Where to begin? A weekend of many parts... at the beginning I suppose...

Friday night my sister J and I went to see one of our favourite authors speaking at the Sydney Writers' Festival. I discovered Edmund White about 15 years ago and he was my introduction into the world of "gay American authors". The first book I read "A Boy's Own Story" just blew me away. Not only was it my first foray into the world of man on man action (and Mr White does not muck about on this front) but there was something else which I found very enticing about his writing. His books are generally autobiographical and I found myself very drawn to the hedonistic gay lifestyle described in his books.

Seeing him live was wonderful. He was not at all how I had imagined. What I found was an elderly man (he's now in his 60s), white haired, short and somewhat portly, with a very gay American voice, delightful. What was upsetting was how he was presented, in interview format with the abysmal, smug, shithead David Marr as his "interviewer". Jeez, if you like the Molly Meldrum school of interviewing then David is your man, otherwise, watch out. As I am want to do I was squirming in my seat within minutes, it was that bad. It took all my strength not to leap onto the stage and start beating Mr Marr with my pathetic tiny fists when he ended a question with "... two men f*#king?" and a "wise" lear in the audience's general direction. What a fool! What a buffoon! We didn't want to hear his beyond pathetic witticisms, we were there to hear the words of Edmund White, a man who had lived a rich and amazing life... travelling from the suburban wilderness of Ohio to New York to Paris (where he worked for Vogue and wrote a biography of Jean Genet, which I am to finish reading... it's dense, brick-like bulk defeats me). For my money we got to hear way too little of his fascinating story and WAY too much of David Marr's droning tones (though it must be said he did find himself endlessly witty and entertaining).

Coming home J and I watched "In Her Shoes" on Foxtel. Having read the book I found the film disappointing. There is much more background and richness to the characters which the film ignores and a large (and I feel important) part of the story which is skipped altogether. Obviously this was done to avoid a "Lord of the Rings" style epic but I certainly found the film less than entertaining.

Saturday we awoke to 1st Birthday/Naming Day preparation chaos. Yep, it was Marianna's big day (her actual birthday was on Friday) and there was so much to do and so little time to do it. The day went wonderfully well. The rain (though much needed) luckily stayed away and we were able to make full use of the deck and the backyard. The ceremony was lovely and the clowns we ordered for the kids were a fabulous success - at least I assume so, the children were happy and quiet for two hours, money well spent if you ask me! Together with some very wonderful and much appreciated assistants I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. My new best friend the deep fryer was put to good use but the very cute mini chocolate fountain, purchased solely for this occassion, stayed unused after we burnt most of the 1kg block of Lindt chocolate I had bought for this purpose.
















After everyone had left on Saturday night we left the mess alone and settled down for the Swans' game. It was the perfect end to a tiring but wonderful day. The Swans' kicked some serious Hawthron bottom. It was fantastic!

Sunday started with breakfast with my dad and grandma at sunny Bondi. It was the usual family chaos. We then returned home to finish cleaning up and for a little rest. It was Big Brother overdose for me as I watched the Friday Night Live I had taped on Friday night and then the eviction show from last night. I am glad Michael got the boot, I seriously think he was mentally ill. What a doofus! I don't think anyone will miss his whacky antics and they might get their toothbrushes back.

Sunday night, quick weekend update.

Friday night... Big Brother Friday Night Live, my favourite. This week was Rock'n'Roll week. The best bit was when the two finalists had to finish band names with various props. There was a board on which part of a band was written and a table with props, they had to put the appropriate prop on the little shelf next to the name. Hilarious, especially when both boys (Dino and Gaelen) didn't know some pretty obvious ones (well, they were to me, a child of the 80s - White Snake, I mean, COME ON!). I am getting cranky that only boys have won so far. The physical aspect of most of the games do favour the boys, especially strong, ruthless ones (a noted fact is that David seems to "get out" very early on every week, piss weak or gentlemanly, you be the judge).

Another BB thought. So far (and I haven't seen much, so I'm prepared to turn if necessary) I quite like Rob, the gay-as hairdresser intruder, he of the arched eyebrows and hair extensions. Why do I like him? Not sure, but my gut feeling is that he is an 80s throwback. He is SO like some of the guys I used to know in my teens. Funny, extravagant, OTT in terms of style. He really presses a mysterious warm and fuzzy familiary button with me. Intersting to see his fate over the next few weeks. Normally intruders don't last long.

Saturday we spent pottering around the house and doing some shopping. Marianna now has her birthday party dress for next week (and at 25% off - who is the queen of sales, yep - you got it!). Late in the afternoon Will and Jay set off to watch the Swans' game at the SCG. After putting Marianna to bed I got my snacks and diet coke and I was set. What a game it was! I was prepared for anything after last week (what a tremendous win) and knowing that our opponents, Western Bulldogs, were also in top form and coming off a few straight wins. I couldn't have been prepared for the first fifteen minutes of the game 39-0 to the Swans. I was gob smacked and excited but the Bulldogs soon kicked a few goals and the game stabilised somewhat. However we only let them have a sniff of the lead a couple of times. Most of the game was all our way and we won with a decent (though not overly impressive) 26 point win. Good enough for me. I have to say it was a bloody entertaining game and our boys outdid themselves every minute of the game. It was so good to watch. I was sorry I didn't get to see it live but there are many more home games to look forward to this year.

Sunday we slept in and ran around like fools getting ready for the first party - Will's friend S's 5th birthday party. We had to fit in a haircut for Will beforehand so we were running behind the whole day. The magical themed party was fantastic, the family had gone to a lot of trouble with decorations, costumes, food and entertainment. It was a shame we had to leave early to get to my dad's girlfriend's daughter's 21st (did you get all that? there'll be a test later). That was a low key family affair which did involve much more food. We're SO back onto the CSIRO plan from tomorrow.

Well, Big Brother beckons. So goodnight and see you next week.

Are you desperately bored? Absolutely nothing to do? Picked all the lint out of your belly button? Rearranged your pantry in alphabetical order? Then try this...

http://www.bebo.com/inviteq/839869841a106258265b


You might surprise yourself at how little you really know me.

PS It's nothing bad. Just a little fun quiz about yours truly.

A few Big Brother thoughts...

Michael. He just shits me. OK, I feel for him (somewhat) being trapped into being BB's "Insider" but really he's just a schmuck. He carries on like a first class doofus. And the whole "Rueben" story... come on, give me a break! It'll be interesting to see what happens tonight when his "secret is revealed".

Katie. I hated her on sight but I think she will be popular with the general audience because she has that "folks are dumb where I come from" appeal. She is a classic Barbie beach girl and comes across as a total airhead but also "sweet" (in a way which sometimes appeals to me but generally shits me). Her "romance" with fellow nuclear physicist Jamie is just a car accident in slow motion. Not only is it fully cringe-making but it fully underlines her sad, little-girl insecurities.

Jamie. Like, you know, he's just really big hearted and shit. What is that guy about? That rag he wears on his head is just so damn ugly, which juxtaposes nicely with the fact that he thinks of himself as being so hot (anyone got a mirror, dude?). Currently he is coming across as being emotionally on a higher level than most of the other male life forms in the house but that's not hard, considering the others appear to be lower than pregnant snails (to use that quaint expression very popular with my 5th class contemporaries in 1978).

Gaelen. What the...? I call him Clarence-the-Lion-eyes-boy. He has these weird feline blue eyes which are almost crossed or something, bizarre. Typical surfie dude, brainless turd.

David. Don't know. At first I thought he was the nice, sensitive gay boy but now he's just the boring, sad, whinging gay boy. It will be interesting/fun to see how his atypical gay farm boy persona will come up against the gay intruder boy coming on tonight. This guy looks like the love child of Bobby Trendy and Liza Minelli, all arched eyebrows and whiplash tongue.

Dino, John, Ashley. Just typical crass dudes. No redeeming features that I have discovered yet. Yuck!

Camilla, Anna, Krystal, Claire. Generally annoying. Not a brain cell amongst them, except possibly Claire. Hard to seperate the wheat from the chaff with these bimbettes. Time will tell.

The evil twin has been removed. I have the pictures to prove it. The ovary it was attached to is also gone. I don't mind. My reproductive organs have played no role in my becoming a parent so "good ridence", I say. According to doc the cyst did have hair (gross) but I wasn't allowed to keep it in a glass to jar to scare the children as it has been sent off to pathology for testing. Oh well. That's the way the cookie crumbles.

It's Tuesday afternoon and I'm still feeling quite sore. I'm trying to soldier on but I feel like I've been stapled in my lower tummy and I can't quite stand up straight.

The way I feel right now I'm in no hurry to have the hysterectomy. Maybe I'll put it off till next year. I'll see the doc next week and see what he says.

I'm off to have my evil twin surgically removed today. It's otherwise known as a dermoid cyst.

"Dermoid cyst of the ovary: A bizarre tumor, usually benign, in the ovary that typically contains a diversity of tissues including hair, teeth, bone, thyroid, etc. " (MedicineNet.com)

So cool. I wonder if it looks like me. Hope they save it in a jar and I can use it to scare the children when the opportunity presents itself.

I will be glad to have today over with. I'm not worried but just anxious to have it done and finished. I think it's the skipping lunch bit which has me irritated the most. We can fly men to the moon but can't make an anesthetic which doesn't require one to be starving at the time of administration. Come ON, medical science, what's going on here??!!

I'll also be glad to stop all the worried looks on the faces of my family and all the questioning about my anxiety levels (which are generally fine until the questions start). For god's sake - this is a MINOR procedure people, get a grip! It's not that I don't appreciate the concern it's just that it freaks me out and I find it highly unnecessary.

Anyway, I'll be watching Big Brother Friday Night Live from the "comfort" of my over-priced private hospital bed tonight (it'd be cheaper to have the operation at the Grand Hyatt). Next time I write I'll be a few hundred grams lighter (am I taking this diet thing a bit too seriously, do you think?).

(I'm returning to finish this post on Friday morning, after starting it on Sunday afternoon - FYI)

The Swans won again this afternoon, against Brisbane. Oh, happy, happy, joy, joy! I hate the Brisbane Lions, well, let's rephrase that. I hate Jason Akermanis. He's a turd, whichever way you look at it. That stupid, stupid bleached blond hair and half-wit beard thingy, the smart-arse attitude. He just shits me - OK! To put the cherry on the already heavily iced cake he hit my beloved Jared Crouch in today's game. That's just not on Akers, you demented little toad.


He doesn't deserve a bigger picture.
He only deserves boos and hisses and
a good kick up the backside.


I spent the entire game yelling and pointing at the TV screen: "There, did you see that. I've always know he was a dick, but did you SEE THAT??!!"

I mean he really outdid himself today.

Friday update: There is talk Akers may be coming to Sydney next year. I won't stand for it! My membership money must count for something. I'm trying to keep my blood pressure down as sick rumours such as these do circulate once in a while and eventually prove to be fruitless. However I am prepared to march on Swans' headquarters with witty plackards and write stern letters if required.

Will's 7th birthday party has come and gone. There was bowling, there was mad giant slide/ball pitt/maze fun, there was disco dancing and there was sausage rolls, fairy bread, red cordial and cake. If that's not the definition of a perfect party, I don't know what is. Best of all there was no mess at home and only a minor dent in the credit card. Happy days!


The happy birthday boy
and his buddy, A.

"There's nothing I hate more than unintelligence..."
Jamie, Big Brother 06

Me too, Jamie. Me too!

However, that doesn't stop me from being totally addicted to the Big Brother experience. You couldn't find a television program with more unintelligence but I can't help myself. It's the best piece of turn-off, tune-out, get-into-a-zombie-like-trance-while-doing-the-obligatory-half-hour-on-the-walking-maachine television fluff there is.

I hate them all and yet I love them all. My BB feelings are totally illogical and inexplicable, the perfect love/hate relationship.

Mind you the Friday Night Live BB show is truly hilarious and makes me realise how funny it is to see people you don't care about fall over.

There must exist a parallel universe where people getting off planes get stopped by strange, tall women (who may or may not occassionally star on British police drama series) who insist on dragging their dirty laundry out of their suitcases, subjecting aforementioned laundry to further degredation by way of beetroot and then washing said laundry in some pink laundry detergent whose name can't be that memorable (because I still can't remember it). This parallel universe exists only in TV commercial land and its sole reason for existence is to drive me complete, absolutely friggin' bonkers. Everything about this ad drives me nuts. The ridiculous presenter woman in her ridiculous pink puffy jacket, her ridiculous smile, the smarmy way in which she smears beetroot (god help me if that was my laundry she was smearing she'd need a proctologist to remove that shitty pink puffy jacket!!!).

End of rant.

Update:

* CSIRO diet going well. We've both lost a couple of kgs and generally feel much better and more energetic, clothes are fitting better. Apart from a constant, overwhelming urge to stick my head in a bucket of deep fried something, anything, it's actually fairly easy.

* Friday night I went to see the comedian Dylan Moran (writer and star of Black Books) with my sister JB. I hadn't been a fan of Black Books (hadn't really seen it) but I heard him on the radio and JB loves the show and wanted to go... so there we were. He was excellent, very dark, very funny. We were upstairs at the State Theatre, which I normally love, but that night I felt very squashed in and uncomfortable. I kept trying to find a comfy position for my legs but it wasn't to be. Lately it seems so many shows are spoilt for me because of the environment (the Billy Connolly concert earlier this year, as an example). It's frustrating to pay big bucks to sit in cramped, crappy seating. Something should be done! I might start a "Better Seating for Concert Venues" Campaign.

* Saturday we ran around like headless chooks in the morning and finally headed over to mum's for my Grandmother's 94th birthday lunch. Poor old grandma doesn't know if she's coming or going and I fear the occasion caused more stress than enjoyment but at 94 I guess we need to make the best of these family times together, for how much longer could they go on for?!

* Saturday night we were off to a Colombian Family Dinner I had organised for our family adoption support group. I wasn't sure what to expect but it ended up being a chaotic but fun evening. The twenty kids were all going burko all night so the noise level in the tiny restaurant was at about 13. Don't you just love those ear-splitting shrieks that happy children tend to emit? The Colombian food was simple but wonderful and took us back to our Colombian trip. You have to love a food culture with so much emphasis on pork crackling - one of nature's wonder foods (just ask my thighs). They had also organised a Colombian dancing show which was fantastic, with all the guests (including Marianna on my lap) clapping along and having a ball.

* Sunday we awoke to the disappointment that the Swans' game I had attempted to tape the night before hadn't taped. Jason was manic. [I do love the Swans' but I hate footy season - it makes J even more nutty than usual and brings out his obsessive tendencies... and as I keep telling him there's only room for ONE person with obsessive tendencies in this relationship!] So as we were heading out on Sunday morning I attempted yet again to record the replay. It wasn't meant to be. For some reason we only managed to get the final quarter this time around. Luckily the Swans had a good win so J was in a good mood and all was forgiven.

* J's new nickname is "Princess". A funny nickname, you might think, for a 6'2" bear of a man with a red beard, but very suitable I think. The man who, when I first met him, owned one pair of work boots, one pair of very out of style "going out" shoes and one pair of worse-for-wear thongs (a crime against humanity right there, but that's another story), has gradually, over the years, become a regular clothes-horse. Not only is he constantly buying shoes and clothes (including five pairs of very nice, pricey shoes he bought in Colombia) but he gets fussier by the minute and his tastes are climbing higher and higher on the label and price ladder. This "personal development" was highlighted yesterday when J returned home from a trip to the movies with Will with a new winter jacket, a beautiful, cashmere coat, which apparently is just what he needs for that ride to work every morning. For the price I asked him if it came with it's own tiara but he was not amused... as royalty often aren't.

A few thoughts on this Anzac Day morning:

When I was a teen, going through my punk days, listening to Discharge, Crass and The Mob, dreaming of anarchy and peace, I was an anti-war lunatic. I went on the anti-nuclear marches and argued enthusiastically with my dad about things I knew nothing about. Oh, the innocence of youth!

What did I know as an indulged, middle-class 14 year old about anarchy (sheesh, I can't even cope with a dirty toilet) or about peace or especially about war??!! Now, when I see those annoying pimply uni students selling communist newspapers on the corner of George and Park Streets I want to shake them and say "wake up to yourselves, you know nothing, you understand nothing".

I used to smirk at the idea that some guys long ago gave up their lives so that I could live in freedom. "I never asked them to do that," I would say as only an arrogant, know everything teenager can. While I still feel I understand very little about the world, I do at least understand that there is no such thing as passive "peace", it's not something that just is if you wish it hard enough.

For whatever reason human beings are not peaceful creatures, in different ways and for different reasons (though religion often has a role to play) we like to step on each other's toes, to oppress and dominate each other, to hurt and control those less powerful than otherselves. Sometimes we must also stand up for each other, help those who are oppressed, stand up for the less powerful. This is war and I'm afraid human kind is doomed to the eternal repeating of a variation on the theme; very few generations appear to live unscathed by it. It does make me sad but I'm a realist and I've come to understand that there is no escape. The people who march, who burn effigies, who write pontificating letters to the editor have all got it so wrong it's beyond funny.

When you listen to the stories of the Aussie Diggers you learn what it's really all about. On days like today I am ashamed of the stupid teenager I once was. I know it's natural to go through these stages but I still cringe at those memories. What did I know, or what do I know even now, about sacrifice, about courage, about fear? I whinged like a spoilt bloody brat when the power went out for 2 hours on Sunday night. How would I have coped on the Kokoda Track? at Gallipoli? For god's sake, the idea of camping makes me break out into a cold sweat! Reading Nancy Wake's biography made me really think about what people are willing to do to protect freedom, and I'm afraid "Not happy, John" stickers or George Bush email jokes just don't really seem to cut it.

These people have sadly chosen the wrong "enemy" and I wonder how they would have felt over the last twenty year, waiting for Saddam's henchmen to knock on their door. Do people really have a clue as to who the bad guys are in our postmodern, everyone is equal world? I don't think the Iraq war is the problem at all, it's that as free people we don't stand up enough to help others. We whine, we make snide intellectual comments about our own leaders, we talk about being "ashamed" to be Australian or American (jeez, that makes me sick) and we do sweet bugger all in terms of actually helping anyone. If all those protesting, whinging middle class "lefties" (sheesh!) actually did something useful: cooked a meal for the homeless, fundraised for the hungry in Africa, knitted a blanket or helped out at the local hospital, than the world would truly, in a million little ways be a better place. Instead the world is full of useless hot air, a lot of indignant dinner party conversation and knowing nods about how "it's all about the oil" (oh, you mean the oil you and I don't use... that special oil that only John Howard and George Bush use in their special evil powermonger machines... lucky it's not the oil you and I use to drive to work everyday, imagine how stupid we'd feel if that was the case!).

Not sure how I ended up there, I guess that's been stewing for a while! All I know is I'm so bloody lucky. My own parents sacrificed everything to get me out of the former USSR and now I live in a country that allows me the sort of personal freedom and opportunity others are willing to kill and die for. On Anzac Day, a day I used to scoff at and ridicule, I want to say I private thanks for the sacrfice and the courage.

It's almost the end of April and I've realised I haven't done an installment of Kids' Kapers for this month... so here 'tis!

Will

My little man is almost SEVEN and he seems to have grown up a lot in recent weeks. Can't put my finger on how exactly but his language is expanding, he is saying more thoughtful (not as in considerate, just as in requires more thought) things and overall he is being less annoying.

We had an episode at school at the end of term relating to the Easter Hat parade which brought home to me how sensitive I am to Will standing out, being different. I'm quite sure now that I was the only one who noticed but I did over-react significantly, in terms of both being angry with Will and going as far as writing a letter to his teacher. After talking with my friend M it came home to me so strongly that the issue was mine and it was wrong of me to project it onto others, especially Will, who didn't realise he was doing anything wrong.

Will's reading is going really well, his maths ... well, let's just say he'll never be the hero in a film entitled Good Will Curtis (but then neither will I, so we'll just languish in non-mathematical hell together). He continues to enjoy Auskick and in my dreams I see him taking over from Jared Crouch in about 12 years' time as the Swans' most useful and hardy utility. He has also discovered his fashion sense. Whereas up to now he has always happily put on whatever I lay out for him to wear, during the week he came out wearing a different pair of shorts to the ones I had chosen for him. I asked what had happened to the other shorts. "I don't like them, mum. THESE shorts are cool!" Huh? Then his friend L came over to play on Friday and Will looks him up and down and says "I like your shoes, L. Do you like mine?" It's like he's channeling Carson Kressley! Fascinating.
















Marianna

The little princess will be 11 months old tomorrow and she is roaring along. She continues to be gorgeous, cheeky and clever. She crawls like a manic wind-up toy on speed and easily cruises round the furniture, moving around the place like she owns it (well, I guess she will one day unless we spend the childrens' inheritance on a Winnebago and a lifetime membership to the Super4 caravan parks around Australia like the majority of retired Australians).

She loves to copy us and has learnt to give kisses... disgusting, sloppy, too-cute, open mouthed baby kisses... on command. Will, in his capacity of big brother, has also taught her to blow spit bubbles which is gross at the best of times and certainly won't do in her future role as the next Australian export bride to the European royalty. Hopefully it's just a passing phase.

I may have got my foot in the door at a local day care centre near work, at least for one day a week. I dread putting her in care at the moment but I know after the initial shock she will thrive there. She is very social and loves to be stimulated and loves other children, so I'm sure it will be good for her to be there. That's my rational, working mum talking, the other one is weeping in the corner (shut up, sooky cow, get over it!).
















May is birthday party month so it will be an interesting update next month.

You know what I hate?

When I post to an e-list and someone responds by nit-picking my post and putting words into my mouth. It really really really shits me!

If I read a post and I don't agree with the opinion expressed I normally ignore it. I believe it's not my place to try and change other peoples ideas and/or opinions, no matter how much I disagree with them. However, if I read something I agree with I will occassionally write a message of support or tie in my ideas with theirs.

The adoption world is so friggin' politically correct right now. As with all things the pendulum has swung to the other extreme and we have travelled the full spectrum from the bad old days when children weren't even told they were adopted to today when adoptive parents have to spend their lives apologising for having the gall to adopt their children and for potentially ruining their lives. What's worse is that adoptive parents have en mass swallowed this bullshit and are spouting it backwards and forwards at each other.

Don't get me wrong. I'm keen to learn and to understand all perspectives, good and bad. I want to be prepared for whatever may come up in my childrens' lives but I think us adoptive parents are driving ourselves nuts in the process. We're turning on each other, especially on the e-lists (the source of so much good and positive collective knowledge and support), almost as a way of showing that "I'm more politically correct than you", "I have a deeper philosophical understanding of adoption issues than you", "I'm more in tune with all sides of the adoption triad than you"... you get the picture. I am so over it.

I'll confess. I'm not a perfect parent. I probably suck as an adoptive parent. I'm not making them listen to Spanish language tapes as we drive, I don't make them watch their favourite movies in Spanish. I meant to take our son to Spanish playgroup but never got around to it. I'm just doing my best getting around the day to day stuff. Will that mean that he'll grow up as a poorly adjusted adult, struggling with identity issues and blaming the fact of his adoption for any problems his life may serve up? Maybe. Possibly. Really I just don't know. I really hope not! But I'm doing my best and that's got to count for something!

It's only Friday morning but so far we've survived the first week of the school holidays relatively intact. There has been no blood, no tears (at least on my part) and very little swearing. This morning I did utter the F word in the kitchen during breakfast (but it was not child related) and Will asked me "What did you say?". As my brain stumbled over a clever cover up one materialised. Will said "Did you say LUCK?". "Yes, I said LUCK," I truimphantly announced. "Why?" Will asked. Thanking my lucky stars for this gift horse, I said: "Because I need lots of luck to get through breakfast around here." Satisfied, Will resumed eating his Weat Bix.

A few things:

* I forgot to mention the Swans' first win of the season last Saturday night. It really wasn't a memorable game and despite some sizeable leads, the Swans still managed to almost loose a number of times. They really aren't good for my blood pressure whichever way you look at it.

* Over the weekend I read a great book: "The Confession of an Un-reprentant Lesbian Ex-Mormon" by Sue-Ann Post. I was expecting something uproariously funny (Sue-Ann being a stand up comic of some repute in Australia) but it was really a much more "scholarly" work of sorts. In a nutshell Sue-Ann was brought up a Mormon which became a problem as she grew up and realised she was a lesbian. On top of that she was sexually abused by her step-dad for many years which added to her problems. While she has previously written an autobiography, this book tells of her invitation to attend a conference of Mormon gays and lesbians in the heartland - Salt Lake City, Utah - and her preparation and the trip itself. However, it starts with a few fantastic chapters dissecting exactly what's wrong with organised religion in general and the Mormon religion in particular. I really love to read a well thought out anti-religious arguement. I mean I hate organised religion, truly believe it's responsible for all the misery in our world - past, present and future - but I'm lazy. My arguement is basically: "It's illogical to believe in God, etc... where's the proof? Religion is just a crutch for the weak. The hypocracy!!! Etc, etc, etc." I haven't even bothered to read "Atheism: The Case Against God" which is an impressive looking book I found at a Newtown bookshop many years ago. But Sue-Ann has done a lot of this reading, including the Bible (sheesh!) and her arguements are much more logical and meaningful. As I kept reading I would shout out: "Aaahhaa!" and "There you go!" and "EXACTLY!!!!"

* So the prosthetic pregnant belly has finally "given birth"?! What wouldn't I do to get a REAL DNA test on that particular family. Mark my words, Tom Cruise is heading into serious Michael Jackson insanity territory. Who knows where this madness will end?

* Big Jay and I are "dieting". How I hate that word but at this point I have to call a spade a spade. We have both ballooned up gradually over recent years and after the Easter Weekend of eating, eating, eating we both felt it was time to regain a little control. I went and bought the CSIRO diet book which appeals to us as it is more meat orientated (and we're both devout carnivores). The main thing for us is portion sizes - when you start measuring and weighing you realise how much more than you need you're actually eating every single day. It's a wonder we're not like those horribly obese people on the Jerry Springer show! It's been a tough couple of days (and I'm sure there are a few more to come) as our bodies yell "Hey, that's not enough. Why are you stopping now? I want MORE, MORE, MORE!" It's hard not to have those continuous little snacks that are just so easy - a biscuit here, some cheese and crackers there, a few cups of sweet tea throughout the day, a few chockies here, there and everywhere. However, after only a couple of days I'm already feeling better, my clothes aren't straining at the seams and I feel a bit more clear headed. Stay tuned for Pennant Hills' Biggest Loser!

*This weekend is a fairly quiet one. A bit of home time, a bit of family visiting time. Sunday we've got the Swans vs Melbourne Demons at the SCG. We're initiating some AFL "virgins" on the day which should be fun. Let's keep all our apendages crossed that the Swans manage a decent win this week - I really can't take the stress anymore.

Like the philosophy of never working with children and animals I have always vowed never to go away for the Easter Long Weekend and never holiday with relatives. This Easter Long Weekend I broke both of these cardinal rules.

We left Thursday lunchtime and joined the mini-traffic jam up the F3 to Lake Macquarie. We had made a decision to have Easter away with mum, her friend B and my sister J a few months ago and after much brain bending internet research settled on Rafferty's Resort as our holiday destination. As we drove up on Thursday afternoon it was raining steadily and we hoped this wasn't a sign of things to come (OK, OK we need the rain but surely some fine weather could be organised for our first, and potentially last, Easter weekend away).

Luckily Thursday night's rain was the last and we awoke on Friday to a beautiful, blue-sky day. Not only was it clear but it got warm and stayed warm. We were able to enjoy some time by and IN the pool on each day we were there. Who could have guessed that we'd be swimming in mid April?!

To backtrack a little Rafferty's Resort is a fantastic place, especially if you want a family holiday close to Sydney and/or if you're into boating or other lake-associated activities (which I'm not, just for the record). It's set on a large property right on the lakeside and is made up of various cottages and terraces, all relatively new and modern and well equipped and presented. We had rented a 3 bedroom cottage which was spacious and very comfortable. There are 3 or 4 pools around the property so you're never very far from a pool. There is a large, resort-style pool with a cafe and playground which we really enjoyed because the lake is just on the other side of the grass where we sunbathed so you have sparkling pool on one side and the huge, shimmering lake on the other - very picturesque (to use a word I acquired around 5th class and just never find enough reason to use in day to day conversation).

Friday after some morning sunning and swimming we took off to Swansea (the closest town) for some fish and chips by the lake. After the usual argybargy with mommie dearest over who was to pay we took our steaming, delicous smelling parcels of deep-fried goodness to the nearest park and kicked back in the sunshine. Just gorgeous!

Saturday, after some more sunning and swimming we enjoyed a decadent lunch of a cheese and pate platter on our verandah. Then mum and I headed off for our appointments at the massage clinic. I was so looking forward to a lovely massage and facial and was only slightly perturbed when we were greeted by MEN. Nothing to say men can't do this job but I've never had a man do a facial before so I was just a touch apprehensive. My apprehension proved pointless as I was soon enjoying a wonderful massage and facial - with my eyes closed I couldn't even dwell on the fact that the therapist was a hairy, tattooed Scottish-accented bloke. I could however dwell on the fact that my mum in the cubicle next door just couldn't shut up. She was chatting up a storm next door, asking her bloke where he lived, how much work there was and 20 other questions. Despite the armotherapy and the relaxation music there was still part of me which was clenching her teeth and mentally screaming "shut the f*#k up, mother!".

J had her appointment after us and upon her return we all got dressed and went to the "nice" restaurant for dinner. We decided on sharing a range of tapas dishes which proved to be somewhat of a disaster as my darling Jay just couldn't get his head around a meal of tiny morsels and was half expecting a giant steak to turn up at any moment. On top of that we had to endure an inefficient kitchen struggling with catering to a full restaurant and a wedding in the marque next door. Jason finally had enough and took the kids home (and I had to bring his dessert home in a doggy bag). The final insult for the evening was having our coffees served with paddle pop sticks instead of teaspoons. What the??!! The poor young waitress confessed at the end that they just couldn't cope with the wedding and that the restaurant had only hired another couple of staff to cope with the 150 people at the nuptials next door. How much do I hate cheapskates?!

Sunday we expected a cooler day and decided to head up to the Hunter Valley wine region. It was a lovely drive up there but it soon became apparent that no-one, apart from my sister, was in the mood for any serious wine tasting (being a non-drinker I had volunteered to be the designated driver on the way back but my driving skills were not required).

Because we were so malnourished at this point (!!!) we decided to have an indulgent lunch at the first winery we came to. I think we were tempted by the myriad of glowing reviews plastered to their front window, most of which commended this particular restaurant as the best in the Hunter Valley - high praise indeed! All I can say is there must have been money changing hands here or we were particularly unlucky on that particular day. Either way the whole experience sucked. The restaurant officially opened at 12 noon but the staff, who until that point could be seen dilligently setting tables, disappeared and we all stood around for 10 minutes in an absolutely empty restaurant wondering what on earth was going on.

After we were seated all went well until our food actually arrived. Mum and J's gnocchi, one entree sized, one main sized were exactly the same size! Not only that but both conceded that it was a disgusting dish, with the gnocchi almost raw (I have to say the one I stole off J's plate tasted good to me but what do I know!). My own pork belly was truly delicious and Jay seemed to enjoy his lamb. After the meal was taken away we impatiently waited for the desserts mum and B had ordered earlier. We were keen to get to the grower's market up the road which closed at 2:00 pm and were getting very antsy when there was no sign of dessert by 1:30 pm, almost an hour and a half after it was ordered.

To cut a long story short, after some very unsatisfactory encounters with what can only be described as incompetent staff, we left sans dessert... and managed to arrive at the markets at ten minutes to two, when only a few stalls were still open. Nevertheless I was able to buy some gorgeous marinated olives and locally made olive oil and Jay got some beautiful chili sauce. By this point, and after our misadventures at the restaurant, everyone was a little tired and p'd off so after a quick stop at the fudge shop where we stocked up on fudge, rock lollies and hot chocolates we took off for the drive home.

There was a small moment of pure fun in the car on the way home when J and I (accompanied by Will) sang along to Robbie Williams' "Come Undone" very loudly. A truly spiritual moment. Then I p'd J off by wanting to listen to "Sexed Up" but obviously she wasn't up to it just yet (so SORRY J!).

Monday morning we cleaned up and repacked the cars and headed home (after yet more argybargy with mum about money - sheesh this family has a complex - as an example, she put money in baby M's nappy and rang me on the mobile on the way home to tell me to get it out before it got peed on - mad or mad, you be the judge!).

Overall, despite the moments of family chaos and madness, it was an enjoyable and fun long weekend. I think we all enjoyed each other's company for the most part and it is an experience I could possibly recreate again - maybe next Easter?!

Gee... did I forget to mention the Swans' game on Sunday? I wonder how that could have slipped my mind. Maybe it was the small fact of the second humiliating defeat in a row? Maybe it was the fact that our guys stood around looking at their feet for three and a half quarters, glancing around occassionally to see why the other guys were running up and down the field in a ferocious manner. It was sad and in no way reminiscent of the team who won the Cup only a few short months ago. My only source of comfort is that it is early in the season and if we're going to have a loosing streak now is the time to do it.

On a brighter note we did get to see the infamous Warwick Capper. Yes, the Warwick Capper of the teeny, tiny shorts and the flicked blonde hair. He played for the Swans way before my time but he is a legend. He paraded past us on Sunday still very much the Wazza we all know and love... all blow dried blonde locks and big grin. You have to love a man who refers to his bed as "the work bench".

It was also Marianna's first Swans' game and she coped quite well. Of course she had now idea what was going on but she did enjoy the endless supply of rice crackers I kept up for her, not to mention the hot chips and flirting with the two year old boy sitting behind us.

Well, here's hoping for a better result against Carlton this Saturday night! Cheer cheer the red and the white...

Quick catch up...

Saturday was great. I had already warmed myself up on the shopping front with the purchase of a beautiful evening top (simple black, low cut, with some gorgeous sparkly embroidery to give it a little evening glamour) at my friend M's shop on Friday afternoon. Saturday with the girls started off with a simple but enjoyable lunch at Toscani's at Hornsby. I enjoyed a monster Nachos which almost killed me (death by corn chips) and fun chat with my friends. The news is that my friend J is pregnant and her new baby will join the family in November, at almost the same time their daughter E turns 2. Very happy for them (though two under two doesn't appeal to me personally - I guess when you get to the late afternoon time zone on the biological clock time isn't a luxury you can muck around with).

I am still reeling from a horrible foot in mouth incident with my friend A. I break out into hot flushes every time I think about it... like now... and now. To be cryptic it involved a conversation about one of my favourite websites (www.thebestpageintheuniverse.com) and some t-shirts sold on aforementioned website. Enough said... these hot flushes are killing me!

After lunch we did some pottering around the shops which resulted in my purchasing:

* Series 1 and 2 of Scrubs (for those times I need to laugh until I damage an internal organ) - and at only $19.95 per series it's hard to knock back.

* A new wallet. Desperately needed; the old one was long due for retirement and had recently split the seam in the coin section resulting in a constant tinkle of coins whenever I used it.

* A pair of black "leisure wear" pants and pink on pink long sleeved top for those lounging round the house times. Wore them Saturday night, great investment.

* A pair of gorgeous black evening pants (to go with my newly acquired evening top). While they are gorgeous and [thank goodness] still a size 12 they highlighted a few contour issues with my thigh and bum region which need to be addressed.

* A new long sleeved, v-neck black T. I live in these for pretty much 9 months of the year and this one looks promising. It's from the Myer Petites range which caters for short stumpies like myself and I'm purchasing more and more from this range which seems to have nice styles (for not-quite-40s like myself), OK prices and good quality.

After a bucket of coffee at Starbucks we headed our seperate ways and I arrived home with a pleasantly heavy armful of shopping bags.

Pizza and Funniest Home Videos made for a fun family evening. Once the munchkins were asleep J and I watched the final two episodes of Six Feet Under, Series Four. Now we're all out of old episodes to watch. We've missed the first two episodes of the fifth and final series but I have a craving for more so I'll start taping the episodes this week. I really feel a gaping hole now. Over the last few months we've immersed ourselves in the lives of the Fisher family, their friends and [countless] lovers, their tragedies and their moments of joy. While at times I have been frustrated to the point of psychosis by their misadventures I miss them so much it hurts. I can't bear the thought that I don't have an infinite stack of discs to pop into the machine whenever I want to visit the Fishers and catch up on what they've been up to. The thought that there is only 12 more episodes left and no more after that is heartbreaking. I can live without more Nate, he can go f&*k himself (which I'm sure he'd do if he could find a way how) but I can't live without more David and Keith and without more Claire. Oh well, I always say it's best to kill these shows in their prime rather than have them suffer a horrible lingering death season after season after season ("Friends": exhibit A).

In case you weren't aware, there is something wrong with me. No, not that... or that... I can't stop checking http://www.celebrity-babies.com/ (otherwise known as Celebrity Baby Blog). It's jam packed full of useless, brain numbing crap about celebrities and their offspring; photos, gossip, general drivel. I know it is of absolutely no use to the human race but I can't help checking it everyday to learn things like "Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin welcome a son!" For someone who is endlessly busy and generally in need of an extra 8 hours every day just to get the basics done I seem to always find a few minutes here and there to see what the Vain and the Pointless and their progeny are up to. What sort of madness is this?

It's hard to believe less than two weeks ago I was being shipped to hospital in an ambulance in horrendous pain.

Today I am feeling on top of the world. I love my Fridays off work. It's really meant the difference between exhaustion and depression and retaining some equilibruium in my life. I am hugely thankful to my dad for helping to facilitate these Fridays by having Will stay at his place on Thursday nights, taking him to school on Friday and then bringing him home on Friday afternoon. It means I don't have to make the trek to the office (and Will's school) and back on Fridays - the whole day is mine and Marianna's and it's wonderful.

I am always busy on these "days off" but I'm busy at a more relaxed pace and I just don't feel the pressure I feel on the other days. My Fridays really are a lovely luxury which I intend to appreciate into the foreseeable future. I'm a lucky girl!

The pain which sent me to hospital a week and a half ago has been niggling on and off ever since but today I haven't felt the slightest twinge. I hope this is a good sign. I really do not want a repeat performance.

Tomorrow I am looking forward to a girlie day at Hornsby with my friends A, J and F. It has been some time since we've all caught up and it will be nice to enjoy a leisurely lunch and a potter around the shops together - is there anything better. I swear I would be happy if heaven turned out to be eternity spent having yum cha and shopping with my sister and/or girlfriends.

Sunday we're off to our first Swans' game for the year. After the humiliating womping we got at the hands of the much despised Essendon (what I wouldn't do to see Matthew Lloyd spontaneously combust!) last week I am hoping that the boys come out with all guns blazing and god help Port Adelaide. The logistics of seeing games at the dreaded SCG (Sydney Cricket Ground) generally suck. The parking situation is pathetic and the food at the ground isn't fit for Saddam Hussein let alone long suffering Swans' fans. So we're going early, planning to park in Paddington, have an early lunch at Mickey's and then enjoy the game on a sunny Autumn day, followed by an easy escape via Oxford Street. That's the plan... whether that pans out or not remains to be seen.

Go Swannies!

Things are much better on the kinder front. Either I'm getting used to the chaos or things are actually improving. Either way life is better.

Will is slowly returning to his usual happy, co-operative, loving self. Marianna continues to be a marvel of babyhood.

She said her first word on Saturday (for my sister J, of course): BABY. As I explained to her that is not a useful word and MUM would have been a much wiser choice (as in "Mum, get me a drink", "Mum, buy me that Bratz doll", "Mum, you're such a dag"... you get the idea). She doesn't seem to care and repeats BABY on a semi-regular basis.

She is also getting around like a maniac. She climbed the stairs - all the way to the top - on her own (I was right behind her of course) at the office yesterday. I love watching her and Will crawl madly around the house playing here and there. She loves to play with his Matchbox cars. There is a wonderful joy in their relationship which I truly hope last throughout their lives.