Followers versus Subscribers

What is this "Follow" business? What? What? What is this thing that's hit the blogosphere?

Isn't it exactly like being subscribed, only more public? Perhaps akin to being someone's fan on Facebook, versus their friend - kinda the same...only not really?

In my opinion, the subscribed ones are the real friends.

I find myself now clicking "Follow" on friends' blogs, even though I've already subscribed to every post they write via Reader. But Reader doesn't feed their egos, right? If I subscribe I'm like a silent supporter, as opposed to a little picture tile of glory! I'm happy to ego-feed, if that's what's needed. But I'm afraid to add the Follower gadget, myself. What if you don't click "Follow"? What if you prefer to stay in Reader? But what if you don't use Reader, and you're more likely to Follow...and I'm losing non-Reader-using readers every day? It's like High School all over again!

Perhaps my distaste for the double-up-seemingness of it all has to do with the fact that my Follower count is a tad lower than my subscription number. Or maybe it's that the people who Follow me don't use reader, and so you have to complete an equation to really gauge where my readership's sitting....

F + S + x = R

[Followers + Subscribed + The Unknown = Readership]

x / The Unknown = Bookmarkers / Link-followers / URL-typers / Homepage-makers (too optimistic?)


So, to follow, or not to follow? I sincerely would like to know - what's all the fuss about? Do you like "Following"? Or do you feel similar - you're already following in Reader!

Insults - 5-year-old style

I dropped by a friend's place to deliver a gift a week and a half ago. The eldest son let me in. As I made my way into their dining room, I saw one of the Young Women from church seated at their dinner table opposite the twins I deduced she must be babysitting.

I asked after the parents of the house, and confirmed they were indeed on their way out. I pulled up a seat for a quick chatsky. I am so glad I did - because I became party to the following series of events...

The twin boys were furiously scrawling pictures in felt on A4 sheets of computer paper, giggling between sticking their tongues to their mouth corners.

Tweedle-dee slid his picture across the table to lay it in front of the babysitter; "That's your brother!" He then clenched his fists and scrunched his eyelids as he laughed and laughed. Tweedle-dum followed suit, laughing and laughing.

I leaned over to see what he'd drawn that was such an entertaining insult. What is your babysitter's brother, boys?

I'm not the best artist, but I think I've done a pretty good job of reproducing it for you here.

My lips tightened with amusement. The young woman was unsure what to make of the illustration. Wasn't it obvious? He's a boob!

Or a cyclops.

Or a human who's been disfigured so as to lose all facial features bar a giant wart.

How could she not see that?

Then, Tweedle-dum pulled himself together, shielded his page with his arm, and hastily worked the pen. He cast his page across the table at the babysitter and cried, "No, (gasp), no...THIS is your brother!" (the slide is on the "this"). The twins laughed louder, and harder.

I examined his drawing. As I'd hoped, he added clarity to what this pair were trying to communicate;

Definitely a boob.

Or not.




What say you?

Oopsy Daisy

*I'm a clutz.

Some ways I know:

• I wear clutz marks - mostly in the form of bruises - that serve as reminders of my clumsiness.
• When I find a new bruise on my shin, I'm a) not surprised and b) unsure of when I got it - because there are that many moments it could be from.
  
• Haki tells me so.
• Haki laughs when I hurt myself (as opposed to running to my aid).
• Haki sometimes calls me "Bella".
  
• I once managed to flick a scoop of icecream from its tub up in the air so that it hit my forehead. I tried to pretend it didn't happen, and just keep talking. It didn't work.
• Sometimes when I spill something, people say, "How did you manage to do that?" as though I've done the impossible.
  
• Finding stains and spills on my clothing and not knowing how long they've been there was not a pattern that commenced with motherhood. I've walked that road, I know it well.
  
• When I got a, "Hello! I'm run-down!"-ulcer in my mouth this week, at first I wasn't so sure it was an ulcer - I thought maybe I'd bitten that spot while chewing and had just forgotten...because that seemed just as likely a cause.
• Yesterday, when I filled the laundry sink to soak those poopy Esky clothes, I somehow managed to hook the base of my pyjama sleeve underneath the faucet as I flipped it on...and effectively filled my sleeve with water like a big ol' funnel. That water wasn't warm yet either.
• Minutes after the drenched arm incident, I managed to spill Milo on the matching pyjama pants. I'm not sure how. I think I did a little dance for Esky, and shook the mug...maybe? To make things worse, I'd had only just put those PJs on when I woke up - as I was having a sicky day in, and so "got dressed" for the day in clean PJs.
  
• If Haki's holding Esky, and wants me to toss him something (e.g. the remote, his cellphone after it's received a message, a towel, a wipe, a muesli bar etc.) he holds his other hand way, way, way out, away from Esky's body - sometimes he even points at a location metres away, as a suggestion, and then retrieves the item rather than attempting to catch it in close proximity to the dear one.

Why I, at times, forget this* to be true:

• Because I'm so skillful at picking things up with my beautiful feet. I can flick items up behind me and catch them without looking. I often hum "Just a Spoonful of Sugar" as I do so, because it's just plain magical. Sometimes I look around in the hope that someone, anyone has just seen what I have done.
  
• I'm a veteran when it comes to "nice saves". Child about to pull a cloth off a well-stocked table? I'm your girl! Precariously balanced dried dishes about to topple? I'm there! Foolishly placed item on the dashboard about to slide to the floor? I swoop, I save, I score! I am pretty much the best nice save catch I know.
• I'm so good at parking. Well, that is, unless you're watching from the curb. Or talking to me. Or it's raining. Or you're tooting at me from behind. Then maybe not.
  
• If the world depended on me hitting a mundane target with a small pebble, I would be so very Desmond (see note 24).
• And the number one reason I forget I am, in fact, a clutz, is because even the most coordinated, "unclumsy" people around us do uncoordinated, clumsy things...sometimes....

...right, Honey?

You broke how many eggs?

Yolk happens.

When we're helping we're happy

Today when I woke up I knew that Esky and I were not going to church. This realisation settled upon me somewhere between pulling my anvil-head up out of bed to change Esky's 5am mustard explosion and when I began weighing up the convenience of hoicking my throat contents into her removed nappy.

We were going to stay home.

This is because we're responsible humans - the type of humans that know when they're too sick to mix with other humans for fear of spreading their phlegminess and/or exchanging ailments while their immune systems are low (can you tell I don't like it when other people go out when they're sick?).

When I informed Haki of this decision, he entreated two things in response;

1. "I'm proud of you, honey." (Because, for a very long time, I have been known to be one of the other types of people...the type that think it's somehow admirable to "troop on through" illness - get out, do everything you normally would, and thereby, spread the misery. Furthermore, church, in particular, has been something I would miss at no cost. NO LONGER - I've had enough of being sick and sharing it around. There is no honour in going sick...in fact, it's rude.)
2. "I'm staying home too." (He then went on to explain something to the effect of how he could then look after his two sick girls; how he could nurse us. I suspected this was coming. I suggested he still attend his church meetings. He insisted he would remain to be of service. I became excited about the prospect of him attending to our now very-awake-all-day baby while I caught some extra shut-eye. I quit suggesting he leave. Yay, for having a willing, loving, sincere husband with a desire to serve and nurse those he loves!)

Apparently this is what serving and nursing loved ones looks like:


And this is what it sounds like:

I can stand it

Look what I made...

Not the cupcakes, the cake-stands. Okay, I made the cupcakes too, for the cake-stands; the DIY cake-stands I'm boasting about. Well, sharing. I'm not quite as confident about the boasting angle since I heard Haki's reaction to this project (details to follow).

I've always loved cake-stands, and lately I've been hoping to come upon one in a second-hand store. This hope grew stronger each time I saw Nienie's cakestand in the photo backgrounds on her blog. I thought, "Any cake would look good on that."

Then, I came upon the idea of making my own here. I looked for more examples online, and found another goody, and even an online video tutorial. SOLD.

The latest haul of op shop shopping proffered the supplies...

(everything bar the epoxy, that is)

(barrette project also on the go, as you can see from the packet of clips above)

What our kitchen table has looked like on and off for the past two weeks:

Some became gifts...


...and some, I kept. A few others, I intend to smash...the pair under the parenting books, for example - smash-worthy in the end.

THEN came this conversation:

Haki: You're making more?
Angela: Yeah.
Haki: Why?
Angela: Because they're awesome.
Haki: They look like plates balanced on top of cups.
Angela: Oh.
Haki: Sorry honey.
Angela: This next batch will be better. And when there's food on them...well, you'll see!
Haki: We still don't need 7 cake-stands.
Angela: Aw. [pause] I'll give some more away then. But we need at least 4. Okay, 3, and a bowl on a stand.
Haki just shook his head.


Now I guess I'll just have to venture back into the realm of op-shopping in search of plastic lids. My hand has been forced.


NB: The red and white checked cloth beneath the stands (top photo) was also one of my op shop finds. No, it's not ironed....there's no time for ironing when there are cupcakes to stand! Also...wouldn't ironing the cloth to place under the cupcakes I baked just for the photo-shoot of my favourite three stands from my factory line be going a bit far? I mean, up to this point I really reigned in my crafty bones and CNP, right? Also - tonight Haki smiled from the couch when I stood back from the finished display and sweetly said, "They look nice, honey." My heart welleth over.

Latest Haul

As many of you know, I've been working on my thrift-shopping addiction. I'm happy to report that I have not purchased any clothes in the last, what, 6 visits to op shops? It's true.

Clothes, I said.

I even saw a 1966 collector's pair of Charlie Brown and Lucy dolls displayed in a silent window auction...and demonstrated my new restrained self by placing a bid of $15.00 for the pair. (Who was I kidding?) They went for $30.00 each. I asked when I lost.

Out of curiousity, I checked online. Yup, expensive. (Especially considering the only one I could find in the entire online world was to be paid for in US dollars and couldn't be shipped here.)

Well, looks like Esky won't have a cute, collector's pair of dolls.

That's okay.

I voiced the "such a shame" sentiment aloud in the Mosgiel Salvation Army store manager's presence. And what did she say?! "Wait...

...I think we had another one of those come in!"

It defied all odds.


Hello Lucy!


The store manager who informed me of this unbelievable truth was also the one that had disclosed the winning bidder's price for the pair...yet she sold me the first Lucy's dead ringer for $2.00!

(Don't worry, she'll get a goooooood wash. Lucy, that is...not the store lady.)

As if this wasn't enough, I had recently bought a vintage milkshake shaker for a friend who digs milkshake makers, only to have Haki, learn of my gift and say, "Where's ours?" I felt I had failed him. But I also thought the chances of coming upon another $6 vintage milkshake shaker were slim.

I was right.

But I did find this brand-spanking new one with a $30.00 price-tag...

...and managed to barter / guilt-trip the South Dunedin Salvation Army store manager into selling it to me for $20.00. (I see their RRP is $90.00 online. /beam)

And how grand it will be to distribute the bounty of this mixer into my holy grails! (Although one of these has been defiled. I'm debating whether or not to fill y'all in on this. We'll see.)

Other haul highlights:

• Funky fabric for sewing drawstring bags to enclose the wondrous puppet show and various game pieces and sets;
• Old cookie tins for storing project supplies;
• A set of 15 matching jars for $3.00 for the same purpose;
  
• Supplies for a somewhat obsessive project that for now shall only be known as "I can stand it"; and
  
• This toddler push-car. $2.00. Restoration project details to be posted at a later date.
  

The New System

3 years ago...

Angela: What kind of a sytem would I have to put in place to get you to put your clothes away? Because when pretty much all of them are on the floor, it's a sign the current system's not working.
Haki: Well, I hate drawers. I hate not being able to close them, and hate stuff sticking out...the pulling them open...it's all so much effort.
Angela: (I wiped away my instinctive smirk - but his passion about drawers was hilarious!) Would you prefer shelves?
Haki: Yeah, shelves would be a lot easier - then I could actually see what I'm getting at too.

I got shelves.

2 years ago...

Haki's clothes continued to pile up on the floor.

In the mornings, he rummaged through the floor-pile.

Haki: These shelves suck. (Imagine him spitting these words out.)
Angela: But you hated the drawers.
Haki: Shelves would be better if they weren't these shelves. The shelves come loose when I stuff it too full...and they're not deep enough...and the bottom ones...you have to bend to get stuff out, it's just annoying.
Angela: Gotcha.

This year...

Haki's clothes = still form a trip-over-me-mound at the base of the bed.
Morning routine = rummage; ask after the location of needed item/s.

I got deeper, fixed shelves.

I put the shelves inside the wardrobe to conceal them...should they be less than orderly. I used two short shelves, so that Haki's dress clothes could still hang above them. But apparently bending was too much to ask...as the all-too-familiar mound reappeared.

Angela: I see you have a new system.
Haki: Yeah, you like it?
Angela: No.
Haki: It's pretty much exactly like the old system.
Angela: (I stifled laughter, as his homage to Black Books was truly poetic, and almost had his desired effect; "distract her from her pursuit of bedroom-floor happiness", instead, I mustered a brow-wrinkle and shook it off), Seriously, how can we keep your clothes so that when I crawl out of bed in the early hours to change Esky, for example, I don't have to conquer a hazard to make it safely? I'm carrying her honey, it's dodgey.
Haki: I want to keep all of my clothes...on the floor.

This week...

I called the man's bluff.


Yes, the pile was huge. Haki has a lot of clothes. He says I have more than him...but I'm not so sure.

After 24 hours of experimenting with the purist version of Haki's long-loved system, he gratefully accepted my offer to stack the short (and therefore incredibly inconvenient) shelves on top of each other (already done in the picture, above), and put all of his clothes back, with those used less frequently on the bottom shelf.

Which, I'll be honest, I was dying to do from the beginning.

Every now and then, it just has to be done.


And that, my friends, is what we call "An Afternoon with CNP". Also, more room for my shoes on the wardrobe floor.

NB: Esky looked on from the middle of our bed, as I commentated - justifying my choices as I placed each garment, as well as noting my favour (or lack of) for each item.

The Point of Noreo Return

Struck today at 1:57pm.


Sorry honey, there's no stopping now.

Ba-ba-ba-ba-rrettes

My sister has been urging me, "Esky has too much hair to not have some barrettes in there."

I didn't like the idea.

But I was curious.

So I checked the dollar store for some barrettes. I found some, put them on Esky, staged a shoot, and thought the barrette chapter of our lives was over for at least 3 years.

Then I saw these...
...along with all their friends on Etsy.

I found them cute. Very cute. I found myself thinking about them. I wanted to see them on Esky.

I couldn't justify spending about NZD$15.00 to get a pair here. Especially since I won't let her wear them without me watching her every second they're in.

My thought process thereafter: What if she puts those puppies in her mouth? What if the round part pops off? Ah! Maybe when she's older, and doesn't eat everything. But they'd look so cute. I could put them in for times when I know I'd be watching. They'd be cute. Really cute. I want some. That's it, I'm making some!

So I did.


And they did look cute on Esky.


So I made some more.


And more.

I gave some away to a friend, those pictured are those that I kept. Personally, the "Oh my galosh" pair are my favourites.

P.S. I spent $20.00 for 8 pairs, which works out to $2.50 a pair - which is a lot better than the 15 bucka I could have spent on one. Well, I'm sure postage would have been combined for multiple pairs ordered...but you get the idea. Plus, there's the satisfaction in having made them. Well, stuck them together. I just bought button embellishments, hair clips, and super glue. There's your tutorial.

There's a Spring in my step

I know Spring is here because...

I got my first itchy bite:


The sun's been shining lately. We decided it was a great day for going to the botanical gardens...


We spread out a blanket for some Spring-reading...


Although it was a little nippy (it is Dunedin, after all), we still thought it was a great day for going to the botanical gardens...

Judging by the amount of duck food we found there, so did everyone else...


After consoling myself over the disappointment of overfed fowl, we swung by the herb garden on the way out to collect some fresh herby goodness to add to the evening's dinner...


So here we have it; fresh tomatoes I can afford, free lemon balm garnish, and fresh rosemary in my cous cous!


And that, my friends, was our Saturday.



Further notes on photos for people who care:

1. Yes, Esky is having Tummy-time in the background of the shot. She is also looking straight at Haki taking the photo, no doubt wondering, "Why is the camera not pointed at me?" But back to the itchy bite - you can't see it? But it's so obvious! See, I've circled it. Furious scratching is indicated by the arrows...and as shown by the cross, the most red area is, in fact, NOT said itchy bite, but rather evidence of my clumsily jamming my arm in the buggy when folding it up to put in the boot. I have many such clutz-marks.
2. I love a) the way Esky is clutching Zig; and b) that our nappy bag matches the carseat - what a happy accident. I also love that I got it for pennies.
   
3. Books: His = City of Bones, Cassandra Clare, Hers = A Civil Campaign, Lois McMaster(-Bujold - but not on this edition's cover apparently)
   
4. We call this particular beanie Esky's "aviator".
   
5. I know posting the herb garden with all its free bounty is going to cause my now-departed (from NZ, not this world) friend, Sherry, to feel her stomach muscles contract with longing. This is part of why I did it. I think Heather will miss the gardens. This is also a bonus. Just come back you two, it's quite simple.
   
6. The fish is my favourite fish - gurnard! Gurnard cooked in a garlic and butter sauce I made...even better. Mmmmmm. I wish there was another colour on this plate. It's making me sad.
   

Gum and Shoes

I went into The Warehouse with Esky yesterday in search of a few items for one of my current projects. I ran into my project buddy, funnily enough, while there.

We chatted behind our trolleys for a bit (I get one whether I need a notebook or a tray of plants - because they have a seat for the babe), before I began creeping my way to the check-out.

En route, we came across a man holding samples. The samples looked dodgey - you know, the way lots of energy drinks have dark (if not black) branding and bright writing? Well, these colour combinations somehow represents the appearance of night clubs, party pills, or caffeinated "stuff" to me. Well, the Sampler Man appeared to be holding something night-clubby...in stick form.

The Sampler Man spoke; "Would you like to try some gum, ladies?"

I eyed the tray jutting out from his midriff, which had a strap stemming from it on both sides, running up to encircle his neck. Very American-baseball-standesque. I pursed my lips, "Why does it look all...like that?" I waved my finger over the flashy goods.

"It's new gum."

Jasmine was laughing...and I think, a tad embarrassed. This fueled me.

"So it doesn't have caffeine or some sort of added extra in it?"

"Nope, it's just Wrigleys' new gum. Would you like a piece?"

I'm ashamed to admit the brandname had me. "What are the flavours?"

I chose Tropical. Jasmine went with one of the mints.

My eyes were still on Sampler Man's tray. My gum tasted good. And Sampler Man seemed friendly. "What about my husband? Can I take a piece for him? How about 3?" I raised my eyebrows.

Jasmine was definitely embarrassed.

"I'll tell ya what, how about you have a pack?" He passed me a shiny, silver pack of spearmint Electro. (See, the name reinforces the possibly "enhanced", energy-gum concept, to me.)

"What about her husband?" I nodded my head in the embarrassed chicky's direction.

Presto - another pack.

Before I commenced listing everyone I know, and seeing Sampler Girl approaching - apparently for a Sampler Folk meeting - I decided to quit with my dignity.

I angled the trolley towards the checkout, and began the rounding-up chat with my project-lovin' gum pal. That was, until we were interrupted by a lady in her late 50s / early 60s, "Excuse me?" I looked to the woman's hand on my arm, and then to her face. I quickly did a mental check that I wasn't wearing the store uniform colour - nope, she wasn't going to ask me for directions. The lady continued, "Where did you get your shoes?"

I took stock of what I'd donned that morning, and smiled, "Here!" I exclaimed. I was quite chuffed that they'd drawn some attention - even if by someone a little older. After all, I'd thought them very trendy, and a steal at $12.00. Well, I thought them trendy now. They look exactly like a pair of shoes I was offered by a sales clerk for $120 more than a year ago. I had declined, saying, "They look like nana shoes, to me". The sales-girl, surprised by my assertion, had defended the loafers, "They're really very in right now". Apparently I'm already unaccustomed to what is "in". I shrugged in reply, "They're still nana shoes to me." I went on to buy something more in with me. Flashforward one year. Apparently the shoes had been popular...because they were suspended from The Warehouse hooks with the usual cheap imitation delay wait-time. For $12.00 I was prepared to buy what was "in". They looked comfy.

Back in the present again, I observed the interruptor-lady's crunchy, died hair and smiled. Was that all? Had I satisfied her? Or did she want the logic behind my purchase? I could share the last paragraph aloud...was she up for it?

Crunchy-hair 59er smiled back, "It's just that they look just like something my mother needs."

My smile froze on my face. I twisted my head back to Jasmine like a porcelain carny clown.

Apparently I missed the trendy boat and skipped straight to nana-ville. That is what I get for ignoring my instincts.

They are really comfy.

I know you're dying to take a gander and pass your own verdict.



Oh no. Take a look at the generic brandname.

I still like them.



Bet you thought this post would be about gum sticking to shoes. Didn't ya? Didn't ya?

The Maid Tax

The Scotty is really quite pleasant to have in our family's home. He is polite, sincere, kind, highly entertaining, and then, there are always his abilities to reach things that we can't get to without a ladder - like the extractor fan cover on the bathroom ceiling. It was so handy to be able to have him retrieve that so I could give it a good scrub and bleach. Handy!

But as we have discussed, The Scotty is also forgetful. I know he is not lazy or a slob, because his room is immaculate. Therefore, I deduce he forgets that he has put washing in the machine 10 minutes before he leaves for the week, and forgets that he has made a lot of dirty dishes...and forgets that he has left the door to the treats cupboard wiiiiiiide open to betray what he's been up to while Haki and I have been out.

Even on the basis of these things being forgotten, I occasionally shake my head and whisper things under my breath as I hang out the damp, forgotten washing...bring it in again...and fold it on his bed. I wonder to myself if it is all really a master plan, and we're underestimating The Scotty. Then I remember it's Scotty we're talking about.

My thought process when I am doing such things goes something like this:

1. Oh, Scotty. You forgot.
2. I'll do it for you. It's service.
3. Is it really service though? Because when you get married, your wife will probably not thank me having done all these little things for you - so it's not a service to her.
   
4. But it's still service.
   
5. I'm doing it. It doesn't take that long.
6. Haki said I shouldn't mother Scotty.
7. But his washing/dishes/bathmat/item/window/food can't just sit there/open.
8. Scotty is a big boy.
9. I think I'll leave it in his room.
10. That's mean.
11. Do I say something to Scotty?
12. That's awkward. That conversation would make it sound like I'm really annoyed about him forgetting, when really, I'm not...I'm just hopeful we can help him establish some habits that mean his washing/dishes/bathmat/item/window/food won't get smelly/moldy/stained/bleached/broken/crushed/stolen/cold/rotten.
13. I don't think I'll say anything. I'll just do it. Because it'd be rude not to.
14. But the future wife!
15. I wish there was a way I could bring this up that wasn't awkward.

And now, there is an answer to 15!

Instead of saying, "Hey, Scotty - I'd love it if you latched your window before you go away...because our TV got stolen that time, remember...and I just by chance felt it was cold, and so went in and found your window open a smidge...but I really don't want to have to go into your room, because I shouldn't. So if you could close your window, that'd be great" (see item 12, above).

Now I say, "Feed the jar, buddy!"

I am much more comfortable with a fine system. Then I can tease him a little about it instead of inadvertently lecturing him. I would rather see him slap his forehead when he realises he owes me some more shrapnel, then hear him apologise again for leaving me additional chores/things to do. No apology - just, "Drat!" And then when I find I will have to hang out an extra load of washing before I can put Esky's poopy washing on before leaving for an appointment, I won't say, "Aw", but rather, "Muaha! Yesah!"

And that turnaround works for me.

In fact, sometimes I won't even say something...I can just leave a slip. Of course I made slips.


They match the jar, of course.


Haki was quick to leap to my support in true Haki fashion; "So how are we going to spend it?"

Me: "Ahem? 'We'?" I shook my head in disapproval. Yet another one of my husband's ploys to get at my hard-earned / well-saved cash.

But in answer to his question (incorrect personal pronouns or not), I'll tell you the answer now; "On op-shopping, most likely. Or Oreos - it could go either way."

Now if only such a system would work on my some-day older children.

P.S. I can hear bagpipes from my living room. That's right, somewhere close by, they're playing. Bless Dunedin. Also, Esky says, "/l/bm/jk."

Me Huuuungry

The Scotty likes food.

A few days ago I sat this before him...


The Scotty looked at the spread before him, assessed its volume, and then scooted back and stretched out his gargantuan arm for a loaf of bread from the kitchen cupboard. Moments later he skipped the scooting and just Inspector-Gadgetted an additional kitchen utensil from its drawer two metres behind him. He even added sound effects and noted the Inspector Gadgetness of it himself.

But back to the bread retrieval...

Me: "You need bread?"

The Scotty: "I'm pretty hungry."

Me: "Oh my."


FYI - for those who care...

He didn't need the bread. He was full and there was still some pizza left on the table.

This is what he had before him:

• 5 continental sausages;
• A stack of fresh carrot sticks;
• A scoop of sauteed mushrooms;
  
• A serving of fresh green bean, onion and vinaigrette salad;
• A bowl of chill;
• Two pieces of pizza bread to dip in the chilli;
• A serving spoon of cheesey creamed corn;
• 2 cups of rice;
  
• A serving spoon of Tikka Masala on top of the rice;
• A glass of diet Lift (with ice); and
  
• An entire apricot, cashew and chicken pizza.

Haki and I ate pizza too.


P.S. No, I do not put on a spread like this every night The Scotty is home. Usually I make a "normal" dinner consisting of four or so things on the plate...I just make about four times what I usually would of those things! This post's night I supplemented the dinner with some left-overs.

Introducing Esky

I've always known that "Baby E" could not last as a pseudonym forever. And while I'm quite certain our little tot may still rightly be called a "baby", I've long been planning what alias she's to assume on the blog - because plain ol' "E" just isn't cutesie enough...and the initial alone is a tad too hard to follow while reading (for me, anyway, maybe you're all larger-minded).

So, dear readers, Baby E shall henceforth be referred to as "Esky".

Reasoning for using "Esky":

1. It starts with E.
   
2. It is not Baby E's actual name.
3. When Baby E was born we thought she looked like an Eskimo.
4. It seems such a waste that the word "Eskimo" - a lovely lookin' word, and fun to say - has fallen out of favour as an answer under the "ethnicity box", and I do believe in recycling, after all.
5. "Esky" is shorter, and easier to type and say than "Eskimo". Also...it's cutesie.
6. Haki approves. Sorry honey, that's my thought process order, not the order of how important my points are.
   

Disagree with Item 3? That's okay, you don't have to think so.

But take a look at what a Google image search produced for "Inuit Baby"...

Our Esky still has her moments...

Could they be sisters? I'd like to think so.

Because surely that would mean I could look through a Googlian magic mirror to see what Esky will look like when she's older by typing "Inuit girl"...

I wouldn't mind.

P.S. I just uploaded the Inuit Baby shot to Facebook in Esky's album, mixed in with other photos of her. We'll see how similar they look when I review the comments underneath! I won't say it is Esky, but I won't say it's not! If you've read this post first, keep it quiet, will ya? Be a part of the experiment! Muahahaha.

Sabbath Amusements VII

What a day!

Highlights...

• I got to take my camera to church. I am going to call her "Misty" from now on, because she deserves a name - after all, she was in her Sunday best. Why "Misty"? Well, because 47 out of every 50 photos I take are really quite blurry...and 3 are real keepers. I need to learn how to take better photographs. Also, on a side note, "Misty" was the name of my Labrador back on the farm in the U.S. She used to eat her own poo.
• Speaking of bodily waste...today a little girl from nursery made her way out of the chapel, onto the lawn, and then proceeded to squat and whiz right there, on the spot. Bummer that she didn't pull her tights or knickers down first.
• The chapel library has had a big clean out. I was headed that way to get some photocopying done for my Sharing Time, and I came upon a tower of old Ensign issues (a church magazine). My project-loving heart swelled. I could see a lot of quiet books and Mod Podge jar and tin lids in their future. I could see many, many things. They are now destined for "Project Day" at my house...Tuesday.
  
• Today, for the attention activity during my Sharing Time, I put on a finger puppet show. Oh yes, I did. The lesson was about Alma the younger. I was given some beautiful puppets. Most of them are animals. And so my puppet show was rather "colourful".

Meet Alma (the elder):

And his son, Alma:

(who was sour like a gherkin, at the start...whaddya know, *he* looks like a pickle too!)

And who would Alma the younger be without his ratty gang? That's right, the sons of Mosiah...

Don't forget the angel!


(Yes, that is a farmer finger puppet wearing a tissue - work with me here.)

Ah...puppet shows, how I love you.

• At one point in the show I put the wrong puppet on my finger! Ah! "Wrong Alma!" the audience cried! I then excused the puppet to "go toilet in the woods" before the angel came...and upon Alma the younger's return, he explained he sometimes gets mistaken for his father...phew!
  
• Another highlight - watching the kiddilicks show they really had internalised the story and its message - the juniors through their puppetry (with the same puppets I had used) during the third verse of "Book of Mormon Stories", and the seniors through how quickly they put together a storyboard of Alma's repentance.
• I invited the seniors to liken the story to their lives, and improvise a puppet show of their own set in 2009. I should have known when I selected 3 boys as puppet-masters that the narrative would stretch to accommodate a fight scene. /shaking head. Seriously though, their application was impressive! A boy called Bob was going to his friend, Pig's house, and Bob's mother didn't know a lot about Pig. While there, Bob was rough-housing a little too much, and came home with a black eye. Bob's mamma prayed that Bob would be more careful in his choice of friends. Not bad, huh? My favourite part: When one of the boys found that the Pig puppet was slipping, he excused himself to "go toilet" so he could re-jigger the puppet "backstage". I love Primary. Oh, I videoed the seniors' show, by the way...may post it here...just may...
  
• After church I skidaddled - over to the same home where I received the spelling lesson of last week. I was in search of antihistamines for Haki - who is a-run with all the pollen about. One of the twins let me in and led me into the dining room. Jen said, "I just knew it was you. There's this feeling that comes along with you - I could just feel you were here!" Then her husband, Darcy joined us, and said, "Heya Ange! I knew you were here, I could smell you...your hair stuff, or perfume...or whatever". I'm glad he qualified that statement, because I was *this* close to tucking my chin in and over to give my underarms a sniff. This same family gifted me the Puppet Theatre. I love them. A lot. And not just because they bought my love with a really cool Puppet Theatre...but also because they bought my love with compliments.
  
• Nothing on this list comes close to the feeling I had when Baby E's "Mmmm...mmm...mmm" turned into "Mum-mum-mum" today. I don't care if she doesn't know what it means. If I come runnin' enough times when she says it, she'll get the idea, and then she will be saying my name. Heart = melted.

Teeny Weeny Orangey Polka Dot Strapeeny

It's hard to post when you're lost inside the world of project blogs, I tell you. Swallowed me up, they did! I now find myself panting with need for fabric scraps, glue, and things needing me to apply both of these things to their surface liberally.

I decided I would conquer the world one project at a time. Beginning with this loverrrrly idea...

Like my camera strap?


Me too. Now when I retrieve my camera (which I do so very often), I giggle a wee bit...and I like it.

Other points of note:

• This idea is 100% copied. It's not mine...at all. I saw it, wanted it, and did it! You can see this same idea again here, here and here, and well, lots of places...I'm just slow to join the fun parade. Here she's even used pretty much exactly the same ribbon.../blush.
• Other people make better ones. I sewed this straight onto the existing strap...as opposed to making a cover, ironing it, and then sliding it on (that's so much effort, right?). I'm comfortable with my semi-permanent method. Don't look too closely at the stitching and its lack of straightness.
  
• You just had to go and look, didn't you? I'm not a seamstress, okay? I'm the girl who made reeeeeally cool things in sewing class...and then went home, attempted to replicate what she had learned, and discovered no one was around to come and unjam her machine when she flung her arm up for assistance. I miss sewing teachers. All of them.
  
• Fortunately I've found Jasmine - who, in addition to being fun to beat at board games, fun to talk to, and the mother of Baby E's future playmate...is also crafty. Not crafty in a wiley, cunning sort of way (okay, maybe a little), but crafty, as in, she is my partner in crime when it comes to projects...and my sewing machine provider/unjammer/friend. She may say it's my fault that she's become all re-vamping and re-inventlike (like my little project minion, muahaha), but really, she's the one that saves my sewing (even by hand) from turning into a big ball of cotton that looks like tumbleweed.
  

So you think I can dance

It is a well-known fact that I can't dance. At all. Ability = zero.

It's kind of sad too, because my parents invested in childhood dance lessons for but one of their children...you got it - me. Such a waste. Well, not all is lost, I do have those puffy-sleeved, shiny kid leotards - all with matching tutus.

Haki isn't too shabby a dancer. By this, I mean that all those Techtonik tutorials he watches aren't a waste of time; it's kinda cute when he brushes imaginary crumbs from his shoulder-front to music; he can bust a move; he's pretty groovy. Baby E agrees. Suffice to say, he doesn't look gammy.

Haki likes it when I dance. The laughing-at-me thing never gets old. I'm pretty sure 10% of his energy in the first two years of our marriage was dedicated towards encouraging me to dance. For example, "Have you seen those new dance games at Timezone? I think they'd be really fun, Honey. Really fun. We should go do that. Come on. Come ooooon." I'll leave it to you to imagine my expression.

On one occasion, Haki succeeded in cloaking such an event as a FHE activity, and got me up on one of those dancing gizmos for all of one song. It wasn't pretty. Nor was Haki, however - looking like he was crying due to a hernia.

I remember exactly where we were when Haki announced the apparent solution to my dance disability; in the car, heading east by the hospital, sitting at a red light.

Haki: Honey, I've found something even you can do. It's called 'The Crank'.

From the driver's seat, he then demonstrates 'The Crank', as we sit, waiting for the light to change.

Haki: Now you do it.

I revved an invisible motorbike with a flick of my wrists, arms outstretched.

Haki: Apparently I was wrong.
Repeat hernia-crying /riotous laughter.



I didn't want to "crank" anyway. Humph.

So Haki, you can crank...'n' stuff.

Where are your outdated, tiny shiny one-piece dancing costumes? Huh? Huh?

That's what I thought.

Spelling Lesson

Tonight I attended a potluck dinner for a sweet lady's birthday.

While there, I took a stint of drink-pouring for the troops - duties included writing drinkers' names onto their cups.

I was about to write the name of a certain seven-year-old onto his cup...(let's call him, "Wolfgang"), when he said, "But what if you spell my name wrong?"

I smirked, "Oh, I'm pretty much certain I won't be spelling it wrong".

"Oh yeah? How do you spell it?"

Seriously? Is this kid takin' me on? Bring it! "W - O - L - F - G - A - N - G," I smiled as I wrote.

I jumped a little when he cried, "Wrong! W - O - L - F - G - A - N - G - R - O - C - K - S."

Seven, I tell you.

You say "tomahto", I say "tomayto"

I call this...
yoh-gert...
I always smile when I hear someone say, "yaw-girt". It's funny. Not wrong per se...but really not quite right, either.

Similarly, I snickered when I heard a news item call this...

an "e-moo"...
Because I say, "e-myew".

You?

Bowl Movements

The Scotty can be forgetful at times. He's the sort that cheerfully parts with, "See ya!" as he heads out the the door...then reappears in under 10 seconds for something he's forgotten...sometimes twice.

This weekend he was preparing to attend dinner at a friend's place, and asked, "Do we have any bowls I can put a salad in?" First of all, what kind of question is that? Who doesn't have a bowl? Anyway, I think he meant, "Which bowl should I use?" Anyway...I retrieved my gorgeous, wooden, 'mongous carved salad bowl, gifted to us from the lovely Kate and Craig.

I hesitated for a moment as I watched The Scotty fill it. Should I say it? I want to. I won't. Wait until it happens, I thought...don't patronise the man.

The Scotty went to his dinner, beautiful bowl in hand.

The Scotty came home...bowl-less.

I should have said it; "Shall we write on your hand to remember the bowl?"

Fortunately, Scotty devised a system to ensure he remembered to collect the forgotten bowl the following morning before church.


See how high the note is? That is because The Scotty is an Ent. I commented on the note's placement and he said, "Actually, it's still too low for me". I thought this alone was funny...

...then I looked closer.

Then I was unsure if The Scotty was in fact attempting to recover my prized salad dish...or had misspelled a body organ and had a transplant scheduled I didn't know about.

Considering Sunday has come and gone, and The Scotty has left on business for the week...I'm going with transplant I didn't know about?

I miss my bowl. /furrowed brow


P.S. Go ahead, break down the room. Within this "door to my apartment shot" you can see the "Keys and Things" bowl, Haki's didgeridoo (recently given to us from his mum after her trip to Australia), our exercycle (Project: Parents Get-fit), my beloved filing cabinet, the velcro dots on the door where I can affix my "Mum and Bubs are sleeping" sign, and the nappy bag!

First Father's Day

Breakfast: Caramelised bananas and smoked bacon sandwiched between French toast with a dash of cinnamon, drenched in maple syrup accompanied by a mammoth Milo with marshmallows (in Haki's new mammoth mug - which I shall henceforth call the "Dundee Mug" - "That's not a mug..."). I suspected Haki wouldn't mind delaying his fast's start. I was right.

Additional Gifts: Golf balls, a retro oil bottle for the chef in him, a leather "Dad's" key-ring, the coolest cookie tin I've seen in eons (filled with cookies) and a bicycle bell - which I will use to pimp Baby E's buggy so that Haki may ring it ceremoniously on walks.

Embellishments: Ribbon; a honeydew scented candle; freesias; more ribbon; one solitary sparkling candle.


How did we get here:

Yesterday's forecast:

And it delivered.

We (the babe and I) set out into town with the alibi of spending more of my allowance in search of quirk-spoils; easy sell.

Once there, I parked and began the shop for this morning. Due to Friday's Odyssey, the finance for this mission was not too shabby, but there were limits.
Having purchased all of the little gifts, I made my way last to Pak'n'Save to gather the groceries needed for the breakfast (left until last, since I didn't want them getting stinky in the sun). I knew I'd spent most of what I had. I counted up my cash, and figured that with what was left in *my* account, I might just be able to stretch it to what I had planned...perhaps I was a dollar short. To be safe, I made my way over to the payphone by the door, and called the bank for a balance. I was a dollar short. As I hung up, I heard a coin fall into the built-in returns tray of the phone. $1.00.

The birds singing in the trees adjacent to the carpark on my walk back to the car reminded me, again, to be grateful. I drew Baby E's attention to their song. She smiled.

Due to spending down the last dollar, I was unable to pick up any groceries for the night's dinner...and we were cleaned out of some essentials, by Haki's book. With the sun shining as it was, I decided a potato salad was called for, and that is what I made as our main dish for the evening. Haki, disappointed with the vegetarian offering, asked, "Where's the meeeeeat?" I felt bad. Then the phone rang. A dear friend, Jen, asked me if I would do her a favour. I said I would do anything (she is dear, after all), and she continued, "Please come over and help us eat all this fish! Darcy caught too many today and we cooked them all, and they'll just go to waste if you don't." Manna from heaven, I tell you. Haki's eye-lights danced at the news.

Once home, I carried Baby E inside and greeted the lads, who were enjoying an open-doored spring lounge. Ah. Placing our girl in Haki's arms, and tilting the blinds to prevent a view of outside, I explained I was going out to retrieve my finds. I first went to the spare room to "drop off the nappy bag", code for - open the window...muaha! I went out to the car, and loaded up with the spread for the next morning's table. I scuttled past the back of the apartment and its closed blinds, and lowered the goods into the spare room. Then I returned to the car and grabbed the barretts I bought for Baby E, along with a few other pieces. Hitches = zero.

The bacon needed to be kept cold, and so I smuggled it into the kitchen tucked behind my waistband, and behind the open fridge door, curled it into a place I was certain Haki wouldn't look, still holding a conversation with him as I did so...


Late that night, I made my way back to the spare room to wrap, write and label the trove. This wasn't unusual or suspicious, as Saturday nights I always head into this room to lay out Baby E's clothes for church...and end up rearranging the shelves...and don't come back for quite a while.

I made the big boys smoothies in the milkshake cups of glory, cleaned up the kitchen, tucked my clothes for the next day in the bathroom...and headed to bed.

This morning Baby E and I arose verrrry early and got dressed. Well, cleaned a truckload of poo off of one of us...then got dressed. (See grown-up Baby E, I protected your dignity by euphemising it up.)


I cooked.

Baby E watched thoughtfully.


The apron was donned, the table laid.

The photo was taken.

The candle lit.

The Dad woken.

Happy first Father's Day...

...what an honour it is to share parenthood with you.

My Holy Grails...and My Odyssey

Come on my pretties, work it.


I can't stop talking about these. Or thinking about them. I think it's almost a sin. But I can just see Baby E slurping down a homemade smoothie from one of blessed treaures! Or our family bottoms-upping eggnog together! Boy, do I love 'em.

Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself with all the excitement.

Let me explain.

Yesterday, I received this text message: "Are you op shopping?"

Sprung!

I replied, "How did you know?"

Then came the consoling; "I saw you parking beside the Sally's. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

I had indeed fallen off the wagon. It's unfortunate, that in this good Samaritan's efforts to keep me op shop-sober, he neglected to note I was not just parking beside Sallies...I was making a work of art of parallel parking (I spell it differently...not sure which I like better, you?).

Anyway...how did this happen? Why did I stray? (You know the song?) Valid questions, both.

It started with the taunting. Haki's, that is. "This whole allowance thing is wasted on you" and "When are you gonna spend your money?"

Well, I saw a project online I wanted to completely copy (more to come on this front). This project required, in my mind, the purchase of some materials I could procure from the forbidden haunts.

I clung to my principles. That is, until I saw it - the new op shop that's opened in Mosgiel. I said aloud to Baby E in her capsule (back seat), "Oh no, this will be the end of me".

We went in. I sought little mini photo albums / small clearfiles (not for another Voucher Book, no no, the PROJECT!) Alas, photo albums there were not.

But I did find...

...this:

I intend to scrub this up for Baby E's room. What a find! So vintage! So rad!

And what would her room be, without this...

Can't you just see that up on a bookshelf, keeping watch? Oh yeah!

Isn't it great how having a child gives me so many avenues to satiate my need for bargain-hunting? I don't need to shop for clothes! I can shop for things for heeeeeeeeer. Which brings me to the tin, retro milkshake cups. I bought them because of my vision of how they would delight Baby E. Completely justifiable.

Wouldn't this plate also delight her? Okay!

(Am I promoting CNP with this?)

Would you look at this tray? I was born in the wrong decade I tell you. LOVE it...

...almost as much as those cups.

And then, there's my $12 bookshelf - the possibilities are endless for this scoop! For scale, this almost reaches the door handle. It's the perfect size for emptying out low drawers of brick-a-brack that would otherwise end up in Baby E's clutches...and then nailing it all to the ceiling, right? Am I right?


And then, what is this I spy? A "Help yourself" sign affixed to a box just outside the door. Well, don't mind if I do!

Crepe paper (in four shades)...

A funnel (would you believe I didn't own one?)...

Ring things! Great for future mobiles and whatnot...

...and a bag of stamps! And inkpads! Ah!

For freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee? (name that movie!)

Awesome.

Onward, to check mooooore shops for mini photo albums / small clearfiles.

Obstacles sprung up in my path, I tell you! My intentions were pure. It's all for Baby E! Then, whilst fossicking for the babe, I came across the great and terrible $2 rack.

I came away with these:

And that rack was next to the shoe shelf...

Hush Puppies even! Comfortable cute shoes!

I went to pay at the counter, and couldn't resist this little number in a bowl which sat there:

It's a cheque-book holder. 50c - for a lifetime of even bigger grinning each time I retrieve this beauty to write my tithing cheque.

Phew. What a day. Four op shops, loads of walking, and lots of praise for Baby E's head of hair.

Oh, yes, I found what I was after too...here they now live, on the shelf, waiting to be filled in the impending project.


You win Haki, I spent *my* money! Well, not all of it.

Bye Bye Bassinet

Until we meet again.

I'll miss you.

Maternity T, where were you when I needed you?

You may remember I wasn't excited about belly-rubbers during my pregnancy.

I wasn't sure what I could print on a T-shirt to deter these folk.

Wonder no more!


Except that I will probably use this discovery as an excuse for logging on to Vista-crack to create my own shirt with very different numbers (pretty much reversing the numbers on there)...for free! Except for postage and handling, that is. While there, I could order another notepad...and maybe some stickers...

Name Tag Gag

I stumbled upon this today and just have to share it.