Today is my mom’s birthday. How old is she? Well it is not polite to inquire after a woman’s age so let’s just say it is a milestone. A few years ago when we celebrated my dad’s birthday (same milestone) we, the kids and kids-in-law (or is that kid-in-laws), made quite a big deal about it. So not to be out-done (by ourselves) we have something up our sleeves for this one too, and true to form we will be late this time around as well (I can’t actually remember how late we were with Dad’s present, a year or something like that).

Yesterday my sister (Wendy) called me and said “would it not be great if we all sent Mom a continuous stream of SMS’s throughout the day affirming her as a Mom?” I thought that was a great idea, but it’s just not the way I roll. (Sorry Wends and other sibs). I think it is a little out of character for me and really don’t want to come across as fake. So because I know Mom is one of the 5 people who read my blog (a little blogging humour there), I thought I would post a tribute to (and for) my Mom here.

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Actually I don’t really think this is ‘confession’ material, but every time I think about it I think people will look down on me for this choice. I’ve tried to narrow down the reasons why I feel this way, but it has been tough to put my finger on it.

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If you are a regular you will know I was in the hospital on Tuesday for an op. So I have been resting at home since then. So what have I been doing with all this free time?

Thanks for asking

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I was afraid to talk on Sunday morning. To some of you that will not be a big surprise. Some of you go to the same church I do and you know that I had to deliver the message and so it is not supprising to you that I was afraid to speak. But then I also know that some of you would (incorrectly) assume that becasue I sound so confident on the stage, that there is no nervousness involved.

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I am really frustrated. It’s a little thing really, and the frustration does not filter into any other parts of my life, so in the grander scheme of things it is a frustration that is even lower than minimal.

During this years Super14 rugby competition (like last year) some people at work have been participating in a pool on the SuperBru website. On a  weekly basis we log predictions of the outcomes of that weeks games and score points on if our predicted winner was correct and bonus points based on how close your predicted points margin was.

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I just bought a pair of jeans. That is a fairly big deal because I only buy clothes once a year and jeans only every three years or so.

The two pairs I did have were beginning to wear a little thin, in fact one of them has a hole so a new pair (2 actually) was on the cards.

Now I am not some sort of fashion freak so off to Mr Price I went. Buying a pair of jeans is simple right? Go to the shelf pick a colour, pick a cut, find your size, pay and you are done, right?

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I think I have written this post about 100 times in my head. Which is why it is quite lame that this is the way I eventually choose to start it.

The funny thing is that a lot of the time when I post about a thought I’ve had, the post itself morphs into something completely different. This particular post has oscillated (in those versions that never made it to my fingertips) between a bitch session about people who take their blogging way too seriously and an explanation of just how un-seriously I take it (which, I know, is slightly contradictory).

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Ok I actually call the thing a “bed-side table” even though it is more like a cabinet.

Usually you can tell a bit about someone from what hey leave lying around their house; so I thought I would share with you all what is on my night stand.

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Apparently the second most important thing about a person is the job they do. Right? Isn’t that always how it goes when you meet someone new, the first question you ask (or the first thing you find out about them) is “what is your name?” And the second is “What do you do for a living?” or something along those lines.

And if our job’s define who we are, then it would be interesting to think about all the jobs we have ever done.

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So it has been ages (about seven months) since I was regularly blogging about stuff. Alicia is now seven months old, and there is no coincidence that the 2 time periods are the same.

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