The Blog with the looking forward

It's nearly the new year. It's nearly 2009. Time to look back on the year that just was and reflect on where it took us, what we learned, what we gained, what didn't work. Time to put those reflections to use in determining where we want to be, what we want.

More so for me is the approaching 40th anniversary of my presence on this earth. Where is my life headed, where do I want to be, what do I WANT. These and many other questions are unanswered. Signs along the way are pointing me in different directions and for once I am at a crossroads and my gut is not telling me which way to go. I have relied on gut feelings for 39.8 years now and all of a sudden it's very very quiet. I feel adrift at sea.

My gut feeling was always the umpire between what my heart wanted and what my head told me I needed. It always had the last and final say. Yet curiously now it is letting my heart and my head go to war. Is this good? Is this productive? NO it's not. I need an answer and I need it NOW.

I have been presented with things I want but know I cannot have. Do I take what I CAN have and be happy with that? Or do I hold off - possibly FOREVER - in the hope that I find something I WANT and can HAVE? Or am I being completely selfish?

Hmmmmp a new year brings more frustration with it than I think I can deal with. Perhaps I will just bury my head in the sand until 2010 - surely things will be fixed by then????

The Blog with the Crying

I cried. A lot. It was so sad, yet uplifting at the same time. I cried at Carson Kressley and his "How to Look Good Naked". I cried for the woman who discovered her inner sexiness. I cried cos Carson makes me laugh and was not with me making ME feel good naked. I cried cos she got lots of money to buy new clothes. I cried cos she got her hair and makeup done professionally.

Then I heard a Christmas carol and that made me cry some more. Peace on earth and Goodwill towards man has never seemed so far out of grasp. Then I cried a little bit more cos for the third year in a row boy child will not have complete family together at Christmas time. I cried cos that's probably my fault. Then I cried cos I couldn't find my non rotating non musical playing fibre-optic Christmas tree. I remembered I stored it at my mum's house and that made me cry some more. For the fifth year in a row Christmas will be without my Dad. And I cried a lot more.

Then I remembered the thousands of people who are worse off than me. The ones who don't have a christmas tree to put up, those that cannot afford to put the presents underneath. Those who have terminally ill children who will spend this holiday at various hospitals around the world praying that their child will survive. I then spared a thought for the hundreds of people gathering at hospices watching their loved ones slowly drift away. Illness does not take a holiday. For the thousands of people who will spend this holiday alone and lonely. And I thanked my God for the gift of my family and my wonderful friends here and in far flung corners of the world who love me. And I stopped crying for myself and the tears were for others......

K

The Blog with Christmas

Christmas is coming.

I just realised. I have managed so far to avoid the reminders on television, in store, in junk mail, even the wailings of boy child in the form of "mum for christmas can I............." did not penetrate the recesses of mind.

It was a rude SHOCK then to hear mutterings of "yes I have my tree up" "yes I'm nearly finished all my shopping"

O
M
F
G

Frantic phone calls to family and I have managed to whittle the gift list down to children only. A few more phone calls and some follow up emails and I have narrowed it further to children of immediate family only. Given that I only have boy child and one niece I am moderately happy with this. One more phone call to my sister though and I think I can break her. At the very least I will do the "I don't know what to get her - YOU buy it and I will give you the money".

The two gifts I have purchased so far I have bought online and had them delivered to my door. I have located fibreoptic christmas tree (that only requires a couple of gold balls, a gold star and an artistically chucked string of gold beads to look like it belongs in a fucking gallery) and have her ready to go.

I have opted for Christmas Emails rather than cards this year. Pity I only have 8 email addresses - ho hum - it's the thought that counts!

The next task on my list is to offer to have Christmas lunch at my house. SHOCK HORROR you say? No there is a definate method to my madness. Given my immediate family is very small (6 in all including boy child and niece) its not THAT huge a deal. Plus because I am so busy working full time, raising a family (*cough*), blogging etc etc - I am confident my Mum will be at the ready to lend a hand and help her daughter out ie doing things like buying the food - cooking most of the food at her house the day before - bringing the food over Christmas morning - you know that type of "mum" help.

So as I was saying - I'm all ready for Christmas this year - yep all organised. BRING IT!

Faaaa la la la la la la la laaaaaaaaaaaa.

The Blog with the IPOD Shuffle

Because I'm bored and because I might have been just a LITTLE curious - what song my IPOD landed on in shuffle mode:-

If someone says, “Is this okay?” you say? "Lean On Me"
Of course.......
What best describes your personality? "Big Shot" Billy Joel
Ha ha ha
What do you look for in a guy? "Wisemen" James Blunt
Which is why I'm still looking..........
How do you feel today? "Beds are Burning" Midnight Oil
Apparently hostile
What is your life’s purpose? "Sway" Michael Buble
Yep thats me........dancing queen
What is your motto? "Beautiful Day" U2
Ok now THIS is true - cos each day IS beautiful
What do your friends think of you? "This is how a heart breaks" Rob Thomas
Riiiiiight
What do you think about often? "Nothing Else Matters" Metallica
air head apparently
What do you think of your best friend? "It had to be You" Rod Stewart
Awwwww
What do you think of the person you like? "Fall at your Feet" Crowded House
But I won't - not this time
What is your life story? "Destination Anywhere" The Committments
eh?
What do you want to be when you grow up? "Fast Car" Tracy Chapman
Yes I want to be an automobile when I grow up
What do you think when you see the person you like? "Smooth Criminal"
Ok so maybe just SMOOOOOTH
What do your parents think of you? "Would I Lie to You" Eurythmics
And I NEVER did..........
What will you dance to at your wedding? "Born to Run" Springsteen
HAHAHAHAHA
What will they play at your funeral? "Crazy little thing called Love" Queen
I need to speak to whomever will be in charge
What is your biggest secret? "Long Day" Matchbox 20
Thats a HUGE secret
What do you think of your friends? "Lonely no More" Rob Thomas
again awwwwww
What is the worst thing that could happen? "Play that funky Music" KC & Sunshine Band
mmmmmm
How will you die? "Fly to High" Janis Ian
*cancels flights*
What is the one thing you regret? "Some Girls" Racey
some FRIENDS this must mean
What makes you laugh? "Goodbye my Lover" James Blunt
Yes I'm getting good at being ditched
What makes you cry? "Forgotten Years" Midnight Oil
*sniff*
Will you ever get married? "Iris" Goo Goo Dolls
Typical I knew I would have to be a lesbian to ever get married again
What scares you the most? "Better Man" Robbie Williams
Yeah ok thats a bit of an omen
Does anyone like you? "Original Sin" INXS
A sinner apparently
If you could go back in time what would you change? "Take me Back" Noiseworks
apparently I'm not telling - just take me back
What hurts right now? "Bittersweet Symphony" The Verve
this is too deep for this time of day
What will you post this as? "And She Was" Talking Heads
I will?
How much has this made you laugh? "Are you Old Enough" Dragon
Toy boy apparently next on list..........

If nothing else I have wasted 15 minutes of my life and realised I need to update my IPOD.

Ciao!

The Blog with the Bone to Pick

I have a Bone to Pick. I have a complaint. Now in the normal scheme of things I would dash to my email program and shoot off a missive of abuse to whomever had inspired my wrath.

God or Mother Nature or that Higher Being I do not believe, although I could be mistaken, have email addresses. Nor are they on skype. No mobile phone number. No home phone number. No fax machine. No PO Box address. I mean in this day and age? Really!

I want to talk to the person in charge of the production line they day they made me. Sombody has a real warped sense of humour and is right at this minute kicking back laughing their arse off at me. I want to know the following things:-

WHY bestow upon a being a love of the outdoors and gardening - and throw in spring/summer/autumn allergies?????

WHY bestow upon a being a love of the beach and the sun (and indeed plonk that person in Australia 5 minutes from the beach) and make her a red head with freckles and pale skin?

WHY bestow upon a being the love of parties, booze, dancing, booze, partying, alcohol, raging, dancing, wine, dancing bare foot, scotch, beer, dancing barefoot until 4 in the morning, cocktails, dancing barefoot until 4 in the morning whilst holding beer and not spilling any, wearing a flouncy skirt and dancing barefoot until 4 in the morning thinking one can legimately dance latin style whilst flicking around flouncy skirt and holding beer and THEN make her suffer for 4 days?

OK so mother nature probably was NOT responsible for that last one - but I figure while I am complaining I might as well just throw that one in.

So if ANYBODY has a address, contact number etc etc where I can forward my complaint - please advise me of same.

K

The Blog with the Tearing

I'm torn. In three different ways. My emotions are letting me down and not leading me where I know my brain says I should go. My heart is leading. This is bad. I'm not sure when my heart got to be in charge of this ship and in fact who the hell put it in charge. There was mutiny in "Kathland" and nobody bothered to inform me?

My sensible brain type being has always had control. But alas, no more. My heart is pulling the strings like I was a 16 year old and common sense "be DAMNED!"

The trouble is I have a lot more to lose than a 16 year old. Will my heart recognise this? Will it make due recalculations based on the 39 year old body it is leading? Or will it, as I suspect, not bother with trival information such as age, mortage, mother of teenage boy etc etc and lead me where temptation is not only rife but where my being longs to be?

Somebody once said "youth is wasted on the young" - I now think maybe "youthfulness is wasted on the middleage" is more the point.

Why am I so scared?

The Blog with the Injury

I have done some stupid things in my time.

Nearly drowned while surfing. Fallen down a spiral staircase. Received internal injuries from a hurdle being set up wrong (ok so that was not MY stupidity - just somebody else's). Knocked myself out cold walking into a door.

All of those stupid things have paled into comparison at what occurred 10 minutes ago.

I was in the kitchen - preparing food. My mind I admit was wandering off somewhere else but how much concentration do you need to prepare a salad? Not like I have not done it 25,000 times before. Get salad vegetables - get knife - chop. It's not exactly brain surgery.

A few minutes into the preparation of said salad I felt the most excruciating pain in my finger. I, for a moment, was too afraid to look. Sure as I was that I would be confronted with 3 gallons of blood and half my finger hanging on by a tiny blood vessel. Hell that was the GOOD scenario - the other part of me imagined having to rummage around in the salad bowl for the severed part of my finger so that microsurgeons could attempt to reattach it. I could have offered the ambulance drivers a nice salad for their trouble?

As all of these things flashed through my mind I was also making plans for having boy child looked after during my extended stay in hospital - work commitments - who would feed Ms. Lynxy Mynx. These thoughts took place obviously within a few microseconds but by the time I steeled myself to look down I had it all planned.

The site that greeted me was an odd one.

My finger was still there. There was no blood. I did find a tiny little thorn from a cucumber sitting daintily on my finger - JUST having broken the skin.

I felt so cheated that I had wasted precious brain power on plans for my surgery and hospital stay that I was sorely tempted to actually cut my fucking finger off on purpose. Also I am strangely let down that I won't be fussed and fawned over.

Obviously I must work on my pain threshold!

K

The Blog with the All.....or the nothing

I am all or nothing. That's what I am. That's who I am.

You either get 100% of me or you get nothing. I will take 100% of you or I will want nothing.

This I am coming to understand, is a very very bad way to be.

It was fine when I was say........eight. When your best friend for the day could be someone you never met before - but you gave 100% of yourself to that friendship. Of course it was over the next day when you found a NEW best friend. Things apparently don't work like that in the adult world.

And its not just friendships. In every day life I am constantly on either end of the spectrum. Applying myself at work so that I am in danger of winning "Employee of the Week" award. Two days later I sit staring at the computer monitor not having the energy to answer an email. I constantly have good intentions in terms of lifestyle changes that I KNOW I need to make. These intentions last about as long as a bottle of wine lasts in my house.

Somebody recently told me to the apply the 80/20 rule. If 80% of the time I am doing the right thing then for 20% of the time I can do the wrong thing. I like this in theory. In reality I have ZERO hope of ever getting to being 80% good. I can do the 100/0 thing or the 0/100 thing. It's just all the numbers in between I struggle with!

The quandary is that neither the 100/0 thing or the 0/100 is making me happy and I have no clue how to change it.

K
(Today's post sponsored and brought to you courtesy of insidious non leaving virus and free radical hormones - thank you and goodnight)

The Blog with the Birthday

I am staring down the barrel at forty. In February. Six months away. But it's still STARING. And I like to be prepared.

I am actually looking forward to this birthday. Well in comparison to how I felt when I turned 30. When I turned 30 I had a slight meltdown. I had no idea why at the time. I now realise it was because somewhere deep in my subconscious I knew how dreadfully unhappy and unfulfilled I was in my life.

So what does a 30 year old unhappy working mother do? Why she rushes out and gets a tattoo of course! Didn't really matter WHAT the tattoo was but she sure as hell got her some nice ink!!!

The end result was a tiny rosebud surrounded by green leaves on the small of my back. I love it. My issue is that its VERY small and because I am over 25 and dont wear little hipster pants - nobody sees it. My other issue is that although I like the tattoo well enough - it really doesn't MEAN anything special to me. Its just a rosebud.

The thought occurred to me recently that for my 40th birthday I should get another tattoo. I mean why ruin a tradition that has occurred um....once?

So I googled. I love google. Google brings the world to my fingertips. Google had some wonderful tattoo information. Google has advised me of the following:-

"Within Hinduism and Buddhism the lotus flower has become a symbol for awakening to the spiritual reality of life. The meaning varies slightly between the two religions of course but essentially both religious traditions place importance on the lotus flower.

In modern times the meaning of a lotus flower tattoo ties into it's religious symbolism and meaning. Most tattoo enthusiasts feel that the lotus tattoo represents life in general. As the lotus flower grows up from the mud into a object of great beauty people also grow and change into something more beautiful. So the symbol represents the struggle of life at its most basic form.

Lotus flower tattoos are popular for people who have gone through a hard time and are now coming out of it. Like the flower they have been at the bottom in the muddy, yucky dirty bottom of the pond but have risen above this to display an object of beauty or a life of beauty as the case might be. Thus a lotus flower tattoo can represent a hard time in life that has been overcome."

If I searched the internet for the next five thousand YEARS I am not sure I would come up with something more fitting for me than the lotus flower. It's been a damn hard ten years and with my 40th birthday comes a sense of finally being on the right track.

So very soon I will venture once again to my tattooist - and her task this time will be to transform my rosebud into a larger and much more special Lotus Flower. Representing the ten years of soul searching and life changes I have made!

The Blog with the Bragging

I don't often extol the virtues of Boy Child publicly. Quite often that is due to the fact that at 15 he often displays a distinct lack of virtuous qualities. However he is my Boy Child and of course I love him to bits.

Every now and then though I have a complete "mummy meltdown". My mummy meltdowns can be caused by anything from:- remembering when I yelled at him when he was 4 for something he didnt do; remembering times when his podgy dirty little toddler hands would seek mine out because he liked nothing better than holding hands with his mum; his first christmas; first tooth; first EVERYTHING.

I have been in the throws of a mummy meltdown that has lasted about a week now. Dropping him off at the station for school recently I secretly watched him with his friends. I like his friends. For the most part they are good decent kids. They have made many many errors in judgement. Buying condoms in year 7 and blowing them up on their heads at school was not a good choice. Neither was the chili eating competition they partook in. But always - teachers pointing out to me that they are not BAD kids - but just KIDS.

Watching these 15 year olds was like glimpsing into the future at what he will become. The backslapping that men do effortlessly has started already. The casual laughing and joking and confidence they oozed is a sign of things to come and then I realised something. While my parenting days are far from over - in fact are they ever over? - I realise that what I am looking at now is the result of the last 15 years. 15 years of my constantly thinking I am the Worlds Worst Mother. But you know something? I have done a DAMN GOOD JOB!! I am reaping what I sowed and I am loving the result.

So this post is a dedication to my lovely Boy Child. Last week he played in his first ever Football Grandfinal. Unfortunately they lost but its the spirit in which the game was played that's the important thing.

Here is boy child (red hair) being attended to by a trainer for yet another injury!!! Isn't he a handsome thing?

Now if only my damn hormones would level out again I can get back to normal!!!!

Cheers

The Blog with the Guilt............

I have neglected my blogging. I am guilty of Blog Neglect. This in turn creates Blog Guilt. This gets added and tucked away with My space guilt, Email guilt, IM guilt, phone call guilt and last but not least "calling in to see friends for coffee" guilt (I shall refrain from mentioning non vacuuming of floors guilt, ring around bath guilt, boy child wearing underwear inside out and back to front because of non washing guilt and assorted housework related guilt).

I caught the tail end of a psychologist on telly the other day - as I happened to walk past the television which was entertaining ....um.....well nobody - I heard the words "blah blah blah guilt is the most noxious of emotions blah blah blah". Now obviously there was probably more to the sentence but my brain, as it has a habit of doing, only took in what it wanted to hear. It started me thinking.

I have lived with that noxious emotion for the last 3 years. Side by side, right up there with any happiness I had or joy or sadness, was that ever lurking shadow of guilt. The reasons the guilt was there really isn't a story for this Blog by suffice to say it overtook my life. My actions on a day to day basis were controlled by this emotion. I was held captive by it to the point it almost overtook my very existence.

I had reason recently to tell a friend "you must get rid of the guilt - it will kill you". I only realised then that it very nearly had done that to me.

Something has shifted for me over the last few weeks. No one event made this happen but rather a chain of things that set in place a reaction that I could feel was, whilst not removing it, containing it. Squishing it up into a little box - right there in my brain with all the rest - but CONTAINED. I can sort of make out what could possibly be that elusive light at the end of the tunnel. There is so much more work to be done for me to make it out the other end of that tunnel but I feel more confident than I have for a very very long time that I am capable of making that journey.

Each epic journey starts with but a single step right?

K

The Blog with the School Report

Boy Child's school report for half year came home around 4 weeks ago. I read it - drank wine after reading it - lied about it to people - then put it away never to see the light of day again.

However today, for some odd reason, I mentioned a comment from the report - and it made me laugh. It made me REALLY laugh. So much so that I raced home and pulled boy child's report out from storage and laughed and laughed. So if it is ok with the two people who actually read the crap that I write - I would like to share with you.

"Discovery" (new age term for maths and science) - Boy Child (obviously they used his real name - they don't actually call him Boy Child - but names and places have been changed to protect the innocent - can you tell I have been drinking whilst blogging?) um Has demonstrated good understanding blah blah blah he should ensure "assessment tasks contain the necessary depth of analysis" HELLO? the child is a MALE!

"Communication" (new term for English and everything else) Boy Child needs to improve on time management skills. Like - don't we ALL?

"The Writings on the Wall" - (his graffiti elective - I kid you not) Oh he excelled - fabulous I will make sure I bring said report to police station when I have to bail him out.

"Cabinet Making" - well he got good scores - I still dont see no cabinet that was made?

"Sport and Advance Sport" We love Boy Child - The sun shines outta Boy Child's Bottom - he is a born leader AND follower and we just want 25 Boy Childs in our class. (they are so gonna have him on their doorstep for Christmas)

"Living Experience" Mmmmm Boy Child had some issues here. He could not concentrate on task at hand (he is male afterall), he needs to utilise his time more effectively (not that he is training to be a man and spend all afternoon in his garage or anything) Boy Child could improve his results by asking teachers for help (HA like men asking for directions?) He has displayed limited understanding of employment and living convetions (um hello? the child is 14) He exhibits limited knowledge of household budgeting, job application and interviewing (did I mention the fact that he is 14? most ADULTS can't fucking budget a household let alone hold a job down!) On the up side he WAS well presented (in WHOSE eyes was this judged I would like to know?) and has an explemplary work ethic - pity he can't actually get a fucking job with his shit interviewing skills!

OK so at the end of the day I have had a GREAT belly laugh at the crap that goes into reports - I am sure some teacher out there will take me to task - but HONESTLY do we REALLY want our 14 year olds to know how to budget a household? I know personally I would prefer him to know how to have FUN - as he is STILL a child.

She'll be right!!!!

The Blog with Day Three..............

Achievements made over the last 72 hours:-

Have not smoked
Have ingested so many litres of water am now spying webbing between my toes
Have eaten only healthy non fattening non tasting wholesome food
Have reduced caffeine intake by 80%
Have increased exercise from zero minutes a day to 50 minutes a day
Have reduced alcohol consumption by 50% (sobs)

What the freaking hell was I THINKING???????????????

The Blog with the Disability

I have a disability.

I have a vacuuming disability.

No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I think about it before I begin I, for some reason, always end up vacuuming backwards.

Now in the great scheme of things vacuums are meant to follow along behind you as you move. When you are vacuum disabled and vacuum backwards this does not work. You constantly have to shove the vacuum backwards with your foot as you move. This of course ensures that the vacuum will get tangled in the cord and will not actually go anywhere, rendering one's foot rather sore. Usually at this point in time I try to establish correct vacuuming position by turning around. This usually results in having the hose wound around my legs rendering me incapable of moving. And so it continues.

Boy child has been known to watch me vacuum for his own amusement - he enjoys it when I vacuum when he has friends over. Then he can prove to them how stupid his mother is.

So after years of trying to correct my vacuuming technique I have recently decided not to bother anymore. The angst of knowing I do something against all known rules of the universe is beginning to sit more comfortably with me. I feel like I am finally a rebel!

Besides which if you schedule the vacuuming for 15 minutes before the commencement of happy hour - who actually gives a f#ck?????

Adios!

The Blog with the Independence

Something very odd happened today. Something very odd indeed. Something that as a mother I have asked for over and over and over again in the space of boy child's almost 15 years existance.

"When are you going to GROW UP?"

Today I realised he has. He can forage in the kitchen now and usually find something edible if I am not around. He has worked out how to get the most wear out of undergarments by turning them inside out and back to front. He notices when there is no toilet paper left or the shampoo has run out (I say "notice" because in my experience men dont translate the "notice" bit to the "do something about it" bit until they hit the age of around...... um...... dead). He has a better social life than I do.

All this of course adds up to the fact that the role I have played for the last 15 years has become redundant. I am no longer needed (except being provider of cash of course). He no longer wants me to kiss his skinned knee, or hold him in the middle of the night after a nightmare or rub his back to sleep. I am apparently no longer responsible for his school holiday/weekend activities, to a certain extent he comes and goes from my life like a spring breeze.

Am I sad? Am I sitting here melancholy and wiping away tears that a chapter in my life is closing?

Not on your BLOODY LIFE!!

WOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - I go out for dinner with my girls - I go to the movies - I am kicking up my heels and doing the party dance like I have never done the party dance before! Without so much as a "mmmm need to organise a babysitter" thought in my head I am making plans left right and centre. After 15 goddamn years of getting up in the middle of the night to assure boy child that no monster is under his bed I sleep ALL night!

So it was dinner out last night - movies tonight to see Sex and the City.

Why then do I feel a little part of me has left?

The Blog with Random Thoughts

Random thoughts from the random recesses of my mind.

I have at least once in my life:-

Pulled in behind a car in the far lane at a set of traffic lights. Violently applied pressure to horn and let fly choice swear words when car did not move when light turned green. Realised that car was in fact parked and empty. Exited car expressing to anybody in immediate vicinity that I should really have that defective horn looked at. Had to walk up and down street to prove that I had deliberately parked my car too. Was late for work.

Given birth to a child.

Spent a delightful 30 minutes on the telephone with my oldest and bestest friend in the world. At the 31 minute mark realised that this person was a complete stranger and had dialled the wrong number. Apparently we both shared voices like our respective best friends. I learned from that moment never ever to say "Hi it's me" when you call somebody.

Stopped on the way home from the gym via the pub - ate crap food drank wine and smoked cigarettes.

Spent 3 hours taking apart a small non working kitchen appliance to discover it was not plugged in.

Changed my name.

Had deep and meaningful conversations with myself - only to find out I'm a pretty crap listener and not good at advice.

Entertained thoughts that possibly I AM the worst mother in the world.

Vomited in somebody's letterbox the first ever time I experienced alcohol.

Realised my unconditional love for boy child makes up for being the worst mother in the world but not necessarily for vomiting in a strangers letterbox.

I am sure you all needed to know these things.

Be happy and well cos inevitably - "she'll be right"!

The Blog with the Tax Department

It's tax time here. That wonderful time of year you get to declare to the Tax Department everything about yourself. What salary you earned during the year, the tax that was deducted, what colour underwear you wore on the close of the tax year, how many times a week you have sex.

The last two most likely don't fall under the Tax Act but you get the idea.

Now recently the Tax Department and I have had our issues. I just don't feel that the relationship is working for me. It's not a lack of commitment on behalf of either party. In fact I would go so far as to say TD is a tad OVER committed to me and my goings on. Does TD not realise that a girl needs her space???? Unfortunately if I were to break it off with TD my only other prospect for a relationship could be the Tax Evasion Police and a shared cell with a butch lesbian called Bertha.

So having no choice in the matter (no offence of course to butch lesbians named Bertha - just not my kind of thing) I sit and ponder this year's tax return. Namely Question 10 Label L - Did you receive any interest income during the financial year? Now its a fairly straight forward question - yet it's the question that has caused me untold grief and sleepless nights.

In the past the tiny little bit of interest that I earn on my tiny little bit of savings I have in the bank has seemed so pitiful that no-body - least of all TD - would be the slightest bit interested. Apparently I was wrong. TD is VERY interested in the tiny little bit of interest I earned. And what REALLY annoys me is that someone who I considered a good FRIEND - my bank ("B") - has been telling TD little tales (in the form of a data matching system - fucking computers). My issue is that apparently this is a very one sided relationship. TD could listen to me for hours waffle on about the tiny bit of interest that B gives me - yet does not give a fat rat's arse about the thousands of dollars of interest I PAY to B for the privilege of B owning most, if not all, of my house. That my friends - is my quibble.

So having made amends to TD for the past two years of me answering NO to Question 10 Label L (and yes I KNOW it was lying and I KNOW I deserve what I get but it still pisses me off) my mouse now hovers over the question. I know what I must do and I know I will do it.

Eventually.

Probably.

Maybe.

The Blog with the Dead Mouse

Now generally speaking - a good mouse is a dead mouse. They smell and they have beady eyes. And when you put them with another mouse of the opposite sex they produce what looks like thousands of baked beans with legs.

But when we are talking about computer components - a dead mouse is definitely not good.

With the advent of cordless mice that require batteries, many a time I have been caught at work by a dead mouse. The problem is not the dead mouse - but rather the windows of chat and blogs and google that I have to leave open to dash to battery cupboard which is all of 30 seconds away. 30 seconds of time that a co-worker could wander into my office and find all my hard work for the day - laid bare for the world to see.

The dead mouse in question though does not reside at my work. No - it resides at my home. On the computer of boy child. ON SCHOOL HOLIDAYS!!!!!!!! For every mother reading this I need not go further - but for everybody else - this is a MAJOR CATASTROPHE.

However it seems boy child has averted putting household on DEFCON 1- thanks to his heroic measures this potential fiasco has been avoided. He took MY mouse.

Thats right people - I was MOUSELESS! He carelessly uprooted my beloved mouse from its little nest and exposed it to a world of google boobs and violent games.

I am left with an old mouse I found discarded on a shelf. It has a cord and a ball. WTF do I know what to do with a cord and a ball? So here I blog - with my hand-me-down computer and my hand-me-down mouse and I can't help but feel a little sorry for myself . Maybe I should google boobs and play violent computer games??????????

K

The Blog with the Retraction

The front door looks quite nice.

Now must dash - am rather tired from all the retracting and apologising.

K

The Blog with the Handyman

There is a certain benefit to having a friend who is a handyman. Things get fixed, generally anyway, without the need to shell out every single dollar that boy child doesn't take, to assorted tradesmen.

The downside to having a friend who is a handyman is that quite often things get done that you don't want. Take my front door for instance. It was an ok door - it was solid wood therefore it was a tad dark in the front entry hall. Nothing though that 50 jillionmegawattthingies of electricity didn't fix.

The downside to having a friend who is a handyman who works on a building site is that he brings old things home. Like a front door. Like a front door that MUST replace mine. A front door that will need repainting unless I want it to stand out like the proverbial dog's testicles.

Hence I sit here amid flying plaster, nail guns, hammer noise and shake my head in disbelief. The new old front door does not fit my door opening. That handy little nugget of information was not checked. Now at this point in time any woman - hell any sane PERSON, would admit defeat and declare it a no-go project. Not so my handyman who works on a building site friend. The door opening is now being "rejigged" to allow the door. "Rejigged" is trademan's speak for demolished. In the true spirit of Australian pioneering ways I have been told "she'll be right".

What I am faced with at this point in time is a great big bloody gaping hole where a front door used to be. A new old front door that I don't particularly like. A house that is being remodeled to accommodate said new old front door that I don't like. All this so I could avoid spending $100 bucks on a new NEW door.

There is also the small problem of the locking mechanisms not lining up. Apparently we are not worrying about that at the moment. Just that small detail of my personal security. I might need to find a handyman who is a locksmith friend?

In any event, she might be right, at some point in the future ..............

K

The Blog with the Radioactive Feline

Why are animals stupid? Why do they leave themselves wide open for hurt and humiliation?

Ms. Lynxy Mynxy came into our lives approximately 18 months ago - a cheeky little black and white streamlined kitten that pounced on Boy Child's leg in the animal shelter soon grew up to be big ball of long haired feminine fluff - nose in the air - only talk to you when she wanted something - avoided Boy Child at all costs - Feline. She was my baby pure and simple.

Yet lately something very very strange has been happening. She is apparently transferring her allegiance from her "try much too hard" owner to the "I dont give a f#*k about you" house mate.

A snap of us in happier times:-

Ms. Lynxy has some "ragdoll" species in her which causes her to "flop" like a ragdoll when picked up - this was how I carried her around the house with her purring like a steam roller.

Since Boy Child has come into the possession of a tiny little laser light - which omitts a red "dot" on the ground, and since he has taken to making her chase said red dot around the whole house - she now thinks the sun shines out of a certain orifice of his.

Now when I need to check where said feline is - this is where I will normally find her:-

Yes, that's right, in the stinking pit that is boy child's bedroom. Laying on his bed - admiring him. Flashing her radioactive eyes at him.

I am CRUSHED. The one who was to love me unconditionally has switched her affections to the controller of a red dot on the ground. Do I try too hard????? This is the question.............

K.

PS. I have since discovered cause of her affections to Boy Child - namely one electric blanket left to swelter for 6 days straight - making laying on bed akin to sunbaking in Bahamas. I have since fixed said problem and she is now freezing her butt off like the rest of us. Mmmmmm revenge is SWEET!

The Blog with the Filth

Hello ..... My name is Kath and I am slack. I am a procrastinator. I am lazy.

Now I KNOW these things about myself - highly enlightened kind of person I am - what I do NOT like is when people discover these things for themselves.

Case in question: New Boss. Now OK boss is not exactly NEW new - but 18 months new and that's still new in this case. I have up until this point managed to baffle him with bullshit for 18 months about what I actually DO during the day, and lets face it - I could score awards for my paper piles and loud "sighs" of being completely overwhelmed by work.

Today however I sorta got busted for not having done some things that I should have been doing. Now it was not through ignorance that I did not do them - I KNOW they needed doing - it's just that I hadn't got AROUND to it yet. Which started me thinking about genetics. Trust me - it's not that big a leap. Lets look at an example shall we????

Moi: Mmmmmm I have SO many things to do before I go home.....damn how am I going to manage?
Boss: Kath I have to go to a meeting - you will probably be gone by the time I get back - see you in the morning.
Moi: Mmmmm OK bye then. (YAY can now chat and blog and google funny cat pictures which make me laugh)


Me: Boy child can you PLEASE clean your room and take the garbage out.
Boy Child: "grunt" (or some similar gutteral sound)
Me: Ok going to work now remember to do chores I asked you.
Boy Child: "grunt" (YAY can chat and blog and google boobs and things that make me.............(you get idea)

Boss: Kath can I see depreciation schedules and balance sheet will all adjustments for end of year?
Me: Here they are (weight on one leg - hands on hips - hair over shoulder) I havent actually done those last adjustments as yet - its just been so hellishly busy lately.

Me: BOY CHILD!!!!! This room is a F#(@ing DISGRACE - WHY have you not done what you were asked?
Boy Child: Mum (shoulders down - head on angle - eyes wide open - small smile on lips) I have had SO much homework to do and I just haven't had a chance as yet.
Me: Ok darling, just make sure you get to it when you have finished homework.
Boy Child: "grunt" (is now googling boobs)

Is it just me or does anybody else see some kind of pattern emerging?

Surely I have more to pass onto boy child than how to effectively get away without doing stuff? Or is he purely and simply his mother's son???????????????

In meantime I shall be lucky to have job whilst being surrounded by filth at home (actual filth and cyber boob filth).

K

The Blog with the Old Photo

I came across a really old photo last night. After shedding copious amounts of tears I decided that I would post it and share the two people who made me who I am today and will continue to influence me for the rest of my days.

This photo is circa 1959 or thereabouts. One year or so before these two people took the plunge and said "I Do" in 1960. They were married for 43 years when in 2003 that handsome fella got sick and within 6 weeks was taken from us. The void he has left in the lives of 3 women cannot be described or put into words - only a wife who had found her soulmate or 2 daughters who thought their Dad was the best man to walk the face of the earth would understand.

The car, I believe to be an FJ Holden, was Dad's pride and joy - as well as the woman who stood beside him for almost 5 decades. I think Mum grabbing his leg (bit bloody forward Mum I mean for God's sakes it was the 50'S and you two were not even married!) says it all really! Mmmmm Mum was always stylin' - wonder if she kept those pants???

This photo reminded me that I had completely forgotten what would have been their 48th wedding anniversay on June 4th. Now I have guilt as well as grief!!

We still miss him daily - hell I talk to him most days - I feel his presence with me. Whether that is just wishful thinking or whether there is something in it I'm still not quite sure.

But as life does - it goes on - and it tends to pull you along with it. This pic was taken Christmas just gone. It was the first Christmas for me at least that didnt feel like there was a huge gaping hole in our lives.

So Dad if you can see us - we doing fine and we are looking out for that special lady of yours. She'll be right mate..............

K

The Blog with the Name Change

Today I will take another step in the process of extricating myself further from my previous life as a wife. Although for some strange reason this one is much much scarier.

Almost two years ago striking out on my own, purchasing a home for myself and boy child by myself was not nearly as frightening as what today holds.

Today, I will begin steps to change my name. Now normally a woman would, I assume, revert back to her maiden name. No issues there - no big deal. Of course that would be far too EASY for me wouldn't it? You see I would without a doubt have THE most awful maiden name. I spent the first 20 years of my life in hope that the knight in shining armour that swept me of my feet (yes folks and I'm still looking for him - the bastard - he better bloody hurry) was the owner of a surname just as majestic and handsome as the knight himself. Alas it was not meant to be. While my married name was nowhere near as awful as my maiden name, it was still not really ME.

Which leaves me in rather a spot of bother - don't want to keep the married name - but couldn't ever ever ever think about returning to my old name. So the thought occurred to me (insert lightglobe popping overhead) - why not choose a DIFFERENT name?????

Which of course then started me thinking "what's in a name" - it is our very first label that we are given - courtesy of our parents and one which we either fit comfortably from day one or spend the rest of our lives trying to deal with. With the popularity of names like Harley for boys I am wondering how many 20 year old Harleys will be walking around in about 15 years time - with nerdy glasses, their noses stuck in their computer games - whilst always knowing they will never live up to their name?

If I change my name will it fit ME? Or will I, once again, be chaffing at the label which this time I have applied to myself?

After having a long conversation with my father about the fact that while I love him dearly his name sucks (but the way Dad passed 4 years ago so it was a very onesided conversation but I felt the need to let him know I was not in any way shape or form trying to insult him). My mum also was fully supportive of my decision.

So today folks I will venture into the big city - with the 40 page application form and 120 sheets of supporting documentation to prove who I AM so I can become somebody ELSE and will change my surname to my mother's maiden name. I think that's a nice touch - it means something to me at least instead of just a random name.

Henceforth from today I shall be known as Kathleen Thornton. Nothing spectacular but I think it has a nice ring to it.

Enjoy your days people and remember - "She'll be right!!"

K

The Blog with the Binge Drinking

According to new research recently released here, the "powers-that-be" have determined that any person who drinks more than 4 drinks in one evening (or afternoon or morning) is in fact, binge drinking.

Now obviously the "powers-that-be" are not working mothers. Or stay at home mothers. Or "I'm not sure what I do with my day because I have lost my mind" mothers. Because every mother knows that 4 drinks is what you inhale in the first five minutes after happy hour commences. After those 4 drinks, which enable your brain to begin to function properly and the function of speech and clarity of thought return, well then you get down to some serious drinking.

Happy hour always began at my house at 5pm. It was a nice round number. A civilised drinking hour when one would pour a glass of wine - roll the wine around the glass and savour the bouquet - then chuck the wine down your throat as quickly as is humanly possible. Lately though I have noticed a phenomenon called "happy hour creep".

Happy hour creep occurs when mind and body decide it is 5pm but upon closer inspection of any time piece you discover that not only is it not 5pm - it's not even CLOSE! (inspection of every time piece in house at this point is a very very good option as one out of the 20 or so may in fact be incorrect)

In the past I have bowed to the judgement of the said time keepers and waited patiently for happy hour to roll around. However in more recent times I have been known to utter four letter words at the time keepers and proceed to ignore them. My problem is that by functioning according to my internal body clock my day may look something like this:

• 7am Fall out of Bed
• 9am Arrive at work having spent 60 minutes yelling at boy child to get out of bed and get dressed, 20 minutes yelling at Ms. Lynxy Mynxy to get out from under the bed and get her lazy butt outside and experience nature, 30 minutes in vehicle yelling at other drivers to get out of my way.
• 3pm Leave work after having spent 6 hours um..........working (that's my story and I'm sticking to it).
• 3.30pm Arrive home - open wine bottle.
• 6pm Snuggled in bed in wine induced haze - snoring ever so femininely.

Now to be honest I dont see anything wrong with the day above - except perhaps for the work bit. But as you can see - it means I have no time to do things like clean the house, or cook dinner or............ok so apart from the work bit its a perfect day.

I liken "happy hour creep" to the issues that surround our earth's orbit to not fit EXACTLY into 365 days. Every 4 years we must shove an extra day in somewhere to make it all work nicely.

So I propose this: "Leap Happy Hour"!

Every Friday afternoon at 4pm we get a EXTRA hour of drinking. A really HAPPY Happy Hour!!!!. This would definitely (please do not ask for the scientific proof - the scientists are all too busy determining what constitutes binge drinking) go a long way to addressing the issues of Happy Hour Creep and make me feel a WHOLE lot better in the process.

Must dash - Leap Happy Hour is just around the corner!

Cheers!!!

The Blog with the Expectations

I once heard this phrase:-

"Expectations are pre-meditated resentments"

And I thought at the time WOW such long words! - yet something made that little nugget of information stick. I now know why.

At the age of 39 you would think after so many disappointments I would stop having expectations of people or events or whatever. But I continue. And I am continually let down. I refuse to live my life expecting nothing so that I won't be disappointed. It seems so pointless. Yet right now I envy the people who do this. For them everything is a bonus.

Are my standards or expectations too high? Or just the very fact that I have them in this day and age is setting myself up for being let down? When do we stop expecting things from people?

This then begs the question - who have I let down? Who is this life has expected things from me and not received them? I ponder on friendships that have come and gone through my life and wonder if the reason those friendships did not survive was because expectations were not met on either side. Are the friendships I have now that have endured through high school, child rearing, marriage failures, money worries - are those friendships solid because in fact we expecting nothing in return? Just a phone call now and then - an occasional visit - but all the while knowing those people are there for us if we need them. Is that what makes them work? Is a relationship that is conducted on a daily basis more likely to be effected by expectations? Or is it more that a romantic relationship gets to the point where we indeed expect a lot of the other person? More than we have a right to? When those expectations cannot be understood by one person it sets up a domino effect that may very well result in a complete crashing of the very fibres which create the relationship. Yet is it acceptable to verbalise our expectations? Isn't that then just asking for things?

This seems to be the issue I am wrestling with as I begin my journey to rediscover who I really am. I just wonder whether I will like the answers I find?

The Blog with the TV Dinner

I have been single and in my own home (with boy child of course) for nearly 2 years now. Yet for some reason I still try to keep to family traditions even though it is completely ridiculous when there are only two of us. Boy Child for some reason will not entertain the idea of Ms. Lynxy Mynxy being his sister. Even to humour his empty wombed mother.

So most nights will see boy child and I at the dining room table eating good wholesome food trading "what did you do today" stories like an old married couple. I figure I spent 36 hours spitting this child outta my body - the least he can do is eat at the table like civilised folk.

Tonight however something changed. After having a rough day at work and not feeling the best - when I called him to dinner he moaned "mum can I pleeeeeease eat at my desk I'm right in the middle of something". Its amazing how teenagers are always in the MIDDLE of something - they are never STARTING something - god forbid they should ever FINISH something - no its always in the MIDDLE. Where the hell do they learn this terminology anyway?

Damn cat is miowing at me - she wants food "just a minute Ms Lynxy I'm just in the middle of something"

Right now where was I????

Oh dinner right.......so I thought WTF and decided that letting boy child eat dinner at his desk in front of the computer for ONE night would not turn him into an axe wielding homocidal maniac - shouting from the tops of the buildings that it was "mum's fault cos she let me eat in front of the computer". So I plonked his dinner in front of him and left him to his devices.

That left me, with my plate of food, staring at the dining room table yet for some reason being drawn magnetically to the couch and the television. Again I thought WTF and plonked myself down. It was 6pm - time for all normal people to watch the nightly news. I thought WTF I wanna watch that new dvd I got - so I put it on. I picked up my knife and fork and thought WTF and I proceeded to eat dinner with my hands (was chicken drumsticks and fries so is ok - please don't report me to any kind of non-table manners association). I stared for a long time at the vegetables on my plate and thought WTF - and I did not eat them!!! (god sorry mum) I went to get a glass of orange juice and thought WTF - I drank straight from the bottle!!! I proceeded to collect used plates and begin washing up but I thought WTF - and left the dirty dishes in the sink until tomorrow.

By this time boy child was starting to wonder which nation of aliens had abducted his anally retentive neat freak of a mother and was a little bit concerned. To be honest all the WTF'ing had left me a tiny weeny bit tired as well. But I learned a VALUABLE lesson from this episode.

It's bloody TIRING to be lazy and being older than 25 I now have a really bad case of indigestion from eating huddled over on stupid couch watching stupid movie and drinking sour orange juice.

Ok must dash - there is a sink full of dishes with my name on it!!!!

Ciao!

The Blog with the Meme

Ok so apparently I was "tagged". Funnily enough I felt no pain, no sensation whatsoever really. Rather quite bloody disappointing I have to say.

So here it is people without further ado:-


1. Favorite Person Mmmmm toss up between Boy Child and Ms Lynxy Mynxy (please let us not get into the "a feline is not a person" argument - this is MY meme so shut up) depending on who has caused me the least amount of grief at any time.

2. Favorite Food - Italian Food without one moments hesitation. I believe I was an Italian in a past life. In fact looking at my baby pictures I possibly could have been an Italian in this life but picked up by the wrong set of parents.

3. Quirks about you - My list making I guess. I cannot do anything without some kind of list.

4. How would the person who loves you most describe you in ten words or less? -Ok I'm not exactly sure who does love me the most - one person once said that I am the reason he gets up in the morning. Oh and Ms Lynxy just said "miow".

5. Any regrets in life? - Of course who doesn't? But the trick is to not dwell on them - learn from them and move on. We make the best decisions we can at the time.

6. Favorite charity/cause - I am ashamed to say I dont really have a favorite. I am a bad person. But if I had to chose one it would be cancer research. Lets find a cure for that sucker right NOW!

7. Favorite Blog - Um I have only been on this site for about a week. Bill's is great - he posts so much. But I love reading the escapades and shennanigans of Becky.

8. Something you can't get enough of - Lately it seems to be sleep.

9. Worst job you ever had - Check out chick at a supermarket.

10. What job would you pay NOT to have - Anything that involves dealing with an irate public. I cry if I get yelled at.

11. If you could be a fly on the wall anywhere, where would it be - Oh god just ONE place???? At this moment my boss's office when he talks to our exec committee - I'm up for a salary review and the petrol prices are KILLING me.

12. ***Breaking News: ***** I have none - I am boring.

I seem to have lost 13???? Sorry bout that.

14. Got any confessions? - I still cannot give up these rotten stinking fucking cigarettes.

15. If you had $1000 to spend on YOURSELF, what would you spend it on - Clothes, clothes, shoes, clothes, clothes, a facial and a massage, some new clothes, um some shoes, frilly frivolous underwear and um some clothes probably.

16. Favorite thing about your house - The open fire place.

17. Least favorite thing - The unfinished kitchen floor. Actually the unfinished EVERYTHING. I keep being TOLD that somebody is going to come and help me with it but it never seems to HAPPEN.

18. One thing you are bad at - you want only one thing? Ok um probably following through and finishing anything I start. Oh just like the kitchen floor above.

19. If you could change one thing about your current circumstances what would it be - I could not choose just one - my life at the moment is such a fucking mess I would need 20 things to change.

20. Who would you like to meet someday - The holder of the answer to the meaning of life.

21. What makes you feel sexy - When somebody cooks for me and pampers me.

22. Who is your real life hero - My Dad.

23. What is the hardest part of your job - Staying awake mostly.

24. When are you most relaxed - After wine consumption.

25. What stresses you out - EVERYTHING! But I am working on changing that.

26. What can you NOT live without - Boy Child.

27. Do you agree or disagree with the recent article that reported that blogs are authored by narcissists - Huh?

28. Why do you blog - Because like a million other people I believe I have a novel in my head bursting to get out?? Because everybody's thoughts and words deserve to be put on paper (or a computer screen as the case may be). Because I was told I should.

29. Who are you tagging - OK see being a blog virgin I dont actually have anybody to "tag" - I will work on that for next time.

30. What were you doing 10 years ago Killing time.

Ok so that took up 30 minutes of my life I will never get back. Now if you will excuse me I have to go write nasty scathing email to Becky for tagging me in the first place.

OK for some fucking reason number 3 is in black text. I have spent 20 minutes trying to find out why and fix it but I can't so i humbly apologise if it causes any kind of seizure and or reading disorder.

Ciao!

The Blog with the boring Sunday

OK so I knew somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind that having a holiday always results in a consequence. Today I found it. Or rather I noticed it. My house has apparently been overtaken by dirt, filth and mess. This surprises me mainly because while I was away nobody was living here - yet the small amount of said dirt, filth and mess I left behind has apparently been fermenting away with the result being a house that may very well soon be condemned. So having not much else to do on this very lazy Sunday I rolled up my sleeves and went to work.

Snapshot of my day:-

Clean kitchen, clean oven, stack dishwasher, turn dishwasher on. Do 3 loads of washing, hang out 3 loads of washing, stop hanging out washing and return washing to washing machine as boy child has obviously left wad of tissues in a pocket and all clothes covered with fine white substance, redo 3 loads of washing, rehang out 3 loads of washing, notice all whitish garments are now grey - spy boy child's new black jeans in washing.

Lesson learned: Do not attempt clothes washing manoeuvre with hangover.

Clean out fridge, sweep and mop floors, iron 2 baskets of clothes, repair boy child's school pants with iron on patch, boy child's school pants now consist completely of iron on patches - does not seem to be any original material remaining. Vacuum cat, worm shagpile rug.

Lesson learned: Cat and shagpile rug look similar with hangover - do not attemp worming manoeuvre.

Make boy child hearty breakfast of coffee and vegemite on toast - let him eat chocolate cake and coke as he wanted in the first place. Eat toast and drink coffee myself.

Lesson learned: Do not attempt teenage feeding manoeuvre - EVER!

Thoughts turn to outside and neglected garden. Don daggy clothes and gumboots and venture outside into nature. FUCK it's fucking COLD in nature. Figure nature has been here much much longer than self and will continue to be here despite self's lazy slutty ways. Adopt re-entry position (ie run inside).

Lesson learned: Do not attempt gardening manoeuvre when inside open fire is roaring and couch is demanding my presence in a horizontal position.

Nap-time.

Lesson learned: When waking from nap-time make sure you are waking naturally and not because boy child's face is two inches away from yours and he is hitting you in the shoulder whilst in a very loud voice saying "mum such and such and such and such are here - remember you invited them for DINNER" - also note: try to nap in good clothes and full makeup - it saves a lot of time. Oh also having something prepared to feed people that you have invited over for meal is not such a bad thing to do either.

It's amazing how one can blame jetlag for EVERYTHING - I am getting away with stuff I never dreamed possible. I wonder how long it can last? What is the statute of limitations on jetlag excuses? I am sure I will find out - cos I aint gonna stop using it till somebody tells me that I am full of shit and to get over myself. Most likely that will come from boy child. In any event.....

She'll be right!

The Blog with the To Do List

I drive a newish car. Hermione Hyundai came into my life around 18 months ago. She is a sleek black sporty little number with mag wheels, tinted windows and a rear spoiler. She was my gift to myself when my marriage went pear shaped.

Now Hermione and I have an understanding - she understands that I am a busy working single mum and I understand that she is going to get me where I need to go in a very classy way. She is very good about my lapses in memory - if I leave my lights on and open the car door - she turns them off for me. If I press the wrong little button on the key whatsit - she will alert me to this fact by playing a tune for me with her horn which enables everybody in the immediate vicinity to turn and stare at me whilst muttering under their breaths something about noise pollution.

Lately though something Hermione does is starting to get under my skin.

I am a list maker. I have lists for everything that is going on in my life - sometimes I feel I need a master list - a list to keep track of all the lists. I have refrained from this up to this point as I understand how impossibly sad that makes me look.

What I do NOT require however is Hermione to start reminding me of things I need to do. She constantly reminds me I need to fill up the petrol tank. Now normally this would involve the needle pointing to the E on the fuel gauge. Hermione however is not satisfied that this would be enough encouragement for me. Instead she lights up a little picture of a petrol bowser right on the dash board! Its like my very own electronic To Do List. If I ignore her pretty little picture for long enough she then makes it flash - which I can tell you in peak hour traffic is very very distracting. A little further down the road she will tell me EXACTLY how many more kilometres I can travel before I may need to think about standing in the middle of the road, flashing my legs and hoping some nice young man will give me either petrol or a lift without abducting me. At this point it becomes a battle of wits between us to see who can actually hold out the longest. As the available distance dwindles down she tries to catch my attention audibly. Softly at first but increasing in intensity to arrive at a crescendo of the most horrible beeping sound you could ever wish to hear. This is around the time I throw up my hands (obviously not literally because that would be illegal whilst operating a motor vehicle) and give in to her demands. I never win.

Driving to work this morning I noticed out of the corner of my eye a little light on my electronic To Do List. I glanced down expecting to see verfication that once again I had forgotten to get petrol but what I saw took my breath away.

There on the dash board - right in front of me - was a little picture of a MAN in overalls - with a toolbox. Thats right folks - Hermione Hyundai was reminding me to GET A MAN. Not content with her lack of fuel - she now feels she has the right to comment on my LIFE?????? What will be next - a little picture of a pregnant woman - reminding me that I only have one child and to possibly get a move on as I am approaching 40 next year? A little picture of a liver - in the hope that I will be reminded not to drink so much??? A picture of a dollar sign with a big red slash through it telling me that of course I have no money?? My mind boggles at the thought of what she will display at any time I become celibate.

The thing is - its not the fact that she has taken it upon herself to remind me that I don't exactly have a permanent available man in my life - but rather the complete lack of information as to where the little guy in the overalls is to be FOUND. At the very least she could point me in the right direction. So if anybody knows or sees the guy above - tell him I'm looking for him.

'Kthx.

The Blog with the Chicken

I am an animal lover. I have a cat - a lovely feline who answers (well sometimes anyway) to the delightful name of Ms. Lynxy Mynxy. I had a dog - once. I have seen fish. Birds fly. So you can obviously tell I am a bit of an animal expert.

One animal however that leaves me quite cold - is the humble chicken. Now I am a big supporter of the chicken species generally - I will eat chicken practically any way you would care to cook it. Where would bacon be in this world without the egg? However the prospect of actually owning a live chicken sent me into 5 hours of unadulterated hell.

Boy child was on an excursion to a big city market with this school. The first phone call I received from him involved him asking me to tell a particular stall holder that I gave him permission to buy a knife. Now I have no idea why he needed a knife (or no idea that I wanted to actually think about anyway) even if it WAS a World War 2 Collectors Item for only ten bucks!!!! I patiently told boy child that in fact I did NOT give him permission to buy a knife and that I loved him and to have a good day. Well OK I was at work at the time and my boss was standing right next to me - so of course I did my best Carol Brady impression.

The next phone call received approximately 30 minutes later was to bring my world as I know it crashing down around my head. Boy child had called to inform me he had purchased a chicken. I was momentarily delighted thinking that all the years of my slaving away to make him lovely meals had finally rubbed off and that he had bought ingredients to make his long suffering mother a delightful Friday night feast. This delight was shortlived however once I realised he meant a LIVE chicken. Feathers and all.

I told him in no uncertain terms (boss was absent at this point so the Carol Brady impression went out the window with my composure) that he must give said chicken back - said chicken was not coming home with him - I was NOT having said chicken at my house. The call dropped out.

For five HOURS I sat at work envisaging arriving home to find chicken either in the yard being chased around by a delighted Ms. Lynxy Mynxy or otherwise in boy child's room - probably on his desk - next to him - glaring at me for ever objecting to her presence.

Upon arrival home there was a distinct lack of chicken. No chicken to be found. Upon questioning boy child on what happened to chicken he replied "I was testing you - if you were OK with the fact that I had bought a chicken then I would have gone and actually bought a chicken".

When did they get to be smarter than us?

Well as I tend to say - chicken or no chicken - "she'll be right!"

Blog Numero Uno

Only smart people have blogs. People who can string two words together and make them a story. People who have lives that beg those two words to be told. People who, with those two words, can paint a picture and a fantasy that have other people salvating at the next instalment.

That's not me - but she'll be right mate! That overused and often misunderstood Aussie catch phrase that I try to live my life by. Roof collapsing and mortgage payments overdue? She'll be right. Cat needs the vet and there is no bread? She'll be right. Boy child needs medical attention but I have to be at work? Well maybe She bloody well WON'T be right! Ok so I strayed a tad.

It's the new age Aussie "glass half full" motto - along with "no worries". Well I have PLENTY of worries let me tell you - yet the phrases slip magically from my lips - never however really making any impression on the good old brain cells who it appears seem to have control of the whole "happiness/contentment" issue. I'm not sure it was such a good idea to put those little fella's in charge of such an important thing - I would prefer to base my happiness on the state of say um.......... my little toe? I do think the world would be a more serene place.

So in summary my life is as follows: Separated 39 year old (OMG 40 next year) with a 14 year old boy child who could injure himself walking to the bathroom. The fact that he rollerblades and plays football and does stupid boy stuff is enough for him to be xrayed with a horrific regularity. Boy child has endured some serious stuff along with some not so serious stuff - but he is still here and breathing for which I am always eternally grateful - "she'll be right!"

So there is my first blog - I am all blogged out!!

K.