I KNOW. Just don’t even. It is ridiculous, I fully admit it. I will now ply you with photos so you will forget to be mad at me.
So, you remember this, right? This is where we were at:
Ridiculous expression, check. Tongue out, check. Stripy clothing, check check check.
And this is where we are now:
The tongue is in, but only due to the interestingness of vegemite toast. And spots instead of stripes, but close enough. Please to note the hair is growing back in, a sort of blonde-brown at present, with most odds leaning towards blonde as we head for summer.
And now I now dazzle you with a general smorgasbord of happenings so you forget I was absent:
Are you my mother?
COME BACK I LOVE YOU
Hide and seek
And this little piggy had NONE.
Sooooo, this is pretty slack. I have excuses! Well, mostly one excuse. She’s quite small but takes up an inordinate amount of time. Also, it was my birthday and I got an iPad. I thought I would barely use it but as it turns out, it has barely left my hot little hand and I don’t remember the last time I turned the computer on. Totally unprecedented and I have actually changed my Internet workflow to accommodate it. The shame. Therefore I am trying to figure out how to blog via iPad before this thing withers up and dies completely. I now have a little dongle thing which lets me transfer my camera photos (issue 1) and the wordpress app installed (issue 2) and I think I have a way via Instagram to actually post said photos (very major issue 3). Let’s find out, shall we? Also I think I need a keyboard. My hands already feel like they’re crunching up into claws.
Last time we talked, baby Alice looked like this:
Well, usually she is more sort of upright. And although it looks like the Frog has dropped her, in fact I laid her on her side and she raised her leg and arm. Tricksy!
The Hair. You are jealous.
Someone found a cosy place to sleep. I had to put a saucepan in the pram for a week or so until he reluctantly admitted defeat.
Baby Jail! Confined while we helped friends move house. This is last week, Alice is five months old and the hair is finally making a break for it. It all fell out in the bath over about three days… floating on top of the water in a thick layer. I hope it starts growing in again soon as I barely recognise her.
On nom nom.
And this is yesterday at Fed Square in the freezing cold. She has to wear hats now to keep her head warm. Yes, many of the hats have ears. I’m not made of STONE here, people.
So now you’re up to date. It’s all going well and finally my habits of talking to myself in public and pulling ridiculous faces are paying off. The Frog dog is happy with all the company during the day while he maintains his busy sleeping schedule, and walks well with a pram. As shown the Orange Cat is doing less well on the sleeping front but is holding his own. And unfortunately the other cat, who has been turning more and more feral over the past few months until we could barely touch him, met his end on the busy road. I am sick of losing cats so we will be sticking to the one remaining representative from now on. He is a ginger, true, but we have to work with what we’ve got.
I went to Ikea today. I got none of the things I particularly went to get (linen curtains, a particular type of storage box) and instead ended up with Christmas decorations and a silicone cake tin. Although it’s silicon, so it’s not really a tin, is it? Cake pan. Cake holder. Whatever, you know what I mean. I’ve just looked it up on their website (it’s the SOCKERKAKA which clearly needs to be in caps, and also said aloud with JAZZ HANDS) and apparently it’s a cake mould. And because there are two of them I’m supposed to make TWO cakes and put one on top of the other. I did not realise this. This sounds good. I will do that tomorrow. It is supposed to be 30 degrees tomorrow, to which I say: OUR TURN FOR SUMMER, NORTHERN HEMISPHERE. It has been cold and dark and dark and cold here and I have been doing a LOT of sleeping. Not your ideal cake baking weather, true, but if I do it I will have a lovely sunny day and also cake. This is win-win.
I went to find another photo to add to this post and could only find the one below, which is the first photo I took with this new camera. Oh, I dropped my old camera in wet sand at the dog beach. Don’t do that, by the way; your camera won’t like it. I did try to get all the sand out with a little paintbrush but it ground its little gears at me and still refuses to turn on. I live in hope. Anyway, I got a new one (thank god little cameras are cheap these days), charged the battery, sat on the floor, turned around and took a photo of the nearest thing to me, which was my ginger cat in the dog’s bed. Apparently the flash was on. He wasn’t impressed.
I AM NOT IMPRESSED
ALSO THIS DOG BED IS COVERED IN DOG HAIR, THIS IS GOING ON MY ONLINE REVIEW
Apparently I took photos once. These are from February and I just found them on my camera now. Stop judging me! It burns! Anyway, in February we paved the side courtyard. It’s fully enclosed for some reason, including mesh over the sides and top, so we call it the cat courtyard as it’s handy for locking them inside while still leaving them some outside. Previous to this paving it was completely overgrown with grass, weeds and the decapitated corpses of tiny mice. My cats are horrible and do not deserve a nice paved courtyard.
The truck arrives to bring sand. Apparently you need a lot of sand for paving. Also pavers, but we already had those. Luckily for you I am sparing all other equipment photos. Who do you think I am, pioneer woman?
HE BRINGS ME PRESENTS
YOU LEFT IT UNGUARDED
(Please ignore our ghetto cyclone mesh fencing and gravel driveway. I know the industrial look is in style, but I don’t think this is quite what they meant. Fencing quotes are on the list. It’s a long list.)
What? It’s mine now. It was unguarded. Also, apparently, delicious.
Paving complete. Sort of. Oh, so the sand goes into all those cracks? Gotcha.
Yes, we understand some sort of noisy activity is going on in our courtyard. We don’t care.
Fine. THANK YOU. Can we go back to sleep now?
I drove home tonight through an incredibly thick sea fog. It was quite impressive, really. What sort of fog rolls in at 5pm? Don’t fogs usually come early in the morning or late at night? I think it must be a Portent. Of Doom, of course. I don’t think there are any other kinds of Portents. Perhaps next there will be a plague of frogs. Or boils. Or frogs with boils. Although I may not see them, due to the fog. Am I going around in circles? It’s the fog. I was lucky to make it home at all.
And here at home, shrouded in foggy gloom, there was a Little Dog. Actually he’s quite a Big Little Dog now. He weights 58kg, which makes him the Biggest Little Dog we’ve ever grown. And he’s doing it in fits and starts, like a teenage boy who suddenly grows out of all his clothes and eats all the Weetbix. Would you like to see him?
Well, he’s somewhere in there. Actually, he’s #5 in line. Did you guess him? And can you see why we still call him a Little Dog? This is at his breeders’ house, where we leave him to gallivant around the city/country/globe. In the lineup, his mother is #1 and his sister is next to him at #4. That puppy is no relation, but is Super Cute and when we came to pick up our dog, we almost took her home instead. Because: SUPER CUTE. But has a lot of attitude, as you might expect from one so little who can hold her own in that crowd.
What else? I woke up the other morning distressed about an eBay purchase gone wrong, and lay there fretting about what I was going to say in a sternly worded email and whether it was worth reversing the Paypal or just letting the money go. Then I woke up a little bit more and realised I had dreamt the whole thing. In my view, it was as bad as dreaming about work, then having to get up and go and do the work you were dreaming about (which has also happened, clearly). For the record, all of my eBay purchases are going swimmingly, thanks for asking.
The cats are fine and because it is colder than a witch’s tit here in Melbourne, they have taken to sleeping on the bed. With us. And because they are cats, they don’t know how to share. In fact I can probably blame my stressful eBay dream on them, because when I woke up from that I was distorted into a kind of pretzel shape due to cats pressed against me in uncomfortable positions. In addition, I was freezing because most of my top half was out from under the duvet; somehow when one of my cats curls up on the bed, he magically locks all of the bedding around him in place. There is no way you are dragging any part of that duvet out from under that cat; you’d just better hope you had enough before he got there. And you NEVER DO.
Guess what? It’s May. MAY. I don’t know where the hell this year is going. Anyway, I’ve been in New Zealand for the past three weeks, which explains my complete lack of internet-ness. The previous weeks… well, I’ve got nothing. Disappearing! It’s what we do! Anyway, now I’m back and I have some sort of hideous throat infection which has become an horrific sinus cold thing. Why am I always getting sick lately? I remember when I was never sick. Never! I took the train by god and no germs could touch me! Now, however, I have been coughing weakly and staring with great suspicion at anything which looks like food. Which is to say, anything. This has only been compounded by the smell of my kitchen, which I have not walked into for a week. You think I am joking but I am not. We came back from holiday to find the power had gone off and tripped a fuse, which meant everything had been off. Including the fridge and freezer. For a week. A WEEK. Thank god Mr T dealt with all of that because in my sickened state I couldn’t even face it. We have three fridges and two freezers and all of them were mouldy. Currently they are filled with nothing but giant mounds of baking soda and, funnily enough, ground coffee. The coffee is really doing the trick. There’s a tip for you, should you ever need to throw out $500 worth of spoiled meat. And I sincerely hope you don’t.
Little dog is back, and is… pretty big now actually. He went to his breeder’s house and played 23 hours a day with his sister and three other dogs. He’s exhausted. Also skinny, as he walks away from his bowl (an only dog, obviously) and the other four fling themselves towards the unattended food like homing missiles. Three weeks and he never learned that if he turned his back on dinner, it was NEVER THERE when he came back. The cats, on the other hand, are fat and glossy. I have no idea what they were feeding them but they are in far better condition than when we dropped them off. Sushi? Avocado oil? I should find out, they look like a shampoo ad.
WHY didn’t this post? Goddamit. I’m retrospectively dating this so that it appears on Friday. BECAUSE I CAN.
You may recall Victoria had a locust plague, which barely reached Melbourne. Here is our contribution. Mr T trapped this in a vase because “I thought you might want to see it”. I didn’t, really. But now you have to see it as well.
GIVE ME THE LOCUST I WILL EAT HIM.
Oh no. She’s home. She sees us. She’s taking photos because she thinks it’s funny we’re all sitting in the window. God. PAY ATTENTION YOU GUYS. What should we do?
OMG SHE’S COMING IN. OK act cool guys, act cool. Pretend we only just got here.
What? We always sit here together. There’s nothing strange about it whatsoever. Let’s change the subject. Dog, in about ten seconds you are going to get in trouble for standing on the couch and you don’t even have the brains to realise it. DO I HAVE TO THINK OF EVERYTHING.
You will be pleased to know that the washing machine, although still outside, has moved undercover. It is now next to the new back doors, which replace the laundry door plus tiny window, now both smashed out of the house with great vigour. This new laundry placement is much better and greatly reduces my risk of electrocuting myself. Now I have no more than 40% risk of death, tops. A bit higher, I guess, if the dog chomps on the cord. Yes, that dog. He is a terrible washday assistant. He can’t even FOLD.
He also likes to sleep somewhere in this vast collection of crap, which entirely fills my second lounge room. It was a big empty space and now I have filled it with the contents of the main bathroom and the laundry cupboard, including but not limited to: tools, electrical leads, gardening equipment, 20kg bag of dog food, reusable grocery bags, non-reusable grocery bags, brooms, frisbees, dustpans, mysterious cables of unknown provenance, 87 mini-shampoos stolen from hotels, dog towels, useful empty plastic containers, 3 vacuum cleaners and any semblance of housekeeping skills I once possessed.
Yes, I have seen Hoarders. [clutching] Don’t make me throw out this yoghurt container! It’s REUSABLE!
Anyway, my original point was that for the past few weeks there has been stuff everywhere, which the dog has slowly decided must belong to him. He walks off with tile grout, electrical tape, bits of plasterboard and various objects of his choice from the pile above. Usually he just takes them outside and admires them, but sometimes he does some renovations of his own.
Well, one thing you can say is that he does a thorough job. Not a quitter, this dog. You’ll be pleased to know he didn’t touch the batteries, which saved him from a vet visit. And no, this remote was not in the pile of crap; it was in the lounge, with all the other remotes, on the ottoman. The sooner I get all this stuff up off the floor, the better.
I will not be disturbed here. He doesn’t play with these toys any more. He plays with all the NEW toys.
It’s fair to say that during this renovation, I have received a fair amount of help. I’m sure you remember Exhibit A as shown:
And that helpful effort is currently slap bang on the outside of the new front door, ready to greet you as you enter. It’s only the undercoat, but still, a great team effort. However once the door was up, clearly the helpering had to move on. Perhaps some helpering needed to be done under the house?
I was HELPING. OBVIOUSLY.
I don’t know what you are yelling about and I will stare airily in this direction until the yelling stops. Also my face is heavy.
And since the helpering was clearly under control below, perhaps someone could get going on the above?
AAAAH RATS I TOLD YOU THERE WOULD BE RATS
… oh, the flash. Right. Only a ceiling cat, then.