I always thought the Day of the Dead (Dia de Muertos) was an excuse to wear devastatingly evil make-up. Sure, I knew it had something to do with being dead—that’s why the make-up looked better at night—until I was told by our six-year-old what it really was. The annual Mexican tradition is a chance to … More Our Big Lebowski Moment
Always leave on a high. That’s what Great Aunt Hazel advised when I was a young strumpet. ‘No matter how great the party, leave at the peak, don’t wait until it’s all over.’ It’s a tough motto because what if there’s another fabulous conversation to be had, witty line to inhale or person to flirt … More The Grass Is Officially Greener
We may live and work in an altruistic hippy dippy summer camp for children—in Mendocino County, where it’s totally normal to order a hemp latte—however one hour in the opposite direction is Willits, a small town described on a large sign as The Gateway to the Redwoods. It’s also the gateway to another fine specimen … More Wannabe Rednecks
I always thought that in life and death situations I would do amazing feats; lift cars off small children, run through burning buildings, pole-vault to save strangers. Like Mrs Incredible. This sense has heightened since we moved to the woods because our neighbours are a little wild: scorpions, bears, bastard deer ticks, snakes, poisonous plants … More It’s With Great Reluctance I Admit I Am Not Mrs Incredible.
Anniversary Dates have so much pressure on them to be incredibly, stupendously romantic they often implode. A girlfriend told me recently, “I have cried more on anniversary dates than I have kissed!”. Usually, she said, out of sheer disappointment because she built up expectations so high no one human being could possibly fulfill them. Guilty. … More Anniversary Dates. Always Disastrous.
Advice lists are annoying. I never read them. Or guide books, instruction manuals and tags about how to wash clothes. I never read anything about moving a young family across continents because I am the kind of person that doesn’t want to know and then, when I’m in the thick of it, wonder why on … More 14 Uncomfortable Things To Know About Moving Countries With Young Children
Last month, as we stood under the carved archway dividing Duty Free and NZ Customs listening to Haere Mai, I felt overcome with emotion. That silly happy song I’ve never given two hoots about before was making me feel nostalgic for my country. Home. Bob and the ‘Dactyl watched some loutish lads pose underneath the … More It’s wader, Mom, not water.
“I can’t smell the cunt!” said our daughter, feeling left out. We could all smell it. There’s nothing like the pong of freshly killed skunk. Being only two she still struggles with her ks and sks. Her parents, being only four, find it hilarious. The Dimple didn’t realize a family of skunks had built a … More I Said A Kitten, Not A Baby.
When a couple of eight-year-old mouthy boys starting fighting around my four-year-old, I watched intently –through the camera lens– to monitor exactly when I needed to sprint over and save him. Bob, unaware the big boys could pummel him to a pancake, put a hand on each arm and commanded, ‘Freeze!’ It has been his … More Summer Of Lovin’ And Not Being A Dick.