Entries from September 2008 ↓

In an effort to continue my elementary school reading level, I give you today:

Twitter seems to have gifted me a previously unreachable tee.

Tonight we drank Tahbilk Merlot with some Milawa Goat Camembert, which was totally scrumptious - white and creamy, with subtle hints of that goaty sharpness and odour.

Yum, and yay.

Re-blogging from 2006:

This was going to be my ‘end of holidays’ whine-posting.

But the events of the last few days have put things in perspective, and instead of wasting my energies on shallow inane blah, I will instead use it to send all my love, peace, and goodwill to Paul, Crumpet, and Vetti.

It’s been a tough road lately for these beautiful people, and I wish I could take their suffering away.

Today we took The Hardman on the Last Adventure. I’ll be back at work next week, and life will return to something more mundane.

We took advantage of this sunny day to make the long drive down to the Australian Garden at Royal Botanical Gardens, Cranbourne.

Despite the long drive, the gardens were well worth the visit. I could see us spending an entire day down there - visiting the Australian Garden, and then taking advantage of the enormous RBG grounds for walks and picnics.

The Australian Garden was great to see, a huge collection of Australian flora in some fantastically designed landscapes. The only problem was the occasional bad-air from the nearby landfill (which is causing its own stir for local residents).

We were probably most impressed by the Home Garden display. Notably the large freestanding walls in the design got some gears ticking in our heads for our own garden. More on this later.

Finally, the Hardman’s joy was filled, as it always is, by a slide. One of the most natural play areas I have seen, with some great forked branches forming an open tunnel, and a red tunnel slide. Slides are always winners for the Hardman.

In summary - give the gardens another couple of years to grow a bit, and then we’ll meet you down there for a picnic and a wander. Just pray that there’s a southerly breeze…

Cheers,
gizo.

Silence is golden, peaceful and lonely.

Silence is happiness, thoughtfulness and accomplishment.

Silence is what it is, and embraces as it chooses.

Silence is fear, joy, calm and rage.

Tonight, silence is the sweet knowledge that all those that I have sworn to protect are sleeping. Healthily, peacefully sleeping.

My girls came home today. and there was much rejoicing.

It’s almost harder to re-learn how to handle and manage a newborn than it was learning how to do it the first time round. I’ve become so accustomed to man-handling the Hardman - throwing nappies on him and having him help out with pushing arms through sleeves. He’s just so much more robust.

So far we’ve had 2 feeds at home, and some good sleeps (both Lola and Kymbo). I’ve enjoyed remembering the smells and sounds, and am actually looking forward to the midnight and 4am feeds, at least this once. The semi-coherent wakefulness, the dim lights, and the snuffling boob-hunter.

In other news - I drove past the Google-van the other day (the map is not updated yet), and Merlin keeps making me stop and think.

Now, dance!

The Wildschwein have recently been posting some great stuff about the progress in their garden this spring.

Although we are somewhat indisposed at present, I did manage to find some time to be inspired this morning. The Hardman was sleeping late, and I needed to feed the chooks anyways. So I grabbed my camera and went for a stroll.

Check out the latest shots at flickr.

Limbo is ended.

Hello Lola

I’m still gathering myself, so apologies if this is unfocussed.

To be put in such a clinical place, and yet have the closeness of mothers and friends. It is a special feeling to have. We were blessed (and no, I do not use that word lightly) to have family and friends present.

Lola Jean was born healthy, bloody, and covered in thick, sticky vernix. She had a wail like a rockstar, and rocked her apgars at one and five minutes.

Weighing in at 8 pounds 1 ounce in the old-speak (or, for the modernists, 3.645kg) she was wonderfully average. Short at 48cm, but healthy.

Her name took a long while to find, but was worth the wait. Much like the child herself.

That’s all I have. Now it’s time to wait for Bookboy

gizo.

We’re in limbo.

Waiting. Waiting. Filling the time with nothing.

Life exists in pictures, sometimes. Here are some pictures of the Hardman and I making pizza.

Cheers, gizo