I’m all about lists at the moment. So many plans, so much to do, so little time, bla bla bla.
So here’s an A-Z list I pinched off somebody else’s blog. I think it was Cate P’s?
Either way, I’m devoid of creative juices today, so read if you must!
A – Age: Depends on the time of day and the night before, but generally somewhere in the range from 15 – 85.
B – Bed size: King, king and only king – you see, I need my own postcode to sleep in. Give me a cuddle, great, but then get out of my space!
C – Chore you hate: What kind of question is this? They wouldn’t be called “chores” if we loved them, der! So, um, all of them…
D – Names of your Dogs: Had Buffy as a kid but she was no vampire slayer. Dopey ole hairy thing, she was. Gentle as a teddy… *sigh*. I will have another one day. One day when I get a fence. It will be a mangy mutt from the RSPCA and I will call it Albert. Yes, one fine day…
E – Essential start your day item(s): Is this the ideal scenario or the actual? Lets go with the ideal for a moment, yes? Ok – a steaming hot shower with plenty of water pressure and a nice scratchy towel slightly warmed by the sun. Some cocoa body butter… mmmmm… Then coffee and croissant (or three), followed by perfectly poached eggs with sautéed mushrooms, roasted roma tomatoes and avocado slices drizzled with balsamic glaze accompanied by two slices of sourdough. Fresh pineapple juice on ice. Spectrum. Walk on the beach… yep, that should do it.
Oh, you want reality? Um, well… crying toddler (Something like, “Oh no! Mummy! MUUUUUUUMY! OH NO! Where zebra? Zebra gone! Where zebraaaaaaaaa? – note: he’s actually referring to a giraffe that he has named zebra, just to keep the jungle folk guessing). This is followed by a wrestle to change a mighty wet nappy, child begging for weet bix then refusing to eat it, baby blowing bubbles with her yoghurt and my coffee going cold for the eighth time, usually all before 7am.
F – Favourite colour: Blue, blue and all shades of blue. Easy.
G – Gold or Silver: I’ll take any kind of adornment as long as it’s not poo, vomit, weet bix, avocado, tomato sauce, yoghurt, you get the idea. I have been known to wear dyed pasta necklaces, wilted flower garlands, hair elastic bangles and cherry ear rings. Who needs gold or silver?
H – Height: Bigger than my body.
I – Instruments you play: Not sure if you can call it playing, but here goes: Maraccas, rice shakers, jingle bells, tapping sticks, pots’n’pans, wooden spoons, squeakers, kazoos, whistles, recorder and guitar (yes, a proper guitar).
J – Job: Mess-mopper-upper, discipline-disher-outer, fun-maker-upper, broken-toy-fixer, food-giver-outer, problem-sorter-outer, once-was-teacher, wanna-be-writer.
K – Kids: Two incarnate, two in waiting… I think… And if anybody takes this as the green light to start lecturing me on how many kids I should have and when I should (or should not) have them you can feel free to lecture the hand. I am not listening. I don’t care if it seems like I am not coping with the two I have got because of how much I complain on here, I am doing fine enough to know that I want more kids, OK? And before you even start, no it is not a competition, I am not going bigger and better because I am an over achiever. If you chose to have one or two that is what suits you and good for you. I don’t judge you so don’t start giving me grief about my choices. I am not mad, nuts or insane, I am not making a rod for my back, and I am NOT ruining my life by wanting more children. And if I vent from time to time, and if I lament a life that I no longer have, SO WHAT!? It doesn’t mean I regret for one moment, having kids, nor does it mean that having more will be a disastrous mistake that will spell the end of me. So there. End of discussion.
What’s that you say? Sore point?
L- Living arrangements: Not exactly and “arrangement” but we live on a big block in an old house with loads of love around us.
M – Mum’s name: Nanna
N – Nicknames: Nads, Wobbles, Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!
O – Overnight hospital stay other than birth: Adenoids, although my more spectacular visits (albeit not overnighters) were – broken neck (first vertebra in 3 places), rusted nail through foot, cockroach stuck in ear…
P – Pet Peeve: Arrogance and judgement.
Q – Fave Movie Quote “Two very enthusiastic thumbs up”, “Honey, I’m home”, “What’s wrong with my face? It’s got character…”, um, how long have I got?…
R – Right or left handed: Depends what for and which one is available.
S – Siblings: One gorgeous sister who never fails to amaze me, surprise me and make me feel like a complete dickhead in the best possible way!
T – Time you wake up: 10.30, 12.30, 2.30, 4.30, 5.30, 6.00, 7.00 and conscious by 8.00.
U – Underwear: Is this a question? Think Bridget Jones meets the Bonds fairy, then make it half-price and chances are it’s in my underwear drawer.
V – Vegetable you dislike: Brussel sprouts. And it don’t matter how you try to disguise the suckers, I will sniff them out and wretch on the table. I promise you.
W – Workout style: Oh, all glitz and glamour in my thousand year old shorts, deeply stained baggy singlet and $20 payless joggers… what’s that? You weren’t asking about gym fashion? Oh, sorry!
I’m running, riding and swimming in preparation for my Triplodalong, but in a perfect world I would do Body Balance and Yoga with Gemma until I was a pretzel. Alas, she is miles away and I will never again feed from her energy.
X – Xrays you’ve had: I have some spectacular images of my whole body, actually. But the one I have hung as a stained-glass-type feature on my living room window is the one that made the spinal specialist gasp – three clean breaks right through C1. I have called it “Fatally Flawed Flirtation”. You see, I did it while trying to impress a boy. He went out with me for pitty points after I broke my neck for him. Then he turned out to be gay. Ah, golden memories.
Y – Yearning for: More than I should.
Z – Zoo fave: Pine-lime splice and the smell of animals. So wrong, I know.