Mother’s Got A Dot Com

- know that feeling? When you’re juuust about to drop over the edge? I’m talking finances, not mental sanity, though it seems the two are closely linked.

What idiot was it that said that money doesn’t make you happy? Me, I’d gladly settle for rich in an unhappy sort of way. I don’t think there is any major problem in my life that huge amounts of cash wouldn’t solve at the moment. I may be hugely misled, but problem-free seems pretty d*** close to happy to me.

I don’t care about Vegas vacations, luxury or new clothes. I just want the people that owe us money to cough up, so that we can honor our obligations. “Yes, but…” only cuts so many times when you’re talking to mortgage/bank people.
Can’t think why. Every scrap of history tells them that we will make good. Just this once, why not cut us some slack? With property prices as they are, it’s in their interest (pardon the pun) too.

I still sleep at night. I’m weird that way.

I’ve received a cheque. Not a big one – juuust over the payment limit. From the big G. It took me exactly 2 years, but I’ve done it. The ad business resumes though, as one just has to start all over again.

It’s looking as if it won’t take 2 years to accumulate the next cheque – I won’t be resting on my laurels, so to speak.
(What sort of expression is that? Anyone tried to rest on laurels? They’re hard, and the tips of the leaves are prickly… They smell nice, though. Saves on the lavender.)

I thought to take a photo of the thing, (the cheque, not the laurels) but all the moguls have done it – it’s just so… last week…

This is money I’ve earnt while I’ve slept, by the way. If you do the maths, it becomes evident that sleeping is bad business.

Here’s #6Brat, Miracle Boy, taking matters into his own hands. Mum’s taking only snow pictures these days, so he probably thought he’d better put some balance back into the photographing of daily events.

When he saw the picture just now, he said: “Is there a bogeyman in there?” I assured him that there was not, and he concluded he’d probably eaten it. Charming.

With him around, I’ve thought about getting separate insurance quotes for just about everything in this house that has buttons and knobs.

Cameras, TVs, freezers (yes, been there, done that), DVD players, decoders, not to mention computers. My keyboard keys are marked with red permanent ink – doodle fashion. The screen has got regular blue ink doodle marks on it, and all the light switches that are accessible go on and off regularly.

I have to check the under-floor heating several times a day – it’s usually either turned way up or off altogether. We have all sorts of weird VHS recordings, because little mister has been switching channels just as whatever we’ve recorded started to get interesting.

The batteries in our flashlights are permanently depleted, and if he gets hold of my cell phone, he’ll send messages to the first one on my contact list. Every time. Luckily, it’s my aunt, and she thinks he’s the 8th wonder.

The only thing that he leaves alone is the vacuum cleaner. A little man already…

Have you ever seen something, or heard something, and found that your mind has wandered to something completely different? Or vaguely associated, but totally out of context?
When given the keywords sleep number bed to blog about, I was first irritated by the impossible, nonexistant grammar and word alignment. Then, I decided to try to be creative, and so this sweet little true story popped into my head:
My mother-in-law is the youngest of 12, and she was born in 1936. Her mother was born in 1890, and had her first child in 1907. Up until the second youngest, there was two years between every time a child was born. MIL was an afterthought, and was born 9 years after number 11.
Anyway. Before her, there were 6 boys and 5 girls. They all slept in the attic, and the boys shared one big bed.
The story goes that one of them sat up in bed one night, and when asked why, replied: “I just had to sit up for a while, to rest!” Legend also has it that when one of them needed to shift, he had to say: “one, two, three, turn!”, and all of them shifted at the same time.

They all lived to a ripe old age – in fact, 4 of the 12 are still around. The ones I’ve been lucky enough to know have never seemed traumatized by their childhoods, either. I don’t think I need worry too much about the fact that my 2 youngest Brats have to share a room.

Link to weird furniture place

I happened upon these fun furniture pieces the other day. A creative fellow in Germany makes them from car parts. He mainly uses Beetles, Mercedes and Minis, but give him free access to your Ferrari parts, and I’m sure he’ll make you a marvelous side board, or bed, or even bar. If you’ve got half of an old motorcycle lying around as well, you can have a very unusual reading lamp to go with your Ferrari Queen size…

OK, maybe not the most practical furniture, but fun!

The perfect weekend starts on Wednesday and ends on Tuesday. That, and any variations (Thu-Mon, Fri-Tue,etc) is what we in my family call an oval (or elliptical) weekend.

Just now, I’d happily give an arm and a leg to be able to buzz off (preferably without bringing a cell phone) for the traditional Friday-Sunday type break. I don’t think I’ve had a truly Brat-free day since Hubby and I had an oval weekend in Paris in November 2007. Tomorrow, though, we’ve managed to snatch a few hours to ourselves during the day. So, we’re off on a little expedition, just the two of us. A novel experience…

A post cut and translated from Klikk.no, especially for Bee and for Cake Month coming to an end:

“It’s not easy to see what it is – you won’t see cakes like these at my place. I don’t even know where you can buy them.

Again: These are cakes.”

Text and photos (click the link or the photo above for the slideshow): Christopher Sjuve, Klikk.no

PS, blogger’s note: These cakes were not part of the competition. The Bocuse d’Or is the World’s most coveted prize for cooking. As in food.

#2 Car has been sick for a long time. The radiator was leaking. I tried to fix it with some radiatorfixing goo, and it worked for a while, but then it started gushing fluid. It turned out that it was absolutely perforated and rusted through in several places.

We weren’t going to invest huge sums in the old thing, but Brother-in-law volonteered to see what he could do. It must be said that he’s a Mercedes buff. The car is a 1986 Geländewagen – a great old thing, really, but as I said – 1986…

He did it! The other day, he delivered the car, with a non-leaking, refurbished radiator, and said it was good for another two years. And at an acceptable price, too. Yay! I like the thing, you see. Although it’s thirstier than an elephant on a hot day on the savanna, it runs like a dream, and for my use (to and from the shops and collecting kids from buses on sometimes very iffy roads) it’s perfect.

So – we won’t have to think about getting another old banger for a while. Which suits the overall economy just fine. BIL said he could get us a good price for the old dear when the time comes – he must know some weird enthousiasts…

This is where I surreptitiously insert the words motorcycle accident attorneys, in such a clever manner that no one is any the wiser, and then just go about my business as usual. I dare any of you to do that. I’ve been trying to figure out how for a week.

So – yes, we have a Mercedes. It’s got 9 seats (the main reason why we bought it), it slurps petrol, it’s lost various bits and pieces, and two of its windows can’t be opened. The same goes for the glove compartment – I hope I’ll never be pulled over and asked for the registration papers, because I just can’t get to them, and I’m getting too old for the silly blonde act. Not to mention that I’m not blonde.

But: it’s safe as houses (it would probably come away unscathed from a collision with anything, except perhaps a train or a huge lorry/truck thingy), it starts up even in the coldest of weathers, and the kids can eat ice cream in it in the summer without anyone yelling to mind the upholstry.  ‘eck – the dog can eat ice cream in it… It’s big, and in a bohemian kind of way – quite cool.

For the slideshow, click the link or the picture.

This is our life at the moment. And it’s snowing again. I’m sure I’ll see Hubby again some time a bit closer to April – he’s on snow clearing duty, and has been for 9 hours. He hopes to be home for lunch tomorrow – 12 more hours from now.

Our weekend is snowed over, you might say.