Picture this. You're sitting around a table with a group of people - family, workers - having just finished lunch and tucking into coffee and cake, when your 2 year old calls out for his Daddy. His Daddy, being in mid-sentence, doesn't answer, so 2 year old does what only a 2 year old could do, and brings his potty, complete with enormous poo to the dinner table, and proudly shows it off, because it's So Big.
Oh. My Goodness.
It's lamb marking time down here on the farm, always a busy time. I'm the camp cook, on account of the fact that the sheep don't go where I want, I don't like the big bumps when riding flatout across the paddock, I frequently get lost (these paddock are several thousand acres each, and to my city eyes, they all look much the same), oh yeah, and I have two kids to look after. We got smart and brought in a gyrocopter to help this time, and instead of taking 4 days, it only took one. We'll never muster without one again! We have Dorper sheep, and they're cunning wily beasts, great at hiding and taking off on you. Not the cuddly docile woolly sheep you see in a picture book, that's for sure, so the gyro was invaluable in finding the mobs and bringing them together. Much less stress all round!
An aerial view of our place
Hard at work.
The lamb marking team. Hubby must have ducked out of this one. They tag the ears with our property name and number, and put rubber rings on their tails and for the (un)lucky blokes, their ...ahem... nuts get a ring too. I still dry heave when I think of the number of times I've heard that the old-timers used to bite the nuts out, and slice off the tails with a knife. I think that fits into the cruel and unnecessary box. I wonder how true it is? The biting part, anyway.
Waiting their turn
Having a little rest.
There's a whole lot of standing around for the sheep.
Ready to be drafted.
Lamb marking is dusty, thirsty work...
...but this one still looks cool as a cucumber!
You know that zombie-like feeling you have after a night of no sleep? Well that's me today. I crawled into bed finally at 7:40 this morning, and Vicki had me up again at 9:00. The kids were tag-teaming on whose turn it was to wake up and "need me in the bed", to quote Harry. All. Night. Long.
Needless to say, I didn't make up a meal plan and grocery list to cater for the workers helping us muster starting Friday. I didn't do any book work. I didn't wash sheets and make beds up. I didn't start painting the kitchen. I did consider installing a volume knob on Vicki, who's just discovered her voice but not how to control its volume. And I did rebel against making dinner and dug some frozen spag bol out of the freezer. Well hey, it's still home cooked, right?
So anyway, here's the start of a mood board i'm putting together for the guest bedroom, which is pretty much a blank canvas at the moment. I'm thinking girly/vintage/elegant/a little pastel/a little excessive. Hopefully the main inhabitants won't be blokes of the stock agent/musterer/truck driver variety. They may not appreciate the vibe quite as much as, say, my mum.
A gorgeous shabby dresser in a pastel paint, like this one by The Turquoise Iris.
A vintage basket chandelier
A pretty and solid wrought iron bed in white or off-white. Sumptuous (do you like that word?) linens and piles of pillows and cushions, yet to be found.
Tell me, how do stay-at-home mums feel pretty and sexy when they spend most of their days up to their elbows in dirty nappies, washing up and blobs of toothpaste in the basin? I'm just sayin'...
If I read another magazine article suggesting I scrub the floor in my lingerie, I will personally hurl said scrubbing brush at them.
If you're looking for me, I'll be washing soggy Weet Bix off my bra strap.
I have often idly wondered why my hubby loves rifles so much... its not unusual for the centrepiece on our table to consist of an array of bullets of all different sizes, as he muses over the benefits of say .223 vs .308 ammo. It's a boy thing. I get that. But c'mon, surely you cant seriously spend all day googling rifles. Can you? I mean I know I can do it with renovated furniture and interior design, but we all know that's different, right?
Well, I think the table may have turned. We joined the pistol club this weekend, hubby to further his interest in all things weapon-related, and me to keep him company, really. But I loved it. Loved it! It's sport....but you don't raise a sweat! Perfect! Since then, I've been plotting and planning what my first pistol will be. I have plenty of time... when it comes to pistols you have to have your licence for 6 months before you can apply to purchase one, but hey, 6 months will fly by, if the last week is anything to go by. The pair of us have been heads down, bums up at the kitchen table, googling, sorting, rejecting, and ooh-ing and ahh-ing. We could set up targets at home. We could compete. We need ear muffs for the kids. We need pistols, dammit!!
You need an extra special licence if the barrel is shorter than 120mm, which rules the compact ones out for now, but we reckon they look the best.
Well apparently, when I closed my eyes just now, another week went by. I actually had grand plans to blog every day, but I've come to realise that the world actually will keep spinning if I don't. (Frankly I don't know how, but there you go... ha!)
Such a mixed-bag week it was, too. A trip to Coonamble to see hubby's family, followed by a riproarer of a migraine, followed by an episode I like to call Spaghetti Junction aka the Taming of the Cables. Is anyone else the designated householder wirer of TVs/Stereos etc? In our house, it's me. I've deduced that it's because I can type. The logic goes... she can type, therefore she knows computers, therefore she knows cables, therefore she can wire just about anything. The catalyst was the arrival of a new (old) surround sound system from ebay. I might add, even just collecting this bit of kit was a drama - up at Sparrow Fart to drive to the other side of Brisbane (waayyy over the other side), to get there before the seller left, also at Sparrow Fart, to go to work on the Gold Coast. Got it home with the only casualty being the Volume knob - fortunately the remote control came with it. Now, this is a decent sized system, 5 speakers, lots of speaker wire etc, and it's a good 10 years old, so I needed to match old technology with new technology. With one baby who wanted to be cuddled constantly (who can blame her?), and one two year old who definitely wanted to "help", "help" being synonymous with "in the way/muddling it all up/a general pain in the ass"... (mummy does love you, Harry!), it was challenging to say the least. 3 days (yes, DAYS) later, I got it sorted. It seems that having the right type of cable helps, a lot, along with reading the manual, and most importantly, a glass of wine and peace and quiet.
Now, I'm a girl who loves technology. I embrace it with open arms. What I don't like though, is the sheer amount of cabling involved. Ugly thick black or grey cables that never seem to pile or stack neatly, it's enough to set my teeth on edge. Our TV setup was still a little of the temporary variety, and definitely didn't cut it as discreet in the cable department. We brought over a done-up workbench from the woolshed which I bought (ebay once again) a couple of years ago, and it turned out perfect. This isn't the greatest pic, but you get the idea.
I love it when a plan comes together :)
What a time it's been! Poor blog, it's already been neglected, what with our visit to "Gran & Pa", (who welcomed us with an almost-cyclone and extended power outtages), hunting/gathering in Brisvegas, catch ups with friends, some much needed grooming and pampering, and plenty of time in our second home, the motor car.
I returned sporting lovely cherry-red finger and toenails (I do love a good pedicure), a long overdue haircut, and a plethora of supplies which can't be bought at the Ridge. Also some gorgeous baby girl clothes - such cute clothes! Such tiny prices! What's not to love?
We discovered a great little shop in Woollongabba called "That Shop" which sells lovely 30s/40s/50s inspired clothes and accessories. I tried on a gorgeous cherry covered one piece bathing suit with a little skirt. Unfortunately it made me look like a sausage. I bought 2 very cute nautical-inspired dresses, but most importantly, I came away with a renewed desire to still wear pretty clothes, even if I do live on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Living on a farm is no excuse for wearing the same pair of paint-splattered shorts 5 days in a row. Yes. I have been guilty. Continuously. It's time to claw back "my" look. So in the name of inspiration:
and for the little one...
So, my Ten Commandments for me.
1. A razor is my friend. It doesn't actually take that long to use it.
2. Similarly, a hairbrush. Maybe even my straightener from time to time.
3. I WILL wear a dress when I go to town. Even if it is just Lightning Ridge.
4. A bit of lippie does not hurt, even if only the sheep will see it. Mascara too.
5. It is time for the rest of my wardrobe to be brought over from the wool shed. And if I continue to action number 6, I will actually be able to wear it.
6. Continue my exercise plan. No excuses. 45 degree heat? Pah! Nothing.
The sheep won't know what hit them.
(by the way... I know there aren't ten there. But who ever heard of the six commandments?)
