Word #4

Supercalifragilisticexpiale-douchebag

Thanks my 8 year old neice.

Tag: Secret

I have been tagged by the beloved Aunty Cookie. A secret tag.

Aunty Cookie's secret was about babies. Mine is too.
I'd like to have another. A girl one.

Now I tag The Fly Leaf and Lingo Franko.
'Fess up ladies.

Morning Off

Joshie is at school. Sacha is at Granny's.
I am showered, wearing clean clothes and about to go off into town to look at girlie stuff and drink coffee by myself.

I really love to be with my kids and I really love my morning off.

Uncle Rohan has been here this week, visiting from Japan. A very jolly visit. J turned on his magic charm and then convinced us all to go off to the pub for dinner. I think the pub is J's spiritual home. We played a gmae around the table at the pub where J yell's out "who loves me?" and the quickest to respond with " me" wins. I had visions of him playing a similar game in about 13 years time.

Little Sacha turns one very soon and I am quite excited about it. Ther was a moment where we didn't think he would make it this far which makes the day's imminence even sweeter. He is so well.

Our other visitor this week was Brownie, J's class puppy. It was J's turn to bring him home. He was rapt. J was quite excited too.

Whirl

My head is in a whirl at the moment. Someone we know died and the shock and grief left behind has set my head and heart in a whirl.

Its strange how in times of stress my brain plays tricks on me. The critic residing in my head amps up and I can do nothing right. My life is all wrong and must be changed IMMEDIATELY. I have to do more, I have to be more Nuwanda. And you know what the most fucked up thing about this response to a situation, is that the real guts of the situation has nothing to do with me whatsoever. That's the stupid thing about anxiety. It makes things that have nothing to do with you, all about you. When you should be there for others you are turning in on yourself. How pathetic.


I have learned a lot in the past week. I've learned that pain is a process. That compassion for all is the key. That truly great people are in my midst and I shall not take them for granted.

I wish I had photos of all the people that I love so that I could put them on this site and whenever they were feeling unloved they would have written and visual proof to the contrary and would be filled with a warm and safe glow. I wish life were that simple.

#3

Babinga


while it sounds like something Andrew O'Keefe would cry out on "the deal", it is, in fact, a type of timber (also a bar in Brooklyn according to Google).

I just like the sound of it.
J thinks its the sound our hearts make.

Word/s of the day #2

Root (thanks Mrs d)

Detritus (thanks G)

Douche-bag (with traditional french spelling - thanks mummy danlella)

Confrontatory (thanks Kath&Kim-style bogans in launceston cafe)

word for the day is my new word collection.
all contributions gratefully received.
now that I fancy myself as a writer (pronounced RA-teh), and for my own amusement I am collecting words.


oh yes and


toggle

just cos I like the sound of it.

What's your favourite word?

well, of course

Well, of course the evening was grouse. A little 'rustic' but quite fun. I was fabulous, of course.

Sacha came out and cruised the ladies for a while.
Joshie moved his bed so he could see what was going on through his bedroom the doorway.

One lady complimented my spread ( ....yes the food) was in her top three. Noice one.


Socialising at home is fun.

Word for the Day #1

Poojabbers

What no cabana ...!

I am hosting book group tonight.
I have entertaining anxiety.

Is it because the house is a pit and still has the faint waft of 'rodent' from our recently discovered and baited little friend behind the fridge? Or is it becuase my husband will not be here to avert either possibility of J bursting in and wanting to give us a few bars of the latest tune by "The Veronicas", or little S cruising the snack table for hours becasue he doesn't want to go to sleep? Or perhaps its because every time anyone comes anywhere near her house my mother goes into anxiety overdrive, cleans the whole house to within an inch of its life and then produces out of thin air platters of delicious nibbles and fashionable wine.
Pressure.

Maybe I just needed a full nights sleep.

Hope the ladies feel good about the $10 bottle of white, a bit of supermarket cheese and bickies, lollies and, the ubiquitous bookgroup treat- the TimTam.
My problem is actually better titled 'catering anxiety'.

(I think this falls into the category of crap you get caught up in that doesn't really matter. I hope the ladies have a nice time but I guess I don't have to add perfect '50's-style hostess to my list of achievements. )

What no kebabs of cabana and cubed cheese inserted, decoratively, into a grapefruit. What no freshly baked savoury scrolls for your nibbling pleasure! No martinis, sherry or indeed, any offensively-titled cocktails on offer either.

And I don't have a clean frock.