Trash Towers Dictionary
BSD - Been Seen Done. Devised while travelling the Great Ocean Road on CK's first Australian trip. Every lookout point was as fabulous as the previous and we got a little bit magnificenced out so rather than pull in we would shout BSD and keep driving.
Now general usage for when a situation is over or beyond repair.
bob - noun. Princess Curly- Wurly's word meaning all sweets, chocolate and yummy things.
blurry - (pr. to rhyme with hurry) Sth African/Zimbabwean term and my favourite polite swearword. Means kind of like bloody but usuable in mixed company. See 'Feck' & 'Eejit'
eejit - Irish term meaning 'idiot'. Suitable for use in polite company. Used by my Aunt Marion.
feck - Irish term used by my Aunt Marion so it cannot be rude!
ho-ho -(pr. with a short o). Zimbabwean word for bugs.
lani - (sp?) Sthn African word - means posh, expensive, elegant, stylish.
La Villa de Lamaca - (translates from Ital. as The houseof snails. My 'green' house out in the garden with all my a/c (ref: above) stuff in it. Built by CK and Babyman for me. CK lost his fingerprints over it. I cannot actually get in there at the moment!
lubbard - derived from 'beloved'. Devised by my then two y.o. son b/c unlike his sister he could not say 'Mother Beloved'. Usually prefaced by a noun.
OfStEd - Office for Standards in Education. Bossy civil servants who would like to see every child in formal, full-time education from birth.
Q.I. - Quite interesting.
terence - sobriquet applicable to all small children. Originated with one 'borrowed' child who could not pronounce ' terrorist' .
TG - exclamation. Thank God! An interesting choice for the dictionary of a recovering Catholic but is a phrase used by my Irish family and is now deeply fixed in my conversational repetoire. (reference also PG - Please God).
TGTH - The Great Trip Home. Alt. known as 'How I spent Christmas and N.Y 2008.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
I should have known there was an issue when I spotted her across the road. She clocked my three sitting waiting at the kerbside waiting to be told to cross and the tension travelling to her dog via the lead was palpable from where I stood. She headed toward town and I called my mob on and we went out into the weather.
Just recently my assistant has become enamoured of chasing a ball. Really fast. Especially if it is thrown from a flinger. Problem is she likes to kill balls during the quiet periods so our house is littered with denuded and split tennis balls. Today all I could find to fling was a completely bald and quite dead looking projectile.
Being smooth it bounced like no one's business. Right into the flowerbed in the rose garden. With the old man dog's lead in hand and my assistant bouncing like a lunatic behind me I was able to lean over the railings and pick it up using said flinger. I flung it again. Bounce! Into the shrubs this time. No way I could reach it I would have to go in.
No dogs allowed in the council rose gardens so I tied the OMD up to the rails, the black dog sniffed and snuffled along the grass verge and my assistant ran from one end of the fence to the other waiting for me to fling it again (oh the faith of the obsessed). In my periphery I noticed a cream coloured, small dog. Lots of fluff, big bulgey eyes and a sticky-out panty tongue. With its lead going all the way up to the weird woman I saw earlier.
I get the ball and head back out to my mob.
She said "I came in here to get away from you!"
"Thanks very much!" I said continuing to walk on all the while thinking 'Crazy old witch!'.
"I'll give you time to get ahead."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Your dogs ..."
"My dogs are perfectly well-behaved."
Silly old witch.
Monday, 29 March 2010
As always the radio was on during breakfast but Radio 2 rather than 4. Music and chat is more user-friendly while the smalls eat cereal than John Humphries haranguing politicians and those daft girlies giggling with the sports presenter on The Today Programme.
News headlines at 8'o'clock included a piece about the horrific murder in a Tube Station last week . Because I am the 'take every learning opportunity possible' kind of mother I told both of them they were to stay away from gangs (obviously because they are so prevalent up here on the hill) . I said that they should be ready to say 'No' if they disagreed with things.
'Say no to joining gangs.'
'Say no to drugs.'
'Say no to excessive amounts of alcohol.'
'When you are older say no to unsafe sex. Say yes to sex because it is enjoyable but say NO to being unsafe.'
Princess C-W chimed in with '...and cigarettes. Say no to cigarettes as well.'
And then BAM! around a mouthful of cereal destructoBoy said 'What about pelicans? Do we have to say no to pelicans?'
'Storm Boy' is a 1976 Australian film about a child and the pelicans he befriends along the South Australian coast
Sunday, 28 March 2010
We sat listening. It was fascinating, interesting and obviously thought-provoking as a few minutes after the programe moved on destructoBoy turned and said to me
"If it turns out there was no Jesus or God would Christians be disappointed?"
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Seems she is prepared to overlook the eagle-beaky, non-ovine shaped nose of the wee sheep.
Am not sure I am prepared to overlook her stretching out on Maria's backseat after she rolled in the stinkiest badger poo ever. Or the fact that the only cleaning product within arm's reach as I bathed her was my Neal's Yard citrus handwash.
Revenge came later in the afternoon with a pair of scissors, some wispy hair around her ears and 15 minutes of thoroughly enjoyable (for me) coat cutting.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
"Have you noticed there are no good Easter songs?" I asked him while finding room for the tubey lunchbox yoghurts in my shopping bag.
"I suppose that is because it is a religious occasion." he says before telling me how much I have just spent.
Turning to leave but with an incredulous look on my face I say "What is Christmas?"
Friday, 19 March 2010
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
I opened 'The Cupboard' this weekend and it was brutal.
There was A LOT of scrappy bits of paper, far more fabric than I remembered buying, pins, elastic, buttons, needles and machine bobbins. Woohoo! Bobbins!! This means I now have more than one. Yay!
There were drawings, books and pens. I found partners to many sad and lonely knitting needles sitting in the library bag. Can anyone remind me when I bought the pattern to the Amy Butler Weekender bag? I read the pattern yesterday over lunch. I am quite a little bit scared of it now. I think it may just be one of those patterns that just sits on the shelf and makes me look competent and capable.
While browsing the stalls with Maria at Ally Pally last year I bought some really fine yarn. In fact I think it is just sewing thread with an angora overcoat. The plan was to make a wide lace scarf. Simple lace you understand. It would be flimsy and fabulous yet warm and wonderful.
(This is not the pattern. But it IS lace. I can't do this one either.)
The pattern asks only simple things - K, K2tog, dbl y/o, P1.
Standing ironing trousers to ensure non-naked school attendance this morning when passing comment was made by CK about what people look like when they are angry (I don't know why this was the topic on his mind, it is a place I have never been able to fathom).
Sunday, 14 March 2010
At 1600 hours the afternoon before my two figured out what they were going as.
The Silver Surfer.
And Marvin the Paranoid Android.
I finished sewing costumes at 0845 Thursday morning.
I really shouldn't be surprised by their odd choices, should I?
Thursday, 11 March 2010
My favouritest cousin stitched this sampler and knew exactly which was the right home for it.
instead of humbly saying 'Amen'
to what the world says you ought,
is to have kept your soul alive. "
As well as pretty fabric Jennyflower enclosed this embellished paper artwork. Shown here the colours have a more yellow cast than in reality. Along with Lauren's piece (from previous post) it is gracing my bookshelves so I may enjoy it daily.
Mrs. Locket, Thimbleanna, Mrs Stashbasket, Wonderwoman, Little Cotton Rabbits and most especially Mrs Moog please accept this huge enormous bouquet of thanks. I am in awe at the skill and talent that created my blanket
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Giovanna rang mid-morning (late night her time) and we talked. At the corner of my sight I saw CK say something to both children and then they walked off. d/Boy want back to his new Dr. Who magazine, Pr C-W stood looking out the front window for several minutes. He didn't get up and go comfort her. With a 'what the hell were you thinking???' glare at him I motioned her over to sit on my lap.
And this is how my children found out Grandad had died.
His rationale apparently was he didn't want them gleaning half facts from my phonecall. And he thought they knew. And there was a full moon. And his suit didn't come back from the cleaners. There was an earthquake! It wasn't his fault!!!!!!!!!
So until I get home in late April there remains little I can do but feel incredibly ineffectual.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Missus Stashbasket sent me a parcel filled with delicious delights. As well as having staged a raid on a beautiful fabric shop somewhere (said fabric now rests with Katy) there was also a notebook staring my assistant and this skein of Posh yarn - oo lala! I am going to brave up and try a lace pattern with this. I think.
Having seen the 'Just Jugs' shelf in real life Mrs Moog knew just how perfect this lil' Cath Kidston number would be.
'All the Good Blog Names Were Taken' . The things this woman can do with paper are a.m.a.z.i.n.g. Not to mention the Jolly Ranchers hiding among all the lace inside the box!
Monday, 1 March 2010
He will be there just long enough to be the steady hand on the rudder I think Sylv needs at the moment. Steer her toward more peaceful waters (Hmmm ... perhaps he chose the wrong arm of the services?) then not long after Giovanna will be back for good. Me? I'll go home 'later'.
*Thanks for all your input in the comments of the previous post. To be honest they don't have an enormously deep relationship with Grandad, he lives 12,000 miles away and they can only remember meeting him three times so I don't anticipate mahoosive devastation but my musings were about afterlife theories. They get a lot of the CofE 'God' at school and all topics are up for discussion at home so am fairly happy with how it will all pan out.*