the end was just the beginning
Mondays are a bit crazy in the Household. Sprog 2 has gymnastics from 3.30-4.30pm, while Sprog 1 plays in the park. Sprog 1 has trumpet lessons from 4.40pm to 5.10pm, while Sprog 2 plays in the park. Both Sprogs are pretty hungry when we finally get home. So I switched the slow cooker on this morning... Continue Reading →
I got my highest-ever hits on the blog yesterday. I should be stoked, on top of the world. But I just feel slightly sick and lip-curly about it. Because 232 of the hits were from people searching "Whitney Houston corpse", "Whitney Houston in casket", "Whitney Houston walking skeleton" (?), "Whitney Houston sink", and one sad bugger... Continue Reading →
DIY stained glass window. Tick. Baking. Tick. Sliced rice cake with XO sauce and shredded pork at New Shanghai. Tick. Not a bad Sunday so far. 1. Wholemeal blueberry & buttermilk muffins INGREDIENTS: 1 and 1/2 cups wholemeal self-raising flour; 1 cup self-raising flour; 3/4 cup of brown sugar; 1 and 1/2 cups buttermilk; 2 eggs, lightly beaten;... Continue Reading →
Catholics are burdened with guilt. I'm burdened with regrets. And guilt. All the stuff I wish I'd done differently. I wish I'd been nicer to my great-grandmother. I wish I'd seen Alex before he died. And James. I wish I hadn't kissed the boy with no front teeth. I wish I had ravaged the boy outside the bar that night. I... Continue Reading →
After hobbling around like I'd been straddling a horse for a week - too many reps on the "clacker" machine - I finally did another gym class yesterday. It was called "Sculpt" and the brochure described it as "non-impact". My sweet lord, I'm glad I didn't choose an impact one. Being uncoordinated, I've spent my adult life avoiding gym classes. But the mums assured me I didn't need to be co-ordinated for... Continue Reading →
You really don't. Sure, it makes you rich (usually). But it also makes you paranoid, insecure and self-obsessed. And, if you're really unlucky, dead. Like poor Whitney Houston, with "recreated" photos of your corpse on the cover of The National Enquirer. The Aussie weekly magazines pay tribute to Whitney today. One is even on the stands three days early. Death sells. Well it did with Steve Irwin and Belinda... Continue Reading →
I have a cavewoman's grasp of technology. Leaning more to the Neanderthal than the Homo Sapien. My brain just isn't wired that way. Lots of room for random facts and gossip, not much space for complex tasks. I've only just learned to use a scanner, at age 43. It's been a revelation. I've been madly uploading old snapshots and posting them on my Facebook wall. (Some friends are... Continue Reading →
OK, technically this is a photo of me in infants school. I went a bit manky after that and I'm too shy to share. I was the girl with plastic bobbles and ribbons in my pigtails (until I was ooooh, 15). I had freckles and a nose that "matured" before the rest of my face. I hid my bananas behind a... Continue Reading →
I went to the gym yesterday. I am not a gym person. This is a gross understatement. I am hopelessly uncoordinated and I look awful in lycra. Group physical activity hasn't been my thing since primary school, when a teacher mimicked my bumbling basketball style for the amusement of my classmates. The last time I went to a gym was 12... Continue Reading →
After spending 500 gazillion hours on the internet, Googling "kids disco party" and goggling at paying Holly Hip Hop $310 for 90 minutes of jiggling and glitter tattoos, I've decided to kit Husband in only-gay-in-the-village attire and make him teach 16 six-year-old girls the Macarena and Time Warp instead. It's probably the last time we can act as DIY party entertainers without totally mortifying Sprog 2 - and we come super-cheap - so we might as well... Continue Reading →
housegoeshome 