Cup runneth over

One of the perks of working on Cup Day is looking at the Cup day fashions on the internet (during a break) and having a giggle. Not at the super chic race day clobber but the wacky stuff. There's always a CUB or two sporting something out of the ordinary. Like...

Is it just me or does 'our Jen' look like Minnie mouse?

Brynne and Jeffrey - yellow is soooo his colour

the full package - wonder if their reg grundy's match?

lessons learned from living in the country

A friend recently acquired a poddy lamb. Her son (who is three) made her look him in the eye and promise they would not be eating the lamb and that they would be giving it a name.

You should never name the animals you plan on eating. And in retrospect you shouldn't name a duck after a beloved children's book and then buy that book only to have that animal die on you.
Yes, sadly Ping died recently. As you may know I am firmly pro duck so I was actually devastated. We don't know why (though people have suggested some interesting theories but we decided against a PM) but he will be missed. Even S who has always liked the chickens better agreed that Ping had a whole lot of personality. He was probably glad that Ping would not be pooing on the verandah anymore.
I wasn't sure whether to whisk Ping away and tell Jack he'd 'gone on holidays' (which is very Chicken Run) or to tell him he had died. S and I decided to tell Jack. We dug a hole, said goodbye and placed Ping in the hole. Jack picked some flowers and put them in and we covered Ping up. I was worried that Jack would be upset (where upset means scarred for life) but he seems to have taken it in his stride. He tells people "Ping died" then proudly shows them where we buried him.
I guess the arrival of two goldfish on the day of Ping's demise probably helped. And yes, they do have names (we certainly aren't going to eat them). Dorothy and Nemo.

Cup Day!

and they're off!

Every year when the Melbourne Cup rolls around I am invariably working so I have never been trackside with a fascinator and a glass of bubbles. Except of course when I was on maternity leave after Jack was born but somehow I don't think that's a good look taking a baby to the races (after too many bubbles have been imbibed).

As Carol said, "A tiara is not a hat" and neither is a mask.
What a shame I think it's grrrreat

Carol

Years ago I visited Lincraft and purchased the makings of a raceday hat and it has been in service ever since. Dusted off and donned every first Tuesday of November. It's starting to moult. And of course yesterday I was working at the library and not only wore the hat but frocked up as well. I also convinced my fellow library people to don hats (some but not all). We had nibblies and sweet treats and gathered at three for 'the race that stops the nation' clutching our sweep tickets. The race was over in no time and we went back to shelving, collecting our winnings (woohoo $4 for me)and dealing with the general public.

Kelly with her sweep tickets

People react in funny ways to a gal in a hat. One man told me I looked like Gai Waterhouse (a compliment apparently*) and another customer saw my hat and said, "Oh it must be Melbourne Cup Day!" When I looked surprised and said, "is it?" to wind him up he was really phased. So much so that he had to comment about it to other staff. One of whom replied, "yes imagine the odds of not knowing it's Melbourne Cup day and wearing a hat". Indeed.

*Jack told me I looked "handsome" when I put my dress on and gave me a cuddle. Lovely really but why does the word handsome always remind me of Margaret Whitlam?

Family portrait by Jack

cousin time country style

We were concerned that Scarlett would be disappointed by the lack of a pig at our place. Apparently she was sure we had one living in our shed. We did briefly toy with the idea (and not just for her but also for the bacon) but the proposed porcine living quarters were too close to the house (And if you've smelt pig poo you would know that you would want some distance). We shouldn't have worried though because she seemed quite happy with the wildlife on offer. One enormous white dog,


three chickens (plus eggs)


and two ducks.

waiting...

Besides waiting for an egg to appear, more chocolate cake and waiting for the potatoes to grow, last week Jack was waiting for his cousin Scarlett to arrive.We hadn't told him about the visit too soon because time is a relatively elastic concept for a three year old. As it was by the time last Saturday arrived Jack was positively bursting out of his skin and insisted on sitting by the window to wait.Who said a watched kettle never boils (or in his case a watched driveway)?

tada!

I didn't want to put any pressure on the hens, but where were the eggs?* I had taken to asking the head girl when this would happen (and no she could not come in the house to hang out with S).
On Friday morning we had a lovely surprise when we found this in a nesting box.

S seemed to think it was a tad on the small side but I reminded him that it was early days yet which I may have expressed along the lines of, "well you try and push something like that out your cloaca (not that he has one but you get the idea). I apologised to the BFH (big fat hen) and gave her some lovely grain.
*just to assure you that I will be blogging about the humans and not just poultry.