I Wanted A lazy Track Suit Pants Kind Of Sunday

We cleaned, of course, it is Sunday after all, and my boyfriend is bossy keen to keep the house clean.

I did the vacuuming, as it is my job.

I was suggesting early that we should just order mango deserts from Hungry Panda and put a movie on, but pretty much, as I was saying that, the sun came out like a blooming flower and diminished my bargaining power quite significantly.

Not longer after, after we'd settled back down, Sam said, "Oh, should I just go to the supermarket?"

"Oh, yes," I agreed smartly. I was pretty keen for a lazy, stay at home, Sunday. Again, thank you fucking universe, the sun came out brightly illuminating the world beautifully, and Sam said, "I'm going to have a shower." And we all know that is code for, get ready, we are going out to get lunch.

 

Wet Saturday

It rained for most of the day. It was a stay in doors kind of day. I'd not have ventured out at all, but that's not Sam's thinking.

I set alight the mountain of burnable detritus that had built up in the fire place over the summer, throwing on a whole bunch of wet sticks I collected from our wet back yard, and we had our first fire for the year. (Do we normally have open fires in April? It seems a little early, but I don't know, I can't remember now)

Of course, as soon as I'd lit the fire, the sun came out. Sorry Greta.

I lazed around watching car YouTubers, my favourite English Ben, and generating AL images for the big edit of my old blogs.

The rain eventually stopped in the afternoon and we took the dogs for a walk.

The rain had stopped, clearly, the son is really warm, (oh, my dictation) now we all like a warm son, but the sun is really warm when it’s shining on you

We see the nuns coming back from their other house, around the corner,

“Hello.”

"Hello."

One of the nuns has a real soft spot for Brun. She always says hello to him personally.

"'ello, Brun."

We walked through the commission flats grounds to Brunswick Street, across the grass, under the lovely trees. 

What is the Labor party thinking selling off this open land to private property developers. It's almost enough of a reason to vote that rat-faced, whinny little bitch Jess Wilson into power.

We walked down Brunswick Street looking for sweeties. Something sweet for us to have with afternoon tea. There were lots of people around. 

We went to the A1 bakery, but they seemed to be short on for sweeties, so we kept walking. We decide on the Italian cake shop in Smith Street, when we couldn't find anything in Brunswick Street.

We cut through the side street. We walk up Smith Street, heading for the Italian cake shop, but then we decided we didn’t need any Italian cakes, if I was going to make banana cake.

I have black bananas in the fruit bowl.

I always laugh when I think of my chef mate, Sebastian, and bananas for a banana cake.

"Oh yes, and what other rotten fruit do you eat?"

I get bananas from Woolworths Metro to make a banana cake. 

Sam said I should take a banana from the ‘Free for Kids,’ banana bin. I look at him. He motions with his head to do it.

We’re stopped in Smith Street by a woman who said she had a British bulldog but it was much smaller than our guys.

What could we say? You got a dud? Ha, ha, chuckle. She was nice, though/

We’re at Hinoki Japanese pantry, getting food for future dinners, but since we didn't bring a grocery bag we get a box, which becomes have in my arms pretty quickly.

The sun is shining, a breeze is blowing

3.15pm. We’re home.

I made a banana cake.

We made tea and ate banana cake and drank tea.

We ate sushi for dinner.

Thinking About Lottie

My mother told me that religion was 

love thy neighbour, love one another.

That’s it. That’s what it is.

It isn’t anything else. It is that simple.

That was what my mother taught me.

And we go to church at Xmas and Easter,

to be together and to sing songs.

Because that’s what we do.

There is a certain joy in being together,

and doing that.

My mother wasn't a Christian, in fact, she thought most of it was nonsense, but she did believe in the basic message of love.

I can still hear my mother's voice saying those words.

"Anything else is, well, whoever is saying it, it is their baggage." She'd smile that gorgeous smile of hers. "It's just about love, it's really that simple."

You know, I often wished I had more video of my mum – and my dad, for that matter – I think it would be lovely to be able to play it now.

But, you know, when I think about it, all the good stuff is inside me anyway.

Rainy Thursday

Brun and I walked to Bunnings in the morning, to get stuff to finally fix the back door handle, which has been threatening to part ways with the backdoor for weeks, and a new pole for my fast growing Monstera, which is now hanging out over our walk through to the kitchen like we are in a jungle, which I quite like, but I realise not everyone feels the same way.

The sun shone. Brun and I trotted along. I bought a blueberry muffin for the walk, shhh, don't say anything.

I ignored a friend in Bunnings, successfully. Oh, I know, what am I like, but when I have stuff to do I don't have time for idle chit chat.

"Oh yes, good, I'm good. How are you? Oh great. You are looking good. Oh, thank's I try my best. Or, I don't." We both laugh. "Oh, yes Sam is good. Perry? Oh good. No I haven't been up to to much. How about you? Oh great, that sounds great. Lucky you. We haven't seen you guys for ages. Oh, yes, faster and faster every year. Now, don't be a stranger..."

Oh, er! Best avoided.

When we got back, Otto rushed to meet us at the door, followed by a bulldog meeting that really looked like Otto asked Brun where we had been and what we'd done, and Brun told him.

I fix the back door handle.

We ate a fancy meat sauce that Charlie had bought home from the restaurant for lunch, which I could have taken, or left. I don't know, it was supposed to be fancy. Nyr?

I re-staked my Monstera.

Then it rained for the rest of the day, so what can you do?

I updated my old blog with new AI images. Quite possibly nobody will ever notice, but I like it.

Otto didn't get a walk, but he's young, and he'll cope. Actually, not so long agao he'd be bouncing off the walls without a walk, but thankfully that age has passed.

Grey Haired Old Men Destroying The Fucken World To Save Their Own Sorry Arses

 

Damn It!

That bitch Boris has out smarted me. I can't help but think well played, Ms.

I'm just ignoring the come into the office requests despite them being repeated, so Boris has organised meetings at 10am Monday mornings with The Midget, who practically wets her little corporate self with glee at the thought of another fucking meeting.

Damn! Is all I can say.

Look @ The Baby

At the wedding, my sister wanted me to look at some guests 8 week old baby.

Nyr, I don't know, they all look the same to me, at that age.

So, I just said the first thing that came into my head.

"Wow! Climate change is going to kick your arse buddy."

My sister was holding the kid, but the kid's, actual, mother was in earshot. Oops.