Getting some mundane into me

I really needed some peace in my weekend. And I was determined to get it.

Things didn’t get off to a great start. Parramatta police called at 11.30pm on Friday night to ask about the eldest’s 15-year-old friend, who is still missing.

Sadly, we have no idea where he is. Fortunately, the 13 year old has been located.

On Saturday, I nervously peeked into the eldest’s bedroom at 10am to check they hadn’t absconded too. Then I mooched off to do the grocery shopping.

Later, I watched Bohemian Rhapsody with the youngest, my sister and her son and hubby. I cried when Freddie sang “We are the Champions” at Live Aid. My sister cried at many, many more bits.

We snuck Oporto chips into the theatre with us – the promise of slider burgers on the cinema website turned out to be a furphy – and had a thoroughly enjoyable time.

Afterwards, I headed to Coogee to collect the eldest from a date with friends.

I am not looking forward to the party years. I texted the eldest at 9.45pm to say we were waiting in the car and they replied “I’ll be there in about half an hour”.

I was like, oh no, half an hour sooooooo does not work for me. We are tired and want to leave NOW.

That did the trick and they skulked to the car, but unfortunately there was a footy match at the Allianz Stadium and its conclusion coincided with me driving along Anzac Parade, so it was a very, very long time before we got home.

Yesterday, my favourite cafe closed FOREVER. Sob. I lined up on Sunday morning with the entire rest of the suburb to get my final strong flat white and wish them well.

Then I took the kids for some dumplings, drove to the local Vinnies, handed them $15 each and told them to knock themselves out while I enjoyed a bit of Facebook time in the car.

The youngest returned with a pair of teeny tiny ripped black denim shorts and a blue denim skirt (she apparently only needs a black denim skirt and a white denim skirt to make her dream denim wardrobe complete) and the eldest turned up in a brown corduroy western style shirt. They were both stoked.

It’s the little things …

Last night was a chance to crack a Charles Melton Rose of Virginia that’s been in the fridge forever waiting for a special occasion. It wasn’t a special occasion, but I decided to make it one and cooked a chicken cacciatore to go with it.

Funnily enough, when I went for a de-stress walk with my friend earlier in the afternoon and mentioned the cacciatore she looked very startled and said she had cacciatore in the oven too. Spooky!

There wasn’t quite enough sleep in my weekend and a bit too much worry, but apart from that it fulfilled my wish of being uneventful.

And now another week begins. Fingers crossed it’s more sedate than the last.

Did you have a good one?

Song of the day: Florence & The Machine “Dog days are over”

 

 

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