Friday, December 16, 2011


I've had a million thoughts swirling around in my head, all seeking some kind of release this week, yet somehow I'm incapable of stringing much together in a coherent manner. It may be connected to the fact that my head is as foggy as can be, and my sinuses in need of serious suction. You needed to know that, right?

So, instead of subjecting anyone to ramblings which probably wouldn't make sense, a few photos from the week will have to do.

Don't you love the shiner, egg, whatever you call such injuries? And if you're not already impressed, I'd like to mention that this is the second one - in the exact same spot, but difference causes - in as many weeks.

As 2011 nears to an end, I hope it's not too late to nominate myself for Mother of the Year - because clearly, I deserve it.

This is a house in our 'hood. Crazy-arsed shit, am I right? To properly capture the crazy, I would have needed a wide lens. I'm not even joking - we lost count of how many inflatable Santas there were, in every conceivable scenario. The only sound we could hear was the hissing and whirring of machines to keep these babies inflated. I'm guessing this collection is several decades' worth.

Today, in my quest to find (fruit) mince pies for the festivities - how unAmerican - I encountered this cute little tchotche, and she now has a home on our tree. I also bought a sister for her, so the Faery and Miss Pie can claim one each. I couldn't resist, as my love of Japanese-related items knows no boundaries.

Also? I've been desperate to use the word tchotche since I first encountered it over at Best of Fates (Megan, this should be a proud moment for you, although I'm pretty sure you would have had no idea). If only I knew how to pronounce it...


  1. They don't do fruit mince pies? I think they are a very English thing, truth be told. I live for those things, much the same as I do hot crossies at Easter.

    Poor Miss Pie - she and Rory would get along well with their matching Faberge forehead eggs. What is it with these daredevil youngest children?

    I'm with you on feeling a bit overwhelmed and flummoxed at the moment. I go to write something and nothing is hanging together. My head is full of stuff that I can't really put on there in case it comes back to haunt me (sigh). It's just difficult.

    Need another Vegemite toast blog entry, that's what. That'll make it all better.

  2. There's one place where I can buy a Scottish brand of mince pies (I may be able to get them at Wholefoods but I rarely go there these days because I just end up shitting $$$). Haven't been able to track down Mr Kiplings.

    They're a very British thing, absolutely. J's mum and nan have always made them (from scratch), but I never really got into them until we lived in the UK. Even now, It's mostly J who gets excited (and obsessive) about them at this time of year.

    Vegemite? Always makes things better. x

  3. Ouch! Miss Pie has a propensity for headfirst-ness, I see. Ziggy is much the same. Sigh.

    Mince pies are all yours.

    But the tchotche is deeply cute. Über-love.

    I can barely string a sentence together either which is how last night's post came about. Interesting how I write MORE when I'm not in the mood to write. Succinct? Not so much.

  4. Actually, the mince pies are all J's. I don't hate them, but I don't love them either. I can take 'em or leave 'em. He appreciates them better - just like with roast lamb....