Monday, 26 September 2011

I am going to have a good time if it kills me. Period.

We are at a beach house, which is ours. It sounds very exotic - however the previous occupant was a hydroponics expert who left behind a tangle of electrical leads, his security camera, holes in the wall ... and the smell of a thousand cones. It. Stinks. There's cockroaches, greasy carpet, and one very fragile toilet. But it is ours, courtesy of my very savvy builder husband. He is going to do amazing things and renovate and make it dreamy. He turns to me and tells me *exactly* what he is going to do. Then sees my face and asks me, oh - what do you think hon? We both know it does not matter what I think. (Kind of incredibly irritating, but a lucky thing to be irritated about.)

In the meantime, we've told the kids we are "camping!"

They love it. The backyard backs onto bushland, and there's a massive ropeswing. We all have bikes, and will be riding to the beach every morning as soon as the torrential rain stops.

Unfortunately, I have the worst PMS of all time. It's so hard, not to stab everybody. I know I'm being bitchy and horrible and dark for no goddamn good reason. So I keep it all contained inside. Like, awesome spotfires.

No amount of Evening Primrose Oil takes away the fact my husband talks too .... talky.

I made everybody watch Little House on the Prairie yesterday ... grand plans of watching the entire show on series were dashed when there was laughing and awkward silence during the first episode. When the credits rolled, I said there was a next one and Max turned to me in shock. "There's MORE?"

So we watched the 2010 DVD of the Tropfest finalists instead, and it was great. I have The Sound of Music ready to put on tonight - if I have to squish down my irrational anger and bile at every turn, these kids can watch Julie Andrews making clothes from curtains GODDAMIT IT TO HELL.

Helen from next door came over this morning with six eggs from her chickens. She has been living here for thirty-five years. She is a retired doctor and very lovely, but I SUCK at smalltalk. It's exruciating. I can't remember what I said - something about knocking a wall down. I *really* wanted to ask her what's the worst things she's ever done and how does she get through life when it's so tricky. Maybe next time.

Max said, wow, that's so cool she brought us eggs. We'll have to bring her something. I wonder what the protocol is? Do we just keep giving each other shit forever? Rocco carefully put the eggs in the fridge. When I opened it later, they were gone. I asked him where they were, and he told me they were in the trees because they were dinosaur eggs and they need to hatch baby T-Rexs.

I looked everywhere but can't find them.

I hope Helen doesn't find the egg stash just yet. Need to keep the pretence of normalcy going for as long as I possibly can.


  1. I like that it is the Pretense you strive for not the actuality. Brilliant !~!

  2. Eggs in trees. Fucking brilliant, that boy.
    Sending you less stabby vibes, babe. x

  3. I had stabby pms last week that no amount of chocolate could cure.
    But a beach house sounds great.

  4. You know you have bad PMS when your husband brings you a glass of water and 2 EPO's and watches you swallow them.

    Me yesterday.

    Hope it gets better real soon.

    p.s where do you get the Tropfest DVD's from?

  5. Max is right - you need to take her something. Perhaps a baby T-Rex? Even the story will make her day

  6. I think you bake her something using the eggs? Who would know - our neighbours are my in-laws, and they're always bringing us sh't, so I have no idea about protocol in the real world.

  7. Oh lady! Hope you have fun and get through Sound of Music. Maybe the gift you can give Carol or was it Helen? Oh Helen is was, let's call her Carol though, is the fact that you will be leaving in 2 weeks. Maybe she was checking out if she could still get her pot from you guys?

  8. Rocco and his dinosaur eggs have me laughing here. Love that story.

  9. "I hope Helen doesn't find the egg stash just yet. Need to keep the pretence of normalcy going for as long as I possibly can."

    Oh, you poor sweet still have hope...

  10. "No amount of Evening Primrose Oil takes away the fact my husband talks too .... talky."

    Might be the best thing I've ever read. If it wasn't sort of hurtful, I'd post that on my fridge.

    I suggest dealing with your rage by singing all the songs from The Sound of Music at the top of your lungs all day long. It will likely be cathartic for you and will surely irritate all the men around you.

  11. hahaha, you crack me up!
    apparently maca root powder is good for pms. a friend told me about it. i so need to try it.
    happy house creating.

  12. Soy coffee creamer is my trick for PMS. The soy gives me an estrogen boost when my body has shut down estrogen production to allow my period to come. Just an FYI,

    Also you can ask your neighbor that, her answer may just surprise you. Everyone, and I mean every one has their demons. Just remember if you can remember to breathe and stop judging everyones outsides by your insides you may just find a lot of commonalities out there.

    I have been working on that lately. It is hard as hell but it helps to remember. At least I think it does.

    I love ya fiercely as only a sister stranger friend can.

  13. If Helen does find the egg stash, she'll just assume one of her chooks is being sneaky and laying in the wrong spot. She'll collect them all and give them to you again tomorrow. Unless she marked them with police style invisible dye, then you're, sadly, fucked.

  14. You crack me up. Love the decor you have been dealt with x

  15. I suck at small talk too. I over share and laugh too much. It's a wonder I end up with any friends at all, really. If I met me, I'd probably back away slowly. I like the idea of taking her one of the baby t-rexes. It seems like the right thing to do.

  16. Aww sweets. Sometimes no amount of anything can help with PMS. I am nearing 45 and appear to have been blessed with PMS 3 out of 4 weeks of the month, and that spare week finds me perimenopausal. No one can really win in my house. The harder I try to bottle it up and behave like a normal person, the meaner & uglier I seem to be in the end. So now I try to make amends whilst I'm yelling stabby things. Something along the lines of "oh my God you kids are lazy messy slops but I love you heaps". Seems to work. 20% of my income has been set aside for their future therapy needs ;-)

  17. There are tears in my eyes, from laughing at the baby T-rex eggs. Ah, the mind of a child. I have a feeling Little Danger will be wearing me out once he gets this whole "using words" thing down.

  18. Your neighbor just came over to see who the hell moved in, so you can go and ask her nosy questions about her philosophy and consider the favor returned. In the most unusual way ever.

    I get the husband who talks too talky. I have taken to simply tuning the man out entirely. For instance, just this afternoon, he apparently asked me to open the front windows. Never heard a word he said...although I did register that he was talking. Evidently, I even responded to his request. Oh well, I told him I had a headache, so he should expect this sort of thing.

  19. "It's so hard, not to stab everybody."

    Oh, E, this is why I love you. I may need to put that on a refridgerator magnet. Do you think my parents will get it when they visit?

    "the previous occupant was a hydroponics expert."

    I had a friend whose common law husband used to grow pot hydroponic-style in the closet of their tiny, urban apartment. Flashback.

    "I SUCK at smalltalk. It's exruciating."


    As for the eggs, let's hope he truly did stash them in the trees OUTSIDE. MMMMmmm. Rotten eggs. Repeat after me, "A healthy imagination is a very, very, very good thing." Unfortunately, it does make it harder to stay one step ahead of them. At least he didn't (?) pitch them at her car or her windows?

    Doe, a deer ...

    Love the Sound Of Music, but did you catch Julie Andrews in this role more recently:

  20. Maybe the shit you give each other will tell the stories of you both.

    Words don't allways tell the whole story.

  21. loving the fact I have finally stumbled upon your blog! Just love it.

  22. Oh you are gorgeous, Mrs Land. So gorgeous. I KNEW you'd be a LHOTP freak. Loving Max... there's MORE?! bwaahahaha. Oh yes, there's so much more. You suck at smalltalk? Snap! I'm trying to make peace with the fact that I'm intense and I'm deep and no amount of Julie Andrews chill-outs will change that. And that's ok. Enjoy your fragile toily time.


Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...