august things

It's an odd month, August.

Never a favourite of mine I'll admit. It's kind of neither here or there really, winter grinds on... we hit term 3 running (even faster this year as the winter holidays were extended due to our 3rd Covid wave) ... the year is halfway gone, one ponders what one's done with it.

Little bit of midyear crisis perhaps?

Though honestly, crisis sounds far too exciting for August really.

I've been riding my bike. With an eye to possibly returning to gym soon(ish) and a desire to not be entirely pathetic when I do, I thought I'd better put some effort in.

What August does have going for it is the stillness - between winter storms that is - and when the bitter South Easter starts blowing again it'll not be nearly as fun out there on a bicycle.

I've been riding my other bike too. I had a fall last November, two actually, on a day out doing off-road motorbike training. Some bruising and a snapped front brake handle were the only two immediate casualties, but my pride was much more badly wounded, and my confidence. It's taken me a while to get back in the literal saddle, but I've ridden 3 different types of motorbike in the last month and that felt good.

We've spent a lot of time with Layla, Zahida's daughter. She and Stella are still thick as thieves, and despite having seen so very little of each other in the last 18 months they just pick straight back up again every time - there is no other friend Stella can spend as much time with, as easily, as her.

Layla and family are moving to the UK soon. Zahida's husband Sam has done so incredibly, wonderfully well these last few years, but he needs a change - and this is the one they've chosen. We're trying hard to be encouraging and excited, but we are sad, for us.

These two punks turned one on 20 August and my god we love them. They live almost exclusively upstairs when in the house, with their own secret routes down to the garden (ours and the absent neighbour's) to avoid the dogs.

Minnow (although Frieda insists she's Mino) is the house cat, always on a bed, always up for a nap with a human. She fishes hairbands out of a basket on my dresser (which naturally we keep stocked up just for her) and chases them around the rooms, she vocalises a lot, likes to drink from a tap, is soft and malleable.

Prince is 100% dude. Playful, curious, often out on an adventure, a total clown, straight-forward and uncomplicated. Not super affectionate - until he is, purring and bumping you and rolling and drooling - Prince spends his days collecting litter from the gardens and often the lake, bringing in 5-8 pieces a day sometimes, some dripping wet, some tiny, some big. Saving the planet is his important work.

August is dramatic skies. The acacia trees are coming back to life after winter and the sun on those green shoots against a brooding sky is one of my favourite things to see.

I have two friends who wrote novels during lockdown. Others who've picked up impressive new habits such as committed cold-water swimming, or weight-lifting.

Part of my midyear crisis was a small what-have-I-done-with-lockdown moment, until I reminded myself that I started a whole new job!

Events are dead (although I am also currently working with clients who are desperately trying to do one - March 2022 maybe...) so I am managing sales and marketing for a family business, a business I've grown up around and had extremely little to do with before, but I'm really enjoying being part of.

To be fair, August has allowed us some magnificent weather for outdoor socialising, which in the global scheme of things for mid-winter mid-pandemic, is pretty generous.

We have been for walks, and outdoor lunches and a couple of dinners - working around people's exposure and the national curfew - and lots of garden/beachside/roadside chats. 

Then last Saturday, a drive-in screening of The Witches, with cuddly car-beds and popcorn and candy-floss for the children and sneaky wine and hilarity for the grown-ups. 

It was bloody cold, snow on the mountains and frost-bitten toes, but the company warmed our bodies and our hearts and it was a good send-off for the month.

I will always be grateful for having so many loved ones so close during this shitshow.

And tomorrow is the first day of Spring, so there's that, but more excitingly - my second Pfizer shot, and that is a real turn towards the light.

See ya August, let's move on.

bye bye fritta

Shortly after getting our first cat we decided she needed a friend. We went off to a local cat shelter, thinking we'd find a young neutered male, possibly black and white.

We came home with this tiny 2 or 3 yr old ginger female. We're still not entirely sure how that happened.

As we walked through the shelter (it was one big open space filled with cats) we'd stop to pet or chat to this one or that one, as a staff member pointed out the males. But always behind us there was a yowling, an occasional bump to the calf, a small ginger whinger who'd clearly decided we were to be hers.
In the end it was undeniable.

15 years have passed since then, 15 years of her yowling at us, her tiny frame delivering a hefty bump to the kidneys when she wanted to get in under the duvet on cold winter nights. Many years when she was younger, yowling at us from the kitchen sink when she wanted a drink, many months of late of her yowling at me from the laundry room floor when she needed lifting up to her food bowl.

She was a scratcher, ruining our leather sofa, a red velvet covered chair and even trying her luck on my magnificent sofa!! But lately she became unable to retract her claws and I kept finding her, yowling of course, stuck to furniture, blankets, herself.

Afraid of nothing in the world but a rattling plastic bag (she could stare down a salivating bull terrier for a piece of roast chicken but shake a bag in the same room as her and she'd fly), recently she'd started having sudden frights - jumping up, trying to run away, her legs flailing around uncontrollably, for no apparent reason.

She became high maintenance. Two winters ago I swore I couldn't do it anymore - the litter tray on the upstairs balcony which had to come in every time the north wind blew, the loss of bowel control (inexplicably always at dinner time), the furballs ... but yet she clung on, eating and chatting (ie yowling) and sleeping and purring. Still she was our pumpkin Fritta.

But the end came, not too unpleasantly but the signs were clear, and last Friday I took her to the vet and came home without her.

Khoki was waiting in the front courtyard, immediately inquiring about her friend and sniffing the empty box suspiciously. I still hear her now and then, calling upstairs, it still upsets me.
I still think I see, from the corner of my eye, a ginger shadow slip into the room.
I still roll over carefully in the night, so as not to crush the little thing.

I still get tearful when I look at this picture.

Goodnight Fritz.

here kitty

My completed cat collage. Done working from this photo. (Taken a year ago I see!)

I really should diversify beyond my pets at some point.

I'm enjoying collage so much - especially this kind of project, using cut pieces and putting them together to find the best way to show light and depth - it's like a puzzle of sorts.

I've started a facebook page to keep all my collaging news ... and I'm hard at work on my next piece already, something very different to this.

these cats

These cats don't get photographed as much as they once did. Our black Khoki is increasingly wary of the children. This house is big enough for her to stay out of sight most of the day, until the girls are in bed and she slinks out to demand the attention she is due as our first baby. It's impossible to photograph a black cat at night.

And this little girl is very much getting on in years. Fritta, though nowadays mostly just called Ginger, is completely nonplussed by children, visiting dogs, vacuum cleaners or thunder claps. But rattle a plastic bag within a 3 room radius and she streaks off in an orange flash.

She spends more and more time in bed. As an elderly lady should be allowed to do.

I don't photograph them as much as I once did. But they are here.

winter

There's a gecko on the outside of the sliding door, half a mm to the right and he'd be in danger of being squished, but he's been hanging on there for days.
Dude's too cold to move.

Each time I open or close the door I hold my breath and watch him, willing him to stay put. I open that door more than one would think in this weather, as various pets decide they need to be out and then, jesus christ no, back in.
All day I open and close the door for temperamental cats with iffy bladders just as all night I lift and drop the edge of the duvet for them to come in and out.

You know it's winter and you're a sucker when you prise yourself away from the warm back of your husband to make space for a cold and elderly ginger cat to wedge herself between you. The warmest place in the house. There's 2 of them in our bed these nights.

The draft from the ill-fitting edge of that sliding door cuts through the room like a knife. I stand sofa cushions upright in front of the gap and wedge them there with a dining room chair.
I've masking taped the keyholes of the west-facing doors.

Today I watched coots tumble-weed down the lake in the face of a bitter gale force wind. The water has white-capped waves which lap up the lawn. Our jetty has detached and undulates in the foam, whole palm branches and swathes of litter caught up against it.

Winter was a long time coming this year but she's here now. Oh yes she is.

lists of 5: 'cos no other number will do

My fancy Jo'burg manicure is starting to fade and chip, I could poetically say like my memories of the weekend but that wouldn't be true.
My memories are still clear and still fabulous.

My cat is asleep nestled into my neck like a newborn as I type this, making little huffs and snuffles as she cuddles in. Just like a baby.
My friend in Jo'burg will have a baby just like this (though hopefully less hairy) in a few short weeks and while I'm not envious in the slightest of the newborn part, I did get a taste again of that excitement of meeting someone new. Someone new but yet of you in the profoundest sense possible. There can't be anything else much in life which beats that.

My birthday cake is sinking slowly in the kitchen. It's one of a few birthday cakes I've planned actually, as I have more than one (though both little) celebratory events in the pipeline - both involving cake. I've been baking and prepping at a slow and steady pace all week and really enjoying it (I don't allow myself to bake often these days), but I do worry that instead of clever this will prove to have been not clever, and everything will be a little stale and naff.
The carrot cake will definitely, judging by it's current appearance, be a little sunken and naff. But I also trust, delicious.

My children are exposing me to people who are teaching me things about myself. Yes, my children are bringing people into my life. That alone is a strange thought. Stranger still is the notion that they are people through whom I'm being challenged. More on this soon I imagine.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. No, not really. Not really at all, I just think that's such a weird and nonsensically fabulous line. Which I'd never otherwise have a chance to use!

oh my god I hope he's right

Twelve years ago, lazing around with the weekend papers, husband turned to me and said; 'I think I've found our cat.'
We'd just recently moved into our own place, our first place with no housemates, and getting a cat seemed the next logical step.

The ad read: 1 year old black cat. Female. Half Siamese. R50.

This was the information he was basing his statement on, he couldn't explain it, but he was convinced he was right.
And he was. She was, is, and will always be, the perfect cat for us.

3 weeks ago, lazing around with the internets ('cos that's the way the world now works), husband turned to me and said; 'I think I've found our house.'
I sat up and took heed.

It's in a part of town we'd never before considered, it wouldn't make his commute to work any easier, it doesn't put us in the catchment area for any great schools, it would place us a distance away from some of our favourite people ... but it has a garden and a view and the promise of a lifestyle we just can't resist.

We emailed the agent and heard back the next day that an offer had already been placed, it was basically off the market.
We went there the following Sunday, looked at another couple of houses in the area on show. Then, just to rub salt in the wound, we drove past The One. As we got out of the car a fish eagle called in the sky above.
We sighed and drove home.

A week later, a call from the agent. You know where this is going right? The potential buyers were having marital problems, they might be pulling out.

We went away for 6 days, spent some of that time wondering about The One. Wondering whether it was thinking about us too.

Back home to discover the original offer had fallen through, but an English couple were 'very interested' in the house. Naturally they'd be paying pounds, cash. We couldn't compete.
We sighed.

Then, they decided not to place an offer. The house, The One, the one with the fish eagles and the lake and the garden and the double garage workroom and the staggeringly high mortgage, was officially back on the market.

Guess I don't need to tell you how we went to see it. How we laughed in horror and delight at how much it reminded us of our current place when we first bought it. How we thrilled at the potential and despaired at the kitchen. How we met, giggling, in the bathroom as the agent was taking us around and grinned at each other, husband whispering 'It's crap but I love it.'
How we stood in silence in front of the lake at the bottom of the lawn and listened to the water birds and in our minds, pushed off our canoe and paddled off into the estuary.

We placed an offer. It's been accepted. We have to sell our current house first so we're not there quite yet. But we're closer than we ever thought we'd be.

There's a 13 year old black cat purring on my lap. I think she'll like it there.

ode to our ginger

 With acknowledgement, and apologies, to Eleanor Farjeon (1881 - 1965) for the abuse of her poem.
(and secondary apologies for the fact that I'm cross-posting here, that's going to happen sometimes ok?)

Cats sleep anywhere, 

any trailer,

any chair.

Top of camping fridge,

 awkward wedge,

  in the middle,

 on the edge.

 Open suitcase,

empty pool,

anybody's lap'll do.

Fitted in a gift-wrapped box,

in the cupboard with your frocks.

Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere.

7 dec 2010 (like, for serious this time)

Back to the vet.

Another injection, a round of antibiotics, swabbed down with antiseptic and a manicure.

I thought she deserved an illicit drink from the kitchen tap. It's not usually allowed but she loves it so.
Dear old mog.

(and fyi, the jar in the background holds not some rehydrating shiitakes, a stool sample or chestnut puree, but some coins I've been disinfecting for Frieda's endless game of Shop Lady).

channelling martha

... with a distinctly Molly's-life twist.

On Friday we ...

 ... sent Frieda off to school in a home-made jack o' lantern costume ('Just like Lola's Mum'), complete with hand-sewn stalk & leaves.
The meltdown was because she didn't want to wear the !#&* stalk ...

... later she had a yoghurt ice-lolly, ingeniously made (by moi) by freezing a plastic spoon in a small pot of yoghurt.

Seconds later she dropped it on the cat and declared it 'too hairy'.

... later still I took the girls for a run/roll around at Kirstenbosch Gardens.

We had a great time but a chill wind came up and this morning they're inevitably both snotty ....

... we ended our day baking Smarties cookies for my brother's birthday.

Very yummy but we left them out unsupervised and the dang cat made off with a couple of them.

Kids 'n cats, looming snot, meltdowns and furry popsicles, yummy cookies and arts 'n crafts; it may not be exactly Martha-esque but it was a fun Friday none-the-less.

the fearless baker

If I had a food blog that's what I'd call myself. The Fearless Baker.

It perfectly describes the gung-ho approach I have to baking, and food preparation in general. I'm not bragging here, this um ... style ... of cooking and baking regularly backfires. I have a history of some godawful kitchen disasters.
No, my fearlessness is based on two things.
1. I'm lazy.
2. I'm inadequately kitted out.
For people who like to cook and eat as much as we do in this house we're woefully under-applianced.

Case in point: we have nothing with which to measure grams. Can you cope? How do you bake without being able to measure things in grams?
By guessing - not good for baking. And by using the ml/gram convertor on the last page of the Huisgenoot Wen Resepte circa 1977. Not ideal.
Also, we don't have a food processor. Nope. A stick blender and a hand-held mixer are our some-what primitive tools.

This, coupled with the laziness makes for some interesting recipe adjustments and leaps of faith. The laziness is how I come to make 'intricate' custards (read: from scratch, no instant powder involved) in the microwave. The lack of a food processor is why I made crumble with the stick-blender this evening. Surprisingly (check how I spelt that correctly), it worked.
Necessity being the mother of all fuck-ups invention and all that.

Fearless I tell you.

But also a little bit skanky ...
My grandfather (the girl's great grandfather) and his somewhat exacting second wife came to tea yesterday. Firstly I cheated and whipped up a cake from a [gasp] packet for them, iced with [gasp] the last of the icing left-over from my birthday tea which I had stashed in the freezer
But where it all got a little murky was when, as my guests walked in the front door, I went into the kitchen to turn on the kettle and discovered to my horror that the cat had licked half the icing off the cake!
Options: cut half the cake away, confess, look like a skanky housewife and cast doubt as to the integrity of the rest of the cake OR,
be a skanky housewife, grab a knife, redistribute the remaining icing to cover up the disaster and serve it anyway ...

The Fearless Baker. That's me.

habit* blogging

*as in emulating the awesome contributors to the habit blog and posting a random (or not so random) picture and one simple thought.

~ I intend to tackle one room every day this week. Sorting, clearing, cleaning. I'm kinda hoping to go into labour before I get to the study ~

___________________________________________________________________________________

Photo is of my brother and sister-in-law's gorgeous kitty, basking on the wooden floors of their new house before they had them sanded and repaired last week.

I feel a little creepy using it for the following reason - where they lived before they had a strange neighbour who fell deeply in love with their cat and would entreat her into her flat on a daily basis while my brother and his wife were at work.
She was a pretty weird lady all round and forced my SIL into one of those awkward situations where she tried to befriend her on facebook and my SIL couldn't really refuse 'cos she saw her everyday on the stairs etc etc so she became 'friends' with her and then realised the depth of her neighbour's obsession with her kitty - posting photos she'd taken of the cat in her flat and eventually changing her profile pic to one of the cat asleep on her bed. The neighbour cried - yup, real tears - when my brother told her they were moving.
True story.

And proof that I probably won't be able to stick to this one photo and one simple thought thing.

furkids

this little puppy got spayed

this little kitty had a tooth removed

and this little kitty got pissed off with everyone else getting all the attention and got herself a tail graft ...

All today. Ok, except the tail graft ...

[apologies to all 6 of you who are also facebook friends and have been subjected to this already]

all over the place

That's me.

Did I mention I've been doing a second part-time job for the last few weeks? Too busy/lazy to read back and check, but I may have. 2 part time jobs (to be accomplished over 4 mornings a week), plus another Baby Show weekend (in Cape Town this time), plus a nasty, nasty winter cold, plus a cat who bizarrely got ulcers on the inside of her mouth due to excessive tartar build up on her teeth (have you ever ... ?), plus a toddler who decided to drop her daytime snooze (causing me to lose 3 hours in working time a week - don't try and work out how I got to that figure, it's complicated ... ), plus ... some other factors I'm not at liberty to divulge right now.

In short: fucking busy.

And even though I really should be doing something more constructive Right Now, I did a long overdue download from my camera this evening and found a bunch of random pics from the last couple of weeks. Pics not related to anything in particular really ...

Frieda and I have spent some rare sunny afternoons in our favourite place. The allure of the gardens has totally sky-rocketed after the discovery of the 'Elefint'. For some time now she's had an imaginary 'Elefint' friend - I think it's been embodied in this stone sculpture. We spend a lot of time talking about it ...

My fabulous friend treated me to lunch at Gordon Ramsey's new Cape Town restaurant a week or so ago. We had a super fun time being all snooty and critical - and giggling into our (frikkin yummy) breadrolls. In all honesty the Caeser Salads were the best we've ever eaten (and we've eaten plenty of caesers in our time), but the decor was crap - retro-Southern-Sun/Holiday-Inn-yuk-yuk-yuk - and the desserts? Tsk tsk tsk. Not up to scratch Gordon.
This was the exorbitantly priced 'Lemon Meringue Pie with Lemon Sorbet'. Yuk. Tasted like a microwave version thereof. The most exciting part was the meringue 'wand' you can see in the pic - how do they do that?

(oh but the good news is that Gordon's Caeser dressing recipe is available here - highly recommended ... )

And finally this, a note in a car parked facing the wrong way down our main street. It's quite sweet living in a 'burb full of students and hippies.

Best they hope they're luckier than that other car which parked in that same fateful space a few months ago ...

That's all I've got in me - one week to go 'til the second (and frightfully tiresome) job is over. One more week.

the very best of friends (vol.2)

We met at University, through a mutual friend. She had been off doing the London thing, I had been very much in Cape Town, doing the Cape Town thing I guess. She seemed quite exotic and wild, made me feel a little pedestrian and stay-at-home.
We sealed our friendship in an unlikely and fortuitous meeting late one night. A cat had run out in front of her car, she thought she'd hit it, but the kitty had fled, and she was distraught at the thought that it could be hiding somewhere, injured and afraid.
I drove past as she ran, white-faced, across the road. I pulled over and we spent some time 'here, kitty, kitty- ing' in surrounding gardens, 'til I persuaded her that the lucky cat must've escaped unscathed.

She's a tough old thing, my now very, very good friend. She self-assured and independent, ballsy and unafraid to tackle anything which comes her way. She's intimidating, I've had people confess to being not a little scared of her, she's a quintessential Type A, competitive and successful at everything she does. She's beautiful, which can be intimidating in itself, and has an impeccable sense of style.
But that late night meeting allowed me to see her other side, one which she keeps a little more guarded. She's kind, really kind, and considerate and generous, wildly generous. If she's with you she's with you to the end (if she's against you - well, you may as well just quit now) and she has the biggest, soppiest soft spot when it comes to kitties (she and her husband currently have 5!), refugees and friends.

Our friendship is one of those which runs so deep that no pissy little thing like living in different cities (or even different continents), can weaken it. We've stood side by side through the worst of times, we've danced side by side through the best. We've worked side by side 'til we thought we'd drop dead from exhaustion and through it all we've laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
We're in very different places in our lives right now - she's an international business lady, I'm a part-time working stay-at-home Mum - but still we get each other in a way that few other people ever will. Still we need to check in with each other, to make sense of the world, to make each other laugh in the way that only we can.

And now this buddy, this Ultimate friend, this woman who has given me some of the most beautiful things I own, is once more overwhelming me with her generousity. She's taking me to London for 10 days in October! To work, and play, and pretend to be an international business lady too.

Jeez, I must be a great friend!

all in a nap's work

In my extremely exciting recent post about Tidying My Desk (it's a thrill a minute around here folks), I made reference to still wanting to do a couple of things to my work space before I'd regard it as Done.
This is one of those things: a reference / mood / inspiration / wtfamIgoingtodowiththisohwaitI'lljuststickithere board.

Which I whipped up during Frieda's afternoon nap on Sunday. I'm nothing if not swift. It helps when one has a DIY-handy husband who is a total hoarder (as is self) and ergo have a house full of tools, random stuff like manky polystyrene offcuts and an outside loo full of wood offcuts. Doesn't everyone?

(Uh-oh, please note curiousity making a concerted effort to ensnare an inquisitive kitty ...)

It all came together beautifully, and swiftly (did I mention that?).

Step 1: stick manky polysytrene offcuts to each other and cover with The Perfect Paper

Step 2: saw strips of wood to desired length and hammer full of tacks

Step 3: press strips tack-down into polystyrene, thereby making a temporary supportive frame (and here's the ingenious part) which one can simply pull out when one would like the change the paper.

 

 (I know it looks skew ok, this is the back see)

Aren't you amazed by my brilliant design? Let's hope I'm as successful with those cupcakes ...

Final product installed. With addition of a ribbon strung in front to hang more crap beautiful inspirational images.

And while there's been some offline (read: real time) criticism of my counting my caprese pasta as one of my 100 things , I do believe I'm totally justified in counting this! Number 27 !

to be perfectly honest...

One of my new blog buddies tagged me for this 'Honest Scrap' meme some time ago. And as I'm feeling much better but still recouping in bed (can I just pause for a moment's acknowledgement of the universal awesomeness of grandparents, who have happily whisked Child away for the day so I can lie about in bed recouping? Here goes ............ . Moment acknowledged, thanks), I thought I'd play along.

So, herewith my list of 10 honest things about myself (and be warned, they're pretty random):

1. I'm feeling a little blasé about this whole swine 'flu hype. I obviously feel really badly for anyone who has it etc, but living in a country where HIV/AIDS is an actual pandemic, we have 3 or 4 strains of multi-drug resistant Tuberculosis on the loose, cholera recently killed thousands of people, we regularly have (admittedly isolated) cases of Ebola virus and malaria is an illness many of us live with every day ... it's a little hard to get my panties in a knot about swine 'flu. Sorry.

2. There's a big bag of mud and cow-shit bespattered shoes outside my backdoor which I still haven't cleaned after that weekend and I don't expect to get round to until, oh, maybe very late the evening before our next camping trip?

3. Having been a committed cat person my whole life I never expected to love our new doggie as much as I do. Dogs win hands down in the unadulterated adoration stakes. That's her adoration - of me. Love it. But also, and you know who I'm talking to here, I still love my kitties the best.

4. I've never wanted to run away and join the circus. I'm a homebody through and through.

5. I'm more nervous of having a 2nd child than I care to admit. I'm completely convinced that we should have one, but the reality scares the bejesus out of me.

6. Sometimes I go to bed without brushing my teeth. I find the minty taste of toothpaste too jarring if it's really late and I'm really tired.

7. I'm so over this renovation thing. Seriously, can we move into a finished, complete, free-flowing family home already?

8. I really enjoy doing laundry. I find it quite satisfying and find it gives me a sense of order. Weird huh.

9. I have a base and compulsive addiction to Survivor and The Amazing Race.

10. I still like to believe I'll have dreadlocks one day - stylish, thin, blond dreadlocks. Just for fun.

I'm supposed to tag seven five fellow bloggers for this one but you know, I'm just too damn lazy! Play along if you'd like tho', and let me know if you have so I can come snooping.

the (not so) little doggie who could

Our (not so) little pup is proving to be a wonderful addition to the family. 

[Moment of gracious deference to Husband's foresight and good judgement.]

In fact, I may even be so gushy as to say that a dog really makes a family, and could even have a completely archaic un-pc moment whereby I say something silly like 'family = moi + husband + child + dog'. But then I'll quickly reassure you with the knowledge that my mathematical ability is non-existent and that I'm radically pre-menstrual, so I'm not even vaguely to be trusted to make any kind of equations or say anything sound at this time. And also I'm getting this look from another highly valued family member so best I just STFU and move on. Ahem.

But what brought on this emotionally-charged little puppy love-fest? 

Yesterday our sweet and loving family pet turned into a ferocious barking scary beast from hell. And just when I was starting to wonder whether she had it in her ... 

On Friday I mentioned to my brother that I was a little concerned that she'd not shown any signs of aggression or defensive attitude. Obviously this is primarily a good thing, but I didn't agree to get a dog just for the company - lord knows I don't need any more of that - and I was starting to wonder if we'd lucked out with the soppiest bull terrier on the planet. My brother assured me that if Lego (le pup) thought for a minute that her turf or family were being threatened we'd see what she's really made of, and yesterday she proved her mettle. Big time.

Allow me to digress a little ... you may remember the neighbour with the avo tree? I've been watching the latest harvest growing fat on the er, tree, for some time now, biding my time til the fruits are ready for some surreptitious midnight harvesting (much to the disgust of Husband who likes to pretend he owns the moral high ground but will feast on those avo's as avidly as me when the time comes so there). The avo's are nearly there, a couple more days and they'll be perfect. So imagine my shock at seeing one of my other neighbours creeping along our wall yesterday morning on a stealthy avo-raiding mission of his own!

Not stealthy enough! Oh no, my lovable family pooch, on spotting an unknown figure atop the garden wall, turned into a bristling rabid fireball of manic barking and spitting outrage. The avo-thief very nearly toppled into her awaiting jaws from fright, our illicit avo supply was spared and the Very Brave Pup was rewarded with mega puppy treats and lavished with praise. As soon as I was brave enough to open the back door. Man, she was s-c-a-r-y.

Yay!

And the perfect time for me to gain faith in her guard-dog abilities - as Husband is off to Pakistan for Easter. Yup, 5 days in Karachi on business the poor dude.

I don't have high hopes for Pakistan's Easter egg supply ... But at least I'll sleep easy while he's away knowing that Lego the Lion-Hearted is On Guard.

48 hours (or actually 24...)

I've just decided I can't get into Friday. I think it may have left scars.

No, I'll start fresh and new about today.

It started with a small glass jar being plucked from a drawer and, completely innocently, hurled to the kitchen floor. Approx. 3200 pieces of glass.

It involved 3 cat pukes, one of which was projectile. Oh wait, the projectile one may have been on Friday... shudder...

It included the demise of our extremely old and dodgy pool pump, leaving us at the mercy of the ever-vigilant summer algae... And obviously now is the moment to go salt-water, which is obviously more expensive but The Right Thing to Do, and obviously it's the beginning of the Christmas break so from whence will come this necessary pool-man?

Pump No More.

Today was trying, actually. The melt-down quota was high, from all 3 of us truth be told. Exhaustion from the year past kicked us in the ass a little.

Frieda is 18 months old today, and we pondered that a little and came to the conclusion, once more, that we frikkin' ROCK.

As does she.

I've finished her Christmas stocking and am looking forward to stuffing it on Wednesday. FREE CRAFT TIP: if ever attempting something similar to this, sew the goddamn annoying bells on last.

I'm starting to think about an advent calendar for next year, I think she'll be old enough to enjoy one then. I love this one, or a version thereof, but would have to start it in Jan 09! And I like the idea of using bags to stow the daily treats (can't find link, bad blogger). We'll see...

And lastly, I spent some time at a new blog I'm enjoying a lot. She calms me.

December - sometimes you are hard-core.

with apologies to dr seuss, the neighbour, the husband and, I guess, the cat...

Twas the baby's naptime and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Not even a mouse...

Well, especially not the mouse. 'Cos it was very dead. On my kitchen floor.

And so I faced one of those moments I'm sure all parents encounter, when I had to suck it up, stare down my personal hang-ups, and be the grown up.

I, perpetual avoider and cringer of all things dead, had to remove this mouse all by myself.

I had to act fast. If I thought about it too long I'd be a goner (seriously people, I can't flush a goldfish down the loo) and not really wanting to leave home for the afternoon, I sprung into action.

Within a minute I;

Grabbed the dust-pan & brush (long handled praise the lord), scooped the mouse corpse (shudder) into the pan.

Opened the back door and faced dilemma number 2: where to put it so the cat wouldn't find it again and eviscerate it (much harder to clean up post-evisceration). Great word by the way.

Decided to chuck it over our neighbour's wall.

Ok, ok, so I need to pause to justify this one. a) she's a cow b) she never shares the lush avocados which grow on her tree in full view of our kitchen window c) she shouts at her grand-daughter and while I'm sure 8 yr olds can be trying they don't need to be shouted at quite like that d) when she sneezes it sounds like some-one's being eviscerated (oooo, second usage...), giving us heart failure every time and e) she doesn't share her avo's.

I examined my conscience, decided I was karmically ok with it all, and lobbed that dead mouse over her wall as hard as I could.

Except I didn't.

Get it over the wall that is.

Nooooo, karma (that whiley son of a gun) had other plans and clearly decided to settle mine right there and then. The mouse dropped down my side of the wall and disappeared into the tangled ivy growing upon it.

I think I mentioned the weather's warming up?

I looked at the tangled green leaves, packed up my dust-pan and brush, went inside and decided to Make It Husband's Problem when he got home.

Alas, after some half-hearted scratching around he's been unable to find the ex-mouse and all that remains (gnh gnh) is to wait for it to make its ghoulish presence known.

And judging by the temperature today, it won't be very long.

Euuwwww.