Titles are Overrated

Hello, dear creatures! I hope you are well and living your best life wherever and however that may be. 

Apparently, it's been a whole year or so since I posted here! Where does the time go?! Honestly, I've just been lazy lazy lazy busy busy busy and haven't bothered with this blogging thingymajig. Yep. You guessed it. There's been nonstop action, excitement and jaw dropping escapades of adventure and intrigue demanding my attention. The year has whittled by in a whirlwind of exhilarating activities and life changing achievements the likes of which have never been seen before and likely will never be seen again. Or something.

It is totally not exaggerating to say that our lives here in ye olde Boganville are akin to the most gripping television drama and should be adapted into a Netflix series IMMEDIATELY. 

Case in point: there's this show streaming on ABC Iview called Marriage starring Nicola Walker and Sean Bean. Spoiler alert: there is an intense seven-minute scene of Ms. Walker's character making a sandwich. Another, stacking the dishwasher. 

They should have just focused the cameras on Mickey Blue Eyes and I instead. I know for a fact it would be equally as riveting and avant-garde. I make sandwiches. I stack the dishwasher. Because - wait for it: I FINALLY GOT A DISHWASHER!

SEE? I told you extraordinary things were happening! 

Other fantazamagorical (totally a word) happenings:

I did something unheard of. I didn't finish reading a book. GASP. But life's too short for boring books, am I right? 

I let a little bit more of my weird out at work via a meme. I should have this on a t shirt, said I: 

I really should. 

I forgot how to spell a word! I would tell you which word, but I'd have to spell it. I guess I'm not using that word anymore. Good. Who needs you, dumbass word! In the bin, word I can't spell. You're completely UNECCESSARY. Or is it unnessacary? Two n's or one? Whatever. Binned. 

Mickey Blue Eyes and I had the opportunity for a brief interlude in Mollymook last month. My friend J (and her other friends) were celebrating 50th birthdays, and we were invited to tag along! They had booked in to go to Bannisters by the sea, which is a fancy pants restaurant connected to celebrity chef Rick Stein. However, Mick, myself and our other friends K and M decided to accept the fact that we are mere peasants with more plebian tastes. 

A courtesy bus to the local bowlo was booked. And look I'm sure Bannisters is lovely and all, but you don't get that kind of service and elegance, do you?

K fancied a cocktail, but upon arrival we deduced that it was not the sort of establishment that would serve cocktails. They did have a meat raffle in full swing however, so NER. We feasted on our basic schnitzels, steak sandwich and spaghetti Bolognese with glee and zero regret. Ambiance was provided by the raucous shouting in relation to the meat raffle. Pure class. 

Following this, we conversed with the locals while waiting for the return courtesy bus back to the caravan park. Alas, we discovered there is no such thing as shop til you drop in this neck of the woods. K and I had contemplated hitting the shops on Saturday while the others headed off to some sort of beer festival. Because beer is gross. Yuck. 

Saturday arrived. The caravan park had a wood fire pizza oven. Due to J's meticulous planning, we were fortunate enough to indulge in wood fired pizza for lunch. Afterwards most of the group headed off to the beer festival. K and I settled in for a cuppa instead. K, being the bloody legend she is, had brought a box of Cadbury Favourites. If I have to choose between beer or chocolate, no contest. Basic bitch 4EVA! Don't even care. 

As well as being a right basic bitch I'm also excellent company, and it wasn't long before I was snoring on the couch in K's cabin. Nice. Suddenly a storm shattered the peace, and I woke up disoriented. We watched a veritable river rushing past the cabin from the sliding door. The storm passed as quickly as it arrived, and we set off for a meal at The Milton Hotel. Mickey Blue Eyes and I tried unsuccessfully to hide our gauche ways at the sight of the somewhat eye watering prices (to us). 

Luckily, sharing meals was encouraged so we ordered the Wagyu steak. 

Waiter: Would you like any veggies?

Us: Yes, please.

Waiter: What are you after?

Mickey Blue Eyes: Um, a bit of everything. 

Cue me realising each vegetable is a separate dish at almost 20 bucks a pop. Yikes. We hastily backtracked and settled on a cabbage dish. 

Then the order was somehow mucked up and they gave us a free cauliflower dish as well. It all turned out to be extremely delicious, and J's friend also provided a delectable cakie to round out the meal. 

On Sunday we got up in the middle of the night to drive home because Mr 14 had a soccer thing on. We were weary but happy after a fun weekend.

Since it's been so long between posts you may or may not know we have an addition to the family! Another doggo!

Meet Ella: 

She was a skinny girl when she arrived but not now! 
See below 

Chandler is not entirely thrilled with the addition, poor dude

The funniest, cutest, goofiest, (and greediest!) little bundle of mischief. She popped up in my Facebook feed one day as available for adoption. This was in the midst of all the torrential rain. I was at work, so I frantically called Mickey Blue Eyes and said go get her. He did! I decided to keep her. And Mickey Blue Eyes too. Tee hee. 

What else is happening? 

My casual work at the library came to a grinding halt as a result of all my sick leave.  However, I am still working permanent part time for a library supplier and enjoying it. I much prefer working part time and behind the scenes. I'm definitely a behind the scenes kinda girl. Behind the scenes of behind the scenes even, if that makes sense. Yeah nah, nothing about me or my blog writing makes sense... Moving on. 

What can I say about the boys? Not much, because they hate when I do that! I will say that I now have a 21-year-old, an 18-year-old and a 14-year-old. Wait...WHAT??? Again, where does the time go??? Yeah yeah, it keeps moving forward and waits for no one cause that's how time works. I get it. God damn logic. Pffft. 

Confirming the fact that time waits for no one: we celebrated our 27th wedding anniversary a week or so ago! Just- WOW. That's a bloody long time! Not as long as my parents though. They celebrated 56 years! A few days later, my dad turned 84! Forget the logic thing, someone please figure out how to stop time!  

In terms of my PPPD diagnonsense, I am thankfully much better apart from occasional blips, but I try not to let it get to me which is half of the battle. 

Sadly, an anticipated road trip to Wagga Wagga with my mum had to be indefinitely postponed due to all the floods and ridiculous weather about the place. I'm sure we will get there eventually! In the meantime, we went to the movies to see Mrs Harris Goes To Paris which was a lovely feel-good movie with pretty dresses. So that's a win.

Mickey Blue Eyes and I are planning a Christmas getaway which promises to be the kind of lavish, upscale affair you have come to expect from us. Shut up. 

Anyway, that's about it for now. I'm wishing everyone a happy Christmas and a merry new year. And if that's not possible (because why all the pressure to be happy and jolly when the silly season can be complicated and fraught for many), then remember it will pass. 

As Mickey Blue Eyes would say, take it easy and I'll catch up with you later!

Kind wishes and cakie things,

Ness

PS. All the formatting and everything here is completely weird, and I have NO IDEA how to fix it. Oops. Sorry! 

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Sharing Snaps

Greetings, earthlings! 

Sharing is caring, so I'm here to share my snaps for Life This Week. Fair warning: most of them are my most excellent canine companion, the illustrious Uncanny Channy, aka Chandler. Sorry, not sorry! 

The way I see it, things are so grim right now why wouldn't you want to look at a cute doggo? Unless you're a psycopath not a dog person. In which case there's nothing for you to see here. Good bye. *Waves*

CHANDLER

A car trip to Nurragingy Reserve

An uncomfortable pose, perched on the edge of the couch

THAT FAAACE 

The King in his throne 

Channy and I cuddling 

SO handsome

Face and paw snuggling onto my leg. Nawww...

CHANDLER SLEEPING

TREES

Nurragingy Reserve

Bees in our wattle tree 

FOOD

A whatever's in the fridge pasta concoction I made.
Tasted pretty good. 

ZOO

Highlights of our trip to Sydney Zoo back in May. I think we got a few animals in there. Ahem. It now seems like an eternity ago and unthinkable that we had such freedom! 

DIPLOMA 

And last but not least, I finally received my diploma! YAY! 

End of snaps. 

Until next time, 

Ness

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21 Random Facts About Me

1. My parents named me Vanessa after seeing Vanessa Redgrave in the movie Camelot. Almost everyone calls me Ness, except my parents and Mick who stuck with the Vanessa thing. 
2. My hair used to be straight but now it's curly because I had chemo. Sigh. 
3. My favourite drink is tea.
4. I can't wear perfume. It gives me headaches. 
5. I didn't learn to drive until I was 36. 
6. When adulting seems too hard I often fantasize about being a dog. I draw the line at becoming a Furry, though. It'd be too hot in summer. 

Image credit: https://onsizzle.com/i/i-dont-want-to-adult-today-i-dont-even-want-2681494

7. I'm struggling to get back into exercise post breast cancer. 
8. I almost never listen to the radio.
9. I prefer showers to baths.
10. I love reading but don't understand how people can read in the bath.
11. As a child I was scared of elevators and escalators. And boats, and heights and cockroaches. And people. Nothing much has changed. Ahem. 
12. I didn't realise I was pregnant the first time until around 26 weeks (approximately six months).
13. To my right there is a tall bookcase and a smaller one. Both are filled with books. Well, I did say they were random facts. 
14. I am trying to de-clutter my home. But it's not hoarding if it's books, right? (See above). 
15. I am terrible at multi-tasking. Except when I'm blogging, Facebooking, drinking wine and eating all the food simultaneously. I SMASH that. 
16. My middle name is Faye. Which sounds like an old lady name in 2016. Totally goes with my nanna curls. Winning! 
17. I don't think I'm interesting enough to make it to 21 facts. Thinking, thinking, thinking...
18. I've never had a sister or a daughter . Never will. Interesting. (I do have two wonderful sister-in-laws). 
19. I live in the same suburb I was born in 45 years ago. 
20. I'm super untidy but I can't stand having sticky or wet hands. Weird.
21. I am currently sipping a cup of tea. See point number 3. I am NOT eating cake with it. I am very sad and wistful about this. And I'm not even skinny yet! RUDE. 

There you have it. 21 totally random facts about me. You're welcome! 

Linking up for Friday Reflections. 

Are there any interesting random facts about you? 

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Life As A Dog

Every morning I stumble out of bed dazed and disoriented. I trudge out to the living room and peer outside. And there is she is: Queen Cookie, our beloved dog. Resplendent in the sun. She perches on her cushion on the back verandah in bliss. We adopted her from an animal shelter a couple of years ago and she's been an awesome addition to our family.

Meanwhile I blunder on, trying to coax reluctant children out of bed and off to school. I wonder: would it be easier to be a dog? 

Reasons I think it would be easier to be a dog: 

• She gets to lie around in the sun all day.
• Like me, Cookie is also a breast cancer survivor. Unlike me, she's blissfully unaware of this fact. She doesn't even have to go for regular mammograms!
• She's completely unperturbed by her greying fur. 
• While she's lying there in the sun I'm pretty sure she's not thinking: but what am I DOING with my life? 

• She may have had puppies, we're not sure, but they're not her responsibility anymore.  Furthermore they're not going turn up for Sunday lunch, bringing their laundry and asking to borrow some cash.  
• She doesn't have to think about housework. In fact, the dirtier the better! Like all the dogs I've known, her favourite thing is rolling around in the dirt after a bath.
• She gets THE BEST pats, belly rubs and cuddles. 
• Going for a walk can often seem like a bit of an effort for me, but for her it's the most exciting thing EVER. 
• She doesn't even think about her age despite the fact that every year is supposedly seven (or something) in dog years. 
• She takes the time to stop and smell not just the roses but every damn thing. (Okay, maybe that's a bit gross...)

On the other hand, it must get terribly boring being a dog. Which is why our Cookie Monster has tried to liven up her life by bolting out the gate and going for a wander a couple of times. Related: we think we know how she ended up in a dog shelter.

About a year or so ago she managed to wander off several blocks away, following another dog. Perhaps she had a tryst with her boyfriend. It turns out that the other dog belonged to a girl who knew Mr 15 from school. I was at home posting frantic messages on Facebook while Mickey Blue Eyes scoured the neighbourhood. Long story short: the girl eventually saw my posts and the local pound delivered a trembling Cookie back home in their van. She was suitably sheepish but seemed happy to be here again. 

Her adventure over, she was back to her favourite spot in the sun.

Yep, life as a dog is pretty darn tough. 

Linking up for IBOT.

If you could be an animal, which one would you be? 

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Someone Else For A Day

If you could be someone else for a day, who would that be? This is the question I am pondering for today. There are so many choices.

I could be an animal. But which one would I be? A dog? A cat? Or a bird, so I could merrily poop on people? I'd only poop on people I like - it's supposed to be good luck after all!

I could be Mickey Blue Eyes just to see what it's like being married to me. Shudders. On second thought, no. Just- NO.

I could be one of my gorgeous boys, just to see what it's really like having me as a mother. But I'm not sure I really want to know.

I could be someone famous, just to see what it's like being one of the 'beautiful people'. But I don't like being the centre of attention so I'm not sure I would really like it.

I wouldn't mind trying out being somebody who was a total horrific bitch on wheels for a day. I'm curious to see what it's like. I'm so nauseatingly sweet and nice. I just want to experience being the total opposite of that. To try to understand such a person's thought process. But I can't really say who that person is. That would be like calling someone a bitch. I'm too sweet to do that. You see what I mean? Sigh.

I definitely wouldn't want to be the Prime Minister or the Queen or anyone in authority. I can't make decisions and intensely dislike conflict.

It wouldn't be bad being a wiry, gangly teenager or child or man who never puts on weight just so that I could eat and eat and eat non-stop for the whole day until I explode. Hell, yeah! Yes, it's interesting that eating and not having sex is the first thing that comes to mind for me if I could be a member of the opposite sex. I think that probably says a lot about me. Shut up.

 It might be OK to be our dog Cookie for a day. Every time I spotted her today she was snoozing. Lucky bitch. Even now she is curled up at my feet. Also, she's adored by Mr 10 and 6. 

 Yes, I do think I'd just like to be a carefree child or an animal for a day so I could just sleep, play, eat and not worry about anything. Yeah, I'm really deep, aren't I?

Oh well, if you were looking for deep and meaningful I guess you would never have clicked over here in the first place. So don't blame me. It’s your own fault. You knew that I’m shallow and you chose to read this anyway. So who’s even more shallow? I think we know the answer to that. Just saying.

 Another thought I just had was that I could be somebody who was a genius-like speed reader. Then I could get through ALL THE BOOKS I want to read and THE ENTIRE INTERWEBS in one day!

Or, if there is such a person, (in the Guinness Book Of Records or something) the World's greatest cake-eating champion! That way I could eat ALL THE CAKE and get it out of my system forevermore. Maybe. Probably. It's possible!

 So basically what I'm saying is I want to be somebody who can eat and sleep and read and surf the web all day. You know, just for something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Shut up.

 

Linking up for The Lounge.

 

Who would you like to be for a day?

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He Called Her Cookie

For such a long time he had wanted a dog. Not a cat. Not a rabbit. Certainly not a guinea pig. It had to be a dog. And not just any dog.

"I want a golden retriever!" Mr 10 begged with imploring eyes.

A majestic golden retriever, with a glossy coat, melting, mischievous brown eyes and boundless energy. They could play and lollop and frolic and have so much fun! Mr 10's eyes shone with such grand visions.

But there would be poop, I reminded him. LOTS of poop.

"I'll clean it up!" he insisted. 

Mickey Blue Eyes and I looked at each other, nonplussed. We were slowly warming to the idea of a dog. Mr 10 had his heart set on it. But we weren't convinced about a golden retriever.

I'm not really a fan of gigantic horse-like dogs. Or tiny little over grown rat-like yappers. But I do like some dogs.

Wise, warm-hearted dogs who are fiercely loyal and full of character. Like Samantha, the sausage dog we had when I was a child. She was like a human trapped in the body of a bandy-legged, rotund dachshund. She was amazing. I wanted Mr 10 to have a dog like that. A furry best friend.

We scanned the Internet looking for just the perfect pooch. There were many tears of frustration from Mr 10 who wanted it all to happen NOW. The idea of being able to save a dog from death row at the pound appealed to Mick and I.

Accordingly, we set off one afternoon to check out the possibilities. Upon entering the pound we were greeting by a cacophony of raucous barking. Menacing mutts the size of Mexico roared their indignation at being behind bars.

Mr 10 and 6 promptly burst into tears. Meanwhile, Mr 13 had wisely waited in the car. He wasn't as keen on the dog idea. Eventually, we were able to coax the boys to have a further look at all the cages. It was very dispiriting. The dogs were all obviously unsuitable. Although I felt awful seeing them all locked up like that, at the same time I would have been fearful of them being let out. 

We returned home with a dejected Mr 10. A few weeks passed. More Internet searching ensued. This led to discovering Sydney Dogs And Cats Home.  One Sunday, Mick took Mr 10 and 6 for a drive there.

A few hours later Mr 10 came bounding into the house.

"Mum, we have a dog!" he was beaming. He led me outside and there she was. A beautiful and gentle fox terrier cross. We're not exactly sure what the 'cross' part is, but we're guessing corgi. She wasn't a puppy, but she was wise, loyal and full of character. He named her Cookie.

It seems like it was meant to be. Now she's part of our family. She's a bit of tart in that she loves everyone and anyone. An extrovert dog in an introvert family. She'd be completely useless as a guard dog. She'd welcome any thieves with a wagging tail and be excited to meet new friends!

She sits at the back door, gazing in with her mournful eyes. Other times, when I walk past, there she is, head tilted, expression quizzical. Yes, dogs DO have expressions.

The funniest thing is her antics in regard to Henrietta, our pet parakeet. Cookie bolts down to Henrietta's aviary in the backyard in her headlong fashion.  Reaching the cage she tenses, ready to pounce. The hairs on her back stand up as she lunges her little fox terrier frame frantically at the cage, eyes never leaving Henrietta.

Henrietta is totally unruffled. She saunters down from her perch to the edge of the cage and proceeds to taunt Madam Cookie.

"Hello!" she chirps, chest proud.  Cookie hurtles higher up to the cage, incensed.

"Hello!" Henrietta keeps mocking her.

It's like watching the cat and mouse shenanigans of Tweety and Sylvester. Hilarious!

Cookie would indeed relish the opportunity to have Henrietta in her clutches.  Funnily enough, she never barks at her. She just keeps lunging at the cage repeatedly. Despite the fact that this pursuit  never pays off, she is quite persistent in her efforts, our little Sylvester,.. I mean, Cookie!

Afterwards she will bound back across the grass to Mr 10 and rest her paws on his legs, tail pulsating. She is happiest in these moments.

She snoozes on the back porch throughout the day, waiting for her beloved boy to return home from school for cuddles and play. They already have an unbreakable bond. I'm glad they have each other. Having a dog was such a comfort to me as a child. I love to think of Mr 10 having that same comfort. 

It's also good finally having another girl in the family, even it is only a dog!

And yes, Mr 10 cleans up her poop. Someone has to and it might as well be him. He has to learn, doesn't he? Ahem. Besides, I've cleaned up enough poop in my time.

Cookie will be a part of our family for many years to come. When she finally goes to doggie heaven we'll most likely adopt again. It's good to have a furry friend.

Linking up for The Lounge.

Do you have any pets?

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Heavens To Betsy Part Two

Yes, I murdered  my beautiful Betsy.  I'm not evil!  But I feel like I am.

One night there was a ferocious electrical storm.  Knowing how timid Betsy was, I should have realised she'd be absolutely beside her beagle self with terror.  I really should have let her inside or locked her in the laundry.

While Jake darted around the back yard barking back at the thunder with equal force (nothing scared that dog) , Betsy barrelled her way in through the lattice works and in under the house to hide.

Jake: he lived until he was 17, yapping away..

The next day, the storm abated. Betsy lay on the ground exhausted. Or so we thought. Until it became obvious something was really wrong.

"There's something wrong with Betsy," Mick told me, his face creased with concern "just keep an eye on her." He left for work.

I went outside and stroked her. She wagged her tail feebly.  Hours later, she was dead.

Poisoned. She'd eaten some baits left under the house, which were meant for rodents.

Betsy loved her food. She was a sweet and timid creature who loved her food. I've heard that pets are sometimes like their owners.  I had better be careful I don't eat my way to my demise like poor, beautiful Betsy.

Betsy: RIP Beautiful girl..and..forgive me..*sobs*

I walked around for weeks feeling like a murderer who should be sentenced and hung for killing my defenceless pet. 

Jake yapped his way into old age and finally gave his last yap at age 17. Which, in dog years is.. really OLD.

Some time later the boys talked Mick into getting them a bunny.  They named him George.

George got out of his rabbit hutch everday. Every. Single. Day. The doorbell would ring.

"Your rabbit's out!" a neighbourhood kid would announce. Then I would be obliged to chase the rabbit around the yard and up and down the street. I could never catch him.

Oneday he was gone for good. Rabbit stew presumably. Or somebody took him. Not sure. I was (secretly relieved) saddened and dismayed. 

There have also been goldfish too numerous to mention.

We are now the proud owners of a lorrikeet named Henry. Which I was supposed to feed and look after.

I did it a few times when he was in a cage, then promptly forgot once Micky Blue Eyes put him in the aviary with his finches. Oops.

Maybe I'm not meant to have a pet. The only one that has survived is my Pet Rock. If you've never had one then you obviously were not a child of the 70's.

My Pet Rock lives on still at my parents house. See, I am a good pet owner. As long as I don't have to feed them. 

Now, my pesky children are demanding food, so I guess I should feed them.

And they'll be getting an ipod (or something that doesn't require feeding) for Christmas.

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