Monday, 7 September 2009

The Long Way Home


Sunday morning, we had a five-hour drive ahead of us. Unfortunately I picked late on Saturday night to have some laxatives. I'm not in the habit of taking them, truly ... but when I am away from home I find it hard to "go." The pack said to take 2 or 3, so I took 6 with a huge glass of water, and went to bed.

Woke up ... nothing. Not one twinge. Took Max and Rocco walking around the block ... nothing. Tim and Dave packed the ute, we all got in, and suddenly I had to go to the toilet. I ran back inside and went.

*I cannot blog about what happened next. Jesus wept, children cried, and dogs hung their heads*

After about half an hour, I slunk back into the ute. I couldn't look at anyone. "I KNOW you've been waiting and I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do." Dave took pity on me and smiled, even though it was Fathers Day and he was dying for a coffee. I love that man.

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We stopped at a Bazaar on the way home. Dave and I shared a kransky (which already had us laughing, as "The Kransk" has been our codeword for "penis" for nine years) ... Rocco was barrelling through the crowd, Max studying a birds nest,and Tim sprawled out on the ground. A family, all together, enjoying the sunshine. We had a pretty good time away ... no major meltdowns by anyone. Tim had the shits about something, so Dave and I were trying to make him laugh. Dave ate the last of The Kransk, which left a huge mustard stain on his upper lip. I started singing "Mustard-ah on your mustach-ah" he grabbed me and swung me around and we were both singing it, loudly, putting on a little show for Tim.

"Mustard-ah on your mustach-ah,

Mustard-ah on your mustache.

HEY."

Tim did not appreciate it one bit, which made us sing louder. We are arseholes like that.

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Dave took Rocco for a walk, and ended up getting all of his baby curls cut off. Rocco now looks like Friar Tuck as an 80's choirboy. I took photos, just need to recharge the camera. Daves karma was getting his own hair cut too, and the girl sliced half of one of his prized sideburns off.

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The Piscean full moon was amazing. It came right down onto the water, I told Dave that the moon was giving me all of its power, telling me the second half of my life has now begun. He said "That's a big statement." I said, "Mate, that's a big moon."

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People in Blogland have started to receive the parcels I am sending out. (In the order I originally received everybody's addresses). I have to do it in instalments - considering it's costing me a fortune in postage. Which I don't mind at all, I just can't do it all at once. Dave thinks I have finished sending them ... I've only just begun! He's like, hon - why the fuck are there koalas holding boomerangs all over our bedroom floor??

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So after a few false and somewhat messy starts, it was time to drive the five hours home. Before we piled into the car, I grabbed the ground. "Nooooooo. Dave, I don't want to go home!" None of us did, but we had too. I plugged my iPod in the car, and timed the songs for each leg of the trip. Some soulful acoustic ballads first, then we got a little funky. A few hours in, we needed a revival, so I put on my dance mix. I proudly told Tim that these were all original 90's tracks - "Gonna Make You Sweat" "Whatta Man" and of course, "Groove is in the Heart." I still know all the words to "Busta Move." Remember? "Your best friend Harry has a brother Larry in three days from now, he's gonna marry. He's hopin' you can make it there if you can, coz in the ceremony you'll be the best man .."
I am made from Awesome with Sauce on.

Then I told the guys that I could feel the wind rustling through my toe hairs, which totally killed the mood. They were so disgusted, and carried on like I just took a huge crap in the front seat.

A lady I am not.

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Stopped at some random park in Sydney, so I could use the toilet*ahem* again. Somebody had drawn, right on my toilet, a big picture of a bearded guy with glasses and a speech bubble saying "BLOW ON ME." While I love grafitti, I thought that was just stupid. This was a girls toilet - girls don't blow. Do they? I came out, and asked Dave if girls blew. He was more disgusted and just walked off.
I shouted after him. "I'm not talking about the laxatives, I'm talking about the grafitti." Right then I noticed the family of SIX about to start their friendly game of cricket.
Dave kept walking and didn't look back.
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We kept driving. I thought about everything in the whole world and back again, then remembered (too late) that I shouldn't think so much. Max played his DS, Rocco punched his toys then slept, the skin on Tims hand finally grew over his mobile phone so he is now half-teen, half-phone. (Note: Any girls who visit here in search of incriminating gossip about Tim - there is none. He knows I write about him here, but I would never embarrass him. Well, I do actually, but only IRL).

Dave and I took turns playing the drums, the synth, and the guitar, to our various songs. I am such a WANKER when it comes to dancing to songs. It makes everybody cringe, but there's always a teeny bit of pride in Daves eyes.
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I ate the last few Alps of a Toblerone. And you know what happened? God HIMSELF came down from his cloud and whispered into my ear to take a few bites of a banana, while I had Toblerone still in my mouth. Taste. Sensation. Told the boys I felt sorry for them, that they could not taste what I was tasting right now. It was so good. I don't know if I can ever re-create it ... Universes aligned, just for that moment in time.

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Just as we rounded the corner to come home, Tim and I had a stupid spat about something. I got him back later in the supermarket .. he was holding the 12-pack of toilet paper, I was a few paces in front. "TOILET PAPER GUY COMING THROUGH, S'CUSE ME, TOILET PAPER GUY CARRYING A HEAVY LOAD. THANK YOU." Tim just laughed. That's my toilet paper guy!

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We are home.


It's quite nice.


Who knew?
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