Monday, August 31, 2009

Oh how I miss thee broadband!

I'm sitting in a library right now. No, no...don't walk away. I promise this isn't going to be yet another book filled diatribe. But I really am sitting in a library. I came here for the free wireless internet. I had hoped to get some pictures uploaded that I've been taking for the last couple of weeks. You see, one of the pitfalls of us being cheap and leeching off of my mother's wireless signal at home is that here in NZ it's expensive to get unlimited broadband internet. Here, you pay so much per month for a certain amount of bandwidth. I know! I was shocked too. So, mum pays for 3GBs per month. Which is all well and good until Hotty Hubby and his cohorts get on Skype forever and drink and chat. Apparently that sucks the bandwidth in a big way. Who knew? After that 3GBs is used, her internet speed (and therefore ours) drops down to dial-up.

*shudder*

This doesn't usually present too much of a problem if all I'm trying to do is type up a blog post and submit it, or surf a few pages that aren't too heavy in graphics that take a dog's year to load. But when I have my own photos that I want to upload to Facebook so that all and sundry can see them, it's bloody annoying! Hence my library idea.

But what fresh hell is this? The library server will not allow me to upload any pictures! Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Sweet F All! Very annoying and I stopped myself throwing a hissy fit right in the middle of the library purely because there was a sweet little old lady already staring at me like I was from another planet. This might have had something to do with the fact that I was grunting and huffing and puffing. Or maybe she just fancies me. I never thought to ask.

But MadWoman...why don't you just stop being a cheap ass and get your own internet at home? Hmm. I hear you. That would certainly be the upstanding citizen thing to do. And I totally would. It's not a matter of money really. Ok, well it is. But shhh. You're supposed to be on my side! Really it's more a matter of the fact that the guy who owned the house before us was a total tech geek and has wires strung all over the house for all sorts of gadgets. There's even a major HUB in the walk in closet (I have a walk in closet!!) in our room. But even with all these wires running through my house....not even ONE of them is a freakin' PHONE LINE!! And apparently to get broadband here, which is essentially ADSL, there needs to be a phone line. So, until we can pay to get a phone line installed in the house (which, hey, would also allow us to have a home phone!!), we are up a proverbial creek without the requisite paddle.

*sigh*

There are few adjustments that we have had to make since we moved, but this internet thing really gets my goat. I can live with the fact that we only have four crappy tv channels. In fact, that has been rather a blessing. But internet? It's like taking away my lifeline when you drop me to dial up.

How do people cope??? And HOW am I meant to upload my damn pictures?!

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Saturday, August 29, 2009

Rainy day ponderings

It's still technically winter here in kiwi land. So while all of you are enjoying days by the pool, beach holidays and magnificent tans, we here in NZ are enjoying some wild variations on the weather that would make Dorothy shake her head in wonderment. Just in the last week we have had wind that had me trying to work out the probability of it turning into a hurricane and carrying away my beautiful house. Once I allowed that thought into my head, I of course started to think of some wicked witches I could land it on and steal their ruby slippers. But I'm not that fond of shoes, so I let the thought go.

Although it was incredibly windy, the sky was still blue and the sun shone through like a beacon. Laundry was washed and hung out to dry. An hour later it was able to be folded and put away. There are some benefits to the weather extremes.

And of course, as in most places, it's different across (or is up and down?) the country. My younger sister thinks she's tormenting me with how warm it is in Auckland. Still other people think I should feel sorry for them because it's cold further south. Sorry folks, I really don't.

Today, it's raining here. (I know, I know, I sound like one of those people who can't think of anything to discuss at a cocktail party so they resort to weather. I promise to get to the point soon!) As I sit here and look out my living room window at the rain pouring down, and listen to the sounds it makes as it hits our roof like a snare drum, I can't help but marvel at the beauty of it all. The grass is glistening with the raindrops and shining its 15 different shades of green. The trees are blowing in a gentle breeze and you can almost see everything sucking up the water into reserves to be used later as we move into Spring and Summer. Positively amazing.

(I think this is where I slowly get to my point)

One of the best side effects of the rain is the perceived inability to leave the house. It's raining? Oh well, I guess we're housebound today then. It's an unfair thing to attribute to the rain and yet we all do it. I'm as guilty of it as the next person although even I have been known to take the kids out to splash in the puddles.

Today though, we have succumbed to the rain. And it's fantastic. The spawnlets aren't at each other's throats and are instead playing well together. Boy spawn was given a Hot Wheels track for his birthday and they are experimenting with each of the three billion cars that he owns to see which will travel the fastest, slowest, best down the track. Girl spawn is enjoying her new CD player and blasting Hannah (gag) Montana at full volume while she writhes around her room singing off key but nevertheless enjoying herself. They have spent the morning (while Hotty Hubby and I pretended we were still sleeping) making up games and acting out scenes from what I can only imagine are their lives in a parallel universe. There has been laughter and imagination, shouts of amazement and many a jubilant "hurrah!". For once, there has been no demands to veg out in front of the tv (helped along of course by the fact that we currently only have four not very good channels).

More than anything though, they have been reading. (Aha! My point!) Since I was a child, I have been witness to my mother curled up with a book more often than not. This is something my own children have been party to. Can't find mum? She's probably reading in a corner somewhere. (Not that I hide from my children often....just every second day.) And because of this passion for reading that the people in my family seem to have etched into our very genes, my spawn have developed their own love of the written word.

The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it. ~James Bryce

Girl spawn, now 7, can read to herself. She devours books as if they were a lifeline thrown out to a drowning man or water offered to someone who just spent weeks crossing the dessert. She long ago graduated from the simple picture books with few words to ones where she has to use her own imagination a little bit more. Boy spawn, only 5, is just learning the sounds that the letters make and how to put them all together. But still at bedtime he will happily curl up with a book until he is "all done read-ING!" and settles into a deep sleep. The rain has sent them scurrying for their bean bags to read. To each other, to us and in their cute little heads.

When I met Hotty Hubby, he rarely read anything beside a Dungeons & Dragons book or the tv guide. Now, he is as likely as anyone to be caught with his nose deep into the fantasy worlds portrayed in the novels he so loves.

I think it is obvious to most people how I feel about words. Writing them or reading them, I love them all equally. I have read the classics and the "difficult" ones like War & Peace (good book, I highly recommend it!). The "deeper" the book, the more engrossed I found myself. Then, I started working nights and suddenly had no energy for the intricate books. Instead I moved back into my old habits of the murder mysteries and vampire books. They were good, they allowed me to read, but they were easy. Too easy. As entertaining as they were, I craved something more. Sadly, it was that something more that I could not have because of my tired brain.

Nor could I continue to add to my own books. Although for years I have attempted to write my own novel, it never gets there. After the spawnlets made their appearance, I turned to children's books. No luck.

If there's a book you really want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it. ~Toni Morrison

I no long work nights. I am slowly moving back to reading books with a little more substance. Sure, I still throw a few mindless crap books in there - you need to even out the work after all. But it's the substance I want. I started to put together a list of books I wanted to read. As I was doing this, I noticed a book list in the sidebar of Playgroups Are No Place For Children. I added them to my list. Then I found this and this and my list has evolved to be over 100 books long. I have no idea how long it will take me to read them all. But I still need more. I am craving book titles to add to my ever expanding list.


So (and maybe this is really my point?), I need you all to leave a comment with some of your favourite book titles. And if you put anything vampirish (that includes Twilight...read it multiple times, don't need to again), I will find you and make you watch Lambchops sing-a-long over and over again.

Over to you now my friends. I know someone out there has some awesome book titles to throw my way.


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Wednesday, August 19, 2009

And we (almost) have lift off!

Today, I went to the bank. I withdrew a relatively substantial amount of money. (Actually it might seem like a paltry sum to some of you, because you might be millionaires or even billionaires, but to me it was substantial and that's really all that matters when you get right down to it, not whether it was a big deal to you but if it was a big deal to me. Right? Anyway..) I walked from the bank to the store, found the girl I'd been dealing with a week ago, and said "I want that one".

At the time, I wasn't really aware of where I was pointing and young Sam (a hot wee thing who looked like she'd rather die than be at work right now and quite honestly looked a tad hungover) gave me a look like I had suddenly sprouted another head at some funny angle from my shoulder or a giant zit had magically appeared on my nose accompanied by the tinkling of little bells (you know, like in the movies when magic happens?) as she muttered a baffled sounding "erm..?".

Seems I'd been pointing at the rather dashing young man that was standing next to me. Except he hadn't been standing there when I'd first started talking so I'd meant to be pointing at the shelf. (But, if he's up for grabs I'll consider that too.)

Having got Hunky McHunkerson to shift his rather delectable ass over a few feet, I was able to gesture emphatically in the general direction of the product which, for today at least, was enough to hold my attention (I'd come back for him another day).

I could not take my eyes off of it. It's blue, it's hard, it's at least 16 inches long and it lights up when you touch the right button. Are you ready for this? I love showing off pictures of my new toys (I think Cape Cod Gal has had too much of influence on me)

TA DA!!



Yes folks, my new BLUE Dell Laptop. It's a beautiful piece of technology that will not only allow me to continue to regale you with crap about what's going on in the world of Mad Woman, but will also allow me to talk to my super important peeps on Skype. More importantly, I can be online whenever I want because it is mine. All mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. And I will never again have to drag my ass all the way across the road to my mother's house (picture an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" and that's my life right now, on a slightly smaller scale and upside down because, duh, I'm down under. Well technically I guess that would be Australia, but it's pretty close here in New Zealand. Geographically speaking anyway) to use her computer. Phew.

Isn't it lovely?

Now the more astute amongst you may have noticed that my title says "almost". Sadly folks, even this very blog post has been composed on the computer in Marie's Mum's house. I still have no internet access. We're planning on leeching off mum's wireless signal for awhile because we're cheap bastards, but so far the modem hasn't been moved to a place in her house where we are able to do this. Have no fear though, it will happen. And soon. And then life as you know it will cease to exist because I will have 24/7 access to the online world where I can stalk you and write you crazy notes and comments that will have you wondering why you haven't restricted access to your blog before. And do you know what the answer to that is? Because you love me and you couldn't possibly exist in a world where the Mad Woman's movements were limited and censored.

On that note, I bid you adieu, auf weidersehen, goodbye.....but without the high pitched girly boys and more champagne for me. I am off to nag the mother figure into moving said modem.

**AH! I almost forgot! I'd like to send a big thank you to Mumma Boo, Moonspun, Cape Cod Gal, Frog Dancer, Badass Geek and Bacon Lover for their spectacular guest posts while I was indisposed with my international move (how freakin' cool does that sound eh? In. Ter. National. Like I'm important or something). You guys all rock and I totally appreciate it!

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Sunday, August 16, 2009

103 years and no more time

When I was a little girl, I never realised how lucky I was. Not only did I have two parents but I had grandparents on both sides AND I had a great grandmother. I had Aunts and Uncles and cousins all over the place. I had a giant family and I was loved.

As I got older, and second marriages came into play, my family continued to increase in size. Some of my friends who were in similar situations were astounded that I took it in stride so well but hey, more people means more Christmas presents right? Another thing I realised as I got older was that it was unusual for me to have two sets of grandparents, but even rarer to have a great grandparent who was still alive.

My great-grandmother, Nanny as she was known to us kids, was amazing. She lived in Nova Scotia in a small little town called Pubnico. I suppose, looking back now, her house was really NOT as big as my 6 year old brain thought it was but at the time, and the way it is etched in my memories, that place was HUGE. Even now when I think about her house, I picture it as almost a castle.

I remember the wood stove in the kitchen, and the wonderful smell it created. The "pink room" was my bedroom when we stayed. A pink ruffled comforter and pink cushions. It was a truly girly room and I loved it. It seemed to me that there were a million bedrooms in that house. I know now that it didn't, but when you're 6 or 7 everything is exaggerated isn't it?

As I have gone through the years and gotten to the age where I start thinking about what I'd like my house to have when I finally get a chance to build it, it's Nanny's house that I picture in my head. Most specifically the attic. It was a finished attic and it was beautiful. Also, the garage. Ohhh the treasures that those two rooms held I'm sure. What I wouldn't give to go and investigate - one more time.

My Nanny was fantastic. I was young the last time I saw her. No older than 9 I don't think. She was a funny woman who could make you laugh. She told it how it was. Although my mom and dad have been divorced for many years, to this day if you ask my dad about Nanny he will tell you how amazing she was.

I remember staying in her house, listening to her talk, going for a walk to the post office around the corner to check her mail box. Somehow, I often came away with a little bag of chips out of the deal. I would love to go for a walk with her - one more time.

Nanny was born in 1906. Theodore Roosevelt was President of the US, Wilfred Laurier was Prime Minister of Canada and Edward the 7th was the King. Since her birth, she lived through multiple wars including two World Wars. She saw the invention of the electric washing machine, the bra and television. Racism, riots, raunchy and ridiculous politicians. Technology has continued to advance and the life of the everyday person has changed in ways I'm sure most of us cannot even begin to imagine. I would love to sit on a porch with my Nanny and hear her stories and adventures from decades gone past - one more time.

One more time. We say it all the time. Our children come to us and ask us to read a story - one more time. We play our favourite song on our iPods (I wonder what Nanny would think of that?!) - one more time. We go and visit our best friend or relative - one more time.

But sometimes, there is no more time.

My Nanny passed away this morning, Sunday, August 16th. She was 103 years old. In over 20 years, I haven't made it back to see Nanny. I haven't had another chance to hear her stories or go for a walk or sit on her porch. My opportunity for "one more time" has passed.

I'm sure I will forever regret not making more of an effort to find my way to Nova Scotia to see the woman who was so loved. My only consolation is that I know she lived a full life and got to see so many amazing things before she passed away.

Nanny is survived by her three sons and many grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren (!!). We are all thankful that she can now sit beside her husband (Grampie) and keep watch on us all with his help.

Today is a sad day because she is gone but I know that I will also celebrate the long life that she had.

We'll miss you Nanny - more than my words can ever convey. Rest in Peace!

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Monday, August 10, 2009

Cherry Popping

The last of our guest posters, for now, is the ever exciting Cape Cod Gal from Diamond in the Rough. This is another one where I have to make very sure I'm not eating or drinking anything while I read her stuff because I'm liable to either choke and die a quick and hilarious death, or I ruin clothes and electronics with sprays of Pepsi. Either way, not good.

Today, we're popping her cherry......so enjoy!!

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When Mad Woman contacted me about doing a guest blog I was like, “YEAH!!!!!” I have been a blogger for nearly a year and I’ve never been asked to guest blog. I’m a virgin. So, thanks girl for popping my guest blogging cherry.

After answering her email with a “Hell ya!,” (ugh, that reeks of Sarah Palin) I asked her what should be the subject of my de-virginization. She responded that the topic would be left up to me.

Oh Boy. Big mistake. Unleashing me upon your blog with no boundaries is a big No No. Silly Mad Women. She’s read my blog. She knew better.

So, instead of scaring you all away from this fabulous blog, I will give you the Top Ten Reasons Why You Should NEVER…EVER…ask me to guest blog.

#10. You never know what my mood is. Most of the time I’m happy and horny. But, there are the rare moments when I will suddenly freak out and become Medusa. This is most often brought about by the insensitive assholes that I work with. As a result, I will unleash a torrid flood of verbal diarrhea that will frighten even the hardiest of souls.

#9. You never know what disgusting topic has caught my interest. I most recently described my husbands jock inch and my battle with athletes foot. One has nothing to do with the other. I’m kinky, but not into feet.

#8. Once, I went on vacation and ate 13 corndogs in three days (two of them were a foot long).

#7. My grandfather was a squirrel hunter and actually kept the tails as trophies. I’m 32 years old and haven’t felt that homicidal urge yet.

#6. I am an official sex toy reviewer for Edens Fantasys. I test these toys out and give my readers VERY detailed reviews. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.

#5. On any given day, I may choose to talk about the following subjects: balls, blue penises, pubic hair, (or lack there of), blow jobs, booty calls, porn, the amount of time my husband spends in the bathroom, lesbianism, boobs, periods, strippers, fungus, food and my amazing sex life. I will describe them in great detail and I don’t care if you get grossed out.

#4. I have compared having an orgasm to a great cup of coffee or eating a bacon cheeseburger.

#3. I whine about my boobs all the time. I have none and I want some. A week doesn’t go by when I don’t gripe about my lack of bodacious Ta Ta’s

#2. I masturbate ALOT and I’m always willing to share just how much I do it, when I did it and how it was.

And the #1 reason you should never let me on your blog:

I allow a crazy German woman wax my WooHa every three weeks and just last week she waxed my butt cheek! It was super embarrassing, but I STILL blogged about it.

Good luck in NZ Mad Woman!!! I’ll be here when you get back. Just as crazy as ever and most likely be sunbathing naked while I test out my lately toy!

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Friday, August 7, 2009

What's In A Name??

Our next guest blogger has something .... unusual....in common with me. Boobs. I'll explain more about it another time. For now, I'd like to introduce you to Moonspun of Moonspun Spins. She's funny, she's quirky and she makes me laugh time and again. And she has some things she'd like to teach you all :)

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We all have our own peculiarities and funny statements and phrases and questions in life. As I was mulling over guesting for Meg while she moved her family to the other side of the world, I was thinking about how honored I was to be asked. Because seriously, we all know that she is hilarious and not because she tries, but just because she IS. And I also realized that one of the things I love about reading her blog is how quirky she is. Now I know in a guest post that I am supposed to be me, not Meg. But I wanted to honor her by somehow posting about something that might be a big Meg-like....and hey I am Moonspun and if I am not mistaken, isn't that a moon on her header? l.o.v.e. it!

So I am going to attempt to tell you about some quirky words and phrases I use in everyday life.

Anyway, so on the 3-hour drive home from a weekend trip I said to my hot hubby, RP: "Can I ask you a funny question?" Now I think I started this tradition a couple years ago. It's basically a set up to mean "I am going to ask you something a bit personal, quirky and you need to give me an honest answer." We always have some good discussions from the "funny" questions and they are always pretty reflective. Yesterday's questions, btw, was "How balanced do you think your life is?" What was interesting was that we both had different definitions of what it means to be balanced, but really, that's another post entirely. Oh and actually RP countered with another question which was "What do you miss most about your former life?" (meaning before I met him and was married and not living in Vermont)

"Crappy pancakes". Ok, so when RP and I first started living together he wanted to have pancakes once a week on a weekend day. So one of the first weekends, I am pulling out a recipe and ingredients like flour and eggs to make pancakes while he is pulling out a box of Hungry Man where you just add water...and we wind up looking at each other like "Are you crazy?" He wanted to be the cook, so I wound up shrugging my shoulders and saying "Fine, we'll eat your crappy pancakes." And the phrase just stuck. RP's pancakes are not really crappy...those mixes taste good....it's an affectionate name and I love when our two 9 year old daughters ask on a Saturday for crappy pancakes.

"Damn Dog." Now, I am not really a dog person and part of the hubby package was when he moved in, also came his then 12 year old (now almost 15) austrailian red heeler. She is very sweet and lovable and by all accounts a good dog. What I dislike most about having a dog is that you can't leave them for days alone like you can cats. They are much more high maintenance. So one time when hubby and I were trying to figure out some evening plans early in our domicilic relationship and he said "Which of us is going home to let out the dog?'" I unceremoniously sputtered about how I didn't give flying "something" about the DAMN DOG. And thus, another moonspun phrase was born. I love damn dog and I am not afraid to say it, she's been a faithful companion, but even this morning after our weekend away, I had to take an hour to go get damn dog from the kennel and plop down $36 for them to feed and let her out to poop and pee. Damn dog.

And of course there is the "let's have sex" key phrase...now I am not going to reveal what RP and I have for a code word meaning "let's get naked now or later". Because only he and I know it. I will tell you that it's origins were an online chat about three years ago and the phrase came from a funny typo. We were going to see each other later after a several day absence and well, fingers were flying fast in excitement. I WILL tell you, however, that back in the early groping days...well when we were going on walks in the woods and doing much kissing and such (no we never did that, it was a bit too populated), I used the phrase "loose change" for when I was trying to get into RP's pants, literally. Which basically meant, I'd be rooting around in his front pockets. And he'd ask "What are you doing?" and I'd say innocently, "Oh, just looking for some loose change" when you all know what I was reaching for!

And in that "let's have sex" phrase, you know that every couple has one....my college girlfriend and I called it "other stuff". Why? Well I don't quite remember. But it would be fascinating to know what couples did....and yet few, I am sure would fess up...hmmm...that would make an interesting book.

But I digress....

In the blogging world, we all have our own unique phrases and code words, because so many of us don't use real names for our family. When you read someone else's blog, you get used to their language and think nothing of...say...when Meg refers to her kids as spawn. Love it!

I think that's enough babbling from the world of moonspun today...and hey, when Meg is in New Zealand doesn't that mean that she will see the moon when I see the sun? And vice versa?

Ah but there is alwasy the cool moon on her blog!

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Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Hidden World of Blogging

I'd like to introduce you all to another of my favourite bloggers out there, who I somehow managed to convince to guest post for me. I think you'll rather like her, even if she does call you us creepy :)

Everyone.....meet Frog Dancer. The wonderfully awesome author of Dancing With Frogs. She's from that wee little land you might have heard of. Australia? I know...I'd never heard of it either. Apparently it's a small country in the Southern Pacific that likes to pretend it's upside down. Or down under. Or something.

Anyway....I give you...Frog Dancer!

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Bloggers are creepy. It’s true, you know we are. I mean ‘creepy’ in a good way. (Come on, I’m sure ‘creepy’ can be a compliment. Work with me ….) Think about it for a bit. We expose selected bits and pieces of ourselves on the internet, (and rumour has it that it’s a world wide thing nowadays), and then we burrow into the lives of other people and read selected bits of their lives, we comment and then….

We go out amongst the General Public and we look just like everyone else…. except far more attractive, of course.

We’re a real life version of the Harry Potter world. We’re like the magical people living among the muggles. Here we are in plain sight, but our bloggyness is hidden away from the sight of most of whom we come into contact.

Creepy….

Think about it. We could be formulating a post on anything. At any time. Maybe right now….. and how would people know? Maybe a vague look might cross our faces, or pupils dilating might give it away too. But they’re subtle things that could be explained away by a myriad of other things. So we walk amongst the population. Silently noting. Photographing. Documenting.

Creepy.

Think of the actual word “blog’. That’s not a sexy word. You can’t tell me that the first time you heard the word ‘blog’ you felt an instant magnetic pull towards becoming a ‘blogger’. It’s a bit of a turn-off, to tell the truth. And how brilliant is that? Who would ever suspect that someone as scintillating and witty and drop-dead gorgeous as you are could possibly be one of those … (whisper)…Blog People? Aren’t Blog People nerds who are incapable of dealing with real life people so they hide behind a computer screen and blog instead? What a brilliant facade blogging has! And so we are able to weave the magic of our words in peace, going about our day to day lives and indulging in our bloggishness when and where and how we please. Oh the power.

I really wish I’d discovered blogging when I was trapped at home with small children for 10 years before I went back to work. Don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty fond of my boys. They can’t help being ugly and a little slow. They did the best with the genetic material they had to work with, and I applaud them for that. But that decade was very isolating. There’s only so many episodes of Playschool and Sesame street a grown woman can watch before she starts acting like a teapot at the most inappropriate times. Those years were difficult financially. I didn’t have the cash to pop into the indoor play centre and do coffee like a lot of mums did. I had to turn down a lot of invitations. I’m sure that those years would have been easier if I’d had access to the humour, support and sharing that bloggers so generously pass around.

It’s true. Blogging may be a creepy (but totally hip and cool) thing to do, but what a vibrant and generous lot of people we are. (Well… you guys are. I’m just nibbling at the edges.) There are so many people out there who are amazing writers. They take their lives and thoughts and shape them in ways that can make me LOL (as daggy as that looks) or make me weep. (That has happened. Not often, but it has.) Or they describe something that happens in such a way that they absolutely nail it, and I find myself nodding in total agreement, saying, “Yes. That’s exactly what it’s like.” Or… (and in some ways this is the best one) they write about things that I’ve had absolutely no experience about at all, and windows are opened in my mind about what it’s like to live in another kind of reality. After all, what do I know about being a guy? Or a midwife? About parenting a child with autism? About surviving a childhood of horrific abuse? About being creative enough to try dying wool with food dye to make fabulous colours? And what about all of that snow that people on the other end of the world live with? Are they crazy? No wonder they’re always knitting. They’d all freeze to death otherwise. Imagine having to shovel snow from the driveway every morning before you go to work. That sort of weather just isn’t civilised.

We (creepy) hip and happening bloggers have deep, unseen connections with people from all over the place. We connect with people from everywhere and almost every socio-economic level. If we see something we don’t like, we simply slip away and move onto the next blog. No fuss, no drama. I love it. I wrote a bit about this on my 100th post. I love the fact that so many different aspects of my life are fed by blogging. Every day I read mummy blogs. Teaching blogs. Reading, knitting and quilting blogs. I read blogs by people far more intelligent than myself, (yes, such a thing IS possible. But only just…) and I love the insights they give me. I’ve become far more conscious of my photography and my son now has his own photo blog, which would never have happened without having his imagination opened up by seeing the work of others. There are also really fun things to do like The Great Interview Experiement where bloggers take turns passing the baton and interviewing each other. (I found out a lot about Norway and saw some amazing photos with my guy.) And aren’t the comments fun?

And all of this activity and creativity happens sight unseen. We look normal. Little do people know what boundless things we explore and friends we’re making while we’re busily tapping away on our keyboards.

Creepy….

But in an excellent way.

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Saturday, August 1, 2009

I'll Take A Stubby and Some Shark and Taties, Mate

The last time I left my blog unsupervised, Mumma Boo snuck on in here and started rambling on about some Mutant Sperm. It turned into quite the saga over at her site and it was all really freakin' hilarious! Needless to say, I had no hesitation in approaching her again to fill in for me. Was I worried about what she'd write about? Hell no! And I knew you'd all love her. So, here to make you laugh and maybe even teach you a few things along the way, is Mumma Boo!

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Having conquered Canada, our dear Meg, her Hotty Hubby and two adorable children have now set their sights on lording their dominion over the Paradise of the South, New Zealand. Meg, along with her constant companion, Blue Bombay Gin, is rapidly and furiously preparing for the gazillion hour plane flight to the Southern Hemisphere. The Canucks, especially the lunatics at the no-tell motel where she works (as a night auditor, people! get your minds out of the gutter!), are sure to miss her. The Kiwis are getting ready to welcome her back with open arms. Yes, Meg has lived there before, and Oceania is anticipating her return with all the fanfare of a royal visit. Only this time, the queen is staying.

Not having ventured further than 200 miles from my place of birth, and having moved homesteads only 5 times in my life, and all without kids, I have absolutely no advice to give our dear Meg about her move. Except this: pack light and wear sunscreen. Which I'm pretty sure is good advice for short trips and for sanity-bending ones like the journey she is about to take.

I do, however, have some advice for Hotty Hubby, Princess Ash, and the monkey CJ. Although I'm certain Meg has prepared them for the big adventure they are about to embark upon, in the whirlwind of visas, medical clearances, packing, unpacking, fees, more packing and unpacking, and the slathering on of sunscreen, there is bound to be something forgotten. See, Meg has the distinct advantage of having lived in Kiwi-land before, so she's probably more familiar with the language, and will slip right back in unnoticed. (After they roll up the red carpet and the "Welcome Home" parade is over, that is.) She may have even started using some of the more common phrases while still bound to Canadian soil in order to help her clan get immersed in the Kiwi culture faster. But, being the conscientious friend that I am, I just want to make sure that Hotty Hubby and the kids are REALLY prepared when they step off the plane into their new homeland.

For example, Hotty Hubby, if someone comes up to you and says: "She's going to be knackered, going full tit like that, mate", you do not have to knock him on his ass. For although prostitution is legal in NZ, and Meg does have those bodacious tatas, he is not propositioning your wife. Your new Kiwi friend is simply remarking at how rapidly your wife is trying to run out of the airport to get to her new home, and that she will be tired soon. However, if he says that he's randy and would like to root your sheila, you have every right to get ropeable (very angry), rark up (tell him off), and inform him he'll be pushing up daisies if he doesn't run away full tit.

Now kids, if Mom says "You're going to have to rattle your dags when the sparrow farts and hit the dunny before the tiki tour to the rellies", she wants you to hurry up and get moving at sunrise and be sure to go to the bathroom because you'll be taking the long, scenic route to visit Grandma. If you really want to impress Mom, tell her it'll a be "a piece-of-piss" and you'll be "happy as larry". Don't worry, you're not being disrespectful - you're telling her that it'll be easy and you're very happy to do as she bids. Then give her a big grin, drop your gear (get undressed) and give her the brown eye (flash your naked butt at her). Tell her I said you could do it. Heh. Oh, and if you go out for breakfast, don't order the cheerios. You'll get lots of people saying goodbye or a bowl of little brown sausages instead of O-shaped oatie goodness.

Seriously, this trip has been months (years?) in the making and it is finally coming to fruition. To all the Madwoman clan, I say: remember to relax, have fun, and enjoy the ride. I wish you safe travels and dreams come true. Have a few shandies for me when you get there and wear your sunscreen. May nothing go down the gurgler and may you be home and hosed in no time at all.

Love, Mumma Boo

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