Garbage I Have Loved

I haven't written for a long time about garbage I have loved. And found on the roadside. I am like a foster mother for dead furniture. Matt's told me no more, but quite frankly, when he told me that my ears weren't working.

Here's a sneaky peek at one of two repro Bentwood chairs I found, amidst a goldmine of garbage.

I'm in the middle of giving them a makeover. Oh how I love this pink paint. Subtle. And yet, not so. Because it very softly whispers - I am pink! I AM PINK!

I'll show you more over the weekend.

If you have the desire, you can cast back in time to when I compulsively looted some roadside trash and scored some ace finds. I still think about those times. Those were the days my friends, we thought they'd never end.

Roadside Thrills

After the unfortunate cat incident from last week, it was heart-quickening to see another pile of junk in the same street. I had to drop the Doctor off to pre-school, take Tiny to the real doctor, and then I drove back past ye olde pile-o-junk to take my pickings. Everything was as it should be. No tails protruding from boxes. Phew.

Today I scored this cute little beauty case, smells totes musty, but it's in awesome condition.

And this little card table that I think we might make into an outdoor table.

The beauty of finding such.. finds is that if we don't like them, we can just put them back out on the street and someone else might dig them. I don't need a receipt to return them, and that's always a bonus.

Have you scored any roadside thrills lately?

When Garbage Is

I know I haven't really blogged much about garbage finds lately. Not for a while. Not since the Doctor found that old skool skateboard with the handle. I found something too, but I have still been too lazy to photograph it. It's really not that exciting.

But there are other things I must report back to headquarters. Paperwork is always a drag, and so I've been putting off logging it. But no more.

The other day when I was driving by myself, I was driving down a road frequented by myself when I saw a bunch of boxes on the footpath. I slowed, rolled past, then realised there was no one behind me. I had at this point thought I'd seen something of interest. So I reversed as any good garbage hunter will do.

Now's the time for you to leave the 'puter if you have a queasy stomach.

As I was rolling the car back, the boxes came into clearer view. I saw something dark and I thought, hmm, that looks interesting. And then I saw it. Three limbs, three dark furry limbs, a long sleek tail. I have a queasy stomach, and the rest obscured by a piece of paper. I don't even think I have told anyone this (except maybe Matt, but he would have forgotten for shiz), and each time I think of it, my stomach flips. And it kind of goes without saying that I burned rubber to get the hey outta there.

So there is yet another moral here. Be careful when rifling through other people's garbage. Apparently it's now kosher to dump deceased pets on the footpath. Apparently burying them is passe.

In other cat related news, here's one of my favourite children's books. I love me some cats.

Old School Skating

We went on a leisurely Sunday afternoon walk. We like to do that. I threw a chicken in the oven (that I had stuffed after gagging, I hate touching raw chicken, and stuffing them for that matter - enter the squeams!) and then we walked. The Doctor had a minor meltdown as he couldn't find his helmet, and in our house no helmet equals no racers. So he had to walk.

This may have been fortuitous because just down the road was a pile of rubbish. And you know what that means in our language. Good times. The Doctor and I rummaged 'til our hearts were content. Matt, of course, stood back. Because he's too cool to be seen going through other people's junk. Me? No way Jose. I'm in there. I'll show you tomorrow what I found - not today because today I am too lazy to take a photo. But the Doctor triumphed over his helmet downfall. He scored this old school skateboard (here he is rad dawging), check out the handle that helps him steer the deck, and gain a little confidence, le old school way.

The thing I particularly loved about our work, besides the rubbish of course, was a couple of ginger cats coming out to say hi to the smalls. We've met one of these cats on a previous walk before. But yesterday, not only did ol' Ginger run out, his mate did too. The smalls were in cattie heaven.

Scrap Dancing

While I've been telling you I haven't found any discarded goodness recently, I've realised I have unwittingly lied. I have found discarded goodness of another kind.

Recently, while visiting a fabric shop, I discovered a garbage bin full of scrap fabric. Just strips. Tossed away without a second thought.

By now you should absolutely know that I know no shame. Waste not want not, right?! So I dutifully retrieved all the decent sized strips and even some smaller ones. And I've been adding them to the Doctor's cushion which is slowly, slowly, ever so slowly coming together. See here?

The smaller scraps are for the Doctor's crafting. To stick on cards. Or wherever he wants.

Now I can stop whining about not finding any garbage. Here ends my blog for today.

I Don't Get Out Much Pt 2

It's been months since I last scavenged some rubbish from the side of the road. Some readers may think I've gone into rehab, but I'm just starting to get the cold sweats. Hallucinations (is that a Parker sideboard in the park?!). I'm wearing tracksuits twenty-four-seven. I haven't washed my hair in weeks. Make-up..? What's that?

The cold hard facts are people, that even the rubbish has been hit by the recession.

No one is throwing anything out these days. Not even the rich people. Not even the people who inherit stuff. They're just shoving all the excess up their un-used chimney flues. They're sewing their old teddy bears into clothing. Pretty soon previously fashion-savvy business men are going to start wearing teddy bear couture as opposed to Zegna. And what about the crockery? I used to find mountain loads tossed out. Now what are they doing with it? I hate to think they're... using it. I'm blocking my ears at the very thought.

Times are tough, and you know who's feeling it the most. Me.

People. I need your rubbish. It gives me unexpected excitement. Cast your mind back to the days when I'd wait for rubbish night to go rummaging through the bin. Baying at the moon. Those were the days my friends, I thought they'd never end.

I'm like a wild hyena sniffing around in the bushes with no fresh furniture carcasses to haul back home. What's going down? What's a gal to do for fun?

I've been continuing my decluttering phase and taking some of the bin paraphernalia to the op shop. Maybe this will set things right again in the world and I will stumble across the next big haul.

PS - Image totally unrelated. Since so many of you* have been asking about the Doctor's scarf I started six years ago, here it is. Getting more scarf like by the minute. Oh and a small vintage belt buckle that I found (in a shop - doesn't count) a few weeks ago. You can't see here but a tiny, tiny, dainty diamante is in the middle. Love that inky blue.

* Read... no one. Ok ok, no one has asked about the scarf. I shake my fist!

It's Over

You're the first to hear it. It's over. It's been a long time brewing, but finally, officially, we've called it quits. It's been so hard to do, but really, I think it's best for all of us. Family life was flailing, it was a terrible strain, and finally we've decided there's really no commitment there. It was a short fling. Coming up to Christmas makes it even harder but it was something that needed to be done, instead of dragging it out. We've decided to go our separate ways.

The bin and I are over.

I forgot to mention that the bin's house is on the market. Yep, all 6 bedrooms and 6 bathrooms of it.

Needless to say, the bin is moving on to greener pastures. But really, we all know I initiated the split. It came a week ago when I decided I just didn't want to go out and see it. I'd seen the signs, literally. The real estate agent had staked his claim on the bin's abode.

Breaking up is hard to do. But let's remember, I dumped the bin first. Not the other way around. Yep, I hold the trump card.

So last night I went out. Just for one last hoorah. I wanted to explain to the bin that 'it's not you, it's me'. Plus I thought they might as well be throwing out the family silver since they've thrown everything else out. Or maybe a nice vintage silk eiderdown jammed into the bin? Perhaps some lovely hand pieced quilt tops?

But guess what... The bin wasn't even there. Didn't even want to flirt with me. I couldn't even see it peeping out from the driveway.

I drove home. Despondent. Sad. A little shattered. When was I going to meet another bin like this one? This was like the sugar daddy of all bins. I know I play hard to get, but so does the bin, all's fair in the game of love and garbage, right?

Anyway, I just thought you'd want to know. We're over. We had some great times together. Even when the bin played the spider gag on me. I might have thought this bin was 'the one', but it wasn't to be. I know there are plenty more bins in the sea, but what if I don't find another one that's right for me?

Don't be concerned for me. I won't go cut my hair, get trollied and go dancing, spend the monthly wages on new shoes and eat chocolate 'til the cows come home. No, just a sensible step back into regular family life will do the trick.

It's sort of a relief. Now I can focus on my wonky sewing finesse. You'll see. Something good will come of it. But of course, I wanted to let you know first.

Blog Burn Out

Sheesh, who knew Blogtoberfest was going to send me reeling? I am really feeling a little weary from all this blogging. Can I have a wee break? Or am I committed to forging onwards, regardless of blog burn out?

I did wind up sneaking out to the bin last night. At 10:30pm. Matt was on his way to bed. And I was watching my movie, though my mind was wandering to my bin. At least I am faithful to my bin, right?

Well, I should have followed my gut instinct. It's never really failed me. Last night's bin contents - a banana skin (really! these people don't even recycle, let alone compost), a used paper coffee cup (recycling) and a whole bunch of other garbage (recycling!) that I didn't feel the urge to document, let alone sift through.

I braved the elements. Surely this earns me a day off blogging? Please Big Cat?

And just before I pop off out into the long-awaited sunshine, Drewzel of Blog Portion played in a nameless meme, that originated from here, so I'm playing too. Otherwise this post would be forever known as the post with no photo (kind of like the street with no name).

Here are the rules.

Instructions:

Take a picture of yourself right now.

Don’t change your clothes, don’t fix your hair - just take a picture.

Post that picture with NO editing.

Post these instructions with the picture.

Here's me and Tiny. The world's tiredest baby. Clearly no photo-shopping has occurred.

But Baby It's Cold Outside (Or - My House Is Too Thrify-licious For You Babe)

pretty pillowcase
a dress for me to stitch, though I'm thinking this pattern may be too small for me because it's old skool

a crazy-cool kiddie pillowcase

a cute bell-wreath & outline golden book - just look at Santa's beautiful blue eyes and tell me you don't love him

another golden book and this little musical/doggy clapper thingy

some Royal Albert saucers and cake plates that really are quite darling

It's so cold and rainy here at the moment. We were flirting with Summer, and then kazaam, we're whipped back into our woollies. I don't mind the rain. I don't mind the cold. But when combined, they're not exactly conducive to sifting through other people's bins.

I drove past the house and the bin this week. On a number of occasions. I wonder if they've taken down my number plates and reported me yet. I completely missed the second skip. When I went back - gone-skis. Into thin air. Which is probably a good thing because I was coming home with a few too many things. Matt calls it my junk. I call it my treasures. Tomate-o. Tom-aaaahto. Potate-o. Potaaaaaahto.

There was a hive of activity at the house. Landscapers. A truck. People people everywhere. Is this the beginning of the end?

So tonight, I think I'm going to bow out. For a number of reasons.

• The guy staring at me in the street last week really ruffled my feathers.
• It's cold. It's raining. And I want a night off.
• I don't think I have much adrenaline left.
• I don't have acres of house to store this stuff.
• I got a quick and fruitful spot of thrifting going on this morning. I made a quick and quiet kill.

Are you going to punish me for not going out in the rain? Even if you don't, you just never know, after I watch this, you might find me out there. Braving the elements.

PottyMouthMama: Bin-Raider

Last night I set off at 8:30pm. I left it late so that all the neighbours would be tucked up in their little houses doing what all neighbours do. Eating dinner, watching re-runs of Wheel of Fortune and listening to their children crying on and off until they finally succumb to sleep. Oh that's just me that does that, well hmph!

I drove up again, just in case it was another large stash and I needed the boot space (amidst some prams, green bags and a smattering of sand toys) to hide the haul. I got out of my car. Firstly, here's my mistake. I didn't check to see who was around. When I hopped out, I was holding a torch. I was wearing a hoodie. There was a man, 60 or so putting his bins out, who stopped to watch me. Checking out what this hoodlum was doing. I was like some crazed deer stuck in the headlights. What could I do to meld with the 'hood? I looked at my mobile. Hindsight tells me this probably looked even dodgier. I then popped the boot - I was freaking out because he was standing there watching me (I hadn't even gotten close to my bin yet), touched a few things in the boot and popped my torch in there. I don't need to explain that right then, my brain stopped working. I then walked down the road, away from the bin, away from my car, and away from the staring man. What was I going to do? Who knows. I waited 'til he walked up his driveway then I returned to the car and drove off home. My heart was pounding a little too hard.

Matt was surprised I came home so quickly. So empty-handed. I recounted the story. I watched the end of my movie (watch it, but the book is brilliant, and you'll read it in half a day and never, ever forget it, I've read it a number of times, and it's amazing each read) and then went back out at 10:10pm.

I figured by this time the driveaway dude would be tucked up in bed watching his stocks plummet while his wife ironed his socks.

I decided to make a quick kill. Bin number 1 - paper recycling - full, but my friends, I just couldn't be bothered. If the treasures hadn't floated to the top, I just wasn't going to get into it. Call it tiredness, call it laziness, or call it lack of mojo, whatever - I seem to be losing my will to dive. Bin number 2 - glass/metal/plastic recycling - some cut glass...in amidst poison bottles. There was no way my un-gloved hands were going that-a-way.

And then there was the cherry. Another gleaming white skip in the driveaway. A big 'un. I stood in the street wondering if I should chance it. It's now that I realise I have forgotten to tell you one important point. There was a light on in the kitchen. A booby trap? Were they peering out from their windows just waiting for me? I figure that because it's just the kitchen light, that perhaps it was accidentally left on. I sidle down the driveaway a wee bit, comfortable that my mother-in-law (who recently received honours in law) has told me it's not trespassing until you get to the front door (I may have that wrong - so don't blame me if you get busted). Peer into the bin. It was dark outside. Oh so dark. But with a full moon rising, I could see the skip was completely empty.

I might tell you now that this was a relief. I know. You're probably shaking your head at me. Relief that there was nothing? Yes, it's true. How much excitement can one take? Not much more! The adventures of me and my bin are adrenaline pumping, but is my wee heart going to give out one day because I find... vintage tea towels, pillowcases, costume jewellery, oversized Jackie O style sunglasses still in their box and a yellow bedside table (these are on my wish list to find, ok??), who knows. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up.

To be honest, I am more than a little peeved with these people. How many people have had enjoyment from reading about my escapades, me with my torch riding into the sunset? Lotsa lotsa. My family ring me the next day to find out what I found. It's a given. But these people, emptying this house, a room at a time - well they could have given all this stuff to charity stores and as well as making some collectors very happy, they could have helped a charity along the way. But instead - they've tossed everything in a massive skip and sent it to landfill.

Don't get me wrong. I am very grateful. But all that crockery that they've tossed, someone would have loved it. Me, probably.

Hearing me?

Anyway, in the event that I didn't find anything, I went op shopping* beforehand. I will have to photograph a few more things, but here are two (albeit crummy photos) for tonight.

This crazy looking sugar bowl that Matt finds mildly disturbing.

And this pink creamer. That funny little vase in the background was another thing that the bin provided me in an earlier loot.

* Op shops = opportunity shops - charity shops - money you spend goes to the charity.

You Know What Night It Is

And I still haven't gotten 'round to showing you all of my loot. Here's the rest of it. The round up.

Lucky for Matt our wedding anniversary wasn't tonight, otherwise instead of wining and dining with him, I would have been diving into a bin. Romantic? Not so much.

So tonight. Bin night. I have a hunch there's not going to be much. Maybe some empty chip packets. Maybe an old takeaway container. But gosh. I really hope I'm wrong.

But just in case I am wrong, I went to the op shop and picked up a couple of beauties. I'll show and tell tomorrow.

Show and Tell: Here's the Loot

this cute little 'wallet' that contains a notepad, pencil and pack of unopened playing cards, from tasmania!

Finally I am here with photos to show. Finally I hear you breathlessly sigh. You've been waiting, haven't you? Sorry. We had a sunshine filled weekend and I didn't want to touch the loot because, well truth be, I felt a little guilty.

Thursday night I drove up to the house to discover that there was one lone bin out on the street - the green bin. Full of sticks. Pattern?

I felt a bit miffed. I know that house is full of the goods. I know it because when I went and knocked on the door that day, I saw through the window. It's full to the gills. I know I sound like a wee bit of a stalker, but how can you be a stalker with two small fry in tow? You can't. They need sleeps, you need mental health time, you need to mop the floor, you need to cook dinner, I'm no stalker, unless you count stalking old stuff as stalker. Then well yeah, I could have been SWF but really I'd be MWFWTK (that's Married White Female With Two Kids).

I was turning the car around, despondent, when I spied the bin to triumph all bins. The gigantic white skip. Gigantic. Not your normal size skip. It was plus size with a capital P. Not satisfied with a bin full of sticks, I got out of my car. Wary. Was this a trap? You see, it wasn't on the street, I would have spotted that a mile away. It was in their driveway, I could see it was FULL! This was like the motherload to the power of the motherload. And then some.

I snuck in with torch in hand. Gloves in pocket. Mobile in other pocket (in case I got into some trouble in the clink and they'd only give me one phone call - well I could arrange other phone calls on my mobile). All the while I kept in the back of my mind that my mother-in-law has just graduated with honours from a law degree. Handy when you're crawling around someone else's backyard in pitch black rifling through their garbage, yes?

So there I was. Every time a car drove past, I ducked. As though they had some security company/police on speed dial. I am pretty sure there's no one there. The house is always dark. But still, paranoia persists, so I duck. Ready to roll, and rehearsing scenarios in my head. Sheesh, this was stressful. Each time I go back I am sure someone is going to pounce on me, I heard rustling I was sure it was the neighbour peeking at me. In actual fact, it was probably just a possum or a local cat. I'd turn my torch on, find something, pull it out, then torch off. Over and over again. I found gorgeous old crockery -but because they had tossed it into the skip, it had great cracks through it. Sad. But at last I had gathered a small pile. I loaded it into the car. I drove home. Tingling.

After a little while, and some consultation with my sister and Cindy from bugandpop, I conned Matt into coming with me - on the proviso that he wasn't going to come to the bin, he was only the driver. Spicy huh? Like this time I had myself my very own getaway vehicle. Does this make him an accessory to the crime? Gosh I hope so. I don't want to sit in the cell alone.

I ran back in, with unbridled confidence - like I was born to do this. Scavenge through other people's trash. What a calling! I looted like there was no tomorrow. I got a few more things. Kept hiding in the darkness when cars went past. Piled my stash up and made my way back to the car, then - fell in a hole twisted my ankle, ouch! Matt was sitting in the car - half in shock, maybe half in awe - that I just picked myself up hobbled to the boot loaded the stuff in, and then went straight back to the skip. That's show business folks, on with the show.

But all the while, in the back of my head - I was thinking, my goodness, I am about to get arrested for being in this yard with a torch and rubber gloves. Imagine telling people that. The next day, sore ankle and very sore back - but loads of goodies to sort through.

This is it. This is my loot for the week.

I'll post my pics tomorrow.... Yes, there's more!

Uh Oh

If you've never been to pottymouthmama before - welcome. But might I suggest you do some back reading before you proceed. I suggest you start here.

Otherwise:

The Night Hunter Skips

Will you bail me out? Pitch black. Skip bin. Full. Delights. Tins. Crockery. Suitcases. Stuff. Things. Cushions. Placemats. In. Their Yard.

Trespassing?

Tonight Is The Night

Firstly, it's garbage night and the feeling's right, yes it's garbage night... Will it be trash or treasure tonight? Oooh I am rubbing my hands together in anticipation. Gloves and torch are at the ready! I never got around to showing you this little item I picked out of the bin on one of my missions. It's German, ja? I've still not even opened it, but the packaging is pretty super..

The above video is dedicated to my bin. Yes, yes it is. Please watch it. Love it. Play it loud and proud. Look at Kenny Rogers then. Now look at Kenny Rogers (scroll down to number 10). What the heck was this man thinking? He looked like a nice dude before, I liked his wrinkles. He looked a little like Santa. Now, not so much - he doesn't even look like Kenny Rogers!

Anyway, enough of that tangent. We're getting ready to Postman Pat. Though I am a little worried (oh the pressure!) that we're going to disappoint. Never fear, we'll forge forward and do what we can do.

It's our third wedding anniversary next week. Wracking my brains for a small gift idea. It's leather. Whip suggestions need not apply! I'm thinking leather photo frame. Anyone seen any nice ones lately?

Postcards From My Garbage Bin

a postcard - hmm, the Stardust Travelodge. Beam me up!

Rest assured, I did not forget that last night was garbage night. You might have. I certainly did not. I've got it etched into my memory. And you know what that means. The good stuff.

While the smalls and I were out for a walk, we went past the house and I got a chance to check out the bin early. Every time we walk in this street, a teenage boy (a different one each time) sans helmet rides past on a small 'toy' motorcycle. Weird, huh? Comical - yes. Rich kids and their toys.

Back to the bin - I think those people are playing games with me. Last week the world's fattest huntsman. This week, a bin full of sticks. I think they're watching me from the bushes, waiting for the crazy lady to come rummage through their bin, and then poking and lstifling laughter while I fend off a spider, and try and hide my disappointment at... sticks.

Fear not. It was also tin/glass recycling night, and paper recycling. Three birds. One night to stone them. I had already stoned the garbage/stick bin. I just had two others to check out.

The tin/glass bin - well that was an old computer and a crummy old sports bag. Ba-bong.

But game not over!

Paper recycling was full to the brink. I had my torch. I had my gloves. I was set to go through the bin. But I had two kids and a husband at home too. So I just did a wee bit of digging. And really, I am getting paranoid about someone pouncing on me and telling me to get out of their bin.

So just a quick bin dive and then home to my adoring fans (read: two sleeping children and my husband doing uni readings who barely even looked up when I walked in the front door, let alone asked me what my search and rescue yielded. HMPH!).
A small concertina book for bills.. It could almost be credited with making bill-paying fun - and who knew monkeys had such an array of bills to pay. I thought they'd just be making out cheques for bananas. Boom boom!

some stuff. it looked more exciting in darkness.

Someone Was Already There - Chronicles of a Garbage Bin

stool stylist's own

So when I arrived to see my beloved bin last night, I had come ill-prepared. I had forgotten my torch. I had a quick look at the bin but couldn't see anything by the dim moonlight, so I drove home and decided to wait an hour or so to darken up the night sky and go a little more incognito, and also to be a little more prepared. I jumped back in the car and drove* home.

When I got home my husband was surprised to see me empty-handed. I quickly explained that I did have to go back out, the deed was not yet done. I think he was secretly relieved when I returned empty-handed, those thoughts were quickly turned on their head.

At around 8:08pm I set out. Please note it's here that I feel all CSI-like, you have no idea how much this thrills me. Being a little more prepared I had packed some gloves and my torch. I could have taken a brush to take some prints off that bin and look for any epithelials. Get the feeling now I watch Grissom a little too closely? Hmm, if you knew that I called Sunday evening CSI Sunday you may be a little concerned. But you don't know that, so you don't have to worry.

When I got back to the bin - someone else was already there. I had just flipped open the lid and removed one black plastic garbage bag full of loot. I was about to reach in and retrieve a most fantastic 'Air India' suitcase when I saw him. I was more than a little startled. It was pitch dark. I had nothing more than my torch, a pair of latex gloves and my mobile in a pocket. For a moment I contemplated calling my husband. He was only two minutes away. I was feeling really, really anxious. I actually think I can say, that is a complete understatement. It was dark, there was just me, the garbage bin and him.

The biggest, fattest, hairiest huntsman ever. And then some. Eight hairy legs. Two beady eyes. Oh it just sends chills down my spine. And he wouldn't move.

If you're a long time reader of pottymouthmama you might already know that I am a little more than afraid of these. This week, we've already had one in our bedroom that Matt failed to evict, only for me to find hiding in the curtains the next day. Deeee-lightful.

Anyway. Fat huntsman. Me. Garbage bin. Suitcase. Metal things. Darkness. Can't see properly. I try and flick the huntsman off. Nope. Not budging. He was fat, seriously fat (probably a female). I really should be presented with a very large, very shiny bravery award. There was just no way I was leaving that suitcase for a spider. No way. So I flicked it a bit more* and then it finally retreated. To the other side of the suitcase. I grabbed the handle and threw the suitcase onto the footpath. I was about to pick up the suitcase and pop it into the car - when who should I spy right next to it? Yes, you guessed it - the fat hunstman.

By this stage I already had the garbage bag in the boot. I had torn it open to ensure I wasn't taking home someone's dentures, enema kits etc, and to my great surprise I found this cute little eggcup. Not that I use eggcups, but he's definitely cute - and has a very old David Jones sticker on his derriere. And the little pup with chipped off ears - dogfight anyone?


Once in the safety and light of my own home, I tore into the bag. I found this old cat clock - his eyes move - so cute. This little shelf that I've cleaned up, along with some vials of sand, an old Indian, this creepy little dolly in the bag - Laura Palmer?!
This little tribal doll. With real fur. Hmm. Must be pretty old the fur is disintegrating. Tasty.
If you fancy that little doll in the zip bag (a keyring!) please let me know. It's yours.

Who knew a bin could make someone so happy? Will it continue to rain gifts on me? Will the relationship with the bin last? Or is it just a fling? And just why did the people tossing all this stuff out ignore pottymouthmama's note she left in the mailbox? Find out next week when you tune into pottymouthmama.


* No spiders were harmed during the looting of this bin.

Postman Pat

I am notorious (in my own head) for never finishing things. Take for example the day I posted about letter writing with my biggie small. I did mean to get back to you if you commented.. But I just didn't. So here I am to make amends.

If you'd still like to play Postman Pat with us, please email me your postal address. We'll work on something over the weekend, and hopefully, if all goes to plan - your little ones (or you!) might receive something in the mail other than a bunch of bills. Now doesn't that sound like the sweetest plan?

Just a small thing. My biggest little one is 3 and a bit. So we'll be abstracting it up. Don't expect some kind of Picasso wizardry. Simple is key people!

Also, later this week I'll be posting a giveaway.. Excitement to the max people.. Stay tuned.

And finally, the photo that I posted yesterday - well it wasn't the bin.. I put you off the scent though, didn't I? Now you're madly going around all the number 33 houses ripping open the lid only to discover old tins of Snappy Tom (which BTW - are recyclable!) and hairballs, maybe even the missing silverfish.. Who knows.

One More Sleep

'Til I discover whether the bin is full of dust or diamonds..

Dust or diamonds people.. That's what it's down to.

I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. I'm the one on the corner wearing some leaves in my hair and some camoflage, commando rolling around the neighbourhood.

PS - Hi Mum! Happy Birthday!