smells like team spirit

Ten games in and my gorgeous little netball team still have yet to win a game, or come close. It's hard ranking at the bottom of the grade, but they're such a divine team that there's still a fighting spirit and enthusiasm with each game. We played two games this weekend, and in yesterday's game we actually won the fourth quarter four goals to three. My girls didn't give up.

It's hard losing week after week, but they are becoming much better players for it {although it's a tough concept for nine and 10 year olds to grasp...} They play like winners though, every single game.

The graders game around to watch the game yesterday and I expressed a wish for my girls to stay together as a team next year. They've bonded so well, have developed lovely friendships and have a team spirit that'd rival the Australian Diamonds. Every week I watch each player do at least one exceptional thing. I spend most of the game calling out praise - and it's not tough to find something to praise - these girls put their all into their game.

I consider myself blessed to have the opportunity to coach such a lovely team. They've taught me so much this year. Go HotShots!

many hands

Having my mum and step-dad up has not only made for a spot of lovely family-time, it's also meant we've got heaps done around the house. Because my mum's taken on full-time 'taking care of grandchild' business and done a lot of cleaning, and as my step-dad's paving and working out drainage by the pool room and up the side of the house, it's meant I've been able to get the odd job done, while my husbandarooni has been an utter legend and has weeded all the front gardens and pruned, fed and mulched the roses - a mammoth task!

So, to celebrate, we're off to dinner tonight. Our gal's going out for dinner with one of her bestest of friends {and her family, naturally}, so we'll wander down to a local eatery with a nice bottle of red or two and nibble on some of Newcastle's finest. Now, if there's soft shell crab as a starter I'll be putting my hands up for that. And a nice rare steak for a main? Don't mind if I do...

Tomorrow friends of my parents are coming for lunch. I think a nice frittata, salad followed by sour cherry and walnut bread with coffee is the way to go.

They're headed home on Tuesday, which will be sad. The only consolation in them living so far away is that at least when they do visit - it's intensive.

weekend aw bless moment

I came home from netball this morning to see a card and a little gift on my front doorstep. Opening the card I saw it was from the lady who ran into my car last week, hoping I was okay and thanking me for being understanding.

Bless.

I got all teary - and still do just thinking about it. I think I'll have to write her a letter next week to return the thanks and well wishes. Accidents happen, and the wellbeing of others is always far more important than a few bits of metal.

snow business: blogthis challenge

When I was growing up I was jealous of my cousins for two reasons. Firstly, my uncle was a sales rep for Cadbury so visiting their home felt like popping in to Willy Wonkas - there was confectionary everywhere. Secondly, they went to the snow every year.

See, in Australia, snow is an almost mythical beast. It seems foreign because for most of us it's soooo far away, so expensive and, seemingly, for the affluent few.

So when we decided to go to the snow a few years ago I was thrilled that my daughter would get a chance to see the pretty white stuff close up.

On the two occasions I did visit the snow as a youth I didn't get a chance to ski, but went on a toboggan, in a pair of tracksuit pants sprayed with waterproofing spray - imagine how well that worked...

We went down for a magical week in 2006 and were on the snow for my birthday - which happily coincided with the friday night ride and a fireworks display. Woo hoo! I also snowboarded which was a damned fine activity. Our gal was six and had the time of her life. Every day she went to the Milo Kids Club and would do activities interspersed with skiing and eating. I wasn't sure how she'd react, but she adored it. The first time I looked up and saw her sitting on the chair lift, little skis on her feet, beside two total strangers, my heart welled up. Next thing I knew I heard "Hi Mama" and watched her weave her way down the slope looking like a seasoned skiier. I, of course, spent half the time on my butt, the other half flat on my face. But a schnapps at the end of the day cured all ills.

We haven't been back again, since my husband had a knee reconstruction, but next winter I'd love to sneak back down again. Snow angels, snow men, the first sight of falling snow, all of these make for some pretty spesh memories.

I love a good family holiday - and every single one of ours has spawned some glorious memories. I'll never forget the way my breath caught when I first spied the Eiffel Tower and the sheer joy I experienced just being in Paris. A trip to Italy with my sister- and brother-in-law and our two nieces was unforgettable. Venice, was, as expected, utterly magical, Rome, bellisimo, but it was on the trip to Tuscany where I experienced pure joy. We'd been out to dinner at a glorious restaurant where I tasted my first black truffle {mmmm} and the meal was concluded with a frosty glass of limoncello {double mmmmmmm}. As we left the restaurant and walked down the slope to our Fiat, I noticed dancing, flickering lights that I realised were fireflies. Fireflies!! I'd spent my childhood enchanted by the notion of fireflies, and to actually see them in real life was a life-enhancing moment.

Staying in a Chateaux complete with turrets and centuries worth of family heirlooms in the Dordogne in South West France was beyond divine. Tasting teeny strawberries the size of a pinky fingernail at the moments will never be forgotten. My heart always remains in France.

But I don't need grandeur to make a holiday memorable. Each year we take my husband's parents away for a few days: to the Blue Mountains, or the Southern Highlands. We'll stay in a house together and just potter around and it's just lovely. I love how our daughter gets to spend this one-on-one time with her grandparents and I like sharing the holiday experience with them. We're headed off to Mudgee with them next month for four days and I know we'll have a fabulous time there too {and we'll get to load up the boot with wine and gourmet goodies}

Holidays are the perfect chance to relax, to strengthen bonds and to create memories that'll last a lifetime. What's not to love?

frugal friday

Wow, really, another week? Goodness me. I've had my mum and step-dad up this week, testing out my frugal skills by cooking vegetarian for them {and testing out my brain: 20 years of vegetarianism - three years of avid carnivorism = a brain designed to come up with meat-heavy dishes...} That said, we've had pizza, where the broccoli, marinated mushroom and blue cheese number was a winner. I made individual shephards pies - with a french lentil and veg mix for the vegos {leftover shredded seven-hour lamb for us} and last night caramelised onion, pumpkin, feta and pine nut pasta {soooooo good}.

I've bought very little, been able to use ingredients in my cupboard and am happy to make-do where possible. For example, last night there weren't quite enough pine nuts to roast, so we threw in some shelled pistachios as well. Mmmmmm.

I've also been hunting down bargains. I just bought a loaf of heavily seeded, light rye sourdough for $3.60 - rather than the ridonculously expensive $6 loaf I tend to go for {it does last for days, so at least cost per meal is cheap...}

Last night I sat down and went through our Entertainment Book, bought as a fundraiser for our daughter's school. Obviously the big attraction is the meal vouchers at restaurants around time - buy one main get one free is always a good idea - but I'm also checking out the other offers to see where I can save.

We're also co-opting anyone into slavery we can. While my parents are up my step-dad's laying down a concrete path around the side of the house to be paved over once we save for the pavers, mum's doing some sewing, cleaning and plenty of one-on-one time with my gal. My mother-in-law mended one pair of hubby's work pants that were beyond my rudimentary sewing skills and father-in-law can polish school shoes and trainers so they look like new.

This week we also found a fabulouso accounted who's taken care of our tax and given us some really good financial advice. Yay!

spin me right round

You're never too old to ride a carousel in Paris...

sensible shoe of the week

Because I'm pretty sure that it's forecast to rain, pour, bucketdown or sprinkle for the next foreseeable future I'm thinking I may need to invest in a pair of gumboots. Normally, when it's raining, and because I don't want to ruin any of my suede or leather shoes, I'll wear a pair of havaianas - even the other morning when it was eight degrees. That's just craziness.

So I may go wellie shopping on the weekend. Chances are that as soon as I have a pair sitting by the front door we'll be in for a long dryspell - which is just dandy as far as I'm concerned!

shoe of the week

Why thank you Bottega Veneta, don't mind if I do. Any time is Mary Jane time and these are just what I need for a pair of everywhere shoes. I could wear them everywhere, with anything, with a grin spreading across my face. If only my bank account would agree...

going off

I just went one hour and 23 minutes without an internet connection, which promptly made me realise I was addicted to the damned thing. Seriously, if I'd turned on a tap and there was no water I'd shrug and realise that it'd come back on eventually - but my internet? Oh, I refreshed, checked mail, re-started, pushed in every single plug that seemed remotely connected to my mac, and had more than a small whizzy.

It's back now, so I can settle down. Whew.

rear window

The precipitation we're currently experiencing brings new gravitas to the phrase "bucketing down". It's not just raining cats and dogs - it's pouring elephants and rhinos. This is the view from my kitchen window where big fat raindrops the size of baby's fists are hammering down on the surface of the pool - which is about 2mm from overflowing.

Since the Newcastle floods a few years back it's hard not to experience anxiety when the rain is so harsh and unrelenting. Luckily we don't seem to be experiencing the king tides at the beach which fought with the rain trying to escape the storm water drains.

The romance of the sound of rain on a tin roof is sounding a bit hollow these days...

motorin' mama

I'm unusual for a girl in that I really like cars. My head will swivel at the sight of a cool set of wheels - particularly vintage ones, with fins. Despite this, since having a child I've gone all sensible with my wheels. When hubby and I met he owned a cute little Morris Minor and I was restoring a pale grey and white vauxhall cresta {it had fins, whitewall tyres, red leather interior and was a hydromatic - you know, like Greased Lightening...}

So, here I am, a bit of a rev-head yet our two cars are teeny little silver sensible numbers, a hyundai getz and a holden astra - five and eight years old respectively. And I was fine with that. Until today. Today I went to pickup the hire car I'm entitled to under my car's policy {yay Aami!} and emitted a 'kwoar' of delight when I spied what I was driving - a brand new, black Holden Astra.

Oh my.

Anyways, I got behind the wheel and am pretty sure I looked just like Ferris when he slid into the driver's seat of Cameron's dad's car. Sweet.

That's it, I'm smitten. I'm now in new car love, and am pretty sure there will be a petulant pout on these lips when time comes to hand back Black Beauty {yep, already named her} and get back into Old Grey Mare {my new name for my old silver car...}

I'll just enjoy it while it lasts I guess...

to doodle doodle do

For some reason, between yesterday and today, strange things have been afoot. For example, yesterday, if you'd asked me, I would have said I had things pretty well under control for my interstate visitors. Today, when I'm leaving to pick my mum and step-dad up at 1pm from the airport, I'll actually realise that there's a helluva lot to do before they get there.

The sheets for the guest bed are in the washing machine - and will be going in the dryer as it's raining. The guest room needs a good straightening after the sleepover on the weekend. There's paper ALL over the house as my husband's been working on three years worth of my tax for the past week. {I know, a shocker, shan't be doing that again}

So, a plan's in order. I'm going to quickly wash my hair and then start in the kitchen and work my way back through the house. 15 minutes full-on tidying in each room should do it - leaving me free to have a coffee before I leave.

Ready? Set...

easier than opening a pack

Call me odd, but I do like making things. The other day, as I had some sausages I knew I wouldn't use, puff pastry in the freezer and kids coming over I whipped up some sausage rolls. It was as simple as slicing a nick in the end of the sausage casing, peeling it off and laying it on a piece of puff pastry I'd sliced in thirds {three chiplatas per row}. Then I rolled them in the pastry and pushed down the edges to seal. A quick baste with plenty of beaten egg and they went in the oven for 15 minutes - a lot quicker than the frozen ones. Plus, if you've got a butcher you trust, using sausages can work out easier than mixing up your own filling. Served with a big bowl of tomato sauce that's some pretty satisfied kids!

my unreal life

You'll never see me auditioning for reality television. For a few minutes earlier this year I pondered applying for MasterChef, and every night as I watch it I'm sooooooo glad I didn't. For a start, the challenges stump me. Last night? Kingfish, coconut, pineapple and rum? Sure, I can imagine making a few things out of them - but nothing I'd want to eat. The contradictory nature offends me as well. "Think outside the box" exhort the judges, "Don't go out of your comfort zone," they implore... Huh?

Last night the judges whooped with joy when Geni affirmed that she'd be making baklava with the nuts, then tutted and told her she needed to step away from home-cooking when said dish was placed before them. And let's not get started on the vicious forums dedicated to reality contestants. Harsh, mean, soul-destroying. Seriously, if I were MasterChef contestant Sandra and her hubby I'd be moving to another country - one without access to YouTube... 

That said, of course I tune in every night. My week's not complete without its reality run. As horrified as I am by the treatment of Cassie on Australia's Next Top Model do you reckon I'll be protesting by turning it off? Um, nope. It does mean that I'll be helping to realistically boost my daughter's self-esteem, and, should she ever state she'll be auditioning for one of these programs, I'm pretty sure I'll be investing in a couple of plane tickets and scooting her out of town quick smart. 

Reality really does bite.

not another manic monday

From now on I refuse to start the week off in a grump. My loathing on Monday often plummets me into a serious dose of the blues - but that ain't happening from here on in. So today I dressed in a gorgeous new {op-shop new} bright blue top, shiny silver pendant, favourite black and white vintage skirt, opaque tights and pale pink flats. 

I'm finishing off the article I've been postponing, have done a massive load of washing that's drying in the gorgeous winter sunshine and I think I'll cook up a seven-hour leg of lamb for dinner tonight. I've got netball at 6.40 and the MasterChef pressure challenge later on tonight. Seriously, what's not to love about Mondays huh?

sunday smiles

living the crazy life

Hope that's put a nice little image of Ricky Martin in your heads for the weekend! I'm having one of those weeks - that started mid-week so I'm guessing it'll end around Wednesday next week. You know those weeks where it seems like the universe is playing one massive mind-game with you? It started with Thursday afternoon. I had a computer induced eye-head-ache, you know, the headache in your eye thingy? So once my daughter came home from school and I fed and watered her I popped on an eye mask and lay on my bed, blinds drawn. Then, I heard this almightly bang and thought to myself, 'wow, that sounds just like a car crash except their was no breaking glass or creaking of metal' and settled down to rest. Until my doorbell rang. Yes, that would be my car, or the rear of it, in all its plastic and non-metalic glory that'd been rear-ended by a little old lady after taking her husband to the Drs. Sigh.

Then today, at netball, I'm there, on the sidelines, encouraging my little team, who're playing their hearts out - and actually in the lead for the first time ever, when an official comes over and tells me there have been complaints that I'm coaching from the sidelines. Me? I apologise, bemused, and ask what constitutes 'coaching from the sidelines' and apparently it involves moving from the one spot and calling any instructions. Which, colour me confused, I don't believe I did. I start looking around for the parallel universe, or Ashton Kutcher, anything, but no. Sure, I move up the sidelines, and yes, I call out, but it's retrospective praise, or the odd "Move in front of your player" kinda thing. Obviously the other team aren't used to losing.

So then I stand, frozen, mute, watching my team - and the opposing coach cruising up and down the line, calling out instructions, standing and coaching under the goal posts. And I fume. Silently mind.

After the game I approach officials and ask for a little more clarification and am left as bemused as ever. C'est la vie. I've asked the coaching official at my club exactly what I can and can't do and will just have to shrug and move on. My main goal is for the happiness of my team. If they never win it won't bother me - but I know that they'd love just one win - just once before the end of season. They'll get there.

You know why all this is happening don't you? Hubby's away and I've got a witchy-poo pimple on the end of my nose, and another right on the bridge so that every time I look left, there's a pimply obstruction in my view. Is it possibly for anything to go right at a time like this? Oh, did I mention the whole PMT scenario?

I'm trying to get over it - after all, these are just teensy irritations designed to let you see how good your life normally is. I've washed my hair, my gal's invited her bestest bud over for a sleepover and we'll do nails, go out for gourmet burgers, pop corn and watch a DVD. Then, once they're in bed, there'll be a hot chocolate with my name on it.

Tomorrow's another day.

ships ahoy

You'd get me on a cruise if I could pack this little number in my luggage. Chanel, in Venice, sigh...

sew excited

Chances are that I've mentioned before how my husband just tunes out ads - never, ever pays attention to them. Not me. Oh no, the opening seconds and I can tell you exactly what it's all about - particularly if it's an ad I loathe.

Anywhaddle, I was just tidying the living room, TV still on after I'd watched a few minutes of SATC over lunch {had to stop - it was the one where Carrie and Big have the affair - hate that almost as much as Berger...} and I heard the opening for a Project Runway Australia ad. Thinking it was just the usual, I wandered out, hands full of little bits of my daughter's stuff to return to her room, and when I came back in realised that they were SHOWING THE NEW CONTESTANTS!!!!!!!!!!!  Dammit. I caught a quick flash and am already feeling excited. Sure, nobody can ever eclipse the love I feel for Leigh {my husband was dead-over my crush on him by the end of the series} but still, looking diverse and interesting.

July 8 - off to get that date tattooed on my brain.

oh fair lady

Despite still being on the plan which allows us to view every single Foxtel channel {for an exorbitant sum mind, not out of the goodness of their teeny black hearts...}, we tend to stick to a few favourites. Well, last night, due to a dearth of anything on my usual channels I stepped outside my comfort zones and watched a biography of Audrey Hepburn. I've always been enchanted by her, have watched most of her films, and could just drown in those gorgeous eyes. Which was why I was astonished to hear that she described her face as "a square, with tiny, little eyes". What? Those enormous doe eyes above? Sure, she has the most exquisite eye make-up, but small, square? Pardon? 

People never see us the way we imagine ourselves do they?