Travelling with a fruitcake

fruit cake MRFD

Monday was flight to Perth day, and despite a major accident on the highway we were early enough to the Brisbane Airport to have the privilege of paying $38AUS for two ham and cheese croissants (barely toasted), two flat white coffees and two bottles of water.

The day before Mr FD and I have a slight tête-à-tête about seating arrangements. Mr FD of recent years has been in more frequent need of the bathroom and was ecstatic to discover two seats right next to the toilet. However, opinion was expressed that someone did not fancy sitting next to the toilet and toilet line for 5 and a half hours, so a discussion ensured.

Mr FD saw the error of his ways and booked seats so far away from the toilet line as to be almost in the next aeroplane. And not without complaint may I add. His complaint.

I got the window seat, as Mr FD garnered the aisle seat for a free loo run. I enjoyed miles of nothing except red dirt and salt pans that is the Nullabor Plains – so very, very dry.

In economy, we stifled a moan when it was announced business class would be receiving their free alcohol. We did however get a mini weis ice-cream bar for dessert which was most enjoyable. If you can ever get your taste buds around a mango and ice cream bar, do, even if it costs top money. (One of my nieces once worked as their food technologist and never gave me one free sample and for that I have never forgiven her.)

I read Jenny Lawson’s Furiously Happy on the plane over. In one chapter she discusses dermatillomania (scalp picking) which the son of a colleague suffers with. I developed an even greater interest in the subject when Mr FD knocked his cup of hot coffee down his jean leg. Yep, one in every plane.

Not long after, I needed the bathroom myself, and so Mr FD had to display his wet brown leg to the masses as he stood to allow me to exit our seats. The toilet was in fact ahead of us, so maybe a third of the plane were entertained by me scratching to open the loo door until I noticed the “occupied” sign was red.  I explained to the man sitting right next to the toilet that “I am your inflight entertainment, today.” He smiled back as though I was a toilet roll short of a full pack, and I pencilled him onto the stick list for being a witness.

Back in my seat, I found Mr FD playing chess on his seat screen. I have been married to that man for 38 years and I never knew he could play chess. What else is he hiding? A second family?

Not long before arrival I turned to Mr FD and commented, “You know, you haven’t been to the bathroom once this flight?” Naturally, he immediately had to go. My revenge was complete.

Despite two suitcases checked in, we also had a small carry on bag for Mr FD’s electronics and CPAC machine, and a backpack that conveyed the Christmas Fruit cake for Daughter2. As we disembarked, Mr FD carried the backpack – the cake must weigh close to two kilos! It was a heavy backpack.

As we disembarked,  Mr FD who always makes comments with the assumption that everyone knows exactly what he is referring too, muttered all the way up the plane aisle, as those passengers unlucky enough to still be seated, ducked their heads, “It’s a fruitcake.”

Certainly was, Olly.

 

all the comforts of home and then some!

chamber pot

Remember the good old days, when toddler bums balanced over enamel chamber pots?

I thought that civilisation had reached it zenith when the baby’s potty went to production in plastic.

plastic potty

 

This however, is now gracing our bathroom for Petite Fille.

potty training 2015

I believe it can play music as well. I was too frightened to switch it on.

I am not sure what civilisation has come too…

If you are not going to care you have to not care…

black pearls

I’d like to say it was “the only time” that I ever walked out of the house without the pearls, but I have to be honest and admit that every weekend I dress pretty casually when I go out, especially to the supermarket. Today I had showered and washed my hair, just dragging a comb through it, before I left the house. I wore a tunic top and three quarter denims with sports shoes. No pearls in sight.

Of course, I had to meet someone I knew in the supermarket. Even though it was one of my closest friends I still knew I looked less than perfect. Shame and horror.

Not that it will make me dress any differently, I am too me, to change me, if you understand my drift. I am equally sure that my friend may have thought momentarily that FD is going very casual today and then let it go, but some hours later I am still thinking about it.

Isn’t it terrible to be indolent and immoveable and yet care how you appear? I am practically perfect in every way, I have no idea how you little people cope with being ordinary.

absence makes the heart grow fonder; and would you move aside please?

morning coffee

Mr FD found his way home on Thursday night, after a three week absence.  He was so happy to be home. As I made tea for two in the kitchen I heard Mr FR declaring,”I missed you so much, you are so beautiful, so wonderful…”

Entering the room I found that he was gazing lovingly into the big brown eyes of Augie Dog, who was lapping up every second. So much so, that when Mr FD paused stroking him, Augie Dog would turn and lick what ever exposed bits of Mr FD he could reach.

I placed the mug of tea next to Mr FD and allowed them their privacy.

All go in the Village.

chick chickMore than once I have heard people say, “It must be so dull living in the country!” Boring?

This morning I passed a husband and wife out on their tricycles, cycling down the main street of the Village. She followed behind, coated in a bright yellow high visibility safety vest, with L plates front and back on the trike. I guess she could always fall off her seat…

On the other side of town, a man was walking by the side of the road, dressed in dark pants, a camouflage tee-shirt, and a khaki hat sporting camouflage netting; enough to cover his face and neck. It was 6.30 am. Perhaps on his way home from a night of twitching?

I often follow an Armaguard vehicle delivering money to local banks and business. Most times I have to resist the urge to race up close behind in my car and pretend that I am tailing them with intent. The only thing that restrains me is the knowledge that they carry guns.

All go in the Village.

To blueprint or not to blueprint; that became the question.

wry

I was going to write about “my blueprint for living”. The first thing I was going to cite was “First do no harm” , but my children may not agree that my parenting did no harm; so I scrapped that idea.

Then I was going to write “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” but as I want to beat most people I meet to death with a stick, that was obviously not a goer either.

Tread the earth lightly? I have size ten (AU) feet, maybe that tread is not so light.

Seems I don’t actually have a blueprint for living, and maybe that explains a lot about my life.

Marie Antoinette and I

modern lore

Walking out the door for the first day of the new school term, I moved to tuck a tissue into the top of my bra. Only there was no bra! I had forgotten to put it on.

The situation was not helped by Mr FD immediately advising me that going braless was in no way a good idea and instructing me to return to the bathroom instantly!

 

Then I realised that our dog, Audie, is currently the weight I was on my wedding day, 48kg. That is a worry in more ways than one; the fact that I am nowhere near that weight now not being the least!

Not shaping up as a good week, so far.

True Confession : My dirty little idiosyncrasy

clothes lines 1One of my little idiosyncrasies. Most people in Australia, who live in single family dwellings, have a clothes line. Some apartment blocks have a shared line, also. There are few days in the year when the weather is too ghastly to dry clothes outside, especially in Queensland, the Sunshine State!

This is where my idiosyncrasy comes into play, though some might tag it by its possible clinical term as an “obsessive, compulsive” habit ritual.

clothespins-21000_640

When I peg the clothes out, the coloured, plastic pegs chosen for each item must match. Two yellow pegs, or two green pegs; at all possible costs it must never be a yellow peg with a green peg.

Oh, and my clothing needs to have blue pegs. Blue is my favourite colour, most of my clothing is blue (or black, a little grey in winter). So it follows that the blue pegs are for moi.

Mr FD, uncouth and uncivilised, (be they of the same literal meaning?) follows no such gentility and will now only use random colours, but [name and shame] he deigns to even peg a pair of undies with a shirt. Yes, dear reader, a shirt will be pegged, not from the hem line, but from its shoulders and will frequently have a pair of undies dangling from a shared should peg. I only than the Big Whatever that our clothes line is at the back of our property and unseen by other eyes, except for wallabies and kangaroos who disdain the wearing of underwear anyway.

Yet, this attention to detail does not carry through to other areas of my life. My children have entertained dinner guests with the many and varied uses their mother has found for a tupperware lettuce crisper. Why limit it to just holding a lettuce, I say? Great for holding left over roast, for instance. And small, bouncing balls; or cotton wool. I wonder if I could set jelly in one?

Just this weekend I horrified Daughter 2 by informing her that I carried my fruit salad to school in a tupperware sandwich keeper. It doesn’t leak for a start. Why is everything a”keeper” with tupperware? Are they worried we might lose our sandwiches on the way to lunch?

I speak of tupperware though I have been but to two parties in my life. Most of my tupperware has been inherited from my mother who could never say no to anyone inviting her to yet another party plan event.

Do you think there are secret meetings of tupperware addicts, who meet in church basements under cover of darkness? “Hello, my name is Darleen, and I have 42 tupperware lettuce crispers.” Too frightening to contemplate.