Friday, February 28, 2014

Slobber



When Moses was a baby I gave him my mobile phone to slobber on. It promptly died, but fortunately my brother no longer needed his old one which happened to be exactly the same model as mine had been. He posted it to me, it was awesome, I gave it to Moses, he slobbered on it, it died too. Both now live in our toy box (because HELLO, toy manufacturers, babies don’t like mobile phones because they’re mobile phones, they like them because they’re shiny and smooth and they light up, which is why they’re not interested in your oversized plastic “mobile phone” toys. If you want to make a toy that babies will go for, take the things that babies like about mobile phones [shiny, smooth, lights up] and MAKE UP SOMETHING WITH THOSE. The same applies to keys).

ANYWAY, the toy box is often a lot further away from me than my mobile phone is, so I may or may not have given Hazel my phone to play with (I did. I gave her my phone) and now all conversations on it sound as if they’re being held on the ocean, and I’m in one boat and the person on the other end is in another one, way over there. 

But you try saying no to this:

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Conversations with the kids #3




Mo: Mum, I feel crook.

Me [laughing]: You feel a bit crook, do you?

Mo: Yes. What does ‘crook’ mean?

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Mo: Nanna, can you make me a dress?

Nanna: Little boys don’t wear dresses!

Mo: When I’m a big boy can you make me a dress?

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Mo [looking at a photo of policemen]: Why are they wearing hats?

Maddi: They all wear hats to protect their heads.

Friday, February 14, 2014

Spell-check



If I could choose any job in the world, I’d be a spell-checker.

 

I’d enjoy it so much I wouldn’t even want to be paid, as long as they let me cross things out in red (green doesn’t feel anywhere near as satisfying).

Is it rude to let someone know there are spelling mistakes in their writing? I don’t find it rude; I love it when my mum emails me to point out errors she’s noticed in my blog posts, and I’m embarrassed if I read back over old posts (or text messages, or emails, or Facebook posts) I’ve written and spot a sneaky spello.  Do others feel this way, though? I always want to point them out, but I fear it will seem nitpicky and arrogant when I’m actually trying to be kind and helpful. I especially wrestle with this question when it comes to business-related writing.

Belle: Making the world a more beautiful place, one typo at a time.

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P.S. I wanted to include a spelling error in here just to see how you’d react, but I COULDN’T DO IT.

P.P.S Unless I accidentally did, which would be embarrassing.

Monday, February 10, 2014

The Move 2014



A couple of Thursdays ago we found out that Alan had been offered the job in the city, and then the following day we visited and fell in love with a preschool for Moses, one at which his friend from Kerry’s had just started AND which still had spaces for this year. I wanted to find an apartment the day after that and have our application approved two days after that, just for the tidiness of it, but it didn’t work out that way. Life’s just not interested in cool-sounding Facebook updates, apparently.


So we’ve spent the last three Saturdays driving to the St George region of Sydney and pushing Hazel’s easygoing nature to its limits as we race from one inspection to another, jumping in and out of the car and ignoring all normal routines. The first two weeks gave us a good idea of the area, and helped us to narrow our search; for example, we realised that we could never live in Beverly Hills for the simple reason that it would mean we’d be singing Weezer’s song every time we mentioned or thought about our address (“THAT’S where I want TO BE! Li-ving in Be-ver-ly Hi-ills!”), and neither Alan nor I were prepared to make that kind of sacrifice.

It’s possible it would have taken us less time to find somewhere had I not been in denial about how much rent we’d be expected to pay for an apartment. If you’d asked me that first week what one could get for around $400 per week somewhere centralish between Mortdale and Pyrmont, I’d have replied, “You know what you won’t get?! A spacious three bedroom house with built-ins and air conditioning and a backyard and a lock-up garage!” and then run away crying, arms flailing. After I stopped comparing the prices to those we’ve enjoyed out here in the western suburbs, it became easier to choose the right places to look at, and now I’m an expert at all things real-estate-y and apartment-y and St George-y.



My ever-positive mother-in-law has for the last few months been listening to our updates on jobs Alan was considering applying for and the places we were therefore thinking of moving to, and responding with enthusiasm:

“Byron Bay? Byron Bay’s not a good place to live, is it?”

“Christchurch? It’s a long way away.”

“Canberra? Canberra’s very cold.”

“Erskineville? Quite pricey.”

“Mortdale? Mort. That means death.”

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This will be Alans 7th move and my 19th: 

Sutherland > Campbelltown > Engadine > Uralla (Maitland Street) > Glen Innes > Uralla (Rowan Avenue) > Armidale (Murray Avenue) > Armidale (Jeffrey Street) > Bundall (QLD) > Engadine > Coogee (Arden Street) > Coogee (Brook Street) > Randwick (Avoca Street)  > Randwick (Prince Street) > Coogee (Alison Road) > Lane Cove > Canterbury > Glenmore Park > Carlton.

Im slowly covering all regions of Sydney. Maybe once thats done well finally be able to leave.