A lot of things are seriously wrong in our country today.
LOADS.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Flights Of Totoro Fancy
Whoooooeeeee!
We're off on a Totoro adventure. Everyday is Totoro-sighting day. Ever since Brisbane, small fry's been seeing Totoros everywhere. We'd be walking along nicely and suddenly she stops dead in her tracks and points to a tree or a spot somewhere in the distance and say,
"Oooh, Mummy, look, look! Ooohh! It's Totoro!"
"Wow! Really? Where, where?"
"There, there, over there! On the tree!"
"What's he doing?"
"He's picking apples! Nah, here's one for you, Mummy."
"Thanks, babe."
Let's call that Scenario #1.
Scenario #2
"Oooooh look, Mummy! Totoro's on the bus!"
"He is? Where's he going?"
"To the library!"
"What's he gonna do at the library?"
"Borrow some books!"
Hm, yeah...Totoro would be interested in going to the library at the Gold Coast.
Scenario #3
*Gasp* "I can see Totoro, Mummy!"
"Where?"
"There, there! He's on the Wheel!" (The Brisbane Eye - Brisbane's version of the London Eye)
"What's he doing there?"
"He's going for a ride!"
Scenario #4
While observing the fishes and sharks at the underwater viewing gallery at Seaworld, Gold Coast:
"Totoro's swimming, Mummy. Look, look!"
"Where?"
"There, there! Over there!"
"Are you sure? Can he swim?"
"Um yeah, Mummy."
Scenario #5
"Totoro's driving the car, Mummy!"
Scenario #6
"Totoro's over there, digging some nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #7
"I see Totoro's ears! He's at the window eating, Mummy!"
"Wah, what's he eating?"
"Um, nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #8
She's on the bed reading or watching TV when suddenly she gets up and starts rummaging around in the luggage.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for the little, tiny Totoro, Mummy."
The little, tiny Totoro has been missing for a while at our house.
That's not including the times when she'll inadvertently burst out into song, serenading everyone within a 10-30m radius with the two theme songs from Totoro. Yes, in Japanese. And yes, it could happen ANYWHERE: bookstores, walking along the sidewalk, sitting in her stroller and even in the bus.
IN. A. BUS. With passengers.
Yes, that's my little Totoro-spotting and theme-song spouting small fry. What would life be without her?
Unimaginable.
We're off on a Totoro adventure. Everyday is Totoro-sighting day. Ever since Brisbane, small fry's been seeing Totoros everywhere. We'd be walking along nicely and suddenly she stops dead in her tracks and points to a tree or a spot somewhere in the distance and say,
"Oooh, Mummy, look, look! Ooohh! It's Totoro!"
"Wow! Really? Where, where?"
"There, there, over there! On the tree!"
"What's he doing?"
"He's picking apples! Nah, here's one for you, Mummy."
"Thanks, babe."
Let's call that Scenario #1.
Scenario #2
"Oooooh look, Mummy! Totoro's on the bus!"
"He is? Where's he going?"
"To the library!"
"What's he gonna do at the library?"
"Borrow some books!"
Hm, yeah...Totoro would be interested in going to the library at the Gold Coast.
Scenario #3
*Gasp* "I can see Totoro, Mummy!"
"Where?"
"There, there! He's on the Wheel!" (The Brisbane Eye - Brisbane's version of the London Eye)
"What's he doing there?"
"He's going for a ride!"
Scenario #4
While observing the fishes and sharks at the underwater viewing gallery at Seaworld, Gold Coast:
"Totoro's swimming, Mummy. Look, look!"
"Where?"
"There, there! Over there!"
"Are you sure? Can he swim?"
"Um yeah, Mummy."
Scenario #5
"Totoro's driving the car, Mummy!"
Scenario #6
"Totoro's over there, digging some nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #7
"I see Totoro's ears! He's at the window eating, Mummy!"
"Wah, what's he eating?"
"Um, nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #8
She's on the bed reading or watching TV when suddenly she gets up and starts rummaging around in the luggage.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for the little, tiny Totoro, Mummy."
The little, tiny Totoro has been missing for a while at our house.
That's not including the times when she'll inadvertently burst out into song, serenading everyone within a 10-30m radius with the two theme songs from Totoro. Yes, in Japanese. And yes, it could happen ANYWHERE: bookstores, walking along the sidewalk, sitting in her stroller and even in the bus.
IN. A. BUS. With passengers.
Yes, that's my little Totoro-spotting and theme-song spouting small fry. What would life be without her?
Unimaginable.
Desperately Seeking Affection
Something must have short-wired in Trixie's brain. Ever since we came back from Brisbane and she had her session of TLC and combing during the New Year, she's been a magnet for affection.
She tries to get close to me at all times of the day, seeking out hugs, eskimo kisses and nuzzles most of the time she's awake. Usually she seeks me out only during the night when only hubby and I are awake or when she sniffs my warm milk in a mug.
Must be the short stint when we left them at home by themselves with no company but the plants and the cat sitter coming in every other day to replenish their food and water.
I'm not complaining. It's nice for a change to have her come looking for me rather than the other way around.
The boy's the same as ever; he's my cat-dog, my attention-loving dog stuck in a cat's body. He still comes to me when I'm out of the room every morning, or whenever I'm around the house, trying to nudge my legs, feet or hands. And when it's just hubby and me up at night in the living room, he never fails to burrow himself in between both of us or worse, find a viable spot on my sarong where I'm curled up and try to curl up there himself, even if it's obvious there's really not enough room for his substantial bulk. If I move away, he usually tries to follow and tries to at least lean his bulk next to me.
If we sleep with the bedroom door open any time of the day, he'll be there on our bed. At one point over the course of the holidays, there were five living things on our bed; FIVE. LIVING. BREATHING. BEINGS. On our QUEEN-SIZED bed, two of them furry. One of them the size of a small dog, one who sounds like a bulldozer, the other who takes up more space than an octopus, with limbs flailing in all directions.
Welcome to my crazy, furry zoo.
She tries to get close to me at all times of the day, seeking out hugs, eskimo kisses and nuzzles most of the time she's awake. Usually she seeks me out only during the night when only hubby and I are awake or when she sniffs my warm milk in a mug.
Must be the short stint when we left them at home by themselves with no company but the plants and the cat sitter coming in every other day to replenish their food and water.
I'm not complaining. It's nice for a change to have her come looking for me rather than the other way around.
The boy's the same as ever; he's my cat-dog, my attention-loving dog stuck in a cat's body. He still comes to me when I'm out of the room every morning, or whenever I'm around the house, trying to nudge my legs, feet or hands. And when it's just hubby and me up at night in the living room, he never fails to burrow himself in between both of us or worse, find a viable spot on my sarong where I'm curled up and try to curl up there himself, even if it's obvious there's really not enough room for his substantial bulk. If I move away, he usually tries to follow and tries to at least lean his bulk next to me.
If we sleep with the bedroom door open any time of the day, he'll be there on our bed. At one point over the course of the holidays, there were five living things on our bed; FIVE. LIVING. BREATHING. BEINGS. On our QUEEN-SIZED bed, two of them furry. One of them the size of a small dog, one who sounds like a bulldozer, the other who takes up more space than an octopus, with limbs flailing in all directions.
Welcome to my crazy, furry zoo.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Hello, 2010!
The plan was to watch the fireworks from hubby's office last night, complete with small fry in tow. Jona's back in the Philippines on break and neither set of parents are quite dispensed to come down to mind the small fry.
That was the plan, anyway.
Small fry had much to adjust to from traveling to and back from Brisbane that it seemed too much to ask of her to schlep along with us to catch an annual fireworks display. I was ok with staying at home, heck, was even dressed for an evening home, even though I'd already preset the settings for the camera for the night.
Final word from hubby sealed it though. We'd brought out the stroller and were prepping it to transfer a sleeping small fry into it when he turned around and thought better of the idea. I just shrugged and went back to my book.
My enthusiasm for the new year was that abundant. Yay. In truth, it's just another year and another 365 days to call a new year.
But the brown cows had a blast. They got a major grooming session while we were catching the fireworks on TV. At least some members of the family were receiving some pretty much needed TLC.
Welcome, 2010.
That was the plan, anyway.
Small fry had much to adjust to from traveling to and back from Brisbane that it seemed too much to ask of her to schlep along with us to catch an annual fireworks display. I was ok with staying at home, heck, was even dressed for an evening home, even though I'd already preset the settings for the camera for the night.
Final word from hubby sealed it though. We'd brought out the stroller and were prepping it to transfer a sleeping small fry into it when he turned around and thought better of the idea. I just shrugged and went back to my book.
My enthusiasm for the new year was that abundant. Yay. In truth, it's just another year and another 365 days to call a new year.
But the brown cows had a blast. They got a major grooming session while we were catching the fireworks on TV. At least some members of the family were receiving some pretty much needed TLC.
Welcome, 2010.
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