Random

today featured a bush walk. That’s right, a bush walk! It was glorious. Pictures tomorrow or when I find the cable to connect it to my computer.
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New dishwasher is very fancy. Mum bought it. So that means it’s top of the range. It has a ‘hygenic’ clean component and tells me how long to go. I can’t stop staring at it.
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Been making lots of biscuits of late. Anzacs are the family favourite. I am not a fan. Typical.
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Am addicted to WordTwist on Facebook. Spending way too much time on it. By ‘way too much’ I am estimating we’re in the ‘hours per day’ scale. Seriously. I’ve been sitting on fourth amongst my friends for weeks on end. Then tonight, I notice that my personal best is now 155 and I have no idea when it happened. And now I’m ranked first. FIRST!. Seriously. It’s like the pre-cursor to playing the polkies all day at the local r-ie.
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Next to WordTwist comes Pathwords. I’m first on that too with 820 points. In a way it’s more fun than WordTwist because you can find the same word and it still counts and when you find a word worth 130 points. Oh my.
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Not that I’m competitive. Or prone to obsessive compulsive tendencies of repetitive action…
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But it does explain my lack of blogging. To busy WordTwist/Path-ing
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The most irritating Olympic commentator comments so far:
‘She has the face of an angel and the heart of a lion’ – Bruce McAlvaney (who I actually have a soft spot for for some utterly bizarre reason) on Stephanie Rice
‘She’s little but has a big heart’ – some guy tonight commenting on a runner.
That female commentator for Channel 7 on the gymastics (I think she also does the Winter Olympics) just shits me to tears.
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I hanker for a return to classic sports for the Olympics. No necessarily involving naked men, chariots or lions, but the inclusion of sports like tennis, basketball, sailing, beach volleyball (wtf?) and something I saw the other night which looked remarkably like dodgeball just shits me. Almost to tears.
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Why is it that in the floor routine the gymasts don’t wear country themed leotards? I also don’t see what is particulary rhythmic about rhythmic gymnastics. Rarely does any of it go to the music, it’s all backflips and twists and flying jumps to nowhere. Impressive none the less. Almost as impressive as how badly Australia consistently performs in gymnastics overall. And why are so many of the coaches fat and ugly?
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Did you hear that the Chinese Olympic Committee are no longer holding daily press conferences due to the grilling they were getting about empty stadiums, over-zealous security and so on and so forth?
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There’s this massive lump on my hip from where I fell yesterday. It hurts. A lot.
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Chef is at a buck’s night tonight. A buck’s night! GOD next we’ll be going to someone’s 18th.
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This week:
Tackle the laundry room (and the laundry pile which today blew out exponentially for some reason)
Prepare all medical reports we have for Oscar from birth to now for the new paediatrician
Make appointment with accountant
Make appointment for Grover’s (now late) immunisations and appearance of excema.
Maybe see doctor for my own suspect sinus issues that are now giving me significant tooth-ache pain

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Badger – Hillary is in your town. Has she dropped in for a vodka yet? We’re getting The Daily Show and she looks like she’s got a case of the mumps coupled with a seriously questionable case of ‘are you sure you read the valium label correctly?’
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Bec – your blog is broken. It’s asking for a password. Is this your way of just getting a higher calibre of reader than your That’s Life! readership me?
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And due to my multiple crises have I missed the Sueeeus get together???
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I’d email you these questions but I keep forgetting.
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Sydney Water tastes like balls at the moment. Mouldy dirty balls.
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I’m changing my name because I felt left out.
I received my first mail today addressed to “Mrs Berry”.
WEIRD in capital letters.
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I now have the delightful experience of daycare drop off which involves T.W.O. screaming ‘don’t leave me mummy’ children.
Mmmm, funny.
Doesn’t make me feel loved at all.
Just negligent.
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It has been brought to my attention that in my SYTYCD summation I failed to even mention She Of The Name With Many THs In It. Also known as Natalie Basingthwaithe. So some points.
1. Her hair scares me.
2. She does that weird droopy sleepy eyelid thing of someone not used to reading an autocue. WORK IT OUT. I know you’re being paid asquillion dollars to do this so maybe go and PRACTICE.
3. Apparently she’s hot.
Oh, and shows you how much I know.
Marco is gawwn.
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My SM sends me those really annoying joke emails and the ‘please pass this on’ ones and the ‘must read as the sky is falling’ ones and the ‘OMG this story is so sad’ and the ‘how to know you’re getting old’ emails but I’m too polite to tell her I hate them.
So I’ll do it here.
But then my SS got my email address from my SM.
And now she sends me the really annoying joke emails and the ‘this is so funny’ ones and the ‘must read the pharmaceutical industry is trying to kill us all’ ones and the ‘unbelievable’ ones.
So in a new found boldness thanks to an email from Blackbird telling me to pull my head in (amongst other helpful bits and pieces of advice to salvage my sanity) I sent her an email saying thanks but no thanks.
Along with a lovely little ‘hope you’re all well and maybe we’ll see you before Christmas’ note.
So tonight?
She sent me a ‘two old men’ one.
Nice.*
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Soon to come, a review of Transformers, the most awesome of movies.**
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* Aha. Just got an email from her saying she just wanted to share a few laughs around. Is it just me? Does anyone else find these things interminable and not funny in the slightest???
** Is it OK to lust after an autobot?

It’s Friday? Already?

and yet part of me is screaming allefuckingluia.
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Yesterday started like this:
“Wow, the house is so quiet! BLISS”
and ended like this:
“I hate my life.”
Yes, I successfully talked (and ate) myself into a depressive state in six simple hours. Seriously, by the time I had to pick up the boys from school I was crying.
It was all mostly lack of sleep related.
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During the day, the baby has decided he only likes to settle sleep on me.
While endearing it is also incredibly inhibiting and taxing.
He smiles a LOT and coos at me when I chat to him, which does win him brownie points.
But he will hopefully soon learn I am the most stubborn and his cot is for sleeping.
I know parenting is not about winning or losing but when it comes to sleeping and your child’s level of hatred for it, it is.
Sure, if you’re a twig tea drinking I only wear aluminium free deodorant and lavender oil for earaches kinda creature, you go enjoy your communal beds, but in this house the amount of sleep mummy has is in direct relation to the amount of yelling.
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I made a new type of biccie today. Following Suse‘s lead (and even after I mocked her for her funny lookin‘ baked goods ) it came off the back of a pack of Sunbeam raisins. I made them quite small, so they’re just two bites or so*. Delicious.

Choc raisin biscuits

100g butter, softened
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 3/4 cup plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tblsp cocoa
2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cups raisins
– preheat oven to 180C and grease baking tray
– beat the butter and sugar until combined
– add the egg
– mix in the dry ingredients
– make into balls and cook for 10-12 minutes.

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Sometimes, because I’m shallow and insecure, posting recipes and cross-referencing them with other bloggers makes me feel like I’m keeping up with all the readers**. And knitters. And craft makers. Sometimes.
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You know, what with email, my blog, my mobile and text messages, the phone and its answering machine, instant messenger (when at work), and now facebook, I’m wondering why.
As in Facebook.
WHY?
Isn’t everyone keeping in touch via email, text and blog?
Doesn’t everyone load their photos on Flikr or Picasa or just send them to their family and friends through their hand held organiser/phone/computer/life?
Is it just some passive aggressive way for people compete on how many friends they have?
And what’s with the poking? I hate being poked, just ask Kirrily.
And the wall – so everyone can see your conversations with others?
That’s just the communication equivalent of the swimming change room when you know you’re not meant to look but OH BOY are you looking.
I just don’t get it.
I also don’t understand bloglines and what that does or mean.
I’ve been over at Goodreads** and thought I could trick everyone by loading heaps of books I read at school uni on the bus in the 90s as an adult recently. But it wouldn’t let me. Stupid site.
I understand the concept of RSS, but isn’t half the fun of reading other people’s blogs going and checking out their page to see if they’ve updated?
And I realise that that sentence may well reveal I don’t understand what RSS is at all.
Am I really morphing into a luddite in literally just a matter of months?
Apart from that, who has the time?
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I watched Stranger than Fiction again today. Excellent. Just excellent.
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The barefoot contessa is relatively new to our screens and quite frankly I want to hurt her.
The bob, the chortle, how she uses mayonnaise in almost every dish is all highly irritating.
THEN, if that wasn’t enough to inflict on us, they throw a mouse a small rodent Giardia De Tormentus at us as well.
Is this what our food channel as come to – chortling fatties and cross-eyed minis?
I really do have too much time on my hands don’t I.
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* I’ve had about 10.
**And what Blackbird said about Goodreads? Ditto.