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Got an invitation to play with the Big Kids over here. Not sure this will pass muster but I've run out of time and fingernails on which to chew.
Have a super weekend.
xx
PS Am hoping the Big Kids will think the wonkiness is an ironic statement as opposed to ineptitude. Shhh! Don't breathe a word.
I think we should change the name of polar fleece to proletarian cashmere. Maybe then it might be worn by people other than homeless men and over-60's bushwalking clubs. Ok, so it's not the most fashion-savvy of materials but something that is soft, warm, lightweight and inexpensive deserves a second look.
My relationship with proletarian cashmere began sometime during the 41st week of my first pregnancy. At this time the only clothing options in the house were a fuschia moo-moo or my husband's pc. Finding the fuschia clashing with my pre-natal acne I found myself easing gingerly into the pc. Can I tell you it was the most comfortable I had been in months of girth-hugging, perspiration-inducing black lycra.
The next day I popped down to Target and kitted myself out in a full ensemble. We're talking pants, jumpers, cardigans, overjackets - damnnit if they had sold pc unders I'd have purchased them. Post-pregnancy I have made some attempt at introducing a modicum of fashion into the ensemble but I'm not too proud to flash my pc if, and when required.
So here's the challenge if you're up for it - show us your proletarian cashmere. How do you accessorise it? Do you work it back with the latest manola blahniks for a post-ironic, post-post-post-fashion statement. Or are you a traditionalist at heart?
Show us, you know you want to.
x
Lucky I had my caped crusaders in tow yesterday when, (allegedly), a bunch of drooling pirates were on the loose in the kitchen.
Fearing the worst for my tupperware, I was escorted into the lounge room whilst a life or death battle ensued amongst the saucepans. An agonizing five minutes passed as I perused my bloglines huddled terrified in the corner. At long last the victors emerged having sent the droolers off for some thinking time in their bedrooms and the world was once again a safe place.
Other weekend activities involved papier mache making with some simultaneous tap-dancing. An excellent if exhausting weekend was had by all!
Thanks to the scrummy Belinda of Tutti-Frutti fame with whom I spent a delightful hour on the phone discussing the finer points of Tokyo craft shopping. Check out her new blog on all matters Japanese and crafting here.
for running madly up and down the hallway. Try it, I dare you.
Here's what it's all about in this neck of the woods:
We've got the eternal fabric folding marathon. I'd love to show you pictures of the craft room but the Frenchman is in residence pending the completion of his office in the wardrobe (best not to ask).
And then there's the laundry. Last time I had a hills hoist I was sent to the naughty corner for setting it at a rakish tilt after a few 360's in my parent's backyard.
Have a rippa weekend.
xxxx
PS Thanks so very much for the advice on Tokyo, most helpful indeed.
We were undoubtedly a dashing pair, what with me looking jaundiced under all that yellow and the Frenchman channeling Sideshow Bob. The small person looks like she would rather be elsewhere - and who would blame her. Can't believe she is on the cusp of 6.
To other matters, does anyone know a good hotel in Tokyo that is both child-friendly and, (this is the critical part), close to excellent shopping areas? Thanks in advance!
xxx
PS Sorry I'm a slack correspondent - I leap on to all these great blogs and start to write a comment and then get sidetracked by the general mayhem in my household. I think I'm going to devote the next week to writing comments - I absolutely love getting them so I reckon I should be sending them out there too.
Love ya.
I'm told that bare bricks are back in. I remain unconvinced particularly when they are of the early 70's mass-produced variety. However, one must work with what one has. In the build-up to the trip to France and Tokyo my decorating budget has dropped to a weekly total of $15 and whatever coins are lurking at the bottom of my handbag. Lucky for me I found this $6 flour sack which does the job as a couch cushion. All hale the mighty op shop I say!
x
Is there a collective noun for cupies? If not, I'm going to coin one. How about a swaddle of cupies? or a posset? The Frenchman suggested a hernia of cupies which is indicative of the deep and abiding affection he has for them.
Justine tagged me the other day for six random things about myself, so here goes:
I used to live on the Isle of Skye in Scotland and Izmir in Turkey - much fun was had;
One of my earliest rock and roll memories is Suzi Quatro's 'Down in Devilgate Drive';
I still want flicks like Suzi's;
Both my children were born drug-free weighing over 4 kilos (this is not because I am a new-age hippy - they were born too quick for drugs to have an effect. The Frenchman was crestfallen he didn't get a chance to sample some happy gas);
Tequila is my beverage of choice;
Before I die I would like to travel all over the middle east, play the mandolin, sleep in a treehouse and learn how to weave.
Join in the meme if you feel like it.
xx
So there we were, my nearly two year old and I, in the emergency department last Saturday evening running the gauntlet of 16 year olds coming down off a cocktail of what appeared to be laughing gas and vodka.
I had the great pleasure of trying to collect a urine sample from the small person as she wove her way around sprawling adolescents, my plastic jar hovering helplessly around her nether regions. After three quarters of an hour of laps around the waiting room and two glorious puddles on the ground we were summoned into a cubicle by a young intern who told me that I need not have bothered. We were later informed that of the three doctors on duty, two had been flown up from a Melbourne hospital after completing a full day's work. My daughter had been seen by a young woman who had not slept in almost 24 hours.
I live in our nation's capital where Emergency is being staffed by doctors who need to be flown hundreds of kilometres from interstate. How bad can the public health system get?
