Saturday, 29 December 2007

Berry's Big Christmas

Berry had two complete meltdowns on Christmas day (one in the morning, one in the evening) as well as one minor spin-out.

It turned out that the excitement and the avalanche of presents were a bit more than she could handle, so we put away a lot of gifts unopened. We decided they could wait until we have "Australian Christmas" in January, when my parents come over from Brisbane.

But the day wasn't all little tantrums and big presents* – she organised Grandpa and Tine into lots of games, played in her sandpit, danced with her daddy, played with her prized Dora umbrella and nearly gave poor "Woo-woof" a nervous breakdown from lots of chasing, pats and affection.

[*Gift disclaimer: while we are very lightweight "Santas", Berry's countless and ridiculously generous grandparents more than compensate. Anyone would think Santa had spent most of the night at our house...]

Friday, 28 December 2007

Poor Sisyphus

Poor Sisyphus... I'm starting to think I know how he felt.

I'm an organised person and a hard worker, but what does that count for when chaos runs against me and the work has no end?

The house wilfully slides into disarray on an almost daily basis, the two-year-old wreaks havoc without even meaning to (the worst havoc is preceded by the dreaded words: "I help"), the laundry piles up despite my obsession with seeing the bottom of the hamper... and I'm not even mentioning all the business-related work or household "admin" issues, or the fact that I'm actually meant to play with said toddler. There's no rest.

I grew up in a family of seven in a tiny old house, and I'm starting to see with alarming clarity why our mum sometimes declared there was absolutely no point in the struggle. "Why buy food?" she'd sometimes ask no one in particular. "It'll only get eaten."

I could carry on, but I have to go. Sisyphus needs help with this rock.

Monday, 24 December 2007


I bet you didn't know toy horses were meant to be Christmas decorations.

Nor did we, until Berry showed us.

Berry's Nanna gave her a Pasture Pals set of collectible horse breeds before Christmas. She spent quite a while corralling them neatly on the floor, and then: light bulb. She started perching them in the tree. They each sat quite neatly on their own branches, and we became perhaps the only people in the state with two-inch Thoroughbreds, Appaloosas, Pintos, Clydesdales, Shires and Lusitanos adorning their Christmas tree.

And Berry's likely the only toddler in the country who now calls horses "tree-cows". We can only hope she'll shake that off before primary school.


Thursday, 20 December 2007


Berry was awake from 2am to 4am last night. I do not know why. It was awful.

Nathan was on call again so it was just me, and I walked her around and around and around the house, patting her back and singing to her. I got her a bottle, found her bear, and tried lying on the couch with her. I talked on the phone to Dad in Australia (who helpfully pointed out how many people try for years and years and never get a baby) and then to my sister in South Africa (because she's sympathetic and entertaining, and excellent at not making me feel guilty – and because Berry often falls asleep when I'm on the phone, so it was worth a shot). Over and over Berry seemed to doze off, but no – the second I put her down she'd pop up, awake again.

Two. whole. hours.

By the end, the last time she called out from her mattress "Up Mama! Cuddle! In there!" (toddler-code for: Pick me up again and carry me around and around in the living room) I snapped and said, "Stop! Mummy's very cross with you!" She howled theatrically for about 30 seconds, then abruptly fell asleep.

So I was forced to lie awake staring at the ceiling, feeling terrible about myself and realising what a bad mother I am, et cetera.

You know: the usual.


Wednesday, 19 December 2007

The big question

In theory, I'm not a big fan of tattoos, or of jewellery on men, or of facial hair, or of large leather wristbands, or of the vaguely unwashed look.

So why does it all work, here?

Tuesday, 18 December 2007

Whiskers on kittens

I had to gaze at the walls and pace around nervously for a long time before I came up with this design.

It's a fun custom Christmas card project I completed earlier this month, and it needed to show: Kristen and Brian; their cats Dusty and Maisy; a lot of holiday spirit and some moving boxes (they're in the process of relocating from Manhattan to a riverside home of their own, north of the city).

Kristen loved the retro style of my Bella Figura collection, so I pulled all the details into a sweet 1950s-inspired design full of off-register colours, melamine shades and boxes and kittens. We actually ended up with more kittens than originally planned – Kristen had sent me photos of herself and Brian and their two cats, and when the card was nearly done, one more photo came in. It was Oliver, a tiny little bit of a kitten they'd rescued.

Really, who can say no to a brand-new kitten at Christmas? So Oliver made his Christmas-card debut just in time, playing with an ornament near Kristen's feet (you can see him in the picture below).

I love custom projects – they make me think in different directions and come up with creative solutions and stretch myself. They also make me nervous at the start – every time! Staring at a blank page (well, screen) with every idea and option as yet untouched can be daunting. And sending the completed design to a client for the first time feels, to me, like walking out on a stage. But the process is inspiring, and the rewards are fabulous. I love knowing that little drawings can help capture the spirit of a moment – big or small – in people's lives. I love the feeling of having done a great job, and breathing that sigh of relief!

It's always a little stress at the start and a lot of happiness at the end. A bit like Christmas, really.

Tuesday, 11 December 2007

Love and Gingerbread Latte

I know Starbucks is a "big bad multi-national" and I'm supposed to shun them, but I can't help myself. The first time Ren Evans bought me a Gingerbread Latte, I fell in love.

It was December 2000 and I was fresh off the plane from Australia (actually, crushed and exhausted off the plane from Australia), landing in the USA for the first time. Nathan's brother Ren was picking me up from the airport in Dallas because Nathan, who I hadn't seen since we first met in Europe, was in New Orleans taking finals. Ren and I had never met – he arrived at the airport with "Helen. Blonde. Australian. Japan Airlines" written on a post-it note. So it was an odd little arrangement, really.

Ren and Chad, his mate from the lumber company, picked me up at DFW and took me on an impromptu tour of Dallas – lunch at a revolving restaurant overlooking the city, dessert at a place that I think was called Love And War In Texas, and shopping at a mall called The Galleria which, to my amazement, had an indoor ice-skating rink. It also had a Starbucks.

Ren asked if I'd ever had a Gingerbread Latte. I hadn't. In fact, I'd never been in a Starbucks before (I lived in Before-Starbucks Brisbane). "Come on," he said, "They're genius." He bought me a Gingerbread Latte and although I was an avowed coffee-hater, he was right – it was genius.

So I blame Ren. That's where my soft spot for Starbucks started, and I can't shake it to this day. It mainly surfaces around November, really, when they bring out the Gingerbread Lattes again. But I may have a larger problem on my hands: Berry has decided Starbucks (or "Cake. Shop." as she calls it) is one of her favourite places.

The first Starbucks for our little part of the world opened in November, and we pass it every day. We go on little "dates" there, the two of us, more often than I should admit. She already thinks the large red chair in the corner belongs to her, which creates trouble when another customer has the nerve to sit in it. She likes to have milk in a big-girl cup, and dance to the Christmas carols and practice her jumping on the carpet.

She is a Seattle baby, so perhaps I should've expected that she'd have a soft spot for Starbucks too. But I'm going to blame her Uncle Ren anyway. He can take it.

Tuesday, 4 December 2007

Chic – twice in one week!

Hot on the heels of a great write-up on Chic and Charming, Pepperina Press appears on Wickedly Chic!

Liz of Wickedly Chic has chosen the Bella Figura cards for a fabulous feature in the Indie of the Week section (scroll down a little to see it).

Sunday, 2 December 2007

Ye Olde Feral Rabbit Angel

I'm right about the feral-rabbit-angel, aren't I.

After several requests, I got my pregnant self up on a chair with the camera, to take a picture of our scary tree-topper. I know it's a tradition – it's been in Nathan's family for longer than I could say – but it's all wrong, and shouldn't be considered a Christmas decoration.

Halloween, perhaps?

(No wonder Berry cried.)


Friday, 30 November 2007

Christmas Trees and Angels Gone Awry...

Every time Berry successfully hung an ornament on a branch, she did a special jumping dance with her arms in the air and sang "I did it!" (which actually comes out as "Uh dii-it", but we know what she means).

We lost two ornaments to her enthusiasm, but undiluted joy is worth some broken wings, no?

The lone low-point of the night came when Nathan tried to get Berry to help him put the "angel" on top of the tree. His family has been using this thing as a tree-topper since he was a kid, and I call it the Feral-Rabbit-Angel. If that doesn't give you a clue as to its unloveliness, let me elaborate: it's a ceramic hare with a rather leery, disturbing face, dressed in long white and red velvet angel robes. It's all wrong.

Berry took one look at it and her face crumpled. She did no-no-no hands and came running to me and clung to my neck for a long time, sobbing. It was very sad.

If I can climb up on a chair (that is an "if", these days) I'll try to get a photo of it up there. You'll see what I mean.

Tuesday, 27 November 2007

Whinge whinge whinge...

Please raise your hand if you think there should be an easier way to get a baby than nine months of pregnancy.

Thank you.

(All men must raise their hands unless they wish to be beaten soundly by the women around them. Again: thank you.)

It's only 15 weeks and already I'm heartily sick of feeling sick, and food tasting weird, and having a sore back (it happens even before you get big), and having crazy dreams, and sudden bizarre shooting pains, and not being able to get comfy in bed at night (which again, happens even before you get big).

I hate being awake at 3am. I hate maternity clothes with something approaching a passion (I have to feel bad and look unfortunate too? How amusing!). I miss going for runs. I miss wearing pretty things. I miss being nimble – now there's a word that's not used enough. I miss sushi and shrimp and Pinot Grigio, and the occasional diet Dr Pepper.

I miss things that smell nice, because everything smells weird to me, even now that I'm out of the first trimester. I can't tolerate the smell of cologne, moisturiser, lip balm, perfume, air freshener, furniture polish, exhaust fumes, scented candles, incense, dryer sheets, shampoo, face cream, cleanser, shea butter or shaving cream. So showers are fraught with danger – I hold my breath as much as I can. It's a weird little life I'm living here.

I know a lot of women have more trouble – all kinds of trouble. I even know that when I was pregnant with Berry I had a tougher time than this; complications upon complications. Still doesn't make me feel very merry.

But one last thing: I wrote this post, up to here, miserable with sleeplessness at 3 o'clock this morning. At 10am I went to the doctor, and I heard the baby's heartbeat again. Just a few seconds of fluttery little-bird heartbeat – but in that instant all was forgiven.

I won't promise not to whinge anymore (my sister, my mum, my best friend and I all agree that a good whinge is deeply therapeutic) but I have promised myself that I'll remember, every day, that every bit of inconvenience, weirdness, pain, discomfort and annoyance, in the end, will be worth it.

Saturday, 24 November 2007

Not bad for an Australian

Most of America falls asleep after Thanksgiving dinner, in a tryptophan- induced postprandial stupor.

But Berry prefers to get her sleep in before Thanksgiving dinner – not sure if she's worn out by the preparations or gathering her strength for the feast, but she sleeps hard.

She was eating some banana pieces one minute and the next minute we found her head-on-arm, out like a light. She missed the turkey carving and half the Thanksgiving dinner, but when she finally woke up she discovered huge enthusiasm for turkey, cranberries and asparagus.

We decided to stay home this year since our nearest family was going to be 11+ hours of driving away. Berry hates being in the car and I'm not very fond of it myself when I'm pregnant, so we stayed here and I cooked my first single-handed Thanksgiving dinner ever.

Keep in mind we don't have this holiday back home... so I'm going to say this little effort was not too bad, for an Australian.

Thursday, 22 November 2007

Still here, still random

Driving to New Orleans the other day, I heard In Your Eyes on an XM station I'll never be able to find again, and of course it got me thinking about Say Anything (and as an aside, how much I still love John Cusack, even today).

And thinking of Say Anything got me thinking about Ione Skye, and how she probably wouldn't have had the Diane Court role if that movie was made today. Or if she did, she would've looked different. Because I remember her being sweetly round-faced and – I can't think of another way to put it – untoned. And I don't mean "full-figured" or "curvy" or even anything euphemistic. I just mean what I said – and that Elisabeth Shue was the same way when she was in Karate Kid, and lots of other '80s teen movies were like that.

I decided I kind of miss the days of movies like that – with sweetly round- faced girls in the young-love-interest role, and not a sinewy tricep in sight.

(While we're being random: 1) Ione Skye is even prettier now; and 2) I did not know that Cameron Crowe wrote and directed Say Anything. For my family, who won't know who Cameron Crowe is: he directed Almost Famous and Jerry Maguire.)

Wednesday, 14 November 2007

Second fiddle

There are only so many times you can hear tearful repetitions of "Oh, Da-daaaaaa" and "Dada hooooooome" and "Dada baaaaaack, peeeeeeease" before you lose your mind.

It'll be interesting to see how long it takes.

Nathan's work has sent him to a conference in Texas. I didn't give that much thought, because one thing's for sure – I like my space. I'm always happy in my own company and although I love having Nathan around, I've always wondered about couples who say, "We've never spent a night apart". So it all sounded straightforward: see you in a few days, honey.

I didn't bargain for the Berry Factor.

My first mistake was driving Nathan to the airport with Berry along for the ride. My second mistake was not preventing him from getting on the plane.

The tearful pleas began before we were even out of the airport drop-off area, and they lasted, non-stop, all the way home. "Oh Dada baaaaaaack.... Dada hoooome, peeeeease mama" – as if I could conjure him up so long as she asked politely.

All afternoon, more of the same. The bad-mama side of me thinks this is outrageously unfair. Who gives the baths? Who changes the nappies? Who puts the band-aids on? Who does the Berry-wrangling through the grocery store? Who makes all the food? Who combs the tangles out of the curls? Who gets up in the night? That would be me, me, me, me, me, me, and oh – me.

Who gets the devoted fan club? Daddy. Daddy is fun. Daddy is the hero. Yep, that's life.

I called my mum to keep me sane, long-distance, through the worst of it this evening – the dramatic wailing for Dada to come hoooooome and the insistence that a mouse, Santa and a puppy in her Christmas book were all Daddy, and all needed to come baaaaaaack.

I'm not sure who's going to keep me sane the rest of the time – so I suppose that's where the interesting will-I-lose-my-mind experiment kicks in.

We have four days to find out. That'll be plenty.

Monday, 12 November 2007


When I showed him the little window, Nathan put his head in his hands.

"People who are trying to get pregnant would kill for their test to look like that," he said.

"No, look: there are kind of two lines," I said, "but one of them looks like it's just a mark where a line should be, not really a line. So it might be negative after all."

He looked at me with what could have been pity. Or disbelief. "Trust me. You're pregnant."

I sat quite still on the couch in the office, and Nathan turned back to the computer and ordered the lab tests. Then he hugged me and told me it would be okay, and I walked in slow-motion (I'm sure it was in slow-motion) down to the labs.

Having had one baby, I've read my share of pregnancy magazines where women share oh-so-sweet and wholesome stories of how they let their husbands know the happy news: "I gift-wrapped a pair of baby booties and put them on his pillow!" and "I bought a pint of 'Big Daddy' ice cream and taped the pregnancy test to the lid!" (um... ewww).

I'm kind of betting they don't want to know about wives who crash their husband's office between patients, with a zip-locked EPT in their purse and a bad case of denial.

I'm also betting, though, that three months into this pregnancy with Baby 2, we're now every bit as happy as the rest of them. It'll be amazing for Berry to have a little brother or sister, and we can't wait to see who this little person turns out to be. 2008 is going to be way more interesting than we bargained for.

Berry loves babies. And that makes three of us.


Thursday, 1 November 2007

Fairies are for real

Berry's great-grandma in Australia has an amazing and very old Flower Fairies book from her childhood in England that she used to read to all of us. I was completely fascinated with it when I was a kid. The fairies were intricately drawn, and seemed magical.

Berry's great-grandmother in Connecticut sent her this incredible forest fairy costume a week ago, and when I put it on her last night, it looked exactly as if one of the flower fairies had come to life and jumped off the pages of my grandma's book.

Last night was Berry's first trick-or-treat adventure ever – she called it her "walk" – and she was a hit around the neighbourhood.

She collected so many lollies that her daddy had to carry them for her (the picture below shows her very first stop, with Sue from next-door). She ate one lollipop and one mini Tootsie Roll – with the wrapper still on. We made sure the rest of the loot "magically" disappeared overnight. Those were her first lollies, and there'll be no more for quite a while.

Boy, it was fun while it lasted.


Wednesday, 31 October 2007

How to confuse your holidays (Happy Halloween)

Australians don't do Halloween.

Growing up, we never dressed up and we never went trick-or-treating (and we wouldn't have been able to eat the spoils if we did – Dad's one-lolly-a-week rule was strictly enforced). But that was ok, because everyone else stayed home on October 31 too.

So when I moved to the States, Halloween – like Thanksgiving – was a new one for me. I loved it the first year because we and all our friends (childless and carefree then) dressed up as the characters from The Big Lebowski and stayed out till 3am.

But times change. This year we'll be taking our little forest fairy for a sedate lolly-gathering effort around the neighbourhood in the early evening, then staying in for the night. It will be her first year trick-or-treating... until June we lived in Washington and it was always too cold to take her outside at night. Hence the little Santa outfit from last Halloween, pictured above – nice and warm, and takes care of two holidays at once. (I didn't care that it was confusing – my practical side wins every time.)

Happy Halloween!

Tuesday, 30 October 2007


For the seven years I've known Nathan, he's always been taking exams.

Back when I was studying, I attempted fairly regular nervous breakdowns around exam time – and my longest exam was 2.5 hours. The exams for doctors last an entire day. That'd send me completely round the twist, but he never made a big deal about it.

Well, all that ended last week when we found out he passed his Boards. After four years of college, four years of med school and three years of residency, the exams are done. He's board-certified in his specialty and won't have to take another exam for ten whole years.

Like all the other good doctors he'll still read obsessively, keep up on journals, write papers and presentations – you know. But no more day-long exams for ten years is still something to be happy about.

To celebrate, Berry undertook creative embellishing on some of her daddy's notes. A few careful squiggles and hey presto – valvular aortic stenosis has never looked so good.

[PS: a great big (but unnecessary, because she is awesome) good-luck to Pauline, who's about to sit her Boards.]

Sunday, 28 October 2007

If you love Vespas like I love Vespas...

My latest trick: a set of Bella Figura cards for Vespa fans (like me).

I've been wanting to do this for ages... and when a recent trip to New Orleans (home to many covet-worthy Vespas) inspired me to design another Vespa Girl card, the time was right! The new design is front and center in the Vespa Fan Set of 3 greetings (above) and shown in more detail below.

They're all in my Etsy store now, and coming very soon to the Pepperina Press web site.

One day I will hatch a cunning plan to take myself back to Italy for "research purposes". I mean, if I'm going to keep drawing Vespas I need to see at least several hundred of them up close, and get a bit of atmosphere while I'm there. Am I right?

Wednesday, 24 October 2007


I've been promising forever that I'll post photos of my new studio once I get it finished and organised. I think my last promise was quite a while ago.

Well, I've realised this is as organised as I'm going to get in the foreseeable future, so here's the guided tour!

First, a reminder of what it looked like when we moved in (on a much sunnier day, as you can see):

And the photo at the top of this post shows what it looks like from the doorway now – mainly my work desk and some storage shelves, and the edge of the block-printing table around the corner. This (below) is the trimming and packing table, which Nathan's dad made at a nice standing height so I don't have to lean awkwardly over to do all that fiddly stuff anymore.

In fact, Nathan's dad is responsible for this entire room. Seriously. He made both the tables, he painted the walls (you do not know how long it takes to tape and undercoat and paint a room with this many angles – it's insane). He mounted the wall shelves. He assembled the floor shelves. He put up the clear memo board and the white noticeboard and he made every single thing fit perfectly. And did I mention he drove down from Dallas to do all this? The man is a saint.

There's even this little corner for when Berry wants to join me (see above... she was working on a sticker-collage that day), with a play mat and amazing hand-stitched cushions from my sister in South Africa. The areas you can't see are the extra shelves by my desk, and the huge and excellent store room full of shelves (to the left of my desk) where all the endless boxes of blank stock and coloured envelopes live.

This place makes me happy every single day.


Tuesday, 23 October 2007

Laziness, eBay and Shopping With Six Kids

I'm a lazy lazy girl who doesn't post often enough on her blog. I do have an excuse... I'm sure it's around here somewhere...

But what better way to make up for my laziness than to present you with something hilarious that someone else has written? Yes!

Below (stay for the read, it's worth it) is the funniest eBay auction listing I have ever, ever read. It's written by a mother of six kids. Being the eldest of five children myself, I can promise you: she is not making this up.

Here's the listing. Read on...



I'm selling a bunch of Pokemon cards. Why? Because my kids sneaked them into my shopping cart while at the grocery store and I ended up buying them because I didn't notice they were there until we got home. How could I have possibly not noticed they were in my cart, you ask? Let me explain.

You haven’t lived until you’ve gone grocery shopping with six kids in tow. I would rather swim, covered in bait, through the English Channel, be a contestant on Fear Factor when they’re having pig brains for lunch, or do fourth grade math than to take my six kids to the grocery store.

Because I absolutely detest grocery shopping, I tend to put it off as long as possible. There comes a time, however, when you’re peering into your fridge and thinking, ‘Hmmm, what can I make with ketchup, Italian dressing, and half an onion,’ that you decide you cannot avoid going to the grocery store any longer. Before beginning this most treacherous mission, I gather all the kids together and give them "The Lecture".

"The Lecture" goes like this…
MOM: “We have to go to the grocery store.”
KIDS: “Whine whine whine whine whine."
MOM: “Hey, I don’t want to go either, but it’s either that or we’re eating cream of onion-ketchup soup and drinking Italian dressing for dinner tonight.”
KIDS: “Whine whine whine whine whine."
MOM: “Now here are the rules: do not ask me for anything, do not poke the packages of meat in the butcher section, do not test the laws of physics and try to take out the bottom can in the pyramid shaped display, do not play baseball with oranges in the produce section, and most importantly, do not try to leave your brother at the store. Again.”

OK, the kids have been briefed. Time to go.

Once at the store, we grab not one, but two shopping carts. I wear the baby in a sling and the two little children sit in the carts while I push one cart and my oldest son pushes the other one. My oldest daughter is not allowed to push a cart. Ever. Why? Because the last time I let her push the cart, she smashed into my ankles so many times, my feet had to be amputated by the end of our shopping trip. This is not a good thing. You try running after a toddler with no feet sometime.

At this point, a woman looks at our two carts and asks me, “Are they all yours?” I answer good-naturedly, “Yep!
“Oh my, you have your hands full.”
“Yes, I do, but it's fun!” I say smiling.
I’ve heard all this before. In fact, I hear it every time I go anywhere with my brood.

We begin in the produce section where all these wonderfully, artistically arranged pyramids of fruit stand. There is something so irresistibly appealing about the apple on the bottom of the pile, that a child cannot help but try to touch it. Much like a bug to a zapper, the child is drawn to this piece of fruit. I turn around to the sounds of apples cascading down the display and onto the floor. Like Indiana Jones, there stands my son holding the all-consuming treasure that he just HAD to get and gazing at me with this dumbfounded look as if to say, “Did you see that??? Wow! I never thought that would happen!”

I give the offending child an exasperated sigh and say, “Didn’t I tell you, before we left, that I didn’t want you taking stuff from the bottom of the pile???”

“No. You said that you didn’t want us to take a can from the bottom of the pile. You didn’t say anything about apples.”

With superhuman effort, I resist the urge to send my child to the moon and instead focus on the positive – my child actually listened to me and remembered what I said!!! I make a mental note to be a little more specific the next time I give the kids The Grocery Store Lecture.

A little old man looks at all of us and says, “Are all of those your kids?”
Thinking about the apple incident, I reply, “Nope. They just started following me. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

OK, now onto the bakery section where everything smells so good, I’m tempted to fill my cart with cookies and call it a day. Being on a perpetual diet, I try to hurry past the assortment of pies, cakes, breads, and pastries that have my children drooling. At this point the chorus of “Can we gets” begins.
“Can we get donuts?”
“Can we get cupcakes?”
“Can we get muffins?”
“Can we get pie?”

You’d think they’d catch on by this point, but no, they’re just getting started.

In the bakery, they’re giving away free samples of coffee cake and of course, my kids all take one. The toddler decides he doesn’t like it and proceeds to spit it out in my hand. (That’s what moms do. We put our hands in front of our children’s mouths so they can spit stuff into them. We’d rather carry around a handful of chewed up coffee cake, than to have the child spit it out onto the floor. I’m not sure why this is, but ask any mom and she’ll tell you the same.) Of course, there’s no garbage can around, so I continue shopping one-handed while searching for someplace to dispose of the regurgitated mess in my hand.

In the meat department, a mother with one small baby asks me, “Wow! Are all six yours?”
I answer her, “Yes, but I’m thinking of selling a couple of them.”
(Still searching for a garbage can at this point.)

Ok, after the meat department, my kids’ attention spans are spent. They’re done shopping at this point, but we aren’t even halfway through the store. This is about the time they like to start having shopping cart races. And who may I thank for teaching them this fun pastime? My seventh “child”, also known as my husband. While I’m picking out loaves of bread, the kids are running down the aisle behind the carts in an effort to get us kicked out of the store. I put to stop to that just as my son is about to crash head on into a giant cardboard cut-out of a Keebler elf stacked with packages of cookies.

Ah! Yes! I find a small trash can by the coffee machine in the cereal aisle and finally dump out the squishy contents of my hand. After standing in the cereal aisle for an hour and a half while the kids perused the various cereals, comparing the marshmallow and cheap, plastic toy content of each box, I broke down and let them each pick out a box. At any given time, we have twenty open boxes of cereal in my house.

As this is going on, my toddler is playing Houdini and maneuvering his little body out of the seat belt in an attempt to stand up in the cart. I’m amazed the kid made it to his second birthday without suffering a brain damaging head injury. In between trying to flip himself out of the cart, he sucks on the metal bars of the shopping cart. Mmmm, can you say “influenza”?

The shopping trip continues much like this. I break up fights between the kids now and then and stoop down to pick up items that the toddler has flung out of the cart. I desperately try to get everything on my list without adding too many other goodies to the carts.

Somehow I manage to complete my shopping in under four hours and head for the check-outs where my kids start in on a chorus of, “Can we have candy?” What evil minded person decided it would be a good idea to put a display of candy in the check-out lanes, right at a child’s eye level? Obviously someone who has never been shopping with children.

As I unload the carts, I notice many extra items that my kids have sneaked in the carts unbeknownst to me. I remove a box of Twinkies, a package of cupcakes, a bag of candy, and a can of cat food (we don’t even have a cat!). I somehow missed the box of Pokemon cards however and ended up purchasing them unbeknownst to me.

As I pay for my purchases, the clerk looks at me, indicates my kids, and asks, “Are they all yours?”

Frustrated, exhausted from my trip, sick to my stomach from writing out a check for $289.53, dreading unloading all the groceries and putting them away and tired of hearing that question, I look at the clerk and answer her in my most sarcastic voice, “No. They’re not mine. I just go around the neighborhood gathering up kids to take to the grocery store because it’s so much more fun that way.”

So, up for auction is an opened (they ripped open the box on the way home from the store) package of Pokemon cards. There are 44 cards total. They're in perfect condition, as I took them away from the kiddos as soon as we got home from the store. Many of them say "Energy". I tried carrying them around with me, but they didn't work. I definitely didn't have any more energy than usual.

One of them is shiny. There are a few creature-like things on many of them. One is called Pupitar. Hee hee hee Pupitar! (Oh no! My kids' sense of humor is rubbing off on me!) Anyway, I don't think there's anything special about any of these cards, but I'm very much not an authority on Pokemon cards. I just know that I'm not letting my kids keep these as a reward for their sneakiness.

Shipping is FREE on this item. Insurance is optional, but once I drop the package at the post office, it is no longer my responsibility. For example, if my son decides to pour a bottle of glue into the envelope, or my daughter spills a glass of juice on the package, that’s my responsibility and I will fully refund your money. If, however, I take the envelope to the post office and a disgruntled mail carrier sets fire to it, a pack of wild dogs rip into it, or a mail sorting machine shreds it, it’s out of my hands, so you may want to add insurance.

I will leave feedback for you as soon as I’ve received your payment. I will be happy to combine shipping on multiple items won within three days. This comes from a smoke-free, pet-free, child-filled home. Please ask me any questions before placing your bid. Happy bidding! :)

Friday, 19 October 2007

Big treasures in little Sunset

If you ever go to Sunset, Louisiana (if you can ever find Sunset, Louisiana) don't miss this place. It's called Melange and it's a wonderland in the middle of nowhere.

Row after row of antique European doors, huge weathered wrought-iron gates from France, and century-old furniture from eastern Europe. It's amazing.

We spent hours there and I could have spent hours more. We bought a French wrought-iron wall planter and a beautiful old hand-painted keyed chest from Hungary.

We coveted many, many other things. We'll be back.

Tuesday, 16 October 2007


This post is for my brother Jules who, although he lives in Greenwich, managed to miss the whole shebang... and for everyone else too, because this story is just amazing.

If I did this, I would want medals, money and lifelong adulation. But I would never do this. Read on....

LONDON (AP) -- He was hit by a car in Colorado, attacked by a crocodile in Australia, detained as a suspected spy in Egypt and survived illness and periods of despair.

On Saturday, British adventurer Jason Lewis finally came home, completing a 13-year, 46,000-mile human-powered circumnavigation of the globe.

The 40-year-old carried his 26-foot yellow pedal craft the last few miles up the River Thames, pushing it across the Meridian Line at Greenwich, where his expedition began in 1994.

"I'm overwhelmed," Lewis told Sky News television after arriving. He struggled for words as he described his feelings at the close of an odyssey that took him around the globe, powered only by his arms and legs - on a bicycle, a pedal boat, a kayak and inline skates.

"It's been my life, for 13 years, I've put everything into this," he said. "To be honest I didn't know it was going to happen. There were many times in the trip where it should have failed."

Lewis was recruited by fellow adventurer Steve Smith, who first dreamed up the idea of going around the world using only human power in 1991. The pair had little experience at sea, but Lewis thought the prospect of hiking and biking across the world was "wildly romantic."

"The three and a half years the expedition was projected to take sounded like an acceptable amount of time to rejuvenate from the wearisome London scene without totally going AWOL," Lewis wrote on the expedition's Web site.

Trouble began early. After two years of planning and fundraising, the pair set out in July 1994 only to get "horribly lost" on their way to the English coastal town of Rye, where their pedal boat was waiting.

After crossing the English Channel to France and then cycling to Portugal, the pair pedaled their boat in shifts across the Atlantic Ocean, reaching Miami in February 1995. Along the way, they survived close encounters with a shrimping trawler, a whale and a giant wave that swept Smith overboard.

By the time they reached America, the two adventurers had been cooped up in a broom closet-sized space for 111 days with little in the way of food, and their relationship had begun to deteriorate. They crossed the U.S. separately, with Lewis strapping on his inline skates for the 3,500-mile trip to San Francisco. It was on this leg of the journey that he was hit by a car in Pueblo, Colo., breaking both legs. He spent nine months recuperating.

Smith and Lewis reunited in San Francisco and eventually pedaled from the Golden Gate Bridge to Hawaii, where the two split for good. Smith went on to write a book, "Pedaling to Hawaii," while Lewis continued on to Australia.

He biked across the Australian outback, dodged supertankers in the Singapore straits and hiked the Himalayas. From Mumbai, India, he pedaled his boat across the Indian Ocean to Djibouti and made his way north by bicycle through Sudan and Egypt.

Accidents and sickness dogged the trip. The collision in Colorado nearly cost Lewis his leg. The trip across the Pacific left him sore, inflamed and depressed. While kayaking across the Barrier Reef off Australia, he was attacked by a crocodile, which bit off a piece of his paddle.

Local authorities were a problem, as well. Lewis logged "interesting experiences" with Alabama police and gun-wielding locals in the United States. He had to cycle through Tibet at night to avoid detection by Chinese roadblocks. And when he crossed into Egypt from Sudan, he was thrown in jail by the military on suspicion of being a spy.

After his release from prison, he biked through the Sinai desert and across Jordan, Syria and Turkey. He then powered through Europe over the summer, arriving in Greenwich, in southeast London, to cheers from family, supporters and the Duke of Gloucester, the expedition's British patron.

Lewis said he hoped to use the expedition to raise funds for humanitarian causes and draw attention to environmental issues. He has already raised $66,000 for causes ranging from an orphanage in East Timor to kindergartens in Bangkok.

[Story: Associated Press. Photo: Lewis Whyld/AP]

Monday, 15 October 2007

Give a girl a bed...

The "big girl bed" we ordered for Berry is due to arrive on October 25.

Do you think the bed company would send it sooner if they saw how the mattress-on-the-floor option is working out for us?

Yes, those are her little legs sticking out there. She's rolled off her mattress, over the stack of pillows, across the quilt, and somehow scooched under our bed.

So sad.

[To avoid further alarm (see comments) I should explain: I took this photo while kneeling on the edge of our bed, looking down at Berry lying on the floor... and half under our bed. She's not standing on her head, I promise! Wouldn't that be a trick...]

Sunday, 14 October 2007

Swings, no roundabouts

Since Mississippi is finally starting to consider autumn, we can at last go and tackle the playgrounds after kindy. Even a couple of weeks ago it was too hot to be sensible, but the temperatures have eased up just enough and the Base has a spectacularly huge playground by the marina. It's perfect.

My question: what child doesn't want to be pushed on the swings? Berry wants to be in the swing, and she wants the swing to be swinging... but every push – even the occasional push – is met with "NO push! Mine!"

I wonder if most mothers sometimes consider their offspring and say, in their heads, "Why are you so strange?"


Thursday, 11 October 2007

Vespas on the front!

One of my newest cards is on the front page of Etsy today!

It's the Bella Figura Mod Vespa Girl card (lower right in the picture above), sitting pretty in a whole page full of Vespas.

We have a Vespa. It is in many parts in Princeton, Texas, right now. We're lucky for that, actually, because it means that Nathan's dad is fixing it. Otherwise nobody would.

But where was I... yes, front page! Yay!


Sunday, 7 October 2007

Dirty Jobs, Cajun style...

"I bet Mike walked here," I said to Nathan as we went down the path to the back of the restaurant.

He just shook his head at me, with what might've been pity. But really, I'm not the first girl to take a shine to Mike Rowe. And he had been right there – we saw it on TV.

We were going to breakfast at Bayou Boudin and Cracklin on Bayou Teche, home of the "Cracklin King" (or, as it's known locally, Rocky and Lisa's) – because what Louisiana Cajun experience would be complete without it?

And yes, Mike Rowe came here to film an episode of Dirty Jobs for Discovery Channel. It's the one where he learns to make boudin sausage and pork cracklins – the one that coined the famous phrase: "Fat is money."

If you're dieting, you don't go to Rocky and Lisa's. (If you're dieting, you've got the wrong idea about health and you're just going to gain weight again – but that's another story). The menu is mainly pork-related, and they're not counting calories.

Berry loves it because there are little pigs everywhere – she loves pigs – and we love it because these people know how to cook. I didn't have the boudin and I didn't have the cracklins, but their seasoned ham was so good it made me selfish – I wouldn't even share it with Berry. What a bad mother.

If you're ever near Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, it's well worth the trip. And if you want to sit where Mike sat – pssssst, head for the back steps leading up to the restaurant.