Last week a few of us from work trooped off to a colleague's mother's funeral. And can I just say, how lovely it is to work in a place where this is The Done Thing. I have worked in places where they looked at you askance if you so much as accepted a personal phone call giving you the news that your mother had died.
Anyway, one work dude, Wise Man, couldn't go and asked me to give Canned Ham his best wishes and apologies for not being there.
This reminded me of the time my uncle Abacus and I went down to Sydney, from Canberra, for a funeral. The night before Bloody Ern rang me up and upon confirming that I would be in attendance said, "You will be my representative there, won't you, Baby Girl?" Abacus and I covered a lot of miles laughing at the prospect of me showing up and shaking hands with various grieving rellos: "Hazelblackberry, representing Bloody Ern, Western Australian branch."
Grumpy still gets mileage out of it too. I'll be heading out the door to a social function he doesn't want to attend (as usual) and he'll call out, "You will be my representative, won't you, Baby Girl? Baaaaaaaby Giiiiiiiiirl!"
And yet he objects when people say that girls marry men just like their fathers.
Showing posts with label Abacus and Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abacus and Family. Show all posts
03 May 2007
27 October 2006
Getting Inspiration Part 2
Rodney asks, "What's the worst thing a sibling has done to you?"
Despite coming perilously close once, I don't have any brothers or sisters. Amongst the few of my friends who are also only children, I think I'm only one who thought it was a hoot. Everyone else seems quite scarred by the whole thing...
What I do have is uncles who aren't too much older than me and they liked to look out for me. When I was in Perth they let me watch The Aunty Jack Show and Alvin Purple with them. They taught me the words to Vicious and got me to stomp around in my brown corduroy duds and DBs singing the song.
But one of Abacus's favourite tricks was to say to me, "Hey, Hazie, wanna see a match burn twice?" As he was saying it he'd pull a Redhead from the box, light it, blow it out and quickly press it on to my arm. I guess social services wasn't so big in those days.
Despite coming perilously close once, I don't have any brothers or sisters. Amongst the few of my friends who are also only children, I think I'm only one who thought it was a hoot. Everyone else seems quite scarred by the whole thing...
What I do have is uncles who aren't too much older than me and they liked to look out for me. When I was in Perth they let me watch The Aunty Jack Show and Alvin Purple with them. They taught me the words to Vicious and got me to stomp around in my brown corduroy duds and DBs singing the song.
But one of Abacus's favourite tricks was to say to me, "Hey, Hazie, wanna see a match burn twice?" As he was saying it he'd pull a Redhead from the box, light it, blow it out and quickly press it on to my arm. I guess social services wasn't so big in those days.
17 July 2006
What're Yer Legs?
It was my cousin Mocky's eighth birthday on Saturday. I ducked over to his house to say hello and sling a bit of booty his way. I was rather surprised at the mixed messages contained in the major presents he got from his mum and dad: a bike and a Game Boy.
Abacus and donnahay are a trifle insistent in their desire for the boys to get outside. I remember once poor little Mockster got into trouble for putting a jumper on when the temperature turned a trifle chilly and was told to go outside and run around instead (it wouldn't have seemed so harsh on a sunny afternoon, but this was midnight).
Anyway, when I arrived the bike was lying rather forlornly in the front yard. As I walked past it I swear it heaved a weary sigh and resigned itself to a lifetime of contemplation and gathering rust. Jackie Paper...er...Mocky was inside, brain paralysis in full effect, his thumb - already showing signs of swelling and RSI - furiously pressing away on the Game Boy. Though some sparks of life were still present: maybe I was imagining it, but it seemed that when I waved my own offerings under his nose the grunted response was more than one syllable.
He's quite the young chap these days. Not at all the impressionable little rotter who was taken aside by Bloody Ern a couple of years ago and given the following bit of coaching:
Ern: "Now, when you go back to Canberra, who are you going to tell your teacher you met?"
Mocky: "The Great White Hunter."
Ern: "And what can The Great White Hunter do to a bunny?"
Mocky: "Turn it into a pink mist."
The Great White Hunter could stalk anything through forests dark or over oceans deep. I think he'd have been in trouble, though, if he'd ever had to lock horns with a little guy called Mario.
Abacus and donnahay are a trifle insistent in their desire for the boys to get outside. I remember once poor little Mockster got into trouble for putting a jumper on when the temperature turned a trifle chilly and was told to go outside and run around instead (it wouldn't have seemed so harsh on a sunny afternoon, but this was midnight).
Anyway, when I arrived the bike was lying rather forlornly in the front yard. As I walked past it I swear it heaved a weary sigh and resigned itself to a lifetime of contemplation and gathering rust. Jackie Paper...er...Mocky was inside, brain paralysis in full effect, his thumb - already showing signs of swelling and RSI - furiously pressing away on the Game Boy. Though some sparks of life were still present: maybe I was imagining it, but it seemed that when I waved my own offerings under his nose the grunted response was more than one syllable.
He's quite the young chap these days. Not at all the impressionable little rotter who was taken aside by Bloody Ern a couple of years ago and given the following bit of coaching:
Ern: "Now, when you go back to Canberra, who are you going to tell your teacher you met?"
Mocky: "The Great White Hunter."
Ern: "And what can The Great White Hunter do to a bunny?"
Mocky: "Turn it into a pink mist."
The Great White Hunter could stalk anything through forests dark or over oceans deep. I think he'd have been in trouble, though, if he'd ever had to lock horns with a little guy called Mario.
18 April 2006
Bonanza! (Or Not)
Bloody Ern and Bezley have sold The Ponderosa and moved to suburbia. To show his humble gratitude for his monster commission, the real estate agent left them with a bottle of red wine from a mysterious winery.
They brought it with them when they came up the other night for dinner with us and Abacus and donnahay. Abacus is something of a wine afficionado, a buff if you will (oh, and I think you will), and this unknown wine was offered forth somewhat apologetically.
Everyone had a sip.
"So, what is it?" asked Abacus.
"What?" cried Grumpy. "I thought you'd just have a sniff and you'd be telling us all about the winery and the quality of its soil."
"Perhaps," said Ern. "But Abacus usually identifies a wine by its aroma, not its stench."
They brought it with them when they came up the other night for dinner with us and Abacus and donnahay. Abacus is something of a wine afficionado, a buff if you will (oh, and I think you will), and this unknown wine was offered forth somewhat apologetically.
Everyone had a sip.
"So, what is it?" asked Abacus.
"What?" cried Grumpy. "I thought you'd just have a sniff and you'd be telling us all about the winery and the quality of its soil."
"Perhaps," said Ern. "But Abacus usually identifies a wine by its aroma, not its stench."
16 March 2006
Canvassing Ideas
After fourteen years in Canberra, Abacus and donnahay are packing up themselves and the kids and heading back to Perth to live.
Abacus has been trying to rustle up some enthusiasm from Mocky and Melon about the move. He pointed out that now if they want to spend a long time at the beach they have to go camping but once they're back in Perth, they'll be right near the beach every day.
Melon asked, "Will we be living in a tent?"
Abacus has been trying to rustle up some enthusiasm from Mocky and Melon about the move. He pointed out that now if they want to spend a long time at the beach they have to go camping but once they're back in Perth, they'll be right near the beach every day.
Melon asked, "Will we be living in a tent?"
What'swrongwiththisjoketiming.
The other night Bloody Ern (who lives on, but only just), Bezley and Abacus came up for dinner. After shepherd's pie, roast vegies and chocolate pud everyone settled in to watch Australian Story, wherein Lizzie Spender related her adventures of taming a brumby and taking it home with her to Sydney.
I got a bit bored and went looking for the cat. I sailed back into the lounge room, furball cradled lovingly in my arms, telling everyone to look at this would you, just as old Lizzie announced:
"I think, for those of us who've not had children, a relationship with an animal is all the more important."
I got a bit bored and went looking for the cat. I sailed back into the lounge room, furball cradled lovingly in my arms, telling everyone to look at this would you, just as old Lizzie announced:
"I think, for those of us who've not had children, a relationship with an animal is all the more important."
28 November 2005
Is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?
Grumpy is both fascinated and infuriated by the way we Blackberries behave in the mornings. No matter the occasion or the rush, getting ready to head out the door inevitably involves a period of non-communicative sitting and staring into space, usually accompanied by several cigarettes and cups of coffee. I skip on the ciggies and coffee and just settle for staring.
At a family gathering on Saturday we were all watching a video of Abacus's young boys, Mocky and Melon, who we rarely get to see as they live on the other side of the country. You know, the eastern states. Abacus had the camera trained on Mocky, who is seven, sitting at the table, head resting in his hands, staring moodily at nothing while his corn flakes turned to mush. "What're you doing?" asked Abacus. Mocky only just got his voice out of grunt mode enough to answer, "Eating."
"Aaah," said Grumpy, his heart clearly warming to such a familiar sight. "The patented Blackberry morning routine. Just give him another 10 years and he'll be puffing away at the Lucky Strikes and gulping down a Nescafe."
Don Mary snorted.
At a family gathering on Saturday we were all watching a video of Abacus's young boys, Mocky and Melon, who we rarely get to see as they live on the other side of the country. You know, the eastern states. Abacus had the camera trained on Mocky, who is seven, sitting at the table, head resting in his hands, staring moodily at nothing while his corn flakes turned to mush. "What're you doing?" asked Abacus. Mocky only just got his voice out of grunt mode enough to answer, "Eating."
"Aaah," said Grumpy, his heart clearly warming to such a familiar sight. "The patented Blackberry morning routine. Just give him another 10 years and he'll be puffing away at the Lucky Strikes and gulping down a Nescafe."
Don Mary snorted.
16 December 2004
The Hand That Signed the Paper
It wasn't until I got home that I realised I'd had too much to drink at the work do last night.
I was lying on the couch opening my mail and what have we here? It's Christmas cards from my two cousins, Mocky and Melon. Melon is only three and he'd painted two angels on the front with glitter glue. Inside my aunt had written, "Dear hazelblackberry and Grumpy, Merry Christmas, Love from..." and then in his stubby little three-year-old hand Melon had written his own sweet name. I got Love from Melon!
I lay on the couch half-sobbing with delight, "He wrote it himself; he wrote it himself..." Grumpy's eyes did roll mercilessly. But he took pity on me this morning and did a detour past Maccas before depositing me at work.
He wrote it HIMSELF, you know. It's all too beautiful.
I was lying on the couch opening my mail and what have we here? It's Christmas cards from my two cousins, Mocky and Melon. Melon is only three and he'd painted two angels on the front with glitter glue. Inside my aunt had written, "Dear hazelblackberry and Grumpy, Merry Christmas, Love from..." and then in his stubby little three-year-old hand Melon had written his own sweet name. I got Love from Melon!
I lay on the couch half-sobbing with delight, "He wrote it himself; he wrote it himself..." Grumpy's eyes did roll mercilessly. But he took pity on me this morning and did a detour past Maccas before depositing me at work.
He wrote it HIMSELF, you know. It's all too beautiful.
02 November 2004
Man's Best Friend
Lacking sprogs of my own, I must appropriate others' stories about their delightful offspring for the Internet's amusement.
As will so often be the case, this month's story comes courtesy of my aunt and uncle, Donnahay and Abacus, and my two cousins, Mocky (5) and Melon (3).
It seems both boys have been going through quite the period of penis-holding & fondling & generally mucking around with.
Item 1: Melon comes running out into the lounge room, starkers, hanging on for dear life to his young fella. Abacus says, "Melon, STOP holding it all the time." "Not hold it?" Melon asks. "No, not all the time," replies Abacus. Melon drops it, looks at Abacus and says, with some sorrow in his voice, "Not my friend?"
Item 2: Mocky is luxuriating in the bath and having a good old time with his little buddy and Abacus, once again in a censorious role, says, "Mocky, stop playing with it. Why do you play with it so much?" [At this point, in my mind's eye, Mocky's eyelids flutter, his eyeballs roll up into his head and a little bit of drool slides from the corner of his mouth.] In reality, he simply looked up at his father, his chubby, innocent face full of adoration, and announced, "I just love it!"
As will so often be the case, this month's story comes courtesy of my aunt and uncle, Donnahay and Abacus, and my two cousins, Mocky (5) and Melon (3).
It seems both boys have been going through quite the period of penis-holding & fondling & generally mucking around with.
Item 1: Melon comes running out into the lounge room, starkers, hanging on for dear life to his young fella. Abacus says, "Melon, STOP holding it all the time." "Not hold it?" Melon asks. "No, not all the time," replies Abacus. Melon drops it, looks at Abacus and says, with some sorrow in his voice, "Not my friend?"
Item 2: Mocky is luxuriating in the bath and having a good old time with his little buddy and Abacus, once again in a censorious role, says, "Mocky, stop playing with it. Why do you play with it so much?" [At this point, in my mind's eye, Mocky's eyelids flutter, his eyeballs roll up into his head and a little bit of drool slides from the corner of his mouth.] In reality, he simply looked up at his father, his chubby, innocent face full of adoration, and announced, "I just love it!"
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