Nothing Funny or Light

I suppose having a baby, bringing new life into the world gets me thinking about numbers. Ages in particular. I work out that when I’m 70 the baby will still be in their late 20’s. I do worry about things like that, although I do feel very young at heart and having had a string of medical tests, which came back with good results, I feel confident that I won’t just keel over. Problem is you just don’t know what’s coming ‘round the bend.

Honestly, I’m not that concerned about mortality or aging. What this does get me thinking about is family or more so the dwindling numbers of my family. How Heather and the baby haven’t met certain family members who helped make me who I am. Heather says that she can see bits of my dad, uncles and even my mum in me but it’s not the full picture. It’s just I wish she could have met the people who have died and who had the greatest influence on me.

My Uncle Jeffery was a man who loved sport, gambling, laughing with three wild sons, stirred up constantly by him and a loving wife whom he was devoted to. He died five years ago from cancer. He was only in his late 50’s. I always wanted to have a marriage like theirs. They didn’t hide their love and joy for each other from anyone. Of course they had bad times but their love was stronger then any disagreement. I feel Heather and I have that. I just wish that both Heather and Jeffery could have met as she could see a little of what she was getting into and I’m sure she'd want to be a part of it.

My Da died during first term of 2008. About a month or so later Heather and I were together. The thought of them never meeting really chokes me up. We have both visited his graveside and I get overcome with emotion with Heather by my side while visiting him. Heather would have laughed at his sense of humour, or his perceived sense humour. Da loved his family and put up with everyone’s egos and tempers with a smile. He held the family together with his love and understanding of us all and a quite inner strength that made us all feel safe. He showed enormous strength when fighting cancer and an aortic aneurism. He proved a hard man to kill. He loved his family coming together for all occasions especially Christmas. He loved getting presents. Da gave so much I don’t think anyone objected to him enjoying receiving presents. Even then the enjoyment and gratitude he showed when getting presents would give the giver such satisfaction and joy. It was his gift to us all.

I can keep Uncle Jeffery and Da alive by showing Heather and the baby the lessons and gifts these two great men gave men.

I love you Heather.

Its all about the hair...

In our family we seem to be going through a bit of transitional hair period. I've just traded my long locks for a rather short and flicky style, which everyone has raved about. I like knowing people think it looks good, but it also makes you wonder if the old style was really 'that bad'. Amelie is growing out her fringe (bangs) which is a hassle in itself and Caleb just won't cut his at all. I feel the teenage years approaching quickly when your 10 year old boy has an opinion about his 'hairstyle'.

Now there is Roy, my metrosexy hubby, who is very particular about his hair and loves his products. AND I am not just referring to hair products, but skin care, aftershave copious amounts of soaps and anything else made to make men smell gooooooooood.

I've recently taken on the challenge of cutting Roy's hair. He likes it fairly short, so its easy to give it the once over with the clippers and a then tidy up the edges with a few flourishes of my new haircutting scissors.

Now yesterday, was my third or fourth attempt. Things were going well, until I grabbed the wrong number of clipper guard and started shearing a little closer to the scalp than I had intended. I am kinda glad he couldn't see the look on my face.

I quickly changed blades and went on with the job. Mostly it went to plan, well, until I accidentally removed most of one sideburn. Oh dear. I think by the end, I was losing confidence and his disparaging remarks about how close the scissors were coming to his ears all but made me want to flee the room. Perhaps I should have...

In the end it turned out quite allright. I am not sure if he'll be coming to Heather's Salon again anytime soon, although, I can be rather persuasive at times! ;)

The Bizarre

I’ve been a little unwell for the last few days. Sitting at home without Heather sucks. I mean what can I do? I feel sick anyway so I certainly cannot do housework. I’m supposed to be at home resting after all. I didn’t read or anything. The first day I looked at the computer for varied and interesting sites. After 4 hours or so of this it becomes boring. So I wait around for Heather to get home.

Second day I feel a little better but I still stay home. No computer so watch TV. Will someone shoot me in the head now! Every program seemed to be about placing ones hand into someone else’s body cavity.

Jamie Oliver what are you going to do with that chicken? I see:

1st – Massage the bird with oil all over.
2nd – Gentle run your hand under the breast to loosen the skin.
3rd – Stick hand in chooks arse and pack firmly but not too tightly as we don’t want the bloody thing exploding on us do we? Got that? Pucker!

National Geographic. Good channel if you want to see dick seeking fish swimming up stream and being removed surgically or someone sleeping with raw meat on their stomach so gut maggots will leave their host, through the skin, for greener pastures. I’ve just seen what Jamie was doing to that chicken so I’ll give that a miss.

Great now there’s a documentary on being a veterinarian. What a big glove you have. What do you need all that lube for? Why are you smiling when you lift up the moo cow’s tail? Please don’t do that! Just put on a full body condom and crawl in there. Holy shit the cow’s glad you haven’t got arms like Schwarzenegger. What big eyes the cow has.

Bizarre Foods. Short, fat, balding American guy eating out of rubbish bins. I shit you not. Yesterday he was in a restaurant someplace in America where they make you squeal like pigs when he was served squirrel brains. He proceeded to explain how to crack the skull, like an egg almost; as it has a little flap you lift up so as to gain easy access to nibble on the brain. Just stop. They even went out bush to shoot these bastards. What size do they grow to when it takes three men, all armed and hiding in the bushes to take just one squirrel down?

I’m too scared to watch anything now. I saw some programs on becoming a dad and pregnancy but sure as shit I’m not watching those! I’m okay about being a dad. Stiff shit if I’m not. I really just don’t like hospitals. Although if Heather is going to get up to all the things she says she’s going to then I’m sure I won’t be concentrating too much on my surroundings.

Australia lost the Ashes. Not real happy about that. Doggies are going good. Second on for and against. Well done. For my American family or anyone who doesn’t know cricket here is a short synopsises:


You have two sides, one out in the field and one in. Each man that's in the side that's in goes out, and when he's out he comes in and the next man goes in until he's out. When they are all out, the side that's out comes in and the side that's been in goes out and tries to get those coming in, out. Sometimes you get men still in and not out.

When a man goes out to go in, the men who are out try to get him out, and when he is out he goes in and the next man in goes out and goes in. There are two men called umpires who stay out all the time and they decide when the men who are in are out. When both sides have been in and all the men have been out, and both sides have been out twice after all the men have been in, including those who are not out, that is the end of the game.

Hope this explains all.

OH BABY!

With ten weeks until the big 'B' day, I've been doing a bit of internet research about giving birth in an effort to ready myself.

It seems there are many choices for women these days from doing laps in a swimming pool until the baby joins you stroke by stroke, to the more traditional westernized version of laying on a bed with your legs hanging in stirrups.

Obviously the 'natural' way is to squat under a bush and be done with it in a matter of moments. That apple doesn't fall far from the tree here in Central Australia as it seems to be the traditional Aboriginal way of giving birth. But, even for Aboriginal women, the hospital still seems to be the place where the majority of women experience labour these days.

However, according to the latest research, there are some 'methods' women and their partners can employ to make the experience more, well, ummmm.... pleasurable. All it takes is getting a little hot and heavy with your hubby in the throws of pain because midwives claim that up to 20% of women can actually orgasm while giving birth!

Holy Smoke! That's not exactly how I would describe my last 'birthing' experience. I may have gasped and screamed, but it was more along the lines of 'Get it out!' than 'Get it in!'.

I don't discount this theory and I actually have been reading about it rather enthusiastically. Unfortunatley, my suggestion to take some 'toys' to the hospital with us to help enhance the pleasurable experience has fallen on deaf ears. But, I think a little sneaky 'make-out' session, when everyone leaves the room, may be called for. Who knows...

Of course, in all likelyhood, I'll be telling Roy, where to go with his amourous intentions on the day. However, I remain ever the optimist and I promise to give you the scoop when its all said and done.

Pucker up Roy!

Let yourself go

It's funny how as a culture we are extremely reserved. We are trained from an early age to sit quietly in church, raise our hands in school and to generally avoid saying things that might cause offense.

I do think this is more of a cultural 'norm' that a 'human' norm. I know when I sit in a meeting and someone is crapping on about something that matters to me about as much as a knowing the weather forcast in Afghanistan it is hard to sit still and listen, without screaming "who gives a rat's ass!".

I also remember getting these strange compulsions in church to just stand up and say something. Anything. They seemed to hit me when the mood was most somber and everyone was saying a silent prayer. I'd just want to bounce up and say something like, "Did ya know, Mrs So and So's shirt is actually tucked into her undies today!"

I guess my cultural training kept these impulses at bay.

BUT, it is oddly refreshing and one almost gets a little jealous when you do meet someone who will say exactly what is on their mind. Perhaps they embarrass you a bit, or you think they are a prize idiot, but they truly have no need for the normal BS that people sprout. They are black and white, they say what they mean and more importantly they KNOW what they mean.

I'd like to be more like this. I'd like to write about stuff and not care about whether others like or dislike what I have to say. I just want to let myself go a bit. Reveal the real me, the bits of me you may not like, or may love!

I've had so much trouble starting this blog, but now I feel the answer is to just let myself go.

~Heather

Dilligaf

Week two of the blog. Two weeks and I’m getting writers block. I was going to crap on about America a bit more but I don’t think I will. Although one thing that happened the other day and seems to be a reoccurring theme is Heather buying really bad take away lunches. It reminded me of the time we dined at an all you can eat Chinese joint in Aberdeen I had a nice array of chicken bits in gooey sauce. Very nice. Heather on the other hand had chosen a plate of stuff that looked like it had been freshly pulled from the inside of some beast that was happy to get rid of it. Me, with my tasty lunch and Heather with her autopsy.

Tarryn, shelia I work with, suggested that I write about my dog, Rusty. Apparently she has body issues as she had fat removed from her thighs, Rusty not Tarryn. Rusty is fine after her little op.

Heather and I are off to Adelaide during the September holidays. She’s going to show us around while I just sit and relax. Of course we are hoping she doesn’t have the baby while we are there. She is looking forward to meeting one of my friends that lives in Adelaide. I, on the other hand, have to ring him and make sure he only tells the G rated version of my life before Heather. We should have a lot of fun and good BBQ’s at my Aunty Leslie’s house. Heather also gets to meet some more of my cousins.

Good news the Doggies won on the weekend.

Heather has discovered Kevin Bloody Wilson. Now the good God fearing Christian girl, the daughter of a minister listens to “You can’t say c#*t in Canada” and “I had an absolutely c*&t of a day”. Oh, yes I nearly forgot she loves Dilligaf – Do I Look Like I Give A F*#k?" Shit I love her. You’re beautiful darlin’. She had her hair cut the other day and it looks fantastic. Well done love.

We did some work around the house on the weekend and discovered a few new things:

• We have white floor tiles – very nice.
• Our room no longer smells like a Bangkok brothel.
• The sink is bigger than I remember.
• We have a lounge suite in the lounge room.

I’m sure when the sheets off your bed can be used as dry wall, you need to change them. I folded one of them and it snapped and gashed my hand. I noticed the other day that I have a rash like thing on my upper leg. Funny thing is that Heather has a matching one on her arse. What’s that about?

One funny thing with Heather being pregnant is the amount of unexplained fluids leaking out of her. It’s different, in a good way. But it does mean that she is pregnant and that is so beautiful. Heather is looking so good it makes my heart swell. It is a little frightening becoming a dad but I’m so bloody looking forward to it.

Fools Rush In

Ahhhh, here I am again, a new blog, a very new life and hopefully the time to write and catch up on the last little while.

I am no fool, but it seems life has been rushing past with so many new things crammed into such a short time. In the past year, I've gotten married, been knocked up and been overseas twice!

So, without further ado, I introduce this blog... and my husband Roy.

Roy surprises me contanstly, acutally almost hourly. With him, life is never dull or predictable. Anyway... when I said I wanted to start a blog, he said, "Great, I'll start writing!" So, perhaps with some trepidation and perhaps with pride I introduce him to you all... ;)

You will know it's him, by the colourful language and the 'interesting' insights.

Enjoy our ramblings.

~ Heather & Roy