Off to the 'Rat

I think I am about to attempt the sport of Extreme Planning.

In addition to Melways, I have printed out maps from whereis.com, and now know my way around Ballarat. I have a booked hotel room, a car with some petrol in it (no thanks to me, just ask Mr Mangroves who thought that letting the tank get almost empty and not filling it was the equivalent of kicking the Pope square in the nuts except he's not religious, so maybe it was the equivalent of murdering the founding members of Pink Floyd), two kids who have been promised a trip, print-outs of Ballarat attractions such as the Lake Goldsmith Engine Rally, Wildlife Sanctuary and Tramway Museum, and by God, I'm gonna do it.

See you next week, with photos, assuming that I survived the fun.

An Epitath for a Lady

Last week, my grandmother died. She was my last living grandparent. She had been ill for only a short time, but there was nothing anyone could do. I guess it was her time. Mum got to speak to her at the hospital, and apparently, she was talking about my children, her great-grandchildren number 2 and 3. This makes me feel great - as though we were on her mind too. I always hoped that she would stick it out a few more years so that I could take my little ones to Poland to meet her. She hadn't even met their father, and the last time I saw her was in 2001 when my grandfather, her husband was still alive, though I spoke to her a couple of months ago. I will always remember her voice, and the things she said that were particular to her. The way she said my name, her laughter, and her advice-giving voice. The smell of her house. A warm and inviting smell, echoing the kind of person she was.



I was sad, and angry, and I had a big cry and dreamed of her at night, like something was unfinished because I'd never had a chance to say goodbye, or even to say hello, how are you, how's the weather over there this week.


I wanted to keep talking about her, and I really wanted to talk to her just that once more. It's all so surreal, I wasn't ready, it was so final and mortal and ending.


So I thought to myself, I wanna make something.

So I went out to the shed which I don't visit on a regular basis, ferreted out a box I hadn't seen for several years, chased off the cockroaches, and inside, remarkably, found all my leatherworking tools, waxed twine, beads, buckles and snap-buttons, all intact and for the most part, not mouldy. I also found some suede. Put it all together, and a pony came out.



This pony's for my Peanut, and in memory of my Babcia, who was the kindest, funniest woman I knew. I hope I made you proud, and maybe you can keep an eye on us from your place among the stars.

September Schleptember

September was a funny month. There wasn't much to blog about, in the sense that I'm not really the day-to-day kind of blogger. You know, the kind that writes "A new flower popped up on the dahlia, lovely sunny day, had sandwiches outside and the Ratbag had leftovers of sandwich which the dogs kindly shared with him". I'm more the "Here's my pet hate / current love, and let me go on about it for 1000 words because I like short essays and if you read it, it's your own fault" kind of blogger.

From our picnic at the State Rose Garden

So, September was a funny month because besides going back to work, getting two kids' entire day's worth of food prepared in advance (as well as two adult lunches if you don't mind) keeping the house relatively clean (relative to a pig-sty, for instance), keeping the entire Mangroves family equipped in fresh food and clothing, and generally being a woman extraordinaire, I didn't do much in September. October looks to be a repeat of previous pattern. F_ck I'm lazy.


I was thinking of upping the ante and perhaps joining a gym. I'm tired of my back fat and I'd like to return it for a full refund please. Also, I would like to book myself into the hair/beauty salon, and dye that grey right out of my hair, and maybe even wax my eyebrows, which are in imminent danger of becoming indiscernible as two separate objects, as well as actually producing most of the world's oxygen in their dense canopy.

On other matters, Boomer went back for a third Vet's visit to cut more holes in his face as the infection came back AGAIN. In addition to Pornstar, he is now also known as Scarface Claw. His face is a battlefield and the only upside of this was watching him scrape and bounce his way around the house wearing his Elizabethan Collar, or 'bucket' as we affectionately call it. It made us feel that we hadn't spent several hundred dollars on nothin', but at least we got the attractive 'bucket' to keep.

And last, but NOT LEAST, my little sister somehow conned the whole family into chipping in for my birthday present, and they bought me tickets to GOLDFRAPP who played at the Palais in St Kilda last Friday night, which was fabulous beyond words. I thought it was cute that I didn't just get given two tickets, but that she 'took me' to the show :) The Seventh Tree is on high rotation in the house, at work and in the car at the moment, I just LOVE IT.

So, maybe there were some September highlites after all :) And anyway, even if there weren't any, a Virgo never complains, we suffer in silence, punctuated only by infrequent sighs of martyrdom.