They Just Need Love

Surfer Boy and I have finally taken the plunge and hired someone to do our extension drawings. This has been a project 8 years in the waiting so I'm finding it hard to get my head around the fact that it may actually happen in the foreseeable future. When we bought the house we thought we would renovate within months but of course I got knocked up and 2 kids and 8 years later it still hasn't happened.

Now that it is all systems go Surfer Boy and I have returned to our very favourite pre-kids hobby of trawling for treasures. Sunday found us at 'Lost Ark' in Williamstown which is a treasure trove of pre-loved goodies.

We are on the hunt for the perfect piece for our bathroom cabinet. I don't know what it looks like yet but I'll know it when I see it. Luckily for me, when I fall in love with a piece I can usually rely on Surfer Boy to see it's potential and fix it up to my specifications. I LOVE being married to a cabinet maker!

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It's totally me.

So, the weekend was good. On Saturday we went to our friends' house for their daughter's 6th birthday party. It was a great time, and the kids were cute in their superheroes costumes. Danny immediately became red and sweaty in his Power Ranger costume, because that is just how we are built. Any form of exertion and I am red in the face, which meant that gym class was super fun for me as a kid! It's not that I can't keep up, I've always done fine, but I look like I'm about to have a heart attack while exercising. Once again, being fair-skinned is awesome!

The Jillinator had asked us to stay after the party (for the "real party"), which meant that I had to be the lurker mom who never left. My husband showed up 3 hours late, just as the last stragglers were leaving, but I had been there the whole time. I was just starting to think maybe I shouldn't have committed to sticking around when we put the little kids to bed and busted out the wine, and then the fun began.

Jill and I had some very interesting discussions, none of which I can share. Sorry! But suffice to say that when Jill calls my cell phone, her ring tone is "Super Freak" by Rick James... and I had no idea how appropriate that choice was until Saturday night. WHOOOOO, doggy! I knew I liked that chick! We ended up hanging out on her bed, drinking our vino, for about 2 hours. The guys were downstairs shooting the shit (and maybe playing Wii, I don't really know), and we just laughed and laughed and talked about dirty, dirty things. It was awesome. Well, it was awesome right up until I got up to go to the potty and FELL OFF THE BED. Yes. And that bed was high, and the hardwood floor was hard, and I landed like a ton of bricks.

Jill's husband heard the thud and came running up the stairs (my own husband was all, "Eh, she's fine!" Nice.), and he helped me up and dusted off my wounded pride. We then gathered up our sleeping children and Jim drove us the 4 minutes back home, where I apparently took out my contacts and then immediately forgot that I'd done it, so I stood there for 10 minutes poking myself in the eye and complaining that they were stuck. The next morning, I was still convinced that they were in there somewhere, so I started poking myself again. Jeeeeeezus. It wasn't until I checked the container and saw them floating around in there that I realized I had actually succeeded in getting them out the first time. Fuuuuuck me.

My entire left side is sore as a mutha and I have a gigantic bruise forming on my hip. It's hip, shoulder, elbow. I am sooooooooo cool. (rolling eyes)

So that was Saturday.

Sunday Jim made banana pancakes for the boys and I had myself a little egg sandwich wrap, and then we just took it easy, and by "taking it easy" I mean that I hid in my bedroom and napped for quite a while. Then we drove up and met my mom at a restaurant for "lupper," and then came back home. I watched True Blood last night and it was pretty great. There was a HOT Bill & Sookie sex scene. It's official: Anna Paquin is a butterface. She was naked as a newborn last night and her body is pretty bangin', (and I say that with a solid record of heterosexuality backing me up). Too bad her face is... let's just say... errrrm.... Oh fuckit, there's no good way to say it: she's fug. But, whatever, she's still a good Sookie.

So that is that. On Wednesday Mala and I have plans to go see a real-live psychic, so I'm excited about that. We booked these appts. ages ago because this chick is so hard to see. She's apparently freaky-good. Mala's gone a bunch of times and every time her mind is BLOWN, and one of Mala's HS friends, who is a skeptic like me, went and also thought she was the real deal. I hope I like the experience! I hope she doesn't see anything awful. I don't have many skeletons in my closet but still... it should be interesting! You know I'll keep you all posted. ;-)

In My Heart

1980 was a banner year for me.

It was the year the Meehan family moved in 'Over The Back Fence'.

All of a sudden my brother and I had 5 new playmates and it didn't take long for our lives to revolve around each other.

Every afternoon after school we would be there playing cricket, skateboarding, playing 'Khaki Free All', until one of our parents called out 'DINNER!!'

In summer we all ended up on our side of the fence for hours of fun in or around the pool.

Pete or Viv would stick their heads over and again call for dinner but within the hour we'd all be back to frolic until dark.

In later years Chrissie would have dinner with us and then scoot home for her second dinner when Pete yelled over the fence!

So many of my treasured memories involve the times spent with the Meehans.

My first kiss - with Matt over a game of ping pong in their garage,

summer holidays at Point Lonsdale,

teaching Jen to ride a bike and dive in the deep end,

Christmas's together with Pete preparing buckets of food,

sliding down their stairs in our sleeping bags,

Signalling to each other from the Meehan boys bedroom window,

dancing to Wired For Sound,

love letters,

mixed tapes,

18ths, 21sts, weddings, babies,

and now sadly we have lost one of the Meehans.

Pete passed away last week and we will miss him terribly.

I have snapshots of Pete in my mind - Pete on his banana lounge, Pete spending his day off by our pool, Pete cooking up a storm, Pete making me drink a glass of milk before I left the table, Pete screaming for CHRISTINA over the back fence, so many images that I know will stay with me always.

So to the Meehan family - Viv, Matt, Tom Chrissie, Mike, Jen, I love you all very much and know that Pete is always in my heart as he is yours.

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Viv and Pete dancing at my wedding.

Randomnicity

Since I am too burned out on this Friday morning to make a post containing any real substance, I will bore you with the fleeting thoughts of my rain-addled brain. And you will like it, by God. Don't make me come over there.

Let's see. I need to remember to call the cable company and order HBO today. True Blood starts up again on Sunday night and I. AM. PUMPED. I have no idea why I'm such a freak about vampire stuff; I never was before the whole Twilight/Dead Until Dark phenomenon took hold of me, but I am pretty sure it has something to do with the sex aspect of it all. Sigh. I am such a perv, you guys. Sometimes I surprise even myself. Also, I think it's getting worse as I get older! Is that normal? Do I care? Probably no on both counts.... At any rate, True Blood is a sexy-ass show with sexy-ass vamps who like to screw and bite people, and I am all about it. Oh, and now we know that Anna Paquin (Sookie) and Stephen Moyer (Bill) are totally doing it IRL, so that's kind of hot, right? Buh-RING IT!

Next: Some celebrities should not speak. Every time I turn around I am reading some terrible quote from Shia Labeouf, for instance. Now, I had no real opinion about him before; he's not hot, so he was kind off my radar. But now that we know certain things about him, he creeps me right out. For instance, we know:

- He is poorly endowed
- He wants to have sex with his mother
- His parents used to smoke weed & get it on right in front of him, events for which he now credits his "R-rated sense of humor."

I am too lazy to validate all of these stories with links, so you're gonna have to take my word for 'em. You can also look at the "Shia LaDouche" category over at Dlisted since I'm pretty sure I read it all there.

What else? The weekend looks like it'll be decent. Tomorrow we've got a b-day party for one of Danny's classmates, and we're friends with her parents so hopefully it'll be a good time for all involved. D's excited to wear his Power Ranger costume because it's a Super Heroes party. I can't stop calling it a Pooper Heroes party, because I have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy, but you knew that.

Speaking of that, I took one of those silly Facebook quizzes last night and it told me I have a 100% dirty mind. Ha. Like that's news! Duuuuuhhhh. But honestly, how dirty do you have to be to see a woman's crotch in this picture? It SO does not look like a lamp until you squint and slap yourself in the head for being such a dirty birdy. RIGHT?

Sunday we're going up to my mom's house and I will be digging through her piles of disorganized photos so you can all see what a freak show I was during the 70's and 80's. You're welcome. Oh, and I clearly gained my mad organizational skillz from my mom, since I too have drawers full of disorganized, non-scrapbooked pictures. It's a proud tradition, really. I take my slackerdom very seriously. Ok, no I don't. Whatever. What was I talking about?

I'm so sick of my job and my boss that I just might hurt someone today. Honestly, if my boss uses the "royal we" one more time this morning, I might haul off and punch him. On edge? Moi? I don't know what you're talking about! I'm just not in the mood for his crap today, is all, and he's going 1000 mph and is all up in my bidness! Back off, yo, or taste my wrath. FYI, it does not taste like chicken.

On a happier note, Mala and I are planning our next get-away for July. WOOT! I am always happiest when I have something fun to look forward to, and this looks to be a good time. I'll tell you all about it another time. Right now I am hungry, and I need to go enjoy a Diet Coke and smile.

Have a lovely day, TGIF, and TTYL!

5 ways in which I FAIL

No, that's not me, but sometimes it feels that way.

Here's a list of things I suck at:

1. Exercising regularly. I go in spurts; I'll get all gung-ho about going to the gym for a month or two, and then one day I'll just not feel like going so I won't. Then I don't go back for 2 months, for no good reason. I don't cancel my membership, because somehow paying for it each month is like my penance for being a lazy fuck. It's like my own personal self-imposed sin tax.

2. Keeping my car clean. Before I had kids, the inside of my car was always immaculate. I'd bust out the Armoral wipes and always removed trash promptly. However, since having two messy children in the car, things have gone to pot. Once in a while there will be a (an?) horrific odor and I will have to go hunting for the errant sippy cup filled with chunky milk that got wedged under a seat. The backseat area is ankle-deep with books, crayons, coloring books, and Happy Meal toys. Since they've basically trashed the place, I seem to have given up as well, because my coffee holders are grimy, my dashboard is dusty, and there is a Danny-sized hand print on the inside passenger-side windshield that has been there for literally 5 months now. It's disgraceful. I am ashamed of myself.

3. I start writing novels and then lose interest and/or decide they suck, and never finish them. I got to 170 pages on my last attempt. 170 farking pages, people! Oh, and I never let anyone read them, so don't even ask.

4. Phone etiquette. I'm terrible about returning phone calls, and I almost always screen my calls. Especially lately; if you've reached me by phone in the last month, feel special, because you are. Most folks are going straight to voicemail, baby!

5. Keeping in touch. Unless people are on Facebook or email me, I tend to fall out of touch. This is largely because of my phone aversion, but also because I hate writing letters and sending cards. I can usually motivate to send a b-day card to family members, but honestly, not always. I totally suck at keeping up with stuff like that. Thank-you notes? Yeah, don't expect those right away, either.

And there you have it. Certainly, there are many more, but that's it for now, so I'll leave you with this:



Why? Just because, that's why.

Buh-bye now!

Alvin, is that you?

So I have to tell you guys about something hi-freakin-larious that happened last week.

We have this crazy-annoying, borderline feral cat who belonged to Jim before we got married. Jim found him as a kitten, starving and wild, while out hiking in the woods in northern Vermont. He took pity on him and brought him home, and we've been stuck with him ever since. He brings nothing to the table; he sheds, he craps outside of the litter box for no good reason, he requires grooming due to his long mat-prone hair, he bites, and he has mutant extra claws which he uses on everything and everyone. Clearly, he was just not meant to live, but Jim intervened and now Death is just sitting back and laughing at us, perhaps pointing a bony finger in our direction from time to time, because we are too nice to get rid of this insanely annoying creature.

This cat, whom Jim named Lucky but I have since renamed Sucky, goes outside and kills mice and small critters, and that is his one saving grace. We don't like mice, after all, so who gives a fuck? Also, it keeps him busy and out of my house. So here's where the funny story comes in.

Danny likes the movie Alvin & The Chipmunks. I'm sure you clever readers have already seen where this story is going, but bear with me. The other day the kid had just watched that movie again, and he went outside and was running around doing kid-like things, and Jim was out there cleaning up the yard. Read: he has a plastic bag and a trowel and is collecting dog shit so we don't step in it. Yes, Jim gets ALL of the glamorous jobs at Casa de Bev. Anyone who thinks I am out there cleaning up humongous German Shepherd turds does not know La Bev very well.

Jim's got a pretty full bag of poo when he stumbles across a fresh chipmunk carcass. He scoops it into the bag, but Danny has already spotted it. So he comes running over, wanting to see the chipmunk. Jim's like, "Um, I don't think so..." But my kid is nothing if not determined, and he insisted.

Jim opens up the bag and Danny peers inside, sees the mangled chipmunk lying on a death bed of festering dog poop, and starts swaying from side to side and singing in a perfect chipmunk voice:

"Christmas, Christmas... time is near! Time for toys and time for cheer!"



We laughed. So. HARD!!

By the way, if you like hearing about dead chipmunks, (and really, who doesn't?) go read Courtney's blog. She's a tough chick with a gun who likes to show those vermin who's boss. Hint: it's her.

Drop In And Visit

We are in the grip of a cold snap here in Melbourne so I thought I'd go through my files and show you some of my favourite winter homes.