Jr. High, the revisiting.

Angst. Stress. Awkward bodies. Braces. Mean Girls. Boys that only look at your breasts. Being superior at sports. Crushes.

Some things change from Jr. High. Praise the baby Jesus that they do! Braces are a thing of the long past, and my body is strong and fit, and by no means awkward. Angst is no longer prevalent, daily.

Some things never change. Mean girls grow into mean bitter women, I have learned how to steer clear of them, and boys that stare at your breasts, yup no different, another thing that has not changed, those are the men you still would not touch with a ten foot pole.

Crushes.
- informal. - an intense but usually short-lived infatuation.

Pure Jr. High Bliss.

One need not be in Jr.High School to enjoy one. I am far past Jr.High, but enjoy I will. There is no potential for the crush to go anywhere, I have children and woodsy, athletic rock climbing men might not be so interested in my children, however I can enjoy the warm fuzzy of a wee little crush.

Happy St. Pat's!

In honour of St. Patricks Day.

We are spectacularly gifted at being able to grow collosal mountains of clover out the front, for all the gifted gardeners who drive by to tsk.

Cheers.

Half Off.

Usually I love it.

Half price books. Duty Free shopping. TJ Maxx. Tuesday Morning. Myers Boxing Day sales. Outlet malls. End of season clearance.

Never to be underrated. Always a bargain to be had.

We play soccer. We are a team made up of older people, it's relative - we are all in our 30's or 40's. We play in the city league. It is fun and social, and we like to win. Always. Who doesn't, ok, aside from the throwback beatnik hippies really? So we play. Hard at times. There is bruising, and joints that groan in displeasure for a day or so after the match. But again we like to win. I am willing to run beyond my age to chase down and prevent someone from getting their dream shot. And whichever hemisphere I live in I choose to play with persons of like mind. I want to play smart, wisdom does come as our brains wrinkle. So my sweeper is a bit OCD in his directions to players on the pitch in front of him, insessently calling out to go right, drop, stay tight, take him wide ... yada, yada,yada. I am not lacking in confidence in my abilities so there is no squashing for me. My time in Oz, taught me many things, give as well as I get has been invaulable, in a friendly cheeky way rather than with malice.

I speak often with my children about sportsmanship. One of my kids struggles, taking every play to heart and being intensely competitive, the poor child can not help it, the genetics came from two very athletic parents, we've handicapped him from birth. So I take note. I teach and practice good sportsmanship always, it would be a disservice to the child to do any less. He is a cherib, it would be devestating to set a sore example for him. I have high standards. So I play, competitive yet aware.

Tonight, we played infants. Not really, half were in Uni and half in high school. But young, far before their brains have fully developed. One thing as you age becomes aparrent ... play to your strengths. Play smart rather than fast. We are old, but we can look at a pitch and see the pass. And play it. We were up by one. Blissfull really when two of the kids goals we handed them on silver platters through a lapse in concentration - happens as we age. \

So.

We've 7 minutes left.

The youngens are getting frustrated and aggro. Best to just politely hold them out until the ref calls time.

And remember that with age comes brain wrinkles and the wisdom that it's just a social game and there's no need for a tantrum over a soccer match at 7pm on a Sunday evening.

Half off is not so great at is used to be, they were half our age but a win is a win, anyway it is just a game.

Cheers.

Chilli Peppers?

I was taking a shower outside in my back garden.

That was the start of it all. It started, I was showering in the back yard, making sure I rinsed all the conditioner out of my hair, it's long, it's time consuming. I was at the same time having a conversation, with the guys who were on their bikes in the back yard. They could not see me, it was the tall red bricks that prevented them from peering in on my shower. Fast forward a few minutes, now I'm chatting with the guys in my lounge room while wearing a towel on my head, takes a while to dry all that hair as well. I'm having a 'come to Jesus' with the guys about how they have been riding their bmx bikes inside my house - a no-no, and how really they should be thinking about what kind of example they are setting for my kids and the sweet little homeschool kids that live across the street. When low and behold I hear a LOUD freight train outside that turns out to be a major tornado coming up the street, I tell the Red Hot Chilli Peppers quickly to find cover while I squirrell away my kids.

And that settles it. No more Ferrero Rocher and vodka right before bed. Those dreams are just a wee bit too freaky, really are the Chilli Peppers going to listen to me?

Dinner and a Ring.

I love birthdays! Family. Friends. Mine. Pretty much I love them all. There are several things that are a must for birthdays in our house. Chocolate must be consumed before anything else on the birthday morning, be it in the form of cake or block or brownie. It really does not matter. If chocolate is you r thing, or if by chance bacon pesto pasta is your thing - have at it! Another thing, you get to pick the evening meal. One day my children might hope for finer, more refined evening meals. Presently they are fairly easy to please, although we have yet to find really nice sushi in TX. And the presents, you get to open them as you wish. All at once, in scattered bits throughout the day, in order by size, the possibilities are endless.

So I had a happy day. I like bagels, wholemeal seeded with a light little bit of cream cheese and a precious slice of roast turkey on top was breakie for me. For dinner we invited some friends here to go out. Outback Steak House. I wanted a steak, what can I say - I am not a vegan. And we haven't been since my sons were tiny. So we went, my self, my 3 rowdy kids, my friends and their 2 kids and an extra kid as well. We sat at the round table. I am fairly certain that even though we tried to be sensible, we kept it to a dull roar. Six children between the ages of 8 and 12. And not all siblings. There was much to be talked about, by everyone. Anyway, the meal was lovely, we ordered, they brought, we consumed, and they they took the dishes away - utter bliss for a single mum. No washing up!!!!!!!!!!! So we asked for the bill, split check please so I can pay for my brood, and Brett can pay for theirs. This is when the waitress smiled just as the cat who has just eaten the pet budgie and told us another customer had paid our bill, and she was not allowed to tell who. We sat, all nine of us. The kids were not aware of the goings on. We sat, me with my hand resting on my little stash of cash I'd saved up for this night and Brett and Lezlie, holding onto their credit card, staring at one another. Stunned. Incredibly curious. Floored. Who would do that? There were a couple of people who stopped by our table during the meal. No one knew it was my birthday. I am not a fan of the singing of the birthday song by waiters & waitresses, so we skip it on my birthday - in public that is, at home - my children can belt it out with the best of them. Such a wonderful present - I asked the waitress to please even though we could not know whom it was to please pass along our thanks.

My grammie and granddaddy are aging. They are going to be 90 at the end of 2007. They usually send me a card for my birthday. I love it, my Grammie's scrawlling writing, still strong as she ages. Always signed love, Hugs & Kisses. for as long as I can remember. I am not my grandparents favourite grandchild, it is common knowledge who is, my dad is their favourite child - he's the baby, and my older sister is the favourite grandchild - they love all of the rest of us dearly, but she is the hands down favourite. I am completely fine with that. I love them, they have always been elderly and retired and lived on golf courses, my entire life. My granddaddy cuts gemstones for a hobby. He always has. Mine is amethyst. Lovely. My duaghter's a ruby. I got a parcel in the post day before yesterday. I like to stack mine and open throughout the day on my birthday. So I did. Something to look forward to after work. I sat and opened the parcel from Grammie, and yes it's from Grammie, she is the one who keeps up with those things in their marraige, Granddaddy plans the road trips, Grammie posts the mail. Inside the parcel was a pink wrapping paper containing a birthday card. Inside the card was a little flea market coin purse, grammie and graddaddy grew up during the depression, they are frugal. Inside the flea market coin purse was a Tourmaline ring my granddaddy cut and hand set with wrapped gold wire for my grammie - to put it in her words "many years ago". Now that is saying something, she talks about my father's childhood as if it were yesterday. What a treasure. My sweet little 4 ft Grammie has given me.

My heart is full.

WHOOP!

My boys have done it!

Texas A&M 69
Kansas 66

That's really all that needs be said.

Oh and they did it AT KANSAS.

Don't mess with the Aggies.

Ed Watchers Unite

Last time I was in the states, during what my Grammie refers to as 'the incident' - you know the one where I left my sorry ass abusive bastard of a husband because he wouldn't stop beating my kid.

Well. So I moved back to the town we had lived in back when things were happy, blissful even. We had friends there. We were loved. Lots of people had moved away but they kept in touch. It was not so little that everybody knew your business. Thank goodness, because who wants anybody knowing that ugly business. I enrolled my kids in school. Then pulled my littlest kid from the public school and parked her in a lovely little tiny school. She loved it.

I coped. Well sort of anyway.

I would get up at the godforsaken hour that they start school in this crazy place - it is still dark damn it, if God has not turned on the lights yet, you are not supposed to be out of the bed much less traipsing off to public school. (another story I get distracted.) I'd pack lunches and take the kids to school and then drive on over home and run to my hearts content. In my living room. On. The. Treadmill.

And watch old reruns of Ed.

I think I achieved my goal, not that I had one in mind when I left the mongrel Denver in January, however when I arrived home in Australia in July a friend noted I was 'over' my ex.

SO.

Ed. Watchers. Unite.

December.

Southbank, at first before they got the bouganvillas in, the walk looked horrid, amazing power of a wee little plant. And a prickly spikey one at that.
My New Years Day view. Palm Beach. Lovely. I lingered in the sand after a very light and refreshing lunch, yes, mangos consumed.
Story Bridge. I drank many a drink under this bridge during my time living in Oz. Not so much in the wino with the paper bag, as in the Deery Hotel, not a hotel for sleeping, but a pub with a spot of fine food and drink.

Cheers.

In Love.

Is to be tortured and torn. Heart racing and swelling, anticipation running wild like small children released from school for the summer holidays. Followed closely by the crashing pitfall of devestation, the heart melts and wallows and oozes jellylike as it falls smearing a trail down the cabinetfront on the way to the floor, there it splats into fractured goo.

Pity being in love.

Two countries. Two homes. Only one continent has an actual house that I own (at least partially). But both are home. I feel peaceful in each for completely different reasons. It is bucketing down, the rain pours from the clouds, mother nature is squeezing out her kitchen sink sponge after wiping up an earthly mess, repeatedly. Were it not 9 degrees celcius, I would run not walk outside and dance nearly naked in the deluge. I absolutely love the feel of rain on my skin, living without rain for years in Australia has brought a slightly unstable obsession with the stuff. We have not guttering, or downpipes here in Texas, so the rains in bastardised fashion just falls off the edge of the roof. If it were 30 degrees I'd stand at the bend in my house where two rooflines dump into a corner and let it all soak through. I am safe here in Texas, my kids will likely not be inundated with cult garbage living in a different hemisphere, well he still trys but distance makes them see clearly the insanity of it without the damaging emotion. In Australia, I love mangos,mangos,mangos, and friends. I have endured the most stressful times of my adult life while living there, and had precious mates to pop out for a wee bit of a drink to help ease me through. Or shout me a cuppa. Walk through the forrest, play matches and matches of soccer with. Recline in the sand and not talk at all about the hell I was going through just soak up precious sunshine for days on end, knowing that salt, sun and sand are a therapy in themselves - at least for me.

I leave a bit of my heart behind everytime I leave, both countries, so many people I love in both, and each for there own quirks.

noun, two words. or one. depends on what you like.

chicken pot pie reheated at 1am. with a green leafy salad. and a lovely glass of milk.

he had just brushed his stubbly chin across my belly. the sweet bliss of pleasures yet to be had were right there for the taking. ..

you know the feeling, you squeeze your eyes tighly closed, grab the pillow, roll over quickly in the vain hope that you might just somehow slip back into that delicious dream.


but no.

it is not to be.

why? because of the two little people who have invaded your space because THEY can not sleep, and they miss him, sadly not the bloke in the dream, but the one whom donated genetics.

uh-humm.

jet lag -noun a temporary disruption of the body's normal biological rhythms after high-speed air travel through several time zones.

Wicked, but not mean really.

Mobile phones are lovely, fun and lately necessary things.

For years I fought getting one. However, I have acclimated quite well to the nuisance.

In OZ. I paid a fee. I texted and rang to my merry delight. Texting more than ringing, b/c it was quick and somewhat removed and clever.

In TX. I pay a fee. And the service providers charge and roam and this bit and that bit and times and what not and so I pay more and I don't text at all because no one I know over here does. Slightly less fun.

So I have this new little flippy phone. They gave me the number when I signed up for the service. Actually, Arti - phone service guy, he let me pick which number I wanted out of a list of 30 which he read off to me from his little screen. Ok so maybe it was only a choice of 10, but it sounded like 30 when each number has 10 digits to it. All I could think is I want the one that'll be easy for the kids to remember. No one else remembers numbers anymore they just program them into their phones and direct dial. I am guilty of that one as well, although I retain some numbers in my head forever. Some are important to my heart and others like the number for Pizza Hut in Australia are just stuck there, when I am quite aged and my red hair has turned gray and fallen out I am pretty sure I'll still be able to sing 3892 1111 with the catchy little diddy.

I picked my number. It is easy to recall.

It is remarkabley close to a local taxi service number in the town in which I live now. This fact is now etched into my mind. Never do I get the call for a taxi ride in the afternoon. Or morning. Or evening even. Always the phone rings at a hideous hour, usually shortly after I have managed to fall asleep.

1 somethingish am. I let it ring out. They rang back twice. The third time I answered. Now I am not sure if it was the late hour, my irritability, or sense of humour that caused me to do it. He said they needed a ride, from Northgate. I agreed in my funky australian texan accent. "right-o, no problem." I asked had they had a lovely evening, enjoyed the game, had a fun night out on the town? Yada-yada. Told him I'd be right on that run.

I hung up and went straight on back to bed.

I am sure he'd be fine, I could hear the giggling in the background, at least he had company while he waited for his taxi.

Only slightly wicked.

blur

It started with trunk or treat and ended with the celebration dinner of an undefeated season 7 days later.

Trunk or Treat. A parking lot filled with cars all parked boot in. Their are games in to be played in the boot. Play the game, collect a lollie. Walk on with a smile. Also brought in for a special treat, an inflated wrestling ring with helmets and a bar with two overinflated marshmallow looking bobbies on the end. To boys of all ages this was the place you go with your mate to see if you can bash the crude out of him - in a friendly way. Not really, the testosterone got going and they just wap each other until they had fallen completely over four times, then they had to trade. All fun though, most hopped out of the ring smiling.

Monday - work, work and more work, then decorating for Halloween.

Tuesday - Halloween carnival for the littlest school, Montessouri is the way to learn. They had a half day of games, lollies, and running amuke in the school playground. I watched littlies hunt and paint mini pumpkins. I encouraged the paint smock. Spin it red haired mumma. "You'll get your pretty little fairy costume dirty" "You don't want orange paint on spideyman now do you?" yada yada yada. The end of the Halloween festival was a treat. Time to take down all the sticky spiderwebby polyester I'd strung between trees and doorways, find those pumpkins that were stuck just a little too deep, and gracefully try and organize the drippy painted pumpkins.

Wednesday - I am the mother of a 12 year old. It is not possible. But real. I am too thin and too young to have a kid this size. He got a football, the pigskin variety and music lots of music and a skateboard. I need to update the health insurance.

Thursday - Braces. She now looks like she's 12 and she is only 8. I am counting down until they come off. And they are not on my teeth. She does not complain, she is a trooper. Food is going to be interesting.

Friday - The Birthday dinner out. Mexican food. Friends who give the boy a jumper from Texas A&M Uni. He did not take it off for almost a week, and then only whent he temperature rose to 30 degrees Celcius. All the kids compliment how fun the friends are who went to dinner with us. In particular the bloke. I am estatic inside - they are healing and do not believe that all men are cult vermin - we will prevail, we are the best of both hemispheres, Texan and Australian.

Saturday - soccer, soccer, soccer. 4 wins. Everybody happy.

Sunday - Adult old people have a undefeated season. Calls for Margaritas and Mexican food and a photo. All fun except that last bit. I stopped many a man from scoring any goals. So fun, I love to watch their faces fall.

I think I might have a wee bit to go before I heal all the way.

Life Expectancy.

Halloween pumpkins are great.

We slopped off to the pumpkin patch on a frigid day and prowled through the vast array of pumpkins to pick our treasures, one for each of us. Plus a variety of little pumpkins because for starters they are very petite precious little things and we are embracing our first Halloween with vigor.

We acquired pumpkin carving tools, last week soccer training got called due to torrential downpours, having excess energy and stamina, we decided to CARVE. Artists look out. Newbies have arrived.

Pumpkin carving is not a clean sport. In other households it is probably not a sport at all. In ours it is. Seeds flew. Preferably towards the scrap bucket but not necessarily so, the odd seed accidentally flicked at siblings and children. I am not sure how that happened but no one put an eye out so it's alright. We scraped out innerds and scooped out, the hand works best, not so fabulous if you have a strong gag reflex though. People with a strong gag relfex sometimes turn green when scoooping out their pumpkin. People who look green usually feel green inside and it is best to keep your distance, and politely suggest greeny go and lie down until it passes.

We ended the evening with four beauties.

Two happy go lucky and two cheeky bordering on scary. We are not a scary lot so we didn't make it too far that way. One had hands, several had eyebrows, all had smiles of sorts.

Pumpkins are very pleasing to look at when carved.

Not so pleasing after 6 days of erractic weather though. Furry mold abounding with soft pliable sides our little pumpkins were relegated to the bin, no matter how lovely and fun they were nearly a week ago, the tiem has come. We'll carve a big monster this afternoon so that we have one for the big day, the cutie pies they had to go.

Fall Family Fun Night

Eye opening.

The kids are between 10 and 14 years old, they are in grades 5 and 6.

We arrive, my son runs off for a quick play of handball only they call it four square here before we go into the classroom activities. He joins up with two of his mates from school, they are nice boys even if they all troop through the rooms on a warpath. They joke with the teachers they like and avoid those that are not their favourites. I see the ativities they do gleefully, they are only 11, still only children really, just stuck in bodies that are big.

I stand back and watch, he makes eyes at the girl he likes, doesn't talk to her just smiles. Innocent and young. It is sweet and gives me no pause.

Just as we decide to depart for home and dinner he introduces me to another mate, one he has not run the halls with this evening, but one he is nice to during the day, he is nice to everybody it is not unusual, he always has been kind-hearted. During the first couple of weeks of school he mentioned this boy. Mum he would say, you know A he's BIG. And BIG he is. We talked then about how lots of people here are alot bigger, heavier than what we have seen regularly back in OZ, and BIG might be an ok non-judgemental way to describe it. So a few weeks ago my son tells me he thinks his friend A might have been held back once or maybe twice, he wasn't sure, but he's BIG mum. Tonight it is clear to me what he meant. The boy is a boy no more. I am not certain how many times he was held back, it is more than once, that does not matter, he is quite possibly close to 15 yrs old. I have no issues with that at all, I hope the learning comes easier as time goes on for him. I am all for children learning and getting a good education however it needs to happen.

It gives me pause when my son introduces me to you though and as you shake my hand you cut your eyes away. The pain that is there is obvious. I hope that my child can be an encouragement without being sucked into making unwise choices. I am reminded that we have been through quite a bit of crap in the last several years, but we must be doing something right, my son treats those around him with fun and friendship, it can't be too bad.
___________________________________________________________________

Marley & Me is a great little nugget of a book.

I am currently without something to read.
Bills do not count. Something to read just for fun is necessary.

I must get onto that.

Picking up a little bit of ugly.

So yesterday I picked up my youngest and headed to the orthodontist.

I have never taken a class in dental anatomy, however, I am fairly certain that I could have found an itty bitty piece of plastic and stuffed it between her last two molars. I might have even been able to come up with some royal blue plastic to stuff in there. I didn't though.

And lucky because then I would have robbed said child of the chance to perform the human Pez dispenser trick, you know the flip top head?
____________________________________________________________________

We went shoe shopping, well because that is what sunny Tuesday afternoons were made for and I am bringing my baby up right. I rang my mum on the way to check on a couple flight coupons she is picking up for me, we chatted, it was nice, she's working but happy with that. Finished the call, we went into the shop, we hunted, tried on funny shoes, pretty shoes, practical shoes and enormously high heels, a girl has to learn just how it is done.

Halfway up the athletic shoe aisle my phone rang.

It was mum. And went something like this...

mum hi honey!
(cheery voice I have come to recognize over the years as signalling a bomb alert)
me hi mum.

mum well I haven't told you yet, because I know you don't approve of what I do sometimes ...

me mum you are a grownup and make your own choices, my not necessarily making the same choice as you is not judgement on what you do or don't do it is just us being different

mum so I told your sister already, so I need to tell you too. look I want you to know I that I have met somebody, his name is Phil, Phillip, Phil, and he's really nice and he treats me like a princess, and he is really sweet and he's retired and 10yrs older than me. So he doesn't work anymore.

(this is the bit where I am thinking that suddenly my mum has morphed into a teenager again)

me that's nice mum, I am glad you are happy, thanks for telling me.

mum we think we might come up and visit this week...

We talked for a bit longer, she revisited the retired bit, and how lovely he is to her, told me where he lives, etc. I thanked her again for telling me.

Now I am a glass half full kind of girl. I prefer to look at the positives. I am positive that at present my mum is very happy. She is very happy to merrily give her heart away. I understand, it's cold outside, it is nice to have someone to cuddle up to and chat with about life and all. I just think that it might be a good idea to maybe step back and not approach dating at mach speed, where you end up with his and her towels, and your heart broken after just a little bit. I hope he is nice and sweet and kind and fun. I wish for the best. I will listen as my mum twitters like a 14 yr old about how great every thing is, and if it works for the long run - fabulous, and if not I pick up the pieces again as the drama unfolds if another man breaks her heart. At least this time I am in the right hemisphere. There's a glass half full for you.

The shoe shop sells ugly. They are clogs with holes in them made out of foam. They are tangerine orange. I bought them so I can photograph her and bring the picture out at her 21st. Crocs. yippie.

Rings just don't shine.

Nice weekend.

COLD weather. This morning it was nine degrees C. Brrr. And blowing a gale. I know because our handy little inside/outside thermometre told me so. Thank you maroonedinaustin. So I added a jumper as I walked out the door to soccer. I should have added thermal underwear, a beanie, gloves, and those handwarmer thingys you get when you're skiing. Safe to say while my speech acclimated to australian life so too did my internal thermometre. Popsicle girl observes soccer match. Shaking like a leaf has new meaning for me. And I now long for an espresso machine with verve.

______________________________________________________________________

He said I was hot.

He meant it as a compliment. It was not one. Not that I have issues about how I look. I don't. I'm firm where I need to be and soft where I should be. I don't have extra weight hanging out, any that I had vacated during the divorce. I don't think I am hot, but I am damn sure not bad. When a married guy tells you that though, not good. I am offended on so many levels. Not the least of which is I just don't go there, you are married, hit the road jack, I will not even respond to your quasicompliment. The next time I see you though, should you make the same type of comments again, I hope you are ready, you'll be that little bug that unfortunately flew in front of the windshield when the car was going 80mph.

And I will still be hot very far away from you.

Silence in the car.

We saw this sign on the way to one of the three schools I drop my kids at. We sat silent. Not my favourite thing about America.

Just bites.

you wake up. well rested.

ever so pleasant.

for two seconds, then it is like that poor unfortunate cat who fell in vast sums of water. Leaping, diagruntled, disturbed and definately pissed away from the offending substance.

oversleeping. grr.

Perspective.

Really very few things tick me off. Unfortunately this week I have run into several right smack in a row.

For starters any government run offices are hard wired to be difficult. It is in there nature. It is how they make extra money for the politicians to eat lunch on. I have discovered in my great home state that I might well have to remove and disect my fourth rib in order to get my drivers license. You have to appear in person at the local DPS office stand in the laneway for an inordinate amount of time before you get to speak with the woman who could quite possibly be entombed as a relic of days gone by. Yes folks the 80's are far far behind us, however, here we have a finely preserved specimin from that era. She sports 'helmet hair' and blue eye shadow, tornados might very well come through this area occassionally, but that hair it is not going to budge. Her demeanor is a beauty. I am not sure if the DPS sent her to special training days or if that is her natural inclination, she is not helpful and certainly has no time for those not born and raised here. The poor little asian lady in front of me in, she made her cry. So I think I might have been predisposed to dislike her, that is just not kosher. Asians are lovely, and the food they've brought to this great state is less likely to cause you to become so engorged as to resemble a beached walrus. With helmet hair.

The second is more a personal issue. A lady who child is my age. I have known her a long time. We are not close. At one time I valued her input. That time is now gone. In her opinion it is unwise for me to ever remarry, you know because my situation was different, and I had children, she says with a snarl to her lip that looks as if she has just spotted a dog dropping on her persian rug. I don't desire to remarry today or tomorrow or next week. And the idea of being legally bound is enough to cause me to eye that rum bottle with a pirates lusty longing. But you know having someone tell me I should not makes me want to run out on a mad flurry of dates. Until she has walked around in my bare feet I am certain she can keep those little undesirables to herself.

Third. And last at least for today. Would it kill people to not waste so much damn stuff. Why people, and mostly I am only seeing Americans at present, so why Americans NEED ever so very much stuff. Plastic water bottles by the slab, half drunk and then tossed. Eight million gallons of fizzy drink in their bottles or worse cans. Food enough for small immigrant armies in foreign third world countries, tossed out because Americans can't eat that much but they have a bloody right to be served that much food for $7.95 and more and more and more. No wonder a huge chunk of the population are enourmous, they eat all that food and then sit round on their bums contimplating all their 'rights'. Ick. Self-absorbtion ticks me off.

I said it was the last one, but really it wasn't. People who wear bras that are tooo small!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For everybody elses sake, please get some proper fitting gear, those girls hanging out everywhere, nobody wants to see that.

A little too much non-drowsy ...

1:31 am awake.

1:32 check the kids, maybe that's why I woke up

1:33 look outside into the inky blackness

1:34 trip over a box on my way back to bed

1:35 - 2:02 flopping around waiting for sleep to return

2:03 wash a load of laundry, I'm WIDE awake may as well be productive

2:05 nine hundred channels and nothing to watch.

2:07 Meerkat Watch, it was the best of the options, two episodes and then one of This Old House

3:31 back to bed to sleep

This afternoon will be a challenge of my patience, maybe a nap would be good.