Tuesday, May 8, 2007

a very mogan mothers day


Big weekend. Ray the old surf-dog from down the track had a swinging 65th birthday party. He was dressed in fishnets and a codpiece under his bathrobe. Lots of the neighbours were there. I had a disconcerting conversation with an aging stoner who I've only met once before. He did a comedy double-take when he saw me.

D - Wow! Is that you? I didn't recognise you!
(Note that I'm in jeans and uggies, winter housewear, looking unfancy)
R - Um, yep, it's me.
D - You have lost stacks of weight!
R - Oh, have I? (No - but try to be polite). I guess Ivy was pretty small when we moved in, so..
D - Oh yeah, heaps, off your face. You were like this (does puffer-fish face). You looks heaps younger.

A Coledale compliment, I think. Take them where you can get them.

Mogan Mothers Day was great. The conversation over the table isn't fit to translate, but lets just say that we realised that a certain quirk of anatomy has made its way down the female line to both babies in the next generation.

Keith and I put Mums Dyson in the wheelie bin for when she arrived. We laughed until we cried doing it but she just gave me the same look Tom Conti did in my dream and said 'I think the jokes over, Rach'. Over? Jokes over? What does that even mean?

My sis-in-law Karla is either about to drop the third grandchild or she finished off too much of Sam's crumble mix. It was great to see her looking so well and to make all the fat gags again. Another baby in 6 weeks...the question is, will it have the Mogan anatomy?

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.