The Rare and Lesser Spotted Bubble Bath

One of things I find surprising about living in Australia is the distinct lack of bubble bath.  I can't remember when I first noticed this but it's cropped up on more than one occasion.  I remember the shops in England - Boots, Super Drug, even Tesco - used to have like a whole shelf dedicated to bubble bath and all things bathtime.  Not just stuff for the kids either.  This was full on luxury.  Bubble bath, bath salts, bath oils.  Bubble bath came in a mass of different shapes, sizes, colours, flavours and smells.  Bubble bath was everywhere.  But try to find bubble bath here and you'll be lucky.  Our local Woolworths stocks just two types.  A single version of Radox and an industrial looking yellow one that's meant to sooth dry skin.  That is it.  Nothing else.  I thought I'd have more luck in the pharmacy but oh no, they don't stock it all.  Not a god damned thing.  Honestly, what is a person supposed to buy that random female friend at Christmas if they can't buy a pretty selection of bath salts.  I used to have a collection on the go in England.  I couldn't get through it quick enough. Now that's a thing of the past.  Bubble bath is a rare and incredible thing.  I can only put this down to the weather and even made mention of this to the bored looking sales girl in the pharmacy.  I figure with all the cold weather then us Brits like to indulge with a bubble bath on a fairly regular basis.  Maybe because the weather is so nice here the Aussies don't have the need to defrost themselves in a hot tub.  I don't know.  I'd say there's a gap in the market for a bubble bath shop but what do I know.  Maybe there's not enough demand.  There's demand here though.  Little Stalky demands bubble bath!

New Plants!

Left to right:  Floppy coriander, bushy mint, flowering thyme,
ridiculously green parsley, healthy rosemary, not so healthy
oregano, baby chilli plant, blooming lemon tree, baby
strawberry, big strawberry and Mr and Mrs Tomato

I'm pleased to introduce the latest additions to Little Stalky's balcony garden.  A new chilli plant, two new tomato plants (baby Roma to be precise), a new parsley plant and, for the first time ever, a coriander plant.  And I can already hear Rabby groaning.  I've been advised against trying to grow coriander but I figured for $3.00 I may as well give it a shot.  If it doesn't happen then at least I've got a round of coriander for my chilli con carne that's only about 50c more expensive than what I would have bought in Woolies.  Actually, upon buying my coriander I even bumped into a friend who said she'd never had any success with growing coriander.  Apparently they go to seed very quickly.  They'll freak out if they dry out.  No chance of that at the moment.  You can probably see from the photograph, the the balcony is looking a bit soggy today.  The new plants are getting a drenching.  But they seem happy enough.  I picked them up yesterday at the produce markets in town and was thrilled to come away with my new plant buddies.  Now I'm trying to persuade Mystical Roo to take me to Bunnings so that I can get me some potting soil and some food for the lemon tree.  I figure I'll repot the tomatoes and the chilli but I'll leave the parsley and the coriander alone.  I know parsley is sensitive and doesn't like to be moved and he fared very well in his little pot last time.  Coriander sounds like the sensitive type too so I think I'll leave him be.  I'm loving spring.  New plants, current plants in bloom and a winning battle against the fruit flies.  All I need to do now is plant my seeds and see how I go with the rocket and the sweet basil.  Everything is good except for the fact that I think my oregano has died.  You can sort of see him lurking in the background - in the white bucket.  Not looking overly healthy.  I'll see how he goes but if he decides to head into the big compost bin in the sky - or rather, the little compost bin on my balcony, it will be ok.  He had a good innings.  

The Myna

There appear to be new residents on the balcony and they're not of the plant type.  They're of the bird type.  But I'm pretty sure they're not in league with Will.  These two are what I believe to be Myna birds.  They seem to be very common here in Australia but from what I've heard are not indigenous.  These birds are frowned upon, though I'm not really sure why.  Something to do with bullying other birds?  They don't look like bullies to me.  But what do I know.  Any how, these two Mynas have come to hang out on the balcony almost every day for the last month.  I notice them because of their distinctive call.  And their penchant for eating fruit flies.  Oh yes.  They eat the fruit flies.  Now I don't want to jinx it but these birds seem to be the perfect addition to the balcony.  They eat the fruit flies but they don't eat the fruit.  They leave the plants alone and have never once pooped only the balcony.  They tend to hop about for a bit, munching on the flies and then fly up onto the wall and just sit there for a while.  They seem content.  And I'm happy to let them go about their business.  Any bird that tackles the fruit flies whilst leaving my plants alone is more than welcome. 

The Alarm Clock That Never Stopped

As we're often on very different schedules for actually getting out of bed, Mystical Roo and I have separate alarm clocks.  Actually, he has the alarm clock and I use my phone.  I think Mystical Roo uses his phone too.  As a somewhat deep sleeper at times, he needs a double whammy to wake him up.  The thing is, when the sun is shining, when I have lots to do, I'm inclined to get up with Mystical Roo.  And this tends to be quite early.  My alarm clock, my phone, is rendered superfluous for that morning.  But I forget to actually turn my alarm clock off.  And at 06.30 it starts to chime away, playing Fur Elise over and over and over and over...........And no matter where I am (unless I've actually left the house without my phone - yeah right), no matter what I'm doing, I can always hear the alarm.  If the TVs on I can hear the alarm.  If I'm in the shower I can hear the alarm.  If I'm on the balcony I can hear the alarm.  And I know what you're thinking - great alarm!  Yes, it does it's job.  But it never stops.  You'd think after half an hour the thing would just give it up.  I'm awake already!  But it never does.  It goes on and on.  And I should just go and turn the thing off but it always feels like such an effort to go back into the bedroom to silence the phone.  But there's only so much Fur Elise a person can take in the morning.

Payball?

I've once again found myself in another embarrassing situation courtesy of my dodgy hearing and my...well...Englishness.  At work today one of the young ground staff - one I'd never seen before - came into reception to ask for what I could only interpret as payball.  At first I couldn't hear a word he was saying and he was only a few feet away.  I stood up and shuffled closer.  He repeated his initial question but still I couldn't understand him.  He may as well have been speaking gobbledygook because I couldn't make out a single word.    I squinted, focused really hard, even put my hand up to my ear and asked him to again repeat the question.  Again I couldn't understand him.  This actually started to get a bit embarrassing because he was looking at me like I was crazy and his friend started laughing.  Unfortunately for me the other girls were on the phone so I couldn't ask for assistance.  I was stuck.  He repeated his question and all  I could hear was payball.  Now I'm pretty sure that payball isn't a word.  I repeated it to him.  Payball?  He said the word again and all I could hear was payball.  I looked at him blankly.  He tried to tell me it was the green folder.  The green folder?  What does the green folder have to do with payball.  At this point I was starting to flush red as I just couldn't understand what he was going on about.  I think it was a mixture of my poor hearing, the Australian accent and his mumbling.  Eventually one of the other girls came off the phone.  They hadn't heard the conversation but on seeing my confusion advised that the boys had probably come in for their time sheets.  Their time sheets.  Well time sheet certainly doesn't sound anything like payball.  I scurried off to find it, couldn't find it and then had to come back to say that someone else had taken it.  They left and I still had no idea what the man had been saying.  I explained my conundrum to my colleagues who confirmed that payball was not a random Australian word and that they too didn't know what it was.  Then it clicked that he could have been saying pay book.  He was after the pay book.  Not the pay ball.  Well honestly.  Who calls it a pay book!  No wonder I was confused.

Pen in the Hair

Do you know where's a great place to store pens?  Your hair.  It's great.  And I know what you're thinking.  At what point does one need to store one's pen in one's hair.  When one needs one's hands and is unable to put one's pen down. I'm often with a pen in my hand.  It's a handy tool.  You can write stuff with it.  Poke people with it.  Chew ponderously on it.  You can even pretend it's mini sword and practice your skills.  But only if you've got time.  So, when wandering about with your pen and the sudden need for the use of both your hands arises, where do you put your pen?  Your pocket?  Don't have any.  On a table?  There is no table.  On the floor?  Someone might trip.  No.  You put it in your hair.  Booh yah!  This obviously works better if you have your hair clipped up.  It provides a kind of sturdy landing pad for the pen.  A cunning plan.  A cunning plan indeed.  As long as you remember to remove the pen from your hair.  As practical as it is, a pen sticking out the back of your head can look a bit random.  And it's embarrassing when one of your colleagues points out that you have pens in your hair.  Ah yes, storing them for later.  I once came home from work, unclipped my hair and not one but two pens tumbled to the floor.  How long had they been in there for?  Why had no one mentioned anything?  Maybe people had just assumed it was a Little Stalky look.  A look not to be questioned.  So I guess what I'm saying is pen in the hair is a good thing as long as you remember to remove the pen when your hands are back in action.  If the pen is there for a reason then it's practical and chic.  If you're wandering around with a pen sticking out the top of your head for hours on end then you just look like a loon.  

Cow Calls

I had a surreal day at work the other day because at one point nearly every other phone call was from local residents reporting on cows that were having baby cows.  Or calves if you want to be picky.  As a big holiday park that used to be a dairy farm we still have cows that chill out in their own personal cow fields.  They like to hang out, munch some grass, watch the day go by.  So when some of these cows started having baby cows it was a cause of concern for some nearby households who could see the cows from their windows.  And for some reason I was the one that answered all of the calls for help.  I think the other girls thought I was making things up as no one else seemed to be receiving these cow related calls.  But I got a lot of them.  There's a cow giving birth.  There's a calf that is being ignored by a cow.  There's a cow with afterbirth (what the heck is afterbirth?  I don't want to know).  There's a cow that looks like it's in pain - that'll be child birth then...or should I say cow birth.  There's a cow wearing a bowler hat and doing a little jig.  Ok that never happened but the way the day was going I don't think I would have been surprised.  The first call prompted me to call the park owner who was well aware of what was going on and assured me that the cows were being taken care of.  After that I then reassured the various local residents that the cows were indeed ok and being looked after.  It was like being a farmer for a day.  Or maybe a vet.  Or maybe a keeper of the cows.  But as much as I reassured the local residents it didn't stop them giving me detailed accounts of what they could see.  The baby cow looks sad.  The mother cow looks uncomfortable.  One cow has stuff hanging out of places.  And being the only person who seemed to be getting these calls I was bombarded.  I'd hang up and nod in acknowledgement that yes, it was another cow call.  Thankfully the cows now seem to have sorted themselves out and as yet there have been no more reports from concerned local residents.  But we've still got the whole summer to go.  

Little Black Dots

I've recently become aware of strange, little black dots, which have appeared on the wall just behind my computer.  I didn't pay them much attention at first and had just assumed they were some sort of paint fleck from an untidy handyman.  But then I realised they were multiplying.  And not only that, they were appearing actually on my desk and even on a sketch that Mystical Roo had done.  And no, I'm not seeing spots.  These little black dots are definitely real.  But I have no idea what they are.  They look like little poppy seeds just dotted around the place.  But I don't think they're as innocent as all that.  I think it's much more likely that they're some sort of alien life form.  Or intruders sent by Will.  Or fruit flies in disguise.  I don't think there's much innocent about these little black dots.  So I did what anyone would do.  I poked one with a ruler.  It was kind of stuck to the wall but with a bit of effort I dislodged it and it fell away without leaving a mark.  Then I got a bit ruler happy and went to town on all of the little black dots.  Now I think I'm fairly free of little black dots but I'm not convinced that they won't come back.  I'd really like to find out what they are.  And generally speaking, are little black dots friendly or a little bit evil?  Should Little Stalky really be trusting the little black dots.  I guess we'll find out soon enough.

Amazon's Perfect Packaging

Apart from really, really loving my new Kindle I was also inexplicably excited by the packaging in which my Kindle arrived.  Both Mystical Roo and I noted that Amazon do some rather funky packaging.  And it's not all glitzy and posh.  It's just simple.  But by being simple it's sensible.  It's just some neat cardboard with the Amazon logo.  It's the type of cardboard that can be chucked in the compost bin.  It's the type of cardboard that looks like it's eco friendly.  It's the type of cardboard that is wonderfully easy to open.  There's no plastic bits that require scissors, knives and chainsaws.  There's no stupid wire ties and metal fasteners.  There's no straps to undo.  It's just a nice easy tab that pulls away and reveals the excitement that is your new kindle.  The box even proudly states that it's easy to open.  Not in a smug way.  Not in a superior way.  Just in a way that kind of winks at you and goes yes, I have some pretty cool packaging.  But it's all for you my little Kindle buying friend.  It's all for you.  So now I'm in love with Amazon almost as much as I'm love with Google Chrome.  They're published my book, they've provided me with my new Kindle (though really El Kenco should take all credit for that) and now they've given us the perfect packaging.  Amazon, I salute you!

A Holiday is a Privilege, Not a Right

Do you know what's really been getting on my nerves at the moment?  People who think they're entitled to things.  Who think they're owed a living.  Who think that everything should just be handed to them on a plate.  It really gets my goat.  And I think what's been setting me off is the people whinging and moaning to me about the cost of the holiday they've booked.  It's like they want sympathy.  I almost threw the phone out the window on one day when a man got really cross with me because his holiday had gone up by the shocking amount of $5 per night.  This from the man who comes every year and knows there's a price increase every year.  This from the man who was told there would be a price increase.  This from the man who is taking himself and his five kids on holiday for three weeks.  Honestly!  The thing is, a holiday is a privilege, not a right.  Sure everyone is entitled to time off (though not all of us take it) but to actually go away on a paid holiday is not something that everyone can do.  I had one woman complaining that she'd just started a new business and wasn't sure if she could afford the holiday.  Well don't bloody well book the holiday then.  What are you doing starting a new business and booking a holiday.  You don't do both.  And she's preaching to the choir.  I know very well what it's like to start a new business and I know very well that after starting a new business some people haven't had a holiday in over three years.  I just can't get my head around all these people who think it's somehow their divine right to go on holiday.  If you can then that's great but don't have a go at me because you don't have an extra grand in your budget to go away for the week.  I have even less sympathy because I'm English.  At least if you can't go away on holiday here in Australia you're guaranteed some sunshine.  And most people live near the beach anyway.  If you can't go on holiday when you live in England then you know you're stuck with the rain and about two days worth of summer.  Now that's something to complain about!  

Hurricane Proof Pegs

With the electricity having been out for the past few days and a lazy weekend of not doing very much my pile of washing quickly escalated into a mountain and threatened to take over the laundry room.  I'm not one to give power to a pile of washing and so on Tuesday afternoon I set about putting on a few loads.  I didn't really think about the fact that it was already 17.00.  So I did my washing, I hung my washing out to dry and then I forgot about it.  As often I do.  So when I woke up in the middle of the night to sounds of high winds the first thing I thought about was my washing still on the line.  Whoops.  I'm confident that the plants are ok in this kind of wind and even the lid of the compost bin manages to stay put but I wasn't sure about the washing.  I had images of pants flying in the wind, trousers heading out to sea and a line of Mystical Roo's shirts dancing off over the roof tops.  But I didn't get out of bed.  I was concerned but not concerned enough that I wanted to leave the warm cocoon of the bed.  My mind was put at ease when I remembered that I'd used my hurricane proof pegs.  Yes, that's right.  Hurricane proof pegs.  I'm not sure if I've made mention of these before but we originally bought them because they were yellow and green.  And plastic, so there was no risk of rust running onto our clothes.  I had failed to notice that they were also advertised as hurricane proof until we actually got home.  I guess hurricane proof pegs are a selling point but honestly, who leaves their clothes out in a hurricane? Me apparently.  Ok, so it wasn't exactly a hurricane but it was certainly very, very windy.  When I woke up this morning I confessed to Mystical Roo that I'd left our laundry on the line.  He was well aware of this and said that he too had been woken up worrying about the clothes.  I guess the hurricane proof pegs put his mind at rest too.  I went to check on our clothes and they were all exactly where I'd left them.  Not only that, they were dry and smelt fresh and clean.  Then it occurred to me that with hurricane proof pegs I shouldn't have been afraid of the wind.  I should have been pleased that it was doing such a thorough drying job of my clothes.  Hurricane pegs are a genius invention.  Make the most of a bad situation and use the force of  nature to dry your clothes in record time.  As long as the washing line itself doesn't fly away then it's all good.  Even if it did, I bet those pegs would hold firm.  So what are you waiting for everyone.  Go out and buy yourself some hurricane proof pegs!  

Thank God for Big Pants

I've got a very comfortable pair of jeans that I've been trying to make last through the winter.  I figured if I could just make them last until we hit the sunny season then I won't have to fork out for a new pair for like another six months.  Now there's a plan.  The only problem with this plan is that I've worn these jeans out.  I knew they were on their way but I honestly thought they were going to make it.  I'm sure there's only a few weeks of jeans wearing weather left to go.  But they're officially kaput.  The material on this pair of jeans has been softening for a while.  Fading and becoming weaker and flimsier.  The seams were starting to strain.  The back pocket was weakening.  So when I bent over to retrieve a fallen bottle I shouldn't have been surprised when I felt a big rip and realised that a gaping hole had appeared in the back of my jeans.  All I can say is thank God I was wearing big pants!  

Little Stalky Gets a Kindle!

After yesterday's bad start to the day, the world was put to right again after the surprise arrival of a package from Amazon.  A package from Amazon? I hear you you cry.  Why yes indeed.  A package from Amazon.  A package that was given to me by Mystical Roo who claimed to know nothing about the package.  It had just arrived at the warehouse.  It was addressed to him but he knew nothing about it.  I was intrigued.  Slightly confused but mainly intrigued.  The important thing here is that the intrigue was the main thing.  I opened up my package and almost keeled over with delight on the discovery that inside the package was a brand new Kindle.  Not only that, but a brand new Kindle cover.  I was beyond thrilled.  I'd been pining for a Kindle ever since publishing my book but never thought I'd get one.  But I have a very generous sister who likes to spoil me rotten and it was El Kenco who gifted me with the amazing Kindle and its amazing Kindle cover.  I have attached a photograph of me holding my amazing new Kindle, which is in its amazing Kindle cover, which has its very own light.  Amazing.  I am posing next to a photocopier.  I'm very excited with the Kindle and have already checked out a sample of my book - you know, just to see what it looks like - downloaded a free book with a coupon supplied by a fellow author and downloaded a sample of a book that looks rather good.  I'm very impressed with the screen on the Kindle.  It's got a matte effect and looks almost exactly like the page of a real book.  It's battery lasts for ten days.  It can hold thousands of books.  It has 3G so I can browse and download books wherever I please.  Maybe even in the North pole.  It's a little Kindle genius.  And I'm so proud of it.  So HUGE thanks to El Kenco.  And I've already promised that I will not, under any circumstances, take the Kindle in the bath with me.   

The Man up the Pole

I am currently not a happy Stalky.  Not a happy Stalky at all.  Why Stalky? Why are you not happy?  Well, here's the story.  I woke up this morning to the sound of men thundering around on the overhang just below our bedroom window.  Crash, bang, talk, talk, talk.  Great.  And these unknown men were right outside our bedroom window.  Mystical Roo and I cursed the real estate agents for not informing us of whatever work was happening.  As Mystical Roo went off to work I settled down on my computer to do some work.  I'd checked my emails, written a sentence and them BAM.  Off goes the power.  Everything.  My computer screen is blank before my eyes.  I go and check the circuit box thing and all is well.  All switches are in their appropriate spots.  I peer out the window to see what the men are doing and realise that one of them is up a pole.  The electricity pole.  Ah ha.  A text message is sent to Mystical Roo to advise that his Stalky has become disgruntled.  At this point I ponder a number of possibilities.  Someone has either neglected to inform us of this anticipated power cut or the dude up the pole has cocked up.  I peer out the window again and I'm pretty sure that he can see me watching him.  Mystical Roo suggests I phone the council for information.  So this is what I do, only to be informed that the council have nothing to do with this kind of thing.  But the woman does point me in the direction of the electric company.  The electric company inform me that they know nothing either but that they'll send someone to take a look.  They don't know how long this will be.  I am rather cross by this point.  I had planned a morning of housework and afternoon of work at my computer.  But with no electricity there is not a whole lot I can do. Then I become concerned that the fridge and freezer are both off.  Then I wonder if the electricity is directly linked to the hot water that I'm hoping to bring forth from the shower.  I decide that if no one is going to give me answers then I'm going to go and get answers for myself.  I'm going to go and speak to the man up the pole.  And this is what I do.  Yes I'm in dodgy tracksuit bottoms but I don't really care.  As far as I'm concerned, in the mood I'm in, the man up the pole has no right to judge me and my dodgy tracksuit bottoms.  He seems to be expecting me.  He informs me that the power will be out until about one o'clock and they'd informed the real estate agents who were in turn meant to inform us.  I've been told nothing.  I thank the man up a pole.  He is not the man onto whom I shall vent my rage. I skulk back into the house and decide that I'll join Mystical Roo at work where I can take my laptop and do some work.  I decide I'll have a shower.  To have a shower I have to leave the bathroom door open so that I can get some light.  What I don't realise is that the door to the spare room is also open and the curtains in the spare room are also open.  And there is a man stood outside of that bedroom window.  I only realise this after I've had my shower, after I've walked around in a towel, after I've gone into that room, seen the man standing at the window and promptly turned around and walked back out again.  I wonder whether I've been seen in the shower.  It's at this point that I decide I just have to get out of the house.  There's no power, the house is a mess and there are random men at all the windows.  My attempts to flee the house are thwarted as the men have set up their tools in the passageway that leads back onto the street.  I have to wait for them to stop sawing through a huge piece of steel (or whatever) just so that I can pass.  Of course they have to engage me in conversation and I have to again wonder if I've been seen in the shower.  I flee.  When I arrive at work I feel a strong need to vent my anger.  The real estate agents are going to get told off.  But when I phone the real estate agents they say they know nothing about it either!  So then I feel stupid for being angry at the real estate agents and highly disappointed that I haven't been able to tell anyone off.  I hang up the phone feeling miserable.  I call the electricity company again who confirm that a contractor is removing the pole and told them that all the relevant parties had been informed.  Well evidently I'm not a relevant party.  I ask them if they know who is carrying out this work and they say they don't know.  No one knows!  And I've got a lot of built up anger to vent.  I explain to the lady that the van is unmarked and I can't identify the company.  She thinks this is strange, which made me wonder if we had dodgy electricity people on the loose.  Dodgy, peeping electricity people!  I've since concluded that the only way I'm going to find out who these people are, and more importantly, who I can rage at, is to speak to the man up the pole.  I stupidly feel a bit sorry for the man up the pole who is probably just doing his job and assumes the administration side of things has been taken care of.  So I'm going to have to go back, talk to the man up the pole and find out who is responsible for this cock up.  Because someone needs to be told!

Ammy Gets Burgerlised & Mystical Roo Gets Juiced

Today, "the gang" and I have been for a day trip to Sydney.  Living in Australia feels like the norm now but when we do things like this it reminds me of how lucky we are.  We can just hop in the car and arrive in Sydney within about an hour and half.  That's pretty cool.  Even cooler is the fact that we found a car park that was charging just $15 for the day.  Bargain city.  Yes it was a spooky, underground, cave-like car park that was possibly home to a phantom but it was cheap.  And that's the main thing.  We had breakfast at Circular Quay before hopping on a ferry to Darling Harbour. Here's a tip.  If you're getting on a ferry then be sure to have children with you.  7 adult return tickets were going to set us back $63.  When we made mention of the fact that we were travelling with a baby and a toddler (evidence of said children was required) this went down to $17 for all of us and entitled us to an unlimited all day pass.  I have no idea how the maths for this things works but it works.  Another bargain!  Darling Harbour was a hub of activity and there were a number of bum pinching birds on the loose.  I kept my eye on them but we didn't have any trouble.  Not from them anyway.  The Stevens were on super sneaky form.  The Stevens were muscling in on our lunch.  The Stevens stole a hamburger straight from Ammy's hand.  Shocking behaviour.  We were swift to move on.  But not before Squishy squirted apple juice (from her mouth) all over Mystical Roo.  Oh how we laughed.  It was a good day.   And now, the perfect finish to the day?  A cup of tea.  

Little Stalky Gets Seeds in the Post

I recently joined a Yates online garden club and was told if I got two friends to sign up then I would receive free seeds.  Well who can say no to free seeds?  I was pestering the gang to join up so that I could claim these seeds.  I'd almost forgotten about it until yesterday when my seeds actually arrived in the post.  Huge excitement!  I love it when post turns out not to be a bill.  I love it when post contains seeds.  I was so excited you'd think it was magic beans in there.  But it wasn't.  It was just seeds.  Sweet basil and rocket seeds to be precise.  That was another thing - I didn't know what seeds would be sent so that was exciting too.  I had the choice between flowers or herbs.  Of course I went for herbs.  I like to have an edible garden.  So now I'm the proud owner of seeds.  And I plan to plant them in the coming weeks and monitor their progress.  I've not planted seeds before so I'm excited to see how it goes.  Little Stalky's summer garden is going to rock!

The Shopping List of the Future

The other day, Bob-a-Roony introduced us to a cool new i-phone app.  And not just any cool new i-phone app.  A Woolworths i-phone app.  No, it's not a trolley dude tracker.  It's an app that lets you scan items on your phone, adding them to your on phone shopping list.  It's beyond cool.  So this is how it works.  You run out of washing up liquid, you summon Mystical Roo and his phone, Mystical Roo zaps the bar code with said phone and there you have it.  Washing up liquid is on your shopping list.  And not only that, it then organises your shopping list for you.  It puts your list in aisle order.  Aisle order!  It tells you what aisle you can get your washing up liquid from.  Now that's service.  Of course not everything has a bar code (oranges for example) but you can go in and manually add extra items.  You can create yourself a whole shopping list, on your phone and then it will put it in aisle order for you.  I've always loved a good list but this is a whole new level of list making.  It's the future!  

Little Stalky 1, Fruit Flies 1

Ok, I think I've finally struck a blow against those evil fruit flies.  I have recently been attempting to dry out my compost.  Not completely because no one wants dry compost, but it's definitely been too wet.  I've been trying to hide the fruit from the fruit flies.  So what I've done is topped up the compost with some old soil and thrown in a nice serving of torn up cardboard.  I then mixed.  The fruit flies were not happy.  Not happy at all.  That was yesterday and I've since noticed a great reduction in fruit fly activity around the compost.  Now they've decided that the banana peel in a tub is looking good after all.  I'm not sure how many are in there but there are a fair few sniffing around it.  I want to know why the ones sniffing around it aren't actually going in.  Are the holes too small?  Or are the holes too big and they've popped out again.  Maybe there's something delicious on top of the lid that is holding their attention.  At the moment the banana trap is next to the compost heap but I'll try and it move it further away to see if can lure them out.  I'm determined to get rid of these damned fruit flies.  For now I think we're even again.  

The Lemon Tree Groweth

Before....

Check out the latest photo of the lemon tree in all of its lemony glory.  Yes, we're down to about three leaves (green mind you) but look at the baby lemon that's starting to grow.  Ok, it might not be a lemon just yet, it might just be a flower thing but as I said before - flowers mean fruit.  And there are a lot of flowers on my lemon tree at the moment.  You might remember that I posted a photo of the little red bud which had appeared.  I was unsure of what this little red bud actually was.  But now I know.  It was the beginning of a flower.  Which is the beginning of a lemon.  Look how he's grown.  He gets bigger every day.  I think with Spring finally here that the lemon tree is definitely perking up.  He's loving the sunshine and the warmer temperatures.  I think he's also benefited from my numerous words of encouragement.  I'm so excited by his progress.  Imagine how I'll excited I'll be when I can actually harvest my first lemon!

After....

Little Stalky Wants Onion Bhaji

I am currently unreasonably excited about the opening of a new Indian restaurant here in our little town.  It might seem like a strange thing to get excited about but Indian restaurants seem to be few and far in Australia and I do love a good Indian meal.  Yes Monster Noggin and Mystical Roo both whip up a mighty fine curry but I miss onion bhajis.  Mmmm onion bhajis.  Our town was/is actually over run by Thai restaurants.  Now don't get me wrong, I also enjoy a good Thai but for a town our size, one, two, three, four Thai restaurants seems a little excessive.  Actually one of them has now closed down and is home to a seafood restaurant.  We kept going on about how there was space for an Indian restaurant, a market gap to be filled but nothing seemed to happen.  Until yesterday.  Mystical Roo actually phoned me to announce the arrival of the Indian restaurant. He'd driven past it on the way to work and knew I'd be thrilled.  Hell, he was thrilled.  Everyone was and continues to be thrilled.  So I guess I'm building this up now but I really am that excited and there's already been talk of possibly getting a take away this Friday.  It's been years since I've had an actual Indian take away. I'm setting my expectations for this place rather high.  I hope I'm not disappointed.  

Little Stalky is Ruled by Colourful Stickers

I've just got back from the library after dropping off my own weight in books and returning with about half of that.  I do enjoy my trips to the library.  Book worm that I am, writer that I am, I feel rather at home surrounded by books.  I like to take my time perusing the various titles before making my selection.  So I was wondering today, what makes me choose the books that I do?  I know I go for a certain genre - horror, thriller, mystery, drama - so I use the library's colour coded system to scout out these books.  There is a red sticker with an H for horror, a black sticker for thrillers, a single H for historical books, a yellow sticker with an F for fantasy and so on.  What I can't understand is the 'A' sticker.  The 'A' sticker, I recently discovered, indicates that the book is Australian.  Written by an Australian author.  That's all well and good but it  hardly tells me what type of book it is does it!  I guess it's a way of supporting home grown authors but this is the thing I pay least attention to.  I don't care where the author is from I just care that they can write a good book.  What good is it telling me that the book is Australian.  Unless I feel particularly inspired by the title or the cover then I tend to just pass over the books marked 'A' because they don't give me any information.  They've lost me.  Couldn't these books have an 'A' and a colourful sticker.  That would be better.  I'm ruled by the colourful stickers.  Today I've come home with red and black stickered books.  There's not an 'A' amongst them I'm afraid.

Fruit Flies 1, Little Stalky 0

Fruit flies like bananas?  Fruit flies are uncontrollably attracted to the smell of the yellow fruit?  Fruit flies will swarm to the banana peel like fruit flies to a banana peel?  Well I don't bloody think so!  Honestly.  Mystical Roo and I set a fruit fly trap and do you know how many fruit flies we've caught?  Nil.  Nada.  Zip.  Not a sausage.  We tried a variety of hole sizes and Mystical Roo even added a helping of maple syrup to attract the little buggers.  But oh no.  They prefer the compost bin.  I feel as though I've been duped.  I feel as though the banana peel idea was just a big joke to make me look silly.  Make me snaffle banana peel from work colleagues.  Make me wave my bucket of banana peel at the compost bin.  Stupid banana peel.  Stupid fruit flies.  Gah!

Little Stalky Shovels the Stone

With Mystical Roo suffering from what we think may be a cracked rib, yesterday I was persuaded to lend a hand in the warehouse.  There was no resin milking this time but there was much shovelling of stone.  The task?  Fill a bucket - a big bucket by the way - with stone, pour the stone into a bag and then move the bag out of the way.  I imagine this is a simple task for Mystical Roo but I am neither fit nor strong and the shovelling of stone and subsequent carrying of bags (weighing about 16kg) was a lot of hard work for me.  There was sweat and everything.  And dust!  I was a dusty Stalky.  And today I'm an achy Stalky.  My muscles are protesting.  I suppose that's one way to get some exercise in the day.  Go shovel some stone!

Little Stalky Goes to War on Fruit Flies

I'm currently at war with fruit flies.  I am determined to make my compost bin on the balcony scenario work and everything is fine except for the swarm of fruit flies that have taken up residence.  I believe the problem to be that there is too much kitchen waste in there so I've been trying to balance things out with shredded paper.  This worked at first but now I need more shredded paper and no one at work has been doing any shredding.  My source for shredded paper has run dry.  So today I'll be trying a new technique.  A technique suggested to me by the NSW government and their official website.  Surely they know what they're talking about.  Their suggestion is to lure the fruit flies away from the compost bin with a banana peel or two.  Apparently the smell of the banana peel is so delightful to a fruit fly that they simply cannot control themselves and flock to the banana peel like a moth to a flame.  Or a fly to a banana peel.  The plan is simple.  Place a banana peel in a sealed container and then poke teeny, tiny fruit fly sized holes into it.  The fruit flies will find there way in to the banana peel but won't be able to find their way out.  I guess they'll be high on banana peel at this point.  It's then suggested that I free the fruit flies, far away from the house.  I suggest that the fruit flies are squished but that's just me.  So this is what I plan to do.  I actually had to snaffle a banana peel from a work colleague yesterday because with the price of bananas at the moment there hasn't been a banana in the Mystical Roo / Little Stalky household in quite some months.  I'm not sure what's weirder, the fact that I asked my work colleague for her banana peel or the fact that she felt this was normal behaviour from me.  I guess by now the girls at work are used to the unusual Pom and her bizarre compost requests.  After all, work have so far provided me with bags of grass, bags of shredding and now banana peels.  Only yesterday I was eyeing up a couple of cardboard boxes.  Do they really believe I have a compost bin or do they think I've just fallen on hard times.  Who knows.  Either way, I came home from work yesterday, rather pleased with the fact that I had a banana peel in a bag.  Now all I have to do is put it in a bucket, get Mystical Roo to poke some holes and see if this works at deterring the fruit flies from their compost activity.  Little Stalky Vs The Fruit Fly:  The Battle Continues....

Little Stalky's Peely Skin

I've got some weird peely skin on my finger at the moment (I know, I know but I like to share).  Possibly the result of a rogue hangnail or something.  Anyway, this bit of weird peely skin has really been getting on my nerves.  It's sore and just keeps peeling.  I don't want it to peel too far or I might just lose a finger.  And I use my fingers an awful lot.  So today I opted for a plaster.  Or a band aid as the Aussies like to call it.  Many funny looks are received when one asks for a plaster.  So I plastered my finger in an attempt to stop the peeling.  This seemed to do the trick but my God, how annoying is a plaster on the end of a finger?  Very annoying!  It totally thwarted my typing and I was less than impressed when I kept mashing the wrong keys because of my plaster covered finger.  And the plaster wasn't even waterproof so upon washing my hands I was left with a soggy plaster.  No one likes a soggy plaster.  Then the plaster started kind of unravelling and I had bits of stringy plaster hanging from my finger.  In the end I gave up and decided that the peely skin was better than the pain in the ass plaster.  Now I've come to terms with my peely skin and am drinking wine and wondering why I feel the need to tell the world about my peely skin.  Stalky out.