I Don't Know About You...

But I feel KO'ed this afternoon. We had dancing first thing this morning, (well Tiny did, not me) after dropping Matt to work, then we seemed to be in the car for the four hours following. Not much chop.

The smalls are kicking back watching a movie, while I've been pottering about in the garden, and feeling a bit weak and tired - I'm yearning for a cat nap.


Can anyone identify that pesky blue flower in the top picture? It seems to be a weed that's impregnated my front garden with itself, and is now rife with this dirty blue flower thing. Anyone? 


Meanwhile, back on other matters, I've finally joined Instagram. You can find me under PottyMouthMama. Quelle surprise! 


Finally, here's a song to send you on your way. You dig?

Stuff I Did On Saturday

Housework beckoned me, and I responded by vacuuming our living room, plumping up the sofa cushions, and trying to remove the copious amounts of detritus from around our home. 

I was not very successful. I got distracted. 

After deliberating on it all day, I took the smalls into Paddington to Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery to hear Ben Whishaw read Juliet Darling's new poetry - dedicated to her late partner, Nick Waterlow OAM. 

I am so glad I did.

Not only do I love Ben Whishaw - you might remember him from Bright Star, or Perfume or Brideshead Revisited, or Criminal Justice - the list goes on. He is indeed a bright young star - and in real life - he seems totally understated and natural.

But hearing Juliet's poetry read by Whishaw - I was so happy I had decided that YES! YES! Today was the perfect day to rekindle my love for poetry. It was such a beautiful way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

The Doctor even loved it too. 

Stuff On A Saturday

I'm having a quiet day. Cleaning out my wardrobe. Hanging with my smalls. Doing the washing. It's banal, and I kind of like that on a Saturday.

I found this clip yesterday. It's keyed in to how I feel right now. A bit blue. At the tail end of what's been a shitty week.

But there are brighter things on the horizon. Sparkly baubles in the guise of Bonnie Prince Billy on Monday. And Mellie Waugh's show before that.

And you? How are you this Saturday?

Spring Cleaning

After a day out discovering (more on that tomorrow), I got all my cups and saucers out of the cupboards, washed them and rearranged them. It took me longer than anticipated, and half way through I regretted starting this exercise. Nevertheless, I kicked on, and am lying on the couch checking out the new set up.

I must admit, it was quite nice washing such pretty pieces. Each of them different, with a story all of their own. I love my pre-loved pieces, it's a shame I don't get to use them and admire them more often.

I'm beginning to think eating from a really beautiful plate is far more of an experience than eating from a plain white dinner plate. What say you?

Spontaneous! Crazy!

Once Matt got home from work last night we were busting to go for a walk.

I'd spent the day moving large pieces of furniture from one part of the house to another. My muscles were preparing to ache. I scratched the floor in my haste to move everything before Matt got home. Don't tell the landlord. Good news is that we no longer have a wardrobe sitting in our living room. I know you'll be impressed with my rabid doggedness and beefcakey-ness.

And how about the sunshine? We sucked up the very last rays before the darkness moved in for the night. The Doctor enjoyed a twilight scooter, while Tiny was rugged up in the pram. She's sick as a frog and lost her voice. Oh the shame. No screaming. Priceless.

The Ants. They Are Winning.

Damn the black ants. An endless stream seem to be marching into our house. All over the kitchen bench - no matter how many times I wipe it. In the sugar bowl, I get them out, only for Matt to discover an hour later that they're back, and this time they've brought friends.

Tiny drops plenty of meals for these small creatures. But I sweep them up. She's intent on feeding them methinks. If I happen to miss a piece of toast, or a well squashed piece of peach - well they jump right on it. There'll be a trail leading in and out the door.

Don't get me wrong. I always loved ants. I had an art farm when I was a kid. I was endlessly fascinated by their tunnels, they're intelligent little things. Yet, they don't seem to be terribly intuitive. We don't want them in the house. Sneaking under the benchtop. Tag-teaming with the next round of ants as they carry out their specks of sugar.

Who do they think they are? Uninvited guests are always the pits. Spiders are particularly one of my least favourite, and lately I seem to attract grasshoppers too. Eeeeek!

But it's these ants.

Have you got the perfect chemical-free way to rid PottyMouthMama HQ of these pesky punters?

I've tried crushed mint leaves at the door. No cigar.

PS - You know you're having a slow Saturday night (AGAIN - what happened to my social life?!) when a) you're posting about ants; and b) Matt looks over and discovers you're scouring Google Images for a suitable ant picture. There's a song for this.

image via