Sweet meat!

I received something pretty groovy in the post a couple of weeks ago...
'Twas a parcel all the way across the seas from a place called Utah.
A lovely bloggy friend saw this t-shirt

in a store somewhere and thought of me!

Should I tell her now that I am vegetarian?

Heh. Kidding Kate!

~~~
Now I should point out that - while I AM definitely a carnivore -

I am not a 'meat preacher'.

I don't care if you, or your parents, or the next-door neighbour are vegetarians.

I firmly believe that people's bodies tell them what they need.

Sometimes I only feel like a big plate of stir-fried veggies.

Sometimes I crave oranges.

And sometimes I get all lethargic and cranky,

and I know it's time for some red meat.

Some people just need it more than others.

Some people don't seem to need it much at all.

And that's okay with me.

~~~

Heck, my sister was a veggo for a decade.

Then she went got pregnant and her body was all

"FEED ME MEAT".

And so she did.

(Happiest day of our father's life!)

~~~

Of course we all grew up helping our parents produce great beef cattle.

Each animal was nurtured and given the best we could give it.

And its purpose, besides living well, was to provide beef.

To me, it was (and is) a real and honourable thing to do.

To provide sustanence to other people.

We (my brother and sister and I) assisted when it was time to butcher

to restock our own freezers -

never thinking for a SECOND that it was terrible or gross.

It was the most natural thing in the world to us.

My job - as a child of 10 or 12 - was to help skin the fresh carcase.

I took great pride in the long, clean slices cleaving hide from fat.

We had never been taught to shrink from blood or sightless eyes.

It was more than matter of fact. It was everyday life.

The warmth and rhythm of it was intriguing to me.

And the inky early morning cutting and bagging of the sections,

and the production-line mincing and sausage-making,

was always kind of fulfilling (if you'll pardon the pun).

My family worked as a team to make it happen

watching the satisfying rise of bagged product

in the industrial freezer in our laundry

as the sun rose steadily over our busy industry.

Breakfast on those mornings was well-earned and hearty.

~~~

It was with real shock that - in my teens at boarding school -

I took in the shuddering aversion to such tasks,

of those who had never actually experienced a farm.

Who somehow managed to put themselves into the hooves of a bovine,

and imagined the 'awfulness' of their end.

And who certainly could never, ever picture themselves

taking part in the elegant science of butchering.

I watched and listened in silence.

Just as I watched them eat bolognaise sauce with gusto on their noodles,

with a quiet wry smile.

~~~

Having recently gone from the artful nothingness of being a 'spin doctor'

in my decades of City Life,

to the dirt-under-nails reality of living as a beef producer

in my new take on Country Life,

I can tell you one thing for sure and certain.

Whether it's you or your parents or your neighbour I am feeding (or not),

I know that NOW we are doing something real and relevent.

It's a choice that may not make us rich,

and it may not bring us fame,

but I really couldn't care less.

We provide.

We provide a commodity that nourishes many.

And that is a wonderful, enriching, real reason to work.

I sleep pretty well at night.

~~~

So no...

I won't tell you what to put on your plate,

not here, and not in person. Not EVER.

I'll happily sit by you in a restaurant and sample your

mushroom risotto or olive tapenade or spinach soup.

I'll never wonder why you choose to partake of beef, or abstain.

I'm just not that wired that way.

Just as I won't tell you what religion is best for you,

which sexual orientation you should follow,

what bank to invest your hard-earned into,

or what music should soothe YOUR soul.

(And I kinda anticipate the same respect from others... and you.)

~~~
Of course blogging can come across a bit like preaching sometimes.

Except that it's a two-way thing.

I love the two-wayed-ness of it most of all.

And if there is one thing blogging has shown me...

it is that people (on the whole) are fabulous, generous creatures...

whatever their food, religious, sexual, musical or banking choices!

Oh, and it has also re-confirmed

my strong belief that...

Thanks Kate!

:-)

BB

Bravery

I know some of you have already been there,

but I just wanted to share a link with you,

to the amazing and brave Corymbia.

She plucked up some almighty courage and shared her story.

(It's in two parts - one here and two here)

And it will be among the hardest things she ever does.

But it needed telling - it'll make you re-evaluate your world.

Be warned, you will need tissues.

Please leave her some love.

She needs it.

Thanks.

BB

New friends

Quick wrap-up of last 24 hours:
About 650km of driving

Meeting a new mate for first time 'for real'

After she performed live...

Please meet my friend:

She's real and a bit rude

Feral and fabulous

Irreverent and irresistible

Cheeky and chummy...

Talented and very, very (very) funny.

And quite short.

Plus she's got a really outrageous dad.

Have to admit, that despite my blog name lending itself to all kinds of awful connotation,

they both left me alone.

A weird little part of me is a tiny bit disappointed...

(And a big BIG bit relieved!)

~

Her humour is bawdy and probably not for all my sweet readers,

but in person she is just the NICEST chick.

My cheeks are still hurting from laughing so hard...

(and it's not from the Gladstone Entertainment Centre upholstery!)

~

Heading off to cater at rodeo now...

Then... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Then ... more campdrafting!!!!

Crazy, crazy life.

~

PS Links to Jenny and Kevin for those brave enough to explore further.

Some friends of mine...

Our local campdraft last weekend was a hectic, happening affair -

with lots of action in the centre ring and plenty of activity in the grandstands too.

Events like this provide the chance for socialising that can be rare in rural areas.

Oh sure, we may run into people we know at the local supermarket,

or see them in passing on the road, or at someone's birthday party.

But an event like this brings people of like minds together.

~

And the delightful thing for me,

having lived in the city for so very long

(and sometimes not even knowing my neighbours' names)

is that almost EVERYWHERE I look at a local draft,

I know someone.

This shot, for instance, contains the rear views of my father,

some of his campdrafting co-horts from the 'good old days'

(who still give me a ribbing about my few - unsuccessful - campdrafting efforts)

and there are a smattering of friends there too.

~

This chick went to school with Mr Incredible,

...and her family and mine pretty much grew up together.

We may (or may not) have yakked for about an hour in the stands later on...

we only had about 25 years to catch up on!

~

This is her brother, and also the President of the local campdraft committee.

He was one busy bloke over the weekend -

what with riding, supplying cattle AND organising the three day event.

We like to call him 'Mr President' just to annoy him!

~

And this is his gorgeous wife, waiting her turn in the yard.

She's not so much the First Lady,

as Madam Secretary (of the same committee)

and one of the best female riders I have ever seen.

Pretty. And quite fierce. At least on a horse.

Heh.
~
This is our local butcher.

Unlike some who were literally born to draft, he took up campdrafting as an adult

and is really starting to hit his straps.

He won the Maiden on Friday...

(which sounds much more romantic than

being 'the best cow chaser around a mowed paddock'!)
His partner is one of my oldest friends (and a long-time lurker here).

We could NOT be prouder of him.
~

This is the Dad of one of Dash's school buddies.

He is a terrific horseman and trainer.

Plus he's a totally nice guy - and not bad as a long jump steward either.

~

And of course, there was Dash and Violet's cousin doing her thing

in HER very first campdraft...

You GO girl!!!

(Loving the matching shirt and saddlecloth, BTW)

So you see...

Not only am I exhausted from taking a bazillion photos (no exaggeration) and encouraging my hubby in his drafting endeavours, as well as cheering on our son in his first very draft, plus attempting to ensure my children don't invade every gooseneck horse trailer on the grounds (when I am not looking) and keep up the supply of chocolate ice-creams and meat pies (when I am)...

I have been TALKING.

Talking up a storm.

Catching up with friends.

And wearing my larynx out in the process.

I have another event mid-week* which will no doubt place

some stress on my vocal chords too.

Thank goodness the mountains of laundry before me don't require me to vocal input.

'Cause there's another one of these campdraft things on NEXT weekend.

~

*it's a secret event, but trust me, there will be a blog post about it.. if I survive!

Forever Friends

When Dash was very, very young, he had a bit of a tough time.

It's not a time of our lives that I think about too often...

even when I link to it here,

I don't go back there myself.

I just want to make sense to whoever just arrived at this blog.

...

Through all his ordeals,

there were regular visitors to his world who were amazing.

Among them was a babe who innocently kept things

very 'normal' for both Dash and his shell-shocked parents.

This little girl was three weeks younger than our son, and he just adored her.

And despite the fact that more than 500km now seperates them...

and often almost a year flies by between visits, he still does.

Thank God for good friends.

Especially the ones who keep it real.

(I am looking at you, Dash's friend's Mummy.)

Peaceful place

Sometimes the Gods just don't play fair.

Sometimes life sucks.

Sometimes we need a little place to go to, just to be still and calm and peaceful.

I thought that I would share one of my places today - a place that does that for me.

A place where the stillness and beauty help salve a ragged soul.

Because at least one of my blog friends really needs this at the moment.

I have not much to offer her but a little bit of my peaceful place.

I hope it helps.
...
What's your 'peaceful place' like?

Have you described it somewhere?

Maybe you have a photo?

Please share a link or description below, to share with those who need it now.

...

A Novel Woman's Cottage Wilderness

Kaleidescope's Torcello

Shutterbug Linda's Backyard

Kelly's Fishing Pond

Nikon Sniper's Silk Waterfall

Grids and gatherings

Yesterday was an incredible, tough day.

Yesterday more than 600 people gathered at a town hall in a small bush town to say goodbye to a friend. She was a friend to so many - a strong, no-nonsense, no-holds-barred kind of friend. She was someone who was part of my world forever. Not an everyday part, we weren't best buddies, we shared different generations, so moved in different circles that gently overlapped. Yet she was alwasy a familiar and steady presence. Lately we had become closer. I was to do a project with her, something I was looking forward to. A project that stands unfulfilled and hollow now.
.
She had lived an interesting life before she was suddenly gone - some bits seemingly everyday and ordinary, the same bits that were shining highlights to her. Other bits were much tougher, confronting, soul-searching. Things she was brave enough to face and confront and search through. She had a lot to give, this friend.

And she gave in spades.
.
So many people had been touched by her. Her family. Her friends. Those she counselled. Those she leant on. Those who leant on her. Those of many different generations. She was one of those people who connected. She held networks of people together - networks that will all feel her loss deeply. I have wonderful handwritten notes from her, on the birth of my children, when things got tough with Dash. She was unafraid to reach out when she saw someone who needed some support. She was real. And she made a difference.

Death is such a confronting thing. A terrible thing. But our friend was ready for it. Her eulogy already written, everything in order for such an event. Initially this preparedness shocked me a little. But now it seems the most thoughtful, sensible thing one could possibly do. Her effort to make it easier for those left behind. A natural thing for her.
.
It was something that made me stop.

Not to wonder what is beyond the grid we pass over when we leave this life.

Not to worry about that beyond our horizons, that which we cannot see and feel right now.

But to think: what would my family do?

Would I have made it easier for them, or would my total lack of preparedness leave them floundering in a sea of grief and not knowing what to do...

Excuse me.

I think I have something I need to write.

.

Anyone thinking of skipping the comments section here should think again. There is a minor popcorn riot going on that you won't want to miss! Thanks for making me smile, guys...

No words today...

The Journey of the Calendars (and my Sweet Readers)

Disclaimer: I promise this will be the last calendar post for ... well... a while.

Pinky promise.

.

My calendar project has been a lot of fun - a lot of fiddling and addressing and mailing out, but a lot of fun and joy also. The batch I got printed up seemed to fly out the door almost as soon as they arrived (I have clung onto one for me and a couple for Christmas gifts, but otherwise, they are GONE baby!).

.

Among the amazing things about this project has been tracing the journeys of each calendar. I said originally how much it would tickle me to know where they end up - and some people (my wonderful readers mostly) have come up with the goods. Not only do I know where they are going (having addressed each one by hand) but I am getting to see where they landed!

.

It's something I really didn't anticipate or expect... that people would take the time to let me know how they felt when they opened the package, or even take photos of the calendar in their home and with the person for whom they had bought it.

.
This is where they (sort of) began ...

...pictured arriving at Granite Glen mailbox after printing, and thoroughly investigated by Violet. I don't have pictures of the chaos that ensued as I addressed each one. It was big and it was glittery and silver hearty. Messy. No-one needs to see that. Heh.

.

The first image to land in my inbox was of our sweet Melbourne gent with his BB planner for 2010, given to him by his lovely daughter.

He won the contest for the first posted calendar to reach its destination. No prize I'm afraid... just a second run with your smiling mug in this blog!

.

Then the fabulous Kate of Utah Zen shared shots of her copy in... well... Utah, USA.

(I kinda get goosebumps when I realise how far some of these things are travelling!)

.

Apparently Kate liked it!

And she really liked her birthday month too...

Kate's a long-time reader and all-round nice chick. We need to find her a hot Aussie horseman to settle down with. (She hasn't asked me to do this, but she's a mad Jim-the-Man-From-Snowy-River fan and I thought I'd just put some feelers out in case any of you have a brother who needs a sweet girl!). She will possibly consider hot Utah horsemen at a pinch. Sorry Kate, I'll shut up now!

.

Kate shares the month of birth with Mr Incredible. Which is why I used this shot of him mustering in the rain for June - it's an image that brings back nice (wet weather) memories. Cause boy do we need the rain now! But this is not a weather post, so I'll leave that stream of consciousness right there, okay? (Man, I'm rambling today, no?)

.

A little closer to home, Wendy from Southern Queensland felt the urge to share also.

Here is her calendar posed gorgeously with some amazing roses.

Her own blooms, I assume? I can almost smell them from here... mmmmmm.

.

I know the calendars have also made it to Paradise, Canada and Alaska and Arizona and Switzerland too. If you have one and are happy to share, send me a pic. Your smiling face would be nice, but if you want to be incognito that's fine - maybe a backdrop of snow or desert for contrast?

.

Of course I have had a failure - two calendars were returned by Australia Post with a 'not known at this address' note. Email me please Accidental Housewife!! And Bill, it's in the mail I PROMISE... that dastardly hairy, smiling ears pony held me up. Naughty thing.

.

So that's it folks.

The Calendar report for 2009.

They're all gone.

But I suspect there could be a 2011 version in the pipelines.

I'll leave you with the Christmas image for 2010...

Thanks again y'all. You make my day, daily.

I have the best darned readers in the universe!

Red lights, Nights Out and 'Crassy' United...

Last week was kinda hectic for this roaming blogger...
...
It included about 1700km of driving, two cattle sales, three meetings, helping to herd a group of bush kids around Dreamworld and White Water World, a visit with Violet to the State Library (fabulous place!), a spot of Christmas shopping and my tri-annual mega-grocery haul... and catching up with my city friends. They are a wonderful patient lot, my mates from the Big Smoke... quite used to me doling out little bits of my time here and there for hurried catch-ups. (And I hope the ones I didn't manage to see this time, will know that they are top of the agenda next visit. You know who you are!)
...
This visit also saw a small bloggy catch-up.
Well it was really a Twitter Catch Up for people who also Blog.

The subset of which happened to be in Fortitude Valley last Thursday night.

And the subset of the subset who happened to be married to younger men.

Quite a select group really.

A chatty blogging group of cradle snatchers.

We are thinking of calling ourselves Cha-blo-cra-s'ners (or 'Crassy' for short).

Not really.

But you know, if the drinks had been a little cheaper at our chosen venue, this might have come up in our wide-ranging discussions. Which brings me neatly to The Venue.

We met at a fabulous place recommended by my dear friend Gee.

Gee is a local (who actually grew up in my hometown but has been thoroughly city-fied) and is quite used to the upmarket, shiny-shiny fabulousness of this area.

Me? I've only been gone two-and-a-half years from the bright lights, but apparently I have lost all semblence of sophistication in this period. Cause this place kinda blew me away.

This is the foyer of our chosen venue...

Now you will have to forgive me here, but while this is as impressive as heck...

it kind of reminds me of a *ahem* high class brothel.

Not that I have ever been to visit one (said she hastily).

But the red... is very... well, RED.

And glowy.

And don't get me started on that chandelier...

...

The drinks area tucked in behind this daunting entry was actually quite lovely.

The dude playing the guitar and singing was very friendly (and a bit wink-y).

And the wait staff couldn't have been more helpful really.

A lovely waitress helped me open the menu to the cocktails page.

Which was good, because the shock wearing off from the extreme rouge entry was soon replaced by a second wave inspired by the $18 starting price of mixed drinks.

Not only am I a cultural heathen, I am also apparently as tight as a fish's...um... 'out' door.

Luckily Gee, who loves me regardless of my conservative, heathen, fiscally-challenged tendencies, and my wonderful bloggy friends Rhubarb and Tracey, held me steady as I sipped carefully on my house chardonnay.

...

Sorry...what's that?

You want to MEET these lovely ladies?

Well, it just so happens that I did have my camera with me, and managed to talk my friend Gee into being shutterbug, and I may also have twisted a couple of arms, and convinced my blog buddies to bare themselves for all to see... they are a shy bunch, but I am very, very bossy when the occasion calls for harrassment.

That's moi (the stunned mullet with the Luna Park grin, nursing her 1/4 glass of vino), Rhubarb (the sexy beast) and Trace (with her wonderful smile and blue eyes... she tells me they are really green, but according to the Nikon, they are blue. Go figure!).
...

The two on the right managed (somehow) to forgive the alleged organiser of the event (that'd be me, if you are having trouble keeping track) for failing to pass on vital organisational information. Information such as whether this was to be a "dinner" event, or a "drinks after dinner" event. Seeing as how I have young children, and seeing as how Trace was operating on 'Mickey Mouse' time (aka Daylight Saving) I assumed the 8pm timeslot would automatically mean the latter option. Apparently not.

...

And I do admit we ran a little late for the actual time suggested ... Gee has three little ones, including a four-month-old cherub, and my Violet decided to throw the hissy-fit of the century upon discovering Mummy was going out after she went to bed. A lot of last-minute bribery and corruption was called on to allow us to get out of that front door (thanks Gee's hubba-hubby!). My lovely companions posed gamely for the camera despite their growling tummies. I am hoping they were being good sports, and not biding their time to decimate me in an upcoming post?

*bats eyelids furiously*

...

Gee was called on to recommend a nearby eating place and we rectified the situation (narrowly avoiding the treacherous condition which our mutually admired blog-goddess - The Pioneer Woman - refers to as Low Blood Sugar Cranky Butt Disorder (LBSCBD)). This disaster was averted with some Turkish fare, allowing the chatter to go on deep into the evening. My non-blogging buddy Gee steadfastly hung in through the Wordpress-versus-Blogger debate, and even the HTML chat (actually, I have to confess that I may have glazed slightly during this section).

We were charmed completely by Tracey and her twinkling sense of humour, down-to-earth outlook and amazing generosity in travelling five hours just to meet us all. And Rhubarb (Rhubarb, Rhubarb)... whose health battle was completely unapparent in person (she swears by mineral makeup, so I immediately bought some the following day) and whose wicked wit kept us all in stitches.

...

And so we are all now safely back in the comfort of our own homes -

Rhubarb in her urban seaside den,

Trace in her Mexican (sorry, New South Wales) ocean-overlooking village abode,

and me... me a very long way from any waves at all.

Back in the bush.

With the goannas and roos

and some sweet memories of the night I made

two almost-strangers starve in a high-class brothel.

Friends, forgetfulness (and whips)...

Once upon a time

A girl called Bush Babe went to work in a newspaper office

near the beach in Sunny Queensland.

It was a very male-dominated workplace,

and while the boys were mostly nice blokes

it was a young blonde girl who made BB feel right at home.

She was super-organised and seriously talented

and as sweet as anyone BB had ever met in her life.

...

Through the years, this girl would come to be one of BB's very

bestest friends in the whole wide world.

They would share stories and ideas

and lean on each other through the emotional rollercoaster

that is being a woman.

...

This girl would also be a photographer at the

wedding of BB and Mr Incredible,

sharing her incredible gift in the best way possible

by capturing the joy of that special day.

...

And she would get married herself

(where BB would return the favour)

and go on to bear gorgeous twins

with whom BB's own offpsring would cavort

at our unnofficial photographers' playgroup.

...

And despite the fact that BB would abandon her neck of the woods

and abscond to the Bush with her family,

this girl would remain firmly in touch,

despite her friend's inability to return phone calls.

Or remember birthdays.

Dear Lou Lou ('whipgirl', at left) ...

Kaz ('feathergirl' at right) reminded me last night.

I absolutely CANNOT believe I forgot your birthday.

AGAIN.

I am a moron.

What does one get for a friend who puts up with this kind of terrible behaviour?

I guess I can share our memories of your latest visit with your darling duo...

Friends and their kiddos...

And no I am not sure what my son is doing here?

Am suspecting the little flirtation we picked up on might be a two-way thing?

Gads! I thought we had another 10 years before we dealt with hormones?

...

Or perhaps I could share your prowess with a whip with the world?

Whip Wench

Yeeee-haaa!!!

(Look out Oby, your wife is quite dangerous with leather strips!)

You know how you are all Surfer Girl even deep in the Aussie bush

and yet will have a RED hot go at anything?

Even cracking a whip

In the middle of a dust storm?

Well that's among the things I adore about you.

Or perhaps I can tell all the fabulous people

who take precious time from their day to visit this little black blog,

to wander over to YOUR PLACE

or even to your very own blog?

And they too can be wowed with your skill.

(If they haven't already been wowed by your smile. And whip-crackin' style.)

Would that start to make up for my oversight?

I love you, girlfriend!

...

Oh. And HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

(and thanks Kaz for slapping me around the head and reminding me!)

Beach weekend: snapshots #1

We squeezed in a brief trip away these school holidays, packing up and heading to the closest beach getaway to Granite Glen. Some friends had discovered a 'resort' (really just a set of units) at this seaside location which not only coped with reasonable-sized families, but also had a great communal BBQ area and pool. I would hereby like to apologise to all other people staying in those units over the weekend - no, I did NOT join in the 2am chorus of Cold Chisel re-runs, and I am very sorry about the rip-stick roar of our offspring using the corridors as raceways.

...
The group we spent the weekend with work on the principle: if you cannot beat them, join them. Or rather, if you cannot sleep for our noise, please feel free to join us. We managed to include most other holidaymakers in our general celebratory mayhem. I am blaming my lack of sleep on the excessive softness of the mattresses.

...
Whatever the cause of the dark circles under my red eyes, we had a fabulous short break away from the dry dust of home and the kids did some serious cousin-bonding (there were seven, not including our two on this trip. And two more dropped by to say hello!).

...

As I sink into our non-soft latex mattress tonight, I leave you with a couple of snaps of some of the cousins and mates mucking around poolside.

I think the grin says it all... don't you?

Hope your school holidays are leaving you a happy kind of exhausted?

Duststorm - extreme weather watch

Weather has been making the news here again... in a new and freaky format.
We were trying to film a promotional video for Brangus cattle here yesterday, when it hit.
It. Dust.
A massive duststorm.

It has affected most of eastern Australia - that's bigger than big.

It's freaking atrocious!

I feel ill thinking about the precious topsoil being lost from our land in this storm.

And I also feel ill about the footage we failed to get because of this phenomenon.

Deadlines suck.

...
Here it is moving in from the west about midday yesterday.

Doesn't look like much yet...

Please ignore the shrek swamp that is our pool... Sven is working on it!

And please ignore the stained, falling-down fence... it's historical, OK?

...

Half an hour later the sun vanished and the world was cloaked in dust...

Unbelievable.

And NOT awesome for filming footage of anything.

Other than DUST...

The light dimmed and a surreal moon-like sun hovered over our shed...

The suddenly sepia outlook to the north ...

There should be a river bed and funny little knob and hills and blue sky looking north-west...

not brown haze. YUK!

...

It was a recipe for early beers and other close-to-the-house activities.

With this pair...

Two of my best girls (and fellow photographers, seen here sporting emu feathers and a whip... yeah I have no idea what they were up to either!). These chicks are also the major reasons I have been blog-slack over the past few days... they are bracing themselves for the avalanche of protests from y'all.

Or else they just drove off - oblivious - into the sunset.

One of the two.

...

This afternoon the dust - unlike my gal pals - is still hanging around like an unwanted guest.

A bad smell... a bad smell/unwanted guest playing havoc with my allergies.

*honk!*

So I have a leaky face and the sun looks like a moon.

I might go back to bed now.

Is 3pm too early to say 'g'night'?

...

What weather phenomenon have you been experiencing this week?

Toasted

We did it.

My Dad has been well and truly toasted (but not too badly roasted) at his 'almost 70' soiree at Granite Glen house. It kind of turned into a weekend-long event. The first guests arrived Friday night and I waved the last of my visitors off yesterday afternoon.

But on Saturday it was 'four-wheel-drive central'.

We had about 60 of Dad's mates and rellies to mark this milestone, and the relaxed lunch was perfect for his preferred form of celebration: a good steak and scotch with friends and family.
D'ya like the groovy (and appropriate) serviettes I picked up in Big Town last week?

...
There was laughter, there was eating (oh my, the eating!), there were tears (mostly from the assorted visiting babies although one or two may or may not have been mine during the speeches).

This is Dad with neighbours Bill and Clair.

They are the most wonderful couple who lived across the river from us for many decades. They raised nine children (despite being initially told they couldn't have kids) and seem exactly the same to me as they did when I visited them with the measles when I was 10. They have retired into town and their son (the one I went to school with) now runs the property. Dad made a sweet speech and it included acknowledgement of the importance of great neighbours in the bush - he was looking right at this pair when he said it.

...

The atmosphere was wonderful... I found it a little hectic but I could feel and hear the relaxed conversation around me as I brought food to the hordes.

When you are hosting something like this, it is easy to get overwhelmed with preparations and feeding people and stuff. This kind of thing is a group effort. And luckily I just happen to have the best support network in the country - including the bunch below.

Have they not got the most beautiful smiles you have ever laid eyes on?

That's Pea on the left - she baked up a storm, delivered a table and a heap of chairs and cleared most of the debris for me at night. As Dad would say: Her Blood Is Worth Bottling. Then there is darling Elle - she and her family travelled hours to attend (her hubs Harv worked with Dad when he was a teenager and they share a great respect for each other), she entertained and laughed and helped me unwind at the end of the day (with a Baileys and by recording the Bush Babe train wreck - see last pic of this post!). Then there is Bon Bon, the incredibly stylish woman married to Dad's baby brother (is anyone allowed to look that good over 30?) as well as being a great neighbour and friend and lending me tables at the very last minute when I hit the panic button. And then there is Megs (P's daughter) who shares the long end of the bus run with my Dash - she was the only girl there her age, but who happily mingled with adults and monitored little kids as required. And she is beautiful. Nuff said.

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I also had my mother who worked her tiny butt off helping with the garden and getting food ready (as well as hauling the laundry shed back from disaster), providing the gazillion extra wine glasses required by the hordes and cleaning up quietly as her daughter collapsed on the couch. And let's not forget my sister who baked her little socks off - the smorgasbord of bread she provided was amazing. Sorry I didn't get a shot of it all Jeanie! And of course there is my hubby... who cooked a mountain of fillet steaks and moreton bay bugs without complaint, not to mention putting up with being handed a frightening 'Honey Do' list a couple of days prior to the event. Even Dad had to help chip the tennis court, tidy up the shed and nail up a "Please Slow Down" sign on an ironbark tree to prevent guests drowning in dust.

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And of course there was my sister-in-law Curly, who took on the mountain of washing up despite her advancing pregnancy (notice how I didn't mention the step required for my high benches, C?) and the lovely Kay and Shell, who helped her. And my gorgeous cousin Bee who not only took on balloon duties, but also camera duties at speech time (and did an awesome job!). There were others too... in fact, I am trying hard to recall what I actually did for the event! I seem to have blocked it all out...

All this work made us a little thirsty.

Now I don't wish to give the impression that we are a bunch of alcoholics, but I have to say that our crowd does enjoy the odd scotch and dry (hello Dad) or the odd cold beer (hello Tex) or the odd Bundy and coke (hello there hubby o' mine!). And I have already confessed to a certain leaning towards a glass of chardonnay on special occasions (like dinner). And besides, we were toasting the continued health of my father on the weekend, and let me tell you, the man needs all the assistance he can get in that department (as previously explained here)!

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The men had a lot of toasts to make apparently, if the low levels recorded in the rum bottles strewn around my patio yesterday morning. I suspect all that pool playing and tall-tale-telling was hard and thirsty work. Elle and I managed to make a couple of private toasts (after everyone else had fallen by the wayside/fallen asleep on the couch) with a dash of Baileys.

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Actually if the Baileys people are ever looking to sponsor a blog, I would be the first with my hand up. I may fall asleep within minutes of the second dash, but those are a couple of FINE minutes. Actually Elle grabbed my camera and recorded the fine-ness of it all here:

Something tells me I could be waiting quite a while

for that call from the Baileys' people.