Spent the day in Geelong with Seth, Zoe and Lachlainn on Friday, which was lovely. We all went to see the latest Alice in Wonderland offering - Through the Looking Glass. I must say that I am seriously glad that I went to see this on the big screen, because it was so visually pleasing and I doubt that it is going to translate very well onto the small screen. Overall though...let's just say that it wasn't as good as the first one. Not tragic, just not as good - 2.5 Chili Peppers for me, which is pretty tepid really. Just a shame about the weak story line really, because the cast was very strong, there just wasn't enough good material for them to work with. 
I decided to get practical this weekend and get my vegetable patch up and going for the winter season. Hardly exciting stuff, but hopefully we will be eating collards, beets and cabbages in the coming weeks if I have any success with this planting effort. That's the problem with having a vegetable patch, it is quite a lot of effort and there is never any guarantee that your crops won't fail, which is such a shit-house feeling when it does. I suppose that it puts some perspective on just how hard it must be to be a farmer though, because if my livelihood was dependent on my harvest success rate, lets just say that I would be broke or dead by now. 
On Sunday, Craig, Helen and I went out to Creswick to learn all about fungi. A lady named Alison Pouliot (a specialist in all things fungi-like) runs these fantastic fungi foraging workshops in Victoria every Autumn. Craig and I have been trying to get into one of these workshops for years, but they are always booked so far in advance that we've previously had no luck getting in. This year we got in super early and snagged ourselves the opportunity to learn about the types of mushrooms that grow in our area and most importantly, which varieties are safe to eat. Turns out that we have an abundance of two 'safe to eat' varieties growing on our property, and after we got home, I promptly set about foraging some up and trying them out. And yep, they're edible alright and bloody delicious too. Fried some up in garlic and butter with a little salt and pepper and woohoo, a taste sensation! And I am not sick or dying, so that's a good sign that I have learnt to correctly identify those varieties as well. I do believe that I am going to enjoy many Autumns of fungi feasting off the back of that workshop, so that was a mighty good use of my Sunday. 
Between all of that planting and foraging, I also managed to see a movie that I did really enjoy, but I don't think that this one's going to be everyone taste. Ha! Who am I kidding? Most of the stuff I watch isn't to everyone taste, probably a lot isn't to much of anyone's taste if the truth be told! But anyway, here are my thoughts on Tarantino's latest effort. 

Christ on a cracker, I have some majorly kooky dreams. Craig reckons it's because of all the weird shit that I watch, but I'm not sure about that, because the dreams that I have rarely ever relate to the movies and shows that I have been watching, but the subconscious is a powerful thing, so who knows for sure? 
Anyway, last night I had this absurd dream that it was raining snakes, they were literally falling out of the sky like raindrops. All kinds of snakes too; big fat pythons and tiny little grass snakes, all mixed in together and for some reason they all wanted to get into our house. It was dark and they were slithering across our deck trying to get into the house and I was having a major freak out, as anyone would if it started to rain snakes, but Craig was cool as a cucumber about it and stupidly let at least 30 of them into the house when he opened the sliding door. 
At this point in the dream I started to scream and climbed on to the bench, but Craig was just picking them up and letting them bite him, saying that it was the only way to get immune to the toxins. I wasn't buying that and declared him stark raving mad and made a B-line for the bedrooms, but swiftly realised that the entire house was swarming with snakes and when they started to crawl up my legs (I particularly recall a red stripy number coiling itself up my leg) I woke myself up from the dream in a cold sweat. 
I don't even have a snake phobia, but that dream was so vivid and creeped me out so much that I was even reluctant to get out of bed and go to the toilet afterwards, even though I was busting. I didn't want to put my feet on the floor because I was convinced that it was going to be covered in snakes. 
So, I thought I would get online and see what all this snake dreaming business was about, hoping to find out something interesting about my subconscious thoughts. Well, according to the so called 'dream experts' of the world, snakes are a phallic symbol and are dream projections of the penis. So, if that is true, then I must secretly want it to rain penises, tonnes and tonnes of penises, just falling out of the sky in every shape, size and colour. And I also want my husband to be attacked by many penises and to not be bothered about it at all, no he would actually encourage them to squirt their 'venom' into him. And the penis that I desire the most is red and stripy, since that was the one that I remember climbing up my leg. Yep, that's it, that sounds absolutely correct. 
Hmmm...somehow, as strange as this may sound,  I am not convinced about that dream interpretation. God knows I do like penises, but raining penises? Come on! The only thing that I know for sure is that I don't really care whether it was snakes or penises that I was dreaming about, the fact remains that there were way too many of them for me to handle, and I don't want to have that very bad dream ever again! 

Sometimes I wonder, at what point do you start to 'feel' old? I know that when I was younger being in my forties meant being ancient, but now that I am here I don't actually feel very old at all. In fact, I don't really feel that much different than I did when I was twenty one. Sure, my body may be looking different and I know that I didn't have wrinkles back then, but I am not talking about looking old, I am talking about feeling old. 
Some people seem to get old a helluva lot quicker than other people, and it appears that this 'getting old early' thing happens to people that stop living life to the fullest. It's almost like they have given up on life. It's not that they don't want to be alive, they're happy to do that, they just aren't really living, they are existing. Existing is what makes people old. Saying things like, 'I'm too old for that' and 'I just can't relate to this generation' makes a person seem really old I think. Not wanting to try new things or discover something for the first time, that makes a person old. 
I actually think that you never really 'feel' old, not in your head anyway, not unless you choose to feel old that is. Your body might defy you and your faculties may slow down a bit, but it is your lust for life that makes you truly alive and vibrant. I know some 70 year old people that have more vigor and drive than some twelve year old kids, and it all comes down to attitude. 
The other day I was engaged by an older guy at the shops, I would have guessed his age to be around 70, but he could've been even older. Now this dude had swagger, he was sprightly, cheeky and vivacious. He was wearing the coolest pair of pants and shoes that I have ever seen on an older man, and he was clearly not suffering from any kind of generation gap whatsoever. He was straight up flirting with me and I have to admit, he had it going on. And I found that I wasn't looking at his wrinkles or his silver hair, I was looking at the twinkle in his eyes and the spring in his step because he was alive, truly alive and loving it. Loving it so much that he was hitting on a woman that could've been his daughter, or grand daughter for that matter (but I flatter myself here). The point is, that I don't think that that man felt old, not at all. He was going for it, he was enjoying his life, taking risks and having fun, and it made me smile. In fact it made my day, because no-one has hit on me in quite a while. 
​His gusto certainly got me thinking about life and getting old. I think that as long as you're always young at heart, then you will always be young. It doesn't matter how flabby, saggy and wrinkly you are, it's what you're doing with your time that makes you young, it all about your approach and your willingness. I hope that I never really feel old and tired of life, and if I ever do it better not be until I am in my nineties, because I wanna have the guts to hit on some forty year old when I'm in my seventies, and I want to make them think about how good it is to be alive and to be brave and bold. That's the stuff that keeps you young forever. 

THE
BEST EXOTIC MARIGOLD HOTEL
Release Date: 2011
Rating: PG
Running Time: 124 mins 
It is fair to say that the idea of a bunch of oldies getting together to traipse around India together didn't really excite me either when I heard about it, but after watching the movie, I had to admit that I really enjoyed it. Directed by John Madden and based on the screenplay These Foolish Things by Ol Parker, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel seeks to explore the 'lives' of the elderly beyond the 'expectations' of the elderly, and forces them well out of their comfort zones into poverty stricken India. 
Seven elderly citizens decide to pick up their lives, for various reasons, and retire in India. After viewing the glorious photographs posted on their online website, the retirees are horrified to find that The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is far more run down than they had anticipated. Combine that disappointment with the heat, the cultural changes and the generally unusual living conditions and people start to come undone. 
What they saved on filming in India, they spent on actors, because the ensemble cast is just incredible. Judi Dench, Celia Imrie, Bill Nighy, Ronald Pickup, Maggie Smith, Tom Wilkinson and Penelope Wilton all leave their mark here, as does Dev Patel - better known for Slumdog Millionaire. I really enjoyed this film, it's funny and touching and hits all the right notes, and made me re-think a trip to India.
FINAL SAY: First rule of India: there's always room.
3.5 Chili Peppers
NOTE: The second installment of 'Marigold', although similar in many ways, is not nearly as good as the first one and only generated a 2.5 Chili Pepper rating from me. 

I have been banging on like a bit of a banshee at home lately about the fact that I feel taken for granted. I really don't think that my husband or man-child are doing this intentionally, I just think that they have just gotten too accustomed to me doing everything for them and are not giving me enough of that love and attention in return lately. 
Naturally, it is my duty as primary nagger to remind them of this fact by pointing out to Craig that I am not his mother and by riding Seth every time he doesn't do what I have asked him to do. But in all honesty, I find the mere act of even needing to point this stuff out to them incredibly irritating. I am sure that there are million other people out there that are going to agree with what I am about to say, and unfortunately I would hazard a bet that a lot of them are also women. 
I find that I am always having to think three steps ahead of everything, and I mean everything. And no this has very little to do with me being a pedantic bitch, and everything to do with the realities of running a household. Whomever gets the title of household operator (often the wife) needs to be on their toes 99.9% of the time in order for everything to not fall into a shit pile rapidly, in our house this duty falls to me.
Apart from mowing the lawns and doing generally manly-like things around here (like operating heavy machinery, digging trenches, cleaning gutters, fixing broken things and catching various feral animals and the like) I feel like I do everything. I cook, I clean, I shop (and I'm not talking about fun shopping here- I mean food and necessary items shopping), I pay the bills and manage the money, I organise birthdays, holidays, Christmases and Easters and every other major event that happens in our lives. I do the school pick ups and drop offs, I do the after school classes, I do the homework lessons and guitar lessons daily, I do the laundry, I cut lunches, I keep the garden in check, tend the veggies, spray the weeds......blah blah blah...honestly this could go on for pages, but you get the drift right? 
Well, is it really that much to ask for a little gratitude once and a while for all this fussing about that I do? Yes apparently it is, because when I get fed up to the eyeballs with it all, which I do from time to time and just have a good old hissy fit about it, my two manly men look at me like I've just landed from Mars and they have no idea what I'm talking about. Of course they appreciate me, what would make me think otherwise? Ah, maybe the fact that I need to remind you about everything 5 times before you do it, maybe because I'm exhausted and don't feel like cooking 365 days a year, maybe because I'm still running about like a fricken crazy lady at 9pm finishing chores and maybe, just maybe...I'm a bit strung out from being off the fags and you bastards should cut me some slack! 
Woah...okay...well that actually felt pretty good to get off my chest. Feeling much calmer now. So, back to the point I was making, which is, that it is probably this way for so many mums in the world. And I am not trying to be sexist here, some dads too for sure, but generally it's the mums that are juggling all of the extra responsibilities along side of their work, and in general I do think that we are pretty undervalued for all of that extra effort.
They say that it takes a village to raise a child, but sometimes I do feel like a one woman show, not all the time, just sometimes, and those are the times when I just want my other half to notice the struggle and to let me know that what I am doing is all worthwhile and that I am fricken awesome at doing it too. Because even the most organised and fantastical of us get beaten down from time to time, and it helps if the ones that you are beating yourself down for don't make you feel taken for granted.
And that's perhaps the strangest thing about all of this really, the fact that we all willingly string ourselves up for the one's that we love, every single day. Pulling and stretching at the fabrics of ourselves and doing all that we can time and time again to go that extra mile. And all that I have ever really ever wanted in return for all of my efforts was to be validated, to be seen and not to be left strung up and hanging out to dry. And I suppose that is all that any of us really want if the truth be told, to know that we are valued, to know that we are loved. 

It is amazing to me every time that I quit smoking, just how much spare time I seem to have.  It is truly incredible the amount of time that a person who smokes actually spends smoking, and I have never been a heavy smoker, so people that are huffing down a packet a day must have little time for very much else. I think that I have brought myself about two extra hours a day by not smoking, because when you smoke you are not only wasting time actually inhaling the damn things, you are also busy purchasing them, hatching up devious ways that you can sneak one in without arousing any suspicion or being noticed and even more time again trying to justify why you're doing it, in turn wasting even more of your time. 
You see every full time puffer knows that smoking is socially disgusting. It doesn't matter whether you're in a designated torture booth for smokers, or far from the maddening crowds, the non-smokers of the world will still give you the 'judgement face'. The non-smoking 'judgement face' ranges from glares of pure contempt to looks of pity or mild disgust, but trust me when I say this, all smokers have seen this face. Gone are the days of puffing up anywhere and everywhere, cigarette smoking these days takes planning, and lots of it.
Firstly, you have to have said smokes to smoke. This in itself takes planning because there aren't a lot of places to get cigarettes anymore without paying ridiculous prices for them. When was the last time you even saw a cigarette machine? They are like telephone booths, gone into the realms of the archaic and the seedy, you just don't see them. And don't hold your breath waiting for one of those sexy bunny suited ladies to rock up and offer you a packet, those days are long gone. Cigarettes and sexy do not go together in 2016. 
Secondly, you have to find somewhere to smoke, which is basically impossible now. Just because you're outside that doesn't give you the right to smoke, nope you need to be at least a thousand yards away from every living, breathing creature on the planet before you can light up these days. And god forbid if you're at an airport and you're forced into one of those man-made cancer chambers to smoke, it's like standing in front of a smoke machine that reeks to high heaven. I actually think that those things could be used to get people to quit smoking, because they are fucking dreadful, I have chosen to opt out of smoking many times in avoidance of those spaces. 
And lastly, to smoke these days you also need to have shit for brains. Seriously, shit for brains, there I said it. Unfortunately, it isn't 1945 anymore, we all know the outcomes, and they're dire. If you want to give away your money that badly to end your life a bit quicker, I can help you out with that at a much cheaper rate than you're probably paying for cigarettes anyway.
However, if you can handle all of the ridiculous planning, the incredible time wasting, the horrid sneers, the expense and the unhealthy side effects, than go at it I say. That's right, I'm getting my non-smoking 'judgement face' on, only one week into quitting and I'm seeing a lot of benefits already and all that I can say is...it's fucking so hard...but it's so worth it. When I think about all of the time and money and effort that I have poured into my smoking habit, on and off for the last twenty five years, I shudder, what a fucking idiot I have been! Nah, not going back this time, I'm quitting for good, and although my rants may never inspire anyone else to quit, they are helping me to keep motivated and stay on the wagon. I'm done with the bravado and the rebellion, I surrender, I give up, no fight left in me for the cigs anymore, I fondly bid them farewell forever. 

After the government announced their horrific plans to increase cigarettes by 12.5% each year for the next four years, well that was it for me. Fuck that !  I shouted and marched straight down to the local chemist and purchased some nicotine patches and began the arduous journey of quitting smoking yet AGAIN! Yes, again....bloody well again! As I said last time- I am a serial quitter, but with cigarettes looking to be around $60 a packet in the coming years, I just cannot justify the addiction any longer. So this is it for me, I'm out, I'm done with it and more determined than I have ever been to kick the cigs for good. 
I do however believe that I may have chose one of the worst times possible to quit, or perhaps my life is always in a state of mayhem and it has just been amplified by my self made quit plan, who can know for sure? But the shit seems to have been coming on thick and fast this week and I am getting to the point where I am fighting the urge to rip some people a new asshole. Team that simmering level of frustration with a good measure of PMT, a week of NAPLAN testing at school, a trip to the hospital with Seth, an abundance of bills and no money in the bank and an overwhelming melancholy that only withdrawals can offer you, and I am slowly and yet very rapidly, losing my fucking mind! And it is only Wednesday! Bloody brilliant! 
Even though I really do want to quit, I do still have to say that the government really are massive assholes when it come to cigarettes taxes. You don't see them harassing drinkers or gamblers or morbidly obese people do you? It's always the smokers that are getting it up the arse, and have you ever known a family to be ruined because someone smoked? Unlike alcohol or gambling, it's not that offensive if you really get down to the tin tacks of it all, but the government just doesn't want anyone to smoke, that's their target group, that's what they're aiming for. I get it, it's gross and unhealthy, but it does feel like they're targeting a minority and beating a dead horse now, let it go for fuck sake, we get it already! Look at me willingly torturing myself to the point of wanting to neck myself to stick to the status quo and comply, we smokers truly fucking get it! 
See, a little cranky much? It's all temporary and fleeting I tell myself....go with it....it gets better...stick to the plan and above all else, don't kill anyone or anything, that's just gonna make more bad karma! 

Organised a get together for Mother's Day today that consisted of lunch at Enfield followed by a visit to Her Majesty's Theatre to see the musical Mary Poppins. Both of my sisters, my niece and my mother came along as well as Zoe and my mother-in-law. I honestly have no idea what I was thinking having my mother and my mother-in-law in the same place at the same time, but it is not something that I need to do again soon. Too much mother action at one time is not really the best way to spend Mother's Day. One at a time from now on will work a little better I think. I actually think that both mothers are a lot more relaxed one on one anyway, so it's just better that way.
On the upside, the show was great, everyone appeared to be having a good time, my lunch went down a treat and I am glad that I managed to get everyone together, because it can be hard to get everyone together at one time.
​Just as Mary Poppins sang, a Spoonful of Sugar really does help the Medicine Go Down, and hopefully family time together will continue to improve for us in the future.

How many movies can they make about superheroes? I really like superheroes, and I am more than happy to watch superhero movies, but jeez...it's just gotten bloody ridiculous! There a few superhero movies that clearly rise above the hordes of mediocrity, like The Avengers, The Watchmen, The Batman Trilogy, X-Men: Days of Future Past and Guardians of the Galaxy, all of which were epic, without a doubt, but it's the millions of spin offs and remakes that are just doing my head in. 
Somebody tell me, why did we need to remake the Spiderman movies? Really, why is that happening? The first lot were perfectly good and interesting. And what the hell is with all of The Avenger spin off films? Thor, Captain America and Iron Man have way too many films floating around, many of which I am sorry to say, actually put me to sleep. 
What began as an exciting trip to the cinema to see something 'super' has now become so heavily overloaded that everyone on the face of the planet has assisted in lining Stan Lee's already bulging pockets. Do we really need so many superhero movies? I mean I am getting a bit jaded these days, picking and choosing and judging, because when it's not on at the cinema it's on TV as well. Agents of SHIELD, Supergirl, Arrow, The Flash, Gotham....groan....when will it all end? Every superhero that has ever been thought of has had a crack at it now, even the crappy ones like Green Lantern, Ghost Rider and The Punisher have had their own movies, none of which was any chop mind you. 
Movie producers have literally gone bonkers with the knowledge that superhero movies get bums on seats, so much so that they are even pitting superheros against each other, I mean Batman vs Superman?  Come on! Why did they even have to go there? Superman isn't even human for god sake, he's super in the most super of ways, you can't match him up against Batman for god sake! A guy with some really cool gadgets and a hot car against an alien that can fly, stop bullets and speeding locomotives, not to mention his x-ray vision? Pu-leez! Is that a fair match up anyway? Did they even watch Man of Steel or The Batman Trilogy before they came to the decision to make this bundle of crap? Who cares if the fans want it? It's shit, it's unnecessary shit! Couldn't we have donated the money that has gone into making these epic shit-piles to feeding the hungry or something? That sounds like a super idea to me! 
And just when I thought that I could stand it no longer, and was about to boycott all comic book heroes forever, along came this ray of sunshine into my life and I had to shut my face, shut it hard - because I fricken loved it! 
Damn you Stan Lee and your bloody brilliant mind, you've sucked me back in again. It's like Godfather 3 all over again! Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in! 

DEADPOOL
Release Date: 2016
Rating: R 18+
Running Time: 108 mins 
Just when my tolerance for 'super' related movie material was at an all time low, Deadpool comes along and smashes my preconceived ideas and delivers far beyond my expectations.
​Slick, smart and incredibly funny, Deadpool comes on strong with it's vulgar humour, gratuitous violence and thrilling pace, breathing some much needed life back into the comic-book 'superhero' genre. 
​Former Special Forces Agent Wade Wilson undergoes a ruthless and rogue experimentation process that transforms him into Deadpool; a hideous and hilarious anti-hero seeking to destroy the man who ruined his life. 
There is nothing revolutionary in terms of story line here, it's a tried and true superhero formula that we've all seen a million times before, but it's the way that it's delivered that gives it so much kick. When Deadpool isn't breaking through the 4th wall, he's cracking skulls and cracking jokes at a dizzying rate, and the humour is funny, really, really funny. 
Ryan Reynolds shines as Deadpool, a role that he is perfectly cast in and delivering on completely. It was good to see Morena Baccarin back onscreen again, after she virtually vanished following the Firefly fiasco, and she does a fine job of playing Deadpool's love interest. 
Overall, expect to be amused and high entertained, the pop culture references are laid on as as thick as the sexy poses and the blood spattering making it wild and unabashed and totally unmissable.
FINAL SAY: I'm touching myself tonight. 
4 Chili Peppers 

There are some great things about being a mum and there are some not so great things about being a mum. The other night I was reminded of one of the not so great things when Seth woke up at 2am and spray painted his bedroom carpet with vomit - aaaahhhhhh! Nothing brings you down to earth quicker than shoveling spew off the floor with a hand brush and shovel in the wee hours of the morning, ah yes, good times indeed. 
And we all have to go there as parents from time to time, and cleaning up the poo and spew is really only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to parenting, but lets face it,  when you are rinsing the crap out of the crutch of someone else's jocks in the middle of the night, they have gotta know that you love them right? Because there is no way you would it for anyone else, not unless you were getting paid very well to do it anyway. 
Yes, there are times when being a parent is most certainly the least glamorous job in the whole world, but you do it without question or complaint because you love your kids and they need you to do it. On the bright side, at least we have moved out of the 'I just vomited all over my bed' stage that kids go through when they're little, we have now moved onto the wake up and throw up all over the floor stage, which is marginally better, but still not fantastic. 
Every parents comes to learn that when their kid says I feel like I'm gonna be sick, that they need to pay attention because the kid probably is going to be sick, and it can happen before they even get the whole pre-warning sentence out. Also, kids often seem to possess the ability to perform extreme and gravity defying projectile vomiting, which can launch a chunder from the back seat to the front seat of a car without any trouble at all. And worst of all, if kids wake up and chuck during the night, they will often just yack up all over themselves and all through their own beds, and for some reason always all over their favourite comfort teddies too, which can become a whole other form of hell at 2am.
​Basically spewy kids are like super drunk adults, they'll yack anywhere and on anything, it just kind of happens and they leave you to clean up the mess on your own. And that's just how it goes in the life of a parent, some days your staring at your kids marveling over how charming they turned out, and other days you're scraping up their spew in your PJ's at 2am trying not to chuck up yourself; how could it be any other way?