Dec 23, 2011
Dec 15, 2011
BTW, this is almost how many cats we've had in 24 years. Almost. Okay, so we're on #9.
To those of you who have been reading my blog, my tweets and my Facebook updates this year, you will already know most of this, you nosy fuckers. To newbies, this is my Annual Christmas letter sent to friends, a recap of our year. Otherwise known as the "Look How Exciting My Life Is" letter. If only life felt as good as it sounds when condensed to two pages. Read on.
This is almost the exact letter sent out to friends, only the names have been changed to protect my poor, demented family and anyone who may wish to befriend us. Or move in next door.
Ho Ho Ho, fa la la la la and all that.
Firstly, I apologise, I did not send cards last year at all, and my catch-up letter was done in January. What can I say, I live in Procrastinatia (thank you for that term, Janet Pretsell, I used to call it Procrastination Land, but yours is better) and by the time I get around to it, the optimum moment has passed.
So, in a nutshell… this year has been nuts.
Son (19) has completed his 1st year of Uni, and let’s just say his 3 year course will probably take another 3 years. Husband is betting on 5. He has not been very studious and isn’t overly passionate about the course, but is plugging away and it at least gets him out of the house for a while every week. Not long enough though. However, his sleeping and Call of Duty skills have been mastered this year, as has his ability to regularly fill my family room with teenage boys. I guess that’s what happens when you have a big family room with comfy sofas, live 10 mins from the city, 10 mins from the beach, 2 mins from the soccer stadium, 2 mins from a great reserve with tennis courts, basketball ring, oval, etc etc. We are Grand Central Station, with the added bonus of a Subway, chicken shop, café and great pizza joint down the corner. At least I don’t have to cook for them.
Daughter (almost 17) has completed Year 11. Haven’t got the results yet, only know she’s getting an A for English because her teacher rang me one day. While I’m on that, you really don’t want the phone ringing at 9am and to hear “It’s So’n’So from Adelaide High, I’m Daughter’s English teacher..” just days after the exam. All I could think was “Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck, what’s she done now…” (she does have prior convictions along these lines). Thankfully only good news. She’ll be doing an odd mix of Biology, Psychology, German & English next year in Year 12. No idea where that will lead her, but it’s what she likes. She has a boyfriend, a hairy Greek whom she gave waxing strips when she drew him in a Kris Kringle/Secret Santa thing her group of friends do. Apparently ‘sense of humour’ is a strong bond between them. He went lingerie shopping with her & her girlfriends. He’s a keeper.
Husband started his new job in Feb and his feet have hardly touched the ground since. Well, not in Adelaide anyway. He jets all over the place, mostly from Mon to Fri, and comes home on weekends. Has only missed a few weekends when he’s been on long two week stints. He’s mostly been in Sydney, but also Melbourne, Brisbane, Cairns, Newcastle, Hunter Valley, Perth, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Auckland. So far he’s really enjoying it, and I don’t mind snore-free nights. Though I do miss him putting out the rubbish and pooper-scooping. Poor bastard touches down on Friday nights and gets an immediate rundown on everything that he/we have to do on the weekend.
I have adjusted to being sole parent Mon to Fri without too many problems, although the day the dishwasher blew up and the power went off and the dog ate my favourite shoes was a testing one. Thank goodness for wine, though 10am was probably a tad early, even for my low standards. I wrote a manuscript this year, just for fun. It’s a novel about a mid-forties wife and mother of teenagers who’s deciding whether or not she may be an alcoholic. SHUT UP, IT’S FICTION. I also became a pink-wearing, housewife-socialite fundraiser in October, holding a Girl’s Night In for the Cancer Council. Raised $1450 for them and raised the roof with my karaoke version of Love Shack. Next year, I’m thinking Bohemian Rhapsody…
And yes, we have another dog. We rescued a 13 month old beagle called Bella. At first we couldn’t understand how she’d had two owners before us, I mean, who would give up such a lovely dog? Reality bites. On 14 pairs of shoes so far. And a laptop, several clothing items, a multitude of toilet paper rolls, an electric shaver and a bag of potatoes. Among other things. Many, many other things. And she is scared of unknown males. And of noises. And voices. And the doorbell. And the cat. And of my karaoke singing (but who wasn’t?). And she has pissed on every surface in every room. She has ‘issues’. But, god help us, we love her. Not sure what that says about us really.
The last few weeks have been mad with social stuff. Have had an engagement, a 50th, Elton John concert, three dinners, 36er games, blah blah blah and more of the same coming up. Looking forward to a relaxing few days in Robe in January, just to wind down and escape from it all. Husband is having five weeks off, so it will be interesting to see how we all go with him back in the house 24/7. Especially the dog, who sleeps on his side of the bed while he’s away. Oh well, as long as he takes out the rubbish, I’ll be happy.
Enjoy your festive season everybody.
Love to you all
Dec 7, 2011
Things you find in the Daughter's room, behind a chest of drawers which has not been moved for more than 7 years...
- Dust. And not just layered. But clumped. Balls of it. Great big fistfuls. Chunks big enough to play nerf baseball with. And to cause catastrophic sneezing and associated back spasms.
- Tissues. Please don't ask me if they were used, I tried not to look as I retrieved them with my long-handled barbecue tongs.
- A shirred tank top. Well, it was once shirred. The elastic has withered away and the top now just... hangs. And it doesn't hang well enough for my liking, I think her boobs outgrew it in 2008.
- One sock. This won't help me make a huge dent into finally clearing my odd sock basket, currently holding steady at 17 lonely socks, but it's a start.
- The removable straps of a long ago grown-out-of summer top which we could never find the straps to, which I almost went back to the store to complain about never receiving.
- Wrappers. All sorts. Previously containing chips, sweets, gum, chocolate and... umm... feminine hygiene products. I am going to attach a flashing neon sign to her rubbish bin as she apparently has trouble finding it.
- Two pairs of dust-encrusted shorts, children's size 6. Been there a while. She now wears ladies size 8/10.
- An Eiffel Tower keyring. Neither myself nor my Daughter have ever been to France so I assume it was a gift from one of her jetsetting friends. Or a fake.
- A half-filled bottle of Impulse body spray. To go with the other six half-filled bottles scattered around the room.
- Lego bits. And not just any old Lego. Belville Castle pieces which cost us two arms, a leg and a kidney for her 5th birthday and was permanently residing back in its box by her 8th birthday. She's almost 17. Why do we still have it? Because it was expensive, dammit, I'm going to make her and her friends play with it at her 18th.
- A thoroughly destroyed cover and shredded inner leaflet of a CD of The Saddle Club. She received this as a gift from a relative many years ago and was never really into the Saddle Club, so I suspect, strongly, it may be the one item behind the drawers which ended up there deliberately.
- Two pencils, a pen, a wad of Bluetack, a pencil sharpener, two paper clips and three rubber bands. Of course. Don't you all keep your stationery hidden behind a chest of drawers so nobody else can pilfer it?
- A Harry Potter poster. I'm stunned she hadn't missed it, she only has about 73 other assorted movie, rockstar, witch, wizard, vampire and werewolf posters up on her walls...
- A stain. It appears that at some point, long ago, perhaps a can of Coke sitting on top of the drawers was knocked over, causing a small amount of its contents to trickle down the wall and onto the skirting board, leaving an intricate pattern. Oh don't worry, I didn't clean it. It's just getting covered up again. Duh.
Oh. Crap. The sock doesn't match any of the other lonely souls.