As much as I’d like to tell you that life in Chez Abs is a veritable whirl of glamour where Mum and Dababs hob-nob with the Eastern Beaches best and brightest, the truth is more mundane. Since returning from our holiday life has become a bit of a grind. I’ve had my head down churning my way through my TAFE course. If I can keep up my current pace (and that’s a BIG IF), I’ll have it knocked over by Christmas. Whilst I can’t say that the machinations of what journal entry goes in what ledger is wildly exciting, its not detestable either. It’s all about money and I am quite enamored of money. It is after all the root of all evil – evil roots can be fun.
Oh look – I’ve taken you from Bookkeeping Cert IV to Alan Rickman in two sentences. My talent as a blogger knows no boundaries. Yet I digress from the main game. I’ve complained about it before but I am still overwhelmed by the relentless juggle of study, housework and kids. I feel the stress of assignments and tests looming over me and frustration when the kids prevent me from knuckling down. I’ve also had my first taste of the “mother guilt” phenomena that many bloggers describe. I’m in the habit of shoving the girls in front of the television so that I can trawl my way through “Accounting – A Practical Approach”. (What a scintillating read that is). Then I feel bad because I should be giving them my full attention.
I’m relying on small joys to maintain my sanity. I always make a point of escaping for a morning coffee. This was the work of the good people at the Morning Glory cafe.
A stroll along the coastline never fails to clear the head.
Sometimes when I’m feeling to lazy to fix a cheese toastie, I’ll take myself on a hawt lunch date. This is one of my favorite cafes.
This, blog fans is the menu item known as the Thinking Women’s Crumpet. In actuality one doesn’t need to think too hard about poached eggs, smothered in hollandaise sauce, atop a bed of wilted spinach and smoked salmon. Perfect.
While we are on the topic, here’s another thinking women’s crumpet – Viggo Mortensen.
I remained impervious to the hype surrounding Aragon during the marathon of orc slaying that some people call the Lord of The Rings trilogy. It wasn’t until I heard him interviewed by another thinking women’s crumpet, Richard Glover, that I was swayed by his charms. Viggo is very polished and articulate. Well spokenness is a trait I covet intensely in a man, along with the ability to de-frag a hard drive. To seal the deal Viggo is a jazz musician, who writes poetry in his spare time and is fluent in five languages. Oh be still my beating hear! By contrast Dadabs is fluent in only four – English, French, C+ and HTML.
Its so satisfying to have a crush that a) makes me appear intellectual and b) is age appropriate (He’s 54). Viggo honey bunny, with a bit of help from you, I’m sure I’ll beat this EDATH (excessive dreaming about Tom Hiddleston) syndrome which plagues me so.
When all else fails, there’s only one place to turn to and that’s into the consoling arms of red wine and homemade pizza. Here I’m showcasing Wyndem Estate Cabernet Sauvignon. Its a bog standard product that is usually accompanied by Jatz crackers, Coon cheese and cabanossi but it got the job done last Friday night.
Is life a bit of a grind for you too? Are small things keeping you sane?