{and a warning that some of this might be ranty and controversial}
It's been a quiet old weekend in Cilla-ville.
Thursday was a busy old day, but intentions were good to make hot cross buns in the Thermomix. By Thursday afternoon, HCBs were purchased for the event that I could not be arsed.
Friday morning - lo and behold, I could not be arsed, particularly not after Boot Camp!
Anywho, back to Thursday evening, I went out with a good girlfriend for a cheeky wine or two, a nice din-dins, then to the Princess Theatre for the comedy show, Puppet up.
It was basically a mix of Jim Henson/ Muppets-esque Puppetry, improvisation and lots of rudeness and swearing. It was cute and naughty and hilarious and very enjoyable.
Saturday involved house-hunting, traipsing through the same bunch of properties as a bunch of other aspirant home buyers.
The whole idea of house auctions depresses me a little. The ultimate sale price of a house often bears little resemblance to the estimated sale range given on the ad.
Give me a private sale any day.
Anyone with a good story of an auction can feel free to share it, though.
Then some shopping in Doncaster Shoppingtown, followed by a chillaxed dinner at Bar Fred. If you are down in Melbs you should come with me.
Kate and Wills and Bubba G are in the country. Kate's frocks have been crashing websites.
I think this number was from LK Bennett. It distresses me somewhat that I know this. Plus she wore her hair up. She looked pretty.
Essentially she is an objectively pretty, non-threatening, lithe lady with great fashion sense who had very good luck with meeting a royal and squeezed out a photogenic male heir.
Why all the idolatry? Is this the metric by which women should be measured? (I think it is, but it should not be).
Does she add anything tangible other than a bit of sparkle? Are we that in need of a bit of sparkle?
The saddest thing is, she is far more interesting than Wills (Prince? What prince?), who is as boring as batshit. But he flies a chopper and (in theory) rescues people. That has to count for something
On a slightly different ranty vein, a relative of mine who recently had a baby said that having a baby is the highest blessing there is, and that it is "wrong" when children get sick, and on that basis we should all dig deep and donate to the Good Friday Appeal for the Royal Children's hospital.
This raised my hackles on a number of levels.
The whole "having a baby is the highest blessing" and "the hardest job there is" thing gets to me a bit. Those types put their child's photo up as their own profile pic on social media, but whinge about the trials of parenting. They hint at how their life has far more meaning now they have children. I probably sound a bit churlish here, but a few out there will see where I am coming from. I won't go into it too much.
Suffice it to say that the mothers I admire most are people like Sydney Shop girl, Faux Fuchsia and Mrs Woog. Their blogs inject the whole craft of mummyhood thing with a big dose of sanity, humour, joy and humility. Most of all, they retain a strong sense of themselves, and manage great careers, social lives and friendships. It is what I aspire to, if and when I am lucky enough to become a mummy.
It is indeed heartbreaking when kids get sick, unimaginably so. The RCH gets millions of dollars in donations. That is fair enough.
I work at the other end of the age spectrum and there are most certainly not those kinds of resources coming in. Without saying too much, it would be nice if this group, who are at the end of worthwhile lives and have paid taxes and borne children and seen hardship, got some of the same monetary resources, and a place in our consciousness.
Anyway, that is me for tonight.
In Bella-dog news, she has gotten very cheeky. She helps herself to the kitchen benchtop. She got her paws on some chocolate eggs (not too many, chocolate is no good for dogs) and hot cross buns. She also brings her bones inside to chew on, but, in the absence of bony chews, the remote control will do. The fella gets cross with her, and the dog gets very sheepish, but he can't stay mad with her for long.
Also, I have had this Johnny Farnbottom song in my head. It is kind of nice but kind of annoying
You are welcome.

