So it was an incredibly hot and stinky long weekend.
We invited The Burproosters, The Choppers and Inge de Bruin over for a barbie on Australia Day and then didn't end up barbecuing anything until about 9 o'clock because it was too damn hot. We stayed inside until then, in the airconditioning, munching on Mrs Chopper's marvellous dip. Mr Chopper-sir expressed mild dissatisfaction at being known as Chopper and then proceeded to trot out a number of stories all of which confirmed the appropriateness of the name and deepened my resolve to always treat him with the utmost respect and, you know, toadying. Bay Leaf convinced a few of us to play some kind of quiz game on his play station. We played twice. I won twice. It's good for the ego to crush a 9-year-old in competition.
Violet Crumbleruff got a new baby brother on Saturday. He's six weeks old and gingery and very tiny and cute. The transition to a family of four has not been easy. There has been much hissing and tears and lashing out and Grumpy is quickly losing patience with this behaviour. He's told me I need to lift my game. Old VC has been getting lots of rubs and pats and kisses and reminders that she is my big, brave, beautiful girl. The Burp and The Rooster are laughing at me, as are you all. I just know it. The new chum's name is Finnegan. There will be pictures when we are the proud owners of a functioning computer to which pictures can be, as they say, uploaded.
Speaking of which, there was more hissing and tears and lashing out when I did my 2004-2005 tax return (we're a bit behind) and figured out I'd be paying money to the ATO, when what I really wanted was to git money from the ATO. I threw myself on the lounge in a hot and sweaty funk. Grumpy sat at the table and shuffled through my papers. As happens every year I'd added where I was supposed to subtract and multiplied instead of dividing and it looks like we'll paying a visit to our local Apple dealer a little sooner than I thought.
Thank goodness there was an extra day to pack in all this action. I'd be knackered otherwise.
4 comments:
Congrats on Finnegan's arrival. I want a kitten too!
Careful though - if you start getting a new one every year, you might end up as one of those cat ladies who spend all their pension money on catfood.
Don't worry, no crazy cat lady here: this new arrival has been traumatic enough.
When I saw your title, I wondered at the Finnegan connection.
In Canada we had a beloved children's program called "Mr. Dressup". Mr. Dressup's very good friends were a pair of puppets called Casey and Finnegan. I always thought Casey was a girl because "she" had a very high voice and, well, looked like me. I was devastated to learn (much later, when I was in early twenties maybe) that Casey was in fact a BOY.
Oh, Finnegan was a dog, by the way.
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