There was a time in our lives, in the year before seb was born, that charles and i really had the opportunity to indulge in our love of music – classical, jazz and otherwise. a highlight for me in 2000 was hearing yo yo ma play live in hong kong. we also saw david helfgott. our home was filled with classical music, or miles davis, moby or mozart.

then there came the baby mozart years.

when i yearned for silence. silence in my home was the indicator that all had gone well. that my day could begin. there wasn't so much music in the home then, although seb, and then later the triplets, had a cd of lullabies, or classical or christian music playing.

in the outer sanctum, no music. possibly a television series, but no music. if one (that would be charles) wanted to listen to music, isn't it wonderful that there was a new invention called an ipod. that had earphones. background noise just wasn't a friend.

i do like silence. particularly when reading. and when driving, i would rather talk than listen to music. when i run or hike, 70 per cent of the time i am headphone free. at yoga, it doesn't matter, the music is actually quite nice because it hides the sound of my creaking bones and grunts as i smack to the ground.

a few months ago, charles bought a piano, a yamaha clavinova. it has brought him a great deal of pleasure and peace. the kids are quite interested, sela in particular. typically, carys is the child with the traditional "piano fingers". one of the features is that the piano spills out pre-recorded music when you push the correct button.

today jasper was playing at the piano, one of his own arrangements, when he flicked a button. and suddenly the sounds of mozart's piano sonate 15 filled the room. light, persistent. never a favourite of mine. but so beautiful.

and so i have been here blogging while listing to the vivaldi's four seasons, yo yo ma playing edgar cello concerto, and thinking of different seasons in my life. a season of sound….welcome back.

 

 

 

 

today you are my teacher

yesterday and today i have been in sela's classroom talking to the kids and having little think tanks about poverty and the rain forest. the teacher played michael jackson's "heal the world", read them a little story, and then i talked to them about poverty, and when you don't have choices, and there is no food in your tummy, and you are very bored and not going to school, you stop worrying about the forest around you, because maybe your mum and dad haven't told you about the importance of preservation. or what when you are very very hungry, rubbish bins don't seem overly important.

afterwards, i took groups of five or six into the back and we had a little talk. each group had a theme: natural disasters, rainforests, doctors, education, home.

What affect does a natural disaster have on a community?

What affect does the diminishing rainforest have?

What would be different about your life if you couldn't afford to see a doctor if you needed one/if you couldn't go to school/if you didn't have a home or had a one room home with no running water & electricity.

For the group that had the question about the doctor, it was actually a pretty short discussion. All they could really say is – you would die, die sooner, or not heal properly. ANd your teeth would fall out. And it would take you longer to get better and you would get sick more often.

That would be a year two nutshell, folks.

the kids waved goodbye to me and told me i was a good teacher when i left.

On my way home today, i was in a hurry to get to my dr's appointment at queen mary (my please lower the meds, im tired of being fat appointment) and so i took a taxi. the driver was quite chatty, and said he was trying to improve his English and could i help him? i agreed.

how do you spell pronounce sputum? he asked. what is the difference between sputum and phlegm? yes you have me confused with my sister, the nurse. i told him i thought sputum was from the lungs and phlegm…i made that throat clearing sound so popular in hk. he grinned and said, "I understand!"

there were a couple more words and then he informed me, "today you are my teacher!" i demurred. he apologised for asking so many questions but then as he pulled into 122, he said,

"forgive my impotence"

and i knew the lesson wasn't over.

"no no no!" i said. "not impotence!"

"what do i mean and what did i say?"

i didn't want him to think that him asking me anything was impudent, but i think that is what he meant.

so i said, "a little boy saying, 'nah nah nah….' that is im-PU-dent."

"yes?"

"and when a man is, cannot, doesn't…can't, so sad" (i make waving gestures to the crotch that he sees in the rearview mirror) that is im-PO-TENT."

"HA HA HA HA HA! so when man is no good it is IMPOTENT! Me not impotent! HA HA HA HA!"

and we both started laughing until i started to choke on some phlegm.

it was one of the best taxi rides i can remember having, ever. and that's not just because i am forgetting things left right and centre.

 

 

 

 

 

in my day we would have called it breakfast…

i am getting old.

not just numerically. "actionally."

i actually went to see someone about my cough the other day. was told i had brochitis verging on pnumonia. wah wah wah.

don't get too excited, the person i saw was actually an acupuncturist. but hearing from her that all was not well was enough for me to shift my "largesse" and actually go see a medical dr.who was very generous with the prescriptions, especially since in HK, drs offices have their own pharmacies and they profit nicely from anything you buy from them.

but the burbling in my chest was just a little too gross for me.

and being tired was another.

i can't blame being tired on this annoying "cough cough cough" thing though….honestly, i blame it all on sebastian. (right now, tomorrow it might be someone else). get this.

right before Easter all year fours go on a two night sleepaway camp. seb is v excited. in preparation for this camp his gorgeous teacher instructed all kids who had never had sleepovers to have sleepovers. this came back to me as "mummy I need to have a sleepover, right away."

well. it was homework and who am i to discourage homework?

so it was arranged that alex come to ours on friday night.

and he did, accompanied by pajamas, a change of clothes, and a bumper bag of sour cream and onion chippies.

what's this for? i inquired.

our  midnight feast! the boys responded gleefully. can we have one?

if you are awake at midnight, sure! i answered, perusing the shelves and wondering what cough mixture i could give them that would make them sleep soundly.

they were awake at 11pm but i wasn't that worried. they were getting tired. alex on the pull out sofa, seb and jasper on mattresses on the floor on either side of him.

by 11.15 quietness reigned. hooray! i thought and read happily ("One True Thing" – not the best, not the worst…good study of family relationships)

i turned off the light at 1am or so and coughed until 1.30. confident that the boys wouldn't rise early because they had gone to bed so late.

sound reasoning, yes?

however, before the sparrow's even considered farting, i heard a bang. at first i thought it was jasper falling out of bed (it happens) and then i remembered he was sleeping on the floor. then i heard the bang again.

the light coming from the hallway seemed quite light.

i staggered to the boys room and was treated to the entertaining sight of two naked nine year olds. the room light was on.

jasper was sleeping on his mattress, curled up like a little uncooked fusilli pasta.

the boys shrieked when they saw me and giggled.

"what..cough cough cough cough do you think you are doing?"

"we are getting dressed for our midnight feast!"

i had a choice. every fibre in my being was telling me to demand they get back into bed, snap their eyelids shut and sleep for another six hours. i turned off the light.

but this was a midnight feast! they could feast on this story at school for months!

yet….my sleep! their sleep! could i be guaranteed they would sleep in until 10am?

i put on my big girl knickers and said, "haven't you boys read the midnight feast manual? you wear your pajamas!"

more giggles.

can we go to the kitchen and get food for our midnight feast?

at this, i had to draw a very fine line in the sand.

no, lovey.. but alex has the chippies, why don't you have…two handfuls each and then call it a night? it is so late.

how late is it?

past midnight, but still time for bed.

i reached for the bag of chippies and handed them to alex. he asked me to open them, so i did, and as the celephane separated, i declared midnight feast 2011 open. as the chippy grease smell hit the air, jasper perked to life.

jj! it's time for the midnight feast! announced the boys.

jasper was ready.

in for a penny, in for a pound, i sighed, and went to wakeup the girls. i would rather have the girls participating now then have to live with the wails of despair that would come tomorrow when they found out this great event had happened without them.

but despite my efforts, the girlie whirlies did not wake up. faintly ominous, but YAY!

the boys were having a fine time and as i had silently predicted, had at least four handfuls of chippies in front of them and were giggling up a storm when i suggested it was time to lay flat again.

i lay in bed and heard stealthy sounds of the chippy bag being re-opened and then tiny crunch sounds. (they need to learn to let the chippy melt…a rookie mistake). i wandered back in to the room, nearly giving myself lockjaw with the yawns i was producing and there were all three boys, sitting up right, digging into the chippies. i removed the bag and suggested they lie down.

15 minutes later i told the little nancies that if there was one more noise, sebbie would come to my room.jasper volunteered for the task as long as we could keep the lights on.

it was then that we noticed that the bleeding sparrows and other dumb birds were tweeting, twerping and making noise. and light was comign through the window. yes, imagine that. it was frigging morning.

5.45ish.

the boys did try to get back to sleep, because i know they were silent, but they could not.

at 6.10 they asked permission to watch a movie and i granted it.

at 7.30 sela got out of bed and heard about the cool nocturnal activities. and she shrieked. carys stamped and "cwied".

i pretended none of them were there. i stayed there for eight more hours until charles got home from vegas.

 

live nike

possibly it is unique to my family and my situation, but it seems that there is a direct correlation to light and loudness.

as darkness (and not coincidentally, bedtime) approaches, the kids behaviour gets in my opinion worse. 9 think the neighbours downstairs would agree with me as well.

in timely response, my voice gets that little bit louder.

you can imagine the vicious cycle (rinse/repeat) that follows.

just an observation.

some of you might be pleased to know that a few months ago i declared to the kids that i was tired of counting. if you saw the size of my jlo (jasper has asked if we are going to have a baby) you would think that i meant calories, but truth of the matter is, i got tired of counting to five or three or whatever odd number that equalled GRACE.

"i want you to come here…I'm going to count to five and i want you to be here by the time i am finished counting…1…2…3…..4….5…."

there are thousands of variations of the counting scheme. but at the end of the day, i was tired of it. i reckoned the beasts of burden should be obeying, finishing, folding, clearing, wiping, tying or at least standing up and making a good fist at getting the task done by the time i make my signature scary wide eyes, head tilt hand gesture shoulder shrug at the end of the sentence.

i'm tired of counting. when i ask you to do something, just…well, you know.

for the most part, since declaring one day that i was tired of counting and it would cease immediately, it pretty much has with no revisits. we've made it up to two a couple of times before i suddenly say outloud (and to the kids) "Oh that's right, i wasn't going to count anymore, i'm tired of counting." and then i just say, "now!" the kids are usually a bit worried at the forgetfulness, but i consider this a form of training as well. do they really think my memory is going to improve over the coming years?

i have stuck firm to my declaration. it has not made them much faster, but it has made me feel better.

it has also made me feel a bit worse. basically, giving kids count time is giving them grace. by cutting out the counting, am i saying i have no grace for them? and if so, is that ok? by the time darkness hits, it's been a long day.

 

 

 

 

how do you take your water?

when i first moved to hong kong one of the first things i had to learn (after the airconditioning) was the lesson about water.

in north america, when you request a glass of water, you are likely to receive a glass of cold water. many fridges have ice cube makers attached to the outside of the fridge, acknowledging the popularity of cold drinks.

in hong kong, i would arrive at an office for an interview. a polite secretary would greet me and offer me tea or water. gasping (wasn't used to the heat yet), i would gratefully accept the water. seconds later, there would be a glass infront of me. i would reach for it, and as i cupped it realise that, the water was hot.

or possibly, room temperature.

in hong kong, the majority of restaurants and offices do not offer cold water. icecubes are out of the question. the water cooler offers room temperature water or hot water. better for digestion, according to my acupuncturist.

my acupuncturist said it was too much a shock to the system to take cold water. room temperature was best. i have heard the history of asians drinking hot water started with them boiling water because the water was impure and they needed to boil it to make it drinkable.

who knows the reason, but in hong kong, cold water isn't the norm. and in my home, it really isn't either. we have the water dispenser, and i drink room temperature or heated water. if i buy bottled water when i am out with the kids it will probably be chilled, but that's the only time i will drink chilled water. after a run or hike, i drink room temperature water. i find it much easier on my stomach.

hot water sort of grows on you.

some restaurants in hong kong are quite snooty and refuse to give patrons "tap water" with a meal. they say they only serve bottled or sparkling. i have learned (and frugal would be so proud) that a good way around this is to order a glass of hot water. this will be tap water, but heated, but there will be no charge for it. if you wish, wait until it has cooled a bit, or drink it piping hot.

since coming to asia, i have learned to like iced tea at room temperature or with only one ice cube.

but i still like diet colas at a v. cold temperature.

did you know what starbucks cups are different sizes in Hong Kong than they are in North America? The "Large" starbucks here is about four ounces smaller than the largest drink available in NA. interesting.

 

wham! tess style

It's cold out there but it's warm in bed

they can dance, we'll stay home instead….

Jitterbug that, friends.

It is very cold in Hong Kong. And I do have a cough inherited from…say, Ursula. (why not).

But it is no fun being in bed as MC is in Vegas, so, today I stayed warm the best way I knew how.

I was wearing my warmest sweats and racing around when the phone rang. It was Cora.

She asked what I was doing.

I responded, "It's cold and I am trying to feel better. What do you think I'm doing?"

Without giving it three seconds, Cora responded, "You're cleaning and throwing away."

Guilty.

I started in the girls room (no need to mention this to them) earlier today. Getting rid of little pieces. Asking myself questions that really have no answers: How many hairbrushes do barbies/my little ponies/strawberry shortcakes need? They don't have to worry about headlice…shouldn't they share? (I decided four, incase of playdates, and threw away about 10).

I then headed to their closets. Turtlenecks, shoes, dresses. Two Laura Ashley smocked dresses were transferred to the "memory chest", the rest I took pictures of and sent to Auntie Pammy and asked if she wanted them. That her daughter is not even 18 months and these clothes are size 4-6 years…well, that's her problem. I then culled summer clothes and have a nice box for the Philippines.

Took a small break to pluck my eyebrows. (I know you asked but I am being factual.)

Then I answered a few emails and then realised with horror it was time to get back to the job.

To the boys room! I amalgamated three clothes storage areas (behind bed, two drawers) and pulled out items I suspected might be too big. Made piles of idential coloured pants. Made piles of things for them to try on. Pulled out things that I knew were too small.

After bath time, before the boys had time to get their pajamas on, I had them try on the piles. I feel good and in control of the clothing situation. While they were eating their spaghetti, I grabbed their boxes of "dress up" and took them to the table. I would say we reduced by 50 per cent everything that was there. I tell you, that room is looking better and better.

I am of course, getting it in shape for when my parents come. One day, mum and I will send dad off somewhere with an Octopus pre-paid card and a map, (or the couch, the remote control and some peanuts) and we will hit the rooms and do the process all over again. She anything I learned about throwing away, I learned at her knee. Anything Charles learned about pack-ratting, I think my father taught him, because my FIL isn't much of a hoarder.

So it was a good day and yes, I do feel better. I make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day.

 

just another manic sunday

jasper is racing around the house shouting "TAMPAX TAMPAX!"

not a little concerned, i follow him, taking quick peeks to determine

a) clear orifices

b) siblings

because if anything is going on with a, the b's would know.

instead, i see jasper holding a people magazine. (mine).

the girls grab it, (they might have said please) and jasper shows them a TAMPAX advert. sadly, they do not lose interest because the ad is for TAMPAX pearl.

PEARLS? queries sela, immediately interested.

TAMPAX PEARLS corrects Jasper.

Can the girls have tampax pearls for a necklace? asks Carys.

AND EARRINGS? shrieks sela.

I decide to ignore them all and focus on the good child, sebastian, who is reading peacefully. i walk over to him and rub my hand across his head. WHAT A GOOD BOY HE IS. how much do i love my sebbie sebbie so so. when was the last time he requested a tampax?

he puts his book down and tells everyone else to be quiet.

thanks for the support but no. they're not going down without a fight.

i remove the magazine from jasper's hands and he is a bit upset because i think he wanted to read the article on celine dion. the girls wanted to look at her babies.

i ask if rooms have been cleared up. no they haven't, but there are many excellent reasons WHY they have not. and they would all like to explain to me why, simultaneously. on your marks, get set, START.

MUMMY – APOSERITUJ V[ERTOUR[PO;IAJON UHA'PNOZJV;X/POW835=0[93q8v

but mummy – a ostiyuqhevp0uby[a'q907y3[=]bg09vun

well i tried mummy but – apw rotnqbv6=]-98    -q978=5 op9yhuil

you see mama – a[0per9 ntq[0987    =[9u\]-08nm[0=wmq9- 09-=\ 97nq9v68ym,p

 

rooms have not been cleared up. i explain, again, that this is their responsibility.

this is not a thought that pleases carys, who denounces the evil practise of folding clothes by removing hers.

Jasper takes to his room and tries to convince me he has cleaned up his room by moving one pile of clothes to his bed. Does he think I just fell off the turnip truck? Seb sighs, and isn't a great deal of help either.

This seems like an endless time. It is Sunday. I eventually send the kids downstairs and tell them to run around the playground 10 times before they can come up. Our neighbour, the saintly Brian, whose kids seem to be doing the exact same activity, offers to take them swimming with his kids. I agree. HOW SELFISH AM I.

silence.

The kids come back a few hours later, very happy. I admit, so was I.

So much so, that when my first memory of the day, Sela announcing that everyone hates her pierced into my MAD MEN fogged memory, I only cringed a bit before bringing her into me for a cuddle.

 

 

 

 

happy feet happy boy

Yesterday Sebastian and I went for foot massages.

We had a couple of stops to make first.

Young Seb was NOT impressed to hear that we would not be marching directly to Happy Foot, until we arrived at our first destination, FLOW second hand bookstore.

Well, the look in his eyes when he saw the shelves crammed full of books, bags filled with books not even filled…..I let him roam through the middle reader's section while I did one of the things I enjoy most (now that I have a Kindle I can't buy books at a second hand store but I still love them) when visiting a bookshop…correctly alphabeticising books. I went over to S's because it gave me a good view of Seb and first I put all the Alexander Mc Call Smith's together, and from there, I happily whipped those S's shipshape.

I didn't feel like bending so I didn't take care of the T's, but I managed to get some of the W's done.

Seb made his purchases, and we left. Our next stop was Starbucks, where with coupons we bought hot chocolate and a tea.

Then finally to Happy Foot.

In the lift I cautioned Seb that he had to use his inside voice and really, only to talk when necessary.

The main room was filled with hung over people enjoying a foot massage. A few looked up in dismay to see a young boy entering. Several looked up and smiled. Seb quietly took his seat. We took off our shoes and socks, and plunged our feet into the buckets of hot water. Over the course of the next 50 minutes, Seb and I maybe exchanged 15 sentences. I asked him five times if he was happy, and every time he answered, "oh yes."

And he was. Seb has a very expressive face, and this look of incredible peace comes over him in key times. This was one of them. He giggled a bit, but otherwise he was such a good boy. I was so proud of him. LOVED HIM. The look on his face was utter bliss and contentment. I had such joy just looking at him, especially given the tiny bombshell that had just been thrown on his lap earlier.

After 50 minutes the massage ended and we headed for home on the 55 bus. Seb ate a chocolate muffin and agreed it had been a wonderful day. He said his feet were, wait for it, happy, and that he wanted to return to Happy Foot tomorrow. I asked if he wanted to pay for it. He said no, but if I wanted to make his feet and whole body happy, we should go back "very very soon, mummy".

I think we will, especially since Jasper, Sela and Carys haven't given me a moment's peace since they learned about the adventure.

 

 

 

when the past becomes the present

today jasper and sebastian raced to get the mail. yesterday they each received an envelope from MC and they were hoping today would also bring such bounty.

it did not.

with a resigned air jasper and seb walked up to me holding an envelope. jasper said, "i don't know who this person is"…and read a name. he dropped it on my lap and i picked it up, looking quickly to see if either of them were reacting in a way other than their usual unusual ways.

you see, the envelope was addressed to charles' ex wife.

sebastian stayed behind and said, "mummy, who is that? why is her name the same as ours?"

i suggested he have a sweetie.

he came back and asked who the letter was for. i took a deep breath and told him i would tell him later.

before going on further, may i remind you all that when it came time for the birds and bees talk, it was presented solo to the kids (and my hysterically laughing no help whatsoever parents who stood behind the kids making faces and exceptionally rude and biologically incorrect gestures) by yours truly. actually, that is not true…graeme jumped in and was of key assistance. where was charles? you ask? upstairs on a conference call. and today…he was in vegas, leaving tess to embark on the topic of, indeed, daddy's been married before. we've never mentioned it before but it's not a secret indeed.

later on, the girls went to danielle's for a playdate and jasper went off to a birthday party. it is amazing the way God clears our schedules for important talks. i asked sebastian what he wanted to do. i wanted us to take a run together. sebastian, more pragmatically, wanted us to go for a foot massage and a hot chocolate.

i agreed to the latter.

we bundled up, and began walking to the bus stop.

i said a silent prayer and began talking. "seb, remember that envelope today?"

yes he did.

"Do you know why it came to our flat?"

no he didn't.

"because before daddy met mummy and married mummy and had his family, he was married to another lady."

really. our daddy.

"Would you like me to tell you what happened?"

yes. everything. tell me why they separated. wait. did they separate or did they divorce? mummy what is the difference between being separated and being divorced?

"Daddy was married to this lady. And they were happy for many years. And soon after they moved to Hong Kong, they realised that they weren't happy, and that it was better for them to be friends."

Why? Then what happened?

"Well, they both knew they wanted to be a mummy and daddy one day, but they didn't want to have children if they were unhappy."

So they didn't have children.

No.

"And so they separated and then divorced and now they are good friends, and daddy met me and we got married, and then she met someone and got married. And they both have children now!"

Does she call herself Caldwell? Is that her name?

No, I don't think so. But if she does, that's okay. The Caldwell family at church aren't our relatives and they have your last name.

That's true mummy.

I am your mummy and I don't have your last name!

Because you were too lazy to change your passport. I know mummy.

That's good.

SILENCE FOR A SECOND AND A SIDEWAYS GLANCE LETS ME KNOW HE IS WORKING ON A CONCEPT

Mummy, if daddy and the lady had not separated and divorced, would the triplets and I and the lady's baby belong to them? Would you not be my mummy? Would her baby maybe not be her new husband's but daddy's?

Oh lovey, (grateful I was holding his cold little hand) it was always God's plan for me to be your mummy. He always intended for us to be a family.

The bus came and that was the end of the topic. But as you all know, I believe in follow up.

A few minutes ago Sebastian came in from rugby. WIth Jasper, Sela and Carys in bed, I asked him if he had any questions for what we talked about earlier. Unfortunately, he had.

Was daddy sad when he got divorced?

Yes, he was.

Why didn't he try to stay married then?

I explained they had gone to counselling and had tried to stay together.

Will daddy want to divorce you?

I knew this question was coming. I knew it I knew it I knew it.

Does it look like your daddy and I are happy?

Yes, but you also said at first he was happy with the lady.

What do your dad and I do that makes you think we are cosy and happy? What do you see that makes you happy about our family?

You hug and you kiss. And we do things together. And mummy plays games with me.

Yes, but what about how mummy and daddy treat each other? Do you hear mummy say, "Your dad is so thoughtful?"

Yes

Do you hear dad say, "Your mum did a great job!"

Yes

We appreciate each other.

Oh. We do have a very nice family.

Seb just checked back in to ask what sort of person Charles' first wife had been. Was she Malaysian or Australian or Chinese or American or Canadian?

Are daddy and the lady still friends? Yes, that's the sort of people they are.

And, what did the counsellor do? If it was a different counsellor would they still be married and Sebastian, Jasper, Sela and Carys not be born?

Hard for me to say, lovey, I wasn't there. But sometimes we need to stop asking questions that really can't be answered and just trust God's love and plan for us. This is our family.

Why did you tell me this today mummy?

Because I didn't want to lie to you Seb. You don't lie to me, and I don't want to lie to you.

Thank you.

Thank you for believing that your Daddy and I won't get a divorce.

 

* FYI – i did tell seb the name of MC's first wife, but out of respect to her im not listing it here.

What’s in a face

A wedding is a great excuse to get gussied up.

Unfortunately, a cold snap has hit Hong Kong, and it's tough to get gussied when you're thinking thermal.

I wanted to wear a strappy deep wine coloured dress to Gail and Ray's wedding, but I also didn't want my chattering teeth to interrupt the vows. This morning after yoga, and after cursing at former friend Laurel who introduced me to this particular type of yoga, I went to the church and we began setting up from 1-3.

The church looked beautiful. And that's even before the flowers arrived. We set out lanterns to light the pathway from the street steps leading to the church to the church doors. We removed unsightly pieces of furniture, items that did not match the colour scheme and possibly I offended a church employee (SORRY!) when I asked that he not list the hymns for Sunday at the front. It was 2.50 when we left and the church looked gorgeous. The flowers were arriving and it was amazing.

No time to linger, I had to figure out how to be warm AND stylish.

As MC is in California, Denby was my date. She was going to be in strapless green, but decided to go with a warmer outfit. I knew I had to be as smart. I decided not to wear by black picture hat and purple dress, and to go with a fascinator and velvet skirt and 3/4 length jacket.

The jacket everyone has seen me wear before. This is partially because it is a great jacket and also because it is warm. The skirt I think most have seen me in before. But the fascinator was new to me, borrowed in despair because I needed to make this outfit weddingy. And ooh boy, did it.

I put my hair up and stuck the fascinator comb in. Looked great, I must say.

The girls were impressed. I was impressed that I remembered to put on my silver shirt before putting my hair up.

Then I commenced with my face, threw on nylons, and said goodbye and left.

The kids were full of compliments. They didn't even want anything, and they still had good things to say.

I have amazing things to say about the wedding.

As Gail was progressing down the aisle, Denby whispered to me, "Don't forget to look at Ray's face!" and I did. He was beaming. 2/3 of his face seemed to be SMILE. his eyes were watery, he was glowing with exultation. I thanked goodness for waterproof mascara.

It was a beautiful service. I was on church cleanup duty, and say so myself, I was great. I got that sanctuary ship shape as fast as anyone in heels could be expected to.

My friend Sheri was on reception preparation duty, and she did a fantastic job … the reception room was so elegant.

It was such a lovely evening.

I came home and intercepted young Seb who was heading back from the toilet. He perked up when he saw that I was home, hugged me and followed me to my bathroom where he asked me what I was going to do. My first action? Taking off my heels. Second, "taking off my face."

This alarmed my young man.

I told him that it was a makeup expression and he watched as the pristine cotton buds became tainted with reds, purples and and makeup pads wiped across eyes showed up with streaks of black then grey.

Afterwards he looked at me, and said, "you were very beautiful before, and now you are a beautiful. cosy mummy."

He gave me a hug and went to bed.

Which is where I am headed now. Adios.