Timeless memories

When my mother died, very suddenly and unexpectedly it was a terrible shock. She was in her 70s but was not ill. Grief was overwhelming at times, and sometimes, 18 months later, it still is.

I wrote about the aftermath in a previous blog - http://adiosmfyoyo.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/on-becoming-motherless-daughter-and.html (for experienced bloggers who may be reading this I have no idea how to insert the shortened link thing). If this link doesn't work it is a blog from 2011. On my 'to do' list - learn how to do this properly!

My sister and I cleaned out mum's things. Most of her clothes went to charity or were thrown out. Dad sat with us and we went through mum's jewellery. Most of it was worthless other than in sentimental terms. We had a good system for her rings. Dad held one in each hand behind his back and my sister and I picked a hand! One of the things I found was this silly little brooch that I remember buying for mum at a mothers' day stall when I was about 8 years old. Hideous really but of course mum had kept it.




It is a bird feather in a brooch. A feather. In a brooch. Nice. Lucky it's the thought that counts. I can't bring myself to get rid of it though. Mainly because SHE had kept it all those years, and sometimes actually wore it. My mother ALWAYS wore a brooch so her unbroken brooches have been given to her granddaughters and my sister and I kept some. Each of us, granddaughters included, wore one of her brooches at her funeral.

However there were a lot of watches most of which didn't work any more, and that were very old fashioned. Some were her mother's watches. I also had one at home I had had for about 30 years which had been my paternal grandmother's watch. I took them all to a jeweller to see if they could be fixed. One, my paternal grandmother's watch was easily fixed - apparently it just needed to be would up! Duh. Some could be fixed but at great expense. Others beyond repair. I felt sad because I knew I couldn't throw them out. I think the jeweller could see that look in my face and suggested I think outside the box a bit and turn them into something else. After much discussion and excitement this is what happened.

So my paternal grandmother's gold watch was turned into an enhancer to put on a gold chain:





Two others she turned into bracelets. One was a gorgeous watch (probably close to 100 years old now) with a mother of pearl face. This one she made into a pearl bracelet and I gave it to my sister:






The other was a gold watch with black numbers and hands she turned into an onyx bracelet and kept the original clasp:





They turned out so beautifully and I am so pleased to be able to wear a little piece of mum's and grandma's memory every now and then. And not very expensive to do at all. People often ask about them too, and are fascinated by the history of these pieces of jewellery, so talking about them keeps mum's memory alive as well.

These are timeless memories.





Now I just have to work out something to do with mountains of crocheted doileys




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My dream kitchen bench

When we built our house I spent a great deal of time planning my kitchen. One of the things I wanted was a very long kitchen bench. And in my mind it was going look like this, devoid of anything on it unless I was cooking. My cabinet maker, who is also a personal friend, is a neat freak and he put a lot of effort into this kitchen:






In reality it looks like this:





Note the toaster still on the bench at midday. Behind it is the kettle. Immediately below the toaster is a very deep drawer, specifically built to house said toaster and kettle, off the bench when not being used. It was put there as it is opposite the refrigerator so at breakfast time everything is in the vicinity of where I need it. However as the kettle is used three times a day I can't be fagged putting it away. And the toaster? Well, it just has to be brought out the next morning anyway.

Next to the toaster is a rubbish bag I forgot to take to the bin. I have a bin drawer. But if I go out and forget to put the rubbish either in the garbage or on top of the bench the dog gets the bin drawer open and then I come home to this:




Back to my bench. Behind the spray and wipe optimistically on the bench on the off chance it is ever clear enough to use it, you might see a cane basket. This is where I keep the opened mail, school notices, diary and various other bits of paper. So this is where I find useful things like out of date power bills, the school photo order form that was due yesterday and, if lucky, a dividend statement telling me that had I notified the company of which I own a teeny tiny bit, of my tax file number and bank account details they would have paid me a dividend, and a bigger one on account of them withholding tax.

The little purple and yellow tea pot was purchased in Hong Kong 20 years ago and I use it EVERY DAY I am home. It holds exactly one large cup of tea, and has its own infuser. I prefer real tea to tea bags. Again, using it every day it seems silly to put it away.

Behind the sink and in the drainer are the dishes washed up the night before and to yet be put away.

Then there is my red oroton handbag, always on the bench ready for thieves to come in when I am not looking and take it. The police tell me this is the most common item stolen because thieves know women come home, put their bag on the bench and usually go to the bathroom. So thieves will follow us into our homes, take the bag and then drive off in our cars because our keys are either on the bench or in our bags.

At other times there will be grocery bags on the bench as well.

I am loathe to confess to this but the other end of my bench looks like this:




That is my dead dog on the wall. For those disgusted by cats, avert your eyes. Behind the ancient black and white cat are cat feeding bowls. We have to feed our two cats on the bench to stop the current dumb dog from eating their food. So I am limited to preparing food on one half of my very long bench and it is not this one. You will be pleased to know it IS wiped down and disinfected daily. Well, almost daily.

So I still dream of that perfect clear, clean bench. I think I could achieve it if I didn't have four other people and three animals in the house, so...

AMFYOYO

Location:My dream kitchen bench

Fun for all at the school fete

The email I have been waiting for has arrived. I was worried it wouldn't land in my inbox. After last year, it was possible I would not be asked back. It was the invitation to help out at the hot dog stall at the annual school fete.

Having worked fulltime or long part time hours while my children were at school, I was never very good at helping out in the classroom or at tuckshop. Time was always my excuse but in reality I just did not really like it nor was I very good at it.

I did offer once to do tuckshop at my daughter's school, and I found the experience so traumatic, I vowed I would never go back.

I also helped out once in 'groups' in one of my son’s classes. Regrettably, the teacher gave me maths groups. Maths is not one of my strengths and never has been. This was grade 6, and frankly, it was embarrassing.

I do however like to offer my services for the annual school fete. Our children’s primary school conducts a fete that is now a community event and raises such large sums of money that the entire school has been able to be air conditioned in full over the years, courtesy of the monies raised at the fete.

Last year my youngest child's year level was in charge of the hotdog stall. The previous year, his year level had been in charge of jam and I'd never made jam, and was still working full time so I went to a food wholesaler, bought the largest tin of strawberry jam I could find, and scooped it out into smaller jars with pretty gingham tops, and I think they sold the jars for $4 each. I'm a bad school mother type, but a great innovator and problem solver. I even got a present for donating the most jars of jam. Or perhaps I'm just plain lazy.

However, in hotdog year, I bravely volunteered to man (or woman) the hotdog stand for an hour and a half in the middle of the day. Peak. Hotdog. Buying. Time.

We had a great system. Someone took the money, and another person handed me a bread roll. I was responsible for placing the sausage into the bread roll. One of other volunteers was Harry’s teacher standing next to me. Harry being my youngest child by many years and having had the experience of the disgusting sense of humour of his older, teenaged brother, I can handle pretty much any young boy that comes at me with a rude or smart-arse comment. A young man had paid his money and appeared before me with a smug look on his face. 'Cock in bread' he said to me, loudly. I thought I didn’t hear correctly and said 'pardon'. He repeated the expression 'cock in bread'. Harry’s teacher made a sound like I thought she was having a small heart attack. I looked to my right and saw a group of boys giggling nervously nearby. This chap was obviously on a bet, and they were standing nearby so they could see the result. Unfortunately for them, they picked the WRONG mother for this.

It seemed like it was forever, but it was probably only 15 seconds and my mind was racing on how I could get this little twerp back and make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. And it came to me. Oh heavenly clever brain, thank you. You have let me down many times but this time you came through for me.

Every other adult nearby and on the stall was waiting for my response. I said as calmly as I could muster 'I think you should use some manners and say please'. He looked unsure of what to do, but then said 'please'.

I invited him to say the whole sentence ending in please and made him repeat it - 'cock in bread, please'.

My voice got louder 'so you want a cock in a bread roll, is that correct?'

By this stage, he realised the error of his ways and was looking rather nervous and said very quietly 'ah yes please'.

I put the hotdog sausage in the bread roll and then asked him in full voice 'would you like barbecue or tomato sauce with your cock in bread?'

'Tomato please ' he said in an even smaller voice.

I put the sauce on the hotdog and as I was handing it to him, I asked in a very loud voice 'so, you're going to eat this cock in bread?'

By this stage, the friends standing nearby were laughing at him and not with him, looking at him squirming with embarrassment.

He replied in the affirmative in a tiny little voice. I leaned over the counter as I handed him his hotdog and said very loudly 'well, I guess that makes you a little cock sucker'.

His gaggle of friends fell about laughing, every adult standing nearby cheered. High fives all around. I bowed. The young man turned a bright shade of crimson and slunk off.

It was one of the finest moments of my volunteering life and I hope that young man will think twice before ever again trying to offend an adult, female, volunteer at a school fete.

I am a very nice person, but don’t mess with me.

AMFYOYO


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Location:Fun for all at the school fete

Road trip

The Lawyer loves a road trip. I'd rather stick hot satay sticks in my eyes than be trapped in the car with the children for long periods of time. When they were little, I spent hours turning around handing out food, drinks, crayons and phenergan while he drove. Now they are older it is different, not better. Today the trip is only four hours. Here is the routine:

1. Write list of everything we need to pack
2. Remember that I have written this list before and print off original list
3. Add the things I need not on list, ie EASTER EGGS
4. Pack extra clothes just in case
5. Give children their own list
6. Ask 17 times if they have packed a hat
7. Pack hats for them myself
8. Empty bins
9. Update notes to house sitter
10. Remind each of the children a short shower is 5 minutes not 20
11. Wait patiently while The Lawyer takes several phone calls from work
12. Wait patiently while each of the children says goodbye to each of the three pets
13. Say goodbye to each of the pets myself
14. Referee argument over who is sitting where in the car
15. Resist the urge to say 'I told you so' to The Lawyer when he insisted we no longer needed a 7 seater 4WD
16. Take headache tablets
17. Get to the end of the driveway, stop the car and move into the back to sit in between two of the children Because they can't possibly breathe the same air
18. Go back home to get the EASTER EGGS which have been left behind.

Can't wait to get to where we are going.

AMFYOYO


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Me, the French Fireman, and the disappointment

I had a lovely holiday en famille in France a year ago. For three weeks we stayed in a French town called Bayeux in Normandy and tortured the children with history lessons of the D-Day landings and visits to lots of mediaeval churches, and no Internet or McDonald's.

We stayed in a lovely apartment in a converted 17th century hotel in the middle of town. Close to the boulangerie selling the world's BEST croissant and brioche.






One night there was a knock on the door. Which was unexpected seeing as we didn't know anyone in Bayeux who might want to call in.

I opened the door and there stood a Very Handsome Frenchman. As if there is any other sort. He was Very Tall and Very Handsome. And in a uniform. I'm sure some of my reproductive organs did some sort of happy dance. He explained, in French, that he was one of the local Pompiers (fireman) and he was selling calendars. Fortunately I speak in petit peu of French and understood what he was telling me. How much? I asked. A donation, he replied.

I went and got my wallet all flustered at the prospect of a calendar full of half naked French fireman. And handed over 10 euros.

He handed me the calendar, said 'merci' and off he went, out of my life.

I sat down to inspect my 10 euro calendar. It was full of pictures of French firemen actually fighting fires. Not shirtless and oiled up. Just doing their jobs. Wtf?? What kind of fundraiser is that?

It's the first and only time a Frenchman has ever disappointed me. Merde.

AMFYOYO


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