Pop

Wish I was there to see you, Pop.

My Little Pony....er, Buddhist

Mae has been asking lately what happens to us when we die. Being not the most Christian of parents, I am giving Mae a more Buddhist, and therefore (in my mind, hopeful) idea of reincarnation.

So yesterday, out of the blue she said about our neighbour Noel, who died about a year ago, ' What happened to that guy who lived with June? I bet he came back as a pink pony!!!'

She must have thought a lot about Noel, pink ponies are her favourite and her best!

Ode the Bethanne

Thanks for inspiring me to change my blog,
I might need to work on it; my head's in a fog.

Serving Suggestion, part deux

The reason for that title? Well, I meant to tell you this humourous, slightly ascerbic anecdote about buying butter at Marks and Spencer's this week. I get this butter home and while I am cooking (scallops, no less), I look at the packaging, which has a photo of a buttered roll on it, with serving suggestion written in small letters.
Which is helpful, because I often go into grocery shops and look at the butter and think of buying, but have no idea of how to use it.
Thanks, M&S.

Serving Suggestion

Not much has been happening here in lazy town since Christmas. A bit of beachcombing, doorknob gazing and wining and dining friends.

And, arguing with Librarians, who, in my experience are musty old bats. So they said I had two books out, one of which I don't remember even taking out, and the other I distinctly remember returning. They have done this before, somehow not noted them as returned; most times after I return them I take new ones out, so have caught them in the act. I think they practice black book magic, and would even go so far as to say they are quite bureaucratic. So I went in twice to tell them these books had been brought back, and that pre and post Christmas the house was TOTALLY cleaned (they don't need to know my style of cleaning), and that I don't keep books, I bring them to charity shops when they are finished so I have VERY FEW books in my house. They won't listen. They said they would renew a couple more times and if I don't find the books I have to pay for them. The cheek. The book-hiding freaks. I am very appalled. How VERY dare they.

Then I found them.

Who am I going to rope into returning them on my sorry-ass behalf? I blame Andrew, who frenetically cleaned up the night I took Mom (see photos. another point against me, not publishing any photos of mom over the holiday. See? She was here!) to the airport, so as not to invoke my wrath. Or do I have to bite the bullet and do it myself?

3:19 a.m.

That's when I got up to change Mae's sheets last night. Not quite finished with the expletives, Sharon!!

3 Years, 8 Months and 19 Days

And we have no more nappies, day or night! Expletives aside, I am quite happy about it.

Believe everything you see:

Yes, the new year started with a bang. The boys want a re-match. Should I be magnanimous or hold firmly onto the title of Scrabble Champ?

Images of Christmas

Pre-Christmas (how many Santas are there, mom?)


Plus a bit of frosty weather for effect:




Gingerbread houses made:



Christmas Eve, ready for Santa:


Christmas Morn, ready for the big day (everyone included):


And Post-opening:

Christmas night, with the winning gift, once again thanks to Papa from the girl racer: