Home.

Conversation I had with my favourite 11 year old when he was my favourite 4 year old:

Henry and I had a theological discussion on the way to Kindy this morning.

As we walked across the park he pointed out the school he would be going to when he turned five and mentioned that it was right beside his church.

H: That means I’ll be able to go to church all by myself when I am at school. By myself. That’s a secret.

Me (rather absent-mindedly): Just you and Jesus hanging out eh?

H (looking at me like I was a complete moron): Noooooooooo. Jesus is dead.

Me: Oh yeah. But then didn’t he come to life again?

H: No, the pirates killed him.

Me: Did they?

H: Yeah. The pirates got the witch to turn him into a statue. He’s in my church - you should come and see him with me one time.

Me: I think I might have seen him last time I was there.

H: He’s a statue.

Me: What about Mary? Is she a statue too?

H: No she’s still alive. She ran away to another land.

Me: Before the pirates could get her?

H: Yeah.

Me: Oh. What about God?

H: He’s dead. They buried him.

Me: The pirates?

H: No, the burying people.

Me: Did they bury him in Pirate land?

H: No

Me: Heaven?

H: No

Me: Giant land?

H: No. Let me tell you.

Me: Oh O.K. Sorry.

H: The buried him in that place, you know, where they buried Rosa.

Me: The graveyard? The cemetery?

H: Yes. That’s it. So he could go to Heaven. And the pirates couldn’t get him.

GPOYW (on Thursday): Lady and the Tramp edition.

Too lazy to get up and turn the light on, but desperate to keep reading. This is exactly the kind of emergency my emergency torch lives for.

Sunday morning. Keeping the couch warm.

Gratuitous Self Portrait Taken In Spring Evening Sunshine.

I love it when the sun finally makes its way far enough around to bathe me in late afternoon sunshine while I’m sitting on my bed. It’s like Stonehenge. Only with my bedroom window and no naked druids.

Lessons my t-shirts have taught me:

1. Never have any form of writing in the vicinity of one’s boobs.

Sometimes when a lady and her cat are sitting on the floor of an evening, spending some quality time pretending not to look at each other, the lady can’t help but wish humans were as easy to socialise with.

indefensible:

Hi there, Spring!

When you’ve had your little bit of fun with Spring, could you send her over the ditch please? (10 degrees C)

Question I asked my boyfriend after looking in his bookcase that I’m quite glad the answer to was in the affirmative:

“Is that Sylvia Plath from university?”