Theory of the 'Bumless Beetles'

As I sit at home tending to the ill and my own aches and pains, a moment of corporate commitment prevailed with the addressing of my work emails. The following theory of the 'Bumless Beeltes' was emailed to me by a woman I work with, whom never ceases to amaze me with our often bizarre and comical conversations that no doubt keep us somewhat sane... or is that insane? Which ever it is I'm glad for them. Thanks S for sharing your theory with me.

Bumless Beetles
The following story has since been removed upon request.

It was none the less an interesting and somewhat theatrical story and has since prompted me to inspect several little black beetles in my travels, some with their heads chewed off, others missing their bums, but the most still intact and struggling in the final hours of their tiny lives. Perhaps they were naive enough to accept an invitation for dinner at Bats house. Only they were the dinner.

White Fluffy Paradise

I now have a very real appreciation of how my mother must have felt skiing the slopes of Mt Hotham when I was young. Trying to keep eyes on two excitable and extremely fearless children is stuff grey hairs are made from. Add to that a husband hell bent to learn how to snowboard and one's in for a shit load of laughs and anxiety.

Don't you just love the look on our lodges snowman's face.... Looks like we caught him out up to no good I reckon!

Did I happen to mention how beautiful the days were? Cloud free! Sunny! 13 degrees C! Too hot for winter jackets... I had to strip off to a t shirt by lunchtime. Better still, we didn't have to worry about lines for the lifts until the weekend came. By then the beautiful days were starting to close in on the weekend day trippers. Didn't bother us when the weather turned to mush for the steady trip home off the hill, while they were left trying to get their weekends moneys worth in the hail and rain. We got the best of the last of the season. That's for sure!

It's got them all hooked and after twenty years it's nice to know skiing is just like riding a bike. Hubby is already scouting eBay for beginners boards, boots and bindings! Look out next year, we'll definitely be staying longer. Might even have a bigger car by then so I'll have room to pack a quilt or two to work on at night round the open fire. That's what dreams are made of!

Sunshine and Snow

Come hell and high fever, finally after months of waiting our postponed trip to Mt Hotham was here. I didn't count how many times we heard 'are we there yet?' from the back seat, but each time we did... I knew we were just that bit closer to a few days of paradise...

Paradise!?! Stop! Let's back peddle about 24 hours....

I was determined to get the last coat of paint on the dado wall in the hallway, so the paint fumes could entertain themselves in our absence. So determined was I that it took priority over packing for the trip. Ummm.... as the witching hour approached it was finally complete, just had to wash out the brushes, have a well earned shower and crawl into bed for a 6am start at packing.

As I sat on the loo... as one does prior to a shower... the mobile phone violently rattled it's way off the bench and onto the floor, scared the daylights out of me in my half exhausted stupor. Hubby's mum needed a bed to crash into after a last minute transport decision was made... but that's another drama that I'll leave for the old fashioned grapevine.

Within minutes, all options for a shower were abandoned for a panicked attempt to make a spare bed... with very little linen (as this was packed into storage earlier this month prior to painting) and what we did have was out ready to be packed at 6am to go. It was a toss up to use them and then at 6am steal them back. LOL

A strong cup of tea followed by bleary eyed children wondering why they could hear the familiar yet unexpected and extremely late (make that early now) booming of their nan's voice, then requests for hot chocolates, followed by a cursing husband who was barely even awake wondering who the hell was here at this hour... and after being told three times 'it's your mother'... I just told him to go back to bed as he obviously was not registering.

6am came around very quickly.... I think I managed four hours in the end. Why is it the beginning of most trips bares close resemblance to the ending blows of a relationship? Hubby was mega grumpy I had been up so late painting... the car wasn't packed... neither were the bags and we had promised to meet friends at their house by 9am - 40 Min's drive away. The unexpected extra threw a spanner in the works to further irritate matters... trying to creep around someone, pack bags, in between screams of 'DON'T TOUCH THE WALLS'. Just bedlam!

OK... it wasn't the smartest move painting the hallway when a packing frenzy was about to commence. I'll admit that. But there's no better feeling than ticking off another job well done as you walk out the door destined for a few days of fluffy white stuff with children.