I've been getting in to the whole arts and crafts thing a lot more lately as Tricks has shown he's quite a crafty little bugger. By that I mean he likes to scribble with crayons, make splodges with paint and stick things with glue. General toddler stuff here, as much as his grandparents think otherwise, he ain't no prodigy.
He has fun, does all that fine motor whatsits at the same time and I get some time in the day that isn't filled with car, truck and train noises. Win, win!
When I was mid-giant clean out and desperate for another form of procrastination project, I found a stack of left over crayons I'd used for an earlier crayon art project and decided to get busy and create Lego Crayons!
Tricky loves them but right now he prefers to play with them rather than draw and gets a bit cranky that they don't stack like normal Lego blocks.
I used Crayola crayons for this lot and cheaper crayons for a second batch I made and the difference was huge. It became really obvious that the cheaper variety had a lot of clear wax which all rose to the top leaving the pigmented wax at the bottom. The resulting ombre colour effect looked cool but the consistency was terrible.
These would be great as a stocking filler for that C-word day in December and even better as a goodie bag after a Lego themed party.
I was really looking forward to our holiday. I was practically frothing at the mouth with excitement because, hello, wineries. Oh and all that family bonding time away from social media and whatnot.
Map Guy planned it all and if the whole cartography thing ever falls through I'm sure he could rock it as a travel agent or tour guide. Apart from the infographic, we had daily maps and directions with a list of activities to do every day. It wasn't a "you must do this", more an idea of what was available. We ended up doing most of his suggestions because they were bloody good and involved a lot of trains for the short train-obsessed blond kid in our group.
He also booked all the accommodation. First up was a gorgeous farm stay in Harvey overlooking the valley and the dam, where Tricky and I got to feed all the animals. Serious father brownie points for that one.
This was also the time when we went to a local winery to find wine that was two weeks past it's use by date (really, they have use by dates?) being sold at $1 a litre. That is not a typo, friends. I was in wine heaven and bought a dozen to divvy up.
Then we got to the next location, our base for the next four days, and it was amazing. A 1950s mill town turned in to a holiday village, with kangaroos and emus all around. They were kinda cute until we realized they were incredibly used to humans and would hunt you down for food.
We bought the special kangaroo mix to feed them with... turns out not only do they have insanely sharp claws but they remember who had the food. Those bastards followed me around trying to get in to my bag for the rest of the trip and completely ignored MG and Tricks. Twice they got in the back door while I was getting firewood (because I'm an idiot and left the door open).
And don't get me started on the emus. There were about four or five all together and amongst them were two males that were walking around with eight chicks between them. Talk about your overprotective dads! A few times they had a go at the kangaroos around us and they'd come towards me quite menacingly - given that emus look pretty menacing most of the time this didn't surprise me. They scare the crap out of me in a "haven't-forgotten-they're-related-to-dinosaurs" way.
Map Guy will tell you differently. He will tell you they ignored him completely so I can only assume that they somehow knew I'd eaten emu before, could smell my fear or had a personal vendetta against me. One of the bastards even tried to get in to our cottage. Remember that scene in Jurassic Park where the raptors learn to open doors? THAT! That is what I'm afraid of!
On a side note, do you know what you do when a kangaroo and an emu try to get in your cottage and you're freaking out? Take a blurry photo then run like fuck screaming for your husband.
Nestled in to the middle of nowhere, the old houses were so quaint with all the original features including an ancient wood stove. There was also an electric stove in the corner for city folk like me which was great or we'd have been eating cereal and fruit the whole time. There was no TV, a handful of streetlights, a dozen other people in the whole village and our nights were spent sitting by the fire, drinking wine and spelling out corny things playing scrabble (I won four out of five matches). It was bliss and we were in bed most nights by 10:00pm. Ragers.
The cottage also had it's original plumbing meaning a solid ancient bathtub and outhouse. Yes. Outhouse. At first I thought "oh how quaint" and then the reality of wild animals and redback spiders hit me and I nearly died.
I know, I can hear you all telling this princess to toughen up. But I'd like to remind you that despite the fact that it was spring, when you're that deep in the forest, it dips below freezing over night, and, oh that's right THERE WERE FUCKING DOOR OPENING EMUS AFTER ME.
I'm not ashamed to say I invented my own outhouse rules. If it's after dark, freezing cold, there are emus after you and you're incredibly pissed on $1 wine, then you're allowed to pee in the bath.
On one of our day trips out from the cottage we went to a Lavender and Berry farm because we'd heard they have awesome pancakes (they do) and some animals that Tricks could feed.
Well, the little dude was more interested in their playground (we did ten playgrounds in eight days - more daddy brownie points there!) so I attempted to. I went to feed the alpaca and freaked out it's insane devil eyes. Did you know alpacas have rectangular pupils? Apparently it took offense at me saying that, because this happened:
That was also how I found out I'm allergic to alpaca saliva. Who'd of thunk it?
We couldn't not stop by the Donnybrook Apple Fun Park - the largest free entry playground in the country. Of course Tricky didn't want to go on the normal sized slides and instead embraced his inner dare devil and climbed to the top of the three story slide (with poor Map Guy following after). Normal slides are for pussies.
A visit to the Valley of the Giants saw acrophobic Map Guy impress us all by doing the treetop walk and even attempting the Bicentennial Tree... as did Tricky who cracked the shits, his cries echoing through the whole forest, when we wouldn't let him go any higher than the fourth rung. Did I mention dare devil?
We wrapped up the holiday in comfort at the in-laws' in Albany. We ate doughnuts, saw whales but best of all the child was constantly entertained, our meals were cooked, our washing was done and there was, above all else, an inside loo.
Do you have outhouse rules? Ever been chased by a wild animal?Allergic to anything weird?
Georgia from Parental Parody called me the other day: "Yo, so what are you doing tomorrow night? Wanna come to Liz Davenport's book launch? She emailed me an invite. SHE emailed ME!"
I think she may have fainted at that point because the line went quiet.
There was just one problem with being Georgia's plus size plus one: WHAT THE FUCK DO I WEAR TO A DESIGNER'S BOOK LAUNCH DURING THE PERTH FASHION FESTIVAL!?!?"
A little hyperventilating was in order. And some wine.
I decided on the whole black is slimming thing knowing I'd be surrounded by models, then slapped myself upside the head because who the hell wears all black to the launch of a book called "Liz: A life of colour"? The woman is known for her colourful creations and I'm sure doing my Morticia Addams impersonation would have been met with pitiful stares from the fashion-elite in the room.
I ended up wearing a purple dress and my sister-in-law's rockin' blingy purple heels. And gigantic Bridget Jones iron underwear too, but that goes without saying.
I had no idea what to expect. I've never been to anything fashion related before as I'm more likely to be found going through the bargain rack at Tarrrrzjay. I imagined the canapes going uneaten, the champagne flowing and a whole stack of models that upon turning sideways would fall through a crack in the floor. But I couldn't have been more wrong. Except for the champers bit, thankfully.
Nevertheless, I didn't let Georgia leave my side. Doesn't she look so happy about that?
I still felt terribly out of place though... until Liz
started talking and I realized she was an amazing, talented, funny and
down to earth Perth chick with a passion for the environment and
Indigenous culture.
The woman is awesome. She's won so many awards, including Australia's top designer, has had international success, has an Order of Australia, has run for parliament, raised three gorgeous kids and advocates for REAL sizes.
“The ‘average’ woman may spend her earlier years as a proportional size 10 or 12, but may well put on weight at the hips and waist but not at the shoulders as she matures. Too often the jacket fits, but not the skirt or pants
Despite what most designers appear to do, once you hit size 14 you simply cannot just add a few more centimetres here and there and expect the look to work. It won’t. There are an awful lot of women who have been short changed in the design department.”
A selection of her designs from the last three decades were on show, including the Australian flag cape worn by Miss Australia at the Miss World parade in 1979. I had to use every ounce of willpower not to tackle the model to the ground and steal it off her. And OMG the colour!
I made Georgia introduce me afterwards by refusing to stop poking her in the ribs until she submitted. It may have been my liquid bravery, but when she seemed pleased that we were blogging it I said:
"You know what would make it a better blog post, Liz?" (could I be any ruder?)
"A photo?"
"A PHOTO!"
So we cuddled together and took a couple of selfies and I went all fan-girl knowing I'd just snuggled an Australian icon.
And then her lovely marketing manager sent me a signed copy of her book to giveaway!
If you'd like to win it, all you have to do is ENTER HERE through the Facebook app. You can enter daily if you're keen!
Can you hear that? It's the collective sound of bloggers all around the world pulling their hair out trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Feedburner.
If you've logged in to yours in the last few days you'll see your subscribers are at 0. Or BIG FAT ZERO NO FRIENDS as I've dubbed it.
I have no idea what is happening because for every article I read about it there is another one with opposite information. It's doing my head in. Is it going to be shut down completely? Will it just not be updated? Is it just the API being discontinued? What does API even meeeeaaaaaaan?
Mostly what I can hear are the mournful screams "WHERE HAVE ALL MY SUBSCRIBERS GONE?"
Relax. Despite the BIG FAT ZERO NO FRIENDS thing, the details of the people who subscribed by email are still there. But I have no idea how long they'll be there for so I'd suggest you go backup your email subscribers now.
How to backup your Feedburner email subscription
Step 1:
Step 2:
Step 3:
Save that CSV file somewhere safe! When you open it (with excel or similar) you'll see it's the email addresses of your lovely subscribers that you can now port over to whichever service you choose to use. Or email them to tell them you've stopped hyperventilating.
Even if this whole thing settles down, your numbers come back and the collective trichotillomania ceases, having a backup isn't a bad thing.
I am, without a doubt, a brown thumb. When I love and care for a plant it thrives... it's just that after a few weeks I lose interest and, well, everything dies. Or the weeds take over. Again.
Map Guy and I have this vision of growing our own food, maybe even having some chickens. He's even planted seeds before and enjoyed watching them sprout before becoming distracted and they ended up being strangled by weeds. Turns out the lose-interest-everything-dies thing isn't confined to the women in this house.
I sprayed the yard to kill the weeds a few weeks ago (you can
send your angry "you're killing the planet with chemicals" email to me
at glow@fuckoffbindiis.com) and then spent this afternoon on my hands and knees pulling them out of our back lawn. Bindii is a bitch. Not to be confused with Bindi, who I'm sure is quite lovely when you get past the unnatural happiness she radiates.
I'd clear an area and move on, only to look back and see five more of those little fuckers that I swear weren't there before. After a few hours my hands covered in vicious Bindii injuries (because I wasn't clever enough to get gloves first) and my back was in spasms. Which I'm convinced means I now have tetanus and will soon die a protracted and rather painful death.
I had managed to pull most of the prickles between the pavers and the trampoline - prime bare foot toddler real estate and therefore the top priority lest I spend the whole summer shouting "TRICKY, PUT YOUR DAMN SHOES ON!". But that area is only about one tenth out of our whole gigantic, weed riddled backyard meaning the urge to drink a bottle of weed killer rather than face the rest of those prickly green buggers was rising.
I've heard so many people say that pulling weeds is therapeutic but to me that sounds like complete bollocks (I did however find the glass of chardonnay I skolled afterwards much more therapeutic).
On surveying the rest of the Bindii riddled lawn and it was all I could do to not to put a match to it and watch those bastards burn. I have it on good authority that Bindii is the number one cause of suicide in Australia. I can see why.
Do you enjoy gardening? Do you find weeding therapeutic? You're quite welcome to come to my house for some free therapy. Because I'm giving like that.
