words of love

Have you ever noticed that, amongst some humans, people will always try to find a way to break what is ultimately bad news in a positive way? I have a few theories why people do this:
1) They have had a truly bad experience where someone spontaneously combusted when they were told that there was a booger hanging out of their nose.
2) They know they are in really serious shit and with luck if the person who they are about to be in serious shit with is in a good frame of mind, no on will die.
3) They are one of those people in life who truly believe that everyone one needs to follow the adage "do you want the good news or the bad news?". Word of advice, NO ONE ever wants the bad news EVER. Those who say they do are masochists, delusional or like to wallow around in pooh.

You may have noticed a few pooh references in there - well, I have an absolute cracker (no pun intended) of a story that I just have to share. Will, our youngest, is going through the fun experience that is toilet training and anyone who has even remotely been involved in this (even those who have had to listen to a co worker exclaim loudly over the phone "You did a wee on the toilet??? That's great!!!!"" and you hope to god they are talking to a child and not another adult) knows it can be tedious and messy. Well, my lovely son has found a way to deliver the bad news wrapped in words of love. Apparently at creche the other day he went up to Jess, who works there, and said "Jess, I love you. I've done a pooh". Note that this rhymes - it is like the Dr Suess way of letting someone know the nappy needs to be changed. In the days since, he has toddled out to us at various times with a new nappy and a smile, lets us know that he loves us and we know it's time to grab the baby wipes and a nose peg. I have heard of trying to make the best of a shit situation, but this is just taking to that next level.

My back is not recovering as quickly as I would like. I am on restricted duties at work until early July and I can't do any exercise except walk or swim for 3 months. It's just as well I have the positive messages from Will to look forward to :)

Careful what you wish for

Everyone has heard this saying, right? Well, pay attention to it, as I have found out the hard way that when you utter the words "I'm so tired and run down, I really need a week off", someone may just be listening. On Wednesday I had a little slip and I am now having a nice quiet break at home, doped up on painkillers and some other drug that upsets my stomach but apparently is good for making my back feel better. Poop. Sorry, that was just an exasperated poop, not a comment on what the drugs are doing to me. Note to self : don't blog when high on panadeine forte.

Where did the month go???

Holy timeslips, Batman!! How is it possible it is June already???? When I look back over the last 2 weeks, I realise that it could be I did not notice the passage of time because our family had social engagements up the yin yang , plus the usual "oh goody, here comes winter" coughs, colds and yucky, chunky sounding noises you make when your mucous maker goes into overdrive thanks to a little virus that has set up camp in your sinuses. Of course, this means there was only one week in the whole of May where I completed a full week at work (yay, being a working parent just rocks) and now I have the feeling am just spinning my wheels when it comes to trying to achieve anything related to my job. Joy.
On the up side, the latter half of May ended up delivering an unexpected windfall of $500. A local radio station was running a competition here was having something called the "fashion incinerator", where you could nominate some revolting piece of clothing that your partner has (and let's face it, EVERY bloke has some kind of THING that used to resemble a piece of clothing that they just won't throw out) to throw into the incinerator. On the toss of a coin, you could either win the call, gain the $500 gift voucher and choose to burn the item or not OR if you lost the call, the item got burnt and you walked away with nothing. I nominated Tim's moccasins, which he has had in his life longer than me and have been ready to be chucked for at least the last 5 years. Apparently my description of them caught the publicist's attention, as they rang and let me know that they would like us to come in. So, in we traipsed with the moccasin's safely trapped in a bag that they could not easily escape from. Tim won the coin toss but very kindly allowed me to still torch the moccasins, which smelled a lot like how a lawyers soul must when it gets burnt in hell - you can view the footage on youtube. The up side is the moccies got a true Viking burial and we have a $500 voucher to frivol away. Also, just for the record, Tim has a lovely pair of ugg boots we bought in New Zealand that are keeping his toes warm in the cold Canberra winter - I'm not a total cow.
And a tip to those who are wishing to torch moccasins - you need an accelerant. Wool just doesn't burn well, especially when it has 18 odd year's worth of sweat and toe jam mashed into it.