Disaster…

A friend of mine recently shared a couple of her own recent disasters on Facebook inspiring this list of my own top 10 disasters.  Here’s to you V!

There have been many occasions in my adult life when my bad luck, bad decisions  or general clumsiness and inability to stay on my own two feet – especially when sober – have caused disaster.  Drunk I am light on my feet and generally disaster free… maybe I should drink more often!

• At 18, on one of the few occasions that year I was not three sheets to the wind, I slipped over, smashed my face into a wall and damaged one of my front teeth (it was repaired but alas some years later I lost it anyway).

• There was the fish tank explosion leading to my concussion.

• I once fell up our back stairs whilst carrying laundry, landing on my left forearm; I didn’t break it but bruised the bone and suffered pain, weakness and numbness for weeks afterwards.  This is by no means the only time I have fallen UP stairs, just the worst.

• One New Years Eve (in the 80’s) I decided to wear a white lycra mini dress to a function…with BIG hair and red stilettos.  Disaster enough I hear you say, but no it was worse than that.  I had decided to team it with some lovely lacy underthings, problem was it was all ABSOLUTELY SEE-THROUGH…a fact that was lost on me until roughly half-way through the evening….

• There was the time at MrQ’s work Xmas party where, after ½ a glass of bubbly I turned my ankle and fell flat on my face in front of his entire office, I didn’t break the glass, in fact managed to keep a hold of it, but wore the contents across my face leading to evidence of unwise, non- waterproof mascara choices.  This fall led to crutches and a limp for weeks.

• The “laundry incident” earlier this year where I dislocated my right shoulder thus rendering myself unable to write, type or drive for weeks – these being the main activities of my occupation this was a problem. I could still talk though so all was not lost!

• Many years ago, whilst learning to drive when I snapped the indicator stalk off the steering column of the car, we were a couple of hundred km’s from home and I was not popular.

• Once when unpacking the dishwasher I unwisely pulled out both the top and bottom racks, leading to the machine tilting just enough for the bottom rack to shoot out across the kitchen, depositing 6 dinner plates, 2 bowls and an oven dish onto the tiled floor underneath the stove. There were no survivors.

• There were the mumps that stole Christmas.

• My first “real relationship” was a disaster, luckily the second (and current one) cancelled it out.

And for a bonus “near disaster”:

• Earlier this year whilst carrying a cheesecake  I “fell off” my wedges and performed one of those slow motion ” incidents” where you take a step to avoid a fall, have to repeat it to stop falling in the other direction and so on and end up running into something hard. Or is that just me? Anyway it caused me to cannon into my husband, who was carrying a carton of beer (all the food groups covered here), forcing him into a parked car.  Neither of us was hurt and his quick action saved both the beer and cheesecake…disaster averted.

So there you have it, my Top 10, can you beat it?

Disclaimer: This is by no means an exhaustive list as I am constantly adding to it. Also, regular followers will recognise some of these disasters from previous posts but they are up there in the top 10. 

How does your garden grow?

...by sheer dumb luck it would appear in my case!

I am not known for my green thumb, I tend to enthusiastically plant potted colour around the place with visions of a splendid display of flowers.  I furiously sow herb & veggie seeds in every available space anticipating a magnificent harvest and near self-sufficiency…I water and feed my darlings religiously for a few weeks, then get distracted by something else…one by one they  die off, leaving a few disreputable specimens that never bear produce but that I feel so guilty about I can’t chuck away.

My current efforts, winter frosts have not been kind...

So in a huge move and after much discussion, nothing gets done around here without a LOT of discussion, it has been decided that we will be building a veggie garden.

There is talk of retaining walls, soil mixes, compost and worm farms…

Land has been allocated - how grand – and currently materials are being sourced.

We are as yet undecided as to what will be grown but are thinking of veggies for stir-fries & salads.

I am very much looking forward to enjoying the “fruits” of our labours.  Last summer we grew a lot of our salad veggies in pots on the back deck, that was OK but this year we are going to attempt something bigger.

I already grow most of the herbs we use and will be trying some extra ones now that we will have more room.

There is even talk of some fruit trees…

Failure...

I was surfing the interwebs and came across this little gem.  I am sure many of you have seen it, possibly even blogged about it. I refer to the article, The Good Wife’s Guide, Housekeeping Monthly, 13 May 1955.

Over the years these “rules” have caused much mirth between MrQ and me.  Seeing as he didn’t marry a doormat and I didn’t choose to spend my life with a sexist pig our lives don’t bear much resemblance to that of the “ideal” 1950’s household.

Some of our favourites include:

R  Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. I was a SAHM until my son was 11 months old, most of the time I was lucky to have had a shower by the time MrQ got home!  Once I went back to work all bets were off.

R  Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.  Isn’t that how you speak to animals, small children and idiots? Annnnd, there is no way I am going near THOSE feet!

R  Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember his topics of conversation are more important that yours. Yeah, of course they are *snort*.

R  Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.  Oh dear, epic fail there!

R  A good wife always knows her place. Yep, front and centre next to my husband!

Now that our son is older the house is usually clean(ish).  As I work from home it is easier for me to shop, cook and clean – but this is my choice, not his expectation.

I do have nights when he comes home to a bombsite, I can be a cranky bitch and we often have, shall we call them, “robust discussions”.

So it would appear that by these rules as a wife I am a failure.  I believe that we have equal rights, a partnership. Neither one is more important; we have a good marriage based on mutual respect.

How do you “fail” as a wife?