Little Red Chucks

Boosh, baking, gardening, art, homeschooling, poetry, prose, music, and whatever else takes my fancy, all may be found here as well as an unashamed excessive use of the humble comma.

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Foraging for gum nuts

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We went on a date to Kmart. Bought each other a new book. Romance.

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If you cannot find a hair-tie, twine works just as well

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Tonight is my bambino’s year 12 formal. I’m freaking out. Yes, they are 6’5” and have a date-mate who I adore. Yes, they can do their own make-up and have picked their own outfit (including a spectacular red velvet tailcoat) and yes, in one month they will be an adult and legally allowed to drink. But they are my bambina! My tiny little one! Nearly the same age I was when I became a parent!

… I’m having a slight meltdown over here

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My darling Boosh babies, have some Lil Gregg this fine Wednesday.

(I painted him in watercolours.)

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When I set a goal for the year, to get a dozen rejection letters on manuscripts I send out, I didn’t factor in the harsh truth that most of the time you don’t even get a formal rejection. There’s just a nauseating silence, an absence in the inbox. As a well documented praise whore I do not like it. Not one bit.

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Some days I just paint Medusa.

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Things I love about growing old, The Third: me forgetting to put my teeth in is seen as less freaky with each passing year .

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Yes, I am filling my pockets with rocks, but it’s fine. I’ve got no plans to walk into any lakes, ponds, or seas. Yeah, the world sucks and popping down to Poseidon is tempting. But no, the rocks aren’t for that. They’re the opposite. The rocks are my hobby. The rocks are my happy.

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Things I love about growing old, the Second:

I can say, “back in my day” then make up ridiculous falsehoods about living through the Betamax - VHS wars.

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Things I love about growing old, the First:

The crows and I have even more in common now.

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Re-re-rereading Percy Jackson. Nico di Angelo out there, collecting sisters like they’re pokemon. That’s my boy. So proud.

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Was I productive today?

Non.

Will I be productive tomorrow?

Unlikely.

Did I spend my time making a snail out of scrap fabric?

Yes.

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So I live with this pain in my foot. It should the big deal, compared to everything else. It’s simply build up of bone spurs and inflammation and daily dislocations and the number of times the bones have been broken. It all adds up. So even though my spine fractures an badly healed rib technically hurt worse, my foot Feels worse. Sorry void of tumblr, just needed to vent that.

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Ultimate keyboard support

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I woke up with these words in my head today:

Do not restrict yourself to panicking at the the disco.

The world is wide and the panic is plentiful.

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Heads up: don’t accidentally pour soda water into your coffee instead of milk. It doesn’t work. It yucks.