Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Well honestly...

If I told you all the sagas with little fella's health over the last month, you simply wouldn't believe me.

You'd say something like - "Liar, liar, pants on fire" or, if you decided you wanted to be a little less harsh, you might go with " Oh really ? " and roll your eyes so far back in your head that they disappeared entirely.

Honestly, what is the world coming to ?

Assuming that his recovery continues well (as it is now doing after I stripped the pharmacy of most of their supplies), I will try to write something a little more interesting in the next few days.

In the meantime, I apologise for the lack of wit and entertainment to be found here and recommend the reading of other people's blogs for a while.

hasta la vista

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Passionate about work


Like nothing I have ever seen or want to see again...

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Mummified is horrified

Ok then. You got your basic - women wearing skimpy outfits and swaying their hips suggestively as "asking for it " (it being rape) type argument coming from the Ramadan sermon of our most senior muslim cleric in Australia - Sheik Taj Din al-Hilali.

(Yes, lets use such an important sermon in the muslim calendar to promote hatred - what a brilliant idea...)

And, to cement our reputation as barbaric and misogynist, the recent gang rape of a mentally impaired 16 year old (including setting her hair alight) in Werribee portrayed as "a bit of fun".

Actually, you should see the DVD - they filmed the incident and sold copies to their mates for $5 each. Having fun and making a profit - geez, does it get any better than this ?

Interested in your comments....

Sunday, October 22, 2006

An inconvenient truth - or Al Gore's slide show

See it.
Think about it.
Debate it with friends and family.
Decide what you need to do.
Do it.
There is nothing more to say.


Thursday, October 19, 2006

The Devil wears Prada - Who was the devil again ?

So I still can't decide - is it the Meryl Streep character who is supposed to be the devil or the Anne Hathaway character ? Because it seems to me like Meryl is:

a) working hard and doing her job well
b) telling it like it is - ie I work in fashion, it is what it is and it is indeed all about making money and influencing trends in a very competitive environment
c) giving the "smart" girl who is utterly clueless - a break

wheras the Anna Hathaway character is:

a) whiny
b) sanctimonious
c) lacking commitment
d) playing the "but she made me do it" card for all it is worth

Yes, yes, there are some outrageously demanding antics on the part of Ms Priestly. She is very, very naughty to ask some of the things she does of her staff. However, I'd prefer to work with Miranda Priestly any day of the week.

Hell, I'd learn a lot more than College taught me.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Now that I have more than 30 seconds free...

As regular readers will know, I LOVE people who question the why's and wherefores of this little world we like to call home. Passive blobs who just suck up everything they are told and accept it frighten me.

And I love a blog that displays a bit of independent thinking, a hefty dose of scepticism and humour - yeah humour, lets all have a laugh.


If I could articulate my thoughts as well as this bloke, I would be a very happy woman.

Monday, October 16, 2006

It's not like you can blame her...


JK Rowling has apparently given up writing books to flirt with boys. Oh well, it happens to the best of us. (Yes, I do realise they are pulling our collective legs).


An emotional vacumn cleaner...

Area Woman Emotionally Invested In Jennifer Aniston's Well-Being (From The Onion)
October 15, 2006

SCOTTDALE, PA—Pennsylvania native and entertainment-news consumer Gayle Caudill admitted to a deep personal investment in the happiness and well-being of TV and film star Jennifer Aniston, an international celebrity who has a reported net worth of $80 million, and, according to Caudill, is "a down-to-earth gal just like myself."

Like the international celebrity, Caudill has also been through "so much." "She's had her share of troubles, like anyone else," said Caudill, referring to Aniston's much-reported divorce from fellow megastar Brad Pitt. "But if I know Jen Aniston, she'll come out on top. She's a survivor."

The divorced 41-year-old dental-office receptionist and self-proclaimed "Team Aniston" member said she felt an "uncanny" bond with the $8-million-per-picture superstar. The two have never met, and are not expected to.

Don't get me wrong. What I am about to write is not a crticism of Gayle or others of her ilk.
That would be foolish given that this story is a spoof that appeared in The Onion.

However, I too have stood at the supermarket checkout and flicked through the types of magazines that carry this stuff. In Oz, these babies sell like hot cakes. In fact, better than that, they sell like meth amphetamines to meth heads - ie lots of, heaps and stacks.

And it makes me sad. Now, some of you will dismiss this as being too serious about "a bit of fun". Bear with me though, I think there is more to it than that. I think it is about feeling lost and lonely in a big scary world and clinging on to any brightly coloured floatsam that passes by.

And we chicks are the main culprits. I don't know why we kid ourselves that reading about women wearing small amounts of expensive, glittery material is interesting or even meaningful. But we do. Some of these stars also act as well as being modules (sorry, I think I meant models not modules - no, oops, I did actually mean modules).

It's like their sparkly world is a panacea for all that ails us. We suck it up and it leaves us breathless and a little high. It tempers every cr*p job, bad relationship, no relationship, lack of satisfaction aspect of our lives.

Except, it is actually like meth amphetamines - you subdue the pain but the addiction is worst than the original condition.

Step 1 - sell your soul to pay the mortgage

Step 2 - pick a career that pays well, has kudos and will make your parents proud
Step 3 - do this career everyday until you are nearly 40
Step 4 - stop, reflect, realise you are wasting your life
Step 5 - reset your direction
Step 6 - not up to this bit yet

Sunday, October 08, 2006

And you say you want to be a journalist...

From the Indy Star - www.indystar.com

Journalist who criticized government is fatally shot

Moscow -- A prominent Russian journalist known for reporting of human rights abuses in war-torn Chechnya was shot and killed Saturday in her apartment building in what colleagues and authorities described as an apparent assassination.
Anna Politkovskaya, 48, was shot in the chest as she was getting out of an elevator, then was shot in the head, the Russian news agency RIA Novosti reported, citing investigative sources. The image of the suspected killer was captured on a surveillance videotape, the agency said.

Politkovskaya, a mother of two, was considered one of the toughest critics of Russian President Vladimir V. Putin and of pro-Moscow Chechen Prime Minister Ramzan Kadyrov. One of her areas of expertise was documenting mistreatment of ordinary Chechens by Russian troops or forces loyal to Kadyrov.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Blink of an eye

They say that kiddies grow up in the blink of an eye.
We take pix of little fella as much as we can and have just bought a video camera.
However, some folks take capturing change REALLY seriously.

Check this out for weirdness


Tuesday, October 03, 2006

All lolled out

After a fabbo week up north in the sun (as Nanuk points out, when you are down under - north is warm, south is cold - go figure !) I am all lolled out.

No vodkatinis either. I went instead for the straight tequila slammer - salt and lemon or lime essential. It's great stuff and numbs the constant yelling from the 2 year old quite nicely. After 20 or more you just slide to the floor in a heap. (Joking, I am joking people).

And being the tropics - the lushness of the landscape is a salve to the soul. Rather like I imagine Eden must have been. Althought apparently it wasn't the apple that God got cross about, it was Eve's incessant tequila slammers and nights out clubbing with the snake.

Anyhow am back in the land of the living. And looking forward to summer once I stop torturing the washing machine with endless loads of holiday clothes.

see ya

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

I want to break free...

Love a good "Queen" anthem.
Not, not that one, the Freddie Mercury variety.
I leave my current place of employ tomorrow.
Hurrah !!!
Off for a week's holiday with poppified and little fella up north.
Think tropics, margaritas, lolling by the pool (yes, I do mean lolling not lying - lolling is when you are sooo relaxed you may just fall off the sun lounge).

when I get back, I'll work out what to do next to earn of part time crust.
But in the meantime - Vodkatini's all round (two olives please)



Thank you for smoking

You gotta love movie with an establishing shot for a kid's school called "St Euthanasia".
It's so black, so cruel, so right.
Well, right in the sense that the kid's dad is a lobbyist for Big Tobacco and he gives the kiddies a pep talk about how ciggies are not really bad for you.

I recommend this film to anyone and everyone. Satire at its best.

Kiddies can aspire to smoke when they grow up.
Mummies can ogle the leading man.
Daddies can ogle Katie Holmes (although shame on Tom Cruise for censoring the film once he and Katie became enmeshed)

And we can all find out the price of silence - well emphysema does tend to make you rather less chatty.


Saturday, August 26, 2006

Coming soon - time to move on

Well, I reckon I might be in for a life change soon. Am contemplating resigning from my job.

Yes, the money is good and does wonderful things to reduce the mortgage but I am just finding it too hard to do justice to my primary role - aka being mummified to little fella - and doing a 4 day week (and a 5 day workload) in the corporate world. Plus - he was sicker than your average bear for 5 months this year and when a little one if sick - he needs his mummy even more.

On the downside there will be more - ie cleaning up of his vomit, wiping his snotty nose and, my personal favourite (not), convincing him to take his ventolin when he gets a chest infection and cannot breathe properly.

On the upside - I will get to practice my goofy dances with him as we watch "the Wiggles" on TV (a kids show here), I will also play chasey up and down the hall with him while giggling madly. And he is already cognisant of the dangers of when I become the scary "kissing" mummy (run kiddo or you'll get covered in kisses all over your little face - again).

A pretty good deal really. I'll keep you updated on progress.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Honest injun

I found this on eternally curious's site. I love these little quizzes.

***You Are 72% Brutally Honest***
Most of the time, you tell it like it is. Even if it's hard for people to hear.Sometimes you hold back though, because you never want your honesty to be hurtful.

How Brutally Honest Are You?http://www.blogthings.com/howbrutallyhonestareyouquiz/

Darker than the darkest night

I have been told that I am a sick puppy - with a sense of humour that is darker than the darkest of nights. BUT, this is just plain weird. What do you make of it ?


Saturday, August 12, 2006

Dr Who ? You wot ?

Right. Let me be clear from the outset. I am what is commonly refered to as a "hoovian" and this sets me apart from those pipsqueaks who are now refered to as hoovers, schleps or drongos.

A hoovian is a fan of the old Dr Who. The one who thought, reflected and managed to think his way out of trouble and save the world. Yes, a little sexist but sex wasn't the point. And, if it was Tom Baker in the late 70's, pretty hot as well.

A hoover is someone who watches the new doctor Who and thinks - wooo - good action, love how they spend most of their time running like hell from the bad guys and rarely come up with anything approximating a clever idea. ie - thick as sh*t and thinks Big Brother actually refers to a reality show.

Yes, yes - Billie Piper is sex on legs - I am not arguing with anyone from the testosterone side of the fence that she is worth checking out. And frankly, I've always had a thing for David Tennant and would shag him stupid if I wasn't married and square. BUT PLEEEEEEEEASE - giveth me a breaketh.

Doesn't it bother anyone how far this thing has been dumbed down ? Doesn't anyone else positively yearn for some clever techo solution ? What about some intelligent dialogue ?

Is there anybody out there ????

Oh, and while we are on the subject, if you don't fix it, I will take over the control of the Cybermen and hunt Russell Davies down and torture him until he stops enjoying it. (That could take a while).

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

fair enough

Have been away for a while. No good reason, just the bad old reason of permanent exhaustion. Jet Lag without the cool destination. Will right this soon.

Friday, July 21, 2006

The good stuff

A quick advertisement for our local Children's Hospital here in Melbourne.

1) Good emergency department. Looks like chaos but they know their stuff.
2) IV drip - good for a quick fix for a little fella. And with the state he was in, he wasn't with us anyway to be aware of it going in.
3) The American Ladies Auxiliary - responsible for the paintings of comical critters on the hospital wall - thank you ladies
4) The pediatrician (last time I saw the guy was at a dear friends funeral in early '98). This time, I looked up, bleary eyed from 2 hours sleep on a makeshift bed next to my son and croaked "Julian ?" and knew it would all be alright.
5) God - yes I know you lot think I am a dope for having my faith but there you are. Thanks to the unknowable entity
6) The friend who - upon seeing me back at work at the end of this week said "Jeez, you look like I feel". She is soooo buying lunch when we catch up tomorrow.
7) To my lovely parents who helped hubby and I between shifts and gave us time to have the odd catnap to avoid keeling over.

Monday, July 10, 2006

When good mummies go bad...

Take 1 – Jim – the journo
“Bloody paper cut”, said Jim Squiggly. Bloody paper cut indeed thought Ange -his PA darkly, flicking him a glance across the room.

That was probably the first time this week he’d actually picked up a piece of paper and done anything vaguely resembling work.

If she heard him do his little “mate, mate, mate” routine with the good ol’ boys down in the features room one more time, she’d stab herself to death with a stapler. “Mate, mate,maaaaaate” – he sounded like a demented sheep.

So when he strutted across the room, making another call on his mobile for “a quick latte maaaaaate” she barely registered.

She did notice, however, when he collapsed shortly after and died. Work forgotten, an ambulance arrived and they took him away.

Take 2 – Robbie – the cop
The police turned up 3 days later to talk to his colleagues to try to establish cause of death.

“A heart attack, wasn’t it?”

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

Forget something in the water, maybe more like something in one of those the lattes… Ange mused.

“He spent most of his time out of the office – didn’t tell people about it – where he went, who he saw…,” said the editor. “ All we got was the copy, sometimes late, sometimes not at all.”

What was he working on ?

Some fluff piece. Nothing life-changing for God’s sake. You know, and here, exasperated, the editor gestured “talking marks” in the air - “lifestyle stuff, latest shopping secrets, breaking fashion designers, that sort of thing”.

Right. Well his stomach contents reveal coffee scrolls, coffee, milk froth and digitalis. We don’t think the caffeine is the problem.

Robbie left the building and flicked her badge back into her handbag.

Hardly worth taking notes really. Completely clueless, the lot of them.
A loose affiliation of disinterested folk turning up for the pay packet.

A neat synopsis of corporate life really.

Take 3 – Connie – the widow
It had been alright being a world cup widow, thought his wife. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the real thing.

He hadn’t even been checking every shopping receipt lately

It was all “Socceroos this and Brazil/Croatia that”. She’d managed to rack up two Morrisseys, an Akira and some of those Terry Biviano tower heels without so much as a frown – not a bad stash for 2 hours shopping”.

Now, she sat on the sofa, smoothing her silk skirt repeatedly, fiddling with her rings.

“At 7am, he left at 7am – every morning, without fail. He was very dedicated to his job…”

So nothing different on Tuesday ? Business as usual ?


Any health problems we should know about ?

No. I mean, yes, he had IBS.

Irritable bowel syndrome. He got bloated. He had trouble digesting things.

That all ?

“…that I can think of….” She trailed off.

So no heart problems, no diabetes, nada.

None at all. He was in good condition for a guy pushing 60.

Take 5 – Vlados, the cleaner

Yeah, well at least they won’t blame this on the cleaners, thought Vlados.
Cleaners were always the first people to get picked on.

Anything goes wrong, blame the cleaners, anything missing, blame the cleaners…

He caught a glimpse of his fresh, Koh Samui tan in the lift mirror
The guy was a certified prick but he didn’t deserve to die…he reflected.

Nasty stain on the carpet though. No bowel control in death. And the amount of dribble – god it was revolting.

He’s had to use everything he had in his cleaning tool kit to remove the stains.
And that was after dry retching at the stench.

And now the cops were dirty on him because he had tainted the “crime scene”.

If someone had told him it was a crime scene at the time he would have left it alone. God knows he could have done without the hassle.

Take 6 – Alexander the designer

Alexander was miffed. Trust Jim to stuff it up and die. The amount of money he had shoved into that greedy bugger to get him to promote his new fashion line. Christ!

Jim had delivered a luke warm reception to his show last time on the basis that he couldn’t “feel the love” and now he wouldn’t get coverage at all.

The opening was coming up and he could no longer rely on the PR that Jim had promised. Kylie was going to be in the audience. And that buyer from Browns.

He glanced at the mirror on the wall of the café and flicked his quiff impatiently. His hands shook.

The designs were going to have to sell themselves on merit.

God almighty, he was stuffed.

Take 6 – Ange – the PA
Ange looked nonplussed. “What, you want me to do it ? Why me ?
What about Banu or Duan ?”

They don’t have capacity and you do. It’s tonight. DJ’s are sponsoring. Clean yourself up and try to look like you know what you are doing.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Stop bitching and get moving”

Now, his wife was in the front row. God knows where she got the money. Ange squeezed into the reserved seat behind. Was that an Akira ?

For a girl who had just lost her husband, she looked remarkably happy and relaxed. What was the story there ?

The models sauntered out. God, what were they wearing ? This was fashion ?

What the hell am I going to write ?

Take 7 – Connie – the widow
She certainly wasn’t buying anything here. She may have inherited well with Jim’s untimely departure but that was no reason to waste it.

The spare cash that Jim used to bring home on a regular basis was certainly no longer a given.

She didn’t expect any more special favours from the local fashion designers either.

Never mind. She had what she needed and that was enough. And the cops could hurl allegations around as much as they liked. Nothing would stick.

The take-away
Ange nursed her latte. Manna from heaven.

The goodie bag at the show had soothed her wearied brow. Alex had fumbled the pass but she still caught it before anything dropped out.

$10,000 in cash. Call it a down payment, he had smirked.

Lucky she had been holding Jim’s mobile phone on Tuesday when the call came in. Enough time to arrange a catch up to chat about Jim’s untimely departure.

Enough time to remove the mobile phone, and wipe the keys of digitalis before disposing of it into the Yarra.

That paper cut had sped up his reaction. The poison had gone straight into the blood stream.

Not ideal to have him collapse a metre away but the IBS could have stuffed the whole thing up.

This was far neater.

And she’d finally got the job that Jim had promised was coming to her.

Not a bad day’s work really.

So rare these days to get satisfaction on the job.

The End

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Time for a reality check

Having decided that all current reality TV is utter rubbish, I am making a request to my kind readers to suggest some better options. To get the ball rolling, what about the following:

Big mortgage - where a bunch of cash constrained folk vie to develop a credible family budget that doesn't go into the red each month yet keeps the mortgage payments rolling into the bank.

Toddler taming - where a sane person is put into a room with a bunch of toddlers who have been deprived of snacks, their normal afternoon sleep and Thomas the tank engine - and comes out feeling like they would really like to have a large family.

You get the picture. What more edifying television options can you suggest ?

Run for cover - mummy is foaming at the mouth

Colleagues have learnt to run for cover when mummified gets that glint in her eye and says warningly - "I feel a blog coming on..."

This morning's offering relates to the absolute moo c*w on my train to work. Shouting into her mobile phone, she was busy telling some poor soul at the other end that he had to move to the other company or accept a redundancy.

She laughed at his objections, ridiculed his obvious anxiety and clearly thought she was role modelling a "tough but fair" management style.

On what planet does someone have a conversation with their staff in such an environment ? On what planet does someone act with such a lack of respect for another human being ? What is the name of that planet and when can she move there ? And can we all chip in to pay the fare ?

After recounting the tale to my mate "D", he said that what I should have said when she hung up the phone was - "Great work, what's your next plan ? Invade Poland ?"

Anyone else heard any particularly vile, hilarious, annoying, frantically cute conversations yelled into a mobile phone lately ? Please share as you see fit

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

To mash-up, smoosh etc etc...

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, you are expecting a cute piece on mashed potatoes, little fella with stuff liberally smeared across face, torso, hair blah, blah, blah.

Indeed, this is a regular occurance in our house but I have just come across this: A mashup is a website or web application that uses content from more than one source to create a completely new service. I had no idea.

Apparently, content used in mashups is typically sourced from a third party via a public interface or API. Other methods of sourcing content for mashups include Web feeds (e.g. RSS or Atom) and JavaScript.
Much the way blogs revolutionised online publishing, mashups are revolutionizing web development by allowing anyone to combine existing data from sources like eBay, Amazon.com, Google, Windows Live and Yahoo! in innovative ways.

Geez, you live and learn... If anyone knows of any particularly good examples of this, I would be most interested to hear. An obvious opportunity exists for Seb and Schnubelhopper to create one for Seb's bid for Prime Ministership of England but I am keen to hear of others.

Chile vs Gold extraction - which would you prefer ?

Dear friends who care about our earth. Judge for yourself if you want
To take action.

In the Valle de San Felix, the purest water in Chile runs from 2
rivers, fed by 2 glaciers.

Water is a most precious resource, and wars will be fought for it.

Indigenous farmers use the water, there is no unemployment, and they
Provide the second largest source of income for the area.

Under the glaciers has been found a huge deposit of gold, silver and
other minerals. To get at these, it would be necessary to break, to
destroy The glaciers - something never conceived of in the history of
the world - and to make 2 huge holes, each as big as a whole mountain,
one for extraction and one for the mine's rubbish tip.

The project is called PASCUA LAMA. The company is called Barrick Gold.

The operation is planned by a multi-national company, one of whose
members is George Bush Senior.

The Chilean Government has approved the project to start this year,

The only reason it hasn't started yet is because the farmers have got a
temporary stay of execution.

If they destroy the glaciers, they will not just destroy the source of
especially pure water, but they will permanently contaminate the 2
rivers so they will never again be fit for human or animal consumption
because of the use of cyanide and sulphuric acid in the extraction process.

Every last gram of gold will go abroad to the multinational company and
Not one will be left with the people whose land it is. They will only
be left with the poisoned water and the resulting illnesses.

The farmers have been fighting a long time for their land, but have
been forbidden to make a TV appeal by a ban from the Ministry of the

Their only hope now of putting brakes on this project is to get help
From international justice.

The world must know what is happening in Chile. The only place to start
changing the world is from here.

We ask you to circulate this message amongst your friends in the
following way.

Please copy this text, paste it into a new email adding your signature
And send it to everyone in your address book. Please, will the 100th
person To receive and sign the petition, send it to
noapascualama@yahoo.ca to be forwarded to the Chilean Government.

No to Pascua Lama Open-cast mine in the Andean Cordillera on the
Chilean-Argentine frontier.

We ask the Chilean Government not to authorize the Pascua Lama project
To protect the whole of 3 glaciers, the purity of the water of the San
FelixValley and El Transito, the quality of the agricultural land of
the region of Atacama, the quality of life of the Diaguita people and
of the whole population of the region.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Oooh, that Nigella Lawson, she is handy with a spatula

Gotta love the roast vegetables. Perfect for that "too exhausted, want to blob in front of brainless television - but not reality TV, never reality TV" night.
Take, several potatoes, some carrots, a bit of pumpkin, anything else in the fridge of a veggie nature that hasn't already got its own micro universe of mould. Go to the garden, cut off some rosemary. Chop rosemary and veggies roughly, toss into baking dish, slick it up with a really good olive oil and whack into the oven at 180 degrees centigrade (sorry, no idea what this is in farenheit) for about 30 minutes.
Take tongs and turn veggies over at about the 20 minute mark. A bit of sea salt, a few twists of the pepper grinder and Bob's your uncle.
Too easy - now I can go watch Grand Designs

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Corporate life blows, and I don't care who knows

Now obviously, this is not mummified writing this post. She would never use such vulgar language. Nor would she ever have a negative thought about a rude senior manager in the organisation she works for.

So this is clearly being written by someone else entirely. Possibly an evil twin, or a burglar who has broken into mummified's house with the sole intent of ignoring the stereo and posting on this blog. Someone anyway who is not mummified.


not mummified

I'm back jack


Well, I have been lying low for a little while and many thanks to my lovely fellow bloggers who enquired after my health. I wrote a silly piece of fluff a couple of posts ago (not fuff, fuff is a woman of substance) about the Da Vinci code and someone I hadn't had a comment from before wrote a rather nasty one. The words "paranoid" and various other unkindnesses were used. I get all comments emailed to me direct so when I opened my outlook for my email, I felt as though I had been belted rather hard across the chops (chops=jaw=where your choppers/teeth are). Fortunately, he had subsequently decided to remove it so it wasn't on my actual blog when I went back in.

Now I am the first to admit I am over-sensitive. But I was rather taken aback. When I had finished being taken aback, I felt rather icky. You see, I have had such a good run from you lot, you have been so kind and encouraging that I have become spoilt. And I guess because I do write so directly from my life, I didn't know what to do when I was initiated into the world of mean comments. So, like a wimp, I hid for a while and licked my wounds.

However, they are now healed so I hope to be writing more, reading your blogs and making useful/silly/fun comments.

mummified was mortified (but isn't now)

Thursday, May 18, 2006

bird song

(sung in a sweet voice)
"ah ooo, ah ooo, la la la la, oooooooaaaaaaahhhh, "giggle", "giggle", la la la la la, woooooooooo"

Yes nature lovers, it is the love call of the rare spotted little fella. Nestled in his native habitat - his cot, he sings to his mummy trying to break her spirit after bed time so she will come to him to give him yet another cuddle (3 million and 59) and some more stories.

Many mummies (mommies) have buckled under the pressure of such seductive lyricism. Even the strongest have crumbled. Not I, I have sat down at the computer to blog instead.

What a hard-hearted mummified......

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Da Vinci - Da Sminchy

Having neither read the book nor seen the film, I feel more than qualified to spout off, at length about the Da Vinci Code and its real meaning. Cobbling together glimpses of TV news programs, a hald read article in "The Spectator" and a piccie and caption or too from the local broadsheet "The Age", I have come to the following conclusions:

a) it is just a huge money making exercise (well duh ! I hear you say)
b) the more Hollywood and its media acoloytes trash Christianity, the better chance they have of people seeking meaning in their lives in other ways (like shopping - aka retail therapy - I own, therefore I am)
c) No one would dream of abusing Islam in the way we constantly do Christianity - maybe Muslims are better at getting stroppy when it does happen.
d) no, I am not advocating censorship just sick of Christianity being the whipping boy ALL THE TIME
d) I am only adding fuel to the fire and creating more hype for Dan Brown.

Darn it

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Hot date - way hey hey

Oh ho ho, I hear you thinking. Finally, a bit of smutty stuff from mummified. A bit of rumpy pumpy, snogging, other assorted sexy stuff.

As if. Like I'm going to tell you lot anything about that.

It was a good date though. We drove to the Yarra Valley, a winery area about one hour from Melbourne and headed to the local produce store where they do the best, and I mean the best, goat's cheese. A glass of marsanne, some smoked trout and cheese, local sourdough bread and a fantastic view over verdant pastures and undulating hills. Very mellow.

It is Autumn here (yes, our down-under seasons are upside down, as you would expect) and the gold and russet vines are the most beautiful sight. I love Autumn - crisp air and bright blue skies.

Monday, May 08, 2006

For what we are about to receive....

may the lord make us truly grateful. This was what we used to say at the table before eating lunch (dinner) when I was at school as a kid.

This morning I woke to the news that the 2 miners who have been trapped underground (after an earth tremor caused a cave-in) in Tasmania for 14 days have been freed. Apparently this story has run in Europe and the US some some of you may know what I am talking about.

Anyway, in Australia we held our collective breaths hoping that they would be able to get the guys out by careful drilling and using the latest technology. The miners emerged unscathed early this morning our time. You don't get a lot of good news in the media. This was a welcome exception. And we are really, really grateful.


The 12 step program for home-a-holics

Hi, my name is mummified and I am a home-a-holic.
It started so innocently. I'd read the homewares section in my local paper and scan the real estate section admiring all those flash houses with expensive renovations. But that is the thing. Like other home-a-holics, I was unable to contain my addiction and things soon got worse, much worse.
I'd wake up on the couch after a particularly nasty binge and find home magazines strewn all over the floor. "Home beautiful", "Belle", "Grand designs", "Inside Out" etc etc. I felt great shame yet I couldn't seem to stop. If I was in a newsagency (and this seemed to happen regularly), I would been drawn like a moth to a flame to the home improvement section. The next thing I knew, I would be looking at orange sofas, groovy kitchens and glamorous bathrooms.
I accept that I need help. I have looked for the equivalent of nicotine patches for home-a-holics but no one stocks them. I have tried going cold turkey but then I end up looking at real estate on the internet. This is a cry for help - how can I stop this shocking obsession from taking over my life ?

Sunday, May 07, 2006

My son, the vampire...

Look, I thought Keanu Reeves was cute in that lame Dracula movie with Winona "light fingers" Ryder and Gary what's his name a while back too.
And I have always been a sucker (sorry) for a good vampire flick but the utter agony of having my son's eye teeth (aka pointy little fangs at the top) puncture his gums to come through properly.... well, it was like the night of the undead. Well, if not actually the undead then certainly the "wish I had been dead" - dead to the world and asleep. But no, Mr wailing banshee - aka little fella - was not having any of that nonsense. No way babeee. He was screaming so loudly over a four hour period that I thought the cops were going to break down the door at any minute assuming he was being murdered.
By that point I was in a major panic. Forget the urbane, wise-cracking mummy of yore, I had broken into a sweat thinking he had yet another middle ear infection (stick the pointy end of an old fashioned mathematical compass into your ear and jab as hard as possible to simulate the effect). So a call to the locum who turned up at 2am and pronounced him as having a nasty head cold and possibly teeth coming through. You know, normally I would be embarrassed at having made a fuss and called a doctor out when it didn't turn out to be an actual medical emergency but at that point, I was so wrung out that I just paid the exorbitant fee on my Visa without a peep. I explained that we were going to be flying on a plane the next morning just to check this would be OK.
Nope - not OK. So a trip planned about 5 months ago to visit the rellies (aka relatives) in Western Australia was up in smoke. Not to worry - the nice people at frequent flyer points for Qantas are letting us keep the tickets to use another time. (They were very nice about the 2:30am phone call to cancel).
mummified - quite zombified

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Pink is the new black

Ok - let me explain. Pink is the new black. No, this is not a fashion statement.
Mummified has been watching the zeitgeist - tricky little sucker that it is - and has decided that it is time for a change. Inside rather than outside. For too long we have been surrounded by traditional media banging on to women about what to wear, how to wear it, why you are a hopeless loser if you don't etc etc...
ENOUGH already. Black is not the new black, brown is not the new black and navy can just go get a life. Trying to be good is the new black. Trying to lead a decent life and be respectful of other people is the new black. Not vilifying folk because they are different, wear a headscarf, have a different view, is the new black.
I am sick to death of hearing "hate" bandied about - in the papers, on the radio, on TV. As an omnipotent mummified (remember, I got crowned in my last post), I decree that we should all be more tolerant of others and try to find what we have in common rather than judging each other so harshly. Here endeth the lesson.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Her Royal Mumminess

It has come to my attention that there is unease amongst certain members of the British public about their royal family. As a kind and munificent (or mummy-nificent if you prefer) gesture, I have decided to offer myself as an acting Queen while the British people sort out how their new Republic will work.
A few things will have to change immediately.
First, I am not really one for public walk-abouts or appearances so I will ask Archie the Inventor (from BBC program - Balanory- that my son adores) to create a hologram that waves regally whenever required and smiles nicely. He already has experience doing clever things with cardboard rolls and squeegy bottles so this should be a cinch.
Second, while all the real estate is rather lovely, I really wouldn't feel comfortable using any of it so will sell it off (OK, I may keep a small pied a terre in London and a little cottage up in Scotland). Money will be used for the socially disadvantaged, little kiddies, education and hospitals. And magically, there will be really good people to manage all these things so no money is wasted, absconded with etc etc and everyone lives happily ever after.
Third, I will keep Charles on as an environmental consultant and maker of quality organic snacks. He will have to make do on a much lower salary but I think this is fair as he should be paid based on his skill sets rather than his current status as the potential king. The current role doesn't seem to make him very happy and I get the feeling that he is not convinced he would do a good job anyway.
Fourth, I haven't decided what I should do fourth. Suggestions please on the back of an online envelope.
mummified is crownified

Friday, April 21, 2006

Baby chinos all round

In celebration of it being the weekend and various other happy things, there will be baby chinos all round. These are tiny cups of milk froth with a little star drawn in chocolate syrup on the top.
Little people like my son, like to chug one of these back as fast as possible leaving him with a very fetching milk moustache and goatee. If I stuck a beret on his head and dressed him in black, he could be a mini beatnik.
We are celebrating for the following reasons:
a) my son has become an artist - I bought him crayons during the week and he has being laboriously colouring in.
b) he has not yet tried to transfer the crayon to the wall/floor etc - I know this is coming but I am pleased that it is not quite yet.
c) a very nice girl I know - Mim - is having a baby soon and is rather thrilled
d) a friend I had sort of lost touch with - Caroline - emailed me out of the blue - (best friends at 10 - therefore very precious person)
e) for once, am not feeling utterly crushed by all the stuff I should have done, have to do, failed to do perfectly... etc etc

mummified is happified

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

How can I guide him towards a decent latte

One of a mummy's most important jobs is to gently but firmly guide her children on the right path. Consideration for others, sharing, telling the truth where it is likely to be at all beneficial to yourself and may involve a chocolate reward, kindness and compassion - you know, the kind of stuff. Yet I find myself unable to decide how best to advise the wee fella (small boy) how best to behave in cafes.

I had this chat this morning with the staff at Sokolat (not free advertising 'cos I doubt any of you would know where it was). Some cafes, it is DIY - you go to the fridge - pull out a beverage or bevvie as we call them here (why we shorten everything I don't know) and then pay. They fit in this category. But in some places, you mustn't touch the fridge, you must sit down at a table and an authorised fridge opener with authorised fridge opening credentials - possibly a masters or a doctorate of some sort will get out your drink and eventually bring it over. And in others, you are supposed to know that no-one can sit down until they have ordered at the counter. In fact someone will come over to the table to tell you to order at the counter if you sit down and do not do so quickly enough (they won't take your order of course, just tell you off).

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. I want consistency, I want written instructions (nicely laid out - no spelling errors and preferably a simple and clean typeface. I really hate that froofy old fashioned over the top, quite twee, pretending to be 18th century stuff), and I want a very large latte - with 2 sugars - yes, I know, white death but hey, if you gotta go, you gotta go. Here endeth the rant.

Do you think I should give up coffee ?

Thursday, April 13, 2006

watch out - choccie avalanche ahead

Ah yes, Easter. Hot cross buns and chocolate, the resurrection and chocolate. The end of Lent and chocolate. Not that I'm obsessed at all - mmm Lindt - it is just an integral part of the whole chocolate - sorry, Easter - thing.

This year the little fella will participate in his first Easter egg hunt down at my parent's place in the country. As the youngest of the Grandchildren, he will be vying for chocolate with his big cousins. Mind you, he is pretty quick on his little tippy toes by now so may find that an advantage.

He has also sensibly employed an Easter egg search consultant - me - who will be spying out easter egg opportunities, defining the most profitable easter egg segments and formulating the best go to market/easter egg strategy.

We'll let you know how we do. And if it doesn't work out, I have a stash of Plan B eggs in the kitchen cupboard - I always like to have a plan B.

Have a good Easter everyone. May your chocolate overfloweth....

mummified - about to be choccie-fied

Just like a kiddie only better

OK - frankly, I think some of the suggestions for "just like a kiddie only better" rights were just as good as the original post. Although I am loathe to play favourites (a cardinal rule for all mummies), I will break it just this once (rules were made to be broken and cliches are really useful).
Nanuk and Fuff both win first prize for their cheeky and tasty suggestions.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Wanted - the same deal he gets

OK, here is a list of stuff that little kiddies get that should be provided to all adults by request.

1) lots of cuddles from kind people who love us - on tap, 24/7
2) a drink of our favourite beverage wherever and whenever we want it. (Kiddies only get milk, juice or water but adults can demand, say, a mojito or vodkatini with decent olives at a moment's notice)
3) A special bedtime song at the end of the day that relaxes us, makes us forget our cares and makes us drowsy (They seriously have one of these at 19.30 on Nickelodean Junior on cable and little tacker loves it)
4) A number of key people who adore us and would do anything for us, including defend us should the need arise - I pity the kiddie who lays a finger on my child - by the time I have finished with him, he will have nightmares until well into his teens
5) Free accommodation, all clothes, beanies, boots and slippers provided
6) Someone to carry us about when our little legs get tired
7) Someone who loves us enough to wake up at ungodly hours when we are upset and need comforting.

Any other suggestions ?

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Let the chocolate wars begin

This week is the start of the local creche (childcare) fundraising season. It is carefully timed so as not to clash with the local school fundraising season. Each parent is given a box of chocolates and told to start selling. There are 48 to a box.

Mummy took this in her stride and did some of the most shameless pressure selling every seen anywhere in the history of the world and almost certainly the universe. None of this - leave it in the lunchroom at work and hope folk will buy eventually - oh no.

I don't expect the mountain to come to Mohammad. No, Mohammad must go to the mountain.

Most folks were only too happy to buy a chocolate or two. But there were some fence sitters. Feckless, indecisive, chocolate-neutral, wishy washy, fence sitters.

I did my best pitiful look (and after major sleep deprivation this week, it was a truly pathetic sight) and said - "think of the kiddies". The whole box was gone in under an hour.

Hubby has now got wind of this and being a competitive bear (just like his wife) reckons he can sell a box or two at his work. The gauntlet has been tossed down. Who will win the choccie wars ? (Hint - back a woman every time on this one - if we can't sell it, we will probably just scoff it down ourselves)

mummified - quite satisfied (and frankly - getting a bit on the smug side on this one)

Sunday, April 02, 2006

And our word for today is guk

You might imagine that "guk" connotes something icky, a little yukky, on the irksome side. But no, a guk is a duck. And Baa, is bye. Mumumumumum - well, that stands for mummified. And dadadada - is not an art movement. The little bloke is starting to talk. Most of it is babble although I always make sure I look suitably impressed and tell him what a clever little bloke he is whenever he does it.

And on that note, I can hear the little fella surfacing after his midday nap. Better go

The tiny terror tyke

This afternoon's stream of consciousness is the answer to: what happens after the beloved kiddy learns to walk and breaks into a gallop ?

1) No dog anywhere is safe. Having not yet understood about being gentle, doggies get slapped, biffed, their ears get pulled and several attempts to remove their tails are unsucessful, although not from lack of trying. The doggies remain stoic throughout - bless them.

2) The storm water drain (it has a proper name which my hubby uses but I can never remember it). You know, the thingummy, jiggy, outside where the washing machine water goes after the washing machine is finished with it.

Anyway, that thingy wotsit, takes on an irresistible appeal for the little fella no matter how often I try to discourage him. Small fella climbs into it like a flash, locates dog poo, smears it on hands and face. Then a couple of energetic stomps and he has broken through the grate at the bottom and is semi stuck, his slippers awash with detergent, his cords (trousers) sodden and squealing like a stuck pig.

Mummy whisks small boy out, utterly several choice, un-mummy-like words, takes deep breath and hoicks him off to the bathroom. One warm bath, soothing words, some cuddles, a fresh outfit, some dirty clothes in wash and bottle of milk later and things calm down.

3) He can race into the playroom where the computer is and turn it off faster than you can say jack - rab.....

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Jack and Jill went up the hill...

and met George, who appears to be in free fall (in the polls perhaps ?)


you can even move him if he gets stuck...

tee hee

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Top ten

Righto - here are my fave writers, in no particular order

Jeanette Winterson
Kerry Greenwood
Angela Carter
Geraldine Brooks
Milan Kundera
Siri Hustvedt
Julian Barnes
Rohinton Mistry
Alice Munro
Carol Shields

Anyone else I should have included Tea and Seb ?

Friday, March 17, 2006

Well, would you buy it ? I mean, really

Righto, mummified has been out trawling the aisles of various stores this week (well, its kinda hard to avoid when you are in charge of the weekly grocery shop). She has also been out and about at the local liquor store, pharmacist (drug store) and pet outlet.

God mummified, this is the dullest, most dreary post you've ever written - do get to the point....


Yes well, my point is that I saw some truly stupid products and wanted to have a good moan about them to you.

OK - automated pet feeder bowl. yes, I understand the concept and that they are practical but this one had a voice recording option. You could leave a message something like " Hey Rover, yeah, sure you look cute and I used to spend lots of time with you - playing, giving you a back rub, that kinda thing - but now I am bored and have decided to leave you for a while. But I know you will be deeply reassured by this trite voice recording and won't feel abandoned in the least. Now eat your dinner ! "

Hummer eau de toilette. Listen, the only Hummer I know anything about are those big army vehicles that Arnie and various rappers feel the need to cruise around town in. "Mmm, Hummer for men - when you are looking for the kind of guy who'd run you down and not even notice your squashed remains".

Last one - citrus flavoured champagne. When you are sooooooo drunk that you don't care what it tastes like anyway.

There was a BBC series a while back called grumpy old men, then grumpy old women. I could star in "grumpy mummies - they're sleep deprived and don't suffer fools gladly - or citrus champagne - be afraid, be very afraid...."

mummified - this should be rectified

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Gratefully alive - not the grateful dead - that's a band

Cynics beware, this is going to be a very positive post. I may even come over all "Oprah" on you. And this is no bad thing.

In the last 2 days I have had friends/colleagues experience the following -
a beloved parent having a serious stroke,
a 20 year marriage breaking up and limited access to his son who he adores
a friend whose partner has breast cancer that has spread and now reached her brain and there ain't no drugs for that as yet.

So, this is a "BE HAPPY" post.

So you feel grumpy that there is no more instant coffee when you get to work - BE HAPPY - it was lousy anyway so go out and get a real one !
So your job isn't what you'd like it to be - chill out or do something about it - whining and whinging is not the way to go.
So you are not dating Paris Hilton (this for SC especially) well, you'll just have to date someone who doesn't use the words "so hot" in every sentence. Quel dommage !

I hope I don't sound too self righteous but there is much that we do have, and we so rarely recognise it. I have a colleague who was head girl of her school ( a few years ago now) and, when I was feeling a bit low, she shared with me a speech she wrote when she went back to speech night (like graduation for high school) and addressed her old alma mater.

She talked about constantly seeking out new challenges in all aspects of your life and appreciating everyone you meet - that we all have something worthwhile to contribute (OK, OK maybe not those folk dealing hard drugs to minors ). And, in the very short time I have been blogging, it has opened my eyes to a whole new world of other people's perspectives and also, how kind and encouraging complete strangers can be.

May you recognise the wonderful things you have and appreciate them, because you cannot count on them always being there.

With warmest thoughts to those folk who are managing their way through tough times.

mummified - be satisfied

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Croup is cra*

Have you ever smelt fear ? I have and, frankly, I think it could do with deodorizing. Big time.
Being Australian, there is a swear word in the title and I hope I will not offend any of my gentle readers.

However, we Aussies can be a little , ahem, direct when alarmed and fear does it to me every time.

My little guy has had croup for two weeks. Croup is a filthy, explosive cough that sounds like said indiviual is attempting to regurgitate his internal organs through his mouth. That I can live with. I don't like that it causes him pain - thank you to big pharma for Baby Panadol (like aspirin) - it can be eased. What I HATE is that sometimes he coughs so hard he can't get his breath.

Don't worry, I am writing this after the crisis has passed. Believe me, I would not be anywhere near this computer if he was still ill. After two lots of steroids - cortisone he is back to his happy, cheeky self and the cough has subsided. But it gives me pause. I tend to assume that in our technologically forward society that nothing can ever really harm my beloved (the little one, not the big guy). But I'm wrong.

I'll end here. Now that he is well, he is back trying to turn off the computer when mummy isn't giving him enough attention....

mummified - relieved but tired

Charlie boy

Today we will be talking about Charles. No, not the hapless British royal whose diaries look like being splashed across the tabloids but a less recent bloke (bloke = chap= man in australian colloquial). Charles Rennie Mackintosh - a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll (sorry, I think that was a flashback to the Donny and Marie Osmond show in the 70's. They happen sometimes.)

No, I mean, Charles Rennie MacKintosh, Glasweigan, Architect and art nouveau legend. Yesterday, self, hubbie and toddler caught the express to Bendigo - a former goldfields/ Victorian architecture stronghold about 2 hours from Melbourne.

The Bendigo Art Gallery had been PR chest beating for some time that they had this exhibition and since I am a sucker for the decorative arts - particularly when infused with orientalism - we went.

Well, the pix I had seen in the advance PR were of a particularly fetching writing desk - ebonised mahogany, mother of pearl etc. In fact, I was just short of slavering at the prospect of a vast wodge of such goodies in an arty kind of a way.

What they had was good. I like a bit of arts and crafts as much as the next sheila. However, I think it was the bit, bit that made me cross.

I know that minimalism has its fans but a few brass mirrors, a candle stick, 4 chairs, some video footage and a desk does not an entire exhibition make. I love my country but honestly, sometimes the things we get out here are limited, to say the least.

That said, you have to admire the Glasgow Style. Severe, reductionist furniture that still looks modern - 100 plus years later. The seductive curves and exagerated proportions of art nouveau's paeon to mother nature. Did you know that his most fervent supporter was a lady entrepeneur who had him design a number of tea rooms for her ? No, neither did I.

No smarty pants ending to this post. Google him if you want to know more.
I'll be seeing you.....

mummified is artified

Friday, March 03, 2006

Necessity is the mummy of reinvention

Chatting to my neighbour this morning, I was horrified to realise that I have become a cliche.
I mean, I had always had a tendency to lean towards bad puns but cliche-dom.... this was a new low.

For I have become the submerged mummy. Yes, I realise it sounds like a bad sequel with Brendan Fraser as the lead and lots of special effects. In fact, it is far worse. Mundane even.

I used to be mummified, corporate chick about town - off to Sweden, London, France for work, must check my mobile, go, go go. Career defined identity. And I never expected it to change.

Now there are aspects of that life that I am happy to relinquish, the jet lag, dealing with some corporate crisis after hours, the sheer gut wrenching graft I used to put in day after day.

But I spent so long being that person that I am not entirely sure who I am now. Therefore, I seem to be going through some sort of frankstein type consciousness raising. Which, frankly, is quite unnerving.

I shall doubtless emerge, at some future point, butterfly-like into a new form. However, right now I feel like a lumpy caterpillar. Does anyone have a leaf ?

Schlock, horror - the games are coming to town

Yes well, you'd be cranky too if your town was about to be swamped by the Commonwealth Games and all attendant acolytes (aka athletes).

It is bad enough living in a country where being able to spell antidisestablishment is regarded as appalling and utter dingbat fruitwits (being a mummified mummy my vocab has been dry cleaned recently so as not to traumatise the toddler) are regarded as role models. I loathe sport, I really do.

Sorry SC, I realise the pic you use on your blog is of a rugger chap. But at least you had the good sense to behead him. Very Henry Vlll.

And I am not being a raving anti-monarchist. No disrespect is meant to Her Maj.

I simply don't see the point. I am prepared to be flexible and even emotional about the Olympic Games which is a far better representation of the global village (and in some less salubrious cases, the innovative uses of horse steroids). The Commonwealth Games just seem so second rate.

I really can't see the point of beating your chest and making He-Man like noises when we beat Canada at say, swimming. Or when they beat us at, say, curling (truly hilarious stuff). I mean, I am as competitive as the next chick - actually probably more - but world class does actually mean, world class not - oooh, we beat the Tongans.

No doubt I will be regarded as anti-Australian for not salivating at the prospect of the Games hitting our shores in about a week/fortnight ?? But, hey, I was the only kid with a reserved cushion in the school library at lunchtime so I reckon I will cope.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Well, well, well.

Mummified finally went out for a big night on the town to a big name restaurant in Melbourne that shall remain nameless so that no one can trace my general greedy guts-ness.

Yes, I know it is not a word but it is now, so there, because I said so, go to your room.


When did food get so tricksy ? The service was fabulous but there was foam this, jelly that, sweetness, sweetness, sweetness. Put chocolate back where it belongs I say - in a box from Lindt.

Is it my jaded mummified palate ? Have I sunk to a new low and now regard a fish finger and mash as the height of haute cuisine ? I don't think so.

Perhaps it is the trickery that annoys me. I want my food simpler. The fresh ingredients we have here simply don't need that kind of adornment. Some sure, I am not advocating a return to the cave, but it is jolly distracting.

Having said that, the pork belly with the crackling was to die for. The foie gras - fabulous and try not to think about the goose. Coconut icecream - a bit watery but pretty good. The soft cheese - so gorgeously ooozy and creamy it was obscene.

Oh yeah, and it was all very, very rich - hence the 2am posting while my stomach recovers.

For those in the know - go the 5 course degustation - you will not be able to manage more without having to get assistance from your chair. A bien tot


Friday, February 03, 2006

Harriet Houdini - a doggy tail

Harri was bored and sick of her bed
so she snuck out the gate to play up instead

Harri Houdini climbed on the roof,
looked down and thought
oh dear, I'm a goose

Harri Houdini jumped in the pool,
swam for a bit and felt very cool

Harri Houdini hid under the house,
dug a big hole and found a small mouse

Harri Houdini was now very tired
so she popped through the laundry
and went back inside

Sanity seems to be back - or at least on a flying visit. Must be the fact that most of his molars are now in place and the fact that the little guy is now sleeping properly - bless him.

Was going through some stuff and found a poem I wrote during the delirium of the first 6 months. I kind of like it. It is dedicated to Great Uncle Geoff who, I found out today, wanted to be a poet but ended up working the land before becoming a journo

Heat seethes in through unknowing cracks
the fan pitter patter putts, trailing off like a defeated schoolmaster

My son guzzles at my breast
vigorous appreciation
expressed in happy snorts