the end was just the beginning
School holidays are not relaxing. I know they have the word "holiday" in them, but it's a total furphy. A holiday is when you laze around doing nothing. I won't be lazing until January 30, when Mummy's School Holiday begins. I'm parking myself on the couch from 9.15am with the latest boxed set of True Blood, my iPad and a bowl of... Continue Reading →
Do you wish you were more diligent about the little things in life? The stuff that always slip through the cracks. Or are you the type who deodorises their recycling bin (like the over-achievers' bins I explored on my frantic search for the missing mail)? There's an on-top-of-everything person I dream about being. A thinner, tidier, kinder, prettier version of myself. Let me describe my Little Miss Perfect to... Continue Reading →
Friends have a five-year-old son with waaaaay too much energy. He makes Sprog 2 look listless. I had dinner at their place the other night and chuckled at their utensils drawer: tongs, mixing spoons, knives ... and a wide selection of handballs. Because you never want to find yourself handball-less with that little tornado. His need to be in constant motion... Continue Reading →
I was going to whine self-indulgently about my fat again, but it didn't rate terribly well yesterday (what's wrong with you people?) so I've made a commercial decision to save the angst for later. Next best thing? Ranting about the Sprogs. Alrighty then ... shoes and Sprog 2 ... don't get me started. Actually, do get me started, or else I won't have anything to blog... Continue Reading →
Kate Moss' motto: "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". My motto: "Everything tastes as good as skinny feels." I feel a little sorry for Kate, poor pet. She obviously hasn't tried peking duck or char kway teow or Cafe Sopra's polenta with mushroom and gorgonzola sauce. But mostly I resent her self-discipline. Because I remember what being skinny (well, kind of... Continue Reading →
Y'know what? If I'd stopped work a year earlier, I'd have gone mad. All day, every day, with little people ... not good. I mean, don't get me wrong, Sprog 2 is accidentally-swapped-at-the-hospital-can't-possibly-be-mine cute. She also says adorable things like: "I love you all the way to the universe and back". And I love her all the way to the universe and... Continue Reading →
Is it 'giving up' to wear cargo pants every day? How about if they're dirty? Each morning, I sift through the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor and think: hmmmm, the black, the navy, or the green? Then I dig around in my drawers for a T-shirt to go with them. Preferably one that skims the gut rather than clings to it. And, finally, should it to be the... Continue Reading →
Geez that new Chipmunks movie gave me a splitting headache. Way too much helium-fuelled squeaking. I'm not so good with endless chatter at the best of times. Let alone when it's high-pitched. I've only got about two hours of talk in me during any 24-hour period*. A bit more if I've been drinking. Then I go mute. Watch me at dinner parties, I'm a blast after... Continue Reading →
You know those big, yellow bags they give you at the entrance to IKEA? And the free pencils? (Oh, am I supposed to hand those back? Sorry.) Well, they should be giving out distress beacons. A GPS might come in handy too. Hell, I'd even settle for a map. Especially at their new store in Tempe. What am I saying? It's not a store, it's a maze, a metropolis, a... Continue Reading →
Many moons ago, Husband and I lived in Bondi. Husband loved Bondi. He swam at Icebergs every morning. He breakfasted at Bondi Tratt. He promenaded on the boardwalk. Then Sprog 1 arrived and the 50 stairs to our apartment lost their lustre. I made him move to the suburbs. Or, as I prefer to call them, God's Own Country. I don't think... Continue Reading →
