silly man

Sep. 26th, 2017 12:44 pm
deird1: Anya, with text "is it difficult or time-consuming?" (Anya difficult)
I'm not complaining, I'm really not. Because the truth is, that on a weekend when I was horribly sick, my husband took over all the housework and all the kids, without complaining, and did 90% of it perfectly.

It's just...

This morning I got a baffled complaint of "Where are Kidlet Primus's tshirts?" The husband wasn't sure why on earth the wardrobe was completely tshirt-less.

The reason?

Because the husband did all the clothes washing for the last five days. He washed it. He dried it. He folded it beautifully. And then he kinda... left it there. In a basket full of an increasing amount of beautifully folded clean washing, destined to reach to the ceiling before it ever occurs to him to go put the damn stuff away in the cupboards.

I did rather roll my eyes at that question.
deird1: fantasy!Buffy pouring cereal, with text "making breakfast sexy" (Buffy breakfast)
I am learning how to make bread and it is AWESOME.

For many years now, I have bought supermarket bread, occasionally been indulgent and bought bakery bread, and every few weeks made a loaf in my bread maker. The bread maker is awesome, mainly because I hate kneading.

However, last year, I got sick of the bread maker taking up space on my kitchen bench, and sick of wistfully glancing at my KitchenAid dough hook, and decided to find out how to make bread in the KitchenAid. A year in, and I can produce a fairly reliable white loaf. (And, once again, awesome, because the Kitchen Aid did the kneading, which I hate.)

Then came my birthday (two weeks ago, for those of you playing at home). For which I was given the book Flour Water Salt Yeast (Google is your friend) and the requisite supplies.

I am now MAKING BREAD BY HAND. Huzzah!

...and I am still not kneading. Because kneading sucks, and because my new book doesn't want me to knead anything. I am very thrilled about this.

My first loaf was made last Saturday, while my husband was available for kid watching. My current loaf is being made during the day, while he's at work, because I am a crazy person and enjoy making my life chaotic.

In a few hours, I will have either newly baked whole-wheat loaves baked to perfection in a dutch oven, or some hilarious photos.

Wish me luck!
deird1: lilac flowers, with text "how do they rise up" (lilac)
When I was about 11, my mum had a birthday. And when I asked her what she wanted for a present, she said "Oooh... I'd really like a new kettle." (Or something of that nature. Grown up, kitcheny, and boring, that's the main thing I remember.)

I rolled my eyes, and said "No, Mum, something you want, not just something practical.", I was rather clueless.

I turned 35 today, and my presents included two cooking thermometers, a bunch of flowers, a CD for my kids to listen to, a casserole for my family to eat for dinner sometime this week, and a dutch oven. And they are ALL AWESOME. A decade ago, I would not have realised how boring my future presents would be - or how much I would consider them superb and wonderful and not boring at all...


May. 18th, 2017 11:52 am
deird1: Mother Gothel, swooning dramatically (Gothel swoon)
Seriously considering sending my kids to the school with no easy transport options.

Because I'd like to send my kids to a school where we can walk together (when they're young), and then they can ride their bikes (when they're older), and on wet days they can catch the bus (from literally across the road), and when I'm not home I can tell them to walk to Grandma's house instead, because it's on the way.


There's this school which is none of those things. They couldn't walk there. They couldn't ride there. They couldn't catch a bus there. It would involve me driving them every single day until they turned 12.

...and it's a bilingual school. A bilingual English/German school, where all the grade 6 kids are legitimately fluent in German, and they have maths classes in German, and art classes in German, and science lessons in German, and literally half their schooling is in German.

Today I learned that the two bits of schooling that matter to me most are the independent transport options and the languages. And that I can't have both at once.
deird1: Faith and Wesley, with text "rogue demon hunters" (Faith Wesley rogue demon hunters)
Much as I have just started to post a bit more, I'm about to not post for a week. We're going on holiday.

We're going to Macedon, which is only a couple of hours away (and thus achievable with small children not going insane during the car ride). The plan is for lots of walks and board games, and the boy figuring out how to use his balance bike. (That is, if it ever stops raining.) We're also going to explore all the little towns, and have proper bakery pies, and things like that.

deird1: Mai and Zuko cuddling, with text "you're so beautiful when you hate the world" (Mai Zuko hate the world)
My husband has never lived with a dog before.

We're dogsitting for my parents, and I said that, since I can't feed the cat (long story), I should be in charge of feeding the dog. One animal each. The husband agreed.

One day in...

I was in the shower, and the husband came in and asked "What does the dog have for breakfast?" Didn't know why he was asking, so I explained - at which point he turned to the kidlet and said "Okay, let's go feed the dog."

"Darling! The dog's already eaten."
"What? He can't have."
"He definitely has."
"But he's following me around, looking hungry."
"Yes. Because he's a dog."

I'm not entirely sure what he was expecting.
deird1: lilac flowers, with text "how do they rise up" (lilac)
Please note my icon. RIP, Pterry. You will forever be remembered as "that guy with all the footnotes" and "wasn't there one chap who wrote fantasy, only funny?"

In other news:
- We have successfully changed continents, and are now happily ensconced in our messy Melburnian home. Visitors welcome.

- The kidlet is four months old, and growing like a weed. He can roll over, fiddle with things, play the piano, and throw almost all of Daddy's food onto the floor.

- I am back in the land of physios, and my back is thrilled. Hurrah for people who can stop me being in pain!

settling in

Jan. 3rd, 2014 01:12 pm
deird1: Buffy, with text "the Chosen One" (Buffy chosen)
Back from holiday with my family, and I'm starting to settle into our new house. (Pics to come.)

Elf has also moved in – as of yesterday – and has now moved from huddling in a corner to wandering around exploring and occasionally meowing indignantly about its failure to be the previous house. I'm having to keep him inside at the moment, which is a bit of a pain, but at least he's got plenty of new stuff to keep him interested.

We're having friends over to dinner tonight, which is nice. So far, I have failed horribly at baking, so my kitchen is currently full of smokey smells and charred ruins of cake. Hmmph. Back-up dessert is in the oven – where I can't see it, and can hence believe it to be perfect for at least another hour.

Travel update:

Still not totally finalised, but...
As of mid-February, we're going to be in Stuttgart for a year. Which will involve lots of seeing different bits of Europe. Yay!

just life

Dec. 26th, 2013 07:23 am
deird1: Spike and Angel looking miffed over Buffy, with text "moving on; no, really" (Spike Angel moving on)
And, one day after Christmas, the husband is outside chopping down a pine tree.

Deep seasonal significance, or just gardening? Anyone's guess, really...

RL update

Dec. 14th, 2013 02:55 pm
deird1: Rapunzel, doing a jigsaw puzzle (Rapunzel jigsaw)
The husband and I are currently dealing with the early stages of moving. Mainly, cleaning and gardening at our old address, so we don't look like horrible slobs and vagabonds to the landlords. And then, in a few days, we'll switch to cleaning and gardening at our new address.

Still not certain, by any means, but I said you'd know when I did, so...

Most likely? Next year we will be living in Germany.
deird1: Spike looking at Harmony, with text "you were meant for me; perhaps as punishment (Spike Harmony punishment)
I am more and more convinced that, long ago, a frustrated gardener got SO sick of dealing with this weed that persisted in taking over his veggie garden no matter what he did, that one day he heaved an exasperated sigh, threw his shovel on the ground, and said, "Right. From now on, it's not a weed. It's a food. Hear that, lads? If any of the toffs ask, we meant to grow it, we want to grow it, and it's so delicious that we're going to use this entire area just to grow it. We'll move the rest of the veg somewhere else. Got that?"

And the name of this plant was... mint.

I have been determinedly eradicating the mint from my garden for a few weeks now. I pulled out every bit of it I could find, but every few days these tiny shoots of mint peep their little heads out of the soil – and when I pull them out, they come attached to ENORMOUS FRELLING ROOTS that span half the garden bed. Today I pulled out a root as long as my arm.

It's an evil plant of spreading doom, I tell you!


Oct. 27th, 2013 09:39 am
deird1: Dawn, with text "troublemaker" (Dawn troublemaker)
In the space of about two minutes, the husband and I have managed to get tea all over:
- a magazine
- a couch
- the carpet
- both coasters
- my hands
- a chair
- the kitchen bench

All in a sedate and civilised fashion, so we didn't quite notice that there was more drippage until we'd started dealing with the first bit.

In my defense, my mug had developed a crack along the side, and was slowly leaking tea along the whole crack line. In my lack of defense, the tea I spilled while transferring it to a less leaky mug, and the tea I spilled while putting my new mug down, were both the fault of me being clumsy and not at all to do with bad mug design.


Oct. 22nd, 2013 07:47 am
deird1: Rapunzel, hanging just above the ground, afraid to touch down (Rapunzel nearly to the ground)
I have a house. :) How cool.

We've been househunting for several months now, and my standard experience is of going to a house inspection, looking around, and thinking "Hmm... three bedrooms, one cracked window, and good cupboard space." Basically, a big mental checklist.

With the few-and-far-between houses that we've actually offered for, though, it's been a bit different. Those are the houses where I walk in the front door and start mentally arranging my furniture and deciding who I'm going to have over for coffee. (This has nothing to do with the presentation of the house. One house was dropping plaster off the walls as we walked through the badly lit leaky kitchen – and I kept picturing us renovating like crazy and having friends over to help us pull the bathroom to bits.)

With this our new house?

I walk up the front steps, and picture myself on the verandah, sipping lemon squash and crocheting something.
I enter the front room, where we could sit in front of the fire, reading books contentedly.
The kitchen makes me think of muffins, cheesecake, and roast dinners.
Going upstairs to the "parents retreat" actually does feel like I'm retreating to a private, quiet space. (A space with an enormous freaking shower where I'm so going to end up having a water-fight with the husband.)
I walk out to the deck, and plan our first barbecue, down to the snags, pavlova, and massive amounts of plastic bottles to be chucked in the recycling.
The garden is magical, and takes me back to when I was ten and still believed in fairies.
As for the bedrooms... well, I already know which one is the guest-bedroom-slash-potential-nursery, and which one is the sewing room.

The endless hope-and-rejection cycle was getting me down, slightly. It's rather nice having a house I can allow myself to fall in love with.


Oct. 21st, 2013 09:18 pm
deird1: Dawn looking at Spike, with text "badder than you" (Dawn badder than you)
So... we just bought a house.


Truth be told, I've gotten so used to preparing myself for the inevitable letdown that comes when we once again get out-bid, that I'm still sitting here, stunned, trying to figure out how, exactly, one deals with the information that one's house-bidding was successful.

...I got nothing.

But... house? House.

deird1: fantasy!Buffy pouring cereal, with text "making breakfast sexy" (Buffy breakfast)
Am discovering how much harder it is to hide birthday presents when you're married to someone.

Can't use my wardrobe, because it's also his wardrobe, can't use my desk, because it's his desk... Honestly, it's almost like he lives here, or something.

app idea

Aug. 30th, 2013 06:15 pm
deird1: Aeryn holding a baby and shooting a gun, with text "working mother" (Aeryn working mother and baby)
I want an app for my iPad.

It will be called "Weather Watcher", and will know my location. If it's about to rain in the next five minutes, it will send me an alert, letting me know that I should get all the washing in from the line.

*has wet washing, and a certain degree of frustration*
deird1: Willow and Tara looking amused, with text "Willow & Tara think you are nuts" (Willow Tara nuts)
Currently reading lots of discussions on marriagey stuff like... housework.

I seem to be the only person in the world who doesn't think that the fairest way to split it is:
- one person does the cooking
- the other person does the dishes

The thing is, there are ways to cook, and then there are ways.

It's possible to cook something in a way which ends up with dishes strewn all over the kitchen. It's possible to cook something in a single dish. It's possible to cook something while washing dishes as you go.

And I agree - in a world where Person A and Person B both cook food and end up with 6 dirty dishes, then the fairest scenario is:
night 1 - A cooks, B does the 6 dishes
night 2 - B cooks, A does the 6 dishes
...and so on, ad infinitum.

However, this is rarely the world I find myself in.

Most commonly, it ends up something more like:
night 1 - A cooks, B does the 6 dishes
night 2 - B cooks, A does the 27 dishes

night 1 - A cooks, B does the 6 dishes
night 2 - B cooks, B does the 6 dishes while cooking, A has the night off

And, either way, one person ends up with a disproportionate dish load.

Realistically, some dinners will create more dirty dishes than others. And some styles of cooking will create more dirty dishes than others. And, as a rule, the person who is doing the cooking will be the one who chooses what to cook, and how to cook it.

That being the case, I tend to prefer each cook doing their own cooking dishes - with the other person chipping in to do the dishes from eating the food.

So, thoughts? Am I totally weird?
deird1: Mother Gothel, swooning dramatically (Gothel swoon)
A fly just suicided in my honey jar.

I missed the moment of impact, but it's quite clear what happened. While my back was turned, focusing on my pikelets, a fly flew in, found the open, inviting honey jar, thought "Score!", dived in with great enthusiasm, and then discovered its mistake.

By the time I turned around, pikelet in hand, it was wriggling its little legs frantically, no doubt shrieking "Help! Delicious sticky death! HELP!!!" in whatever language flies speak.

I was powerless to help it. And I would have felt bad for it – but mostly, I was just annoyed about it ruining my honey.

many things

Feb. 5th, 2013 08:51 pm
deird1: a chibi of Kitty from P&P, with text "what do you keep winking at me for?" (Kitty winking)
Quiet evening at home. Hurrah! Haven't had one of those in quite a while.

TV I am watching
Recently, I have been re-watching episodes of:
- Sarah Connor Chronicles
- the Lizzie Bennet Diaries
- Once Upon A Time
- My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic
- Leverage
- Yes Minister

All of them are very awesome, but in very different ways.

...will start in about a week. In previous years, I have done many different things, including giving up chocolate, television, and unnecessary spending. The unnecessary spending worked well; the chocolate less so. It's not that I can't give up chocolate - but instead of making me focus on God, or on how little I need possessions, or on more spiritual things, it just makes me focus on how much I love chocolate. Which kind of defeats the purpose of the whole thing.

This year, I'm being a bit restrictive: I'm sticking to only fair trade tea and chocolate. Inconvenient? Focusing on other people in financial difficulty? A good discipline? Yep, yep, and yep. We'll see how it goes.

(One year, I'm so going to give up electric lighting. But that will not be this year.)

My washing
I just did it. For the first time in a month.

I can tell this, because my clothes-horse is now holding 25 pairs of undies. I didn't even realise I had 25 pairs of undies...

iPad Apps
There are so many.

Just about anything you could ever think of trying to plan - seriously, anything - will have an app already waiting, with in-built checklists ready to go. Very helpful. (Except that the app will be totally convinced that no-one could ever colonise Mars without inventing faster-than-light travel first, and will keep putting little "remember to install your FTL drives!" reminders in your to-do list, even though you have no intention of doing anything of the sort. Kind of irritating - and makes me feel like I'm terribly untrendy because I'm not fixated on conquering hyperspace and just want to get to the fun part of the Mars colonisation project*.)

* This, for the record, is the bit where we discover the ruins of the ancient Martian civilisation underground, and decipher the codes for creating wormholes using Martian technology...
deird1: Gunn in a suit, holding a shotgun, with text "Charles Gunn: attorney at law" (Gunn with gun)
I hereby declare that when Sleeping Beauty was trapped in a tower surrounded by a humungous thicket so massively huge and full of thorns that no-one could break through for a hundred years...

...that thicket was just one big blackberry bush.

Blackberries are officially designated a pest in Australia, and after today I can see why. My tiny little blackberry bush has managed to grow through six of the surrounding plants, colonise other bits of the garden, and has tendrils waving six metres into the air so it can steal photosynthesis from the tree above it. It has scratched my arms to hell, dropped thorny bits all over my head, and caused me to use several swear words I wouldn't say to my dear old mother - and several more that I wouldn't say in front of anyone.

By the end of this evening, I was making loud vengeful threats to it, and informing it, through gritted teeth, that if it happened to be sentient and somehow killed me in my sleep to stop me destroying it, I'd come back from the grave and haunt it until it died because that's how pissed off I was.

And I still haven't chopped up the bits and binned them yet. That's tomorrow.

(Not that I'm done. It still exists. It's just WAY smaller. And on death row.)



deird1: Fred looking pretty and thoughful (Default)

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