I had a brilliant post here a few minutes ago, and of course now it is residing somewhere in cyber space. You know when you are on the train headed to work and you stick your hand in your carry bag to grab something and end up with yogurt covered fingers because the container of designer yogurt you popped in there at the last minute has exploded and now the contents of your carry bag are coated in a creamy mango yogurt that it's probably best not to: a) do any maths b)drive c) attempt to dial the phone d) play with sharp knives So I am not surprised the last post ended in cyberspace. Good thing Mr H is the designated driver for the road trip. Hopefully my klutziness will not extend to any photo ops that present themselves. And remember, the next time you want to wear sandals with white socks, I am probably waiting to take your picture.
Mr H hasn't been just twiddling his thumbs this weekend or lounging around, no sirree bob. The laptop has been reformatted. The desktop now has windows xp and adobe elements, thus allowing me to edit pictures without having a hissy fit. I was sorting through all the pictures I took when we went to the zoo on Boxing day & I found this one. I love when a picture is perfect and I don't have to edit it at all.
I know how she feels. I will be wearing a similar expression tonight after dinner. Mr H & I finally made it down to the fish markets (why have we waited so long you ask? because we are knobs, that's why)
On tonight's menu: prawns morton bay bugs fresh oysters on the half shell fresh sardines grilled Portuguese style. fresh cucumber from Mustafa's garden. Will drooling on the keyboard short it out?
Mr H has been away on a business trip. This means that I have been jumpier than normal; locking up sharp garden implements, locking the screen doors, using the dead bolts..you know, that sort of thing. This morning when I woke up there was a dead roach under my chair in the dining room. Dead, on his back, little spindly legs in the air. And Mr H wasn't here to dispose of the corpse. And of course it was under my chair - "I'll just leave that there" I thought, and clean it up when I get home from work. And when I got home I was v, v brave and went to sweep it up into the dustpan. And the motherfucker started crawling again. Scurrying actually. Headed right towards me. So I did the only thing a big brave adult can do. I drowned the bastard in spray. And the motherfucker took off down the hall towards the toilet and crawled up the wall. So I sprayed it again. Then I went into my bedroom to change out of my wet pants. And when I came out into the dining room, there wasn't a corpse. I am sooooo waiting up for Mr H to come home.
Sunday found me, Mr H & young Podo in the city - it was Podo's last weekend with us before he goes back to school - Mr H & I decided it was time to teach Podo the meaning of yum cha. After the last trek to the city (when I didn't bring my camera & missed a gazillion really cool photo ops) I made sure this time I brought along my camera. And I was duly rewarded with this:
Now there's a marketing hook you don't see very often.
I won't even begin the discussion on why the master room has to be 'male'.
I am not the only one who appreciates a tasty fig.
Oh, and by the way Cocie Ceil - comments have to be approved by me before they go public on the site (bwah ha ha ha), so there is nothing wrong with: a) your internet connection b) your computer The correct answer is c) it's a pebkac problem.
call, trying to decide whether or not we should stay up late on a school night. I think, however, we have made the right decision and Mr H & I have decided to see this guy. I think it will be worth the late night - how say you?
You will be aware, gentle reader, that Mr H & I have taken to sitting on the front veranda, observing the to-ing and fro-ing of the neighbourhood. One of the additional benefits of veranda sitting is that we get to see some spectacular sunsets. Tonight's sunset didn't really have that much of a "wow" factor, but the thunderheads were pretty impressive (too bloody bad it didn't bloody rain because it is bloody humid - if you look for me on the front veranda you will find me, I'll be that little puddle of fat under the lounge chair). Anyway, the entire point of this post is to kvetch about the georgeacrossthestreet's(so named to distinguish him from georgenextdoor) palm tree. Do you think he would chop it down so I could get some better shots? Or am I being just a tad unreasonable?