Up until I was sixteen years old I saved every penny I earned at my job at McDonalds in order to travel overseas between when year eleven stopped (Term 3) and I believe the HSC (final year) ‘technically’ began (Term 4). Mum and dad helped with the fare too, frankly I think because they were amazed…
This is a smaller pile compared to last time and a somewhat more realistic one (I hope) in terms of actually coming close to finishing. I’m gradually slogging my way through the Ballard and Doctorow*, I borrowed the Miller because I’ve always wanted to read it, Raising the Dead because it is about reanimation (think…
{Image} Here’s a cheery chrysanthemum for all the mothers out there today, most especially my own, who’s had a very bad year. I love you mum. I hope you got to sleep in longer than what I did, but I doubt it. You’ll be off to church right about now. I hope you all out…
I am thankful for the Tweets and even phone calls I got during the day asking, “Where are you? You haven’t posted today.” ‘Thankful’, even if it does put the pressure on me a little. But to explain, this time last night I was vomiting, and all today I have been in bed with a…
Here are the ingredients I was able to pick to go on top of my pizza the other night – and all from our garden! What looks like a chili is one of the sad capsicums that eventually came good (although it was slightly bitter). The smaller chili IS a chili, but I couldn’t use…
My sister sent Keira a birthday card this year with $20 inside. I didn’t know this before it arrived and so was as surprised as my daughter when that red note slipped out from the torn envelope. “Look at this!” cried Keira. “CASH!!!!!” And she waved that thing around like it was one of Willy…
Go over and check it out!
When Keira said she wanted a Looney Tunes cake this year, I kept asking, “Really? Are you sure?” I mean she’s only seen a handful of Tweetie Bird episodes and I was waiting for her to change her mind. She kept insisting and I said, “Okay! Just don’t be disappointed on the day when it’s…
It has been said that my favourite poet would often sit alone as a child and mutter to himself, “Alfred, Alfred, Alfred…” over and over in some sort of attempt to figure out the problem, the complexity, of self. His self. Goodness, don’t we all? We emerge from childhood into a fiery adolescence, then that gets molten into another…
