The Potted Version (As Opposed to the Extended, Post-Holiday, Slide Night Kind)

Yesterday evening we arrived home, stinky and grimy after ten days of camping and I’m estimating the hosing down and cleaning and packing away a No-Less-Than-Three-Stage Operation.

Worth every single wash load.

An absolute privilege, the hanging about in a stunningly beautiful environment,



serenaded from dawn to dusk by an orchestral movement of bellbirds.

There were some kid dynamics to navigate but there was oh, so much more, to mark a fabulous holiday with some blooming excellent people.



Holiday Happenings In No Particular Order...

1. The Middle’s glee at getting close enough to one of the many camp Lace Monitors to have it whip him painfully in the neck with its tail.

2. The pickling of this kid (and, well, every other kid, because they rarely stood on dry land) in a seawater/freshwater brine.



3. The not entirely covert camp kitchen ransacking by Nigel and Doug and Nigel and Doug and Nigel and Doug the Brush-tailed Possums. The realisation that Nigel, (or possibly Doug), is partial to a jar of peanut butter.

4. The discovery of some local residents:





nb. The current, post-holiday BCC (Bug Carcass Count), after emptying two of the Middle Kid’s pockets, stands at six. Please know the Middle Kid only ever collects bits of dead bug and this magnificent (breathing) specimen is, no doubt, still pootling about on some branch-let.

5. The breakfast consumption of some freshly-fished residents:



6. The search for the resident Red-bellied Black Snake at the shower block proved fruitless. Who knows where he was – lurking behind a loo, no doubt. But we found his stunningly elegant brother:



7. Despite photographic evidence to the contrary, there was jumping into water from height as opposed to jumping into tree from height.



8. Expeditions were mounted:



9. HMAS Sinkable was launched:



(unless one weighs no more than a sprite, things tend to get wet. Entertainingly so, for those onshore).

10. Fires were crafted:



11. Things were cooked on sticks:



12. The very beginnings of a late-night, 500 card game addiction initiated.

13. Australia Day was acknowledged:



14. There is actual evidence that I was there too, waving at you from inside a bubble:



15. A start was made on the Epic Blanket,



(mostly over the nine hour, each-way car journey),



and that the ends, yet to be woven in and bemoaned, are currently coming along quite photogenically.



Weird to think that it’s back to the school routine in not too many ticks of the clock.

Firstly...

Geez, you guys, you commenty types, know how to lend a virtual, internetty shoulder. Geez, you’re EXCELLENT. The throat-scream-thing is much, much better. Kate’s undies comment was of particular therapeutic help.

Secondly...

The DSLR camera is at the doctors and I am Lost Without It. Pics on this post and for the foreseeable eon are courtesy of the phone. You’ll note there’s also a concealing Photoshop blur, because I’m back in the confessional.

Thirdly...

You know that other blanket? The one that took a bazillion years from go to very woe? The one that prompted the WOOHOO! after I finally finished the sucker?



Well, I started to think about some imminent camping holidaying, you see. There’s an unprecedented need for serious, long-haul car craft (between the throwing of parenting bribery-and-corruption snakes out windows). Perhaps I’ll say it fast:
BeforeIknewitI’dpurchasedenoughyarnforareallygoodstartonanotherblanketsonowI’llhavesomethingnewtowhingeabout!



Totally Attic 24 inspired. Totally not my usual colour tendency. Totally expected to be the stand-in, slow-burn, crafty project – all the way through to 2016, (probably 2018 since the Mr reckons it should be double bed sized). Totally requiring extra freelance work, purely to maintain yarn supply. Totally a big, double bed-sized, bad idea.



Less ends to weave in and whinge about but totally feeling the need to apologise to everyone in advance.



(so, so sorry).

Tongue Tied

Let’s start at the very beginning.
A very good place to start.
When you read you begin with A-B-C
When you sing you begin with do-re-mi

BUT HOW DO YOU START WHEN YOU HAVEN’T BLOGGED FOR SIX WEEKS AND THERE’S A WHOLE LOT OF WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE AND EVERY TIME YOU MAKE A START IT ALL COMES OUT IN A JUMBLE AND IT’S NOT ALL BRIGHT AND SHINY SKIPPING THROUGH THE FLOWERY FIELDS AND IN FACT LIFE HAS BEEN EVERYTHING FROM DOWNRIGHT SHITTY TO JUST BLOOMING BRILLIANT AND I’M ALREADY SOUNDING LIKE A BIT OF A NUTTER AND AFTER ALL THAT GEEZ I’M A BIT EXHAUSTED AND NOT QUITE MYSELF AND HAS ANYONE SEEN MY GROOVE OR EVEN THAT SPARE BIT OF ZEN I’D PACKED AWAY FOR A RAINY DAY?

Breathe (punctuate).

Lower your voice (use lowercase).

Start at the very beginning(s).

.........................

Beginning #01
Two days after I last posted and my kid and I took her shoes on their outing, there were revelations of the startling kind. Confessions of bullying by classmates, the kind that sent the Mr and I reeling, as we finally, belatedly, truly, guiltily, comprehended the path our eldest kid has trod for the last year. The School requested our silence as they handled things and while I held my tongue and observed two adults behave like children, a grief-stricken scream built up inside me that sits, still firmly lodged in my throat.



Beginning #02
The Mr would say I achieved great bang for my knitty buck. I finished my 2ply cardi and well, there’s a lot of knitting in a 2ply cardigan but I crafted the whole affair in a smidgeon under one skein and in so doing, won a $2 bet against my eldest. Playing yarn chicken finally paid off.



Except that I chickened out halfway through and purchased the back-up skein.



Modelled, gazing-off-into-middle-distance-while-pondering-use-for-second-skein, cardigan shots pending...

Beginning #03
Christmas flew by in a flurry of typical last-minute-ness and early-morning, crack-of-dawn-ness, an unconventional surfing day, followed by a festive dinner and sleepover at friends. Lovely but without photographic evidence.

Still counting my blessings but not entirely enamoured with 2011, the New Year was welcomed with open arms. A barbecue, at home, with the usual, fabulous, visiting-from-London pals, a nice bottle of bubbles and sparklers. Ditto, (lovely) but without photographic evidence.

Beginning #04
Assuming anyone is still reading this blog-let(?) one or two of you may recall a certain angst associated with this little crocheted number. On New Years Day I made a startling and unexpected commitment to weave in all those ends. I shan’t bore you further. Here, simply, is the finished, celebratory

WOO...



...HOO!!



Do you reckon the tying up of a few million loose ends, makes for a beginning of sorts?