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Tag, I'm It

I know, you were all expecting a great rant from me this time (see previous promise). Sorry to disappoint you, but I've been tagged somewhat enthusiastically by my blogger buddies so I thought I'd best respond to them first. I think they did it deliberately as a form of Rant Intervention.


Jamie, Wendy and Melissa have railroaded me, err, I mean bestowed upon me various awards/tags which I believe require me to choose my favourite photos, tell you what about them makes me happy, and reveal approximately 1,117 secrets about myself, all whilst wearing a pink frilly dress with puffed sleeves, jumping on a pogo stick and baking a three-layered sponge cake. Or something like that.

As usual, I don't plan to do exactly as I am supposed to, because, well, that just wouldn't be me. I've ditched the frilly dress for starters. I wouldn't mind some cake, but I'm not the best cook in the world, probably not even in this house. Seriously, I commit more kitchen-related crimes by murdering good food than anybody I know (that would be Secret #1). I'm keen on the pogo stick, though the new glass wall in the family room appears to be shuddering at the thought of me hurtling through it. So photos and facts/secrets/bullshit it is then.

Secret #2. I don't have a favourite anything, I tend to split everything up into categories. Not for me to choose one favourite movie, book or song, but you may be able to get me to narrow it down to favourite comedy, favourite drama etc, or favourite crime novel, favourite romance, and then favourite rock anthem, favourite ballad, and so on. Not sure if this means I am fickle or indecisive. I'd say it points more to me being a flaky Libran (can my starsign be Secret #3?).

Therefore choosing one photo over all the others just ain't gonna happen. Although....there was that one pic of my..... that I sent to..... ahh, never mind. That would be revealing too many secrets (insert a vision of me giving a theatrical wink here). So here's a few of my faves in different categories.

I love antiques, anything old with a bit of character and I'm hooked (Secret #4). Friends and family know to never throw out any old things they find in their Grandpa's sheds until I've had a look at it. Or as my daughter says, "Got any crusty old crap? She'll take it". I particularly love old photos, black and white, sepia....my house is full of them, and this is one of my faves. A priceless shot of some of my mother-in-law's ancestors, apparently taken at a tennis picnic held in the Adelaide Hills. And of course the bloke on the right brought along a gun. Doesn't everybody?



(I'm expecting a few mother-in-law + gun jokes to come in after that, don't disappoint me).

Kids next. Lots to choose from here, since it has been a standing joke in our family that my son was the most photographed child in the Southern Hemisphere. Secret #5. Guilty as charged, I always had the damn camera out, poor kid. Funny that he is now studying photography at school.



One that always makes me giggle is this one of him, aged 2, holding a too-big ball, wearing too-big shoes, too-long hair and a too-fake smile.
And yes, the first sport he played was basketball, and he is still playing it today, aged 17. I think he fits into those shoes now.






Also taken when she was nearly 2, was this one of my daughter, who had been trying to hold as many teddies in her arms as possible, when she looked at me with such a resigned face as if to say "I only have tiny arms, this is the best I can do". Cute.

One I have to include for a look of sheer delight is another of the girl. Have you ever seen a kid so happy to be clambering all over Ronald McDonald? So glad I captured this because she's 15 now. Teenager. Hormones. Moods. Sigh.




For a fave photo of the 2 kids together I can't go past this one taken when my daughter had returned home from hospital, having spent the night there having surgery to reset a broken wrist. My son was being very protective of her and wouldn't leave her side. They settled down on the sofa together to watch a movie and as the after-effects of the anaesthetic caught up with her, she gradually closed her eyes and toppled over onto his lap. He did not move for the next two hours. That's love. Or I bribed him. Can't remember which.
Secret #6. I have resorted to bribery on occasion. So sue me.


I should also include a fave photo taken by my son, aged about 14 at the time. As I said, he is studying photography, and this is one of the very first photos he took. We were on holiday, driving across the country and stopped at some random town, the name of which escapes me, for a lunch break. We saw this old water tank perched on a lovely old cast iron stand (yes, that caught my eye)covered in vines and my son turned to me, said "Can I have the camera for a minute?", walked straight up and took this. Not bad.
Secret #7. I am one proud mum. Just don't tell him that.



Secret #8. I am a sucker for sunrises and sunsets. Getting out of bed to see the sunrise is an ongoing issue for me as I'm generally not a morning person, but we are lucky in Adelaide to have enough beautiful sunsets to make up for me missing the morning version. Besides, I really like to have a glass of wine in my hand when I'm watching the sun and I've been banned from drinking at breakfast, tsk. (I guess that's Secret #9).
Here's my faves, a sunrise from my front door and a couple of relaxing sunsets.






Now I should tell you that Secret #10 is that you can all breathe a collective blogger buddy sigh of relief, as I have no intention of tagging anyone individually. However, if any of you wish to take up the challenge voluntarily, feel free to do so. Let me know, as I have a frilly dress and a pogo stick ready for you.

The Diet

7.30am Someone tells me about a documentary they saw on a community in the slums of Mumbai, 1 million people in 1 square mile, and I am now imagining the poop issues associated with that. Don’t need breakfast after that.
Day #1 of The Diet going well so far.

7.50am Son is now eating breakfast in front of me, smells good, can feel my appetite returning, getting hungry.
Day #1 of The Diet, wavering already....

8am Fed the kitten some rancid smelling fish concoction.
Day #1 of The Diet back on track

9.20am Making a cup of tea and I just know I’m going to eat a biscuit with it... trying really hard to resist approaching the biscuit tin. And fail.
Day #1 of The Diet is really hard.

9.21am I have opened the biscuit tin to find nothing but one broken half of a YoYo biscuit, the whole packet I opened only 2 days ago is gone, which reminds me why I wanted to start a diet in the first place.
Day #1 of The Diet, well this should be easy as long as I never have any food in the cupboards....

10.58am Drinking water and wondering if it’s too early to drink wine. My conscience tells me it is. The bottle of Houghton’s Sauvignon Blanc Semillon in the fridge tells me it isn’t. The knowledge that I don’t have a packet of potato chips to eat with the wine holds me back. Conscience and lack of munchies in the house wins again.
Day #1 of The Diet and this willpower thing is a piece of cake...oh god, I said cake...

11.01am Searching for the remains of daughter’s birthday cake. I’m sure I hid, err, put the last slice at the back of the fridge behind the healthy yoghurts. Nobody would think to look there. I have to move the bottle of wine out of the way to search and am distracted by how comfortable and chilled the bottle feels in my hand....umm, what am I looking for again?
Day #1 of The Diet and the hunger is already affecting my short-term memory.

11.39am A friend calls me to invite me out to lunch at a lovely café with scrumptious food.
Day #1 of The Diet. Diet over. Worst 4 hours ever.

In The Book Of Life, The Answers Aren't In The Back

Two ideas for this post.

1. A rant. Something I have an opinion about that will probably offend, stir and ruffle.
2. Q and A. Answering the questions that are put to me in the comments on this blog, something I’ve been very slack at in the past. (every time I read Simon’s blog and his replies to comments I hang my head in shame, until he hands me another mimosa)

Which to do?

Option 1 needs a clear head, peace and quiet, and a state of calmness for me to be able to express myself in a concise, intelligent and comprehendible manner. I need clarity, confidence and an uninterrupted thought process to put my passionate opinion into words.
I am currently surrounded by teenagers who are still on school holidays, a new naughty kitten, noisy builders and a layer of plaster dust that I can actually taste.
Yeah, option 2 it is then.

I will only go as far back as my Christmas blogs, The 12 Days of Christmas spoof, parts 1 and 2. It seemed to attract a lot of attention, and made lots of people who thought they were having busy, stressful times look at my life and say “Wow, look at her crap, I don’t have it so bad after all”. They probably bounced away from my blog with fresh energy and attacked the festive season with renewed vitality, a twinkle in their eye and a not-as-tight-as-before grasp on the champers. So glad I could be of service to you.

Don’t get me wrong, there are people out there far worse off than me, but they are not writing on my blog. Family issues of varying degrees on both sides (ranging from small niggles, through huffy disagreements, to yelling, tears and wanting to do grievous bodily harm to someone), parents moving from their home of 59 years to an aged care complex, teenager problems (when isn’t there really?), money worries, relationship issues, renovation delays (finished on Dec 1st?...uhhh, what year?), death of a beloved pet in suspicious circumstances, health troubles (stress-related...duh) and dentistry dilemmas. Basically, there was nowhere to turn to find a safe haven. There was nothing that went smoothly except for me writing about how nothing was going smoothly.

I can honestly say that I look back on December 2009 as one of the most eventful and taxing months of my life, the repercussions of which I am still dealing with. Okay, no humans in my immediate vicinity died, my husband and kids are still talking to me, there are no wolves at the door yet, health and teeth are somewhat restored, and as for the person I wanted to maim....well, a tall ladder and some tangled Christmas lights took care of that for me.

So to everyone who asked...no, the time after Christmas did not get any better, was quite horrid, and yes, Tim and Jamie, following the Julian calendar, or just skipping December and going straight to January would have been bloody brilliant, can you fix that up for me next year? To Simon, Jemi, Heather, Will, Wendy, Val and countless others...yes, with your encouragement, I did get a little/a smidge/a lot drunk on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t think I was at the time, but the hangover the next day told a different story.

Next thing I knew it was 2010 and I was grateful to both Jacinta and Elizabeth for the Sugar Doll Blogger Award, as responding to it took my mind off the fact that I won every round including Bonus Points Bonanza of the New Year’s Eve party game, “Whose Family Sucks The Most?”

That blog brought a round of boob comments and questions that need replying to... well Elizabeth, I may hope I have the boobs of a Pussycat Doll, but I'm sure I have the arse of a Cabbage Patch Doll...not sure where I am with the kids now William, semi-dorky-alternating-with-cool-and-semi-attractive-in-a-dim-light mum? .... MJ impersonations, yes Wendy, I was wearing pants (I hope) but no perm. The hilarious thing is that after all those hideous perms, my hair is now so curly naturally that I use a straightener. The hair gods struck back. Jamie... maybe not Shiitake mushroom cap knees, might have been when I was about 12, more like Portobello now, will amputate when they look like Morel. And Tanya...oh god yes, I think we’d get along like two crackhouses on fire, we would be firing one-liners at each other all night, talk non-stop, scream with laughter, and wake up with the bestest hangover ever.


And so to the chocolate dream sequence, Better Than Chocolate..... this posting followed both a dream and a conversation I had with someone. I chose the man behind the door over a lifetime supply of chocolate, including Tim Tams (pictured for those who wondered), and apparently I am in the minority.

It’s okay ladies, I won’t tell your partners, your secret is safe with me. And it’s okay guys, I won’t tell the ladies that you just wanted the girl in the bathtub. Ellie wanted to know who was behind the door ....well, the man of my dreams of course. He knows.

Now I bet you all can’t wait until my ranting blog..... sorry, not even going to attempt it until at least the kids and maybe some chunks of plaster are out of my hair..... sixdaystogosohelpmegod, pass me a Tim Tam.



Oh and thanks for giving me a title Charlie Brown.

Better Than Chocolate

I walk through the mist into a clearing. I think I may have been here before, perhaps in another dream. I glance up at the canopy of the trees above me and it seems familiar. Maybe I have just seen Twilight too many times.

There is a door and a man standing by it. I take in his shiny suit and gaudy silk tie. He looks like a game show host.

I approach cautiously and he holds his hand out towards me. He is holding a chocolate bar. I am hungry, I haven't tasted chocolate for weeks and my mouth starts watering. The man tells me I can choose to eat the bar or take what's behind the door.

I lean forward, turn my ear towards the door and I think I can hear a slight rustling noise. The man holds up the bar again with a smug look on his face, but silently I point to the door.

Magically the bar turns into a packet of Tim Tams. I arch my eyebrows and wonder if this has ever happened on The Price is Right. He offers the packet or the door. I listen, convinced I can hear breathing, and I shake my head, still gesturing towards the door.

The Tim Tams become a chocolate mud cake, covered in a double layer of chocolate icing. Again the offer.

I step closer to the door and breathe in. I am sure I can smell a familiar scent, an aftershave mingled with a skin I know so well. I frown in frustration and point with both hands now, showing the man I am adamant I want what's behind the door.

There is a rumbling noise, getting louder and louder. A giant truck appears. The back swings open and I see a mountain of chocolate, every kind possible. A lifetime's supply or the door.

I show my choice by moving right up to the door, laying my whole body against it. I sense someone on the other side is doing the same thing. I can feel it. Or imagine I can.

The man shakes his head in amazement, clicks his fingers, and disappears, along with the truck, the chocolate and the door.

I stumble as the door vanishes, but strong arms catch me, wrapping around me, holding me up, and I melt into them. I look up into your eyes, put my hands on your face and speak for the first time.

"It's you, it's always been you. I choose you."

You smile and reach into your pocket, pulling out one solitary, softened, sad-looking little piece of chocolate you carried with you, carried with love, waiting for this moment.

I smile back. "That'll do me."

The Fabulous Sugar Dolls...(psst, are we anything like the Pussycat Dolls?)

Both Jacinta of livemorenow and Elizabeth of whining at the world have recently (well, a while back now, oops) bestowed upon me the honour of a Sugar Doll Blogger Award. Thank you muchly ladies. I am supposed to share 10 things about myself of which you are not aware. Having recently enlightened/burdened you all with 10 rippers for a previous award (see Honest Scrap Blogger Award) I have decided to do it with a twist this time. Instead of telling you what I think/feel/believe/perceive about myself, I will share with you 10 snippets of my life that other people have said about me or to me. The good, the bad and the friggin rude.

In no particular order of timeline or significance in my life....

#1. About to head out to a Christmas dinner, son comes out of his room, looks me up and down, and says “Wow, you look semi-attractive”. I truly knew the definition of ‘inflated ego’ for about 20 seconds until he added for good measure, “Well, a shitload better than you usually do anyway”. Cue the deflated ego.

#2. I had my first hair perm. Hey it was the 80’s and I learned my lesson.... eventually. The last perm I had was during the Great Frizz of 95. Anyway, a month or so after the first one a friend approached me and said “You know, I wasn’t sure I really liked your hair with a perm but I just saw a photo of you with your hair how it was before.... and I’ve decided I really like your perm now”. She smiled at me encouragingly like she had just paid me the hugest compliment possible, turned, and flounced away. Next time I saw her she had just had her hair streaked?/tipped?/bleached?/whatever, so I said “Ooh what happened to your hair? You really should get that fixed”, smiled, turned, and flounced away.

#3. Picture it. Group of mums sitting around having a leisurely summertime lunch while the kids are all playing in the cubby house or sandpit, the champagne is flowing, the chatter is constant, the laughter is loud. We start to tell each other what opinions our husbands have of our friends. It’s all fun, polite and pleasant... “My husband always refers to you as the cute blonde one” (not me) ... “My hubby calls you the short one” (also not me)... “Mine refers to you as the one with the hot car” (again, not me)... “Mine likes you all, but can never remember any of your names” (that was my comment). Directed to me it was mostly “My husband says you crack him up, mine calls you the funny one/loud one/bubbly one/friendly one etc”. Then the yummy mummy who was probably my closest friend looked at me and said “Well my husband has always referred to you as the one with the nice boobs, he reckons there’d be a damn fine pair under there”. Several pairs of eyebrows were arched, and there came a split second of awkward silence which I broke with roaring laughter, before the others all joined in. She then leaned across, poked me in one boob and said “I agree with him.... bitch”. I snorted champagne out my nose and laughed til I cried.

#4. Husband once said to me “Your arse looks better since you lost that bit of weight, you were starting to get a real shelf back there”. And I am still married to him. And even more amazingly, he still has both of his testicles.

#5. Mother-in-law said to my husband “I like Cate, I like the relationship I have with her. She just gets in and does things, just deals with things, she always says what she thinks, you know where you stand with her” ...pauses for thought... then continues... “though sometimes she should probably just keep her mouth shut”. Sorry MIL, you can’t have it both ways.

#6. I bought a dress recently, the first one in about 10 years (I am not really a dress person, I like to wear the pants, both figuratively and for real) and when I told my daughter she said “I hope it’s long enough so it doesn’t show your mushroom cap knees ....that is why you stopped wearing dresses isn’t it?” Sigh. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

#7. One of the aforementioned lunch-mummies has been none too happy with me on many occasions due to the fact I made her laugh so much. Normally you would think this isn’t a problem, but once at a particularly amusing Christmas party whilst doing dreadful Michael Jackson impersonations on the dance floor, I made her wet her pants, literally. I also had her in such uncontrollable hysterics once that she farted, quite loudly, on a public street. She told me she eventually made a rule for herself that whenever she knew she was going to be partying with me, she would try to make sure her ‘bodily functions’ were well taken care of. She moved interstate. I think it was to save on knickers.

#8. My son told me his friends said I was a cool mum. Awesome. I floated around on that for a few minutes before I asked why. It seems it was because I had given him permission to attend an all-night gaming session at an arcade during the holidays, but the other parents had not. I thought it was a safe thing, lock-in at 8pm – 8am, they would get dropped off at the door, picked up at the door, they had mobiles to ring us if they ever had enough (as if) and wanted to come home, we could get them out at any time... etc. They didn’t end up going because of the other ‘dorky’ parents. As the conversation over my ‘coolness’ continued I discovered what the other parents knew that I did not... it was NOT a lock-in, people could come and go all night long, and it was in a very seedy part of town ... no wonder they said no. I would’ve too but I didn’t tell him that. Apparently I am only cool when I am not in possession of all the facts.

#9. My older siblings were 17, 14 and 11 when I arrived and my mother has always taken great pains to tell me I was a 'mistake'. Not a 'late-in-life surprise' or a 'lovely accident', but a mistake. This has been repeated at regular intervals to myself and anyone who would listen throughout my life. She generally goes on to say "I really should have had another one straight away, then you might not have been such a spoiled brat". It's okay, I chose her nursing home. It is run by Nurse Ratched and I think Annie Wilkes is the 2IC.

#10. Friend’s birthday party, oh god, karaoke. Lots of complete strangers, but after a few wines I didn’t care. So I sang. A lot. Even sang back-up for others. As the night wore on the other guests/singers were getting more bold with song choice, performance and were even looking away from the screen and guessing the lyrics. One of my mates whispered to me “For f***s sake, will you get back up there, grab the microphone and take over. I want to hear you sing”. Bring on that inflated ego again. I whispered back “But I thought I had a crappy voice?” “Well yeah, it’s not the best, but at least you sing the right words and you have nice boobs”. Hmmph, so I've been told.

As a footnote, I'd like to add that someone once told me “I met so-and-so’s wife today. She is so nice, really friendly. The conversation just flowed, there was never a dull moment. She’s so bubbly. She reminded me of you actually”. Awwww, nice. Sometimes people are, you know. Really, it did happen. I’m sure I didn’t dream it....

For a final twist in the tale, I won't 'pass this on' as such, since all my blog buddies have probably listed 10 things about themselves more often than they care to remember, but I will plug just a few of my favourite must-read blogs I discovered last year. Go check them out, you won't regret it.

Along with the 2 lovely ladies who gave me this award you should be reading...

The Life and Times of a Househusband Hilarious. Best. Blog. Ever.
bringing up charlie I think I love Charlie.
W.M.Morell's Musings from Down Under My cyber drinking buddy.
Meaningless Meanderings from a Madmother She will make you snort regularly.
Notes from Lapland How she even thinks let alone types in such freezing conditions I'll never know.
Holli's ramblings An entertaining snapshot of life in Ghana.

and quite frankly everyone else in my blog list, how can I possibly leave anyone out? Read them all---->



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12 Days Before Christmas - The Saga Continues - Days 11-0

11 days before Christmas
somebody said to me
can you write another blog for us all?

10 days before Christmas
my builder said to me
it’s going well
next week you’ll get your brand new glass wall

9 days before Christmas
my daughter said to me
Mum here’s my list
of things I want
you didn’t meant it when you said keep it small...?

8 days before Christmas
her list it said to me
books, DVDs
clothes, shoes, phone
two pages long
another day of hell at the Mall

7 days before Christmas
my builder said to me
got some bad news
there’s a delay
no glass wall
your Christmas is here?
hope the weather doesn’t bring you a squall

6 days before Christmas
my husband said to me
it’s my work dinner
don’t you get drunk
just take it slow
oh my god
drinks are free
so I got pissed and had me a ball

5 days before Christmas
my own voice said to me
write some more cards out
wrap some more presents
no time to cook
get takeaway
eat it fast
oops broke a tooth
now I have to give the dentist a call

4 days before Christmas
my family said to me
we’re all so busy
we haven’t shopped yet
you’re such a good cook
you do it all
turkey and ham
salads too
even dessert
if you need a hand don’t give us a call

3 days before Christmas
my husband said to me
what will you be making?
have you made a list yet?
better get a move on
I’d like pavlovas
don’t forget prawns
cranberry sauce
whipped cream too
are you writing this down?
now I’m going out to hit a golf ball

2 days before Christmas
my builder said to me
running behind now
scaffolding still up
bricking not finished
we’re leaving early
it’s getting hot now
40 degrees
you should be right
to have your
Christmas in here
in a room that looks more like a mess hall

1 day before Christmas
my dentist said to me
let’s have a look here
wow that’s a big hole
filling has come out
half your tooth gone too
yes I can fix it
just let me numb it
won’t feel a thing
jab, drill and pack
drugs wore off
OHMYEFFINGGOD
he said it wouldn’t hurt, I recall...??

On the day of Christmas
my own voice said to me
what do I do first?
far out, my mouth hurts
decorate pavlovas
make up the salads
hurry set the table
where are the crackers?
take some painkillers
POUR A WINE NOW
open the gifts
sit, drink, eat
run me off my feet
can you tell I really do love it all?

Now go away and let me drink til New Year.