The Young Negotiator is Turning 18!

 Bloody Hell!  Next week the Young Negotiator turns 18!!!  This time 18 years ago I was the size of a small house, couldn't fit behind the steering wheel of the car and was snarling at people who insisted on saying to me "Oh, you haven't had the baby yet?!" every time they saw me.

He was such a great lump of a baby, huge.  He then became a very small child and didn't start to catch up with his peers until half way through Year 9.  Now he is a gangly youth with pale whiskers and unruly hair (well, he always had the unruly hair).

This is the Young Negotiator's last year at high school.  Double bloody hell!  My baby is all grown but he still doesn't mind his mother's hugs and kisses.  He can run but he can't hide.

Some Interesting Facts About Our Boy

• Although able to talk well, he chose not to say very much until the age of 3.  And then he made up for lost time.
• Once he started talking was often mistaken for an American.  We blame his fascination with Sesame Street at an early age for his mild accent. 
• When little he had a fascination with wearing a small bucket on his head and wielding a large broom, hence "Mr Bucket Head" was born.
• At school was lacking in concentration and working ethics but somehow absorbed the information through the air and knew his stuff.
• First pair of glasses happen to be round and for years was told he looked like Harry Potter.
• Huge fan of Harry Potter and read the books more than once.
• Nick-name at Scouts and early High School - Harry.
• Was mistaken for Harry Potter in McDonalds by small boy one day when Young Negotiator was about 13.
• Next pair of glasses were not round.
• Not a risk taker.  Felt justified when his mother tried to get him to climb a tree and the first branch she grabbed had ruddy great thorns on it. (Smarty pants).
• Took up karate for a while with inspiration from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
• Took up cricket for three games, hated it (thank you God!).
• Took up hockey at 9 and has been playing ever since. He was unaware that his mother had played and also his grandmother.
• At age 6 was caught trying to pull his teeth out so tooth fairy would leave him enough money to buy Buzz Lightyear.
• Is a gentle soul but sufficiently stubborn not be pressured into anything that makes him uncomfortable.

Our Young Negotiator knows not what he will do when he leaves school.  A gap year is in order to work, live and think about what he wants to do with his life.  I can see a lot of young people have a hard lesson to learn about money when they leave school.  Such high hopes for leaving home, buying a car and somehow being able to afford all this and more and the Young Negotiator is no different.   Occasionally teenagers do seek advice, sometimes they don't know everything but not often.  It is nice to be able to offer advice/answers when the mood takes them, even if it is to ask if we have any grated cheese.

Good luck my son.  We will be here for you whenever you need us.  Go out and grab that first thorny branch, say a bad word, bleed, feel the dent to your pride and ideals.... oh that's right, I am supposed to be talking about him not me.  Hmm, well, umm, I am all out really.

An Update on THAT Horse

OK.  You all know the story.  My mare, the aforesaid Piece of Poop, threw me about six years ago, I got a brain injury, blah blah blah.

Well...I gave her to a woman to sell for me.  This wonderful woman and her teenage son worked with her and Shadow was working and behaving beautifully.  They sent her out on trial to a couple of places with full disclosure of her past and that Piece of Poop, again, threw her rider.  Poopanola!  Right.  It was decided I would give her to the woman and her son and they would try and re home her.

That Piece of Poop went to a new home on trial.  The new people were horse-savvy and dealt with her issues and loved her.  All is good right?  She had been living with them for some months after all.  Wrong.  I heard recently that she had thrown the woman who rode her.  This woman received a concussion and damage to her ankle and was unwell for some weeks.  WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THIS HORSE?!  She has people who love her, give her time and patience and still she throws a tanty.  I can't believe it.  The breeders who sold her to me assured me I could teach children to ride on her.  Huh!  This horse probably has a trail of concussed riders across the country, wondering what they had done wrong.  Apparently the latest concussed woman wants to give her a second chance.... ooh, I don't like that idea at all.  I am so disappointed and unhappy she has struck again. 

Now photography is a much safer hobby.  True, 90% of my stuff is crap but I can just delete it.  Easy.  I do love horse riding but have not been on one since my accident.   I intend to one day, I have a new helmet, my old jodhpurs and boots.  I know I will not own a riding horse again.  It is not for me anymore.

Well, good luck lady with the concussion and dodgy ankle.  I hope you keep safe.

I've Got a Frog in Me Pineapple!

...and a bit of old chook poo.

Koala in Gum Tree

Deny Deny Deny



Pregnant? Me? Just putting on a few pounds, nothing to worry about. Very good paddock this, not at all low fat.

Cockatoo Gossip

 The pecan trees have brought in the flocks of cockies which has upset the crows and currawongs.  They have been clowning around on the trees and our overhead electric wires occasionally being divebombed by the other birds.

These two remind me of a couple of drunks singing over their beers (or in this case the cattle trough).

"Kookaburra sits on the electric wire,
Jumping up and down with his pants on fire..."

Has Someone Got Too Much Time on Their Hands Perhaps?

I think this is made from car body parts. Took the photo with my mobile so was unable to zoom in any closer.

The Cat and the Clutter

The Dynamic Daughter has a generous desk under a lovely old window that looks out at the trees and paddocks.  Unfortunately, the Dynamic Daughter also has inherited my 'tidy' gene, or lack there of, and as a consequence her desk looks anything but generous and, well, what view?

My Mothers' Day

I had a terrific day. The Lovely Husband made pancakes for breakfast. The teens were supposed to but were sleeping in and had to be dragged out for breakfast. We played scrabble in the warm sun and then I was generally left to my own devices. I did take advantage of the day and had the teens rake up some cut grass from the paddocks for mulching my garden.

The Dynamic Daughter bought me a lovely plant which now sits on my desk at work. She gave it to me on the day she bought it, terrified it would die in her possession.

The Young Negotiator bought me this book, well journal really. Need I say more.

Old Cheese Jumps Off Cliff

My mother, the Old Cheese, is a bit of a daredevil. She is 77 years old and loves to go to high places. She has taken a joy ride in an ultralight, climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge, taken a flying lesson over Sydney Harbour and now she has been hang gliding. What a woman!! This was her mothers' day gift for last year and she has finally used it.

We spent the most beautiful day at the beach. We bought her lunch, took her hang gliding (as you do) and then a restorative coffee and cake afterwards in a local cafe.



The Old Cheese was not nervous, excited yes, but not nervous (weirdo). I found the 10 minutes she spent on the precipice with the instructor waiting for just the perfect wind nerve racking. My own mother was going to fly...that is, leave the ground! And the ground was so-o-o far away. Once she was airborne I was OK. The Lovely Husband and the teens thought my anxiety over this amusing. (They are heartless of course). I enjoyed the whole thing so much and it was not even about me!!! Who would have thought?




The Old Cheese is someone to be admired and the whole family is very proud of her.

RIP Electrical Appliances

The Lovely Husband doesn't get it. The teens don't get it. Maybe nobody does. I love my everyday appliances. The Bamix we purchased to make baby food, when the nearly 18 year old was growing in my uterus, has just died. I really feel it. We only used it to make smoothies and to blend soup these days, nothing exotic or complicated, but oh how I feel the loss. There is no where local to have it fixed and I am more tight with money then I am attached to it, maybe that is healthy thinking? We bought a cheaper stick blender and it works well.... but it is not the Bamix.



I have a lovely old stoneware electric jug (3 teacup capacity) I bought from some second hand place a million years ago and we use it to this day. It has no automatic shut off and the safety feature is when it boils unsupervised it triggers the safety switch on our power board and the the power cuts out. See? All good. We do have a modern auto electric jug when we have more than two visitors but it has no character, boring, ordinary.

When the Lovely Husband and I got married I owned an old fridge I had purchased second hand that would have been nifty in the 60s. It had a wavy grain affect down the front and I loved it. When eventually it gave its last wheeze I was saddened. It was a family member. The Lovely Husband didn't see it. Hmmph. Doesn't he know these things I worked so hard to buy have a soul? A slightly used, clunky soul but still...

The furniture in the teens' rooms are from my old bachelorette days. Again bought second hand. A dressing table that would have been delightful in the 30s. An old wardrobe from the same era. I used to have an old metal iron I bought from some market I suppose that was heavy and worked for years. Now we have a soulless plastic number. The ironing board though, it creaks and groans and complains, would have been ultra modern in the 60s and has in one of its legs a rolled up letter addressed to a lady who had won it in a washing powder competition. Do you get it? They have a history.

I have my childhood books, second hand when I read them all those years ago, our kids have read them and I cannot ditch them. They are not even packed away. They are on display in our replica antique bookcase along with the Buzz and Woody that the Young Negotiator would have thrown had I not objected strongly. He, at the age of 5 or 6, made his bed and cleared the breakfast table for six months to be rewarded with Buzz Lightyear. "To infinity and beyond" doesn't work anymore but we cannot possibly part with him. Woody still says "Somebody's poisoned the waterhole" in such a cute way, he stays too.




You will think me crazy now but I admit I even have attachment to my razor. I can part with the blades but I get an affinity with the razor. My razor has to withstand the jungle that is my legs, my armpits. That is a very personal thing. It broke recently and I asked the Lovely Husband to buy me a "girly" razor and he brings home a packet of girly disposables. How can I form a bond with a disposable? I will have to rectify this situation and go out and buy my own. It must speak to me from the supermarket shelf. I need to eyeball them and find the one.

I have a pair of denim overalls I had someone try on for me when I was heavily pregnant 18 years ago. I don't wear them anymore but I have them. If nothing else I am loyal, strange but loyal.

We have a new computer now, I had trouble parting with the old one but it was no longer managing after 6+ years.

I have the same Lovely Husband. We have been married 24 years this month and I am not parting with him any time soon. He has a wonderful soul, he is a character, very nifty but I would not say he was ultra modern. He is unable to send a text. This man who would have been delightful in the 50s is 'The One'.

Teenagers Cause Grey Hair

I have told you previously that the Dynamic Daughter has broken three vertebrae in her spine doing gymnastics at school. I also told you that after extensive investigation into an incidental problem found in the spinal x-rays that she was destined never to play contact sports again. Well, she has since been to a spinal unit at a children's hospital in the Big Metropolis and been given the all clear. She can, in fact, do contact sports and no compromise is necessary in her life. Her bone density is slightly reduced and so a good healthy diet and exercise is to be forced upon her with the usual parental enthusiasm.

But the Dynamic Daughter is fighting back. She will suffer the core strengthening exercises, the swimming three times a week and even the healthy, calcium packed diet. But wait for it, the school sport she has chosen for this term is that bloody death defying, back breaking, ambulance attracting gymnastics. I can't believe it. Oh, she still has some unbroken vertebrae and I assume there is some of her spine that is not affected by a scoliosis so why the hell not? Because it scares the brown and sloppies out of me. It's tomorrow. Sport is tomorrow... at the time of my sleep. I told her I would be sitting on the side of the bed, rocking back and forth, waiting for that call from the school. How could she do this to me? Because as I have said many times before it is all about me. (A part of me admires her bravery and determination and dare I say it, the stubbornness which she most probably inherited from me).

Why then, you may ask, is there a photo of a grasshopper with this particular post? No reason whatsoever. I just liked it.