8.00am Sunday morning and all's quiet. The washing machine is rattling & humming (could be a song title there). It's hot already. Beloved has gone to work; it's his 5th day in a row, and he will work for another 6 at least, maybe more. He works as a contractor in a mine site, the mine is having a shut down for the next 12 days, and all leave has been cancelled, with shifts operating around the clock. I guess we won't see much of him over the next week or so. Goodness knows how he's supposed to sleep when we live in a shed. The kids have bedrooms in the house, and I think one of them will have to give up their bedrooms during the non-working hours for the cause. I'm also guessing that it will be scorpa-boy, as the cause is motobike adventures, anyway. I might whinge about him, but Beloved does work hard to provide for us (and the motorbike cause).
Ho, Ho! I almost spat my cup of tea out a minute ago. The newsreader reported that Osama Bin Laden had died from a serious case of typhoid....Serious case of typhoid!... it doesn't get much more serious than DEATH.... sorry, that's my weird sense of the absurdly funny....A Rex Mossop moment...
Gorgeous Girl has 4 days of school left (who's counting?) ..forever...and is well into her HSC preparations. Friday night was spent researching her favourite band, 'Thursday', and updating Messenger and MySpace. Saturday she went to work, then to Greta to a rock gig that her friends were playing at (full-on HSC preparation for them too), and then they were going onto her bestie, Pat, 18th party last night. I expect she will be home sometime today.
Much to my surprise, Scorpa-Boy has arisen. After listening to me type (and re-type) he asked me "what are you doing...blogging?". After my affirmation and statement that It had been a few days, he left the shed with a defeated and resigned air of someone who knows that they're not going to be able to use the computer for ages . "Too bad, my turn", I think.
I think it might be time for a new keyboard. Aside from my very poor typing skills...I knew that I should have gone to secretarial school like my dad said...the keys are quite tired these days, and often the keys may have to be struck a number of times or a bit hard to get them to work (and to thing I've been berating GG for being so hard on the keyboard... oops, sorry baby).
Vege-Boy had a sleepover at his friend, Kane's place last night. In between my numerous taxi duties yesterday, Rhys had his football presentation BBQ, and suffered the indignity of being blamed for something that was not his fault. In the middle-of-the-day heat, about 50 kids were playing non-tackle footy, but with the added rule that tackling is ok, as is rolling around in the dirt, weeds and bindiies. My wrestling-manaic-Vege-Boy is probably the biggest boy in the club, and spends a lot of his time dragging around 4 or 5 kids on his back. One particularly nuggety 9 yr old appears to have made his mission in life to "knock the big guy down" at any opportunity. He's the biggest kid in his year, but has small man syndrome (as does his father), already. So, anyway, this kid manages to change the mood of the occasion, by launching himself at Rhys, head down, shoulders forward, flat strap. Rhys, in self-preservation mode, put out his arm to fend the nugget off and pushed him backwards onto the kid behind (Kane), resulting in the nugget landing on the ground, and I think, with Kane's foot greeting his ribs. The now agro-nugget, came up swinging at Rhys, who was desperately trying to keep his at arm's length, pushing him back onto the ground in the process. I walked out to rescue whomever, Rhys was looking shocked and apologetic and agro-nugget was mildly winded, dusty & bindii-encrusted but ok. Enter agro-nugget's dad, who, after making sure his son wasn't mortally wounded and instructed him to get up (Why do men always do that; indignity is better when you're below eye level; and what if he had been hurt?), and asked his boy what had happened. His baby tried to stand, holding onto his ribs, wobbled a bit on his knees, and said in accusatory, teary voice; "Rhys hurt me!". Dad then walked over Rhys then commenced upon a diatribe about not picking on littler kids, he should have known better, making allowances for them and never, ever fighting when playing footy. Poor Rhys was gobsmacked, still trying to apologise, and becoming teary, at which point I instructed him to go and sit inside for a while. Talk about the walk of shame. Agro-nugget's coach came rushing out then, worriedly asking whether the nugget was "right". I walked back in with the nugget's dad, apologised for the "injury" to the nugget, and commented that it was going to be interesting in 10yrs when the boys were at the pub together. His reply "Boys are boys, but you just don't fight when you're playing footy". I don't think he's realised that I didn't actually aplogise for Rhys' actions, just that the nugget was hurt. Thickhead. I was only a step behind Rhys, and I wanted to slap some people for the looks and comments that were made (Me, Lioness!!). I told my bravely-trying-not-to-cry-baby that I had seen everthing, and that I knew what had really happened, and that I thought he had done the right thing, but it wasn't worth getting into an argument over. I was proud of him; he had handled the situation with all the maturity that a newly-12 yr old could muster. We all know that the nugget has a bit of a problem at times. I have to work with his mother in close quarters, so I'm not looking forward to this week. Gorgeous girl said I should have stuck up for Rhys more, but honestly, I just wanted the presentation finished and over, and at this point it hadn't even started! If it comes up in a negative way at work, then the truth will out!! Ah, the joys of living in a small town... As one wise parent said to me, and I quote "Don't worry about him (Nugget's dad). He's a cock. My dad told me don't get too excited about kids' fights...kids forget about it, but parents seem to hold a grudge". Too true...Anyway, Rhys got on with the business of being A Member Of the Under 12 Denman Devils, and then had a good afternoon with Kane, a fellow-wrestlemaniac.
Video hits is on behind me, and OMG, there is a clip on for "Boytown", which is a parody of the whole boyband thing; tight leather, more-than-metrosexual hair gel, black and white ambience, doves, rain, backstreets in a seedy neighbourhood, all sung by the over 30 and 40 Oz comedians Glenn Robbins, Mick Molloy (in TIGHT leather), pommy Bob who usually works with Jimoin and 2 guys from "Comedy Inc"....very funny...evidently it's from a movie of the same name. I will probably watch it when it comes out on DVD. Aussie humour, unique as it is, for some reason never quite seems to get right when it comes to sitcoms or movies. Not since the 80's, anyway.
Anyway, my plan for the day is this;
- Washing; about 5 loads should pull me up
- Attack the 15m x 4m cactus garden down the western boundary. Why, why, why did anyone ever think that's cactuses belong anywhere other than the desert? And then to let them escape from the pots...I'm telling this new, "Sculptural Garden" generation, BEWARE THE CACTUS!
- Clean up enough to appease the Gods
- Finish Blogging to appease Scorpa-Boy who has re-arrived and keeps asking "are you still blogging Mum?" and commenting "Jeez, Mum". He also wishes he had a much musical talent as Paris Hilton...He has the same tongue-in-cheek affliction as his mother. He has an "assignment" to do.
- Look forward to a re-cap of GG's afternoon/night out. I really am a cow.... I want to know how Bestie-Pat's girlfriend coped with GG's presence all night...green, green, green.......
Enjoy your Sunday...it's very hot, so drink lots of water....or whatever floats your boat.....
All is as it should be...
Love, Cyndy ;)xoxox