Left Behind

Holidays for me always have an unsavoury way of being a little dull and monotonous. What with the whole uni student schedule, I have found myself in possession of nearly 4 whole months of empty summer holidays to fill. Granted I have exhausted two of them, but I am still staring down the barrel of two months with next to nothing to do to fill all these empty slots in my weekly planner. Now most people would plan to do something worthwhile with all this glorious spare time. Travel, get a day job, find a cure for cancer, knit a sweater… But not this chickadee my dear readers. Instead of some daring, galant and otherwise brilliant plan, I have decided to do absolutely nothing of interest. I am spending my holidays hanging around at home or begging my assortment of friendly chums to hang out with me.

Along with this, I have the unhappy occasion to report that my bestest buddy in the whole world has upped and decided to travel to the land of sushi and cartoons with abnormally large eyes and unlikely coloured hair.

PINK? Are they serious?!?

That is right. Marley, my eternal chum and co-founder of the Brandytook Sisterhood of EPIC AWESOMENESS is in Japan, cavorting through the snow like a little… snow cavorter and I am here… Trying to whittle away the time until she gets back.

Similarly, my brand new friend of the romantic variety is getting his travel freak on and is going to Fiji for 2 weeks, starting tomorrow. I don’t mean to be a cry baby or anything, because as you all know I am really very tough and full of brawn and stuff… but am feeling a little left behind. I know that they are both off doing spectacular things for the good of mankind and other people in general, and it would be more than a smidgen selfish of me to want them to remain behind on my account, but the little whiney side of my otherwise shining personality wishes that they were here anyway.

So if any of you have any notions on what I should do with my time, to distract me from my pitiful state of wallowing until they return, I would be greatly happy and stuff, and I will sing you a ditty and blow you a kiss. I have been toying with the crazy notion of writing a book… but am undecided, which isn’t an alien state for me to be in. I take indecision seriously!



We’re goin’ a Feudin’

worse than this

So it’s war. Little Big Sister and Big Brother are going head to head in a battle of wills in a contest that is shaping up to be bigger than Ben Hur, and I am not even kidding. The past couple of days has been an emotional roller coaster that has no harness, no emergency brakes and a complex network of rails that come to numerous dead ends that will send you flying to your death in a blazing trail of carnival music and cotton candy. Essentially, it is not a good season to be alive if you’re dabbling about in my gene pool. My family tree is about to be hacked down, made into sawdust and shipped to pet stores all over the country to collect mice droppings.

I’m not exactly wanting to hang all our dirty washing all over the blogosphere. The ammunition used by both sides is not PG and thus, unsuitable for publication. Needless to say, my esteemed family is not above the odd low blow and they are coming hard and fast in this death match.

So if I am not at liberty to discuss this online then why oh why am I mentioning it at all? My blogging has been sporadic at best lately, why start with this unsavory bit of family headline? Well Dear Readers, I am doing this because, I am stuck smack bang right in the middle of it. As the only member of my family that is unbiased and coherent at the moment, I have been wrangled into position as impromptu mediator between these warring factions.

Yep, it's this bad

So far there has been no bloodshed (touch wood) but apart from that we are entering into a no holds barred Clash of the Titans and no-one knows just how this chapter is going to end. If anyone happens to be in possession of plate armour please be a chum and send it on over to Mumsy’s house and I’ll be eternally grateful.

In other news, I’ve finally booked my semester one classes. If anyone is interested to know more about them please ask. I didn’t want to bore the rest of you with details.

Well I’m off to try and trick myself into going to sleep. Pleasant dreams 🙂

Laugh Kookaburra Laugh

I stayed at Mumsy’s house last night, which is always an adventure in itself. Last night I had music practice which is just around the corner from where I used to live with Sister Dear. Since Sister Dear decided to relocate to the beach, I have lost my place to crash and my guaranteed breakfast the next morning. Mumsy, who providentially lives just around the corner from Sister Dear’s old house, has offered me the use of her pull out sofa bed for whenever I have need.

Given how smashingly Mumsy and I get on, you would be surprised to find out that this arrangement, while handy, is rather lacking in certain desirable features.

The Pantry at Chattel de la Mumsy is a sad excuse for a celestial larder. Mumsy is convinced that she is lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant which means her victual stores look a whole lot like some sick and twisted health food shop wherein people force feed you lentils, polenta and freaky things floating in  purple coloured goop. After numerous raids into the depths of her freezer I finally returned with a packet of frozen veggies and some meat I hope came from a cow. Huzzah!

Secondly, Conversation isn’t exactly one of my strong points. I can Facebook chat with the best of them and MSN until the cows come home. However the bitter truth of the matter is that I prefer my own company and with the exception of a few people, I find it a tad onerous to carry on a fully fledged conversation for any length of time. Sister Dear and I had a fabulous arrangement. If we wanted to spend some quality time together, we would put on a movie and watch it together. We talked if we wanted to and when we didn’t want to, we didn’t. Mumsy does not understand this. In a bid to force us into conversation she sold the television so we have no choice but to sit there and exchange niceties about the weather. Gah

Thirdly, I am all for getting out of bed nice and early but Mumsy is taking early bird to a whole new level. I was camping out on her couch, blissfully unaware that anything existed outside of the land of sweet dreams and cotton candy. I was in that limbo, post sleep / pre wake place where you’re sort of aware of what’s going on but still semi sleeping, when into the living room shuffles Mumsy in her noisy slippers. I squidge open one eye and look at my watch. 4:30am?! I close my eye hoping Mumsy will see her sleeping daughter and, having pity on her, will shuffle right back into her room, shut the door and stay there until a more reasonable hour. No. The shuffling continues into the bathroom, followed by the sounds of showering.

By this time I have the blanket pulled up over my head and am trying to burrow my way into the couch. Devil Birds who live in a cage on the patio wake up and start squawking away. Mumsy emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen where she turns on the noisiest kettle in the history of kitchen appliances. Cups rattle, every piece of cutlery is emptied onto the bench, tossed around the room and then one spoon is selected to clatter against the side of the mug a few times. The patio door is opened and Devil Birds are let out, the door closes and Mumsy shuffles back in. By this time I am wide awake and glaring at a spot on the ceiling waiting for Mumsy to come around the corner before I let lose the full force of my crippling gaze.

“Morning Sweetie”, she says all cheerily
“Did you sleep well?”
*Another Growl*
“Would you like some breakfast?”

At this point I sit up, hair looking like I’ve stabbed a paper clip into the power socket and pillow imprints all over my face and say rather forcefully, “It’s not even 5 o’clock in the morning! I should be sleeping! And for the love of God could you please shuffle softly!”
*Stunned Silence* From Mumsy

After this I flop back down onto the couch and pull the blankets up over my head. I peak out and see Mumsy trying her hardest to shuffle quietly back into her bedroom, tea in hand.

Last but not least we come to Little Brother. The greasy haired cretin inhabits the back bedroom. Seeing as Monday night was his Formal and after formal party, I suspect that the boy was suffering from something akin to a hangover. *Rubs hands together gleefully*
Mumsy shuffled into his bedroom at 6am and calls out all sweet like that the time has come for him to get out of bed. There is nothing but silence and boy smell coming from the depths of his bedroom. Since I had been awake since 4:30am and was in something of an unpleasant mood I took it upon myself to extract said person from his bed. Anyone who hasn’t tried getting a seventeen year old boy out of bed when he is inclined to sleep until noon has no idea of the epic effort that this was.

On a brighter note, I was walking across the car park toward the office this morning when I saw a Kookaburra sitting on a lamp post teaching its baby how to laugh. It kind of made my morning.

How’s that for Spontaneity?

I am caught somewhere between euphoria and blind panic. Once again Clare has jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire. Lets just hope that this time I don’t get burnt.

I resigned yesterday. After working for this company for 28 months, I came back from my lunch break, took a look at my desk and decided that I didn’t want to sit there anymore. So I wrote my resignation letter, sent it to the business owner and went about my business.

I’m a planner by nature. I make lists, I consult these lists. I write out more lists of pros and cons and then ask everyone else what they think I should do. After that I call both my mothers asking them what they would do in my position and then I will make a decision, sweat about it for a month before following through.

Only once in my life have I made a life changing decision on the spur of the moment. June last year, I printed out 4 different hair styles, got the girls in the office to vote on their favorite and ended up with hair like this

oh yes... a bob with bangs...

which was fine until everyone I saw told me that they just mistook me for my mother. I look back on it as a life lesson, and it will live on forever as one of those crazy things I did in my youth. I will store it away with my other life lessons and bring it out only when I need to prove to my children that I was young and reckless once too.

This time thought I decided to take my life into my own hands and do something that I want to do, based solely on the fact that I really want to do it. I’m not going to be a receptionist for the rest of my life. I have no idea what exactly the rest of my life is going to look like, but sitting behind a desk being at the beck and call of every man and his dog is definitely not it.

So my genius plan for the future? Your guess is as good as mine. Something fabulous will come up and I will love it. I will wake up and want to go to work for once. Wouldn’t that be nice?


Sister 2

Good morning dear readers and can I just say a very happy Monday to you all. I hope your weekend was very enjoyable and if it wasn’t my very deepest sympathies. moving on.

Yesterday was my Father’s birthday. He turned 58, which means that he is still a spring chicken. So I did my daughterly duty and called him up last night to do the HAPPY BIRTHDAY routine and before I hung up he said he had a favour to ask of me. Seeming as it was his birthday I couldnt’ exactly refuse but the nature of the favour is a little unsettling.

Father Bear asked me to be the Power of Attorney on his will, which is an honor seeming as I am second youngest in a brood of five, not to mention his vast collection of step children. I must say though that the thought of him making preparations for his death is not what I was expecting on the day which is supposed to be a celebration of his birth.

As my brain was tripping around all these melancholy thoughts, I got to thinking of my sister. Not Sister Dear who we all know and love, but my other sister who I’ve never seen fit to introduce you to because of a slight that I am not big enough to put behind me. My big sister whose room I shared for years on end and who taught me the finer arts of escaping the strap when our cunning plans backfired and roused Dad’s wrath. I idolised my big sister in that way that only little sisters can, and now, because of various circumstances I can’t even add her on my list of family members on a blog that she will probably never read.

Needless to say I am feeling a little ashamed of myself. So, I am going to swallow my pride and a huge slice of humble pie and introduce to you all another branch of my family tree.

Little Big Sister – My five foot nothing ‘big sister’ (24)
Big Foot – Little Big Sister’s husband who’s close to seven-foot tall (28)
Pippin – Little Big Sister’s eldest boy who is about to start prep (5)
Bub – The newest addition to the family, Little Big Sister’s baby girl (almost 1)

And there you have it.

To infinity and beyond

Righto readers. Under pain of death I have been told to let you all know what is going on in the world according to Clare. Sorry about my lack of blogging, I have been pre-occupied *snicker*.

The time has come it would seem for one Miss Clare to spread her wings and sally forth into the great unknown (aka the real world). While I love living with Sister Dear and her family, it has been decided that the time has come to move on. Now officially a member of the twenty-something crew, and still living more or less at home is nothing to gloat over and so without further ado, I’M MOVING OUT!!

Someone warn my new neighbors; they are about to be assailed with the joint bonkersness of not only the current occupant but by my own fabulous self as well. Cherrytree lane will have nothing on the residence that I am soon to share with my lovely chumly Marley. Separate we are dazzling enough but with our forces combined we are nothing short of epic fabulousness in human form.

So gird your loins readers for stories, tales and frightful renditions of the adventures that are soon to be had. You should all be very excited.

In other news, I am back at work this week after a 2 week break. As much as I enjoyed the time off I am starting to regret it. The next time someone comes to me asking where something is at or whether something or other has arrived in the mail I am going to beat them repeatedly over the head with a steel re-inforced pool noodle. What part of ‘I haven’t been here for the past 2 weeks’ is so hard for people to comprehend. They have been here and I have not so maybe try looking where you last had it instead of asking someone who already has a pile of things to do as tall as herself in 5 inch heels.

Lastly and then I will leave you alone to enjoy your lives. Can you please all ask your respective deities to please withhold rain in Brisbane for a weekend so that I can get some washing done. I am down to my last pair of everything.

I know I left my sanity somewhere

Firstly blogging world, I feel like I should apologise for my extended absence. I have been on holidays and as such have had nothing particularly to tell you… Well nothing that I want published on the interweb in any case for my enemies to use against me. Moving on.

Confined space + (Mumsy + Clare)= Pig

Now that’s out-of-the-way… HELLO!!! How are we all dear readers?I am curled up in a ball hiding under the linen in the laundry closet after spending an afternoon with Mumsy. Now I am aware that I may have painted the dear woman in a less than favorable light and feel that I should just point out that I do love her quite a lot. I do however break out in a rash, start hyperventilating and weep uncontrollably when left alone with her for extended periods of time.

Since I’ve been on holidays starting two weeks ago I had managed untill yesterday to avoid the ‘quality time’ thing with Mumsy. I had also managed to avoid the inevitable ‘I won’t be around forever’ talk which usually follows the ‘sorry Mumsy, can’t today I’m busy’ routine. So yesterday I caved and seeming as I’m back to work on Monday I figured that I would spend my last weekday of freedom with her. Now spending time with Mumsy is not as easy as you may be led to believe. Movies are usually out of the question because as soon as the male and female leads kiss she is up in arms. The bad guy swings at the good guy and she is up in arms, and someone slips an F-Bomb in and she has an aneurism and is carried out by ushers. So after browsing the Now Showing listings I gave up and went in search of something else to whittle away an afternoon. Then… EUREKA!! A trip to the Queensland Art Gallery followed by a romp in the Gallery of Modern Art. I danced a jig, called Mumsy, listened while she danced and jig and then we were on our way.

After a 30 minute train ride, Mumsy is still in high spirits and I am trying not to strangle her. Deep breaths, count to ten and we’re right to continue. A few close calls with road crossings and we amble into the gallery. We were browsing through the Victorian art when it started

This guy will eat your children

Mumsy for all of you not intimately acquainted with her, has a sight impediment. One of her eyes is long sighted and the other severely short-sighted. So half the time she was looking at paintings from half way across the room and the other half of the time she was so close you would think she was trying to lick it. Which is where Security Dude comes in, we shall call him Hank. While Mumsy has her nose all but pushed up against the picture trying to decipher how many bristles were on the brush at the time of the painting Hank runs over like he is about to do murder and asks her to kindly step away from the priceless antique artwork. My self-preservation instincts kick in and I turn away and try to look like the lunatic trying to get a whiff of ancient oil paint is not the donor of half my genes. Needless to say I was mortified.

Following this were a handful of other encounters with various other security guards who told her to not touch, to stand away from and one lady who confiscated Mumsy’s cappuccino. If I wasn’t being otherwise occupied blending into the walls I would have been rather impressed with her rebellion, whether it was intentional or not.

The train ride home was another adventure in itself. She seems to believe that being in close proximity to creativeness will make the creativeness rub off on her. This resulted in her trying to find art in everything she saw. The graffiti on the walls along the train line became works of art by misunderstood artists. The picture on the girl’s bag across the aisle was something to take apart and analyse. By the end of the trip I was sizing Mumsy up for the space in the boot of her car and praying to God to MAKE THE BAD WOMAN STOP!

Did I mention that I love my Mother?

It’s ALIVE!!

I am not a happy camper today dear readers. If you are looking for sympathy, an attentive ear or someone who gives a flying fudge stick, I suggest you don’t come looking for any of those things from me today. I am tired, cranky and in desperate need of something which I can pummel  repeatedly untill it resembled a processed meat patty.

‘But Clare’, some of you will think, ‘why so glum? Where is your bright, happy, smiling, positive outlook to which we have all grown so accustomed to being blessed with?’, I’ll tell you where. It is sleeping soundly in the land of sweet dreams and cotton candy. The place where for the past week I have been wrenched from at ungodly hours every morning and the one place I am desperate to be right now.

Usually I am one of those lucky people who are fabulous at getting to sleep. I am fairly well-adjusted to being able to know when to put the book down, turn off the light and roll myself into Clare-shaped hot dog so that I can slide effortlessly into dream-land in about 3 minutes flat. Then after blissful sleep for 8 hours I wake up 2 minutes before my alarm goes off. This usually is how my relationship with sleep goes.

Not for the past week though. For some reason I am not yet aware of, I am waking up at 4:30am. For someone who doesn’t need to get out of bed untill 6am, this rude awakening is causing somewhat of a problem. I NEED 8 hours of sleep. Without 8 hours of sleep I will walk around all day shooting laser beams out of my eyes and making babies cry. My work people walk about on egg shells, living in fear of having to put a call through to me in case I take it into my sleep deprived head to worm through the phone connection and devour their souls.

I can almost see The Big Guy Upstairs sitting on a cloud next to the Pearly gates, holding onto his ALMIGHTY SMITER BUTTON and after turning the setting from PILLAR OF SALT to ANNOYING EARLY WAKEUP CALL pointing it in my sleeping direction and smacking it like one of those mole whacking games. Then giggling like a girty while I lie awake for an hour and a half before I need to drag my sorry behind out of bed.


In other news, I am starting to have second thoughts about my abilities to look after Chubbling and Rhyno while Sister dear and her husband are traversing the globe. On Saturday while the globe-trotting pair skidaddled off to buy a new suitcase, I was left in charge of the little miscreants. Chubbling woke up from his nap and contentedly bumbled about the living room untill Rhyno woke up and he retreated into the dining room to avoid being sat on or other similar unpleasantness. I was alternating between living room and dining room doing the ‘watchful Aunt’ routine and was on the living room rotation when I could hear Chubbling coughing. I left Rhyno launching himself off the couch onto a strategically located pile of cushions and went to investigate.

Chubbling, in his 11 month old state had opened the sliding door to the deck, had gotten himself to Sister Dear’s husbands packet of cigarettes. Chewed it open and was sitting, soggy filter in hand, tobacco all over his cheeks and chin and half devoured cigarettes spread around him. After I re-started my heart and wondered how on earth in 60 seconds he had accomplished such a feat, I grabbed both child and cigarettes and turned to rush him into the bathroom before he chose that moment to vomit a mixture of formula, jam sandwich and semi-digested tobacco all over the deck.

Maybe some people just shouldn’t have children…

Anarchy anyone??

1. a state of society without government or law.
2. political and social disorder due to the absence of governmental control
3. a theory that regards the absence of all direct or coercive government as a political ideal and that proposes the cooperative and voluntary association of individuals and groups as the principal mode of organized society.

Oh my giddy aunt, any Australian who is not currently residing under a rock will be aware of the current upheaval in our government. Due to a hung parliament, Australia finds itself temporarily without a governing body and like a mischievous child, has been left to its own devices while the parents quarrel over custody, trying to curry favour with friends and relatives. I must say, at this point I am quite partial to the notion of putting my head into the nearest sandbox and waiting untill this whole thing is over.

True to form, my imagination has gotten the better of me and I, for the past 2 days have been giving a lot of thought to the possibility that Australia as a nation will be unable to decide on one particular political party. As a result the whole nation will descend into chaos; people will take to the streets with pointed sticks. A military coup will follow, tear gas will be shot into the crowds, the masses will revolt and someone will tell us all to eat cake. Someone will have their head cut off and a fascist dictator will take control of our nation for a time. I will go all Corrie Ten Boom and start hiding people in my cupboard under my stairs and we’re all going have to communicate in code and traffic food stuffs via underground railroads.

In the meantime I am going to stock up on canned goods and outfit my bunker with gas masks and long life milk. It was a pleasure blogging with you all.

And then it hit me…

I’ve seen this done on a few other blogs lately and thought I’d give it a burl

 I’ve come to realise that my job… could always be worse.

I’ve come to realise that when I’m driving… things go by a lot faster.

I’ve come to realise that I need… to appreciate the people in my life more. They won’t be here forever.

I’ve come to realise that I have lost… contact with some of the most beautiful people.

I’ve come to realise that I hate… people thinking I should be different.

I’ve come to realise that if I’m drunk… I am going to do something I’m going to regret in the morning.

I’ve come to realise that money… isn’t everything and the best things in life really are free.

I’ve come to realise that certain people… will always rub you up the wrong way and there is nothing I can do about it.

 I’ve come to realise that I’ll always… be a little bit sad, but that’s ok because sad is happy for deep people.

I’ve come to realise that my sibling(s)… will always be part of my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve come to realise that my mom… did the best she could, and she’s hurting more than she lets on.

I’ve come to realise that my cell phone… will always run out of battery at the worst possible moment.

I’ve come to realise that when I woke up this morning… it was still dark.

I’ve come to realise that my first love is… still out there somewhere.

I’ve come to realise that right now I am thinking about… the bigger picture.

I’ve come to realise that my dad… made a lot of mistakes but is trying every day to make up for what he did, and despite what everyone thinks, he loves us.

I’ve come to realise that when I get on Facebook… I hope someone has left a comment or a message for me. 

I’ve come to realise that today… I should have worn lower heels.

I’ve come to realise that my best friend(s)… will tell it to me straight especially when I don’t want to hear it, and I’m glad they do. 

I’ve come to realise that I really want to… do something significant.

I’ve come to realise that life… is short, so I need to make the most of every single moment.

I’ve come to realise that this weekend… didn’t last as long as I needed it to.

I’ve come to realise that next weekend… won’t either.

I’ve come to realise that when life gives you lemons…. make grape juice… no-one will see it coming 🙂