I’m very excited to write that my brother’s first born entered the world this morning at 9.08am Melbourne time.
My mother has already “done her numbers” and she has the soul urge of an artist. Three. So to celebrate her birth I thought I should put something up that’s arty.
She was born on my paternal grandmother’s birthday, and this little girl (3110g or 6lb 13oz) is my kids’ cousin… so I think we’ll call her Cuzie…
Apparently mother and baby are doing well and my brother sounds deliriously happy… he probably is a bit delirious given he’s been up all night.
by Cellobella on Monday, May 26, 2008 · 5 comments
Don’t get me wrong – I’m up for helping out my brother when he needs me so I went round to his house on Sunday to see how he was going with tarting up his house – which he is renting out while he lives in Melbourne… on the way there…
Sunday afternoon and all the cargo liners head out to sea…
The aim was to paint an undercoat over the green paint in the kitchen.
Of course first we had to mix the paint and luckily the earlier gardening provided a good stirrer.
Dippity fills in the last little bit of the undercoat.
Interestingly my brother said at one stage: “I feel as if I’m painting out part of my soul..” He’d painted the wall green when he’d first moved in. Still it’ll keep the tenants happy.
Dippity had a great time. My brother’s walls got painted. I wore gloves, an apron, took my shoes off and rolled my jeans up but still managed to get green paint on the underside of my foot which ended up staining my ugg boots.
Not. Happy. Jan.
(Damn… did I just admit to wearing ugg boots out of the house?!)
Is they accumulate in odd places, in those drawers you keep meaning to clean out, like sand in a beach carpark or dust bunnies under the bed they drift together until you have no idea what they were for or even if they were yours in the first place.
I was at my brother’s house today. He has a studio built out the back and while he has been living in Melbourne has rented out the house in the front. The tenants have moved out and before the new ones move in, he wants to do a bit of repair work. Problem is – he can’t find his keys.
The conversation went something like this:
I know they are here somewhere. he said.
Where did you last see them? I said.
In my toolbox. he said.
What were they in? I said
A clear plastic bag. he said.
You mean these ones. I said.
In this huge collection of keys the ones with the red tag are his house keys and the tiny silver ones down the bottom fit into a lock (but don’t turn it). The rest? Who knows. They just accumulated in a little plastic bag in the toolbox.
This is my brother and I in New York at about 1am on the 1st January 2008. We’d just tried to get to see the 100th anniversary of the ball drop in Times Square. We didn’t get anywhere near it.
On the way back to the car and in preparation for the three hour drive home we had a coffee and wee stop. My brother picked up a bar of dark chocolate and paid $US10. Sure he could have put it down again but he saw *that look* on my face. You know, the ohhhh chocolate look. Sweet.
And did I remember his birthday the other day? The birthday of my baby brother? A chocolate giver?
No I didn’t.
Fuck.
Sorry.
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This is redsultana, the blog of Cellobella. All opinions on this blog are personal and in no way reflect any organisation that I am associated with.
