Moving on

I think I've had enough of this blog.

See you at! :)

Even The Man got intrigued

"When creating bracing lines, would it be an acceptable solution to put piles on the outside wall of the lounge and the kitchen so that part of the kitchen sits on cantilevered joists?"

I just wrote that sentence on my school's assessment forum, looking for other students' input on how to solve a problem, and it occurred to me that if someone had shown me this sentence three months ago, I would've gone, "Huh?"

The fact that I even UNDERSTAND what the heck it means, let alone that I HAVE WRITTEN IT MYSELF, gives me a little kick.

Why? Because it means that for all the puffing and grunting I am sometimes doing (yeah, and wanting to throw my middle finger up the face whoever wrote the damn course book), I am actually learning stuff.

It sticks.


It is something I haven't wanted to touch on yet.

Today, in the afternoon, we are meeting our ex-landlord at a tribunal hearing. I have a thick folder full of documents and their copies, a prepared statement to read out and, mostly, a fair amount of guts.

As much as neither of us actually wants to be in court, we - me and The Man - look forward to this hearing. We will go in, tell our story, and let the rest be: whatever the ruling is, it will hopefully mark the end of this bullsh*t saga.

It feels to me like this blog has been tainted with hurt and resentment. "A story of a family and a house on a hill," the tagline reads - but we're not on a hill any more. Even more importantly, as much as there was exceptional beauty to parts of living there, I am grateful this part of my life is finally over.

Or, the way I feel it, will be over in the afternoon today. Because regardless of what the ruling is, it will be over and done with.

I have set up a new blog address. Sometime in the near future I will make the move.

Until then, just send me some grace for two o'clock in the afternoon today. It will hopefully be the last time I will ever need to deal with our ex-landlord.

On death and stories and children

I left the playground feeling like I must've come across as "that" sort of a mother to her. And yet - to be honest - the prospect of it made me grin :P.

So, to fill you in on the details: I was at a playground with our children yesterday. The Girlie was in my backpack, The Kid was on the swing, I was standing there and pushing The Kid's swing along.

Another mother and her daughter were on the swing next to us. The girl swung, the mother pushed - kind of like us.

At one point the girl noticed a bee that was crawling on the ground between the two swings. She pointed it out to her mother and asked why the bee wasn't flying instead. The mother replied that the bee was wanting to rest a little and that's why it was crawling.

I looked down and without much thinking said, "Looks like it's about to die."

Silence ensued. The mother acted like I didn't exist. At all.

We all looked at that bee for a while longer and suddenly it occurred to me that it's probably not such a good idea to have a bee on the ground in a children's playground - lots of bare feet are around, someone may get stung.

I got a hat out of the backpack and said to everyone that I'll pick the bee up and take it to the fenceline so it doesn't lay underneath the swings.

As I was walking away I overheard the little girl asking her mother if something was wrong with the bee and the mother explaining that no, nothing's wrong: the bee just needs to rest and then it'll fly again.

I, on the other hand, looking at that bee, was pretty sure that soon enough it was simply going to be dead.

And as I was later walking away from that playground I had a little giggle over the silence that ensued when I had blurted out that the bee was about to die, and that mother's effort to not mention anything about death at all.

I got a reminder of it later in the evening when me and The Kid watched Mary and Max on the screen and in the end when Max died, The Kid pointed to the screen, made a sad face and said, "Max diiiiiiiiiie. Oh no, Max diiiiiiiiiiiiiie."

I'm not sure how much he understands about death, but it's not a concept we're hiding from him.

And it made me think how it's such a different way in which people talk to their children.


Look, another piece of bread! Oh, and cheese! And, what's that?, carrot puree!

The Dog's not stupid: she knows that because of The Girlie's undeveloped motor skills, the best place for getting food offcuts in our home is underneath The Girlie's high chair, and so she devotedly sits there, waiting for food to - almost literally - fall on the Earth from the sky for her.

Also, in case you're wondering why I have a floral bed sheet underneath my kitchen table, then it is because I am not stupid: I also know that because of The Girlie's undeveloped motor skills an awful lot of what I give her ends up on the floor instead and, you know, bed sheets are much easier to clean than carpet, and if those bed sheets come from a second hand shop at $4 apiece then I don't even care about the floral print on them.

Just sayin' ;).

Otherwise we're all good.

Possessive nouns are not necessary, because...

...The Kid has learned a new word.