying. Whatever, dude. 

Anyway.

Today I went off to the gym and came home to a surprise breakfast downtown, and then had a timely nap before work! Best morning ever?! Only there was 3 cakes at work for me today. Seriously. I brought one home and you wouldn’t believe how good it smells.

Home-made German Chocolate Cake

So it’s been a fine day, one that I’m appreciative of and thankful for. So much so, without sounding like a complete prat, that I’ve been stepping over occasional pennies on the street because I’m lucky enough, and someone else needs the idea of those pennies to help them along. I don’t need to hog all the good things, so I hope someone grabs those pennies and has cake, too.

Minecrafting

Now he is 11

There was little fanfair because he had friends over and with a bit of attitude and shenanigans with tattling about a machete, we didn’t end up singing happy birthday, either. We gave him his present last week so there’s not been much birthdayness, it feels like. Anyhoo. Today will be better.

Except there’s a wind warning and rain up the yin-yang on the way, 😣. I will make it work but ffs, it would be great if things could just chill, including the two knuckleheads beside me trying their darndest to hurt each other.

His obsession with minecraft persists so that’s what we’re going with. Much as he would love to just play screens with friends for hours on end, my idea is a real-life minecraft adventure. Pinterest is the go-to, of course, coupled with my brain and the resultant lovechild is a life-size zombie villager getting the stuffing (gold coin chocolates) beaten out of him and archery target practice on a cardboard creeper. Let me tell you, give yourself a bit more than 4 days to pull this shit together and if the kid can’t make up his mind well beforehand, it’s curtains for this sort of thing in the future.

I put these guys together with string – punched a few holes and tied them together

Painting those squares was a pain in my ass. I also don’t have black paint so no bastard has eyes.

Our yard is on a hill, so the plan is to hide stuff along the way down the hill, including potions, gold, string, power ups and wooden planks. Husband eventually cut the pieces for the crafting table, so, let’s see how that goes.

🎶We sang Happy Birthday when opening presents🎶

The weather held off and there were excited squeals and static through the walkie-talkie when they finally took down the zombie and found the chocolate. 

I’m assuming he is in pieces after the fact

The boys collected the carrots, strawberries, potions and arrows, and wood for the crafting table. Let me tell you, the craftmanship of 10-11yos leaves much to be desired but the thing was put together and sticks and stones were on the surface in various patterns in short order.

Minecraft recipes resulted in the conjuring of a cake, gold nuggets and a bow for those arrows. 

And then the rain came, and that was fine. Boys were only slightly rumpled and muddy, but with cake and chocolate in their bellies, so no big deal. No one cares for hot dogs after slugging creepers and getting rained on, but I guess that’s okay.

Pinkies Up!

Hallooo! Tea time is never tea time without pinkies and hats, and sugar cubes, too, but that’s one thing I did forget, doh!

Have you seen those rude teacups circulating online? I was tagged in those posts by friends a few times because apparently, I’m a bit rude. No offense taken. I loved the cups and thought to buy some but they were a bit pricey for me, so I did what I do and that is, I made them myself.

I found a few online tutorials for sharpie mugs and voila!

I found the oil paint sharpies online and coincidentally snagged some old cups my office was turfing. It was good to practice using the pens coz sometimes too much came out from that pressure-point tip! Anyhoo, you can wipe off any mistakes (and you should clean the cups beforehand) with alcohol wipes. If you don’t have a box of those lying around, they’re easy enough to find at a pharmacy or, I don’t know, probably a grocery store or walmart next to the double-guage shotguns or something. I made a few mistakes and then wiped them off, no sweat.

When I was happy with the final result, I lined them up, all pretty like, and forgot about them for three days and then popped them bitches in the oven for the recommended half hour or so, at 400F or so. The thing to remember is to put them in before heating up the oven, and take them out after it has cooled.

I was going to make a pretty rude menu but the fucking printer wouldn’t work because of missing printer drivers, or some other bullshit. I’ve managed to set it up again now, just in time to print 200 school valentines, but I missed the boat on the rude menu. Sad!

We had a lovely time and one of my friends swore in front of my kids, ha! Of course, those fuckers have heard it all before. Context, people! Husband also walked in during our tete e fucking tete with a well-timed “What’s up, bitches” and then we laughed and laughed and told him to fuck off. It was lovely. 10/10 fucks to give for this little party.

Trust Issues, Much?

I’m reading The Good Widow by Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke. It’s good. It’s about a woman whose husband dies in a place he wasn’t meant to be. He travels for work. Sound familiar? Yep, that’s my life, except for the dead bit. So now she’s asking herself all the trust questions and it’s terrible because she’ll never get answers. I could ask those questions, but we never really know, do we? It’s the trust issue, take it all on faith or don’t, there’s no in between. Well I guess there is, if you’re someone who goes through their spouse’s phone or computer, or pockets and wallet and junk in those spaces in the csr. I don’t. A) because I’ve got too much junk myself, but also Ive got better things to do, but perhaps that’s just because I’m on the faith side of things. Aside from vows, you trust or you don’t. If you’re a pick-pocket when they come home, are you ever really satisfied depending on what you do or don’t find?

The other day I was talking to the boys about secret lives, I cant remember why. I went with the secret agent tack, rather than the cheating spouse with a new family in every time zone angle. I used True Lies as an example. I love that movie. The boys were skeptical as I made my arguments for Husband being some sort of spy. 

Everything fits, when you look at it like that – the travelling, vague stories, phone calls from exotic locales, suitcases that have seen better days and that he doesn’t share his suitcase with us when we do travel as a family. It’s all a cover. 

Anyhoo, I’m excited to keep reading and find out how everything goes more pear-shaped. Because that’s the only way it can play out now, isn’t it?

The Canned Goods

We are all going to die in a raging inferno, in case you haven’t heard. Or it might be a tidal wave or some other terrible fate as a result of a long overdue earthquake. That’s what I’m gleaning from the news, anyway. The real take away for me, besides inevitable death, is that the water will be contaminated by battery acid and fuel since all the storage and chemical warehouses etc, will also be wracked and ruined, so my precious lifestraws won’t be of any use at all, woe! So we’ve started storing water but if the house is going to fall down on top of it all, what are we to do? I should start hoarding booze because I could probably slurp that off the ground and not care about germs etc. Not so with water, I hear.

Back in the day, read: well before children, Husband and I were in Sydney living the high life and thin, so thin! But there was a bit of terrorist stuff in the news so we started talking about our game plan. Basically it was not a plan but a small, insulated bag with a bottle of water and a couple of tins of braised steak and onions, very similar to something made by Dinty Moore except waaay tastier. 

We’ve upped our game in the last few years but we got complacent, as you do, and haven’t really cycled through it as we should, instead, just adding to it. So last night, when the kids asked about dinner and decried my suggestion of sausages, I suggested we raid the emergency food supplies, and they were on board.

What did they eat first? Canned sausage, fuckers. Most of the canned stuff was not gf and 7yo got a but whiny, so he’ll probably die first in the event of an actual disaster scenario. 10yo has always been a but picky, so he’ll come a close second. 9yo was a bit more adventurous and tried a can of spagetti-os and some shitty mac and cheese. Now he realises that all the good food we eat is very good, and the canned stuff is not. “But Mom, why would we eat this stuff?” started the conversation about out of commission roads and empty shops and lunatics with guns. I ate a can of that Dinty Moore and bring me back the braised steak and onions, I say! That stuff was dog food. I also ate ate some scalloped potatoes, and after living to tell the tale, I do not recommend.

Of course, everyone does what’s right for their family but the box I ate last night was a) expired, b) too much and c) tasted like detergent. But sure, in the event of catastrophe, I might just be hungry enough to eat it again.

There were no horrendous, psychadelic turds this morning, that I heard about, so life goes on and we’ll try and make tastier choices when we next go shopping, I guess?

Time On My Hands

Yesterday I got an early mark from work. Remember those? In school? Well, in primary/elementary school, anyway. It was always so exciting to get out 5 or 10 or even a whopping 15 minutes early. So much opportunity when we weren’t picking glue paste off our hands or packing away the math tiles etc at the end of the day. Well, yesterday I finished a whole hour GASP right?! I know, a whole hour earlier since I started earlier. Hmm, whatevs, it doesnt sound as exciting when I say that. Anyhoo. I got an early mark, and the question on my mind that whopping 15 minutes before the imaginary bell went off for home-time was just what was I going to do with myself?

There’s always things that need doing – laundry, groceries, picking the kids up and starting homework – but there’s also the things I want to do – grab a drink at the bar, get something from the candy store, maybe jasmine tea and a scone at a cafe, browse a bookstore, etc etc etc etc etc. Should I cram in all the things I need to do and then rush around for the other things, or do what needs doing and then relax? Of course, I often find that doing all the things leaves no interest in doing my things afterwards, which is why my house is a pigsty – I care more about the fun stuff than the other stuff because there’s always more of the unfun stuff and it can piss off or take a number while I’m taking care of the good stuff. Yesterday, however, I made a more sensible decision.

So I dodged the bar and went straight to the candy store, didn’t make eye contact with the window-sitters in the cafe and headed to the book store.

let’s pretend that’s the only treat I ate

And then I did groceries and picked up the kids. Of course, being picked up early from the 2.5hrs of aftercare at school that they supposedly hate when Husband is out of town went down like a ton of bricks… “Omg you’re too early” etc. Sheesh! I made it up to them by telling them we could eat expired food from cans for dinner, but that’s another story.

So the moral of this story is live free or die; or, there’s always groceries and laundry so eat chocolate and go to the bookstore first.