Saturday Skinfest

So here I am, just after 11pm and I really should be cleaning up the mess that was left behind in my kitchen. But you know what? I'm sick of getting up early on a Saturday morning, spending the entire day cleaning or playing with the kids or running errands (or a combination thereof) until it's time for me to go to work, work for 5 hours, get home and have to make myself dinner, eat aforementioned dinner and then be expected to clean up someone else's mess. Fuck that. It'll wait til tomorrow - you and I both deserve the Skinfest on time... if I can get my wireless connection to work properly and upload the photos! Work, damn you, work!!!

Cooper Cronk looks just adorable in those board shorts! Give me some sugar, baby...

Love the man-fur, even if Matt Cooper looks like a dweeb with those goggles on his head.

Why, oh WHY, does Joel Moon appear to have zinc on his nipples? Most people just put it on their nose or lips. But the nips? Help me out folks.

I should hate Kate Hudson for looking this good, but for some reason I cannot. I'd switch teams for Kate.

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

Why is it that when I'm pressed for time because I've got a million things waiting for me to do and I'm just wanting to jump online & do a few things that my wireless connection suddenly sucks ass and Clive decides he must be up on my lap, forcing me to type with one hand?

Anyway here is this weeks photo, or in this case picture:

From the crayon of Her Majesty. Can you tell who's who?

And now Clive needs a nappy change as he reeks to high heaven. Fantastic.

Sports Mad

A question I get a lot is if I've had a hard time adapting to how Australians are absolutely sports mad, a country where football rivalries are more serious than any political or religious divide. I always answer no, I've had no problems at all. Why is this? I'm from Boston, where the only thing that really matters is did the Pats/Celts/Bruins/Red Sox win? That and an undying hatred of the New York Yankees, whether or not you even like baseball. It was because I was brought up in such an atmosphere that I can very easily understand the emotion that goes into the State or Origin series every year.

Momma Mooselet was quite the athlete in her day, and Poppa Mooselet also loved watch sport. Actually, there were things he watched that I wouldn't even consider proper sports - like candlepin bowling every Saturday morning. But if there was a Bruins or a Celtics game on, we knew what we were watching that afternoon or night. And in the 80s, there was no better team than the Boston Celtics and there was no better player than this man:

The whitest white man to ever play in the NBA, number 33, Larry Bird. Better than Magic Johnson, better than Dr. J... I would even argue that in a lot of ways he was better than Michael Jordan because he was a consummate team player, something I think Jordan lacked for many, many years. (And yes, I fully admit to my Celtic-green one-eyed bias.) You didn't get showboating from Larry other than the occasional fingers in the air, no hanging from the hoop with his tongue sticking out or mugging for the camera - just 100% effort every. Single. Game. This is why I think I instinctively understand why Australians would seriously consider a question on a citizenship test about cricketer Donald Bradman's batting average (99.94) to be perfectly legitimate. Why Wally Lewis is The King. There is nothing like seeing the best there is in their sport play the game they love.

So I owe it to Boston and to Momma and Poppa Mooselet for unknowingly making this facet of transitioning into Aussie culture that much easier for me. And so just for MM, I found this clip of which I heard endless retellings of as I grew up (and, it needs be said, never got tired of):

Concerts

Just a quick couple of school updates before I get on with the post. Don't worry, this won't be a regular occurrence, as in "Day 47, Her Majesty coloured mostly in the lines today." Bor-ing. But to those who commented on the size of Her Majesty's backpack - it really is a normal size backpack. In fact, someone else in her class has the exact same one. It's just that Her Majesty is so tiny, despite being one of the older kids in the class. On that first day there was a fair in the bag, as we were bringing all her supplies to school; however I had the heavy stuff in a separate bag. Now all her stuff is there permanently and the heaviest thing her bag now has is her lunch.

Sparky wore his formal uniform today, and modelled it for me last night:

At least he knows how to tie a tie now...

Now on with the rest of the post. I mentioned on another blog the price I paid for a U2 ticket back in 1985 and thought I'd share the cost of some other shows I saw back in my teens. These were not obscure acts, but headliners on the Top 40 charts. Well, mostly.

Huey Lewis and the News, August 1984 $11.50
Thompson Twins, August 1984 $12.50
U2, April 1985 $13.50
Paul Young, June 1985 $12.00
Power Station, August 1985 $15.00
Tears For Fears, October 1985 $13.50
Thompson Twins, December 1985 $13.50
INXS, February 1986 $13.50
U2, May 1987 $16.50
Mikhail Baryshnikov, September 1987 $30.00

First off, I know Baryshnikov isn't a musical act. But Momma Mooselet took me to see him dance to add some culture into my life... not that I protested. Good Lord, even then I knew enough not to say no to Baryshnikov!

Secondly, not all these seats were nosebleed section. My first U2 concert were floor seats, as were my second Thompson Twins and Tears For Fears. I have fond memories of clamouring over rows of seats at that Thompson Twins show so that we ended up around 6-8 rows from the stage - close enough for me to throw something up on stage and have it land successfully. My own mother tells me I "throw like a girl" so for me to do that says something about how close we were.

I know were talking about shows that were 20+ years ago, but it's unbelievable how much it now costs to see a concert. $15-$20 was well within my reach then, when my main source of independent income was babysitting. A quick look at prices for acts coming to the Brisbane Entertainment Centre is staggering. The cheapest Cold Play tickets are $110, The Who wants $129-$199, both Pink and The Pussycat Dolls are looking for $99 for nosebleed seating, and a bit of cheap-seat culture with Andre Rieu will set you back $89 per seat.

I'm willing to concede tickets Down Under may be more expensive in order to cover the cost of bringing a show to the other side of the world. So I took a quick look at one of my old stomping grounds, the Worcester Centrum in Worcester, MA. Nickelback will set you back $102 for the crappiest seats imaginable. The Grateful Dead will get you for $135 a pop. The Fleet Center, which was the Boston Garden (or "the Gah-den" in Boston speak) in my day, is hosting Britney Spears in a couple of months for $160 for seats you may get a view of the large screen on.

I know kids today are supposed to be cashed-up, and someone is paying for these seats as these shows sell out all the time. But am I the only one who thinks it's insanity to pay between $100-$200 for a concert? There's so much more I could do with kind of money, which explains why I haven't been to see a live concert since the 90s nor have plans to.

I suddenly feel very old, having a whinge about the days of yore. I think I need to have a nap now.

Back to School - With the After School UPDATE

I've made it through another summer and my kids are back at school. Well, two of them who are supposed to be back are; Clive is too young and Miss Thing is too old. We're not touching the university issue this post, m'kay?

Her Majesty went off first, with a little help from Clive:

Clive kept jumping in front of the camera, so I had to take his picture first so I could move on to Her Majesty there in the background.

And here she is, backpack on and ready to go. About that backpack...

They asked that the kids have a "full size" backpack, and so...

... we tried to get one that was the full size of Her Majesty! We failed as it takes up only half of her body length. I keep telling you she's a bit of a midget, here's the proof!

Later it was Sparky's turn, as he only has half a day today (12-3):

Sparky bright and early, and not so sparky, this morning. The first few mornings after a summer of sleeping in are so much fun!

He refused to let me take a picture of him with his casual uniform on...

... although he did agree to let me get a shot of his new "man-bag".

I even tried to be sneaky about it! Too quick for me!

Her Majesty did very well - no tears, no clinging vines. It was just too noisy and so overwhelming and with the timing just right she had no time to freak out. We had no sooner unloaded her stuff into the appropriate piles and pinned her star name badge onto her shirt when the aide was gathering them up to go sit on the mat. She gave us a kiss good-bye and went to sit, wide eyed at it all. I will give you an update when we get home this afternoon.

Sparky was no drama, other than some confusion as to where he'd have to go that will take literally 5 seconds to work out once he got there. I only hope he manages to hang on to all his assorted belongings - phone, iPod, wallet, bus pass, flash drive. Place your bets in the comments as to how long any or all of these items will last.

I am always bittersweet about the start of school, all jokes aside. It's great to get them out from underfoot as they get quite bored at the end of holidays, especially when we didn't go away, and as they take each step I know it means I'm doing my job as their mother. But part of me always remembers when I first held them in my arms, and how vulnerable they were and how I never wanted to let them go. But they're not so little any more, and I have to let them go. So I do, excited and scared for them... and for me.

UPDATE: Well we have a mixed bag. Her Majesty looked decidedly dejected when I picked her up, and while she perked up after having something to eat she didn't have the best day. She was very apprehensive about making new friends and couldn't pluck up the courage to go and play with some of the new kids. She does know 5 other kids in the class from her preschool, and she did say she talked with one of them, but she more or less kept to herself today. I was so sad for her. She can be painfully shy - she's known Miss WTF and Mumfies forever and will still barely speak to them a lot of the time. I'm sure as she settles in she'll be better, and I'm also confident that as her teacher and aides settle in they'll pick up on it and help her adjust. Poor poppet. At least she wasn't crying or anything, saying she doesn't want to go back.

Sparky, however, had a good day. He managed to hold on to everything, was happy with his timetable and ended up having some friends in nearly all of his classes. It was "mad", which I assume from his tone is a good thing.

So we're batting .500, which is better than striking out... I guess. Keep your fingers crossed for Her Majesty tomorrow.

Australia Day Saturday Skinfest

Today was Australia Day, or as Her Majesty put it "it's Australia's birthday!" Happy Birthday Australia! It's also the 2 year anniversary of our Aussie Citizenship (which Mumfies remembered in a nice text to me today). Can I get an "Aussie Aussie Aussie"? Oi Oi Oi!

I spent my long weekend much as I usually do - doing endless chores, shopping and not a minute to myself. As I said to Momma Mooselet in an email, it's no use asking the sun not to set - it is what it is. To celebrate Australia Day at the (late) Skinfest, all our Aussie Beefcake is homegrown, not imported. Even the Cheesecake is 100% Australian:

Joel Clinton and Nick Kenny at Broncos training. I sometimes like the "non-ripped" look on a bloke.

Of course I don't say no to the "ripped" look of David Williams, either. Can I wash your back, please?

I have decided to forgive the Shirtless Wonder, Darren Lockyer, and allow him back on the Skinfest. No need to thank me, Locky, just keep taking off that shirt and posing next to similarly-dressed men.

Miranda Kerr probably has single digit body fat... have some good Aussie chips and tomato sauce, would ya? I'll feel better about myself if you do.

More skin next week! Oi oi oi!

I'm Fine... Really

Sorry about my unexpected and unexplained absence this past week. It's the last week before the kids go back to school (3 more sleeps... not that I'm counting) and several things hit me at once:

1. KIDS - Miss Thing is not going to university this year, at least not right now, so she's working full time. This is fine as it was "the deal" if she didn't go to school, but it means a lot of driving on my part to get her to and from her job. Sparky and Her Majesty go back to school next week (see above) and so needed uniforms, shoes, stationary, backpacks, etc ... This required lots of shopping on my part, and I still need to hit the grocery store so they can eat whilst at school. Clive started back at his one day a week at child care, which was nice, but he's very time-intensive anyway. So with all 4 kids home, or in-and-out, I've been busy these holidays. And we were unable to go away and unforeseen car repairs took huge chunks from the budget, as well as The Hermit being unable to get time off.

2. VIRUS - I'm pretty sure I picked up a virus as I've been just. So. Tired. This past week really kicked me in the proverbial pants.

3. HEAT - I hesitate to bring this one up as I know you folks back in the States are positively frozen. But it's been hot this past week here in Brisbane, hot and humid. Since I don't have air conditioning, or even insulation, it's been sweat under the ceiling fans for cooling. Say what you will about the cold, but heat and humidity take a toll on you in terms of energy.

So I just haven't had the energy for the blog. I'm looking forward to being recharged this coming week when I get a night off work (the Large Grocery Store That Employes Me doesn't want to pay us holiday pay for Australia Day, so we get it off with regualr pay), the kids go back to school, Miss Thing starts taking the bus to work and I finally get my first time to myself since before Christmas on Thursday.

I'll put up your Photo Friday post, dated to yesterday, just below this one. So keep scrolling...

Photo Friday

Who says school uniforms aren't cute:

Her Majesty in her first ever school uniform for the start of school next week.

Photo Friday

It's another stinking hot night here in Brisbane. I'm all sticky from sweat and am seriously considering a dip in the pool before I hit the hay. But Clive is uncomfortable as well and letting me know it by having a very restless night, wearing these very pyjamas he got for Christmas:


I've just had a visit from Her Majesty, so I guess a late night swim is out. Might as well go clean up the kitchen and then let the ceiling fan above my bed dry my sweat.

Thieving Bastards (now with an UPDATE)

This site greeted a lot of us last night as we exited The Large Grocery Store That Employees Us:

What remains of the passenger side lock of my car.

Thieving Bastards!

I was one of the luckier ones in that my lock held (thank you Nissan) and so the fuckers couldn't get into my car. Not that they didn't try, obviously. Perhaps as they were trying to force their way into my car they had a look through the window and didn't see anything obvious worth stealing so they moved on.

Unfortunately a few of my co-workers weren't so lucky. One bloke had a window smashed and had things stolen as well as an attempt made to steal the entire car. Two others had some loose change stolen only because there was nothing else to steal, and a third figures the only reason her GPS unit is still in her car is that the alarm went off and spooked the Thieving Bastards into closing the door. Two cars escaped unscathed and three others had driven off before we all realized what had happened.

Police were called and details taken. Our immediate manager, who was one of the ones who lost some change and had damage, promised to talk to the store manager about better lighting and cameras. I have phoned my insurance company and my usual garage, and it's looking like my excess/deductible will be more than the cost to replace the lock so the Thieving Bastards will cost me anyway, and I'm waiting to be contacted by Forensics who will attempt to lift prints from the door (which the kids have been warned not to touch overly much, especially around the lock). The Hermit is frustrated that every time we look to be getting ahead, we take a hit. The Hermit does not need more frustration.

Thieving FUCKING bastards.

I'm at my job trying to earn a little extra cash to help pay the bills whilst some worthless piece of garbage decides to try and help himself to my and my co-workers things. I am thankful that, at least in my case, they were unsuccessful and no one was hurt. I'm thankful in that while this bill will hurt we at least have the funds to pay it - others don't.

THIEVING FUCKING BASTARDS!!!

UPDATE: I've just had a visit from Forensics in the form of Constable Rob Williams (really) and while he was very nice (and kinda cute) and dusted my car with titanium oxide there were no usable prints. He did tell me they may have one off another car, but all in all it's not looking good. I then tried to see if my key would still work in the lock - no go. In fact the whole housing is very loose and how they didn't get in is beyond me.

THIEVING FUCKING BASTARDS WHO WILL GET AWAY WITH IT!!!

Big Hits

I was perusing YouTube trying to find a good clip for a post I'm working on when I got distracted. YouTube = distraction should be a Universal Constant. Anyway, I was reminded one of the reason I watch rugby league - big hits. Killer hits. Monster hits. I grew up watching ice hockey before helmets were compulsory, what do you expect? Anyway, for those not as familiar with the game of rugby league here's a taste of why I can't wait for the 2009 season to begin:

Choc-Caramel Ravioli

I commented on Facebook the other day that I had eaten too many choc-caramel ravioli and was suffering the after effects of such, mainly a stomach ache and hot flashes from the sugar rush. I made these puppies myself, which is an accomplishment since I am not known for my culinary skillz. So you know if I managed it, so can anyone. I was asked for the recipe by a Facebook friend, and so here it is. It is not my own creation; it comes from 4 Ingredients 2 by Kim McCosker & Rachael Bermingham. Any cookbook that uses recipes that only have 4 ingredients is my kind of book!

Choc-Caramel Ravioli

2 sheets puff pastry*
2 Snickers bars, cut 2 cm/1 inch thick

Preheat oven to 200C/400F. Line a baking tray with baking paper. Cut each sheet into 16 squares, place 1 slice** of Snickers on to the first 16 squares. Top with remaining squares, seal all 4 edges with a fork and trim excess pastry. Bake 10-12 minutes or until puffed and golden.

* This may be known in the US as filo pastry, or not... please refer to my sad culinary skillz as to why I'm clueless. I'm sure MM would know and she'll let us know in the comments.

** The book calls for 2 slices per square, however this is impossible unless you cut the bars into 1 cm pieces. So there's a typo somewhere, and I went with the 1:1 ratio.

I'm going to try these with Mars bars today. US readers please insert 'Milky Way' for 'Mars bars' in that last sentance. And please don't make me get into all the different names for the same chocolates that lead to different chocolates and then different names. It'll make my head, and yours, spin. Just take my word for it!

I hope you give these a go and let me know how they worked out.

Saturday Skinfest

Holy dooley - the Skinfest on the actual Saturday. What's wrong with me?? To be honest I'm actually not feeling well; I have an upset stomach that I'm trying to settle with tea and toast before I reach for the drugs. So I'm sitting at the kitchen table trying to feel better so I can do laundry... yeah I know. My life's full of excitement.

Let's get on with it:

Apparently lying on tables get Darius Boyd all excited. Who knew?

Mark Minichiello has a very perky backside. A man who looks good in tighty-whities is rare.

I like picture of Steve Price and Petero Civoniceva because I feel like less of a perv given their ages. And don't they look sweeeeeeet!

Kate Perry is some pop tart who, I'm sure, could find on the kids iPods. If I cared. But she looks nice in a bikini and so I hate her, naturally. Her boobs even look real!

More skin next week.

Photo Friday

They say that when a greyhound "cockroaches" he is very comfortable in his surroundings. We've had Westy with us for about 4 months now. Do you think he's comfy with his new family?

Um, yeah I think so!

Random Thoughts

** So I went into the City today with Miss Thing, Her Majesty and Clive in order to go and view Miss Thing's Formal pictures. I resisted the temptation to drive and instead took the train. Her Majesty was thrilled, Clive was terrified and Miss Thing was bored. We then got turned around and walked about half a kilometre the wrong way before we got straightened out and walked the kilometre there. It was then I discovered Miss Thing hadn't called to check their hours and they are closed until after Australia Day. I should've been pissed, but given how tired the walk had made Miss Thing I decided it was payback enough. Besides, having learned guilt at the knee of the master, Momma Mooselet, I let my silence speak for me. It worked a treat. It also demonstrated to me that Fortitude Valley is vastly overrated. And that for Her Majesty, a train ride is the bestest treat ever.

** Another reason I'm glad Christmas is over is that I'm not forced to listen to awful Christmas "music" from the speakers of the Large Grocery Store That Employees Me. It brought to mind images of English choirboys in full Tudor garb, and not in a good way. Plus there was the truly terrible Schmacko's ad that have made me swear never to buy these treats for Westy. Ever.

** Poor Sparky is growing so fast he has stretch marks on his hips. Now my family is prone to them - I have them, Gabe has them, and so does Miss Thing. However Sparky is not built like any of us; he's as thin as a rail. I can therefore only conclude that his skin simply cannot keep up with his bone growth.

** Speaking of The Tudors, I've been watching Season 2 and it's better than the previous season. It continues to play fast and loose with history, over-simplifying and over-sexing matters and compressing time lines an obscene amount, and I'm still having problems with Jonathan Rhys Meyers as Henry VIII. Although if I'm fair I must admit he does a good job this season capturing the massive ego and wells of self-pity King Henry possessed, but my admiration ends there. He often gets swallowed up by the scenery instead of being the centre of it. On the positive side, I've particularly enjoyed the performance of Peter O'Toole as Pope Paul III. At 76 he doesn't have the looks he once had, but he still has a very commanding Shakespearean voice. He could read the ingredients list of a cereal box and I'd listen, enraptured.

** Why do I bother cleaning the house every night when it just gets destroyed the next day?

** I'm looking forward to starting my next nursing clinical prac next month. I'm in a hospital that's much closer to home, and I'm hoping I can get into the Operating Theatre rotation. I have no interest in the Emergency Ward or Cardiac Care, and I cannot handle Pediatrics, so I think I would not enjoy it as much if I didn't get into Peri-Op. And bonus - it's all days! But I would love to land a job in surgery, so this is ideal. If I get it... so I probably won't.

** I'm watching Mythbusters where they've buried Tory in sand to test some pirate myth and I admit it's making me claustrophobic just watching it. And yes, I still have a crush on Adam Savage, ginger and all.

The Very Late Saturday Skinfest

Wow. I'm back on the desktop and is the screen ever so HUGE! Of course I've been staring at a tiny netbook for a week now so my perspective is a little skewed.

I spent yesterday morning at the mechanic trying to determine what's wrong with my car - he thinks a stuck thermostat but won't know for certain until he can get to it, which involves pulling the alternator off. Damn engineers. So it's booked in for Thursday. I then had to bring the Hermit's ute in as it had developed a wobble/thumping sound - turned out to be a problem with the tire that was easily fixed by putting on the spare (which is, thankfully, a full size tire). So I at least have a car to drive.

And now before I have to rush off into the City to look at formal pictures with Miss Thing, here is the long awaited Skinfest:

Nick Youngquest and his wanna-be David Beckham look is a God of Football. Yeah, okay...

Luke O'Donnell is Naked (and dirty) for a Cause. Yeah, okay....

Members of the Melbourne Storm - who I have no idea - like to train shirtless. I love summertime.

The girlfriend of Prince Harry, Chelsy Davy, rocks the bikini. I wonder how Queen Liz feels about a potential Queen (Harry is, after all, the "spare") featuring on the Skinfest? A thousand pardons, Your Highness.

More skin next week!

Skinfest Delayed

I'm on the netbook because if I go over to the desktop I will be compelled to do the filing and a general clean up of my desk. It is now 10:40 at night and so I don't want to clean up any more. I've been cleaning all freakin' weekend and am over it.

HOWEVER... I cannot get McAfee to stop downloading its updates and hogging what little bandwidth I have. And since I'm working on dial up speed til Wednesday just trying to get through the current entries on my feed reader is beyond frustrating, never mind uploading hot NRL player pics. So the Skinfest is going to wait until tomorrow when I will sit at my desk and get actual work done.

Apologies. :::bang head against wall repeatedly:::

Photo Friday

This is a bit longer than my typical Photo Friday, but this pic deserves an explanation. There is another picture, but my dial-up speed is killing me trying to upload it from the wi-fi so it will wait for another day.

I think the universe read my whinge yesterday about my crappy start to the new year and so sent me a reminder that I don't have it so bad:

We found this little guy in our fireplace of all places! Her Majesty heard the sounds of something alive and when we opened the doors we found a small bundle of branches from a gum tree but nothing else. Until the Hermit peered deep into the back and found our poor, tiny hairless possum curled up on its side. We thought it was dead at first, but it started squirming when the Hermit went to grasp it with the fireplace tongs.

I called one local vet who advised me to wrap it up (which I'd already done) and place it on a hot water bottle. Alternatively I could tuck the little guy into my bra to warm him up. I went with the hot water bottle idea. I then called the RSPCA (initially I misspoke and said I would call RACQ, which being an automobile club along the lines of AAA gave the Hermit and Sparky a chuckle) who gave me the address of another local vet that was open 24 hours and took injured wildlife.

The nurse who let me in advised me that my possum's chances weren't good as it was so small - its eyes weren't even open - but they would do their best. I figured the little guy was quite a fighter as it had survived a fall down my chimney and was wriggling around quite a bit in the sock/towel/hot water bottle contraption I had rigged for it. I did not leave my number as I'm not sure I want to know for certain the fate of my possum; I think I'll keep the fantasy in my head of it surviving rather than the possible harsh reality.

So whenever I think I'm having a shitty day, I'm going to remember that possum and remind myself it could be a whole lot worse.

Not A Good Beginning

Nothing horrible, but 2009 is not off to a great start here at Chez Mooselet.

It started in the dying moments of 2008. With a couple of minutes to go before midnight, I switched the television over to the local channels- Seven, Nine and Ten - to catch the local Brisbane fireworks to ring in the New Year. I was shit out of luck. Ten had the fireworks from Sydney an hour before (as Sydney is on Daylight Savings Time). Seven had the fireworks from Melbourne, also an hour previously. And Nine?? A video from Pink followed by the beginnings of Bad Movie Number 438 (a term Poppa Mooselet would use - the number is random - for those awful movies that always seem to be on). How freakin' hard would it have been for one of these channels to set up a live feed from South Bank? FAIL!! And networks wonder why their viewer numbers are down.

After an uncomfortable night's sleep owing to sweltering temperatures and an early morning awakening by Clive, 2009 sprung it's next thing on me. The Hermit suggested taking a drive up Mt. Glorious, which has some very pretty lookouts. Now I only just got my car back a fortnight ago after being without it for about the same length of time as my overworked mechanic replaced the clutch and emptied the savings account. The Hermit had just commented how well the new clutch was performing when we noticed the air conditioning was pumping out much warmer air than it should, and the temperature guage was racing toward Hot. We pulled over as soon as we could - not easy on a freakin' mountain - and tried to figure out what had caused my car to overheat. We waited for it to cool down as we ran the heater to bleed off the heat before cautiously heading home. It stayed where it normally does, although we certainly didn't risk running the air con, but I will be calling my mechanic tomorrow to get it checked out. Dammit!

It wasn't only my car that overheated. It was absolutely STINKING hot today, so much so that the act of breathing caused rivulets of sweat to run down my back. I spent over 2 hours straight in the pool with Her Majesty and Clive to stay cool since we don't have air con in the house and the fans only serve to blow around hot air when it's as bad as it was today. Ugh. It's tolerable now as there are storms about - although they all seem to be just missing us - but only just as the thermometer registers 28 C/82 F. I may still throw myself back in the pool before bed, lightening be damned.

And while my new netbook is still fabulous, my Internet Provider has knocked us back to dial-up speed for exceeding our 12GB monthly broadband limit. How am I supposed to play with my new toy at dial-up speed??? I miss true unlimited use like you lucky folks in the States have.

And here I am, still hot and sweaty and wondering how much more money my car will cost me and how long it will take me to upload this post. I'm hoping 2009 is getting all the crap out of the way in the beginning and this isn't a sign of things to come.

Welcome 2009

If you're in the States and reading this, then you know that the world makes it to 2009. Actually at the time I'm typing this I'm pretty certain it's already 2009 in New Zealand, so the sheep have already welcomed in the New Year.

I think we can all agree that 2008 wasn't great. I hope 2009 is a better year, at least on a global scale. I think it almost has to be - to think about it continuing downhill is too damned depressing.

Hmmmmm... the History Channel is screening a show about the Apocalypse in the Bible. Are they trying to tell me something about my previous sentence?

Resolutions? Well, my usual one about losing these excess pounds I'm carrying around. I say this as a box of Lindt chocolate sits under my seat in the lounge room... I will complete my nursing BSN this year and return to my career - is this a resolution or a goal? But blogging more often is definately a resolution - I see that 2008 had fewer posts than the previous 2 years and that saddened me. Hopefully my new netbook will help me see that one through.

Happy New Year everyone!!!!!