Must Have Home Improvements?

Astrid's wonderful cross-stitched Advent Calendar made by Mum

As I settle in for an evening of individually wrapping 48 little bits of chocolate to string on Linus and Astrid's (Incredibly Awesome Mormor Made)  Advent Calendars ready for tomorrow, I am reminded of wrapping stations.

What's a wrapping station I hear you ask? Well, I certainly didn't know there was such a thing until a few months ago and my mind I must admit BOGGLED a little. 

Researching colours for the dining room I stumbled upon Riviera View where I was introduced to a pair who's home (apparently); "friends and neighbors all agree ... is hands down one of the most stylish in the Hollywood Riviera" (I assume this information was volunteered by the power couple themselves, um, hubris anyone?). Anyway, the home includes as we are exuberantly told, "a gift wrapping zone - on everyone's fantasy design to-do list - which Melissa actually accomplished! " 

This got me pondering. 

You know, I've never fantasized about this and I'm fairly certain that I NEVER will. So who are these "everyone" who do fantasize about a place to wrap stuff? 

Apparently quite a few people do including Martha Stewart.

I know very little about Martha (save her white collar prison escapades). But Martha doesn't just have a wrapping station! No, her must have design items include; a pet grooming salon, a dining room and kitchen in her state-of-the-art climate controlled stables (and not for the horsies either. I certainly hope the ventilation is state-of-the-art), a barn (I think just to hang quilts in and make culturally uncomfortable puns "Barn-Mitzva"?!), 100 year old Canadian fencing to, I presume, make her Canadian horses feels at home and 45,000 Daffodil bulbs!

Hmmmm, would I fantasize about any of that? Erm, no.

Although I will admit to having a little daydream about a few of the daffodils.

Keep it between you and your doctor!

We are of course all for reducing our packaging and recycling.

Reusing things for whatever creative whim might strike is encouraged and the volume of "art" produced by our children is staggering. Cereal boxes, yoghurt containers and bottle tops are whisked away to make spaceships, "dog jails", famous landmarks, and modern sculptures that defy labelling. That's just fine with me as I can do regular sweeps of the house to help these things make it the rest of the way into the BULGING recycling bin before bin day.

Fortunately for us we have a huge Wheelie Bin for recyclables that is collected fortnightly. Unfortunately though despite our best efforts to reduce the amount of packaging we buy this bin is nearly always filled to capacity. OK, so there might be a couple of wine bottles in there but even so where does it all come from?

Well, the school insists on sending home mountains of their own and donated (from other people's bulging bins no doubt) recycling made into treasures like life-size models of box children (thanks for that, it took about 2 months of crammed bins to get rid of) and  robot dogs like this one. The troubling thing about Fido here is that his head is made out of a tablet box for a medicine that Google tells me is for Gout (well, you know I had to Google it, it could have been for Syphilis or an Anti-psychotic or  for Flesh Eating Disease. All things I'd rather my children's teachers didn't have).

Who donates their prescription medicine boxes to a school? Couldn't you have slipped this into your own bin and given them a toothpaste box instead? This is now too much information and a bit of a burden for me (and not just because I have to try and squeeze it into my recycling bin). Now I'll be secretly watching the staff and parents for signs of limping or grimacing to work out who's recycling this is.

And what if a "bin diving" tabloid reporter goes through my recycling, sees the box and the couple of wine bottles and writes an article about me having Gout?

I guess it could have been worse. I could have Syphilitic Psychosis and a nose hanging by a thread.

The Frogs of Anarchy

We have a  Motorbike Frog living in our pond we call him Opie. He’s been there for a couple of months now calling every evening, “Bwrrrrrrrrrrrrr-rudtp rudup” (which means, “Ladies . . . got a really nice pond here . . . ladies! There’s lots of lovely plants to hide in and bugs to eat . . . LADIES!!!”). 

After months of his effort, who should show up? Not one but two more male frogs! Seems that they are starting a motorcycle chapter (the Frogs of Anarchy). So now we have an incredibly loud chorus of motorcycle revving going on each evening. Surely the lady frogs can hear them now from kilometres away.

Of course what they’re not saying is, “Bwedipt” (there’s also 6 Koi fish that will gobble up any of the eggs that the three of us don’t eat first).

Melbourne is for Cool Kids

Ducked off to Melbourne for the weekend (sans children!).
Walked our little feet off.
Hung out in Fitzroy mostly and tried not to look too old and boring (this is hard to do around Brunswick Street).
Went to some great restaurants, bars, art galleries, parks and visited with friends.
I bought some silk and stainless steel yarn just because I could, really no idea what I'm going to use it for though.
I was "pan-handled" by a well dressed dwarf in Carlton. He had apparently, "lost his wallet". The situation was so absurd that I gave him $2.
We had Brazilian coffee in a Cuban cafe served by a dark smouldering-eyed young man who had the Che Guevara look down pat. Funny thing is that the Historian looks somewhat like Castro at the moment with his greying beard and black cap. Another absurd situation...Comrade.
Then it rained.
Lots.
We still walked our little feet off but in very wet sloppy shoes. Rain wicked up our jeans and our legs got heavier and heavier, and colder. Lucky for tiny warm dry bars...everywhere.
Thanks Melbourne it was really fun!