Looking forward to the weekend

Though I am feeling the effects of a late night last night at bookclub- I am really looking forward to this weekend.

Line-up for tomorrow: Get up before sparrows' fart. On this note I have to digress. Last night at bookclub- we are asked to guess on the list of the top 10 most proficient farters what is the top. Termite? Get out of here? I still plan to verify this somewhat dodgy sounding fact. I mean how the heck to you even establish when a termite has farted?

Then Christopher to swimming by 8am. We missed it last week because he had a runny nose in the morning. Then meeting Jade at home. I met Jade when we both attended ante-natal classes before the births of our first children. She is now 5 months pregnant with her second child and has started her own business . So I hope to be one of her first customers.

My wedding photos have been lying around in a box now for over 4 years and it is time that they finally get put into an album. So Jade is coming over to discuss doing that for me and I am excited about that as she will also be doing a few scrap pages for me. So tonight- big job to sit and sort through the photos and put them into some kind of order and scratch up my wedding invitation and other momentos.

Then I am meeting Robyn at Mugg and Bean to arrange Taz's baby shower and finally off to the International Fashion Sale {with up to 70% off} with Loren, my sister-in-law. Yay.

Then Sunday- there is art in the Garden and Walter Sizulu Botanical Garden and I quite fancy doing that and maybe dragging hubby along and getting brekkie. Christopher loves the place but as per previous blogs has been known to aggresively eyeball other patrons who get in his way.

Also Spudo, my young brother, returns from Lagos and I am not sure who will be happier about that- him or me. My mom-in-law will also be getting back from overseas and will be very happy to see her back too!

I overheard such a funny conversation in the toy-shop yesterday. The teller remarks, "Elizabeth Taylor!!!" reading her customer's name off her credit card. Obviously quite innured to this line of questioning, the patron replies wearily, "Yes- but I was not born that- it is my married name and I am still on my first husband. You should see the jibing I get about it especially at work because I work at De Beers (for those that don't know- massive diamond mining company) and on my business card it says: De Beers A diamond is forever, and my name- Elizabeth Taylor."  Well I spose the diamonds if not the husbands, were indeed forever.

So last night as Taz and I are in the car on the way to bookclub I get an anxious phonecall from James that he has found Christopher in possession of a soggy Doom mat. Grrrr. I thought I have just bloody left him in your care for a whole 15 minutes and he is chowing down on a freeking mosquito mat. Luckily, Taz had been through the same experience with Danika and had gone to the emergency rooms with her (in her ball gown because she had been on her way to a ball and ofcourse these things can never happen at convenient times). The doc had said that there was nothing to worry about. Still I was worried- so very relieved to get home later and check on my sleeping, breathing, snoring, little angel.

But I could not be mad with James as usually everything happens on my watch. So far had been 3- nil score between us(incidents occurring on our respective watches). Now it is 3 - 1. James and I always laugh because he is always so understanding when something has happened on my watch and we both know that if the same thing had happened on his watch I would go off like a cracker.

We have agreed to agree that he is the bigger (and often better) person in our relationship. Although not gracious- because when I was in one of my rare, flattering moods and I told him that he is so generous and kind, blah, blah, etc and he smiled endearingly at me and replied yes- and you are a little beyatch. True, but luckily for him- I'm his little beyatch.

Ants, Misleading advertising and Miscellaneous

I have ants. Everywhere. In the kitchen, in the kettle, in the cat's food, in the used tea bags, in the pantry cupboard. I cannot even claim the privacy of my own bathroom because even there I have to contend with eyeballing yet more ants. And I have a bit of an obsessive relationship with ants. I hate to see the poor buggers drown walking in the sink- so depending on my mood I will often scoop the lucky ones up on my fingertip and set them to dry on a dishcloth. But sometimes I get gatvol that there are just so many ants- and then there are just so many ants circling the drain and then they are gone...and I feel bad.

To digress-I have seen a doctors' lecture in good practice where they are advised that it is best not to use funny little acronyms like CTD on their patient's bedcharts- because it becomes a bit embarrassing in court when under cross examination by the plaintiff's attorneys as to what this means, you are forced to divulge that the patient was circling the drain.

So back to the ants. How do I get rid of them when I have a young child and pets in the house? I am paranoid about using poisons and I don't want them to suffer- I just want them to go and infest someone else's house. It would appear that I have a little Count of Monte Cristo ant or perhaps a whole horde of them- because they are (it would appear from the large piles of dirt left on my window sills) trying to excavate an escape route through the wall. I am not certain why taking a more direct route through the imminently accessible open window has not been considered a more favourable option. I think the little bastards just like to make work for themselves.

So, still on the topic of things that are just that wee bit off centre and not really working for me in my life right now- I also have perfume that looks and feels and cost the same as my favourite perfume- but does not smell like my favourite perfume. This is most bothersome because it was a gift from hubby and is damn expensive. I thought a work colleague of mine had been sniffing the office supplies when she suggested the same thing to me a few years back- that her perfume had been watered down. JPG- is supposed to be sweet and overpowering and smelt from 2 blocks away- but mine, hope hubby is not reading this, smells like I would be better off drinking it as a shooter.

Then- to continue my therapeutic rambling- I have a bottle of Footsack which is supposed to keep my animals off whatever it is sprayed on. That is working... Like a cat-flap on a fucking submarine. Ie not so much. The ants and the cats are all over the place.

Then- one of those free gifts that you get when you purchase your cosmetics - a trial size of something- I noticed as I finished it that it has a false bottom- so from the outside of the container- it looks like you are getting twice as much but then, and hey presto, premature evaporation. False tits. False teeth. False people. So why not false bottoms- or would that be scaping the bottom of the cosmetic jar.

While I am in a philosophical mood- have you ever wondered where exactly all this stuff that is on the internet is kept? Is it all on a big google machine somewhere?

Today's treasures: watching Christopher klunk around in my high heels and seeing the joy on his face as he peeped at me over the dining room table and realised that he was that bit taller. That the new Child magazine was out when I went to fetch Christopher today. I am looking forward to getting into bed and reading it after a nice hot bath.

Leanne's February School Pics

Todays Treasure: these pics. Yesterday was thoroughly dissapointed not to find the flash drive in Christopher's nappy bag when he got home from creche, so was delighted when I found it today. These are the monthly pics (for Feb) that Leanne, Christopher's teacher, takes at school.

Christopher and his teacher Leanne on the Valentine's Day Picnic Day.

Christopher in Leanne's shoes. He loves trying on our shoes. I have to laugh at him when he tries to boat around in James' size 13s. Shoes and my faux pearls. The string of pearls is as long as he is tall and it is the funniest thing to hear his father giving him advice on not tripping over his pearls. He sometimes tries to pick up my handbag to complete the look- but that is too heavy for him.

Christopher and his best friend Nicolaas. Today when I fetched Christopher from school, Nicolaas was so upset that he was going that he sat down in the dirt and started to cry. Luckily I managed to console him and make a quick exit- but I felt awful as I had arrived early and had all these little faces staring at me from behind the little railing, their hands gripping it, all watching with longing in their eyes like little prisoners seeing one of their own going free. Some of them waved. It was too cute. Christopher could care less- he toddles off without a backward glance to go and find his juice bottle.

 Leanne sms'ed me tonight that I have a very beautiful boy and that she is "not just saying that cos I am his teacher". I cannot but agree.

A phonecall to an old friend- I will be flying to East London on business- so hopefully will be able to see her. Linda is an old friend from varsity and I worked out that we have now been friends for just under half my life. She has been in Wales for the last few years and returned to live in South Africa recently- unfortunately- the wrong side of the country (13 hours drive!). How nice to be told that even if she cannot fetch me her family can- that they all remember me fondly and have a soft spot in their hearts for me! Especially considering that I last saw all of them over 10 years ago now. But the feeling is mutual. I have never felt so at home in a friends home as I did when I stayed with Linda and her family in East London. Perhaps I can even return the book that I borrowed all those years ago from her sister Renee- How to win friends and influence people...don't borrow books and return them...um...12 years later?

The Half Century

My 50th blog post today! There was a time when I thought about giving it up but then I started reading my cousin's blog again and was inspired to try to keep this up- although sometimes I do wonder what the whole point of it is. Mostly comes down to keeping a record of days that fly by and hopefully some of it will be of interest to Master Carr when he is a little older and some of it will jog my prematurely senile memory down the line.

I cannot believe how quickly this year is already flying by and how quickly my little boy is growing up. I keep looking at him and thinking- ok we're still cool- you're still a baby- but I know one day- I will look at him and see a little boy. I try to imagine him as a baby baby and already it is hard. Already I am awkward again when I pick up his cousin, Riley who is exactly a year behind him because she was born a year to the day on his birthday. I cannot believe he was ever so small.

I sometimes wish that I could lead the life of a young Buddha. Princely life and vast wealth aside- he was protected from seeing death or anything miserable in his early years. I hate hearing sad news. This morning my maid phoned me to let me know that her sister's 3 month old baby had died. It is not clear how though. As a mother- this kind of news is so upsetting. I feel angry. Angry at the way people have to live in this country. Angry about politicians who don't give a rat's arse and misspend money that should be spent on the upliftment of their people. Angry- that babies should suffer and die. Why? Adds to my ongoing crisis of faith.

I told a colleague that I am a Christian but that at the moment (lasting about the last 2 years) I am having a crisis of faith. Being blonde, I laughed about 2 hours later when I finally got his joke that he is the Captain of the Crises (High Seas- get it? Duhh!). I know we aren't meant to understand everything. We are supposed to accept certain things on faith. But how how how do you accept a loving God who allows all of this shit to happen? How do you have faith that he is loving? I know the purists would chastise me and say that He is not a great big Santa Clause in the sky- that He is also a God of Wrath and a jealous God. Still. I am grasping and finding no straws. I pray to God every night- that in Jesus name he would keep me and my family safe. I am grateful in the morning when we are. I pray when I see or hear something sad. But I battle on with my weak faith, with my lack of comprehension, with my wishing it were different and that we could all lead the life of a young Buddha- protected from these things.

This morning on my way to work- as I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic- I saw a fight between 2 men. The one was threatening the other with a broken bottle and the other one looked like he was trying to talk him out of an imminent attack. There must have been at least 50 eyes on this scene. All of us sat in our cars. All of us doing nothing. I considered rolling down my window and shouting at the threatner. But what do you shout? Stop that now you pesky man!!!? Run along you varmint!? Click your heels together three times Dorothy and get the fuck out of here!? Very quickly the mind makes certain deeply ingrained evolutional computations and the save-your-own-arse programme kicks in. Because I am stuck here and what if I shout at the numbnuts and he decides to come over here and bring his game with? What do you do? I know I would want someone to do something to help me if I were in that situation. I drove off and called the police. But still wonder- what was the right thing to do there?

Anyway- Grey's Anatomy tonight- yay!yay! I have just received an e-mail from my young brother- sending greetings from Lagos.

Today's treasures; an e-mail from my brother, having a brother as wonderful as mine is, that Monday is almost over, that I managed to summon up the discipline from goodness knows where to drag my ass out of bed this morning at 4.50 am to go to gym, that today I get the disc from Leanne with all the photos that she took of Christopher this month, and that finally my cousin, grumpy as she is - has blogged. I was getting withdrawal symptoms.

Who bumped my happiness dial???

Imagine if your happiness could be controlled like volume. I am thinking of the large kind of dial that you get on one of those old-fashioned stereos. So you wake up and you think, "boy do I feel crappy!". No problem. You just turn your happiness dial up and in two ticks you're feeling peachy and pink and fluffy and like life simply couldn't be better. Would we appreciate the happiness we have- if it was this easy?

Today, on the above analogy- my happiness was inaudible. I am only now starting to feel ok- I think the result of a visit to casualty last night with Christopher when he seemed to be having trouble breathing- luckily a false alarm but still meant getting to bed late. I am a misery when I don't get enough sleep.

We had a talk by a psychologist the other day at work and he stated that "No-one can make you unhappy or angry. You decide to let them." What absolute bollocks. It is not the first time that I have heard this. I cannot believe that any educated, intelligent person would repeat such absolute crap. Ofcourse someone else can make you unhappy or mad or sad and you often fight it with all you've got because you don't want to feel any of these things- but in these feelings come and put their feet up and like a psycho visitor with  a shotgun (and your TV remote)- you try to persuade them nicely to leave- but they generally only leave when they are good and ready.

So back to the anaology- people can bump your happiness dial - either up or down. A fight with a spouse, an altercation in the traffic, a client, a child, a rude stranger. Or - an unexpected compliment, a kind deed, a present, a smile, a favourite song on the radio, the delight of your child, the company of a good friend.

I do believe though- that although people can make you happy or sad, it is really up to you to find your own happiness. No one should ever have the burden of having to make you happy. And you are failing yourself if you don't go after it yourself and find the what and the who and the where of your own happiness. Athough, granted, these things are sometimes elusive and ever-changing.

Today's treasures: the alchemy of humour. The way it can change the mood, lift the spirit and bring people closer. Funny how on people's checklists of what they want in a mate- this one always seems to feature- a sense of humour. I love the moments that James and I have- where one of us will outdo ourselves with a particulary well timed piece of wit- when our giggles will turn into guffaws and we both laugh till we cry. Even the smaller wit-bits- where you smile and just feel that bit happier for the joke. Like the other night- when James looks over at me in bed and says, "Still reading that bloody book? " referring to the Count of Monte Cristo which is a genuine doorstop of a book. Me- Yes, with a look in my eyes that says- and what of it?). Him- "you've been reading that book for as long as that guy was in jail". I don't recall offhand how long that was- but probably around 20 years. {giggle}  Him- is the poor bastard out of jail yet? Me- yes, he was out in the first quarter.

I had to read this book- after watching Shawshank Redemption- I loved how the main character kept writing and writing to the authorities till he finally got the books for his library. Then when the men are all unpacking the books and they come across the Count and there is a lot of laughter among the men when they read out the author's name as Alexander Dumb Ass (Alexander Dumas).

A tidy home. It looked like an Act of God had smote it earlier on and I didn't know where to begin. But now is wonderful and tidy. It is amazing what a tidy home does for my peace of mind. I hate all things domestic- especially wiping counters and mopping floors- but I am miserable when I am surrounded by a mess.

Christopher- all of a sudden he will start shouting and gesturing with a look of outrage on his face : "UFFFF! UF!" When I look around I see one of our cats on the dining room table or somewhere else Christopher thinks that he shouldn't be. Christopher is copying me as he has seen me shouting at the cats to "get off". It is so funny to watch and wonder what I must look like to Christopher- funny to see yourself copied.

Gate crashers

It's decided! had been wondering on a theme and what to do for Christopher's second birthday party and weather permitting it will be a foam party.

We went with Adele and Jessica to the Field and Study Centre to meet a whole lot of the parents from the creche that Jess has just started (what a good idea- arranged by one of the moms- don't you hate those super-organised people? But, secretly wish you were one of them?). What a beautiful place- drive in to a forest of trees and Adele tells me that there is a lovely river that you can walk your dogs there too.

Anyway, there were loads of moms and dads and kids everywhere and a few parties going on. It was really windy so when the foam machine started up at one of the parties, the bubbles were flying everywhere and it looked so pretty. I could not resist and we went gate crashing. It reminded me of a stationary Pied Piper because kids of all ages came streaming from all corners to pile into the foam. Christopher included- though he didn't get into the enclosure but because of the wind there was enough foam outside for all the littlies.

Skipped swimming this morning because Christopher had a snotty nose- but it seems to have magically cleared up now- good- then we can go swimming just now at his cousin's.

It is such a gorgeous day outside. James is trying to coax Christopher off the trampoline so that he can turn some ribs over that he has just put on the braai. I have never been a rib girl because I can't stand getting anything stuck in my teeth like mealie pips- but James did some a few nights ago and they were delicious. I will have to eat later though cos I have just had a jam donought and not very hungry.

Ahh- this is much better- I have moved the dining room table so that it is right by the glass doors that open onto the patio looking out onto the garden. The garden is looking so pretty. I am sat at the dining room table the doors open looking onto the garden - there is a cool breeze blowing through and I can smell the ribs cooking.

What a beautiful house Adele has. Huge big rooms and lots of light. Christopher was not impressed when we left there this morning as he had just discovered all the toys in Jess's room. I have promised him that we will return.

Today's treasures: spending time with my family, gate-crashing a foam party, eating a fresh jam donought brought home for me by hubby and this beautiful summer day. Just wish that I had remembered to put my memory card back in my camera so that I could have captured Christopher's delight at being immersed in foam.

The noisy life of living with a toddler- he is hammering out a tune on the jet master with a dessert spoon. The strange life of being a mother- I don't care... Only to happy for him to be entertaining himself.

Just pegged a nappy cloth around his neck so that he could have a rib and not ruin his fine Keedo top (I never figured myself for a label-mom- but I really have a problem with this shop- it is like a siren to me- calling to me and I cannot resist).

Anyway- time to get changed into swimming costumes and to go visiting. Finsish off with some of the photos Leanne (Christopher's creche teracher) took of him at school in January.

Gratitude

Todays Treasure:  coming home to find this note from my maid thanking me for sending her on a first aid course yesterday; 

Gratitude- being shown it can mean so much. I have often gotten it wrong. Sometimes I lack the words and I don't know how to show how truly grateful I am for something received. It is terrible to know that you have hurt someone because they think that you are ungrateful- when nothing is further from the truth- you are just unable to express your gratitude which is deeply felt.

There are memories that we all have that stay with us- where we wish that there was some way to go back and say things differently- do things differently. Showing my gratitude is a common theme in many of mine. I usually have no trouble expressing myself- but this is one area in my life- that I am awkward and tongue-tied to the point of embarrassment.

When I was 14 I had a wonderful friend. Her name was Catherine and she was a gifted artist. She once gave me a large copy of some art that she had done - rolled up - inserted in a cardboard roll and tied beautfully with a ribbon. The picture was many interleading rooms with little mice living their little lives in them, with miniature furniture and every detail drawn in for their comfort. It was gorgeous and I loved her present. After some time had passed- she asked me whether her present had offended me or whether I had not liked it because my response had been so off-hand. I was mortified and told her that I had loved her present but just felt embarrassed that I did not have one to give to her when she gave me hers. How many times do we misunderstand each other but never say anything? How many unintended hurts have we inflicted or do we carry?

But I am hopeful that although we never escape all our flaws- we can become aware of them and hopefully improve. Hopefully become better people as we go along rather than just older people. This is something that I become very introspective about whenever I have a birthday. Have I achieved anything special that year? Have I made my life or anyone else's any better (or worse)?

Today's treasures:

Friday's because that is when Christopher's teacher puts this diary in his bag to come home to me, after she has kept it for the week. She keeps a diary of the goings on in Christopher's life at school and writes it as if he is writing it himself. Reading it makes me laugh, makes me proud and makes my heart swell just that little bit more with love for my angel, even when it is because he has copied his friend, Aiden, and turned a bowl of spaghetti over on his head. It is so special and precious to me to have a small window onto his world when he is away from me. It is precious to me that you get special people, like Christopher's teacher who are prepared to do something like this for me and who put their heart and soul into doing it.

Bruised

My lip is bruised from kissing a dummy. James and I finally got around to going and doing a CPR course today and my lip is bruised- from giving the kiss of life to a dummy that remained stubbornly dead. Made me think about kissing frogs. Sometimes though- I think it is the princess that is turned magically into something better by kissing a frog- rather than the other way around.

Today's treasures: the peace of mind that I have finally done the CPR course that I should have done ages ago and know that it is 2 breaths to 30 compressions on a clackety clack chest. I felt butterflies of panic in my gut as we practiced, because as much as I tried to push the thought away, it came back... imagine needing to do this for real. But better to have a clue than not.

My Valentine's roses- still beautiful.

These gorgeous Penny Black scrapbooking stickers that I found today and having the day off work.

It is late and I am resisting going to bed. This happens when you have had the marvelous freedom of a day off and you don't want it to end.

Another cup of tea and to bed as the lights have gone out again and the insects are fluttering around me to get to the light of my screen.

The Search for the Ugly Noo-Noo

Christopher does not say "No". Englishhotpototoinyourmouth "no". He shakes his head emphatically and says softly, "noo". Noo,noo,noo. It makes me laugh every time he does it. He used to do it a lot when he was smaller. Something he shouldn't, like threaten to put his finger in the plug hole and then look at me, his head tilted down and looking up at me and then shake his head, "noo?" As in the ugly noo-noo. But he is my beatiful noo-noo.

This got me to wondering- what or who was the Ugly Noo-noo? I asked Jeeves and googled it and am no wiser. It would appear that the Ugly Noo-Noo is a play by Andrew Buckland about this

Just looking at this makes me want to scream. According to this, they are usually only 4 -5 cms. Also, they are capable of functioning for a while once decapitated and tend to jump at anything that threatens them while spraying black fecal ink. An ugly noo-noo? I think not. A-fucking-terrifying-kick off your Jimmy Choos run-to save your sweet cellulite riddled ass- don't stop to get your pets, passport, children and don't look back or you will be turned into a pillar of salt mother of a bug- might be a bit closer to the skid mark.

But this is only about 5cm. So on the same google page- I really have to ask- WTF is this?

Had a good giggle while searching for the ugly noo-noo when I came across a chat forum where Wildtuinman and Krokodile (2 adults) were discussing how scared they were of bugs and our ugly noo-noo got the following mention: "My husband calls them Jesus bugs because when you see the size of them you exclaim, 'Jesus!!!! What was that???!'"

But anyway. Enough. Wouldn't you like to be here?

My friend Karen was, in October and sent me this picture. The Pilansberg. We have such a beautiful country.

today's treasures: watching Christopher trying to share his chocolate marshmellow egg with Madiskins (our cat who was not even remotely tempted to take a nibble). Watching him trying to share his night bottle with his new fluffy toy- a black and white mungrel. A new box fish that takes all of 3 minutes in the microwave to cook and is delicious.

Burning down the house

Valentine' s: the table was set with roses and candles and a pretty checked tablecloth. The groceries were bought. The pots were simmering on the stove and the chicken in wine and rosemary sauce, courtesy Nola, smelt delicious. Then the lights went out. Shit. Now what. 15 minutes on hold to City Power and I am supposedly the first to report the problem for our area and a technician will be despatched to attend to the problem.

An hour later, I give up on the idea of the perfect hebed mash and minted snap peas and blanched asparagus (a laughable undertaking for me anyway given my culinary leaning toward Cordon Noir) and James and I sit down to the chicken and a salad. Chicken is suprisingly delicious.

A few hours later and still in the dark. Go to sleep and Christopher cries out. Thank the heavens he did because James then wakes up and stomps about moaning that something stinks. I am thinking ah for pete's sakes- one of our cerebrally challenged cats has just taken a shit in the bath- go back to sleep and leave me alone.

James comes back from his stomping and lets me know that I forgot the stove on and that the power has come back on- the pot that I left on the stove (the potatoes that were to be herbed mash) has burnt through. I wonder through a smoky house and shudder at what could have happened if Christopher had not woken up and James had not wondered through.

This morning James tells me that he is very pleased that he did not have to eat whatever I had been trying to cook as he suspects by the smell of it that I had been attempting to cook a tyre.

The cake did not fare much better. Can you tell that I haven't done this in a while?

Funnily enough though- each cake piece fitted perfectly together to make a level cake and once iced all evidence of my lop-sided baking was gone.

Made me think deep thoughts- Valentine's thoughts about how 2 people- lop-sided people can come together and complement each other in the same way. While I don't buy into the whole Jerry McGuire schmaltz about anyone completing anyone else, I also don't believe that you find many complete people out there. They are rare and no doubt anti-social, because unlike the rest of us mortals- they don't need a balance, an anchor, balast, a rock, a light-house, feng shui alignment of their middle ear chakra, a wonderbra...or a drink.

Lipizzaners on Valentines: Taz and I took Christopher and Danika to a special love songs performance.

Today's treasures: getting caught in a downpour, getting drenched,  a cosy home that stinks of the tyre I tried to cook last night, changing Christopher and I into our gowns and eating lop-sided cake.

First art

Today's treasures: the first art Christopher has ever brought home for us- too precious for words and straight onto the fridge in prize position.

Oh those little hands. As I carried him to his bed tonight and referred to him as my baby and was corrected by James, I am so painfully aware of how quickly my little baby is growing up. I try not to show it but I am already straining to carry him and I think back to when he was so small and so light.

Granny Pat babysat last night and I missed Christopher when I got home even though he would have been asleep in his cot ordinarily it just feels weird and horrible when I don't have the comfort of knowing that I can go and look at him sleeping whenever the urge takes me. I often think to myself that I must take full advantage of watching my little angel sleep while I can. Before he gets to an age when he would be mortified at waking up to find me watching over him.

Met friends last night to go to movies and we were having such a good chat we forgot all about going to the movies and had dinner instead. Nice when that happens- athough I think we may have been one of those loud, gaffawing, shrieking tables that you dread when you are going out for a nice quiet civilised meal. But we had fun...and were uncivilised.

Tonight, Christopher stroked my hair as we lay on the bed - our nightly routine when I give him his last bottle. My husband called me his soulmate (despite the fact that I am tired and grouchy). Life is good.

My fridge got a new do

It had been annoying me forever and a day- that my fridge was covered in out of date pics and that it was looking altogether scruffy. Tonight being James' night (he is currently tearing the ring out of it though) I finally got around to giving it the attention it deserves and I am very happy with the results!

I think a fridge tells you a lot about its owner. Mine is inconsistent- sometimes famine, sometimes feast, but always with some jumble of pictures and items on the front that I love. My mother's is always generous and a happy place to ferret without fear of an Old Mother Hubbard outcome. My mother in law's always full of the food you should be eating- pretty colours of fruit and vegetables and ocassionally sour milk- as she doesn't drink milk.

I felt sad to put away some of the old pictures. There was one of James and I at Nola's wedding- we had a ball that night- and it is one of my favourites- but Nola and Adam recently celebrated their 5th wedding anniversary- so it is dated- but we both look happy. Nola reminded me- we were newlyweds at her wedding.

I won't mention the name of the place we stayed at when we went down for her wedding- but remembering it makes me want to laugh. There was this big fat wiry haired pig sleeping at the entrance. James took one look at our room and declared that he was off to the pub to get drunk.

But it was a beautiful wedding.  Nola had a brilliant idea of leaving out a - what are they called- those instant cameras? Anyway- we made use of it. Happy, Happy anniversary again my cousin.

Adam is unfortunatley far away but I was so impressed and somewhat jealous when I read on her blog what he did for her.

I can now see my dining room table- another thing that was finally tackled tonight. It is one of James' gripes about me- that I cover every surface with my stuff (and lots of it). I remind him that we have no cupboards. I feel somewhat deficient as a female that it failed to register when we were looking to buy this house that it has a desperate shortage of cupboards. And I know that it is bad, bad, very bad of me- but I covet. Covet. Covet. Covet. Closets...

But enough of that. Did a dry run for Christopher's Valentine's basket. Not too shabby.